They bowed gracefully and with far too much flourish than was called for.
"Thespians" said they, in chorus.
"Well, I enjoy a lick of the lilly from time to time myself," said I, "but it's hardly something you want to paint on the side of a wagon."
"Not lesbians" said a girl "thespians. We are actors."
"Oh," said I. "That's different."
"Aye," said one with a big hat. "We've no need of wit - the play's the thing, you see. Not a word passes our lips that hasn't been chewed thrice and spat out by a scribe."
"Unburdened by originality are we" said an actor in a red waistcoat.
"We are mere appendages of the pen, so to speak," said big hat.
"Yeah, you're a bloody appendage all right," said I under my breath. "WELL! Actors then. SMASHING!"
