people said.

PRESS. Right-o!

LEMMY. For instance, suppose there's goin' to be a revolution----
[THE PRESS writes with energy.] 'Ow does it touch me? Like this: I
my go up--I cawn't come dahn; no more can Muvver.

MRS. L. [Surprisingly] Us all goes down into the grave.

PRESS. "Mrs. Lemmy interjects the deeper note."

LEMMY. Naow, the gryte--they can come dahn, but they cawn't go up!
See! Put two an' two together, an' that's 'ow it touches me. [He
utters a throaty laugh] 'Ave yer got that?

PRESS. [Quizzical] Not go up? What about bombs, Mr. Lemmy?

LEMMY. [Dubious] Wot abaht 'em? I s'pose ye're on the comic
pypers? 'Ave yer noticed wot a weakness they 'ave for the 'orrible?

PRESS. [Writing] "A grim humour peeped out here and there through
the earnestness of his talk."

[He sketches LEMMY'S profile.]

LEMMY. We 'ad an explosion in my factory time o' the war, that would
just ha' done for you comics. [He meditates] Lord! They was after
it too,--they an' the Sundyes; but the Censor did 'em. Strike me, I
could tell yer things!