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
