by Katy Wix
THE OBERON BOOK OF
COMIC MONOLOGUES FOR WOMEN
VOLUME 2
KATY WIX
FOR WOMEN
Volume 2
Foreword by
Sharon Horgan
OBERON BOOKS
LONDON
WWW.OBERONBOOKS.COM
First published in 2015 by Oberon Books Ltd
521 Caledonian Road, London N7 9RH
Tel: +44 (0) 20 7607 3637 / Fax: +44 (0) 20 7607 3629
e-mail: [email protected]
www.oberonbooks.com
Collection copyright © Katy Wix, 2015
Foreword copyright © Sharon Horgan 2015
Katy Wix is hereby identified as author of this work in accordance with section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. The author has asserted her moral rights.
All rights whatsoever in these monologues are strictly reserved and application for performance, other than in an audition context, should be made before commencement of rehearsal to Curtis Brown Group Ltd., Haymarket House, 28–29 Haymarket, London SW1Y 4SP; 020 7393 4400; [email protected]. No performance may be given unless a licence has been obtained, and no alterations may be made in the title or the text of the monologue without the author’s prior written consent.
You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or binding or by any means (print, electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
PB ISBN: 978-1-78319-923-5
EPUB ISBN: 978-1-78319-924-2
Cover design by James Illman
Printed, bound and converted
by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY.
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Acknowledgements
Many thanks to everyone at Oberon for being so
wonderfully supportive and great to work with.
Thanks to Lily Williams, Charlie Weedon
and Jeanette Hunter. A big thank you to
Sharon Horgan and thank you very much Mandy Wix.
Contents
FOREWORD
INTRODUCTION
AN UNPLEASANT EVENT
BOTTLEWASHER
BOUNCER
BRIAN
BULLDOZER
CAMEL
COMMUNION
COUNTRY MATTERS
CREDIT
CURIO
DOLLY
DROWNING
DRUMS
EXCHANGE
EXPERIENCE
FAME
FIGUREHEAD
GOOD LUCK
GRAND
HONESTY
INSTANT
KEEP SMILING
A LEMON TREE
LIKENESS
MANDATE
MOOD
ON STAGE
OPENING
OUT THERE
PATIENCE
PICK
RIVERBED
SOUTH
SQUEEZE
THE BIG DAY
THE PAUSE
THE WALK
THREE
TIME FLIES
WHAT IS LEFT
FOREWORD
Katy Wix makes me laugh 97% more than most people. And although comedy and what you find funny is incredibly subjective, she is the perfect person to have written a collection like this. She’s smart but off the wall. She’s bold but irreverent. Her voice is unique.
A book like this is long overdue – a compilation of hilarious, sharp, witty and diverse comic speeches for women. So now you don’t ever have to go looking for monologues again! No more trawling through screenplays and scripts on the dusty old Internet. She’s done the work for you. It’s all here! And all of the characters are warm, interesting and very funny. They are a pleasure to read and will be a pleasure to perform.
So have fun. Katy would want it that way.
Sharon Horgan
September 2015
INTRODUCTION
Hello and welcome to the second volume of comic monologues for women you lucky thing! Here we are again. Sure as night follows day, so book two follows on from book one, as I bring you a brand new batch of original speeches.
There are many great books on the market providing audition material for performers, but I was surprised to find that there wasn’t a collection of original and contemporary comic monologues solely for women and so decided to start writing them myself.
Naturally and correctly, everyone is now bored to the point of menstruation with the joyless and hopefully moribund ‘Are Women Funny?’ debate. To me, the idea of asking if something is funny is like saying ‘What’s tasty?’ Humour is surely as personal as your shadow or hairstyle. Wait, hang on – I wasn’t even going to engage with it as a debate. Oh balls, right, that’s enough of that.
Like most overdone monologues, they are overdone for a reason: because they are good. However, the more performers I spoke to, especially those who wanted to perform comedy and enjoy performing something unheard, it became apparent that there was a real dearth of contemporary comic content. The classics remain a staple diet for any actress, but when it comes to comedy it seems they are subsisting on more meagre portions, which is why I wanted to write a second volume.
A monologue is often the point in a play where the character must speak; an impulse which summons them to voice something. And yet I read a great many speeches where female characters were either assuming the role of caretaker or rather helplessly reacting to events in the plot rather than actively changing them. There was a sense of passivity – an external rather than internal locus of control. Let’s give them the umbrella title for now of the ‘Why Doesn’t He Text Me Back? What’s Wrong With Me?’ monologues. Self-critiquing and being a loser in love are of course British comedy staples, but I didn’t want it to be the only way of getting a laugh. If there were a Bechdel test equivalent for anthologies of original comic monologues for women then I like to think that this book would pass.
A lovely young actor called Megan very kindly took the time to write to me and phrased it perfectly:
‘As a 6ft tall “definitely not a Juliet” actress you have no idea how refreshing it was to find and read your incredible set of real women who also happen to be unbelievably hilarious … also thank you for creating women who are able to talk about things other than men … very rare and very appreciated.’
A NOTE FOR PERFORMERS
Ordinarily when preparing an audition speech it is necessary to read the full play to better understand the character and situation. These monologues exist in a vacuum – if you will – free of contextual restraint. I have deliberately not included a playing range or accent. I would encourage you, the performer, to feel free to create your own story and background to these speeches and decide on your own interpretation. They are designed as a vehicle for you to best show off your performance skills.
I hope you find a speech that makes you laugh and that you will enjoy performing.
Good luck!
Katy
AN UNPLEASANT EVENT
I was seven when I saw my first trapeze artist die.
Not ideal. I say ‘my first
’; it was my last as well. Haven’t got the stats. Not sure how many trapeze artists are scooped up off the floor at the end of a show say, in a year. I don’t have the figures. I’ve only witnessed the one, as I say, I’m sure there’s been others but you know, well, if a tree falls in a forest and all that. Oh yeah, she fell alright, but this wasn’t a forest, it was a tent … And it wasn’t a tree, it was a woman. Splattered like an ink splodge, sequins everywhere. Never forget it. Even the elephants looked up – and they’ll never forget it and not just because they’re elephants. ‘Zut Alors’, I thought to myself … if I’d been French … but I’m not. Lovely pink tights she was wearing. Absolutely spot on. She popped herself on the ladder and she had a good old climb. Reached the top – quick smile to the front row and she was off, like a little snowflake floating on the breath of a dream, beautiful and absolutely no hint of the death to follow. Until the tragic death, it was a ten. She began to build momentum; back 2, 3, 4, forward 2, 3, 4. She unfurled one pink leg, slowly, teasingly as if it was trying to tell us something.
I was transfixed. She looked like an Alison, if I was to have a stab. But I often think people are called Alison and I’m nearly always wrong apart from the time I met Alison Gatt. I thought, ‘Hello, she looks like an Alison’ and I was a hundred per cent correct on that occasion. She’s dead now too. But she died, naturally … I mean she died in the nude. But they stuck a dress on her for the funeral, of course; catholic, open casket, you see. Gawd: two Alisons, well, a suspected and a confirmed one, both dead and what’s the connection? Moi. What’s the common denominator there? Keep up, it’s not hard … me, is the answer. It’s me.
The bar, she just missed the bar. It was a bar-related death. Well, it’s an odd thing to want to do isn’t it? Have you seen those bars? They’re tiny.
D’you know who I feel sorry for, in all of this? The clowns. Imagine that. You’re dressed up like a bell end. You’ve committed to all that (gestures her own face) I mean, clearly I feel sorry for the faller, but c’mon – those clowns! They came running on and well, they tried to look sullen but, you know – there was no disguising those painted-on smiles unfortunately.
I hope it wasn’t suicide. I never thought of that. Just hadn’t occurred to me … god that’s horrible.
The ringmaster did sod all. He just gawped from the sidelines. Didn’t even seem to know basic first aid. Not sure what the point of ringmasters is to be honest. He can’t even prevent a fatality in his own ring. Disgrace.
BOTTLEWASHER
(She looks around.)
Oh very clever! Yes, very clever! Where is it? Come on, what have you done with it? I know you’ve moved it! Don’t give me those cow eyes – you know exactly what I’m talking about. Have you stolen my parcel? I got a text and an email assuring me that the parcel was delivered this morning. And they said that a man, in pyjama bottoms with no dignity, which is clearly you, signed for it. So where is it? I’ve seen you hanging around the communal hallway. I think there is something sinister going on. Are you fiddling with our mail? There’s no money in there – we’re all broke, you know. The others said that I shouldn’t confront you, that I should write you a note in case you were scary, but I’m not scared of you. I don’t know how you’ve done it, don’t care, just give me my parcel please. Probably illegal anyway, what you’ve done. You’re not allowed to tamper with the mail. I need my package urgently please and I will be really pissed off if I don’t get it today. It could be a kidney, for all you know – how do you know that this parcel isn’t important? Obviously, it’s not a kidney but you understand my point. Tampering with her Maj’s Royal Mail, you should be ashamed. I did A-level law mate, I know about this kind of stuff. It is illegal to tamper with post or post boxes – it’s criminal damage. I’m not kidding mate – a 51-year-old man got arrested last year when he spray-painted a post box gold in honour of the Olympic sailor Ben Ainslie.
Was it you that made the complaint about our music, the other night, saying it was too loud? Was it? You could barely hear it! Right, let me tell you something …
We are a house full of young women, ok – how would you like it if two police officers appeared at the door and accused you of something you hadn’t done? It’s not very nice, is it? We were just quietly studying. Have you got something against students? I’ve heard you muttering stuff under your breath a few times as I’ve passed you in the street.
Well, it’s actually very difficult being a student these days. We’re all getting into masses of debt, so it’s actually a very sedate and studious atmosphere in our house.
About a quarter of graduates after they leave will be unemployed and the ones that do get jobs, well, they’ll probably get stuck doing something menial like window cleaning or bottling things. And it’s worse for us women because we get paid less than men, so it will take me even longer to pay off my loan.
So come on – hand it over.
BOUNCER
This bouncer guy drove me back from the bar. He was a genuine guy, dead nice and Greek, just on his father’s side. He came around to open my door for me, which I thought was sweet, but a little creepy at the same time. He might have winked, but I’m not sure. It could have been the wind in his eye. We drove through the city at night, which I never normally do. Well, I can’t drive. That’s the only bit of the job that I like – seeing the city in the dark, but sober. You see and hear a lot when you’re sober, don’t you? I like it. I think I actually prefer being sober now to the rag-dolly Anna drunkenness. It was easy to talk to him. A city can really gobble you up can’t it and spit you out again if you’re not careful. I could tell that he understood that.
It was nice to be able to chat to another outsider I suppose. He was from somewhere else too. What’s being a bouncer like then I asked. This took him by surprise a bit I think – like no one had ever asked him for a review. He said, ‘It’s shit and you have to stand outside’. I laughed a big gurggly laugh because I hate working in that place too. My feet hurt, my back hurts. It’s a crappy job, a really crappy job. The guy that runs it is obsessed with fusion cooking. Fusion cooking! He wears a little bead on a choker round his neck and all the food and drink has to be a fusion of something with something – it’s relentless. Maybe he was spoilt as a child – doesn’t like to choose – wants everything. Or maybe he’s just a prick. We really bonded over what a, yeah, I’ll go with prick, he actually is. Just always shouting at everyone and strutting about like a pigeon in a choker.
He asked me what I really, really wanted to be deep down and I just thought ‘Oh deary oh leary, I’m too embarrassed to say’ but then he said he’d tell me his if I told him mine! So we count to three and this happens: me: Actress – (obvs). Him: accountant.
Oh, I say – how … I mean … how, well, I thought people probably just fell into accountancy, just a day job, rather than having a burning pash to be one.
Theory sunk.
There was quite a long silence and then he said, ‘No offence but …’ and when someone says no offence but, you know it’s going to end in tears.
‘No offence, but – acting looks quite easy – it’s just talking isn’t it?’
I didn’t like that.
Actually, I said – it takes a lot of concentration and effort – acting.
Acting for the camera is like being in the same room as a person you are secretly in love with.
When we got to my house, he got out and opened the door for me.
Do you mind if I follow you on Twitter, he said. I’ll think about it, I said.
BRIAN
(She is texting.)
Frothy cappuccino, ice-cold beer and crisps. There. I’ve texted Brian.
He might be on his way back from the buffet car now of course, but hopefully, God willing – he got the message at the critical time. So, let’s just see …
I mean, you can’t just have blueberries for lunch, can you!?
Yes, all we can do now is just sit back and see what Brian appears with, really.
<
br /> He’s attached to his phone, isn’t he, Brian. I can’t exactly imagine a scenario whereby he hasn’t seen the message, and we did say, didn’t we – that we’d text if we’d changed our minds and felt peckish – we said we’d text through an order, which we have done. Totally attached to it, isn’t he … that phone … especially now his depression is back, don’t you think? He’s on it twice as much. It’s a sort of retreat from people, isn’t it?
(She looks out of window at view.)
This is nice! This is nice! Where’s this then? Very nice.
I hope we make up the time. We left about ten minutes late didn’t we?
(She tuts.)
What this country lacks in a reliable rail network, it certainly makes up for in stunning views.
Mm, picture postcard perfect isn’t it? Better than looking at yourself anyway.
Iron I think it is! Or it could be Vit D? Anyway, one of those – I don’t have enough of, which means I’m very pale. I don’t like to look at myself.
I’d kill for sunburn. Kill. D’you get vitamin F? It certainly doesn’t go all the way up to Z, I know that much. Good Trivial Pursuit question that: how many vitamins are there?
Oh come on Brian! Some of us are lacking in essential nutrients here!
(She laughs at little at this.)
I’d kill for a frothy coffee. Kill. And I mean that. Haha, well maybe not kill a person, but an animal perhaps, mm, no actually. I’d kill an egg. I’d kill an egg for a frothy coffee.
I actually score very low down on the psychopathic scale; low thirties. Well, I’m so tired all the time …
I hope he doesn’t come back with just water! Water is so boring. Don’t you think water is just so boring? Water is just absolute death to me!
I had this unbelievable thing happen to me once …
(She carries on staring out of window.)
Yeah …
Can’t believe how calmly I took it actually …
(Realising.)
