[SCENE START]
REGINALD: (Picking up a secure red rotary phone, voice trembling with gravity) It is done. (Beat) Give me the Commissioner.
[Split screen: ARTHUR’S phone rings. He picks up with a greasy hand.]
ARTHUR: Hello, Pike & Sons? We’re a bit backed up at the moment, if it’s about the tiling in Bromley, we’ve run out of grout.
REGINALD: (Ignoring him, speaking in a rehearsed, somber tone) The clouds have gathered over the Thames. The Eagle has nested. London Bridge has fallen.
ARTHUR: (Spits out tea) Blimey! Already? I told ‘em that structural support was absolute rubbish! Did it go into the water then?
REGINALD: (Stunned pause) Well... yes. Metaphorically and literally, the spirit has departed the vessel.
ARTHUR: I don't know about spirits and vessels, mate, but I know about gravity. Was there anyone on it when she went?
REGINALD: (Wiping a tear) The entire nation was on it, in a sense. The weight of history.
ARTHUR: (Winces) Ooh, nasty. That’ll be a lot of claims, then. I told the Council the rivets were more rust than metal. I suppose you’ll be wanting us to fish the bits out?
REGINALD: (Confused) Fish the bits out? We are currently preparing the lying-in-state! The procession must be immaculate!
ARTHUR: Lying in state? You can’t leave it in the middle of the river, it’s a shipping hazard! And don't bother with a procession, you'll need a crane. A bloody big one.
REGINALD: (Offended) A crane? For the Monarch?! We shall use a gun carriage, pulled by one hundred and forty-two Royal Naval sailors!
ARTHUR: (Long silence) ...Right. I mean, it’s your budget, guv. Bit disrespectful to the sailors, though, innit? Dragging a pile of wet rubble through the streets of Westminster?
REGINALD: Rubble?! How dare you! This is the very foundation of our constitutional identity!
ARTHUR: Look, I liked the bridge too, it had a nice Victorian charm, but at the end of the day, it’s just stone and mortar, isn't it? We can have a new one up by Tuesday.
REGINALD: (Gasping) A... a new one? By Tuesday?
ARTHUR: Yeah. We’ve got a prefab one in the warehouse. It’s concrete, mind you. Doesn't have the "heritage" look, but it won't fall down just because a heavy bus drives over its nose.
REGINALD: (Incoherent with rage) Her Majesty... does not have... a concrete nose!
ARTHUR: Well, not anymore she doesn't! She's at the bottom of the Thames getting nibbled by eels! Now, do you want the quote for the salvage or am I wasting my tea break?
REGINALD: (Staring at the phone in horror) I... I believe I have the wrong number.
ARTHUR: And I believe you’ve got a very weird way of describing a civil engineering disaster. Cheers.
[SCENE END]