Mr. Hilton: 'Ello.
Inspector: Mr. 'ilton?
Inspector: You are the sole proprietor and owner of the Whizzo Chocolate Company?
Mr. Hilton: I am, yes.
Inspector: Constable Clitoris and I are from the 'ygiene squad, and we'd like to have a word with you about your box of chocolates entitled the 'Whizzo Quality Assortment'.
Mr. Hilton: Oh, yes.
Inspector: If I may begin at the beginning. First there is the Cherry Fondue. Now this is extremely nasty. (pause) But we can't prosecute you for that.
Mr. Hilton: Ah, agreed.
Inspector: Then we have number four. Number four: Crunchy Frog.
Mr. Hilton: Yes.
Inspector: Am I right in thinking there's a real frog in 'ere?
Mr. Hilton: Yes, a little one.
Inspector: What sort of frog?
Mr. Hilton: A...a *dead* frog.
Inspector: Is it cooked?
Mr. Hilton: No.
Inspector: What, a RAW frog?!?
Mr. Hilton: Oh, we use only the finest baby frogs, dew-picked and flown from Iraq, cleansed in the finest quality spring water, lightly killed, and sealed in a succulent, Swiss, quintuple-smooth, treble-milk chocolate envelope, and lovingly frosted with glucose.
Inspector: That's as may be, but it's still a frog!
Mr. Hilton: What else?
Inspector: Well, don't you even take the bones out?
Inspector: Constable Clitoris et one of those!! We have to protect the public!
Constable: Uh, would you excuse me a moment, Sir? (exits)
Inspector: We have to protect the public! People aren't going to think there's a real frog in chocolate! Constable Clitoris thought it was an almond whirl! They're bound to expect some sort of mock frog!
Mr. Hilton: (outraged) MOCK frog!?! We use NO artificial additives or preservatives of ANY kind!
Mr. Hilton: What about our sales?
Inspector: FUCK your sales! We've got to protect the public! Now what about this one, number five, it was number five, wasn't it? Number five: Ram's Bladder Cup. (beat) Now, what sort of confectionery is that?
Mr. Hilton: Oh, we use only the finest juicy chunks of fresh Cornish Ram's bladder, emptied, steamed, flavoured with sesame seeds, whipped into a fondue, and garnished with lark's vomit.
Inspector: LARK'S VOMIT?!?!?
Mr. Hilton: Correct.
Inspector: It doesn't say anything here about lark's vomit!
Mr. Hilton: Ah, it does, on the bottom of the box, after 'monosodium glutamate'.
Inspector: I hardly think that's good enough! I think it's be more appropriate if the box bore a great red label: 'WARNING: LARK'S VOMIT!!!'
Mr. Hilton: Our sales would plummet!
Inspector: (screaming) Well why don't you move into more conventional areas of confectionary??!!
(the constable returns)
Inspector: Like Praline, or, or Lime Creme, a very popular flavor, I'm lead to understand. Or Raspberry Delite. I mean, what's this one, what's this one? 'Ere we are: Cockroach Cluster! -- Anthrax Ripple!
Constable: MMMMWWWAAAAAGGGGGHHHH!! (Throws up in helmet)
Inspector: (continuing) And what is this one: Spring Surprise?
Mr. Hilton: Ah, that's one of our specialities. Covered in dark, velvety chocolate, when you pop it into your mouth, stainless steel bolts spring out and plunge straight through both cheeks.
Inspector: (stunned) Well where's the pleasure in THAT?!? If people pop a nice little chockie into their mouth, they don't expect to get their cheeks pierced!!! In any case, it is an inadequate description of the sweetmeat. I shall have to ask you to accompany me to the station.
Mr. Hilton: (shrugging) It's a fair cop.
Inspector: And DON'T talk to the audience.
Continue to the next sketch... The Dull Life of a City Stockbroker