Добрая хозяйка дала еще ссылку на слова: 

Stephen, a headmaster, is sitting behind a desk. Hugh enters with Michael, a small boy.


Stephen: Ah good morning Michael, good morning
Mr Smear.

Hugh: Yes, we'll dispense with the good mornings if you
don't mind. I haven't got time for good mornings.

Stephen: As you wish. You wanted to discuss something, I
believe?

Hugh: I think you know why I'm here.

Stephen: I don't think I do.

Hugh: (To Michael) Tell him.

Michael looks embarrassed.

Stephen: Tell me what?

Hugh: Tell him what you told your mother last night.

Michael: Sexual intercourse can often bring about
pregnancy in the adult female.

Stephen: Yes?

Hugh: You heard that, did you?

Stephen: Yes?

Hugh: Well I'd like an explanation, if it's not too much
trouble.

Stephen: An explanation of what?

Hugh: An explanation of how my son came to be using
language like that in front of his mother.

Stephen: Well I imagine that this is something that Michael
learnt in his biology class, isn't that right?

Michael: Yes, sir.

Stephen: Yes I thought so. With Mr Hent. Glad to see
some of it's sinking in, Michael.

Michael: Thank you sir.

Hugh: Well I must say this is a turn-up and no mistake.

Stephen: What is?

Hugh: I didn't imagine that you'd be quite so barefaced
about it.

Stephen: About what?

Hugh: I came here today to make a complaint about
my son being exposed to gutter language in the
playground. I am frankly staggered to find that this
is something that he's actually been taught in a
classroom. I mean what is going on here?

Stephen: We're trying to teach your son ...

Hugh: Oh are you? Are you indeed?

Stephen: Yes.

Hugh: What? How to embarrass his parents? How to
smack himself with heroin?

Stephen: I assure you Mr Smear, we have no intention ...

Hugh: Call yourself a school?

Stephen: I don't actually call myself a school, no.

Hugh: You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Filling a
young lad's head with filth like that. Well let me
tell you something. About the real world. You're
here to provide a service.

Stephen: Quite right.

Hugh: Quite right, yes, well I'm not happy with it. I'm
not happy with the service you're providing.

Stephen: Would you rather that Michael didn't attend the
biology course?

Hugh: Certainly I would, if those are the kind of lies I
can expect to hear repeated at the dinner table.

Stephen: They're not lies, Mr Smear.

Hugh: Oh aren't they? Pregnancy is brought about by
sexual intercourse?

Stephen: Yes?

Hugh: Oh Lord save us. So you agree with that?

Stephen: Of course. It's true.

Hugh: True my arse. It's nothing more than a disgusting
rumour put about by trendy young people in
the sixties.

Stephen: Trendy young people in their sixties?

Hugh: The sixties. In the sixties. That's when it all started.
People like you.

Stephen: Mr Smear, sexual reproduction has been part of
the biology syllabus for many years.

Hugh: I don't care about your blasted syllabus. What
good is a blasted syllabus out there?

Stephen: Out where?

Hugh: There!

Stephen: The Arkwright Road?

Hugh: Arkwright Jungle, I call it.

Stephen: Well, what would you rather we taught your son,
Mr Smear?

Hugh: I would rather ... I would rather you taught him
values, Mr ...

Stephen: Casilingua.

Hugh: Casilingua. Values. Respect. Standards. That's
what you're here for. You're not here to poison my
son with a lot of randy sextalk.

Stephen: So Michael is definitely your son, is he, Mr
Smear?

Hugh: Certainly he's my son.

Stephen: Then it's safe to assume that at some stage you
and your wife have had sexual intercourse?

Hugh: (Pause) Right. (Hugh starts to take off his jacket)
That's it. I'm going to knock some sense into
you myself.

Stephen: You're going to fight me now, are you?

Hugh: Yes I bloody well am. I'm not going to stand
for this.

Stephen: Do you mind if I do? (Rises to his feet)

Hugh: Talking like that in front of the boy. You're a
bloody disgrace.

Stephen: Mr Smear, let me ask you this. How could
Michael be your son, if you haven't had sexual
intercourse?

Hugh: Michael ...

Stephen: Yes?

Hugh: Michael is my son in the normal way.

Stephen: In the normal way?

Hugh: Yes.

Stephen: And what is the normal way to have a son, in your
opinion?

Hugh: If you're trying to trick me into sexy talk ...

Stephen: I'm not.

Hugh: The normal way to have a son is ... to get
married.

Stephen: Yes?

Hugh: Buy a house and get properly settled in.

Stephen: Yes.

Hugh: Furniture and so on, and then ... wait for a bit.

Stephen: Ah.

Hugh: Make sure you eat properly. Three hot meals a
day.

Stephen: So Michael just sort of turned up, did he?

Hugh: Er ... well of course it's a few years ago now, but
yes I think one day he was just there.

Stephen: And you and your wife have never enjoyed sexual
intimacy of any kind?

Hugh: Yes, it's very hard for you to believe isn't it, that
there are still some people left who can bring a
son into this world without recourse to cannabis
and government handouts?

Stephen: Well, I really don't know what to say.

Hugh: I bet you don't: It's not every day a consumer
stands up to you and makes demands is it?

Stephen: Not of this nature, no.

Hugh: Yes, well. Welcome to the harsh realities of the
market-place, Mr Casilingua.

Stephen: OK. Well, what would you like me to do?

Hugh: It's obvious isn't it? If I go into Littlewoods and
tell them I'm not satisfied with a cardigan, say,
they'll change it for me. And gladly.

Stephen: You want another son?

Hugh: Certainly I do. Mine is soiled now.

Stephen: Well I'm afraid we haven't got any spare sons
here, just at the moment.

Hugh: Well what have you got of equal value?

Stephen: Um - there are some locusts in the biology lab.

Hugh: Locusts, hmm. Do I have your assurance that one
of these locusts will not embarrass Mrs Smear at
table with foul language?

Stephen: I think I can go that far.

Hugh: Well that's something. How many of them
are there?

Stephen: Two ... at the moment.

Hugh: What d'you mean, "at the moment"?

Stephen: Well, it's just that these locusts are married,
they've bought the cage, and some furniture, and
they're having three meals a day.

Hugh: Hot meals?

Stephen: Warmish.

Hugh: So Mrs Smear might be a grandmother one day?

Stephen: Very possibly.

Hugh: (Pleased) She'd like that.