Chong and Ying cry

in the essential meaning of introspection by a chicken rice shop

A play in one act
by
Richard Homer

Cast

Chong, a 45 year old shopkeeper, 80.1 kg, little hair, wearing a white tee-shirt and knee length grey trousers, and no shoes. He likes stroking his moustache when looking out of the window.

Ying, a 20 year old primary school teacher, tall, 50.5 kg, light brown hair, shoulder length hair, wearing a white tee-shirt, knee length grey trousers, and no shoes, holding a glass of water; she likes to rest her elbow on the cupboard when looking out of the window.

The front room of a small shop house; concrete floor with a tin of engine oil and two car tyres, window to rear, overlooking the local chicken rice shop; door with coat hook, empty, except for a woollen orange hat to left, a cupboard with crockery along it; cheap chair and table, to the right, above it, a painting by Henk Hendriksohn, ‘Art’, near the chair and table.

Curtain up, lighting on from fluorescent strip light, making a horrible ill atmosphere; Rogers and Hammerstein II ‘Flower Drum Song’ is playing, the first eight songs, Chong is looking at the floor, then the window, then the floor, then the window. He is breathing, and stroking his moustache. Ying enters, goes to window; she is breathing, and stroking her hair until half way through ‘Happy Talky-Talky’.

YING:
Chong, are you happy?
CHONG:
Ying, I am happy. Ying, why do you look at the chicken rice shop?
YING:
I love to look at a chicken rice shop.
CHONG:
Ying, my Ying, it is good to look at a chicken rice shop.

They look at each other through the next two songs, holding hands up to ‘A 100 million miracles’. Chong takes out his newspaper, but does not read it. Ying pours the water on the table, kicks the tin of engine oil, puts the glass on the cupboard, her hand on her neck.

YING:
Where are the chicken egg and sweet potato? I can’t find them here.
CHONG:
I have no knowledge of a chicken egg and a sweet potato. .

Chong and Ying begin to cry, they turn to the window.

CHONG:
Ying, I love you. I want to eat a fish ball cooked tonight by you.
YING:
Of course, I can cook a fish ball tonight for you.
CHONG:
Oh, one hundred million miracles are happening every day here!
YING:
You speak the truth, Chong. One hundred million miracles are happening everyday here.

Chong and Ying exeunt crying, taking the orange hat.
Lights out, curtain.

The End

Knüt and Anna cry

in the essential meaning of introspection.

A play in one act
by
Richard Homer

Cast

Knüt, a 45 year old teacher, tall, 80.1 kg, light brown hair, short, cropped, wearing a chequered long sleeve Benetton shirt, any colour, grey trousers, green socks, brown lace up hunting boots, a silk waistcoat with a pipe sticking out of the top pocket, holding tin of Balkan Sobranie; he likes stroking his moustache when looking out of the window.

Anna, a 45 year old teacher, tall, 50.5 kg, light brown hair, shoulder length, in a bun, wearing a long grey skirt, white stockings, brown slip on shoes, a pink long sleeve Gunwoman blouse, a wedding ring, no earring, holding a glass of water; she likes to rest her elbow on the cupboard when looking out of the window.

The front room of a small town house; wooden floor with a lion skin in the centre, window to rear, overlooking the local bakery; door with coat hook, empty, except for a woollen orange hat to left, a cupboard with crockery along it; armchair of polished Moroccan leather to the right, above it, a painting by Henk Hendriksohn, ‘Art’, near armchair, a table with a small lamp.

Curtain up, lighting on from lamp, Greig’s Piano Concerto, the first eight minutes, Knüt is looking at the floor, then the window, then the floor, then the window. He is breathing, and stroking his moustache. Anna enters, goes to window; she is breathing, and stroking her hair until half way through the second movement.

ANNA:
Knüt, are you happy?
KNÜT:
Anna, I am happy. Anna, why do you look at the bakery?
ANNA:
I love to look at a bakery.
KNÜT:
Anna, my Anna, it is good to look at a bakery.

They look at each other through the rest of the second movement, holding hands up to bar 110 in the third movement. Knüt takes out his pipe, and fills it, but does not light up. Anna pours the water on the armchair, kicks the lion in the mouth, puts the glass on the cupboard, her hand on her neck.

ANNA:
Knüt, where are the chicken and the potato? I can’t find them here.
KNÜT:
I have no knowledge of a chicken and a potato. .

Knüt and Anna begin to cry, they turn to the window.

KNÜT:
Anna, I love you. I want to eat a fish cooked tonight by you.
ANNA:
Of course, I can cook a fish tonight for you.

Anna exit, taking the orange hat.
Knüt waits to the end of the third movement of the piano concerto, looking at the window, then walks to the door, exit, crying, without lighting the pipe.
Lights out, curtain.
The End

The wall between the two

A play in one act

Richard Homer

Cast of Characters

MITCH
c 55, a politician, chairman of the talk

BRITNEY
c 45, a businesswoman, own company

BRETT
c 40, a left wing political journalist

MELANIE
c 35, a social commentator, activist

JOSH
c 50, a right wing business journalist

The play takes place in the present time, the programme being recorded on air.

Opening music: Harp, Glenda Clwyd, from her website, 40”

Closing music: Men of Harlech, Charlotte Church, 1’ – 1’ 45”, Youtube concert

At rise: in a room, plain, typical meeting room, with a long table. At the top of table, the moderator, the two pairs of protagonists on each side, one male and one female.

MITCH:
Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, wherever you are this afternoon around the British Isles, welcome again, and a very good afternoon to you all, wherever you may be, a very good afternoon to you, whoever you are, excluding members of the Opposition in Parliament. Ha, ha, that’s joke, a very good afternoon to you too. This afternoon, my distinguished panel of guests will examine a major issue of out time, giving their unique insights into what makes Europe go on and on; with, of course pertinent and probing questions from me, your host today, Mitch Gunsmith, MP for somewhere north of the border, but in it. With me today are, in no particular order, Britney Burke, entrepreneur, and owner of the Burke Empire, one of Britain’s major business conglomerates; opposite her, in political terms, are Melanie Rug, a social activist and commentator for the left wing press; she is also a keen and passionate vegetarian. With her is Brett Newage, a journalist who specialises in political analysis for a number of minority interest journals and magazines, but they are of course of interest to a minority of people, maybe too, a useful addition and balance to the mainstream press; and last but not least, Josh Hoop, who writes for major newspapers on business and world affairs, but from a distinctive right wing, non vegetarian perspective. The topic this we have this afternoon: How much does modern furniture design contribute to a European identity? I’ll begin with Josh. What does furniture mean to you?

JOSH:
It’s something I use for my general convenience around the house. Rather that work, eat and sleep on the floor, I can use a bed, a table, and a chair. That’s it for me.

MITCH:
Good point, Josh; brief and to the point, that’s what you’re known for. Melanie?

MELANIE:
Good afternoon, Mitch, and everyone. Furniture has, throughout history, meant a lot to people as an expression of creative art, rather than the simple capitalist and brutal use that Josh has just shown us. I notice too, Josh, that you didn’t bother to welcome the audience. You’re known for your rudeness, too.

JOSH:
Good. You’re known for your stupidity.

MITCH:
Josh, please. Melanie sees furniture as an expression of Man’s art. Right, thank you. Britney?

BRITNEY:
I would tend to agree with Josh. Modern furniture is less of an art form than throughout history. Gone are the craftsmen who used to make it –

MELANIE:
and women.

BRITNEY:
Craftsmen who used to make it, there being, Melanie, no females workers in most of history, try reading the odd book now and then, and modern furniture is made by machine rather than by hand, rendering the need for skilled craftsmen obsolete. The design is done by computer, and the cutting and to a certain extent, the assembly to, is done by machine. I would agree that furniture making, not manufacturing, please note, years ago was an art form. It is not today, in my opinion, and I run one of the biggest furniture makers in Europe, I know what I’m talking about.

BRETT:
I like you modesty, Britney.

BRITNEY:
I’m glad you like something. You left wingers seem to dislike everything, apart from expensive lounges where you indulge in fatuous, useless political gossip. Oh, and a country retreat, for that, read second house.

MELANIE:
I think that’s quite unfair to Brett.

JOSH:
If you think something Melanie, then the opposite is probably true.

MITCH:
Brett, your thoughts on furniture and a European identity.

BRETT:
In my opinion, there are two separate threads to follow here. One, throughout history, furniture was the preserve of the rich; the capitalist, land owning, business class who made their fortune through abuse, violence and war. They employed skilled craftsmen to create a symbol of oppression and wealth. The poor craftsmen got nothing, except an honourable mention in history. The rich then used the furniture to impress others, who in turn wanted the same, giving rise to a cycle of production that fuelled further greed by the rich.

JOSH:
You’re an idiot.

BRETT:
No, you are, a bickering, money grabbing fool, toad of the rich.

JOSH:
I am rich.

BRETT:
The second point is that, in the context of the question, the furniture industry is important in European integration because through hundreds of years of capitalist oppression and exploitation of the working masses, a movement of solidarity has arisen, with fellow European workers in the same area of the working man’s expertise forming a bond of cultural, technical and social empathy, and will further encourage the rebellion of workers towards their masters, and result in the growth of an international brotherhood of working people who are prepared to fight to the last to see the socialist paradise that awaits them, each getting a just and equitable cut, if that is the word, of the national cake, rather than the teaspoon of sour and mouldy crumbs left over after the rampant hyenas of thoroughbred greed and power have taken their over-consuming and arrogant portion.

Audience cheer.

MITCH:
A powerful, passionate, and pungent thump of explosive thought there from Brett.

MELANIE:
Hear, hear, Brett; that’s was superb. I agree with you every word. We are sailors on the ocean of change, Brett.

JOSH:
I would call it a powerful, passionate and pungent thump of unadulterated tripe. You’re talking complete bloody rubbish.

MELANIE:
Ignore the fascist, Brett. We are together, millions of us, charting our way through the putrid and poisonous waters of capitalist filth. The ship of change is here, Brett.

Audience cheer.

BRITNEY:
If we have good fortune, the two of you will fall overboard, when the engines are at full speed and there’s heavy rain and thunder in the middle of the night.

JOSH:
Poor fish.

Audience boo.

MELANIE:
I wish no harm on you, Josh, even if you are a fascist prick. I pity you rather that hate you.

BRETT:
I pity you both too, Britney and Josh; you think you own the world, but the world rejects your grasping clutching, and will throw you off, to join the masses that must work for a living, rather than living off carrion as the two of you do now.

Audience cheer.

BRITNEY:
It’s clear to me, Brett, that you’re not all that bright, rather like the audience here.

Audience boo.

BRITNEY: cont
You could try damage limitation exercise, i.e. keep your mouth shut for most of the time.

BRETT:
That’s quite offensive, Britney. I’m here as a member of the panel, and I have the right to talk as I please. My thoughts are as important as yours, get that straight, you hear.

MITCH:
Brett has a point there. We’re entitled to our own opinion, unless it offends anyone.

BRITNEY:
You just shot yourself, Mitch.

MITCH:
Where?

JOSH:
I wouldn’t bother, Britney. It doesn’t work in these kinds of brain.

BRETT:
What are you talking about?

JOSH:
There you are, I told you.

MELANIE:
It sounds gobbledygook to me.

JOSH:
Why doesn’t that surprise me, Melanie?

MELANIE:
What doesn’t surprise you?

JOSH:
You, Melanie.

MELANIE:
Oh, me? Why me? What’s surprising about me?

BRITNEY:
You are the surprise, Melanie.

MELANIE:
Oh, I am?

BRITNEY:
I’d leave it now, Melanie. I think you’ve said enough for now.

MELANIE:
I haven’t said anything.

JOSH:
I think that’s what Britney is getting at, Melanie.

MELANIE:
Why do the two of you keep using my name?

BRITNEY:
Oh, you noticed, did you? That’s a clever girl. Many people notice their name, Melanie; it often begins around the age of one.

BRETT:
Oh, lay off her, Britney.

JOSH:
It might come as a surprise to you, Melanie, but you are Melanie. That’s why we call you Melanie. You might find your mother, father, brother, sister, husband etc also call you Melanie.

MELANIE:
Oh, my husband calls me Snuggychugg in bed, just after we put the lights out…I mean…well…some people have…a special name…

MITCH:
Ha, my wife calls me the Tiger of the Borders when I’m wearing my pyjamas, getting ready to go to bed, when we’re…um, yes, right, I think we…must try to …get back…to the topic…what is the topic? Oh, European identity and furniture. Right, Josh, fire away.

JOSH:
Modern furniture has resulted in a new European identity, one of mass produced items that look almost the same wherever you are. You go into a modern apartment, be it in northern Europe, or southern Europe, and if the furniture is anything made after 1975, the place looks almost the same; there’s no difference between them.

BRITNEY:
You’re right, the result is a unique kind of unreal, cloying blandness; you wouldn’t know where you are, rather like these modern hotel chains; are you in Japan or England? You don’t know.

BRETT:
You do if you look at the weather.

MELANIE:
Good point, Brett. The weather is different in different countries. Some are hot and some are cold. The weather changes, too.

BRITNEY:
That’s right, Melanie, weather changes from place to place.

JOSH:
Brett, it might come as a surprise to you, but the weather is out there, not in a building. One doesn’t invite the weather in. Therefore, if you are in a room, unless you look about of the window, it’s tricky to know where you are these days; that’s what Britney is getting at.

BRITNEY:
The new European yuppie concept in furniture, the European identity.

MITCH:
That’s it, a new European identity. That might be in theory, but we’re talking about the real world, aren’t we?

BRETT:
Of course. And theory and practice aren’t the same. All men are equal etc. We all know what that means in practice.

BRITNEY:
I’d agree with Brett there. We just have to think of almost any conflict to see that’s true. But one must also ask the question, how has this come to be. Capitalism is not to blame for everything. There’s also a human and social factor to be put into the equation, isn’t there?

MELANIE:
That’s all very well to go on and on about resolution this and resolution that, but the reality is, this is going to go on until someone is prepared to give up something for nothing in return. Who wants to begin?

JOSH:
That’s true; in the real world, that doesn’t happen. The major player in world conflict is the United Nations. What have they done? The UN has failed many times; it has rarely succeeded in getting anything…

BRETT:
That’s nonsense. The UN has had a long and, one might argue, quite distinguished record of successful achievement.

JOSH:
I’d agree with you there. The success of their incompetence is quite remarkable. There are few organisations in the world to match this record. It needs to be scrapped; the money you would get for their land and buildings would go a long way to helping the poor. You tell me: what is the point of having dozens of so called diplomats, by and large from Third World, impoverished failed countries, wandering around the different UN headquarters, doing precious little work except going from one reception to another, and being paid a handsome salary whilst the rest of their fellow countrymen and women walk around in rags, don’t have healthcare, suffer from famine and malnutrition, and would know a free and fair election if it hit them.

BRETT:
That shows nothing but your ingrained prejudice and latent racism. You shouldn’t be permitted to air such opinions. Talk about balanced journalism.

JOSH:
I’m entitled to my opinion; what are you so frightened of, answer me that?

MITCH:
I think, gentlemen, we must get back to the main point, ladies and gentlemen. This has become one of the most pressing news items of the month, indeed many might argue, of the year, a topic that, as we have heard, is of paramount importance to both sides in the conflict. Britney Burke, you have worked in financial analysis for the past fifteen years, and you specialise in small emerging business markets. How does the present crisis differ in any way to similar crises that have happened before? I was thinking of the opposition by many people to the European Union.

BRITNEY:
Thank you. You’re right, of course. The European Union is a classic example of bureaucracy gone mad, to the exclusion of an open and efficient market economy. Laws appear to be enacted without, it would appear to me, taking the welfare and choice of the consumer into consideration. The present situation is no different, except for one factor. This is the conflict to which you referred to earlier. Unless the essential issues are tackled in a serious manner, and resolved in a short space of time, then the situation with remain as the status quo, or get worse. There are no half measures here.

MELANIE:
The EU was set up for business; come on, Britney, your own company has benefited from having the EU. You have made a fortune from it.

BRITNEY:
You’re right, Melanie, I have. I have made a fortune…from my company, and, let me remind you; the shareholders and the workforce too, have done very nicely, too. Not all owners keep one hundred percent of the profits in their own bank account; or in my case, my own bank. But I didn’t make a fortune from the EU. The bureaucracy has cost me a fortune.

BRETT:
The bureaucracy is there to stop people like you taking advantage of cheap labour.

BRITNEY:
Grow up, Brett. Bureaucracy was invented by the French to employ the unemployable. If half the bureaucrats in the EU, or OPEC, or any London borough, or provincial administration in Australia or Canada or wherever didn’t turn up for work ever again, few people would notice, and local government, state departments would continue to function. Let’s be honest, most government departments and agencies are a waste of money and space. It would benefit the economy if you were to knock down ninety precent of government buildings, and use the land to grow herbs or spices or fruit, or grass the place to play sport.

MELANIE:
Use the land to grow spices? In this climate? What a joke.

BRITNEY:
That’s because you think in the way you do, hampered by intellect, or in your case, lack of it, and imagination, or in your case, lack of it; a businessman, or woman, an entrepreneur, would find a way, such as growing things in a building that generations knew as a greenhouse. The name ring a bell, Melanie?

MITCH:
I think we should try to make it a little less personal, people. Josh, what do you think?

JOSH:
Yes, I agree with Britney. How can you, the taxpayer, justifying supporting non-stop loss making outfits that, in general, benefit a few.

BRETT:
You sound like one of the BNP.

JOSH:
Maybe I am, but nothing to do with you. You’re a card carrying member of the Communist Party.

BRETT:
That’s nothing to do with you.

JOSH:
Touché; that’s my point.

BRETT:
It’s typical of you to make an ad hominem attack, just because you disagree with someone.

MELANIE:
I think we all know what Josh’s opinions are; we read about them everyday, their bias, their invective against the working class, their distortion of the facts; don’t let facts get in the way of a good juicy story, Josh.

JOSH:
I don’t, Melanie. And thank you for reading my articles. It’s nice to know the opposition takes me as a serious journalist.

MELANIE:
I don’t think you are.

JOSH: In that case, why are so uptight, and why do you read me?

MELANIE: I…

JOSH: Please continue.

MITCH: I think I’d like to bring Britney in here. How are these new regulations going to affect your business?

BRITNEY: We expect to have some teething problems, but nothing that we think we can’t handle in the long run. In fact, we might even benefit from them. There are ways to get around government bureaucracy.

BRETT: You mean there are ways that you and your group of companies can make bigger profits than you do at present.

MELANIE: Taking good care of the workforce, no doubt, in the process, are you?

BRITNEY: You’re right. I do, and I’m proud of it, too.

JOSH: I think that both you, Melanie and Brett, should be aware of the fact that
Britney's companies pay above the minimum wage, and unlike other organisations, employ by and large, local people. Ninety eight per cent of the people in her Scottish operations, to give one example, are locals, born and bred; the Highlands operations use one hundred percent local people; the hotels, the fishing, the clothing industry, the eco-tourism. She might make money, but she puts a lot into the local economy too, enriching the people both in financial terms, and in less tangible social ways.

MITCH: That’s a fair point, Josh. Melanie, would you like to counter?

MELANIE: Count what?

MITCH: I said would you like to counter the argument, Josh’s argument?

MELANIE: Oh, well, if you put enough money into something, it’s bound to work. Any fool knows that.

BRETT: That’s why the capitalist system works; you throw in enough money, and you get the results. The rich get richer, the poor get poorer. It’s not a new idea. We all know that.

MELANIE: You’re right, Brett. People like Britney make money because they have money; it’s not that difficult. You pump in enough, you get results. The petroleum industry is a good example. They try place after place after place, and when they strike oil and gas, that’s when the money begins flowing, if you’ll excuse the pun on ‘flowing’.

BRETT: Ha, ha, Melanie, that’s what I call humour. You’re brilliant at times, Melanie, quite witty.

MELANIE: Thank you, Brett. It takes similar minds to connect with subtlety.

BRETT: Oh, absolutely, Melanie; I agree one hundred percent.
JOSH: It takes similar minds to connect with stupidity, too.
MITCH: Josh, please, let’s keep it clean, please.
BRITNEY: I’d like to come back to Melanie’s point about pouring money…oh, excuse the pun on ‘pouring’, the double entendre, the oil ‘pouring’, and the ‘poor’ people, Melanie, just to spell it out in simple English…P,O,U,R, and P,O,O,R…you mentioned about pouring money in and getting results. You can think back as far as that?

MELANIE: Yes, thank you, I’m not an idiot.

JOSH: I beg your pardon?

MELANIE: I said I’m not an idiot. I know what she’s talking about. There’s no need to be so offensive. You’re a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

BRETT: I’d agree with that.

JOSH: You’d agree with Melanie if she said Kenya would win the next FIFA World Cup.

MELANIE: Maybe they will. Who are you to dismiss an East African country? They might win.

JOSH: I think that if you take the trouble to read ‘The Nation’ from Nairobi, not even the most biased football supporter would argue, even after four bottles of Tusker, that Kenya are going to win the World Cup. They’d be happy if they won the East African Cup, let alone the African Nations Cup.

MITCH: Ha, ha. But I suppose if they can’t win the cup, they might win a saucer…Ha, ha… oh, right, let’s get back. Where were we?

BRITNEY: I wanted to ask Melanie here about pouring money into an institution; she argues that it will be successful, is that right?

BRETT: That’s correct; she said that, and I agree.

BRITNEY: Is your name Melanie? In that case, keep your mouth shut.

BRETT: That’s quite offensive. No wonder in the business world you’re known as Queen Bitch.

MITCH: Brett, please, this is live on air; let’s maintain a sense of propriety, can we?

BRITNEY: Oh, Brett, we share the same epithet! How nice. I’m the Queen Bitch of business; you’re the Queen Bitch of Fleet Street. The first time a man has held that honour. How nice! There is one slight problem. The Queen is the female boss; the bitch the female animal. You, on the other hand, are a man –

JOSH: We hope you are!

BRITNEY: and a bitch man is not regarded in the same way, n’est-ce pas?

MELANIE: You are getting quite out of line, Britney.

MITCH: That’s right. I think we must calm down and try to keep the object of this debate in focus, people.

JOSH: What a good idea, Mitch. You should try to become the next Speaker of the Commons. You certainly carry a lot of authority; you control things well, too.

MITCH: Oh, I didn’t know that. I must have a word with the Chief Whip or Prime Minister or whoever does these things; I think, and this is a personal opinion of course, I think I’d look pretty good in those clothes. I could use the hammer to effect, too.

BRITNEY: I’m sure you could. You’d be an excellent Speaker, Mitch. We’d have live comedy throughout the short working day that you people are forced to endure for at least four days a week.

MITCH: Hear, hear.

JOSH: Well done, Mitch.

BRITNEY: Back to my question, Melanie. You think that by pouring money into a project, a plan, a government initiative, call it what you like, you are going to solve the problem? That is the gist of your argument, am I correct?

BRETT: That’s right – oh, sorry, I’m not Melanie.

BRITNEY: Well done, Brett, what a memory. Right, you think any institution will improve, be a success with enough money?

MELANIE: Yes. The pharmaceutical industry comes to mind, too. They invest millions, but they get far in excess of that back, as gross profit, gross in the sense of obscene.

JOSH: I didn’t know you knew such long words, Melanie.

MELANIE: Oh, shut up.

BRITNEY: You see, Melanie, I can think of one government operation, if you’ll excuse the pun, where money is no object, yet is by most people’s account, an abject failure, and that is the NHS.

BRETT: What’s wrong with the NHS? It’s doing a wonderful job.

BRITNEY: The question should be what’s right with it? In a sense, it is doing a wonderful, as an employment agency. I don’t have the figures with me, but the number of employees in the tens of thousands. The problem is that the whole operation doesn’t function well. There are waiting lists going on for months, for operations; there are still, after I don’t know how many years, mixed wards; the places are cockroach infested, and super bugs seem to crop up everywhere with monotonous regularity. It’s not quite the right image for a so called industrialised First World country.

BRETT: It’s the envy of the world, make no mistake.

BRITNEY: I haven’t made a mistake, you have. It’s the envy of part of the Third World. Why do you think so many doctors and nurses are quitting, and often emigrating? If the NHS were a success story, you wouldn’t have the huge number of overseas staff, mostly from less than advanced countries, coming here, nor would you have the British medical profession fleeing the place. The facts, the reality of the situation are hitting you, yet most people don’t seem to notice. One of my neighbours had an hour’s journey, three days a week, to have kidney dialysis. He used to leave the house around 7 am, and get back around three. What kind of system is that? He had no choice; that was the nearest hospital giving that treatment, in spite of the fact there is a hospital five minutes away by taxi.

BRETT: Maybe he went shopping after the treatment; that’s why he got back late.

JOSH: Brett, try not to be so bloody stupid all the time, will you?

MITCH: I think he’s joking.

JOSH: He’s too bloody stupid to be joking.

BRETT: You mind your mouth, mind your manners. You’re a thug with a pen.

JOSH: Idiot.

BRITNEY: The reality is there, but people don’t notice. I know someone who goes to a clinic which has a pharmacy, a small one, attached to the practice. But he cannot buy any medicine there, because he doesn’t live far enough away. So, although unwell, he has to traipse into the town centre, hang around until some assistant decides to take the prescription, hang around until she can find the pharmacist to sign the paper, then go home. He waited forty five minutes once for, I think, one tube of cream, something simple. It’s pitiful.

MELANIE: I think these are isolated cases. I don’t think this type of thing happens on a regular basis. It couldn’t; there would be letters to the newspapers.

BRITNEY: There are letters, and these things do happen, whether or not you chattering classes like it or not.

BRETT: Then tell us, Britney, what’s the solution?

JOSH: Ah, so there is a problem, Brett, is there?

BRETT: I didn’t mention a problem.

JOSH: Then why use the word solution? You don’t have a solution without a problem.

BRETT: What I meant was that I wanted Britney’s opinion on what should be done.

JOSH: You’ve done it again. If there’s something to be done, that means there’s a problem. You don’t do something if there’s nothing to be done.

BRETT: You know what I mean.

JOSH: I know that you don’t know what you’re talking about.

MELANIE: Why don’t you give over, Josh? No wonder you’re such a big name; it’s your mouth.

JOSH: Thank you for letting me know I’m a big name, Melanie; I knew that already, and I’m well known because I get the facts straight and talk common sense, neither of which you or Brett here seems capable of; that’s the reason why.

BRETT: Modesty isn’t one of your traits, is it?

JOSH: No, but neither is intelligence one of yours, is it?

MITCH: Gentlemen, gentlemen, let’s cool things down, shall we? This is an on air debate, and there are people listening.

BRITNEY: Oh, is that right, Mitch. I had no idea that people listened to a live broadcast; how silly of me.

MITCH: Britney, my dear, let’s keep it polite, shall we?

BRETT: That’s asking a lot from these two.

MELANIE: Yes, I agree. You can’t expect public school educated toffs to be able to hold a polite argument. They’re too used to running the British Empire.

JOSH: Oh, Melanie, you do it again and again. If you weren’t such a nice person, as just a person, as opposed to the idiot you are in professional life, it would be funny. But you talk such utter balderdash, such tripe.

MITCH: Mind your language Josh. She’s a woman, you know.

BRITNEY: Oh, so she is. Well done, Mitch.

BRETT: Funny girl, Britney.

BRITNEY: Funny woman; I’m in my forties, Brett. What are you going on about, Melanie? The British Empire finished a half century ago. The vast majority of people in this country today played no part in the Empire, have no interest in the Empire, and even less interest in the Commonwealth. They go to work, go home with their family, and enjoy life as much as they can on the limited wages most people get. Then they go to sleep; that’s it. If you think people like me have some sort of hang up over the Empire, you’re way out. If I had my way, I’d pull out of the Commonwealth; there’s little wealth in most of it, and even less in common.

MELANIE: I think that’s a terrible attitude; we went to these countries, trampled all over them, extracted their resources for our industry, made a fortune from the colonies, and now you want to abandon them. That’s typical of your narrow minded business class; it’s money all the time.

JOSH: Owning a house, as you do, Melanie, in Chelsea, also needs money.

MELANIE: That’s my husband’s house. He inherited it.

BRITNEY: Bang, bang again, Melanie.

MITCH: I think we’re getting a bit too personal, people. Can we keep on the topic please?

BRITNEY: I think Josh and I are keeping on the topic. It’s these two who are wandering. Right, let’s get a few things straight, Melanie. ‘We’ didn’t go anywhere. Certain very privileged people, a small number, went on behalf of the very privileged crowd who made up the government of the day. Two, we didn’t go to many ‘countries’; a few, yes. Most of the ‘countries’ that ‘the British’ went to, didn’t exist then. The people who went there went to open areas, to areas with no existing government or sense of national identity. Most of the Commonwealth countries today didn’t exist one hundred years ago. Three, Britain was making a fortune from the colonies. That is debateable; there is a book, whose name I am ashamed I have forgotten, by two British historians. They argue that, far from making money, the colonies were responsible for a huge drain on the economy of this country. You should try to get hold of a copy and read it.

BRETT: I refuse to read anything written by racists or fascists.

JOSH: Well done, Brett. You’re narrowing your already thin mind minute by minute. Who said the writers are racist?

MELANIE: They must be; you would write a book defending the British Empire unless you were a racist.

JOSH: Try reading the book first, Melanie.

MITCH: That’s an excellent idea, Josh. Try reading the book, Melanie.

BRITNEY: My fourth point is about abandoning the colonies. It seems to have escaped your notice that there was such a thing as the independence movement in most countries, and far from abandoning colonies, they won their lawful independence.

BRETT: They had to struggle to get it, though. The British didn’t want to give up power.

MELANIE: In some countries there was fighting; the people were determined to throw off the yoke of imperialism, and they succeeded, too.

JOSH: I agree with both of you…up to a point.

BRETT: You do? Oh…

MITCH: That’s quite an about turn, Josh. What is that?

JOSH: There’s no about turn, Mitch. I said I agree with them up to a point. In some countries there was a struggle for power, and there was some fighting. But if one considers the size and area of the Empire, the bulk of it became independent in a peaceful way. But to come back to Melanie’s stupidity, I mean, Melanie’s point about the people throwing off the yoke of repression, the majority of the inhabitants of most colonies were unaware that they were living in a colony, and for certain they had no concept of imperialism. I can’t imagine a British Colonial official walking into some village in the back of beyond and asking the locals if they were oppressed by British imperialism, and if so, what were they going to do about it. For most people in the colonies, life was a struggle to get by, in much the same way as it was for the ordinary man and woman in this country at the same time. Not everyone in British colonial times had a country manor and a three storey town house.

MITCH: Ha, ha, got you there! My family did; we had, well, we still have a two hundred acre place up in the Scottish borders, and a house in Edinburgh; nice place, too. Wonderful scenery from the top floor; the place in the country’s wonderful for shooting; we keep a herd of deer there, too, help the environment, green planet etc…um, yes, well, I think…we’d better… move on…I send Oxfam five pounds a month…it feeds someone somewhere…you know…peanut butter and a…glass of milk…one has to do one’s little bit…you know…

BRITNEY: I think so; you might get a knighthood for that, Mitch.

MITCH: That’s what I’m hoping…hoping…hoping other people get…for their…effort…the environment…global warming…polar bears…Eskimos…rain forest…you know what I mean?

BRETT: No

MELANIE: No.

JOSH: You’re a fine man, Mitch. Britain needs people like you.

MITCH: Thank you, Josh. I appreciate that. Right, enough about me, let’s get back to the topic. We’ve heard from the four of you, and you’ve make some good points, some very good points, some very good points…and I think our listeners will…appreciate …everything. Thank you. Right, Britney. I’d like to ask you a question, to put you on the spot, so to speak. You argued, in fine fashion, if I might use that expression, that the colonies were a major benefit to Britain. I would like to know –

BRITNEY: No I didn’t. I argued the opposite.

MITCH: Right. I’d like to ask you a question. You argued that the colonies were of no benefit to Britain. What I’d like to know is, in your opinion, history not repeating itself, if, all other things being equal, is it a certainty that the Commonwealth, that is, the countries that are now independent that were, in former times many years ago, were these countries, are these countries, if I can put it that way, is it , would they, could they, if the age of imperialism and expansion of the British Empire had in fact not occurred, or had occurred in a different place, and at a different time, and maybe in a different way, these factors taken into effect, would the Commonwealth, as we know it, would it exist?

BRITNEY: That’s an excellent question, Mitch, well put. The answer is, of course, yes and no.

MITCH: Thank you. Brett, would you like to take up on Britney’s opinion?

BRETT: I think Britney, and the typewriting hooligan here, epitomise just what is wrong with our society; money, greed, exploitation, environmental damage, global warming, famine…the list goes on and on; these things are the direct result of the actions of people like Josh and Britney here. They are the defenders and propagandists of the capitalist exploitation of the working man and woman, and the protagonist of the effort that keeps it in motion. If we can rid this country of these people, their way of thinking, their control over industry etc, then we would have a society where everyone would benefit.

JOSH: Where everyone would benefit from unemployment, with no money, because the economy would collapse, firms would go elsewhere, the whole place would be even worse off that the miserable condition it’s in now.

MELANIE: What’s miserable about Britain? It must be good enough for you; otherwise you’d have left the place.

JOSH: You’re right about the second part. If it were that bad, I’d be off. But I have a pretty well paid job with the newspaper –

MITCH: With a pretty secretary, too, Josh! Ha, ha. No? No secretary? Oh…

JOSH: The first part of your statement about Britain being miserable; you cannot be serious. What’s miserable about Britain? I suggest you walk around, get away from Chelsea and Richmond, and ask the ordinary people what’s miserable about this place. It would be much quicker to make a list of what’s good about the place.

MELANIE: Right, big mouth, what’s good about Britain? What do you like about it?

JOSH: The major plus factor is the entertainment value of people like you and Brett; it’s worth putting up with half a year of winter just to listen to you ramble on and on.

BRETT: There you go again; you’re vulgar.

JOSH: No, I’m Josh. What else is there? Most of the country is pretty, in places quite beautiful, in places quite spectacular. I like many of the buildings, both old and modern; parts of some towns and cities are as pleasant as you’d find anywhere. The arts scene is excellent, if one has the money. I can enjoy it; I get paid from time to time to go and enjoy it. The majority of people don’t and can’t.

BRETT: What are don’t and can’t?

JOSH: Why is it necessary to spell everything out in Ladybird book reading scheme fashion for you, Brett? It’s okay, you don’t have to answer. The majority of people don’t get paid to enjoy the arts, therefore the majority of people can’t go out and enjoy it…them.

MELANIE: That’s absurd to claim that; museums and art galleries are free, libraries are free.

BRITNEY: They’re not free; that’s the sort of con trick trap people like you fall into. You don’t pay money to go in; that doesn’t mean they're free.

BRETT: Of course it does; if you don’t pay, it’s free.

BRITNEY: Where does the money to build these places, to run them, to pay for the staff, the upkeep, the paintings, the exhibits…where doe the money come from, Brett?

BRETT: The government; that’s the function, well, one of them, of a good government. You give people certain things free.

BRITNEY: With what? With what money? The taxpayers’ money, that’s what, Brett; your tax, Melanie’s tax, everyone’s tax. There is nothing in any country that you get free…well, a couple of the oil states in the Middle East might be exceptions to the rule. You cannot get anything ‘free’. The money comes from somewhere, and that somewhere is the taxpayer’s pay cheque, pocket, wallet, whatever you want to call it. Ninety percent of what people earn in this country goes back to the government in one way or another. So give over about how you get things free. You don’t get anything free.

JOSH: How much is it to go to the theatre in London, Melanie? You think the ordinary people can afford thirty plus pounds once a week?

MITCH: Thirty pounds isn’t much; I couldn’t do anything with that. I pay thirty pounds for a couple of drinks in the club; you go with a couple of your pals, order a steak sandwich, I prefer mine done rare, but that’s a personal choice, of course, we’re free to do that, so far, I think, and it will set you back twenty pounds per person…you get a …um, well, not every afternoon…you know…um…that’s what some people do….the folk with…money… yes, let’s get back…Melanie?

MELANIE: How many people want to go to the theatre? It’s just a minority. We go twice a week, but we love the theatre. The average person doesn’t. They prefer to spend the evening in some grubby pub…in a bar with their mates etc.

BRITNEY: Oh, how snobbish we are, Melanie. The ‘average person’…so Melanie isn’t average, is she? Of course not, you live in Chelsea; your husband’s the main partner with some huge legal practice who work for, among others, large international corporations, correct? I don’t think he works for five pounds fifty per hour; oh, poor working class Melanie, how it must be torture for you, to put up with such a nice house, the weekend country cottage in Essex, and au pair cooked dinner, and the theatre etc.

BRETT: That’s hitting below the belt.

BRITNEY: She’s not wearing a belt. She’s wearing a dress, you idiot.

BRETT: I didn’t mean literally, you cretin.

BRITNEY: I’m a rich cretin, but you’re an impoverished hack idiot with a newspaper few bother to buy.

BRETT: Cheap capitalist, neo conservative, totalitarian quagmire of nonsensical balderdash.

BRITNEY: Congratulations on your speech.

MITCH: Gentlemen, gentlemen; time please, I mean, please control your tempers; we’re on air, as you know.

BRITNEY: I’m not a gentleman, Mitch. I’m a woman.

MITCH: You’re right, Britney, I forgot. I mean I forgot to include you in the address, I should have said…maybe something else, I can’t think what at the moment.

JOSH: Mitch, how about zipping it?

MITCH: Excellent choice of words there, Josh. Thank you.

JOSH: Well, Melanie, is it a tough life you have in Chelsea?

MELANIE: You keep out of my family. Anyway, I need an au pair because I’m working and my husband’s working too.

JOSH: That makes you unusual in this country, Melanie; husband and wife working. It might catch on, once the ignorant hoi polloi realise two incomes are better than one. That’s a thought; I might write an article about two people working in the same household; I’m sure the editor would put it in. We could call it ‘the Melanie Effect’. You’d go down in history as the first woman who thought of getting a husband and wife working.

MEKANIE: Oh, piss off, you jerk.

MITCH: Melanie, get down, down, Melanie. You’re beginning to get angry. I think, Josh, a little less poison might be a good thing… I must remind you we’re on air.

BRITNEY: It’s the hypocrisy of you lot that I hate. You go on and on about people with money, how unfair society is, hoe there should be a redistribution of wealth…on that point, I’d agree with you one hundred percent…but you have plenty of money yourself, to do what you want. One of your colleagues, well, at least one, I’m mentioning no names for reasons of libel, harp on about social inequality, but owns a bloody manor in Italy. I have no objection to that per se, but don’t go on about how wrong it is for other people to have the same as you.

BRETT: I bet you own a property in Europe, somewhere.

BRITNEY: I don’t own a property in Europe, Brett. I own four in Europe, plus three or four others in other parts of the world, Asia, Argentina etc.

MELANIE: You’re fortunate to be able to afford the air fares to go to these places, aren’t you?

BRITNEY: I don’t pay for the air fare. I own my own business jet, sweetheart. I don’t queue up business class at Heathrow.

JOSH: The product of total capitalism; poor girl makes it big time.

MITCH: When the shows over, Britney, maybe we could get together; I’d be interested in renting a place for the summer holidays…

BRITNEY: You could have my second place in Monaco; it’s two thousand pounds a week. It pays for the petrol for the Rolls Royce.

BRETT: I thought you had a Mercedes; that’s what I read up about you before the programme.

BRITNEY: The Mercedes is in this country, silly boy. The Rolls is for Europe.

MITCH: I’ll…think about it…later on…I’ll think about it…Britney…I’ll ask the wife…two thousand pounds…um…you know…

MELANIE: That’s sheer greed, owning so many places. I’d make it illegal for people to have a second home…I mean a third home; a second home is okay.

JOSH: Why’s that, Melanie? Oh, because you and your husband have a place out in the country, is it

MITCH: I’d be interested in that, it’s less than two thousand, is it? I’m thinking along the lines of three hundred or so…? Is there any chance of that? We’ll talk later, okay?

BRITNEY: Oh, so Melanie owns another property.

MELANIE: It’s my husband’s place. It was a wedding present….he got it from his father and mother.

BRETT: That’s reasonable enough. I have a small place in west Hampshire, nothing much, but a roof and four walls, you know.

JOSH: That’s unusual, Brett; a house with a roof and four walls. What gave you that spam of thinking, to buy something like that?

MELANIE: Just ignore him, Brett. He’s so insufferable. You can’t take anything he says for the truth.

JOSH: I think you can’t take everything that Britney here tells you, either.

MITCH: What do you mean?

BRITNEY: I don’t own all those places. I have a second home in this country, and a share of a farmhouse in France. I don’t have time to flit back and forth to so many places; I use a business jet though, but I split the cost with whoever goes with me.

BRETT: That’s still a lot of money.

BRITNEY: You’d be surprised; if you’ve got a group of ten, and most business jets these days can carry ten, and the plane and crew don’t have to hang around overnight, it’s not that much on top of first class air travel, and of course, very convenient.

MELANIE: That’s right; we’ve used a business jet before…just a couple of times, my husband thought…it would be…a good experience…for the children…

JOSH: I’m sure he did, Melanie.

MITCH: We have a small plane; use the local airstrip. It has one propeller, nothing fancy; the plane I mean, not the airstrip. Cessna, I think it is. That’s the plane, not the airstrip.

BRITNEY: It might surprise both Brett and Melanie that I am opposed to people being allowed to have multiple homes. I think if one is fortunate to have two, fair enough. The second home business in this country is confined most of the time to rural areas where a, people don’t want to live, because of the distance and lack of amenities, and b, the lack of employment. I know it’s not a fashionable argument, but I think that, by and large, people who have weekend/holiday places in the country are doing the local economy a favour; I don’t think we are a drain on local resources, far from it. I think we put a lot in. What I dislike with a passion are these big properties – I’m talking about ten bedroom places – being owned by rich foreigners. They are not used for months on end, and to me, this is immoral when so many young people can’t get on the property ladder. The big foreign owned places ought to be bought back, and converted into apartments for young people with a very young family. This would release thousand of new places just around London, and hundreds of thousands of new places over the country.

BRETT: I’m surprised you think like that, Britney. I’m impressed. I thought you were –

BRITNEY: I know what you thought; and I’m not. In case you don’t know, I come from a very ordinary background, no public school, unlike both you and Melanie. I didn’t go to a big university, unlike you two.

MELANIE: My school was a very small public school; no one’s ever heard of it.

JOSH: That doesn't surprise me, if you’re typical of the rabble it lets out. .

MITCH: Josh, be careful; these public school girls are very sensitive, especially when they come from some unknown place, like Melanie…here…oh, sorry, Melanie…

BRITNEY: Where did you go, Brett?

BRETT: It wasn’t a proper public school; it was fee paying but it was quite a cheap place. Most of the parents weren’t rich; doctors, dentists, lawyers, bank managers etc, nothing that important. And I wasn’t there for the whole of my education anyway, just eight years. My parents made me go; I hated the place, full of pseudo-intellectual types, dreaming of changing the world, writing poetry, wanting to become journa…um, er, you know the sort of place.

MELANIE: I know what you mean, Brett. It hard for people of our background to…it’s hard to…it’s not our choice, is it?

BRETT: No, of course not. It was the same with university. I accepted London because it was near my parents’ house, and they were the first to make me an offer; I couldn’t have turned it down, in case no one else gave me anything.

JOSH: How about you, Melanie?

MELANIE: The same as Brett. I had no choice in the matter. My parents told me they would not give me any pocket money if I refused to go, and twenty five years ago, no one turned down a hundred pounds a week, I can tell you.

MITCH: A hundred pounds a week? That’s pretty good for a student, that’s quite n amount, that is, isn’t it, wow,.

BRITNEY: Yes, Melanie, it must have seemed a tough time for you.

BRETT: It wasn’t a holiday, I can tell you.

MELANIE: I think it was a hundred pounds a term…I’m not sure now.

JOSH: I went to Portsmouth. I had a grant of one hundred and twenty pounds. That had to last me the whole term, pay for digs, books, etc.

MITCH: Entertainment too.

JOSH: You must be joking. No one there had money for entertainment. There was none, for everyone I knew; the only time that one might call it entertainment was in the evening at the weekend; a pub crawl, one round each. We didn’t have the money.

MELANIE: I know; London was expensive. A bottle of champagne would cost you ten pounds, something like that; money didn’t …go…but not…every day…I mean…

BRITNEY: Tough time, Melanie.

BRETT: It was a tough time, Britney. You seem to think that all we do is party through the term.

MELANIE: We had to do a lot of reading; there were examinations, too.

BRETT: That’s right. There was a lot of reading to get through.

JOSH: That’s unusual; we had to do the same, too. I didn’t know other universities had the same things to do, reading books etc. I wonder if your place had a big building called a library; lots of books. We did, and we had to use it, too. How funny.

MITCH: We did the same in Edinburgh, too. There was a lot of reading, oh, yes, a lot of reading, and lectures to go to.

BRITNEY: Oh, my goodness, you have to do reading at university in Scotland too? I thought it was such an English thing.

JOSH: Me, too. One learns something new all the time.

BRETT: Are you both trying to be funny?

MELANIE: That’s all you know what to do, Josh…sneer at other people.

JOSH: You’re right, Melanie. Come on, I write serious journalism, or make accurate assessments of things, or appear on various programmes because people at least respect my opinion. I have no problem with people disagreeing with me, but at least reason and argue with some sort of cogent thought.

MITCH: Excellent comment there from Josh. How would you argue against that, Melanie?

MELANIE: It’s hard to argue with this sort of person. There’s a complete refusal to listen to and accept another person’s opinion.

BRITNEY: Young Melanie, it appears that you don’t listen to what people are talking about. The problem with you is that you confuse listening with accepting. You seem to think that if someone listens to you, they agree with you, and nothing could be further from the truth in many cases, including you.

BRETT: I don’t think it’s the done thing to call her ‘Young Melanie’; she is after all, a guest on this programme.

MELANIE: Yes, I agree.

BRITNEY: Right, I accept that. I withdraw the comment, or rather, the appellation.

JOSH: Beau geste, Chèrie.

MITCH: I beg your pardon?

BRITNEY: Il m’a dit que j’ai fait un beau geste, ces’t tout.

MITCH: Ah ha, that’s what I thought. Yes, nothing like a little French to whet the appetite…an aperitif…it is French, is it, or Spanish? I get the two confused a bit. Oh, yes, I like that, shows class and education, and when you have the two, you get a fine product, rather like me…um, well…let’s move on…shall we? Or maybe I should use…wait for it…shall oui? You get it? W, E…we, O, U, I…we, I mean ‘yes’ in French. Good eh? Ha, ha, that’s Borders humour for you. That’ll have the good folk up there laughing away, oh aye.

BRETT: But not here.

MELANIE: No, I don’t think so, Mitch.

JOSH: I think it’s quite amusing.

MITCH: Thank you, Josh.

BRETT: He would think it amusing; it’s infantile enough.

BRITNEY: You would know about that.

BRETT: Ha, ha, Britney; funny woman, ha, ha.

BRITNEY: Bang, bang again, Brett.

MELANIE: Oh, give over, Britney.

MITCH: Right, ladies and gentlemen, I think we must get back to the topic of the talk, the discussion this afternoon; European Unity. How does it affect you, if I might put it in that way, how does the whole concept, the very essence, the being, if I can use that word in this particular context, how has it affected you, both in person, and in your profession. Josh, you’re keen on European integration, let’s begin with you.

JOSH: I’m not keen on it.

MITCH: Right. Um, let’s begin with…you anyway. It doesn’t make much difference who we begin with.

JOSH: There is no such thing as European integration, and there won’t be in the future, the foreseeable future. I think any integration in the long term will come through the barrel of a gun.
BRITNEY: I would agree with that.

BRETT: You agree with Josh on most things; you don’t think for yourself. You’re both pessimists who look at the negative aspect of the situation here. European integration is one way forward for the socialist revolution that is coming, make no mistake. Think of the Labour laws; they would benefit the workers by having a continental equality of pay and conditions; that must be a good thing. Imagine the consequences of workers everywhere being treated the same.

MELANIE: That’s a good point, Brett. One result would be that workers wouldn’t be forced to move from their home county in search of better paid work. They can remain there, with their families, and contribute to the growth of their backward… their emerging economy.

JOSH: I like your use of the word ‘backward’, Melanie.

MELANIE: I…meant…the…workers could go back home, go back home. They could help their economy by going back home, that’s what I was trying to get across, the point I was making, go back home.

MITCH: They could go back home; that would be nice for them I love going back home. Most of the people I meet here in London are always suggesting I go back home; they know I like going back home.

BRITNEY: Good for them, Mitch, and good for you.

MITCH: Oh, thank you.

BRETT: A well paid workforce and that is their right, make no mistake, emphasis on well paid, a well paid workforce is a major benefit to the economy of any country. You pay a worker a fair wage, with good conditions of work, good benefits, and the economy will grow.

MELANIE: That’s what I was thinking, too; ‘Workers of the world unite’ etc.

JOSH: What’s the etcetera bit, Melanie?

MELANIE: Um…I…can’t…think of it at the moment. It’ll come back.

MITCH: It’ll come back home, like the workers, Melanie.

BRITNEY: Mitch, keep your day job. Brett, thank you for reminding me about my workers; I had forgotten.

BRETT: Forgotten what?

BRITNEY: To pay them; it must be three months now. I hope they’re okay. I’d hate to think of any of them suffering because of me.

MELANIE: Are you serious? You haven’t paid them for three months? That’s a disgrace and I think it’s against the law, too.

JOSH: You are thick, aren’t you, Melanie. Don’t you recognise the tone of voice?

MELANIE: You’re joking? This is supposed to be a serious programme; how can you make flippant remarks like that? Of course I think you’re serious. One doesn’t joke on a programme like this. There are people listening who might take us for idiots otherwise.

BRITNEY: Bang, bang.

MITCH: Bang, bang. That reminds me of the Crazy Frog on Youtube. Bang, bang, dinga dang, bang…what’s going on? It’s wonderful; my young son showed it…to…me…

BRITNEY: You did mention that you are a Member of Parliament, Mitch.

BRETT: Yes he is, with a reputation for hard work.

MITCH: I am, Britney, I am.

BRITNEY: The British Parliament?

MELANIE: No, the Toy Town one.
JOSH: That’s what I was thinking.

MITCH: I like you Josh; you should come and live up in the Borders. They’d love your sense of humour. Britney, take the argument with Brett up a notch.

BRITNEY: That’s not a problem.

BRETT: What do you mean by that?

BRITNEY: I mean it’s not a problem.

MELANIE: Why?

JOSH: Why what?

MITCH: Why?

BRITNEY: Why is it not a problem? Because it’s not, that’s why.

BRETT: Right, I think I’m with you.

MELANIE: There’s no need to be rude, Britney. Brett was just asking a question.

JOSH: Brett, good boy to ask a question.

MITCH: My point, too. That’s why we’re here.

BRITNEY: Brett mentioned, with mock socialist enthusiasm, that –

BRETT: I didn’t mock anyone or anything.

BRITNEY: I didn’t suggest you did; try opening your ears once in a while.

MELANIE: That’s it, Britney; make it personal again.

BRITNEY: If you insist, Melanie; I think you, Melanie, are ill informed, unaware of the real world out of the environs of Chelsea, Essex, and a London taxi, and have little talent apart from making a fool of yourself with your pseudo intellectual, mock left wing whine that grates on and on. Your major contribution to society and world culture is having just two children, thereby limiting the damage on the future of man. That is personal enough for you?

JOSH: Britney, I like it.

MITCH: Me too…no, not me too.

BRITNEY: Right, Brett mentioned the workforce being
well paid, well taken care of etc. I agree with you, Brett.

BRETT: You do? Why?

BRITNEY: Think about it, Brett. Where do you find that situation; in what countries?

MELANIE: There are many examples I can think of.

JOSH: Good, but your name’s not Brett, so shut up.

BRETT: Well, there’s…Japan, I think,

MITCH: You think, Brett.

BRITNEY: Go on. Japan…

BRETT: How about Switzerland, would that count?

MELANIE: I think so; it’s quite a good economy, I think.

JOSH: I think we might include the Swiss; they’re among the richer ones on the planet.

MITCH: Excellent, Josh.

BRETT: There’s France, um…

BRITNEY: Just try most of Western Europe. Now you tell me what they have in common.

MELANIE: They’re all in Western Europe.

JOSH: Good point, Melanie. Keep them coming.

BRETT: They pay well; they are well taken care of etc.

MELANIE: That’s true in one way.

BRITNEY: You said that, Brett, a couple of minutes ago.

BRETT: They’re quite rich countries, too.

JOSH: We got that, too.

MITCH: We did, Brett, we got it.

BRITNEY: What type of economy do these countries operate in, Brett? What are they rich? Why are they not like most of the rest of the world, why?

BRETT: They have good working conditions, they earn good money.

MELANIE: Not everyone, Brett. There are low paid workers in this country.

JOSH: There, you’re right, Melanie, but in comparison with much of the world, workers here are quite comfortable. I’m not arguing that it’s perfect, far from it. But if one compares the situation in much of the southern hemisphere, there’s no doubt we are better off here.

MITCH: I think Scotland is better off than England, that’s what I think.

BRITNEY: The point I’m trying to make Brett, is that the countries with decent working conditions, salaries, benefits etc, etc, are the countries that have a free open economy, not the type of government controlled nonsense that you spout; your thinking doesn’t work in practice.

BRETT: Of course it will, if it has the chance; you need time.

MELANIE: I think Brett has a point about the time.

JOSH: You’re talking rubbish Brett, and I think deep down you and your ilk know it. If your socialist hogwash works, why is it that, a, the rich countries in the world follow the capitalist way of operating, and b, the countries that used to follow your way of thinking are changing, getting away from government control, and moving to a free market economy?

MITCH: Brett, Melanie, care to challenge?

MELANIE:: I think time is important here, the time frame, trying to rush things through without enough time, we run out of time, yes, time is important, but that’s just my opinion, of course, but we must think about a suitable time.

BRETT: I think I know what Melanie’s getting at here. We must get away from the concept of seeing things through capitalist binoculars; there are many places in the world where capitalism has refused to grow, is rejected by the people as being unworkable, untenable, unapproachable, unreachable etc, and to equate this with failure is absurd, and any reasonable person knows it.

BRITNEY: What countries have refused to let capitalism ‘grow’, as you put it?

BRETT: I can’t think of an example right now, but there must be some, there are some, somewhere, I’m sure of it.

MELANIE: There are bound to be some, somewhere, I think.

JOSH: Parrot.

MITCH: I beg your pardon…oh, parrot? I thought you said something else.

BRITNEY: You have lost the argument, Brett and Melanie, and you know it. You come here ill prepared, and without facts to back up your case, such as it is, if you can call it that. Whether you and the rest of the people you hang out with, like it or not, the reality is that your philosophy is a failure, and countries that have tried it in the past are regretting it, and moving away to the free market economy. You have to look at the countries which are successful in business, where people have good standard of living, health care, the infrastructure works, where the workforce is well treated, get a decent wage for their labour. Look around to see the answer, Brett.

BRETT: There are places in this country with poor infrastructure, poor health care etc.

MELANIE: Brett’s right. Some of the hospitals are in a terrible condition. There are huge waiting lists to see a specialist. Then, after you’ve seen one, you might have to wait a few months before you get the operation or treatment; then there are the differences in treatment and funding between the different countries; in one place you pay for medicine, in another, you get it free. The whole thing that is the NHS is a mess, but on the whole, it performs well for most people…in theory…in general…I think…that’s the case…

BRITNEY: I think, Melanie my dear, you’re contradicting yourself. If there are waiting lists and it takes months for treatment, it can’t be working that well, can it?

MELANIE: It works okay, some of the time.

BRETT: I think what Melanie is trying to make is that the NHS, whilst wonderful,
needs some improvement, a little oil and lubrication here and there.

BRITNEY: Like your brain.

BRETT: I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.

BRITNEY: Nothing.

JOSH: Brett and Melanie, I think in some ways you’re both correct; there are places here with inadequate infrastructure, poor health care etc. I agree one hundred percent with both of you this time, but we are looking at the broad picture, not at what are, in all fairness, exceptions to the rule. The fact is, the reality is, that is we look at the situation in general, people are far better off in this country than they are in most of the rest of the world, and compared to some places, we’re better by a huge way. I’m not arguing that it’s right; like you two, I think everyone should get a decent life here, here being the world, but the reality is that, for one reason or another, it’s not an equal place.

MITCH: You’re right there, Josh. I know this from experience. I had loads of money compared to the riff-raff from the…not that much money, there were some rich working…with money…right, Britney, your turn. The NHS I think we were talking about, is that right?

BRITNEY: The way forward in health care provision in this country is to follow places like Singapore, where you take out, at your expense, medical insurance. You get ill, you get a doctor, a hospital bed pronto. None of the nonsense most people get in this country, where there’s no doctor, i.e. a GP, at the weekend, and you can wait for months on end to se a specialist. That’s the reality.

BRETT: Come on, Britney. How many people in this country can afford insurance? Most ordinary working people struggle just to pay the bills. The greedy utility companies make millions in profit, but increase the cost of the product to the consumer. It’s disgusting, outrageous and downright immoral, that’s what I and millions in this country think. People can buy insurance? What a joke. How many people do you know can buy insurance?
Audience cheer.

JOSH: Everyone; car, house, personal effects insurance; the list goes on.

BRETT: You know what I mean. How many people can afford medical insurance?

JOSH: Two points; one, I do, but most people don’t. That’s the response to your first comment. The problem with people like you, the left wing bunch, is that you assume everyone thinks along the same lines as you, whereas few do, in reality. Point two: Many people can afford medical insurance; it’s just that they have other priorities, like going to the pub every night, buying booze in the supermarket, smoking etc. How many people have a car that they don’t really need, that they could manage without? There must be hundreds of thousands of people who could do with out their own transport. If you live in London, a car is a handicap rather than a benefit. If you live in a small town, you can either walk or take the bus. There is an alternative. Point number three, with utility companies, Brett, you get me, and I expect you get Britney too; I…we…support you one hundred percent.

BRETT: You support me?

JOSH: On this point, yes, very much.

BRITNEY: He said it; one hundred percent.

BRETT: Oh.

MELANIE: But have you any idea of the cost of medical insurance? I’m sure the average person would find it expensive. How much is it for an operation? The point to note here is that we are, through insurance…medical insurance, putting money back to those who least need it i.e. big business. It’s the duty of government to take care of the people.

MITCH: Good point there, Melanie. It is the duty of government, of which I’m a proud member, to care of the people. That’s why I went into politics.

JOSH: You get good money too, Mitch.

MITCH: Yes, of course, we get…it’s okay, the money…we get by…plus the income from the farm, of course…that’s not much…

BRITNEY: The expense account, first class train etc.

MITCH: I need the money to go back at the weekend to see my family…I mean, to see the constituency, that sort of thing…the first class on the train…the train becomes an office for a few hours…we MPs have work to do, not like the rest of the people…we need peace and quiet, not have drunken yobs everywhere, and the conductor disturbing us every other stop with ‘tickets, please’, no elbow room; it’s okay for ordinary people, but we’re not ordinary, we’re not…we’re…we’re working on the train, that’s it. Anyway, let’s get back to the point.

BRITNEY: I think that is the point, Mitch. Bang, bang.

BRETT: Mitch has got a point there; many MPs work very hard, you know.

MELANIE: I know that because we have a few of them around for dinner. There’s a lot of work that the public don’t see. They get through a huge amount of work.

JOSH: They get through a huge amount of taxpayers’ money too.

MITCH: Careful, Josh, you’re on dangerous ground there; it’s difficult to prove we’ve cheated any…we’ve done anything wrong. I mean, we haven’t, but people think we do, you know what I mean?

BRITNEY: We know what you mean, Mitch, we know.

BRETT: I think most MPs do a rather good job; I’m thinking of running in the next election.

MELANIE: That’s wonderful, Brett. I’ll be your campaign manager. I’d love to do that.

JOSH: I’d love to emigrate.

MITCH: Why’s that, Josh? I thought you were happy here.

BRITNEY: He’s joking, Mitch.

MITCH: I knew it; oh, I can tell when Josh is joking.

BRETT: Mummy and…my mother and father think it would be a good career move, get settled down, make some real money…make real money working to help other people, of course; I think I’d do a good job. I have made a few overtures, and the general consensus is that I go for a trial run in a safe seat, ah, safe for the Tories, that is, to get experience, then try in one of the Labour strongholds in the northeast or Glasgow or somewhere up in the north.

MELANIE: Excellent. Good thinking, Brett.

JOSH: You have a connection with the constituency you hope to represent? I
thought you’d spent your like here in the south.

BRETT: That’s got nothing to do with it. It’s the work you do as an MP that counts. The fact that I have nothing in common with…anything…the common thread is our political philosophy. That’s what constituents want to hear.

MITCH: You’re right, Brett.

BRITNEY: You tell me, Brett, how can a public schoolboy with a History degree from a prestigious university, who’s background is in journalism, who hasn’t spent any time up in the north of England or Scotland or anywhere out of the south here, how –

BRETT: I went to Yorkshire once with the university hockey team; and I spent a weekend in Newcastle with some ex course mates. I know quite a bit about life up there.

MELANIE: You tell them, Brett.

BRITNEY: How can you represent people with whom you have little or nothing in common, whose way of life you know nothing about, and whose experience of work is hanging round bars picking up bits of information for the rags you write for, how can you in all honesty and seriousness tell people you can represent them? You sound worse than pitiful; you’re a money grabbing, fame seeking, immoral piece of –

JOSH: Britney, cool down. He might be all of those things, but he’s young –

BRETT: I’m forty.

JOSH: He’s young in terms of maturity, and he’s naïve.

MITCH: Good point there, Josh, but I think he’s the right kind of man for an MP.

MELANIE: There, hear that, Brett. Mitch thinks you’d be a good MP.

BRITNEY: Yes, well, that tells you everything. I think the law should be changed. To be an MP, you should be a resident in the community for at least three years prior to being put forward as a candidate. I would give preference to someone born and bred in that area. There are far too many constituencies in this country whose parliamentary representative has no real connection with, or deep knowledge of the area they represent, and that is wrong.

BRETT: Mitch comes from the Borders.

MELANIE: Mitch comes from the Borders, that’s true.

JOSH: Mitch comes from the Borders. You sound like bloody parrots, you two.

MITCH: I come from the Borders.

BRITNEY: I know that, Mitch, and that is your strong point; that, I think is right. You come from a family with a strong local connection. That is why you get elected by a large majority; because people know you, and they know that you know them and their way of life, their problems etc. That’s why you’re popular, even if you’re incomp…incomplete in some ways…your hair, for example…you’re a good MP, Mitch.

JOSH: A pity you’re such a…a nice man, Mitch.

BRETT: Bloody creep.

MELANIE: Who, Mitch?

BRETT: No, Jackass Josh here. Behind Mitch’s back, he sneers, but up front, it’s ‘oh, you’re a good MP, Mitch’.

JOSH: I like Mitch.

MITCH: I like Josh…in the old fashioned sense of the word, I mean. You have to take care with your choice of expression these days, might have a different meaning, you know what I mean.

BRITNEY: I do, Mitch. Josh likes you as a person, make no mistake. It’s the politics that he can’t take.

BRETT: How come you know so much about what Josh is thinking?

MELANIE: I noticed that, too. How can you know?

JOSH: We’re similar in opinion on many things, we see each other quite often, and we’ve known each other for, what is it, twenty years, give or take one or two.

BRITNEY: That’s right; I am happy with my professional relationship with Joss, who always presents a balanced opinion based on solid facts rather than the nonsense that you two come out with. In business, transparency is paramount…you know those words, Melanie?

MELANIE: Belt up, Britney.

BRITNEY: Oh, good, well done, and when a business is open and honest to the press, the benefit accruing is worth it. I hide nothing from any journalist, nor from any government. It doesn’t pay to be too clever and reticent.

MELANIE: Ha, ha, Britney. You are so amusing. You use that to show off your wealth.

BRITNEY: I don’t need to show of my wealth, Melanie. It’s there for the whole world to see. Even someone as limited in experience and intelligence as you appear to be cannot fail to have noticed my supermarket chain; they’re part of the High Street now.

MELANIE: Please don’t be so bloody rude to me; of course I know your wretched supermarket empire. I go shopping in one of them every Thursday after work…every month after work…when I can’t get to another supermarket.

JOSH: Bang, bang, Melanie.

BRETT: Give over with the bloody bang, bang all the time, Josh, and you too, Britney. It’s getting on our nerves; you do it just to irritate, a silly immature retort, how unbecoming of two intelligent people…quite intelligent people.

BRITNEY: Bang, bang again, Brett.

BRETT: Mitch, can’t you get these two to shut up and stop making these noises; it’s wearing, it’s annoying.

MITCH: I think Brett has a point there, Josh and Britney; please try to confine your comments to the topic rather than try to score points off your opponents. That’s that; I though I sounded quite good there. Right, is there any other comment anyone would like to make on the topic, the theme, via furniture, of European unity?

BRITNEY: No, I have said all I want to, Mitch. I think the European furniture industry is in line for a boom, with many people exchanging their present furniture for something newer and lighter, the modern touch. If the boom materialises, Brett, you’ll be able to hear the bang, and another bang, won’t you?

BRETT: I won’t rise to the bait. In response to your question, Mitch, I think that whilst capitalist attitudes remain, the furniture industry will be a place of low paid toil whilst the captains of the industry will continue to rake in huge and obscene profits. The solution is for the consumer to boycott every single furniture maker in this country for a year. Then, we would see a fall in prices meaning that the ordinary working man or woman would be, for the first time, to buy nice furniture without burdening the family finances too much.

MELANIE: Hear, hear, Brett, well spoken. I agree one hundred percent; if people like Britney, wither huge wealth, were threatened with a consumer boycott, the prices of furniture would come crashing down by this time next week.

JOSH: There is one problem with your mini scenario, Brett and Melanie. Well, to be honest, there are a number of problems, but one is paramount.

MITCH: What’s that, Josh, can you elaborate, tell us and let the listeners know what’s going on?

JOSH: I am in the process of doing that, Mitch; your interruption came by and interrupted the flow of thought. May I carry on?

MITCH: Yes, of course, a thousand apologies. I didn’t mean to interrupt, that’s not my way of doing things, I can tell you, I just like to let the folk on the programme speak without fear or favour, etc, no, no, you carry on, Josh, please, you carry on, don’t let me get in the way with an interruption, no Josh, you carry on, please do, carry on from where you were before I began to talk. Carry on, Josh, carry on.

JOSH: Right, thank you Mitch. The main problem with the argument put forward the two genii opposite me, that’s Melanie and Brett, is that any boycott of a business results in one thing.

BRETT: The reduction of profits for the greedy owner that’s what.

BRITNEY: Grow up, you idiot. Let Josh finish. However, you have point, up to a point.

BRETT: I knew it; I had a point.

JOSH: The main problem of any boycott is that, because as Brett has said, in such clarity of inspiration, the business will lose money; the people the worst hit are, of course, the workforce. The result, in nine times out of ten, is mass redundancy. You know what redundancy means, Melanie?

MELANIE: No, Josh, just people as thick as you know the meaning. I’m not that much of an idiot.

JOSH: Not quite, okay. Therefore, when mass redundancy takes place, many people end up unemployed, and because of the specialised nature of the furniture making business, they, the workers, find it very hard to get alternative work. You can’t work in the furniture assembly business one week, and begin work in a steel mill the next.

BRITNEY: May I continue, Josh? Thank you; as Josh said, whilst the workers are skilled and good at what they do, it’s not an industry, like others too, where you can switch to another business and try to use those same skills. Therefore, if I were to close one of my factories, a couple of hundred people would be without work, and be unable to find alternative employment. Another factor to consider is that many furniture making enterprise are in locations where there is limited opportunity for other work. You don’t find a factory near a city centre, for example. They are often put up in rural areas where the land and rent are cheaper. Put the two together, location and labour ability to work in another business, then you have, with a boycott, a recipe for high unemployment and the social problems that come with it.

MITCH: An excellent…an excellent…an excellent, excellent…um, opinion, Britney.

BRITNEY: Thank you, Mitch, An excellent comment, too.

MITCH: That’s me, every time. Brett, you want to come back.

BRETT: Yes, the problem with this line of approach is to ignore, in usual capitalist greedy manner, the social responsibilities of the employer, in this case, the furniture making company that Britney, with total unashamed arrogance, boasts about, in complete disregard for human dignity and the suffering that people like her cause the working class, everywhere on this earth.

MELANIE: That’s right; it is the untamed exploitation of the working man and woman everywhere on this earth that is causing, and used to cause, and in the future will continue to cause, the problems that they come up against every day of the year, and that is, where does my next meal come from, where does the money come from to pay the bills, to educate the children, to buy groceries, to buy clothing etc. The innate greed, the avarice, the gluttony, the grabbing, the removing, the grasping, the theft etc by the business community, of which Britney is a leading member, is the reason for social inequality, mass unemployment, welfare problems, illegal wars and conflicts, air pollution, environmental destruction, global arming, the break-up of the family unit, drug abuse, poor transport and infrastructure, ill health, and many other things like that…those…these, etc, etc ,etc.

MITCH: Melanie, a woman of eloquence.

BRITNEY: Melanie, a woman of idiocy.

JOSH: Melanie, a woman who seems to be quoting the chapter titles from a book, without reading the chapter; ten out of ten for effort, Melanie, minus three for lack of intelligence.

BRETT: How dare you talk in that way to my colleague in the struggle for global peace and equality, a woman whose aim in life is the betterment of the poor, the oppressed etc, things you know nothing about. Josh, you are a most objectionable character; it’s no wonder it’s the right wing press will touch the filth you espouse in the name of serious objective journalism.

JOSH: I suppose the good bit of news in the tripe you blurt out is that the right wing press take my articles and publish them. At least I get them in the press, unlike you, where people read them, unlike you, who has readership of twenty thousand, and that’s on a good day..

BRETT: People read what I have written, my thoughts, opinions, exposés etc, not just in this country, but as far away from Britain as Togo in West Africa and Nepal, Bhutan and Mongolia in Asia. I don’t like it one little bit when dismissed as a nonentity of no value, worth or intellect by the big names in journalism like you.

BRITNEY: Bang, bang, bang, Brett. How do you know you’re dismissed as quote ‘a nonentity of no value, worth or intellect’, unquote, by quote ‘the big names in journalism, like you’ unquote, meaning Josh? Brett, Brett, Brett, I pity you.

MELANIE: Britney, you are a callous bitch, the most callous bitch I have ever met in my whole life here on this earth, anywhere, anytime.

BRITNEY: You are suggesting that you have had a life away from this earth, Melanie? You amaze me. Melanie Rug, The Guardian’s Mars Correspondent.

MELANIE: Yeah, funny Britney; you know what I mean. I know what Brett means. He didn’t mean that he’s worthless; he’s just giving an example of the way we left wing socialists are portrayed by the right wing thugs, like Josh here. Josh is not that big a name, either; there are people better known than he is, I know that.

MITCH: Um, who might that be, Melanie?

MELANIE: I’ll think about it. I’m thinking now.

BRITNEY: What a pity to exert yourself, Melanie.

BRETT: Melanie has a fundamental right, as laid down in the Bill of Rights in the United Nations Charter on Human Rights, to express her opinion in a free manner, without badgering from the likes of you two capitalist pigs, just so long as she doesn’t incite racial hatred, things like that.

MITCH: Brett, we don’t use terms like that in Parliament…or in rugby in the Borders, you hear? They might in Glasgow, I don’t know, I don’t go there. I’ll not tolerate it here.

BRETT: I apologise for the use of that epithet, but I don’t regret it, not one iota. Rugby, you mention rugby, Mitch; rugby is the preserve of the public school elite, a bastion of gender entrenchment, establishment toxicity, a distain for republicanism, uncompromising, extreme and bludgeoning nationalism and…um…alcohol abuse. We on the left wing of society encourage racial tolerance and awareness. We are not the racists that Josh and Britney are.

MITCH: That brings us to the end of today’s topic for discussion: ‘How much does modern furniture design contribute to a European identity?’ I would like to thank my guests this afternoon for coming, Britney Burke, company director, Josh Hoop, political fasci…journalist, Brett Newage, another journalist, and last but not least, Melanie Rug, a social commentator and human rights activist.

BRITNEY: It’s a pleasure.

BRETT: Thank you, Mitch.

MELANIE: Thank you.

JOSH: My pleasure.

MITCH: Please join me at the same time next week, 12 30 pm, Monday 20 January, for another exciting programme of in depth analysis of things political, moral issues, current affairs etc. I’ll be joined in the studio by another four distinguished guests: conductor, and the well known poet, with the mouth-watering, lip licking topic, excuse the puns, I love them; the topic ‘What are the effects of eating ice cream on the reading ability of eight to ten year old children?’ Please join me, Mitch Gunsmith, MP for somewhere north of the border, ‘you work it out’, that’s my motto. Until we meet again, I leave you with my favourite part of the show: my website BBC.co.uk/muttonmouthmitch, that’s one word, and on behalf of my producer, Iona Galloway, who is also my daughter in law, but no conflict of interest, I can assure you, having gone through a rigorous House of Commons Select Committee on Corruption, chaired by my cousin, thank you for listening and goodbye for now. On thirty eight to forty one FM, this is BBC Channel Ten. Bye for now.

Curtain, lights dim, music ‘Men of Harlech’.

Hearing the air in the room

A play in one act

Richard Homer

© Richard Homer 2008

Cast of charactersHUGH c 35, secondary school teacher

ZOË c 35, local government housing worker

JOANNA c 30-35, nurse in drug rehab unit, sister of Zoë

BARRY c 50-55, university lecturer in Sociology, Joanna’s husband

The play takes place in the present time.

Opening music:
Closing music:

At rise: The sitting room in Hugh and Zoë’s house, with table, chairs, cupboard, painting, bookcase; on the table, papers, books, pen, pencil, etc. Hugh is by the table marking papers. Quiet jazz on stereo, Zoë enters with fish and chips, on plate but in paper.

HUGH: Ah, that’s one batch out of the way; two to go.

ZOË: Here’s dinner; come and eat now. It’ll get cold, and cold fish and chips are horrible. There’s lemon under the paper, just there, and I have added salt and vinegar. There you are. That’s better than what many people are getting tonight.

HUGH: Thank you. It looks nice, with a decent portion of cod, a good helping of chips.

ZOË: You seem to find it so interesting. They’re just fish and chips; no need to make a big issue of them.

HUGH: I’m not; I’m simply remarking on the fact that they look nice, and it’s a good size. What’s wrong with that?

ZOË: Nothing’s wrong; it just seems pointless to point out the obvious about fish and chips that come from the same fish and chip shop that we've used time and time again.

HUGH: Right, next time, I won’t mention anything. I just thought it would be nice to remark -

ZOË: It’s not; it’s not necessary. They are fish and chips from Jones’, the same as we always get on a Friday evening.

HUGH: Right; how was your day at work?

ZOË: The same as usual; trying to help some of the poorer members of society with their housing; at least I managed to get a mother and her two youngsters somewhere a bit decent.

HUGH: Good.

ZOË: Is that all you can muster? I think I did a good job today, and I’m happy that someone who doesn’t have the benefits that we do has a roof over them tonight.

HUGH: So she and the children were sleeping in the open last night; must be tough in February. Couldn’t she live with her mother?

ZOË: Oh, you can be a heartless bastard, you can. She’s a single mother with two youngsters; why don’t you feel some compassion for them? They’re human beings too.

HUGH: I didn’t think they weren’t. I just find it strange that many of the people you help seem to have nowhere to go. I find that hard to believe.

ZOË: Well you would; it’s the kind of man you are. The ‘I’m all right Jack’ attitude; if people in this country were a bit considerate towards those in need, we wouldn’t have half the problems we have now.

HUGH: If people you help in the Housing Department -

ZOË: the Directorate, it’s called the Directorate, the same as other section in this borough.

HUGH: Yes, Comrade Wife. If people you help in the Housing Department, oh, sorry, Directorate… mustn’t forget we are in a Labour borough, must we?… were a bit thoughtful before they got themselves into the situation in the first place, then we wouldn’t have half the problems that we have now, would we?

ZOË: You are so uncaring.

HUGH: I care about you.

ZOË: Do you? I sometimes wonder.

HUGH: Oh, and stop using the word ‘bastard’ when referring to me. I don’t like it. If I were to call you bitch, you’d be furious, isn’t that right?

ZOË: You probably call me a bitch in front of some people.

HUGH: You’re wrong. I don’t.

ZOË: I don’t believe you; many men call their partners names behind their back. I think you’re no different.

HUGH: You’d be surprised. Where, if I may ask, did you pick up this rubbish?

ZOË: What rubbish?

HUGH: The nonsense about many men insulting their partner whatever behind their back?

ZOË: I read about it in a number of books on sociology. It’s a documented fact.

HUGH: You don’t know how daft you sound at times; I haven’t read anything like that, anywhere.

ZOË: That’s because you don’t read about sociology.

HUGH: Of course not.

ZOË: Why ‘of course not’? You make it sound like a crime.

HUGH: Well, because I’m not a sociologist, or a social worker like you, or am interested in social work, or the workings of society etc. That’s why. Barry is the chap to ask. He teaches the subject down the road here. You try asking -

ZOË: You are incredibly narrow minded; you need to get out and read away from you own little world of school, hiking, and jazz.

HUGH: What do you mean, my ‘own little world’? Don’t be so bloody rude. I have my interests; you have yours. I have little interest in your world, you likewise have little interest in mine. I don’t bother you, so why d you want to bother me? It’s always the same with you.
I go hiking at the weekend; you go to a Labour Party meeting. You like pop music, I like jazz –

ZOË: It’s not pop music. It’s folk-rock. There’s huge difference. Talk about the same thing, jazz is a perfect bloody example; one piece sounds the same as ten others. It’s a bloody horrible noise.

HUGH: One could argue the same about folk music; smoky bar, pipe smoking, roll neck pullovers, bearded chaps with twitching, thin, cigarette holding females in shawls with flower power designs on them, hair half way down their back, the singing so nasal you could make cream with it etc, etc. Yeah, the type of nonsense Barry and Joanna are into. Just give over; you’re pitiful at times.

ZOË: In that case, why don’t you and I split up? You go your way, and I go mine.

HUGH: Because we have two young children to think about, that’s why, and mentioning the children, you’d better give your mother a ring to see how they are. Are they coming back here tonight, or kipping down there?

ZOË: Why don’t you ring her?

HUGH: Because she is your mother; I thought you might like to have chat with her. I’ll do it.

ZOË: Wait for an hour; they’ll be having their dinner now.

HUGH: If you’ve finished, I’ll take the things out.

ZOË: Well, I haven’t finished yet; you were talking so much, right?

HUGH: Wrong; if I were talking, you would be listening, and listening whilst eating. When one talks, one can’t eat, simple as that, get it?

ZOË: You always want to make an argument don’t you? You have to try to stick the knife in again and again.

HUGH: I don’t want to stick a knife into anyone, get that clear. I am a quiet man; I don’t wish harm, hurt, or unhappiness on anyone. I have my interest, namely the children, hiking, as I am the epitome of an ‘eco friendly’ man, I love the unadulterated beauty, the freshness of the natural landscape, I like jazz, why? Because jazz is freedom, freedom from rule, from style, from prescription; I like classical too, but it can be, at time and in different moods, a bit too rigid for me. I love the countryside; and I love, I love, make no mistake, the two children. Get it clear. I love them; that’s why I put up with your bitching, your moaning, your criticizing…

ZOË: Oh hear, hear, we sing the praises of Hugh. Oh, I wish I could tape you, and show people what bloody  jerk you are.

HUGH: A jerk? Oh, such mezzo piano praise. I thought bastard might be -

ZOË: Oh, give over, you pillock. Just accept that you’re a bore, living in a lost off world, indifferent to the very of humanity, couldn’t give a fig about the poor, the disenfranchised, the downtrodden, the-

HUGH: Oh belt up, you idiot. You don’t know how bloody pathetic you sound. Your father’s a bank manager; okay, he’s not number one at Barclays, Natwest, HSBC etc, but he gets a bloody good salary compared to most. And there’s Mummy -

ZOË: You lay off my mother.

HUGH: I’m not laying anything on your mother; I am here, talking to you. Your mother comes from a reasonably affluent family, doesn’t she? Maternal grandfather’s coterie were the owners of a bloody coalmine, not renowned in general for their humane treatment of worker, if my history is correct; paternal grandfather, a manager with some shipping line, and that was eighty years ago. They’re not exactly thriving on poverty, are they? No, I thought not.

ZOË: They’re working class and champions of the poor, that’s what is important.

HUGH: I forgot. I forgot that. The champions of the poor… how could forget that. Your mother and father own a four bedroom place near Cowbridge, two places near Pontypridd, rented out to students; students from rich, rich backgrounds, I am sure they do a background check on finances and social position. The valley Welsh always do, don’t they? Then there’s the ‘modest’ place in west London owned by Barry's family, oh, 300, 000 pounds, rented out to an embassy official from North Africa. Oh, yes, Zoë’s family is true working class. Hooray, let the light come to them.

ZOË: They try to do something with their money; not like you, who spend it, and moan, moan, moan.

HUGH: Yes, I do spend it. Correct on number one. Question: on whom do I spend it? Answer: on my two offspring, and on you, hero of the downtrodden, the poor, the weak, the useless, but I’ll use Daddy’s money, rather than my own miserable salary that I get every month, via the capitalist banking system, a grand total of, oh, one thousand three hundred pounds. Oh, Zoë, princess of ancient Rhondda, bless the poor with your money.

ZOË: Bugger off. You disgust me sometimes, and don’t drag my family into this.

HUGH: It might be a bit difficult for me to bugger off anywhere; you see, this is the table where I do my marking, and I have two piles here, and here, to get through. Therefore I’m not planning on going anywhere. That’s point one. Point two; I’m not dragging your family into anything. I’m simply pointing out that you come from a quite affluent background; I’m not criticizing that; I do criticize your take on different matters though.

ZOË: If you’ve finished, I’ll take the things out and wash the plates. I don’t want to be here half the night waiting for you to finish.

HUGH: Typical; as soon as you get something thrown back at you, you retreat, change the subject. I see this kind of thing all the time in school. Oh, the whining people - my colleagues, not the students - going on about how life is tough, how little money they have etc, and they are the very people who vote the government in time after time. You want to change, you get a new government.

ZOË: Most of the teachers in your school are hardworking professionals, wanting to do something good in society. They went into teaching as a caring, helping career, not a machine to make money.

HUGH: A bit like me then.

ZOË: No, you’re in teaching because you can’t do anything else.

HUGH: Oh, oh. Any other compliments coming my way this evening?

ZOË: Your colleagues - and I know a number of them from the meetings I attend with the Labour Party, don’t forget - think they are doing something good for the young of society. They are prepared to take less money in order to help people,

HUGH: That’s good to hear; I like it when the people they are trying to help return their gratitude with violence, abuse, refusal to do homework, parental interference and hassle. Oh yes, they get a lot back, that’s true. Pity it’s not a little respect, tolerance, good manners, lack of swearing. Yes, a fine place.

ZOË: Then why do you remain there?

HUGH: You see your stupidity; what did you go on about a minute ago…’you’re in teaching because you can’t do anything else’…

ZOË: That’s true.

HUGH: In that case, you’ve answered your own question, you moron.

ZOË: The point I’m trying to make is that –

HUGH: The point that you are making is that you can’t argue, and you talk, by and large, rubbish. Once confronted with any kind of argument, you retreat into the security of denial, refusal, and the logic of champagne socialism.

ZOË: And what is champagne socialism?

HUGH: You.

ZOË: What do you mean by that?

HUGH: You.

ZOË: You said that.

HUGH: I think you should take the things and wash up.

ZOË: Why must I do the washing up? Why don’t you do it? I’m not your slave.

HUGH: On the last point, I haven’t ever said you were. On the first point, you asked me just a couple of minutes ago if you, repeat you, could have my plate and take it out. You offered to do it. I didn’t force you.

ZOË: Oh, give it here. I get fed up with you.

HUGH: Moi aussi, chèrie.

ZOË: What?

HUGH: It’s ‘pardon’, not ‘what’.

ZOË: Oh, so we know French, do we?

HUGH: Wrong; I know French, you don’t.

ZOË: That’s because I didn’t study it at school, that’s why.

HUGH: I’m surprised Mummy and Daddy didn’t make you study it. It’s the language associated with the arts, the upper classes, etc.

ZOË: One, there are no upper classes; it’s an offensive term, demeaning to poorer people, and two, French is the language of colonialism and repression through Africa. That’s why I refused to learn it. It was a matter of principle for me.

HUGH: I didn’t know 11 and 12 year olds knew about matters of principle. Oh, so different in a government school these days compared to a fee paying institute of your generation. Oh, another thing; if you go to most parts of Africa, people don’t speak French. It’s just in the west and central parts.

ZOË: There was still colonialism, and they were brutal towards the local people.

HUGH: I’m sure there were cases like that, but also consider what they did in the way of schools, hospitals, roads, railways etc. Try to look at the big picture.

ZOË: You always try to give credence to capitalism and imperialism, by coming out with things like that.

HUGH: I give up; it’s hopeless trying to argue in an intelligent way with you; maybe because you’re not that intelligent.

ZOË: What as that?

HUGH: Nothing. You go and wash the plates like a good little working class housewife you think you are.

ZOË: Oh…

Exit with plates, huffing

HUGH: What a bloody idiot…

Continues with marking, phone rings

ZOË: out Can you get it; I’m doing the washing up.

HUGH: quiet Yes, I ‘m doing the marking. Loud Right, okay. Hi, this is Hugh…oh, Joanna…I’m sure…come right over…she’ll be thrilled to see you…why, why what?...that’s right…you are her sister, aren’t you?…you are…right…see you in ten minutes…yes, I know, the traffic might hold you up…it happens to other people too…oh, wonderful, a new car…where did you buy it?...what model, what make?…what colour?…how much?…okay, don’t tell me, I’ll ask one of the students on Monday, his father owns the place…four thousand, sounds okay…they’ve got a good name…I can’t wait…why don’t you tell me about it when you get here, that way you can cut down on your phone bill, and I can get on with something useful, rather than waste time listening to you…ha, ha, just joking, Joanna…bye. Idiot.

ZOË: out Who was it?

HUGH: quiet Birdbrain.

ZOË: Who?

HUGH: Joanna, she’s coming across to see us. Isn’t that nice?

Zoë enter, drying hands

ZOË: Oh, that’s nice. She’s bought a new car.

HUGH: How interesting.

ZOË: I beg your pardon.

HUGH: I said it was interesting that she had gone to the trouble and taken the time to acquire a new car. I don’t blame her; the other one was getting on a bit, what was it? Two years old, yeah, time for a change. Oh, time for a beer, too.

ZOË: Don’t drink too much when Joanna’s here. You know what happens if you drink beer.

HUGH: Apart from getting a bit high, what?

ZOË: You begin arguing, and offending people.

HUGH: Oh, that’s it. I mustn’t offend the Queen of the Drug Addicts Rehabilitation Unit Directorate Section Department Centre Clinic etc what ever they call the place she works in.

ZOË: They call it a hospital.

HUGH: I meant the part of the hospital where she’s working.

ZOË: No you didn’t, you were trying to be facetious.

HUGH: Oh, well done; you realized that. Keep going, you’ll get there in the end, maybe.

ZOË: Get where?

HUGH: It doesn’t matter, sweetheart.

ZOË: I think ‘sweetheart’ is facetious too; don’t use it in front of Joanna and Barry.

HUGH: Oh, good old Barry’s coming to, is he? What a thrill that’ll be.

ZOË: What’s wrong with Barry? He’s a nice, caring, moral man.

HUGH: What’s right with him? Yes, he’s a nice enough fellow, he does take care of Joanna and the children but he’s hardly Electricity Inc, is he?

ZOË: You are, I suppose.

HUGH: Most of the male population is, compared to him. He makes some of the characters I talk to in the pub look like Olympic athletes and Mastermind in comparison.

ZOË: Oh, you are such a bloody arrogant snob; the ‘characters’ in the pub? What would they think if they heard you talking like that? They’re hardworking men and women.

HUGH: They’re not that hardworking; most of them are unemployed. In addition, you ask the ones I know in there what they are, they tell you, with a laugh, that they’re ‘real characters’. Well, they talk about the others like that. They can laugh at themselves; you and your kind cannot, that’s the difference.

ZOË: Just lay off Barry; he’s a nice man.

HUGH: I agree. I’ll try to make it a ‘let’s like Barry’ night, okay.

ZOË: Idiot.

HUGH: He is.

ZOË: Not him, you.

HUGH: Of course. How could I forget? Barry, the intellect of –

ZOË: Oh, give over. You’re not exactly Mr. Genius yourself. You’re just a teacher, don’t forget.

HUGH: Oh, not the ‘just’ a teacher; a few minutes ago you were talking about how wonderful my colleagues were at work, a profession of care, helping the poor etc , etc, etc.

ZOË: Your colleagues, yes; you, no.

HUGH: And what does that mean?

ZOË: I hold them in higher esteem than I do you, that’s what it means.

HUGH: I love you too. Why is that?

ZOË: Why do you love me?

HUGH: No, I meant why do you think they are better than me?

ZOË: Because they are in teaching for a reason.

HUGH: Me too. I like my work.

ZOË: You always complain.

HUGH: And my colleagues, the ones that you know –

ZOË: about fifty percent –

HUGH: the ones that you know don’t complain? You’re talking rubbish.

ZOË: I am not; they tell me how rewarding they find their work, how they like the children, and how much pleasure they get from the work.

HUGH: I think you are talking about another school.

ZOË: No, I’m not.

HUGH: One day, why don’t you come into the staffroom at break time, put your pretty little butt on a chair, keep our mouth shut –

ZOË: Don’t be a sexist pig.

HUGH: Open your ears, and just listen to them talking. I am not trying to tell you they are bad, uncaring people, far from it; I know they try to do a good job, for the most part. But many of them are out of their depth; they shouldn’t be in teaching. They get run ragged half the time. And their chatter in the staffroom at break time hardly makes one think they are in love with their work, the school, the children, or even themselves, for that matter. They are, like most teachers I have met, thoroughly rundown and fed up.

ZOË: And you are not, I suppose.

HUGH: Not to the same extent; I don’t think the way they, or you, do. I treat the work as work, not a vocation. I tell the students why I’m there –

ZOË: You’re there to teach. You’re a teacher.

HUGH: Oh, Zoë, apple of my heart, peach of my thought etc, I didn’t know that. What a brilliant piece of logical thinking. I’m there to teach. Oh. But you’re not totally correct. There are other aspects of the work than just teaching. I place quite a lot of emphasis on trying to motivate the students, to change their way of thinking –

ZOË: Their mindset, you mean.

HUGH: No, I mean their way of thinking. ‘Mindset’ is your word and your way of claptrap thinking; it suits you, too. I try to show them there is a world out there that they can get to, to try to make them forget the notion that because they were born here, they have to remain here the rest of their life, doing the same kind of monotonous, poor paying, unhealthy work father and grandfather did before them. I try to show them that there is a better future in every way if you get an education, and in this world, you need some kind of qualification. I have told my own class that if they get a decent set of GCSE’s, they can go on to some kind of further education, be it college or professional training, and then emigrate. Go to Australia, New Zealand, and Canada for example.

ZOË: You tell the students to emigrate? You must be joking!

HUGH: Yes, and no.

ZOË: What do you mean, yes and no?

HUGH: Oh, Zoë, you test me, girl. Yes, I tell them to emigrate, and no, I am not joking.

ZOË: You can’t go around suggesting the students migrate. The country needs young people with skills.

HUGH: You’re right, but when we have a political and social situation as we do at present, then people are better off migrating. Many people do. I know a doctor, born and bred in the North West, Welsh speaker, trained here, and what has he done? Buggered off to Australia; I don’t blame him. I might do the same in another ten years time, when the children are through with school and have left home. And before you ask, I have no intention of taking you. And if you are thinking of going to Australia, I’m heading for Canada.

ZOË I’m not. I like this country.

HUGH: You would; you vote in this government, you are a card carrying member of the party, aren’t you.

ZOË: We in the party strive for equality and freedom for all people.

HUGH: Regardless of …?

ZOË: Regardless of what?

HUGH: That’s what I’m asking you. I assumed you were going to add, after the usual left wing rubbish you spout about equality etc, regardless of age, sex, sexual orientation, colour, creed, religion, handicap etc.

ZOË: You love to mock, don’t you?

HUGH: Yes. I love to mock idiots and the way they think. It doesn’t follow, however, that I hate them.

ZOË: Ha, what a joke! You loathe them.

HUGH: Yes, some I do; others I can tolerate. Barry for example, is a nice bloke; he’s just an idiot at the same time. He amuses me, rather like you, rather like a chimpanzee playing with a toy.

ZOË: I hate you sometimes, you know that. You make me bloody sick. I don’t know why I live in the same house as you.

HUGH: Because you’re my wife, and deep down, there is still a little affection between us, isn’t there? Oh, what, no answer. Zoë, Mistress of Political Chatter is quiet.

ZOË: I need a drink.

HUGH: There we are; running away again.

ZOË: Oh, belt up, you pillock.

Exit

HUGH: Yeah, I love you too.

Bell ringing,

ZOË: off I’ll get it.

HUGH: Right, try to make sure Barry doesn’t crack your nose when he kisses you. Urgh, horrible thought. I need another drink; I need several drinks.

Barry, Joanna, Zoë enter

ZOË: Hugh, Barry and Joanna are here.

BARRY: Hugh, how are you, how are you; wonderful to see you.

JOANNA: Hi, good evening, how are you?

HUGH: Barry and Joanna, what a surprise; I wouldn’t have guessed it. If you can think back that far, there was a phone call a couple of minutes ago from lovely Joanna here. Joanna, you asked me the same question; Joanna, what a memory. Joanna, how nice to see you; have you had a shower after work? I don’t want to kiss you if you’ve just come from the clinic or wherever you work.

ZOË: Don’t be so bloody rude. She’s not in uniform.

HUGH: Oh, no, of course not. What a nice dress, Joanna.

Leans forward, kisses Joanna

JOANNA: Hi, Hugh, how are you? What a thrill to see you again.

ZOË: Oh, give over trying to niggle each other.

HUGH: Hi, Barry, no kiss for you tonight; maybe another time?

BARRY: Good evening, Hugh, I don’t think I’d like you to kiss me another time, though. Ha, ha.

HUGH: Oh, ha, ha, Barry, yes, I was joking, Barry, just joking.

BARRY: I guessed that! Ha, ha, Oh, what a nice place you have, Hugh.

HUGH: Thank you, Barry. You tell me that every time you come here, which on average is twice a week. We don’t usually change much every three days, though. Maybe other people do.

ZOË: Stop it, Hugh.

HUGH: Joanna, my dear, what would you like to drink?

JOANNA: A large gin and lemon please.

HUGH: Barry?

BARRY: I’m here. I love that painting.

HUGH: Yes, I know you do Barry; I also know you’re here. I want to know what, if anything, you’d like to drink.

BARRY: Oh, let me think, let me think. Oh, um, well, what have you got?

ZOË: What would you like, Barry?

BARRY: I’d appreciate a glass of real ale, I think. Yes, good English real ale would suit the occasion, I think. A true working man’s drink, the fruit of labour and of the earth, wouldn’t you agree, Hugh? Many of my colleagues enjoy real ale with a –

HUGH: No real ale here, Barry. I forgot to get some in, sorry about that.

ZOË: Sorry, Barry, we ran out. Husband here forgot to pick some up. Come to think of it, Hugh might have forgotten on purpose knowing you were coming here.

BARRY: I’ll have a …um…I’ll have… a lager, you have that? Okay, that’s fine, I enjoy a good lager in the evening, light and smooth, the richness of eastern Europe and its working man’s culture, invigorated by the Communist inspiration, infused in an enervating concoction, geared to –

HUGH: Right, Barry, zip it; I get the message. You sound bloody pitiful. You, a communist? Yes, a rich, tenured lecturer, what a joke. You, I didn’t know Barry was coming here tonight, so don’t get me going, Zoë. I’m not that bloody childish to forget to pick up something to drink just because there are visitors coming. Just give over, both of you.

BARRY: You don’t have to be so rude, old chap.

ZOË: There’s no need to swear, either.

HUGH: I only swear when idiots like you two go on talking nonsense. Lager, eastern European culture, inspiration; you sound like … oh, forget it.

JOANNA: That’s quite alright, Hugh. Don’t worry.

HUGH: I’m not worrying.

ZOË: Give over.

HUGH: Oh, the stereo is on again. That’s what I want you to do, right?

BARRY: No, it’s not. No, the light’s not on.

ZOË: He means me. He thinks he’s funny by likening me to the stereo when I go on a bit.

JOANNA: That’s quite funny. Hugh’s sense of humour takes getting used to. It was ages before I knew he was joking. That was when I first met you.

HUGH: It wasn’t before I met you, was it, Joanna?

JOANNA: It might –

ZOË: He‘s just making fun of you, Jo. Just stop it; it’s not fair to Jo here. You know bloody well she doesn’t get you most of the time. Sorry, he thinks it amusing to make fun of people.

JOANNA: I don’t mind too much. It’s water off a duck’s back to me. I’m a nurse; thick skin.

HUGH: Thick something.

JOANNA: What?

ZOË: Shut up, you ignorant –

HUGH: Okay, sorry.

BARRY: Hugh, tell me about work.

HUGH: Oh, no, on a Friday night. That’s what I like about you, Barry, you’re so interesting.

BARRY: Oh, thank you Hugh. You hear that, Joanna?

JOANNA: Yes, dear, I did. I’m sure Hugh means it.

ZOË: Me, too.

BARRY: Right, where was I? Yes, I am interested in knowing your opinion about something I read the other day in The Guardian, or was it The Independent? It might be The Observer. Anyway, I read that plagiarism is becoming a major problem in schools these days; there is, according to the newspaper, a large amount of copying from the Internet. The students copy, and then pass it off as their own work. I want to know this: Is it, in your opinion, true? What is being done to remedy this situation? How are schools countering the threat? Is it, in your opinion, a growing problem, or is it a temporary phenomena, and is it happening –

HUGH: Phenomenon.

JOANNA: What?

HUGH: It’s ‘pardon’, not ‘what’.

ZOË: Oh, give over.

BARRY: I don’t quite get you meaning, Hugh.

HUGH: I said it was ‘phenomenon’, not ‘phenomena’.

JOANNA: Why is that? I’m sure Barry used the correct word. He’s an academic, a lecturer, aren’t you, dear?

BARRY: That is true, Jo. What are you getting at, Hugh?

HUGH: Oh, it doesn’t matter; singular and plural.

BARRY: Oh, right, I get it.

ZOË: Okay, it’s singular and plural. That helps; well done, Hugh.

JOANNA: Leave Hugh alone, Zoë. He’s just trying to be helpful.

ZOË: You must be joking.

BARRY: Right, let’s get back; is it a problem in other countries, or is it a problem confined to the Anglosphere. Would the Francophone world be inclined to follow in the same way? Is it the influence of Hollywood and the programming we get in this country, after all, in days gone by, there was little plagiarism, but it seems to have snowballed out of all proportion, out of control, and in the reading that I have done on the topic, confined it is true in large amount to the newspapers, it seems to me that the problem, far from going away or being under control, is, in fact, and this is irrefutable in my own opinion, and indeed in the opinion of many of my colleagues both within the department and in other departments too, that the problem is on the increase. What do you think?

ZOË: I think it’s because of the lack of opportunities that the working class youth have today; there is inbuilt repression in the system, indeed in the political as well as the educational system, and this block, this obstacle to the youth of today, in particular the poor, the disadvantaged, and of course, people of colour.

JOANNA: Oh, I’d agree with you there, Zoë. The number of young people that I see on a day to day basis, and I’m not exaggerating one tiny, little bit, grows and grows, and continues to grow. The youth of today are collapsing, they can’t take the pressure that we, I mean our generation, have inflicted upon them; society just hasn’t taken care of them, and they feel alienated and have no one to turn to.

BARRY: Oh, yes, I must, I think, in all honesty, without qualification, agree with the two of you. We are looking at a fundamental shift in the parameters of society. Coming back to my point on plagiarism, I think it’s a topic well worth researching, and I have already thought about writing a book on the subject. The problem is not one of theft; of course, it is one of theft, but that is inconsequential if we –

ZOË: Where are you going? Barry’s talking.

HUGH: I know. I’m getting another drink. Anyone want another? The same again, okay.
Hugh exit

JOANNA: Is he alright? He looks a bit bored. He doesn’t find us boring, does he?

ZOË: Yes, I think so. I mean, he’s alright. No, he’s not bored, maybe just a bit. Just fixing a few drinks, that’s all; not to worry.

JOANNA: I hope he’s not bored listening to us. Carry on, my love.

BARRY: Yes, I think a book would be the thing. The definitive work on plagiarism in school; I think it is something we need in the department.

ZOË: That’s a wonderful idea, Barry.

JOANNA: That will be your fifth book, won’t it?

BARRY: Yes, that’s right, plus, of course, the innumerable articles I have written in academic journals.

JOANNA: You work so hard, sweetheart.

BARRY: Just doing my job. It’s a big world out there, and someone has to find out how society and language are changing, if, of course, they are changing, we mustn’t jump to conclusions before we have the evidence, must we. Ah, here’s Hugh with another round or two. Are those for us, Hugh?

HUGH: No, Barry, this one‘s for the Mayor of Wrexham, that’s for the postman who comes about 9 am tomorrow, and this one, the tin of lager, is for the plant. I’m doing research to find out if plants get pissed. Interesting, isn’t it?

ZOË: Not again, Hugh.

JOANNA: Oh, Hugh, you are so witty. You should have your own show.

BARRY: Thank you, Hugh. I like your humour, biting, yet rather crude for an intellectual, or rather a teacher. I regard teachers as nearly there.

JOANNA: Nearly where, my love?

BARRY: Nearly an intellectual, but the classroom isn’t quite the same as a tutorial or a lecture hall, if you know what I mean.

JOANNA: Of course; you’re right, Barry.

HUGH: Arrogant little prick.

BARRY: Sorry, what was that?

HUGH: Nothing, just thinking.

ZOË: Makes a change.

BARRY: Ah, nothing like a good lager in the evening.

ZOË: Hugh, Barry’s going to write a new book.

JOANNA: It’ll be the fifth.

HUGH: Good.

ZOË: Don’t you want to know what it’s about?

HUGH: No.

JOANNA: Go on, dear; tell Hugh the topic you are going to research. I know he would like to know.

BARRY: Hugh, you won’t believe this, but I gave you a clue earlier in the evening. You know I mentioned plagiarism in schools today. Well, that’s what I’m going to research. I am applying for a grant to help with this. I hope to take about three years on the project. I need some help, of course, and I was wondering if you might –

HUGH: No.

ZOË: No? No, what?

HUGH: Okay, no, thank you.

ZOË: Barry’s brother-in-law, sort of, Joanna’s husband, my sister. You could help him; take him round the school etc. Maybe help with the research.

BARRY: You could give me a hand with correlating the data. I need to go around a number of schools, and look at the students work, and try to see if they have copied, what they copy, and to find the cause of this growth in plagiarism. It’s going to be fun.

HUGH: No.

BARRY: Not fun?

HUGH: No, I can’t help you. I have enough to do with work at the moment.

ZOË: Are you sure? It’s just collecting and analyzing data. I used to do this sort of thing when I was studying sociology. It’s wonderful fun.

HUGH: No, thank you.

JOANNA: I’d like to help, but I’m up to my eyes with work. The number of drug addicts has increased by a huge amount over the past few years.

HUGH: There might be a connection between the two; the number of cases of drug addiction, and the number of cases of plagiarism. It’s worth looking into, Barry, well worth a few years of your life there, Barry.

BARRY: Hugh, you think they might be related? I hadn’t thought of that. It is one possibility, yes, I must look into this. That is interesting, Hugh, interesting. I must re-evaluate my initial hypothesis. Thank you, Hugh, thank you.

HUGH: What was your initial hypothesis, Barry?

BARRY: I’m not quite sure at the moment; in fact, it’s not a real hypothesis in the true sense of the word, just a collection of theoretical possibilities that I have scratched the top just a little, and now I’m beginning to cogitate, in the very beginning of thinking out a way…

HUGH: You mean you have rough idea what you want to do, but nothing concrete.

BARRY: That’s it, Hugh. What a neat way of putting it.

JOANNA: I have a new car.

ZOË: That’s nice. We must go and have look after we finish.

HUGH: What’s the new car got to do with Barry’s research?

JOANNA: Nothing, why?

HUGH: You changed the subject in a somewhat abrupt way.

JOANNA: I’m sorry.

HUGH: I don’t mind; it’s a lot better than –

ZOË: Can you get me another?

HUGH: Right; anyone else?

BARRY: The same again, old chap.

JOANNA: Yes, me too, Hughie.

HUGH: I’m not Hughie, just Hugh.

JOANNA: Oh, touchy.

HUGH: No, it’s just my name. If I wanted to be called Hughie, I would have used it long ago.

Exit

JOANNA: I didn’t mean to upset him. It’s just a term of endearment, adding ‘ee’ to the end of a name, isn’t it? You do it with children: Will, Willy, Ron, Ronnie etc.

ZOË: The reference to children is very apt here. I think I’ll begin to call him Hughie, just to annoy him.

JOANNA: Don’t do that. He’s not a bad chap. Bit of a prick, nothing that serious I don’t think.

BARRY: I find Hugh quite difficult to talk to at times. It seems as if he doesn’t want to talk. He’s an intellectual like me; we have a lot in common.

ZOË: He can’t be an intellectual like you; he’s just a teacher. You’re a lecturer. That’s much higher. I wouldn’t call him intellectual. He’s quite bright, although I wouldn’t tell him that.

JOANNA: Why not?

ZOË: It would make him a bigger know-all than he already is, that’s why.

JOANNA: He’s okay; don’t take him so serious. He’s joking half the time. At least, I think he’s joking.

BARRY: That’s the problem; half the time you’re not sure what he is getting at. He says one thing and you think it’s a joke. He says something else that is a joke, and we all think he’s serious. I can’t fathom things out.

ZOË: Hugh. Where are you?

HUGH: out You know exactly where I am and what I’m doing, so why ask.

ZOË: See what I mean. He makes a mountain out of a molehill.

JOANNA: Oh, hurry up with the drinks. I need another. I had a hard day today. It was awful there.
Hugh enter

HUGH: Awful where?

JOANNA: In the clinic. There was some dreadful behaviour from one group, no two groups. The women were worse than the men.

ZOË: What happened? Did anyone assault you?

JOANNA: No, they know what would happen if there is physical violence. We bring in the Police right away.

HUGH: You use the Police Oppressors to help you? Oh, my goodness.

ZOË: Shut up.

JOANNA: We need protection from time to time, the same as anyone else. No, it’s often verbal abuse, but they’re not to blame; it’s the effect of substance abuse over a number of years; it tends to wreck their body and mind, meaning they have limited social and language skills.

BARRY: That’s terrible, my dear.

ZOË: What sort of things are you doing with them, to help them?

JOANNA: We try to get them to reduce first, rather than quit right away. We have found that this is a bit counter-productive, giving rise to problems, like aggressive behaviour. No, slow, quiet and patient is the way. We’re looking at herbal tea at the moment, as a way of helping people.

ZOË: I think that seems to be the right way. I agree, we can’t go back to the horrible old days of punish, punish and punish. We must be looking at alternative solutions to society’s problems, so long, of course, as they don’t harm the environment.

BARRY: Hear, hear. Well said, Zoë.

JOANNA: Patience is the way forward to help drug addiction.

BARRY: You’re right, sweetheart, and one hundred percent right. These short, sharp shocks haven’t worked in the past, and won’t work now and in the future. You can’t brutalize society with beatings, and prisons and humiliation and things like these. People must be treated in a civilized way, to show them respect. Take prisons; in many prisons, the inmates have to call the prison officers ‘Sir’. This is wrong. The inmate has the same rights as the prison official. They are both human beings. I have suggested for years that inmates should call their guards by their first name. This builds up a bond between the two groups, encourages mutual respect, tolerance, and may even help some emotional affection to bond the two groups. I have a dream, to quote a man far better than I will ever be, that is for sure, that one day, a released prisoner, back home in society where he, or she, belongs, will regard the prison officer as a bosom pal, a life-long source of help, a person to trust and confide in. Yes, that is my dream: the eventual abolishment of the prison system and all it represents. Freedom for the common man, that’s what I think.

ZOË: I think you are such a beautiful human being, Barry, when I hear you talk like that. Your students must adore you. You talk from your heart, not from cheap revenging emotion and cold, calculating, ruthless capitalist logic shown by so many in society today. We need people like you

HUGH: You need them for entertainment value. You’re talking rubbish.

ZOË: Who?

HUGH: The three of you. You have no idea how stupid you sound; anyone just coming in now and listening to you would think you’re deranged; you’re not right up top, the three of you.

BARRY: I am disappointed to hear you talk like that, Hugh. I thought there was some mutual intellectual honesty and respect between us. I don’t know what to think now.

HUGH: You are joking, aren’t you, Barry? Abolish prisons, treat prisoners with tender loving care, or tender love and care, whatever the expression is, no one seems to know, I don’t care. You want to get it into your thick skull –

ZOË: Don’t be so gratuitously impolite to a guest in out house.

JOANNA: Hugh, you need to calm down. You are getting excited, over excited; I know what I’m talking about because I see people like you every day, in a struggle with themselves, and the world, I see those eyes, the anger in the mouth, the abusive language, the shaking that comes from self-deprecation, Trust me, Hugh, I can help you; we all can, and we want to help you.

HUGH: I don’t need any help, and for you to compare me with the hoi-polloi you see everyday in the hospital is going a bit too far, and you, Zoë, are a fine one to talk about being rude. You want to listen to your genius sister here, and what she’s talking about with reference to me, me, me, and them, the druggies, petty criminals, the scroungers etc. Get a grip on reality, Joanna.

ZOË: They are not scroungers, as you put it. The people who come to me in the Housing Directorate are those in need. My job, my desire in life, is to help them. That is what makes the work so worthwhile. That’s why I intend to go into local politics, when I don’t know.

HUGH: Oh, please spare me. You don’t know how daft you sound. If they had a decent job, they’d have house, accommodation whatever. It’ because they don’t have work that they don’t have money, and without money, you can’t rent, can you, or buy, can you?

JOANNA: I think what Zoë is getting at –

HUGH: I know exactly what Zoë is getting at, Joanna; I am neither stupid, nor ignorant, plus I have had the pleasure, ha, ha, of matrimonial acquaintance with your sister for the past ten or so years. I know what she is getting at. Let’s get one thing straight, shall we. There is a difference between arguing with someone, even in a heated way, as she and I often do –

ZOË: ‘She’ has a name. It’s Zoë.

HUGH: Grow up, you idiot. I just referred to you by name, and then as Joanna’s sister, I used a pronoun in place of Zoë and sister. There is nothing wrong with that.

BARRY: Ah, there you go Hugh; the teacher talking. You can always tell a teacher from the way they talk to people. They have a tendency, and please take no offence –

HUGH: I won’t.

ZOË: Let him finish.

HUGH: I know what’s coming.

BARRY: There you go again, Hugh; jumping to conclusions. You are an impetuous chap. You wouldn’t make it in the world of lecturing, oh no. You have to treat the students as your equal. Their opinions count. It’s different from being in school, take it from me. I know the two, don’t forget that. I was a teacher of Citizenship, Health, and Drama for a number of years.

HUGH: It shows.

JOANNA: There, you interrupted again. No wonder Zoë gets fed up.

BARRY: As I was mentioning before, teachers have a way of talking to members of the public in the same way as they talk to their students; they treat an adult a they treat a child, and that, dear Hugh, will not do, oh no.

ZOË: You’re right, Barry. You should take note, Hugh. Barry is talking good sense here.

HUGH: I give up. Ah, 8 30. I think Zoë must phone Zoë's mother and Zoë’s father now to check on Zoë’s children, and the children of Zoë’s husband too.

ZOË: Why are you talking like that?

JOANNA: It‘s the drink.

HUGH: Idiot.

JOANNA: Oh!

BARRY: Hugh, that is quite unnecessary.

HUGH: Zoë, a couple of minutes ago, said that I hadn’t used her name and used ‘she’. So I thought I’d try to emphasize the fact that, contrary to popular opinion, I do in fact know her name.

ZOË: You're funny, really funny, Hugh. How about the three of us laugh? Right, ha, ha, ha.

JOANNA: Zoë, I think he’s joking.

ZOË: Yes, my dear sister, I know he’s joking; it’s just that I don’t find him in the slightest bit funny. We have a different sense of humour.

BARRY: I have to tell you, Hugh, that a sense of humour like yours would not go down well in academia.

HUGH: How would you know?

BARRY: Because I’m an academic in academia, that’s why.

HUGH: You call your institution academia? I thought it referred to places like Oxford and Cambridge.

BARRY: Please don’t insult my place of work. We have, that is, my colleagues and I, a reputation second to none in certain areas of study, make no mistake.

HUGH: Such as?

ZOË: Don’t be so insulting. Barry is a well-known authority in his area.

HUGH: He might be, in some obscure part of sociology, socio-linguistics, or some such thing.

JOANNA: There no need to insult socio-linguistics. Barry tells me it is an important part of sociological research, how language changes from place to place, what accents are found where, the differences between age groups, sexes etc,

BARRY: Yes, Joanna, that’s correct. It’s a fascinating area of study, full of exciting research topics. I can’t wait to get into some reading again later tonight.

HUGH: You don’t fall asleep?

BARRY: Good gracious me, no! How can you even suggest that? Sociolinguistics is intriguing. You don’t know what you’re missing, Hugh.

HUGH: I think I do.

ZOË: Hugh likes to think he’s an expert on everything.

JOANNA: Is that true?

HUGH: No, it’s Zoë being an idiot again. I have opinions on certain things. I’m pretty well read, but I don’t pretend for one minute I’m an expert.

BARRY: It’s quite obvious to me, Hugh, that you are unsuited to life in academia. You are too much of a generalist, and not enough of a specialist.

HUGH: Thank you, Barry; apart from being the first sensible comment you’ve made this evening, it is also true. I take it as a compliment, coming even from a brain like you.

JOANNA: I think he means it, Hugh.

HUGH: I worked that out a minute before it seemed to dawn on you, Joanna. Maybe it’s being with these drug addicts all the time has slowed you down a bit. You know, trying to think at their speed, things like that.

JOANNA: I don’t think so. Do I strike you as being a bit slow from time to time?

HUGH: No, Joanna, no, of course not. I was just joking; J, O, K, E, etc.

ZOË: Why don’t you try being pleasant to Joanna just once tonight?

BARRY: That’s a good idea, Zoë. Hugh, you have no idea how fortunate you are to have such a wise and understanding wife like Zoë.

HUGH: Barry, do me a favour.

BARRY: Of course.

HUGH: Go into the fridge, get some beers, then close the door, with you inside the thing.

BARRY: Oh, ha, ha, ha, Hugh, I love your witticism. You can be so amusing when you want to.

ZOË: He’s not trying to be amusing.

JOANNA: Yes, pop out my dear, and get me a refill; Zoë, another for you?

ZOË: Yes, I’ll give you a hand, Barry.

Barry and Zoë exit

JOANNA: Well, Hugh, it’s just the two of us.

HUGH: Oh, yes it is, Joanna, one, two, no one else. How perceptive. It must be a result of your nursing training.

JOANNA: What I meant was, we can have a chat.

HUGH: What a good idea. Joanna. I thought you wanted to have a brief affair while your husband was taking two tins of beer from the fridge, which is about ten metres away, and Zoë is pouring a couple of drinks, also ten metres away, and the combined effort might take even them only a minute or two. We'd have to make it quick.

JOANNA: Why do you always like to talk like this? You’re quite a nice man, in many ways, but you have this irritating tendency to mock everyone.

HUGH: Joanna, come on, you know I like you. Oh, let me tell you now they’re out of the room, I prefer you to Zoë. You have an animal sensuality about you.

JOANNA: You are an idiot. I don’t know how Zoë puts up with you.

HUGH: Me neither; I also don’t know how I put up with Zoë.

JOANNA: That’s not nice. She’s your wife.

HUGH: I know. Can I put my hand on –

JOANNA: Get off, don’t be disgusting.

HUGH: I’m not on; what a pity. Joanna, the thing about you is, being married to Barry for all these years, you have absorbed his sense of humour, or rather lack of one, like a piece of blotting paper. You are a nice woman though. Zoë’s okay, when she in a good mood. Your mother and father must be proud of you two. In fact, I know they are; they’ve told me a couple of times.

JOANNA: That’s nice to hear.

Barry and Zoë enter

BARRY: There you are, one tin of cold beer, and one for me.

HUGH: Thank you, Barry. You closed the fridge door? Well done.

ZOË: There you are, Jo.

JOANNA: Thank you. Ah, very nice too.

ZOË: I must phone Mum and Dad. Jo, you want to come? We can use the other one.

JOANNA: Right you are.

Zoë and Joanna exeunt

BARRY: It’s just the two of us now, Hugh.

HUGH: Oh, no, not again.

BARRY: What do you mean by that?

HUGH: Nothing, it’s just that Joanna made the same informative remark a couple of minutes ago.

BARRY: It’s just small talk, Hugh, small talk. Keeps the chatter going, if you know what I mean? Ah, that’s good; nice lager. Oh, yes, that is good, very nice, oh yes, just what a man needs in the evening, just the thing, yes, just the thing, ah, refreshing, with a tang of the earth about it, I think, yes, just the ticket, very nice. Ah.

HUGH: Would you like me to go out of the room, too?

BARRY: Why?

HUGH: Then you can continue talking to yourself without a, me interrupting you, and b, me not having to listen to you.

BARRY: No, no, no, you enjoy yourself here with me. I hear from Zoë that you had fish and chips for dinner tonight. They were very good, Zoë told me. I gather you use the same fish and chip shop to purchase your fish and chips. In Economics, it’s called customer loyalty. One builds up a relationship with a company to the mutual benefit of both parties, meaning both parties benefit; you know the quality and quantity you are getting; the fish and chip shop know that, because of the quality and quantity I referred to just now, they benefit from your custom. You see, it’s a simple concept, but one that benefits both parties. You see my point?

HUGH: I think so, Barry. I hadn’t analyzed it quite like that. You have a way with words, Barry.

BARRY: It’s my experience as a lecturer. One has to explain tricky concepts to students, some of whom, and I’m not blaming them, they are the product of our corrupt system, find a problem with aspects of Sociology. I like to make an effort to explain things with crystal clarity, to get them, that is, the facts, the theory, the basic concepts essential to a full comprehension of what we are trying to do, to register them in the minds of the students, so that by their third year, they will not have forgotten anything. This way, they can graduate, with maybe, an honours degree. That is the plan; that is my plan. That is the objective of our department, a basic tenet of our thinking as academics in academia.

HUGH: Excellent, Barry.

BARRY: Thank you, Hugh. The other thing I wanted to talk to you about tonight is the concert, well, not a concert, a kind of mini concert, an evening’s entertainment, at a small price to pay the group of course, an evening in the Pig and Whistle, this coming weekend, not this weekend because tomorrow is the weekend, I mean the next, coming weekend, Friday night, no, I'm not sure, I’ll have to ask Joanna, forget the day, um, yes, there’s some music being –

HUGH: You mean there’s live music, folk group, down the pub next weekend, is that right.

BARRY: That’s it, Hugh. That’s what I mean. I assume Zoë told you.

HUGH: No, she didn’t, I worked it out myself, Barry. If you talk to your students the way you talk to me, half the class must be asleep.

BARRY: Right, I must bear that in mind; I think I’m pretty good at getting the message across, though. It’s part of the natural teacher in me. Right, the folk group next weekend; there’s a few people I know, and I’m joining with them to play a few things I have written myself, well, written with Joanna. I don’t have my accordion here, as you can see, but I’ll sing them to you; I’d appreciate an honest opinion. I think they’re rather good, even if I wrote them, I mean, I wrote them with Joanna. I told you that, didn’t I?

HUGH: Yes, Barry, you told me.

BARRY: Right, the first one is about a man, that’s me, walking through the wheat on a farm, and finding his true love, that’s Joanna.

HUGH: It sounds wonderful, Barry.

BARRY: Right, here goes.

Singing in thick nasal, way out of tune

I walked in the morning sun, through the yellow wheat,
there, I met a pretty girl I thought I had to meet,
she was thin and tall, waiting by there,
I talked to her in the warm morning air.
Now come with me
Hi, hi, hi, hum, cracky wacky thump the barrel with me,
Hi, hi, hi, hum, cracky wacky thump the barrel with me.

BARRY: That’s the first part; there are another fifteen, with a short dance in between the ninth and the tenth part. Right, Hugh, what did you think?

HUGH: I don’t know what to tell you, Barry. I can tell you in all honesty I haven’t heard anything like that in my life, anywhere.

BARRY: Oh, it’s quite good is it? That pleases me. Joanna will be thrilled too.

HUGH: I am sure she will be. She’s your wife.

BARRY: Right, here’s the second – oh, here are the two girls.

Zoë and Joanna enter

BARRY: Thou bringest fair news in thine beauty? That’s how they used to talk in old England, Hugh.

HUGH: Wonderful, Barry.

ZOË: The children are going to bed there tonight. They’ll come over mid morning tomorrow.

HUGH: That’s fine.

JOANNA: They’re keeping well, and enjoying the children’s company.

BARRY: That’s good. I was just singing our new songs for Hugh here.

JOANNA: I heard you; oh, it’s quite a work of art, Barry. You can feel the earth, the elements when you sing. It goes into me, the passion etc.

ZOË: Yeah, it sounded brilliant, Barry.

BARRY: I told you Hugh, I told you.

HUGH: Told me what?

BARRY: That the songs were good, I told you.

HUGH: You told me, Barry, you told me.

ZOË: Why don’t you stop mocking people; it’s so childish.

HUGH: I’m not mocking Barry. I was copying him.

ZOË: It’s the same thing in practice.

JOANNA: Barry, sing the other song. I love it. It seems funny, but there is quite a subtle message, regarding simplicity, isn’t there?

BARRY: You’re right, sweetheart. It was your idea when you were pouring water over your breasts in the bath. Oh, such liquid beauty.

ZOË: What’s it about, Barry?

BARRY: It tells you of a man who regards the simple, working man’s things in life as being paramount, and letting go of the material things we wish, in foolish fashion, upon our own way of life.

HUGH: You mean like a new car?

BARRY: Yes! Well, not quite. I need a car to get to work. It’s not gratuitous luxury, Hugh, don’t think that.

ZOË: I know what you mean, Barry. Please sing.

BARRY: Right, it’s called ‘The Working Folk’. I use, or rather, we use the word ‘folk’ to emphasise the connection with folk music. You get it?

ZOË: That's very clever, Barry, and you too, Joanna

BARRY: Jo, can you clap your hands, and maybe dance too. It will make up for the lack of my accordion. Right, one, two, three, four… Hugh, when we want to begin a song, we count the time, so that other people know when to begin, you know that?

HUGH: No, Barry, I don’t know anything about music, except playing in the school orchestra, and the local orchestra, and helping with lower school music, and teaching grades one to three Royal Schools of Music theory. Apart from that, no, I know nothing about music, nothing. Thank you, Barry.

BARRY: Yes, I forgot. But classical music is the realm of the so called elite, and doesn’t represent the music of the masses; few people listen to classical music, and in fact, they benefit from taxpayers’ money, getting subsidy after subsidy in order to hear a genre, if I may use that word, French, Hugh, French, a type of work, you know, that has little or no mass appeal. After studying piano when I was a child – my parents forced me to learn for about ten years, oh, it wasn’t my choice, I assure you – I found out about the true working person's music, folk; and that has attracted me since then; it’s what I want.

JOANNA: Our children don’t learn classical music; we don’t want them to play piano. The elder is going to begin bagpiping next term. We’re paying for a tutor to come once a week from Hereford, twenty pounds per hour, plus petrol, but it’s worth it.

BARRY: The younger is showing talent for the tin whistle. We’re very proud of them. Right, are you ready, Jo and Zoë? One, two, three, four…

There are rich folk who like pineapple tart,
rich folk who like a kilo of roast lamb,
but the thing that I enjoy anytime
is bread, and butter, and jam,
with tea, way, hay!

Bread and butter and jam,
forget the pineapple tart, forget the roast lamb
a working lad and lass want nothing else
than bread, and butter and jam,
with tea, way, hay!

Hooray, wear your socialist boots in the morning,
watch the lazy capitalist managers yawning,
coz we are bold and we drink tea,
with bread, and butter, and jam.

Come and join in:

Way, hay, way, hay, way, hay, way, hay,
bread, and butter, and jam,
with hot tea.

BARRY: That’s the beginning; there are about another four minutes, I think.

ZOË: It’s beautiful; I love it. It makes a wonderful dance. I can see me, in a floral blouse and skirt, no shoes, waving a cloth, hair streaming in the breeze, oh yes,
bread, and butter, and jam,
bread, and butter, and jam.

I mean, the song is me, it’s me.

JOANNA: Oh, thank you Zoë. We can dance it together. You must come round, then we’ll have Barry’s accordion too.

ZOË: That’s super!

BARRY: I’m glad you enjoyed it; you’re right about the dance. Oh, Hugh, I gather from your expression you’re not too keen on my artistry, right.

HUGH: You’re right. On a scale of one to ten, I’d give it minus twenty.

ZOË: Hugh, how can you make a comment like that? Barry must have spent hours on it, with Joanna.

JOANNA: We wrote it when we were in the bath together!

ZOË: Oh, how cool, what a wonderful thing to do; writing songs together in the bath.

JOANNA: Hugh, have you written music in the bath, with or without Zoë?

HUGH: Of course, Joanna, every night. I also mark papers in the bath, cook the dinner, clean my teeth, cut the flowers in the garden, I do them when in the bath.

JOANNA: There’s no need to be so bitchy about it. I only asked a question.

HUGH: I’m not, and you didn’t ask a question; you asked a bloody fool question. Just ask yourself if it’s a normal, intelligent thing to ask one. If you were to go the Post Office, and ask the counter clerk if he or she wrote music in the bath with or without their partner, they’d call the police. You’d be asked to go to see a clinical psychiatrist. Normal people don’t ask those types of questions, Joanna. I know you like folk music, but this is going too far. You’re not right up here.

BARRY: Hugh, I think Joanna was trying to make a joke, a lightweight comment, trying to get some humour into your life. In my opinion, you are too serious.

ZOË: I think Barry has a point there, Hugh.

JOANNA: That’s right. I was only trying to be funny.

HUGH: But you’re not, Joanna. You’re an imbecile.

BARRY: Oh, come on Hugh. That’s too much.

ZOË: Here we go again.

HUGH: Okay, Joanna, I think you are the funniest person I have met anywhere. I think you should get your own show; we can call it ‘Wacky Joking Joanna’, your half hour of humour, guaranteed to make you laugh. To your other question, I don’t use the bath.

JOANNA: Oh, how disgusting. You wash yourself with a flannel?

BARRY: No, sweetheart, I think he, wait for it, ha, ha, I think Hugh goes into the garden when it’s raining! Ha, ha.

ZOË: Oh, Barry, you’re such a scream. Oh, I love it; I must tell my colleagues in work on Monday. Oh, Barry.

JOANNA: Yes, my love, that’s very funny. Isn’t he funny, Hugh?

HUGH: No. I use the shower, okay?

BARRY: If you were to write music in the shower, Hugh, the paper would get wet! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

ZOË: Oh, how witty, Barry!

JOANNA: Oh, I like it, Barry.

HUGH: Barry, you are an absolute idiot. How on earth can a university employ a half wit like you?

BARRY: It’s called talent.

HUGH: Barry, how did you get a job as a lecturer? I cannot fathom your utter stupidity. Right, here’s my folk song called ‘Barry, Joanna and Zoë in the Bath”.

BARRY: Oh, this should be good, Jo. I mean the music, not the three of us, although –

JOANNA: Be quiet. I had no idea you liked folk music, Hugh.

ZOE: He doesn’t.

HUGH: Okay, here we go, clap your hands, you idiots, one, two, three, four, imagine Barry’s accordion wheezing away, your children’s bagpipe and tin whistle shattering the calm of an otherwise agreeable summer evening, and the police siren at the end when the neighbours complain:

I went into the country to look for a bee
I though he might like to spend an afternoon with me,
I said ‘Fair Sir, pray come home to my home and take a tea
with bread, and butter, and jam.

BARRY: I think that has potential, Hugh. Beautiful rural imagery, quite beautiful, would go well the lute, I think.

JOANNA: I think you’re right, Barry.

HUGH: Oh, belt up, you fool. Bye, bye. You're as thick as they come.
Bread, and butter, and jam, bread, and butter, and jam. You should form a group, call it 'Bloody Moron'.

Hugh exit

BARRY: Oh, Hugh, how boorish, most unintellectual. Is there such a word in English? I must check on that.

ZOË: How vulgar. Where are you going?

JOANNA: I agree, with the vulgarity. Where’s he going?

BARRY: He’s going to write music in the bath!

ZOË: Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

JOANNA: You’re hilarious tonight, Barry!

BARRY: I know.

JOANNA: Barry, I think we must make a move; the children need to get to bed; it’s getting quite late. Zoë, we must be off.

BARRY: Yes, time to go, my dear. Thank you for such a nice evening, Zoë.

ZOË: You’re welcome; it was nice of you to come over. Pop in again when you’re free. You don’t have to ask, you know that.

JOANNA: You come and see us, too. You’re always welcome. Just don’t bring misery gut with you!

ZOË: No chance! He won’t want to come anyway. Too many other things to do, like listening to that wretched jazz; I don’t know what he sees, or hears maybe, in it.

BARRY: Me, too. It’s not my cup of tea.

JOANNA: I can’t get into it; I have listened, but it’s beyond me.

BARRY: Come on, sweetheart, let’s get back. I want to try the new celery and aubergine tea; we bought it in one of the health food places in the Bay Shopping Complex the other day. Excellent for getting sleep, so it seems.

ZOË: Oh, I’d like to try it sometime. When you next come, bring some with you.

JOANNA: I will, Zoë. I don’t suppose Hugh would like-

ZOË: No way; don’t bother to ask. He thinks these wonderful things are rubbish.

BARRY: I’m afraid he’s showing a lot of ignorance in many ways, yes, I think so; poor Hugh.

JOANNA: If he wasn’t your husband, I’d be inclined to think ’bugger poor Hugh’, but I won’t it might upset Zoë.

ZOË: Ha, no way, Jo. That doesn’t bother me one iota.

JOANNA: I know it doesn’t. I quite enjoy baiting Hugh.

BARRY: He asks for it, that’s the reality.

ZOË: I agree with you one hundred prevent, Barry.

JOANNA: Come; let’s go…oh, here’s Hugh.

Hugh enter

HUGH: No, just went out for some fresh, intelligent air.

BARRY: What’s the weather like?

HUGH: The same as it was half an hour ago.

ZOË: Impolite lout, oral thug.

HUGH: One of the neighbours just told me that a car was highjacked along here.

ZOË: That’s terrible.

JOANNA: It’s just a few youngsters having a bit of fun.

BARRY: I imagine so; it’s boredom that makes them do this. They’re not bad people. It’s the way they’ve turned out because of societal pressure and upper class expectations. It’s a well documented phenomena.

HUGH: Phenomenon, Barry, singular, phenomenon.

BARRY: It’s not important. Who cares about that?

HUGH: I do, Barry.

BARRY: Oh.

JOANNA: Barry, the car key thing isn’t working.

BARRY: No, I wonder why. It maybe that the car company has cut back on quality in order to increase quantity. It’s a capitalist concept; you lower the quality, thereby reducing production costs; this means that the company can now–

HUGH: Barry, zip it; I am tired of you and your intellect tonight. Just bugger off home.

BARRY: Right, that’s it. No, I can’t get the thing to work. Come, Jo. Goodnight, Zoë, and you too.

HUGH: Good night.

JOANNA: Goodnight. Hugh; get Zoë into the bath now, and begin writing –

HUGH: Keep your mouth shut, Joanna.

ZOË: You keep your mouth shut. Goodnight both of you.

Barry, Joanna exit, kiss Zoë, ignore Hugh, Joanna poking tongue at Hugh.

ZOË: Thank you for a nice evening.

HUGH: You’re welcome; it was good, wasn’t it? Barry’s such a laugh, your sister too.

ZOË: Why do you hate them? They’ve done nothing to you.

HUGH: You listen, little Zoë; I don’t hate them. In fact, I quite like them, but the reality is that they are a pair of cretins, Barry in particular. They go around with odd ideas – that’s being polite – and ask questions that would embarrass a primary school student. They’re okay as people, just peculiar to my way of thinking. Half the time, I’m only teasing them, maybe not half the time, less than that.

Ringing of doorbell, Zoë exit, enter with Joanna and Barry.

ZOË: What are you … what’s happening? Why are you back? Are you okay?

BARRY: It’s terrible, Zoë; our car, our new car.

JOANNA: They’ve stolen our new car.

HUGH: I thought the car was second hand?

BARRY: Oh, don’t be so hair-splitting; it’s a new car for us, but it’s a second hand one, but a new second hand one, you know bloody well what I mean, don’t try to be awkward with me right now.

ZOË: Are you sure someone stole it? Maybe you parked it somewhere else, and were confused, maybe it’s around the corner, or something.

JOANNA: Don’t be ridiculous, Zoë, how many times have we come here? Do you think Barry and I would both forget where the car is? Of course we know it’s gone. There are also some shreds of glass on the road where we left the thing. Oh, my goodness, how am I going to get the money back?

BARRY: Four and a half thousand pounds of hard earned money. Four thousand pounds gone.

HUGH: I wouldn’t worry too much; you’ll get most of that back from the insurance. Who are you with?

BARRY: That’s just the point; we’re not insured. We don’t have insurance.

HUGH: You must have. You can’t keep a car on the road without insurance, everyone knows that.

ZOË: That’s true.

JOANNA: Oh, shut up, of course it’s true; you think we don’t know that? The problem is that when I collected the car on Thursday afternoon, I was going to get the insurance from the broker then. But one thing led to another, and it was too late; it as closed when I got there.

BARRY: Yes, so we thought we’d get it this afternoon, but I was held up in the university with some blasted departmental meeting, waste of time most of them, and Jo here also ran overtime.

ZOË: Oh.

JOANNA: Yes, I was called out to someone who taken an overdose, and by the time I got back, the broker again was closed. We thought it wouldn’t matter, and I have arranged to take a couple of hours on Monday morning to go and get the insurance… but it’s no use now.

BARRY: I have no idea what we’re going to do now. We are in a real financial mess; there’s no way we can get another four thousand plus together, and we need the second car. Oh, dear me, what are we going to do? I have a new class beginning next week, no, in two weeks time, and I …oh, no…

ZOË: What is it, Barry?

JOANNA: Barry?

BARRY: I left my briefcase in the car. It’s got my notes for the new class, plus the research I was doing into rural poverty; that’s two years work. Oh, no, that’s a total bloody disaster. There’s no way I can replace those.

ZOË: That’s terrible. Oh, poor Barry.

HUGH: But didn’t you keep copies on your computer?

BARRY: Yes, of course, but the research I had already printed, so I erased the files. That was my one paper copy. The course work for the new class… I’m not sure. That’s not so bad, because I know the material well. I can rewrite it if necessary; bloody nuisance, but I can do it. It’s the research that is heart breaking. I can’t replace that. Oh, and there are our passports too.

Barry half cry

JOANNA: The passports? Why were they in the briefcase? You keep them at home.

BARRY: I wanted to get them renewed, and I knew if I kept them in the desk, I’d keep forgetting, so I put them with my things knowing I’d see them every time I opened the briefcase, and would help me …Oh, what a wretched mess, it’s a total nightmare.

JOANNA: That’s very clever of you, Barry.

ZOË: He was just trying to help, Jo.

JOANNA: That’s alright for you, but it’s my personal details that are missing, and you know the trouble there is these days in getting documents replaced. There’ll be no end of paperwork. What a way to finish the week.

Joanna crying, Zoë holds her, comforting

HUGH: Would you like another drink?

BARRY: Yes, make it something strong.

ZOË: Get me one too, please sweetheart. Come on, you two, come and sit down again. I’ll ring for a taxi. I don’t think it’s a good idea for Hugh or me to take the car, not with another drink.
Hugh exit, enter with drinks

HUGH: There you are. Jo, take this. Barry, here you are, get it down, you’ll feel better.

BARRY: Thanks. You can bet its some teenage joy rider that’s done this.

HUGH: Just a thought; I know someone in the police station, a sergeant. I teach his children, in fact the girl is in my GCSE literature class, and I’m also her class teacher. I’ll try to contact him, or he might know someone who can make a few enquiries. Give me a couple of minutes. I’ll use the hall phone.

Hugh exit, they sip drinks for half a minute, silent, worrying

ZOË: I hope they can get the person or persons responsible for this. They’re an efficient force. They have a good conviction record.

JOANNA: Yes, that’s true. They have good reputation.

BARRY: I suppose I’ll have to take Monday off and go and make a report. Oh, what are they going to do when they find we don’t have insurance?

JOANNA: Oh, yes, that’s going to be tricky. We can’t tell them, or can we?

ZOË: Wait until Hugh gets back. He might suggest something.

JOANNA: Yes, Hugh is very practical in these matters. We’ll ask him, yes, Barry?

BARRY: Oh. Um, yes, let Hugh mull it over. We don‘t want to do anything rash. We’re in enough trouble at the moment. Four thousand pounds; oh, I feel quite sick. And my research…two years work…irreplaceable…I can’t rewrite a term’s notes in one week…oh, bugger it…what a night…

Barry sobbing, Joanna, Zoë go near

ZOË: Things will work out, Barry, they always do in the end, trust me.

JOANNA: I hope so, but it’s just the shock of them happening at the same time, the car, passports, Barry’s work…

ZOË: Try to relax; there's nothing we can do right now.

BARRY: My research…what am going to do? They’ll get rid of me for this. I’ll be out of a job.

JOANNA: No, you won’t. They’re not going to fire you.

BARRY: Oh, no…there’s Annette’s file in there. I borrowed her work. She’ll kill me…oh, no…

ZOË: Who’s Annette?

BARRY: A colleague of mine. I’m using some of her material on another course. She leant me a file, folder, papers in it…how can I tell her they’re lost, gone. I mean, the chances of getting these things back are zero, aren’t they?

JOANNA: That’s often the case, yes, but there's a chance…

BARRY: Clutching at straws, that’s what we’re doing now. Oh, no…

ZOË: We wait to see what happens first, okay?

Hugh enter

HUGH: Barry, Joanna, bad news for you. The police have a report of a car matching the make and colour of your machine, now ex machine. It was trashed, a total wreck, but not, according to the chap I spoke to, a complete right off; it’s going to cost you to get it fixed, but he thought body rather than structural or engine damage. A couple going past in their car reported a gang of youths in the act. They, the couple, rang the police. Bad news is that the contents, your briefcase and whatever were gone. You will have to get a haulage truck to tow it to whoever you want to do the repairs, assuming you’re going to get them done rather than buy a new car. I didn’t mention about the insurance, lack of it rather, thought it better to keep details to a minimum.

BARRY: The little bastards, you horrible little bastards, how can you do this to me, to us? What have we done to annoy them? We’re not super rich, we’re ordinary working people who pay tax, don’t break the law, and try to do some good in our life and our work.

JOANNA: How can they do this kind of thing?

HUGH: They have picked up one suspect, a youth, one of your people, Joanna, according to them, a regular at one of your drug clinics, with a string of convictions as long as your arm; car theft, assault, burglary, petty theft, fighting. What a sorry kind of person.

JOANNA: I don’t know what to think…

BARRY: Thank you.

JOANNA: Yes, thanks a lot, Hugh, appreciate that.

ZOË: I think I’ll get a taxi now, you two go home and get up early tomorrow and get things moving, okay?

Zoë exit

JOANNA: Right. The little bastards; don’t they ever think about anyone else? People are so selfish and uncaring these days. You spend your life trying help people and they turn round and kick you in the teeth. I thought they might appreciate what we’re trying to do, but it doesn't look that way tonight.

BARRY: Yes, it always hurts when it happens to you; you tend to see things in a different light then.

HUGH: He’s the product of the society we have created, disadvantaged, poor, unemployed etc. You have to feel sorry for them. That’s what you three like to tell me.

ZOË: Don’t mock them, Hugh. They’re going through a bad time.

HUGH: I’m not mocking anyone; it hurts me to see both of you like this, but it seems to me that people like you only get the picture when you’re on the receiving end of the terror, the danger, the humiliation, the theft. But you three would argue to let them off, not prosecute, no jail term; Barry tonight wanted to see the prison system eliminated, abolished, am I right, Barry?

BARRY: Well, yes, but there may be some people who should be put away…sometime…but not everyone…

HUGH: The abolishment of the prison system; Barry has a dream, freedom for the common man; you have seen the effects of freedom tonight, you two. I’m not making fun, don’t think that, but I think it’s a salutary lesson about the working of society now. It’s very simple to argue, as you do, Barry, in your secluded little world of academia, that people should be free; they were free, free to beat the living daylights of your four thousand pound uninsured car, free to take your paperwork and destroy it, free to make off with your passports, free to do as they please with your colleague’s research paper. That’s freedom, Barry, that’s complete freedom. That’s what happens without a legal system, without a law, without the threat of punishment. One man’s freedom, Joanna, is another man’s misery, or in your case, a woman’s misery; you want to think about that.

Zoë enter

ZOË: Right, Mr. Price will be here in a minute; he’s just a few houses up, very useful for us from time to time. Jo, take this, that’ll be enough for the fare, about four pounds, four pound fifty.

JOANNA: No, it’s okay.

ZOË: Take it. It’s Hugh’s money anyway.

BARRY: Right, thank you. We’ll keep you posted as to what’s going on. Come, Jo, we can wait by the door, oh there's the bell now. Right, goodnight, and thanks again.

JOANNA: Thank you again, take care.

HUGH: Goodnight. Bring some beer the next time you come. Oh, sorry, you have to pay for the car first, don’t you?

ZOË: Goodnight.

Barry, Joanna exeunt

ZOË: That wasn't very nice.

HUGH: No, getting your car trashed must be a very unpleasant experience.

ZOË: I mean, asking them to bring some beer here and then mentioning the money for the car. That’s unkind of you. You are horrible at times, you know that.

HUGH: Yep, I do, that’s what people tell me, odd sense of humour; but they’ll get a nice surprise tomorrow morning.

ZOË: What do you mean? What surprise?

HUGH: When I spoke to Sergeant Reece on the phone, I told him the make and model; they did get a car like that, matching the description of Barry and Joanna’s car. It was stolen from the road here, but they were stopped just a kilometre or two away, at a traffic light. Well, they were stopped after the traffic light, because they ran through them, that’s why they were pulled over, and their car is in the police pound, and apart from one broken window and a couple of cans of spilt beer making the interior stink like a brewery, the thing is fine, Barry’s papers etc are there, intact.

ZOË: You…you…you…oh, you are a …I don’t know what to think…

HUGH: I’m a teacher, and I taught them a lesson, I hope.

ZOË: That’s sick; that’s horrible, a terrible thing to do. My sister was in tears. How can you do such a thing?

HUGH: I thought it was good idea; it’s called getting your own back.

ZOË: It’s called being bloody sick. I hate you.

HUGH: No, you don’t. Well, maybe you do, but it’s just for another ten years or so, and then we can split up, okay?

ZOË: I…just…don’t…know what to…I must give them a ring.

HUGH: They won’t be back yet. Wait for a couple of minutes. They’ll be so thrilled, very happy.

ZOË: They’ll be back with a knife; that is a terrible thing to play on them, Hugh.

HUGH: They’ll get over it, and if they get too abusive on the phone, I might ring Sergeant Reece back and mention, in an anonymous way, that a certain car on the road is uninsured, how’s that?

ZOË: You're such a nice man, Hugh. I cannot think why I married you.

HUGH: Yes, me too. We made a mistake, but for the sake of the children, we must keep together a little longer, okay. I don’t dislike you that much; I know we’re not a close couple, but I think we can get through a few years together, without murdering each other. Okay? Just another four of five years, and they will be well on the way to finishing school. I think we must try for that.

ZOË: You’re right, I mean right about being together for the children. What went wrong for us? We hit it off so well in the beginning. It just went sour after a few years, I don’t know why. You’re a good, decent man, apart from the frigging trick you pulled tonight, and likewise, I don’t dislike you, but I know I can’t be with you all the time. We get on each other too much. I know that if, or when you leave, I’ll miss you.

HUGH: Me, too. You’ll always be a bit special, and I would think of you, that I am sure of, I know that.

ZOË: I’m going to ring them.

Zoë exit

Hugh goes across to the table, switches on stereo with soft jazz, sits down by books. He begins
marking again. Zoë enters with fish and chips, on plate but in paper. She puts them on the table.

HUGH: Ah, that’s one batch out of the way, two to go.

ZOË: Here’s dinner, come and eat now. It’ll get cold, and cold fish and chips are horrible. There’s lemon under the paper, just there, and I have added salt and vinegar. There you are. That’s better than what many people are getting tonight.

HUGH: Thank you. It looks nice, with a decent portion of cod, a good helping of chips.

ZOË: Yes, Mr Jones makes a good job of it. Yes, very nice. Are you alright, my love?

HUGH: Yes, thank you, sweetheart, they’re good, as usual. Mm, nice.

ZOË: How was your day in school, okay?

HUGH: Fine, I enjoyed it. How about you?

ZOË: Good, too. I managed to get that woman and her children a small apartment, so they’re pretty happy about that.

HUGH: I’m sure. Well done. You’re very kind woman, you know that?

ZOË: Thank you; that’s why you married me, wasn’t it?

HUGH: One of the reasons… I love you.

Hugh comes to kiss Zoë, who kisses Hugh back.

ZOË: Thank you and I love you too. Oh, the children are going to bunk down at my Mum and Dad’s place tonight; they’re going to watch ‘Ice Age’ with them. Is that okay?

HUGH: That’s fine. If they’re happy, and your Mum and Dad don’t mind, that’s fine with me.

ZOË: We could invite Joanna and Barry over for a few drinks. What d’you think?

HUGH: Why not? I’ll pop out to the off licence after this, pick up some beer. He likes real ale; I’ll get a pack or two.

ZOË: Okay, but come on, eat up whilst it’s hot. The kettle’s on, so I’ll make a pot of tea later, okay?

HUGH: That’ll be nice, sweetheart. We’ll have a quiet, intelligent evening, just the four of us. How’s that?

ZOË: Okay. What are you looking at? What’s up?

HUGH: I’m happy with you.

ZOË: I know; me too. I’m happy with you.

They hold hands for a minute, then continue to eat. Lights out, jazz, curtain.

The End