Losers was my second play produced at Oxford and became simply a good excuse for myself and Jim Beestone who played Eric Cattrap to meet up for a beer. I think I can speak for both of us when I say that it was great fun to put together, great fun to rehearse and great fun to act out. It was shown at the Auditorium at Corpus Christi and from the audience reaction it seems we did a good job. Special thanks to David Harvey who came in at such short notice as Mr Toerag and brought some credible acting to Jim and I’s whirling dervish routine. Trent and Eric owe much of their existence to my fervent love of Bottom (take that how you will.) As well as putting it on again on a larger scale I sincerely hope to work with Jim on a sequel using the same characters, though hopefully in coming rehearsals he won’t punch me in the eye by mistake again, a rather amusing incident that given his subsequent black eye in a completely unrelated incident involving some rather enthusiastic headbanging, gave us a rather motley appearance at the Classics Faculty during the following weeks.
Losers
by Scott Carless
Starring
Jim Beestone as Eric Cattrap
Scott Carless as Trent Littlecock
and
David Harvey as Mr Toerag the Landlord
(Curtain rises, the phone rings, Trent bursts onto stage trying to do up his trousers)
Trent: Ahahaha no time for wanking now, a phone call at last! (picks phone up) Hello Trent Littlecock yayayayaaah! Ohh bloody hell it’s a bird…and I’ve won a prize! How do I claim? Send my bank details to ‘speedyrichripoffco, bastard street, London. Well of course anything for you…well don’t interrupt…yes I know you’ve told me that already…well listen why don’t you drop the formal act and we could maybe discuss some plans for later tonight?
(enter Eric)
Other offer? Oh well if that’s your way of saying yes…ohh sexy jazz music…hello…hello are you still there?
Eric: Trent, are you trying to chat up an automated cold calling service…again?
Trent: No this is bloody real this one and I am deffo on!…Oh wait a minute, she’s hung up.
Eric: Trent you have to be the only person I’ve ever met who has such a gratingly unpleasant personality that you can actually cause a robot to hang up on you.
Trent: She probably just had a boyfriend.
Eric: What? Like a Nintendo DS? Or an Amstrad? Or a Spectrum ZX12… well I suppose they’d all be better company than you at any rate.
Trent: Don’t be ridiculous, she’s a girl and girls don’t like computers, I read that in my special chat up love book ‘1001 stereotypes about women’
Eric: And how many times has that book resulted in you being slapped in the face with a brick filled handbag?
Trent: No more than a dozen times…you’ve got to put it out there Eric
Eric: Apart from the fact no one would notice
Trent: Oh this conversation is getting too groin orientated for my liking…anyway if she’s a robot then why does she keep calling me?
Eric: Because you keep giving your bank details out to premium rate numbers and daylight robbery masquerading as competitions.
Trent: I’ll have you know I helped fund a democratic coup in Nigeria and on that day when Chief Mogwaisututripolipoli transfers three million Nigerian shekels into my bank account you’re not going to get a penny
Eric: Well neither will you…anyway it is of no importance. I have brought us tadadadadadadadaaaah! Our tea!
Trent: Oh Eric you haven’t?
Eric. No I have
Trent: No I mean Eric you haven’t.
Eric: No look its right here, fish and chips.
Trent: Oh right you have…cor fish and chips, sexy, you know its fish and chips that made Britain what it is today?
Eric: What? Fat?
Trent: No! I mean think about it, if fish and chips wasn’t so godawfully crap we’d have never gone looking to steal better culinary ideas off of countries that didn’t have guns…hence no Empire!
Eric: So what’s new? We haven’t got one now.
Trent: Eric, Eric, Eric the sun never sets on the British Empire
Eric: I think it might have…anyway how would that work, no one would get any sleep.
Trent: Oh God you’re thick aren’t you? It simply means that sun would rise…uh…wouldn’t set in the north um…something to do with the rotation of the Earth, magnetic poles…Van Allen belts…tides oh go an read it yourself I can’t be expected to impart my vast wealth of knowledge to a stunted piglet like you…anyway look my original point was imagine if India had had fish and chips.
Eric: What? All of them? It’d cost a fortune, I mean a billion servings of fish and chips!
Trent: No I mean imagine if India had had fish and chips and we’d had curry.
Eric: Well we’d have to wouldn’t we, there’d be no fish left.
Trent: Oh…what is the point? I suppose you want me to dish this up?
Eric: I thought you’d never ask, I’ll put the telly on.
Trent: Oh and by the way, you know I gave you a twenty pound note for the fish supper
Eric: Um…no, I have no memory
Trent: Right! Do you remember the episode of skins where you could just about see the blonde girls right nipple?
Eric: Oh yes that was great wasn’t it
Trent: Okay well we’ve established that you have a memory, so you’re lying aren’t you?
Eric: uh…it’s a selective memory.
Trent: Oh Eric, I’m always giving you money.
Eric: Well you’re the one who has got the massive inheritance from your parents!
Trent: £100 is hardly much of an inheritance, especially considering it wasn’t an inheritance, it was an out of court settlement remember? From when I sued my parents after they disowned me.
Eric: Oh yes I forgot about your ‘tragic’ family history.
Trent: Tragic? That’d kind of make me a tragic hero wouldn’t it, ooh.
Eric: Well tragic in the sense that you were born.
Trent: I’m not going to fall victim to your snide snippets you snivelling weasel and don’t try changing the subject, where is my change?
Eric. Oh there wasn’t any.
Trent: What! You’re trying to tell me that two servings of fish and chips cost you £20? I mean what is this, Hyperinflation or something?
Eric: Hyperinflation? This is no time to be talking about your waistline.
Trent: Don’t be drawn Trent, don’t be drawn. Right! As far as I am aware, fish and chips costs five pounds a serving and you’ve got two, I gave you a twenty pound note, graced by the features of our revered Adam Smith who doth know the unerring lines of supply and demand, so you owe me…hang on three ones, carry the five, actually I’ve got a calculator here…right, you owe me ten quid…of my own money.
Eric: Ah well, I don’t have it.
Trent: Very well, before I insert your face into the food blender that we don’t actually have perhaps you’d like to explain to me why you’re ten pounds short, which if I may remind you was our last ten pounds and had to last us until the end of the bloody month!
Eric: Calm down Trent, I will explain in full. Well aware of our financial situation being akin to that of Oxford University’s endowment fund I wandered from the fish shop clutching our very last ten pound note racking my brains for ideas, investment opportunities, exercising my entrepreneurial skills so that here in this fair and just land I could take ten pounds and with my own grit and determination build a business empire…instead of just losing it all on bank charges…again.
And so as I trudged my way home feeling the hot fat soaking through the newspaper and burn my fingers, well it must have been fate because…you know that alleyway? You know the one next to the Tawny Owl public house…well I heard a voice calling me. In I went to find a strange, short man with a stall full of magic amulets which grant the bearer untold wealth…
Trent: And they just happened to cost ten pounds each, or the equivalent of four pints of hobogobolin in the Tawny Owl, yes?
Eric: £9.97 actually but I left him the change as a tip, you know, spread the wealth and all that.
Trent: But he’s got a collection of magic amulets that make him rich why tip him?
Eric: um well I guess that’s the way they must work for him.
Trent: Right. Pray tell, what does this magic amulet look like?
Eric: oh…it looks like…um (looks in pocket) uh…this!
Trent: A biro, more specifically you’re biro, which quite apart from anything is completely useless to you because you’re practically illiterate.
Eric: What does that mean?
Trent: Ugh…ugh…why…what did I do to deserve this?
Eric: It might be something to do with that time you mugged that bloke selling poppies
Trent: No…no..shut up I didn’t do that…I thought he was about to drop his collection tin so I sort of grabbed it
Eric: Well I say mugged, more like completely failed because the guy beat you up, that made the papers that did, “Heroic 98 year old war veteran foils snivelling, cowardly robbery attempt”
Trent: Viscious old git, he ran me over with his wheelchair you know.
Eric: I know and it took six hours in casualty before they could get his walking stick out of you.
Trent: look just give me the bloody pen alright! Quite frankly we’re so desperate for cash right now I’m ready to try anything…okay I’ll put it here on the mantelpiece, now where are the fish and chips?
Eric: Here they are.
Trent: Now got and find us something to watch on television.
Eric. Righto!
Trent: (unpacks fish and chips, see’s advert on newspaper) Oh Eric…Look! Look it’s a competition.
Eric. What? To see which one of us can eat the most of that without throwing up…great I love these.
Trent: No, look, in the Newspaper, you can win £50!
Eric: Allllright! £50, twenty pints of Hobogoblin! What have you got to do?
Trent: You’ve got to finish this sentence “I like moo cow spray on whipped cream because…”
Eric: Because…what?
Trent: No that’s what you’ve got to do, you’ve got to come up with a reason why you like the product.
Eric: But I don’t
Trent: Well neither do I but that’s the whole point, you just lie, connive, cheat and swindle…that’s how you make money!
Eric: Those are some of your favourite things to do…you have to wonder why you’re not rich already.
Trent: My ideas are quite revolutionary, you know the world kind of needs to catch up with me, I was born before my time, now (gasps) I’ve just had a thought…the pen, maybe this is it? Maybe this is how it’s going to make me…uh us rich?
Eric: Oh yeah…I’ll grab it!
Trent: Be careful with it Eric, don’t break it, right fabulous wealth here we come! What shall we write?
Eric: How about… “I like Moo cow spray on whipped cream because it’s easy to apply to your private parts”
Trent: I can’t write that.
Eric: Why not?
Trent: Because it’s not true is it, I mean it sprays everywhere, you get it all over the floor, all over the bed, all over the inflatable sex doll, and then you get it all over your hands…oh…um…we’ll think of something else.
Eric: How about “I like Moo cow spray on whipped cream because it’s bloody useful for doing over you local branch of Tesco”
Trent: How?
Eric: Well you get a can, go up to the cashier, spray it in her face and then run off with the till.
Trent: Ohhh…I wondered where that till came from and why it was that you hid in the attic for a week and why the police came round and, under the guidance of the Anti-Terrorism, Serious Organised Crime, The Police Can Do Anything They Please and Get Away with it Act, beat the shit out of me for three whole hours…the only reason I didn’t get extradited to some CIA death camp was because they got a report that a Muslim had been seen in the area buying a carton of orange juice in a suspicious manner and they left…anyway, we can’t put that down think of something else. Like what about something along the lines of “ I like Moo Cow Spray on whipped cream because it comes in jolly handy when you run out of shaving foam”?
Eric: That is does.
Trent: Or, or “I like Moo Cow Spray on whipped cream because you can leave a trail of it to tempt next doors cat into the house so you can eat it for tea”
Eric: Apart from the fact that next door don’t have a cat.
Trent: Not any more they don’t.
Eric: I think the shaving foam one would be more appropriate.
Trent: Alright, well I’ll write that one then, we’re going to bloody win Eric, this is it, this is where our lives turn around! Right, submission details…post to “Curdlequick Co, Cowgate, Uddersfield by…oh 13 July 1996!
Eric: Fried sheep balls we’d better hurry!
Trent: I don’t think that’s really going to help. Oh why does nothing ever work out for us, it’s just not fair, we’d have won that competition without a doubt.
Eric: Well there’s no use crying over spilt milk…although that never usually stops you blubbing like a child. Let’s just have our tea and see if there’s any soft pornography on the television.
Trent: Oh alright (serves up) so what’s on then?
Eric: Not much by the looks of it.
Trent: Do you think it might help if you turned it on perhaps?
Eric: Oh yes that’s an idea.
Trent: Hmm…yes you’re not much of an idea person are you? How did you manage to make it all the way into adult life Eric?
Eric: Well I didn’t really did I?
Trent: No, no I suppose that is a point, right time to tuck in, last one to finish does the washing up! Yum!…ugh (spits) is there actually any fish in here?
Eric: I think so, isn’t that a bit there?
Trent: No, no that’s just a trick of the light, it’s reflecting off of all that glistening fat. Eric this is just pure batter.
Eric: That’s about the size of it.
Trent: Where did you get it from?
Eric: Um…I think it was called…The Pantry.
Trent: Well you should have bloody known better than to get anything from there.
Eric: Calm down Trent, fish or no fish it’s still better than your usual concoction of whatever you found in the wheelie bin out back.
Trent: Yes, but it’s cheap Eric and besides it’s all in my new cookbook ‘Recession Recipes-helping you not to break the bank” since they’re perfectly capable of doing that themselves…anyway what about that nice Spanish omelette I made last Tuesday?
Eric: That wasn’t an omelette Trent, you merely scooped up the pool of vomit that some wandering drunk had thoughtfully left on our doorstep and then fried it up with a packet of smash you stole from the corner shop.
Trent: Well you still ate it…anyway I don’t see why you’re complaining, you’re the wandering drunk that left it there in the first place!
Eric: Now I produce copious amounts of bodily waste…
Trent: You’re telling me
Eric: I’d prefer not to have to eat it.
Trent: Yeah ‘prefer’
Eric: Well unless it’s absolutely necessary of course.
Trent: There you go then, it’s tough times Eric didn’t you hear David Cameron saying we’re living in a new age of austerity? That means digesting food more than once, we can’t afford to be wasteful, beggars can’t be choosers you know…
Eric: No they can’t so eat your batter an chips and let me watch the television!
(awkward silence)
Trent: Oh what are we watching anyway.
Eric: Well it looks like a bullfight, there’s some kind of baby faced matador taunting a slow and decrepit bull whilst people jeer and wave bits of paper in the air.
Trent: Oh I didn’t know the BBC did bullfighting, ooh blood-sports, I often said there’s nothing better than watching a frightened and confused animal being taunted, maimed and then finished off in a brutal fashion, that’s why I’m a member of the Countryside Alliance…oh for crying out loud Eric that’s not a bullfight, that’s Prime Ministers question time.
Eric: Oh really?
Trent: Yes, that’s not a bull, that’s Gordon Brown…although I have to say I see the resemblance.
Eric: Well whose the bloke opposite him who looks like he’s wearing rouge?
Trent: (sighs) that’s David Cameron, leader of the opposition…I just mentioned him.
Eric: Did you, oh, well I don’t really pay attention to what you say most of the time.
Trent: Do you know anything about politics? I mean like anything, like who the Prime Minister is, I’ll give you a clue he’s on television
Eric: Uh…Simon Cowell
Trent: I think that’s enough intellectual debate for today Eric.
Eric: Oh this is boring, what else is on
Trent: No…no I’m watching this now, these are affairs of state, this is an important part of a participatory democracy Eric.
Eric: But Trent, this is Britain and thanks to our first past the post system and complete lack of parliamentary reform your vote is next to worthless…
Trent:………oh fine change the channel then.
Eric. Great…ooh, Top Gear…oh that’s a bit different.
Trent: Yeah that’s a bit odd, they all seem to be on trial in some sort of kangaroo court of public opinion.
Eric: What’s going on?
Trent: Well as far as I can tell it looks like the presenters have been charged with crimes against the environment and they’ve all been sentenced to death by a rouge, militaristic sect of the Green party.
Eric: Oh my God! They’ve cut Jeremy Clarkeson in half!
Trent: Ughhhh…no, no that’s just Richard Hammond, he’s just very small.
Eric: Oh…Oh I don’t think I want to watch this really
Trent: No….oh what do you know, James May’s refusing the blindfold…ooh, well that’s that then
Eric: I have to say I wasn’t really expecting that.
Trent: What you mean the way they all got packed into a Daewoo Matiz which was then pushed over a cliff?
Eric: No I mean I wasn’t expecting to see the presenters of Top Gear executed on live television.
Trent: No I see what you mean, it’s a bit off isn’t it (checks watch) especially before the watershed.
Eric: Oh well, we’ll see what else is on…ooh Loose Women.
Trent: Where! Oh…you mean the television show…that’s a misleading name for a show isn’t it?
Eric: Just a bit…mind you it didn’t stop you from ‘enjoying it’ did it?
Trent: I’ve no idea what you’re talking about Eric.
Eric: Well I’ll jog your memory then shall I, remember that time I came back from the Tawny a little earlier than I said I’d be, to find you in front of the television.
Trent: Oh um no I don’t anyway there’s no need to talk about this, anything else on?
Eric: Yes I remember it very well actually
Trent: Oh god
Eric: Coming into to find you, with your trousers round your ankles, ‘watching’ Loose women.
Trent: I’ve told you Eric I was just very warm and thought I’d loosen my clothes a little
Eric: I’m not surprised you were warm, you were creating enough friction weren’t you?
Trent (standing up indignantly) You’ve got a filthy mind Eric Rattrap.
Eric: Yeah well we’ve got a filthy carpet thanks to you.
Trent: (gasps) I’m not going to stay here putting up with your immature, innuendo, you keep rotting your brain out I’m going to go and work on my novel.
Eric: How’s that going anyway?
Trent: Bloody well actually, really well, I mean like this could be the start of something big.
Eric: What is your book actually about?
Trent: Well I’ve got the most fantast idea, I mean get ready for this because this will just blow your fucking mind!
Eric: Blimey! Not again.
Trent: Shut up Eric, I’m talking. Right here it is, okay…it’s about a boy who finds out that he’s actually a wizard and in incredible twist of fate ends up in a school for wizards which is basically just one giant advert for private education cue marvellous adventures with magic and wizards and trolls…the kids will lap it up!
Eric: Trent, may I just interject
Trent: Shut up this is important…right I’ve even invented a game they play on broomsticks where they fly about and hunt foxes and there’s this guy called a ‘beater’ right and his job is too…
Eric: Trent…
Trent: No don’t interrupt, look it’s not all rosy though because the boy has an enemy, a wizard who killed his parents and it’s like a family vendetta, very Godfather style you know, I could write books and books Eric, a whole series, I’ll be famous, they’ll make films and everything!
Eric: Trent…have you heard of J.K. Rowling?
Trent: No…should I?
Eric: Probably, now look I’ve actually got a copy of one of her books because I was trying to teach myself to read and it’s so badly written and simplistic that this is the best way for me to learn…why don’t you have a read?
Trent: (Looking through book) Bitch! She stole my idea! Right! I’m going to call her and I’m going to get her to give me all the proceeds and if she doesn’t then I’ll sue her! (Picks up to phone) Hello 118 118? Get me J.K Rowling immediately. What do you mean she’s not listed? Bitch! What kindo f directory enquiries service are you…no, no don’t try being clever…get me one of the slightly camp men with moustaches immediately! I don’t care if they’re actors! Hello? Hello? Bastards!
Well at least thanks to the liberalisation of the telecommunications market I have a multiplicity of services to choose from…yeah you wouldn’t get that under the Stalinist dictatorship of BT would you? No you’d just have a monopoly full of overpaid people who didn’t want to help you!
Eric: Rather than a selection of underpaid, demoralised art college graduates who also don’t want to help you…Trent if she’s withheld her number then no one will have it.
Trent: Are you, somewhere in amongst all that Communistic nonsense, trying to tell me that this is a situation in which ‘choice’ will be of no service?
Eric: Unless she chooses to list her number, which she quite clearly won’t do since she’d only end up getting calls from twats like you then…yes, the glories of our competitive market will do you no good!
Trent: Eric, could you just come over here for a second?
Eric: But of course
Trent: Thanks (hits him round the head with the book) there perhaps that’ll teach you not to shoot your mouth off at me again.
Eric: Trent, could you just come here for a moment?
Trent: Um no!
Eric: Very well…(picks up bin and throws it at Trent, knocking him unconscious) well that should give me a few minutes of peace while the stupid bastard gathers both his braincells (goes to watch the television)
Trent (regains consciousness) there’s nothing like a reasoned exchange of views to settle an argument is there Eric…Oh what are we doing with our lives? Watching television, fighting we’re not going anywhere.
Eric. No well we’re at home aren’t we.
Trent: No I mean figuratively, we’re not going anywhere in life.
Eric: Where are we meant to go? Mauritius is meant to be quite nice this time of year.
Trent: No, you’re still not getting it Eric, what is the underlying structure, the teleology of our lives if it’s not meant to lead us to some epic, goal? We need to go somewhere with it.
Eric: We could watch relocation, relocation, relocation tossbag!
Trent: This is exactly the problem Eric, we just waste our lives away in front of the Television (switches it off)
Eric: I was watching that!
Trent: Really, what was it?
Eric: I don’t know, I was just staring blankly at the screen and collecting a little pool of saliva on my jacket.
Trent: Exactly, we’ve got to think of something Eric, think of something to do…
Eric: Right well while you’re doing that I’ll put the telly back on.
Trent: No! No I’ve got it we’ll play a board game!
Eric: But we don’t have any board games, we sold them all to cover the TV license.
Trent: Oh damn…well no worries, we’ll make our own board game out of everyday household objects…like Monopoly!
Eric: That’s been invented already.
Trent: No I mean like Monopoly.
Eric: Well that’s copying isn’t it?
Trent: Oh for the love of the reclusive Balliol Squirrel, I mean we can use household objects to create a board game in the same way that the man who invented Monopoly invented Monopoly.
Eric: Oh right I see…do you think they might have a program on television that tells you how to do that? We should check.
Trent (snatches TV remote and throws it out the window, squeal of brakes and smashing of metal…looks out of window) Oh it’s alright it was a Mini Cooper…wanker! Anyway no television alright, now we need an idea.
Eric: Megan Fox covered in maple syrup with a chocolate flake stuck up her bottom! That’s an idea!
Trent: And a worrying, if not slightly horny, one…I meant an idea about a Board game
Eric: Well that could be it, Megan Fox on a board…and you just…go…round her?
Trent: There’s not much a game in it is there.
Eric: There doesn’t need to be mate.
Trent: No, no, no, what about I don’t know a game where you have a draw a picture and guess what it is?
Eric: Pictionary.
Trent: Ah…how about there’s been a murder and you’ve got to guess who did it using cards…
Eric: Cluedo.
Trent: Um…ooh I know a plastic donkey, and you’ve got to take bags off it without making it kick you in the face no one could have possibly made that one
Eric: Apart from the people who made Buckaroo.
Trent: Damn them! Well what about oh I’ve got it…Two players, a chequered board on which there are an equal amount of pieces per player, black versus white, the pieces have different moves and thus a tactical battle ensues in which both players attempt to outmanouver the other in order to capture the others chief piece, which we could call a ‘King’ as a nod to my grovelling, subservient monarchism, Now tell me someone’s gone an invented that!
Eric: Chess
Trent: Ah…couldn’t we just call it King Wars and hope no one noticed?
Eric: I don’t really think that would work somehow.
Trent: How about…uh A clash of imperial powers in the 19th century played on a board that represents a map of the world?
Eric: Risk
Trent: Oh what’s the point! Everything’s been bloody invented!
Eric: What about a game, where you rolled two dice and whatever number came up was the number of Post Offices that you then had to ram raid with a Biffa truck?
Trent: A little bit Anarchic isn’t it Eric…that’s it, you’re a genius but just expand on the concept, ‘Anarchy’ the board game!
Eric: How’s that going to work then?
Trent: Well, there’s a board and each square has an activity on it, like ‘Burn down Parliament’ or ‘pillage Tesco’ or ‘construct your own nuclear weapon and then set it off!’, then you roll some dice and whatever square you land on you’ve got to do whatever it says! It’s brilliant right where’s that pen…see Eric, this must be it I’ll create a brilliant new board game and become rich! I’m going to bloody do this (runs out)
Eric: (Gets up to turn television on)
Trent: (runs in carrying board) Don’t even think about it Eric!
Eric: Bloody hell Trent that was quick
Trent: Ha, once I get started it doesn’t take me long
Eric: Hmmm so I’ve heard, so what’s this fantastically entertaining board game like then?
Trent: Let’s give it a go…right I’ll be the chewed Fruit Pastel and you can be the lump of indeterminate hair and sludge that I pulled out of the sinkhole, okay now you can go first.
Eric: Right
Trent: Well roll the dice then.
Eric: I don’t want to
Trent: Well you’ve got to it’s in the rules
Eric: What do you mean rules this is anarchy
Trent: Oh very funny, well that’s a misconception held by all truly misinformed people, Anarchy actually means no rulers not no rules.
Eric: Very well, who are you to tell me to roll the dice?
Trent. I..I…I wrote the rules and you’ve got to follow the rules remember we agreed
Eric: I didn’t agree to anything, and I didn’t have a say in the formation of these ‘rules’ nor did I ratify them in any way, you seem to be assuming my consent based on a hypothetical past agreement Trent.
Trent: Oh go on Eric, be a pal, just play the game.
Eric: Oh if it stops you whinging (rolls dice, moves piece)
Trent: what does it say?
Eric: It says I’ve got to take all my clothes off and get off with the other player…
Trent: Oh…really?
Eric: In fact they all say that.
Trent: Oh well um I was kind of envisaging playing this with a bird.
Eric: Well I’m not doing that…in fact I propose an amendment.
Trent: You can’t just amend the directions on the board Eric
Eric: Yes I can, this is Anarchy and we’re all political equals therefore I propose an amendment to the constitution (grabs pen and writes) there!
Trent: What does it say now…’punk tront in fe knows…well you’ve got to spell it right Eric…oh wait! Uh Punch Trent in the Nose! Oh no!
(Eric punches Trent off his chair)
Trent: I take it that is your way of saying you don’t want to play anymore?
Eric: Yes…in fact…oh dear…I think that batter might have fast-tracked its way to promotion…I’ve just got to visit the lavatory.
Trent: Eric, there’s no toilet paper.
Eric: That’s alright I’ll use this (takes board game and exits)
Trent: No Eric! Not my brilliant new game…oh too late (gets up and cries a bit then looks crafty) well I think I deserve a little treat, a takeaway pizza’ll do (goes to cupboard and opens it) hahaha my secret store of cash, hidden away in the cleaning cupboard where Eric would never look! (takes out money and dials PizzaCo) Hello is that PavementPizza…good…I want to order a pizza…a large one…what topping? Um fish and onion…what do you mean what type of fish? A bloody water fish of course…45 minutes…it’s not a weapon of mass destruction it’s a bloody pizza…what’s your name I’ve a good mind to report you to your manager! Right well you listen to me ‘Fuck you’…oh wait a minute…hello? Hello? Oh for Christ sakes no one has any telephone manners these days, that’s the third time I’ve been hung up on today! This is what happens when poor people start getting ideas above their station and expect to be treated ‘politely’. It’s a disgrace (here’s toilet flush) Oh no Eric (runs to the cupboard and puts money away)
(enter Eric)
Eric: You’re looking a little flustered Trent…what were you up to…oh wait a minute let me guess.
Trent: I hope you weren’t inferring that I was masturbating Eric?
Eric: Call me a slave to induction but yes…it’s usually what you do when you’re left on your own
Trent: Oh yes usually but not this time…oh I mean no not usually, oh you spiteful viper of a friend
Eric: Yes well anyway…I wouldn’t use the toilet for a…well actually ever again if I were you…uh have we got any of those toilet grenades that you picked up?
Trent: Oh what you mean those miniature phosphorus grenades gaurunteed to kill 150% of germs…and everything else in the vicinity of fifteen feet? Oh if I do they’ll be in the cleaning cupboard
Eric: Righto (opens cupboard)
Trent: Oh wait no don’t…
Eric: They must be in this tin (opens money store)
Trent: No don’t look in there!
Eric: Stone the crows and get lynched by the RSPBA, look what’s in here Trent
Trent: Oh uh…what is it?
Eric: It’s money!
Trent: Oh…well…um Hooray! We’re rich.
Eric: What do you mean we? I found it.
Trent: No, no Eric that’s not fair…we should share it.
Eric: Why, if I hadn’t found it, it might have stayed there forever.
Trent: But…but it’s mine!
Eric: No it’s not…unless you’re trying to tell me that you’ve been hiding this away, not letting me know about it and using it to buy yourself luxury food items and pay-as-you-go pornography on the television?
Trent: (splutters) uncannily…incorrect actually, it’s just…it’s just…
Eric: Because if you had been then I’d be forced to kill you with the fire extinguisher that that fireman threw through our window.
(Knock on door)
Trent: Oh who could that be? Who is it?
Landlord: It’s me, Mr Toerag, your landlord.
Trent: Oh God, hide the money Eric, quick!
Trent: (opens the door) Hello Mr Toerag, awfully nice to see you…
Landlord: shut up! I’m in a real bind, I’ve got the boys from the bookies downstairs, looking to collect my racing debts and if I don’t pay up they’re going to extract payment!
Trent: Oh my God! No!
Eric: Kneecaps then yeah? I wouldn’t worry about that, I recovered after a few months.
Landlord: It’s worse than that, they’re going to tie me in a chair and force me to watch the My Little Pony Christmas special I won’t survive boys.
Trent: Well what do you want us to do, we’ve no money.
Landlord: It’s not the money that’s the problem I’ve got plenty seeing that I’m a mercenary bastard who charges exorbitant fees for shitholes on sink estates…I just need a pen to write the cheque with have you got one?
(Trent and Eric exchange looks)
Eric: That’s incredibly fortuitous; couldn’t you just buy one from the shop for 5 pence
Landlord: No, they won’t let me out of the house you’re my last chance.
Trent: Well I guess you must be pretty desperate for a pen then?
Landlord: What are you blathering about of course it’s desperate!
Trent: What’s it worth?
Landlord: A tenner
Eric: Done!
Trent: No Eric, haha ignore him he’s a…vacuum cleaner… this is our chance you idiot…Mr Toerag, I’ll give you the pen if you give me a cheque for £10’000!
Landlord: Fine, give me the pen
Trent: Okay…okay fine…if you want to haggle, £8000
Landlord: No I’ve already said yes you bleeding pratt!
Trent: What? Oh my God! Great! There you go.
Landlord: Right okay…Trent Littlecock,
Trent: It’s Little coke, there’s a silent e in it
Landlord: Little Cock
Trent: No…
Landlord: You have a small penis!
Trent: Actually I think you’ll find that people say that I have a massive penis
Landlord: Are you going to tell him or shall I?
Eric: I’ll do it, look Trent mate, they don’t say you have a massive penis, they say you are a massive penis.
Trent: Oh…well fuck them, once I’ve got my money, I’ll get a prosthetic.
Landlord: £10,000 only, signed…there we go right the pens mine and…fuck you (exits)
Eric: That was surprisingly easy, wow we’re rich!
Trent: What do you mean we? Hahahahaha! Not so funny now is it Eric?
Eric: Oh come on Trent, you don’t really think I’d not have shared this money with you do you!
Trent: Oh well you’re welcome to keep it now, because I’ve got myself a cheque for £10,000! Oh just think what I can do! I can finally pay enough money for a prostitute! I can finally go into a pub and not have to drink from the drip trays! I can go to Mauritius and embroil myself in sun, sex, sand and morally, dubious raven haired temptresses until I literally die of oversex!
Eric: I’d say I wasn’t jealous.
Trent: yeah…how does it feel to have your tiny pot of money up against my gigantic wad of cash, hmm, your little piddly sum of £48.96 pence approximately up against my Cheque of 10 grand! Signed, signed by…Tom Cruise…Fucking hell our landlord is actually Tom Cruise Eric!
Eric (sighs)
Trent: I can make even more money out of this…I can sell the story to the papes, ‘Tom Cruise responsible for letting out a selection of box rooms, former prisons and crack houses in central London!’ I’ll make even more money and then I’ll become famous and go on television, make millions! Marry…Parkinson! And…and…and…(long pause) Our landlord isn’t Tom Cruise is he?
Eric: No he’s not Trent.
Trent: Mr Toerag, didn’t sign this properly did he?
Eric: I think that may be the case Trent.
Trent: Shit!
Eric: Well while mull over your disappointment Trent I’ll just be down the Owl with my ‘measly pot of cash’ see you later.
Trent: I’ll kill myself
Eric: Well I guess I won’t see you later, if you are going to kill yourself, could you do it in a ‘clean’ way, I don’t really want to come back to any gratuitous unpleasantness.
Trent: No did you hear what I said, I said I was going to kill myself.
Eric: Yes Trent I did, uh leave the landing light on would you it’s a trial getting up the stairs otherwise.
Trent: Eric this is a cry for attention!
Eric: Oh right…well you’ve got it…what do you want to say?
Trent: That I’m going to kill myself
Eric: Well you’ve said that three times now, look Trent do what you like I don’t really mind but it’s late already and I’ve got to get to the Owl before last orders…bye! (leaves)
Trent: Well (undoing his trousers) where was I?
