This transcript was automatically generated and might contain errors.

[0:00] Narrator: In a world of mass species extinction, climate change, and yawning economic inequality, the world of steam-powered servants and factory-made food, a world nothing like our own, the privileged few, like Cyril Chippington Smythe, have nothing to live for but pleasure and fashion and love. Join us now for Twits In Love, A Steampunk Distraction by Tom Alan Robbins, Chapter 1, I Am Awakened.

[0:56] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Alcohol is like the cousin who owes you money. It promises everything and delivers nothing. Or perhaps it resembles that potion that Juliet slugs down. It brings a death-like sleep but provides no balm. There was certainly a lack of balm on this spring morning as I was ripped from slumber by my valet, who cleared his throat like a tenor getting a running start at a high C. I tentatively waggled a toe, and upon this sign of consciousness, he whipped open the bedroom curtains and unleashed the sun's cruel rays upon my helpless carcass. Sunlight is beastly after a night of carousing, and I can see why vampires in novels are always complaining about it. For the love of God, Bentley! How have I transgressed? Why this cruel letting in of light? Pourquoi this throat-clearing and foot-tapping?

[1:55] Bentley: It is nine o'clock, sir. Miss Witherspoon is joining you for breakfast in thirty minutes.

[2:01] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: The mention of Alice Witherspoon jolted me upright, as if Bentley had poked me in the kidneys with a cattle prod. Alice Witherspoon was a limpet-like creature with matrimonial ambitions. I struggled to escape my bedclothes. Joining me for breakfast? Alice? Has the earth tilted on its axis? Has Armageddon crept in on little cat feet? Why is this horrible thing happening?

[2:28] Bentley: You invited her, sir, last night.

[2:31] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I? Was I drunk? Extremely. I didn't say anything compromising, did I, Bentley? I made no promises. She's been hell-bent on marrying me since we were sixteen.

[2:42] Bentley: I endeavoured to drip hot soup on sir's neck at the most confessional junctures, but I could not say what may have occurred while I was bruléing the crepe. You shouldn't have left me alone with her for a moment. You know how malleable I am when I'm in my cups.

[2:57] Bentley: The word putty comes to mind, sir.

[2:59] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Oh, this is dreadful. For all we know, I could be engaged to that termagant as we speak.

[3:04] Bentley: I should endeavour to ascertain your position at breakfast.

[3:08] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Alcohol is a dreadful thing. Have you got any?

[3:12] Bentley: I took the liberty of preparing an eye-opener.

[3:15] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Bless you. I don't know where Bentley got the recipe for his morning-after libation. Some say he met Lucifer at a crossroads and traded his immortal soul for it. This, of course, is impossible, as he has no soul. Ambrosia. I'll need a second coat if I'm to eat opposite Miss Witherspoon. Those enormous teeth gnashing and grinding rather put one off one's chow. It's so unnecessary. The art of false teeth has reached its golden age. They're making them out of ground-up seashells and glue or some such, I hear. Ah, Bentley, life is a veil of... something or other.

[3:57] Bentley: Tears, sir?

[3:58] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Oh, I don't think so. Is it?

[4:00] Bentley: So the poets would have us believe. Just in time for the morning canon, sir.

[4:06] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Right-ho. Open the window. There's a good chap. Bentley, field the family canon in front of the window. I think a half-charged today, Bentley. The old noggin is rather tender.

[4:18] Bentley: Very good, sir.

[4:22] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: And three, two, one...

[4:26] Cyril Chippington-Smythe and Bentley: Death before dishonour!

[4:30] Bentley: Death before dishonour!

[4:36] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Thank you, Bentley. Quite satisfactory. As Bentley leaned over to straighten a pillow, I caught the scent of hot oil.

[4:47] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I say, are you running a little warm today?

[4:50] Bentley: Nothing serious, sir. A clogged pressure-release valve. I shall attend to it.

[4:55] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Please do. I can't have you in the shop with Alice swooping about. Clip on the shower. There's a good man.

[5:01] Bentley: (sliding into the bathroom) Bentley slid into the bathroom like a pat of butter on a hot pan, and I heard the pitter-patter of water I knew would be calibrated to the perfect temperature. I felt almost happy. This might be an apropos moment to mention that Mr. Wickford-Davies has been waiting on the stairs since eight o'clock, sir.

[5:22] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: What? Binky?

[5:24] Bentley: The burgeoning happiness within me lost the will to live and moped off to smoke a cigarette. Binky? Why have you left him so callously on the stairs?

[5:35] Bentley: He claims to prefer the stairs. He states that stairs only force you to choose up or down, whereas life is a miasma of impossible decisions that all lead to the grave.

[5:46] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Well, give me a minute to get into the shower, pump one of your pick-me-uppers down his throat and lead him in. You might offer him a sandwich.

[5:53] Bentley: There are no sandwiches, sir.

[5:55] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: How can that be? Civilization is founded on the belief that sandwiches will always be readily available.

[6:01] Bentley: I'm afraid we're on rather short rations at the moment, sir. The food production facility in Weaselon Stoat was bombed.

[6:10] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Who would do such a thing?

[6:12] Bentley: The act was attributed to anarchists.

[6:14] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Oh, well. I have nothing against anarchy, as long as it doesn't disrupt the minutia of daily life. If alcohol is one's impecunious cousin, Binky is one's actual cousin and is likewise a deadbeat. Cheswick Wickford Davies, Binky to his friends if he had any, has elevated sponging to an art form. He is related to practically everyone and is so skilled at inviting himself to one thing and another that I don't believe he sees his home for weeks at a time. He supports himself by gnawing on the ankle of some distant uncle who grudgingly sends a small allowance each month. Binky is reliably good company. Or was, until he fell like a hot of bricks for Alice Witherspoon's buck-toothed charms.

[7:05] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I have a particularly vigorous shower, but even through the cataract I can hear Binky's sighs. They gradually gained in volume until I gave up and turned off the taps.

[7:23] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: What ho, old sot. Death before dishonor.

[7:26] Binky: Death before dishonor. Why all this puffing like a grampus and so on?

[7:30] Binky: I've come to say goodbye, Cyril. I'm leaving for Antarctica on the next dirigible.

[7:35] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: What on earth are you going to do in Antarctica?

[7:37] Binky: I'll find something. They must need someone to sweep the ice or shoo the penguins away.

[7:44] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: No ice in Antarctica, mon frere. That's an old wives' tale. And you may want to confirm that penguins still frolic there. Damn the great extinction.

[7:53] Binky: There must be penguins, or what is life?

[7:57] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Slow down, old cock. I haven't had my coffee yet. You say you are going to Antarctica to herd penguins, but you don't get at the root of the mystery. Why are you fleeing your home and family?

[8:08] Binky: I have to stop my mind from dwelling on her, Cyril.

[8:12] Binky: Backbreaking physical labor in a harsh climate will leave no time for binding.

[8:17] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I don't know how backbreaking it would be to shoo penguins. According to legend, they were more or less docile.

[8:23] Binky: How could you understand? You are the object of her adoration.

[8:28] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: You mean Alice?

[8:30] Binky: The syllables of her name are like the fangs of Atlas.

[8:33] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Crooked, oversized fangs, I'm sure.

[8:36] Binky: Don't joke. Just shake my hand and wish me well.

[8:40] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I do. My fondest wish is that she leaps out of my life and into your arms.

[8:44] Binky: I don't know why she resists you. Your taste in clothing is impeccable.

[8:48] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: And most of the other virtues begin with dressing well.

[8:51] Binky: It's a moral superiority.

[8:53] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Then you're right to run for your life. Moral superiority and love are like fresh fish and a hot car.

[9:00] Binky: Um, look here. Do you suppose you could lend me the money for the airship? I'm a little short at the moment.

[9:07] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Of course. I'm sure you'll pay it back in no time from your wages in the animal husbandry industry.

[9:16] Bentley: (wafting into the room) Ahoy, Bentley. You're overheating to an odoriferous degree.

[9:20] Bentley: I should attend to it between the fruity slices and the omelette, sir. My vitals cried out like a lost lamb.

[9:37] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Jolly good. Cheesy omelette, is it?

[9:39] Bentley: Yes, sir.

[9:40] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Real eggs?

[9:41] Bentley: Nearly, sir.

[9:42] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Oh, well. Miss Witherspoon has arrived. I've placed her in the morning room.

[9:46] Binky: (whirling round) Do you mean to say she's here?

[9:50] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Now, don't go to pieces. We're having breakfast.

[9:54] Binky: How could you?

[9:56] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I would never have invited her in my right mind. Apparently, I was suffering from acute alcohol poisoning.

[10:01] Binky: I can't see her.

[10:02] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Be a man. You can't go ducking into doorways and running off to Antarctica every time Alice sets her paddle-like foot onto the fairway.

[10:10] Binky: What else can I do?

[10:12] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: This seemed to require an answer, but the old noodle just rolled over and played dead. It was going to take a lot of lubricant to squeeze through this sticky wicket, and suddenly, I knew just where to find the petroleum jelly.

[10:26] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Here, let's ask Bentley. He'll know what to do.

[10:29] Binky: By Jove, that's brilliant. No one can top Bentley in the thinking department.

[10:33] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: What about it?

[10:35] Bentley: (expression unchanged) Bentley's expression didn't change, but the odor of stale grease grew sharper. With all due modesty, my particular model is known for its powers of analytical thinking. Our friend Binky here has tumbled head over heels for Alice Witherspoon, who is on too high a moral plane to spot him crawling in the dust beneath her.

[10:55] Bentley: This scenario is not unfamiliar to me, sir. I want to get rid of Alice. Binky wants to possess her body and soul. Alice, Binky wants to possess her body and soul. Can the transfer of her affections be achieved?

[11:10] Bentley: A distinct whirring sound emanated from deep within Bentley's stately cranium. Only a tiny flicker of his optical sensors betrayed the mammoth computational task taking place behind his serene expression. It's epic, isn't it? Like the Oracle of Delphi.

[11:28] Bentley: A tiny puff of steam drifted from Bentley's left ear, and he returned to the mortal plane. It is generally accepted that in matters of romance, people want most acutely what they cannot have. The popular literature is rife with examples.

[11:44] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: But she can have him. His desperation to fling his corporeal and spiritual selves at her is manifest. It will require subterfuge.

[11:52] Bentley: Subterfuge? By Jove, I've always been drawn to the stage. Cyril, you remember what a keen thespian I was in school? I was rather good in that Oscar Wilde thing, if you recall.

[12:04] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Yes.

[12:05] Bentley: What?

[12:06] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: You do have a tendency to spit on stage, you know.

[12:09] Bentley: I don't.

[12:11] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I suppose it could be condensation or some sort of spontaneous liquefaction of your leading ladies.

[12:17] Bentley: I don't spit.

[12:19] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Have it your way. Now, what's the storyline, Bentley?

[12:22] Bentley: The usual ploy is to invent an alternative love interest. This brings the desired object's jealousy into play. Combining this with an icy reserve to administer the school could bring the desired result.

[12:36] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Genius. You're wasted in service, Bentley. You should run for public office.

[12:41] Bentley: Heaven forfend, sir. Even a simulacrum has its pride.

[12:45] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Let's try it out at once. Come on, Cyril.

[12:48] Binky: Are you joining us for breakfast?

[12:50] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Thanks awfully. I'd love to.

[12:52] Bentley: Can you whip up another cheesy omelette?

[12:55] Bentley: I shall simply make them smaller, sir.

[12:58] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: That seems rather hard on me. I love cheesy omelettes.

[13:02] Bentley: This is not the time to cavil about cheesy omelettes. Love is a higher imperative.

[13:05] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Lead on. Binky didn't hear me, as he was already halfway down the stairs. I hastened to join him and stopped him at the entrance to the morning room. Let me go in first, old chum, then you saunter in.

[13:23] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: God, don't worry. I have a plan.

[13:53] Bentley: I have sometimes wondered what I might have accomplished with all of the energy I have expended in fighting her off over the years. For example, I had always dreamed of inventing a new knot for neckties that would be named after me. Lost opportunities. Sad.

[14:09] Bentley: Good morning, Cyril. Death before dishonor.

[14:11] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Death before dishonor.

[14:13] Bentley: Really, you must stop reading this track. It rots the brain.

[14:16] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Au contraire. Reading lights up those stinky cells in the old antebellum.

[14:21] Bentley: I suppose you mean cerebellum.

[14:23] Bentley: These are gossip in celebrity magazines. They are not food for thought. They are empty calories. They decay the teeth.

[14:31] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Then you should avoid them at all costs.

[14:36] Bentley: Why me, in particular? What's so funny?

[14:39] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: She glared at me suspiciously, and I managed a look of angelic innocence. Still, it was rather good.

[14:47] Bentley: Faintly, glided in with the coffee. Shall I serve the fruity slices now, sir?

[14:52] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: What do you say, Alice?

[14:53] Alice Witherspoon: All right. Thank you, Bentley.

[14:55] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: We seated ourselves and did the napkin thingy and sipped our coffee. Time to find out exactly where I stood vis-à-vis matrimony.

[15:04] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I say, that was quite an evening last night.

[15:08] Alice Witherspoon: One might almost say momentous.

[15:11] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Would one? Wherefore?

[15:13] Alice Witherspoon: Our minds have never meshed so completely. I believe we came to an understanding.

[15:17] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: My lawyers assure me that I am legally prohibited from understanding anything.

[15:21] Alice Witherspoon: Don't joke. I want to talk to you seriously, Cyril, about the future.

[15:25] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Oh, a little early in the day, isn't it?

[15:28] Alice Witherspoon: Do stop jumping up and down.

[15:30] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Well, when you spring things on one like a jack-in-the-box.

[15:33] Alice Witherspoon: Now listen to me. Leave the glucose cubes alone, for heaven's sake.

[15:37] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I abandoned my whimsical take on the Great Wall of China. I love you, Cyril, and I know that under that ridiculous affectation you love me too.

[15:44] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Well, love is a word freighted with nuance.

[15:47] Alice Witherspoon: Please don't speak. After we're married...

[15:50] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Whoa!

[15:51] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: An uncontrollable spasm caused me to knock my coffee cup clean across the room and send it smashing into a vase that had been in the family for five generations. Truthfully, I had always hated it. But still.

[16:04] Bentley: What's the matter with you, Cyril?

[16:11] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I know I was drunk last night, but surely I'd remember if I proposed.

[16:15] Alice Witherspoon: Words are unnecessary when two people love as we do.

[16:18] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Still, words are wonderful things. Legal things.

[16:23] Alice Witherspoon: Don't whine. It's unbecoming.

[16:25] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: It is high on my list of your flaws.

[16:27] Alice Witherspoon: You keep a list?

[16:28] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I have been curating it since we were fifteen.

[16:30] Alice Witherspoon: Well, that's rather hard cheese. Your use of obscure phrases like that is currently in sixth position.

[16:36] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: But seriously, any talk of marriage?

[16:40] [Binky enters.]

[16:42] Binky: At this moment, Binky made his entrance. He had clearly put a great deal of thought into it. His shoulder entered first, and after a moment of suspense, the back of his head put in an appearance.

[16:53] Binky: Ta-ta, my darling. I shall count the hours until I'm with you once again.

[17:01] Binky: He sighed a deep, shuddering sigh and backed fully into the room. Oh.

[17:11] Binky: Only then did he slowly rotate, revealing a look of mingled bliss and longing. He started upon seeing us. His eyes grew round, and his lips pouted like a codfish. Ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!

[17:28] Binky: So sorry. I didn't suspect this saddle was in use.

[17:35] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Well, it is. And please don't spit in my coffee. We're having a private conversation.

[17:40] Binky: Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Ah. Death before dishonor. Death before dishonor. Death before dishonor.

[17:57] Binky: What are you doing in Cyril's house, anyway?

[18:00] Binky: Oh, just saying goodbye to someone.

[18:07] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: You don't know her.

[18:09] Binky: Does she live here? Cyril, who is this woman living in your house?

[18:13] Bentley: Who indeed?

[18:14] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Yes, I was going to mention that. Go on.

[18:18] Bentley: Binky was concentrating fiercely, but I could see that this flaw in his backstory had thrown him for a loop. Are you referring to your cousin from the country, sir?

[18:29] Binky: Oh, by Jove, yes. Thank you, Bentley. That's exactly who we were referring to. A country cousin.

[18:35] Bentley: You're full of surprises. What is her name?

[18:39] Binky: Uh, uh, yes. It's, uh, Binky stared desperately at a potted plant by the window. Uh, Gardenia.

[18:53] Alice Witherspoon: An unusual name. She is as lovely as a flower. We are going to be wed.

[19:02] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Are you? Good. Best thing for you. Now, if you don't mind... I'm famished.

[19:08] Binky: I beg your pardon?

[19:10] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Oh, sorry. I forgot that I invited Binky to breakfast as well. But the table is set for two.

[19:17] Bentley: Bentley set down a third plate and began arranging silverware. Oh, well. You're hopelessly unromantic, Cyril.

[19:24] Alice Witherspoon: You can add it to the list.

[19:25] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: It is already at number two.

[19:28] Alice Witherspoon: What's number one?

[19:29] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Your greatest flaw is your lack of any trace of seriousness.

[19:33] Alice Witherspoon: Ah, yeah. I see that as a virtue.

[19:35] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: So do many of our generation. I believe it is the great scourge of the age.

[19:39] Alice Witherspoon: What is there to be serious about?

[19:43] Bentley: Don't slurp your fruity slices like an animal.

[19:46] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: But Binky makes a point. Factory-made food has eliminated hunger. The processing of seawater into hydrogen has provided unlimited power. What is there to be serious about?

[19:57] Alice Witherspoon: There is more to life than mere subsistence. Look around, old girl. This is a bally site more than subsistence.

[20:04] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: You live in a prison of privilege. For the masses, life lacks these gigaurs and distractions. Nutrition bars and water in a shack hardly constitute a life well-lived.

[20:14] Alice Witherspoon: I sympathize, of course. Do not be so quick to congratulate yourself. Our class suffers a different but equally horrible fate. We are being coddled into extinction.

[20:24] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: We fill the empty hours with shallow entertainments and elaborate social rituals. For example, death before dishonor.

[20:31] Alice Witherspoon: Death before dishonor. Death before dishonor. See? We repeat it constantly without any notion of why we do so. What does it mean? Why do we all say it?

[20:39] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Well, it's because death, don't you know, is what comes before dishonor.

[20:51] Alice Witherspoon: I think that's wrong, old bean. I think the idea is that dishonor should come after death. Then it doesn't matter so much because you're dead, you see.

[21:01] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: You've proven my point. It's an empty ritual that exists to give us the illusion that there is a moral code that gives meaning to life.

[21:08] Alice Witherspoon: There is a moral code that gives meaning to life, isn't there?

[21:12] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Is there? And what is that code?

[21:14] Alice Witherspoon: Well, death before dishonor, of course. And don't wear stripes with checks. Although I'm toying with the idea of smashing that one to smithereens.

[21:25] Bentley: I would advise against it, sir. A gentleman doesn't perform manual labor.

[21:30] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Be true to your club. To insult a man's club is to insult the man.

[21:34] Alice Witherspoon: Don't you see that these ridiculous affectations are not a moral code?

[21:38] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Then what is?

[21:39] Alice Witherspoon: Every individual should have the right of self-determination. All humans are equal. Let's not lose our heads. Each generation has an obligation to make the world a better place for future generations.

[21:50] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: How do you propose we do that?

[21:52] Alice Witherspoon: We must destroy the patriarchy. Nothing can be achieved while our every whim is satisfied by a monolithic industrial complex.

[21:59] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I didn't mean to bring this up until after the wedding.

[22:02] Bentley: Ho! The cream pitcher followed the coffee cup across the room, destroying a small china figurine.

[22:09] Bentley: I beg your pardon, sir. I should have removed the other breakables from the room after the earlier incident.

[22:15] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Don't blame yourself, Bentley. Could have happened to anyone. For heaven's sake, Cyril, sit down and stop flinging the china.

[22:22] Alice Witherspoon: Are you saying that life is too easy?

[22:25] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Since the discoveries that made our modern way of life possible, our class has devolved into a feat ineffectual fobs. A few more generations like this and we'll be apes again.

[22:34] Alice Witherspoon: Sorry, we'll be what?

[22:36] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Apes.

[22:37] Alice Witherspoon: No. Doesn't ring a bell.

[22:39] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: They used to live in jungles.

[22:40] Alice Witherspoon: In what?

[22:41] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Oh, never mind. Damn the great extinction. But what's the answer?

[22:46] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: I am one of a band of like-minded individuals that meet in a clandestine fashion to discuss ways of halting the decline of civilization.

[22:50] Alice Witherspoon: You don't mean you've joined an anarchist cell?

[22:56] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Anarchist is a label we eschew. Our group is called Citizens for a Better Tomorrow.

[23:01] Alice Witherspoon: And how will you achieve your lofty goals?

[23:04] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: By dismantling the current infrastructure through selfless acts of heroism.

[23:08] Alice Witherspoon: Uh, I can't quite grasp the gist.

[23:12] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: We shall kick away the crutches that keep mankind from walking into a new tomorrow.

[23:16] Alice Witherspoon: If you kick away the crutches, mankind will have to crawl into a new tomorrow.

[23:20] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: The crutches are metaphorical.

[23:22] Bentley: Bentley, can you translate?

[23:24] Bentley: I believe they mean to blow things up, sir.

[23:27] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Exactly. What, what, what things?

[23:30] Alice Witherspoon: Oh, you know, factory farms and hydrogen plants and so on.

[23:34] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Food production facilities?

[23:35] Alice Witherspoon: If necessary.

[23:36] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Weasel on stout. I knew it was you.

[23:39] Alice Witherspoon: I can neither confirm nor deny whatever you're inferring.

[23:41] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: What do you hope to achieve by depriving civilization of its sandwiches?

[23:45] Alice Witherspoon: Sandwiches are the opiate of the people.

[23:47] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Even ham?

[23:48] Alice Witherspoon: We discussed this last night. You agreed with all of it. Our minds were one.

[23:53] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: That was our momentous conversation?

[23:55] Alice Witherspoon: What did you think it was?

[23:57] Cyril Chippington-Smythe: Oh, that. Definitely. Thank God. We must return to a time when life took work. When men glistened with the sweat of honest labor. Their gleaming muscles flexing under thin, homespun smocks. Their women working beside them with heaving breasts. Falling into bed at the end of the day to mate like animals. Not the kind of delicate, polite lovemaking you find nowadays, but rough, passionate, desperate sex.

[24:23] Alice Witherspoon: Alice is right. I will join you. I will fight beside you. Take me with you to this new tomorrow.

[24:33] Bentley: Your omelet, sir. A precarious predicament for our hero. Will Bentley's plan save him from matrimony to the densely challenged Alice? Can Binky maintain the fiction of his imaginary love, Gardenia? Will Alice succeed in blowing society back to the Stone Age? Join us next time for Twits in Love, Chapter 2. A beastly day at the club. To lose.

[25:05] Bentley: And now, let us bow down before the brilliance of our cast. Without whom we would be as dust. Blown hither and yon by the winds of fortune.

[25:18] Michael Urie: Michael Urie as Cyril Chippington Smythe.

[25:22] Christian Borle: Christian Borle as Cheswick Whitford Davies. Binky to his friends.

[25:26] Dakin Matthews: Dakin Matthews as Bentley.

[25:31] Helen Cespedes: Helen Cespedes as Alice Witherspoon.

[25:34] Lillias White: And yours truly, Lillias White, as a disembodied, omnipotent voice.

[25:42] Lillias White: Written by Tom Alan Robbins. Co-directed by Tom Alan Robbins and Dory Berenstein. Produced by Dory Berenstein, Allen Seals, Brittany Bigelow, and the Broadway Podcast Network. General Manager, Beatrice Westby. Press, Marketing, Social Media by Katie Rosen. Ayanna Prescod, Sound Effects Consultant, Eric Wright. Sound Designer and Editor, Brett Ashley. Executive Produced by Liz Armstrong. The Twits series is sponsored by The Gotham as part of the Sound and Light Project.

[26:25] Lillias White: Good day.

[26:29] Lillias White: Good day.