Dead Collector: Bring out yer dead!
	
	
		[A large man appears with a (seemingly) dead man over his shoulder]
	
	
		Large Man: Here's one.
	
	
		Dead Collector: Nine pence.
	
	
		"Dead" Man: I'm not dead.
	
	
		Dead Collector: What?
	
	
		Large Man: Nothing. [hands the collector his money] Here's your nine pence.
	
	
		"Dead" Man: I'm not dead!
	
	
		Dead Collector: 'Ere, he says he's not dead.
	
	
		Large Man: Yes he is.
	
	
		"Dead" Man: I'm not.
	
	
		Dead Collector: He isn't.
	
	
		Large Man: Well, he will be soon, he's very ill.
	
	
		"Dead" Man: I'm getting better.
	
	
		Large Man: No you're not, you'll be stone dead in a moment.
	
	
		Dead Collector: Well, I can't take him like that. It's against regulations.
	
	
		"Dead" Man: I don't want to go on the cart.
	
	
		Large Man:' Oh, don't be such a baby.
	
	
		Dead Collector: I can't take him.
	
	
		"Dead" Man: I feel fine.
	
	
		Large Man: Oh, do me a favor.
	
	
		Dead Collector: I can't.
	
	
		Large Man: Well, can you hang around for a couple of minutes? He won't be long.
	
	
		Dead Collector: I promised I'd be at the Robinsons'. They've lost nine today.
	
	
		Large Man: Well, when's your next round?
	
	
		Dead Collector: Thursday.
	
	
		"Dead" Man: I think I'll go for a walk.
	
	
		Large Man: You're not fooling anyone, you know. Isn't there anything you could do?
	
	
		"Dead" Man: I feel happy. I feel happy.
	
	
		[The collector paces for an idea, then whacks the body with his club, solving the problem]
	
	
		Large Man: Ah, thank you very much.
	
	
		Dead Collector: Not at all. See you on Thursday.
	
	
		Large Man: Right.