Somewhere rural. Somewhen pre vacuum cleaner.
IAN: She’s a witch! Burn her!
FLEMING: I don’t follow.
IAN: What’s not to follow?
FLEMING: Your line of reasoning.
IAN: She’s a witch! A crone! She’s had congress with the Beast!
FLEMING: So you want to burn her?
IAN: Of course!
FLEMING: You want to burn Satan’s girlfriend?
IAN: Well, I mean…
FLEMING: A woman who, in her own right, has the power to curse stuff and turn people into things that aren’t people.
IAN: And what exactly do you suggest we do?
FLEMING: I would begin with quite a spirited apology and then continue to do any odd jobs she might need done around her cottage. Under the circumstances, I don’t think a gift would be out of order, either.
IAN: But she’s a witch.
FLEMING: That is the very crux of my point.
IAN: ‘She’s a witch, be helpful to her.’ It doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, does it?
FLEMING: So long as I have a tongue, and it’s not designed to catch flies, I’m not overly concerned with what rolls off it.
IAN: What about God?
FLEMING: What about God?
IAN: Well, He’ll be a bit miffed won’t He? If we don’t burn her.
FLEMING: If He doesn’t like witches, He shouldn’t have invented them in the first place.
IAN: I always assumed He invented them as a sort of test.
WOMAN: Excuse me.
FLEMING: Well how do we know it’s not a test of kindness? Maybe the correct answer is forgiveness and a foot rub so long as she doesn’t mind us touching her feet.
WITCH: Excuse me!
IAN: Can’t you see we’re in the middle of a conversation? What is it?
WOMAN: I’m not actually a witch. I’m just a woman who knows how to read.
IAN and FLEMING share a look.
FLEMING: You can’t curse us?
IAN: Or turn us into things?
IAN and FLEMING share a second look.
FLEMING: She’s a woman! Burn her!