Scotland Plays

New Scottish Drama

Various, Philip Howard

• Publisher: Nick Hern Books
• Year: 2015
• Topic: Literature
• eBook ISBN:
  9781780015422
• Subtopic: British Drama
• Index: Literature

A collection of seven plays by Scottish writers, selected and introduced by Philip Howard, artistic director of Edinburgh's Traverse Theatre.

This volume contains:

Wormwood by Catherine Czerkawska (Traverse Theatre, 1997)
Depicts a family caught up in the Chernobyl disaster.

Brothers of Thunder by Ann Marie Di Mambro (Traverse Theatre, 1994)
A young, HIV-positive man takes refuge with a Catholic priest.

Passing Places by Stephen Greenhorn (Traverse Theatre, 1997)
A road movie for the stage.

One Way Street by David Greig (Traverse Theatre, 1995)
A one-man show set in Berlin.

Quelques Fleurs by Liz Lochhead (Assembly Rooms, Edinburgh, 1991)
A short two-hander about a childless couple.

One Good Beating by Linda McLean (Traverse Theatre, 1999)
A blackly comic play about two siblings who take revenge on their bullying father.

Lazybed by Iain Crichton Smith (Traverse Theatre, 1997)
A man refuses to get out of bed one morning.

PASSING PLACES

Stephen Greenhorn

Stephen Greenhorn was born in West Lothian and has been writing professionally since 1988. His stage plays include Heart and Bone (Edinburgh Festival Fringe First Award); two children’s plays for Visible Fictions; The Salt Wound (7:84 Scotland); a version of Aristophanes’ The Birds (Gate, London); co-author of Sleeping Around (Paines Plough, 1998); Passing Places (Traverse, 1997, and tour 1998).

His television work includes episodes of The Bill and Where the Heart Is. He has written three plays for BBC Radio 4 and a radio version of Passing Places for Radio 3.

He is currently writing the screenplay of Passing Places for BBC Films and is under commission to 7:84 Scotland for Dissent.

1

ALEX and BRIAN enter.

ALEX. Motherwell!

BRIAN. West central Scotland. Population 27,000.

ALEX. Work base . . .

BRIAN. Traditionally . . . heavy industry . . . predominantly steel . . .

ALEX. And now . . .

BRIAN shrugs.

ALEX. Alright . . . Famous for . . .

BRIAN. Winning the Scottish Cup in extra time?

ALEX. And . . . ?

BRIAN. And!

ALEX. Surfing.

BRIAN. Oh. Yeah. Surfing.

ALEX. Motherwell. Surf City. The Bondi Beach of Lanarkshire. Malibu of the North.

BRIAN. Ideally situated.

ALEX. Twenty-five miles from the fucking sea!

2

The shop. Doorbell goes as the KID enters. Thirteen going on thirty.

ALEX. What do you want?

KID. Chill man. I’ve been saving up. I’m looking for a new pair of Air Jordans.

ALEX. How much have you got?

KID. Here.

KID slaps a bunch of notes on the counter.

ALEX counts them.

ALEX. Not enough. Unless you’re one-legged.

KID. Aw no. What about instalments?

ALEX. Aye. You can buy one shoe now and hop it.

KID. Very funny.

ALEX. Away and mug somebody.

KID. Nobody round here worth mugging.

ALEX. Beat it then.

KID. Cool the beans, pal. I’m going. But I’ll be back.

He goes to the door.

KID. Here.

ALEX. What?

He waves sarcastically.

KID. There’s a wee wave for your surf-board.

ALEX. Get to fuck!

KID exits laughing. ALEX regards the surf-board.

ALEX. Two years that bastard thing’s been in the window. Two years! And I’ve had to dust it every second day. All because he thinks he’s the Don-fucking-Jonson of Meikle Earnock!

BRIAN interjects from the Library.

BRIAN. Three hundred and twelve!

ALEX. Eh?

BRIAN. Three times a week for two years not counting holidays.

ALEX scowls at him.

ALEX. The library! Hang out for pensioners who can’t pay their gas bills. Ex-steelworkers who can’t bring themselves to watch Australian soap-operas. Jakeys who fall asleep over The Independent . . . And Brian!

BRIAN. I was just saying!

3

Shop doorbell interrupts. BINKS enters.

ALEX. Mr. Binks, I thought . . .

BINKS. Shut it, arse-face.

He goes behind the counter, rakes for an empty shoe box then takes a hand-gun from his waistband, wraps it and stashes it in the box. He stores the box back under the counter. ALEX is staring.

BINKS. What’re you looking at?

ALEX. Nothing.

BINKS. That’s right. And don’t you . . . Eh? . . . Aye.

ALEX. Sorry?

BINKS. Am I speaking to you?

ALEX. But you . . .

BINKS. Ronnie’s saying you have to be deaf, dumb and blind to work here.

ALEX. Dumb anyway.

BINKS. Eh?

ALEX. Nothing.

BINKS. Dinnae mutter son. I cannae stand muttering.

ALEX. Sorry, Mr. Binks.

BINKS moves to the surf-board. He strokes it.

BINKS. When was the last time you dusted my wee beauty here?

ALEX. Yesterday.

BINKS. Do it again.

ALEX. But . . .

BINKS. Again, I said!

ALEX. It . . . eh . . . it doesn’t have a price on it.

BINKS. That’s ’cause it’s not for sale, ya retard. Right?

ALEX. So if anyone asks about it . . . ?

BINKS. Are you deaf? It’s not for fucking sale. This is my retirement. My pension plan. In a few years’ time me and Ronnie and this wee beauty’ll be jetting off to a beach house in Hawaii. So long Lanarkshire, hello Honolulu! Wearing flowery shirts, chasing birds in grass skirts, drinking Buckie out of half-coconuts. Fucking paradise.

ALEX. Aye.

BINKS. So make sure you run a fucking duster over it before I come back this afternoon.

Eh? . . . Aye. Right enough, Ronnie . . . Dumb! Dumb as a . . . doorbell.

He exits.

ALEX. Fucking psycho.

BRIAN. Mr. Binks is subject to a bizarre paranormal phenomenon wh...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Contents
• Introduction
• Wormwood
• Brothers of Thunder
• Passing Places
• One Way Street
• Quelques Fleurs
• One Good Beating
• Lazybed
• Copyright and Performing Rights Information