Dont make that Martini too watery. .
the gentleman police officer, also at Cambridge, sees

the portrait of the queen above the fire place of the
first suspect in the perfect nnurder case, the sound of
the violence and the fires outside slowly fades into
the film sound of the gentle hiss of ocean waves.
One of the perfect murder society sit sipping demure
a strong martini, walks across the room and hands a
small red hand bag to Sylvia, who is busy cutting up
the meat into small pieces prior to hanging it up,Syl-

-via stops the cutting and puts down a blood dripping

knife.
The black triangle of cloth is lowered down on to the

head of the perfect murder investigation judge. Sylvia
picks up the hand bag and hangs it on the meathook
for easy retreival .Then goes to the kettle to switch
off the channel and erase the unwelcom television ch-

-actors from her kitchem .

She stands alone as before, waiting for the end of her

husbands night shift.A small red hand bag hangs from
the meathook in the kitchen ceiling, the defrosted head
less joint of meat hanging limp on the kitchen table
dripping its blood into pools of cold salty blood, let me
really rub your tongue into the metalic tainted salted
cold blood as you struggle with the power of the per-
-fect murder." What is it I dont understand", comes
a voice from the kettle, and the television persbnalities
fade back into existance with hot electrical smells.
A lower-than-the -policeman-from Cambridge second   |
copper attempts to take the red handbag and take it to !
the station down the street, but the Gentleman officer i
tells him that he'll be arested if seen walking with the
bag in the street, so he gives him a supermarket bag

to hide it within.
Brushing night shift white shreaded wheat powder fromi

his hair and black velvet shoulders before attempting to
walk home in the cold monotinlous toned morning.

The Meathook is still in the ceiling, , ,
Sylvia sits and waits in the kitchen for her husbands
return, she drinks tea, using the kettle in its usual
function of boiling water, reflecting the fires outside.

\,                             ...                 -      . -

" In a few days you'll have a wonderfull breakdown."
comes a line from the tele-kettle..
"not so much blood in my perfect Martini. . "
DELAYED ACTIONS:

The policeman walks across the room with Sylvia's ha-

-nd bag. Sylvia takes the red plastic handbag from the
hook in the celling and places it next to the melting dr-
opping meat blood, Continues to drink tea.
Ten minutes before the supermarkets open.

Sylvia switches on the television set to sit out the last
few desparate oninutes. On screen the sound of an abru-
ptly struck harpstring startles Sylvia from a sleep less
daze and, lnterupting,the adverts begin;

Opening shot of "S&B SUPERMARKETS" in familar gold

and red glittery letters .

Behind the lettering an image fades in superimposed;

A policeman standing at a street corner alert and on the
watch out for crime, holding a small red hand bag In his

hand s.

The camera is hurtled down a narrow supermarkets alle
with the packed shelves coloured blur down the sides
of the screen.

The camera ends on a shot of a supermarket assistant
his head bowed down to hide his face, wearing black
velvet uniform, white shirt, He lifts his head to reveal
he is sniffing out of a small bottle concealed in the
hand. His eyes stare toward into the camera with a
look verging on speach,but stuck in the void between
words, a frozen moment then the music swel?s up out
of the dark silience that the advert had deteriorated in
to, an orchestrial cresendo that accompanies a faded in
superimposed noose around his neck and sub-titles ap-

-pear below the image: " I get the message.. "
Sylvia shifts uneasily in her seat and tunes in another
channel. The reflections of the great fires shine on the
silver kettle, a rectangle of light with the cell bars
of iron, a dark mirror, scrying kettle into future time.
domestic divination device, picking up the astral T.V.

25