by Philip Purser-Hallard
with amendments by Nick Bull

[Not in any sense a shop, but a reception area, as for an expensive clinic. There are a couple of comfy chairs and an artificially smiley receptionist, Miss RENTED, who sits at a desk with a phone. On the desk is a placard with the IHAD logo on it. Mr CRAVEN, a client, enters.]

RENTED: Hello, sir, welcome to I'll Have A Double.

CRAVEN: Hullo. This is where Dr Malignant works, isn't it?

RENTED: That's right, sir. I'll just call him up. [She picks up the phone and jiggles it] I'm sorry, sir, the phone doesn't seem to be working at the moment. I'll just pop up and see if he's available. [Exit. Off] Phones have gone again, Claire love.

[Seconds later she returns. She's wearing a different jacket, though this is not obtrusively obvious. (It doesn't matter if the audience sees some of the costume changes going on here; it will suffice that CRAVEN cannot see them.) She smiles at CRAVEN, sits and picks up the phone.]

CRAVEN: Er, is he not there, then?

RENTED: [Smiley still] She's just finding out, sir, if you could be patient for a moment.

CRAVEN: [Confused] Ah.

[Pause. RENTED speaks into the phone.]

RENTED: Hello, it's I'll Have A Double here. Yes, we're having trouble with the phones again, so I'm told. Yes, if you could. Thank you, three-thirty will be fine. I'm sure our receptionist can soldier on till then. [Hangs up]

[During this, CRAVEN has realised]

CRAVEN: Excuse me, would I be right in thinking –

[Phone rings. Miss RENTED picks it up]

RENTED: Right, I'll tell him. [Phone down] Dr Malignant will be down in a moment.

CRAVEN: Thank you.

RENTED: I'd better be getting back to my typing.

[RENTED exits. A moment later, she returns, in her first jacket, with Dr MALIGNANT, who is very sane and matter-of-fact, in a reassuring white coat.]

RENTED: Hello again. [She sits]

MALIGNANT: Ah, Mr Craven. Sorry to have kept you. I'm Dr Malignant.

CRAVEN: Pleased to meet you, Doctor.

MALIGNANT: Now, I gather you're thinking of having yourself cloned.

CRAVEN: That's right.

[They sit on the comfy chairs. Miss RENTED busies herself at the desk.]

MALIGNANT: May I ask your reasons for this, Mr Craven?

CRAVEN: Well, it's slightly embarassing, really.

MALIGNANT: Well, I can assure you we're the soul of discretion. We're no stranger to embarassing situations here. We had a chap in last month, astonishing thing, seems the only way he could get it up was to wank at his reflection in the mirror. Not all that satisfactory as far as the old love life was concerned, you can imagine. So his thinking was, you see, if he availed himself of one of our instant clones, it would be the most arousing sexual partner imaginable for him. Well, it seems to have worked out so far – he moved in together a week or so ago.

RENTED: Last Tuesday, I think it was, Dr Malignant.

MALIGNANT: So you see, you can trust us to be absolutely discreet, no question about it.

CRAVEN: Good. Because it is a little embarrassing for a chap to admit.

MALIGNANT: Splendid, splendid.

CRAVEN: The thing is, I want to leave my wife without her noticing.

MALIGNANT: Right, right. Do you mind if I take notes? [He does so]

CRAVEN: Well, I've been married for ten years, but recently the whole business hasn't really been working out. And the thing is, I've met this other woman. Wonderful girl. Beautiful, vivacious, sexy, all the things my wife really isn't, frankly.

MALIGNANT: Adultery... [continues to fill in his notes without batting an eyelid]

CRAVEN: But I don't feel I can up and leave my wife just like that. I mean, I have to think of the children. And besides, I dread to think what might happen if she ever found me.

MALIGNANT: Bit of a hysterical type is she?

CRAVEN: No, just a very calm and balanced person who's extremely violent.

MALIGNANT: I see. So, in summary, you want a copy of yourself to take over being the responsible family man who's married to your wife, so you can go swanning off with your bit on the side without having to feel guilty about it.

CRAVEN: Er, yes.

MALIGNANT: Splendid. Well, no problem there.

CRAVEN: I wondered if that might cause a problem with your medical ethics.

MALIGNANT: [Looks at him doubtfully] Ethics? No, don't think so, old boy. Well, splendid. [Stands up. CRAVEN does too.] I think we can almost certainly help you. If you'll forgive me, I'm in a bit of a rush just at the moment – I've got two boy bands and a batch of game show hosts to squeeze in before lunch. I'll pass you on to our chief clinician for the necessary tissue samples, if that's okay with you. Miss Rented, would you call the other Dr Malignant, please? I'm sorry to have to rush out on you like this. Still, pleased to have met you. [Exit by the door CRAVEN came in by.]

RENTED: If you'd just like to take a seat, Mr Craven. [CRAVEN sits.] I'll have to go and find Dr Malignant myself, I'm afraid. [Shouts offstage] Claire, love, could you look after the desk for a minute, please?

RENTED: [Off – recorded VO] Sorry, Claire love, I'm tied up just now.

RENTED: Can you send Claire in then, please love? I've got to go and find Dr Malignant. [Smiles, as ever, at CRAVEN.] I won't be a moment.

[Exit. Seconds later she re-enters, dressed as differently as can feasibly be managed. Possibly need some lift music running under the whole sketch if the change is going to take long. She sits at the desk. CRAVEN is startled.]

CRAVEN: My God, you're another one, aren't you.

[RENTED scowls at the desk.]

I'm sorry, that was very rude of me, I just –

[Pause. She ignores him, coldly]

I wonder if you can tell me, is the copying process always perfect?

[Pause]

Or do some differences just slip in by accident every so often?

RENTED: Why don't you just piss off and fuck yourself?

CRAVEN: Ah.

[Dr MALIGNANT enters. This time he is hunchbacked and has an evil beard.]

MALIGNANT: Did I hear you asking questions about the reliability of our processes, Mr Craven? [He giggles manically]

CRAVEN: Er, yes. I was asking, is the process one hundred per cent reliable, or are the copies sometimes, um...

MALIGNANT: Sometimes what, Mr Craven? [He does a full-fledged manic laugh, which lasts for quite a while.]

CRAVEN: ...um, nothing.

MALIGNANT: So, you want a copy of yourself to keep your little wife entertained while you and your delicious little tart go off and SHAG? [He giggles] What's her phone number?

CRAVEN: Um...

MALIGNANT: Would you be interested in a three-way with some suppositories and a scapula? We could always ask Miss R to join us if you like.

RENTED: In your fucking dreams, you little turd.

CRAVEN: I think, in fact, I may need a little more time to think about this.

MALIGNANT: Oh, I don't know. When you've cloned as many worthless bastards as I have you stop caring about it, really. Has she got big nipples?

CRAVEN: [Backing off] Um, I'll call back sometime this afternoon. I just need to, er, have a bit of a think about it.

MALIGNANT: Well, don't keep us waiting too long. I want to meet this piece of totty of yours. [Giggles]

CRAVEN: Um, quite. [He goes, hurriedly]

RENTED: That's right, you sod off home to your wife, you shit.

[When CRAVEN has gone, MALIGNANT straightens up, and removes his hump. Miss RENTED begins to shuffle her paperwork.]

MALIGNANT: Any messages, Miss Rented?

RENTED: None this morning, Dr Malignant. [As she says this, she turns the placard round, so that it now says RELATE. MALIGNANT removes his beard or, if this should prove impossible, removes his white coat.]

MALIGNANT: [Exhales heavily, exhaustedly] This marriage guidance business just isn't what it used to be.

[Blackout]

www.infinitarian.com created and maintained by Philip Purser-Hallard.
All material © Philip Purser-Hallard 2003 except where otherwise noted, and not to be used without permission.