by Laura Wade
TOBY: Wuugh the fuck are you –
on hearing TOBY’s voice, the boys move back from him, in relief.
HARRY: No, it’s just Toby, see.
ED: Toby!
JAMES: Fuck, thank fuck.
TOBY: Did you just touch my Jonty?
ALISTAIR: (To RACHEL.) Just Toby, look.
RACHEL: Right. Sorry, I thought –
DIMITRI: Tubes, mate – you alright?
TOBY: Fuck I’m gunna chunder….
No I’m not.
GUY: OK, have a sit down, mate.
They lead TOBY to sit down in the nearest chair.
RACHEL: What’s wrong with him?
TOBY: My mouth tastes like –
ED: Just a bit tired. Lots of essays.
TOBY: Did I eat a fox?
JAMES: Tuck him in, yeah.
(To RACHEL.) Please, go ahead and clear.
ALISTAIR and HARRY tuck TOBY’s chair closer into the table and he puts his head down on his hands.
RACHEL puts her tray on a small service table at the side of the room, then moves to the table to start collecting the pudding dishes.
ALISTAIR: (To HARRY.) Mate, what about –
ALISTAIR nods towards RACHEL. HARRY nods back, understanding.
HARRY: Yeah, cool.
GUY: Rachel, can I just say that was the messiest Eton Mess I ever had. And I went to Eton.
RACHEL: Good.
ALISTAIR: Rachel?
RACHEL: Hi.
ALISTAIR: Hi. How’d you like to earn an extra £300 tonight?
RACHEL: What?
ALISTAIR and HARRY laugh. The laugh passes around the table as the other boys cotton on.
ALISTAIR: OK, here’s what the thing is – we had this friend, this lady friend – well, as you know – who was supposed to be here with us right now, but actually – whoops – your dad’s sent her away, so –
RACHEL: Right.
ALISTAIR: So we wondered if you might like to step in.
ED: Oh my god, did he just ask that?
RACHEL: Me?
ALISTAIR: Pretty easy way to make £300.
RACHEL: Are you asking what I think you’re asking?
ALISTAIR: No! God no.
Only blowjobs.
GUY: Under the table.
ED: Yeah, you’d be under the table so you wouldn’t have to see who you’re –
MILES: Head-down Harriet.
ED: Subtable Susan.
ALISTAIR: Simple transaction – professional basis.
RACHEL: I’ll leave it, thank you.
ALISTAIR: No, fine. Very modern.
ALISTAIR laughs.
HARRY: Jokes, Rachel.
MILES: We’re just joking, Rachel.
RACHEL: OK.
ED: Don’t be offended, it’s just jokes, yeah?
ALISTAIR: Just a bit over-excited.
RACHEL: Right, OK.
HARRY: I’m sorry, Rachel.
RACHEL: OK.
ED: Sorry.
They subside a little. HARRY and ALISTAIR look at each other.
HARRY bangs his hand on the table.
HARRY: Chelsea Trots!
GEORGE: Hurrah.
DIMITRI: Fuck’s sake.
HARRY: (To DIMITRI.) Mate – forfeits, yeah?
ED: What?
HARRY: (Pointing at RACHEL.) Forfeits.
ED: Oh OK, yeah.
ALISTAIR: Excellent.
MILES: What?
ED: Lady forfeits.
HARRY: Eddie –
ALISTAIR: Right – places.
The boys start to move into place, spreading out around the table.
ALISTAIR looks at MILES. MILES looks at RACHEL.
MILES: D’you um, want to play, Rachel?
RACHEL: Play what?
HARRY: Quick game of the Chelsea Trots?
RACHEL: I don’t know what that is.
MILES: It’s alright, I don’t either.
HARRY: Yeah, you do – it’s just like Stop Me And Buy One.
RACHEL: I don’t know it.
GUY: You must do, everyone does.
ALISTAIR: Chairs, gents.
The boys move the chairs back from the table to give them more room.
HUGO: Sometimes called Mrs Newsome’s Fancy?
RACHEL shakes her head.
Pilsbury Snatch?
GUY: No, Snatch has a shuttlecock.
HARRY: Balf – you explain it to Rachel, yeah?
George is from a long line of champion Trotters.
GEORGE: Basically what happens is everyone dances round the circle and when the music stops you sit down only there’s one chair too few, so –
RACHEL: Musical Chairs.
GEORGE: If you like.
ALISTAIR: We’ll just have to go round Tubes, OK?
GUY: We playing Banbury Rules or Standard?
ALISTAIR: Banbury, I think. Balf?
GEORGE: Yeah, Banbury. So you go round, right, and when the music stops –
RACHEL: What are you going to play the music on?
GEORGE: Sorry?
RACHEL: Did you ask for a CD player?
GEORGE: Oh no, there’s isn’t any music.
RACHEL: You said ‘when the music stops’.
GEORGE: Yeah, you just know when it stops.
GUY: It’s usually quite obvious.
RACHEL: I think I’ll sit this one out.
GEORGE: Oh, shame.
HUGO: Are bags high or low in the Banbury game?
JAMES: Bags are high.
The boys roll the bottom of their trousers up.
GEORGE: Chaps, Rachel’s not playing, OK?
ALISTAIR: Oh boo. Really?
HARRY: OK, you’ll have to just go round Rachel, OK, ’cause she’s still clearing, so when you get to her, just go right round, like this, OK?
ALISTAIR: Ready?
HUGO: Chair!
They move one chair so it’s against the wall by the door. They all stand ready, facing clockwise. ALISTAIR looks at RACHEL.
ALISTAIR: Here we go.
A look goes round the group, with coded gestures pointing at RACHEL.
GEORGE: Wait for it – Standpipe!
ED nearly starts going round, then stops.
Think about it….
Bandicoot!
For some reason this is the right word, and the boys start to dance around the circle, wild and exuberant.
RACHEL continues to try to clear the plates from the table, trying not to look at the boys and laugh. each time one of them gets to her he makes a big thing of going around her.
JAMES: New boys should be going in the opposite direction.
MILES: OK.
MILES turns and dance in the opposite direction. ED is already doing so.
(To ED.) You played this at school, right?
ED: Yeah, didn’t you?
DIMITRI: This is so much better after a sniffy.
Exactly in unison, the boys suddenly all stop dancing and make a dash for the nearest chair.
JAMES is the only one who doesn’t find a chair in time.
GUY: Forfeit Leighton!
JAMES: OK, and my forfeit is –
GEORGE: President can’t decide his own forfeit.
JAMES: Ryle, you want to nominate?
ALISTAIR: OK, your forfeit, should you choose to accept it –
HARRY: You have to accept it.
ALISTAIR: Is to drink a bottle down in one!
JAMES glances at RACHEL.
JAMES: What, don’t I get – I thought we were doing –
ALISTAIR: Warm-up round.
JAMES: Fuck, OK.
HARRY: Bottle for Leighton-Masters.
JAMES climbs onto a chair and a full bottle of wine is handed to him. He drinks half of it while the others cheer, but has to stop and take a breath. He staggers.
Even RACHEL stops her clearing-up to watch.
ALISTAIR: Come on, Leighton.
GEORGE: Don’t give up, mate, come on.
He
downs the rest of the bottle and looks very much as if he’ll vomit on the spot, but in fact doesn’t.
He holds the bottle high and the boys cheer.
Off we go!
The boys dance around the circle, as before, and at the same moment, all dash for chairs.
This time it’s MILES who doesn’t get one.
MILES: Ah, bollocks.
GEORGE: And it’s Mr Miley Milo Richards for the forfeit.
HARRY: Take it like a man, Milo.
GEORGE: Forfeit, Ryle?
ALISTAIR: Aaaand, your forfeit is… You have to kiss Rachel.
RACHEL: What? No no.
HUGO: You can’t do sexual forfeits.
ALISTAIR: Forfeits are freestyle. Banbury Rules.
RACHEL makes for the door with a pile of dishes in her hand.
HARRY: No no no, don’t go. Don’t go.
RACHEL: I’ve got to get back to the kitchen.
GUY: Play the game, Rachel.
RACHEL: I said I’m not playing.
Someone takes the pile of dishes from her. RACHEL is edged back into the room, away from the door.
ALISTAIR: If you’re in the room, you’re playing the game.
HARRY: Just a kiss.
RACHEL: I don’t want to.
HUGO: Don’t make him –
GUY: What, is it not in your job description?
DIMITRI: You can’t turn down a forfeit, Rachel, it’s disrespectful to our culture.
ED: We’ll feel disrespected.
HUGO: Don’t make Milo kiss her, come on.
RACHEL: Sorry, I’m not –
DIMITRI: What about a blow job, then?
RACHEL: No way.
The boys laugh.
DIMITRI: Rachel. The man’s a thoroughbred.
GUY: Best sperm in the country – you should be thanking us.
DIMITRI: Just have to kneel down and shut your eyes.
ALISTAIR: Guys, guys, she doesn’t have to give him a blojo.
RACHEL makes a move towards the door.
You just have to kiss him.
MILES: Wait, Rachel, Rachel. Don’t you want to, even a bit? Come on.
HUGO: Miles –
RACHEL: No, I. No.
ALISTAIR: Have you got a boyfriend, Rachel, is that it?
RACHEL: Yes. Actually.
ALISTAIR: Nice, is he?
RACHEL: Yes. He is.
ALISTAIR: Treats you nice. Takes you out – cinema, nice Italian,
DIMITRI: Probably splits the bill.
ALISTAIR: D’you split the bill, Rachel? Bet you split the bill.
You telling me you wouldn’t trade up if you had the chance?
MILES steps forward and without warning grabs RACHEL and kisses her on the mouth. He holds her firmly in his arms so that she struggles, but can’t get free of him.
Eventually RACHEL manages to pull away, and turns to try to get to the door, but there are too many boys in the way for her to push through.
HUGO: Let her out.
RACHEL: Let me out.
HARRY: Didn’t you like it?
A strangled noise comes from TOBY. He sits up, his body heaving. The others notice at once.
ED: Tubes?
GUY: Fuck, is he going again?
The others gather around him, concerned, clearing the way to the door.
TOBY: No, fine, I’m fine.
RACHEL dashes out. HARRY notices and takes a step towards the door, but ALISTAIR stops him.
ALISTAIR: Let her go – bigger fish, yeah?
ED: Chaps, don’t crowd him.
TOBY runs his hands through his hair, knocking the wig off without realising.
HUGO: (To MILES.) What the fuck was that?
MILES: I’m not your rent boy.
HUGO: Yeah, I got that.
TOBY: (He looks around.) Are we still being sad?
ALISTAIR: No, mate – we’re just getting going.
TOBY: Awesome. I am the trashmeister.
ALISTAIR: Let’s do this!
ED: You want to give the pins a go, mate?
TOBY stands up – he’s a little wobbly, then regains his balance.
TOBY: Whoa – there we go. Back in the snaddle.
HARRY: Sabrage!
ALISTAIR: Erect the barricade!
DIMITRI grabs a chair and puts it under the door handle.
GUY: Quick – quick – get the champagne.
DIMITRI: Barricade erect, my lord.
GEORGE: God I love this.
ALISTAIR climbs up to stand on the table.
GUY: Champagne!
ALISTAIR: Everyone feeling frisky?
A bottle of champagne is handed to ALISTAIR.
And the sword.
GUY: Sword!
HARRY hands ALISTAIR the sabre.
ALISTAIR: Never let it be said we don’t take our work seriously, chaps.
ALISTAIR turns to JAMES, holding the champagne and the sabre towards him.
Sorry, should you be –
JAMES: No mate, you do it.
ALISTAIR: Gentlemen – for what we’re about to do, may the good Lord Riot make us truly trashful. Let’s make this one extra spicy.
ALISTAIR holds the champagne in front of him, swiping the sword along the neck of the bottle.
ALL: HO!
The cork flies off and champagne sprays everywhere. The club roars.
They set to work trashing the room: it’s orchestrated and rhythmic, almost balletic.
It goes on for ages. Crockery is smashed, plants overturned, pictures pulled down from the wall and headbutted or drop-kicked out of their frames, wallpaper torn, chairs pulled apart, a plant-pot thrown through a window pane…
They continue until a banging on the door is heard. It might have been going on for some time.
CHRIS: If you don’t open this door, I’m going to have to –
MILES: Shit, guys – the landlord.
ALISTAIR: Leave him, door’s safe. We’ll let him in when we’re –
The door flies open and CHRIS is propelled into the room.
For fuck’s sake! Who did the barricade?
CHRIS looks around.
CHRIS: Oh my g –
Oh Jesus what have you –
What have you –
TOBY giggles, high-pitched.
What the hell do you think you’re playing at?
ALISTAIR: Get him out, we’re not finished.
GUY: You know what boys are like.
CHRIS: What the hell have you done to my pub?
ALISTAIR: Get him out – guys, eject.
CHRIS: What the hell d’you think gives you the right –
ALISTAIR: We said before we’d pay our way. You won’t be out of pocket – show him the money.
DIMITRI comes towards CHRIS holding a wad of cash.
CHRIS: (To DIMITRI, pointing at ALISTAIR.) I want to talk to him.
ALISTAIR: Get away from me or I’ll –
CHRIS: Who the hell d’you think you are?
DIMITRI: OK, this is –
CHRIS: I don’t want your money.
DIMITRI: We made a deal.
CHRIS: I didn’t make any deal.
DIMITRI: Four hundred pounds? Earlier?
ALISTAIR: Five hundred.
DIMITRI: Sorry, five hundred. D’you remember?
CHRIS: That wasn’t a deal.
DIMITRI: I think there’s a misunderstanding – we all saw you take the money,
CHRIS: Just for that one party.
JAMES: Sorry, we thought you’d understood.
ALISTAIR: For fuck’s sake.
CHRIS: Don’t start with me, my friend.
JAMES: Look, here’s what –
CHRIS: (To ALISTAIR.) You – What the hell d’you think gives you the right –
ALISTAIR: You want to persist in being stupid?
Sit down.
CHRIS: I won’t sit –
ALISTAIR: Sit. Down.
Sit him down.
HARRY and DIMITRI pick up a cha
ir and lead CHRIS backwards to sit on it.
GEORGE: Chaps. Let’s all be – let’s be gentlemen, shall we?
CHRIS: Gentlemen.
ALISTAIR: (To CHRIS.) Shut up and listen. This is what happens. You go back out there quietly and we do this and we pay you. We pay you a large amount of money – in cash – an amount of money that will well and truly cover the costs of your repairs, with something left over, most likely – which, by the way, is more than you’d ever get out of an insurance company. We pay you and we go away and everyone’s happy.
Alright?
CHRIS: ‘Everyone’s happy’? What you’ve done to my pub –
ALISTAIR: Fuck’s sake.
ALISTAIR takes the wad of cash from DIMITRI.
This. Is for you. OK? Whatever repairs you need, and plenty left over to take your daughter to Bicester Village, nice pair of shoes.
CHRIS: She doesn’t want your money either.
ALISTAIR holds the cash close to CHRIS’s face. He looks at it.
ALISTAIR: Those are fifties, in case that helps the mental arithmetic you’re doing right now.
DIMITRI: We know how much it costs to do up a place like this, we’ve got experience.
CHRIS: People let you do this?
ALISTAIR: If you’re smart you’ll take the treats and shut up.
ALISTAIR puts the wad of cash in CHRIS’s lap. CHRIS looks at it then brushes it off onto the floor.
CHRIS: I don’t want your money.
ALISTAIR: Don’t push me.
GEORGE: OK, guys, let’s –
CHRIS: I don’t want your money.
ALISTAIR: Yes you do.
CHRIS goes to stand up, but ALISTAIR advances with menace, and he sits again.
Yes you fucking do. It’s the only reason we’re still here, ’cause you know there’s a fistful of notes coming at the end of the night.
CHRIS: Think you can buy your way out of anything, don’t you? People like you think the world –
ALISTAIR: Oh I know, you’re torn up inside ’cause you think you don’t like me. News for you, guv – you fucking love me, you’d like to be me but you can’t quite admit it, can you? Chip on your shoulder much?
I mean what are you trying to do with this tawdry little cunt-shack? Private dining? What the fuck? Walking round like you own the place – but hang on, technically the bank owns the place, doesn’t it? Have you paid off the loan for the conversion? No, thought not. (Re. the money.) This would do it, wouldn’t it?
Now why don’t you fuck off and let us finish the job?
MILES and ED have collected up the money from the floor, and put it back on CHRIS’s lap.
CHRIS: Something happened to my daughter in here.
ALISTAIR: Your daughter? What?
CHRIS: Very funny look on her face when she walked out of here a few minutes ago. Said you were playing silly buggers – some kind of kiss-chase thing, ‘nothing to worry about, dad’, but who’s to say it wasn’t more than that?
