(We see an art critic examining a nude painting. Caption on
screen: 'AN ART CRITIC' He sees the camera and starts talking
Art Critic: Good evening. I'd like to talk to you tonight
about the place of the nude in my bed ... um ... in the history of
my bed ... of art, of art, I'm sorry. The place of the nude in the
history of tart... call-girl... I'm sorry. I'll start again... Bum
... oh what a giveaway. The place of the nude in art. (a
seductively dressed girl enters slinkily) Oh hello there father,
er confessor, professor, your honor, your grace ...
Girl: (cutely) I'm not your Grace, I'm your Elsie.
Art Critic: What a terrible joke!
Girl: (crying) But it's my only line!
(Cut to an idyllic countryside. Birds sing etc. as the camera
starts a lyrical pan across the fields.)
Voice Over: and superimposed caption: 'BUT THERE LET US
LEAVE THE ART CRITIC TO STRANGLE HIS WIFE AND MOVE ON TO PASTURES
(After about ten seconds of mood setting the camera suddenly
comes across the art critic strangling his wife in middle
foreground. As the camera passes him he hums nervously and tries to
look as though he isn't strangling anybody. The camera doesn't stop
panning, and just as it goes off him we see him start strangling