F*ck the Polar Bears

Tanya Ronder

• Publisher: Nick Hern Books
• Year: 2015
• eBook ISBN: 9781780016597
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: British Drama
• Index: Literature

A raucous family drama about the cost of living the life of our dreams.

Gordon and Serena have worked hard to get where they are. He's on the verge of a massive promotion at an energy giant. She's preparing for a move into the house of their dreams.

The family appear to be cooking on gas.

But behind their perfect front door, light bulbs are blowing, the drains keep blocking, and a phone inexplicably refuses to charge. Not to mention that daughter Rachel's adored toy polar bear is nowhere to be found.

F*ck the Polar Bears premiered at the Bush Theatre, London, in September 2015.

ACT ONE

Scene One

Friday evening

A smooth car pulls up on gravel. The central hallway/open living area of an ostentatious house in North London. Large enough to house a backless divan/daybed, all the action takes place in this space. We hear the front door close, the inner door open, a slight curse, then GORDON arrives with a door handle in his hand. He is laden – doorknob, briefcase, pizzas, off-licence bag. SERENA calls.

SERENA (off). Is that you?

GORDON (calls back). Hello, lollipop.

SERENA (off). Hi, I’m just…

GORDON. Don’t worry. Rache?

(Calls.) Rachel?

SERENA (off). She’s at Helen’s.

SERENA dashes in with a girl’s bag. These two are down-to-earth people come to money late, not posh at all. SERENA, younger than GORDON, has a strong Irish or regional accent, GORDON is from London or the regions. Their conversation is fast and pinched.

You’re late.

He puts down his stuff to help.

GORDON. What can I do?

SERENA. Did that just – ?

GORDON. Clarence can –

SERENA. Yep.

Beat.

You got my text?

GORDON. What did he say?

SERENA. That we’re being gazumped, in his agent way…

GORDON. Don’t panic, Serena…

SERENA. It’s reasonable panic, Gordon, I don’t know why you’re not.

GORDON. It’s my job not to.

SERENA. This is home, Gord, not work, your serenity’s all wrong here.

GORDON. Can’t help it, when stress comes up I just say no.

SERENA. Whereas I actually make huge efforts to feel uptight all the time.

Beat.

Did you get it?

GORDON. I’ve come straight from a meet.

SERENA. Via Pizza Dome…

GORDON. With a pretty spectacular outcome.

SERENA. But no bonus.

GORDON. I didn’t want to ask for what is essentially a Christmas present in September.

They start talking over each other.

SERENA. Nearly October –

GORDON. You know what I’m saying –

SERENA. Why did you say you were going to, then?

GORDON. Because –

SERENA. You went this morning saying you would ask.

GORDON. Were there no alternative. A bonus is finite.

SERENA. I know it’s fucking finite – yes I know I swore, I’ll put a pound in the box –

GORDON. I’m getting you your house, my love –

SERENA. What if we get another offer, lose that buyer too, and it’s not my fucking house. (Swear box.) I know.

GORDON. Serena, listen, I know it’s not in the bank –

SERENA. Which is where it needs to be –

GORDON. But, but it will be by Monday. Trust me, we’ll come in, bang, with anything they need, blow everything else out the water.

SERENA. How?

GORDON. I’m in a completely different scenario than I was twelve hours ago.

SERENA. Did you molest someone, you been arrested?

He appreciates her humour.

GORDON. What time are you leaving?

SERENA catches sight of the time.

SERENA. Oh God, where’s Blundhilde… (Calls off.) Blundhilde?

BLUNDHILDE replies from upstairs.

BLUNDHILDE (off). Coming!

GORDON. We’re safe, my sweetheart, trust me.

SERENA. Apart from having to find several million over the weekend.

GORDON. High streets are not the only option.

SERENA changes her mind, calls back up to BLUNDHILDE.

SERENA. In fact, not yet, don’t come down yet, five minutes, Blundhilde, okay? Blundhilde? Come down in five.

BLUNDHILDE (off). Okay, Serena!

SERENA (to GORDON). Hold there just one sec.

SERENA runs to the utility room, the sound of a tumble dryer opening.

(Off.) Shit.

The tumble dryer closes, starts up again. GORDON shouts through to her.

GORDON. What time are you back?

SERENA (off). Clarence is here later.

SERENA comes back in.

What’s the crux?

GORDON. Salary increase.

Beat.

Can we have coffee tomorrow?

SERENA. I’m not here tomorrow.

GORDON. Course.

SERENA. We could at midnight or dawn.

She dashes into an adjacent room.

A walk in the park is like some dream from the past.

She emerges with a brush.

I’m so crap, I always forget her hairbrush.

GORDON. D’you want some pizza before you go?

SERENA. Maybe, it’s just a bit…

She makes a face.

But, it’s Friday.

GORDON. Is that why you only have me on Fridays? Bit –

He returns the face.

SERENA. You can talk, Mr Distracted…

GORDON. I’m never not up for nookie.

SERENA. Huh.

GORDON. With my beautiful wife.

He approaches her.

SERENA. Not now, Gord, everyone’s… everything’s…

GORDON takes the pizzas and crosses to the kitchen.

I’ve just sorted in there.

He turns back.

GORDON. It’s why I got pizza instead of Chinese or…

SERENA. What flavour?

GORDON. Sloppy Giuseppe.

SERENA. How many?

GORDON. Six.

SERENA. Six?

GORDON. Plus…

He reveals the champagne, gets two flutes.

SERENA. What’s the increase?

He pops the cork.

GORDON. Substantial. I have to go against Wiggie but that’s not a problem, I can do that, I can do anything.

His confidence deflates SERENA. The upstairs toilet flushes. GORDON pours champagne.

SERENA. I’m not drinking.

GORDON. Why not?

SERENA. Driving.

GORDON. Course you are.

SERENA looks at her watch.

What do we have to do?

SERENA. ‘We’.

She says this almost to herself.

GORDON. Do you want me to get her?

SERENA. It’s fine, Blundhilde can go, they just eat so early in that house, as if I needed that detail. Do you know what Helen’s mum’s mother’s name is?

GORDON. No.

SERENA. Or that she has a colostomy bag?

GORDON. I didn’t, no. I thought you liked Helen’s mum.

SERENA. I do, but I don’t need to know where her mother hangs her…

SERENA puts toothbrushes in Ziploc plastic bags, etc.

GORDON. You’re plugged ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Contents
• Original Production
• ‘The Age of Loneliness is Killing Us’
• Acknowledgements
• Epigraph
• Dedication
• Characters
• Fuck the Polar Bears
• About the Author
• Copyright and Performing Rights Information