Brownbread & War

by Roddy Doyle

  Donkey That’s a fuckin’ brilliant idea!

  John Jaysis, yeah! We never thought o’ tha’.

  Donkey Better than fuckin’ jobs annyway, wha’.

  Ao God, we’re thick. How much d’yeh think, Your Bishop?

  The Bishop looks more and more like he regrets having put the idea into their heads, but tries not to.

  John Thousands.

  Donkey Fifty thousand.

  Ao How much is tha’ each, Donkey?

  Donkey Ah here! A good bit.

  Ao (going to the window) Righ’.

  Offstage, ‘all hell’ breaks loose: lights, sirens go on and off etc. The lads and the Bishop dive to the floor, the Bishop bringing the chair down with him.

  Enter Mr Farrell below, in a hurry.

  Farrell Aidan! Aidan!

  Ao (from the floor; roars) Wha’? What’s up?

  Farrell You’re fucked now. You’re rightly fucked now. The Bishop — the Bishop’s a Yank.

  Ao Wha!?

  (To the lads.) What’s he on abou’?

  (To the Bishop.) He says you’re a Yank.

  Bishop I was born in the New York in actual fact. Although my parents, God rest them, came back to Ireland when I was still a baby.

  Farrell Are yeh listenin’ to me? Aidan! He’s a Yank.

  Bishop But I suppose that makes me a citizen of the United States. I have a US passport.

  Farrell He’s a fuckin’ Yank, I’m tellin’ yeh.

  Ao (to the lads) So wha’?

  (To Mr Farrell.) So wha?

  Farrell They want him back.

  Donkey They can fuck off.

  Ao (to Mr Farrell) So?

  Farrell So they’re after invadin’ Dollymount!

  The sound of an approaching helicopter is heard, and passes over the house Two dim figures enter and pull Mr Farrell offstage.

  Farrell Get your fuckin’ hands off me!

  Exit Mr Farrell. The helicopter sound fades. Nothing is said onstage for a moment, but the fear is obvious on all faces.

  John The radio.

  John crawls to the radio and turns it on just as a rock song ends. The Dave Fanning show is on.

  Fanning That was —what was that? —The Islamic Jihad with ‘Rock Me Sideways Baby’. Right, now we’re going over to Nuala in the newsroom.

  Nuala Thank you, Dave. Reports are coming in that an advance force of United States Marines has occupied Bull Island in Dublin Bay. Earlier today President Reagan, speaking from the White House, said that America could not and would not stand by and watch Americans being mauled by Libyan-backed agents of terror. This is believed to have been a reference to the abduction of Bishop Fergus Treacy, Auxiliary Bishop of Dublin, this morning by three armed youths in the Barrytown area of north Dublin. Gardai at Clontarf station say that there are no reports of any casualties but sources at Raheny station admit to being worried that one of their men failed to report back after his tea. So, that headline again. Bull Island in Dublin has been occupied by a force of US Marines. We’ll have a full report at nine.

  Fanning Thanks, Nuala. —Gosh! —Here’s The Corporation Workmen on demo.

  John turns off the radio as the music starts.

  Donkey Fuckin’ hell.

  John (scared) Yeh know wha’ we are now, don’t yis?

  Bishop (trying not to look too pleased) Eh—brown —bread?

  The lights go down as the lads stare at the Bishop. A helicopter is heard approaching.

  Act Two

  PART ONE

  The Doors play ‘The End’.

  It is the day after the invasion; afternoon. The Bishop is standing up on the chair, arms outstretched; as much of him as possible blocking the window. Ao is standing right up against him, the gun placed firmly at the Bishop’s stomach. Donkey is sitting at the bedroom door, keeping guard. John is lying on the bed. They have been like this (but swapping positions; except for the Bishop) all night and day since the invasion. They are tired, very hungry, nervous, but far from ready to give up. Nothing has happened since the invasion.

  The music fades, and whirring helicopter blades and motors become the predominant sounds. The lads look up as the helicopter passes over them; then the helicopter fades, but doesn’t die completely. The radio is on: Charlie Bird is describing the Marine Corps camp on Bull Island. The lads are half-listening and commenting.

  Charlie Bird From my position here I can see five Sikorsky Night Hawk helicopters stationary on the fairway. And there are three, no, four more in the air. I can clearly see a large gun, possibly a Gattling or a Howitzer —

  Donkey A Howitzer! Jaysis.

  Charlie Bird — protruding from the side door of one of the helicopters.

  Donkey (not joking) Fuckin’ hell. The business, wha’.

  Charlie Bird The helicopters are a chilling sight. So graceful yet so menacing. -A jeep has come over the dunes to my right! And another one! They’re going towards the club-house.

  John So wha’!

  Charlie Bird The dunes are blocking my view of a large part of the combat base but there must be at least, a thousand men here.

  Ao There’ll be no ridin’ there tonigh’, wha’.

  The lads laugh half-heartedly.

  Charlie Bird The base is like a small busy town.

  John (scornful) Jesus! With soldiers an’ fuckin’ helicopters in it!

  Charlie Bird I’m now being approached by two Marines. One of them appears to be a sergeant. —Yes, he’s a sergeant.

  Donkey Shoot the fuckin’ eejit.

  Charlie Bird Both men are armed.

  Donkey Good.

  Charlie They want me to turn off my —

  The tape recorder is turned off.

  Donkey Good.

  The tape recorder is turned back on. The background noise of helicopters has been replaced by tweeting birds. Ao chuckles.

  Charlie Bird I am now walking down the Causeway Road, away from the Marine combat base. I am not going to look around because I have been told that if I do, I will, quote, get a bullet in my ass.

  Donkey laughs. John goes to the back wall: he hears noises: he listens.

  Charlie Bird is replaced by Pat Kenny, back in the studio.

  Pat Kenny Well, that report from Charlie Bird on Bull Island was recorded earlier this afternoon. Since then Maurice Murphy has been granted an interview with Lieutenant George Bukowski. Of the US Marine Corps, of course. We’re going to give that to you —Are we? —Yes, we are. Here is Maurice Murphy talking to Lieutenant Bukowski.

  Enter Lieutenant Bukowski and Maurice Murphy, stage left. Murphy is dressed for Arctic conditions, and speaks with a strong Northern accent. Bukowski is in combat uniform, smokes a cigar and seems to be relishing the occasion, having been too young for Vietnam. His delivery is at once bland and worrying.

  Bishop (who hasn’t used his voice for a while) This — this might be interesting.

  Donkey stares at the Bishop as if at an unfortunate but irrirating eejit.

  Murphy Lieutenant Bukowski, what exactly is the US Marine Corps doing here?

  John Oh, my Jaysis! Will yeh listen!

  Bukowski Well, sir; Mister Murphy. We are here on the direct orders of the President of the United States of America. We are here on what I would describe as a humanitarian combat mission.

  Murphy And that means what?

  Bukowski Well, sir; this is a counter-terrorist exercise. We are here to de-abduct a citizen of the United States.

  Murphy Bishop Treacy.

  Ao That’s you, Your Bishop.

  Bukowski That is correct, sir, yes. Bishop Treacy.

  Murphy You have been here a full twenty-four hours now. Why haven’t you ‘de-abducted’ Bishop Treacy yet?

  John Yeah.

  Bukowski I am sorry, sir. I cannot answer that question.

  Murphy How large is the force —how many men are here? Bukowski I am sorry, sir. I cannot answer that question.

  Donkey The cunt can’t count.

  Murphy
Why have you occupied Barrytown?

  Bukowski The temporary presence of our ground personnel in, as you say, Barrytown is an unforegoable part of our operation. —I would like to stress, if I might, Mister Murphy, that our presence in Barrytown and on this beautiful nature reserve —

  Murphy And golf course.

  Bukowski Yes, sir, as you say. And golf course. Our presence here is very strictly unpermanent. Also; our personnel will at no time and in no way harm the indigenous population.

  Murphy The people of Barrytown.

  Bukowski That is correct, sir, yes. As you say; the people of Barrytown.

  Ao ‘Cept us, wha’.

  Bukowski Sir, this is very strictly low intensity warfare.

  Donkey Oh, good fuck!

  Murphy By that do you mean that you’ll try not to kill anyone?

  Bukowski Aw, come on, sir. That one’s booby-trapped.

  Murphy (sounding slightly given out to) When can we expect you to withdraw?

  Bukowski I am sorry, sir —

  Bukowski and John I cannot answer that question.

  Murphy President Reagan said this morning that he has evidence that the three youths holding Bishop Treacy have Libyan backing.

  Donkey snorts his derision.

  Murphy Are you aware of this evidence?

  Bukowski I’m just a soldier, sir. I carry out my duties to the best of my ability.

  Murphy Are you —?

  Bukowski I will say this, sir. The American people are like the Irish. We don’t like being pushed around.

  Exit Lieutenant Bukowski.

  Murphy And with that the interview was brought to an end and Lieutenant Bukowski about-turned and marched back into the famous Dollymount dunes.

  Ao laughs, a dirty laugh.

  Pat Kenny Well, we’ll be keeping one ear cocked in the Dublin Bay direction. But, you know, although the eyes of the world are on us at the moment, life goes on elsewhere. Mrs Thatcher, on day two of her five-day visit to India, in Calcutta to meet Mother Teresa, tripped on the airport tarmac and fell. Ran Jan Bupta heard her screaming. He’s on the phone now to tell us what exactly happened. Hello, Ran Jan —

  John (turning off the radio) Ram Jam me bollix.

  A helicopter crosses over the house. The lads brace themselves: this could be ‘it’. The helicopter fades. During the following exchanges the lads should seem scared.

  John They’re doin’ this on purpose. Yeh know. Not doin’ annythin’.

  Ao Yeah. — Tryin’ to scare us.

  Donkey (half to himself) They’re doin’ a good fuckin’ job. (Afraid that he shouldn’t have said the above.) It was nice of your man, Gadaffi, to send us tha’ message, wasn’t it?

  The lads grin, trying their best.

  Ao I’ll tell yeh one thing but. The Pope should mind his own fuckin’ business.

  The lads laugh. The Bishop tries to bless himself but Ao sticks the gun barrel into him and his hands go back up.

  John Fuckin’ sure.

  Donkey thinks he heard something on the stairs. He says nothing about it, but it worries him. They hear noises offstage, left.

  John What’s tha’?

  John tries to look past the Bishop without letting himself be seen from the outside.

  Ao Don’t know.

  Donkey looks over quickly, but gets back to guarding the landing and stairs.

  Donkey Is somethin’ happenin’?

  Ao Yeah.

  (Listening.) Yeah.

  (Not convinced.) I think so.

  Nothing happens. The tension eases slightly.

  John Wha’ can they do annyway?

  John asks this question as if he’s been thinking of nothing else for hours. Donkey They can blow us to fuck.

  The lads laugh quarter-heartedly.

  Ao They can’t.

  Donkey (almost hurt) I was only jokin’!

  Ao I know; I know tha’. But they can’t. —Sure they can’t?

  No answer.

  Ao They’ve come to rescue the Bishop. So they can’t blow us up cos they’d blow him up as well.

  John (reassuring himself) Yeah.

  Ao He’s no good to them dead. So as long as one of us stays like this —

  (Meaning the way he’s guarding the Bishop.) —like this, like —we’re alrigh’.

  Bishop (after a pause) Ao. —Excuse me.

  Ao Yeah?

  Bishop Am I expected to remain in this position indefinitely?

  Ao Yeah, I think so. —Sorry.

  Bishop But it’s impossible.

  Donkey Tough.

  Bishop I must be up here like this for at least twelve hours by now.

  Donkey You’re still alive, aren’t yeh? So stop whingin’.

  Ao Sorry, Your Bishop.

  Donkey (after a pause) I hope they don’t drop a bomb or ann‘thin’. Not a nuclear one, I mean. An ordin‘ry one. —The plaster’d all come off the ceilin’, yeh know. The place’d be in bits.

  John It wouldn’t be much of a bomb if it only took the plaster off the ceilin’.

  Donkey I don’t mean on the gaff. I mean near the gaff. They’re not goin’ to drop ann’thin’ on the fuckin’ gaff. No way. —I think.

  Ao Don’t worry, for fuck sake. —Look. Nothin’s changed, I’m tellin’ yis. Look. The cops wanted the Bishop alive, so they couldn’t come near us. The Yanks want the same thing, so they can’t come near us either. —Except they’re better at it than the cops are, that’s all. —So we have to be a bit more careful. That’s all. A bit more, eh, vigilant.

  Donkey (wanting to be convinced) Yeah. —For ever?

  Ao No!

  Donkey How long?

  Ao —Fuck off, will yeh. —A few days.

  Bishop (trying to be emphatic) If—

  Ao (shoving the gun into the Bishop’s gut) Shut up, Your Bishop.

  John Eh, —if they, yeh know, raid us an’ we kill the Bishop, they’ll kill us. Righ’?

  Ao Righ’.

  John An’ if they raid us an’ they rescue the Bishop they’ll still kill us; righ’?

  Ao —Yeah.

  John An’ if they raid us an’ they make a bollix of it, they’ll kill us all. The Bishop as well. —So we’re fucked, aren’t we?

  Ao Hang on. Say tha’ again.

  John Whatever happens we’re fucked. Brown fuckin’ bread.

  Donkey No way. —Are we?

  Ao Don’t listen to him.

  John I’ve been thinkin’ about it. They’re goin’ to kill us. Nothin’ surer. Make an example of us. —The Bishop’s the only one tha’ has a hope o’ gettin’ ou’ alive.

  Donkey He does in his arse have a hope o’ gettin’ ou’ alive!

  Ao Listen. John, listen. Look. If we can convince them tha’ the Bishop’s dead if they charge in here, then they won’t charge in.

  Donkey That’s righ’.

  John (wanting to be convinced) I suppose so

  A helicopter approaches. The lads look up, listening; braced. The helicopter fades.

  Bishop There is —

  Ao Shut up.

  Bishop Please, Ao, let me speak.

  Donkey Go on; let him.

  Bishop Thank—

  Donkey Then he might shut bleedin’ up.

  Bishop Well —why don’t you just, simply release me? Donkey (contemptuous) Will yeh listen to him! Jaysis!

  The lads silently agree with Donkey.

  Bishop If we all four of us were to walk out together they wouldn’t be able to kill you. If you would just call a halt to this fiasco — Donkey Are yeh serious, are yeh?

  Bishop Yes!

  Donkey Then you’re an even bigger sap than I thought yeh were. Confusion silences the Bishop.

  Donkey (to the lads) Can yis imagine it!? —Walkin’ ou’. — With our hands up, yeh know. —The fuckin’ slaggin’ we’d get!!

  (Shuddering.) Jaysis!

  John Jaysis, yeah. I’d die, I would.

  Ao laughs.

  John Wha’?

  (Real
ising what he’s just said, and laughing.) Oh yeah.

  Ao (to the Bishop) There’s people round here tha’ would slag yeh abou’ things yeh did years ago. D‘yeh know wha’ I mean, Your Bishop?

  Bishop Em, —well —

  The lads silently agree with Ao.

  Ao (very matter-of-factly) When I was a young fella. A little young fella, like. I pissed in me trousers in school, yeh know. Donkey sniggers. He remembers that day.

  Ao I couldn’t help it. I was only abou’ seven.

  John You were seventeen.

  Donkey laughs.

  Ao (to John) Fuck off, you.

  (To the Bishop) Annyway, there’s this fella tha’ used to be in our class. Jimmy Travers his name is.

  Donkey Tha’ bollix?’

  Ao An’ he still slags me abou’ it. —An’ he wasn’t even in tha’ day.

  John and Donkey grin across at each other.

  Ao So annyway, Your Bishop, there’s no way we’re walkin’ ou’ of here with our hands up.

  A helicopter passes over quickly.

  Donkey (to the ceiling) Come on; come on. I dare yis.

  Bishop But that’s ridiculous.

  The lads don’t answer, silent in agreement.

  Bishop You’re prepared to die because you’re afraid of what a few gurriers will say about you!?

  Ao Yeah.

  (To the lads.) Come here; time to swap.

  Bishop Have you no self—?

  Ao Shut up, will yeh. —Come on. Swap, Donkey.

  Donkey (going over to replace Ao) Comin’.

  (To John.) Johnner.

  John (going to keep watch at the door; imitating Plain-clothes) Okay. Ao jumps onto the bed, and lies back.

  Ao Ah —. This is the life, wha’.

  Donkey (prodding the Bishop’s gut with the gun) D’yeh drink, Fergus?

  Bishop (pulling in his gut) Em —no; not —excessively.

  Donkey Yeh must eat a lot then, do yeh?

  John They all do.

  Ao Nothin’ else to do, wha’.

  The lads laugh, a dirty laugh.