POLICEMAN: Ho ho ha ha ha! Gotcha, Mr. Sambo-darky-coon! I got your number, you're nicked!MAN: [first shot of man's face. He is anglo-saxon, not african] Is there something the matter, officer?POLICEMAN: Oh oh oh, don't we sound proper, Mr. Rasta's chocolate drop! Now, listen here, son. I should warn you, i've done a weekends training with the SAS!I could pull both your arms off and leave no trace of violence! Lord Scarman need never know!MAN: Look, what seems to be the trouble, officer? [rings doorbell again. Policeman grabs his hand]POLICEMAN: That's white man's electricity you're burning ringing that doorbell. That's theft! I've got your number, so hold out your hand!MAN: Officer, I represent Kellog's corflakes car competition![Man takes off his glove to retrieve a business card. Upon taking off his glove, the policeman quickly takes off his sunglasses and grabs the man's hand and stares it.After a while he looks at man nervously]POLICEMAN: Oh, sorry, John. I thought you was a ######! Carry on! [quickly runs away. Futumch appears at the door]