The Pest of Fleet Street

Asylum or Barber?

The Year is 1885.

She harassed men in London Town

Of  fancy stature and good renown

Made sure that none of their souls were saved,

She sent them down a path that never was paved

God, Beggar

God, City Pest

The Demon Lady of Fleet Street

Beadle is yelling at me. Beadle, deedle, deedle, deedle, deedle, deedle, dumpling. Beadle deedle dumpling. I take care of two kids. They're not mine, they may have come out of me but they're not mine. But I love 'em just the same. One boy, one girl, I named them both Johanna. Boy Johanna can walk, girl Johanna is too young to. Boy Johanna is one.

Beadle is yelling at me. He wants to take me kids. He wants to take me razor. He wants to put me and me kids in seperate asylums. Fer the crazies. I'm not crazy, and me Johannas sure aren't either. Beadle, dumpling. Beadle, deedle, deedle, deedle, dumpling.

He says he'll let me keep 'em fer a few more days to say goodbye, on the condition that I give 'im a squiff. Fer me kids, which still aren't mine, I'd do anything. Beadle's gone from spectator to participant. That's good fer business, but bad fer our world. Poor Beadle, growing up like this. Having to grow up bad. Poor Beadle, deedle, deedle, deedle, deedle, deedle, dumpling.

I take a nap, only to wake up and find I've been sleeping fer two days, far too long if you ask me. It's me last day with me kids, and I could not be more grief ridden. Daniel walks up to me, I remember Daniel. Daniel worked with Benji. Benji's me barber. Benji's me love. Daniel walks up to me with a spring in his step and a newfound Italian accent.

In a thick accent he tries to mutter out: "Ciao, bella. My, look at that razor in your hand. It is... benissimo."
"Get to yer point or I'll use it, good Daniel. Alms, alms-"

"Quiet. I would like to buy that razor. How does a quid sound?"
"Sounds like 'alf of what I should be getting."

"Well, I can't give you any more. Unless you throw something else into the mix."
"What could you possibly want, sir? What all men want in this terrible town?"
"Not quite. I see you have a boy. Young and sturdy, and dumb enough for his mind to be vulnerable."
"What's yer point?"

"My point is, I might need a new barber assistant with my new razor and new accent. Would you be so kind to hand him and the razor over for four quid?"

"Never, good sir, Daniel, never."
Daniel suddenly drops the accent, back to Irish. Back to normal. "Listen here, it's Pirelli now. Not Daniel, Adolfo Pirelli. If you ever call me Daniel in front of a single being again, you can say goodbye to your world. Isn't that right, Lucy?"

"I'm not Lucy. I'm not, I'm not, I'm not. Four quid, ya say? Happy for that deal. Johanna, dearie, go with this man now. Goodbye." I hand the razor off to me Johanna and wait for me payment. Daniel walks off. He steals, he lies, and he doesn't have the decency to keep it a secret. He renames that kid Tobias as they walk off. I prefer the name Johanna, and at least I have time with me little girl before she's sent into the asylum like I may be. No, I must hide. I must run and hide. If I go into the asylum, I may never get out. I may never save me children. Well, they're not mine, but the children I raised. 

After deliberation with meself, I leave me little Johanna down on the ground in the spot where me base is and find me way back to Fleet Street. Mrs Lovely will hide me. Mrs Lovely may lie, but it's to protect me. She's a good woman, she says so herself. I must find Lovely, I must. I must find her.

Author's Notes:
I just wanted to say, yes I will be going for the younger Toby approach, he'd be around 13 by the time of the original content of the Sweeney musical. Also I find it so fun that Lucy has had 4 kids and named them all Johanna. It's her comfort name fr. Also the fact that she doens't realise they're her kids gives off the vibes that she's just thinking "wow, kids are REALLY drawn to me! ill name this one.... johanna! and this one... johanna!"