Customer: Good Morning.
Owner: Good morning, Sir. Welcome to the National Cheese Emporium!
Customer: Ah, thank you, my good man.
Owner: What can I do for you, Sir?
Customer: Well, I was, uh, sitting in the public library on Thurmon Street just now, skimming through Rogue Herrys by Hugh Walpole, and I suddenly came over all peckish.
Owner: Peckish, sir?
Customer: Esuriant.
Owner: Eh?
Customer: 'Ee, Ah wor 'ungry-loike!
Owner: Ah, hungry!
Customer: In a nutshell. And I thought to myself, "a little fermented curd will do the trick," so, I curtailed my Walpoling activites, sallied forth, and infiltrated your place of purveyance to negotiate the vending of some cheesy comestibles!
Owner: Come again?
Customer: I want to buy some cheese.
Owner: Oh, I thought you were complaining about the bazouki player!
Customer: Oh, heaven forbid: I am one who delights in all manifestations of the Terpsichorean muse!
Owner: Sorry?
Customer: 'Ooo, Ah lahk a nice tuune, 'yer forced too!
Owner: So he can go on playing, can he?
Customer: Most certainly! Now then, some cheese please, my good man.
Owner: (lustily) Certainly, sir. What would you like?
Customer: Well, eh, how about a little red Leicester.
Owner: I'm, a-fraid we're fresh out of red Leicester, sir.
Customer: Oh, never mind, how are you on Tilsit?
Owner: I'm afraid we never have that at the end of the week, sir, we get it fresh on Monday.
Customer: Tish tish. No matter. Well, stout yeoman, four ounces of Caerphilly, if you please.
Owner: Ah! It's beeeen on order, sir, for two weeks. Was expecting it this morning.
Customer: 'T's Not my lucky day, is it? Aah, Bel Paese?
Owner: Sorry, sir.
Customer: Red Windsor?
Owner: Normally, sir, yes. (pause) Today the van broke down.
Customer: Ah. Stilton?
Owner: Sorry.
Customer: Ementhal? Gruyere?
Owner: No.
Customer: Any Norweigan Jarlsburg, per chance.
Owner: No.
Customer: Lipta?
Owner: No.
Customer: Lancashire?
Owner: No.
Customer: White Stilton?
Owner: No.
Customer: Danish Brew?
Owner: No.
Customer: Double Goucester?
Owner: (pause) No.
Customer: Cheshire?
Owner: No.
Customer: Dorset Bluveny?
Owner: No.
Customer: Brie, Roquefort, Pol le Veq, Port Salut, Savoy Aire, Saint Paulin, Carrier de lest, Bres Bleu, Bruson?
Owner: No.
Customer: Camenbert, perhaps?
Owner: Ah! We have Camenbert, yessir.
Customer: (suprised) You do! Excellent.
Owner: Yessir. It's...ah...it's a bit runny...
Customer: Oh, I like it runny.
Owner: Well... It's very runny, actually, sir.
Customer: No matter. Fetch hither the fromage de la Belle France! Mmmwah!
Owner: I...think it's a bit runnier than you'll like it, sir.
Customer: I don't care how fucking runny it is. Hand it over with all speed.
Owner: Oooooooooohhh........! (pause)
Customer: What now?
Owner: The cat's eaten it.
Customer: (pause) Has he.
Owner: She, sir.
The customer takes out a gun and shoots the owner.
Customer: What a *senseless* waste of human life.