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Love is like a butterfly Soft and gentle as a fly The
multicolored moods of love Are like its satin wings Love
makes your heart feel strange inside It flutters like soft winds in flight Love
is like a butterfly A rare and gentle thing
love is like a butterfly a rare and gentle
There you were, fluttering from colour to colour, doing your own harmless
Suddenly you're scooped up, put in a jar, and that's it. Good night. God
We're funny things, human beings.
Rather like you, in a way.
Fragile.
Trying to do so many things in so little time against enormous odds.
Except we're lucky.
You don't collect us I'm sorry you're dead
The man I chose out of a world full of men actually approved of that merciless
massacre going on over there.
I didn't say I approved.
I simply don't have the time to disapprove.
What does that mean?
It means that to approve of something requires no effort.
To disapprove requires explanation.
I don't have time for explanations.
You've become hard.
And do you know why? Because of these. You don't regard this as murder, do you?
No. I regard it as preservation.
Which would you rather do? Live out your life or be murdered and preserved?
Ria, I find this conversation rather bizarre.
I find this whole outing rather bizarre.
Come on, an innocent picnic.
On the way, you collide with a sparrow.
I did not collide with a sparrow. A sparrow collided with me.
Then thousands of men go charging after one poor little fox.
Now we drive home with a car full of dead butterflies.
Have you finished persecuting my car?
Your door isn't closed.
It awakened something in me.
I saw, seeing that animal running for its life.
We're all running for our lives. He was no exception.
But nobody's catching up, are they?
The countryside seems suddenly full of cruelty.
Everything has become cruel.
Men, horses, dogs, and you.
If you stop using that tone of voice when describing my innocent hobby, you
me sound like a rapist.
You just ran over a mouse.
You ran over it just the same, didn't you?
Yes, and unless we buy a bloody aeroplane, I don't see an end to the
I suppose it'll be all over now for the fox.
Yes.
And they'll be sitting in their big houses with their big bellies full of
dinners.
And they'll be telling big stories in their big voices.
About a little fox.
Yeah.
Probably had a family.
They'll be waiting in the dark. In a hole.
Hungry.
It must be like you and Adam and Russell waiting for me to come back from the
supermarket.
Still, it doesn't matter.
Some Nile drastic will come along with his gun and his terrier shouting, get
their throats, lads!
And that'll be that.
It's nothing, really.
I'm glad I'm not a fox.
Aren't you glad you're not a fox?
I get the impression that you're leading up to something.
That you're taking me gently by the hand through all your little thought
processes and then suddenly you'll draw me into a verbal liquidiser, switch on
and I'll come out like a milkshake.
I'm confiding in you, that's all.
People don't confide in people with their backs to them.
From here you're just a frilly nightie with a nagging voice.
Doesn't matter.
Doesn't matter, it doesn't matter. When a woman says it doesn't matter, it
matters.
Look, I didn't create the world. I didn't make foxes or men who chase
am not God.
I'm merely part of his huge joke.
Oh, that's right. Blame God. He gets blamed for everything.
A bed is supposed to be a happy place. A place where a man can shed his day and
sprawl safely in his pyjamas.
There I can feel a threatened heart attack.
Valves pumping away in my chest and little men digging up a road in my
One more unhappy word and I shall be gone.
Good night then.
Worried about us.
Worried about the way I quarrel with you and the way you quarrel with me.
And the way we nearly went to sleep without a little hug. We never nearly go
sleep without a little hug.
Oh, Ben, hold me.
I feel... I feel as if I'm a balloon.
A pale pink balloon floating gently.
I've got a sting.
All you've got to do is grasp it and hold on to it because if you don't, I
float.
You can loosen up a bit, one arm will do, you can continue strangling the
Like knowing a body very well.
Yes.
For instance, I know that beneath this jacket, it's all bony and
hairy.
And I know that when you come to the end of your ribs, everything caves in.
And I know about your funny
kneecaps.
your shoulder blades don't match.
And I know... Ria, men have been known to say goodbye to their virility during
conversations like this.
And I know how strong and warm and special it all is.
Yes.
What it's like being torn to pieces.
Oh, my God.
A plate.
Plate.
Where's your mother?
Don't know.
Make your father's lunch, he said.
How's the chip department? They're all sort of clinging together.
Well, shake them, sunshine. Shake them.
Oh, fantastic.
It's all right.
It's all right. It's mine. Yours is on the plate.
Will the chips be visiting the floor or are they going straight to the plate?
Any way you choose, Dad. This is a happy, peace -loving, do -it -your -own
lunch.
Right. Go.
You've got the peas.
Oh, yeah, right. The peas.
We've forgotten the peas.
Ah.
Pickled onion.
No, thank you. They look as if they should be in a laboratory.
Peas? I suppose so, yeah.
Are you sure they're peas? I mean, your mother isn't going to announce tomorrow
that her black beads are missing?
Cooked for three minutes, Dumbo.
So I like my peas well done.
I had a few things to watch. All you had was the pie. And the bread and butter,
and the bread and butter.
Then where is it?
I don't believe anyone wants to know.
Okay,
okay, so I haven't done it. Then go on about my peas.
Have you two developed some sort of throat trouble?
We were just having a discussion.
About the meal.
Meal? What meal?
Where I sit, my plate looks as though it's got a very old dahlia on it. Oh,
on.
What is more disturbing, I am beginning to look like a very old dahlia.
Right.
And do you know why?
Because I am a man trapped.
I mend people's teeth.
My day begins with the word, open wide, please.
And from then on, I am treated to untold horrors, great rows and clusters of
Mother Nature at her worst.
But I tell myself, there is a purpose to all this.
Oh, yes.
There is a wife, two sons, a house and several cars to keep.
Family life, they call it.
So, yesterday, my wife, having seen a fox hunt, blamed me for it.
As we drove home, she spoke as if I was one of the men who indulged in it.
When we lay in bed, I had become responsible for the fox's inability to
enough. By the time breakfast came this morning, I'd turned into a pack of
bloody hounds.
Now, in my lunch hour...
stricken with yet another fact of family life.
Two helpless sons, plastic peas and limp chips.
Well, have you nothing to say?
Who's dropped a sock in the lavatory?
all the same.
I want you to imagine it.
I want you to picture a wild and beautiful creature, part of the heritage
country.
and save us.
Because it is only
It would be very difficult to be married to her, with her arm waving and
standing on the furniture.
I'm sure it has its complications.
A few apologies from the driving mirror, sir, but is that love I see on your
face or something less commendable?
My compliments to the driving mirror, Thomas, and tell it to mind its own
business. I'm sorry, Thomas.
You detect on my face confusion and frustration.
Seeing her is like seeing a red button mark push and not being able to push it,
because if you do, a loud bell will ring, sirens will sound, and the whole
will be alerted.
And you will be caught.
Well, at least you have a fragment of consideration, sir.
Some people would just push it and run.
Drive on, Thomas.
May I return the driving mirror to its proper position so it's a little
difficult driving with the view of the ashtray?
Are you with me?
Yes, yes, yes!
Will you help me?
Yes, yes, yes!
Bring your friends, bring your cars, we'll block their path.
Ladies and gentlemen, all we need are 20 cars, just 20.
and uneventful as usual.
And you?
Yes, the usual.
Teeth, lunch and teeth.
And dinner and teeth?
Well, it is my job.
And I am rather talented.
Look how straight they are.
He came to me looking like something out of Watership Down.
Oh, I'm not criticising your devotion to your job.
Everybody must have something to feel incensed about.
And you?
What are you feeling fenced about?
Oh, I just adore all those dishes on the draining board.
The ochre colours of abandoned egg.
The sudden opening of an oven door and coming face to face with some
unrecognisable mess.
You mean like yesterday's dumplings, all lying at the bottom of the dish,
shipwrecked?
That sort of thing, yes.
Where were you at lunchtime today?
Meeting people, chatting.
Didn't you eat them?
No. Oh, well, I had a sandwich earlier.
How was lunch with the boys?
Oh, just one more nightmare.
Are you chasing butterflies on Saturday because the garden needs doing?
What I mean is, I think you ought to have a rest on Saturday.
It's very strenuous.
Daffling around with that net.
You're right, it's very strenuous. I'll do the garden. The grass is only up to
the bedroom window.
Well, neither do I, though.
Why don't you just lie about doing nothing?
You're forgetting our sons. There isn't room for the three of us to lie about
doing nothing.
I'll send them out, and then later I'll go out. You can have the whole house
yourself.
Where will you go?
For a walk.
In the car.
I see. Oh, you know what I mean.
You look... very...
Sexy?
That's it, yes.
Oh, go on, say it, say it.
You look very sexy.
Be outrageous.
There's no point.
Miss House, there's no point.
Ever since those two hacked their way out of the playpen, I've learnt never to
start anything I couldn't easily finish without them gawping at me.
You look very sexy.
So do you.
What rubbish.
Healthy. Rugged, perhaps. One might even sense a certain brilliance, but not...
You love me?
Absolutely.
Hopelessly. All of that, yes.
Ladies and gentlemen, may I present Mr. Muscleman himself, the incredible,
the vibrant, the potent, Mr.
Adam.
You're not going busking again, are you?
No, we're going to a fancy dress party.
Are you sure he'll make it?
He's never been known not to, Dad.
What?
Will he be able to make it, I asked. He's never been known not to, Dad, comes
the reply.
So what's wrong with that?
Well, it's the connotations.
The connotations, they're sex mad.
No wonder they go about looking glazed and gaunt.
He's never been known not to.
By the time he's 30, he'll be like a new car with 80 ,000 miles on his clock.
Ben?
Yeah?
Have you ever sensed a feeling of power?
Not since they were thick, no.
Have you ever suddenly felt united with your own species?
When I was ten, I was in a three -legged race.
I remember feeling some sort of unity with my partner, but it only lasted for
yards. No, I mean, have you ever led a group of people, influenced them?
I saw this woman in town today.
She was campaigning.
You mean one of those awful masculine females, grating voice and a menacing
amount of chest?
As a matter of fact, this one was rather attractive.
Quite sexy, too.
She was a woman with a purpose. She really moved that... crowd crowd she
probably had a husband and son or no husband and daughters
but for those few minutes she belonged to
nobody but herself are you with me she cried yes yes yes they said will you
help me yes
Tell you about her.
I'm glad she's not mine.
you were alone.
Yes.
Doesn't your husband support your views?
Oh, he doesn't know I'm here.
He wouldn't approve of this sort of thing. He's too refined.
I've read your instructions.
The cars will be parked bumper to bumper, forming a barrier right across
field, thus preventing the hunt from continuing its route.
Already. I believed them.
I believed they'd come.
You can't believe in anyone, really, can you?
Have you?
Oh, I might have known I could rely on you. Trust you to turn up on time.
Well, just you try it. There'll be no dead fox today, my fat -ass friend. Not
I have anything to do with it. You'll see, because you'll have me to reckon
with. I didn't come here for nothing, you know.
You appear to be in the wrong place.
We hunted this morning from the manor.
Over there, actually.
Still never mind.
Tally -ho.
Didn't work, did it?
No.
A bit silly, really, wasn't it?
Some things you can't stop.
Thank the others for me, will you?
What are you looking so smug about?
If it wasn't for me, you'd be lying flat on your back in a jar.
Love is life because you try to love.
Love is life because you try to love.
Love is life because you try to love.
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