Shelter man:
The only way to stop wars is to have them.
Mate:
I better get orf to the library, burn a few more books. Not to mention Bazonka.
Shelter man:
Bazonka?
Mate:
I keep telling you not to mention that!
(He goes mad) Oooooh, Yaka-boo! (Exits)
Shelter man:
Where was he when the bomb dropped?
Captain Kak:
Right underneath it.
SHELTER MAN feels for invisible pocket of waistcoat, makes as though he has taken out a pocket watch.
Shelter man:
According to the lining of my waistcoat pocket, it’s twenty to three.
KAK repeats the same pocket-watch routine as SHELTER MAN.
Captain Kak:
Then it’s wrong. According to the lining of my pocket it’s ten past four.
Shelter man:
But I put mine right by the lining of Big Ben. I must go, I left the gas on, she must be dead by now. Bye bye.
He leaps down the trap door, but bounces up again. This effect is done by putting a trampoline under the trap. He keeps bouncing up. Each time he comes up :
Shelter man:
Goodbye.
Let this get its quota of laughs, then KAK shoots him.
Captain Kak:
I had to. It could have gone on all night.
Phone rings. KAK answers it.
Captain Kak:
Hello? Just a minute!
Unzips his trousers, lowers them to his ankles. Picks up phone.
Captain Kak:
(lovingly) Hellllo, darling. What are you doing with yourself this evening? Oh, you can’t do that alone, darling. Eh? When are we going to get married…not yet, darling, we’re doing so well testing these contraceptives for W H I C H…Yes, but the money’s so good. Eh? How’s the radiation up your way, eh? Oh, they’re having it blessed by a priest. Well, keep taking the hormone tablets, it’s bound to clear up. Eh, of course I do, you know, know I do. Bye bye, Geoffrey. (Hangs up phone. Pats his legs) Must get these legs lagged for the winter, must get some head lag as well. (Hits his head) It’s no good, I must find my birth certificate. I had a packet of them somewhere. (Feels in his waistcoat pockets) Ah! Here we are.
(Puts it to his ear) Good, it’s still going. (Looks at certificate) 3rd April 1918! Gad, it’s getting late, time for my Humiliation. (Goes to hat stand) Rubber Punishment Cap! (He dons what appears to be a large sink pump with a flashing red light at the top of the handle) Defeat of England Medal! (Pins on a medal) Piece of Hybrid Chalk. (Takes chalk from pocket. Draws magic circle around himself. Braces himself. Switches on flashing light on Punishment Cap. Screams) Nowwww.
Black out. Green pencil soft on KAK from above. B.P. screen silhouette of Britannia.
Captain Kak:
Ohhh, Your Majesty, Your Majesty, I’m sorry we lost the war, I’m sorry I failed you, I tried to catch the naughty bomb before it hit the Palace, but if you remember one of your corgis, bit me and then…
Sound of the mule blowing raspberries. KAK goes into a frenzy of trying to beat the sound out of the air with a fly swat. Silhouette of Britannia also tries to do likewise. LITTLE MAN in leopard skin and club repeats his previous performance. Phone rings. All panic and sound stops. KAK rushes to phone, drops his trousers, speaks.
Captain Kak:
Hello, darling? Eh? (Screams. Pulls up trousers. Holds them modestly with one hand) Ohh, Lord Fortnum. I was just in training to phone you. What? It’s happened? Didn’t you take the pills? Give me the address. 29 Cul-de-Sac Place. I’ll be right over. Keep taking the tablets.
Slams phone down. Claps his hands with a degree of joy. Picks up a suitcase from which the handle comes off in his hand, leaving case behind. Exits.
Pause. Sound off of PLASTIC MAC MAN: “Arthur, Arthur, Arthur.” Enter PLASTIC MAC MAN. He wears black plastic mac, kinky boots, also a rubber punishment cap and red rubber sink gloves, carries a semi-inflated inner tube of a bicycle. He holds it crushed up. He leers at audience, secretively looks around in perverted manner to make sure he’s alone. Gloats, throws inner tube on floor. Gloats, jumps into it, switches punishment light on cap. Looks at audience, suddenly whips open plastic mac, reveals he is wearing old woman’s pink corset, whalebone style, one long red stocking and one black. He prides him- self on having done so. Starts to beat himself with tiny whip. Suddenly spot goes on, to reveal the feather bobbing on the psychiatric couch. Reacts. Rushes across to couch, lies on it, agitates feather.
Plastic mac man:
(screams) Arthurrrr, Arthur, Arthur!
Coffin lid flies up. MAN inside sits up.
Coffin man:
Shut up. There’s people down here trying to get to sleep.
Plastic mac man:
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Act Two
Stage set:
Downstage right. Coffin.
Upstage right. Large double brass bed.
Upstage centre. Screen for changing behind.
Downstage centre. Table with two drawers with knobs. Two chairs.
Upstage left. Piano rostrum as Act One. At foot of piano, large silver salver with large cover (as at banquets).
Stage left. Chest of drawers with mirror. Oscilloscope disguised to look like a piece of furniture.
Spot on piano rostrum. At foot of PIANIST is large meat dish covered with salver. PIANIST plays an arpeggio. Raises lid of dish. Reveals head of a SINGER surrounded by food. He sings ‘Whene’er I feel afraid’. End of song.
PIANIST covers SINGER with dish cover. Stage in half light to represent night-time. Enter PONTIUS KAK pushing a door. The door is portable and on wheels and LIGHT. A small light is above the knocker. There is a small black plate on the door above the knocker, on which eventually KAK writes the number. He rings the bell on the door. Door opens. MATE in white nightshirt, nightcap and candle-holder with electric simulated candle which can be switched on and off on handle. FORTNUM’s voice now comes over via mike as he is bedsitting room.
Mate:
Yers?
Captain Kak:
Is this Number 29 Cul-de-Sac Place?
Mate:
No, mate, that’s next door.
MATE closes door. KAK wheels door along to the right, leaving MATE standing like an idiot with a lighted candle.
Mate:
Oh! (Exits, blowing candle on and off)
KAK stops door on prompt side. He writes number 29 on the black plate.
Captain Kak:
Ah, this must be the place. (Rings the bell) Hello? Hello? (Rings) Can you hear me? (Rings) I’m playing your tune.
Lord Fortnum:
Go away, I’m not well. Who is it?
Captain Kak:
It’s me, Dr Captain Pontius Kak, VC and Pin.
Lord Fortnum:
Oh, come in, Captain Pontius Kak, PC and Vin.
KAK opens the door, enters and closes the door. The door moves across stage and exits opposite from side. This is done by one of the cast.
Captain Kak:
Ah hem. I’ve come about that piece of string they’re auctioning at Sothebys.
Lord Fortnum:
Thank God, I though you’d never get here. Now tell me, where am I?
Captain Kak:
Body Odour Mansions, 29A Cul-de-Sac Terrace.
Lord Fortnum:
I know dat, that. But what borough?
Captain Kak:
It’s pretty bad news, I’m afraid. It’s Paddington.
Lord Fortnum:
(gasps and choking) Quick, put a notice in that window. No coloured and no children and definitely no coloured children.
Captain Kak:
Don’t worry…Look, to avoid such possibilities, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do – I’ll move in with my knees and my fiancée, who is currently a virgin for a limited season.
Lord Fortnum:
Harrods?
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Captain Kak:
Yes, the Virgin Department. Now, I’d better run the old stethoscope over you.
He produces stethoscope from inside his jacket. MATE comes on with a door bell hung on his chest, and carrying a case and a cage with a rose growing inside. He now wears a BR porter’s hat. He walks up to KAK and rings the bell on his chest.
Captain Kak:
Come in.
Mate:
Ta. ‘Ere, they’re starting up Compulsory Happiness Classes again. And, oh yes, Billy Graham (He crosses himself) – he’s going to have floodlit nude Bible reading at Wembley.
Captain Kak:
Thank heaven for that.
Mate:
Thank you, heaven. ‘Ere, let me help, you with that heavy handle.
He indicates the handle of the suitcase that KAK is still carrying.
Captain Kak:
Put it up there. (He points to suitcase)
Mate:
Yes, that’s a good place. (Looks at rose in cage) Lovely rose – what’s it called?
Captain Kak:
I call it Jim.
Mate:
Oh, lovely – a rose called Jim. ‘Ere, ha ha. (Sly joke coming) Why did the chicken cross the road?
Captain Kak:
I don’t know, why did the chicken cross the road?
Mate:
I don’t know, I was asking you. Ha ha ha! Ha ha! (Exits roaring with laughter. Reenters still laughing.
Captain Kak:
Did you know that somebody, (Takes MATE’s hand and strokes it) somewhere, needs you?
Mate:
(horrified) Get him orft me…
Captain Kak:
Come on, England’s oldest consenting Male Adult.
Mate:
Get ‘im orft…Get…Ohhh, unclean. (Exits)
∗
Captain Kak:
Thank heavens he’s gone.
MATE re-enters in great scarlet coat from neck to ankles. The coat is made slit up the back, lined with satin for quick donning, and false front with buttons.
Mate:
I haven’t gone yet darling? (Exits)
Captain Kak:
Now, Lord Fortnum, let’s have a look at you. (Puts stethoscope on wall) Breathe in.
Crosses to theatre wall. KAK breathes in. FORTNUM on mike breathes in. Lights dim quickly.
Captain Kak:
Out.
FORTNUM breathes out. Lights back to normal quickly.
Captain Kak:
(opens trap door) Say ‘Ahhhh’.
Lord Fortnum:
(on mike) Ahhhhhhh.
Puts stethoscope on table.
Captain Kak:
Now cough–
FORTNUM on mike coughs. Knob on drawer of table falls off. The table is a two-drawer table, with knobs on drawers. One knob can be displaced by pressing a fitment at the back of the table, which is done by CAPTAIN KAK.
Captain Kak:
Lord Fortnum, are you married?
Lord Fortnum:
No.
Captain Kak:
Well, I should strongly advise against it.
Enter MATE in Boer War topee. He plays a bugle call on a life-sized stuffed turkey, a cornet being concealed inside.
Captain Kak:
It’s all happening! London is a swinging town. (He clicks his finger once) One more timeeeeee! (Clicks his finger again and hurts himself)
Mate:
Twit. It’s the World War III Reunion Dinner. Food for other ranks, sir…Champagne, dancing and sexual orgies for officers.
Captain Kak:
Din dins…Don’t wait up, Lord Fortnum, I’ll be back at dawn. Like the Telly on?
Lord Fortnum:
Yes, I’m mad for it, hear me, mad for it.
Captain Kak:
(mounts the karzi with MATE) Goodnight.
He holds up a long ceiling light switch on string. Pulls the string. Stage black out. From OP side a large television set on legs is moved on stage. Inside it are three men: BOB TODD, BILL KERR, JOHNNY VYVYAN. They are in the set visible from chest up, as in a medium long shot. Therefore they are dressed in evening dress from the waist up, below the screen level they are still in underwear. TODD wears ragged long underpants; BILL KERR wears ordinary boxer type underpants; JOHNNY VYVYAN wears a mini skirt, with white ‘with it’ stockings and high-heel shoes. The TV screen is illuminated from the inside with bright light bulbs not visible to the audience. These lights can be switched off from one of the knobs on side of the TV set.
Bob:
Good evening. And I mean that most sincerely. This is BBC ONE and ITV FIFTY SIX.
He puts on a dead-eye false smile.
Bob:
It’s ten o’clock and time for The News. I’m afraid at the moment there isn’t any. The heavy radiation over England is still causing a black-out of all radio, TV and Telstar communications, but my milkman told me tihat England were all out for twenty-three, so Cowdrey declared. Now here to fill in the time is a talk on property by the Right Hon Cardinal Richard Crossman.
Bill:
(wearing spectacles. Full of false glib charm) Good evening. I have just come from negotiating a successful sale of St Paul’s Cathedral to Mr Onassis, who intends to pull it down and build a block of luxury self-contained St Paul’s Cathedralettes. There was a violent objection to this from John Betjeman, so we’ve sold him as well. A remarkable trend in the landlord business is the skyrocketing rents in Paddington since the discovery of people in them. Tiny one-room flatlets with twenty negroes in have been fetching a rent of fifty a week. (Here BILL KERR goes on miming his talk)
Lord Fortnum:
Fifty pounds a week? Gad, this makes me a potential goldmine.
Bill:
…that was no consenting male adult, that was my wife. Goodnight.
Bob:
Good news, some news has just arrived via Telstar. Ahem. The effects of radioactive fallout are having strange mutation results: a Jamaican bus conductor in Highgate has turned into a ginger tom cat called Ned, several unconfirmed reports of people turning into birds should be taken with a certain degree of CLUCK CLUCK. I beg your parden, I’ll read that bit again…should be taken with a certain degree of…(Goes into a series of chicken clucks)
He exits out of the TV set, through the slit black curtains at back of set.
Second announcer:
That is the end of television for this year. We’ll be with you again next Boxing Day, when Charlton Heston will wrestle His Holiness the Pope for the Sportsman of the Year title. Till then, goodnight. (Sings) God Save Mrs Gladys Scroake Long Live Mrs Gladys Scroake Long Live Gladys Scroake. Goodnight.
He reaches his hand out of the TV set and switches the set off. The lights in TV set go out. TV set moves off OP side quickly. Stage black out. Oscilloscope switched on from off stage.
Lord Fortnum:
(when he speaks, his speech vibrations light up oscilloscope) Miss Hart?
Coffin lid shoots up, CORPSE sits up with typewriter in lap.
Coffin man:
Yes, sir?
Lord Fortnum:
Take a letter. Dear Sir, Madam or consenting Male Adult, Prices of flats in Paddington rocketing fifty gns a week for one room like me. This illness will be an advantage. Signed Lord Fortnum.
During the dictation COFFIN MAN types like fury.
Coffin man:
Who shall I send it to?
Lord Fortnum:
Me.
Coffin man:
Right.
He whips the paper out of the typewriter and the lid slams down on the coffin.
Lord Fortnum:
Ha ha ha. I’ve become a man of property, my condition must be valuable. Mmm, I wonder if I’ve got a large basement.
At this the light in the mirror frame of the chest of drawers comes on, showing a pale charlady’s face: MRS GLADYS SCROAKE.
Mrs Scroake:
No, dear, you ain’t got no basement.
Lord Fortnum:
How do you know?
Mrs Scroake:
I bin down there, sir.
Lord Fortnum:
How can you go down there if there isn’t one? Wait a minute. Who are you? No, no, I’ll rephrase that. How would you like to rent a room, fifty gns a week?
Mrs Scroake:
Wot? No thank you, I’m in enough trouble as it is. You know what happened to me last night?
Lord Fortnum:
No.
Mrs Scroake:
Thank Gord fer that.
Lord Fortnum:
You can tell me, madam, my mother was Godfrey Winn.
Mrs Scroake:
Well, it’s this radiation, I’ve (tearful) I’ve turned into a Chest of Drawers.
The chest of drawers in question is an ordinary Victorian type, with a mirror on top. The mirror has been removed from the frame. Across it is stretched a transparent gauze, sprayed with a light silver paint. Behind the mirror small bulbs are placed so that when lit up, we can see through the gauze, the face of the person assuming the identity of. the chest of drawers. The whole thing is on wheels, and must be very light and portable.
Lord Fortnum:
My dear, how did this terrible thing happen?
Mrs Scroake:
Well, me and Mrs Gronk were scrubbing the steps of the Admiralty–
Lord Fortnum:
So that’s how it happened!
Mrs Scroake:
I haven’t finished yet. Me and Mrs Gronk were doin’ the steps when Boom, the Hatom bomb dropped, I got frighted when I see Charing Crost Station flyin’ up in the air, Aida said you see, the trains will be runnin’ late tonight. Just then, a railway carriage hit her on the head. “Oh,” she said, “I’ve come over all giddy.” I don’t remember any more, I blacked out.
Lord Fortnum:
A wise decision. You can recuperate in this charming flat at only fifty guineas a week.
Mrs Scroake:
…when I came to I remember I had changed into this chest of drawers, and I was in a second-hand furniture shop in the Harrow Road.
The Bedsitting Room Page 3