Inspector Pissani Quotes in Accidental Death of an Anarchist
(Blows-a huge raspberry down the phone) That was Bertozzo blowing you a raspberry, He says you can both rot for all he cares, you’ve stood in his way long enough, about time you were re-posted or pensioned off … Where? … Where? … South, probably, some flea-infested station in the arsehole of the world where the bandits use the fuzz for target practice when the melons are out of season … Ha ha OK, I’ll tell him. (Phone away) … He says he’s going to push our faces in at the earliest opportunity ha ha … (To phone) You and whose army … ? (Raspberry) Heil Himmler!!
MANIAC: (To CONSTABLE again) You got a brother who works here?
CONSTABLE: No.
MANIAC: (to STAGE MANAGER) Remind me not to appear in these cheap touring productions again. Can’t even afford a decent-sized cast.
VOICE OFF: Sorry (name of actor) …
PISSANI: For Christ’s sake. Do you mind?
MANIAC: Sorry, it’s the touring.
PISSANI: The greasy breakfasts!
MANIAC: The nylon sheets. Where were we?
SUPERINTENDENT: Who is this dribbling cretin?
PISSANI: Professor Marco Maria Malipiero!
SUPERINTENDENT: What!
PISSANI: First Councillor to the High Court!
SUPERINTENDENT: What!
PISSANI: His honour, the judge is here to conduct the new enquiry…
SUPERINTENDENT: (To PISSANI) Why didn’t you warn me. (To MANIAC) We were expecting you, your Honour, but not so soon.
MANIAC: What imaginations! Is it any wonder with your incredible inventions battering him from all sides that the suspect is seized with the most enormous raptus and launches himself into space? I’ll be frank. You two are done for. You will be charged forthwith with instigating this man to commit suicide.
Both protest.
PISSANI: The second version.
CONSTABLE: What second version do you want?
SUPERINTENDENT: That one.
CONSTABLE: No. That’s the second first version.
PISSANI: Well where’s the first second version?
CONSTABLE: Here.
All three give file to MANIAC
ALL THREE: The second version!
MANIAC: So there has been a re-writing of events.
SUPERINTENDENT: A slight correction.
MANIAC: Yes?
SUPERINTENDENT: We corrected the time of the original interrogation in which we employed the…
MANIAC: The lies?
SUPERINTENDENT: … Er deception strategy. The session ended at eight instead of nearly midnight as previously stated.
MANIAC: You moved everything forward four hours.
PISSANI: Except the fall from the window. There were witnesses to that.
PISSANI: We only behaved according to specific directives.
MANIAC: Exactly. “You must provoke the kind of atmosphere in which we can justifiably demand greater repressive powers.” That’s what they told you, right?
PISSANI: They were very persuasive.
SUPERINTENDENT: The subhuman filth are threatening to engulf our beloved country.
MANIAC: “Society is falling apart.”
SUPERINTENDENT: Action has to be taken. I appeal to your finer instincts, Kamerad.
MANIAC: “Strengthen the state.”
SUPERINTENDENT: Were we wrong?
MANIAC: “Crack down on hooligans, drop-outs, drunks addicts, squatters, demonstrators, infiltrate the union militants, round up activists, fatten up the files, polish your rubber bullets…”
PISSANI: He’s right!
He climbs onto the window sill.
PISSANI: I can’t bear the disgrace! Famiglia, pardona me!
SUPERINTENDENT: No! No! No! There has to be another way!
MANIAC: Can’t you feel the raptus boiling up inside you?
PISSANI: Oh oh oooh.
Swaying there, about to jump.
MANIAC: One great liberating leap!
SUPERINTENDENT: (Suddenly) I’ve got it! Don’t panic! I’ve got it!
PISSANI: If I want to panic, I’ll panic! I’m going!
As he leaps the SUPERINTENDENT grabs him and pulls him back in.
MANIAC: Besides being evident garbage your stories lack the tiniest vestige of humanity. No warmth. No laughter. No pain. No remorse. SING! (Guitars) For God’s sake. Show a human heart beating beyond the sordid tangle of lies you have left in your wake. Before it is too late, give the public something to believe in. SING! (Cast begin to sing) Sing and they may forgive the superficial facts. Three tortured human souls, albeit they are policemen, singing their suspect’s song with him to cheer him through his darkest hour. The song of anarchy itself. “Our homeland is the whole world. Our law is liberty. We have but one thought, revolution in our hearts.”
PISSANI: I was just scaring him. You are the nutter!
SUPERINTENDENT: I’m a nutter!?
CONSTABLE: Please.
PISSANI: Well you bloody pushed him, chum!
SUPERINTENDENT: Did I? Did I? That is a laugh alright! All on my own, was I!
Suddenly all three realise at the same instant that the MANIAC is listening. They freeze. Slowly turn. The MANIAC has a beatific smile. Pause. No one speaks.
The MANIAC is outrageously costumed. He wears false moustache, glasses, wild wig, wooden leg, false hand, eye patch, carries a crutch.
MANIAC: Delighted!
He proffers his false hand.
MANIAC: Pardon my stiff hand. It’s wooden. Memento of the Algerian campaign. Nasty business. We don’t talk about it.
They stare at his wooden leg. He gives it a slap.
MANIAC: Vietnam. Green Berets. All past history. Do sit down.
Slowly they all sit.
MANIAC: (To Audience) No cigarettes please. All dry wood here. Right, young woman, don’t mind me. I’ll just park my old timbers over here and you get stuck in. What’s the subject?
FELETTI: Window straddling.
MANIAC: (He sits awkwardly) Splendid.
MANIAC: (Getting carried away. To audience) How many more Russian spies are downing port at Buckingham Palace? Why did the Anthony Blunt cover-up happen? Why? Because class runs thicker than nationhood or ideology. But who gives a TINKER’S about that—what the scandal-mongering press cares about Blunt is whether he is knocking off Guy Burgess.
SUPERINTENDENT: (Name of actor who is playing the part) This isn’t Dario Fo.
MANIAC: I know, but I love bit of political gossip. What about the bastard politicians and businessmen mixed-up in busting Rhodesian oil sanctions? We all know who they are. Are there any arrests? Not fucking likely. Meanwhile innocent black kids can’t walk the streets for fear of getting picked up on SUS charges.
PISSANI: This is unheard of distortion of the author’s meaning!
MANIAC: He’ll get his royalties. Who’s moaning?
PISSANI: Get back to the script!
SUPERINTENDENT: This is an insult to Dario Fo!
Inspector Pissani Quotes in Accidental Death of an Anarchist
(Blows-a huge raspberry down the phone) That was Bertozzo blowing you a raspberry, He says you can both rot for all he cares, you’ve stood in his way long enough, about time you were re-posted or pensioned off … Where? … Where? … South, probably, some flea-infested station in the arsehole of the world where the bandits use the fuzz for target practice when the melons are out of season … Ha ha OK, I’ll tell him. (Phone away) … He says he’s going to push our faces in at the earliest opportunity ha ha … (To phone) You and whose army … ? (Raspberry) Heil Himmler!!
MANIAC: (To CONSTABLE again) You got a brother who works here?
CONSTABLE: No.
MANIAC: (to STAGE MANAGER) Remind me not to appear in these cheap touring productions again. Can’t even afford a decent-sized cast.
VOICE OFF: Sorry (name of actor) …
PISSANI: For Christ’s sake. Do you mind?
MANIAC: Sorry, it’s the touring.
PISSANI: The greasy breakfasts!
MANIAC: The nylon sheets. Where were we?
SUPERINTENDENT: Who is this dribbling cretin?
PISSANI: Professor Marco Maria Malipiero!
SUPERINTENDENT: What!
PISSANI: First Councillor to the High Court!
SUPERINTENDENT: What!
PISSANI: His honour, the judge is here to conduct the new enquiry…
SUPERINTENDENT: (To PISSANI) Why didn’t you warn me. (To MANIAC) We were expecting you, your Honour, but not so soon.
MANIAC: What imaginations! Is it any wonder with your incredible inventions battering him from all sides that the suspect is seized with the most enormous raptus and launches himself into space? I’ll be frank. You two are done for. You will be charged forthwith with instigating this man to commit suicide.
Both protest.
PISSANI: The second version.
CONSTABLE: What second version do you want?
SUPERINTENDENT: That one.
CONSTABLE: No. That’s the second first version.
PISSANI: Well where’s the first second version?
CONSTABLE: Here.
All three give file to MANIAC
ALL THREE: The second version!
MANIAC: So there has been a re-writing of events.
SUPERINTENDENT: A slight correction.
MANIAC: Yes?
SUPERINTENDENT: We corrected the time of the original interrogation in which we employed the…
MANIAC: The lies?
SUPERINTENDENT: … Er deception strategy. The session ended at eight instead of nearly midnight as previously stated.
MANIAC: You moved everything forward four hours.
PISSANI: Except the fall from the window. There were witnesses to that.
PISSANI: We only behaved according to specific directives.
MANIAC: Exactly. “You must provoke the kind of atmosphere in which we can justifiably demand greater repressive powers.” That’s what they told you, right?
PISSANI: They were very persuasive.
SUPERINTENDENT: The subhuman filth are threatening to engulf our beloved country.
MANIAC: “Society is falling apart.”
SUPERINTENDENT: Action has to be taken. I appeal to your finer instincts, Kamerad.
MANIAC: “Strengthen the state.”
SUPERINTENDENT: Were we wrong?
MANIAC: “Crack down on hooligans, drop-outs, drunks addicts, squatters, demonstrators, infiltrate the union militants, round up activists, fatten up the files, polish your rubber bullets…”
PISSANI: He’s right!
He climbs onto the window sill.
PISSANI: I can’t bear the disgrace! Famiglia, pardona me!
SUPERINTENDENT: No! No! No! There has to be another way!
MANIAC: Can’t you feel the raptus boiling up inside you?
PISSANI: Oh oh oooh.
Swaying there, about to jump.
MANIAC: One great liberating leap!
SUPERINTENDENT: (Suddenly) I’ve got it! Don’t panic! I’ve got it!
PISSANI: If I want to panic, I’ll panic! I’m going!
As he leaps the SUPERINTENDENT grabs him and pulls him back in.
MANIAC: Besides being evident garbage your stories lack the tiniest vestige of humanity. No warmth. No laughter. No pain. No remorse. SING! (Guitars) For God’s sake. Show a human heart beating beyond the sordid tangle of lies you have left in your wake. Before it is too late, give the public something to believe in. SING! (Cast begin to sing) Sing and they may forgive the superficial facts. Three tortured human souls, albeit they are policemen, singing their suspect’s song with him to cheer him through his darkest hour. The song of anarchy itself. “Our homeland is the whole world. Our law is liberty. We have but one thought, revolution in our hearts.”
PISSANI: I was just scaring him. You are the nutter!
SUPERINTENDENT: I’m a nutter!?
CONSTABLE: Please.
PISSANI: Well you bloody pushed him, chum!
SUPERINTENDENT: Did I? Did I? That is a laugh alright! All on my own, was I!
Suddenly all three realise at the same instant that the MANIAC is listening. They freeze. Slowly turn. The MANIAC has a beatific smile. Pause. No one speaks.
The MANIAC is outrageously costumed. He wears false moustache, glasses, wild wig, wooden leg, false hand, eye patch, carries a crutch.
MANIAC: Delighted!
He proffers his false hand.
MANIAC: Pardon my stiff hand. It’s wooden. Memento of the Algerian campaign. Nasty business. We don’t talk about it.
They stare at his wooden leg. He gives it a slap.
MANIAC: Vietnam. Green Berets. All past history. Do sit down.
Slowly they all sit.
MANIAC: (To Audience) No cigarettes please. All dry wood here. Right, young woman, don’t mind me. I’ll just park my old timbers over here and you get stuck in. What’s the subject?
FELETTI: Window straddling.
MANIAC: (He sits awkwardly) Splendid.
MANIAC: (Getting carried away. To audience) How many more Russian spies are downing port at Buckingham Palace? Why did the Anthony Blunt cover-up happen? Why? Because class runs thicker than nationhood or ideology. But who gives a TINKER’S about that—what the scandal-mongering press cares about Blunt is whether he is knocking off Guy Burgess.
SUPERINTENDENT: (Name of actor who is playing the part) This isn’t Dario Fo.
MANIAC: I know, but I love bit of political gossip. What about the bastard politicians and businessmen mixed-up in busting Rhodesian oil sanctions? We all know who they are. Are there any arrests? Not fucking likely. Meanwhile innocent black kids can’t walk the streets for fear of getting picked up on SUS charges.
PISSANI: This is unheard of distortion of the author’s meaning!
MANIAC: He’ll get his royalties. Who’s moaning?
PISSANI: Get back to the script!
SUPERINTENDENT: This is an insult to Dario Fo!
