The wannabe movie poets waited nervously.

Jeremy emerged from the wings, taking centre stage.
"Welcome everyone," he declared superciliously.
"Reading for 'The Lovers', do we have Penelope Precious?"

A middle-aged woman clambered onto the stage.
"Go, Penny" urged Jeremy, impatiently.

Penelope bowed.
"Hermione's beauty was blinding,
His clenched teeth Ulysses were grinding.
He loved her so much
And longed for her touch
But Stoics like him were not minding."

Half-hearted, sporadic hand-clapping ensued.
"Thank you, Penelope. That was, definitely...", stammered Jeremy.
"Where's Simon Smallpiece?"

An effeminate young man minced onto the stage.
"Go for it," smirked Jeremy.

Simon coughed.
"The depth of their love was profound
For marriage they knew they were bound
They simpered and blushed
In his arms she was crushed
Oblivious to what was around."

The applause was marginally more generous.
Jeremy consulted his clipboard. A stocky figure popped up beside him.
"G'day, cobber."
"Who might you be?" questioned Jeremy.
"Randy. Randy Rutter. Pleased to meet ya."
The accent was unmistakably Antipodean.

Randy sported khaki shorts, with matching bush hat and desert boots.
His T-shirt read:
"G'day. I'm Randy."
"I can't find you on my list," muttered Jeremy.
"No worries, Blue. Stand back and let the dog see the rabbit."

Randy belched, then began:
"The smile on her fair face was beaming
The lust in his dark eyes was gleaming
With no second glance
He ripped off her pants
And screwed her until she was screaming."

The silence was broken only by Penelope's gasp and Simon's, "well..."

Jeremy started to remonstrate with Randy. He was interrupted by a tall, languid figure.
"I'm Dick Dipper, the Director," announced the newcomer.
"Well done, Mr. Rutter. You're hired. Let's go backstage and sort out the details."

And the moral of the story is, The Earthy Bard Catches The Work.