COUNTRYSIDE: The Nice Painter and his wife are painting a landscape.
Painter: That's a lovely green, isn't it?
Wife: That's lovely. So lush. Just bursting with life.
Painter: Yes, and the thing is - the funny thing with colour - is that I just need to mix in a little bit of purple to set the green off.
Wife: Mm. As a sort of visual echo to the purple in the heather, hm?
Painter: Yes, that's right. That's right. Now I must... not get too carried away with the green. Remember to leave some room... for that road and that little house, over there.
Wife: Mm. I love the, er, dark 'V' that hill's making on the horizon.
Painter: Yes, it's very dark, isn't it? It's, er, almost... black.
Wife: Johnny!
Painter: Yes, I shall... I shall need to get the black out.
Wife: Johnny!
Painter: Yes. Black. Black. Black! Like the clouds of death that follow me into the Forest of Doom! And hide in the wardrobe of darkness! Black!
The Nice Painter covers his painting with black.
Painter: Black! Black!
The Nice Painter covers his wife's painting with black.
Painter: Black! Black!
The Nice Painter kicks his paint box over.
Painter: Black! Listen! Listen! Do you hear? The moon is weeping in a secret room! They tap at my window, with tiny pools!
Wife: I-I think we'd better be going home now, Johnny.
Painter: Oh! Oh! The monks are troubled and full of woe! I'm a fly! Trapped in a jar of shadows!
