h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Like I said, they were terrible dancers. But (how dare you) I was a dancer once. Mind you, I wasn't all that great either. I'd tell you about the table dancing, but I'm in danger of waffling on at interminable length at the moment.

I'm curious to know about you--your interests and whatnot. But I can't be bothered to ask all the usual questions; so tell me this:

What's the daftest thing you've ever done? And what's the bravest? Oh--and who's your greatest hero, if you have one?

"I'm curious to know about you--your interests and whatnot. But I can't be bothered to ask all the usual questions; so tell me this:

What's the daftest thing you've ever done? And what's the bravest? Oh--and who's your greatest hero, if you have one?"



A pause, then Clarice takes the questionnaire from her case.

CLARICE
Dr. Lecter, if you'd please consider -

DR. LECTER
No, no, no. You were doing fine, you'd
been courteous and receptive to courtesy,
you'd established trust with the embar-
rassing truth about Miggs, and now this
ham-handed segue into your questionnaire.
It won't do. It's stupid and boring.

CLARICE
I'm only asking you to look at this,
Doctor. Either you will or you won't.

DR. LECTER
Ray Campbell must be very busy indeed if
he's recruiting help from the student
body. Busy hunting that new one, Buffalo
Bill... Such a naughty boy! Did Crawford
send you to ask for my advice on him?

CLARICE
No, I came because we need -

DR. LECTER
How many women has he used, our Bill?

CLARICE
Five... so far.

DR. LECTER
All flayed...?

CLARICE
Partially, yes. But Doctor, that's an
active case, I'm not involved. If you
could -

DR. LECTER
Do you know why he's called Buffalo Bill?
Tell me. The newspapers won't say.

CLARICE
I'll tell you if you'll look at this form.
(He considers, then nods)
It started as a bad joke in Kansas City
Homicide. They said... this one likes to
skin his humps.

DR. LECTER
Witless and misleading. Why do you
think he takes their skins, Officer
Starling? Thrill me with your wisdom.

CLARICE
It excites him. Most serial killers
keep some sort of - trophies.

DR. LECTER
I didn't.

CLARICE
No. You ate yours.

A tense beat, then a smile from him, at this small boldness.

DR. LECTER
Send that through.

She rolls him the questionnaire, in his sliding food tray. He
rises, glances at it, turning a page or two disdainfully.

DR. LECTER (contd.)
Oh, Officer Starling... do you think you
can dissect me with this blunt little tool?

O MrFlay, what's this you say? You think I can't dissect you?
You think I seek the measure of your mind just to detect you?
You stepped into my nightmare and it made my gizzard shrink--
But MrFlay, my scalpel is much sharper than you think!

Slugs and snails and lizards' tails, I've carved up quite a few;
Theses, stories, prose and verse, and long-dead cats, and you.
I've picked the bare bones of your text; found every hidden suture;
Distilled your skill in fleshing-out, for use myself in future.

A critical anatomist, I never leave a scar.
If I could pickle sentences, I'd have yours in a jar;
If I could wring the ink from you, I'd bottle it and sell it.
I don't care what you think or do, so much as how you tell it.

So MrFlay, let's chew the fat. It shall be my refrain:
I want to get my teeth into you; let me drink your brain.

Quid pro quo, Snailrind.

So anyway, the table dancing.


There's this Greek dance, usually done *before* the plate-smashing, in which a guy picks up a table with his mouth and dances around with it between his teeth as more and more things get piled on top of it: glasses of ouzo, vases of flowers, chairs, people, and so on. Well, sometimes I was one of the things that got piled onto the table. And that's more or less the extent of my dancing experience.


So I expect I'll give the Fringe a miss this year.
Have you embarked upon your script yet?

Well, Hard Times is nearly finished. Although it's been "nearly finished" for quite some time now, and it's hard to see how that can be converted into "finished". Hmm. My deadline is a week on Monday, so that should concentrate the mind somewhat.

But you mean the Edinburgh show. Yes, we've started it. But it has topical elements, so there'll be gaps in it which will be stopped as we get nearer to August. I'm afraid I can't tell you very much about it, as the project needs to be kept under wraps for the time being. Sorry.

I don't really have heroes, and all my favourite writers are extremely obvious. I've not done much that I consider either really daft or really brave. It means I'm useless in drama games when you have to admit your most embarrassing / stupid / brave moment.

A week on Monday, eh? Maybe this will help: A431911. Especially since you are now writing two scripts at the same time.

"It means I'm useless in drama games when you have to admit your most embarrassing / stupid / brave moment."

That's my Flay. Ever the doom-'n'-gloom merchant.

A whole week without a smoke! How about that. And no chocolate-based foodstuffs either. I am a good Snailrind.

Apparently the thing to do with cigarettes is give up caffeine (temporarily) at the same time. Nicotine damps the effect of caffeine in the blood. Therefore no fags = more caffeine. More caffeine = more tension. More tension = more desire for fags. Hence, if you give up both, it's easier to lay off the cigs.

Well done. And remember, if you do have a cigarette, that doesn't mean you're a smoker again, it just means you've lapsed WHICH IS FINE.

I'm approaching 4 months. Stick with it. You'll be grateful.

No caffeine? No caffeine? How am I supposed to get up in the morning, how'm I supposed to think, or write anything, how'm I supposed to count the pigeons, I'mnotstressedItellyou, my knuckles are naturally this white.