You Are Not Alone

A Tale of Twelve Speeches-3

3 Nerris’ play was the first I read after the lockdown and I knew right away this speech had to be included in the anthology. As an aside, I have to say that the timing of this whole thing has been pretty disastrous. Some weeks ago, I summoned up the courage to have a conversation with my next-door neighbour, Brenda, having marvelled at her reassuringly academic presence ever since she moved in. Of course, I haven’t seen her again and, in all probability, will not do so for several months. Why didn’t I at least ask for her phone number?

4 This notorious play is about men copulating, and women copulating, and men and women copulating, in toilets, kitchens, building sites, stationery cupboards, wherever they can. It is not for the faint-hearted, a modern day La Ronde featuring fornication in all its glory and depravity. I’ve been re-reading it recently: it’s rather fun I must admit. It doesn’t in any way compensate for my own inactivity in this area however.

5 I make no claim that all the plays included in this volume are great dramas, or even proficient. This one I struggled with from the get-go. It doesn’t flow. It’s a little ‘keen’. But that may say more about me than the playwright who has achieved moderate success with several of her works. I’ve reread this speech several times and I have absolutely no idea who the fiends in the clouds are. The writer, by the way, is a friend of Deirdre, about whom you’ll hear more later.

6 can you please slow down this is an emergency surfaced briefly in London and is an absolute car crash. I went with Deirdre, on an early date. We were shocked by how appalling it was. I can’t recall whether the doctor was played by a man or a woman, and don’t suppose it matters too much either way.

I tried to discover more about the playwright and turned up nothing (the theatre provided a copy of the script). The only things we can safely say about Mr Carless are that 1) he never read Aristotle’s Poetics, and 2) he has an extreme aversion to punctuation.

7 This is what I’d call a spider on the wall play about the day to day worlds of three receptionists. This one is a temp and pretty awful at that. Deirdre and I saw it when I still had high hopes for our future together. I vividly recall the curry afterwards, and her telling me all about her boss. She was the PA to a well-known captain of industry who she frequently and amusingly referred to as “the cunt”. The playwright, by the way, is no relation to the infinitely more talented folk artist.

8 Deidre and I saw this political farce a couple of months into our relationship. The less than subtle message that we are living in a dictatorship was as ridiculous then as it is now. Having said that, we both enjoyed the depiction of the policeman. Later, while Deidre rustled up an impromptu meal, we got into a silly row about the play’s title. I assured her that just because it was called The Ice Rink, it didn’t have to have an ice rink in the story. Deirdre called me patronising and threw me out of her flat before I’d finished my risotto. It wasn’t very nice anyway. Too moist and slightly mushy.

Talking about bad cooking, I’m getting slightly fed up with my own to be honest. I ran out of fresh vegetables a week ago, and trying to be inventive with cupboards consisting only of tins of soup, various dried beans and some past-their-sell-by-date herbs and spices is far from easy. I wonder if I’ll ever eat another meal cooked by a fellow human being again. I know everyone else thinks they’re being terribly clever and maintaining their social life online, but I’m holed up editing this book and no one gives a flying f**k. So much for community spirit.

9 Rather cheekily, I thought I might include an extract from my own satire about a dysfunctional family, which was produced to great effect at The Man in the Moon during its heyday. This speech can be performed as if Mr Fitch is slightly deaf, a bit confused, or in deep shock – any of these options will work very nicely.

I gave Deirdre a copy of the play and after she’d read it, she said that before she started horse riding, she had lessons at her local stable. Seeing my blank expression, she compared her advance preparation for equestrian sports to the know-how needed for writing a play. In the case of Living Death, she said that I clearly knew nothing about playwriting nor family dynamics, so my work was bound to come across as ill-considered and naive. We didn’t speak for two months after that.

Big news by the way. When we doing that clapping on the front path thing, I briefly caught the eye of my next-door neighbour, Brenda. And I believe she smiled at me. Of course, there was so much noise and commotion, I can’t be sure.

10 It’s very nice that this nurse has the time to listen in on visitors to their patients and to record their conversations in such detail. If only that were the case now. Incidentally, it was after seeing this play that I encountered the full force of Deirdre’s petty and vicious nature. In the midst of our habitual argument about my introspection and delusions of grandeur, she managed to lock me in her bathroom and drove off to her parents. I was without food for two days. Luckily there was a plentiful supply of toilet paper, which is more than I have now.

11 If I am allowed one play by myself, I thought I might be permitted two. This one, as yet unperformed, is a family drama full of simmering tensions and undetonated conflicts. The play also features a violent argument between mother and daughter inspired by the last time I saw Deirdre. God knows what I’d done to deserve it, but as I cowered in her kitchen corner, she hurled her entire set of orange Le Creuset pans in my direction. I was literally in fear of my life. There were six pans and, unfortunately for me, each one had a lid. Luckily, she was not a particularly good shot and I sustained only mild injuries to my shoulder and left leg. As soon as I was able, I limped from her house and out of the relationship. I will leave it in my future director’s capable hands as to whether real Le Creuset pans are used in the production.

12 This play is a puzzle to me, full of characters doing things, breaking into rap, for reasons I don’t fully understand. Having said this, the playwright was extremely keen to be included in this anthology and even offered to rewrite this speech to make it fit more seamlessly into the overall story. If only key events in our own lives could be adapted so easily.

13 When putting together this anthology, I thanked God there have been so many recent plays set in hospitals. I haven’t managed to find out whether Dr Baljinder Patel is an actual medical doctor, but she certainly did her research if she isn’t.

After Le Creuset-gate, I received a contrite letter of apology from Deirdre. I wrote back immediately to say that I never wished to hear from her again. She has respected my wishes and I’ve often wondered whether I made the right call. She’s an extremely bright and articulate woman and her onion soup is second to none.

14 I have allowed myself the indulgence of a third and final monologue from one of my own plays (currently a work in progress), principally to permit this story the satisfying ending it deserves, but also to indicate the huge potential of File should anyone choose to commission it.

I say satisfying ending, but how satisfying can a major miscarriage of justice be? I imagine Dinesh attending the trial, having read about the case in the local paper. Perhaps the loss of his lover speeds up his process of rethinking his future. Or maybe it sends him into a spiral of depression.

Almost certainly in the spectators’ gallery with Dinesh would be Camille; he may take an educated guess as to who she is. I imagine her seething with righteous indignation, willing the jury to convict the hapless defendant. As to whether they do or not, you’ll have to wait for my play to be produced.

Now that I’ve completed this anthology, I might push a copy through Brenda’s door with a note. I’ll wipe my hands with anti-bacterial gel if I accidentally touch the letterbox. Brenda and I had a brief but delightful conversation over the fence this morning when I was putting out the rubbish. I told her I was a playwright, and also about this book, and she seemed genuinely interested. It would appear that even as this crazy world teeters on the brink, there is still one delightful sliver of hope.