Look, we must've met before! Well, perhaps I've changed a little – but I can't imagine why you're looking as if you've never, ever seen me. As soon as that darn' camera clicked, there you were, grinning manically in the opposite direction. Playing to the gallery, as ever! After all, I'm the bloke you're supposed to have shared a pivotal scene with, aren't I? Surely they taught you manners along with some stagecraft at that drama school you went to? Sometimes, I despair.
What's that you're saying?
“He's not real, of course. Just a plastic replica. I mean, if this was a real bony hand, I wouldn't be....”
You wouldn't be doing what? Look me plumb in the eye-socket and say that again! Now, allow me to put you straight.
We are the same, you and I, except you haven't yet reached my level of polish and refinement. True, I'm held together by... well, maybe by the odd twist of wire. But I'm bone, I tell you. Bone! The same as you. Remember that when you squeeze those delicate digits. And don't you ever quote 'Alas, poor Yorick' to me again!
Penny Alexander
