Dear Mr. Echo-

Individualist Anarchism
§
Vyvyan:
[takes part of his sleeve, sticks it in the top of the vodka bottle] It's funny, but being ill makes me lose my usual tolerant and easy-going approach to communal living.[lights the Molotov cocktail, throws it across the hall, where it explodes][The wall between Neil and Rick is mostly gone. Vyvyan walks in.]
Rick:
Oh, well, how ruddy considerate, Vyvyan. Thank you very much!
Neil:
Yeah, thanks, Vyv. That petrol bomb's really cleared my sinuses.
Vyvyan:
Why aren't you dead?
Rick:
I'm not prepared to discuss it with you, Vyvyan. You will be hearing from my solicitors in the morning. I'm going to write to my MP.[takes out paper and pencil]
Neil:
You haven't got an MP, Rick. You're an anarchist.
Rick:
Oh. Well, then I shall write to the lead singer of Echo and the Bunnymen! (...)[writing] Dear Mr. Echo....
Vyvyan:
Why'd I do that?
Rick:
Ah, Vyvyan, beginning to regret it now, are you?
Vyvyan:
Of course I'm beginning to regret it. That was nearly a full bottle of vodka! That's £7.99 you owe me, ploppy pants.
Rick:
Oh, stop being so blinking bourgeoisie! All property is theft, Vyvyan.
Vyvyan:
All right, then. Where's your girlie purse? (...)[takes Rick's coin purse, removes some money] Ha ha! Found it!
Rick:
You put that back! That's my personal property!
Neil:
You just said all property is theft, Rick.
Rick:
Well, yes, it is.
Vyvyan:
Yeah, so I'm nicking it.
Rick:
Stop! Thief! Thief!