Customer: Good Morning.
Wenslydale: Good morning, Sir. Welcome to the National Cheese Emporium!
Customer: Ah, thank you, my good man.
Wenslydale: What can I do for you, Sir?
Customer: Well, I was, uh, sitting in the public library on Thurmon Street just now, skimming through "Rogue Herrys" by Hugh Walpole, and I suddenly
came over all peckish.
Wenslydale: Peckish, sir?
Customer: 'Ee, Ah wor 'ungry-loike!
Wenslydale: Ah, hungry!
Customer: In a nutshell. And I thought to myself, "a little fermented curd will do the trick," so, I curtailed my Walpoling activites, sallied forth, and infiltrated
your place of purveyance to negotiate the vending of some cheesy comestibles!
Wenslydale: Come again?
Customer: I want to buy some cheese.
Wenslydale: Oh, I thought you were complaining about the bazouki player!
Customer: Oh, heaven forbid: I am one who delights in all manifestations of the Terpsichorean muse!
Customer: 'Ooo, Ah lahk a nice tuune, 'yer forced too!
Wenslydale: So he can go on playing, can he?
Customer: Most certainly! Now then, some cheese please, my good man.
Wenslydale: (lustily) Certainly, sir. What would you like?
Customer: Well, eh, how about a little red Leicester.
Wenslydale: I'm, a-fraid we're fresh out of red Leicester, sir.
Customer: Oh, never mind, how are you on Tilsit?
Wenslydale: I'm afraid we never have that at the end of the week, sir, we get it fresh on Monday.
Customer: Tish tish. No matter. Well, stout yeoman, four ounces of Caerphilly, if you please.
Wenslydale: Ah! It's beeeen on order, sir, for two weeks. Was expecting it this morning.
Customer: 'T's Not my lucky day, is it? Aah, Bel Paese?
Wenslydale: Sorry, sir.
Customer: Red Windsor?
Wenslydale: Normally, sir, yes. Today the van broke down.
Customer: Ah. Stilton?
Customer: Ementhal? Gruyere?
Customer: Any Norweigan Jarlsburg, per chance.
Customer: White Stilton?
Customer: Danish Brew?
Customer: Double Goucester?
Wenslydale: (pause) No.
Customer: Dorset Bluveny?
Customer: Brie, Roquefort, Pol le Veq, Port Salut, Savoy Aire, Saint Paulin, Carrier de lest, Bres Bleu, Bruson?
Customer: Camenbert, perhaps?
Wenslydale: Ah! We have Camenbert, yessir.
Customer: (suprised) You do! Excellent.
Wenslydale: Yessir. It's..ah,.....it's a bit runny...
Customer: Oh, I like it runny.
Wenslydale: Well,.. It's very runny, actually, sir.
Customer: No matter. Fetch hither the fromage de la Belle France! Mmmwah!
Wenslydale: I...think it's a bit runnier than you'll like it, sir.
Customer: I don't care how fucking runny it is. Hand it over with all speed.
Customer: What now?
Wenslydale: The cat's eaten it.
Customer: (pause) Has he.
Wenslydale: She, sir.
Customer: Case Ness?
Customer: Smoked Austrian?
Customer: Japanese Sage Darby?
Wenslydale: No, sir.
Customer: You...do *have* some cheese, don't you?
Wenslydale: (brightly) Of course, sir. It's a cheese shop, sir. We've got--
Customer: No no... don't tell me. I'm keen to guess.
Wenslydale: Fair enough.
Customer: Uuuuuh, Wensleydale.
Customer: Ah, well, I'll have some of that!
Wenslydale: Oh! I thought you were talking to me, sir. Mister Wensleydale, that's my name.
Customer: Greek Feta?
Wenslydale: Uh, not as such.
Customer: Uuh, Gorgonzola?
Customer: Paper Cramer,
Customer: Danish Bimbo,
Customer: Czech sheep's milk,
Customer: Venezuelan Beaver Cheese?
Wenslydale: Not *today*, sir, no.
Customer: Aah, how about Cheddar?
Wenslydale: Well, we don't get much call for it around here, sir.
Customer: Not much ca--It's the single most popular cheese in the world!
Wenslydale: Not 'round here, sir.
Customer: and what IS the most popular cheese 'round hyah?
Wenslydale: 'Illchester, sir.
Customer: IS it.
Wenslydale: Oh, yes, it's staggeringly popular in this manor, squire.
Customer: Is it.
Wenslydale: It's our number one best seller, sir!
Customer: I see. Uuh...'Illchester, eh?
Wenslydale: Right, sir.
Customer: All right. Okay. 'Have you got any?' he asked, expecting the answer 'no'.
Wenslydale: I'll have a look, sir... nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnno.
Customer: It's not much of a cheese shop, is it?
Wenslydale: Finest in the district!
Customer: (annoyed) Explain the logic underlying that conclusion, please.
Wenslydale: Well, it's so clean, sir!
Customer: It's certainly uncontaminated by cheese....
Wenslydale: (brightly) You haven't asked me about Limburger, sir.
Customer: Would it be worth it?
Wenslydale: Could be....
Customer: Have you --SHUT THAT BLOODY BAZOUKI OFF!
Wenslydale: Told you sir....
Customer: (slowly) Have you got any Limburger?
Customer: Figures. Predictable, really I suppose. It was an act of purest optimism to have posed the question in the first place. Tell me
Customer: Have you in fact got any cheese here at all.
(pause) Wenslydale: No. Not really, sir.
Customer: You haven't.
Wenslydale: Nosir. Not a scrap. I was deliberately wasting your time,sir.
Customer: Well I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to shoot you.
Wenslydale: Right-o, sir.
The customer takes out a gun and shoots the owner.
Customer: What a *senseless* waste of human life.