by James Graham
Stephen Nope still the HB pencils for us. They don’t leave a trail.
Tilde Uh huh . . . (Exits with Stephen).
Kirsty (to Laura) You got her card, right? Right. I’m getting Gerry down here, with my make-up and a jzûzjy top. (Texting).
Alastair enters and hands over his card.
Kirsty (to Alastair) Hello, thank you.
Alia enters, guiding in Three Voters (2, 3 & 4) she has rounded up earlier.
Alia Here we are, take your card to the desk there.
Voter 2 heads to the issuing desk and starts being processed by Kirsty. Voters 3 & 4 stand by the piano.
Laura (to Alastair) ‘1222’. Oop. All the ducks. ‘Quack’. Ha. Ahem.
Alastair takes his paper and moves away, looking at it, moving towards the door. Stephen returns.
Stephen Alia, you know the score, you’ve managed to stay outside all day, I’m not going to relax the rules now, so –
Alia This one needs a bit of help, that’s all. Just being a Good Samaritan.
Stephen You’re rounding up your stragglers, you mean.
Alia Just helping my dear ‘neighbours’ who said they’d vote for us and had obviously forgot, or are a little frail . . . All done with a smile, right, love? (taking Voter 2’s ballot and helping her to the booth.)
Kirsty Alright, hand in your polling cards, please. Voters 3 & 4 go to the issuing desk to get processed by Kirsty. Alastair is walking out with his ballot paper.
Stephen Oh, uh, over there, please sir, to vote.
Alastair Oh, I was just going to take it away, have a quick look.
Stephen Ah, you can’t leave the polling station with your ballot I’m afraid.
Alastair . . . But. It’s mine. Isn’t it?
Stephen Not, erm, not technically. Your vote is yours. But the ballot paper – that, that’s ours.
Voter 2 makes their way to the ballot box as Voter 3 heads to the voting booth.
Alastair I wanted to take my time with it, over the road, got a pint waiting.
Stephen You can take all the time you want. But, in here.
Rochena and Alexandra have come out of the booth, and pose for a selfie on their smartphone (Alexandra extending out a selfie stick) while they hold up their ballot papers. Voter 2 crosses upstage to sit next to the piano and Voter 4 heads to the voting booth. Fred, who voted earlier on, has re-entered and sits next to Voter 2.
Rochena OK, say democra-cheese.
Kirsty Ooh, no I’m sorry, that’s not allowed.
Alexandra It’s just a selfie.
Kirsty No, no ‘selfies’, not in here.
Alexandra and Rochena sigh, move aside and begin dismantling the selfie stick.
Alastair Sorry mate, but, I’ve decided I am gonna do that. I am taking it away. For like, a bit. Not long. I just reckon if there’s a problem with that, then, we should all know that’s apparently a problem, with that, you know?
Stephen I mean you – I will have to call the police.
Alastair Yeah. Maybe you will. I just think it’s a bit dodge, if that’s the system. That’s all. I’ll see you, anyway.
Alastair exits with his paper. Stephen gets his phone out.
Stephen Oh, for . . .
Alia Did you just let him walk out with it?
Alexandra (to Kirsty, placing her phone on the Issuing Desk and crossing to the ballot box to pose with Rochena) Can you take our photo then, please?
Stephen (to Alia) Yes, Alia. I did. (On the phone.) Kirsty, is everything . . .?
Kirsty No, no one can take it – yes, Stephen, I’ve got this – (Kirsty comes out from behind the desk.) I’m going to have to ask you to put your phone away, please.
Rochena OK it’s alright, it’s OK, we will, don’t everyone get all –
Stephen (on his phone) Oh, hi, yes, I’d like to report, erm . . . (He exits.)
Alexandra (over Stephen) But it’s my first ever vote! What’s the point of instagram, if not for this?!
Laura Sorry. Kirsty? (We hear the click of Alexandra’s camera.)
Kirsty Did you just take one?
Alexandra By accident. It will just be my foot.
Laura Kirsty, we’ve people waiting, if –
Kirsty One second, Laura. (To them.) Show me, please.
Laura (sighs. To Fred.) What’s your name please?
Alexandra (showing Kirsty a photo on her phone) That’s my brother.
Fred (Overhearing Alexandra.) Joe?
Alexandra (looking through her phone) And it’s fashionable to look down on Russian elections but this doesn’t feel exactly free. (Showing her phone.)
Laura (under Alexandra) Surname?
Fred (under Alexandra) Norris.
Laura (under Alexandra) And address?
Fred (Fred replies as Alexandra speaks) 14 Grenville Close.
Kirsty That’s me, that’s my leg.
Alexandra Well. It’s my phone, my photo.
Kirsty I’d like you to delete it, please.
Laura (to Fred) Right, here you go, just vote over there.
Fred looks a little confused at his sheet of paper and heads over.
Kirsty Been captured on camera enough today.
Kirsty goes back to the desk.
Alia Oi, Kirsty, saw that meme of you earlier. Bit weird.
(Voters 3 & 4 head to the ballot box to vote and then sit upstage by Voter 2.) (Alia exits.) Under this, when Alexandra votes, Rochena sneaks a quick pick on her phone.
Laura (to Rochena) Madam?
Rochena No, you’re alright, bye. (They exit.)
Laura I think they might have taken a photo, Kirsty.
Kirsty Oh for . . . end of the day, it’s like the witching hour, they all come out. Don’t mind Stephen if he seems a bit ‘brusque’ occasionally. (Texting Tilde.)
Laura Is he? Seems inhumanly calm, I thought, don’t know how he does it.
Kirsty Under a bit of pressure this year – I shouldn’t say, but, he’s in the running. For Anita’s job, Deputy Returning Officer.
Alia re-enters and the Voters stand up to leave.
Alia Alright?
Fred is by the ballot box. He looks at the queue of Voters, looking reminiscent of the 1979 Conservative campaign poster.
Fred Hah. Look. Queue. ‘Labour isn’t working’.
Kirsty What?
Fred ‘Labour isn’t working!’
Fred drops his ballot paper into the box, and Kirsty gasps, freezing.
Kirsty Wait, did you just –
Alia leaves with her Voters; Kirsty, Laura and Fred now alone.
Kirsty Sir, just a moment. Laura, he’s – you’re the gentleman who was just here, when that woman, ‘Mrs Botchway’, who fell – isn’t he? Remember?
Laura That’s him? From before? No –
Kirsty And he just voted, again. I saw him. But he can’t have done, we didn’t issue him another ballot paper.
Laura No, that can’t, that can’t have happened, because there’s no way that like, yeah, bollocks, OK yeah, no I did.
Kirsty What?
Laura I gave him one.
Kirsty What? How?
Laura He gave me his name, it wasn’t crossed out on the register.
Kirsty Didn’t you recognise him, from before?
Laura (At the register.) Look, see? Joe Norris, it wasn’t crossed off.
Kirsty Is that your name sir? What’s your full name?
Fred . . . Mine? Fred. Frederick Norris.
Laura He told me it was Joe; you told me Joe.
Fred My brother? Is he back from the shops, then?
Laura . . . Oh Jesus.
Fred He said he was going to meet me here. (Calling, on his way out.) Joe?
Kirsty Sir, wait, can you just . . .?
But he’s gone.
Laura (going to the box) And he posted it, he definitely p
osted it? We can’t like, get it out.
Kirsty ‘Get it out?!’ No, we can’t ‘get it out’.
Laura All papers have numbers on them, that’s why we do it, isn’t it? If we tell someone, they can remove it at the count.
Kirsty Fine, if you want people to know you were involved, in your position – ohmyGod, and people will know I was involved as well, oh God, and I text that reporter to come back.
Laura I don’t think that a Swedish television news programme is our main concern.
Kirsty Well you shouldn’t have issued the ballot paper. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be . . . to someone, you know, ‘high up’, but it’s two people on the issue desk at all times –
Laura Well. Sorry to put the . . . back on you, a bit, Kirsty, but why did you leave the desk, when we had voters waiting?
Kirsty OK, look, just, look. It was an actual ballot, assigned and marked off, so the box and the register will still all balance, so, technically, there’s no problem.
Laura Except that – someone voted twice. And in a marginal constituency! Oh God! We have to tell Stephen.
Kirsty hears someone in the corridor.
Kirsty Wait, shush –
Alan, a polling agent for the Conservative Party, has arrived, humming as he enters.
Alan Alright, pull your socks up, the enforcer is here, haha.
Kirsty Oh hi, Alan. How’s it going? Laura, this is Alan, he’s a polling agent for one of the local candidates.
Alan Oh, fresh meat, nice, how do you do.
(Producing his authentication papers etc.) Just to make it all ‘official’ –
Kirsty Oh we know who you are.
Stephen (re-entering) Oh hi Alan.
Alan (holding his hands up, mockingly) Oh no, it’s the Presiding Officer sir, spare me, I have my papers here.
Stephen Oh there’s no need for –
Alan No, no, dot and cross, the Is and the Ts. I am here on behalf of Mr Adeyami Abudu, the Conservative candidate for this seat and I am legally allowed to be present at this polling station as a passive observer, etcetera.
Stephen Received and understood. How’s it going?
Alan Jesus, honestly, its headless chickens everywhere. I don’t think it’s ever going to have been this close before. No one has a bloody clue.
Laura (trying to hide her panic) Huh, erm. Actually I’m sorry, while it’s quiet, can I just -?
Stephen Uh, yes, of course. Quick as you can.
Laura exits, into the back corridor. Stephen replaces her at the desk.
Stephen She alright? Kirsty Yeah, just . . .
Alan All good here, then? Heard about the trouble opening up this morning . . .? I got forwarded your little movie, Kirsty, Jesus!
Stephen Oh yes, it’s not as dramatic as it looks. Happens all the time depressingly, in fact the council has a guy with a mallet on speed dial, every election. Unfortunately he was knocking down a church door in Stockwell, so Kirsty . . . ‘came to the rescue’. We were expecting you earlier, Alan, is he on his way, your chap?
Alan Oh don’t, this is my stupid idea, hasn’t worked, slapped wrist later. Local press were covering that UKIP bird, voting at the doctor’s surgery, so I thought, tactically, to get his face in the papers, we’d wait till later. But no one’s turned up. Still you live you learn.
Kirsty ‘Labour isn’t working’. What was that?
Alan Thatcher. ’79. Saatchi and Saatchi. Classic.
Kirsty . . . Right . . .
Tom Baird enters. He’s young but dressed in black tie and carrying a double bass.
Stephen Hello. Oh, look at that.
Tom Sorry?
Stephen Oh, no, I was just admiring your instrument. So to speak. Erm. Where have you been fiddling – God, it’s getting worse.
Kirsty ‘537’.
Stephen ‘537’. (handing him his paper) You can leave that with us briefly, that’s no problem.
Tom Oh. Thank you. It was just this, recital thing, for my Postgrad.
Stephen (helping him take off the bass) Let me –
Tom Cheers . . . Sort of a big deal, actually, heart’s still going. Months, practising. Well . . . years, when you think about it. Worried I wouldn’t make it here.
Kirsty receives a text message. Tom heads to the booth as the double bass starts to tip. Kirsty and Stephen react.
Oh, careful – it’s a bit . . . you need to . . . Sorry.
Stephen holds the double bass and Tom goes to the booth.
Kirsty Oh, my Gerry’s just parked up. Finally.
Alan He’ll be at the count, won’t he, Gerry?
Kirsty Oh yeah, that’s two double-times we get, from the council. And he loves counting, my husband, some reason, anything, loves it. Absolutely bizarre. One of the other regulars have put him on this moisturizing stuff, for his fingers. So he can, you know – (mimes counting slips of paper quickly) So there’s no chafing; chafing is the mortal enemy of the ballot paper counter.
Alan Fastest fingers in the west, is he?
Kirsty I’ve never complained. Oh God sorry, I forgot where I was then.
Alan (on his phone) Oh, this is Adey now, one sec. Adeyami, ‘ello, alright?
Gerry enters with a make-up bag, and a wrapped packet of fish and chips under his arm.
Oh, alright Gerry, we were just talking about you. (He exits).
Gerry Avon calling.
Kirsty (hopping up) Alright, not so – thank you. (The make-up bag.)
Stephen (at her make-up bag) What d’you need that for, Kirsty?
(Phone ringing.) Oh, this is the police, can you – Stephen exits on the phone. Gerry props up the double bass.
Gerry Haribos and a fancy top for you. I’ve got Lucas at home, waiting for his chips, then I’m off to the count. (Beat.) Why did he bring this with him, bit impractical?
Kirsty It isn’t his, you idiot, it’s his. (Quick beat.) Wait, a minute. That’s it, I’ve got it. You. You haven’t voted.
Gerry Oh, not this again –
Kirsty No, please Gerry, listen to me, you’re doing it. (At the register.)
Gerry I’m not, Kirsty, I can’t stand any of ’em. I don’t know why you register me every time.
Kirsty Because I’m a poll clerk and it’s . . . how does it make me look if . . . (With his paper.) Look, just a quick vote, it’ll really help me out. I’ll explain later. Please help me out this once?
Gerry (sighs, taking it) All the lads are talking about that video, you know. Winding me up . . .
Gerry reluctantly goes to the booth, leaving Kirsty now to prop up the double bass. Laura returns, looking slightly bewildered at the large instrument Kirsty is holding.
Laura Uh. . . alright?
Kirsty I’ve done something.
Laura Started a band?
Kirsty No. You’ll be pleased with me.
Stephen returns, hanging up the phone and takes the double bass from Kirsty.
Stephen Allow me.
Gerry pops his head out of the booth again, to get Kirsty’s attention. Kirsty opens the Haribo packet.
Tom leaves the booth and heads over to the box where Stephen now is.
Stephen sees Gerry and waves, thanking him.
. . . Tom thinks he’s waving at him, and waves back.
Tom Oh, hello.
Stephen Oh, no actually I was – at him, but – no I can wave at you too.
Gerry Oi. (Mouths to her, pointing at the paper: ‘Which one?’)
Tom is about to drop his ballot into the box – but stops. Hovering. Suddenly uncertain . . .
Stephen Voting Gerry?
Gerry Apparently.
Kirsty takes and holds up a red sweet. It takes Gerry a second or two to comprehend, before going back into the booth.
Stephen (to Tom) It’s OK. Just drop it in, it’ll be fine.
Tom No, I know, it’s just . . . How do you do it?<
br />
Stephen Erm. I just tend to – let go.
Beat. He drops the ballot inside the box. Tom goes to get his double bass.
Tom (taking his double bass from Stephen) Thank you.
Laura Oh it’s yours. That makes more sense.
Gerry comes out of the booth and comes to the box.
Gerry I’ll see you at the count.
Kirsty (to Gerry) Alright, thanks for that.
Gerry exits.
Tom (putting his double bass on) I mean it’s a not that different from my recital, is it. You talk about it non-stop, practise for months and months . . . and then it’s gone. In 17 minutes . . .
Like how many goes do you think we all get, at this? Once, every five years, so that’s maybe 10 votes, in a lifetime? If you’re lucky . . .?
Stephen . . . Although. This is not really a performance, is it?
Tom . . . No?
Laura heads to the door to open it for Tom.
Laura Stephen plays music, actually, don’t you Stephen? (To Tom.) If you ever need an accompanist.
Tom Um. Right.
Stephen holds the door open for him.
(Exiting.) Thank you, Stephen.
Stephen What was all that, ‘if you ever need’ –?
Laura Oh nothing, I just thought I sensed a – like, connection, or something . . . oh sorry if – I didn’t mean to presume that –
Alan returns. Laura returns to the Issuing Desk.
Alan (to Stephen) He’s on his way, my fella. T-minus 20 and counting.
Kirsty (to Laura) I’ve sorted it. You’re welcome.
Alan shows Stephen some photos on his phone.
Alan Here, Stephen, look at this, I’m tracking his taxi on my phone.
Stephen Oh! (Stephen joins Alan.)
Laura So, you told – (indicating Stephen)?
Alan Amazing, see?
Kirsty My husband just . . . brought in some more sweets. He never normally bothers with sweets. But I got him to pick a red one.
Alan Here, took these photos earlier, at HQ. Good turnout.
Kirsty (quieter) Red’s the opposite flavour, to that ‘Labour isn’t working’ man.
Alan Remember her, Val? (Alan and Stephen sit.)
Kirsty aware of the men, picking up sweets to demonstrate for Laura.
Kirsty That man’s favourite sweet was obviously blue. So I got Gerry to put an extra red one, in the jar.
