A/N: And I'm back! I'm listening to "Kiss Me" from the 1979 Sweeney Todd. It's so different from the movie, but the song's are awesome. I wish they'd put more of the original songs in the movie! Anyway, on with the story!

"Ladies and gentlemun," Toby sang, "may I have your attention pleaaasee? Tonight we 'ave someone extra extraoardinary, a woman so special she's out of the ordinary, a real red ripe strawb'rry…"

A spotlight hit the middle of the stage. Toby ran down the side of the stage and drew the curtain aside. "Ladies an' gentlemun, please prepare to be stunned and amazed, I will show you a woman appeared out of the air, a woman whose beauty is marvellous rare." He pointed at the woman shielding her eyes under the spotlight. "That woman there!"

At home, Mrs Mooney grinned, chewing the burnt, ashy leg of Mrs Lovett's badly cooked cat. She was expecting her friend to come on stage in her dusty, dirty rags and filthy, bird nest hair.

"Mrs Lovett," Signor Pirelli purred, leaving his host stand to take her hand, "Please, properly face a the audience so we can see your bellisma self."

Mrs Lovett slowly lowered her hands and went, half-smiling, to the front of the stage. Alright, she thought, so she was humiliatin' 'erself on national tele. But she 'adn't felt this clean an' pretty in a long time!

Mrs Mooney gasped. "You blimey slime-ridden leech!" She shrieked and threw the gnawed cat bone at the TV. "You double-crossin' sow!"

But of course Mrs Lovett couldn't hear her. Mrs Mooney was in fact, carrying on so vehemently because she was jealous. Mrs Mooney hadn't expected her flat mate to be dressed up so gloriously. Mrs Lovett had on a crimson grown fringed with gold lace; neat, crimson kid gloves and bright gold boots. Her fresh, glowing face was framed by henna red, bobbing curls. For a so-called spinster, Mrs Lovett looked a right dish.

"My dear Signorina," Signor Pirelli said, grinning and winking at the crowd, "can it be true? They say you are a spinster! But look how lovely you look a tonight!"

"Thank ye, Signor," Mrs Lovett replied. "But I'm indeed wot they says I am…I'm a spinster!"

"Well, well," Pirelli said, leading her to a velvet lined seat next to a purple curtain that divided the stage in half. "A spinster no longer, perhaps? For, pretty signorina, beyond that curtain lies a your three handsome bachelors dying to win a your love."

"An' I'm dying for a seat." Mrs Lovett threw herself down in the chair. "Cor, me tired bones!"

"To-by!" Pirelli clapped his hands. "Raise the other curtain!"

Toby ran across to the other side of the stage, and pulled up the curtain that hid the three eligible bachelors from the audience. Mrs Lovett craned her neck, but she couldn't see past her own curtain.

Mrs Mooney screeched when she saw the bachelors. "It innit!"

"It is," said Signor Pirelli to his audience, as if he could hear her. "Signores and Signoras, I give you, the bachelors!"

The audience cooed and screamed.

"Get on wif it!" Someone in front throw shouted, and a second later a smelly fish was hurled onto the stage. It landed square in Pirelli's face.

"Get on wif it!" Mrs Mooney echoed, throwing the rest of her cat bones at the TV.

"So be it you ungrateful tubs of lard – I mean, my dear audience. Signora Lovett," Pirelli began again, "take these cards, and with them you may ask your bachelors three questions. Just three, si?"

"Bachela numba one," Mrs Lovett read, "you see me walkin' down the street an' think I'm a bit o' alright. Wot do you say ta make me stop an' pay attention?"

"Madam," came the suave, cool voice of bachelor number one. "I would first look upon your golden hair and rosy cheek and praise you as if you were an angel fallen from the heavens. I would say, "dear Lady, I could not stop without being struck in the heart by cupid's bow. Do not desert me without casting a smile or good word in my direction."

"That's all very romantic," Mrs Lovett said, wondering if Bachelor Number One was as sexy as his voice, "but I ain't blonde sir!"

"Forgive me Madam," came the winning voice, "but I am sure whatever colour it be, it has been blessed by the saint's themselves."

"Cor!" Was all Mrs Lovett had to say to that.

"Bachelor Number Two?" Signor Pirelli interjected, "what is your answer?"

Mrs Lovett leaned forward on her throne.

"Madam," came the second, grosser voice, "I saw you leerin' at me across the street. It's a'right, you couldn't help yourself. You noticed my fine self, me clean shaven self, my shaply legs and shaven face. And wot kind of gentlemun would I be if I denied you th' pleasure of lookin'?

Mrs Lovett sat back in her throne, stunned. "I dunno wot chimney you fell down dearie, but you ain't comin' near mine!"

"Bachelor number three," Pirelli said with a furious grin, "What do you say?"

There was silence.

Pirelli tried again. "Bachelor number three? We are on a national television!"

"Speak to me friend," the third voice spoke, in a quiet and haunted manner. "Whisper, I'll listen! My friend!"

"Aww me lord. 'Ow sweet," Mrs Lovett cooed. Something about the third bachelor's voice reeled her in.

Pirelli had had enough. He snatched up Mrs Lovett's card and began to read the next question.

"Oi! No need ta be rude!" Mrs Lovett chided.

"Where," Pirelli continued, ignoring Mrs Lovett, "would you take her on a date? Bachelor Number one, please. And quickly, si!. We need a to cut to a commercial."

Bachelor Number One spoke without hesitation. "I would take the beautiful lady to a quiet masked ball at my charming, homely residence, surrounded by a few close friends. Music will serenade you, my dear, and we will have nothing but the finest sweets and drink. And we will dance, my sweet angel. How we will dance!" he finished seductively.

"Hold up! 'Ow do ya know I'm pretty? You 'aven't even seen me yet! I could be a leper wif one leg and a face worse than me dead 'usband's arse!" Mrs Lovett said. "An' 'ow can a masked ball be quiet an' romantic? Wif all them friends o' yours interrupin' us an' the drinkin' an' the dancin'. It's enough ta make me 'ead spin!"

"Forgive me," Bachelor Number One purred, "I only assumed from the dulcet tones of your sweet voice that its speaker must have the face of an angel. Again, forgive me for my forwardness dear lady, I meant a private little gathering. There need be no music or dancing, if that is your wish. All of it is entirely up to you…what we do together."

"First I'm blonde, next I'm an angel!" Mrs Lovett wasn't stupid. "If I didn't no betta, I'd say you was plannin' on gettin' me drunk an' havin' your way wif me. I 'ear a lot of awful stories about them sort o' parties, thank ye very much."

"Enough!" Pirelli commanded. "Bachelor number two! Where will you take her?"

"A den," came the second voice, "an' we'll 'ave a good whiff of the finest asian stuff, an' maybe afta, when you're feelin' more amenable towards me……we might smoke anotha kind of pipe. Wot you say?"

"Hold up! Am I ta think your talkin' about an' opium den? Wot you think I am? One of them floozies you can 'ave yer way wif? Both of youse 'ave rocks in yer 'eads!" Mrs Lovett stood up, and made to tear down the curtain between them and give the bachelors a good ol' public dressing down.

Signor Pirelli ran in front of the curtain and blocked her with his giant form. "Signora, please, you misheard the gentleman. He speaks of something entirely a different. Remember, you are a spinster, unwise to the ways of the world."

Mrs Lovett crossed her arms, and stared down the host. "Who said I wos unwise?! I know exactly wot he's on about. He's a puffer. A snorter. A user. A smoker. One of them dazed, drugged up addicts, that's wot 'e is. Just wot kind of a joint are you runnin' 'ere Pirelli?"

"Is it good stuff?" Bachelor Number Two said slimily. "You know Pirelli sir, I'll pay fer th' very best! Only the best for the ladies, y'know." He gave a greasy chuckle.

Pirelli rubbed his temples. Mrs Lovett shuddered, as did most of the women in the audience.

"Pick Bachelor Number One!" Mrs Mooney shrieked from her living room, but of course, Mrs Lovett couldn't hear her. "'e's bloomin' loaded!"

"I think, Bachelor Number Two," Bachelor Number one added ominously, "that you should silence your tongue."

"Now you learn," Bachelor Number Three chimed in, "that the world is nothin' but a hole like a great black pit filled with people who are filled with shit whose morals aren't worth wot a pig could spit."

By now, everyone in the audience was dead quiet. All of them seemed disturbed, except Mrs Lovett. "Sorry love," she yelled at Bachelor Number Three through the curtain, "I'm ahead of you. I learnt that long before I came 'ere. Thanks for tryin' ta cheer me up though!"

"To-by!" Signor Pirelli sang out desperately, "An add break! NOW!"

"Wot about the food?" Mrs Lovett said, circling Pirelli indignantly. "You promised us nibbles an' wot not."

"Si, si, whatever you want," Pirelli said dismissively, ducking underneath his host stand. Which was rather pointless, since his giant frame couldn't be hidden.

"We can still see you, ya know," Mrs Lovett sang out.

"Toby you little shit," Pirelli hissed behind the host stand, "where's me tonic?" His Italian accent disappeared now that the cameras weren't rolling.

"Comin' sir," Toby said, bending down to wipe Pirelli's brow and hand him a bottle of Gin.

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