London's calling, and it's calling you gay

London: Hello. London here.

Some guy: London who?

London: London, England. The town of London.

Some guy: I see. What do you want, then?

London: Well, I thought you'd be interested in my opinion.

Some guy's wife: (Muted, from the next room.) Who is it, Steven?

Steven: It's London, dearest. London's calling.

Steven's wife: Oh, fine then. Tell 'em I say hello.

London: Ahem. About that opinion.

Steven: Margerie says 'ello.

London: Yes. Thank you. Anyway, right. You, sir, are a homosexual.

Steven: What?

London: Yes, a real queer you are.

Steven: Look, just because you're the big city--

London: A back-door boy, a penis polisher, a flaming little queen.

Steven: But I've got a wife. Nineteen years this September.

London: Well, I'm sure you've taken many steps to deny your own nature over the years, but it's time to fess up. You're gay, don't you know?

Steven: Well that's just grand. Couldn't you have called during my more experimental years? Say when I was at university?

Margerie: What's the matter, Steven?

Steven: It's London, dearest. Says I'm homosexual.

Margerie: Oh. Well that's not very good news, is it? What will the children say?

London: Sorry not to bring this up earlier, sir. It's quite a long list I have to go through. I'll leave you to sort out the details. Ta.

Steven: Right. Goodbye then. Thanks for the call.

A humbabba-rescued nodeshell--your donations at work.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

London: Hello, London speaking.

Paris: Hello, London, this is Paris speaking.

London: Paris! Haven't heard from you for a while...how are you?

Paris: Not so well, I am afraid. Listen, there's something we have to talk about.

London: Really? You make it sound like there's a problem.

Paris: Well, there is.

London: Do tell.

Paris: You see, I hear you've been calling folks up and telling them they're gay.

London: Well, yes, that's more or less correct.

Paris: Ah. Well, you see, I also heard you'd called up Berlin and told him I was gay.

London: Ahhh. Ehrm. Yes, well, there's some truth in that....

Paris: Don't you think that's a bit too much? Berlin and I were such good friends, and now he won't even speak to me.

London: Well, everybody says you're gay. Gay Paris, and all that.

Paris: (aside) Give me strength....

Paris: (to London) Look, that's just an expression.

London: An expression?

Paris: Yes. Gay, meaning happy, for Heaven's sake.

London: Are you sure?

Paris: Of course I'm sure, you moron!

London: (huffily) Here, now! There's no call for that!

Paris: What? I can't call you a moron? Hey, if the shoe fits....

London: (in triumph) My point exactly. After all, there's no smoke without a fire. If everybody says you're gay, there must be something to it. Maybe you're gay, and you just haven't realised it.

Paris: (speechless) Why, you....how am I supposed to respond to that? If I say no, you claim I'm in denial?

London: (smugly) Indeed.

Paris: (seething) Oh, you...I'll get even with you for this. You just wait and see. Anyway, there's nothing wrong with being gay.

London: Nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah.

Click.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

London: Hello, London speaking.

Amsterdam: Hello, London, this is Amsterdam. What's this I hear about BSE?.

No cities, gays, or telephones were harmed in the writing of this sketch. A few metaphors and similes were overworked, but we paid them time-and-a-half in compensation, and their union has agreed to drop the matter.