(Cut to Beethoven's living room. A model mynah bird is opening
and shutting its beak. Beethoven is sitting at the piano.)
Beethoven: You don't fool me, you stupid mynah bird. I'm
not deaf yet.
Mynah: Just you wait... ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! (Beethoven
pulls a revolver and shoots the bird which falls to the ground)
Oh! Bugger...
Beethoven: Shut up!
Mynah: Right in the wing.
Beethoven: Shut your beak. Gott in Himreel... I never get
any peace here.
(He plays the first few notes of the fifth symphony, trying
vainly to get the last note. Mrs. Beethoven enters.)
Mrs. Beethoven: Ludwig!
Beethoven: What?
Mrs. Beethoven: Have you seen the sugar bowl?
Beethoven: No, I haven't seen the bloody sugar bowl.
Mrs. Beethoven: You know ... the sugar bowl.
Beethoven: Sod the sugar bowl... I'm trying to finish this
stinking tune! It's driving me spare ... so shut up! (she leaves;
he goes into opening bars of 'Washington Post March ) No, no,
no, no, no.
(Mrs. Beethoven comes back in.)
Mrs. Beethoven: Ludwig, have you seen the jam spoon?
Beethoven: Stuff the jam spoon!
Mrs. Beethoven: It was in the sugar bowl.
Beethoven: Look, get out you old rat-bag. Buzz off and
shut up.
Mrs. Beethoven: I don't know what you see in that piano.
(she goes)
Beethoven: Leave me alone!! ... (gets the first eight
notes right at last) ... Ha! ha! ha! I've done it, I've done it!
(Mrs. Beethoven comes in again.)
Mrs. Beethoven: Do you want peanut butter or sandwich
spread for your tea?
Beethoven: What!!!!
Mrs. Beethoven: PEANUT BUTTER...
Beethoven: I've forgotten it. (plays a few wrong notes)
I had it! I had it!
Mrs. Beethoven: Do you want peanut butter or sandwich
spread?
Beethoven: I don't care!!
Mrs. Beethoven Ooooh! I don't know. (she goes out)
Beethoven: I had it. I had it you old bag. (at the same
moment as he gets it right again, the door flies open and Mrs.
Beethoven charges in with a very load hoover) Mein lieber Gottll
What are you doing? (a terrible clanking and banging comes from
the wall) What's that! What's that!
Mrs. Beethoven: (still hoovering loudly) It's the
plumber!
(A jarring ring of the doorbell adds to the din.)
Beethoven: Gott in Himreel, I'm going out.
Mrs. Beethoven: Well, if you're going out don't forget
we've got the Mendelssohn's coming for tea so don't forget to order
some pikelets.
Beethoven: Pikelets, pikelets. Shakespeare never had this
trouble.
(Shakespeare washing up at a sink, present day).