Drip Feed E-Book

Karen Cogan

• Herausgeber: Nick Hern Books
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Serie: NHB Modern Plays
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 51

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Cork, 1998. An obsessive odyssey through the city. Dancing on tables, 3 a.m. breakfast rolls and waking up, polluted, on the wrong person's doorstep. Brenda and her ferocious best pal are part of the city furniture. But one of them is realising that she's got it all, all of it, horribly wrong and it might be too late. Karen Cogan's monologue play Drip Feed is an infectious, dark comedy about the messiness of being young(ish), female and queer. The play was shortlisted for the Verity Bargate Award 2017, and premiered at Assembly George Square as part of the 2018 Edinburgh Festival Fringe, in a co-production between Fishamble and Soho Theatre, London.  

Leseprobe

Karen Cogan

DRIP FEED

NICK HERN BOOKS

London

www.nickhernbooks.co.uk

Contents

Original Production

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Characters

Drip Feed

About the Author

Copyright and Performing Rights Information

Drip Feed was first performed on 1 August 2018 at Assembly as part of Edinburgh Festival Fringe. The cast was as follows:

Karen Cogan

Director

Oonagh Murphy

Set and Costume Designer

Anna Reid

Lighting Designer

Jess Bernberg

Sound Designer

Frank Sweeney

Stage Manager

Jasmin Hay

Producer

Holly De Angelis

Acknowledgements

To Gabriel Pac, a human angel, without whom I’d be lost.

To my parents, Kay and Diarmuid Cogan, who give each other cards to mark their first date, after forty years of marriage. Without their sacrifices and wisdom, I wouldn’t have even started down this path.

To my sister Michelle, who is the funniest, sharpest person I have ever met and whom I adore.

To Cathal Cleary for taking a full-hearted risk on The Half Of It and giving it clear direction in more ways than one.

Thank you to Steve Marmion and all at the Soho Theatre for changing the course of my career. To Jo Wiltshire, Lloyd Trott, Ed Kemp and all at the RADA Festival for a safe home for the beginning of both plays.

To the gifted actors and artists who helped birth the plays, particularly Naomi Cranston for her love and constant support. To Oonagh Murphy, a bright light and huge brain, Faoileann Cunningham, Grainne Keenan, Jessica Regan, Stephanie Racine and Eadaoin O’Donoghue, Tanya Ronder, Sam Taylor, John O’Dowd and Rosie Elnile.

To Anna and Kazimir and Grazia Pac for endless kindness. Ikenna Obiekwe at Independent, Deirdre O’Halloran, Mark Rylance, the Stewart Parker Trust and Lynne Parker, the London Irish Centre and the Hospital Club, all at Nick Hern Books, Fishamble, Mommo Theatre Co, Saileóg O’Halloran, Kelly Phelan, and Dublin Fringe Festival.

Thank you.

Karen Cogan

For Aisling O’Loughlin,one of the best people I’ll ever know.

Character

BRENDA, a Cork woman, mid-thirties

The action takes place in Cork City 1998. The setting should not be naturalistic.

The stage is clean, aside from some kind of structure, which could act as a bin, a bed, an escape, a stage, throughout the play.

Bold text in speech is used for emphasis.

Lines in italics are the words of others, as recalled by Brenda.

All characters should be embodied and lived by Brenda but should not be a performance, as much as a real attempt to make them live for the audience.

This ebook was created before the end of rehearsals and so may differ slightly from the play as performed.

(BRENDA faces the audience.)

(She lives the past, even in recollection.)

Don’t throw up Brenda, don’t throw up now for fuck’s sake.

(To the audience.) You know that feeling, when you are doing the absolute wrong thing but you keep going, like, as you go to do the thing your whole body says: Stop. Don’t Do This.

I feel like that a lot. I can feel the Nos rise up in me but I’m so used to them now, I just let them wibble up and then ebb away and press on regardless.

Like now.

No. I’m just visiting.

She might want to see me. You don’t know.

She might bloody be delighted to bollocking see me.

She wanted to see me when my head was between her legs.

Look at me Brenda, keep looking while you do it.

I thought I was going to get lockjaw trying to do the deed with my mouth and make sultry eyes at the same time, I looked demented. But it did the trick.

She was delighted with me then. So, maybe she’ll welcome me with open arms now.

Come in, come in you gorgeous lunatic, what are you loitering out by my bins for? COME IN.

This woman? She’s my hired help. Ignore her. Ignore her gleamy mirror hair. I’ve no interest. It’s you. It’s always been you Brenda.

No.

Okay.

She is Olivia, she is my girlfriend and I am hiding in her bin hut, balancing on a wheelie bin.

Who has a house for their bins?

But she was always immaculate; she would line up all her toiletries in the bathroom in order of size and make sure that the labels were facing the right way like an army of hygiene.

Frizzy hair Brenda, is a curse. You’re so lucky with yours.

Her hair wasn’t frizzy at all like, it was perfection but that’s not relevant.

What is relevant is her gorgeous attention to detail so… no wonder her bins are housed.

Three different bins.

I can’t work out what the square blue bin is for? Blue bin is a bit far to go investigating and I’m already in very real danger of my rain-soaked Converse sliding me off the one I’m on. But I am very curious now to know what’s in it.

Should never have started thinking so deeply about the blue bin but here we are.

What is in it?? I thought we were only supposed to have one bin. She’s always extraordinary, always different from the rest of us, a bit… better.

Fuck it. I have to know.

If she sees me I will…

(She prepares to investigate, from her precarious position.)

Okay. Be wide and stay low.

Crouching as small as I go, I slant my whole body to the right, clinging onto the timbery wall for balance, the smells of my feet and the bin rot creep deeper into my mouth but but I just manage to grab the lid of the blue bin and launch it upwards. It twhacks against the back of the bin house though and I teeter and then bin totters underneath me.

I freeze. If one of them comes out to me I will be in Such Shit.

But.

Silence.

I’m okay I think.

And

The blue bin is full of paper, it’s full of paper, oh.

But thick paper and kind of coloured canvases.

I pull one out, just about and hold it up to see, and it’s her.