Flesh and Bone

Eliot Warren, Elliot Warren

• Publisher: Nick Hern Books
• Year: 2018
• Print ISBN: 9781848427501
• eBook ISBN: 9781788500715
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: British Drama
• Index: Literature

A vivid and fast-paced ride through a working-class London estate, fusing Shakespeare-inspired lyricism with Cockney accents.

First seen at the Etcetera Theatre, London, in December 2016, Elliot Warren's play Flesh and Bone moved to the Pleasance Dome at the 2017 Edinburgh Festival Fringe (where it won a Fringe First, amongst other awards), and subsequently to the Adelaide Fringe (where it was overall winner of the Best Theatre Award) and Soho Theatre, London, in 2018.

Flesh and Bone won the 2019 Olivier Award for Outstanding Achievement in Affiliate Theatre.

Scene One

The Boozer

REISS. Now here be a monster! A savage, a fork-tongued devil of barbaric proportions. A villainous character who goes by the name of Terrence, Terry or Tel, whichever you prefer coz he ain’t that fussed.

TERRENCE. I ain’t that fussed.

REISS. Tel’s lady friend is Kel, Kelly to some but to me usually Kel, for one syllable is easier to yell when one has run out of paper on the shitter. Kel is a corker. I’m that dastardly crooked fellow’s brother, and my name is Reiss, you cannot really shorten Reiss like Terry so that is that. My brother and I live alongside his soon-to-be wife and her grandad. This foursome did not choose this life, for we be poor and must squash together under one roof so that our bills do get paid on time. Now, below our sorry little box within which we reside is –

TERRENCE. The Lion!

EVERYONE. The Boozer!

TERRENCE. Our Church for better a word!

REISS. A red-bricked Mecca, where there was never a queue.

TERRENCE. Gold did flow, darts were thrown and dogs were allowed in too.

REISS. Because John behind the bar was a fucking legend, he understood that animals had feelings just like me and you.

TERRENCE. We were sat in the corner it was a dreary noon some Tuesday a while back.

The music abruptly halts and switches to some muted sports commentary playing in the foreground. GRANDAD takes on the role of ‘John the Barman’.

REISS. The Hammers were spanking Millwall three–nil, Tel was ordering a pint of something German, a pale ale for his missus and a packet of dry-roasted nuts, lovely!

TERRENCE. Fucked – I was, as John had poured the bastards and I was two nick short.

REISS. My pockets were dry from the other night, a round of chicken and chips for silly bollocks and his soon-to-be wife –

TERRENCE. I gave Reiss a dejected look.

REISS. He looked out of sorts, but what the fuck could I do?

TERRENCE. Sorry John pal I’m two nick short, how aboutcha turn a blind one and I give it to yah tomorrow day?

GRANDAD. Ney!

REISS. He spat.

TERRENCE. I winced, I licked my teeth, did this cunt want beef? Just keep the poxy peace and let me leave with my pint, my ale and my fucking nuts. Fore I ram my fist into that rotund belly of yours and pull out your rotten fucking guts!

REISS. John looked at Tel through glazed over eyes. He’s heard it all before…

GRANDAD. Liberty-taking bastards we should charge at the door.

TERRENCE. Half past bloody four, ain’t even had me scampi and chips and my pockets are penniless. I’m fuming, I’m marching about like a minotaur trapped in its murky labyrinth, when Kel, my lovely sweet Kelly Baby gel with her lovely arse jumps up and hollers:

KELLY. Fuck me a score! Look babe a fucking twenty in me bag!

TERRENCE. That fucking slag!

KELLY. Drinks are on me, get me some scampi! You can have the chips I’m on a diet.

TERRENCE. There you are John you massive bell-end, I want my change and I’ll have three plates of scampi and a mountain of thinly cut, deep-fried potatoes thank you good sir. I wrapped my fingers rand my icey chalice and neck a good chunk of golden fluid.

GRANDAD. You’re still two pound shy.

TERRENCE. What! Why? I spat, glass in hand like a caveman’s tool.

GRANDAD. Scampi’s a fiver, with chips that’s six, your pint is four, your ale is four and fifty pence and those nuts set you back another two. YOU – who gave me six and a fifty pence and your missus that score, I need two pound more or OP IT.

REISS. Shit a fucking pig John, Tel don’t take kindly to torment.

KELLY. His face curled gargoyle-like. An almighty strain did invade his nut, flush with fury I did spot a vein, with girth like a whale, begin to pulsate.

TERRENCE. I raised my chalice in the air and threw it, hard, across the bar… Where it met with an unfortunate soul named Jamal. Hard as nails, with a screw loose like myself.

REISS. Now, Jamal and our lot went back a fair way, played in the car park with shit on sticks on hot summer days, not no more though, we grew out of that, now Terrence and Jamal like to scrap, almost lovingly like, but probably not.

JAMAL. AH! Who dare disturb my quiet pint before work? Tel you shit, I’ll stab you in your eye and have my way with your bitch!

TERRENCE. Shit.

REISS. Do I defend my brother and fight to the death or do I take Kel back to Grandad at the flat, smoke a joint and fall into bed?

TERRENCE. Reiss, take my hand let’s fend off this fork-tongued cunt together, stand proud on our sacred land.

REISS. So I did band, brothers united, side by side to fend off this beast, this snarling monster, Jamal the Cyclops.

The brothers rib and taunt JAMAL, who bites back. Heaps of testosterone is batted back and forth.

KELLY. John was slapping the bar, tantrum-like, something spewed from his ugly chops about –

GRANDAD. Not in this bar you won’t!

JAMAL hurls a beer bottle at TERRENCE and REISS and it smashes behind them on the wall. Everyone suspends the chaos for a brief moment of disbelief and then TERRENCE reaches for a chair and heaves it in JAMAL’s direction. The fight is instantly slowed down, everything played out in half speed.

Mozart begins, ‘Piano Concerto No. 21’.

KELLY. Tables turnt, bar stools swam the flood of stale air like giant insects, Jamal rose and swung his bear paw across the bar top and it crashed into several wines and pints.

Glass flies, cracks and splinters, causing tiny explosions of razor-sharp shards.

A large triangular piece meets with John’s cheek, rouge rushes, claret all over the deck, slice, a bloody mess.

REISS. Tel and I are blind to the crime, side by side, as we proceed towards the giant Jamal.

TERRENCE. I wrap my fingers round to create a smashing device and lift it high above me head.

REISS. Tel looked wild, like a barbarian at war, I watched as his fist hit down on to Jamal’s head.

KELLY. Cracked it did like an egg.

JAMAL crashes to the deck. The music stops and everything catches up with itself, we are in real time again.

REISS. His eyes rolled about, and we thought that David had triumphed over the great Goliath… But nay, it angered the beast some more.

The family huddle together whilst JAMAL gets to his feet, in a moment of panic, disorder and chaos, TERRENCE runs towards the gigantic JAMAL who holds out his hands and wraps them around TERRENCE’s neck, who is then lifted off of his feet.

JAMAL. I grabbed at this little prick’s throat and dug my fingers deep, You peasant, you BUMBACLAT, you fool!

KELLY. In all his valour, with his most mightily efforts, Tel did roar…

TERRENCE manages a pathetic nothing of a noise. He is thrown to the ground and instantly goes for JAMAL, the scene slows again, apart from each narrator.

REISS. I reckon he would have tried to slew this bastard back, whereby Jamal would have broken Tel’s sorry little back, so the fact he was choking was helping the twat – a Catch-22 I’d say?

KELLY. For christ’s sake do summin Reiss, please!

REISS. Fuck me… A shiny pint by my side I reached for this killing device.

KELLY. SMACK.

The scene thumps into real time again.

He thumped it across Jamal’s head – right round the back, the big twat flopped ard and released Tel, the little fucktard.

TERRENCE. The place was a war zone of wicked proportion. Kel was on her feet, scampi tucked in a cloth, I grab my nuts and wink at my brother, what a legend, what a boss.

REISS. I cock my head towards the door, Kel whips round the table and we leave this sorry sight.

TERRENCE. This ruckus, this rowdy royal rumble of primitive delights, all on a Tuesday, in the broad daylight…

GRANDAD. And don’t forget karaoke on Saturday night!

Blackout.

TERRENCE rushes offstage, JAMAL jumps to his feet and exits. The big-band music closes the scene in one final moment of swinging revelry.

Scene Two

Brigitte Bardot

KELLY appears in a spotlight.

KELLY. Like a deep and darkly hole with which there is no foreseeable bottom, my woes see no end. This part I play, this face I pretend, puts pallisades between reality and what emits from my not-so-decorous defence. But I ain’t no damsel in distress, be sure about that, fuckers. I swim with the sharks, play ball in the lion’s den. You see, round these trenches I am a foot soldier in a cea...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Contents
• Original Production
• Introduction
• Thanks
• Dedication
• Characters
• Note on Text
• Prologue
• Flesh and Bone
• About the Author
• Copyright and Performing Rights Information