Enda Walsh Plays: Two E-Book

Enda Walsh

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

Seitenzahl: 337

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Beschreibung

The second collection of plays from the multi-award-winning Irish playwright, Enda Walsh. This volume of remarkable plays charts the development of one of the most strikingly original playwrights in contemporary theatre. It collects together four full-length plays – three of which were produced by Galway's Druid Theatre Company, three of which were performed at the Edinburgh Fringe, and two of which transferred to London's National Theatre – along with two fascinating short plays and a Foreword by the author. - The Walworth Farce (2006) is a madcap yet tender play about what can happen when we become stuck in the stories we tell about our lives. - The New Electric Ballroom (2008) is a dark, glitter-dusted fable of the emotionally stultifying effects of small-town life. - In a savage and riveting take on the classic Greek myth of Odysseus's wife, Penelope(2010) sees four ridiculous men facing their inevitable deaths, and playing for an unwinnable love. - Ballyturk (2014) saw Walsh reuniting with actor Cillian Murphy after Disco Pigs and Misterman for a jaw-droppingly physical play in which the lives of two men unravel over the course of ninety minutes.Also included in this volume are two short plays, My Friend Duplicity (2010), which went on to inspire Ballyturk, and Room 303 (2011). 'One of the most fiercely individual voices in the theatre today'New York Times 'Enda Walsh makes his own distinctive stage music in the fury of his writing talent and the irresistible surge of his blatant theatricality'Independent

Leseprobe

ENDA WALSH

Plays: Two

The Walworth FarceThe New Electric BallroomPenelopeMy Friend DuplicityRoom 303Ballyturk

with a Foreword by the author

NICK HERN BOOKS

London

www.nickhernbooks.co.uk

Contents

Title Page

Foreword

The Walworth Farce

The New Electric Ballroom

Penelope

My Friend Duplicity

Room 303

Ballyturk

About the Author

Copyright and Performing Rights Information

Foreword

When we moved from Cork to London – about ten years ago now – we rented a house off the Old Kent Road. My wife Jo got a job at the Independent newspaper and I acquisitioned a box bedroom to write some plays in. I didn’t know many people in London back then – and those I first got to know were working the cash registers in my local Tesco.

On the bus on the way into the city I would pass the roundabout on the Elephant and Castle. Inevitably the bus would stop in heavy traffic and I remember deciding I would write a play about that very spot and about that feeling of being trapped and churned by your environment.

The play – The Walworth Farce – formed itself as a high-octane farce, which was a real surprise as we have no history of that style of performance back in Ireland. I had that image of farce seeping out of the West End and tunnelling under the Thames and finding its way to a tower block – and into the unfortunate lives of these Irishmen who really should be building Britain.

The play quickly wrote in three weeks and as I was writing it I had already decided to write a companion piece called The New Electric Ballroom. Both plays I think of as very Irish – plays about a shared family story where a person visiting will somehow force the truth out of that uncertain history. The New Electric Ballroom was quieter – more elegiac – but again it became about the pressures of the environment on these isolated characters.

Both plays kickstarted my collaboration with Mikel Murfi. I was a huge fan of his work as a director and actor when I saw him in Dublin. He signed up to direct The Walworth Farce for Druid in Ireland, came over to London where we sat in my attic drinking tea and performing the Farce to one another – our combined energy could have powered a small city. Mikel went on to perform as Patsy in The New Electric Ballroom – both plays toured around the world for a few years and their dark twisting of nostalgia seemed to strike a chord – particularly in America.

I’m always surprised how my British contemporaries often write plays directly about the world around them – like theatre is there to dramatise what we see in the news or talk about at dinner parties. It’s very peculiar and at its best it can be powerful and feel vital, I suppose. My one attempt to talk specifically about ‘something that was actually happening’ was in the play Penelope.

When the crash in 2008 decimated the fantasy that Ireland had created for itself, a German theatre in Oberhausen had already approached me and four other European playwrights to each take a section of the Odyssey to adapt. I was reading a lot about Irish bankers and financiers who were either killing themselves or being publicly vilified. I decided to write a play about Penelope’s suitors as they await their collective murder. It became part-situation-comedy, part-existential-scratching – scored by Herb Alpert. Not exactly social commentary then but it was what it was. Mikel directed the English-language premiere and the work I could tell was becoming more visual – a little more abstracted than before.

Two short plays followed – My Friend Duplicity and Room 303. Together – and I can only see it now – the themes of both plays had an effect on the final ‘large’ play in this volume – Ballyturk.

While the early plays – in the previous collection – were driven by language, I think – this collection is concerned more with a play’s shape. The Walworth Farce locked the characters in a very mathematical form – shifting them about to the tight rhythms and rules of farce.

In Ballyturk, the play is guided by an outside force too. Like the characters, the play feels directionless and lost – thrown from one atmosphere to another. The question of what an audience takes home – what they experience – kept being asked. With Ballyturk we would tell a story – but more significantly we wanted an audience to experience form shifting radically.

Though I’m loath to define it for myself, the work in recent years is changing in other ways too. The process remains the same from when I was in my early twenties – I trust my instincts – the play will find its own shape, its own way.

They are written to be performed of course – but I do hope there’s something in these plays for a reader too.

Thanks.

Enda Walsh, 2014

THE WALWORTH FARCE

The Walworth Farce was first performed by Druid Theatre Company at the Town Hall Theatre, Galway, on 20 March 2006. The cast was as follows:

DINNY

Denis Conway

SEAN

Aaron Monaghan

BLAKE

Garrett Lombard

HAYLEY

Syan Blake

Director

Mikel Murfi

Designer

Sabine Dargent

Lighting Designer

Paul Keogan

The production subsequently toured to the Everyman Palace Theatre, Cork, and the Helix, Dublin.

The play was revived at the Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh, on 3 August 2007, with the following cast:

DINNY

Denis Conway

SEAN

Tadhg Murphy

BLAKE

Garrett Lombard

HAYLEY

Natalie Best

The play received its London premiere at the National Theatre in September 2008, with Mercy Ojelade playing the role of Hayley.

The play was revived by Landmark Productions at the Olympia Theatre, Dublin, on 14 January 2015 with the following cast:

DINNY

Brendan Gleeson

SEAN

Brian Gleeson

BLAKE

Domhnall Gleeson

HAYLEY

Leona Allen

Director

Sean Foley

Designer

Alice Power

Lighting Designer

Paul Keogan

Sound Designer

Ben and Max Ringham

To the first director of this playMikel Murfifor his advice, support, enthusiasm and general brilliance.Thank you so much.

Characters

in order of appearance

DINNY, fifty, Irish accent

BLAKE, twenty-five, Irish accent

SEAN, twenty-four, Irish accent

HAYLEY, twenty-four, South London accent

ACT ONE

The set is three square spaces. Essentially a living room at its centre, a kitchen to stage left and a bedroom to stage right.

Much of the plasterboard has been removed from the walls and what remains are the wooden frames beneath.

The two doors on the wall leading into the kitchen and the two doors leading into the bedroom on the other wall have been removed.

The back wall shows the front door leading into this flat. Also there is a large window covered by a heavy curtain.

There are two wardrobes at the back made from the plasterboard. One on the left and one on the right of the front door.

The decor is at best drab. Everything worn and colourless and stuck in the 1970s.

There is an armchair and a small coffee table in the sitting room with six cans of Harp on it. The kitchen is fitted and very messy. The bedroom has two single beds on top of each other made to look like bunk beds.

We’re in a council flat on the Walworth Road, South London.

As the lights go up we see a man sitting in the armchair. This is the father, DINNY. He wears a bad brown yellowing wig on his head, a tight ill-fitting suit that makes him look clownish. He has a jet black bushy moustache. He’s holding a small biscuit tin.

On a side table next to him he presses the button of an old tape recorder. ‘An Irish Lullaby’ begins to play. Slowly he opens the biscuit tin. He looks inside, smiles and smells the contents. He closes it and places it under the armchair. He begins to polish his shoes with a tin of brown polish.

His son BLAKE stands in his vest and underpants and irons something on a coffin-shaped cardboard box in the bedroom.

BLAKE’s brother SEAN stands in the kitchen. He wears a woollen hat. He takes it off and places it in the pocket of his jacket. His hair has been shaved so that he looks as if he’s badly balding.

He goes to the table where he looks into a Tesco bag. His expression suddenly shocked. He takes out an extremely large salami sausage. He goes to the oven and flings the sausage inside, closing the door. With trepidation he returns to the Tesco bag, reaches in and takes out a packet of Ryvita crackers. Again he’s shook.

DINNY enters the kitchen carrying the tape recorder and SEAN quickly hides the Ryvita behind his back. DINNY pours himself a glass of water and gargles for a bit. SEAN watches him. DINNY spits it back in the sink, turns and exits the kitchen and back into the sitting room.

DINNY places the tape recorder on the side table and starts to do little physical jerks. He’s exercising.

BLAKE is putting on what he was ironing. A floral skirt. He puts the iron under the bed and takes up a freshly ironed colourful blouse. He smells it. It’s not the best. He sprays it with some Mister Sheen. He smells it again and puts it on. From under the bed he takes an old lamp with an orange floral shade. He slings it off a hook that hangs from the ceiling and turns it on. The bedroom is thrown into a new light.

SEAN meanwhile is making Ryvita sandwiches in the kitchen with spreadable cheese he’s taken from a tiny fridge.

DINNY stops exercising. He takes off his wig and we can see some Velcro tape running on top of his head which obviously keeps on the wig. He takes a comb out and gives the wig a quick once over.

BLAKE puts on a woman’s black permed wig. He picks up the cardboard coffin and exits the bedroom and into the sitting room and stands waiting.

SEAN sticks a bad fake moustache on (à la Magnum P.I.), dons a tight cream sports jacket which he buttons up and exits the kitchen. BLAKE hands him the coffin and enters one of the wardrobes.

SEAN stands holding the coffin on his shoulders by the front door and waits for his father.

DINNY sticks his wig back on. He goes to the wall and takes a small golden trophy off a shelf. He reverentially kisses it before carefully replacing it. He blesses himself.

He takes a deep breath and exhales sharply. He’s ready.

DINNY holds the other end of the coffin with SEAN. He reaches to the light switch on the back wall and switches off the light in the sitting room as ‘An Irish Lullaby’ comes to an end.

The room is thrown into darkness and silence. DINNY immediately turns the light back on.

DINNY. She was our mother, Paddy –

Suddenly the tape recorder blasts out the Irish traditional song ‘A Nation Once Again’.

The two of them startled.

Shite!

DINNY turns off the tape recorder. Again he takes a deep breath and exhales sharply. He then reaches back to the light switch and turns the lights off again. He immediately turns them back on.

The Farce begins. The three speak in Cork City accents. The performance style resembles The Three Stooges.

She was our mother, Paddy, and she treated us well.

SEAN AS PADDY. It was a happy outcome, Dinny, even if it was her funeral.

DINNY. To see her little smiling face all done up in that makeup, looking like a movie star, wasn’t she?

SEAN AS PADDY. A little miracle how her head was recreated when you think of the wallop that horse gave her. Hit by a dead horse. Who would have believed it?

DINNY. As the priest said, Paddy… only the good Lord knows of our final curtain.

SEAN AS PADDY. I fear He does.

DINNY. It was God’s will to send a massive dead stallion careering over a hedge.

SEAN AS PADDY. Yes.

DINNY. God’s will to send it crashing on top our sweet mother’s tiny body as she innocently picked gooseberries for her own consumption on that quiet country road. Whatever way you look at it, Paddy, religion’s awful cruel.

SEAN AS PADDY. Is that cans of beer over there?

DINNY. It is, they are.

SEAN AS PADDY. It’s just she’s getting awful heavy…

DINNY. Stick her in the dining room there, Paddy. Don’t want my two little boys having nightmares.

SEAN and DINNY take the coffin into the bedroom.

SEAN AS PADDY. So this is your place, Dinny?

DINNY. Built with my own hands… figuratively speaking of course. Not much call for building work in my line of work.

BLAKE AS MAUREEN enters from the wardrobe.

BLAKE AS MAUREEN. You want me to fix the sandwiches, Dinny?

DINNY. Go heavy on the cheese spread, sweetheart. You know how I like my sandwiches, Maureen love.

BLAKE AS MAUREEN. Where’s the kitchen?

DINNY secretly and aggressively points over to where it is.

BLAKE AS MAUREEN quickly enters the kitchen. He immediately takes off his wig and puts on a new red-haired permed wig and re-enters the wardrobe.

SEAN AS PADDY. What is it you do again, Dinny?

DINNY. Brain surgery, Paddy.

SEAN AS PADDY. And to think you were thrown out of school at fifteen.

DINNY. Ireland’s a terrible hole and you’ll get no argument from me… but I’ll say this about it… it gives fools a fighting chance.

SEAN AS PADDY. Fair play.

DINNY. Not like London, Paddy? Please, me casa, su casa.

SEAN AS PADDY. London’s a tough old nut. For a while I was working the sites but London’s all grown up now and not much building for fellas like me. Truth is I haven’t worked for six years, Dinny.

DINNY. You’ve flat feet of course.

SEAN AS PADDY. The flat feet are only half of it, there’s more. Being a man of medicine you may have heard of my condition.

DINNY. You’ve got a condition?

SEAN AS PADDY. A critical condition.

DINNY. Proceed.

SEAN AS PADDY. I’m getting pains in my hole, Dinny.

DINNY (carefully). Yes.

SEAN AS PADDY. Remember as a little boy that big railing I impaled myself on… pierced my back?

DINNY. Oh that hole!

SEAN AS PADDY. It just missed the heart, didn’t it. When I get too excited, Dinny, I fall over…

DINNY. Do ya?

SEAN AS PADDY. I do! Blood stops racing to the head… I collapse.

DINNY. Collapse!? Good Lord!

SEAN AS PADDY. Doctor says one day I might never wake up. Thought it might happen to me today what with Mammy and everything.

DINNY. You had a pain in your hole today?

SEAN AS PADDY. A shocking pain in my hole, Dinny.

DINNY. Well, you listen to me, little brother. I wasn’t always there for you in the past.

SEAN AS PADDY. You were never there for me.

DINNY. That’s right, you’re right. But in the future. If there’s anything you want, if that hole of yours is keeping you awake at night just pick up the telephone and give us a call.

Enter BLAKE AS VERA from the wardrobe.

BLAKE AS VERA. Those two boys of yours are terrorising a copper outside.

DINNY. The little feckers. Sort that out for us, Paddy.

SEAN AS PADDY runs and disappears into the wardrobe closing the door behind him.

BLAKE AS VERA. Well, haven’t you done well for yourself!? Beautiful leather couch, lovely little ornaments. Nice shag carpet. That seen any action has it?

DINNY. Now a gentleman wouldn’t say, Vera, inquisitive wife of my thick brother Paddy.

BLAKE AS VERA. He wouldn’t but you would.

DINNY and BLAKE AS VERA laugh.

DINNY (laughing). Oh very good, very good!

BLAKE AS VERA. How’d you make the big leap from painting and decorating to brain surgery?

DINNY. Oh you might well ask that question, Vera love.

BLAKE AS VERA. I just did, Denis.

A pause.

DINNY. One day…

BLAKE AS VERA. Yes?

DINNY really has to think hard about this.

DINNY.…a few years ago… I was busy applying some paint to a client’s wall. Now she was a woman who was forever complaining about headaches and such like. ‘Denis,’ she would say, ‘I have such a terrible pounding in the head.’ Well, the poor dear fell in front of me and cracked her head wide open. And there I was looking at my first brain. (Easier now.) Now I liken the brain to a walnut, Vera. Larger obviously and not the class of thing you’d hand out to kiddies at Hallowe’en… but a walnut all the same. She was still breathing so I had to act fast. Now Coca-Cola, which I had on my person for its thirst-quenching properties, is also a terrific… terrific preservative. Her head took two litres of Coca-Cola and a roll of masking tape to bind her right back up. The doctors said I saved her life because of my quick thinking, suggested to me a night course in basic brain surgery as I obviously had the knack for it and two years later… here I am!

BLAKE AS VERA (she’s not convinced). That’s quite a story.

DINNY. It certainly is.

SEAN re-enters from the wardrobe as his seven-year-old self.

SEAN. All right we play in the back garden, Dad?

DINNY. Yes, Sean. Where’s Blake?

BLAKE. Here, Dad.

DINNY. I want you to stay out there for the afternoon and look after your little brother, all right, Blake?!

BLAKE (in awe). This place is beautiful.

DINNY (growling). Outside outside!

BLAKE and SEAN run and enter a wardrobe.

DINNY looks very agitated.

BLAKE AS VERA and SEAN AS PADDY re-enter.

SEAN AS PADDY. The little devils.

DINNY. Copper, all right?

SEAN AS PADDY. He was crying a little bit.

DINNY. They’re feisty boys, them! Take after their old man.

SEAN AS PADDY. Little tearaways you mean.

DINNY. Tearaways! Not at all.

BLAKE AS VERA. The way they acted in mass.

DINNY. Giddy that’s all.

BLAKE AS VERA. They set fire to a nun, Dinny.

DINNY. In fairness, they didn’t know it was a nun. She frightened the life out of them, that’s all.

BLAKE AS VERA. She was in a terrible state.

DINNY. Arrah she was put out wasn’t she… eventually.

SEAN AS PADDY. You shouldn’t have given them those Mars Bars earlier.

BLAKE AS VERA. Church is no place for Mars Bars, Dinny.

BLAKE enters the kitchen and changes into MAUREEN’s wig.

DINNY. No place is no place for Mars Bars, Vera. The fact is the Mars Bar’s like eating shit on a stick. Worse… sure doesn’t it rot your teeth.

BLAKE AS MAUREEN re-enters with Ryvita sandwiches on a plate.

(Announcing.) Ahh sandwiches, great stuff, Maureen! My favourites aren’t they?

SEAN looks very nervous.

BLAKE AS MAUREEN. Spreadable cheddar, Dinny…

DINNY freezes when he sees them.

DINNY. What’s this?

BLAKE (as himself). Sandwiches, Dad.

DINNY. Ryvita sandwiches?

SEAN. There was no sliced pan in Tesco, Dad.

DINNY. Supermarket, isn’t it?

SEAN. I know but…

DINNY. Didn’t you go?

SEAN. I did, Dad.

DINNY. You didn’t go.

SEAN. I did.

DINNY. Don’t answer me back or I’ll thump ya!

BLAKE. Maybe we –

DINNY. Shut up, you! The story calls for sliced pan bread, doesn’t it?

SEAN. I know but –

DINNY. The story doesn’t work if we don’t have the facts and Ryvitas aren’t the facts… they’re not close to the facts. A batched loaf is close to the facts, a bread roll is closer still but a Ryvita?… A Ryvita’s just taking the piss, Sean. A Ryvita’s a great leap of the imagination.

BLAKE. It’s the right cheese.

DINNY. Feck the cheese! It’s sticking out like a sore thumb. Your mother would never make crispy sandwiches, would she? You two little boys playing out in the garden out there… you’ll not be happy with Ryvita!

SEAN. I can go back to Tesco if you want.

DINNY. Ah forget about it. And another thing, don’t be cutting corners, you!

SEAN. How’d you mean?

DINNY. ‘London’s a tough old nut. For a while I was working the sites but London’s all grown up now and not much building for fellas like me.’ Then what, then what?

SEAN. Truth is I haven’t worked for six years…

DINNY. ‘The truth be told the Irishman is not the master builder of yesteryear. That title belongs to the men of Eastern Europe. Built like buses they are. Feet like double beds. The truth is I haven’t worked for six years, Dinny.’

SEAN. That’s a new line, Dad.

DINNY. So?

SEAN. You want me to use it?

DINNY. Getting lazy on me?

SEAN. No, Dad.

DINNY. Sloppy, Sean.

SEAN. Sorry, Dad.

DINNY. You wanna get your act together. There’ll be no chance of the actin’ trophy gathering dust on your shelf if you don’t pull up them socks, boy.

SEAN. Right, Dad.

DINNY (pointing to the trophy). The acting trophy, Sean!

SEAN. Yes, Dad.

DINNY. Acting trophy!

SEAN. I know, Dad.

DINNY. Blake, make your entrance.

BLAKE turns back into the kitchen. He sighs.

BLAKE (to himself). Shite.

DINNY (to SEAN). We’ll talk about this later, right?!

SEAN. All right, Dad.

BLAKE AS MAUREEN re-enters with the sandwiches.

DINNY. Ahh sandwiches, great stuff! My favourites aren’t they, Maureen?

BLAKE AS MAUREEN. Spreadable cheddar, Dinny.

DINNY. Ohh lovely! Rich and creamy.

He bites into the Ryvita sandwich but it crumbles all over the place. He grimaces and looks like he’s about to explode but SEAN quickly continues the performance.

SEAN AS PADDY. Terrible shock going all the way to the cemetery and not being able to stick Mammy in the ground.

DINNY. A disgrace.

SEAN AS PADDY. Whoever heard of a gravedigger without a digger. Like a postman without post, a brickie without bricks, a shopkeeper without a shop, a cook without a cooker, a footballer without a foot, a bus driver without a bus, a fishmonger without a fish –

BLAKE AS VERA (stopping him). Paddy!

SEAN AS PADDY. Awful though. You had every right to hit that gravedigger as we left for home, Dinny.

DINNY. Couldn’t get up much speed in that hearse though.

SEAN AS PADDY. No.

DINNY. Still… I managed to reverse and have another pop off the little fecker. (Laughs a little.)

SEAN AS PADDY. Christ it’s great to be back with the big brother! The brain surgeon living in the gaff on the hill that he lives in overlooking Cork City in all its finery.

DINNY. And what news of London Town, Paddy? This Walworth Road off the Elephant and Castle, paint me a picture of this boulevard and its surrounding environs.

SEAN AS PADDY clears his throat.

SEAN AS PADDY. On my palate is only grey, Dinny.

DINNY. Right.

SEAN AS PADDY. Grey and muck. For these are the two primary colours that make up much of the Elephant.

DINNY. I see.

SEAN AS PADDY. And as for the Castle… not so much a fortress, for a billion cars daily circle this grassy knoll known as ‘the roundabout’.

DINNY. ‘Daily traverse’!

SEAN AS PADDY. For a billion cars daily traverse this grassy knoll known as ‘the roundabout’.

DINNY. Better.

SEAN AS PADDY. A million tiny bedsits there are. Large carbuncles sprouting out from the ground. Massive flats. Deadly, pitiful places that even the rats have abandoned, the cockroaches have done cockroaching and all that’s left is London people.

DINNY. Jaynee.

SEAN AS PADDY. To sum it up in pure Cork parlance… the place is a hole.

BLAKE AS VERA. The lot of London is, Dinny.

DINNY. You do often read stories that they do eat their young over there, Paddy and Vera. So criminal and violent they are that Londoners like nothing more than skinning an Irishman halfway through his drink.

SEAN AS PADDY. Sacrilegious, boy. Sacrilegious. (He knocks back his can of beer.)

BLAKE AS VERA. And what news of Cork City, Dinny?

DINNY. Well, Vera, my love, there she is laid out in front of us.

SEAN AS PADDY. Aw beautiful.

DINNY. Laid out in all her finery.

BLAKE AS VERA (wistfully). Ah Cork.

DINNY. I often do stand here after a long day brain-surgeoning and just drink in this wonderful sight with a fine glass of red wine and a packet of those green Pringles. For I liken Cork City to a large jewel, Paddy and Vera.

SEAN AS PADDY. Do ya?

DINNY. I do. A jewel with the majestic River Lee ambling through it, chopping the diamond in two before making its way to murkier climes… towards the poisonous Irish Sea for example. Ah yes, Cork City. You could call it Ireland’s jewel but you’d be A FUCKING IDIOT, BOY. FOR IT IS, REALLY AND TRULY, IRELAND’S TRUE CAPITAL CITY.

SEAN and BLAKE applaud.

SEAN AS PADDY. Oh well said, Dinny!

DINNY. The red and the white, Paddy! The blood and the bandage, little brother! Blood and the bandage!

BLAKE AS VERA. I’ll help Maureen prepare the chicken.

BLAKE AS VERA goes to the kitchen and opens the oven. He nearly falls back in horror. He slams it shut immediately.

SEAN AS PADDY. And Dinny, tell me, tell me… would Mammy stand beside you and look at this very same view?

DINNY. She would, Paddy. She would. Me with my red wine, her standing with a pint of Beamish in her hand.

SEAN AS PADDY (smiling). Ah yes.

DINNY. A bottle of Harp in her other hand.

SEAN AS PADDY. That’s right.

DINNY. A large glass of whiskey by the coffee table.

SEAN AS PADDY. That’s her.

DINNY. And a can of Heineken in her coat pocket.

SEAN AS PADDY. She loved her drink.

DINNY (with admiration). You know when they pulled that horse off her, you could actually smell the whiskey from her blood. I mean, that’s incredible, boy.

SEAN AS PADDY. And I always thought it would be the drink that would finally kill her.

DINNY. Well, it was in a way, Paddy. Those gooseberries she was gathering were for fermenting in a lethal vat of alcohol she called her ‘Preservative’.

SEAN AS PADDY. Ohh the irony.

DINNY. I know, cruel, isn’t it? (Instructing him.) ‘So what about the will, Dinny?!’

SEAN AS PADDY. So what about the will, Dinny?

DINNY (snaps). Jesus, Sean, quicker! Quicker!

SEAN AS PADDY. Did she mention to you what might be in the will?

DINNY takes a moment, furious that SEAN has messed up. The two boys tense. Suddenly:

DINNY. The will, she did, Paddy! She gave me a hint a few weeks ago. But as custom will have it, the will must be read with the wives present.

SEAN AS PADDY (eagerly calling). Vera, love, the will!

DINNY (just as eager and rubbing his hands). Maureen, sweetheart, the reading of the will.

BLAKE comes running from the kitchen wearing MAUREEN’s wig and carrying VERA’s wig.

BLAKE AS MAUREEN. Yes, Dinny.

The three enter the bedroom and surround the coffin.

DINNY. Read it loud and clear, Maureen.

BLAKE takes the will from a sealed envelope and reads it.

BLAKE AS MAUREEN. ‘To my loving sons Denis and Patrick.’

SEAN AS PADDY. Nice touch.

BLAKE AS MAUREEN. ‘I’m on the bus back home from the pub and fairly tanked up so here’s the will. As your father would say, you two boys were the only family we ever had, you weren’t much but we loved you… though we never got around to showing it on account of the terrible poverty we were under.’

DINNY. That’s true.

BLAKE AS MAUREEN. ‘But as you know the house you grew up in is now worth a few bob and can be carved up between the both of you.

DINNY clears his throat.

However, it’s my wish that the son who is the most sensible, the most successful with his own money, the most balanced in his own life, should act as executor of the estate.

DINNY has started to smile and nod to himself.

That son will organise a small allowance to be paid monthly into his brother’s account so that he doesn’t piss it up a wall.

DINNY fails to suppress his laughter.

(Quickly.) A memorandum of the special gifts I want divided between family members is listed below. All the best in life. The bus is stopped so that’s me off to the chipper. Mammy.’

DINNY (erupting). Well, that’s clear as clear!

SEAN AS PADDY. How d’you mean?

DINNY. Take a look around you, Paddy. A far cry from Walworth Road and its deserting rats, aren’t we?

SEAN AS PADDY. Suppose.

DINNY. She had mentioned to me she was worried the money wouldn’t be handled sensibly what with our histories. She’s looking for a steady hand, you see.

BLAKE AS VERA. He’s lying, he’s lying, Paddy!

SEAN AS PADDY (looking at the will). He’s not, Vera! That’s Mammy’s will all right. You can smell the Bushmills off it.

DINNY. Fear not, little brother. As controller of the estate and your yearly allowance I’ll make sure things are completely transparent.

SEAN AS PADDY. Monthly allowance.

DINNY. In the meantime we can keep ourselves happy with the personal gifts left in the memorandum by Mammy. Maureen, sweetheart.

BLAKE AS MAUREEN (reading). ‘My deep fat fryer for my son Denis.’

DINNY (triumphantly). Yes!

BLAKE AS MAUREEN. ‘And three cans of Harp for Patrick.’

SEAN AS PADDY. Ah Jesus.

DINNY (laughing). Three cans of Harp! You always were her favourite. You need a hand basting that chicken, Maureen!?

DINNY and BLAKE AS MAUREEN leave the bedroom and walk across to the kitchen.

(Still laughing.) Jesus but it’s working like a dream.

BLAKE AS MAUREEN (distracted). This house is beautiful.

DINNY (laughing). A brain surgeon!? Can you believe it?! We’ll fill them with the roast chicken and get them on the car ferry back to London. A monthly allowance? He’s got two chances… none and… fuck-all!

BLAKE pulls a baking tray out of the oven with the huge salami sausage on it. Seeing it:

(Snaps and screams.) SEAN!

SEAN. Coming, Dad!

SEAN comes running from the bedroom towards the kitchen. DINNY grabs a large frying pan.

DINNY (growls to himself). A fecking sausage!?

SEAN enters and immediately DINNY swings the frying pan across the back of SEAN’s head. SEAN hits the floor fast.

A long pause as DINNY and BLAKE look at SEAN on the floor.

DINNY takes a cup of water and gargles a little. He then spits it out on SEAN’s head.

(To BLAKE, calmly.) Get him up and sort him out.

DINNY goes back into the living room and sits in the armchair. He takes his wig off. He takes up a massive bottle of moisturising cream, squeezes some in his hand and aggressively applies it to his face and head.

BLAKE helps SEAN up.

SEAN sits at the table and BLAKE stands.

A long pause.

The two brothers talk in hushed tones.

BLAKE. Are you okay?

SEAN. Yeah.

A pause.

BLAKE. What’s with the shopping?

SEAN. I picked up the wrong bag in Tesco. (A pause.) It was a mistake.

BLAKE looks in at DINNY.

What’s he doing?

BLAKE. Puttin’ on his cream.

BLAKE faces into the kitchen.

A long pause.

SEAN. Something else happened to me, Blake.

BLAKE. Did someone try to get ya?

SEAN. No. No one ever does. You should come out with me the next time.

BLAKE doesn’t respond.

A pause.

DINNY is smelling the contents of the biscuit tin again.

BLAKE. When we came here as little kids you could still smell Ireland from our jumpers.

SEAN (distantly). Yeah.

BLAKE. You could smell Mammy’s cooking, couldn’t you? It was roast chicken that last day and it was a lovely smell, hey Sean? And I think we might have come across on a boat… (Prompting SEAN, smiling.) Go on.

BLAKE holds SEAN’s hand.

SEAN (continuing). And despite the sea and wind, the smell of Mammy’s cooking and that chicken was still stuck in the wool of our jumpers.

BLAKE. And I can’t remember getting off a boat… but maybe we got a bus then to London, Sean, and still Mammy right around us.

SEAN. And Dad must have locked the door as soon as we were inside because the smell sort of stayed longer.

BLAKE. And for a while it stayed and we must have talked about the chicken smell and we must have missed Mammy, hey Sean?

SEAN. Yeah, we must have.

BLAKE. Dad all talk of Ireland, Sean. Everything’s Ireland. His voice is stuck in Cork so it’s impossible to forget what Cork is. (A pause.) This story we play is everything. (A pause.) Once upon a time my head was full of pictures of Granny’s coffin and Mr and Mrs Cotter and Paddy and Vera and Bouncer the dog and all those busy pictures in our last day. (Smiling.) ’Cause you’d say Dad’s words and they’d give you pictures, wouldn’t they, Sean? And so many pictures in your head… Sure you wouldn’t want for the outside world even if it was a good world! You could be happy. (A pause.) But all them pictures have stopped. I say his words and all I can see is the word. A lot of words piled on top of other words. There’s no sense to my day ’cause the sense isn’t important any more. No pictures. No dreams. Words only. (A pause.) All I’ve got is the memory of the roast chicken, Sean.

DINNY enters the kitchen.

DINNY. Explain the shopping to me then?

SEAN. A mistake, Dad.

DINNY. How a mistake?

SEAN. Someone tricked me with the wrong bag.

DINNY. Did they?

SEAN. Yes, Dad.

DINNY. Who?

SEAN. The girl at the cash register.

DINNY. Made fun of you, did she? Tricked you and then had a good laugh?

SEAN. She was a little bitch, Dad.

DINNY. She was a little bitch. And many more feckers out there, Sean, wanting to gobble you up.

SEAN. I can go back if you want.

DINNY. You’re not enjoying going outside are you?

SEAN. Only if you want me to.

DINNY. Seems to me you might be enjoying it a little.

SEAN. No.

DINNY. Not like Blake here who knows he can’t go out.

SEAN. I hate it too, Dad.

DINNY. Do you?

SEAN. I do.

DINNY. Are you lying to me about this girl that tricked you?

SEAN. No, Dad.

DINNY. ’Cause if you lie to me there’ll be terrible trouble to pay.

SEAN. I know there will. There’s no lying going on.

DINNY. Blake?

BLAKE. Yes, Dad.

DINNY. You’re awful quiet.

BLAKE. Just keeping my energy. I know it’s about to get real fast soon so just thinking things through again, that’s all.

DINNY. Got your eyes on the actin’ trophy, Blake? Such a prize.

BLAKE. Sure it’s only you that gets to win it.

DINNY. But feck it, you’re almost there, boy, almost.

BLAKE. Am I, Dad?

DINNY. You are. You’ve got the tough job playing the ladies, of course. (Slight pause.) Sort of nice playing Mammy though?

BLAKE. Yes, Dad.

DINNY. Christ she’s a great woman, all right! A great woman! She’ll be waiting in the kitchen back in Cork, lads! Waiting for her three men to walk back through the door.

BLAKE. When might that be, Dad? (Slight pause.) When?

DINNY slowly inhales and announces loudly,

DINNY. One day…! One day!!

SEAN races to the wardrobe.

One day I’ll buy a house just like this one, Maureen!

BLAKE throws the sausage back in the oven and runs over and joins SEAN in the wardrobe.

One day, by Jesus the Holy Christ, I’ll live in a castle overlooking the banks of the lovely Lee. One day, mark my words! One day!

Large thumping noise and DINNY is startled.

By jaynee, who’s this at the door?

SEAN and BLAKE enter as Mr Cotter, JACK, and his brother-in-law PETER (both from Montenotte). They are carrying another cardboard coffin on their shoulders.

BLAKE AS JACK. Watch the paintwork, Peter.

SEAN AS PETER. Sorry, Jack.

DINNY freezes in the kitchen as he hears them.

BLAKE AS JACK. I’ve just got a man in to do it for me actually. But by Jesus, what a day!

A gravedigger without a digger!? Have you ever heard of such shite.

SEAN AS PETER. Like a banker without a bank, a journalist without a journal, a painter without paint, a producer without produce, a publican without a pub, a zookeeper without a zoo…

BLAKE AS JACK. The list can go on, Peter, and we can just stand here with your dead father stuck in this box breaking my delicate little shoulders.

SEAN AS PETER. Well, it’s your house, Jack, where do you want him?

BLAKE AS JACK. Stick him in the kitchen and out of my sight.

As they go into the kitchen, DINNY runs out and across into the bedroom.

BLAKE and SEAN place the coffin down on the kitchen table.

DINNY (to himself). By jaynee I wasn’t expecting this at all! (To PADDY.) Back inside! Back inside! Look I’m sorry, Paddy, but they just called out of the blue. It wouldn’t be appropriate to…

DINNY has to wait for the two boys and is annoyed by this.

(Snapping.) Move it, lads, for fuck sakes!

SEAN exits the kitchen and runs over to the bedroom. BLAKE runs back to the wardrobe and enters it.

SEAN AS PADDY. You’re not going to introduce me to those men?

DINNY. It’s business, Paddy.

SEAN AS PADDY. Brain-surgery business?

DINNY. That’s right. Now I’ll have to go out to my colleagues and talk to them, Paddy. Are you all right in here with these two lovely ladies?

SEAN AS PADDY. Three ladies, Dinny. Let’s not forget Mammy just yet.

DINNY. You’re right. (Touching the coffin and sighing.) Sorry, Paddy.

DINNY turns away fast and exits the bedroom and into the sitting room at the same time as BLAKE enters from the wardrobe wearing a new woman’s blonde permed wig. He plays the part of Mrs Cotter, EILEEN.

BLAKE AS EILEEN (upset). Oh Denis!

DINNY. Yes, Eileen, or should I say, Mrs Cotter, wife of Jack Cotter who actually owns this house, and sister of Peter, who’s also standing in there next to a coffin. You’ve come back unexpectedly.

BLAKE AS EILEEN. Where’s the body, love?

DINNY. What?

BLAKE AS EILEEN. The coffin, Denis? The coffin.

DINNY. Well, let me explain first…

BLAKE AS EILEEN (calls). Peter!

DINNY (to himself). Shit shit!

BLAKE AS EILEEN enters the kitchen and throws his arms around the coffin.

DINNY stands looking aghast at the coffin on the table.

BLAKE AS EILEEN (crying a little). Did you know he slept in this box for two months before he… Like he had a premonition.

SEAN AS PETER. Really?

BLAKE AS EILEEN. He loved this box. And then to be struck down in his prime!

SEAN AS PETER. Daddy was ninety-six, Eileen.

BLAKE AS EILEEN. Take off the lid, I want to look at him.

DINNY stands in the sitting room listening to their conversation. They look into the coffin.

SEAN AS PETER. Well, there he is. (Slight pause.) Bits of him, anyway.

BLAKE AS EILEEN. He went the way he would have liked to though, didn’t he, Peter?

SEAN AS PETER. He did.

BLAKE AS EILEEN. Off the coast of Kinsale travelling at 140 miles an hour. The wind in his hair, his little sailor’s outfit on. Speeding fast ’til he hits that bloody sea lion. (Starts to cry.) The speedboat thrown into the air. The boat travelling through that field, is that right?

SEAN AS PETER. That’s right.

BLAKE AS EILEEN. The horse coming from nowhere. He hits the horse at 100-mile an hour sending it careering over a hedge and onto a quiet country road…

DINNY faints from the shock and hits the ground hard.

Denis!?

SEAN AS PETER. Good God! Is he all right? Who is he anyway?

BLAKE AS EILEEN. It’s Denis, our painter-decorator.

DINNY comes around.

Are you all right, Denis pet?

DINNY (distantly). Mother…

BLAKE AS EILEEN. No, it’s me, Eileen.

DINNY. Horse.

BLAKE AS EILEEN. No, I’m not a horse.

DINNY. Mother… killed… horse.

BLAKE AS EILEEN. No Denis, that’s not right, love. Daddy killed horse.

SEAN AS PETER. And horse killed Daddy.

BLAKE AS EILEEN. Help him into the chair, Peter, quick.

DINNY is ‘unconscious’ in the armchair as SEAN AS PETER and BLAKE AS JACK have a covert conversation.

BLAKE AS JACK. Is Eileen…?

SEAN AS PETER. She’s in the kitchen looking at Daddy again.

BLAKE AS JACK. Well, what a complete waste of time.

SEAN AS PETER. I know, I know!

BLAKE AS JACK. Filling him with drink, sticking him on that speedboat and to what end?!

SEAN AS PETER. Well, perhaps Eileen has his money? She could have taken it somewhere, couldn’t she?

BLAKE AS JACK. I know my wife’s face. She knew that your father kept his money in his house but this morning when we turned everything upside down and found nothing! Her face, Peter?! She was devastated, boy!

He takes a can of beer from SEAN AS PETER’s hands and finishes it.