Eugene Ionesco has a peculiar form of exposition to his credit. In "The Bald Soprano," for instance, the exposition is so deliberately heavy and contrived that it becomes the whole content of the dialogue. Being so obvious in his introduction of the characters allows Ionesco the frivolity of laughter while at the same time establishing the roster. Dialogue such as "It's obvious that she's only two. She's named Peggy," reads in a very stilted way, but in the absurdity of stating the obvious, it passes nearly unnoticed. Mrs. Smith's first speech, in which she is addressing her husband:

There, it's nine o'clock. We've drunk the soup, and eaten the fish and chips, and the English salad. The children have drunk English water. We've eaten well this evening. That's because we live in the suburbs of London and because our name is Smith."
This is typical of Ionesco's theatre of the absurd. Each of these statements is addressed to Mr. Smith, who knows what he's eaten, what his children have done, where he lives and most certainly what is name is. This is exposition at its most obvious and ridiculous. And in reality, it's terribly funny. A story told by the Fire Chief pushes the extremity of ridiculous:
"The Headcold." My brother-in law had, on the paternal side, a first cousin whose maternal uncle had a father-in-law whose paternal grandfather and married as his second wife a young native whose brother he had met on one of his travels, a girl of whom he was enamored and by whom he had a son who married an intrepid lady pharmacist who was none other than the niece of an unknown fourth-class petty officer of the Royal Navy and whose adopted father had an aunt who spoke Spanish fluently and who was, perhaps, one of the granddaughters of an engineer who died young, himself the grandson of the owner of a vineyard which produced mediocre wine, but who had a second cousin, a stay-at-home, a sergeant-major, whose son had married a very pretty young woman. . ."
And it goes on and on from there. This takes the idea of exposing the relationships of characters in a play beyond it's limits and it again becomes the content of the speech. Ionesco's style of exposition is like an exaggeration of the smooth "My cousin, who's father is mine uncle" type of writing for which Shakespeare was famous.
As proof that this is part of Ionesco's intrinsic writing style and is not unique to this one play, I give you "Jack, or The Submission." At first, the exposition appears to be approached differently than in the first reviewed play. Rather than speaking to each other as if to the audience, as in "The Bald Soprano," the characters casually call each other by descriptive names, as, "My son, my child," "Yes, Mom," and "my husband!" But in the midst of all this, Ionesco's characteristic stating of the blatantly obvious reappears. Jacqueline, speaking to her brother, says, "Here is your grandfather who would like to speak to you. Alas, he cannot. He is much too old. He is a centagenet!" Why, for instance, would she say "Your grandfather," when he is obviously her grandfather as well? Again, it is the absurdity which catches the eye and the ear. This style of writing is like a signature for Ionesco, and each of his plays is instantly recognizable because of it. Consider the following exchange between two of the characters:

Mother Jack: Have confidence in your son . . . your son of sons. Grandfather Jack: The son of my son is my son . . . and my son is your son. There is no other son.
Complete absurdity. And completely effective.