 Oh, you'd simply love it, Mr. Wimple. I know I would, Mrs. McGee, but she won't go unless I go along. I simply can't leave my business. What is your business, Wimple? I'm a poet. Oh, a poet, eh? Well, you ought to grow a beard, Wimple. Poets are more impressive with beards. I did once, but the people who buy my poetry didn't like it. Oh, to whom do you sell your poetry to? Burma Shave.