The play’s the thing…

But first…
Dulltown, Europe: Today’s existential angst is centred around the term ‘crawl space’.

‘Alright everyone, let’s go for a take… a bit of hush please…
So, Violet, you are the head of the publicity department of the theatre company?’
‘Yes, Bruce, that’s right, I…’
‘Er, sorry Violet… could I just pause you there, it’s ‘George’, I’m George, but don’t worry, we can edit that out quite easily. Carry on Violet… in your own time…’
‘Yes George… that’s right, I am…’
‘Perhaps you could tell us something about this exciting new play that’s just about to… Are you alright? Would you like a glass of water Violet?’
‘No, no, I’m fine dear George… Yes, the play, the bloody play, yes… It all hinges around the conflicts within a patriarchal family in the depths of the Russian winter back in…’
‘Back in?…’
‘Ah, yes, indeed, even though this is a brand new play, by that so-called brilliant young writer, Daphne Sump, it is actually set in the early years of the…’
‘Of the?…’
‘There’ll be live sex on stage you know…’
‘Oh god, yes, and a few of the better looking members of the audience, will be asked up on stage, they’ll be given period hats and gloves – they are to strip off and join in… You see Bruce the play is really about Tony Blair and the Iraq war…’
‘Is it?… Well, I didn’t realise that…’
‘You don’t know the fucking half of it Barry, the administrator has run off with Count Rezzilov’s pistol and half the effing actor’s wages – they’re all on their phones to cocking Equity as I speak!…’
‘Violet, please, if you’d like to stop for a moment, it will be perfectly alright…’
‘It’s a bloody awful piece of writing, I can’t think how they came to commission it, and that arse of a director…’
‘Perhaps I will have a drink Barry, did you mention gin earlier?’
‘Er, I… No, we, I don’t think…’
‘Just because of one night in a sodding B&B in Rochdale, he thinks that he’s… Anyway, where was I?’
‘Russia in the early nineteenth century?’
‘Yes, and he’s had his grubby hands on Rezzilov’s dewy-eyed daughter you know, everybody knew… but me!… Bastard!…’
‘So, Violet, there will be some audience participation in the show then?’
‘Eh?… Oh yes, they’re not getting paid though! – I wanted to put it on the posters – about the condoms you know – but that was vetoed by…’
‘There were rumours about a water-based theme in the play, symbolising the long-awaited melting, the arrival of Spring, and the…’
‘Oh Barry, you should have seen the fucking rehearsals! Hose pipes…’
‘Hose pipes?’
‘Water all over the place! The bills for repairs to the church hall floor were… Where’s that gin you promised me Barry?’
‘So, Violet, the actors are quite young, and dare I say that…’
‘Countess Rezzilova buggered off in the middle of the dress rehearsal – she answered her phone on stage, in act two, and found she’d got a small part in Eastenders, and then she was off like a shot!… Bitch!…’
‘So that must have needed some last-minute reorganisation?’
‘Jimmy just cut all of Rezzilova’s lines from the bloody show!’
‘That sounds drastic.’
‘What about the drink Barry? There was none in the green room earlier – they said the BBC was tight-arsed!’
‘Well Violet, I think we have plenty of material here, thank you for finding the time to come to speak to us here on our weekly arts…’
‘Speaking of the BBC Bruce, do you know of any nice jobs going, that you could slip my way?’
‘Well I…’
‘I could make it worth your while you know… If you catch my drift? – I like the cut of your jib…’
‘I like the way that you hold yourself…’

About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
This entry was posted in art, conversation, drama, dreaming, existentialism, expletives, humour, information, sex, surrealism, theatre, TV, words and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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