[MAN is laying on a massage table, with his shirt off. MASSEUSE is seen behind him]
MASSEUSE: [Swedish. Or Latvian. Or whatever. So long as it's basically racist] Okay, yes, so I am perhaps going to start now.
MAN: Grand, go ahead.
MASSEUSE: Ya. Sure, ya. [Deep breaths] Ya, let's start.
[PAUSE, WITH NOTHING APPARENLY HAPPENING]
MAN: Whenever you're ready.
MASSEUSE: Oh, now you have breaken the concentrates, I must, ah, recentre the energies, yes?
MAN: Oh, OK, sorry.
MASSEUSE: Not a something, don't worry. [More muttering and deep breathing. Goes on for quite a while, without anything obvious happening]
MAN: Sorry, could you just, err, start?
MASSEUSE: Start? What would you think I was already doing, if not some starting?
MAN: Err, I was expecting a massage.
MASSEUSE: And a massage you are getting. Is it good? Not too deep, I'm hoping.
MAN: You've not touched me.
MASSEUSE: Oh, for sure, but this a a vedic oculiris massage, yeah. They told you that in receptions?
MAN: Yeah, well, I don't know what sort's which, I just have this pain in my shoulder.
MASSEUSE: Ah, right, clearing is the water's edge. The oculiris technique uses traditional eyeball massage.
MAN: Uses what?
MASSUESE: Eyeball power, yes. You know a piercing glance? A cutting look? A slapping peek? A snuggling stare? It is like those things, but used in reverse for goodness.
MAN: Are you having a laugh?
MASSEUSE: No, I'm having a serious career. Look, I have done your back, sit up and I shall visuassage your chest.
[MAN sits up warily. MASSEUSE stands in front of him, takes a breath, then makes a series of exaggerated eye faces at him: screwed up, wide open, winking, that sort of thing, all the while moving the head from side to side.]
MAN: Alright, I get it. I'm not being taken for this ride, Gladys.
[MAN stands up, and starts to put on his shirt]
MASSEUSE: No! You may not leave without making my payment. It is forty sterlings.
[MAN ignores her and continues doing up the buttons]
MASSEUSE: Righty tighty. [Shouts] Steven! There is another absconder, potentially!
[Enter STEVEN, a big tough bouncery guy in a tracksuit.]
STEVEN: you planning on going without paying, my friend?
MAN: [Nervous] Yes. Well, you know, I thought it was a bit, err, unfair. The price, and so on.
STEVEN: Well, we'll see about that, my son.
[STEVEN squares up to MAN, tenses himself, then opens his eyes as wide as they'll go. He holds it for a moment, then jerks his head towards the door. Looks confused, tries it again.]
MAN: Oh, ridiculous.
[MAN pushes past and walks out]
STEVEN: Oh, sorry. He was stronger than he looked.
MASSEUSE: It is not a big thing, Steven. It is a small thing. Thanking you for assistance.
[MASSEUSE bends down to pick up a discarded towel. She leaps up suddenly, holding her rear]
MASSEUSE: Hey! Don't you slap my buttock with your vision tendril.
[MASSEUSE whips her head. STEVEN holds his hand to his cheek looking pained]
