Posh

by Laura Wade

GUY: Nice.

  JEREMY: Look, I – I can’t stress enough how important it is that you –

  If you can be an arbiter of sense and decorum at that dinner, you’ll make me, and others in more elevated positions extremely –

  GUY: Don’t worry. We’ll be good boys, we won’t disappoint.

  JEREMY: You know what I mean. No fucking about, yes?

  JEREMY’s phone chimes again.

  GUY: Thanks, Uncle Jezza.

  JEREMY leaves.

  GUY leans back in his chair, looks around the room.

  GUY’s phone rings. He picks up.

  Dimitri, you massive gayer! Listen to this: it’s going to be fucking savage.

  Blackout.

  SCENE 2

  The private dining room at the Bull’s Head Inn, set for dinner, but empty at first.

  CHRIS and GEORGE enter. GEORGE looks around, surprised that the room is empty.

  CHRIS: You’re the first.

  GEORGE: Yeah. Savage.

  CHRIS: Well you can tell me if everything’s OK– anything you think you’ll need you can’t see here?

  GEORGE: Uh. Yeah. I’m not really the –

  Not really the right chap.

  CHRIS: Been to a wedding?

  GEORGE: Uh, no, it’s uh. Club regimentals.

  I mean it’s –

  CHRIS: Thought you’d be in business suits, more of a pinstripe thing.

  GEORGE: Sorry?

  CHRIS: Young Entrepreneurs.

  GEORGE: Oh yes, yeah. Young Entrepreneurs Club.

  CHRIS: I thought that’d be, you know. Entrepreneurs now.

  GEORGE: Yeah, it’s uh. It’s retro night. Lovely.

  CHRIS: Well, take a pew, make yourself at home.

  GEORGE looks at a chair, then looks around the room, at a loss.

  GEORGE: Yeah, bit weird. On my own. Might go and sit out –

  CHRIS: Whatever you prefer.

  CHRIS ushers GEORGE out of the door.

  GEORGE: Have you got a snug?

  The room is left empty.

  Moments later, the door opens again and TOBY comes in, seething and full of nervy energy. ED follows behind. Toby is carrying a vintage-looking leather box with a handle – looks like a hat box – and an ornamental sabre in a velvet pouch attached to a sash.

  ED: Mate, I’m sorry, OK.

  TOBY: You’re not supposed to move your stuff, fuck’s sake.

  ED: Is this what you were pissed off about in the cab? You could have said –

  TOBY: Looked like Soviet Russia. Like a monk who’s taken a vow of no fucking possessions.

  ED: Just my computer and the stereo.

  TOBY: What, nothing else?

  Little furry friend?

  ED: Yeah, OK.

  TOBY: Mr Ted, Big Ted, whatever its name is.

  ED: It’s just that my brother said –

  TOBY: He told you to move your stuff out?

  ED: No, he just. Mentioned there’d be something and I knew it’d be either a bedroom-trash or a beasting ’cause it always is, so – Pre-emptive strike.

  TOBY: Fucking weasel.

  ED: They’ve never been to my room, I thought they wouldn’t know what I’ve got and what I haven’t.

  TOBY: I’ve seen your room.

  ED: You told them?

  TOBY: We were thinking about what we were going to do – I’m going to miss out something that hilarious?

  ED: Fuck.

  TOBY: Supposed to be awesome. Your entry to the club. They knew soon as they walked in and couldn’t find Mr Fucking Snuffles.

  ED: Kingsley. Kingsley Bear.

  TOBY: Walk in and it’s ‘where’s the bear? Hmm, nowhere’.

  ED: I’m sorry, mate.

  TOBY: I’m your sponsor. You fuck it up, it reflects back on me.

  ED: Yeah, sorry.

  TOBY: Stop saying fucking sorry. Just. Try not to make me look like a twat.

  ED sits down.

  Mate!

  ED: What?

  ED jumps up.

  TOBY: You don’t sit before the president.

  ED: Yeah, I know, I just thought. He’s not here yet. No one’s here.

  TOBY: Dinner starts when you walk through that door. Jesus.

  TOBY paces, hands in pockets.

  Where the fuck are they?

  ED: Long way to come, isn’t it, ’cause of the, um – Radius –

  ED looks at TOBY – he doesn’t yet seem appeased.

  Toby, I’m sorry about the bear, OK? He’s a family heirloom.

  TOBY: ‘He ’?

  ED: Kingsley Bear has been in my family for like, three generations, a hundred years. If anything happens to him – it – I mean my grandmother would go ballistic and she’s scary –

  TOBY: Why d’you bring it to college?

  ED: Family tradition.

  TOBY: Fuck’s sake.

  ED: Look, mate, I get it.

  TOBY: What?

  ED: I know you’ve got a rep to repair. I know you’re worried the guys are still hacked off at you for the Daily Mail thing, but we’ve all done stupid shit, yeah? And I know you didn’t want to be my sponsor, but I’m going to be distressingly awesome tonight. Team Tubes.

  TOBY: Mate, fuck, look, tonight’s a write off – they’re going to tear me a new one, give me a fucking dregsing, and I’m going to put my head down and take it ’cause once they’ve done that they can’t say anything.

  But I don’t need you cocking about in my eyeline, making it worse, OK? I’m on thin ice here.

  ED: Toby, I’m your skates.

  TOBY: What?

  HARRY: (off.) This one through here? No no, I’ll be fine, thank you so much.

  ED: Skates, like ice skates –

  TOBY: Just stay out my way.

  The door opens and HARRY comes in backwards, rather overloaded. He’s wearing full fencing gear and carries a large kit bag, with a couple of swords sticking out of it, plus a suit carrier.

  HARRY: Yeah yeah, I can manage I’ll just whack it in a corner.

  Ooh, hello. Private moment?

  TOBY: No one’s here yet.

  ED: Hi Harry.

  TOBY goes into the hat box and takes out a white powdered 1760s-style wig, which he puts on his head during the next.

  HARRY: Cut the air with a knife.

  ED: Or a sword.

  HARRY: Oh, it does jokes. (To TOBY.) Well picked.

  TOBY: Didn’t pick him.

  HARRY hands his kit bag to ED.

  HARRY: Ed?

  HARRY unzips his suit carrier and takes out his tails. TOBY puts on the sash and ornamental sword. HARRY notices.

  Wig of shame, nice.

  TOBY: You’ve had a match?

  HARRY: I had a match – other chap had a pasting.

  TOBY: Varsity?

  HARRY: Varsity warm-up. They haven’t got a chance.

  ED: You won then?

  HARRY: I always win.

  Pasted the captain and then got a blowjob off his girlfriend while he was getting looked at by the physio.

  ED: Fuck.

  HARRY: Tab shoo!

  TOBY: Was she fit?

  HARRY: She was from Cambridge. Still, blowjob’s a blowjob.

  Right, can you fuck off for a minute while I get changed?

  TOBY: In here?

  HARRY: Yeah.

  TOBY: Why didn’t you dress at college?

  HARRY: No time – two hours ago I was still in the rotten Fens. Got dropped off by the minibus.

  TOBY: Whyn’t you change in the loo?

  HARRY: I’m not putting my tails on in the loo, fuck’s sake. Just go out in the bar a minute.

  TOBY: I’m not going out there.

  ED: Toby got wolf-whistled on the way in.

  HARRY: So the locals think you’re hot.

  TOBY: Stand around like a twat when we can’t even have a drink yet.

  CHRIS comes in.

  CHRIS: Everything alright, gents?

  HARRY: Excellent, thank you.

/>   CHRIS: Just looking for James Leighton-Masters.

  TOBY: He’s not here yet.

  HARRY: Leighton’s not here yet?

  CHRIS: Look like a musketeer.

  TOBY: Charades later.

  TOBY takes off the sash and sword and leans it against the wall.

  CHRIS: Alright, well – If he comes in could you point him towards me?

  TOBY: Absolutely.

  CHRIS goes to leave.

  HARRY: Hi – sorry – actually I could do with a bit of a brush-down. Have you got a room?

  CHRIS: A room?

  HARRY: You do bed and breakfast, right?

  CHRIS: ‘Restaurant with Rooms’, yes.

  HARRY: Yes, of course – very good. Could I possibly borrow a room – just for half an hour? Don’t fancy changing in the loo, you know?

  CHRIS: Thing is we’re full tonight – you know, Saturday – they’re all booked.

  HARRY: Oh boo – I mean great, obviously. Are they all here?

  CHRIS: Pardon?

  HARRY: Have they all arrived, are the rooms actually occupied right now?

  CHRIS: Not yet, no.

  HARRY: Just if I could possibly pop into one for like, half an hour. Less than.

  CHRIS: Thing is, the rooms have got to be ready when they come, so –

  HARRY: No no, sure sure. I’m talking about paying, by the way. I mean how much does a room go for? Per night.

  CHRIS: Eighty five pounds.

  HARRY: Gosh that’s reasonable.

  ED: So for half an hour that’s what, eighty five divided by twenty-four –

  HARRY: Eighty-five, full whack.

  CHRIS: For half an hour?

  HARRY: You’d be doing me a favour, so –

  CHRIS: Still have to get it cleaned, though. There’s no cleaning staff in until tomorrow, so –

  HARRY: I won’t make a mess, I promise. I mean, is there a pot-washer you could slip a bit extra? – it probably won’t need anything at all, I won’t need to touch anything.

  CHRIS: Um, there’s a couple not getting here till nine or so –

  HARRY: That’s marvellous.

  CHRIS: Alright then.

  HARRY: Nice doing business with you.

  CHRIS: You want to go up now?

  HARRY: Yeah, I smell of defeat. Not mine – other chap.

  HARRY and CHRIS go to the door, just as ALISTAIR comes in, roaring like a Sergeant Major.

  ALISTAIR: Right then, you cock-sucking arsemonkeys, who’s going to get on their knees and give me some fucking…

  ALISTAIR simultaneously clocks that the room is half-empty, and that CHRIS is there.

  …head –

  He holds out his hand to CHRIS, switching instantly into charming.

  Hi. Alistair Ryle.

  CHRIS: Hello.

  ALISTAIR: How d’you do.

  CHRIS: Very well, thank you.

  ALISTAIR: Lovely pub. Alright, chaps?

  HARRY: Ryle.

  ED: Hi Alistair.

  ALISTAIR: (To CHRIS.) Sorry about the, uh –

  CHRIS: No no, heard it all before. Should hear Chef when he’s cut his finger.

  HARRY: Chefs.

  ALISTAIR: This part of the original, in here?

  CHRIS: Part of the original, yes.

  ALISTAIR: Very sympathetic.

  ALISTAIR looks at HARRY.

  Tab shoo?

  HARRY: Tab shoo. Going to get changed.

  ALISTAIR: Excellent, you stink. (To CHRIS.) Good to meet you.

  CHRIS and HARRY go out. ALISTAIR comes into the room, looking around. He sees TOBY’s wig and points at it.

  Ah, the wig of shame.

  Fuck this is a long way from town.

  ED: Banned from anywhere closer, aren’t we, the radius…

  ALISTAIR: Taxi driver couldn’t find it. Should’ve hired a minibus, all come together.

  ED: Yeah, all rock up together like Reservoir Dogs.

  ALISTAIR: Excited, Grasshopper?

  ED: Yeah.

  ALISTAIR: You should be.

  The Riot Club rides again.

  ALISTAIR lights a cigarette.

  TOBY: Mate I don’t know if we can –

  ALISTAIR: Private Dining room, that’s the point, isn’t it? Home from home.

  ED takes out a packet of cigarettes and lights one. TOBY opens a window.

  Voices are heard coming down the corridor.

  Listen.

  HUGO: (off.) Just give it one night, OK? Please.

  HUGO comes into the room, followed by MILES.

  MILES: It’s not the –

  MILES sees the other boys in the room.

  Forget it, doesn’t matter.

  ALISTAIR: Hugo.

  HUGO: Evening.

  ED: Hi Hugo. Miles.

  ALISTAIR: Look at the cherub! Proper Riot Boy.

  MILES: Great.

  ALISTAIR: Welcome, anyway, in the absence of any kind of leader.

  HUGO: Where’s James?

  TOBY: Not here yet.

  HUGO: Not sat in a corner making napkin swans?

  ALISTAIR: So two new boys. How you feeling?

  ED: Awesome. Totes excited.

  ALISTAIR: (To TOBY.) He says totes.

  TOBY: Don’t say totes, fucking parody of yourself.

  ALISTAIR: How’d you like your room makeover, Miles?

  HUGO: Al, I wouldn’t –

  MILES: Well, it was thorough.

  ED: It was amazing, fucking savage –

  TOBY: Mate – doghouse, yeah?

  HUGO: Doghouse is already occupied, Toby.

  TOBY: Only till the dregsing, mate.

  ALISTAIR: Sorry, Milo?

  MILES: Didn’t quite get the tails-hung-up thing, the symbolism.

  ED: What thing?

  MILES: Where they hang your tails up on a hanger in the middle of the room. So when you walk in for a second it looks like someone hanged themself.

  ED: No way.

  ALISTAIR: Just a calling card.

  ED: Didn’t do that in mine.

  TOBY: You haven’t got a central light fitting.

  ALISTAIR: Why’d you get such a tiny room, anyway? Thought you’d get the set your brother had with the windows onto the quad.

  HUGO: ‘The Montgomery Suite’.

  ALISTAIR: Awesome quad parties.

  ED: Ground floor, mate. Access requirements.

  HUGO: Ah. The Monty Suite’s been given to a disabled.

  ALISTAIR: Jesus fuck.

  ED: Well I wish you’d left me a calling card.

  MILES: I wish they hadn’t jizzed all over my fucking stuff.

  The others turn to MILES.

  HUGO: Milo –

  ALISTAIR: Mate?

  MILES: Nothing.

  ALISTAIR: Is there a problem?

  MILES: Well yeah, I –

  HUGO: It’s fine, he’s just –

  MILES: I didn’t expect someone’s semen all over my books.

  ED: Mate, it’s part of the room trash – that’s what happens.

  MILES: It’s actually really difficult to get off. Paper’s porous.

  ALISTAIR: Didn’t Hugo tell you? This is a club for getting fucked and fucking stuff up, mate.

  HUGO: It’s a bit more than that, I think you’ll –

  ED: Don’t they trash rooms at Harrow?

  MILES: More of a sports club thing.

  ALISTAIR: No wait, don’t tell me – your mates were all in bands…

  MILES: Yeah.

  ALISTAIR: …and when you got to Oxford there was this one night in Freshers Week where you were sat in the college bar looking around at all your new friends who grew up in – help me, Tubes –

  TOBY: Stockport.

  ALISTAIR: Who grew up in Stockport or wherever, when this chap comes and sits next to you –

  TOBY: In a smoking jacket…

  HUGO: Guys, don’t –

  ALISTAIR: In a smoking jacket and he says something in Latin – which somehow cuts right to the heart of yo
u…

  TOBY: ’Cause he seems to understand exactly – exactly – how you’re feeling.

  ALISTAIR: And then he tells you the story of Lord Riot the famous Libertine. And he feeds you a drink of his favourite vintage Port – private supply – and he tells you he’s in Lord Riot’s club and you should come along.

  TOBY: It’s very exclusive. Top secret.

  ALISTAIR: Assentio mentium: the meeting of minds – and you’re exactly the right sort of chap.

  Hugo Fraser-Tyrwhitt: Operation Pretty Boy.

  HUGO: One word for you, Toby: youTube.

  ED: Two words. No, sorry –

  TOBY: Oh my god, that one last year.

  ALISTAIR: Gay Harry Potter?

  TOBY: Couldn’t afford his tails in the end so Hugo had to drop him.

  HUGO: That’s not what happened at –

  ALISTAIR: Gay Harry Potter.

  MILES: I’m not gay, by the way.

  ED: It’s OK to be gay.

  MILES: I know, but I’m not, so – I think there’s something fairly gay about wanking in someone’s bedroom.

  I’d also quite like to know whose jizz it is.

  ALISTAIR: Hugo?

  HUGO: Well, it’s. It’s one for all and all for one.

  MILES: Meaning what?

  HUGO: Everyone takes part in the trashing, so in a way it’s everyone’s jizz.

  MILES: You all wanked on my books?

  HARRY comes in, looking immaculate in his tails.

  ALISTAIR: Next year you get to do it to someone else.

  MILES: I don’t want to.

  HARRY: What are we talking about?

  TOBY: You do what the president tells you to do.

  HUGO: You don’t have to.

  TOBY: He’s supposed to lead by example.

  MILES: So James jizzed on my books?

  HARRY: Oh no, that was me. Always happy to whack one out for the good of the club.

  What’s Balf doing out there?

  ALISTAIR: Befriending the locals.

  HARRY: Classic. (In GEORGE’s voice) ‘Hullo hullo, let’s talk about tractors.’

  ALISTAIR starts to pace the room, looking in the drawers of the sideboard.

  TOBY: How was the room?

  HARRY: Three star.

  ED: D’you mess it up?

  HARRY: Did a big dump in the loo, got my money’s worth. Release the otters!

  MILES: Nice.

  TOBY: Come on Leighton, let’s do this.

  HUGO: Has he texted anyone?

  They all whip out their phones and check.

  TOBY: Nope.

  HUGO: No.

  HARRY: (Reading a text.) Excellent.

  TOBY: Mate?

  HARRY: No, something else, sorry.

  Al, did Leighton text you?

  HARRY looks at ALISTAIR, sees he’s reading from a burgundy leather-look binder which he found in one of the drawers.