The students' Union Bar later that night. The Prof. and Latunji are at a table, drinking. Many empty bottles of beer litter the table. Jones, the bartender is in the background, regarding the duo malevolently. There is no other customer in the bar.

LATUNJI: Ah, Prof., I cannot but... (Belches)… ’xcuse me ... be shaken by your tale of woe. But tell me again Prof.... (Belches)… 'xcuse me ... did you or did you not say that Liz refused to submit to you?

PROF.: My dear Lat, (Belches)...' xcuse me ... it is unfortunately so, and I at present stand utterly disgraced. What pained me most is her taunt (Belches) ... 'xcuse me... that I have not grown wise with age but my wisdom has with the flowers of my youth withered away. She left with the threat that she would expose my foul nature to the whole world. Ah Lat, (Belches)... I wish I hadn’t embarked on that danger-fraught course in the first instance.

LATUNJI: My dear Prof., I see now that you are a genius in chemistry but a novice in the psychology of women. Don't you know that it is that thing which a woman most admires in a man that she abuses? I tell you Prof., (Belches)... it is because of your bald head and grey beards that Liz loves you. You see, a woman is like the sick man who first sniffs at the medicine that he must swallow. Her taunt about your old age only shows that she loves you for that very fact.

PROF.: You sincerely think so?

LATUNJI: I believe it. My advice to you, Prof., is that you must to Liz return and pelt with more flowery words till she submits. You see, to resign yourself to fate now is to die in disgrace. And that man is wise who his disappointment uses as a stepping-stone to greater glory. So, to Liz you must return with more flowery words as well as subtle threats of failure. Soon she will fall into your waiting arms. Go on, Prof., be a man. She is but testing your manliness!

PROF.: Very well, Latunji, I shall do as you advise.

JONES: ' scuse me, sirs, this na three a.m. O. I wan close for the night.

LATUNJI: Stop shouting like a barbarian, blasted idiot. Come, Prof., let's get going.

(Exit both.)

JONES: Shit! Blasted fools and fornicators! Dem no allow me close in time just because dem wan talk women and drink beer on credit NICOMPOO!

(Light out.)