The video presents a dramatized, darkly comic exchange between two speakers (A and B) who riff on a grotesque menu of pies made from various professions and archetypes. Using vivid, macabre metaphors, they reference characters such as Mr. Todd, an Admiral, a Friar, a Judge, and an Executioner, turning societal roles into culinary dishes. The dialogue is repetitive and performative, emphasizing wordplay, absurdity, and a theatrical tone reminiscent of Sweeney Todd or Mrs. Lovett. Throughout, the speakers toggle between describing the “flavor” of each metaphorical pie, commenting on class, power, and morality, all while maintaining a playful yet sinister atmosphere. The piece functions as a satirical performance rather than a factual discussion.
Chapters
—tins all the flesh. So he's pretty fresh.
I'm full of fat. Tell me about his hat. Hat? Oh, it's, well, something like that.
Oh no, you see, the trouble with Molly is, oh, you know, it's Miss Easter. Try the priest. Heavenly!
They're not as cured either.
And it's good for business too, always leaves you wanting more. Trouble is, we only get it on Sundays. Loyal's rather nice. If it's for a price. Or does something else serve to follow, since no one should swallow it twice? Anything that's clean. Well, then if you're British and loyal, you might enjoy Royal Marine. Anyway, it's clean, though of course it tastes all wherever it's been.
Is that squire from the fire?
There's a ghost over there, now he's in your own sash. Pickle?
More like pickles. No, it has to be grosser.
It's green.
The history of the world, my love.
Save a lot of raised to a lot of relative favor.
It's those below serving those up above. Everybody's shaved, so there should be plenty of flavor.
How gratifying for once to know that Rob Bagley will serve those down below. Let's see then, we've got tinker, something bigger, Taylor.
Locksmith. Lovely bit of Maybe for a lark. Then again, there's sweet if you want it cheap and you like it dark. Try the financier, peak of his career. That looks pretty rank.
What are you, rank?
No, it's bank cashier. Never really sold it. Maybe it was old. Next to me, salon and turf. Beetle is it, but tell your smell it and notice how well it's been greased. Stick debris. Ah, now this one may be a bit stringy, but then of course it's fiddle player.
That's not fiddle player, that's piccolo player.
Well, how can you tell?
It's piping hot. Thanks. Blow on it, bird. The mystery of the world, my sweet, what does it tell? Is who gets Eating at Who Gets to Eat.
And Mr. Todd to Mr. Todd Who Gets to Send. But fortunately it's all so clear that everybody does not well with beer. Now let's see, since marine doesn't appeal to you, how about Ria Admiral? Too salty. I prefer General? With or without his privates?
With it extra? What is that?
It's faun, finest in the shop. Or we have some shepherd's pie peppered with actual shepherd on top. And let us begin. Here's a politician so oily, it's served with a dog Not one?
Put it all on. Well, you never know if it's going to run.
Try the Friar. Right, it's Friar.
No, the clergy is really too coarse and too mealy.
An actor, that's compacter. Yes, you know, he survives overdoses.
Oh, come on, everyone, you have Judge on the menu. You—
I have truthfully don't have George yet, but I could offer you something you might fancy a bit more. What's that? Executioner. Have charity, what will my best do? Yes, yes, I know, my love. We'll take the customers that we can get, highborn and low, my love.
We've got to discriminate great from small. No wheels serve anyone, meaning anyone, and to anyone at all.
