Flying Pig Productions Present The Seagull Has Landed 11th


[Blackout] [Project: Pigs Rampant] Mither; Nil by Mouth



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[Blackout]



[Project: Pigs Rampant]

Mither; Nil by Mouth




[Project: Hospital interior]
[Faither in hospital bed. Above his head is a large sign which reads “Nil By Mouth”]
Selma Oh, Watty, fit can I say. Nil by mouth! Fit a peety.
Faither Oh, I ken, Selma, I ken. I've jist nae luck, hiv I?.
Selma What a thing! Brakin’ yer leg and then denied een o' life’s pleasures. Oh if it’s nae one thing it’s anither.
Faither At’s jist it Selma, hiy, oh aye.
Selma I could leave it and you could hae a bittie on the sly.
Faither Nah, nah, they’re strict in here, Selma. Very strict. I widna get the use o’ it. No, you tak it awa wi ye, Selma. It’d be a peety to see it ging to waste.
Selma Well fit I’ll dae, Watty, is I will take it away and I’ll pit it into the press for fan ye get oot. Cos that’s the best thing aboot my date loaf. You’d think it’d ging hard, but it disna.
Faither Ha!…and far’s Eddie?
Selma Well he wiz parking the car but then he wiz going to ging up and hae a news wi all Mr Porteous. Ye ken Mr Porteous fae up the road?
Faither No, nae really. Fit’s worse wi’ him?
Selma Well its his bowel. The doctor wiz saying he’s nae seen a bowel like it.
Faither I think I do mind on him. [Pause] Wiz he nae a great fan of your baking?
Selma Aye. And noo he canna eat solids of a.
Faither Weel that wid rule your baking oot.
Selma Aha. It jist gings to show.
Faither It certainly diz.
Selma He dizna hae femly, Mr Porteous. So since he retired Eddie’s made a point o’ crying in by. Ivery day, withoot fail.
Faither At must be a great comfort to him.
Selma He likes to hear Eddie spikkin aboot his DIY. But lately he’s been getting raevillt. He’s been shouting and swering and athing.
Faither Terrible, Selma. Hiy. [Eddie enters.]
Selma Noo, Eddie, ye werena lang. Foo’s Mr Porteous?
Eddie Nae great the day, Selma.
Selma No?
Eddie Nae great ava. In fact, he’s deid.
Selma Oh, poor Mr Porteous.
Eddie And ye ken the worst o’ it? I niver did get the length o’ telling him we’d got new shelves.
Faither [Sotto voce] Lucky for some.
Eddie Ye ken this, Watty, I started tellin' him the last fower times I wint up there, but ivery time I mentioned B&Q he started roaring oot of him and I’d to come away.
Selma He wiz raevillt in the end.
Eddie So I niver did get him telt aboot wir new shelves. Did I get you telt aboot that, Watty?
Faither Aye, ye got it mentioned, Eddie.
Eddie Did I tell you they were timber?
Faither Damn it shut up man! Sorry. Just a pain, there, Eddie.
Eddie Nae fine, Watty. It’s a funny thing, pain, fan ye think on it. A’ the different sorts of pain. Fit is it that’s you’ve got, Watty? Wid it be a throbbing pain? Or a shooting pain? Or a stabbing pain? Or a yarking pain? At's the worst, Watty, a yarking pain.
Faither I awyse thocht the worst kind wiz a pain in the neck, Eddie.
Eddie I hope it’s nae a yarking pain. I widna envy ye that. I couldna stand to lie in a bed day after day, suffering fae a yarking pain.
Nurse [Entering] Time for your bed-bath, Mr. Crawford.
Eddie Och, the man’s got vis’ters. I’m sure it can wait.
Nurse Sorry, it cannot. I’ve a whole ward of people to look after here.
Selma Oh they are strict, jist like you said Watty.
Faither Aye, are they.
Eddie Ach weel. There’s aye tomorrow.
Faither And nae doot the day efter.
Eddie And the day efter that.
Faither Thanks for stopping by. [Eddie and Selma exit. The nurse lays down the bed bath equipment and takes down the nil by mouth sign. He then reaches into his trolley and takes out a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits which had been concealed therein.. Faither takes a deep draught from his tea.]
Faither Thank you Gareth. Thank you.
[Blackout.]
[Project: Pigs Rampant]


The Doctor’s Receptionist; Different Times for Different Things




[Project: Sign “Surgery staff are here to assist... etc”]
Chap Hello, I need a repeat prescription.
Receptionist [Looking at him as if he is an idiot.] Good for you.
Chap Well - so I’d like to order one.
Receptionist I bet you would.
Chap [Laughs nervously; taken aback] And how would I do that?
Receptionist By coming back ‘e morn atween 1.00 and 3.00.
Chap Pardon?
Receptionist Fit’s wrang, are ye deef?
Chap No, I have stomach problems. It’s Lanzoprosole for Smith……..
Receptionist It could be Lanzarote for yer holidays for a’ I care. We closed for dealin’ wi repeat prescriptions at 3.00.
Chap I’m sorry, perhaps I haven’t made myself clear. I don’t need it urgently.
Receptionist Good. Because ye widna get it.
Chap It’s just that I’ll run out in a week or so and I was passing anyway, so…..
Receptionist [Holding up her hand to stop him] Hey! I da need your life story, OK?
Chap I’m just saying, can’t you just note the order today and I’ll pick it up in due course?
Receptionist [Massively] No I could not.
Chap Why?
Receptionist Cos it’s efter 3.00!
Chap Why do you have a rule that says no repeat prescriptions after 3.00!?
Receptionist I da ken. I da make the rules up, I just follow them. To the letter.
Chap But….
Receptionist But, ye say?
Chap Yes, I say “but”. “But this is daft!”
Receptionist Oh, daft is it?
Chap Yes.
Receptionist So I’m daft am I? I’m an idiot? Educationally subnormal? Is at fit you’re saying is it? [Indicates the sign]
Chap I’m not saying you’re stupid, I’m saying the rule is. You’re here. You’re actually here! If I went into a butchers just now for a pound of mince, would they say, “no, no. Mince between 1 and 3.00. Burgers between 3.00 and 4. and chuck steak from 4 til 5!?”
Receptionsist Nae wonder ye’ve the shits eatin a yon red meat.
Chap [Indignant] I do not have the shits! I have irritable bowel syndrome. [Pause] Alright I do have the shits. And I need lansoprosole.
Receptionist Weel ye’d better ging to yer famous butchers shop, then, cos ye’re nae getting’ past me.
Chap [Dumfounded] Oh, forget it! [He exits, furious]
Receptionist [Chalking up another victory] Yes!
[Blackout]
[Mid-Stage Blacks In]

The Liar in Pain

Maurice Hello, Bill.


Bill Hello, Maurice. How are you today?
Maurice Oh, I’m fine, Bill, fine, blisters the size of puddings following my remarkable marathon win yesterday…
Bill What!?
Maurice But for the most part, Bill, I’m simply reflecting on that win, running it through in my head again, there, and wondering from whence comes my extraordinary reserves of physical endurance?
Bill Your imagination, Maurice?
Maurice From where does it come? Well the answer lies in a rather eventful period of my life. You’ll recall, Bill, that back in the 1960’s I spent some time in the US of A, there, just bumming my way around. I should make it clear that I mean bumming in the sense of traveling on a very low budget, not any other kind of bumming with which you might be familiar. It was quite a trip, Bill; took the Greyhound Bus down Route 66 to a town in the great state of Colorado, there…
Bill What was the name of the town Maurice?
Maurice That’s detail, Bill, ephemera; I went into a local diner to consider my next move. And it was while I was scraping together my last few nickels and dimes to order a coffee and casting envious eyes at the owner’s sensational muffins, which I could not hope to have….
Bill No money left?
Maurice No, she was married. It was while I was doing that that I was approached by a stranger with a cigarette, Bill. A smoking man. A character I was later to make great use of when creating, writing and directing the popular television series, the X Files. He asked what I would say to a few easy bucks, and having ascertained that we were both using the same definition of bumming around I said yes with consequences which were so terrifying for me that naturally I shirk from divulging them. [Pause] But let me tell you this! I was grabbed by a couple of hairy flunkeys, bundled roughly into the trunk of a Plymouth fury, and driven pell-mell into the middle of the Colorado Desert. There is a desert in Colorado isn’t there Bill?
Bill Yes, but…..
Maurice Good. I was taken to a secret, top-secret disused secret air force base. In secret. And there the smoking man revealed what was to be my fate. It was the height of the cold war, of course Bill. Freezing cold it was, an era of spies and secret agents. In order that their operatives could withstand torture at enemy hands, Uncle Sam had tasked this task force with the task of developing a drug, a serum, Bill, which could make a man impervious to physical pain and I was to be their lab-rat, their Guinea Fowl, so to speak. But Bill, the process was one of trial and error. Day after day, I was racked by mortal agony as the torture would begin and the experimental drug once more proved ineffectual. On and on my torment continued, with only Sundays and the occasional bank holiday Monday for respite. Until one day, Bill; one blessed, fateful day, they ripped out my fingernail and I felt nothing. They roped me up by my thumbs and I scoffed, derisively. They passed electricity through my Johnson; I laughed gaily and continued to do the Sunday Times Bumper Sodoku puzzle book. They knew then that their work was done and they cut me down and tossed me out into the dusty streets of that town I mentioned earlier; and here I am today. Haunted, still, by the memory of what was done to me; but also the possessor of a gift which has hitherto been given to no human being outside of fiction; a complete and utter inability to feel pain.
Bill So you’re impervious to pain, Maurice?
Maurice Entirely, Bill. Yes.
Bill Right. [Bill pokes him savagely in the eye]
Maurice Ow! I’m away for a shite.
[Blackout]
[Project: Sign “Hotel Scotia Caledonia”]
[Mid-Stage Blacks out]


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