Jez Butterworth Plays

by Jez Butterworth

  Silence.

  The sea.

  The End.

  PARLOUR SONG

  Parlour Song was first performed by the Atlantic Theater Company, New York, on 15 February 2008, with the following cast:

  DALE

  Jonathan Cake

  NED

  Chris Bauer

  JOY

  Emily Mortimer

  Director

  Neil Pepe

  Set Designer

  Robert Brill

  Costume Designer

  Sarah Edwards

  Lighting Designer

  Kenneth Posner

  Sound Designer

  Obadiah Eaves

  Projection Designer

  Dustin O’Neil

  The play received its European premiere at the Almeida Theatre, London, on 19 March 2009, with the following cast:

  DALE

  Andrew Lincoln

  NED

  Toby Jones

  JOY

  Amanda Drew

  Director

  Ian Rickson

  Designer

  Jeremy Herbert

  Lighting Designer

  Peter Mumford

  Sound Designer

  Paul Groothuis

  Composer

  Stephen Warbeck

  Characters

  NED, forty

  DALE, forty

  JOY, forty

  England, in the late summer/autumn. In and around the small suburban new-built home of Ned and Joy.

  Darkness. Silence. Spotlight on:

  DALE. It started small.

  Blackout.

  In the air, apocalyptic visions appear: buildings, towers, skyscrapers crashing to the ground; office blocks, factories, entire community projects collapsing; histories imploding, destroyed, erased for ever, disappearing in dust as the music swells to utter darkness and silence.

  NED and JOY’s house. NED. DALE. A TV. NED at the controls.

  DALE. Fuck me. (Beat.) Look at that. (Shakes head.) Where are we?

  NED. Leeds. A cooling tower outside Leeds.

  DALE. Where were you?

  NED. The Buffer Zone.

  DALE. The where?

  NED. You got three areas. The Designated Drop Area, or DDA. That’s the sector where the main body of the structure is primed to fall. Then you got the PDA. The Predicted Debris Area: namely the maximum area in which fragment equals S and/or debris can reasonably be expected. You calculate the height, weight, materials, foundations, weather conditions, crunch them, and you get a number. Then it’s standard safety procedure to build an eight to ten per cent comfort zone into the number. That gives you your PDA. So you’ve got the DDA, the PDA, then you got a Buffer Zone. I’m in the Buffer Zone. It’s the safe area. You’re completely safe there. Nothing’s going to hurt you in the Buffer Zone.

  A surtitle appears:

  ‘Everything is disappearing.’

  NED. Anyway, that’s all boring, technical stuff.

  DALE. Boring?

  NED. It’s technical –

  DALE. Do you want to swap?

  NED. What? No I just –

  DALE. Do you want to swap jobs, Ned?

  NED. No it’s just –

  DALE. Okay. Please. My CV...? Just to... hang on... Since school. Kitchen porter. Skivvy. Dogsbody –

  NED. Dale –

  DALE. Withering period of unemployment... Australia. Back home. Disaster with Tanya. Back to my mum’s. Little Chef manager... Washing cars. Nowhere in all that did they give me a thousand tons of TNT and a fucking great big plunger and say, ‘See that factory over there... Really, and I mean really, fuck it up.’ ‘See that tower block? We don’t want one brick left standing on another... Don’t come back till you’ve fully damaged it.’ Do they have a big plunger? They do, don’t they. Big comedy. (Mimes a plunger.) They do. I knew it. I wash cars. Cars, Ned.

  NED. Dale –

  DALE. Kids’ cars. Wankers’ cars.

  NED. How many car washes you got. Three? Four? How many do you employ? Twenty, thirty blokes.

  DALE. Kosovans, Ned. Twenty or thirty Poles. You ask for a Kit Kat, they come back with the Daily Mail.

  NED. You’ve built that business. That’s a good solid local –

  DALE. Cars, Ned. Wankers’ cars. You have a fight with the missus. Money worries. Whoosh. Lo the heavens shake with thunder. What have I got, I’m feeling the pressure. A sponge, Ned. A squeegee. A bucket of dirty water.

  NED. At the end of the day –

  DALE. At the end of the day, Ned, I’ve got pruny fingers. You’ve got a thousand-foot dust cloud, and a clatter you can hear ten miles away. The end of the fuckin’ world.

  NED. I forgot to say. I’m going to be in the paper.

  DALE. When?

  NED. Advertiser.

  DALE. See?

  NED. Not just me. The whole team.

  DALE. See? My point exactly. What for. Is it a... (Mimes plunger.)

  NED. Big job. Local.

  DALE. You lucky sod. Tell me.

  NED. It’s hush-hush.

  DALE. Tell me.

  NED. I can’t.

  DALE. Tell me anyway.

  NED. It’s the Arndale Centre.

  Pause.

  DALE. You’re blowing up the Arndale Centre?

  NED. Yes.

  DALE. Fuck me. The Arndale Centre.

  NED. Six weeks Tuesday.

  DALE. Why?

  NED. It’s obsolete.

  DALE. I do all my shopping there. Everybody does.

  NED. Its days are numbered, Dale. There’s going to be a photograph. Of us. The team. In front of the Arndale. Then another. Of it gone. At least that’s how I’d do it.

  DALE. Front page?

  NED. Could be. Should be.

  DALE. Should be on the telly.

  NED. My lips are sealed.

  DALE. You bastard.

  NED. No comment.

  DALE. You rotter. Are you going to be on the box?

  NED. It’s just a bit of fun really. It’s eye-candy, isn’t it. Tomorrow’s fish-and-chip paper.

  DALE. Well, that’s that. It’s going to cost a pound to talk to you. (Beat.) Do you know what? I could do this all day.

  NED. Where you going? We haven’t finished. I was just going to get another –

  DALE. Mate –

  NED. I was just going to get another one.

  DALE. It’s not me. You know it’s not me. It’s Lyn –

  NED. You got time for one more. Quick one.

  DALE. Lyn’ll be on the warpath.

  NED. Five minutes.

  DALE. Oooh... He always does this...

  NED. Okay? Are you... just... are you ready?

  DALE. Oooh... He always does this... !

  NED. Okay? Falkirk Industrial Estate, 2002. We drop this gasworks and there’s literally zero backwash.

  DALE. Ned –

  NED. I’ve got it upstairs. I know exactly where it is. I’ve got them all alphabetised.

  DALE. Ned –

  NED. I could have found it by now.

  DALE. Ned –

  NED. Come on. What’s five minutes? We could have watched it by now.

  DALE. Ned. I’ve seen it. (Beat.) Ned, mate, I’ve seen it. You showed me it. Last week.

  Pause.

  NED. When?

  DALE. Last week. You showed me all of these last week.

  NED. No I never.

  DALE. Yes you did.

  NED. When?

  DALE. Last week.

  NED. That was Pete. From the pub.

  DALE. No it wasn’t.

  NED. It was Pete from the pub.

  DALE. Ned. Yes. Ned. You showed them to Pete from the pub. You also showed them to me. Last week. And the week before that. With Rodge. And Nobby. Who’d seen it the week before that. With me. Who’d seen it three times the week before that. Once with Nobby. Once with Rodge. Once with Pete from the pub. What I’m saying is, what I’m getting at is, we’ve seen it. I’ve se
en it.

  NED. I’m sure you haven’t seen Falkirk.

  DALE. Ned –

  NED. In fact I’m positive you haven’t seen Falkirk. You’re thinking of Kilmarnock. The block of flats in –

  DALE. Not the block of flats in Kilmarnock. Although I know it well.

  NED. There’s no way you’ve seen –

  DALE. Ned –

  DALE. There’s no way you’ve seen Fal –

  DALE. It’s raining. There’s a bagpipe band. A countdown by the local lady mayor. A Mrs Bridey McNeil. Just when she starts, a kid jumps out the crowd and gets his bum out –

  NED. That shouldn’t have happened –

  DALE. There’s the countdown. Then you blow it up. (Pause.) It’s jaw-dropping. No one’s saying it’s not.

  Silence.

  NED. Of course. Of course. I remember. I remember now.

  Pause.

  DALE. Ned. Tell me to fuck off...

  NED. I’m fine.

  DALE. Good. Good. Excellent. Tell me to –

  NED. Dale –

  DALE. Good. Splendid. I was just, you know... Mates ’n’ all.

  NED. Hey –

  DALE. You’d tell me if something was –

  NED. Hey. Dale. We’re mates.

  DALE. Mates. Exactly. No harm done.

  NED. None taken.

  DALE. Well, I best be off.

  NED. Yeah, I better be getting on as well.

  DALE. Thanks for the... what’s the word?

  NED. Biscuits.

  DALE. Carnage.

  NED. It’s a bit of fun.

  DALE. Exactly.

  NED. Catch you later, Dale.

  DALE. Thanks for the biscuits –

  NED. Everything’s disappearing.

  Pause.

  DALE. What?

  Pause.

  NED. What? Nothing.

  DALE. You said. (Beat.) You just said –

  NED. You best be off.

  DALE. ‘Everything’s disappearing.’

  NED. Mind how you go.

  Pause.

  DALE. All right, mate. See you around.

  NED. Not if I see you first.

  Pause. DALE turns to go. He turns back.

  DALE. Ned. (Beat. Looks at watch.) Look. (Beat.) Life isn’t always... (Beat.) I mean... I’m not a doctor. Not a doctor. What’s the word? Gandalf. Not Gandalf. Like Gandalf. My point is, life is like a river. Things change. For us as for the river. See, one day they may build a bridge over the river. And you know. A cycle path. There may be an industrial leak that wipes out all the fish. They didn’t see it coming. How could they? They’re but fish, Ned. My point is, things changeth. ’Twas ever thus. Soothsayer. Bollocks. That’s the one. What?

  NED. No. I mean... Everything’s disappearing. From my house.

  DALE. What?

  NED. My stuff. My possessions... they’re disappearing.

  DALE. What are you talking about?

  NED. I mean my belongings. My things. The things I own. My stuff. Dale, if I tell you something, do you swear you will never tell another soul?

  DALE. I promise.

  NED. Swear to me. Swear on your life.

  DALE. Ned. What’s wrong. What’s the story?

  Blackout.

  Spotlight on:

  DALE. So like I said. It started small. A pocketwatch. Old set of golf clubs. Box camera. Pair of silver-backed hairbrushes. See, Ned’s a demolition expert. He goes away. On business, all the time. Up North. Wales. South East. Wherever they need something blowing up. How it worked, he’d go away for a few days, when he came back something else was missing. A set of spanners. Screwdrivers. Stuff he picked up at a car-boot sale. Tins. Old train set he had when he was a kid. Old cricket bat. Model cars. Drill bits. Drill. Knives. Now... I know Ned. My first thought was he’s got his knickers in a bunch. See, Ned’s a squirrel. He squirrels stuff away. Go in the man’s garage. Aladdin’s cave? Man goes to a house auction, buys three old sinks. Three old bog cisterns. Five old toasters. You walk in his garage, shed, his attic, you wouldn’t find a Sherman tank, but he swears he’s got a system. Knows where everything is. (Beat.) I asked him if anyone else had a set of keys. He said there was only ever two sets. His set, which he always, always kept on him. And her set. His missus. His wife. Joy.

  Blackout.

  A surtitle appears:

  ‘Face it. It’s a dead duck.’

  NED and JOY’s house. Both at a table, eating.

  NED. Well, that’s that. Sixty days straight without rain. That has never happened before in the entire history of here. Last day of July it was. I was in the greenhouse. Killing greenfly. Suddenly the sky turns black. ‘Hello,’ says I. ‘So long summer. Here comes Old Jack Frost.’ How wrong can you be? It better break soon because I’ll tell you this much. It’s not natural. It’s unnatural. Mother Nature is Not a Happy Bunny. (Beat.) How’s the bird? Is it moist enough? I rested it. That’s the secret. Remove the bird. On one side, tin foil. Ten, fifteen minutes. Give it a rest. It has to relax. You can’t forget you’re eating muscle. Is it okay, Joy?

  JOY. It’s lovely.

  NED. There’s a leg left. Little leg? Or a wing. Little wing? You sure? It’s not dry? How are the carrots? Overdone?

  JOY. They’re lovely.

  NED. You sure you don’t want more?

  JOY. This is perfect.

  NED. There’s a leg left. Little leg. You sure. A wing? Little wing? There’s more peas...

  JOY. It’s lovely, Ned. The bird, it’s moist. The roast potatoes are crispy outside, fluffy inside. The carrots are sweet and crunchy. The gravy is lip-smacking, and the peas are perfection. And the best bit is, it’s exactly the right size portion.

  Pause. NED starts to laugh.

  NED. This’ll make you laugh. I’m driving over Langley Marsh, where we blew up that cement works last spring. You’ll never guess what they’ve gone and done. They’ve built seventy-eight houses on that site. And every single house is the same as ours. Same layout. Same front door. So I think why not? I’ll stop off. Have a nose around. Being nosey. Pop my nose in, in the kitchen and guess what? It’s our kitchen. Same units. Same taps. Cloakroom. Same sink. Same fittings. Lounge-diner, exactly the same. Same floor. Same hatch. Except for... (Laughs.) Except for this bloody great rat. In the middle of the room. Huge it was. Like a dog. Long. Sleek. Tail like a rope. Staring at me. Not moving. Mind you, that’s building sites. You drop a biscuit, half a pork pie, that’ll bring fifty. Normally they see you and scarper. Not this chap. Blimey, he was big. Massive, massive rodent. Makes you think, don’t it.

  Pause.

  JOY. What about?

  NED. What? Sorry?

  JOY. What does it make you think about?

  NED. What do you mean?

  JOY. You seen this big rat. Said it makes you think. (Pause.) What about?

  Pause.

  NED. Well, you know. About...

  Pause.

  JOY. Rats?

  NED. No. What? No. Not just... No. (Laughs.) It’s not about rats. No. (Beat.) Well, yes. Yes. It is. It’s about rats.

  JOY. It is, isn’t it...?

  NED. I didn’t explain myself. You had to be there.

  JOY. I miss out on everything, me.

  Silence.

  NED. By the way. We got the Arndale job.

  JOY. The what?

  NED. The Arndale job.

  JOY. What Arndale job?

  NED. The Arndale Centre in town. We’re knocking it down.

  JOY. Why?

  NED. It’s being redeveloped.

  JOY. Says who?

  NED. The council. We got the contract.

  JOY. You’re knocking down the Arndale Centre.

  NED. We’re going to be in the paper.

  JOY. But I do all my shopping there. I’m always in the Arndale Centre. The chemist is there. The newsagent’s is there. Tesco’s is there. That’s where I go. That’s where I shop.

  NED. Fear not. It’s being replaced.

>   JOY. What with?

  NED. The New Arndale Centre.

  JOY. What’s wrong with the old one?

  NED. It’s obsolete.

  JOY. Says who?

  NED. The People. The People want bigger and better.

  JOY. Which People?

  NED. The People of this town, Joy. The People want flexible shopping solutions. Twenty-four-hour. A spa. Softplay. And more car parking. Ours is not to reason why, Joy. It’s a relic. An eyesore. It’s no longer viable.

  JOY. What does that mean?

  NED. It means we’re knocking it down.

  JOY. No you’re bloody not.

  NED. Joy. We’re a demolition company. We don’t just drive round choosing buildings to blow up. The council confers. Did you know there was a forest right here? Five years ago. Right where you’re sitting. It was here for a thousand years. Now it’s gone. We’re here. Everything has its time, Joy. And time is up for the Arndale Centre. Face it. It’s a dead duck.

  JOY. Well. This calls for a celebration.

  She fills his glass. Raises hers.

  Congratulations, Edward.

  NED. By the way, have you seen my cufflinks?

  Beat.

  JOY. What?

  NED. My cufflinks. The gold ones. The ones you gave me.

  JOY. They’re in your drawer.

  NED. Right. Right.

  JOY. They’re always in your drawer, Edward. That’s where they live.

  NED. Right. But you see. I had a good root around. And I couldn’t find them.

  JOY. Well, when did you last have them?

  NED. That wedding.

  JOY. What wedding?

  NED. Your cousin Anne’s. In Gants Hill.

  JOY. That was June last year.

  NED. Must be.

  JOY. That was over a year ago.

  NED. That was the last time I wore them. That was the last occasion I wore cufflinks.

  JOY. Well, this is splendid.

  NED. What?

  JOY. Those are twenty-four-carat solid-gold cufflinks, Edward.

  NED. I know.

  JOY. Oh you know, do you? Who was it got the train into Hatton Garden and spent all day picking them out? Who got them engraved by the engraver to the Queen? Do you remember what it said on them?