<3ACT ONE>3
<1Hawkhead Cemetery, Paisley- Winter->1
<1Morning.  1967.>1
(<2PHIL McCANN>2 <1and>1 <2SPANKY FARRELL>2
<1standing among the gravestones.)>1
<2PHIL:>2 Look at all this junk. If they broke it
all up into chuckies you could have a gravel
path from here to Death Valley and back.
<2SPANKY:>2  Christ, I feel hellish.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Did you drive up this morning?
<2SPANKY:>2 Got the traln. Somebody showed
  us the paper after the gig.
<2PHIL:>2 Where are you anyhow?
<2SPANKY:>2  "The Barracuda"  .  .  . Herne Bay.
Four nights. It' s murder. Christ .  .  . sorry.
No, it' s not all that hot . . . bugger! Did you
see much of the boy recently?
<2PHIL:>2 Just the tall end of his coffin
disappearing into the furnace. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 I don't feel too well.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Put your head between your shoulder
blades and say a good Act of Contrition.
<2SPANKY:>2 I had to sit up all night in the
  Guard's van with a battallion of the Black
Watch singing every number in the Top
  Twenty from nineteen fifty seven . . . It was
  agony. You don't have a drink on you' do
  you? God, I can still see that coffin. Did his
  Old Dear make it, d'you know?
<2PHIL:>2 No . . . Cooperative joiners, I think.
<2SPANKY:>2 Did his Old Dear make it to the
  Crematorium,  I'm asking?
<2PHIL:>2 Aw. . . No . . . didn't see her. Too
  upset, I would imagine. Not every day your
  only child gets battered to death.
<2SPANKY:>2 Hellish, eh? Wonder what got into
the guy?
<2PHIL:>2  Christ knows.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 What was it he used agaln?
<2PHIL:>2 A brick.
<2SPANKY:>2 Jesus . . . Did you get to have a
  look?
<2PHIL:>2 No .  . . they took it away wrapped in a
  towel, I'm told. It was just an ordinary-
  household brick . . . nothing special about
  it. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 A look at the boy.
<2PHIL:>2 How would I get to look at the boy?
He was coming from the police mortuary,
  wasn't  he?
<2SPANKY:>2 I wonder if he was wearing his
specs? I'm just trying to remember what he
looks like without them. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Do they not incinerate all that sort of
stuff separately? Walking frames . . .
artificial limbs . . . specs. . . Yeh, I'm pretty
certain they do. "There you go, Mrs
McKenzie .  .  . you'll find the remains of his
personal effects in this envelope and his
ashes in this one. Mind, they're still hot.
You got them? So, that's his ashes in this
one . . .  no, hold on . . . his ashes are in that
one and. . ."
<2SPANKY:>2 Did they know each other, d'you
know?
<2PHIL:>2 Who?
<2SPANKY:>2 The boy and . . .
<2PHIL:>2 The Brickie? No . . . I don't think they
were pals or anything. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 A knife you can understand . . . a
hatchet even . . . but what was this guy
doing with a brick at the swimming baths?
<2PHIL:>2 They weren't in swimming. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 No?
<2PHIL:>2 They were in a changing cubicle.
<2SPANKY:>2 Together? What were they up to in
there? Christ, there's hardly room in one of
these joints to swing a. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Well, apparently there is . . . just.
<2SPANKY:>2  Jesus.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Papers described it as a "crime
passionel".  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 Yeh, I seen that.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Not, of course, to be confused with a
"cream tea" . . . though, funnily enough,
the pair of them were spotted beforehand
having a cosy "tete-a-tete" over a rock
cake and warm Tizer in the City Bakeries
across the road from the Baths. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 Thought you said they never knew
one another?
<2PHIL:>2 They didn't.
<2SPANKY:>2  But you're just after.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Aaahh. . . No, no . . . they only
"knew" one another in the Biblical sense.
<2SPANKY:>2 You mean. . .?
<2PHIL:>2 Right. Pair of them went round the
doors flogging gospel tracts for some

  Yankee evangelist outfit.
<2SPANKY:>2 Eh?
<2PHIL:>2 Neo-Baptist non-conformist Mor-
mons with a toe in the Jehovah's
Witnesses' pond, from what I can gather. It
was all he could get after he got out of
hospital the second time round. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 He was back inside? Jeez . . . I
  never knew that.
<2PHIL:>2 They didn't seem all that concerned at
him being a head case. In fact, it suited their
books. Two cents commission on every
pamphlet sold plus half a dollar if the client
further invested in one of their tie-dye
  patchwork evocations of Holmon Hunt's
"The Light of the World" in pre-shrunk
  faded denim.
<2SPANKY:>2 He should've stuck to his
Designer's desk . . . I don't know how
many times I said that to him. He even got
to be a dab hand at them cabbage roses you
and me always used to make a pig's arse
of . . . just before I chucked it. Done a
beautiful one off Axminster floral for the
  Boss's amiversary present that Jimmy
Robertson only had to touch up a bit round
  the borders. Jesus, I never knew he went
back into the Bin. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Yeh . . . I had a chat with him through
the bars when I was up with a box of
Newberry Fruits for my Old Dear . . . oh . . .
must be about three years ago. I was off
down to London with the rejects from my
Diploma Show. No idea who I was. Didn't
look a well boy at all. Head was shaved into
the wood and he had on this boiler suit
effort that looked as though it had once
belonged to Muffin the Mule. He gave us a
lend of the belt to hold my canvases
together. . . Bastard snapped at Scotch
Corner and I lost two of my best life
paintings off the roof rack.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 I never knew he went back in the
Bin.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 I reckon it was Lucille getting hitched
that tipped him over the edge finally. . .
<2SPANKY:>2  What?
<2PHIL:>2 Lucille . . . Getting married. You
know what he was like about her. . .
Bananas is not the word.
<2SPANKY:>2  Yeh.  .  .
<1(Pause)>1
<2PHIL:>2 How is she, by the way?

<2SPANKY:>2 Aw . . . fine.
<2PHIL:>2 And the kids ?
<2SPANKY:>2 Kid. We've only got the one.
<2PHIL:>2 Aw, yeh .  . . sorry. <1(Sligh t Pause)>1 Pity
  Lucille couldn't've been here today.
<2SPANKY:>2 Jack it in, eh?
<2PHIL:>2 Yeh, that was what done for him
mental healthwise if you ask me . . . Lucille
  getting spliced.
<2SPANKY:>2 Nobody's asking you.
<2PHIL:>2 You know how he used to sit and
drool through the Slab Room windows at
her.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 Chuck it!
<2PHIL:>2 As she sat there at her Sketcher's
desk slowly crossing the gams and toying
with her Number Three sable. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 Chuck it, I said! Lucille had
  absolutely nothing to do with the boy going
haywire . . . he was heading that road
  anyhow . . . especially after all thon stuff
  we done to him . . . no, no . . . correction
  .  . . all the stuff you done to him.
<2PHIL:>2  Me?
<2SPANKY:>2 Well, it certainly wasn't yours
truly that dipped his noggin into the drum
of Mahogany Lake, glued up his eyeball
with gum arabic and sent him out into the
  Design Room to ask Miss Walkinshaw if
  she fancied going dowm the canteen for
  some black-eyed bagels with Sammy Davis
  Junior.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Who was it then?
<2SPANKY:>2 And what about that time you
  stapled his shirt and pullover to the
  waistband of his pantaloons and fed him a
  cake of chocolate laxative from a "Five
  Boys" wrapper?
<2PHIL:>2 God, I'd forgotten about that. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 Or the Staff Dance where you got
  him to stick a bayonet through his wrist?
<2PHIL:>2 That was me, was it?
<2SPANKY:>2 Jesus God, Lucille did everything
she could to help the guy . . . we all did. She
even went up to visit him once or twice.
No . . . twice . . . I remember. Her and old
  Walkinshaw. For all the bloody thanks she
  got.  It wasn't her fault he went ape. Christ
  almighty, she was even going to invite him
  to the bloody wedding.
<2PHIL:>2 That was the two of us missed it then'!
SP ANKY:  What?
<2PHIL:>2 Me and Hector.
<2SPANKY:>2 You were in London!
<1(Pause)>1
<2PHIL:>2 When d'you go back down to. . .?
<2SPANKY:>2 Herne Bay. This morning.
  Depends if there' s a sleeper.
<2PHIL:>2 Then where to?
<2SPANKY:>2 AIl over the bloody shop. . .
Sunderland,  Skegness,  Leamington  Spa,
Huddersfield . . . then it's the American
bases again. God . . .
<2PHIL:>2 Lucille still travel about with you?
<2SPANKY:>2  No.
<2PHIL:>2 The kid! Yeah. . . You never think of
moving from Paisley?
<2SPANKY:>2 Never think of anything else.
<2PHIL:>2 Lucille . . . yeah?
<2SPANKY:>2 Her Old Lady' s here. Looks after
  the kid sometimes.
<2PHIL:>2 What age is he now?
<2SPANKY:>2 She. It's a girl.
<2PHIL:>2 Aw . . . better luck next time.
<2SPANKY:>2 She'll be three in November . . .
  what d' you mean, better luck next time?
<2PHIL:>2 Not me . . . it was you that aiways sald
  you wanted a boy.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2  What?
  <2PHIL:>2 If you ever got married you wanted a
  boy. I don't think you realised in those far
  off days that it's quite possible to beget
  without necessarily tying the knot.
  <2SPANKY:>2 Pardon me if I don't give myself a
  double rupture. When did I ever say that? I
  don't remember saying I wanted a boy. . .
<2PHIL:>2 'Course you did. The night you and
  me got pissed at Jack Hogg's farewell
  party. Christ, you must remember Plooky
  Jack's farewell party .  .  . I was in First Year
  at the Art School and you were taking over
  Jacky Boy's desk. It was in a back room at
  "The Jolly Beggers" . . .
  <2SPANKY:>2 The desk?
<2PHIL:>2 The party . . . quit acting it.
  Hector was there. You must remember
  Heck being there. It was him that brought
  up "The Jordanaires" . . . along with a
plate of fish and two pokey hats virtually
intact. You were going to call this future
son of yours after one of them. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 Yeh . . . "Pokey Hat" Farrell
sounds terrific, I must say.
<2PHIL:>2 One of "The Jordanaires", ya clown.
<2SPANKY:>2 I don't remember that.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 They were on that Elvis album Hector
  brung along . . . the one he got for his
  Christmas that year.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 What Elvis album?
<2PHIL:>2 The one you were using as a drinks
  tray.
<2SPANKY:>2 Aw, is that what that was?
<2PHIL:>2 Then after we got papped out of The
  Jollys, you, me, and Heck went back up to
  Jacky Boy's place and he had all these
  autographed photos sellotaped to his
  furniture . . . d'you remember now? There
  was Brenda Lee on the tallboy . . . Buddy
  Knox and Frankie Avalon atop the
  sideboard. . . Jo Stafford inside the
  wardrobe . . . and . . .?
  <2SPANKY:>2 There's bits of it coming back to
  me . . . yeh . . . Aw, God. . . <1(He is  feeling a>1
  <1bit  queasy)>1
  <2PHIL:>2 Wait a minute . . . was one of them
  not supposed to be the wee guy's second
  cousin or something? Hector . . . One of
  "The Jordanaires". . .?
  <2SPANKY:>2 So he kept saying. You didn't
  believe him, did you?
  <2PHIL:>2 I don't know so much. It was Heck got
  them to sign Jack Hogg's lavatory seat . . .
  up at the Odeon. They came across one
  time sans Elvis for a religious concert. . .
  <2SPANKY:>2 It might've been true .  .  . he wasn't
  a bad singer, right enough.  .  . Heck. When
  we let him join in, that is. Sorry . . . when I
  let him join in. You were forever thumping
  the back of his neck with the gumspoon.  .  .
  <2PHIL:>2 What was it we used to sing again.
  Christ, it's that long ago now. . .
  <2SPANKY:>2 <1(Sings)>1" Your eyes are the eyes of a
  woman in love. . ."
  <2PHIL:>2 That's the one!
  <2PHIL AND SPANKY:>2" And, oh . . . how they give you
  away.  .  . Your eyes are the eyes of a woman
  in..."
  <2PHIL:>2 Ssss-sssshhh.  Listen.
  <2SPANKY:>2 What?

<2PHIL:>2 Shhh. <1(Pause)>1
Quiet, isn't it?
<2SPANKY:>2 Ya bastard. You had the hairs on
the back of my collar going there. God, it's
funny though. .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Not half as funny as when the three of
us sang it.
<2SPANKY:>2 No . . . about the wee guy being
  away for good. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Jack it in, eh?
<2SPANKY:>2 We'll never see him again . . .
<2PHIL:>2 We could still make the charts with
  just the two of us. Aw, come on . . . you're
not going to start bubbling, kiddo.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 Hah . . . nobody's called me that
in ten years.
<2PHIL:>2 What . . . "kiddo"? I should hope
not . . . you're hitting thirty, for God's
sake.
<2SPANKY:>2 I'm twenty nine.
<2PHIL:>2 Twenty nine is hitting thirty, Spanky
son.
<2SPANKY:>2 Christ, there's something else . . .
nobody's called us that either. When you
packed in Stobo's everybody went back to
calling us George . . . even Hector dropped
the "Spanky" bit. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Quite right. There's something not
  quite kosher about grown men with
nicknames.
<2SPANKY:>2 But I wasn't a grown man . . . I
was nineteen . . . a boy. It was such an
abrupt change. . . One day I'm "Spanky"
.  . . the next I'm "George". It was a shock
to the system, Phil.
<2PHIL:>2 You'll get over it, George.
<2SPANKY:>2 Cut it out.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 What does Lucille call you?
<2SPANKY:>2 Depends what I call her first,
doesn't it?
<1(Slight Pause)>1
God, twenty nine. . . Doesn't half fly in,
  eh?
<2PHIL:>2 What's twenty nine?
<2SPANKY:>2 Old.
<2PHIL:>2 Not for getting murdered. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 Yeh, but in my line . . . I promised
Lucille I'd have a Number One before I hit
twenty two . . . then it was twenty five . . .
then twenty seven . . . and now it's thirty's
the deadline. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Think you'll manage it?
<2SPANKY:>2 I've got till the end of the month.
<2PHIL:>2 All the best. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 Mebbe this time though.  .  . We've
  just done a cover of "Mr Kite". . .
<2PHIL:>2 Mr Who?
<2SPANKY:>2 "For the Benefit of Mr Kite"  .  . .
off the Beatles album.
<2PHIL:>2 Thought you were only going to
record your own stuff? You and that bum
guitar player from Elderslie.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 He is not bum. And he comes
  from Pollokshaws. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Aw . . . sorry.
<2SPANKY:>2 There's one him and I wrote on
the B-side . . . we've put it in the stage act.
They've played it a couple of times on
"Top Gear" . . . You ever listen to that
  show.
<2PHIL:>2  S'that the one that replaced "Workers'
  Playtime"? No. . . I'm never up that
early.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2  Anyhow, Eddie thought it would
be a good idea if we done one of the
Beatles'  first.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Ah . . . then you could step in and take
  his place, is that the plan? How about
Ringo? You and him's about the same
  build. Who's Eddie?
<2SPANKY:>2 New manager we've got.
<2PHIL:>2 God, we are getting serious. Guitar
player's Maw jack it in, did she?
<2SPANKY:>2 This guy is really ace. Went to the
Academy. Knows your Jim he was telling
me.
<2PHIL:>2 What' s his second name?
<2SPANKY:>2  Steeples.
<2PHIL:>2 Steeples? Not Big Eddie Steeples from
  Darkwood Crescent that's Mammy used to
sell toffee apples through their lavvy
  window? Jesus . . . fingers crossed you
don't make the big time, kid . . . you'd
  never clap eyes on a solitary tosser. You
  haven't signed anything yet, I trust? Aw,
  no . . . don't tell me.
<2SPANKY:>2 It's only a contract. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Listen, son, the only "contracts" Big
  Eddie understands is for shooting people.
<2SPANKY:>2 He seemed perfectly okay to me
when I was in his office. . .
<2PHIL:>2 He's a header, Big Eddie. Used to bite
the kneecaps out of whippets for a giggle.
What office?
<2SPANKY:>2 Up the City. West Nile Street. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Aw, he's packed in the corrugated
  shed at the back of the slaughterhouse, has
he?
<2SPANKY:>2 You want to see this joint . . . even
the close's got flock wallpaper. . .
<2PHIL:>2 He's only after doing seven years for
$(G.B.H.), ya mug.
<2SPANKY:>2 Oh.  . . He never mentioned that to
me. He was trying to sign up Donovan at
one time, you know.
<2PHIL:>2 What . . . to hang in the back window
  of his motor?
<2SPANKY:>2 He's got quite a number of clients
on his books.
<2PHIL:>2 And quite a few more on his
  conscience.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2  .  .  .  "Live  Acts"  .  .  .  "Recording
Artists".  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 There's probably one or two of his
  "Live Acts" in here somewhere. <1(Reads>1
<1from gravestone)>1 "JT  Lee McAlister
Upstalrs with the Big Bopper. . ."
<2SPANKY:>2 He's okay, Big Eddie.
<2PHIL:>2 Sure he's okay . . . Eddie's always
  okay . . . it's you I'm worried about, pal.
<2SPANKY:>2 You don't need to worry about me
  .  .  . I can take care of myself. God, you talk
as if you knew the business inside out. . .
<2PHIL:>2 I know Eddie Steeples inside out. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 He's going to be starting up a
  "co-operative".  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 You try collecting your "divvy". . .
  He's a crook, Spanky boy. You want to've
  resisted the temptation and signed up with
  a London management .  .  . or were they not
  all that interested in the "The Sparkling
  Casuals"?
<2SPANKY:>2 Aw, they're not crooks? And you
  know we've chucked calling ourselves that
  stupid name . . . stop annoying us.
<2PHIL:>2 Of course . . . you've signed up with
Eddie .  . . what is it now . . . "The Sparkling
Morons"?
<2SPANKY:>2 Shut your face, will you?
<2PHIL:>2 Christ, he was in 2F at the Academy,
  Spanks. The guy is an idiot.
<2SPANKY:>2 Yeah? Then what is he doing in
  Manchester right now?
<2PHIL:>2 Sunbathing?
<2SPANKY:>2 Only fixing it for us to appear as
the "Mystery Guests" on a special edition
of "Juke Box Jury". . .
<2PHIL:>2 Thought they took that rubbish off?
<2SPANKY:>2 They want us on with the
Stones.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Aw . . . you carry stones about with
you? That'll be for smashing the guitars .  .  .
right?
<2SPANKY:>2 Just you keep an eye on the
  Twenty, pal. Even getting slagged on that
show can shift a helluva lot of records.
<2PHIL:>2 <1(Lifting flat gravestone)>1 I'll  just
open this up and slide in, will I? God
almighty, you and me used to sit in your
living room soaking your Maws good settee
  at that shite. <1(Sings signature tune for "Juke>1
<1Box Jury>1" Daraa, ra, raaa . . . dara, dara,
  daraaa. .  . "Hi .  .  . and on tonight's Jury
the man who put the 'Dick' back into
  'Doxon of Dick Green' . . . Jack Warner.
  Steady, sarge. And sitting on Jack's
  helmet, the ever lovely song thrush Miss
  Joan Regan . . . welcome, Joan . . . that's
  an interesting gown you're falling out of . .  .
  my. . . And peering down Joanie's de-
  colletage, that rising young star of 'In
  Town Tonight' and 'Variety Bandbox' . . .
  yes, it's Digby Wolfe. . . And finally, the
  man who knows just about everything
  there is to know about the music that makes
  today's kids 'groove' . . . yes . . . it's Jimmy
  Wheeler! Take it away, Jim!" Ahyah!
  <1(Topples over with 'heart attack?>1
<2SPANKY:>2 Is that you?
<2PHIL:>2 Ah . . . ah . . . you'll know all
  about it when you hit the Top Thirty, m'lad
  .  .  . Jesus.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 We might not get on it anyhow.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 You want on it, George, you go on it.
  Never heed what anybody says. Never
  mind who laughs . . . if it's what you
  want . . . you and the boys . . . if it's what
  you and the boys want.  .  . Just one thing.  .  .

<2SPANKY:>2  What?
<2PHIL:>2 Give the face a runover with the
fiannel before going on camera . . . okay?
<2SPANKY:>2 Eh?
<2PHIL:>2 It' s a very poor advenisement for the
  Paisley Rock Scene to have one of its
  alumni going on the box with a manky
  kisser.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 What're you talking about? I was
  home and had a bath before I got here. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Well it' s either your schnozzle casting
  a shadow on your top lip or . . . ah, sorry
  .  .  . you're trying to grow a moustache . .  .
  sorry!
<2SPANKY:>2 Yeh, very good. I am growing a
  moustache.
<2PHIL:>2 No . . . you're trying to grow a
  moustache. Moustaches 've got hairs in
them. I don't think lugging a Hofner
  President about the country's agreeing
  with you, son. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 Shut up, eh?
<2PHIL:>2 Aaahh. . . I've got it. The Beatles 've
  got them. Next thing you know you'll be
sauntering into The Bobbin Bar with the
  wife's loose covers on. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 Quit mocking, will you? There' s a
  lot of good things going down right now.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 I'm sorry . . . I didn't quite catch that?
<2SPANKY:>2 You heard. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Well, St Mirren went down into
  Division Two fairly recently but . . . aw,
you're talking about karma and all that
  keech? Sorry. I'm with you now,
  Spanks.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 That's right . . . go on. Listen,
there's going to be a lot of changes .  .  . a lot
of changes. A New Generation.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 I don't believe this. What have you
  been smoking . . . Youth Dew Emulsion?
You're a Child of the Fifties, Farrell . . .
  you're too old for this "New Generation"
  malarky. You grew up with sweetie
  coupons and Stafford Cripps . . . not hash
  cookies and fluorescent underpants.
<2SPANKY:>2 I'm only seventeen months older
than Paul McCartney!
<2PHIL:>2 That is not going to see you through
life,  Spanky.
<2SPANKY:>2 You were always the bloody same,
you. Mock, mock, mock.  .  .  'Many years

've we known each other now? Twelve . . .
something like that?
<2PHIL:>2 No, I'm sorry, Eamonn . . . I can't
quite place that one. . . Have a heart, I've
only bumped into you twice in the last ten.
<2SPANKY:>2 And that was accidental, believe
you me, pal. You were exactly the same in
Stobo's . . . anything you done was terrific,
anything anybody else tried was up for
laughs . . . especially me. What is it with
you? Eh?
<2PHIL:>2 <1(Falls to his knees)>1 Bless me, Father,
for I have sinned. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 Well, not any more, buddy boy.
You're the one the laugh's on, Phil. Look
at you. Yeh, okay, so l'm humping a crap
guitar and a bunch of deadbeats round the
country in a fucked-up baker's van . . .
what've you done since you quit Art
College,  eh?
<2PHIL:>2  <1(Sings)>1  "Pat-a-cake,  pat-a-cake,
baker's van.  .  ."
<2SPANKY:>2 Couple of months in London,
  nineteen sixty four .  . . one lousy painting in
the "Young Contemptibles" . . . then it's
back home to your Mammy and spongeing
pints off art students so you can shoot them
a load of shit about how you used to drink
in the same boozer as that balloon from
Edinburgh that wouldn't know a filbert
from a sash tool. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Knock it off, Spanks.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 Call yourself an artist?? Christ,
you've not even had a bloody show.
<2PHIL:>2 I have had a bloody show . . . two
bloody shows as a matter of fact!
<2SPANKY:>2 When? First I've heard of it.
<2PHIL:>2 Well, you don't exactly grope your
way around the demi-monde of High ,Art?,
do you? Nineteen sixty five . . . Van Eyk
Gallery, Cardiff . . . and last year . . . in
Dunoon.
<2SPANKY:>2  Dunoon!?
<2PHIL:>2- Yes . . . Dunoon! What're you
sniggering at?
<2SPANKY:>2 That is sad, d'you know that? Is
this the guy that canwheeled out the door
of A. F. Stobo's Slab Room in nineteen
fifty seven to go fifteen rounds with Pablo
Picasso? "And there goes the bell for the
First Round and . . . oh, fuck me! it's an
uppercut from the Spanish boy but
McCann is still on his feet . . . a left and
right to the head .  .  . the young challenger is
on his knees in the Blue Corner . . . no, he' s
up . . . another right and left . . . oh, Christ,
he's down! He's on the canvas . . . but hold
on, folks, the Palsley featherweight is
desperately trying to draw himself together
.  .  . yes, he' s got the Black Prince pencil out
of the trunks but the dusky Dago's too
quick for him . . . a left jab to the solar
plexus and it's all over! $(T.K.O.), Round
One!"
<2PHIL:>2 You're asking for a punch in the
  mouth,  pal!
<2SPANKY:>2 That's your answer to everything,
  isn't it? "You're asking for a punch in the
mouth, pal". For God's sake, get a grip.
  You can't go around punching the entire
  worid on the mouth. . .
<2PHIL:>2 No, but I could stan with you. "Love
and Peace" we're getting , is it?
<2SPANKY:>2 All I'm saying is that stuff's
negative . . . right?
<2PHIL:>2 Is this off a Beatles album?
SP ANKY: Violence is negative .  . . positively
  negative.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 What've you been taking?
<2SPANKY:>2 You don't have to take anything
to see how futile it all is. . .
<2PHIL:>2 We should've got you to have a word
with the guy with the brick. .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 Yeh, yeh . . . drop out into the old
familiar territory, Phil.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 I don't think I'm hearing right. What
was that remark you made in the
Crematorium again? Something about "a
wee white coffin . . . the kind they use for
  toddlers"  .  .  .? Eh? Okay, so Hector was on
the short side, but . . .
<2SPANKY:>2 I was upset!
<2PHIL:>2 So was I. If it had been one of
  them wee coffins they could've got Topio
  Gigio for one of the pall-bearers.
<2SPANKY:>2 You bastard.
<2PHIL:>2 And as for "dropping out" you're the
  one that' s done that, sweetheart. Chanking
out C, G, and F, on a Hong Kong
  Stratocaster with a gang of zombies is not
  exactly what Sophocles would see as
  "Squaring it with the Cosmos" .
<2SPANKY:>2 And having exhibitions in
  Dunoon is, I suppose?
<2PHIL:>2 At least my work's got something to
do with reality . . . with the real world!
<2SPANKY:>2 Aw . . . we've jacked in painting
wee guys with big ears and babies floating
about on cottonwool clouds?
<2PHIL:>2 What???
<2SPANKY:>2 Moved on to the harsher land-
scape of the Big Rock Candy Mountaln
and Never-Never Land, have we? I see. . .
<2PHIL:>2 What're you talking about!
<2SPANKY:>2 You don't remember the wedding
present you gave us? I'm hurt, Phil. . .
<2PHIL:>2 That was below the belt, you shite.
And anyhow, that was three years ago!
<2SPANKY:>2 Four . . . you can cut the
innuendo!
<2PHIL:>2 That's the last time you get a wedding
present from me!
<2SPANKY:>2 I wasn't complaining . . . we like
the bloody thing!
<2PHIL:>2 It's shit and you know it.
<2SPANKY:>2 We put it in Lindy's room.
  Lucille's very fond of it.  . .
<2PHIL:>2 Yeh, she would be.
<2SPANKY:>2 Meaning what exactly?
<2PHIL:>2 Well, she never did have "impeccable"
  taste, did she?
<2SPANKY:>2 It was you that painted the fucking
  thing! And watch your mouth . . . Lucille
happens to be my wife . . . right!
<2PHIL:>2 I knew this would happen. You do
somebody a favour and it comes back to
haunt you!  Aaaaaargh!
<1(Falls to the ground, head in hands)>1
<2SPANKY:>2 Och, get up, will you? Come on. . .
Every painter's done shit. . .
<2PHIL:>2  See!!  Ahyah!  Ahyah!  Ahyah!
<2SPANKY:>2 Come on . . . can you see
  Botticelli getting up to this kind of carry
on?
<2PHIL:>2 Leave me alone!
<2SPANKY:>2 Right, I'm off. You can lie there
  the rest of your life if you like.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Where're you going?
<2SPANKY:>2 I'm off, I said.
<2PHIL:>2 You can't go just like that . . . we're in
  the middle of a trauma.
<2SPANKY:>2 Correction . . . you're in the
middle of a trauma. Me? I'm off. What the
bloody hell am I doing hanging about a
cemetery at half past ten in the morning,
  for Christ's sake?
<2PHIL:>2 We're discussing Art. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 The one day off you get in seven
weeks and this is it?
<2PHIL:>2 Yeh .  .  . most inconsiderate of the boy
to go and get himself bumped off like that,
I do so agree, Spanky.
<2SPANKY:>2 George to you. You don't know
  what it's like sitting up night after night
with your head between somebody' s knees
  in a bloody baker's van . . . the guy next to
you being sick into his guitar bag . . . the
  drummer beating merry fuck out of the
  side-panelling cos he' s gobbled Christ only
  knows how many sheets of blotting paper
  .  . . the roadie freaking out on "Certofix"
  . . . the slag with her legs round the driver's
  neck as we hurtle through the Potteries to
  another "sellout" gig only to discover the
  roadmap's covered in honk and we should
  be two hundred miles away in Egham. And
  the smell! Jesus . . . the smell!
<2PHIL:>2 It sounds a riot. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 It's no joke, I'm telling you. See
you sometime, eh?
<2PHIL:>2 That's it, is it!
<2SPANKY:>2 Eh?
<2PHIL:>2 We don't see each other for four
  years and it's "See you sometime, eh?"
<2SPANKY:>2 What d'you want . . . a kiss?
<2PHIL:>2 We've hardly touched on the
boy's demise, for God's sake.
<2SPANKY:>2 And that's my fault?
<2PHIL:>2 I'm going in to see his Mother . . .
  d'you want me to tell her anything?
<2SPANKY:>2 Yeh, yeh . . . tell her I'm sorry . . .
  okay?
<2PHIL:>2 It was her son she lost not the fucking
  budgie!
SP ANKY: What d'you want me to say! What
  d'you want me to say! Tell me and I'll say
it! You're the one that's supposed to be
  eloquent! I'm sorry! That's the best I can
do! I'm sorry . . . right! If I'd had more
  warning I could've wrote something out for
  you!
<2PHIL:>2 I wasn't saying that! I know you're

sorry . . . l'm sorry. Christ, it isn't enough,
is it!
<2SPANKY:>2 Nothing is ever enough for you,
  Phil . . . nothing! Tell her I'm awful
sorry . . . how's that? <1(Exits)>1
<2PHIL:>2 I wanted to talk about it! <1(Pause)>1
Look at all this junk! <1(Looking up)>1 Your
Old Dear had the right idea, kid. . .
<1(Reads gravestones)>1 "Elizabeth Boyle . . .
  1954 - . . Sorely Missed. Agnes Ritchie
Robeds . . . Now with Isobel, Raymond,
Ronnie, Arthur, Henry and Little
Campbell . . . March 12, 1951. Thomas
Quick. . . October B, 1957 . . . Goodbye." ls
that it. . . "Goodbye"? Could they not've
  put "Goodbye, Dad" or something?
<1(Reads)>1"Aged Two Years and Seven
  Months." Maybe not . . . still, it is a mite
bald. Two years seven months. . .? Hardly
  time to learn how to pluck the wings off a
frog. <1(Look up)>1 Think yourself fortunate,
  Heck . . . there's a kid here probably never
even saw a fairy cycle much less came to
  work on one. <1(To gravestone)>1 Keep your
  eyes peeled for a wee guy with blisters and a
  big hole in his napper . . . don't lend him
  any of your Dinkeys, you'll never see them
  agaln. What? No, no . . . just somebody we
  used to work beside . . . me and the fella
  that just left. Three of us spent the twilight
  of our teens grinding up powder paint for a
  Design Room full of galoots battering out
  rug patterns not a boot in the Broadlooms
  from here . . . nineteen fifty seven. Hey,
  that was the year you turned in your Tufty
  Club badge, Tommy son. Fancy that, eh?
  Yes, those were the days . . . when a
  tuppenny single was fourpence and you
  could go from here to Seamill for the price
  of a second-hand Ferrari . . . Yes, I
  remember it well . . . George Elrick was still
  doing Housewife's Choice and Plooky
  Jack Hogg was just cutting his first pimple.
  Of course, you wouldn't know Plooky
  Jack, kiddo.  .  . He was the guy in the hand-
  crotcheted face that sat next to Lucille . . . a
  source of constant entertainment to us Slab
  Boys in those far off days. Every morning
  there was a fresh crop . . . pink ones with
  green heads  . . . green ones with puce heads
  . . . and if you were really lucky . . . the
  Great Yellow . . . right on the tip of the
  snorter. We used to draw lots to see who
  would get to wander past his desk and
  casually flick it with the end of a palette
  knife.  .  . God, you wonder what becomes
  of these people, eh? Last I heard old
Hoggbottom had his own remnant
business . . . drives about Paisley in a pre-
war Dodge with black windows . . . or so
Hector was told. <1(Looks up)>1 What did you
have to go and get done in for, ya wee
  bastard!
<2LUCILLE:>2 <1(Off)>1 Is that you, George?
<2PHIL:>2 No, it's me. What did you go and get
killed for!?
<1(Enter LUCILLE>1
<2LUCILLE:>2 George.  .  .? Oh.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Eh?
<2LUCILLE:>2 Good God. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Lucille?
<2LUCILLE:>2 I don't believe it.  .  . What're you
  doing here?
<2PHIL:>2 I came to take some rubbings. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 I thought you were in London?
<2PHIL:>2 Off and on. I thought you weren't
  coming?
<2LUCILLE:>2 I'm looking for George . . . he
  should've been home ages ago.
<2PHIL:>2  George?
<2LUCILLE:>2 Have you seen him?
<2PHIL:>2 Ah . . . of course. <1(As if just>1
  <1remembering who>1 GEORGE <1is)>1 How
foolish of me. Did he forget his playpiece?
<2LUCILLE:>2 Are you ever going to grow up?
I thought they might've knocked that out
of you down there. God, you look
terrible.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 It's been a harowing morning. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Have you seen him or haven't
  you seen him?
<2PHIL:>2 We did toss a few casual phrases to
  and fro across the sarcophagi, yeah . . .
then he went off in the huff. God, you're
  still a good looking doll, Lucille.
<2LUCILLE:>2 See if he's gone to that pub . . .
  what?
<2PHIL:>2 Something pressing was it? I can give
  him a message if you like?
<2LUCILLE:>2 No. Yes . . . bugger! If you do see
  him tell him to get home straight away . . .
Eddie Steeples phoned from Manchester.  .
<2PHIL:>2 Steeples . . . Steeples?
<2LUCILLE:>2 The rest  of the group are making
  their way from Herne Bay in the van, tell
him. Oh, yeah, and say I'm going to
murder him when I get a hold of him. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Any other time that might just've been
faintly amusing. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 What? What d'you m . . . oh,
Christ.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 <1(Looking up)>1 Sorry about that,
Heck.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2  Cut  that  out  .  .  .  you're
disgusting. If I could have come I would
have.
<2PHIL:>2 You're here now. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 This is an emergency!
<2PHIL:>2 Ah. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2  I couldn't just drop everything
  and come; could I? And who are you to
talk? If I had come I would've polished my
  bloody shoes for a kickoff. Look at
you . . . you're a mess.
<2PHIL:>2 Thanks.
<2LUCILLE:>2 What'd he go and get himself
done in for anyhow?
<2PHIL:>2 I'm just waiting on a reply. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Well, he's better off if you ask
me.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Yeh, that's how I'd like to go . . .
brick through the noddle.
<2LUCILLE:>2  What!
<2PHIL:>2 That's how he got killed . . . didn't
you know?
<2LUCILLE:>2 I thought it was a knife . . .
Somebody sald he got knifed in a
homosexual  toilet.
<2PHIL:>2 Yeh . . . granted that would have been
marginally more apposite, but a brick it
was, I'm afraid. What's a 'homosexual
toilet", by the way?
<2LUCILLE:>2 You know what I mean. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Anyway, it was the Baths . . . where it
happened. In one of the changing booths.
<2LUCILLE:>2 God.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Guy was a header apparently. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Yeh, I know.  .  . Miss Walkinshaw
and I went up to visit him a couple of
times.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 The other guy. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Oh.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Don't you read the papers?

<2LUCILLE:>2  I  couldn't.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 He was apprehended on board the
  Finnieston Ferry trying to get his leg over
the Purser.
<2LUCILLE:>2 Stop it, will you! I only came
here to look for George.  .  . It' s not my fault
the guy's dead. Well, is it?? And stop
looking at me like that!
<2PHIL:>2 How am I looking at you? I'm only
looking at you. How should I be looking at
you?
<2LUCILLE:>2 Honest to God, it' s embarrassing
  .  .  . I wouldn't have come but for my Mum.
What's a man of thirty doing playing
  rock'n'roll for anyhow?
<2PHIL:>2 Twenty nine, doll. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Twenty nine then . . . it's still
bloody embarrassing.
<2PHIL:>2 You never know . . . he might make it
yet.
<2LUCILLE:>2 And you know who's to blame,
don't  you??
<2PHIL:>2 For what? That he hasn't had his
kisser on the front of the Melody Maker so
far? He wants to get along to the nearest
Tao Clinic and have that unsightly
  superfluous hair removed from his upper
lip. That's what's holding him back, if you
  ask me. They do it with hypnosis . . . and a
  red hot poker.
<2LUCILLE:>2 You know damn fine what I
mean .  .  . filling his head with all this stupid
nonsense about "making it" .  .  . It's been
going on for years. I'm sick to death of it. I
  wouldn't care if he was happy but I dont
know if you've ever sat up half the night
  listening to somebody vomitting down the
  lavatory just because they've got a gig in
  some Masonic Hall in Lochearnhead,
  Lochgoilhead, or bloody Budley
  Salterton.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Still at it, is he? He should've taken
  that up instead of the banjo. . . Hey,
where're you going, Lucille?
<2LUCILLE:>2 You're exactly the same as you
were ten years ago . . . only worse!
<2PHIL:>2 No, don't go . . . I'm sorry. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Let go my arm.
<2PHIL:>2 I said I was sorry. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 My arm, I said.
<2PHIL:>2 Listen, there's something I want to tell

  you.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 What is it with you? Let go!
You're hurting me.
<2PHIL:>2 Look at me.
<2LUCILLE:>2 Look at me what?
<2PHIL:>2 Look at me and tell me you haven't
thought of me in ten years.
<2LUCILLE:>2 What? I do not believe this. . .
PHlL: Tell me!
<2LUCILLE:>2 Tell you what!
<2PHIL:>2 I've thought about you . . . a lot.
<2LUCILLE:>2 Yeh . . . fine . . . we'll send your
  prize on to you . . . now let go my arm . . .
please.
<2PHIL:>2 I've never stopped thinking about
you.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Is it being in a graveyard that's
doing this to you?
<2PHIL:>2 Cut the jokes . . . I'm serious. Well?
LUClLLE: You keep saying "Well?" . . . you
keep asking me questions . . . you keep
staring at me . . . what am I supposed to
say?? Tell me and I'll say it!
<2PHIL:>2 1 love you, for Christ's sake.
<2<2LUCILLE:>2>2 Ow!
<2PHIL:>2 Sorry . . . <1(Lets go her arm)>1
<2LUCILLE:>2 That was really sore. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Didn't you hear what I said?
<2LUCILLE:>2 I've just had this coat cleaned.
<2PHIL:>2 I've just told you I love you . . . after
ten years. You could say something.
<2LUCILLE:>2 <1(Shaking arm)>1 I don't think I've
any feeling left. . .
PHlL: I did try to phone you one time but I
was drunk. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 You're not drunk now are you?
<2PHlL:>2 Then you went and got married to
Spanky . . . sorry . . . George. What did you
go and do that for?
<2LUCILLE:>2 I'd just had my hair done that
day. What d'you think I did it for! And
you've cut off the circulation in this!
<2PHlL:>2 I remember waking up in this flat in
Harlesden . . . the wireless was on and this
guy was talking to one of the Beatles . . .
then he played "I Wanna Hold Your
Hand" . . . twenty second of February,
nineteen sixty four . .  . that's when it hit me.
Like a ton of bricks .  .  . <1(LUCILLE gives a>1
<1glance heavenwards)>1 I was in love!
<2LUCILLE:>2 Who with . . . John, Paul,
George, or . . .?
<2<2PHIL:>2>2 You! I was in love with you!
<2LUCILLE:>2 Weren't you always?
<2PHIL:>2 No. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Thanks a million. . .
<2PHIL:>2 I thought, Jesus . . . is this how it
feels? I felt as if somebody had punched a
big hole in my skull and the sun was shining
in . . . I felt terrific and terrible at the same
time.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 You could sell that one to
  "Hallmark Cards". . .
<2PHIL:>2 Listen to me. For the first time I can
  remember I was actually caught unawares.  .  .
I wasn't even thinking about you.
<2LUCILLE:>2 I'm supposed to be flattered by
all this?
<2PHIL:>2 I felt something I never expected to
feel.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Look, I'll have to go. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Hold on!
<2LUCILLE:>2 Would you mind grabbing the
other one this time?
<2PHIL:>2 C'mere. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 C'mere what?
<2PHIL:>2 Just c'mere. . .
  <2LUCILLE:>2 I've got to get back. . .
  <2PHIL:>2 I love you. . .
  <2LUCILLE:>2 Mind out for my arm. <1(They>1
  <1embrace)>1 What took you so long?
  <2PHIL:>2 To let go your arm?
  <2LUCILLE:>2 To tell me. . .?
  <2PHIL:>2 I'm telling you now.
  <2LUCILLE:>2 I could kill you. . .
  <2PHIL:>2 Kill me. . . <1(They embrace)>1
  <2LUCILLE:>2 What do we do now?
  <2PHIL:>2 I've got a coat. . . <1(Start taking it off)>1
  <2LUCILLE:>2 About George.
  <2PHIL:>2 You're not thinking of telling him, are
  you? <1(Lays coat on ground)>1 I mean, not
  straight away?
  <2LUCILLE:>2 I've got to. Eddie's not going to
be phoning agaln . . . he was in a call
box.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Eh?
<2LUCILLE:>2 It's really important to him . . .
him and the boys. This could be their big
chance.
<2PHIL:>2 Yeh . . . there's nothing like getting
  everything into perspective, is there?
Bloody hell, you're just after going on
  about how stupid it all was. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Yeh, I know  .  .  . but at least this'll
  put the lid on it once and for all. Either he
breaks into the Big Time and the past three
  and a half years have been worth it or he
jacks it in, flogs that stupid guitar, and goes
  back to Stobo's.
<2PHIL:>2 Aw, yeah? "Welcome home, Spanky-
  stroke-George, we've had one of the
juniors keeping your desk warm for you.
  Sorry to hear you made an absolute
  wombat's udder of it . . . seen you on Juke
  Box Jury . . . say no more, eh? Would you
  like Miss Walkinshaw to fetch you a wee
  mouthful of humble pie in her toothmug?"
<2LUCILLE:>2 Anything's better than being a
  bloody waster.
<2PHIL:>2 Like me, you mean?
<2LUCILLE:>2 I never said that.
<2PHIL:>2 You don't need to say it. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Look, I'll have to go . . . I've left
Lindy with my Mun. . .
<2PHIL:>2 That's it then, is it?
<2LUCILLE:>2 I've got to. . .
  <2(Enter>2 <2JACK HOGG>2)
<2JACK:>2 Hullo? Excuse me. . .?
<2PHIL:>2 When will I see you?
<2JACK:>2 Excuse me.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 I'm not sure. . .
<2JACK:>2 Could you tell me which way to the
Crematorium?
<2PHIL:>2 Christ, who's this?
<2JACK:>2 There's a sign pointing up that way
but .  .  . good heavens, Lucille.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Hullo, Jack . . . excuse me, I'm
just  going.  .  .
<2JACK:>2 I'm not too late, am I? I'm sure the
paper said. . .
<2PHIL:>2 What is this . . . the Magic Grotto?
Plooky Jack . . . minus the plooks. . .

<2JACK:>2 Sorry . . . should I know you? Oh,
  God . . . I might have known. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Hey, don't go, Lucille. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Nice seeing you again, Jack. . .
<2JACK:>2 How's Georgie?
<2PHIL:>2 Lucille. . .
<1(Exit LUCILLE)>1
<2JACK:>2 Knock me down with a soggy
teststrip, I never expected to bump into you
again . . . bugger me, eh? How've you
been?
<2PHIL:>2 Lucille. . .
<2JACK:>2 Sorry, did I interrupt something?
<2PHIL:>2 You, Jack?
<2JACK:>2 How long has it been . . . seven years
  . . . eight even?
<2PHIL:>2 Ten.
<2JACK:>2 You're kidding. Really? As much as
that, eh? You're looking well. . .
<2PHIL:>2 You think so?
<2JACK:>2 That is not a bad bit of material. . .
Terylene,  isn't  it.
<2PHIL:>2 What?
<2JACK:>2 Tend to bring me out in a rash, man-
made fibres. Best of Barathea this . . .
  <1(referring to his own coat)>1 Half-lined, one
hundred per cent silk. . . Suit's cashmere
. . . wouldn't wear anything else . . . What
time do we get rolling? Eleven isn't it? The
lad's send-off.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 The lads been sent off, Jack.
<2JACK:>2 I wonder if Willie Curry'll turn up?
He did for old Elsie Walkinshaw's mother.
Well, I suppose we better tag along after
Lucille . . . she seemed to know where she
was going. Dreadful business this, eh? I
didn't know a damn thing about it till I set
foot in the shop this morning. One of the
girls showed me the newspaper. Just back
from Harrogate . . . Woollen Falr . . .
annual junket. Got absolutely stinko on the
overnight train.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 You're not listening, Jack .  .  . the lad' s
been sent off. And this is not Terylene.
<2JACK:>2 You're joking. Let me feel. Bugger
me, I could've sworn. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Ten o'clock. . .
<2JACK:>2 Yes, that was quite a good year for
Terylene.

<2PHIL:>2 D'you mind?
<2JACK:>2 What size chest are you if you don't
  mind my asking? Forty . . . somewhere
  around that area? Got some beautiful
  blazers coming into the shop this morning.
  Italian. Hand-stitched lapels. Pop in and
  try one on when you've got a few minutes
  to spare. <2(Gives>2 <2PHIL>2 <2a card)>2 One of the
  girls'll look after you if I'm not there . . .
  here, I'll stick the old non-de-plume on
  that.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Keep it, Jack.
<2JACK:>2 No, no . . . give you a nice discount.
  Ten, did you say? Shit. There you go . . .
  ask for Morag. . . How'd it go? The lad's
  whats it?
<2PHIL:>2 How did you expect it to go? It was
  miserable.
<2JACK:>2 I was only asking. No cause to get
  narked. Pity. I would've liked to've seen
  some of the old familiar faces. Quite a few
  from the Design Room there, were there?
  <2PHIL:>2 There was nobody there, Jack. Just
  me and Spanky Farrell . . . that was all.
  <2JACK:>2 Bugger me. What was it took him off
  anyway? Godstruth, he was hardly any age
  at all . . . what . . . twenty eight . . . twenty
  nine? I know he had respiratory problems
  at one point.  .  .
  <2PHIL:>2 Especially when he got his head stove
  in.
  <2JACK:>2 He got what?
  <2PHIL:>2 Suffering God, this is getting more
  and more like bloody "Cluedo". The
  victim . . . Hector . . . the boy whose puny
  remains have just been done to a turn at
  Gas Mark Seven . . . was murdered by a
  blow to the head with a blunt instrument
  . . . to wit . . . one household brick. . .
  <2JACK:>2 Bugger me.  .  .
  <2PHIL:>2 You want locus and perpetrator as
  well?
  <2JACK:>2 All it sald was "Hector McKenzie . . .
  Suddenly on Tuesday". . .
  <2PHIL:>2 Well, it's hardly going to say "Done
  in with a brick . . . No Flowers", is it?
  <2JACK:>2 I suppose that's why the delay . . . of
  course . . . Post mortem, right?
  <2PHIL:>2 Hardly needed much of a post mortem
  . . . his napper crushed like a nut?
  <2JACK:>2 You saw him?
<2PHIL:>2 I saw the brick. Or at least, 1 saw a
photograph of the brick . . . Paisley
Express. Breeseblock . . . about this size.
Hector must've given the guy a hand to
carry it into the Baths.
<2JACK:>2 They know who did it then?
<2PHIL:>2 Caught the guy. . .
<2JACK:>2 Bugger me . . . who would want to do
a thing like that? I wish I'd known. God,
suddenly I don't feel so good.  . . <1(Makes to>1
<1sit)>1
<2PHIL:>2 Uh, uh . . . you're just about to sit on
our wee chum.
<2JACK:>2 What?
<2PHIL:>2 Tommy Quick. Here . . . have a squat
  on Betty Boyle . . . "Sorely Missed. . ."
<1(Helps>1 JACK)
<2JACK:>2 Thanks.  .  . <1(Sits)>1
<2PHIL:>2 Mind the cashmeres on the pigeon
shite.
<2JACK:>2 I feel as though I want to throw up. . .
<2PHIL:>2 I felt the same when I first heard.
Feel free, Jacky boy. . .
<2JACK:>2 Murdered? It doesn't seem possible
somehow. . . Him and I got quite pally
towards the end . . . before I quit, that is.
Got him a fair sized discount on a nice pair
of tweed slacks, I remember. You don't
happen to know offhand what he was
wearing when.  .  .? No.  .  . I don't expect you
would. Bugger me, I wish I hadn't had that
egg now. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Fried, was it?
<2JACK:>2 Yolk was runny. . .
<2PHIL:>2 I would take off the barathea
topcoat if I was you.
<2JACK:>2 It conjures up such a horrible
picture.  .  .
  <2PHIL:>2 Just let her rip, Jack. . .
<2JACK:>2 Oooooohhhhh. . . <1(Is sick behind>1
  <1gravestone)>1
<2PHIL:>2 Did you get the entire egg up?
<2JACK:>2 Bugger me . . . aw. . .
<2PHIL:>2 D'you want a hanky? <1(Holds out a>1
  <1handkerchief>1
<2JACK:>2 Ta. ( <1Wippes hands and face)>1
<2PHIL:>2 No . . . you hold onto it. So, how's the
  remnant business doing?
<2JACK:>2 Gent's Outfitting . . . I gave you a
  card.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 . . . So you did. . . <1(Takes it from>1
  <1breastpocket)>1 " Jack's" What gave you the
idea for the name?
<2JACK:>2 He sat right next to me .  .  . after he got
his promotion that time . . . Between me
and Miss Walkinshaw.  .  . She'll be choked.
She wasn't at the Service, was she?
<2PHIL:>2 There was me, Spanky Farrell, the
undertaker, and a bloke modelling hair
shins.
<2JACK:>2 Was his Mother there?
<2PHIL:>2 Yeh . . . she strolled in at half time
and gave us "Sonny Boy" on the nose
flute. What d'you think?
<2JACK:>2 Bugger me . . . I don't know anybody
  that's ever been murdered before. . .
<2PHIL:>2 That's one for the diary then.
<2JACK:>2 You forgot about Lucille.
<2PHIL:>2 Don't be soft. She only came looking
  for hubby.
<2JACK:>2 Oh.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 "The Sparkling Casuals" or whatever
they're calling themselves nowadays've to
be on "Juke Box Jury". . .
<2JACK:>2 Eh? I thought they'd scrapped that?
You're joking.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Would that I were, Jack.
<2JACK:>2 What're they doing for outfits?
<2PHIL:>2 What were you thinking of . . . some
  nice eye-catching off-the-shoulder slightly
shop-soiled Barrier Reef overcoats?
<2JACK:>2 They'll want to look their best surely?
<2PHIL:>2 That's true. You want to get a hold of
  their management, Jack.  .  . They've just
signed up with Eddie Steeples.
<2JACK:>2 Steeples? Where've I heard that name
before?
<2PHIL:>2 He's got premises in West Nile
Street.  .  .
<2JACK:>2 You know him, do you? <1(Takes out a>1
<1pocket diary)>1
<2PHIL:>2 Vaguely. Ex-Paisley Grammar . . .
nice quiet big chap. Does a fair amount of
prison visiting, I hear. . . He'll be in the
book.  .  .
<2JACK:>2  Right.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 No . . . hang on . . . he's down in

Manchester at the moment. TV studios.
They should be able to put you in touch
with him. . .
<2JACK:>2 Bugger me, I'm going to Manchester
tomorrow. . . <1(Holds out diary)>1
<2PHIL:>2 Couldn't've worked out better. What
about some of them Tally blazers you're
getting in?
<2JACK:>2 The very dab . . . I could chuck some
in the car. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Good advert for you. . .
<2JACK:>2 Just what I'm thinking. And we've
got some very nice flares in just now. . .
<2PHIL:>2 You could get some big labels
printed.  .  . "Jacks's Remnants .  . . Three
Doors Down From Chrichton the
Butcher".
<2JACK:>2 I mean, I wouldn't charge their
management full price . . . how many are in
the group, d'you know?
<2PHIL:>2 Twelve, I think.
<2JACK:>2 Come on . . . how many?
<2PHIL:>2 Not counting the hunchback? Let me
see.  .  .
<2JACK:>2 Now you are kidding. Come on . . .
there isn't a . . . you know . . . is there?
<2PHIL:>2 You not got a blazer that would fit
him?
<2JACK:>2 They're off-the-peg. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Just leave the peg in one of them. . .
<2JACK:>2 You don't know of a phone box
about here, do you?
<2PHIL:>2 S'this to apologise to Hector for being
late?
<2JACK:>2 Stop reminding me, will you? I feel
bad enough as it is . . . To ring this chap. . .
<2PHIL:>2  Steeples.
<2JACK:>2 I think I passed one at the foot of the
road.  .  . <1(Starts getting up)>1
<2PHIL:>2 I think you may also have passed one
on Betty Boyle . . . "Sorely Missed. . ."
<2JACK:>2  Eh?
<2PHIL:>2 No . . . sorry . . . it was a pigeon. Give
us a look at the arse of your cashmeres. . .
<2JACK:>2 Oh, no . . . are they manky?
<2PHIL:>2 Hold on . . . <1(Rubs his hand in some>1
<1muck and wipes the seat of>1 JACK'S
<1trousers)>1 There.  .  .

<2JACK:>2 Ta. . .
<2PHIL:>2 My pleasure, Jack. . .
<2JACK:>2 By the by, how's the old painting
going? I hear you had some son of show in
Dunoon just recently. .  .
<2PHIL:>2 You would. . .
<2JACK:>2 We must have a chat about maybe
getting you to do something for the shop
. . . son of "fresco" thing perhaps. Along
those lines anyway. . . Well, stick in. You
never know, eh?
<2PHIL:>2 Thanks, Jack.
<2JACK:>2 Right, I best get up the road . . . got a
lunch date with some reps. . .
<2PHIL:>2  Don't  forget that phonecall.
<2JACK:>2 You kidding? Hey, tell me
something.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 What?
<2JACK:>2 Is it true that you wangled your way
into Art College that second time?
<2PHIL:>2 What!
<2JACK:>2 No, No . . . don't get me wrong . . .
pardonnez moi. . . That's what your chum
told everyone .  . . straight from the horse' s
  mouth, he said. Not that I believed a word
of it but there were plenty of others that did
  . . . you know what they're like in Stobo's.
Well, so long . . . nice seeing you agaln.
<2PHIL:>2 The bastard!
<2JACK:>2 I just wish I'd known about the lad .  .  .
Bugger me, eh? <1(Moves off)>1
<2PHIL:>2 Yeh . . . bugger you, Jacky boy. . .
<2JACK:>2  Ciao.
<2PHIL:>2 Bugger the lot of you. Heh, you never
  told us how you got shot of the plooks.
<2JACK:>2  Sorry?
<2PHIL:>2 Nothing. I just hope you catch
something off that telephone call.
<1(Exit JACK)>1
The bastard. . . Wangled my way in?? The
bastard. .  . The jealous bastard. I only sat
up every bloody night for three solid
months getting a bloody portfolio together
after that first fiasco. . . Three solid
months. . . Every night for three months
and what d'you get? If I ever see that
bastard again. . .
<1(Enter>1 SPANKY)>2
<2SPANKY:>2 Who're you talking to?
<2PHIL:>2 Aw . . . you're back?
<2SPANKY:>2 I've lost my bloody train ticket.
Halfway to the Jolly Beggars, dives into the
pocket for a fag . . . nothing. You haven't
seen it kicking about, have you?
<2PHIL:>2 Never heed the ticket . . . I've got
something to discuss with you, Farrell. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 It was inside a see-through, half-
timbered, plastic wallet with "Tudor
Travel" on the front. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Just what were you telling that bunch  I
  of arsebags about me getting into Art
School that time? Eh?
<2SPANKY:>2 What bunch of arsebags? Going
to lift your feet a minute?
<2PHIL:>2 That bunch of clowns from the
Design Room. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 Aw, yeah. . .? <1(Carries on hunting>1
<1for ticket)>1
  <2PHIL:>2 Yeah. . . Jack Hogg was saying. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 S'not under your coat, is it?
<1(PHIL'S coatis still lying on the ground)>1
<2PHIL:>2 Hang off that and listen to me, will
  you!
<2SPANKY:>2 What is it?
  <2PHIL:>2 I've a good mind to punch you in the
  mouth,  pal!
  <2SPANKY:>2 What the bloody hell's up with
  you know?
  <2PHIL:>2 I'll tell you what's up . . . three solid
  months, that' s what' s bloody up! And quit
  shouting, will you! You're in the Garden of
  Remembrance!
  <2SPANKY:>2 Well, I wish to Christ I could
  remember what I done with that ticket!
  <2PHIL:>2 Bugger your bloody ticket .  .  . and give
  us that coat! <1(Snatches coat)>1
  <2SPANKY:>2 I wish to God I could fathom
  what's biting you . . . here, you've dropped
<1your scarf. . . Picks up brightly coloured>1
<1scarf which LUCILLE has left behind>1
  <2PHIL:>2 You thank your lucky stars you're in a
  cemetery,  boy,  otherwise I'd.  .  .
  <2SPANKY:>2 Hold on . . . hold -on. . . <1(Staring>1
  <1at scarf in hand>1 Where did you get this?
  <2PHIL:>2 Get what?
  <2SPANKY:>2 This . . . this! You've been seeing
<1her,haven't you! Haven't you!! Grabs>1
  <1PHIL)>1
<2PHIL:>2 Seeing who?? What're you doing!
<2SPANKY:>2 What've you been up to, ya
bastard!
<2PHIL:>2 Hey!!!
<2SPANKY:>2 I bought her this in Wakefield . . .
how long has this been going on, eh? She's
been here,  Hasn't she!  Hasn't she! !
<2PHIL:>2 You're choking me! Who's been
here?? Ahyah!
<2SPANKY:>2 I mightve guessed . . . what the
fuck was she doing here . . . you fucking
pig,  Phil! !
<2PHIL:>2 She came looking for you, ya moron!
  Hang off! What the fuck're you doing!
Hang off, will you! Ahyah! Something
  about your manager phoning! Let us go!
<2SPANKY:>2 You're a liar! You would've said
  stralght away. . . I'm going to kill you!
<2PHIL:>2 It's true . . . it's true . . . honest to
  (God . . . I was going to tell you after I
punched you in the mouth.  .  . aaaaaaargh!
<2SPANKY:>2 The only mouth that's going to get
punched is yours, ya lousy double-dealing
bastard! !
<1(Enter LUCILLE)>1
<2LUCILLE:>2  George!
<2PHIL:>2 Thank Christ. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 What the hell d'you think you're
doing!
<2SPANKY:>2 You stay back, ya bitch! Think
I'm stupid, do you! I know what you've
been up to!!
<2LUCILLE:>2 Have you told him!
<2PHIL:>2 About " Juke Box Jury"? Yeh . . . but
  I don't think he believes me . . . ahyah!
<2LUCILLE:>2 Let him go, George Frrll!
<2SPANKY:>2 Eh? What about "Juke Box
  Jury"?
<2LUCILLE:>2 Eddie phoned. . .
<2PHIL:>2 See?
<2LUCILLE:>2 I came looking for you and he
  said you were away to the pub so. . .
<2SPANKY:>2  Aw,  Jesus.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 What were you calling me a bitch
  for?
<2SPANKY:>2  Aw,  Christ.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Going to quit strangling me now?
<2SPANKY:>2 Aw, Jesus. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Eh? And what in God's name are
  you pair fighting about? You're rolling
about there like a couple of two year olds.
<2PHIL:>2 We weren't fighting . . . he was
choking me to death.
<2SPANKY:>2 Look, Phil. . . Aw, God . . . look,
I'm really sorry . . . what can I say?
Jesus.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Never mind about him just now
  . . . you've to get down to Manchester
straight away for a test. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 Test?
<2LUCILLE:>2 You don't imagine they're going
to shove the lot of you straight in front of a
camera, do you? Be sensible. One of you
  could be a hunchback for all they know .  .  .
and what're you doing with that scarf?
  Give us that . . . you're bad enough with
that moustache. . . Don't you go wearing
  anything stupid if you do get on, d'you
  hear me? You weren't thinking of knotting
  this round your head, were you?
<2SPANKY:>2 At this moment I feel like
  knotting it round my throat.  .  . What can I
say, Phil?
<2PHIL:>2 Just say "cheerio" and beat it. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 Listen, I'm really sorry,
  Lucille.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 What're you apologising to me
  for? It was him you were asphyxiating.
  Here. . . <1(Hands him car keys)>1 . . . you'll
  need to put more petrol in. And phone me,
  right.
<2SPANKY:>2  Right.
<2LUCILLE:>2 The rest of the boys are making
their way from "The Barracuda" club
You've all to meet up at the BBC studios
  not later than half four . . . and don't go
building up your hopes, you know you take
  a lousy snap.  . .
<2PHIL:>2 And if Eddie Steeples tries to
  force you into blazers tell him where to
shove them. .  .
<2SPANKY:>2  Blazers?
<2LUCILLE:>2 Get moving . . . it's almost half
  eleven. I'll say 'bye to Lindy for you.
<2SPANKY:>2  Right.  Right.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Good luck, kiddo.
<2SPANKY:>2  Jeez,  I'm sorry about that mix-up,
  Phil . . . still pals? <1(To LUCILLE)>1 Say 'bye
to Lindy for us. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Will you go, George!
<2SPANKY:>2 I'm going . . . I'm going.
<2LUCILLE:>2 The car's at the front gates. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 You don't want dropped off . . .
no?
<2LUCILLE:>2 Lindy's at my Mum's . . . I'll get
the bus. Hurry up, will you!
<2SPANKY:>2  Great.
<2PHIL:>2 We'll be watching for you. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Don't forget to phone me!
<2PHIL:>2 See you sometime, eh!
<2SPANKY:>2 <1(Cheerily)>1 Bastard.  .  . <1(Exits)>1
<2SPANKY:>2  (Off) Yahoooooooooooo.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Jesus.  .  . <1(Sits)>1
<2LUCILLE:>2 What the bloody hell happened!
<2PHIL:>2 He found your scarf.
<2LUCILLE:>2 That much I had gathered. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Look . . . I'm shaking like a leaf. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 What d'you think I'm doing. . .?
<2PHIL:>2 God, my throat. Must be playing that
guitar every night. . . What in Christ's
name did you come back for? Not that I'm
not grateful, you understand.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 I had to make sure. It was only
when I was in the car that it got through to
me.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 What did?
<2LUCILLE:>2 You said you loved me.
<2PHIL:>2 Did I?
<2LUCILLE:>2  Phil McCann!
<2PHIL:>2 I'm being jocund, doll. A set of fingers
  round the windpipe does that to a chap.
<2LUCILLE:>2 He's away now. .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 I wouldn't be too sure. He's
probably just away to get the staring
handle to beat the living dung out of me.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Tell me again. . .
  <2PHIL:>2 He's probably just away to get the
  starting handle to beat the . .
  <2LUCILLE:>2  Tell me properly!
  <2PHIL:>2 Ow!
  <2LUCILLE:>2 Say it!
  <2PHIL:>2 Okay, okay . . . I love you.
  <2LUCILLE:>2 Say it right!
<2PHIL:>2 I love you, Lucille.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 I love you too. . . <1(They embrace)>1
  <1(Enter>1 <1JACK HOGG>1 <1with a selection of>1
  <1blazers)>1
<2JACK:>2  Hull.  .  .  oh.
<2PHIL:>2  Christ!
<2LUCILLE:>2  Hell!
<2JACK:>2 It's only me.
<2PHIL:>2 What're you playing at, creeping up
on people!
<2JACK:>2 I wasn't creeping . . . it's these
shoes. . . vulcanised crepe welded to a
doeskin upper . . . hi Lucille . . . that's a
very nice outfit, if I may say so. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 What do you want, Jack?
<2JACK:>2 I just remembered I had a few
  samples in the back of thc bus. I thought
you . . . er . . . I thought maybe. . .
  <1(To PHIL)>1 Would you like to try one on?
<2PHIL:>2 Me?
<2LUCILLE:>2 <1(To PHIL)>1 Did you not mention
something to George about blazers?
<2JACK:>2 I spoke to the Wardrobe Mistress in
Manchester . . . terribly nice woman . . .
said if I'd like to drop them in sometime
tomorrow.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 What is this?
<2PHIL:>2 Eddie Steeples wants "The Casuals"
  to wear blazers on the show. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 How d'you know that?
<2PHIL:>2 Free blazers?
<2JACK:>2 Here, try this one. . .
<2PHIL:>2 What're you doing? <1(JACK is helping
PHIL off with his jacket)>1 Get to.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 You're not going down to
Manchester, are you,  Jack?
<2JACK:>2 Tomorrow lunchtime. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 <1(To PHIL)>1 Get the blazer on.
<2PHIL:>2 Eh?
<2JACK:>2 "Venice Blue" . . . <1(Helping him>1
  <1on with blazer)>1
<2PHIL:>2 It feels damp.
<2LUCILLE:>2 What other colours've you got,
Jack?
<2PHIL:>2 This is bloody ludicrous.  . .
<2LUCILLE:>2  Shut up.
JACK. Oh  "Palermo" . . . that's a son
of greeney grey .  .  . "Sienna"  .  . - nice shade
of donkey brown, that . . . "Napoli" . . .
  and of course Black . . . Nero. There, how's
that?
<2LUCILLE:>2 Que bella.
<2PHIL:>2 Have they never heard of oxters, the
  Tallies?
<2JACK:>2 D'you think he'd fancy a set of bells?
<2LUCILLE:>2 I'll ask. <1(To PHIL)>1 D'you fancy
a set of bells?
<2PHIL:>2 A set of what?
<2LUCILLE:>2 <1(To JACK)>1 No . . . a nice gold
  pendant,  I think.
<2JACK:>2 No for Georgie.
<2LUCILLE:>2 Oh. . . Would those not go better
with kaftans, no? Son of temple bells are
we talking about?
<2JACK:>2 No . . . polyester mix. . .
<2PHIL and LUCILLE:>2 Eh?
<2JACK:>2 Four shades . . . self-support wasit . . .
  graduated flare.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Yeh . . . yeh . . . why not? That
  would be really nice, Jack. <1(To>1 PHIL) Cut
  it out.
<2JACK:>2 Right .  .  . terrific.  .  .
  <1(To>1 PHIL) No, no . . . keep it on. If you
  and Lucille decide you like it you can settle
  up anytime . . . no rush. Otherwise drop it
  into the shop . . . Tuesday's our half-day.
  <2LUCILLE:>2 He likes it.
  <2PHIL:>2  It's horrendous.
  <2JACK:>2 Any message for Georgie boy? Just
  in case we bump into each other down
  by.  .  .
  <2LUCILLE:>2 Did you say you had a few more
  of these in stock Jack?
  <2JACK:>2 <1(To PHIL)>1 You really suit that colour
  .  .  . brings out the baby blue in your eyes.  .  .
  Ciao.
  <2LUCILLE:>2 Bye, Jack . . . and thanks.
  <2JACK:>2 It's twenty one pounds nineteen and
  eleven, by the way. That includes your ten
  per cent discount. Cheers. <1(Exits)>1
  <2PHIL:>2 The slimy. . .
  <2LUCILLE:>2 Get that off, you look ridiculous.
  <2PHIL:>2 Give us a hand then . . . the sleeves

are cutting off my circulation! Twenty two
quid!
<2LUCILLE:>2 It' s cheap at the price .  . . shut up,
will you?
<2PHIL:>2 If I could get my hands on that slug.  . .
<1(Reenter JACK)>1
<2JACK:>2 Oh . . . what colour, Lucille? For the
boys.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 It's a good thing for you I can't bend
my arms, Hogg!
<2LUCILLE:>2 It's only monochrome, Jack. . .
<2JACK:>2 Yeh, but you want to give the studio
  audience a treat, don't you?
<2LUCILLE:>2 Yeh, that's true. Black blazers,
  white bells.
JACK: Bugger me, I wish I'd thought of that
  <1(Exits)>1
<2PHIL:>2 Come back here, ya slimy blackmailing
  bugger!
<2LUCILLE:>2 Are you going to take that off or
do I have to scream!
<2PHIL:>2 I'll take it off and we'll both scream.
<1(Takes blazer off)>1 Ready? Aaaaaaagh!
<2LUCILLE:>2 For Christ's sake we're in the
Garden of Remembrance!
<2PHIL:>2 <1(Looking up)>1 This is all your fault,
  Hector!
<2PHIL and LUCILLE:>2 Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!
  <1End of Act One>1


to find you. Helluva job tracking you down
. . . where the fuck is this cowp?
<1(Loudly)>1 It's okay, Chico son . . . we've
found the bastard!
<1(To PHIL)>1 New driver . . . picked him up in
$(L.A.) Lovely wee guy . . . Spanish American
boy . . . used to be one of the road crew for
'Camed Heat'  .  .  . total juicehead.
<1(Loudly)>1 Take her round the block a few
times . . . I'll be there in a minute!
<1(To PHIL)>1 New motor .  .  . picked her up at
the airport . . . lovely big number. Well?
<2PHIL:>2 Well what?
<2SPANKY:>2 It's really great to see you again
  . . . no, really. Hey, listen . . . no, listen . . .
I was really choked to hear about . . . you
  know.  .  .  No,  really.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 When did you get back?
<2SPANKY:>2 Told you . . . just fell off the
plane . . . 'bout twenty minutes back. . .
took us nearly half an hour to locate this
dump. So how've you been . . . eh?
<2PHIL:>2 I'm okay.
<2SPANKY:>2 It's really great to see you again.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 You sald that. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 Is this her? <1(Stands beside new>1
<1grave)>1
<2PHIL:>2 Yeh.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2  Jesus.  .  .  When did she actually.  .  .?
<2PHIL:>2 Last month. Just came up to check on
the installation.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 She is down there . . . yeah?
<2PHIL:>2  Her headstone.
<2SPANKY:>2  Aw.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Supposed to've been here this
morning.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 You don't have anything to drink,
do you? Christ, it's freezing. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Promised the Old Man I'd come along
and get a snap of it . . . to send off to his
sister, Fay, in Canada. He's not able to get
about much at the moment.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 Ah. .  . the old arthritis?
<2PHIL:>2 No . . . new pub at the foot of his
  road. Left him breaking his heart into a big
Newcastle. . . totally legless. So, how was
  America?
<2SPANKY:>2  Unbelievable.

  <2PHIL:>2  Yeah?
<2SPANKY:>2 Fifty four cities in sixy-two
  days.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 That's a load of. . .
<2SPANKY:>2  .  . . ballparks? Right. First gig we
done was Sausalito. Twenty seven
thousand headbangers blissed out on free
wine and 'red roosters' screaming' blue
fuckin' murder for seven solid hours. You
want've seen this. It was beautiful, man .  . .
really beautiful. By the time we got on to
blow the moon was up and whole band was
flying high. God. . . Just wait till we go
back headlining. . . Jeesus. Hey . . . guess
who we met up with in Newport, Rhode
Island?
<2PHIL:>2 Frog Chrichton from up the Crescent?
<2SPANKY:>2  Kris Kris-fuckin-stofferson!
<2PHIL:>2 S'that what he's calling himself now?
<2SPANKY:>2 C'mon. . . you know how much I
love that dude. .. . And you know what? He
is really beautiful. He is one beautiful guy
  .  . . no, really . . . you would've loved him,
Phil .  .  . no shit. Him and me got pished out
  of our skulls six nights on the trot. Came on
the bus with us . . . it was really beautiful.
  Christ, I love America. . . I just love it.
  Brung along his axe .  .  . we sat up the back
  of the bus together.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Chopping lumps out of the seats?
<2SPANKY:>2 Uh?
<2PHIL:>2 Nothing. Carry on. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 No . . . sorry . . . I'm still coming
down . . . it was really . . . really beautiful
. . . yeah? Hey, listen . . . tell us about your
Old Dear. You must be really cut up . . .
yeah? I wish I could've been here . . . no,
really. So?
<2PHIL:>2 She lived . . . she died.
<2SPANKY:>2 Yeah . . . right. <1(Slight pause)>1
  How did she actually. . .?
<2PHIL:>2 Dementia Praecox on top of the 'flu.
<2SPANKY:>2 Yeah . . . right. Still. . .
<2PHIL:>2 She's better off if you ask me .  .  . yeah
  . . . <1(Slight pause)>1 How's er. . .?
<2SPANKY:>2 Benita? Fantastic . . . really
  beautiful. Yeah .  .  . really fantastic. I want
you two to meet sometime, you know?
  She's a "Theater Arts Major"  .  .  . really into
all that stuff . . . yeah? We'll get Eddie to
  arrange something when they get back .  .  .

right? I've sent her and the kids to Jersey
for a couple of weeks. . . That's it . . . soon
as they get back I'll get Eddie to organise
something.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Whatever you like. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 I'm in the studios next month but
as soon as that's in the can we'll put it
together . . . yeah?
<2PHIL:>2 Sure . . . sure. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 We've bought this shack just
outside Luss. Twelve acres and a sawmill at
the bottom of the garden . . . are you into
that? It's off its head, man . . . no kiddin'.
First time we went out there Benita
wandered about just touching stuff . .  . she
couldn't believe it. Hey . . . how's er. . .?
<2PHIL:>2 Aw. . . fine . . . fine.
<2SPANKY:>2 Great.  .  . great. And Lindy?
<2PHIL:>2 She's at boarding school. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 Managed to pass her 'qually'
then?
<2PHIL:>2 She's only eight, for God's sake. And
they don't have the 'qually' now. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 Shit. . . that's right . . . right.
You lose touch don't you? Benita's four go
to this free-wheelin' dive in Ipswitch . . . or
is it Droitwich? Anyhow, it's all finger-
palnting and rolling joints in the johns. Not
one of the little bastards knows one end of a
"Cuisenaire" from the other . . . hey, tell you
who we bumped into in Nassau . . . fuckin'
Rod,  man.
<2PHIL:>2  "Rodman"?
<2SPANKY:>2 Rod Stewart, man. Just split
with the Faces to get his own shit together.
Total headcase . . . wish you could've been
there. Total fuckin' headcase. We had this
five-a-side match on the beach . . . zonked
out of our gourds, right? Listen to this . . .
listen to this. . . Wee Billy, the drummer
broke his femur going for the coconut and
never knew nothing about it till we're in the
air over Boston four days later. Big
stewardess was sasheyin' down the aisle
with a six-pack of Coors for the pilot. . .
Wee Billy sticks out the leg. . .
<2PHIL:>2 What were you asking us how she is
for?
<2SPANKY:>2 Eh?
<2PHIL:>2 You're just after asking how she is.
<2SPANKY:>2 Who.  .  . your Maw?
<2PHIL:>2 Lucille. Thought she told you where
to find me on the phone? Could you
not've.  .  .?
<2SPANKY:>2 Don't be stupid. . . I got Chico to
talk to her. She would've blown me out . . .
you know that. . .
<2PHIL:>2 What are you doing here?
<2SPANKY:>2 Huh?
<2PHIL:>2 Eh?
<2SPANKY:>2 I came to see you, man . . . what is
is this? Hey . . . come on . . . it's cool . . .
yeah? Shit. . . where's it at if you don't
know where the fuck it's at . . . right?
<1(Slight pause)>1 Hey, listen . . . did Lindy get
that gear I sent across?
<2PHIL:>2 What gear's this?
<2SPANKY:>2 From $(L.A.) Don't tell me it never
got here? Roller skates . . . Mr Nudie shirt
.  . what else did they put in? Aw, yeah . . .
kiddy's lunchpail with a rattlesnake handle
and a picture of Alice Cooper spewing his
ring up on the side. . . No? Aw, shit . . . I
told them. Her birthday was what. . . last
Wednesday?
<2PHIL:>2 Tuesday . . . she got a cake.
<2SPANKY:>2 Shit. She would really've gotten
  into this lunchpail.
<2PHIL:>2 That big, was it?
<2SPANKY:>2 They had other ones. . . Dracula's
Skull. .  . Ali's Boxing Trunks. . . aw, yeh,
and a Headless Chicken where you put
your playpiece down its throat and your
hard-boiled egg up its. . .
<2PHIL:>2 D'you mind? I'm not long after my
  breakfast.
<2SPANKY:>2 Yeh, it's an off-the-wall town,
$(L.A.)Really wacko. You could really get
off on it, Phil. . . no, seriously. Fuckin'
weird, man. The last night we were there
the guy in the next room blew his beans off
with a rivet gun . . . bled to death in the
lobby before anybody sussed he wasn't
joking. I thought, right . . . you're not
taking any of these son. <1(Looks down into>1
<1palm of hand)>1 It was him that sold us them.
Who needs horse tranqus when you've got
all that sunshine? Hey, and you want to see
the art over there. . . Sixty straight miles of
low-rise adobes on the road to the airport
absolutely blootered in these trippy wall
murals . . . hey, was I telling you we're
getting a billboard on the Strip for the new
album? Which, by the way, I'd really love
you to do the sleeve for . . . yeah? That's
part of the reason I dropped by . . . the
artwork's got to be in by January Ten. . .
what d'you say? C'mon . . . say it's cool . . .
yeah? I've had a word with Eddie. The new
label's ready to sink some real bread into
launching it.
<2PHIL:>2 How come you're only asking us now?
  You've had three out in the last couple of
years.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 Four. I would've loved to . . . you
know that. First bunch were real shit . . .
no, really. . . This one's going to be
different.  What d'you say?
<2PHIL:>2 'Much are you paying?
<2SPANKY:>2 I told you . . . no problem. 'Much
  are you asking?
<2PHIL:>2 Twelve hundred.
<2SPANKY:>2  What! !
<2PHIL:>2 Thought you said you wanted me to
do it? What's it going to be called anyhow?
<2SPANKY:>2 At that price a non-fuckin'-starter.
  Look, when I said . . . no, no . . . forget
it . . . I'll speak to Eddie, okay? No, no . . .
  twelve hundred it is.
<2PHIL:>2 If it's going to be a problem. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 What's the problem? Okay, so
nobody gets a grand two for artwork. . .
so? Fuck it. I'd really love you to do it. . .
right? It means a lot to me . . . yeah? Right
.  .  . that's settled. I'll get Eddie to give you a
buzz when he gets back from Jamalca. . .
<2PHIL:>2  I don't care.  .  .  honest.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 No sweat . . . right? <1(Slight pause)>1
  'Much are your pictures going for now?
<2PHIL:>2 Depends who's asking.
<2SPANKY:>2 No . . . it's just that I was talking
to this guy on La Cienega about you . . .
reckons he could shift a lot of your sort of
stuff over there . . . a whole lot. Showed
him that wedding present you done for us
. . . know the one I mean?
<2PHIL:>2  Thanks,  pal.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 I reaily love that palnting . . . take
it everywhere with us.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Eh? Christ, it's this size <1(Spreads his>1
  <1arms wide)>1
<2SPANKY:>2 Was that size. Got this head in
  Marin County to saw it up into six bits . . .
put hinges on it. Fits into a pouch this big.
  Never go on the road without it.

<2PHIL:>2 Bloody hell. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 You want to get some of your
artwork over to the States. . .
<2PHIL:>2 They're paintings . . . not artwork.
<2SPANKY:>2 You're a mug if you don't. The
  way this dealer was talking you could really
make yourself a whole mess of money.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 They don't all have to fit inside wee
pokes, do they?
<2SPANKY:>2 This guy knows what he's talking
about . . . a whole mess of money. The
entire rock industry's out there now. . .
then there's your movie makers. . .
<2PHIL:>2 What makes you think I'm not
making a whole mess of money here?
<2SPANKY:>2 The sole's coming off your shoe.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Where? Aw, bugger it. And what're
  you smirking at? They're still better than
those efforts you've got on.
<2SPANKY:>2 Eh? These are genuine cowboy
boots.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 An . . . the "genuine" cowboys going
in for plastic now, are they?
<2SPANKY:>2  What?
<1PHIL:>1 <1(Examining sole of>1 <1SPANKY>1'S <1boot)>1
  "Cobbled In Talwan", . . .
<2SPANKY:>2 Where?? Where does it say that?
  Show me.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 D'you get the snaps I sent?
<2SPANKY:>2 What? <1(Trying to look at sole of>1
<1boot without taking it off)>1
<2PHIL:>2 Snapshots. I posted them to Eddie's
office.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 Aw, it was you that sent them? I
thought it might've been Lu.  .  . yeh, yeh, he
slipped them to me in Chicago . . . they
wiped me out, man. . . <1(Trying to get boot>1
<1off)>1 Well, don't just stand there.  .  . give us a
hand.
<2PHIL:>2 <1(Heaving at boot)>1 That's the last
time you're going to a Gene Autry
picture.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2  ( <1Taking out wallet of snapshots)>1 I
  was so broken up when I seen these . . .
couldn't find the wah-wah pedal all night.
  Isn't she just the most adorable kid you
ever seen in your life. . .?
<2PHIL:>2 <1(Still heaving)>1 Hold on . . . what am I
doing here?
<2SPANKY:>2 Same golden curls. . .

<2PHIL:>2 Here. . . <1(Hands over boot)>1
<2SPANKY:>2 Same sooty eyelashes. . . God. . .
<1(Gazes at snap)>1
<2PHIL:>2 God. . . <1(Goes to top of rise)>1 Wonder
  when this guy's going to get here with the
monolith?
<2SPANKY:>2 I used to bury my face in them
curls every night before she went to
bed.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 You didn't pass a boy with a bogieload
of cenotaphs on your way here, did you?
<2SPANKY:>2  <1(Still gazing at snap)>1 Coming from
the Kelvin Hall Carnival . . . right?
<2PHIL:>2 No . . . Nitshill Monumental
  Sculptors.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 These, I'm talking about . . . she's
carrying this gonk. . .
<2PHIL:>2 This what? Give us a look. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 Green hair and buck teeth . . .
she's got it by the seat of the pantaloons.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 <1(Looking over his shoulder)>1 That's
your Old Dear, ya clown.
<2SPANKY:>2 Aw, Christ. . . <1(Buries head in>1
<1hands)>1
<2PHIL:>2 What's up with you now? You've said
far worse about my Maw.
<2SPANKY:>2 Aw, Jeesus.  .  . <1(Sobs)>1
<2PHIL:>2 Okay, okay . . . it is a gonk. I'm
  sorry.  .  .
<1(More sobs)>1
  Och, come on, son . . . One guy's Maw is
another guy's gonk. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 I can smell her hair right now . . .
aw,  God.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Aaaaahhh.  .  . It' s the kid you're upset
about? C'mon. . . <1(Puts a hand on>1
<1SPANKY>1' S <1shoulders)>1
<2SPANKY:>2 You've tried talking to her . . .
  yeah?
<2PHIL:>2 Lucille? Yeah . . . C'mon, quit
  bubbling,  kiddo.
<2SPANKY:>2 What did she do it for? What did
  she go and say all that stuff for? Eh? I never
done any of the lousy things she told the
  guy.  .  .  I never.
<2PHIL:>2 Sure . . . sure. . . C'mon . . . put your
bootee back on. . .
<2SPANKY:>2  I loved that baby, Phil.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Buck up, son . . . there's always . . .
  whadyoucaller . . . Benita's squad. . . Get
the boot on. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 S'not the same. .  . S'not like your
own flesh and blood. . . Besides, they hate
me. They go into my pockets and take
money and dope and stuff. . . Suffering
Jeesus.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Pull yourself together. What d'you
think your fans would say if they could see
you now . . . eh? "The Wild Man of Rock"?
  C'mon . . . <1(Holds boot out)>1
<2SPANKY:>2 <1(Ignoring it)>1 I always wanted a wee
  lassie.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Yeh, I remember. . . <1(Chucks boot>1
  <1aside)>1
<2SPANKY:>2 I never done any of them things
  she said I done. . . How could I? I loved the
pair of them. It was the drink, Phil. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Yeh.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 But I've chucked all that . . . I'm
  clean . . . I don't even smoke now, for
Christ's sake. . . <1(Lights up)>1 Look at that
  .  .  . <1(Indicates face)>1 You look at that and tell
me is this the face of a man that's doing a
  heavy number. .  . So how come I don't get
to see my only daughter. . . eh? How come
that order's still in force? You tell me. Jesus
  God, I only want to see the kid . . . talk to
her . . . is that asking too much?
<2PHIL:>2 Listen . . . why don't you drop her a
line?
<2SPANKY:>2 I've done that . . . sent her stuff . . .
cowboy shirts. . . lunchpails. . . Her
Mother wouldn't let her get any of my
letters. They've always finished up back on
Eddie"s desk marked "Return to Sender'.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Good number that, wasn't it? No . . .
  listen.  . . Drop her a note at the school. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 School?
<2PHIL:>2 Boarding school. She can write back
to you . . . right?
<2SPANKY:>2 She can write now? God, that's
wonderful.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 That's not all she can do. Quite the
little swot, getting. Sits for hours with the
Broons book drawing skelly eyes on the
Bairn.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2  God.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Tell her all about the States. . . How
  you met up with Andy Stewart and Kris
Kris-whatd'you cry him . . . I've got the
address somewhere.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 Maybe I could even. . .?
<2PHIL:>2 No, I don't think that would be too
smart, do you, kiddo? You know what the
boy said in court. No . . . best stick to
sending a note . . . a card even. Wish her a
very late but very happy birthday.
<2SPANKY:>2 Yeh, I'II do that. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Good man.
<2SPANKY:>2 Does she ever . . . you know . . .
ask her Mum. . .?
<2PHIL:>2 About her Pa? Never stops, son. . .
  <1(Finds scrap of paper with address)>1 An.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 And what does she tell her?
Thanks. . . <1(Takes scrap of paper)>1
<2PHIL:>2 Aw. . . you know . . . that one day
  you're going to turn up on the doorstep .  . .
cut their throats. She's not long started at
  that place . . . First term . . . loves it. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 <1(Reads)>1 "Tweedsmuir Castle"  .  .  . ?
  This is going to be costing me. . .
<2PHIL:>2 S'not really a castle .  .  . just a big house
  with castellated turrets, a moat and
drawbridge.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 Aw. . . Where's "Kilkenneth"? It
says,  "Near  Kilkenneth".  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 I'm not very sure. . . somewhere out
Loch Lomond direction . . . it was her
Mum made all the arrangements . . .
dropped her off. You know what mothers
are like.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 I know what mines was like . . .
  she wouldn't done that for us. Took her all
her time to warm our underpants at the
  gasfire in the mornings. . .
<2PHIL:>2 You were lucky you had underpants.
  Me and our Jim used to go to school with a
sawnoff jumper under our trousers. You
  try explaining that when you're changing
for $(P.T.) . . . "Haw, luk at him . . . he's goat
  his claes oan upside doon. Where's yur
dickie . . . under yur oaxter?" Mothers?
  They should all've been strangled at birth.
<2SPANKY:>2 I think mine was . . . stopped the
  oxygen getting to her brain. Know what she
used to put in the mince every Saturday?
  Every Saturday without fall.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 What?
<2SPANKY:>2 A silver thruppenny.
<2PHIL:>2 Eh?

<2SPANKY:>2 No kidding. And every Saturday
without fail one of us swallowed it. What
d'you make of that for stupidity . . . eh?
  Her, I mean. She seen this article in her
'Red Star Weekly' about 'Giving Your
Kiddies A Treat'. Some treat. Monday
morning there's a big queue outside the
toilet door. . . "Fur Christ's sake, don't
pull the plug . . . wuv nae busfares!" It was
always our Joseph too. He was her
favourite. "An'm daein' ma best .  .  . it'll no
  come oot! Anyah!"
<2PHIL:>2 Yeh . . . they've got a lot to answer
  for. I wouldn't have kids for love nor
money . . . Eh? Not me. . .
<2SPANKY:>2  No?
<2PHIL:>2 Not on your life. You bring them up,
they spit in your eye. Isn't that right, Ma?
<2SPANKY:>2 Is she still talking to you?
<2PHIL:>2 Who asks to come into this world?
I certainly didn't . . . did you?
<2SPANKY:>2 I never got to sign a form or
nothing . . . no.
<2PHIL:>2 Then you're hardly in it till you're
out of it.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 Have you been reading Patience
Strong again?
<2PHIL:>2 Well, Christ look at it . . . what is
there? You scab away for three score year
and ten. . . What is there at the end of it?
What d'you leave behind . . . eh?
<2SPANKY:>2 <1(Sings)>1 I leave the sunshine to the
flowers. . . I leave my dentures to the
blind. . . And to the old folks I leave a
young lad's dreams . . . when I leave the
world behind. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Jack it in. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 Ha, ha.  . . Ha, ha, ha, ha. .  . Ha,
ha.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 What's up with you now?
<2SPANKY:>2 I've just seen it . . . ha, ha . . . ha,
  ha, ha, ha.
<2PHIL:>2 An apparition? Where. . .?
<2SPANKY:>2 I knew there was something
different about you.  .  . just couldn't put my
finger on it. . . ha, ha. . . what is it?
<2PHIL:>2 What's what?
<2SPANKY:>2  That.
<2PHIL:>2 What??
<2SPANKY:>2 Have you been nosing about in
oosey Hoover bags of late? Aw, my God
. . . ha, ha, ha . . . ha. Lucille like it, does
she?
<2PHIL:>2 It's my face . . . okay?
<2SPANKY:>2 She never cared much for the one
I had either.  .  . got us to shave it off stralght
after thon "Juke Box Jury" the "Casuals"
done. Christ, remember thon? What a
shambles, eh? Pissed to the gills, we were.
<2PHIL:>2 I don't know . . . you were kind of . . .
  you know . . . sort of . . .
<2SPANKY:>2 Hopeless?
<2PHIL:>2 No, no. . . Chronic . . . yeah, that's
it . . . bloody chronic.
<2SPANKY:>2 That bad? Yeh, those were days,
eh?
<2PHIL:>2 You said it, Spanks. . .
<2SPANKY:>2  Bloody hell, it' s just coming back
to me. . .
<2PHIL:>2 What is?
<2SPANKY:>2 Jacky Boy Hogg turning up at the
 TV studios with this hamperload of
 blazers. No kidding. . . a bloody hamper-
 load! One with a big gusset let into the
 back. . . Christ knows who that was for.
  What a prat! And expecting us to wear
  them on the show! That's what got me!
<2PHIL:>2 What're you talking about? You did
  wear them.
<2SPANKY:>2 Your bloody arse! Maybe the
other tools wore them . . . not me . . . you
joking!
<2PHIL:>2 You did so wear one. Your Maw's still
got the photograph on top of the cocktail
cabinet. Come on . . . don't act like you
don't remember it. Vents up to here and
four patch pockets?
<2SPANKY:>2 No. . . I've no recollection of my
  Maw ever having a cocktail cabinet of that
description.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 The bloody blazer! You wore it on
transmission.
<2SPANKY:>2  I bloody never!  I might just've
wore it for the run-through but I definitely
did not wear it on transmission . . . right!
<2PHIL:>2 I sat there in your living room and
  watched you. Kept riding up under the
skiffle sash and choking you. You looked a
  right haddy. Even your Maw thought so.
Aw, yeah, you wore it allright.
<2SPANKY:>2 I fuckin' never!
<2PHIL:>2 <1(Indicating his MOTHER'S grave)>1
  D'you mind?
<2SPANKY:>2 Sorry. . . <1(Sotto Voce)>1 I fuckin'
  never!
<2PHIL:>2 Ya liar!
  <1(Sound of motor horn off)>1
<2SPANKY:>2 <1(Loudly)>1 Shut up with that, I'll
be there in a minute! I'm talking to my pal!
<1(To PHIL)>1 Who're you calling a liar, ya
  shitbag! I never wore a blazer in my natural
and fine well you know it. Not this kid,
  kiddo. I wouldn't be seen dead in a fuckin'
blazer. Pardon me, Mrs McCann, but I
  wouldn't.
  <1(To PHIL)>1 Right!? I might've been a tube
  but I was never that big a tube.
<2PHIL:>2 You still are a tube.
<2SPANKY:>2 What was that?
<2PHlL:>2 I said, your memory's playing you
  tricks, Spanky boy.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 There's nothing up with my
memory.
<2PHIL:>2 No?
<2SPANKY:>2 <1(Looking at him uncompre->1
<1hendingly)>1 Who are you?
<2PHIL:>2 Right . . . who was it sellotaped the
lump of keech to the bottom of Miss
Walkinshaw's Scotch pie on the morning
of September 4th, 1957, then told her that
her shades were off?
<2SPANKY:>2 Hold on . . . hold on. . .
<2PHIL:>2 D'you give in?
<2SPANKY:>2 No! Hold on . . . Billy Sproul!
<2PHIL:>2 Billy Sproul was in Australia.
<2SPANKY:>2 Your koalas! Billy Sproul was
  sitting next to me and Jimmy Robertson in
the canteen that morning.  .  . I remember it
  distinctly. He had a crab roll and a
Milkmaid bar. He never went to Australia
  till the afternoon.
PHlL: So how come there's a signed postcard
  with a picture of a kangaroo with a roll of
lobby carpet in its pouch dated September
  the Second and postmarked "New South
Wales" stuck up next to the hot water geyser
  in the Slab Room?
SPANKY: What hot water geyser?
<2PHIL:>2 God almighty . . . the one you could
never get bloody hot water out of for the
gum pot, ya moron. Next to the Jimmy
  Dean poster!
<2SPANKY:>2 Which belonged to me, by the
way . . .
<2PHIL:>2 What did . . . the Jimmy Dean
  poster? Your beans! It was either me or
Jack Hogg that brought that in.
<2SPANKY:>2 I got that off the big checkie at the
Alex.  .  . what're you giving us? I'll even tell
you his name . . . er. . . Danny Something
. . . Danny . . . Danny. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Danny Cosgrove?
<2SPANKY:>2 That was him!
<2PHIL:>2 Danny Cosgrove was the wee guy
from the Dye House that fell into the vats
that Christmas and lost an eye.
<2SPANKY:>2 Aw, yeh . . . so it was. Who'm I
  thinking of? Danny . . . Danny. . .?
<1(Snaps fingers)>1 Frankie Sheridan!
<2PHIL:>2  Eh?
<2SPANKY:>2 Frankie Sheridan. Stayed up the
  next close to us in Beltrees Crescent. I used
to get guitar lessons off him on a Gibson
  Kalamazoo that once belonged to Cowboy
  McCormick, the boxer . . . which is why he
  gave us the poster.
<2PHIL:>2 That does not make sense, Farrell.
  If he was giving you the lessons. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 There was only two strings on the
  guitar. D'you not remember Frankie
Sheridan?
<2PHIL:>2 Should I?
<2SPANKY:>2 You must. He never missed a
  Go-as-you-please in the Town Hall. Used
to get up there every Monday night and give
  it laldy. Christ, he backed your Jim on
  "Hey, Joe" thon time. Remember him
  now? Always wore this light green suit with
  missing teeth. . . no?  "
<2PHIL:>2 I should be able to place that outfit.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 You and me were there the night
  he got his head kicked in for . . . hey, it's
just dawned on me. . .
<2PHIL:>2 What?
<2SPANKY:>2 Is this not the very place that you
  and me. .  .
<2PHIL:>2 You and me what?
<2SPANKY:>2 You know . . . the boy?
<2PHIL:>2 Boy?
<2SPANKY:>2 I thought it looked familiar but.  .  .
Jesus, so it is . . . I remember that cherub

  with the kilt and the fly swat. God. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Suddenly you dont feel so good. . .
yeah?
<2SPANKY:>2 'Many years ago is that now?
<2PHIL:>2 <1(Shrugs)>1 Four or five. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 <1(Going to top of rise)>1 Yeh . . . you
can just see the top of the lum from here
. . . Real bummer that day, wasn't it?
Yeah . . . a real bummer. . . Took me about
six weeks to get over it. . .
<2PHIL:>2 But you did eventually? That's
  good.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 I remember hitting the motorway
  and having to pull into the first layby . . .
couldn't see a fuckin' thing.
<2PHIL:>2 Foggy, was it?
<2SPANKY:>2 Tears were streaming down my
  cheeks . . . never even realised. Thought it
was the windscreen at first . . . started
wiping it with a pair of rompers. . . And
you know the funniest thing. . .? I had the
radio on . . . know what was playing?
<2PHIL:>2  Don't  tell me.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2  No kidding,  man.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 You're kidding.
<2SPANKY:>2 I'm not. It was weird, Phil . . .
really weird. Go on . . . you start it.
<2PHIL:>2 It wasn't . . . was it?
<2SPANKY:>2  Start it.
<2PHIL:>2 <1(Sings)>1 Your eyes are the eyes . . . of a
woman in love. . .
<2SPANKY:>2  No,  no  .  .  .  "Sergeant Pepper's
Lonely Hearts Club Band" . . . got us right
here. <1(Sound of horn off)>1 All right, all
right, I'll be there in a minute, I said!
Knock it off, will you!
<2PHIL:>2 You can go now if you like.
<2SPANKY:>2 In the middle of a rap?
<2PHIL:>2 A what . . . sorry?
<2SPANKY:>2 We're talking, aren't we? <1(More>1
<1horns)>1 Knock it on the head, baby!
<1(To PHIL)>1 Yeh, that's what we were . . .
you know that? You, me and Heck . . .
"The Lonely Hearts Club Band".  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 <1(Loudly)>1 He's just coming, Chico!
<2SPANKY:>2 No . . . seriously . . . it's something
that struck me at the time. . .
<2PHIL:>2 It was nineteen fifty seven, stupid . . .
the Beatles were still surrendering to Anne
Shelton.
<2SPANKY:>2 No, no, no . . . listen. There we
were . . . nincteen years of age . . . right?
<2PHIL:>2 That much is reasonably accurate.
Go on. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 Scabbing away in this shithouse of
a Slab Room grinding up paint for a bunch
of baboons that peered through the clatty
windows like one of us had shat in their
shades.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 We did sometimes.
<2SPANKY:>2 You know what I mean. <1(More>1
<1horns)>1 Shut your face!
<2PHIL:>2 Anyway, you were saying?
<2SPANKY:>2 What? Aw, yeh . . . there we
were . . . you've got your Maw. . . I've got
my problems . . . and Hector's got just
about everything you can think of up with
him. . . "The Lonely Hearts Club Band"
  . . . yeah?
<2PHIL:>2 Eh?
<2SPANKY:>2 You know when you're on the
road.  .  . right?
<2PHIL:>2 No, I don't.
<2SPANKY:>2  .  .  . you get to turning stuff round
in your box .  .  . think back to you were that
age . . . the worst thing that happened to
you . . . how you reacted. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Do you?
<2SPANKY:>2 Know the worst thing that
happened to me?
<2PHIL:>2 Is this getting recorded for the
"Readers  Digest"?
<2SPANKY:>2  Remember that morning you told
us your Maw got lifted the night before
. . . papped back in the Asylum. . .?
<2PHIL:>2 Vaguely. You're not going to tell us
that bothered you?
<2SPANKY:>2 You sat down on this drum of
persian yellow . . . and this stupid label was
sticking out the back of your jersey. . . I
kept staring at it. Just staring at it. . .
<2PHIL:>2 And?
<2SPANKY:>2 I just kept staring at this stupid
label.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 And that's the worst thing that's
happened to you?
<2SPANKY:>2 Up till then . . . yeah. I kept
  staring at this label. Weird, eh?
<2PHIL:>2 Well, you'd certainly have to flesh it
out a bit if you wanted to peddle it as a
motion-picture treatment.
<2SPANKY:>2 Then there was that freaky stuff
  in the layby after the boy copped his lot. In
fact, I was rapping to Kristofferson about
that very thing . . . and you know
somcthing? He got exactly the same.
<2PHIL:>2 Maudlin? Yeh. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 He had these two chinas got
wasted in Vict Nam and he's driving down
to Santa Monica for a gig . . . just heard
about it that morning . . . zap! Smacks him
right between the eyes . . . doesn't know
what the fuck's going down. Pulls the
motor off the highway into this kerbside
taco joint . . . staggers in for a couple of
shots. Guy asks him what he's shivering for
. . . it's about a hundred and forty in the
shade . . . Real spooky . . . no?
<2PHlL:>2  Not  particularly.
<2SPANKY:>2 What would you call it then?
<2PHlL:>2 Romantic, kiddo . . . totally and
utterly romantic. You like this picture of
yourself as the working class "sensitive"
stunned into mute but nevertheless deeply-
felt pair-bonding with a clown that cannae
put his bloody pullover on right . . . or
slumped over the wheel of an Austin A40
sobbing your dinner up over an undersized
tool you didn't give a monkey's about
while he was alive. S'this how it tells you to
behave in the NME?
<2SPANKY:>2 When your Maw's stone arrives
do me a favour. . . crawl under it!
<1(Exit minus one boot)>1
<2PHIL:>2 How d'you think I felt! <1(To his>1
<1Mother's grave)>1 This is all your fault!
<1(Looks up)>1 And yours!
<1(Enter WORKMAN.>1 <1He is dressed in>1
<1dungarees, muffler, cap, heavy boots. He>1
<1carries a spade and a delivery sheet.)>1
<2WORKMAN:>2 Plot One Two Three!
<1PHlL:>1 Hullo!
<2WORKMAN:>2 You'll be . . . <1(Consults>1
<1delivery note)>1 . . . "Mrs McCunn", will
you?
<2PHIL:>2 McCann!  .  .  . yeh.  What kept you?
<2WORKMAN:>2 McCann? <1(Looks at sheet)>1
Aye . . . well, keep your fingers crossed it
says that on the stane, son.
<1(Loudly)>1 That' s us, Alec.  .  . get her aff the
lorry!
<1(To PHIL)>1 Now. . .?
<2PHIL:>2 That's her there. . .
<2WORKMAN:>2 Fine. Your Mother, is it?
  Aye . . . she'll be pleased to get her stane
up.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 I'll be pleased to get her "stane"
up.  .  .
<2WORKMAN:>2 Gives the departed a little
dignity, I always think. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Yeh.  .  .
<2WORKMAN:>2 <1(Loudly)>1 You'll need to put
her on the barra with the blaw-up tyres,
Alec. . . the grun's like saft shite up here!
<2PHIL:>2 Thank you . . . What's been the hold-
up? I've been standing her for about two
hours . . . it's bitter.
<2WORKMAN:>2 Och, I've seen worse winters
than this, son. . . Nineteen forty seven
.. . . now, there was a humdinger for you.
Couldn't get a spade into the likes of
this . . . <1(Starts cutting turfs)>1 There was
  about fifty of the buggers lying under a
groundsheet over there . . . ail walting for a
  thaw.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Yeh, very interesting. Headstones, we
  talking about?
<2WORKMAN:>2 Stiffs. The finish-up they had
  to get the Sappers in with a mechanical
digger . . . bumped the lot into the one big
  pit. Thank Christ they never asked us to
  supply a stane for that bunch. It would've
  been the height of the Blackpool Tower.
  <1(Loudly)>1 How're we doing, Alec son!
  <1(To>1 PHIL) You don't have to hang about
  on my account, you know. . .
<2PHIL:>2 I want to get a photograph. . .
<2WORKMAN:>2 Aw. . . <1(Straightens up, lifts>1
  <1cap and runs a hand through his hair)>1
D'you want me to give Alec a shout? <1(Gets>1
  <1a look from PHIL)>1 Anhhh. . . the
stane. . .? Aye. . .
  <1(Carries on digging)>1
  <2PHIL:>2 How long d'you reckon you'll be?
  <2WORKMAN:>2 Well, I've yet to come across a
  stane that'll stroll up that hill and dig a
  trench for itself. . .
  <2PHIL:>2 Yeh . . . very droll. Just get on with it,
  eh?
  ( <1Workman digs)>1

<2WORKMAN:>2 Ana . .  . getting a bit of seepage
here,  son.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Bit of what?
<2WORKMAN:>2 It' s with your Mother's resting
place being on the breest o' the brae. . .
"Granny's Hielan' Hame" sort of style.
You're getting ail the moisture dralning off
the slope into her lair. No . . . I'm not too
happy about this. You'll not get a stane to
stand upright in this glabber. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Aw, that's brilliant, that is.
<2WORKMAN:>2 Nup . . . there's not a stane
hewn that'll stand up in this mulch. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Yeh, yeh . . . we heard you the first
time . . . what're you going to do about it?
<2WORKMAN:>2 Not a lot you can do. . .
<2PHIL:>2 You not got any pumping gear with
you?
<2WORKMAN:>2 Pumping gear?
<2PHIL:>2 Pumping gear .  .  . like they have in the
bilges of boats.  .  . You know .  . . " Man The
Pumps!".  .  .
<2WORKMAN:>2 Was she a seafaring wumman?
<2PHIL:>2 Suffering God. . .
<2WORKMAN:>2 You know the best thing you
could do, son?
<2PHIL:>2 No . . . but you're going to tell
me . . . what?
<2WORKMAN:>2 Have them shifted.
<2PHIL:>2 Have "them" shifted?
<2WORKMAN:>2 Her remains . . . have them
shifted. She's just sooking it up here.
Look. . . it's like a soggy sponge. . .
<1(Squelches boot in ground)>1 'Course, you
know what this used to be, don't you?
Before the British Army used it as a target
range,  I mean.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2  Eh?
<2WORKMAN:>2 A bloody marsh . . . that's
what it used to be . . . a bloody marsh . . . all
marshlands about here.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 I'm that glad you came. . .
<2WORKMAN:>2 If she was mines I'd have her
shifted . . . still, we'll do our best, eh?
<2PHIL:>2 Yeh . . . thanks. . .
<2WORKMAN:>2 Not that it'll do much good,
mind. . . There isn't a stane made that'll
keep its feet in this for more than six
month.  .  .

it and cut the cackle . . . okay? <1(Goes to top>1
<1of rise to watch the unloading)>1
<2WORKMAN:>2 Nup . . . not a stane that's
  made. . .
<1PHIL:>1 <1(Watching>1 ALEC <1unloading)>1 Is he
  always as devil-me-care as this? I've seen
  three-toed sloths move quicker in a coma.
 <2WORKMAN:>2 He goes at his own pace, does
  Alec.  .  .
  <1(Looks aroundfor something to bale water>1
  <1out of hole with)>1
<2PHIL:>2 <1(Loudly)>1 Come on . . . get bloody on
  with it!
<2WORKMAN:>2 I wouldn't do that, son . . .
  you'll only antagonise him. <1(finds>1
<1SPANKY>1' S <1discarded boot)>1
<2PHIL:>2 Antagonise him? You mean get his
goat like creatures with a nervous system?
Christ, if he goes any slower he'll be back in
forty seven with the frozen cadavars.
<1(Loudly)>1 Going to hurry up, pal! There's
some of us don't want to end our days in
here just yet!
<2WORKMAN:>2 <1(Shaking his head>1 Tch, tch,
  tch, tch.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 What's he stopping for?
<2WORKMAN:>2 I told you not to annoy him.  .  .
<1(Chucks sodden boot aside. Climbs out of>1
<1trench)>1 Tch, tch, tch, tch.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 What did I do?
<2WORKMAN:>2 Tch, tch, tch, tch.  .  . <1(Exits)>1
<2PHIL:>2 Suffering God on the Cross. . .
  <1(Slumps to ground>1 Sorry about this,
Ma . . . I know how much you've got your
heart set on this neo-granolithic
monstrosity. Ha .  . . nice to see you haven't
moved, Tommy son. Just having a natter
with your next-door neighbour there. . .
Annie McCann . . . Tommy Quick. Me and
wee Tom's old chums. Right, kid? Met
each other the last time I was up this way.
Last but one time I was up. . . For the wee
guy's sendoff .  .  . the one that got banjoed
with the breeseblock in the Baths . . .
  remember? I pointed him out to you that
time you, me, and my Auntie Fay were
  strolling across to the E.C. Tea and Coffee
Bar. . . He was the short chap hanging out
  the window of the Top Security Wing with
his flies unbuttoned .  .  . gave us a lend of his
  belt . . . mind? That's right. You flung a
whole box of Newberry Fruits at him, as I
recall. It was Springtime . . . Crocusses
were coming up in fistfalls . . . went nice
with that blue smock effort you were
wearing with "Ward Four" stencilled on
the yoke. . . You ever seen these things,
Tommy? No, of course, what am I talking
about? You can aiso get them with "Braln
of Britain" across here in big white
lctters.  .  . <1(Indicates chest)>1
<1(Enter>1 <1SPANKY>1)
<2SPANKY:>2 <1(Loudly)>1 Come out, ya little
bastard!
<2PHlL:>2 Stay where you are, Tommy son.
<2SPANKY:>2 See when I get a hold of you I'm
going to kick your arse from here to Puerto
Rico and back . . . d'you hear me!
<2PHIL:>2 This'll be the lovely wee Spanish
  American guy? Scabbed off in the motor,
has he?
<2SPANKY:>2 He's left the bloody motor . . .
scabbed off with a full bottle of Tequila.
<1(LoudIy)>1 If l ever catch you you're going to
wish your Madre had flushed you down el
lavvy pan when you were delivered! Honest
to Christ . . . you do your best for these
people . . . what d'you gct? Ripped off and
shat upon from a great height!
<2PHIL:>2 No . . . don't tell me . . . Stout Cortez .
. . "Upon A Peak In Darien" . . . right?
<2SPANKY:>2 You can Iaugh . . . l'll need to get
a taxi now.
<2PHIL:>2 He might've left you the keys. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 He did. Where's my other boot?
<2PHIL:>2 What's the big problem then? Or is
driving yourself about beneath your dignity
these days?
<2SPANKY:>2 Lend us a coupla quid for a taxi,
  will you?
<1(Hunts aroundfor boot)>1
<2PHIL:>2 I haven't got a couple of quid.
What're you looking for?
<2SPANKY:>2 My missing boot. . . C'mon,
don't be lousy, Phil. . . I've got to get to
Luss to get changed . . . I'm doing a TV
show at seven . . . c'mon. . .
<2PHIL:>2 You've got a bloody motor sitting
there . . . that'll get you to Luss.
<2SPANKY:>2 And what happens if I get
stopped? Eh?
<2PHIL:>2 Anticipating a road block of your fans, are you?
<2SPANKY:>2 By the filth, dummy.
<2PHIL:>2 An . . . the engine's clogged up?
Thought you sald it was new?
<2SPANKY:>2 The fuzz . . . I don't get my
licence back till seventy eight, do I? And
don't tell me she never told you that one .  .  .
where is that bloody boot of mines?
<2PHlL: >2Do my grimy old ears deceive me or is
this the man that traded riffs with Frankie
Sheridan talking? You're feart you get
stopped?
<2SPANKY:>2 I've got stuff in the motor, stupid.
Lend us a few quid for a taxi . . . come on.
<2PHIL:>2 A few? It was two a minute ago.
<2SPANKY:>2 Two quid's not going to get us to
Luss, is it? Make it four, okay?
<2PHIL:>2 I don't have four . . . I don't even have
two . . . and what is this? You're a
successful rock star . . . what about all them
ballparks you laid waste . . . you must be
rolling in it. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 You don't suppose I carry it about
with us, do you? Eddie sees to all that. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Let Eddie see to lending you four
quid then. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 He's not here, is he!
<2PHIL:>2 Phone him . . . there's a box at the
corner.
<2SPANKY:>2 He's in Jamaica, for Christ's
sake! <1(Finds boot)>1
<2PHIL:>2 Phone the bloody Samaritans then!
<2SPANKY:>2 I've no fuckin' money!
<2PHIL:>2 Explain that when you get through. .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 Aw, shit!  <1(He has just put his foot>1
<1in boot)>1
<1(enter workman)>1
<2WORKMAN:>2 <1(To>1 PHIL) Just as well for you
I had a Mars bar handy. He's back on the
job.
<1(To>1 <1SPANKY>1) Is that your wagon down
there,  cowboy?
<2SPANKY:>2 Uh?
<2WORKMAN:>2 I don't want to put the wind up
you but there's a wee dark-headed fulla
circling round it with an empty meths
bottle.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2  What??
<2WORKMAN:>2 I told Alec to have a word with
him but by the time he's got the paper off
  33
  that Mars bar . . .
<2SPANKY:>2 Ho, ya dago shithead! <1(Exits)>1
<2WORKMAN:>2 Now, where did I put that. . .?
  You haven't seen a wumman's wellington
lying about, have you?
<1(PHIL has moved to top of rise)>1
<2WORKMAN:>2 Tch, tch, tch, tch.  .  .  <1(Surveys>1
  <1trench)>1 Unless we lay some pipework . . .
put in a stank about here . . . No, you don't
  want to go exhuming anbody's relatives if
you can avoid it. . .
<2PHIL:>2 <1(Loudly)>1 No, no . . . creep up on him,
Spanks! Take him by surprise! Ach, you've
blown it, ya balloon! After him son!
<2WORKMAN:>2 D'you think you could tone it
down a shade? You're on consecrated soil,
remember.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 <1(Loudly)>1 No, No . . . he's away in the
bushes,  ya mug!
<2WORKMAN:>2  Tch, tch, tch, tch.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 <1(Turning away)>1 He'll never catch
him . . . not in them high heels. How's it
going, pops?
<2WORKMAN:>2 I just wish you'd put us wise
to this when you placed your order. I'm
pretty sure we'd've advised a cairn. .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Stop moaning and dig, will you? As
  long as the bit with the writing on it's
visible.  .  .
<2WORKMAN:>2 I wouldn't even be too sure
about that . . . I'm down a good eighteen
inches as it is. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Lean it against a coupla bricks then
  . . . just as long as I get a snap to show the
Old Man. . .
<2WORKMAN:>2 You did say this was your
Mother,  didn't  you?
<2PHIL:>2 What's that remark supposed to
mean?
<2WORKMAN:>2 Well, I know this much . . . if
you were anybody belonging to me and I
was in there I'd be face down in my box
right now. <1(Loudly)>1 I don't suppose you
thought to chuck some clinkers onto the
lorry, Alec son! <1(To PHIL)>1 You'll still be
here when I get back, Mr McCunn?
<2PHIL:>2 McCam!
<2WORKMAN:>2 Aye, you'll still be here when
I get back though?
<1(Exits)>1

  <1(Off)>1 Are you there, Alec?
<2PHIL:>2 What did you go and die for!
  <1(Enter LUCILLE)>1
<2LUCILLE:>2 Are you still here!
<2PHIL:>2 Ayah! Don't do that! What're you
doing here?
<2LUCILLE:>2 Is he away?
<2PHIL:>2 Is who away?
<2LUCILLE:>2 Aw.  .  . he never found you then?
After me coming over the back way . . .
look at my good shoes. . .
<1(The heel has broken off one)>1
<2PHIL:>2 Your hair's a right mess and all. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 That's from juking under about
  four acres of barbed wire. . .
<2PHIL:>2 'Course he found me . . . somebody
  told him where I was, didn't they?
<2LUCILLE:>2 <1(Alarmed>1 Where is he?
<2PHIL:>2 He's away. What did you come here
for?
<2LUCILLE:>2  I couldn't sit at home, could I?
<2PHIL:>2 You could this morning when I asked
you.
<2LUCILLE:>2 That was different. And take the
cellophane off the vocal chords. . . I can't
stand it. I was frightened you were going to
bring him back to the house . . . you know
what you're like.
<2PHIL:>2 What did you tell him where to find
me for then?
<2LUCILLE:>2 I didn't know it was him, did I?
It was some guy with a funny voice that
phoned.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Ahhh . . . so you only tell guys with
  "funny" voices where I am, is that it?
<2LUCILLE:>2 Cut it out. I thought it might've
  been that bloke that's got the chip shop in
Orchard Street you keep telling me' s going
  to pay you a hundred quid for a mural. . .
<2PHIL:>2 What would he be wanting coming to
  see me in a cemetery, for God's sake?
<2LUCILLE:>2 How the hell should I know?
  He's Italian.
<2PHIL:>2 Eh?
<2LUCILLE:>2 We could be doing with the
money. If you'd been in darkest Borneo
I'd've sent him out on the first cleft stick!
<2PHIL:>2 Keep your voice down, will you??
You want the entire world to know that I'm
doing murals in bloody chip shops! And
don't keep going on about money . . . you
should've thought about that before you
left hubby . . . or at least made better
financial arrangements with the bastard.
He's just back from the States absolutely
manky with the stuff. . .
<2LUClLLE:>2Yeh, that would've suited you
fine, wouldn't it? He was ordered to pay
Child Support for Lindy . . . that was the
arrangement.  I didn't want any of his lousy
money! Not that he ever had any. You
don't exactly need to hire a Pickford's
pantechnicon to lug home your wages from
a bottom-of-the-bill spot at a St Vincent de
Paul record hop!
<2PHIL:>2 Well, he sure ain't short of a few
dollars now, doll.
<2LUCILLE:>2 And it's the one thing I don't go
on at you about! What the bloody hell
d'you think Lindy's away at school for? So
that I can get out and earn some money so
that you can get on with this "work" you're
aiways on about and give me peace . . . and
I don't mean crappy murais in bloody chip
shops either!
<2PHIL:>2 Then what did you tell the guy where
to find me for!
<2LUCILLE:>2  What guy!
<2PHIL:>2 The Taily guy!
<2LUCILLE:>2 It wasn't the bloody Taily guy,
ya clown . . . it was him!
<2PHIL:>2 I know that! But it could've been the
Taily guy! Aw . . . I give up!
<2LUCILLE:>2 So do I! You twist everything,
you!
<2PHIL:>2  I twist everything!  I twist everything!
  You're just after telling every bastard
within a radius of ten miles that "We could
be doing with the money" for some stupid
murai and now you're saying your child's
at boarding school so you can go out and
work so I don't have to do it! Make up your
bloody mind, sweetheart!
<2LUCILLE:>2 You cail me 'sweetheart' one
more time and you're joining your Mother
down there . . . right!
<2PHIL:>2 You leave my Mother out of this . . .
I'm warning you, Lucille. . . just leave her
out. We know you never liked her.
<2LUCILLE:>2 I didn't care one way or the other
  about her, ya stupid pig. It was you that
  never liked her . . . don't lam that onto me!
<2PHIL:>2 What're you taiking about! That
woman was a saint! Me . . . never liked her!
I worshipped my Mother!
<2LUCILLE:>2 She embarrassed you . . . you said
it yourself!
<2PHIL:>2 When? When did I say that?
<2LUCILLE:>2 Like I embarrass you!
<2PHIL:>2 That's right . . . change the subject!
  What're we getting now? What's this "Like
I embarrass you" nonsense. . . eh? Come
  on.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 You know exactly what I mean.
  Yes. . . embarrass you! You can't make up
your bloody mind how to behave in front
  of other people when you're with me . . .
God, you can't even make up your mind
  when the pair of us are by ourselves! One
minute it's ail abject apologies . .  . the next
  thing it's threatening to punch me in the
mouth. And over what?? Over what!
  Christ aione knows! If you were that
desperate to do "something" you'd do it and
  quit blaming everybody else. Well, not this
mug, buster . . . I learnt my lesson from that
  other shit.
<2PHIL:>2 Maybe you should've stuck to that
  other shit!
<2LUCILLE:>2 Maybe I should at that. At least
he was consistent. We ail knew he was
rotten. What is up with you?
<2PHIL:>2 What's up with me! Me! Look, I'm
sorry . . . right!
<2LUCILLE:>2 Don't come near me!
<2PHIL:>2 I said I was sorry! What d'you want
  me to do.  . . go down on my knees! You're
not on,  sister!
<2LUCILLE:>2  Aaaaaargh!
<2PHIL:>2 What've I said now?
<2LUCILLE:>2 Leave me aione!
<2PHIL:>2 Ach, bugger off. . .
<1<2LUCILLE:>2>1 You bugger off!!
<2PHIL:>2 How can I bugger off? I'm waiting to
  take a snapshot! <1(Pause)>1 And how come
you twigged it was him anyhow?
<2LUCILLE:>2  What??
<2PHIL:>2 See if you're lying to me, I'll kill
you.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 What're you on about now, ya
lunatic!

<2PHIL:>2 Don't cail me that! The guy with
the funny voice . . . how come you knew it
was George . . . eh???
<2LUCILLE:>2 He was phoning for George . . .
get it right!
<2PHIL:>2 Phoning for him then!
<2LUCILLE:>2 It was something he said. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Speak up, for God's sake.
<2LUCILLE:>2 It was something he said! I only
tumbled to it later. . .
<2PHIL:>2 What?
<2LUCILLE:>2 "The Boss said to thank you for
the photos. . . her hair's just how he
remembers it". I thought it was the Taily
guy taiking about those stupid sketches you
showed me.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 What stupid sketches!
<2LUCILLE:>2 For the murai . . . Lady Godiva
sitting side-saddle on the black pudding!
<2PHIL:>2 Aw, yeh . . . right.
<2LUCILLE:>2 Then when I was looking through
the wardrobe to send off Lindy's gym
shoes I saw the photographs were away. . .
<2PHIL:>2 What're you looking at me like that
for! He's her father, isn't he?
<2LUCILLE:>2 That doesn't mean you can send
him snaps of her without telling me. His
Mother's got copies . . . he could've got
them off her, ya idiot.
<2PHIL:>2 Where's the harm in sending the guy
some snapshots?
<2LUCILLE:>2 What has he been asking you?
Are you listening? I said, what've you been
telling him about Lindy?
<2PHIL:>2 I never told him anything. We were
just  rapping.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Wrapping what? What else were
you giving him??
<2PHIL:>2 The same as you're giving me right
  now, Lucille. . . a royal pain!
<2LUCILLE:>2 Well, you deserve it! I've never
  come across such a stupid individuai in ail
my born life. Is this the Dux of St Saviour' s
  Huts I'm taiking to? The six year old that
won a ten shilling Winsor and Newton
voucher for a pastel rendering of "Mother
and Son" in nineteen forty four? Take it
  from me, pai . . . you grew up into a right
dough-heid. You were so telling him stuff
  . . . I can see by your face!

<2PHIL:>2 Look, will you get it into your thick
skull I did not tell him anything . . . now,
shut up, will you! <1(Pause)>1 What am I
supposed to say to the guy, for God's sake?
That she never got a cake for her birthday?
That she never went to the Kelvin Hail
Shows with her Granny? That she never. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 That is quite a bloody lot, you
  know!
<2PHIL:>2 It's hardly the story of her life, is it!
<2LUCILLE:>2 And how would you know! You
never take the slightest interest, do you?
Well, do you!
<2PHIL:>2 She's his! Not mine! Yours and his!
  <1(Silence)>1
<2PHIL:>2 Listen . . . I didn't mean. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 You never do, do you!
<2PHIL:>2 I didn't mean it . . . okay??
  <1(Silence)>1
D'you hear me? I didn't mean it . . . I'm
sorry.
<2LUCILLE:>2 You're aiways sorry . . . I'm sick
  to bloody death of it.
<2PHIL:>2 What was that?
<2LUCILLE:>2 I said, it could've been worse . . .
you could've blabbed about her new sch.  .  .
aw, God, you  never, ya lunkhead!
Aaaaaaaargh! See you, Phil McCann!
<2PHIL:>2 Caim down . . . caim down. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 How could you be so dumb, ya
  stupid bastard!
<2PHIL:>2 Will you please caim down!
<2LUCILLE:>2 Caim down! You don't know
what he's like. He'll stop at nothing now to
find out where that school is!
<2PHIL:>2 Get a grip of yourself. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 You know fine well he got me
outside that Sheriff Court and said if I ever
let Lindy out of my sight for one second. .  .
<2PHIL:>2 He's only going to drop her a note. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 You don't mean you gave him the
address! Aw, Jesus God in heaven!
<1(Puts heel-less shoe on and makes to leave)>1
<2PHIL:>2 Hold on . . . hold on. . . <1(Stops her)>1
<2LUCILLE:>2 Let me go you swine! Let me
go . . . I'm warning you!
<2PHIL:>2 <1(Holding her)>1 He's only away seeing
to his stupid motor. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 He's got a car!?
<2PHIL:>2 No, no . . . a Kellogs cutout of the
John Cobb Speciai with a rubber band and
a wind-up key . . . 'Course he's got a car.
<2LUCILLE:>2 Let me go! Aaaaargh. . . I hate
  you!
<2PHIL:>2 Will you shut your face and listen for
  a second! He's away seeing to the car 'cos
the lovely wee Hispanic roadie he picked up
  in downtown $(L.A.) got severely narked at
having to hang about for His Highness so
  he took off into the Bush with a bottle of
Tequila .  .  . only to rcturn a short time later
  stoned out of his noddle and looking to
"customize" the Boss's transport with the
  now apparently empty container . . .
namely, one glass beaker bearing the
  legend "Not To Be Taken Internally" . . .
right?
<2LUCILLE:>2 What??
 <2PHIL:>2 You're not going to make me say ail
  that again. Just gct it into your head he's
 not going anywhere at the moment . . . he's
 stymied. Look, here's old Carnaiachie . . .
 he'll set the record straight.
 <2LUCILLE:>2 I still hate you! Aaaaaaaa. . . my
  arm!
 <1(Enter workman)>1
  <2PHIL:>2 Tell the lady . . . Buffaio Bill's at your
  back.  .  . right?
  <2WORKMAN:>2 Is he? <1(Peers over shoulder)>1
  <2PHIL:>2 The guy in the strange boots. . .
  <2WORKMAN:>2  Alec, you mean?
  <2PHIL:>2 The guy with the hairdo and the Cyril
  Lord "designer" jeans!
  <2WORKMAN:>2 Aye, Alec . . . what about
  him?
  <2LUCILLE:>2 Did somebody drive off in a
  motor's what he's asking?
  <2WORKMAN:>2 Aye, but .  .  .
  <2LUCILLE:>2 See that!
  <2PHIL:>2 It's not my bloody fault! Where're
  you off to?
  <2LUCILLE:>2 To phone the school, ya cretin!
  Ahyah! <1(She starts to limp off but cockles)>1
  <2PHIL:>2 I'll go! Give her a hand up, will you!
  What'll I tell them?
  <2LUCILLE:>2 On no account to let him see
  her . . . he does not have access! Ow. . .!
  He's liable to cram her into his boot and
  blow.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2  Right.  <1(Exits)>1
<2LUCILLE:>2 Hell, shit, and fornication!
<2WORKMAN:>2 You'll be one of the family up
  to pay their respects, like?
<2LUCILLE:>2 <1(Clasping ankle)>1 Ohyah . . .
ohyah.  .  .
<2WORKMAN:>2 <1(At trench)>1 Of course, you
could aiways apply a waterproof
membrance and hope for the best. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Eh?
<2WORKMAN:>2 Still no guarantee she'd ever
  stand completely upright under her own
steam.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Are you taiking to the doctor
down there?
<2WORKMAN:>2 Aw.  .  . she was a medicai man,
was she? I got the impression she might've
been a matelot. . .
<1(Re-enter>1 <1PHIL>1 <1out of breath)>1
<2LUCILLE:>2 Did you get through!
<2PHIL:>2 Give us a chance . . . I only got as far
  as the gravel path . . . I need change!
<2LUCILLE:>2 See you! Ask him for some. . .
<2PHIL:>2 <1(To Workman)>1 Any change, pai?
<2WORKMAN:>2 No . . . In fact, it's getting
more and more like the Okeyfenokey
Swamp every minute. .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Jeesus. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Reverse the charges . . . only
hurry up!
<2PHIL:>2 I'm going! I'm going! Here . . .
<1(Hands her the camera)>1
<2LUCILLE:>2 What's this??
<2PHIL:>2 The Memoriai Tablet . . . if he gets it
up while I'm away snap it quick before it
sinks . . . you're a doll! <1(Exits)>1
<2WORKMAN:>2 Then again, you could think
of introducing some concrete piles down
there . . . tie them onto the base. Mind you,
there's no saying that would do it. The
Army tried that with their tank targcts
during the War . . . first spit of rain the
bloody lot of them shot into the air like clay
pigeons. They'd've been better using the
buggers for ak-ak practice. . . <1(Loudly)>1
Isn't that right, Alec! I'm telling the chap,
McCunn here about . . .
<1(Turns to see LUCILLE)>1 . . . oh. . . Aw.

aye. . . about this being an aquatic shooting
gailery!
<2LUCILLE:>2 Going to keep your voice down
. . . it's going right through my ankle.
<2WORKMAN:>2 Alec was one of the first
conscripts, you know.
<2LUCILLE:>2 How fascinating. . .
<2WORKMAN:>2 By the time they got him into
  uniform the Yanks were doing the boogie-
woogie doon the Shams Aleesey. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Are you going to be much longer
getting this stupid stone up?
<2WORKMAN:>2 We're doing our best, hen
<2LUCILLE:>2 That's fine. Only it'll be pitch
  dark soon. . .
<1(Examines camera. Notices absence of>1
<1flash)>1
What're we going to do about lighting it?
  <2WORKMAN:>2 Ah . . . you're thinking of
having the "Eternal Flame" burning, sort of
  style? Aye, that's proving quite popular
across the water, I hear. Mark you, I never
  seen nothing on the delivery sheet about
that. Might be a good few days before we
  cam lay on the gas supply. . . <1(There is a>1
<1metailic clang as his spade hits object in>1
  <1trench)>1 Hullo . . . you might be in luck. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 The photographs . . . for sending
to his late mother's sister-in-law. . .
<2WORKMAN:>2 No . . . I thought we might've
  struck a gas main there, hen. <1(Examines>1
<1trench)>1 Of course, there's aiways your
  paraffin model . . . that comes in an awful
lot cheaper. . . Burns with a deep blue
  flame.
<2LUCILLE:>2 You not got anything in green?
  She was a catholic.
<2WORKMAN:>2 <1(Hits object another clang)>1
  What the bloody hell is this?
<2LUCILLE:>2 If it's a box of Spaaish dubloons
  you and me'll go haivers . . . don't let onto
his Mother . . . right?
<1Enter <2SPANKY>2 suddenly. He is mud->1
<1spattered,  dishevelled,  his jacket torn.)>1
<2SPANKY:>2  Ana!
<2LUCILLE:>2  Aaaaaaaaaaauaayah!
<2SPANKY and LUCILLE>2 <1TOGETHER:>1 What're you doing here!!
<2SPANKY:>2 Good God.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Good grief.  .  .

<2WORKMAN:>2 <1(Staring down hole)>1 Good
  Christ.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 I thought you were my roadie
  there.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Thanks a million!
<2SPANKY:>2 No . . . you've got exactly the
same hairstyle from the back . . . Good
grief.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Good Christ. . .
<2WORKMAN:>2  <1(Still staring do wn hole)>1 Good
God.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 I thought you were away in your
motor??
<2SPANKY:>2 Eh?
<2LUCILLE:>2 <1(To workmen)>1 Hoi. . . I asked
  you if he went away in his car and you
said.  .  .
<2WORKMAN:>2 No, no . . . you asked me if
"somebody" went away in a car . . . it was
the other fulla . . . the meths drinker in the
technicolor troosers.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 What???? <1(Races to top of rise)>1
Shiiiiiiiiiiit!
<2LUCILLE:>2 You had me worried sick, George
Farrell!
<2SPANKY:>2 If he trashes that limo blood will
be spilt!
<2LUCILLE:>2 Are you listening to me!
<2WORKMAN:>2 <1(Peering into trench)>1 She's a
bad-looking bugger ail right.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 It's not even insured or nothing.
  What am I talking about! It's not even paid
for . . . aw, shit!
<2LUClLLE:>2I said, you reaily had me upset,
ya pig!
<2SPANKY:>2  Huh!?
<2LUCILLE:>2 I still am upset . . . look at me . . .
<2SPANKY:>2 What?
<2LUCILLE:>2 Look at me!
<2SPANKY:>2 I am looking at you. God, you're
still one good-looking doll, Lucille. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Shut up! You reaiise you had me
climbing the wails with your capers!
<2SPANKY:>2 Aw, God . . . don't tell us it's hit
the music press over here aiready!? Shit!
Eddie said he was going to take care of it.
Hey, listen . . . no, listen . . . I'm absolutely
swore off the hard stuff now . . . no,
seriously . . . I mean it . . . for keeps this
time .  .  . honest. Anyhow, it wasn't that big
a disaster. Who needs that kinda bread?
Look at the Stones when they done their
first Stateside Tour. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 I'm taiking about our daughter !
<2SPANKY:>2 Yeh . . . how is she? Phil was
saying something about a new school
somewhere.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Yeh . . . he even gave you the
address!
<2SPANKY:>2 Shit .  . . so he did . . . <1(Puts hand to>1
<1pocket which is now hanging off)>1 Don't tell
us I've lost it . .  . aw, stroll on .  . . look at the
bloody jacket .  . . six hundred bucks down
the toilet. . . <1(Takes it off)>1 I'll kill that wee
kidon Yankee fucker when I get a hold of
him. Chased him through a turnip field for
about seven miles . . . know what he done?
No, seriously . . . Sat down on a pile of
neeps and smoked a whole joint while I'm
hanging from the barbed wire . . . are you
into that? Never even offered us a toke.
<1(Flings jacket over tombstone)>1 Hey . . . is
that a camera?
<2LUCILLE:>2 Eh?
<2SPANKY:>2 Let' s see it .  . . <1(Grabs camera)>1 No,
no . . . stay where you are, doll . . . <1(Squints>1
<1through view finder)>1 I've got a Pentax in the
motor but it's knackered .  .  . wee bastard' s
been using it for a bottle-opener . . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 What're you doing, ya creep!
<2SPANKY:>2  Aw,  come on,  sweetheart.  .  . you
can do better than that . . . big smile for
Georgie . . . <1(Snaps)>1 Yeah. . . <1(Snaps)>1
<2LUCILLE:>2 Give me that back!
<2SPANKY:>2 God, you're still a good-looking
doll, Lucille . . . <1(Snaps)>1 Anybody ever tell
you that? No . . . don't move. <1(Snaps)>1
<2LUCILLE:>2 Will you stop giving us a showing
up, George Farrell! See if it wasn't for this
ankle.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 Hey . . . d'you know how you
look? Stay right where you are. <1(Snaps)>1 No
. . . listen . . . seriously . . . <1(Snaps)>1
Remember you and me went on that
picnic. . .? <1(Snaps)>1
<2LUCILLE:>2 This is ridiculous. . .
<2WORKMAN:>2 Does any of youse belong to
this tarpaulin . . . no?
<1(Lifts>1 <2SPANKY>2'S <1jacket)>1
<2LUCILLE:>2 What picnic?
<2SPANKY:>2 To Inverbeg . . . ( <1naps)>1 Just
  before we got married. <1(Snaps)>1 D'you not
remember? We drove down in the old
heap. . . <1(Snaps)>1 You looked sensationai
that day . . . <1(Snaps)>1 C'mon, doll . . . don't
tell us you don't recail. . . <1(Snaps)>1 We
fought like cat and dog. <1(Snaps)>1 You were
six weeks preganant. . . <1(Stops dead>1
Hey . . . shit! Don't tell me!
<2LUCILLE:>2 You dare say a word to him and
I'll murder you!
<2SPANKY:>2 Shiiiiiit! Wait till I tell Benita. . .
<1(Snaps)>1
<2LUCILLE:>2 Who's Benita?
<2SPANKY:>2 Chico's young sister. . . <1(Snaps)>1
<2LUCILLE:>2 Who's Chico?
<2SPANKY:>2 Benita's big bree. . . <1(Snaps)>1
<2WORKMAN:>2 No . . . we'll need a bit more
wadding round her yet. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 <1(Coming to end of spool)>1 Shit. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 You wouldn't like to quit saying
that, would you? Only I'm feeling slightly
queasy right now. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 Yeh . . . shit . . . sorry. You used
to be sick as a pig when you were carrying
Lindy . . . right? <1(Unloads camera)>1
<2LUCILLE:>2  Thanks.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 Where did I fling that jacket?
<1(Sticks spool in jeans pocket)>1 I'm sure I had
a jacket with us . . . hey, listen . . . I was
going to send her a Christmas present.
Lindy . . . yeah?
<2LUCILLE:>2 What?
<2SPANKY:>2 What kind of stuff is she into
right now? I'll get Eddie to pick her out
something speciai . . . you can send it on to
her . . . yeah? Hey . . . did Phil tell you I was
shipping a whole mess of gear over from
the States for her?
<2LUCILLE:>2 Gear?
<2SPANKY:>2 Bunch of cowboy shirts .  . . coupla
pairs of roller skating boots . . . aw, and a
honey of a lunchpail . . . you want to get a
load of this . . . reaily tasteful. You
wouldn't be a pai and send them on to this
school of hers, would you, gorgeous?
<2LUCILLE:>2 Me. . .? Send them on. . .?
<2SPANKY:>2 Once they arrive. That's not
asking too much, is it?
<2LUCILLE:>2 No, no . . . only . . .

<2SPANKY:>2 Only what? They are ailowed to
get parcels from their folks, aren't they?
<2LUCILLE:>2 Yeh, yeh . . . but. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 Alcatraz, yeh. . . you can see
them drawing the line at . . . ah . . . I see
what you're getting at. Soon as one of the
  staff claps eyes on this lunchpail .  . . zap . . .
it's straight into the old doompher . . .
  right? <1(LUCILLE moves across)>1 Shit . . .
you can't trust any of these bastards, can
  you? <1(LUCILLE moves closer)>1 Don't
worry, doll, if anything goes missing I can
  aiways get Eddie to . . . <1(She puts her arms>1
  <1around his neck)>1 Hey . . . what is this?
<2LUCILLE:>2 This is for being an even bigger
bailoon than I ever remembered. . .
<2SPANKY:>2 Eh?
<1(She kisses him)>1
<2SPANKY:>2  I don't get it.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Good.  . . let' s keep it that way . . .
 And this is from Lindy. . . <1(Kisses him>1
<1again)>1  -
<2SPANKY:>2 It's only a seventeen dollar fifty
lunchpail.  .  .
  <1(Enter PHIL)>1
<2PHIL:>2 I managed to get through to the
  janitor eventually be he said . . . heh . . .
what the bloody hell' s going on here!
<2WORKMAN:>2 <1(Passing him on way out)>1 I'm
going to get a pail of cold watter to chuck
  over her. . . <1(Exits)>1
<2LUCILLE:>2  Hi.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 What is this! You're supposed to be
off cramming an innocent child into the
boot of a Daimler Sovereign, ya bastard!
Get your manky paws off my wife!
<1(Sound of motor horn)>1
<2SPANKY:>2 <1(Loudly)>1 I'm there, Chico baby!
  <1(Tries to disentangle himself)>1 I'm there
  aiready!
<2LUCILLE:>2 <1(To PHIL)>1 You want to see your
face . . . it's a picture. . .  -
<2PHIL:>2 And yours is going to be a masterpiece
when I get you home!
<1(To>1 <1SPANKY>1)  Right, you!
<2SPANKY:>2 Listen . . . great seeing you
  again, man . . . sorry, I've reaily got to zap
off.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 You're not going anywhere just yet,
pai! Get them up!
<2LUCILLE:>2 Don't you dare, George.
<1(To>1 PHIL) Will you behave like an adult,
please?
<2PHIL:>2 Why should I? You don't. You heard,
Farrell.  .  . get them up!
<2SPANKY:>2 Listen . . . I'll have a word with
Eddie . . . see if he can gct them to go to
three hundred on the sleeve. . . yeah?
( <1To LUCILLE)>1 Hey . . . I never told you . .
. I've just bought a rabbit hutch in the
Trossachs . . . you and the boy here must
come over .  . . I'll get Eddie to arrange it . . .
<1(PHIL dunts him on the back of the head)>1
Ohyah!
<2LUCILLE:>2 Stop that, you!
<2SPANKY:>2 Ahyah! <1(Sound of horn)>1 You
pump that horn once more and you're
getting offed, ya gaucho scumbag! Hey . . .
that's not a bad title for the aibum. . .
Spanky Farrell's "Gaucho Scumbag".
<1(To PHIL)>1 D'you want a pencil to take
that down?
<1PHlL: >1Are you going to defend yourself or
do I have to thrash you first!
<2LUCILLE:>2 Och, give us peace . . . and quit
dancing about like that . . . it looks reaily
stupid in those trousers. <1(To>1 <1SPANKY>1)
When're we going to see you again?
<2PHIL:>2 Stay out of this, Lucille . . . this is
between him and me . . . I'll deai with you
later.  C'mon.  .  .  ( <1Threatens>1 <1SPANKY>1)
<2LUCILLE:>2 I give up. . .
<2PHIL:>2 <1(Tripping over on shoe with flapping>1
<1sole)>1 Ahyah.  .  .
<2SPANKY:>2 Look, man . . . cool it . . . just cool
it. . . yeah? Things are very seldom how
they appear to the outsider. Tell him,
Lucille.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 What were you kissing her for!
<2SPANKY:>2 How should I know! I've got a
motor waiting!
<1(More horns)>1
<2PHIL:>2 What were you up to with him!
<2LUCILLE:>2 We were going to elope. I
think I prefer waking up in the mornings
with a black eye and a vomit-covered
corpse with the $(D.T.s) Don't be any more
stupid than you can help.
<2SPANKY:>2 We'll send you an invite this
time  .  .  .  okay?
<1(More horns)>1 Look. . . . I reaily will have to
go. . . If you're serious about wanting a
fight I'll get Eddie to arrange something
when he gets back. . .
<1PHIL.:>1 Ya bastard!  <1Trips and fails to ground>1
<2SPANKY:>2 <1(To LUCILLE)>1 So long doll - - -
you look terrific. See and take care now.
<1(To PHIL)>1 Bye . . . Dad . . - take it easy,
d'you hear? <1(More horns)>1 I'm coming!
<1(Exits)>1
<1(Sings off)>1 Twenty tiny fingers. . . twenty
tiny toes.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 <1(Loudly)>1 You might've given us a
hand!
<2SPANKY:>2 <1(Off)>1 . . . on the baby's knuckle
on the baby's knee .  .  . where will the baby' s
dimple be? Baby's cheek or baby's chin. . .
<2PHIL:>2 <1(To LUCILLE)>1 What's been going
on here!
<2SPANKY:>2 <1(Off)>1 Seems to me it'll be a sin . . .
it it's aiways covered by a safety pin. . .
<1(Enter workman carrying a pail and>1
<1blankets)>1
<2WORKMAN:>2 Now, there's nothing to go
getting yourself into a lather about, son .  .  .
she's not due to pop off just yet.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Eh?
<2SPANKY:>2 <1(Off)>1 Where will the dimple be . . .
caramba!
<2WORKMAN:>2 I've sent Alec to phone . . .
they should be here within the hour. . .
<2PHIL:>2 <1(To LUCILLE)>1 I don't see what there
is to smile about! Could you not've mended
these for us?
<1(Points at shoe)>1
<2WORKMAN:>2 He's promised to sprint at
least a part of the way. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 I've got something to tell you. .  .
<2PHIL:>2 Eh?
<2WORKMAN:>2 Excuse me, hen.  .  . <1(Crosses>1
<1to trench)>1
<2PHIL:>2 Who should be here within the hour?
<1(To>1 LUCILLE) What's he raving about?
<2LUCILLE:>2 I've got something to tell you, I
said.
<2WORKMAN:>2 These boys'll soon have the
screens round her. . .
<2LUClLLE:>2 It's happened at last.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 What has?
<2LUCILLE:>2 What you've been waiting ages
  for, ya dummy. . .
<2PHIL:>2 Aw. . . <1(Crosses to trench)>1 Where is
it . . . has it sunk?
<2LUCILLE:>2 I'm going to have a baby!
<2WORKMAN:>2 Twenty five pounder if I'm
any judge.  . .
<2PHIL:>2 What????
<2LUCILLE:>2 A baby . . .
<2WORKMAN:>2 Right ugly brute. . .
<2PHIL:>2 I don't believe it! You mean. . .?
  C'mere.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 Mind my hair! <1(They embrace)>1
<2WORKMAN:>2 I wouldn't stand too close if I
was you, son. . . unpredictable, these
buggers.  .  .
<2PHIL:>2 You can say that again, gramps. . .
<2WORKMAN:>2 There's not much likelihood
of you getting any snapshots today. . .
<2PHIL:>2 How d'you feel?
<2LUCILLE:>2 How do you feel?
<2PHIL:>2 Like somebody just put a bomb
under us.  .  .
( <1They kiss)>1
<2WORKMAN:>2  I said,  I don't reckon you'll
  be getting too snap-happy today, son. . .
<2PHIL:>2  <1(Examining camera)>1 You're not going
  to believe this, Daddyo, but I forgot to put
a spool in. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 We can aiways come back. . .
<2PHIL:>2 You're getting partiai to this joint,
  aren't you?
<2LUCILLE:>2 Yeh . . . about as partiai as I'm
  getting to you. Let's go and break the news
  to Uncle Jack . . . eh?
<2PHIL:>2 Put in our order for a blazer . . . right?
You are going to have a boy, aren't you?
<2LUCILLE:>2 God forbid. . .
<2PHIL:>2 You're asking for a punch in the
  mouth. <1(They kiss)>1
<2WORKMAN:>2 <1(Peering into trench)>1 Och, in
  the name of Christ. . .
<2LUCILLE:>2 God, it' s chittering. . . <1(Shivers)>1
<2PHIL:>2 Here . . . <1(Takes off coat and drapes>1
<1it round her shoulders)>1 Never let it be said
the McCanns are ungailant. . .

<1(He is wearing a blazer with a gusset let into>1
<1the back)>1 You can work right up till your
eighth month, you know. . .
<2WORKMAN:>2 You wouldn't credit that,
  would you?
<2LUCILLE:>2 Thanks a million. . .
<2PHIL:>2  Goodnight,  Ma.  .  .  Goodnight,
Tommy.  .  .
<2LUCILLE:>2 D'you not mean Hector?
<2PHIL:>2 Yeh . . . Goodnight, Hector! See you
  sometime,  eh!
<2WORKMAN:>2 Aye . . . goodnight
  Mr McCunn . . . goodnight, lassie. . .
<1(Straightens up holding a tin helmet from>1
<1the trench)>1 And if you pass Alec on your
  travels don't go and drop a brick about the
bloody "bomb"  .  .  . I'll never hear the end of
  it. Mum's the word. . . Okay?
<2PHIL:>2 <1(Taking LUCILLE in his arms)>1
Mum's the word, pops.
<1Lights fade.  Curtain.>1