Ext. Garden.
A young man is clearing out a shed. There is a large bin next to the shed. The man’s father comes over.
Father: My God! Is this all you’ve got done?
Son: I’m going as quick as I can.
Father: I asked you to clear it out 3 hours ago! What’ve you been doing?
Son: I keep getting distracted.
Father: You haven’t been spying on the young woman next door have you?
Son: Why would I do that?
Father: Because she’s sunbathing topless you moron. I don’t know, eh!
Son: I better go have a look.
Father: No you won’t. You’ll clear the shed out before you lay your peepers on her hooters.
Son: I’ve got exams coming up though; this shed clearing’s really stressing me out.
Father: She’s got a tube of suntan lotion with your name on it.
Son: It’s got my name on it?
Father: (TUTS) Did we christen you Ambre Solaire?
Son: No. You christened me Henrietta.
Father: You can blame your mother for that. I wanted Celia.
Son: So why did you say the suntan lotion had my name on it?
Father: I was trying to encourage you to work! It’s what father’s do! That and have affairs.
Son: Oh right. I’ll get on then.
The son goes in the shed and comes out with a single old newspaper. He slowly trudges to one of the bins and drops it in. He trudges back over to the shed. The father looks angry.
Father: Do I have to show you how to do it?
The son nods. The father goes storming into the shed. He comes out with a load of boxes and furiously slams them into the bin one by one.
Father: You see? Do it faster!
Son: Faster, yeah. I got yer.
Father: I don’t want to see anymore tortoise impressions. Talking of which, where’s my little Tommy Tortoise.
Son: Uh, I dunno. Oh wait. He kept running away from me, so I put him in that bin.
ENDS