Yen E-Book

Anna Jordan

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

Seitenzahl: 110

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

Anna Jordan's Bruntwood Prize-winning play, Yen explores a childhood lived without boundaries and the consequences of being forced to grow up on your own. Hench is sixteen, Bobbie is thirteen. They're home alone in Feltham with their dog Taliban; playing PlayStation, streaming porn, watching the world go by. Sometimes their mum Maggie visits, usually with empty pockets and empty promises. Then Jenny shows up. Anna Jordan's play Yen won the 2013 Bruntwood Prize for Playwriting and was first performed at the Royal Exchange Theatre, Manchester, before transferring to the Royal Court Theatre, London, in 2016. This edition of Yen was published alongside the Royal Court Theatre production in January 2016.

Leseprobe

Anna Jordan

YEN

NICK HERN BOOKS

London

www.nickhernbooks.co.uk

Contents

Title Page

Original Production

Thanks

Dedication

Characters

Yen

About the Author

Copyright and Performing Rights Information

Yen was first produced at the Royal Exchange Theatre in February 2015 and first performed at the Royal Court Jerwood Theatre Uptairs, London, on 22 January 2016. The cast was as follows:

HENCHAlex AustinMAGGIESian BreckinBOBBIEJake DaviesJENNYAnnes Elwy DirectorNed BennettDesignerGeorgia LoweLighting DesignerElliot GriggsComposer & Sound DesignerGiles ThomasMovement DirectorPolly BennettCasting DirectorSophie ParrottProduction ManagerMarius RønningFight DirectorPamela DonaldDialect CoachMary HowlandStage ManagersSusan Ellicott Sarah Hellicar

Thanks

Thank you to Alison King, Peter Gordon, David Hemsted, Camilla Young, Suzanne Bell, Michael Oglesby, Sarah Frankcom, Amber Chapell, Harriet Stewart, Kate Stewart, Larry Anderson, James Durrant, Amy Clewes, Clint Dyer, Thomas Coombes, Debra Baker, Frank Keogh, Claire Cahill, Kate Lamb, Josh Roche, David Judge, Andrew Sheridan, Kirsty Armstrong, Sinead MacCann, Daniel Brennan, Chris Urch, Ben Matthews, Charlie Swallow, Peggy Ramsay Foundation, Georgina Ruffhead, Thomas Broome-Thomas, Grape Street, the Bennetts, everyone at the Royal Court, Nick Hern Books, Bruntwood and the Royal Exchange.

A.J.

For Mum and Dad

Because I am always

All the better for seeing you

Characters

HENCH, sixteen

BOBBIE, thirteen

MAGGIE, thirty-six

JENNIFER, sixteen

A forward slash ( / ) indicates an overlap.

A dash ( – ) indicates the character coming in sharply on cue.

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

Scene One

Present day. An estate in Feltham. 10 p.m. A living room which has been made into a bedroom. HENCH sits on the end of an open sofa bed in the middle of the room and BOBBIE lies face down on it. Next to the sofa bed an old armchair. Everything is tatty and worn, apart from a collection of shiny equipment: a flat-screen TV, PlayStation, laptop and some speakers. Both boys are bare-chested and barefoot. BOBBIE wears some dirty tracksuit bottoms. He is a little pudgy, rosy cheeks, bright eyes, at the first flush of adolescence but quite physically strong and bullish. He has a rash at the top of his back. HENCH is anything but hench; painfully skinny, very pale, perhaps the suggestion of some acne. He wears scruffy jeans. They are watching hardcore pornography linked from the laptop to the TV by HDMI. The room is dull and dark, but the TV flickers and lights up their faces. We hear grunting, moaning, a few words, a couple of yelps; indecipherable between pleasure and pain. The boys’ faces are transfixed but blank. After some moments BOBBIE leans down by the side of the bed, not taking his eyes off the screen, and comes back with a pint of milk in a glass bottle. He downs quite a lot of it and does a little burp after. He puts the milk down and runs over to a window. He looks out.

BOBBIE. She’s still there.

HENCH. Is it?

BOBBIE. Yeah.

HENCH glances briefly towards the window, and then back to the TV.

What a skank.

Hench?

Beat. Nothing from HENCH. BOBBIE leans out of the window.

Piss off, you skank! –

HENCH. Shhhh, man! You’ll wake the dog.

Beat.

BOBBIE. What does she want?

HENCH. I dunno, do I?

BOBBIE. Maybe she wants to fuck you.

HENCH. Fuck off.

BOBBIE (looking out). She’s got reeeeaaaaalllly small tits, man. I need a sniper scope just to see ’em.

Beat.

Hench?

No response from HENCH. BOBBIE runs towards the bed and jumps on it three times, annoying HENCH. Then he flops down next to him and looks at the screen.

Not like those, bruv. (Pointing.) One of those is bigger than your head.

HENCH. They’re fake innit.

BOBBIE. Is it?

HENCH. Yeah!

Beat. BOBBIE ponders this.

BOBBIE. I would want a girlfriend with fake tits.

BOBBIE rests his chin on HENCH’s shoulder.

HENCH. Get off, man.

BOBBIE (still watching). Can a man’s arsehole go like that?

HENCH. Like what?

BOBBIE. All big, like that?

He makes a circle with his hands.

HENCH. S’pose.

BOBBIE. Oh my DAYS!

HENCH (irritated). A man’s arsehole can basically do whatever a woman’s arsehole can do innit?

BOBBIE. Is it?

HENCH. Yeah! How do you think gays do it?

BOBBIE. Gays are dirty.

HENCH. Yep.

BOBBIE. I fucking hate gays.

Beat. BOBBIE thinks.

Do you think my arsehole would do that?

HENCH. DON’T even think about it!

Beat. BOBBIE runs round in front of HENCH.

BOBBIE. Can you scratch my back?

HENCH. No. MOVE.

BOBBIE. But I got an itch! And it’s a bitch! (Thinks for a sec.) Oi. Hench. (Like Jay Z.) ‘I got 99 problems but an itch ain’t one!’

HENCH picks up a large bottle of Lucozade from the side of the bed and has a swig.

Don’t drink the Lucozade!

HENCH. She’s not coming!

BOBBIE. In case she does though and she needs it.

HENCH (like he’s stupid). Bob, she’s all loved up with Minge-Face Alan. Rolling his fags. Washing his socks. And you know what they smell like.

BOBBIE. Like sick.

HENCH. Right. So she ain’t coming, is she?

Beat. BOBBIE looks sad.

She never washed our fucking socks.

BOBBIE. We haven’t got any socks.

HENCH. We used to.

Beat.

BOBBIE. She might want a break from it all.

HENCH. What and you reckon she’d come here? It’s hardly a Premier fucking Inn is it?

BOBBIE. What if she comes round and goes low and has a hypo and DIES cos we’ve got nothing to give her! That would be you then, that would, you would have killed our mother.

Beat. HENCH sighs and puts the Lucozade down.

Ah fanks, bro. Here.

BOBBIE fetches the bottle of half-drunk milk from the side of the bed.

Have some milk.

HENCH. I don’t want your fucking milk, do I? What d’you nick milk for?

BOBBIE. It was off a doorstep.

Beat.

Might make you stronger.

HENCH. Fuck off.

Beat. BOBBIE thinks. To make amends he runs up to the window. He pulls his trousers down and presses his bare bottom against the glass.

BOBBIE. HENCH!

No response from HENCH.

Hench. Bruv. LOOK!

HENCH glances. BOBBIE turns back and looks out of the window.

Oh.

He wanders back to the sofa bed but doesn’t sit.

She’s gone. She was waiting for you.

HENCH. You should show her your shrivelled little cock. Then she’d go and never come back.

BOBBIE slaps HENCH around the back of the head. HENCH jumps up.

Don’t fucking hit me, right? I told you not to hit me!

HENCH gets BOBBIE in a headlock. They struggle.

Suddenly BOBBIE begins to bark viciously at HENCH. HENCH stumbles back and knocks the Lucozade over.

BOBBIE. The LUCOZADE!

He goes to rescue it.

HENCH. You’re a fucking animal.

Suddenly a dog starts barking for real, loud and aggressive, from the other room.

Now look what you’ve done, prick. Shut UP, TALIBAN!

He pushes BOBBIE towards the door.

Right, you’re going in with him!

BOBBIE. I can’t – we got no food for him!

HENCH. Well, you should have thought of that, shouldn’t you?? Prick.

He kicks BOBBIE hard in the arse and BOBBIE skids a bit. A stand-off. The dog stops barking now. Calm descends for a moment. HENCH sits back down.

You stink.

BOBBIE. You’re ugly.

HENCH. Your pits, man. And your hair. And your breath. You stink like rotten milk. Go brush your teeth.

BOBBIE. I haven’t got a toothbrush.

HENCH. What you been using then?

BOBBIE. Yours.

HENCH lunges for BOBBIE and BOBBIE hops away, laughing gleefully.

HA! Just jokes, bruvva! Just jokes innit.

HENCH. Fuck you. Have a wash.

BOBBIE. Oi. You’re Hench. I’m Stench. Gettit?

BOBBIE wanders over to the shelf, grabs a can of Lynx and sprays it liberally under his arms. He hovers it over his open tracksuit bottoms.

Hench.

No response from HENCH. BOBBIE sprays liberally into his shorts. Then he sprays his hair. Then he sprays into his mouth and starts to cough. HENCH ignores him. He wanders back over to the screen.

Oh snap! Look how far his cum shoots out of his dick, bruv! Does yours go that far?

HENCH. Shut up.

BOBBIE. We should have a competition.

HENCH. Fuck off.

BOBBIE. If you could cum on any part of a woman where would it be?

HENCH. Dunno.

BOBBIE. Come on. Think!

HENCH. Tits I guess.

BOBBIE. I’d cum in her eyes. Blind the bitch.

Beat. BOBBIE loses interest in the video and starts wandering the room. He picks up an old T-shirt from the floor, puts it on.

I’m hungry, bruv. I feel like I got a monster in me tummy. Are there any Wheat Crunchies left?

HENCH. You gave the last bag to Taliban.

BOBBIE (in a cod-American accent). Oh man!

HENCH. There’s Twiglets.

BOBBIE. Twiglets???

HENCH. Yeah.

BOBBIE. Twiglets taste like your arsehole.

Beat. BOBBIE has an idea.

And they look like your dick!

HENCH. WELL, DON’T FUCKING EAT THEM THEN!

BOBBIE. Ooh alright, don’t have a period! Jeeezus.

HENCH (slamming the laptop shut). I’m going to bed.

BOBBIE. What about COD?

HENCH. What about it?

BOBBIE. We was gonna have a night sesh! Fuck up those – (In a cod-American accent.) American faggots.

HENCH. You do my head in, Bobbie.

HENCH turns the light off.

BOBBIE. What if I want it on?

HENCH. Tough shit.

BOBBIE. Oh brother!

HENCH takes his jeans off and gets into bed.

You’re not sleeping in your pants, are you? What if your horrible cock escapes and touches me in the night?

HENCH throws a pillow at BOBBIE. BOBBIE giggles. He opens the laptop. The porn noise starts again.

HENCH. Switch it off.

BOBBIE. I wanna watch it.

HENCH. Put it on mute then!

BOBBIE. Oh. It’s no fun without the noises.

BOBBIE puts it on mute. He carefully puts it down in front of him. He sits at the end of the bed, the screen lighting his face. BOBBIE turns round to check behind him, then puts his hand down his tracksuit bottoms and starts wanking a little bit inside them.

Pause. Calm descends for a moment, just a little twitching noise. Suddenly HENCH sits upright in bed.

HENCH. BOBBIE, STOP WANKING!

BOBBIE jumps with shock and then shows him both hands.

BOBBIE. I wasn’t! I swear. Go to sleep!

HENCH lies back down. BOBBIE dissolves into a fit of giggles.

Your face, bruv.

‘STOP WANKING.’

‘BOBBIE, STOP WANKING.’

He giggles. He sniffs his fingers. Thinks about sticking them under HENCH’s nose. Thinks better of it.

Goodnight, brother. Dream about that skank.

Time passes. BOBBIE picks up the controller – plays the game for a while, chucks it down again. Amuses himself. Suddenly there is a noise – loud – close to the window. BOBBIE is startled, genuinely scared. Then there is athump, then a moan; a female voice. BOBBIE’s face lights up – a picture of pure joy and expectation. He goes to the window. Taliban whines gently.

Hench!

HENCH sits up in bed with a start

HENCH. What? What is it? Is it that girl?

BOBBIE (beaming). No. It’s Mum.

HENCH. Fuck off.

BOBBIE. Told you.

HENCH. Fuck off.

BOBBIE. I knew she was coming. I could feel it in the stars.

HENCH. Shut up. (Getting out of bed.) What’s she doing?

BOBBIE. She’s lying on the grass.

HENCH (putting his jeans on). Is she awake?

BOBBIE. Don’t think so.

HENCH. Fuck.

HENCH goes to the window.

BOBBIE. Bring her in for me.

HENCH. No. I did my back in last time.

BOBBIE. Oh go on, bro! She might be low!

HENCH. She’s pissed.

BOBBIE. Might not be pissed.

HENCH. Course she is.

BOBBIE. Then she’s even more likely to be low. Diabetes and alcohol don’t mix!

HENCH is rubbing his eyes, looking at his mother, comatose on the lawn.

HENCH. We’ll put a duvet over her.

BOBBIE. It’s night-time. What if someone rapes her?

HENCH. Look at the state of her! Who’s gonna rape that?

BOBBIE (punches HENCH in the arm). Hench!

HENCH. OW!

BOBBIE. GO ON!

Beat. HENCH sighs.

HENCH. Gimme the T-shirt then.

BOBBIE beams at him and gives him the T-shirt. It is far too small.

Oh great. I look like a right fucking cunt now, don’t I?

BOBBIE. It’s alright. It’s only Mum.

HENCH. We need to get some clothes.

HENCH heads out. BOBBIE watches at the window, a mixture of concern and excitement on his face. We hear a little female moaning and some grunting from HENCH. BOBBIE straightens out the sheet on the sofa bed, ready for her. HENCH drags in MAGGIE, holding her under the arms. She is dressed in faded sweatshirt, skinny jeans, white trainers, her looks are ravaged by an excessive and stressful lifestyle. HENCH has woken her, and she is in the middle of a diabetic hypo. He tries to sit her on the armchair, but she begins to scuffle and struggle.

Shit.

MAGGIE grabs his face.

Fuck it!

She pokes him in the eye.

Get her off me!

BOBBIE helps to separate them. MAGGIE goes limp for a moment and BOBBIE is able to lay her down. But then shestarts to writhe. She begins muttering and murmuring, convulsing slightly.

MAGGIE. No!

BOBBIE looms over her.

BOBBIE. Mum? It’s me. Bobbie. It’s alright.

MAGGIE