NormTHE GOOD GUYS, A PLAY FOR TELEVISION, 2009/2010 (WARNING!! MAY CONTAIN INOFFENSIVE LANGUAGE)
ALLAN, A PAEDOPHILE
DENNIS, ANOTHER PAEDOPHILE
ALLAN’S WIFE, A PAEDOPHILE’S WIFE
THE DOCTOR, A PAEDOPHILE’S DOCTOR
THE WOMAN, A MOTHER
THE OVEN, AN APPLIANCE
THE WASHING MACHINE, ANOTHER APPLIANCE
THE TOASTER, A GIFT
The set-up of the set-up
Dennis and Allan, along with his wife, share a flat/house. One exit to the outside world. One exit leads further in. It’s always 1987. One chair faces away from the television. One towards. Blankets cover the windows. It’s morning. The living room. An open kitchen.
Dennis is sitting in the armchair facing away from the television. White translucent shirt. White singlet. Brown pants. His sockless foot on his other knee. Clipping his nails. Kids’ scissors.
A study in concentration. Squints. Sniffs. Clips. Stops. Squints. Sniffs. Clips. Stops. Sniffs the air. Eats a clipping. Squints. Sniffs. Clips. Stops.
Allan, naked, walks behind Dennis. Makes an instant coffee. Looks at Dennis.
Dennis blinks. Allan stares.
DENNIS(caustic): No fucking thank you.
Licks his teeth.
DENNIS: I’m fucking good.
Allan stands. Coffee in hand. Hand on hip. Walks right up to Dennis.
ALLAN(ironic and flat): You look fucking hungry. Would you like something to fucking eat?
A brief silence. Allan gets right in Dennis’ face.
ALLAN(brightly with animosity): I’ll fucking fix you something.
Dennis and Allan share a mad stare. Dennis blinks. Cleans his teeth with his tongue.
DENNIS(shortly): No, fucking thank you.
Allan pauses. Dennis squints.
DENNIS(menacing): I’m fucking fine.
Allan slurps on his coffee. Blinking calmly. Walks off.
Dennis squints. Screws up his face. Picks his nose and eats it. It gets stuck in his teeth. Sucks on his teeth. Puts his sock on and gets a coffee. Slurps.
The catalyst of the set-up
The bedroom. Allan’s wife is lying on the bed. Fully clothed. Tracksuit bottoms. Windcheater. Not matching. Layers. Socks. Stares at the ceiling. Hands on her stomach.
Allan enters with a coffee.
ALLAN: That was fucking quick.
The wife blinks. Stares on up. Allan goes to the drawer. Gets out some pants. Tightish jeans.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Is there someone fucking else?
Pauses putting a leg on.
ALLAN: Other than?
Puts the pants on. His wife’s mouth tightens. He puts on a tight t-shirt. She puts on a face. A cat’s arsehole. Turns her body on its side. Away from Allan.
Allan sits on the bed. They are back to back. He puts on socks. Gets up looking for his shoes. Goes to where his wife is staring at the wall. Bends down low. Looks under the bed.
ALLAN: You’re the only fucking bloody woman for me.
Walks around the bed. Looking down. Lies face down. Looks under the bed.
ALLAN: Seen my fucking shoes?
She turns over. Pulls herself off. Stands up. Walks out. Wearing Allan’s shoes.
The first turning point of the set-up
The living room. Dennis. Tying up the laces to his cheap brown shoes. Sitting in the chair. Bending over his legs. Tying up.
Allan’s wife traipses in. Like a clown in Allan’s big shoes. Cheap sneakers.
Dennis regards her through a squint. All dressed now.
ALLAN’S WIFE(holding up a leg): Seen my bloody fucking shoes?
She walks past him. Puts the kettle on.
DENNIS: They’re not your fucking shoes!
Dennis gets to his feet. Walks. Shoulders over toes. To where she is. She makes a coffee. He washes out his cup.
Allan comes in.
ALLAN’S WIFE(with regard to Dennis’ footwear): They’re not your fucking shoes!
Allan is searching the floor. She sees him. Dennis doesn’t.
Allan’s wife makes her coffee. Steps out of his shoes. And goes to sit down. Allan goes to where Dennis is drying his cup. Back to Allan.
ALLAN: Seen my fucking shoes?
Sees the shoes. At Dennis’ feet.
ALLAN: They’re my fucking shoes. Fucking fuck. You fucking fuck.
Allan regards Dennis with rage. Pause.
DENNIS(flatly): I’ve got to fucking go.
Dennis runs for the toilet. Runs in a shuffle. Allan picks up a shoe. Hurls it at Dennis. Hits the wife. Coffee goes everywhere.
ALLAN’S WIFE(surprised): Fuuuuuuuck.
Looks at Allan. Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE(miffed): I was fucking drinking that!
Dennis is gone. Allan gets his shoes together. Ignores her anger. Allan’s wife makes another coffee. Disregards Allan. Allan steps into his shoes. She sits down again. Eyes follow him. Allan goes to the bedroom.
The mid-point of the set-up
The toilet. Dennis is sitting on the toilet. Blinking.
Hunched over. Unleashes a barrage from his anus.
Uncomfortable. Urinates. Wipes. Unleashes another diatribe.
Holds a long squint.
DENNIS(matter of fact): That’s fucked.
Wipes. Looks at the ceiling. Shakes his head. Shakes his bottom. Wipes. With the same hand, scratches gunk off his teeth. Sucks air through his teeth. Cleans his gums with his tongue. Sniffs the air. Blinks a lot. Stands up. Pulls pants up. Looks in the bowl. Tucks shirt in. Flushes. Goes to the sink. Turns on the tap. Looks in the mirror. Flattens hair at the back and sides. Washes hands. Flattens hair at the sides and back. Opens a drawer.
DENNIS(expecting to find something in its usual place): Where’s my fucking vaseline?
Goes through the drawer. Closes it. Goes through the other drawer. Sifts through. Nervous. Squints. Sniffs. Screws his face.
DENNIS(tense): My fucking. FUCKING. FUCKING! Fuck!
Shuts the drawer. Then clutches the sink. Glares into the mirror. Hurt.
DENNIS(violent): Where the fuck!
Flattens his hair with excessive force. Turns to go. Shoulders still. Legs shuffling. Mullet bobbing. Head still. Stiff arms. Head low. Quick movements. Short direct movements. Snatches the doorknob. Won’t open. Forces open the toilet door. Moves out. A bit of toilet paper hangs out the top of his pants. Flaps.
The second turning point of the set-up
The living room. The tv is now on. Allan’s wife is sitting. The armchair facing away from the television. Staring at the wall. Sipping. Dennis goes right to her. A straight line. Grabs her hair. She stands out of the chair. One punch. Gives him a fat lip. Sits back down. Dennis holds his mouth. Stands in front of her. Both hands over his mouth. Opens his hands. A little blood. Not much. Looks at his palms.
DENNIS(trailing off): Fucking bitch.
Puts his hands over his mouth.
DENNIS(muffled): Fucking bitch!
She stands up. Bites her bottom lip. Grabs him by the shoulders. Pushes him back. He runs backwards. Slams into the wall. Stronger than him. Slaps him on the face gently.
ALLAN’S WIFE(emphasising the first letter): Cunt!
Lets him go. Points a finger in his face.
ALLAN’S WIFE(definitively): Cunt.
Dennis, hands over mouth, peers at the finger. Peers out. Opens his palms. There’s no blood. The lip is split on the inside. Barely visible. She turns. Sits down. Stares. Glances at Dennis.
DENNIS(to himself): I’ll show you a fucking cunt.
He goes off into Allan’s bedroom room. She looks at the TV guide. The TV behind her.
The climax of the set-up
The bedroom. Allan is making the bed.
Dennis comes in. Head down. Nursing his split lip with his tongue.
DENNIS(accusingly): Got my fucking Vaseline?
Allan notices a swollen lip. Turns to get his keys. Turns his back to him.
ALLAN(provocatively): Savlon is better for fucking cuts.
Dennis flattens his hair. Scrunches one side of his face up.
DENNIS(low and to the point): It’s not for a fucking cut.
Dennis flattens his hair. Hurt. Soothes his lip with his tongue. Unfurls his tongue.
DENNIS(aggressively): Fucking cunt.
Allan get his keys. Impervious. Dennis stands there. Allan walks past. Keys in hand.
ALLAN(blithe): Don’t ask me.
Dennis shoulder charges him. Makes little impression. Comes off second best. Loses balance. Allan is unmoved. Keeps going.
ALLAN(fatally): Fuck OFF! Dick.
Dennis regains his balance.
ALLAN(derisively): You probably left it fucking somewhere.
Dennis flattens his hair. Allan walks off. Walks out. Dennis stands in the one spot. Sniffs around the room. Leans his head forward. Peers around. Nothing. The back of Allan.
DENNIS(decisively): Fuck this shit.
The resolution of the set-up
The living room. Allan’s wife is sitting. Staring.
Allan goes to the fridge. Opens the door. Looks for anything. Doesn’t find anything. Opens a cupboard. Nothing in there. Stands there. Blows out a cheek. Deflates. Blows out the other. Deflates. Blows out air. Starts whistling. No tune. Looks at his wife. Whistles louder. Stares at her. Whistling out of tune. Burns a hole in the side of her head.
Dennis comes in. Hair nice and slick. Checks it with his palm. Pats it. It looks the same as before.
Allan goes for the door.
DENNIS(imperceptibly): Coming.
Allan opens the door. Leaves it open. Dennis goes through. Leaves it open. She doesn’t look. Knows it’s wide open. Gets up. Goes to the door. Slams it shut. Drops into the chair. Arms on the rest. A picture of symmetry. Blinks once. Sniffs her hand. It’s Vaseline. Wipes it on the armchair.
ALLAN’S WIFE(angrily): Fucks.
Gets up quickly. Goes to the door. Opens it ajar. Closes it. Makes sure it’s shut. Sits down. Stares.
ALLAN’S WIFE(escalating anger): Cunts.
Chews a nail. Spits it out. Spits out the taste of Vaseline. Picks her nails. Chews a nail. Sucks air through her teeth and tongue. Chews a nail. Eats nails. Stares.
The set-up of the catalyst
The living room. Allan’s wife stares. The door handle turns. The door opens. It’s The Doctor. Bounces in. Hints at a smile. No shoes. No socks. Goes straight to the fridge. Looks up the back. Finds nothing.
THE DOCTOR(head in the fridge): Ah.HA!
The Doctor pulls out an old carrot. Shuts the fridge. Sees Allan’s wife sitting there.
THE DOCTOR(flopping the old carrot at her): Got any fucking lubricant?
ALLAN’S WIFE(coldly): Why don’t you just GET fucked?
The Doctor pauses.
THE DOCTOR(blankly): Why don’t you?
Raises his eyebrows. She gives him the bird.
THE DOCTOR(defensively): Get FUCKED.
THE DOCTOR(decisively): GET fucked.
She starts picking her face.
ALLAN’S WIFE(derisively): Get fucked.
He stands there. Looking at her. Bears the weight of his body on one leg. Flopping his carrot. Moves on.
Walks past her. Flops the carrot. Goes into the other room.
She sits there. Picking her face.
The catalyst of the catalyst
She sits there picking her face. She produces a cigarette. Using a disposable lighter. Lights up a cigarette. Inhales. Exhales a long train of smoke.
The Doctor walks awkwardly in. Like he has a carrot up his arse.
THE DOCTOR: What we need is some fucking lubricant.
Sits in the chair facing the Television. Next to her. She facing away from the television. He facing it. She gives him a sideways glare. Has a smoke. He pulls out a bottle of liquor. She puts out her smoke.
THE DOCTOR(offers the bottle): Hmmm?
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE(on the other side of her face): Fuck me.
Pause. He takes a swig. Swigs. Again.
ALLAN’S WIFE(on the other side of her face): Fuck you.
Pause. He leans forward. Changes the channel. Goes through all the channels. Returns to the original channel. Goes through the channels again. She turns to look at him. He goes through the channels again.
ALLAN’S WIFE(whispering softly): Fuck you.
He goes through the channels. Unaware of her.
ALLAN’S WIFE(whispering through clenched teeth): Cunt. You FUCKING CUNT.
He returns to his seat. Watching the same thing he leaned forward to change. Nods his head. Nods his head. Nods his head. She stares blankly at the side of his head. He turns his head to face her. Still nodding. Nods his head. Nods his head. Turns to watch the television. She shakes her head. He polishes off the bottle.
ALLAN’S WIFE(softly): Cunt.
The first turning point of the catalyst
She peels herself out of the seat. Turns the kettle on. There’s no sugar left.
ALLAN’S WIFE: There’s no fucking sugar.
Stands there.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Fuck it.
She looks again.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Fuck it.
She’s stops looking. She sits back down. Looks at him.
ALLAN’S WIFE: There’s no fucking sugar.
He looks ahead. Watching television.
THE DOCTOR: That fucking reminds me. Got any milk?
Stares ahead.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’ll give you fucking milk.
He sits on her lap. She lifts her top.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’ll give you fucking milk.
He drinks milk from her breast. She stares off. She stares
blankly ahead. He looks up at her. She stares ahead.
THE DOCTOR: This tastes like full cream milk.
The Doctor gets off her. Sits back down.
ALLAN’S WIFE: And only two-percent fat.
THE DOCTOR: Got anything to eat?
She looks at him shaking her head.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Dick.
The Doctor smiles. Nods. She turns to look ahead.
The mid-point of the catalyst
He laughs. Lurches out of his seat. Goes to the fridge and
pulls out a cooked sausage. Shuts the fridge. Sits back
down eating the sausage. Watches television.
THE DOCTOR: Got any fucking bread?
She gives him a sideways glare. Raises her eyebrows. Tilts
the head. Shakes her head in short furious movements.
ALLAN’S WIFE(hostile): I’ll give you fucking bread.
He pauses. Mouth full of sausage. Mouth open.
Looking at her. Pauses.
ALLAN’S WIFE(escalating hostility): I’ll give you fucking bread.
Pause. He swallows the sausage.
THE DOCTOR(softly): Got any more cunting sausages?
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE(paralysed): Did you fucking check the cunting freezer?
The Doctor’s eyes dart.
TH DOCTOR: No.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I fucking think... there’s some... fucking sausages in the...cunting freezer...
The Doctor flexes his mouth to loosen bits of sausage.
THE DOCTOR: But no fucking bread?
Pause.
The second turning point of the catalyst
She returns to facing the front. Resumes her blank stare.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Not to my cunting knowledge.
The Doctor gets up. Goes to the freezer. Rummages around.
Pulls out a frozen loaf of bread in a plastic bag.
THE DOCTOR: Who’s is this?
Allan’s wife’s eyes hit the roof.
ALLAN’S WIFE(distant): What?
The Doctor brandishes the bread. Looking in the freezer.
THE DOCTOR: Op!
The Doctor puts the bread on the bench.
Grabs the bag of sausages.
THE DOCTOR: We have fucking sausages, bitches!
ALLAN’S WIFE(inquisitively): Bitches?!
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Bitch!
He puts the sausages on the bench.
THE DOCTOR: You are one fucking bitch.
Takes up his seat.
The climax of the catalyst
ALLAN’S WIFE(to the wall): You’re a fucking cunt.
The Doctor takes a drink. Drains the last drops.
THE DOCTOR(draining the last drop): Loosen up, cunt.
Puts down the bottle. Turning away from her.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’m going to cut your fucking head off and shove you in the fucking fridge, motherfucking bitch!
He sits up. Gives her a dumbfounded look.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE(lips barely moving): I’m going to fucking shove those frozen fucking sausages up your fucking arsehole, you fucking arsehole.
Pause.
He looks at her, nibbling a nail. Unblinking.
ALLAN’S WIFE(decisively):I’m going to get the fucking axe.
She sits there. Eyes widening. Nodding. Staring.
The resolution of the catalyst
He nibbles. Peering.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’re fucked.
Shakes her head. Repeats. Nods.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’re fucked.
He spits out a nail.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I can’t be fucked.
She leans back further into her chair. He stares off
and up. Nibbling his lip.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’ll keep.
End.
The set-up of the first turning point
THE DOCTOR: You fucking got that right.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’re not fucking wrong.
THE DOCTOR: Too fucking right.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Fuck, yes.
THE DOCTOR: Yeah. Fuck, yeah.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’m going to fucking cut you up and fucking keep you in the fucking freezer.
THE DOCTOR: I’m going to keep well in the fucking Admiral.
ALLAN’S WIFE: It’s a fucking Admiral.
THE DOCTOR: Fuck it, if it isn’t a fucking Admiral.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Admiral is the only fucking brand I fucking trust.
THE DOCTOR: You can trust a fucking Admiral.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You got that fucking right.
THE DOCTOR: Fuck, yeah.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Not fucking wrong.
The catalyst of the first turning point
The door flies open. Enter Dennis. Enter Allan. Leaves the door open. Dennis squints. Hunched. Shuffles. Sniffs the air. Wheels a trolley. One of those two-wheel jobs. Blinks. Screws his face. Allan plods. Glances at The Doctor and his wife. To the fridge. Expressionless. Windcheater. Too small. Shirt hangs out the bottom. Big stain down the front. Mop head.
Dennis goes right into another room. Furious. Quick.
Allan stands at the fridge. Stares in. Blank. Pause. Casts an eye through. Blank. Shuts the door. Opens the freezer. Pause. Shuts the freezer. Opens the fridge.
ALLAN(to the fridge): Trust you to eat my fucking sausages, fucking-sausage-fucking-eatin g-fucking-bitch.
Slams the fridge door.
ALLAN: WHERE ARE MY FUCKING SAUSAGES!
Pause.
ALLAN: Oh. There they fucking are.
Pause.
ALLAN: I fucking suppose I fucking owe you a fucking apology.
Pause.
ALLAN(right at Allan’s wife): Fuck it.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You can shove your fucking apology up your arse, cunt.
Pause.
ALLAN: Up yours.
Allan unpacks the sausages. Gets a tray. Turns the oven on.
ALLAN: Up yours.
Puts the sauages in the tray. Puts the tray in the oven.
THE DOCTOR(in regards to Allan): Cunt.
ALLAN: Up yours, cunt.
The first turning point of the first turning point
Dennis enters wheeling out a washing machine. Gets to the door. The washing machine is wider than the door. Slams the sides of the washing machine into the door frame. Gives it another go. Slams it. Slams it again. Slams it again.
Allan wipes up in the kitchen. Puts a few things away.
DENNIS: CUNT!
Pause.
DENNIS: What a cunt.
THE DOCTOR(with regard to Dennis): Fuckhead.
DENNIS: Fuckhead?!
Dennis drops what he’s doing. Shuffles his low shuffle over to The Doctor.
DENNIS: I’ll fucking give you ‘fuckhead’, fuckhead!
Pause.
THE DOCTOR(picking his nose): I’ll fucking give you ‘fuckhead’, fuckhead.
Pause.
Dennis turns and shuffles back to what he was doing.
THE DOCTOR: Fuckhead.
DENNIS: I’LL FUCKING RAM THIS FUCKING SHIT RIGHT UP YOUR FUCKING ARSEHOLE, FUCKING-ARSE-FUCKING-ARSE-FUC KING-HOLE.
The Doctor scrapes an eye tooth with a nail. Cleans his teeth with his tongue. Allan squeezes out the sponge.
Dennis studies the door. Studies the washing machine. Squints. Sniffs.
DENNIS: It’s a fucking bitch.
THE DOCTOR: It’s a fucking Samsung, bitch.
ALLAN: It’s guaranteed.
ALLAN’S WIFE: It’s a fucking Samsung.
THE DOCTOR: It’s fucking guaranteed.
ALLAN: They’re fucking walking out the door.
ALLAN’S WIFE: It is a fucking Samsung.
The mid point of the first turning point
DENNIS: I’ll tell you what it is.
Pause.
Scrutinises Allan’s wife.
DENNIS: It’s fucked.
Studies her reaction.
Pause. No reaction.
Dennis shuffles off. Quick. Head down. Eyes up. Exits.
Pause.
Dennis enters. A screwdriver. Takes to the washing machine.
Allan finds new things to wipe with the sponge. Obscure places. Fanatical. Wipe. Wipe. Squeeze. Squeeze.
Dennis finds no screws to unscrew. Screws his face. Squints. Sniffs.
DENNIS: Fuck.
Pause.
Scrutinises the washing machine. Screwdriver in hand.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Where the fuck do you think you’re taking that?
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: There must be a new fucking girl.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: There is a new fucking girl!
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Fuck me.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’re not fucking giving that fucking thing away for nothing, fuckface.
Pause.
ALLAN(sponging): He’s getting something for it.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: It’s a fucking Samsung.
Pause.
The second turning point of the first turning point
DENNIS: I don’t care if it’s a fucking LG.
THE DOCTOR: Life’s good with fucking LG.
ALLAN: What’s life with a fucking Samsung?
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’re fucking looking at it, bitch.
ALLAN: You should fucking know.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’re not giving that Samsung away for nothing.
ALLAN: I’m not doing shit, bitch.
ALLAN’S WIFE: It’s not fucking going anywhere, cunt.
DENNIS: I’m not going back to see her empty-fucking-handed.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You can take my fucking fist up your fucking arse.
THE DOCTOR: No shit.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Who is she?
Pause.
DENNIS: Some fucking bitch complaining of a sore fucking cunt.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Cunt.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: You know what she really fucking needs.
The climax of the first turning point
DENNIS: She fucking needs a nice fucking Samsung, cunt.
THE DOCTOR: Life’s fucking good with fucking Samsung.
ALLAN: Life’s good with Samsung.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’re not fucking taking that fucking Samsung anywhere, you fucking cunt.
ALLAN: Life’s no fucking good without fucking Samsung.
DENNIS: I’m taking the fucking washing machine, bitch.
ALLAN’S WIFE: MY fucking arse, you are, cunt.
The oven timer starts beeping.
Pause.
Allan gets the sausages out of the oven.
ALLAN: Who’s up for a fucking sausage?
Pause.
ALLAN: Fuck, they’re fucking not done yet.
Pause.
He puts them back in the oven. Resets the timer.
THE DOCTOR: I’ll have a fucking sausage.
Pause.
ALLAN: Not fucking ready, you fucking arsehole.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Fucking arsehole.
The resolution of the first turning point
DENNIS: I’m taking the fucking toaster.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’re not having the fucking washing machine.
DENNIS: What is it?
ALLAN’S WIFE: It’s a fucking Sunbeam.
THE DOCTOR: It looks fucking great, toasts fucking nicely, easy to fucking clean, fits fucking thicker foods like fucking crumpets and fucking English muffins fucking easily.
ALLAN: What’s fucking life like without a fucking Sunbeam?
Pause.
DENNIS: Get fucking used to it.
Dennis gets the toaster. Coils the cord around it.
Leaves out the door. Toaster under arm.
Pause.
Dennis enters.
Pause.
DENNIS: You fucking coming?
Pause.
ALLAN: I’m fucking very fucking busy.
Pause.
DENNIS(perceptible only to Allan): She’s got a fucking sister.
Pause.
Allan drops the sponge. Exits via the door.
Dennis follows suit.
End.
The set up the mid point
THE DOCTOR: I’d thought they’d never fucking leave.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Who just fucking leaves a fucking washing machine in the fucking doorway?
THE DOCTOR: What’s-his-fucking name.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Who just fucking leaves a fucking washing machine in the fucking door fucking way?
THE DOCTOR: What a fucking cunt.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’m fucking going to fucking tear him a new fucking arsehole.
THE DOCTOR: Cunt.
Pause.
THE OVEN: Bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Did you fucking say something?
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: It was the fucking oven, you bitch.
THE DOCTOR: I beg your fucking pardon?
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I didn’t fucking say anything.
THE DOCTOR: I could have fucking sworn you said the sausages were fucking ready.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: The sausages are fucking ready.
THE DOCTOR: Don’t just sit there like a fucking cunt.
ALLAN’S WIFE: What did you fucking say?
THE DOCTOR: I didn’t fucking say anything.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I could have fucking sworn you called me a cunt.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: You’re a fucking cunt.
The catalyst of the mid-point
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’m going to fucking rip you a new fucking arsehole.
The Doctor jumps up. Pulls the sausages out. Pokes them with a digit. Opens a cupboard. Peers. Opens another cupboard. Peers. Pulls out a bottle of tomato sauce. Puts it on the bench. Opens another cupboard.
THE DOCTOR: Got any fucking tomato fucking sauce?
Opens another cupboard. Peers.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Fuck it.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’ll give you fucking tomato sauce.
THE DOCTOR: Fuck it.
He puts sausages on a plate. Squirts sauce on the side. Dips. Bites. Chews. Swallows. Bites. Sits down.
THE DOCTOR: Sausage, bitch?
Chews.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’ll give you a fucking sausage.
Pause.
Swallows.
THE DOCTOR: Your tomato sauce tastes like a fucking bloody tampon.
Dips.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You should try the one with fucking wings.
Bites.
THE DOCTOR: I don’t have a bloody fucking cunt.
Chews.
ALLAN’S WIFE: It’s fucking Carefree.
Chews.
ALLAN’S WIFE: It stops fucking leaks.
Dips. Swallows.
ALLAN’S WIFE: It can handle your heaviest fucking days.
Bites. Chews.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You fucking cunt.
Swallows. Dips.
THE DOCTOR: I’ll give you fucking wings.
Bites. Chews.
The first turning point of the mid-point
THE DOCTOR: There’s a fucking Red Bull in the fridge.
Swallows.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You can shove that fucking shit up your cunt.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Red Bull gives you fucking wings.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’ll fucking give you fucking wings.
Dips. Bites.
THE DOCTOR: Shove it up your arse.
Chews. Sauce drips all down his front. Down his pants. On his hands. On the seat. On his face.
THE DOCTOR: You fucking bloody cunt.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’ll fucking give you a fucking cunt.
THE DOCTOR(holding a sausage): This is mostly fucking anus.
ALLAN’S WIFE: And some fucking lips.
THE DOCTOR: Have to think there’s some fucking cunt in it.
Swallows.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Mostly fucking lips and anus.
THE DOCTOR: Must be a bit of fucking cunt.
ALLAN’S WIFE(with reference to the sauce): You’re fucking getting it fucking everywhere.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: A LOT of fucking cunt.
She throws a box of tissues at him.
The mid point of the mid-point
He tears off a few squares. Scrunches. Wipes himself off.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’re fucking mouth is leaking.
He picks his nose. Wipes it on the chair.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’m going to fucking shove that chair right up your cunt.
He scrunches up the tissues. Jams it under his seat.
Finds a comb. Finds ten cents. Finds a rag. Finds a rubber band.
THE DOCTOR: My fucking rag.
He unscrunches the rag. Puts it in his pocket. With the comb. The ten cent piece. The rubber band.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’ll fucking give you a fucking rag.
Finds a pair of pink undies.
THE DOCTOR: Nice fucking undies.
ALLAN’S WIFE: They’re not my fucking undies.
THE DOCTOR: They’re fucking not my fucking undies.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: That fucking motherfucker.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Lying motherfucking fucker.
THE DOCTOR: They’re fucking nice fucking undies.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Motherfucker.
THE DOCTOR: They’re fucking Barely There.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Mother-fucker.
THE DOCTOR: They’re fucking machine washable. Do not soak. Warm iron. 100% fucking synthetic.
ALLAN’S WIFE: They’re fucking nice undies.
THE DOCTOR: A bit too fucking small for your fat arse, cunt.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Motherfucker.
The second turning point of the mid-point
THE DOCTOR: Do not fucking wring or fucking rub.
She gives herself a rub.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Fuck that.
She snatches the undies off him.
THE DOCTOR: They’re a nice fucking pair.
She clenches the undies in her fist.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I fucking knew it.
She squeezes the life out of the undies.
THE DOCTOR: They’re fucking Barely There.
She stuffs the undies in her pocket.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I fucking knew it.
THE DOCTOR: They’re too fucking small for your fat cunt.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Fuck you, you skinny fucking bitch.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: I fucking watch my fucking weight, you lumpy cunt.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I fucking eat Weight fucking Watchers.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Approved by life.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Tired? Stressed?
ALLAN’S WIFE: Do I fucking look fucking tired?
THE DOCTOR: You’ll fucking feel better on fucking Swisse.
The climax of the mid-point
ALLAN’S WIFE: I fucking need a fucking Panadol.
THE DOCTOR: Try Swisse for fucking Women.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I fucking need a fucking Dispirin.
THE DOCTOR: Based on over 25 years of fucking research.
ALLAN’S WIFE: What did I fucking say?
THE DOCTOR: Some of it fucking by independent fucking studies.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’ll fucking buy that.
THE DOCTOR: I’ll put you fucking down for a fucking box.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’ll fucking fix you up later.
THE DOCTOR: Have a fucking Panadol.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Period fucking pain.
THE DOCTOR: Too much fucking information.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’re giving me a fucking headache.
THE DOCTOR: I’ll give you a fucking headache.
The resolution of the mid-point
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’re a fucking pain in the fucking cunt.
THE DOCTOR: I’m mopping this fucking sauce shit up.
He jumps up. Gets a few frozen bits of bread. Returns to sit. Sits on the bread.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Is the bread fucking Helga’s?
THE DOCTOR: Who’s fucking Helga?
ALLAN’S WIFE: Who isn’t fucking Helga?
THE DOCTOR: I’m not fucking Helga.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’m not fucking Helga.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: I must be fucking Helga.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’re not fucking Helga.
THE DOCTOR: You must be fucking Helga.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Do I look like I’m fucking Helga?
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: It’s your fucking bread, Helga.
Pulls out a slice of bread. Wipes up the bloody plate. Bites. Chews.
THE DOCTOR: Period fucking pain, my fucking arse.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Cunt.
Swallows.
The set up of the second turning point
The door flies open. Dennis enters. Followed by a woman. Skinny as. Drawn. Bedraggled. Dennis shuffles through. The woman stands there.
ALLAN’S WIFE(lighting up): Who the fuck is this?
Silence.
THE DOCTOR: You here for the washing machine?
Silence.
Dennis shuffles in. Squints. Sniffs. Shuffles. Drags a vaccuum cleaner. Plugs it in. Sniffs. Squints.
DENNIS: You’re going to fucking love this.
Dennis gets some vegemite. Puts a smear on the carpet.
ALLAN’S WIFE: What the fuck is this?
DENNIS: It’s a fucking Hoover bagless.
Puts the rest of the tomato sauce on.
DENNIS: You’re going to fucking love this.
ALLAN’S WIFE: What the fuck do you think you’re fucking doing?
Puts the vaccuum cleaner into action.
DENNIS: This fucking sucks like a fucking motherfucker.
Seems to get the job done.
THE DOCTOR: It’s a fucking Hoover bagless.
Turns it off.
ALLAN’S WIFE(to Dennis with regard to Allan): Where the fuck is that little cunt?
Unplugs. Dismantles.
DENNIS(to the woman) Do you want it?
Silence.
The catalyst of the second turning point
DENNIS(dismantling): I want you to have it.
Silence.
ALLAN’S WIFE(to Dennis with regard to Allan): Where the fuck is the little cunt?
THE DOCTOR(to the woman): He’ll fucking give it to you for fucking nothing.
DENNIS(to the woman): Do you fucking want it?
Silence.
Pause.
DENNIS: I fucking want you to fucking have it.
Silence.
DENNIS: I want you to fucking have it for fucking nothing.
The woman takes the vaccuum cleaner. Brimming with indifference.
Exits.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Fuck, you’re a motherfucker.
THE DOCTOR: Who the fuck was that fucking mother?
ALLAN’S WIFE(producing the undies): What do you fucking know about these pink fucking undies?
DENNIS: They’re fucking Bonds.
He inspects the undies.
THE DOCTOR: They’re fucking Barely There, you blind cunt.
DENNIS: They’re fucking Barely There.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Are they your fucking undies?
DENNIS: I don’t fucking wear fucking Barely There, you cunt.
He closely examines the undies.
ALLAN’S WIFE: They’re a pair of girl’s fucking undies!
DENNIS: Do I look like a pair of fucking girls to you?
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: You look like a fucking cunt.
DENNIS(snatching the undies, squinting and sniffing): These look like her fucking undies.
DENNIS(sniffing the undies): If that fucking cunt has fucking been fucking my fucking girl...
Pause.
DENNIS(squeezing them in his fist): I’ll fucking fuck him up.
The first turning point of the second turning point
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’m so fucking going to tear that cunt a new one.
DENNIS(throwing the undies at her): I’m going to tear that cunt a new one.
He stands there.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: I’m getting a fucking sandwich.
He jumps up. Goes to the fridge.
DENNIS: Is the fucking bread Helga’s?
Silence.
The Doctor gets some vegemite. Some margarine. The bread. Makes a sandwich.
THE DOCTOR: You ought to be fucking congratulated, cunt.
Dennis makes a sandwich. Follows in The Doctor's steps.
DENNIS: What have I fucking done?
The Doctor bites. Chews.
THE DOCTOR: Vaseline. Know what I mean, cunt?
Pause.
DENNIS: Go fuck yourself, cunt.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Mum’s the fucking word, cunt.
Pause.
DENNIS: Go and get fucked, you cunt.
The Doctor goes back to sit down.
Dennis carries on with his sandwich. Butters the bread. Margarine. Vegemite. Bites. Chews. Squints.
The mid-point of the second turning point
DENNIS(in the general direction): Get out of my fucking seat, cunt.
Silence.
DENNIS: Get out of my fucking seat, you cunt.
Silence.
He eats his sandwich.
DENNIS: Fuck you, cunt.
Dennis shuffles off. Squints. Sniffs. Chews.
Exits to the other room.
THE DOCTOR: I fucking have something for you.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Thank you very much for being so fucking helpful.
He shows her a receipt.
THE DOCTOR: It’s a fucking receipt.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Thank you very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very fucking much.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: They’re fucking Roses.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: It’s a fucking receipt.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: I fucking got them for you.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: I fucking bought them for you.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Thank you very fucking much.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Fuck you.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Thank you very, very fucking much.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: You ought to be fucking congratulated.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Fuck you, very much.
Silence.
The second turning point of the second turning point
THE DOCTOR: You’re very fucking welcome.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Are you trying to get into my fucking pants, cunt?
THE DOCTOR: What are they?
ALLAN’S WIFE: They’re fucking Target.
THE DOCTOR: Give us a fucking look.
ALLAN’S WIFE(revealing the tag): Fucking Target.
THE DOCTOR: Do not fucking soak.
ALLAN’S WIFE: That fucking reminds me.
THE DOCTOR: I have to do a fucking load.
ALLAN'S WIFE: I have to do a fucking load.
THE DOCTOR: I'll get the fucking Radiant Liquid.
ALLAN'S WIFE: Fuck that.
THE DOCTOR: I'll get the fucking Duo.
Dennis shuffles in. Squints. Low shuffle. Head down.
ALLAN'S WIFE(to Dennis): When are you putting the fucking washing machine back, cunt?
THE DOCTOR: The fucking Samsung, cunt.
Pause.
Dennis squints. Sniffs. Goes to The Doctor. Stands between he and the television.
DENNIS: Out of my fucking seat, cunt.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: It's not your fucking seat, you cunt.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR(raising eyebrows with menace and wide-eyed): Get out of the fucking way.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Go and get fucked, cunt.
Dennis turns. Turns off the television.
Turns. Squints.
THE DOCTOR: You are so fucked.
DENNIS: Give me my fucking seat back, you fucking fuck.
THE DOCTOR: It's not your fucking seat.
the climax of the second turning point
DENNIS: My arse it's not my fucking seat.
THE DOCTOR(with regard to Allan's wife's seat): There's YOUR fucking seat.
DENNIS: I want to see what's on fucking tv.
THE DOCTOR: Turn it back on, cunt.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Now, you fucking cunt.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: You don't even fucking watch fucking television.
Dennis shuffles off. Squints. Sweats.
THE DOCTOR: You don't even fucking watch fucking television.
Dennis exits out the door of the dwelling. Pauses at the door.
DENNIS: You'd better fucking watch yourself, cunt.
Exits.
THE DOCTOR: What a fucking cunt.
Pause.
ALLAN'S WIFE: It isn't your fucking seat.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: I have to wash my fucking undies.
He jumps up. Wheels the washing machine.
ALLAN'S WIFE: My fucking shit is in the fucking basket.
THE DOCTOR: I'm doing a load of fucking undies.
ALLAN'S WIFE: Sort through the basket for my fucking dirty fucking undies.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: They're you're shitty fucking undies.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: You fucking do it.
He exits with the washing machine.
The resolution of the second turning point
Pause.
ALLAN'S WIFE: I'll give you fucking shitty fucking undies.
Pause.
Allan enters. Puts his keys on the bench. Puts the kettle on. Spoons some coffee into a cup. Gets the milk out of the fridge. Goes to sit down in HIS seat. Sits.
ALLAN'S WIFE: Have a fucking seat.
Pause.
ALLAN'S WIFE: We have to fucking talk.
Pause.
She produces the pink undies. Dangles them.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You little cunt.
Pause.
ALLAN'S WIFE: What the fuck are these?
Silence.
ALLAN'S WIFE: What the fuck were they doing under your fucking seat?
Silence.
ALLAN'S WIFE: Girl's fucking undies, cunt!
Pause.
ALLAN'S WIFE: So what does all this fucking mean to you?
Pause.
ALLAN: For panties, it means super-fucking-soft, luxurious fucking fabrics that don't fucking ride up your fucking arsehole and non-binding waist and leg bands that won't fucking dig in.
Pause.
ALLAN: Why be there when you can be barely fucking there?
Silence.
ALLAN'S WIFE: What the fuck is that supposed to fucking mean?
Silence.
ALLAN: For bras, it means beauti-fucking-ful smooth shapes that never fucking pull or fucking ride up, flexible under-fucking-wires that are cushioned against your fucking skin so they won't pinch or bind, micro-fucking-fiber-backed lace and straps that won't fucking itch and rounded fucking hooks and fucking eyes that won't fucking irritate.
End.
The set-up of the climax
The kettle boils. Allan gets to it. Pours. Stirs. Sips. Returns to his seat. Sits.
Sips.
Pause.
He sits. Sips.
ALLAN'S WIFE: I'll give you eyes that won't fucking irritate.
Silence.
She pelts him with the undies.
ALLAN: Barely There don't make undies for fucking girls.
Blinks.
ALLAN'S WIFE: What the fuck is that supposed to fucking mean?
ALLAN: It means that they're fucking women’s undies.
He sniffs around on the inside of the undies.
ALLAN'S WIFE: So what are you fucking saying?
ALLAN: I'm fucking saying that they're not a fucking girl’s.
He brandishes the tag.
ALLAN'S WIFE: Is that fucking good?
He stuffs them in his pocket.
The catalyst of the climax
ALLAN: Is that fucking good?
ALLAN'S WIFE: What are you fucking saying?
Silence.
The Doctor enters.
THE DOCTOR: There’s no fucking Radiant left.
Gives pause for thought upon seeing Allan sitting in his seat.
THE DOCTOR: Got anything to be washed?
Pause.
ALLAN: I just did a fucking load yesterday.
Silence.
ALLAN’S WIFE: So they’re women’s fucking undies.
THE DOCTOR: Whose fucking undies are they?
ALLAN: They’re not my fucking undies.
ALLAN’S WIFE: They’re not my fucking undies.
THE DOCTOR: They’re not my fucking undies.
The first turning point of the climax
Dennis enters. Shuffles. Squints. Sniffs.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Got any undies you need washing?
He stands there.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Whose fucking undies are they?
DENNIS: What fucking undies?
Dennis stands in the kitchen. Puts the kettle on. Squints. Sniffs. Notes Allan’s presence.
THE DOCTOR: I’m just doing a fucking a load.
DENNIS: You’ve been fucking her, you cunt.
Pause. He spoons instant coffee into a cup.
DENNIS: I’m going to tear you a new arsehole, cunt.
The mid point of the climax
He stands there. Hunched. Pause.
DENNIS: They’re her fucking undies.
Pause.
ALLAN: They’re her fucking mum’s fucking undies.
Pause.
DENNIS: Her fucking mum’s fucking undies?
The kettle boils.
THE DOCTOR: They’re your motherfucking undies.
DENNIS: I don’t wear pink motherfucking undies.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: You’ll have to fucking wash them yourself.
He goes to the kitchen. Rinses out a cup. Another. A plate.
THE DOCTOR: You’ll just have to do them yourself.
DENNIS: I never fucked her motherfucking mum.
The second turning point of the climax
ALLAN: They’re not his fucking bloody undies.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I fucking bloody knew it!
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: They’re not my bloody fucking shitty undies.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I fucking knew it.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE(to Allan): They are your fucking shitty bloody fucking undies!
ALLAN: You’re the only fucking woman for me, bitch.
Silence.
THE DOCTOR: What I need is some fucking lubricant.
He dries his hands.
THE DOCTOR: I’m fucking getting some more fucking Radiant Liquid.
ALLAN: Fights tough fucking stains while caring for your motherfucking clothes.
the climax of the climax
He goes to the door. Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: They’re women’s motherfucking undies.
THE DOCTOR: You’re not fucking you when your fucking hungry.
Silence.
THE DOCTOR: Snickers really fucking satsfies.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You can can shove that shit up your fucking arse.
DENNIS: Whose fucking undies are they?
Pause.
DENNIS: They’re not my fucking bloody shitty fucking undies.
Pause.
DENNIS: Whose fucking bloody undies are they?
The resolution of the climax
ALLAN(pointing his head at The Doctor): They’re that fucking cunt’s.
Silence.
ALLAN’S WIFE: What fucking cunt?
THE DOCTOR: They’re fucking fabulous from top to fucking bottom.
ALLAN: Keep fucking walking, you motherfucking cunt.
ALLAN’S WIFE: They’re not fucking Berlei’s.
THE DOCTOR: I’ll get you Johnny fucking Walker.
DENNIS: What fucking cunt?
THE DOCTOR: They’re fucking Barely There, bitch.
The Doctor turns the knob. Pauses to acknowledge the others. Exits.
ALLAN: That fucking cunt.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Fuck off now.
ALLAN: Keep fucking walking.
DENNIS: That fucking motherfucker.
End.
The set up of the resolution
DENNIS: What a fucking cunt.
Silence.
ALLAN’S WIFE: That motherfucking motherfucker.
DENNIS: Where are the fucking undies? Give us a fucking look at the fucking undies. Show me the fucking undies.
Silence.
ALLAN: Motherfucker.
Silence.
DENNIS: Show me the fucking undies!
ALLAN: Shove them up your fucking arse, cunt.
DENNIS: They aren't her bloody fucking undies.
ALLAN: They're women's fucking undies.
DENNIS: She's doesn't wear women's fucking undies.
Pause.
ALLAN: She was fucking complaining of a sore fucking...
Silence.
ALLAN(points to his groin-region): She had a sore bloody...
The catalyst of the resolution
DENNIS: Did she put fucking Vaseline on herself?
ALLAN: She had one sore fucking...
DENNIS: Where did you put the fucking Vaseline?
ALLAN: She put it on herself.
DENNIS: She put it on her fucking...
ALLAN: She was complaining of a sore fucking bloody...
Pause.
Silence.
DENNIS: Cunt.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Fucking cunts.
The first turning point of the resolution
ALLAN: I’ll give you a fucking bloody fucking.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You're so fucking going to fucking get it.
Silence.
DENNIS: Get a fucking room.
ALLAN: Go fuck yourself.
Silence.
DENNIS: Where did you put the fucking Vaseline?
ALLAN’S WIFE: Have you got a sore fucking bloody vagina, cunt?
Pause.
The mid-point of the resolution
ALLAN: He was complaining of fucking soreness.
DENNIS: It's my fucking bloody fucking arsehole, cunt-face.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’ll give you a sore fucking arsehole.
ALLAN: The fucking vaseline is under the fucking bed.
Dennis shuffles off. Low shuffle. Quick. Exits to the other room.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I fucking knew it.
Silence.
ALLAN: You are the only bloody fucking woman for me.
He produces a plastic jar of Swisse Women’s Ultivite. Gives it to his wife.
The second turning point of the resolution
Dennis enters. Vaseline in hand.
DENNIS: Vaseline. Know what I fucking mean?
ALLAN’S WIFE(to Allan): What the fuck is this?
Dennis goes to finish off his cup. Licks his lips. Teeth.
DENNIS: We’ll see who fucking has a sore fucking bloody arsehole now.
Finishes off his coffee.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Anyhow.
Silence.
ALLAN: Have a fucking Winfield.
She takes a tablet.
Silence.
The climax of the resolution
DENNIS: Smoking can cause fucking blindness.
He misses his mouth with the cup. Spills a bit. Cleans up with his tongue.
Silence.
ALLAN: Anyhow.
Silence.
ALLAN’S WIFE(lighting up): Have a fucking Winfield, you blind fucking cunt.
ALLAN: Smoking can cause fucking cancer.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’ll give you fucking cancer.
She blows smoke in Allan’s direction.
Dennis polishes off what’s left of his coffee. Puts the cup down.
DENNIS(brandishing the Vaseline): We'll fucking see about that.
Dennis exits out the door.
The resolution of the resolution
ALLAN: I’ll give you a fucking sore bloody cunt.
Silence.
ALLAN’S WIFE: For me, Swisse fucking Ultivites really make a fucking difference to how I feel.
ALLAN: Anyhow.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Fuck that for a fucking joke.
ALLAN: Celebrate fucking Life Every-fucking-day!
She gets up. Grabs her smokes. Goes to the other room. Pause at the door.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You fucking coming?
ALLAN: Be there in a fucking tick.
Pause.
ALLAN: Swisse Women’s Ultivite assists in relieving the symptoms of fucking tiredness, stress, while increasing fucking stamina levels and fucking wellbeing.
She exits to the bedroom.
His face is as blank as ever.
He sits there.
His face reveals a nervous twitch.
Blank.
Twitches.
Blank.
Silence.
End.
DENNIS, ANOTHER PAEDOPHILE
ALLAN’S WIFE, A PAEDOPHILE’S WIFE
THE DOCTOR, A PAEDOPHILE’S DOCTOR
THE WOMAN, A MOTHER
THE OVEN, AN APPLIANCE
THE WASHING MACHINE, ANOTHER APPLIANCE
THE TOASTER, A GIFT
The set-up of the set-up
Dennis and Allan, along with his wife, share a flat/house. One exit to the outside world. One exit leads further in. It’s always 1987. One chair faces away from the television. One towards. Blankets cover the windows. It’s morning. The living room. An open kitchen.
Dennis is sitting in the armchair facing away from the television. White translucent shirt. White singlet. Brown pants. His sockless foot on his other knee. Clipping his nails. Kids’ scissors.
A study in concentration. Squints. Sniffs. Clips. Stops. Squints. Sniffs. Clips. Stops. Sniffs the air. Eats a clipping. Squints. Sniffs. Clips. Stops.
Allan, naked, walks behind Dennis. Makes an instant coffee. Looks at Dennis.
Dennis blinks. Allan stares.
DENNIS(caustic): No fucking thank you.
Licks his teeth.
DENNIS: I’m fucking good.
Allan stands. Coffee in hand. Hand on hip. Walks right up to Dennis.
ALLAN(ironic and flat): You look fucking hungry. Would you like something to fucking eat?
A brief silence. Allan gets right in Dennis’ face.
ALLAN(brightly with animosity): I’ll fucking fix you something.
Dennis and Allan share a mad stare. Dennis blinks. Cleans his teeth with his tongue.
DENNIS(shortly): No, fucking thank you.
Allan pauses. Dennis squints.
DENNIS(menacing): I’m fucking fine.
Allan slurps on his coffee. Blinking calmly. Walks off.
Dennis squints. Screws up his face. Picks his nose and eats it. It gets stuck in his teeth. Sucks on his teeth. Puts his sock on and gets a coffee. Slurps.
The catalyst of the set-up
The bedroom. Allan’s wife is lying on the bed. Fully clothed. Tracksuit bottoms. Windcheater. Not matching. Layers. Socks. Stares at the ceiling. Hands on her stomach.
Allan enters with a coffee.
ALLAN: That was fucking quick.
The wife blinks. Stares on up. Allan goes to the drawer. Gets out some pants. Tightish jeans.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Is there someone fucking else?
Pauses putting a leg on.
ALLAN: Other than?
Puts the pants on. His wife’s mouth tightens. He puts on a tight t-shirt. She puts on a face. A cat’s arsehole. Turns her body on its side. Away from Allan.
Allan sits on the bed. They are back to back. He puts on socks. Gets up looking for his shoes. Goes to where his wife is staring at the wall. Bends down low. Looks under the bed.
ALLAN: You’re the only fucking bloody woman for me.
Walks around the bed. Looking down. Lies face down. Looks under the bed.
ALLAN: Seen my fucking shoes?
She turns over. Pulls herself off. Stands up. Walks out. Wearing Allan’s shoes.
The first turning point of the set-up
The living room. Dennis. Tying up the laces to his cheap brown shoes. Sitting in the chair. Bending over his legs. Tying up.
Allan’s wife traipses in. Like a clown in Allan’s big shoes. Cheap sneakers.
Dennis regards her through a squint. All dressed now.
ALLAN’S WIFE(holding up a leg): Seen my bloody fucking shoes?
She walks past him. Puts the kettle on.
DENNIS: They’re not your fucking shoes!
Dennis gets to his feet. Walks. Shoulders over toes. To where she is. She makes a coffee. He washes out his cup.
Allan comes in.
ALLAN’S WIFE(with regard to Dennis’ footwear): They’re not your fucking shoes!
Allan is searching the floor. She sees him. Dennis doesn’t.
Allan’s wife makes her coffee. Steps out of his shoes. And goes to sit down. Allan goes to where Dennis is drying his cup. Back to Allan.
ALLAN: Seen my fucking shoes?
Sees the shoes. At Dennis’ feet.
ALLAN: They’re my fucking shoes. Fucking fuck. You fucking fuck.
Allan regards Dennis with rage. Pause.
DENNIS(flatly): I’ve got to fucking go.
Dennis runs for the toilet. Runs in a shuffle. Allan picks up a shoe. Hurls it at Dennis. Hits the wife. Coffee goes everywhere.
ALLAN’S WIFE(surprised): Fuuuuuuuck.
Looks at Allan. Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE(miffed): I was fucking drinking that!
Dennis is gone. Allan gets his shoes together. Ignores her anger. Allan’s wife makes another coffee. Disregards Allan. Allan steps into his shoes. She sits down again. Eyes follow him. Allan goes to the bedroom.
The mid-point of the set-up
The toilet. Dennis is sitting on the toilet. Blinking.
Hunched over. Unleashes a barrage from his anus.
Uncomfortable. Urinates. Wipes. Unleashes another diatribe.
Holds a long squint.
DENNIS(matter of fact): That’s fucked.
Wipes. Looks at the ceiling. Shakes his head. Shakes his bottom. Wipes. With the same hand, scratches gunk off his teeth. Sucks air through his teeth. Cleans his gums with his tongue. Sniffs the air. Blinks a lot. Stands up. Pulls pants up. Looks in the bowl. Tucks shirt in. Flushes. Goes to the sink. Turns on the tap. Looks in the mirror. Flattens hair at the back and sides. Washes hands. Flattens hair at the sides and back. Opens a drawer.
DENNIS(expecting to find something in its usual place): Where’s my fucking vaseline?
Goes through the drawer. Closes it. Goes through the other drawer. Sifts through. Nervous. Squints. Sniffs. Screws his face.
DENNIS(tense): My fucking. FUCKING. FUCKING! Fuck!
Shuts the drawer. Then clutches the sink. Glares into the mirror. Hurt.
DENNIS(violent): Where the fuck!
Flattens his hair with excessive force. Turns to go. Shoulders still. Legs shuffling. Mullet bobbing. Head still. Stiff arms. Head low. Quick movements. Short direct movements. Snatches the doorknob. Won’t open. Forces open the toilet door. Moves out. A bit of toilet paper hangs out the top of his pants. Flaps.
The second turning point of the set-up
The living room. The tv is now on. Allan’s wife is sitting. The armchair facing away from the television. Staring at the wall. Sipping. Dennis goes right to her. A straight line. Grabs her hair. She stands out of the chair. One punch. Gives him a fat lip. Sits back down. Dennis holds his mouth. Stands in front of her. Both hands over his mouth. Opens his hands. A little blood. Not much. Looks at his palms.
DENNIS(trailing off): Fucking bitch.
Puts his hands over his mouth.
DENNIS(muffled): Fucking bitch!
She stands up. Bites her bottom lip. Grabs him by the shoulders. Pushes him back. He runs backwards. Slams into the wall. Stronger than him. Slaps him on the face gently.
ALLAN’S WIFE(emphasising the first letter): Cunt!
Lets him go. Points a finger in his face.
ALLAN’S WIFE(definitively): Cunt.
Dennis, hands over mouth, peers at the finger. Peers out. Opens his palms. There’s no blood. The lip is split on the inside. Barely visible. She turns. Sits down. Stares. Glances at Dennis.
DENNIS(to himself): I’ll show you a fucking cunt.
He goes off into Allan’s bedroom room. She looks at the TV guide. The TV behind her.
The climax of the set-up
The bedroom. Allan is making the bed.
Dennis comes in. Head down. Nursing his split lip with his tongue.
DENNIS(accusingly): Got my fucking Vaseline?
Allan notices a swollen lip. Turns to get his keys. Turns his back to him.
ALLAN(provocatively): Savlon is better for fucking cuts.
Dennis flattens his hair. Scrunches one side of his face up.
DENNIS(low and to the point): It’s not for a fucking cut.
Dennis flattens his hair. Hurt. Soothes his lip with his tongue. Unfurls his tongue.
DENNIS(aggressively): Fucking cunt.
Allan get his keys. Impervious. Dennis stands there. Allan walks past. Keys in hand.
ALLAN(blithe): Don’t ask me.
Dennis shoulder charges him. Makes little impression. Comes off second best. Loses balance. Allan is unmoved. Keeps going.
ALLAN(fatally): Fuck OFF! Dick.
Dennis regains his balance.
ALLAN(derisively): You probably left it fucking somewhere.
Dennis flattens his hair. Allan walks off. Walks out. Dennis stands in the one spot. Sniffs around the room. Leans his head forward. Peers around. Nothing. The back of Allan.
DENNIS(decisively): Fuck this shit.
The resolution of the set-up
The living room. Allan’s wife is sitting. Staring.
Allan goes to the fridge. Opens the door. Looks for anything. Doesn’t find anything. Opens a cupboard. Nothing in there. Stands there. Blows out a cheek. Deflates. Blows out the other. Deflates. Blows out air. Starts whistling. No tune. Looks at his wife. Whistles louder. Stares at her. Whistling out of tune. Burns a hole in the side of her head.
Dennis comes in. Hair nice and slick. Checks it with his palm. Pats it. It looks the same as before.
Allan goes for the door.
DENNIS(imperceptibly): Coming.
Allan opens the door. Leaves it open. Dennis goes through. Leaves it open. She doesn’t look. Knows it’s wide open. Gets up. Goes to the door. Slams it shut. Drops into the chair. Arms on the rest. A picture of symmetry. Blinks once. Sniffs her hand. It’s Vaseline. Wipes it on the armchair.
ALLAN’S WIFE(angrily): Fucks.
Gets up quickly. Goes to the door. Opens it ajar. Closes it. Makes sure it’s shut. Sits down. Stares.
ALLAN’S WIFE(escalating anger): Cunts.
Chews a nail. Spits it out. Spits out the taste of Vaseline. Picks her nails. Chews a nail. Sucks air through her teeth and tongue. Chews a nail. Eats nails. Stares.
The set-up of the catalyst
The living room. Allan’s wife stares. The door handle turns. The door opens. It’s The Doctor. Bounces in. Hints at a smile. No shoes. No socks. Goes straight to the fridge. Looks up the back. Finds nothing.
THE DOCTOR(head in the fridge): Ah.HA!
The Doctor pulls out an old carrot. Shuts the fridge. Sees Allan’s wife sitting there.
THE DOCTOR(flopping the old carrot at her): Got any fucking lubricant?
ALLAN’S WIFE(coldly): Why don’t you just GET fucked?
The Doctor pauses.
THE DOCTOR(blankly): Why don’t you?
Raises his eyebrows. She gives him the bird.
THE DOCTOR(defensively): Get FUCKED.
THE DOCTOR(decisively): GET fucked.
She starts picking her face.
ALLAN’S WIFE(derisively): Get fucked.
He stands there. Looking at her. Bears the weight of his body on one leg. Flopping his carrot. Moves on.
Walks past her. Flops the carrot. Goes into the other room.
She sits there. Picking her face.
The catalyst of the catalyst
She sits there picking her face. She produces a cigarette. Using a disposable lighter. Lights up a cigarette. Inhales. Exhales a long train of smoke.
The Doctor walks awkwardly in. Like he has a carrot up his arse.
THE DOCTOR: What we need is some fucking lubricant.
Sits in the chair facing the Television. Next to her. She facing away from the television. He facing it. She gives him a sideways glare. Has a smoke. He pulls out a bottle of liquor. She puts out her smoke.
THE DOCTOR(offers the bottle): Hmmm?
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE(on the other side of her face): Fuck me.
Pause. He takes a swig. Swigs. Again.
ALLAN’S WIFE(on the other side of her face): Fuck you.
Pause. He leans forward. Changes the channel. Goes through all the channels. Returns to the original channel. Goes through the channels again. She turns to look at him. He goes through the channels again.
ALLAN’S WIFE(whispering softly): Fuck you.
He goes through the channels. Unaware of her.
ALLAN’S WIFE(whispering through clenched teeth): Cunt. You FUCKING CUNT.
He returns to his seat. Watching the same thing he leaned forward to change. Nods his head. Nods his head. Nods his head. She stares blankly at the side of his head. He turns his head to face her. Still nodding. Nods his head. Nods his head. Turns to watch the television. She shakes her head. He polishes off the bottle.
ALLAN’S WIFE(softly): Cunt.
The first turning point of the catalyst
She peels herself out of the seat. Turns the kettle on. There’s no sugar left.
ALLAN’S WIFE: There’s no fucking sugar.
Stands there.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Fuck it.
She looks again.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Fuck it.
She’s stops looking. She sits back down. Looks at him.
ALLAN’S WIFE: There’s no fucking sugar.
He looks ahead. Watching television.
THE DOCTOR: That fucking reminds me. Got any milk?
Stares ahead.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’ll give you fucking milk.
He sits on her lap. She lifts her top.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’ll give you fucking milk.
He drinks milk from her breast. She stares off. She stares
blankly ahead. He looks up at her. She stares ahead.
THE DOCTOR: This tastes like full cream milk.
The Doctor gets off her. Sits back down.
ALLAN’S WIFE: And only two-percent fat.
THE DOCTOR: Got anything to eat?
She looks at him shaking her head.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Dick.
The Doctor smiles. Nods. She turns to look ahead.
The mid-point of the catalyst
He laughs. Lurches out of his seat. Goes to the fridge and
pulls out a cooked sausage. Shuts the fridge. Sits back
down eating the sausage. Watches television.
THE DOCTOR: Got any fucking bread?
She gives him a sideways glare. Raises her eyebrows. Tilts
the head. Shakes her head in short furious movements.
ALLAN’S WIFE(hostile): I’ll give you fucking bread.
He pauses. Mouth full of sausage. Mouth open.
Looking at her. Pauses.
ALLAN’S WIFE(escalating hostility): I’ll give you fucking bread.
Pause. He swallows the sausage.
THE DOCTOR(softly): Got any more cunting sausages?
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE(paralysed): Did you fucking check the cunting freezer?
The Doctor’s eyes dart.
TH DOCTOR: No.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I fucking think... there’s some... fucking sausages in the...cunting freezer...
The Doctor flexes his mouth to loosen bits of sausage.
THE DOCTOR: But no fucking bread?
Pause.
The second turning point of the catalyst
She returns to facing the front. Resumes her blank stare.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Not to my cunting knowledge.
The Doctor gets up. Goes to the freezer. Rummages around.
Pulls out a frozen loaf of bread in a plastic bag.
THE DOCTOR: Who’s is this?
Allan’s wife’s eyes hit the roof.
ALLAN’S WIFE(distant): What?
The Doctor brandishes the bread. Looking in the freezer.
THE DOCTOR: Op!
The Doctor puts the bread on the bench.
Grabs the bag of sausages.
THE DOCTOR: We have fucking sausages, bitches!
ALLAN’S WIFE(inquisitively): Bitches?!
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Bitch!
He puts the sausages on the bench.
THE DOCTOR: You are one fucking bitch.
Takes up his seat.
The climax of the catalyst
ALLAN’S WIFE(to the wall): You’re a fucking cunt.
The Doctor takes a drink. Drains the last drops.
THE DOCTOR(draining the last drop): Loosen up, cunt.
Puts down the bottle. Turning away from her.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’m going to cut your fucking head off and shove you in the fucking fridge, motherfucking bitch!
He sits up. Gives her a dumbfounded look.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE(lips barely moving): I’m going to fucking shove those frozen fucking sausages up your fucking arsehole, you fucking arsehole.
Pause.
He looks at her, nibbling a nail. Unblinking.
ALLAN’S WIFE(decisively):I’m going to get the fucking axe.
She sits there. Eyes widening. Nodding. Staring.
The resolution of the catalyst
He nibbles. Peering.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’re fucked.
Shakes her head. Repeats. Nods.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’re fucked.
He spits out a nail.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I can’t be fucked.
She leans back further into her chair. He stares off
and up. Nibbling his lip.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’ll keep.
End.
The set-up of the first turning point
THE DOCTOR: You fucking got that right.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’re not fucking wrong.
THE DOCTOR: Too fucking right.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Fuck, yes.
THE DOCTOR: Yeah. Fuck, yeah.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’m going to fucking cut you up and fucking keep you in the fucking freezer.
THE DOCTOR: I’m going to keep well in the fucking Admiral.
ALLAN’S WIFE: It’s a fucking Admiral.
THE DOCTOR: Fuck it, if it isn’t a fucking Admiral.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Admiral is the only fucking brand I fucking trust.
THE DOCTOR: You can trust a fucking Admiral.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You got that fucking right.
THE DOCTOR: Fuck, yeah.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Not fucking wrong.
The catalyst of the first turning point
The door flies open. Enter Dennis. Enter Allan. Leaves the door open. Dennis squints. Hunched. Shuffles. Sniffs the air. Wheels a trolley. One of those two-wheel jobs. Blinks. Screws his face. Allan plods. Glances at The Doctor and his wife. To the fridge. Expressionless. Windcheater. Too small. Shirt hangs out the bottom. Big stain down the front. Mop head.
Dennis goes right into another room. Furious. Quick.
Allan stands at the fridge. Stares in. Blank. Pause. Casts an eye through. Blank. Shuts the door. Opens the freezer. Pause. Shuts the freezer. Opens the fridge.
ALLAN(to the fridge): Trust you to eat my fucking sausages, fucking-sausage-fucking-eatin g-fucking-bitch.
Slams the fridge door.
ALLAN: WHERE ARE MY FUCKING SAUSAGES!
Pause.
ALLAN: Oh. There they fucking are.
Pause.
ALLAN: I fucking suppose I fucking owe you a fucking apology.
Pause.
ALLAN(right at Allan’s wife): Fuck it.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You can shove your fucking apology up your arse, cunt.
Pause.
ALLAN: Up yours.
Allan unpacks the sausages. Gets a tray. Turns the oven on.
ALLAN: Up yours.
Puts the sauages in the tray. Puts the tray in the oven.
THE DOCTOR(in regards to Allan): Cunt.
ALLAN: Up yours, cunt.
The first turning point of the first turning point
Dennis enters wheeling out a washing machine. Gets to the door. The washing machine is wider than the door. Slams the sides of the washing machine into the door frame. Gives it another go. Slams it. Slams it again. Slams it again.
Allan wipes up in the kitchen. Puts a few things away.
DENNIS: CUNT!
Pause.
DENNIS: What a cunt.
THE DOCTOR(with regard to Dennis): Fuckhead.
DENNIS: Fuckhead?!
Dennis drops what he’s doing. Shuffles his low shuffle over to The Doctor.
DENNIS: I’ll fucking give you ‘fuckhead’, fuckhead!
Pause.
THE DOCTOR(picking his nose): I’ll fucking give you ‘fuckhead’, fuckhead.
Pause.
Dennis turns and shuffles back to what he was doing.
THE DOCTOR: Fuckhead.
DENNIS: I’LL FUCKING RAM THIS FUCKING SHIT RIGHT UP YOUR FUCKING ARSEHOLE, FUCKING-ARSE-FUCKING-ARSE-FUC KING-HOLE.
The Doctor scrapes an eye tooth with a nail. Cleans his teeth with his tongue. Allan squeezes out the sponge.
Dennis studies the door. Studies the washing machine. Squints. Sniffs.
DENNIS: It’s a fucking bitch.
THE DOCTOR: It’s a fucking Samsung, bitch.
ALLAN: It’s guaranteed.
ALLAN’S WIFE: It’s a fucking Samsung.
THE DOCTOR: It’s fucking guaranteed.
ALLAN: They’re fucking walking out the door.
ALLAN’S WIFE: It is a fucking Samsung.
The mid point of the first turning point
DENNIS: I’ll tell you what it is.
Pause.
Scrutinises Allan’s wife.
DENNIS: It’s fucked.
Studies her reaction.
Pause. No reaction.
Dennis shuffles off. Quick. Head down. Eyes up. Exits.
Pause.
Dennis enters. A screwdriver. Takes to the washing machine.
Allan finds new things to wipe with the sponge. Obscure places. Fanatical. Wipe. Wipe. Squeeze. Squeeze.
Dennis finds no screws to unscrew. Screws his face. Squints. Sniffs.
DENNIS: Fuck.
Pause.
Scrutinises the washing machine. Screwdriver in hand.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Where the fuck do you think you’re taking that?
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: There must be a new fucking girl.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: There is a new fucking girl!
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Fuck me.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’re not fucking giving that fucking thing away for nothing, fuckface.
Pause.
ALLAN(sponging): He’s getting something for it.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: It’s a fucking Samsung.
Pause.
The second turning point of the first turning point
DENNIS: I don’t care if it’s a fucking LG.
THE DOCTOR: Life’s good with fucking LG.
ALLAN: What’s life with a fucking Samsung?
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’re fucking looking at it, bitch.
ALLAN: You should fucking know.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’re not giving that Samsung away for nothing.
ALLAN: I’m not doing shit, bitch.
ALLAN’S WIFE: It’s not fucking going anywhere, cunt.
DENNIS: I’m not going back to see her empty-fucking-handed.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You can take my fucking fist up your fucking arse.
THE DOCTOR: No shit.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Who is she?
Pause.
DENNIS: Some fucking bitch complaining of a sore fucking cunt.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Cunt.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: You know what she really fucking needs.
The climax of the first turning point
DENNIS: She fucking needs a nice fucking Samsung, cunt.
THE DOCTOR: Life’s fucking good with fucking Samsung.
ALLAN: Life’s good with Samsung.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’re not fucking taking that fucking Samsung anywhere, you fucking cunt.
ALLAN: Life’s no fucking good without fucking Samsung.
DENNIS: I’m taking the fucking washing machine, bitch.
ALLAN’S WIFE: MY fucking arse, you are, cunt.
The oven timer starts beeping.
Pause.
Allan gets the sausages out of the oven.
ALLAN: Who’s up for a fucking sausage?
Pause.
ALLAN: Fuck, they’re fucking not done yet.
Pause.
He puts them back in the oven. Resets the timer.
THE DOCTOR: I’ll have a fucking sausage.
Pause.
ALLAN: Not fucking ready, you fucking arsehole.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Fucking arsehole.
The resolution of the first turning point
DENNIS: I’m taking the fucking toaster.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’re not having the fucking washing machine.
DENNIS: What is it?
ALLAN’S WIFE: It’s a fucking Sunbeam.
THE DOCTOR: It looks fucking great, toasts fucking nicely, easy to fucking clean, fits fucking thicker foods like fucking crumpets and fucking English muffins fucking easily.
ALLAN: What’s fucking life like without a fucking Sunbeam?
Pause.
DENNIS: Get fucking used to it.
Dennis gets the toaster. Coils the cord around it.
Leaves out the door. Toaster under arm.
Pause.
Dennis enters.
Pause.
DENNIS: You fucking coming?
Pause.
ALLAN: I’m fucking very fucking busy.
Pause.
DENNIS(perceptible only to Allan): She’s got a fucking sister.
Pause.
Allan drops the sponge. Exits via the door.
Dennis follows suit.
End.
The set up the mid point
THE DOCTOR: I’d thought they’d never fucking leave.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Who just fucking leaves a fucking washing machine in the fucking doorway?
THE DOCTOR: What’s-his-fucking name.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Who just fucking leaves a fucking washing machine in the fucking door fucking way?
THE DOCTOR: What a fucking cunt.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’m fucking going to fucking tear him a new fucking arsehole.
THE DOCTOR: Cunt.
Pause.
THE OVEN: Bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Did you fucking say something?
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: It was the fucking oven, you bitch.
THE DOCTOR: I beg your fucking pardon?
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I didn’t fucking say anything.
THE DOCTOR: I could have fucking sworn you said the sausages were fucking ready.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: The sausages are fucking ready.
THE DOCTOR: Don’t just sit there like a fucking cunt.
ALLAN’S WIFE: What did you fucking say?
THE DOCTOR: I didn’t fucking say anything.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I could have fucking sworn you called me a cunt.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: You’re a fucking cunt.
The catalyst of the mid-point
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’m going to fucking rip you a new fucking arsehole.
The Doctor jumps up. Pulls the sausages out. Pokes them with a digit. Opens a cupboard. Peers. Opens another cupboard. Peers. Pulls out a bottle of tomato sauce. Puts it on the bench. Opens another cupboard.
THE DOCTOR: Got any fucking tomato fucking sauce?
Opens another cupboard. Peers.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Fuck it.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’ll give you fucking tomato sauce.
THE DOCTOR: Fuck it.
He puts sausages on a plate. Squirts sauce on the side. Dips. Bites. Chews. Swallows. Bites. Sits down.
THE DOCTOR: Sausage, bitch?
Chews.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’ll give you a fucking sausage.
Pause.
Swallows.
THE DOCTOR: Your tomato sauce tastes like a fucking bloody tampon.
Dips.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You should try the one with fucking wings.
Bites.
THE DOCTOR: I don’t have a bloody fucking cunt.
Chews.
ALLAN’S WIFE: It’s fucking Carefree.
Chews.
ALLAN’S WIFE: It stops fucking leaks.
Dips. Swallows.
ALLAN’S WIFE: It can handle your heaviest fucking days.
Bites. Chews.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You fucking cunt.
Swallows. Dips.
THE DOCTOR: I’ll give you fucking wings.
Bites. Chews.
The first turning point of the mid-point
THE DOCTOR: There’s a fucking Red Bull in the fridge.
Swallows.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You can shove that fucking shit up your cunt.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Red Bull gives you fucking wings.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’ll fucking give you fucking wings.
Dips. Bites.
THE DOCTOR: Shove it up your arse.
Chews. Sauce drips all down his front. Down his pants. On his hands. On the seat. On his face.
THE DOCTOR: You fucking bloody cunt.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’ll fucking give you a fucking cunt.
THE DOCTOR(holding a sausage): This is mostly fucking anus.
ALLAN’S WIFE: And some fucking lips.
THE DOCTOR: Have to think there’s some fucking cunt in it.
Swallows.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Mostly fucking lips and anus.
THE DOCTOR: Must be a bit of fucking cunt.
ALLAN’S WIFE(with reference to the sauce): You’re fucking getting it fucking everywhere.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: A LOT of fucking cunt.
She throws a box of tissues at him.
The mid point of the mid-point
He tears off a few squares. Scrunches. Wipes himself off.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’re fucking mouth is leaking.
He picks his nose. Wipes it on the chair.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’m going to fucking shove that chair right up your cunt.
He scrunches up the tissues. Jams it under his seat.
Finds a comb. Finds ten cents. Finds a rag. Finds a rubber band.
THE DOCTOR: My fucking rag.
He unscrunches the rag. Puts it in his pocket. With the comb. The ten cent piece. The rubber band.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’ll fucking give you a fucking rag.
Finds a pair of pink undies.
THE DOCTOR: Nice fucking undies.
ALLAN’S WIFE: They’re not my fucking undies.
THE DOCTOR: They’re fucking not my fucking undies.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: That fucking motherfucker.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Lying motherfucking fucker.
THE DOCTOR: They’re fucking nice fucking undies.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Motherfucker.
THE DOCTOR: They’re fucking Barely There.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Mother-fucker.
THE DOCTOR: They’re fucking machine washable. Do not soak. Warm iron. 100% fucking synthetic.
ALLAN’S WIFE: They’re fucking nice undies.
THE DOCTOR: A bit too fucking small for your fat arse, cunt.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Motherfucker.
The second turning point of the mid-point
THE DOCTOR: Do not fucking wring or fucking rub.
She gives herself a rub.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Fuck that.
She snatches the undies off him.
THE DOCTOR: They’re a nice fucking pair.
She clenches the undies in her fist.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I fucking knew it.
She squeezes the life out of the undies.
THE DOCTOR: They’re fucking Barely There.
She stuffs the undies in her pocket.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I fucking knew it.
THE DOCTOR: They’re too fucking small for your fat cunt.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Fuck you, you skinny fucking bitch.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: I fucking watch my fucking weight, you lumpy cunt.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I fucking eat Weight fucking Watchers.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Approved by life.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Tired? Stressed?
ALLAN’S WIFE: Do I fucking look fucking tired?
THE DOCTOR: You’ll fucking feel better on fucking Swisse.
The climax of the mid-point
ALLAN’S WIFE: I fucking need a fucking Panadol.
THE DOCTOR: Try Swisse for fucking Women.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I fucking need a fucking Dispirin.
THE DOCTOR: Based on over 25 years of fucking research.
ALLAN’S WIFE: What did I fucking say?
THE DOCTOR: Some of it fucking by independent fucking studies.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’ll fucking buy that.
THE DOCTOR: I’ll put you fucking down for a fucking box.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’ll fucking fix you up later.
THE DOCTOR: Have a fucking Panadol.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Period fucking pain.
THE DOCTOR: Too much fucking information.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’re giving me a fucking headache.
THE DOCTOR: I’ll give you a fucking headache.
The resolution of the mid-point
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’re a fucking pain in the fucking cunt.
THE DOCTOR: I’m mopping this fucking sauce shit up.
He jumps up. Gets a few frozen bits of bread. Returns to sit. Sits on the bread.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Is the bread fucking Helga’s?
THE DOCTOR: Who’s fucking Helga?
ALLAN’S WIFE: Who isn’t fucking Helga?
THE DOCTOR: I’m not fucking Helga.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’m not fucking Helga.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: I must be fucking Helga.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You’re not fucking Helga.
THE DOCTOR: You must be fucking Helga.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Do I look like I’m fucking Helga?
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: It’s your fucking bread, Helga.
Pulls out a slice of bread. Wipes up the bloody plate. Bites. Chews.
THE DOCTOR: Period fucking pain, my fucking arse.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Cunt.
Swallows.
The set up of the second turning point
The door flies open. Dennis enters. Followed by a woman. Skinny as. Drawn. Bedraggled. Dennis shuffles through. The woman stands there.
ALLAN’S WIFE(lighting up): Who the fuck is this?
Silence.
THE DOCTOR: You here for the washing machine?
Silence.
Dennis shuffles in. Squints. Sniffs. Shuffles. Drags a vaccuum cleaner. Plugs it in. Sniffs. Squints.
DENNIS: You’re going to fucking love this.
Dennis gets some vegemite. Puts a smear on the carpet.
ALLAN’S WIFE: What the fuck is this?
DENNIS: It’s a fucking Hoover bagless.
Puts the rest of the tomato sauce on.
DENNIS: You’re going to fucking love this.
ALLAN’S WIFE: What the fuck do you think you’re fucking doing?
Puts the vaccuum cleaner into action.
DENNIS: This fucking sucks like a fucking motherfucker.
Seems to get the job done.
THE DOCTOR: It’s a fucking Hoover bagless.
Turns it off.
ALLAN’S WIFE(to Dennis with regard to Allan): Where the fuck is that little cunt?
Unplugs. Dismantles.
DENNIS(to the woman) Do you want it?
Silence.
The catalyst of the second turning point
DENNIS(dismantling): I want you to have it.
Silence.
ALLAN’S WIFE(to Dennis with regard to Allan): Where the fuck is the little cunt?
THE DOCTOR(to the woman): He’ll fucking give it to you for fucking nothing.
DENNIS(to the woman): Do you fucking want it?
Silence.
Pause.
DENNIS: I fucking want you to fucking have it.
Silence.
DENNIS: I want you to fucking have it for fucking nothing.
The woman takes the vaccuum cleaner. Brimming with indifference.
Exits.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Fuck, you’re a motherfucker.
THE DOCTOR: Who the fuck was that fucking mother?
ALLAN’S WIFE(producing the undies): What do you fucking know about these pink fucking undies?
DENNIS: They’re fucking Bonds.
He inspects the undies.
THE DOCTOR: They’re fucking Barely There, you blind cunt.
DENNIS: They’re fucking Barely There.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Are they your fucking undies?
DENNIS: I don’t fucking wear fucking Barely There, you cunt.
He closely examines the undies.
ALLAN’S WIFE: They’re a pair of girl’s fucking undies!
DENNIS: Do I look like a pair of fucking girls to you?
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: You look like a fucking cunt.
DENNIS(snatching the undies, squinting and sniffing): These look like her fucking undies.
DENNIS(sniffing the undies): If that fucking cunt has fucking been fucking my fucking girl...
Pause.
DENNIS(squeezing them in his fist): I’ll fucking fuck him up.
The first turning point of the second turning point
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’m so fucking going to tear that cunt a new one.
DENNIS(throwing the undies at her): I’m going to tear that cunt a new one.
He stands there.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: I’m getting a fucking sandwich.
He jumps up. Goes to the fridge.
DENNIS: Is the fucking bread Helga’s?
Silence.
The Doctor gets some vegemite. Some margarine. The bread. Makes a sandwich.
THE DOCTOR: You ought to be fucking congratulated, cunt.
Dennis makes a sandwich. Follows in The Doctor's steps.
DENNIS: What have I fucking done?
The Doctor bites. Chews.
THE DOCTOR: Vaseline. Know what I mean, cunt?
Pause.
DENNIS: Go fuck yourself, cunt.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Mum’s the fucking word, cunt.
Pause.
DENNIS: Go and get fucked, you cunt.
The Doctor goes back to sit down.
Dennis carries on with his sandwich. Butters the bread. Margarine. Vegemite. Bites. Chews. Squints.
The mid-point of the second turning point
DENNIS(in the general direction): Get out of my fucking seat, cunt.
Silence.
DENNIS: Get out of my fucking seat, you cunt.
Silence.
He eats his sandwich.
DENNIS: Fuck you, cunt.
Dennis shuffles off. Squints. Sniffs. Chews.
Exits to the other room.
THE DOCTOR: I fucking have something for you.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Thank you very much for being so fucking helpful.
He shows her a receipt.
THE DOCTOR: It’s a fucking receipt.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Thank you very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very fucking much.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: They’re fucking Roses.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: It’s a fucking receipt.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: I fucking got them for you.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: I fucking bought them for you.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Thank you very fucking much.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Fuck you.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Thank you very, very fucking much.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: You ought to be fucking congratulated.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Fuck you, very much.
Silence.
The second turning point of the second turning point
THE DOCTOR: You’re very fucking welcome.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Are you trying to get into my fucking pants, cunt?
THE DOCTOR: What are they?
ALLAN’S WIFE: They’re fucking Target.
THE DOCTOR: Give us a fucking look.
ALLAN’S WIFE(revealing the tag): Fucking Target.
THE DOCTOR: Do not fucking soak.
ALLAN’S WIFE: That fucking reminds me.
THE DOCTOR: I have to do a fucking load.
ALLAN'S WIFE: I have to do a fucking load.
THE DOCTOR: I'll get the fucking Radiant Liquid.
ALLAN'S WIFE: Fuck that.
THE DOCTOR: I'll get the fucking Duo.
Dennis shuffles in. Squints. Low shuffle. Head down.
ALLAN'S WIFE(to Dennis): When are you putting the fucking washing machine back, cunt?
THE DOCTOR: The fucking Samsung, cunt.
Pause.
Dennis squints. Sniffs. Goes to The Doctor. Stands between he and the television.
DENNIS: Out of my fucking seat, cunt.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: It's not your fucking seat, you cunt.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR(raising eyebrows with menace and wide-eyed): Get out of the fucking way.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Go and get fucked, cunt.
Dennis turns. Turns off the television.
Turns. Squints.
THE DOCTOR: You are so fucked.
DENNIS: Give me my fucking seat back, you fucking fuck.
THE DOCTOR: It's not your fucking seat.
the climax of the second turning point
DENNIS: My arse it's not my fucking seat.
THE DOCTOR(with regard to Allan's wife's seat): There's YOUR fucking seat.
DENNIS: I want to see what's on fucking tv.
THE DOCTOR: Turn it back on, cunt.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Now, you fucking cunt.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: You don't even fucking watch fucking television.
Dennis shuffles off. Squints. Sweats.
THE DOCTOR: You don't even fucking watch fucking television.
Dennis exits out the door of the dwelling. Pauses at the door.
DENNIS: You'd better fucking watch yourself, cunt.
Exits.
THE DOCTOR: What a fucking cunt.
Pause.
ALLAN'S WIFE: It isn't your fucking seat.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: I have to wash my fucking undies.
He jumps up. Wheels the washing machine.
ALLAN'S WIFE: My fucking shit is in the fucking basket.
THE DOCTOR: I'm doing a load of fucking undies.
ALLAN'S WIFE: Sort through the basket for my fucking dirty fucking undies.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: They're you're shitty fucking undies.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: You fucking do it.
He exits with the washing machine.
The resolution of the second turning point
Pause.
ALLAN'S WIFE: I'll give you fucking shitty fucking undies.
Pause.
Allan enters. Puts his keys on the bench. Puts the kettle on. Spoons some coffee into a cup. Gets the milk out of the fridge. Goes to sit down in HIS seat. Sits.
ALLAN'S WIFE: Have a fucking seat.
Pause.
ALLAN'S WIFE: We have to fucking talk.
Pause.
She produces the pink undies. Dangles them.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You little cunt.
Pause.
ALLAN'S WIFE: What the fuck are these?
Silence.
ALLAN'S WIFE: What the fuck were they doing under your fucking seat?
Silence.
ALLAN'S WIFE: Girl's fucking undies, cunt!
Pause.
ALLAN'S WIFE: So what does all this fucking mean to you?
Pause.
ALLAN: For panties, it means super-fucking-soft, luxurious fucking fabrics that don't fucking ride up your fucking arsehole and non-binding waist and leg bands that won't fucking dig in.
Pause.
ALLAN: Why be there when you can be barely fucking there?
Silence.
ALLAN'S WIFE: What the fuck is that supposed to fucking mean?
Silence.
ALLAN: For bras, it means beauti-fucking-ful smooth shapes that never fucking pull or fucking ride up, flexible under-fucking-wires that are cushioned against your fucking skin so they won't pinch or bind, micro-fucking-fiber-backed lace and straps that won't fucking itch and rounded fucking hooks and fucking eyes that won't fucking irritate.
End.
The set-up of the climax
The kettle boils. Allan gets to it. Pours. Stirs. Sips. Returns to his seat. Sits.
Sips.
Pause.
He sits. Sips.
ALLAN'S WIFE: I'll give you eyes that won't fucking irritate.
Silence.
She pelts him with the undies.
ALLAN: Barely There don't make undies for fucking girls.
Blinks.
ALLAN'S WIFE: What the fuck is that supposed to fucking mean?
ALLAN: It means that they're fucking women’s undies.
He sniffs around on the inside of the undies.
ALLAN'S WIFE: So what are you fucking saying?
ALLAN: I'm fucking saying that they're not a fucking girl’s.
He brandishes the tag.
ALLAN'S WIFE: Is that fucking good?
He stuffs them in his pocket.
The catalyst of the climax
ALLAN: Is that fucking good?
ALLAN'S WIFE: What are you fucking saying?
Silence.
The Doctor enters.
THE DOCTOR: There’s no fucking Radiant left.
Gives pause for thought upon seeing Allan sitting in his seat.
THE DOCTOR: Got anything to be washed?
Pause.
ALLAN: I just did a fucking load yesterday.
Silence.
ALLAN’S WIFE: So they’re women’s fucking undies.
THE DOCTOR: Whose fucking undies are they?
ALLAN: They’re not my fucking undies.
ALLAN’S WIFE: They’re not my fucking undies.
THE DOCTOR: They’re not my fucking undies.
The first turning point of the climax
Dennis enters. Shuffles. Squints. Sniffs.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: Got any undies you need washing?
He stands there.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Whose fucking undies are they?
DENNIS: What fucking undies?
Dennis stands in the kitchen. Puts the kettle on. Squints. Sniffs. Notes Allan’s presence.
THE DOCTOR: I’m just doing a fucking a load.
DENNIS: You’ve been fucking her, you cunt.
Pause. He spoons instant coffee into a cup.
DENNIS: I’m going to tear you a new arsehole, cunt.
The mid point of the climax
He stands there. Hunched. Pause.
DENNIS: They’re her fucking undies.
Pause.
ALLAN: They’re her fucking mum’s fucking undies.
Pause.
DENNIS: Her fucking mum’s fucking undies?
The kettle boils.
THE DOCTOR: They’re your motherfucking undies.
DENNIS: I don’t wear pink motherfucking undies.
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: You’ll have to fucking wash them yourself.
He goes to the kitchen. Rinses out a cup. Another. A plate.
THE DOCTOR: You’ll just have to do them yourself.
DENNIS: I never fucked her motherfucking mum.
The second turning point of the climax
ALLAN: They’re not his fucking bloody undies.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I fucking bloody knew it!
Pause.
THE DOCTOR: They’re not my bloody fucking shitty undies.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I fucking knew it.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE(to Allan): They are your fucking shitty bloody fucking undies!
ALLAN: You’re the only fucking woman for me, bitch.
Silence.
THE DOCTOR: What I need is some fucking lubricant.
He dries his hands.
THE DOCTOR: I’m fucking getting some more fucking Radiant Liquid.
ALLAN: Fights tough fucking stains while caring for your motherfucking clothes.
the climax of the climax
He goes to the door. Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: They’re women’s motherfucking undies.
THE DOCTOR: You’re not fucking you when your fucking hungry.
Silence.
THE DOCTOR: Snickers really fucking satsfies.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You can can shove that shit up your fucking arse.
DENNIS: Whose fucking undies are they?
Pause.
DENNIS: They’re not my fucking bloody shitty fucking undies.
Pause.
DENNIS: Whose fucking bloody undies are they?
The resolution of the climax
ALLAN(pointing his head at The Doctor): They’re that fucking cunt’s.
Silence.
ALLAN’S WIFE: What fucking cunt?
THE DOCTOR: They’re fucking fabulous from top to fucking bottom.
ALLAN: Keep fucking walking, you motherfucking cunt.
ALLAN’S WIFE: They’re not fucking Berlei’s.
THE DOCTOR: I’ll get you Johnny fucking Walker.
DENNIS: What fucking cunt?
THE DOCTOR: They’re fucking Barely There, bitch.
The Doctor turns the knob. Pauses to acknowledge the others. Exits.
ALLAN: That fucking cunt.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Fuck off now.
ALLAN: Keep fucking walking.
DENNIS: That fucking motherfucker.
End.
The set up of the resolution
DENNIS: What a fucking cunt.
Silence.
ALLAN’S WIFE: That motherfucking motherfucker.
DENNIS: Where are the fucking undies? Give us a fucking look at the fucking undies. Show me the fucking undies.
Silence.
ALLAN: Motherfucker.
Silence.
DENNIS: Show me the fucking undies!
ALLAN: Shove them up your fucking arse, cunt.
DENNIS: They aren't her bloody fucking undies.
ALLAN: They're women's fucking undies.
DENNIS: She's doesn't wear women's fucking undies.
Pause.
ALLAN: She was fucking complaining of a sore fucking...
Silence.
ALLAN(points to his groin-region): She had a sore bloody...
The catalyst of the resolution
DENNIS: Did she put fucking Vaseline on herself?
ALLAN: She had one sore fucking...
DENNIS: Where did you put the fucking Vaseline?
ALLAN: She put it on herself.
DENNIS: She put it on her fucking...
ALLAN: She was complaining of a sore fucking bloody...
Pause.
Silence.
DENNIS: Cunt.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Fucking cunts.
The first turning point of the resolution
ALLAN: I’ll give you a fucking bloody fucking.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You're so fucking going to fucking get it.
Silence.
DENNIS: Get a fucking room.
ALLAN: Go fuck yourself.
Silence.
DENNIS: Where did you put the fucking Vaseline?
ALLAN’S WIFE: Have you got a sore fucking bloody vagina, cunt?
Pause.
The mid-point of the resolution
ALLAN: He was complaining of fucking soreness.
DENNIS: It's my fucking bloody fucking arsehole, cunt-face.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’ll give you a sore fucking arsehole.
ALLAN: The fucking vaseline is under the fucking bed.
Dennis shuffles off. Low shuffle. Quick. Exits to the other room.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I fucking knew it.
Silence.
ALLAN: You are the only bloody fucking woman for me.
He produces a plastic jar of Swisse Women’s Ultivite. Gives it to his wife.
The second turning point of the resolution
Dennis enters. Vaseline in hand.
DENNIS: Vaseline. Know what I fucking mean?
ALLAN’S WIFE(to Allan): What the fuck is this?
Dennis goes to finish off his cup. Licks his lips. Teeth.
DENNIS: We’ll see who fucking has a sore fucking bloody arsehole now.
Finishes off his coffee.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Anyhow.
Silence.
ALLAN: Have a fucking Winfield.
She takes a tablet.
Silence.
The climax of the resolution
DENNIS: Smoking can cause fucking blindness.
He misses his mouth with the cup. Spills a bit. Cleans up with his tongue.
Silence.
ALLAN: Anyhow.
Silence.
ALLAN’S WIFE(lighting up): Have a fucking Winfield, you blind fucking cunt.
ALLAN: Smoking can cause fucking cancer.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: I’ll give you fucking cancer.
She blows smoke in Allan’s direction.
Dennis polishes off what’s left of his coffee. Puts the cup down.
DENNIS(brandishing the Vaseline): We'll fucking see about that.
Dennis exits out the door.
The resolution of the resolution
ALLAN: I’ll give you a fucking sore bloody cunt.
Silence.
ALLAN’S WIFE: For me, Swisse fucking Ultivites really make a fucking difference to how I feel.
ALLAN: Anyhow.
Pause.
ALLAN’S WIFE: Fuck that for a fucking joke.
ALLAN: Celebrate fucking Life Every-fucking-day!
She gets up. Grabs her smokes. Goes to the other room. Pause at the door.
ALLAN’S WIFE: You fucking coming?
ALLAN: Be there in a fucking tick.
Pause.
ALLAN: Swisse Women’s Ultivite assists in relieving the symptoms of fucking tiredness, stress, while increasing fucking stamina levels and fucking wellbeing.
She exits to the bedroom.
His face is as blank as ever.
He sits there.
His face reveals a nervous twitch.
Blank.
Twitches.
Blank.
Silence.
End.
