THE BANK OF EUGENE · REPERTORY COMPANY
Meet the eccentrics of the Eugene drawing room.
Listen to each character below. Original fictional personalities, performed with synthetic voices.
The velvet-waistcoated chairman
An Edwardian grandee who treats insolvency as a breach of etiquette. Enormous affection for his guests; absolutely no acquaintance with arithmetic.
“My dear fellow, the reserves have not vanished. They are taking the waters at a particularly exclusive establishment.”
The hostess of inconvenient facts
A society hostess conducting a financial inquest. Immaculate manners, surgical wit, and a raised eyebrow you can hear.
“His lordship describes the accounts as a conversation piece. Unfortunately, the conversation is with the police.”
The increasingly flustered correspondent
A meticulous young gentleman desperately reporting a disaster as though it were the county flower show.
“A small correction to our earlier bulletin. The bank is quite sound. It is the money that has become rather hypothetical.”
The motorcar cad and confidence merchant
A music-hall bounder in borrowed driving gloves. Sells a magnificent future while someone else pays for the luncheon.
“Observe the motorcar! Mine until nine o'clock. Generational wealth, dear boy, with a very reasonable late return penalty.”
The high-strung drawing-room mathematician
Brilliant, prickly and personally offended by a downward graph. Reads market omens in the tea leaves and calls it research.
“It is not a collapse. It is an adventurous descent. Kindly stop turning my graph the right way up.”
The languid philosopher of luncheon
A dreamy salon inventor with a joint, a burger and a theory connecting them. Considers optional cheese a profound technological breakthrough.
“Consider the hamburger, dear friends. A decentralised sandwich. Each pickle quite independent, yet mysteriously committed to the same luncheon.”
The auditor with one pencil
A practical inspector stranded among aristocratic fantasists. Immune to flattery, allergic to speeches, interested only in the receipt.
“I counted the assets. Three burgers, one napkin, and a portrait of the chairman. The portrait is not legal tender.”
The meteorologist of society and scandal
An observant lady with an excellent umbrella. Forecasts financial ruin with the serenity of someone planning a garden party.
“A depression is settling over the drawing room. Expect scattered excuses, rising eyebrows, and a sharp frost around the accounts.”
The velvet-voiced purveyor of improbable goods
A theatre compere presenting each useless invention as the marvel of the age. Courtly, intimate, and entirely shameless.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the self-improving monocle. See only what you wish to see. A triumph of optics over evidence.”