Drunk Robots On Stage

“You can’t go wrong with drunk robots!” said the producer.
I watched as men in metal suits stumbled around, breaking furniture while the propmaster tore his hair out.
“This is supposed to be Billy Budd,” I said. “You know: sailors, mutiny, Judas symbols. Why robots?”
“Drunk robots!” growled the producer. “It represents man’s total loss of control.”
I watched the clanking shapes crash into each other while waving various broken bits of wood. “Which one’s Claggart and which one’s Vere?”
“They all are!” he shouted.
The play would have been a hit if it hadn’t have been for that electromagnet.