Jez Butterworth Plays

by Jez Butterworth

  GRIFFIN. Close your eyes.

  WATTMORE. No.

  GRIFFIN. Just –

  WATTMORE. I’m not closing my eyes.

  GRIFFIN. Well just give it a chance. See what it conjures up.

  WATTMORE reads it again.

  WATTMORE. Oh I see. I see.

  Beat.

  I understood it better that time. It’s extremely poor.

  GRIFFIN. Give it here.

  WATTMORE. I understood it better. It’s very very poor. I’ll tell you what it conjures up. Bugger all.

  GRIFFIN. Give it back.

  WATTMORE. I’ll tell you what it doesn’t conjure up. It doesn’t conjure up two thousand pound.

  GRIFFIN. How would you know? What the fuck do you know about poems?

  WATTMORE. Nothing. Not the first thing. I know one thing.

  GRIFFIN. What?

  WATTMORE. It’s for puffs. Desperate puffs.

  GRIFFIN. I can win this. I know I can. It’s twelve lines. Twelve. Are you saying I don’t have twelve lines of poetry in me? I know what this is. I know what this is. It’s St Ignatius.

  WATTMORE. No it isn’t.

  GRIFFIN. Yes it is. It’s St Ignatius. It’s True Gospel. You and your fucking True Gospel. He’s against it, you’re against it.

  WATTMORE. Wrong.

  Beat.

  Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

  GRIFFIN. St Ignatius says poetry is wrong. St Ignatius says dancing is wrong. St Ignatius says stick your head in the fire.

  WATTMORE. We don’t have a fire.

  GRIFFIN. St Ignatius also said it’s wrong to eat owls.

  WATTMORE. It is wrong to eat owls.

  GRIFFIN. It was my book, you only read it because of me, it was out on my ticket. You never even finished it. Admit it’s Ignatius. Admit it. Go on. Admit it you big Romanist pug.

  WATTMORE. Do your bloody poem.

  GRIFFIN. You do your bloody tapes.

  Enter NEDDY BEAGLE, a large man.

  WATTMORE. Griffin.

  GRIFFIN. What?

  He turns around.

  Neddy.

  NEDDY. Your porch door’s smashed.

  GRIFFIN. Right.

  Beat.

  Was the wind. Raining is it?

  NEDDY. Stopped. Was raining but it stopped.

  WATTMORE goes to the back of the room, where he stands by the sink.

  GRIFFIN. Right.

  NEDDY. Griffin.

  GRIFFIN. Neddy.

  NEDDY. Jess...

  Silence.

  GRIFFIN. How’s things over the gardens?

  NEDDY. Same.

  GRIFFIN. Right.

  NEDDY. Fellow’s garden caught the frost. Lost them rose bushes to it.

  GRIFFIN. I heard that.

  NEDDY. And the quince tree died.

  GRIFFIN. I heard that too.

  NEDDY. Shame really. Those roses was lovely in the summer. Still. To be expected I suppose. Not much you can do...

  WATTMORE. Should have been covered.

  Beat.

  NEDDY. What’s that Jess?

  Beat.

  WATTMORE. Anyone knows the first thing about English Summer Royals knows you need to cloche them in a frost. Cloches are in the greenhouse across the Library Garden. Someone should have fetched them and cloched the bushes. Then you need a piece of old carpet, and put it round the roots. There’s loads of cuts of carpet in the garage with the mowers. You cloche them, carpet them, they’d be all right. Wouldn’t be dead now.

  He walks across the room.

  GRIFFIN. Where you going?

  WATTMORE. Get the last of the coal.

  Exit WATTMORE. Silence.

  NEDDY. Griffin.

  GRIFFIN. Neddy.

  NEDDY. Spoke to Floyd Fowler this morning. Was in the Fellows’ Garden. Chopping down the old quince.

  GRIFFIN. Right.

  NEDDY. Aye. He was very unhappy. Agitated.

  Beat.

  GRIFFIN. I can tell you Neddy, this is a storm in a teacup.

  NEDDY. I think it’s a storm in a teacup.

  GRIFFIN. It is. It’s much ado all about nothing.

  NEDDY. It’s snowballed, really, hasn’t it?

  GRIFFIN. And now Jess is assaulted on the marsh road. Middle of the night. They beat him hard Neddy.

  NEDDY. Aye was it? I was sorry to hear about that.

  GRIFFIN. We have a grievance too Neddy Beagle. But we’ll turn the other cheek to see an end of it.

  NEDDY. Exactly.

  GRIFFIN. There now.

  NEDDY. That should be it now. That should be it. Except for what his boy’s saying.

  Pause.

  All I know is something happened, and Floyd asked me to come by to present his terms.

  GRIFFIN. His terms.

  NEDDY. Was it, yes.

  Pause.

  GRIFFIN. How much does he want?

  NEDDY. Well now. Let’s see. He wants a thousand pound.

  Pause. GRIFFIN laughs.

  GRIFFIN. A thousand pound. A thousand pound. (Laughs.)

  NEDDY. To compensate. To make recompense, if you like.

  GRIFFIN. And what’s your cut of this Neddy? Forty, fifty pound. A hundred?

  NEDDY. Oh I’m just the go-between here. Just want everything to be back to normal.

  GRIFFIN. I bet you do Neddy. I bet that’s it.

  Neddy. You go back to Floyd, and tell him this. Tell him he can whistle for it. Tell him to go back to sleep. It’s a blackmail Neddy Beagle. Thou Shalt Not Bear False Witness. There’s a man drowning here. And Floyd Fowler puts his foot on his head.

  NEDDY. He wants justice Griffin.

  GRIFFIN. He wants a thousand pounds. It’s a lie. Broken ribs Neddy. A doctor’s report. We’re ready. We’re ready when he wants to bring in the law.

  NEDDY. Be no law. Floyd won’t go to the coppers on account of the fact he hates them.

  GRIFFIN. There then.

  NEDDY. He says he’ll go to the town.

  Beat.

  GRIFFIN. What?

  NEDDY. He says he’ll go to Fen Ditton. To the Bugle.

  Beat.

  And if the Bugle finds out the town finds out. And if the town finds out, well then it’s in God’s hands, I reckon.

  Pause.

  GRIFFIN. He said he was going to the Bugle.

  NEDDY. Was it, yes. To the Bugle, then he’s going in The Earl of Great Gloucester and tell all them with children. And The Plough. He said the town has the right to know. Way I see it, it’s Floyd’s boy’s word against yours. And Jess so recently in public trouble.

  GRIFFIN. Neddy.

  Beat.

  I want you to go to Floyd Fowler and tell him this. Will you remember it? Good. Tell Floyd Fowler I can give him satisfaction. Tell him I’ll give him satisfaction in two days.

  NEDDY. How’s that?

  GRIFFIN. Leave this to me. I’ve got something I’m selling.

  NEDDY. What is it?... What you selling?

  GRIFFIN. Never you mind.

  NEDDY. It might help if I knew what it was.

  GRIFFIN. Never you mind. I’m taking something into Cambridge tomorrow where there’s a buyer. Two days’ time, you return to this house, I’ll have five, six hundred pound.

  NEDDY. No offence Griffin, but what have you got that’s worth six hundred pound.

  Pause.

  Is it the car. One out there? I saw her. She’s okay she is. Where’d you come by her then?

  GRIFFIN. This isn’t your concern, Go-between. I’m taking it to Cambridge, I’ve got a buyer, I’ll have six hundred pound. And within a month I’ll have the balance. And that’s the end of it. And Jess is a good man. He’s a good man Neddy.

  NEDDY. I know you Griffin. Since I was a boy.

  WATTMORE re-enters, with the coal. Silence.

  Won’t stay then. Goodnight Jess.

  Silence.

  What about the bird then. Heron is it?

  Beat.

  And there’s one in the hospital already
. Still, The Plough’s full. Earl of Great Gloucester. People ordering champagne in there last night. And a Mercedes in the car park. I reckon that bird’s done Fen Ditton a favour.

  Beat.

  Griffin.

  Beat.

  Jess.

  Exit NEDDY. Silence.

  GRIFFIN. I tell you Jess. That boy went wrong in the juniors. When he was nine he was four foot nothing and on his tenth birthday he was six feet four. He went from treble to bass to out the choir in a fortnight. And I’ll say this of him. He’s a crap gardener. Fit to push a wheelbarrow full of horseshit and that’s about it.

  WATTMORE. What did he say?

  GRIFFIN. Nothing. You’re a good man Jess Wattmore. Everybody round here knows you’re a good man.

  WATTMORE. What does Floyd Fowler want?

  GRIFFIN. Now don’t you worry about that. In two days this will all be in the past.

  WATTMORE. Griffin –

  GRIFFIN. Listen to me. In two days this will be past and everything will be back like it was. We’ll go into town hold our head up. Go in The Earl of Great Gloucester stand up straight. And by spring we’ll be back in the garden. As the Lord is my witness I swear.

  WATTMORE. Griffin –

  GRIFFIN. I believe you Jess Wattmore. Do you believe me? Do you believe me as I believe you?

  They look at each other, in the half-light of the cabin. Re-enter BOLLA.

  BOLLA. I hope you don’t think this is presuming. I was just thinking. Tomorrow night I could cook something. I could do a housewarming.

  GRIFFIN. What?

  BOLLA. Or you could. You could for me. I don’t mind which.

  GRIFFIN. Fine.

  BOLLA. Right.

  GRIFFIN. Sorry?

  BOLLA. Sorry, which? You or me?

  Beat.

  GRIFFIN. Me.

  BOLLA. Really? Are you sure? I’m not presuming? That would be lovely Griffin. What are we having?

  Beat.

  GRIFFIN. Rabbit.

  BOLLA. Rabbit.

  GRIFFIN. Rabbit stew. I’ll catch one and you, Jess, you can do your rabbit stew.

  BOLLA. Well that’s that. Jess’s doing his rabbit stew. Jiminy Cricket. Rabbit stew... Shit. I forgot. Also I’ve got miniatures. I’ve been saving them for a special occasion. I don’t want you to think I’m gobbling down your food. I’m not a ponce.

  GRIFFIN. We don’t think you’re a ponce do we Jess.

  WATTMORE. No. We don’t.

  Beat.

  BOLLA. I’m going to bed now. I’ve got both bars on. It’s roasting. You can come in but knock first. Just knock twice. Or... I know. Jess is one knock, Griffin is two knocks. Or just knock and say your name and I’ll answer. Unless I’m asleep. Don’t come in if I’m asleep. Right. See you tonight Jess.

  WATTMORE. See you tonight Bolla.

  BOLLA. See you tonight Griffin.

  GRIFFIN. See you tonight Bolla.

  BOLLA. Rabbit stew. We’re in the country!

  GRIFFIN. Yes. Yes. We are.

  Blackout. Music.

  Three

  The cabin at night. A table has been set by the stove, which is roaring. BOLLA and GRIFFIN have just finished eating. WATTMORE stares out onto the marsh.

  BOLLA. So how do you catch one?

  GRIFFIN. You set a trap. A snare. You need a steel loop and they stick their head in. Now. If they stopped still they’d be fine. But Nature takes over, see, and they struggle, they try to flee. It’s when you try to escape that it does for you. It just tightens and tightens till it rings your neck. That’s it.

  BOLLA. Right. So weren’t there none out there or what?

  GRIFFIN. Loads. Hundreds. Little pricks are quick as fuck though. How were your beans?

  BOLLA. Lovely and hot. I don’t mind my beans. I’m used to my beans. And those were Heinz. I could tell. See inside you don’t get Heinz. You get some muck comes out of a sixty-gallon drum. They bulk buy. And I can’t stand a bulk-buy bean.

  Car lights go past on the road. WATTMORE freezes. GRIFFIN too. Until it passes.

  BOLLA. You not eating Jess?

  GRIFFIN. His mouth’s sore. It’s all cut inside.

  BOLLA. Does he want a painkiller? I’ve got temazepam.

  GRIFFIN. He’s just a bit quiet. He’s been a bit low recently. Gets worse at night.

  BOLLA. Was it the duffing up?

  GRIFFIN. Yes. No. It was before the duffing up.

  BOLLA. Right. That never helps though does it. Perhaps we should take him out.

  GRIFFIN. No point. Town’s dead as Diana in the New Year. There’s The Earl of Great Gloucester, and The Plough. Plough’s crap, and The Earl of Great Gloucester’s full of birdwatchers.

  BOLLA. Birdwatchers.

  GRIFFIN. There’s this bird that’s come to the marsh see. It’s the bird that’s brought the birdwatchers.

  BOLLA. What bird?

  GRIFFIN. Wait. It’s called...

  WATTMORE. The night heron.

  GRIFFIN. That’s the one. Caused quite a stir. Dutch. Norwegians. Come over on the ferry with their dirty great Mercedes. If you’ve got a camera, you can win a hundred pound. You haven’t got a camera have you?

  BOLLA. Sorry.

  GRIFFIN. Anyway, The Earl’s full of birdwatchers. Are you a card lady Bolla?

  BOLLA. What?

  GRIFFIN. I just wondered if you... if you ever played cards...

  BOLLA. No.

  GRIFFIN. Oh. Little flutter now and then?

  BOLLA. Never. My stepdad lived in the bookies. Kept selling my toys.

  GRIFFIN. I see.

  BOLLA. In the end I threw him out. I was twelve.

  WATTMORE. It’s not for everyone is it. Betting.

  BOLLA. So what do you two do?

  GRIFFIN. Unemployed.

  BOLLA. Oh. What was you?

  GRIFFIN. Gardeners. Over at the university. But not anymore. We got sacked. Well Jess got sacked and I went on strike in sympathy. And I got sacked. It’s a long story. But we met in the church.

  BOLLA. You churchgoers?

  GRIFFIN. Used to. We don’t go to church any more. Actually we met in the Cubs.

  We were Scoutmasters. Fen Ditton second firsts. It’s a hut round the back of the church. He was Baloo.

  BOLLA. Who?

  GRIFFIN. It’s from The Jungle Book. Scoutleaders take their names from The Jungle Book. Akela’s a wolf. Bagheera’s a tiger. Baloo’s a bear. He was Baloo.

  BOLLA. Who were you?

  GRIFFIN. I was just Griffin. They’d run out of names by then. We were Baloo and Griffin.

  WATTMORE starts collecting up his tapes. He moves his ghetto blaster. GRIFFIN watches him.

  But they chucked us out.

  BOLLA. Why?

  WATTMORE. Drop it Griffin.

  GRIFFIN. Doctrinal differences. Baloo thought the Cubs too worldly. He was always pushing for higher standards of devotion and cleanliness. He wanted late-night Bible classes with candles. It’s the Cubs.

  WATTMORE. Change the subject –

  GRIFFIN. Asking eight-year-olds their views on Revelations. Poor little squirts couldn’t sleep for weeks. Then he decides that someone in Brown six is in league with the Devil. Warren Lee. Fucking eight years old, and a sergeant of Satan. Then one day, they’ve just done the Grand Howl.

  BOLLA. The what?

  GRIFFIN. The Grand Howl. What happens is, at the end of the pack meeting, the Cubs go like this – (He holds his arms out.) and Bagheera or someone shouts ‘PACK PACK PACK’. and the Cubs all shout ‘PACK PACK PACK’ back see, then ‘A-KE-LA WE WILL DO OUR BEST’ and then they do this – (Crouches down.) and Akela says, all solemn, ‘Cubs, do your best’ and they go ‘we will do our best’, which is odd seeing as they’ve just said they would, fucking yelled it too. So anyway, it’s all passed off normal when this one starts pointing at Warren Lee saying he’s the Devil’s last son, what have you, then he falls on the floor starts speaking in tongues. He’s frothing at the mouth. Half of the sixers shat th
eir shorts. Baloo’s gone potty. I mean, it’s not exactly what Baden-Powell had in mind is it? It was the last straw. They threw us out. Then they threw us out of the church. Then Jess got his picture in the Bugle, and the university found out, and he got sacked. Which I thought was unfair, and I said so, and I got sacked.

  BOLLA. That’s terrible.

  GRIFFIN. Yeah. But it’s not all doom and gloom is it. Because now he’s got Dougal.

  BOLLA. Who’s Dougal?

  WATTMORE. Drop it Griffin.

  BOLLA. Who’s Dougal?

  WATTMORE. Dougal’s my friend.

  GRIFFIN. Dougal’s a mongol. His mother’s a mongol. They won’t let Dougal in the church either. So Dougal’s setting up his own church. From his office. From his unit. In the business park. Listen to this, Bolla.

  WATTMORE. That’s enough –

  GRIFFIN. Hang on. Listen to this. Dougal works for the Prince now but he used to work for the university as well. As a leaf blower. Lowest of the low. Used to blow leaves round the university backs, and round the Fellows’ Garden. One day he’s blowing leaves about, having a smoke, and his petrol tank on his back suddenly blows him up. He’s a fireball. Burned all up his back, hideously scarred. He must look like a lizard in his birthday suit. I’ll never forget him tearing across the backs on fire, like Halley’s Comet he was. Anyway, he comes out of hospital and takes the university to court. He wins twenty grand. So Dougal’s suddenly rich. What does he do? Visit the pyramids? Go to Disneyland? No. He started a cult. Yes. Dougal’s starts a cult. The Holy Sons of... Sons of the White Prince.

  WATTMORE. It’s not called that.

  GRIFFIN. Well what is it?

  WATTMORE. He hasn’t decided.

  GRIFFIN. It’s called The Sons of the White Prince. Meaning the Archangel Michael. He’s got this logo he’s had professionally done and I swear to Christ it looks like Dougal on a cross. It’s the Cult of Dougal. Cult of the Mongol Child. This from a boy who shat in his desk at school. And Wattmore wants to join him, don’t you? He’s going to work in his office. Dougal wants to harness Wattmore’s powers. His power to see evil and scare the living shite out of Cubs.

  Dougal’s told him he’s a saint. He doesn’t look like a saint does he, in his boots and his housecoat. That’s because he’s not a bloody saint. He’s a bloody gardener. And he’s not even that any more.

  WATTMORE. Change the subject.

  GRIFFIN. What? I’m just saying –

  WATTMORE. Change the subject.

  GRIFFIN. Change the subject. Change the subject.