And now you're out on strike--now you've been out for a week
pretty nearly, what further are you? I heard a great deal of talk
about what you were going to do. Well, what ARE you going to do?
You don't know. You've not the smallest idea. You haven't any idea
whatsoever. You've got your leaders. Now then, Job Arthur, throw a
little light on the way in front, will you: for it seems to me we're
lost in a bog. Which way are we to steer? Come--give the word, and
let's gee-up.
JOB ARTHUR. You ask me which way we are to go. I say we can't go
our own way, because of the obstacles that lie in front. You've got
to remove the obstacles from the way.
WILLIE. So said Balaam's ass. But you're not an ass--beg pardon;
and you're not Balaam--you're Job. And we've all got to be little
Jobs, learning how to spell patience backwards. We've lost our jobs
and we've found a Job. It's picking up a scorpion when you're
looking for an egg.--Tell us what you propose doing. . . . Remove an
obstacle from the way! What obstacle? And whose way?
JOB ARTHUR. I think it's pretty plain what the obstacle is.
WILLIE. Oh, ay. Tell us then.
JOB ARTHUR. The obstacle to Labour is Capital.
WILLIE. And how are we going to put salt on Capital's tail?
JOB ARTHUR. By Labour we mean us working men; and by Capital we mean
those that derive benefit from us, take the cream off us and leave us
the skim.
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