Posh

by Laura Wade

  JAMES: OK, guys, we’ll just have to, um. Not.

  ALISTAIR: Oh this is fucked.

  ED: I really wanted a sniffy.

  HARRY: Hey, Balf – the farmers in the bar you were talking to?

  GEORGE: Yeah?

  HARRY: Go and see if they’ve got any Ketamine or something.

  GEORGE: What?

  HARRY: You know, for horses.

  HUGO: Or we could stop behaving like –

  HARRY: Seriously Balf – go and get some Ket from the farmers.

  GEORGE: They’re not going to have any on them.

  HARRY: They might.

  GUY: Go on, Balf.

  GEORGE: No they won’t because a) why would they bring horse tranquiliser to the pub and b) even if they did it’d be liquid ’cause you can’t get a horse to snort something and 3) I don’t see why we have to take drugs anyway, I don’t even like it – coke doesn’t even really do anything except make you feel rotten the next day I think I’d rather have a pint, actually.

  The door opens and RACHEL comes in, carrying a tray.

  Seriously.

  RACHEL: Just come in to clear. Everything alright for you?

  JAMES: Yes. Fine, thank you.

  She puts the tray down and starts to collect the main course plates onto it.

  DIMITRI: Leighton?

  JAMES: Yes, OK. Hi – Sorry, Rachel, isn’t it?

  RACHEL: Yeah.

  JAMES: Is your dad around, Rachel?

  RACHEL: He’s sorting out the Ruby Wedding. D’you need to speak to him?

  JAMES: No no, don’t worry – I’ll have a chat with him later.

  DIMITRI: Talk to Rachel about it.

  RACHEL: What?

  JAMES: I said I’d talk to Chris, not –

  MILES: We can speak to you, since you’re here, Rachel.

  JAMES: No, mate, I said I’d –

  HARRY: Rachel’s our mate, you can talk to her.

  ALISTAIR: What have you got to say to the lady, Brigadier?

  RACHEL: Sorry, is there a problem?

  JAMES: Right, yeah. Yeah, the guys would like to complain about –

  DIMITRI: No, you – you’d like to complain.

  JAMES: OK, yeah. Sorry about this, know this isn’t your fault, but we’d like to complain about the fact of the um, the ten-bird roast, because it only had nine birds in it, actually. By our reckoning.

  RACHEL: Really? I told him you were all too pissed to notice.

  JAMES: Sorry?

  RACHEL: He was worried about it earlier, said the butcher let him down, couldn’t get hold of any guinea fowl this week but didn’t tell him till the last minute. I said I couldn’t imagine anyone being bothered to count the rings on it.

  JAMES: No, well. I’m surrounded by pedants.

  GEORGE: I’m not a peasant!

  JAMES: Pedant, not peasant.

  GEORGE: I’ve got patent.

  JAMES: I know, I said pedant.

  HUGO: Could have got a guinea fowl out of Harry’s back garden.

  GEORGE: His back garden’s most of Warwickshire.

  HARRY: Honestly – it’s not most of.

  JAMES: It’s just that when we arrange something, we kind of expect to get it, you know?

  DIMITRI: When we’re paying for it.

  RACHEL: I’m sure he’ll have tried to tell you about it.

  JAMES: He actually kind of didn’t.

  RACHEL: OK, is anyone still hungry? Did anyone not have enough to eat?

  ’Cause I could make you an omelette?

  ALISTAIR: The thing is, Rachel, we’re not your normal punters –

  JAMES: These chaps have eaten in some of the finest restaurants in the country.

  DIMITRI: The world, mate.

  RACHEL laughs.

  RACHEL: So what you doing in Kidsbury, then?

  Oh yeah. Young Enterprise.

  RACHEL picks up the tray.

  I’ll tell Chris what you said.

  She realises she can’t get out of the door without putting the tray down again, but JAMES leaps up to open it for her.

  JAMES: Other than the numbers issue, I mean what there was of it was lovely, so you know –

  RACHEL: Yeah. You might want to keep the noise down a bit.

  RACHEL goes out. JAMES shuts the door behind her and turns back to look at the table.

  GEORGE: Boo.

  JAMES sits down.

  GUY: Well that could have gone better.

  JAMES: It’s fine, it’s fine.

  TOBY: Mate, you got rinsed.

  JAMES: No I didn’t.

  GEORGE: Chaps chaps, come on.

  TOBY: Leighton got totally fucking rinsed. ‘Other than the numbers issue it was lovely’ – what the fuck?

  JAMES: OK, fine.

  JAMES stands up.

  Point of order: anyone fancy a dregsing?

  TOBY: What, now?

  JAMES: Suddenly in the mood for one.

  GUY: Seconded!

  HUGO: Do we have to?

  HARRY: Thirded!

  TOBY: Well fucking come on then, let’s get it done.

  TOBY stands up in preparation.

  OK, so once this is over you can’t take the piss anymore, yeah? Total fucking moratorium.

  And no chewing gum, no jizz, Villiers –

  JAMES: Just a minute, Tubes. Sit down a sec.

  TOBY: What?

  JAMES pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket.

  JAMES: Something to read out first.

  TOBY: What, what is it?

  JAMES: Just something to put all this in context, that’s all. For the new boys.

  JAMES reads:

  ‘Dear Mr. Bingham. I am writing to express my great regret for recent events for which –

  TOBY leaps from his chair, trying to grab the piece of paper from JAMES, but GEORGE and DIMITRI jump up and pull him away.

  HARRY: Oh mate.

  TOBY: That’s private, that’s a private –

  JAMES: Yeah, wasn’t going to do it but you’ve pissed me off, so –

  TOBY: Fuck.

  JAMES: This is a letter Tubes wrote back in –

  JAMES consults the letter.

  March this year. So shortly after the shitstorm.

  ALISTAIR: How’d you get it?

  JAMES: Just requested a copy for the archives. Shall I go on?

  DIMITRI: Can’t wait.

  JAMES: ‘for which I hold full responsibility’ – hang on boring boring boring – right here we go – ‘I hope that I can explain my actions on February 21st to your satisfaction, though having been under the influence of alcohol at the time, I’m afraid that my knowledge of some details is a little compromised.’

  ALISTAIR: A little compromised? You were wankered.

  JAMES: ‘On the night in question, myself and a number of other Riot Club members attended Spires, a nightclub in Oxford, in celebration of George Balfour’s birthday.’

  GEORGE: Oh yeah, blame it on Balf.

  JAMES: ‘On entering the nightclub, my fiends’ – sorry, ‘my friends and I noticed that it was casually’ – no, ‘unusually empty’ – Tubes, your handwriting’s appalling, this looks like a spider’s gone and –

  HUGO: Get Tubes to read it.

  GUY: Yeah, you read it.

  TOBY: Fuck’s sake.

  ED: Go Tubes!

  HARRY: Don’t let him grab it.

  JAMES: I’ll hold it, yeah. You read – from ‘entering the club’.

  TOBY sighs, reads.

  TOBY: ‘On entering the nightclub, my friends and I proceeded to the VIP area but were saddened to find that we were the only people behind the rope. George Balfour expressed disappointment that there weren’t any young ladies in our group and that he had hoped for a more mixed crowd for his birthday.’

  GEORGE: Oh, my fault again?

  ALISTAIR: Hardly an embarrassment of bitches.

  TOBY: ‘Hoping to be a good friend, I took it upon myself to procure some female company for the party, and invit
ed two young ladies to join us in the VIP area. One of whom was Clare Sweet.’

  HARRY: Total bitch.

  GUY: What kind of a name is Clare Sweet?

  TOBY: Bit like Lauren Small, isn’t it?

  HUGO: Read, Tubes.

  TOBY: ‘I spent the next portion of the evening in private conversation with Ms Sweet, during which’ –

  GEORGE: Didn’t you try and lick her ear?

  TOBY: ‘During which I contravened club secrecy rules by revealing that the club is still in operation,’

  HARRY: Boo!

  TOBY: ‘And by freely informing Ms Sweet that I was a member, without any effort to disguise the name of the club or my own identity.’

  I mean that’s enough, isn’t it –

  JAMES: The whole thing, please.

  TOBY: ‘I am also aware by report that I may have said some wrong-headed things which caused the club to seem ridiculous.’

  HARRY: What, like ‘I love the sound of breaking glass’?

  MILES: Oh my god, did he say that?

  DIMITRI: Yeah, then he held his glass out and dropped it on the floor.

  MILES: Did it break?

  HARRY: Nope. Fell on a scarf.

  The boys laugh.

  JAMES: Tubes?

  TOBY: ‘I had no idea that Ms Sweet had begun to record our conversation on a mobile phone. Nothing in Ms Sweet’s demeanour –

  HARRY: Sorry, Tubes, I think someone’s phone’s ringing?

  GUY: Oh, that’s me, sorry, just got a new ringtone…

  GUY takes his phone out of his pocket – the ringtone is a sample of TOBY’s voice over and over saying ‘I love the sound of breaking glass’ and ‘Total carnage’.

  TOBY: ‘I tried to take’ – Fuck you, Bellingfield – ‘I tried to take the audio clip off YouTube as soon as –

  OK, there’s another phone going –

  MILES: Oh sorry, that’s me.

  MILES pulls out his phone, playing another TOBY ringtone, this time ‘Seriously funny’ and ‘hilarious’.

  HUGO: When did you get that?

  MILES: Villiers sent it to me.

  HUGO: When did he –

  HARRY: Hang on, mine’s going too.

  HARRY pulls out his phone, playing a sample of TOBY saying ‘all the way to Chunderland’ over a dance beat.

  It stops quite suddenly and HARRY fiddles with the phone.

  Wait – fuck – call me again, Dims.

  DIMITRI does so. HARRY’s phone rings again and the boys dance along to the ringtone for a moment.

  TOBY: OK, whatever. Oxford Student, Daily Mail, picture of the Prime Minister, you know the rest.

  JAMES: Just want the guys to hear the final paragraph.

  TOBY: Jesus.

  DIMITRI: Take it to the bridge, Tubes.

  TOBY: ‘I know that I made a grave error of judgement and deeply regret that my actions have brought the club into both the public gaze and disrepute.’

  HUGO: Zeugma – was that zeugma, Maitland?

  TOBY: ‘Though I understand that this is no excuse, my error stemmed mostly from a feeling of pride at being a member of the club, which I struggled not to share. I have–

  I have taken a long hard look at myself and have – have suffered a number of sleepless nights thinking about’ –

  OK, can I stop now, isn’t that –

  JAMES: Move to a dregs?

  GUY: Seconded.

  HARRY: Thirded.

  DIMITRI: Fourthed.

  JAMES: Gentlemen, please dregs your glasses.

  The boys grab their half-full wine glasses.

  GEORGE: God, I love a dregsing.

  MILES: What do I do?

  ALISTAIR: Put something in your wine – snot, spit, whatever –

  The boys individually adulterate their own glass of wine, variously adding snot, saliva, phlegm, salt and pepper, torn-up bread, earth from a nearby plant pot, ear wax, candle wax etc.

  HARRY turns away from the table and unzips.

  TOBY: Guys, clemency, please?

  HARRY: Thank fuck – I needed a piss anyway.

  HUGO: Oh Villiers, put it away.

  TOBY: Mate please don’t piss in it –

  HARRY: Oops I’m pissing in it.

  ED: I’ve just put a little bit of salt in mine, so –

  JAMES: Ready Tubes? One minute on the clock to get round the table.

  Everyone done?

  MILES: Hang on a sec –

  MILES finishes crumbling a piece of bread into his glass of wine, then looks around for something more.

  Wait a sec –

  MILES grabs a bowl of pot pourri from the sideboard and sprinkles some of it into his glass then stirs it with a spoon and sits back, satisfied.

  OK.

  JAMES: Toby – dregs!

  The boys clap in time and shout ‘dregs dregs dregs’ as TOBY moves around the table, drinking down each dregsed glass of wine.

  After five glasses, TOBY clings to the back of the chair, doubled-over, nearly falling.

  TOBY: Bag –

  The boys hold out a bag for him which he vomits into.

  TOBY pulls himself up again and continues around the table, drinking another two glasses, after which he falls onto his knees.

  HARRY: Try and finish it, mate.

  TOBY pulls himself up again and drinks one more glass. He falls to his knees again and holds out his hand for the next glass, but ALISTAIR pulls it out of his reach.

  ALISTAIR: No.

  TOBY: I can do it –

  ALISTAIR: No, mate –

  TOBY: Come on, want to get it done –

  ALISTAIR: Just – what are we doing?

  What are we doing?

  DIMITRI: Don’t suddenly get all Save The Children, Ryle.

  ALISTAIR: I’m not – I’m just – Hasn’t he taken enough shit for this?

  JAMES: He has to be punished.

  ALISTAIR: For what? For being proud of the club? Why shouldn’t he –

  JAMES: He talked about it.

  ALISTAIR: Didn’t lie, did he? Now fucking look at him – covered in piss and wine with vom coming out of his nose – I mean isn’t that exactly what they want?

  JAMES: Sorry, what you saying, mate.

  ALISTAIR: I’m saying – I don’t know – I’m saying – Why shouldn’t we be proud of who we are, not scuffling around pretending to be the Young Farmers –

  GEORGE: Entrepreneurs.

  ALISTAIR: People just waiting for us to put a foot wrong so they can take the piss, yeah? I mean doesn’t it feel a bit like the world’s queuing up to shit on us?

  You know, the wrong wine, fucking gritty pate – sorry Bell-end but it was shit –

  GUY: It wasn’t shit –

  ALISTAIR: Just ’cause it says foie gras, doesn’t mean it’s good foie gras. We know that, they don’t, so why do we put up with it?

  TOBY: He’s got a point, mate.

  DIMITRI: Come on guys, who run the world?

  ALISTAIR: Not us. Clearly.

  Leighton late for his own dinner because he’s doing a maths test for a fucking internship? Jesus, when did that happen? Fucking begging for jobs.

  JAMES: We’re not being shat on, not begging for jobs it’s –

  HARRY’s phone rings. Ten sets of ears prick up.

  HARRY: Gentlemen – it’s cock o’clock.

  The boys whoop with joy.

  DIMITRI: Bring on the ladyfun.

  HARRY answers the phone, motioning to the others to hush.

  HARRY: Hello? Hi – are you here?

  ED: Tell her I’ve got my cock out ready for her.

  HARRY: He what? Oh fuck.

  DIMITRI: What’s happening?

  HARRY: Landlord won’t let her in.

  GUY: What?

  TOBY: Fucksticks.

  ALISTAIR: Yeah, this is what I’m –

  HARRY: Where are you now?

  HARRY goes to the window and looks out.

  OK, go round to the left – no, we’re in
a room round the back. No no, he won’t know –

  JAMES: Is this a good idea?

  HARRY: Can you see me at the window – I’m waving at you – OK, yeah, come here –

  HARRY opens the window.

  TOBY: You going out?

  HARRY: No, she’s coming in.

  HARRY leans out of the window.

  Hi!

  A woman’s face appears at the window.

  CHARLIE: Hi. Harry?

  HARRY: Charlie, yeah?

  CHARLIE looks into the room and sees all the other boys.

  This is Charlie, chaps, she’s a – what d’you say, ‘call girl’?

  CHARLIE: Um. Escort. Is this a stag party?

  HARRY: No no, god no. Come in.

  CHARLIE: Um. Might have to give me a hand.

  HARRY: Pleasure. Is there a step on that –

  CHARLIE: Yeah yeah.

  HARRY gives CHARLIE his hand and she steps up to the window and swings one of her legs into the room.

  Dignified, isn’t it?

  HARRY: Spot of bother in the bar?

  CHARLIE: Old client of mine’s sat in there, tipped off the landlord.

  Usually meet somewhere a bit more discreet.

  CHARLIE brings her other leg through the window and faces the boys. She’s wearing a demure(ish) black dress and heels. you’d have to be a seasoned punter to spot she was an escort.

  HARRY: OK, well you’re here now, so –

  This is my friends – James –

  CHARLIE: Hi.

  JAMES: Welcome.

  CHARLIE shakes JAMES’ hand, to the boys’ surprise. She shakes hands with each of them as she’s introduced.

  HARRY: Alistair,

  ALISTAIR: Hi.

  HARRY: George,

  GEORGE giggles.

  CHARLIE: Hello.

  HARRY: Dimitri,

  DIMITRI: Charmed.

  HARRY: Guy, Toby – we call him Tubes –

  CHARLIE: I won’t ask why.

  HARRY: Ed – he’ll probably dribble on you,

  CHARLIE: Ahh.

  HARRY: Miles,

  MILES: Hi.

  HARRY: Oh and Hugo, but he’s gay, so –

  CHARLIE: Shame – you look like a catch.

  HUGO: Thanks.

  CHARLIE looks at HARRY.

  CHARLIE: So, um –

  HARRY: Yeah. Here we are.

  DIMITRI: Would you like a drink?

  CHARLIE: Maybe in a minute, thanks. (To HARRY.) You’ve got a room, have you?

  HARRY: Yes. Here.

  CHARLIE looks around at the room.

  CHARLIE: This?

  HARRY: Yeah.

  CHARLIE: OK, where are the others going to go?

  HARRY: Sorry?

  CHARLIE: While we’re seeing each other.

  HARRY: No no, they’ll be here. What we were thinking was if you, um, were under the table, and all of us sitting around it, so –