It's called The Sheriff at the Gates: A Farce in Three Acts, and it's wicked clever. (Or clevah, as they say in Cambridge.) I hope some theatre company puts it on someday!
In the meantime, to whettest thine whistle, (or is it thy whistle?) here's a snippet from Act Three:
(In the garden of the White Palace, GATES, BARACK and CROWLEY are sipping ale, joined by the FOOL.)
FOOL: What? No beer nuts?
BARACK: Silence, Fool! Or back to Delaware with you.
FOOL (sniffing his glass, suspiciously): What beer is this? I smell the filth of Antwerp and Bruges.
BARACK: ’Tis our nation’s finest, lately of St. Louis, now in foreign hands.
FOOL (Aside): ’Tis a light man that drinks a light beer.