A montage of photographs. The cutting from photo to photo is pretty fast. Greek music is heard. Starting with: a close up of Mousebender, who is respectable and wears smart casual clothes; various photos of Mousebender walking along the pavement, again very artily shot from show-off angles; Mousebender pausing outside a shop; Mousebender looking up at the shop; Edwardian-style shop with large sign above it reading 'Ye Olde Cheese Emporium'; another sign below the first reading 'Henry Wensleydale, Purveyor of Fine Cheese to the Gentry and the Poverty Stricken Too'; another sign below this reading 'Licensed for Public Dancing'; close up of Mousebender looking pleased; shot of Mousebender entering the shop. Music cuts dead. Cut to interior of the cheese shop. Greek music playing as Mousebender enters. Two men dressed as city gents are Greek dancing in the corner to the music of a bouzouki. The shop itself is large and redolent of the charm and languidity of a bygone age. There is actually no cheese to be seen either on or behind the counter but this is not obvious. Mousebender approaches the counter and rings a small handbell. Wensleydale appears. Wensleydale: Good morning, sir. Mousebender: Good Morning. I was sitting in the public library on Thurmon Street just now, skimming through 'Rogue Herries' by Horace Walpole, when suddenly I came over all peckish. Wensleydale: Peckish, sir? Mousebender: Esurient. Wensleydale: Eh? Mousebender: (broad Yorkshire) Eee I were all hungry, like! Wensleydale: Oh, hungry. Mousebender: (normal accent) In a nutshell. So I thought to myself, 'a little fermented curd will do the trick'. So I curtailed my Walpolling activites, sallied forth and infiltrated your place of purveyance to negotiate the vending of some cheesy comestibles. (smacks his lips) Wensleydale: Come again. Mousebender: (broad nothern accent) I want to buy some cheese. Wensleydale: Oh, I thought you were complaining about the music! Mousebender: (normal voice) Heaven forbid. I am one who delights in all manifestations of the terpsichorean muse. Wensleydale: Sorry? Mousebender: I like a nice dance - you're forced to. Quick cut to a Viking. Viking (broad Northern accent) Anyway. Cut back to cheese shop. Wensleydale: Who said that? Mousebender: (normal voice) Now my good man, some cheese, please. Wensleydale: Yes certainly, sir. What would you like? Mousebender: Well, how about a little Red Leicester. Wensleydale: I'm, afraid we're fresh out of Red Leicester, sir. Mousebender: Oh, never mind. How are you on Tilsit? Wensleydale: Never at the end of the week, sir. Always get it fresh first thing on Monday. Mousebender: Tish tish. No matter. Well, four ounces of Caerphilly, then, if you please, stout yeoman. Wensleydale: Ah well, it's been on order for two weeks, sir, I was expecting it this morning. Mousebender: Yes, it's not my day, is it? Er, Bel Paese? Wensleydale: Sorry. Mousebender: Red Windsor? Wensleydale: Normally, sir, yes, but today the van broke down. Mousebender: Ah. Stilton? Wensleydale: Sorry. Mousebender: Gruyere? Emmental? Wensleydale: No. Mousebender: Any Norwegian Jarlsberger? Wensleydale: No. Mousebender: Liptauer? Wensleydale: No. Mousebender: Lancashire? Wensleydale: No. Mousebender: White Stilton? Wensleydale: No. Mousebender: Danish Blue? Wensleydale: No. Mousebender: Double Gloucester? Wensleydale: ...No. Mousebender: Cheshire? Wensleydale: No. Mousebender: Any Dorset Blue Vinney? Wensleydale: No. Mousebender: Brie, Roquefort, Pont-l'Évêque, Port Salut, Savoyard, Saint-Paulin, Carre-de-L'Est, Boursin, Bresse-Bleu, Perle de Champagne, Camenbert? Wensleydale: Ah! We do have some Camembert, sir. Mousebender: You do! Excellent. Wensleydale: It's a bit runny, sir. Mousebender: Oh, I like it runny. Wensleydale: Well as a matter of fact it's very runny, sir. Mousebender: No matter. No matter. Hand over le fromage de la Belle France qui s'apelle Camembert, s'il vous plaît. Wensleydale: I think it's runnier than you like it, sir. Mousebender: (smiling grimley) I don't care how excrementally runny it is. Hand it over with all speed. Wensleydale: Yes, sir. (bends below counter and reappears) Oh... Mousebender: What? Wensleydale: The cat's eaten it. Mousebender: Has he? Wensleydale: She, sir. Mousebender: Gouda? Wensleydale: No. Mousebender: Edam? Wensleydale: No. Mousebender: Caithness? Wensleydale: No. Mousebender: Smoked Austrian? Wensleydale: No. Mousebender: Sage Darby? Wensleydale: No, sir. Mousebender: You do have some cheese, do you? Wensleydale: Certainly, sir. It's a cheese shop, sir. We've got... Mousebender: No, no, no, don't tell me. I'm keen to guess. Wensleydale: Fair enough. Mousebender: Wensleydale. Wensleydale: Yes, sir? Mousebender: Splendid. Well, I'll have some of that then, please. Wensleydale: Oh, I'm sorry sir, I thought you were reffering to me, Mr Wensleydale. Mousebender: Gorgonzola? Wensleydale: No. Mousebender: Parmesan? Wensleydale: No. Mousebender: Mozzarella? Wensleydale: No. Mousebender: Pippo Crème? Wensleydale: No. Mousebender: Any Danish Fynbo? Wensleydale: No. Mousebender: Czechoslovakian Sheep's Milk Cheese? Wensleydale: No. Mousebender: Venezuelan Beaver Cheese? Wensleydale: Not today sir, no. (pause) Mousebender: Well let's keep it simple, how about Cheddar? Wensleydale: Well, I'm afraid we don't get much call for it around these parts. Mousebender: Not call for it? It's the single most popular cheese in the world! Wensleydale: Not round these parts, sir. Mousebender: And pray what is the most popular cheese round these parts? Wensleydale: Ilchester, sir. Mousebender: I see. Wensleydale: Yes, sir. It's quite staggeringly popular in the manor, squire. Mousebender: Is it. Wensleydale: Yes sir, it's our number-one seller. Mousebender: Is it. Wensleydale: Yes sir. Mousebender: Ilchester, eh? Wensleydale: Right. Mousebender: OK, I'm game. Have you got any, he asked, expecting the answer no? Wensleydale: I'll have a look, sir...nnnnnnooooooooo. Mousebender: It's not much of a cheese shop really, is it? Wensleydale: Finest in the district, sir. Mousebender: And what leads you to that conclusion? Wensleydale: Well, it's so clean. Mousebender: Well, it's certainly uncontaminated by cheese. Wensleydale: You haven't asked me about Limberger, sir. Mousebender: Is it worth it? Wensleydale: Could be. Mousebender: OK, have you...will you shut that bloody dancing up! (the music stops) Wensleydale: (to dancers) Told you so. Mousebender: Have you got any Limberger? Wensleydale: No. Mousebender: No, that figures. It was pretty predictable, really. It was an act of purest optimism to pose the question in the first place. Tell me something, do you have any cheese at all? Wensleydale: Yes, sir. Mousebender: Now I'm going to ask you that question once more, and if you say 'no' I'm going to shoot you through the head. Now, do you have any cheese at all? Wensleydale: No. Mousebender: (shoots him) What a senseless waste of human life.