Thank you.
'Oh,' he said, flatly.
'Isn't that all right?' said Silverfish, now thoroughly beaten. 'I mean, it tells them everything they should know, doesn't it?'
'May I?' said Dibbler, taking a piece of chalk from Silverfish's desk. He scribbled intently on the back of the card for a while, and then turned it around.
Now it read:
Goddes and Men Saide It Was Notte To Bee, But They
Would Notte Listen!
Pelias and Melisande, A Storie of Forbiden Love!
A searing Sarger of Passion that Bridged Spaes and Tyme!
Thys wille shok you!
With a 1,000 elephants!
Victor and Silverfish read it carefully, as one reads a dinner menu in an alien language. This was an alien language, and to make it worse it was also their own.
'Well, well,' said Silverfish. 'My word . . . I don't know if there was anything actually forbidden. Er. It was just very historical. I thought it would help, you know, children and so on. Learn about history. They never actually met, you know, which was what was so tragic. It was all very, er, sad.' He stared at the card. 'Though I must say, you've certainly got something there. Er.' He looked uncomfortable about something. 'I don't actually remember any elephants,' he said, as if it was his own fault. 'I was there the whole afternoon we made it, and I don't recall a thousand elephants at any point. I'm sure I would have noticed.'
Dibbler stared. He didn't know where they were coming from, but now he was putting his mind to it he was getting some very clear ideas about what you needed to put in movies. A thousand elephants was a good start.
'No elephants?' he said.
'I don't think so.'
'Well, are there any dancing girls?'
'Um, no.'
'Well, are there any wild chases and people hanging by their fingertips from the edge of a cliff?'
Silverfish brightened up slightly. 'I think there's a balcony at one point,' he said.
'Yes? Does anyone hang on it by their fingertips?'
'I don't think so,' said Silverfish. 'I believe Melisande leans over it.'
'Yes, but will the audience hold their breath in case she falls off?'
'I hope they'd be watching Pelias' speech,' said Silverfish testily. 'We had to put it on five cards. In small writing.'
Dibbler sighed.
'I think I know what people want,' he said, 'and they don't want to read lots of small writing. They want spectacles!'
'Because of the small writing?' said Victor, sarcastically. 'They want dancing girls! They want thrills! They want elephants! They want people falling off roofs! They want dreams! The world is full of little people with big dreams!'
'What, you mean like dwarfs and gnomes and so on?' said Victor.
'No!'
'Tell me, Mr Dibbler,' said Silverfish, 'what exactly is your profession?'