Allo, monsieur. Can you 'elp me please?

Emissions: Curtain opens to reveal stage designed to represent a tourist office somewhere in Dublin in late July. An evidently well-travelled French tourist with wife in tow, walks confidently up to the counter and addresses the young man slouching behind it.

Allo, monsieur. Can you 'elp me please?

Depends what it is, doesn't it? answers the grouch, annoyed to be disturbed from his crossword.

D'accord, I explain, says our friend, somewhat taken aback by this reception. Our car is broken, and ze man say it will be seven days to fix. He say it will cost us an "arm and a leg", I do not know what zat means.

So? What do want me to do about it?

Ah, you see, now we "ave no car.

So, you'll be wanting to rent one, is that it?

Err, non, c'est trop cher ici. Is too expensive in Ireland for these things. We want to go to the jolie Galway and aprés to the Moher Cliffs. Can you tell us when is the bus?

Right so. Can you read this from there? he asks, gesturing to the notice board behind him.

Ah, no, I cannot see.

OK, shall I read it out to you. Galway you say -

Attends, monsieur. Can you just give me the how-you-say table of times?

Well, I'd love to, dearly I would. But there's a problem. We don't have the summer timetable here.

You 'ave not the bus times? C'est incroyable!

I could let you have the spring timetable, if that's any use to you? Is it ze same?

Jaysus, don't be mental, sure how could it be? What's the point in going to all the work of making out a summer one if it's the same as spring?

But you don't have ze summer one, no?

Ah well, you see, it's not technically summer is it? I'm told there could be a few nice days in late September or early October. In my book, that will do as a summer. Ya gotta take it when you get it, dontcha? By then we'll have the summer timetable. Come back then, will yis?

(French gentleman turns to impatient-looking wife) Je ne comprends rein du tout, she says. Qu'est ce qu'il a, ce type?

C'est evident qu'il est imbécile. Ils n'ont même pas les horaires des autobus a nous donner.

Whassat youse are saying about me? Look, even if I did give ye a timetable, sure there's no guarantee it'd be any use. I suggest ye rent a car, sure I know a great place just down the road. Sort youse out with a nice Renault before ye can say "Papa? Nicole", so they will.

Quel bordelle! shouts exasperated Frenchman, throwing eyes and arms to the sky simultaneously. We do not want to rent ze car! We want ze bus, espéce d'idiot!

(Frazzled-looking man in his sixties arrives out of the hatch behind the counter.)

What's going on here? Jaysus, it's you again, ye fecker. I told you not to be sneaking in here when I'm off in the jacks. What're you saying to these nice people? he says to the grouch, who is laughing heartily as he makes good his escape.

He tell us zere is no bus timetable!

Listen, I'm terrible sorry, so I am. He works in the rental joint down the road, he's always trying to steal customers off us.

Ah, maintenant je comprends. Please, can you give us the list of ze times for ze bus to Galway?

Err, there's a bit of a problem with that, says the tourist office man, shuffling uncomfortably. We don't have them. They're in the post, I'm told.

Laisse tomber chéri, c'nest pas la peine! screams the wife, desperately holding back her husband as he attempts to throttle the unfortunate attendant over the counter.

(Scene ends in chaos. Le rideau tombé.)

- Thanks to Bus Éireann efficiency for the inspiration