The small town of Lundun is large at heartache, and cheap on demand. A mistress throws together a show once a week for the town on Coltsfoot Drive in a run-down theatre.
A voice from the roof of the theatre echoes:
"Presenting the laedae of the Coltsfoot Acdemy of Burlesque...
She ain't much but she's the best we've gat. She ain't pretty to look at but she has fun doin' for us. Her gimmick ain't lady like- but a laedae she is... we think!! Please show your partial respect for the mistress herself...
She sits backstage in her dressing room, patiently devouring her lateness, and suckling on her pipe. The room fills with ash; and a pleasent, masculine scent. Her eyelashes heavily shawdow her eyes, leaving them half closed, like her thinly gapped mouth.
She does what she wants. When she's not doing that, she's doin' what makes her happy. In most cases; where her passion lies.