SS : How's she cuttin', there?

KJ : Rightly, Shaz. Yourself?

SS : Middlin' till raysinable!

KJ : You cud be worse, then! Would like a suck on a wee Lambeg? (Offers SS a Sweet Afton.)

SS : I'd ate the sufferin' hawn aff ye fer wan o' them yokes! (Lights up. Deep drag. Breathes two furious plumes of smoke from out her delicate wee nostrils.)

KJ : Y'up tomuch music-wise, lately?

SS : Divil the bit! The odd TV theme tune but fock all o' any use to man or baist. Yourself?

KJ : Still howlin' an' batterin' the oul' bodhrán and leppin' roun' the stage like a demented eejit. But here, d'ye know what it is?

SS : What?

KJ : It's very weird, Shaz. But I've got this mad hankerin' for a beard! I don't think I'l ever be right less I get a big hairy gub on me! (Takes a huge drag on her feg!) What's thon all about, eh?

SS : I think you've fell for a bit of dubliminal advertising, meself!

FADE TO BLACK