by Elton, Ben
CHIEF: Developed for specific uses during the space programme, then somebody decided to stick it on anoraks and turned it into a Pot Noodle. Within fifty years it will have paid for the whole fiasco. Out of evil came forth good. Gentlemen, we must find new ways to use our machinery.
PHILIP: Uhm yes, forgive me Sir, but it’s using the machines that’s the problem. I really am rather concerned that well we might have produced a product that might well kill someone.
SANDY: With all due respect to Philip, if the tobacco industry had taken that kind of line, some of the world’s greatest sporting events would never have been sponsored.
CHIEF: No no, I think that Philip has a point, we certainly don’t want deaths on our conscience, bad for morale, bad for business. However, a solution presents itself which also opens up a whole new world of commerce and profit.
PHILIP: It does?
CHIEF: It’s really very simple ... We build Super Suckers and Bumper Blowers, far in advance of anything currently available, and undertake to collect oxygen in under-populated areas. Then councils who find their atmospheres temporarily thinned, through, I might add, the actions of their own citizens, will be in a position to make up the shortfall by hiring us to pump some back into the public arena.
SANDY: My God! It’s brilliant.
PHILIP: So Chief, you’re suggesting that having . made a huge profit from machines by which people hoard oxygen, we now build bigger versions of the same machines, in order to make further profits replacing it.
CHIEF: Exactly.
PHILIP: Look Chief, call me an insanely cautious old turd if you will; look me in the eye and say ‘Phil, if you drag your feet any further you’re going to be tripping over tube trains’; ring my people and tell them that their boss wouldn’t recognize solid gold if he was surrounded by three quarters of a million Californians jumping up and down, waving their pick axes and shouting ‘yeeha, we’ve struck it’, I just feel that there’s going to be objections.
CHIEF: Philip, we didn’t create this situation, we only make the machines. If a problem exists, the consumer has created it and thank God we live in a society where the consumer has a right to create problems.
PHILIP (still doubtful): Yes, I see that certainly, it’s just that, well ... selling air? I see a media backlash, and frankly, I’m buggered if perhaps they wouldn’t have a point. I mean, everybody owns the air, don’t they? We don’t really have a right to sell it? Do we? Or what?
CHIEF (a tiny bit angry): Yes Philip, and while you’re taking your Ph.D. in moral semantics Mr Suzuki is laying down the keel of the first Super Sucker. You’re my top man Philip, President of the division and quite frankly I’m surprised ...
SANDY (pleased): Perhaps you’re tired Phil. You drive yourself like an insane man.
CHIEF: The air is a natural resource. Like food or coal. Is the grocer or the coal man wrong for selling his wares? And yet people need food and warmth as much as they need air. It seems that a man is to be allowed to put bread on his table, clothes on the backs of his children, buy land upon which they can run and play, and yet he is to be denied the chance to provide fully and properly for his family the most basic human prerequisite of the lot, the wherewithal to breathe. Denied that chance for fear that some hypothetical, free-loading drop-out may find himself momentarily short of breath.
SANDY: Phil, this is more than a business venture, it’s a moral crusade!
PHILIP: You’re right Sandy ... sorry Chief, just thinking things through that’s all.
CHIEF: I understand my boy ... A fellow’s always a bit soft and loopy when he’s in love eh? Any developments on that front yet? Can’t have you mooning about for ever.
PHILIP: Well she did say something quite encouraging a month or two back ... haven’t quite got round to acting on it yet.
CHIEF: Ha ha, well you get on with it lad. Got to clear the air my boy. So that we can sell it.
ACT TWO
SCENE ONE
The control room of a huge air supplier, consoles of buttons and flashing lights, computer screens, electronic maps of Britain with different coloured areas and arrows on them that could mean wind direction. If possible the arrows should move and the lights and stuff flash etc. There is celebration bunting hanging about, the Lockheart Logo is very prominent, there is a dais and a ribbon to be cut, a table full of champagne. It is clearly a media opening.
(PHILIP, in black tie, is alone ...)
PHILIP (nervously rehearsing a speech): ... It’s just that what you said to me that time at Image Control ... deeply sensible of enormous honour, yes deeply ... Oh God, oh God ... Come on Philip, be a man for Christ’s sake, she’s damn hot for you too so just go for it!
(Enter KIRSTEN also dressed for launch.)
KIRSTEN: Go for what Philip?
PHILIP (confusion): What? Oh, just all this Kirsty, you’ve really gone for it, no woman could do more, a truly Herculean effort. Christ, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much champagne and dippy things.
KIRSTEN (checking things): Well Philip, I can’t deny I’m confident, the Industry awards for the most champagne and dippy things at a launch are next month and I think our only real competition will be the first night of Aspects of Mussolini. I was very worried about last week’s Channel Four re-rerelaunch but they blew it by switching to Asti Spumante after Michael Grade left.
PHILIP (looking about): This launch is terribly important to me Kirsty, it’s a hearts and minds launch.
KIRSTEN: Which is why it’s so important to get the champagne and dippy things right ... Top quality bite-sized savoury thingies and plenty of them. (motions to table) The times I’ve heard high-level opinion-formers dismiss an entire product range on the strength of soggy filo pastry.
PHILIP: Well this little lot should guarantee some decent coverage.
KIRSTEN: You can never, never tell ... you can have the most successful launch of all time, then Princess Di gets out of a low slung sports car, some hack gets a decent shot of her knickers and you’ll be lucky if the press find room for you on the sports pages.
PHILIP: It just goes to show ‘there ain’t no such thing as a free lunch.’
KIRSTEN (slightly offended): Well there isn’t any call for that kind of comment.
PHILIP (confused): What? I mean did I ...?
KIRSTEN (a zealot on her pet subject): Free lunch is what keeps the mighty cogs of public relations turning. Why without free lunch there would be no more magazines, no more pop records, no more television programmes, no new estate agents opened ...
PHILIP: God, heaven forbid.
KIRSTEN: Free lunch is the universal lubricant ... from a tiny, two-person, tax-deductible power pasta to a six-hundred-head media faceful like this. Without free food London would stop moving, we’d be a third world country in a month.
PHILIP: You’re absolutely right Kirsty, sorry ... A fellow gets so tied up in his own little area that it’s shamefully easy to forget the quite incredible amount of dedicated eating that has to go on just to bring a product before the public.
KIRSTEN: PR and Media is the product Philip. As you Say, it’s hearts and minds.
PHILIP: Yes, no more so than in this case. Sadly there are still people who rather resent their councils having to buy in private air to make the streets safe. We’ve got to get people to understand that pushing private air into the public arena is the inevitable result of people’s God-given right to own their own air.
KIRSTEN: The press packs are very clear. (glossy brochure) I’ve had my very best people working on the buzz words and catch phrases ... (flicking through) I’m particularly pleased with ‘air’s fair’, and ‘an Englishman’s nose is his castle’ ... (looking at watch) Christ is that the time! Sir Chiffley will be here any moment, and I haven’t checked that the waitresses’ little black skirts are short enough ... (She makes to leave.)
PHILIP (slightly embarrassed, grabbing his moment): Uhm, hang on a moment Kirsten ... there was something I wanted to say ...
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br /> KIRSTEN: Better make it quick Phil ...
PHILIP: What? oh yes, of course ... well it’s just that ... Oh hell, I’m not much good at this sort of thing ... I wanted to tell you that you have got the most fantastic ... most fantastic ... people ... No really, you have great ... people and ... and well ... I’d really like to get my hands on them ...
KIRSTEN: Thanks Philip, I’ll memo them.
PHILIP: I’d like to memo them too Kirsten. Yes I would, I’d like to give them a bloody good memoing, I mean it ... and it’s not just your...... people I also love your...... presentation, you have beautiful presentation You’re a very special lady Kirsten ...
KIRSTEN: What’s on your mind Phil, is there a problem?
PHILIP: Problem? a hundred and twelve types of ‘no way’! It’s just, it’s just that well Oh this is ridiculous, I don’t need to be embarrassed, after all, I know how you feel.
KIRSTEN: You do?
PHILIP: Yes of course I do ... after what you said in the office that day, about the tasty elephant with G-spots on his geezer ...
KIRSTEN: Oh you remembered.
PHILIP: Of course I remembered, Kirsty-wirsty. Christ I’m young, Christ I’m romantic, Christ I’m a tasty elephant ... The world’s beautiful and so are we...... And, I want you to know that it’s all right...... I feel the same way.
KIRSTEN: You do?
PHILIP: Yes! isn’t that marvellous! It’s like it was meant to happen. You feel it, I feel it ... we’re already a team.
KIRSTEN (very cold): I’m sorry Philip, there’s no way it will work. Yes all right, I admit what I feel, why shouldn’t I? But I had no idea you felt it too, honestly if I’d thought for a moment that we both felt the same way then I would never have started this damn thing.
PHILIP: Christ, you girls don’t half make it difficult! Look, pretty speeches aren’t normally my line, but I really do think you’re one hell of a bit of skirt, top-notch totty, senior bint etc. and any normal guy would have to be blind not to develop a major horn for you.
KIRSTEN: Philip, trying to flatter me isn’t going to change anything, if you know how I feel you should understand that.
PHILIP: Of course I know how you feel, I know you’re hot for the top stallion in the Lockheart stables, and I’m ready and willing to take the jumps with you!!
KIRSTEN: Right that’s enough! Just shut up right now! It’s disgusting. I had no idea you felt this way, but let me tell you I’m not sharing Sandy with you and if you two are planning some kind of dirty little AC/DC three-up sex game, count me out!
PHILIP: Oh come on baby, why don’t you just drop the pretence, drop the inhibitions, drop your pantyhose and let’s do it! !...... Sharing Sandy? What ... what do you mean?
KIRSTEN: You said you feel the same way I do, well if you fancy Sandy go for it mate but don’t expect me along for the ride.
PHILIP: Uhm look, I think there’s a chance I may have dropped something of a clanger here ... That day in your office, when you were bowling hints that there was a hot, hunky guy at Lockheart and you wanted in ... you were......referring to Sandy?
KIRSTEN: Yes, I’ve liked him since that first day at my office. I thought you knew. I talked about him half the evening that night we went to dinner. I virtually never see him so I was hoping that you might drop a hint in the right direction Hang on Oh God this is funny, you didn’t you didn’t think that I fancied you?
PHILIP: Oh no! not at all well yes, sort of......anyway, ha ha, senior communication breakdown eh?
KIRSTEN: I should say so. God that is so funny!
PHILIP: You should have gone through your people ... or sent a fax ...
KIRSTEN: I suppose it would have been simpler. Still no harm done eh?
PHILIP: No, of course not ... None whatsoever ... You really think it’s funny do you?
KIRSTEN: Of course, don’t worry about it, I’m not offended or anything, I just think it’s an incredible joke don’t you?
PHILIP: Of course, of course, of course. Ha ha.
(Fade to black.)
(A huge sob is heard. Lights up, it is a little later, SIR CHIFFLEY is at the podium, PHILIP, and SANDY, all in dinner jackets, respectfully flank him.)
CHIEF (making speech): ... Far in advance of any of our competitors, Lockheart Air Division has completed this major central distribution coordination master control room ... When it comes .on line, this facility will be able to access sufficient oxygen to waft the whole of Greater London for up to twenty-eight days ... The air industry has come of age. At last we have a secure base from which to serve the public ... Now then gentlemen, ladies, I’m sure I’ve spoken enough and lunch is waiting.
(He steps down to polite taped applause. Immediately on tape the sounds of a crowd eating and chatting start up.)
(Lights up. It is a little later, SIR CHIFFLEY is at the podium, PHILIP, GEOFF and SANDY, all in dinner jackets, respectfully flank him.)
CHIEF (making speech): ... and so the doctor said ‘Big breaths Marjorie’ and Marjorie replied ‘Yeth doctor and I’m only thixteen’ ... (after small laugh) Now, of course there is in fact a very serious point to that story. For without the facilities that Lockheart Air Division can offer, facilities like this Central London Wafter which Lady Olga has so kindly opened for us — a wafter far in advance of anything our competitors are currently providing — without that, no doctor would feel confident in ordering a patient to take ‘big breaths’. Rather he would be obliged to say ‘tiny pants Marjorie’ which, let’s face it, quite apart from being totally inadequate on health grounds, would be a completely different joke. So there you are then, I think I’ve made my point, and now gentlemen, ladies, lunch is waiting.
(Lights up, the event is over, tables are an empty mess, etc.
SANDY and PHILIP are with CHIEF, bow ties a bit undone etc. PHILIP is slightly pissed.)
PHILIP: Well Chief, a splendid speech, and a splendid launch in general...... very inspiring...... I feel great. I really do.
SANDY: Yes marvellous Chief, gives one a terrific glow. Mind you, we ...
PHILIP (rudely interrupting him): Yes Chief, it’s certainly a wonderful facility.
SANDY (ignoring PHILIP): We could have done without the press going on and on about how much actual oxygen is getting through to the consumer ...
CHIEF: I share their concern Sandy, it’s the classic problem of over-production. All the franchise holders have been sucking away like a hyperactive Rent boy, and now the UK’s been semi sucked out and we’re all sitting on huge tanks of compressed oxygen.
SANDY: Everyone’s undercutting (motions to areas flashing on maps) It’s beginning to look like a full-scale price war Sir.
PHILIP (aside to SANDY): Yes all right, just pack in the leering innuendo bit OK? You can have her, I don’t give a toss. (back to CHIEF) It isn’t so much the price I’m concerned about Chief, it’s more that not enough air is actually being wafted to the breathing public.
CHIEF: Well we can’t very well waft it until we’ve agreed a decent price for it can we? Or what’s the point of sucking it in the first place? We just have to get together with the other franchise holders and establish a stable minimum price. Good lord, if a bunch of wops with dishtowels on their heads can establish an oil cartel, I think we should be just about able to set a decent price for a gulp of air.
SANDY: Well I hope you’re right Chief, things are very unstable at the moment. We’ve seen green stamps, air miles, royal crested teaspoons, sherry schooners. It’s insane! Do they really want to have to fight a free gift war? That’s the kind of war nobody wins.
PHILIP (waspish): Oh God, state the obvious why don’t you Sandy. Sorry Chief, I think his mind’s on other things!!
(Nobody really knows how to react.)
CHIEF: A free gift war would be a nightmare, we all know very well that free gift wars lead to shooting wars and by heaven I shan’t allow hot headedness of that sort to ruin this industry. Look what’s happened in France, organized crime, prot
ection rackets. Thank goodness the process leaves the atmosphere non-volatile so, within limits, it is possible to administer an area on a regional basis.
SANDY: Apart, of course, from the wind. PHILIP (still waspish): Yes well we all know that.
SANDY: Only two days ago in Hounslow, Essex we’re scheduled to top up twelve thousand houses, plus the council is taking delivery for its street wafting obligations. Our boys are two miles out of town in a twelve sucker convoy. What happens ... the wind.
PHILIP (unpleasantly imitating SANDY): ‘The wind.’
SANDY (ignoring him): Suddenly everyone’s jumping for joy and stuffing their sucker tubes out of the window.
PHILIP: Well at least everybody got something to breathe, I mean that’s important too isn’t it? I mean fair’s fair, the wind’s the wind after all.
