Misty

Arinzé Kene

• Publisher: Nick Hern Books
• Year: 2018
• Print ISBN: 9781848427594
• eBook ISBN: 9781788500357
• Topic: Littérature
• Subtopic: Théâtre britannique

'Here is the city that we live in
Notice that the city that we live in is alive
Analyse our city and you'll find that our city even has bodily features
Our city's organs function like any living creature
Our city is a living creature
And if you're wise enough, you'll know not all of us are blood cells…
Some of us are viruses.'

An epic, lyrical journey through the pulsating heart and underground soul of inner-city London.

Misty is an inventive blend of gig theatre, spoken word, live art and direct address, confronting the assumptions and expectations underpinning the act of telling a story.

The play premiered at the Bush Theatre, London, in 2018, performed by the author and directed by Omar Elerian. It transferred to the Trafalgar Studios in the West End in September 2018.

Misty won Best Performance Piece at the 2019 Off-West End Awards.

'Kene has a thrilling flair for language' The Times on good dog

'One of Britain's most exciting young playwrights' Guardian

ACT ONE

Scene One

Lights up. The VIRUS goes to the mic.

‘City Creature’

VIRUS

A lot of crazy shit happens on the night bus,

One shouldn’t settle disputes on the night bus,

Shouldn’t settle disputes after ten at night, boss,

It’s only ever gonna end up in a fight, truss.

Here is the city that we live in,

Notice that the city that we live in is alive,

Analyse our city and you’ll find, that our city even has

bodily features,

Our city’s organs function like any living creature,

Our city is a living creature,

A living breathing city creature broken in to boroughs,

Mostly living creatures are broken in to organs,

For the city creature each borough is an organ,

And if we’re saying that the boroughs be the organs now,

You might liken the borough that I live in to the bowel,

So if boroughs be the organs of our city creature,

Then our motorways are the arteries of city creatures,

The high streets be arterioles of city creatures,

And each road is a capillary.

You’ll notice that travelling down these blood vessels of our

living city creature,

Night buses are packed with blood cells, red and white,

Them’s the passengers, you and you, it’s a normal night,

Some of you alight, more of you get on and pack it tight,

But all is well,

Cos blood cell to blood cell there’s nothing to fear,

Not unless something sneaks in through the back door before

the driver has a chance to shut it

And it’s pushing

and it’s nudging

and it’s shoving up the place

and you can’t see its face, cos it’s got a

hoodie on its head

but can see its waist, cos it’s got its

trousers down its legs,

so you can see its [boxer shorts].

[But of course],

you ain’t judging,

cos it’s nothing

that you ain’t seen before.

You’re just collectively ‘aware’ of him, and nothing’s wrong

with that

cos he jumped in through the back,

and blood cells don’t like scraggy surprises coming through the

back door in dark baggy disguises,

it peaks the nervousness, the whole blood temperature rises,

and for safety purposes, word to the wise, avert your eyes, and

sit in silence.

The doors close, the night bus pulls away, so now there’s no

getting off,

And if you’re wise enough! You’ll know not all of us! Aboard

this bus! Are blood cells…

Nah,

One of us is virus.

Geh-geh.

Some toxic irreversible shits are bound to visit the night bus,

One shouldn’t settle disputes on the night bus,

Shouldn’t settle disputes after ten at night, boss,

You’re only gonna get infected by some virus.

I jump the night bus,

And it’s packed,

That’s the only reason I came in through the back,

Cos when it’s packed the driver won’t open the front,

But I ain’t gonna stand in the rain like a cunt

As soon as I’m on, I realise I’m the only virus one

Apart from the driver chauffeuring in the front,

But he’s sat there in the glass cage

which implies that he’s had his last days of virus rage

Anti-viral oppression probably rendered him depressed and

submissive

bereft of the spirit,

compliant, not a breath of defiance left in him

since they arrested him and disinfected him.

I’m on the lower deck,

The bus is so rammed, I have to stand, by the door,

I keep getting (Nudge.)

Nudged in the back by this (Nudge.)

Drunk prick and I swear (Nudge.)

He nudges me one more –

‘Oi oi oi, watch it yeah. You see me? I’m standing here. I’m

already pissed off tonight so – ’ (Nudge.)

I must look like a pussy,

Because this dickhead pushes me,

The whole bus goes silent,

How can I not get violent?

I look this blood cell in the eye like ‘what’s happening?’

I crack my knuckles, step to him and start cackling,

Other passengers back away fearfully nattering,

I get to happy slapping him, blood cell splattering,

Batter him, nothing else mattering,

Bet he won’t ever, consider, doing that again.

Get off the bus,

Don’t have to run,

I just walk away,

That’s how it’s done,

No need to panic,

Keep calm and carry on.

Scene Two

We hear a voicemail left by RAYMOND. ARINZÉ listens to it.

VOICEMAIL. Welcome to your EE voicemail.

To listen to your messages, press one –

(Beep.)

You have, one, new message,

left today, at,

6:47 a.m.

As our two MUSICIANS become RAYMOND and DONNA and caption is projected above their heads reading:

‘Raymond, Arinzé’s friend, thirty-three, chef.
Donna, Raymond’s wife, thirty, school teacher, loves cycling.’

RAYMOND. Arinzé, hey dude, tis Raymond here.

Sorry I didn’t stick around last night to give you feedback,

I had daddy duties –

(Sound of the baby in his arms fretting, he shushes her.)

She’s been… difficult –

DONNA. Every time I change her diaper she does another shit!

RAYMOND. She’s been driving Donna crazy, so forgive me for keeping this brief.

Bro, I hope you appreciate me telling you this as a friend,

I had issues, with your story –

(The baby frets, as if responding to what he’s said, DONNA shushes her.)

I mean, the whole ‘guy beats someone up on a night bus’ thing?

It felt like another…

DONNA. Generic angry young black man!

(The baby begins to cry a little.)

As ARINZÉ listens he produces a balloon. He blows it up.

RAYMOND. I looked around and most of the audience were… most of them don’t look like us.

DONNA. They seemed to love it!

RAYMOND. As soon we walked out Donna turned to me and said ‘Arinzé sold out and wrote an urban play.’

D...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Contents
• Original Production
• Preface
• Dedication
• Onstage
• Tracklist
• Misty
• About the Author
• Copyright and Performing Rights Information