Brownbread & War
Page 3
John (imitating Plain-clothes) Okay.
Plain-clothes is furious but he controls himself.
Plain-clothes I’ve three kids myself and—
Donkey Are they bastards as well?
John (laughing) Nice one, Donkey.
Ao (to the lads) He’s goin’ to fuckin’ kill us when he catches us.
Plain-clothes now makes one last effort to be ‘reasonable’. While he speaks the lads are concentrating on noises they hear from next door. At first Mr Farrell makes signs and noises of agreement as he listens to Plain-clothes. But he quickly becomes confused. He raises his shoulders, and stares at Plain-clothes as if trying to decide if he’s a bit odd.
Plain-clothes Okay, slag away. I don’t mind. —Look. — Look. —There’s nothing we can do about your — employment thing now. We’re not the government, you know.
Farrell Exactly.
Plain-clothes Personally, I’d love to say; yeah, sure, we’ll get jobs for you. It’d be great. I often worry. About my own kids, you know; what’s going to happen them after they leave school. I have a college fees policy, with Irish Life. But to be honest, —I don’t know if Dave is really college material. He’s a great little slogger — (He remembers who he’s talking to, and why.) So you know, we know what you’re going through. But, let’s face it, you’ve committed a serious fuckin’ crime here. Abduction. False imprisonment. It’s no joke. We can’t let—
John What’s the noise? Donkey Wha’?
They go to the front wall.
Donkey Missis Brady.
John She must have a big gang o’ men in there with her.
Donkey Yep; that’s Missis Brady alrigh’.
Ao It’s the pigs.
John Listenin’.
Donkey (in a loud ‘dumb’ voice) Hey, lads; what’ll we do with the bits o’ the Bishop we can’t get into the bucket?
Ao We’ll eat him.
John Rapid! I bags his kiddleys.
The walkie-talkie crackles.
Plain-clothes (into the walkie-talkie) What d’you mean they’re not listening to me!?
Farrell Aidan! Aidan!
Bishop I think your father wants to speak to you.,
Ao Thanks.
(Roars.) Wha’?
Farrell Will yeh listen to the man here, for Jaysis sake.
Ao Sorry. —Go on.
Plain-clothes (more formal —a bit hurt because the lads haven’t been listening to him) There’s going to be no deals done.
Ao Hear tha’, Your Bishop?
Plain-clothes At the moment you’ve got abduction and false imprisonment under your belt. That’s serious. The longer you stay up there the more serious it gets. The longer you keep the Bishop the more serious it gets. Touch the Bishop —
Donkey gently touches the Bishop with a finger; and the Bishop jumps.
Plain-clothes —and you’ll be old men before —
The walkie-talkie crackles.
Plain-clothes (into the walkie-talkie) Yoh; talk to me.
The walkie-talkie crackles.
Plain-clothes (into the walkie-talkie) Interesting. Let her through. (To the lads.) Which one of you is Jonathan?
Ao (puzzled) None of us.
John (To himself) Oh fuck.
Ao Bishop. Pardon. What’s your name?
Bishop Fergus.
John It’s me.
Donkey Wha’!?
Enter Mrs Murray, John’s mother; an appalling, overpowering person. Everything about her should scream ‘I am middle class and it is the right way to be!’. Uniform follows Mrs Murray, trying desperately to look in charge; showing her the way although she’s in front.
John (shattered) Oh no. —Oh no.
Mr Farrell studies Mrs Murray, interested and puzzled. She was good looking once; Mr Farrell thinks so anyway. He’s seen her before. Donkey The state of her.
Plain-clothes Missis Murray?
Mrs Murray Yes.
Plain-clothes (pointing) Your son is up there.
Plain-clothes offers Mrs Mnrray the megaphone.
Mrs Murray No, thank you. — Jonathan!
John Oh no, —please.
Ao What’s goin’ on?
Donkey Yeah.
Ao Is tha’ your ma?
Mrs Murray Jonathan.
Plain-clothes Jonathan, your mother wants to talk to you.
Donkey What’s this ‘Jonathan’ shite? Your name’s Johnner.
Mrs Murray Jonathan, show yourself at the window, please.
Farrell (to Mrs Murray) Howyeh.
John I’m not talkin’ to her.
Ao sort of understands.
Ao (roars) He’s not here.
Mrs Murray (pointing offstage) He must be. That’s his bicycle.
Farrell (to Mrs Murray) Yeh prob’ly don’t remember me.
Mrs Murray Jonathan; answer me, please.
Ao (to John) Go on.
Farrell (to Mrs Murray) Yeh called round to our place a while back. Collectin’. For a sale o’ work or somethin’.
Mrs Murray looks at Mr Farrell for the first time.
Farrell We —the wife —gave yeh a can o’ pineapple chunks.
Mrs Murray (coldly polite) Really? Yes, I think I —
Farrell I said we’d been hangin’ onto them till Bob Geldof called round but I was only messin’. D’yeh remember me?
Mrs Murray (only too well) Yes.
Farrell Eddie Farrell. —My young fella’s up there with your young fella.
Mrs Murray (trying not to sound too appalled) Really?
Farrell Right little bastards, aren’t they?
John is now at the window, looking at the space in front of Mrs
Murray; not at her.
Plain-clothes There he is, Mrs Murray.
Uniform Up there, Mrs Murray; look.
Mrs Murray (giving out; furious) Jonathan.
John Hello, —Mam.
(Trying to save face.) Howyeh, Ma.
The Bishop giggles.
John What’re you laughin’ at?
Mrs Murray Well? —Would you like to explain yourself, please.
Ao and Donkey watch, fascinated. They’re discovering that they don’t know John as well as they thought they did.
John We’re protestin’-ing, Ma—Mam.
Farrell Me arse.
He looks to Mrs Murray, expecting her to agree.
Mrs Murray Don’t be ridiculous. About what, please?
Farrell They’re lookin’ for jobs, if yeh don’t mind.
John is still acutely embarrassed: he’s been found out.
Donkey (loaking out; to John) You said your ma did cleanin’. Mrs Murray Is what this man says true, Jonathan? ,
John —Yeah.
Mrs Murray That’s ridiculous. You’re going to college in October. (To Plain-clothes and Mr Farrell.) He’s repeating three subjects in Leeson Street. He nearly got the points last year but he failed Irish. The teacher was never in.
Farrell Go ’way.
Ao (to John) You told us —
John I’m not. —Shite!
Uniform I’d a teacher like that.
Mrs Murray Jonathan; get down here at once.
Farrell Yeah. —An’ bring the Bishop with yeh.
John (seeing the lads looking at him; pleading) I’m adopted.
Ao Don’t start.
Mrs Murray Jonathan!
John Fuck her; I hate her!
Ao (roars) Hang on.
Farrell Tha’ was my young fella. Aidan. He’s never done annythin’ like this before. —The poor oul’ Bishop must’ve got a terrible fright all the same.
Ao (to John) What’s the story?
John (close to tears) It’s her. —She’s an awful fuckin’ snob.
The walkie-talkie crackles.
Plain-clothes (into the walkie-talkie) A row? Good.
The walkie-talkie crackles.
Plain-clothes (into the walkie-talkie) Okay. Good idea. (To Mrs Murray) Excuse me, Missis Murray. Do you think you could t
alk a bit more to Jonathan, okay?
John looks as if he could start crying.
Mrs Murray I most certainly could. Jonathan; I don’t intend staying here all day. Now I really think that you’ve mortified myself and your father enough for one day and I’m sure Bishop Treacy has had quite enough of this childishness so if you don’t mind would yourself and your friends —and, by the way, I don’t know what sort of a crowd you’ve got yourself involved with —.
Ao Get your act together; come on.
John I’m alrigh’. —She’s ruinin’ everythin’. Why won’t she let me live me own life?
Donkey Tell her to fuck off.
Ao Shut up, Donkey.
Donkey That’s what I’d tell my ma.
Ao Yeah would in your bollix. —
Plain-clothes (into the walkie-talkie) Anything yet? The walkie-talkie crackles.
Mrs Murray I mean, you used to have quite nice friends. Donal. He was a very nice boy. I knew when I said you could go to that bloody disco thing I was making a mistake. I said it to Des. When you gave up the Sea Scouts —. I’m sure the people here are very nice people but they’re —just —not —your —type.
Ao This is pat‘etic. We’re goin’ to give up cos your ma says you’re to go home.
John No; no way. I’m not goin’ down. An’ I’m not goin’ to college either. I don’t care. Me bollix. An’ I didn’t nearly get the points. I got seven.
Farrell (to Plain-clothes) Hey; would your mot talk as much as tha’? Plain-clothes She wouldn’t be let.
They laugh; ‘man’s’ laughter. Uniform tries to join in. Mrs Murray stares them out of it.
Mrs Murray You were always easily led. Always. That’s your big problem. You’ve no mind of your own. If they told you to stick your head in the oven you’d do it. You’ve even picked up that — accent. — And don’t for one minute think that you’re not going to college. Because you are.
Donkey Gerry Delaney said you were one o’ the biggest thicks in your class.
John I know. I fuckin’ know. But she won’t believe me.
Ao Will yeh pass the Leavin’ this time?
John Not at all. I haven’t a clue.
Mrs Murray (to Mr Farrell) He’s going to do a Communications degree in Rathmines.
Farrell Oh lovely. Very nice.
Plain-clothes (into the walkie-talkie) The walkie-talkie crackles.
Plain-clothes (into the walkie-talkie) Mrs Murray Now, I’m sure Bishop Treacy has more confirmations to do today ;so come down this minute, please.
Are they giving up yet?
Jesus; the rest of us are.
Ao Well then. What’s your problem?
John Ah —. She’ll buy a fuckin’ college or somethin’. Or get me da to build one in the back.
Donkey Yeh told us your da was dead!
John (embarrassed again) Ah Jaysis —. I’m sorry, righ’. —I —
Ao (in authority) Righ’; come on. Tell her to go an’ shite. —Go on.
Donkey Rapid!
Ao Go on.
John I can’t.
Ao Are yeh one o’ the lads or wha’?
Donkey Yeah.
Mrs Murray Jonathan!
The lads and the Bishop are braced.
Mrs Murray Jonathan!!
John Go — Go an’ shite, Ma.
The lads cheer, laugh and pat John on the back. Mr Farrell laughs.
John Go an’ shite, Ma!
Farrell Jaysis, Missis; that’s a terrible cheeky pup yeh have there. John Just go an’ shite!
Mrs Murray How —dare —you!
Plaln-clothes (into the walkie-talkie) How are things in the room? The walkie-talkie crackles.
Plain-clothes (into the walkie-talkie) Shit!
The walkie-talkie crackles.
Plain-clothes (into the walkie-talkie) Leadership qualities!? Shit!
John I’m not comin’ down, an’ I’m not goin’ home, an’ I’m not goin’ to college, an’ go an’ shite.
Donkey Yeow!
Mrs Murray Get down here this minute!
John No.
Donkey Yeow!!
Mrs Murray You just wait there. I’m coming up.
John grabs the gun from Donkey. His new bravery and terror clash, and he becomes hysterical.
John (grabbing the gun) Give us tha’!
Mrs Murray strides towards the house. John roars, and shoots. The
Bishop roars: the gun goes off right beside his head. Mrs Murray is hit in the foot. She roars, screams, falls, screams and roars.
Farrell Oh, good fuck!
Exit Mr Farrell and Uniform, in a hurry.
Plain-clothes throws himself on the ground. He looks up. He gets up and goes, hunched, to Mrs Murray.
Plain-clothes (loud) Okay; okay. —Okay. —Okay.
Mrs Murray is screaming, crying, roaring, screaming. John, at the window, is blubbering. The Bishop is trying not to. Donkey is fascinated, appalled and delighted.
Donkey Did he hit her? Did he hit her? —For fuck sake!
Bishop (mumbling) Oh blessed Mary, mother of Jesus, intercede on my behalf —
Ao Shut up!
John (loud, but to himself) Now. —Now.
Ao He’s after shootin’ his ma. —You’re after shootin’ your ma.
Mrs Murray is, understandably, making a lot of high-pitched noise.
Plain-clothes is looking at her wound, trying to quieten her.
The walkie-talkie crackles.
Plain-clothes (into the walkie-talkie) Can they do it in time?
The walkie-talkie crackles.
Plain-clothes (into the walkie-talkie) Okay; stand by.
Ao and Donkey look at each other. They laugh nervously. Ao is wondering if he should get the gun from John. John looks as if he’s daydreaming, staring out the window.
Ao You’re not goin’ to shoot her again, are yeh?
John looks at Ao but he doesn’t answer, as if he doesn’t know what he’s been asked. He looks out the window again. The Bishop is still mumbling.
Ao She’s learnt her lesson.
(To the Bishop.) Would you ever shut up.
Plain-clothes (roars) Stretcher!
(To the lads.) We’re taking her off the street, okay. Don’t shoot, okay.
Enter Uniform, pushing a stretcher on wheels.
Uniform It’s only me lads; don’t shoot. —Eh; here we are. Uniform and Plain-clothes load Mrs Murray onto the stretcher. Uniform Oh God, you can see the bone!
Mrs Murray screams, and Uniform covers her mouth.
Plain-clothes (into the walkie-talkie) Right. Go for it.
Immediately hammering is heard coming from behind the back wall, although the lads don’t notice it at first.
John (roars; half crying) Why wouldn’t yeh let me get tints in me hair? —Wha’ did yeh do with me communion money, yeh wagon? —Why wouldn’t yeh give me a dog for me birthday? —The collected works o’ Charles fuckin’ Dickens!
John braces himself to shoot at Mrs Murray again as the Guards scoot offstage with her on the stretcher. Ao, then Donkey, lunge at him. They get him to the ground. Ao gets the gun from John. All the while, the Bishop is very agitated; terrified. Then, sprawled on the ground, the lads notice the banging next door. Men on the other side are trying to hammer through. Ao is the first to realise what is happening.
Ao What the fuck!
Ao gets up with the gun in his hand and dashes to the window.
Ao (roars) Here! Get your men ou’ —
When Ao looks out the window he sees the snipers across the street, hanging out of windows, aiming at him. Ao dives. He then stands up in the corner to the side of the window and puts the gun to the Bishop’s head.
The hammering continues.
Ao (roars; almost in a frenzy) Get your men to stop knockin’ the wall down an’ get your men out o’ Flanagan’s or I’m goin’ to shoot the Bishop! —Now, righ’! —Now!!
The Bishop has had it: he begins to wail.
John (
on his knees) It looks like we’re brownbread now an’annyway.
The hammering stops.
Silence.
The Bishop’s wailing becomes faint. Ao very carefully looks out the window.
Ao Gone.
Donkey Oh, thank Jaysis.
Donkey begins to giggle. The Bishop is crying and snuffling. Ao lifts the Bishop’s cassock and puts it to his nose.
Ao Blow.
The Bishop blows.
Sam the Sham and The Pharaohs sing ‘The Hair On My Chinny Chin Chin’.
The lights go down quickly.
PART TWO
It is night outside the bedroom, and quiet. The odd light or faint siren from offstage suggests the presence of the Guards. Ao and John are onstage. John is wearing the ’s mitre. Ao is lounging on the bed. John is sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. Some tin trays, the remains of a Chinese take-away, are lying around. There are also some four-pack cans of lager. Ao and John are relaxing, looking at the ceiling or floor; not talking. John very softly sings an adaptation of ’The Smurfs‘Song’.
John (sings) Do we wear our hats in bed?
No, we ride our mots instead —
John stops singing. Ao scrapes the last of the goo from his tray and swallows it. He throws the tray onto the floor.
Ao Tha’ was grand. —I’ll tell yeh one thing; I was fuckin’ starvin’.
John Yeah.
Ao (to John) Kidnappin’ gives yeh an appetite alrigh’, wha’. John Yeah. —An’ shootin’ your ma.
Ao laughs.
John I shouldn‘t’ve done tha’.
Ao Ah, she’ll be alrigh’. Don’t worry abou’ it. —She was lookin’ for it an’ annyway.
John Yeah. I suppose so. —I’m sorry abou’ —lyin’, yeh know.
Ao Forget abou’ it. I don’t blame yeh.
Plain-clothes, (from offstage; through a megaphone) We can’t see the Bishop. Where is the Bishop?