Wigan Road Partygate

The suspense continues for Boris who is waiting for his solicitor to fill in his Met form ... and tell him if he went to those drinks parties or not. Good news! his accountant tells him if it was indeed only a work party then he can claim the booze as office expenses... Tell that to the students down the Wigan Road!

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Characters:

Abigail: Twenty years old. It’s her party

Tattoo: belligerent young man with dragon tattoos up his arms

Side kick: skinny adolescent found under the sink

(Young man with a plummy voice and young woman upstairs, found in the wardrobe but we don’t get to see them)

Police:

Fresh-Faced: Fresh-faced young policeman

Sergeant: middle-aged male

Super: Commanding Officer/ Superintendent: middle-aged female

A wheelie bin is lying on its side and a vixen is squatting, backend lowered, peeing over black plastic bags. She turns her head as the vans pull up, blue lights flashing in puddles. The Covid Squad of the Lancashire Constabulary climb out, slamming the doors behind them. Greasy papers stick to police boots and the vixen slinks away into the night, a piece of Hawaiian pizza clamped in her jaws.

Sergeant (his ear against the front door): Twenty. At least twenty of ‘em Ma’m. By my reckoning.

(Lights go on in the terraced houses down the Wigan Road and shadows appear at the windows.)

Super: Let’s get in there

Sergeant (pounding on the door.) Police. Open up. (More lights go on along the Wigan road).

Fresh-Faced: Can’t hear you Sarge, they’re making such a racket… I could put me truncheon through that window if you like . .. Might have a grenade somewhere in the van…?

(The commanding officer gives him a withering look and makes a mental note)

Sergeant (yells) POLICE OPEN UP!

(The commanding officer pushes past him and rings the doorbell)

Tattoo (inside): Alright. Keep yer rair ron. (The door opens a crack)

Sergeant: Police. How many people you got in there?

Abigail (through a crack in the door): Only a few.

Sergeant: You the owner? These your digs?

Super: Open this door. We’re coming in.

Tattoo: That Mrs Roberts been complaining again, has she? We’ll turn the noise down if you like, but the old girl’s as deaf as a post.

Super: Take this chain off the door.

Tattoo: You got a search warrant then?

Super: By the powers invested in the Constabulary to enforce Covid restrictions we don’t need a search warrant.

Abigail: Only a little party. My birthday.

Tattoo: Be fair Gov. We haven’t seen our mates in ages.

Super: Take the chain off this door. Immediately.

Fresh-Faced: I’ve got me taser. Ma’am?

Tattoo: OK. We’ll turn it down. Turn it down willya? (He shouts behind him)

Fresh-Faced: Bit of tear gas?

Sergeant: Open this door

Tattoo: Only having a bit of fun … we’ve been locked down for ever

Sergeant: Open this door or you’ll be charged with obstruction.

(The door is pushed shut, the chain taken off and the door opens to reveal a young woman and a burly young man in a T-shirt with dragon tattoos crawling up his arms, holding a bottle of beer.)

Abigail (quietly): There. Satisfied?

(The officers push forward but the young man doesn’t move)

Tattoo: You can’t come into private property…. just like that.

Abigail (whispering): Fifth amendment …or something.

Fresh-Faced: You and whose army going to stop us?

(Dragon tattoo takes a swing at him, but the sergeant squashes him against the wall and the Super storms past.)

Super: Few friends?

(She flings open the door into the sitting room where cigarette buts smoke in ashtrays and the windows are standing wide open)

Sergeant: That’s the trouble with terraced houses Ma’am. You can never get round to the back quick enough. They’ve scarpered.

Abigail (smiling): Told you there were only a few friends.

Super (to Fresh Faced): Search the rest of the house. (Fresh Faced clicks his heels and departs). (To the Sergeant) If you’ll take down the details Sergeant.

(Sulking and uncooperative behaviour from Tattoo and Abigail)

Fresh-Faced (returning triumphant): Look what I found in the kitchen. Under the sink. (He drags in Side-Kick, a skinny adolescent)

Super: You (to Side-Kick) Don’t you move. Take his details Sergeant. And you (to Fresh-Faced) go look upstairs.’

(Fresh-Faced whistles a cheery tune as he climbs the stairs two by two.

Sound of a door being opened and shut and then a handle rattled)

Fresh-Faced (yelling from upstairs): Can’t get this door open Ma’am. Must be the bathroom. Want me to break it down? … Ma’am?’

Abigail (whispering): The landlord’ll kill me…

Fresh-Faced (yelling): Suppose they’ve scarpered over the back wall. Right rabbit warren these terraced houses. We could set the dogs on them … If we had any… Dogs?

Abigail (leaning against the post at the bottom of the stairs): You could at least take your boots off… Wiping your boots on my beige carpet.

Fresh-Faced (upstairs) : Deep shag is it?

Super: My lads don’t take their boots off.

Tattoo (guffaws): So you’re in charge are ya? Whatever happened to Dixon of Dock Green and the boys in blue? Positive discrimination is it?’

(He takes another swig from his bottle of beer)

Sergeant (in a sing-song voice): You’re making it wo-orse for yourself. Lad

Tattoo: All circumstantial. You got nothing on me.’

Sergeant: Taking a swipe at an officer is a serious offence.

Tattoo: Prove it.

Sergeant: It’ll be Preston Magistrate’s Court for you me lad.

Tattoo: Prove it.

Sergeant: All here. (Taps his lapel.) On the camera.’

Tattoo: Oh (He looks at the policeman’s lapel, wondering if it’s worth ripping it off and stomping the camera under foot.) You should’ve said. Aren’t you supposed to give us a warning … or something? …Read us our rights? It was only a joke …And we’ve got extenuating circumstances. Lock down. It’s not my fault. Need to see me mates. Let me hair down. All these wrinklies shut away, warm inside, stealing our lives. They’ve had their time. What do they contribute to the economy?

Sergeant: Could ask you the same

Tattoo: We’re young

Super: Precisely. You under thirties are the primary vectors of the new variant.

Tattoo: Well that’s where you’re wrong. Get connected… Ma’am. Clued up. In Ribble and South Lancashire Covid rates are falling. You’re overreacting. And where are they falling the fastest?

Fresh-Faced (coming down the stairs): Don’t tell me, let me guess … Ormskirk?

Tattoo: Nope. Blackpool. They’re falling the fastest in Blackpool. And people know how to enjoy theirselves in Blackpool .. Strictly … Tower Ballroom

Abigail (wistfully): Fish’n chips

Side Kick: Tequila Sunrise. On the prom.

Tattoo: This is all totally disproportionate… you might even say (he looks at the Super) hysterical…

(Muffled thumps from upstairs)

Super: We’ve got cases of the Kent variant in Lancashire. Cases of the South African variant in Liverpool.

Sergeant: Brazilian variant in Bradford.

Super: It’s essential that the whole country sticks to the national lockdown rules. This is a deadly virus.

Sergeant (to Tattoo): You’ll be off infecting your own granny next week I shouldn’t wonder…

Tattoo: Hardly see the old girl. She knows I’m busy. Got so much course work. It’s depressing. Sat in front of a screen, instead of being with your mates … In the lecture hall

Side Kick: Back of the hall. (Nostalgic) By the radiator

Sergeant: What’re their names then?

Tattoo: What?

Sergeant: These mates … the ones that scarpered…

Tattoo: Ya don’t expect me to grass up me mates do ya?

Side Kick: Stop bashing the youth of this country and get out there and catch the real criminals why don’t ya?

Super: This is a blatant breach of Covid restrictions. More than 20 people. Unbelievably selfish.

(Noises upstairs)

Sergeant: Not to mention the noise you were making. Don’t know how you thought you’d ever get away with it

Abigail: Only a little gathering. In our own bubble. With mates …In our bubble.

Tattoo: Not a wrinkly in sight

Super: Only it’s not is it? ‘A little gathering’. At least twenty attendees

Tattoo: What?

Super: Attendees

Tattoo: Mates

Sergeant: Attending your party

Tattoo: We’ve not seen our mates in ages

(noises from upstairs)

Sergeant (to Fresh-Faced): ‘Get yerself back up them stairs lad. And search it properly this time.

Super: For anyone to believe they are exempt when so many law-abiding citizens have not seen their friends and family properly in almost a year. Some have lost relatives who died alone. Do you know how that feels? Do you? Do you? (Beat) I am formally issuing you with a fixed penalty notice

Tattoo: What?

Super: £800

Tattoo: Yer what?

Side Kick: Yer can’t do that.

Sergeant: You too lad

Tattoo: Where d’you think I’m going to get 800 quid? Eh? Eh?

Sergeant: And that’s just for starters. It’s the magistrate’s court for you lad. Causing an affray. Attacking a police officer. Serious offence.

Fresh Faced (from upstairs): Got two more up here Ma’am …in the wardrobe not a stitch on… If you don’t count the socks that is.

Super: Well it’ll cost ‘em. With our without their socks.

Fresh-faced (shouting from upstairs): We could do them for exhibitionism… As well? Ma’am? Wadderyersay?

Sergeant: Just the £800. Each. That’ll do

(Plummy male voice shouting from upstairs): Well I for one don’t regret it. (More caressing) I’ve fancied you over the Uni Zoom lectures for weeks and weeks. Couldn’t take my eyes off of you…

Fresh Faced: Must’ve cramped your style though?

Rich male voice: I dreamt about you.

Fresh-Faced: In the wardrobe?

Rich male voice: Fantasised about you…

Fresh Faced: Bit of a squeeze? In there?

Rich male voice: But. Believe me. Believe me Madeleine it’s oh so much better in the flesh. For real.

Fresh-Faced: Is that a fact?

Male voice (calling to the Super downstairs): Perhaps we could pay by instalments?

Super: And as for you young woman. The hostess,

Side-Kick (wistfully): With the mostest. That’s our Abigail

Super: The organiser of this happy little gathering. That’ll be £10 000

Abigail (hardly breathing): You’re joking!

Tattoo: Have a heart. Be fair. We’ve been in lockdown for ages. None of us have seen our mates…. It’s important to see your mates … they’re the only ones who understand what we’re going through

Super: Perhaps you could do some community work …

Tattoo: Chronic stress.

Side-Kick: Lost generation

Abigail: Always tired …

Super: So you can explain to the folks on oxygen, the folks on ventilators how you’re doing your bit to stop the spread of this deadly virus

Abigail: Twenty. A landmark they say. The best it gets. They say… Twenty.

Tattoo (to Super) : Too long ago for you to remember eh?…. ‘Ma’am’.

Abigail (quietly): I wouldn’t mind so much if I’d had a good time. Had a blast. Celebrating. Being twenty. The fellah I fancied he went upstairs with Madeleine.

Fresh-Faced (upstairs): Well he’s not looking so clever now. Can’t find his kit in the dark. Got his Calvin Klein’s on back to front.

Super: I don’t decide the fines, you can take it up with the government. Appeal to Boris Johnston. Or your MP. That’s the price.

Tattoo: But the wrinklies they’ve stolen our youth. They say it’s normal … we didn’t fight a war. But they’ve had their lives. Their fun. The sixties and the Beatles, Gerry and the …

Abigail (quietly): pacemakers … and the stents and the bypasses

Tattoo: They’ve milked the system. It’s our turn now …

Abigail: We were only being a bit giddy officer… Superintendent? Ma’am? Have a heart.

Super: Tell that to the families grieving for their loved ones. You haven’t seen their pain.

Tattoo: It’s all the things you miss. A packed restaurant …

Side Kick (wistful): A bistro..

Tattoo: Leaning at the bar with your mates

Side Kick: With the others. All together. Even if you don’t know ‘em … Standing at the urinal. Together.

Abigail: I haven’t got ten pounds never mind ten thousand… Where am I going to get £10 000? Rob a bank? Go on the game?

Side Kick: You’re never alone … at the urinal

Tattoo: How d’you expect students to pay that sort of money?

Sergeant: You should have thought of that before

Abigail (angry) You’re stopping us living our lives. I’m not a robot

Tattoo: It’s dehumanising. All those hours in front of a screen. There’s no way you can chat up … in front of a screen … Have you seen what it does to your face? Sort of all …stretched out. Gives ya a double chin. And jowls….

Abigail: A pressure cooker

Sergeant: Don’t think you’ve been doing much cooking … all them pizza boxes outside.

Abigail: Waiting to explode.

Super: I know irresponsibility when I see it... We’re just trying to keep everyone safe.

Abigail: Or a damp squib …. More like … a damp squib. That’s me. But how d’you expect a 20 year old student to pay £10 000 for this? …. For this? A few drinks with friends.

Fresh Faced (upstairs): You could extend your student loan …

Abigail: I’m so overdrawn … I’m into the valley beyond

Fresh Faced: Get an extension …no one pays them back anyway

Super: We’re only doing our job.

Tattoo: At least you’ve got one

Sergeant: Trying to keep everyone safe

Tattoo: You said that before …

Abigail: I used to work behind a bar of an evening. A bit of babysitting but there’s nothing now. No money coming in. Nowhere to go of an evening.

Sergeant: That’s not our problem

Abigail: Some nights I just sit and look at the ceiling

Fresh Faced: With a glass of wine I’ll bet… Don’t forget the glass of wine eh?

Abigail: I can’t sleep. I feel (beat) Isolated. Sequestrated. Tied up and gagged. So I turn up the sound.

Super: The neighbours must appreciate your pain.

Abigail: Then at least I’m not alone. Some days I sit counting. I count my fingers. I count my toes. Like a broken record. My kidneys hurt.

Fresh-faced: It’ll be all that red

Abigail: I’ve put on so much weight

Fresh-faced: And the pizzas

Super: So you organised an illegal party?

Abigail: Just a few friends. Something to look forward to. A little gathering … but word got out …you know how it is?

Super: No frankly. I don’t

Abigail: Got no future. Got no plans. (Beat) I’m on anti-depressants

Sergeant: Thought your pupils were delated …

Abigail: Ask my tutor at the Uni. Haven’t given in any course work in months. Not like me. Ask my tutor. It’s the you know … I get the you know. The whatsit. The red fox … The black dog. Whatever…. (She sits down on the bottom step and weeps) I don’t know what to do.

Fresh-Faced: Get a grip

Abigail (muffled): What on?

Tattoo: At twenty you’ve got to have a bit… a bit of life …a bit of fun. Can’t live barricaded forever. Your mates. They’re the only ones who understand.

Abigail: Stare at the floor

Sergeant: Read a book then. Get yourself some sort of …. some sort of … yer know (embarrassed) …interior life

Abigail: What’s the point?

Fresh-Faced: Always whingeing you students

Sergeant: What course?

Abigail: What?

Sergeant: What course you on then?

Abigail: Social work.

Sergeant: What?

Abigail: Care in the community

(Pause)

Tattoo: Never mind the applause. Just give us a break

Super: Right. Well. Let’s get this show on the road.

Fresh Faced (coming down the stairs): Shall I take the sound equipment Ma’am? Might as well … while I’m at it? For the neighbours? They’ll thank us. Good community policing.

By Elaine Dubourdieu

From: France

Website: https://linktr.ee/ElainePublishing

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