A Mortal Man Of Flesh And Blood

Ageless drags Kobo off the stage and back to the seat with the empty basket on it.

He stops under the seat, and addresses Kobo loudly so that everyone can hear.

Come to your senses, my sweet besotted man-girl! Give me a kiss! says Ageless. Your famous poet lover is nothing but a has-been.

A kiss? says Kobo tartly. Are you making a kissy mouth by any chance? I cannot see you.

You could see HIM well enough, says Ageless. Don't you know he's nothing but a statue?

A statue? I don't think so, says Kobo. Did you not see the soft curve of his mouth, his straining buttons?

Ageless is beside himself with fury.

His straining buttons! You mock me, pseudo-woman!

Pseudo-woman! That is cruel. The poets are transfixed.

They stand up to get a better look at Rabbie Burns, his sensuous buttons. Woah!

Rabbie may be drunk but he knows when he's the centre of attention.

He stands up and bows.

As ye can see, I am no statue, he declares. I am a mortal man of flesh and blood.

Three men we are! cries Vello. Of Flesh and Blood. Tarah!

Papa! cries Belle. Oh do sit down!

You, sir, says Ageless lobster, are an imposter! You are not Rabbie Burns! I know him!

Nay, says Rabbie. I dinna ken ye. Methinks ye know one o' ma many statues. Where are ye from?

Adelaide, says Ageless.

Aye, that'll be the statue outside the State Library on North Terrace, says Rabbie. That's no' me! That's a poor wee excuse for a man. He walked out o' his boots some time ago, and found he had no legs.  Tis the way wi' stone. If I were made o' stone I tell ye, I wud consider toppin' maself.........

Kobo listens to this insensitive diatribe.

I am made of stone, she says. And proud of it.

Wee lassie, says Rabbie Burns. I was forgettin'. Forgive me, I shall make it up to ye. I'll extemporise a poem just for ye. Twill be called To a Clam.

Kobo shivers. A poem for her by Rabbie Burns, called To a Clam! How thrilling!

And Ageless will just have to suck it up.