Absolute Hell

Rodney Ackland

• Publisher: Oberon Books
• Year: 2017
• Print ISBN: 9781870259194
• eBook ISBN: 9781783192199
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: British Drama
• Index: Literature

Condemned as a "libel on the British people" when it was first produced in 1951, Absolute Hell is set in a decaying West End drinking club at the end of the Second World War. The 1995 production at the Royal National Theatre starred Judi Dench and was directed by Anthony Page.

Act Two

SCENE ONE

A fortnight later. It is well on in the evening. There is a great deal of noise. One of the club’s three records is playing. DORIS can be seen serving drinks in the bar, talking over her shoulder to BILL, who is making arrangements about R.B. MONODY’s dinner. The TREACLE QUEEN (LETTICE) sways and teeters in the archway wondering to God what she’s doing in such a place. JULIA is in her usual chair by the Magicoal fire. HUGH is in the middle of the room, glass and cigarette in hand. CHRISTINE moves about, holding her left arm painfully. ELIZABETH and SAM are drinking together.

HUGH: (Shouting to make himself heard.)… And what if we do have a Soviet in this country! What has a Tory Government ever done for writers and artists? In Russia they’re of importance to the community. Who was in the very vanguard of the Russian Army when they entered Poland? The Moscow Art Theatre with performances of Chekhov and Maxim Gorky! The Russians don’t fall down in adulation before second-rate opportunist writers and painters while first-rate artists die on their feet of neglect and discouragement! Oh, I’m sorry… (He has made a movement with his arm and upset his whisky over R.B. MONODY who is on her way in smoking a cigar.)

R.B.: Thivilithed behaviour, I thuppothe, we mutht leave to the bourgeoithee and the thecond-rate artithth.

SAM: (Coming down and flinging his arm round HUGH.) Ah, come on, Hugh, come and have a drink with us.

LETTICE: (Swivelling her head round like a searchlight.) Anybody who voted Labour today ought to be shot.

ELIZABETH: Well, you’d better shoot me, then, Lettice, to start with!

BILL: Excuse me, do you mind, that’s Miss Monody’s chair. Sorry and all that.

CHRISTINE: (To MAURICE, as he comes in.) Maurice, darling, it’s my birthday. I’m thirty-eight and – (Indicating her left arm.) I’m crippled with rheumatism. (She has run across to him and now holds her face out.) What about a lovely birthday kiss?

MAURICE: (Kissing her.) Six silk shirts and my maroon velvet dressing-gown, Cyril Clatworthy’s stolen. Just wait till that one brings the car round tonight!

CHRISTINE: Now darling, no unpleasant scenes. I’ve got my members to consider. (Peering at a bottle wrapped in brown paper, which MAURICE holds behind his back.) What have you got there?

MAURICE: (Handing it to her.) A present for you!

CHRISTINE: Oh darling, you are a sweetie-pie! What is it? (She tears at the wrappings.)

LETTICE: (To ELIZABETH.) I consider you’re a traitor… I’d have your sort run out of the country… I’ll have you barred from the Nut House!

ELIZABETH: (Rushing across to her.) Really Lettice! It’s people like you who make me long for a revolution!

LETTICE: My dear, I can’t wait. I’ve already booked my tumbril.

ELIZABETH: Well, look out for me, won’t you, amongst the tricoteuses – I wouldn’t miss for anything seeing your empty head falling in the basket!

LETTICE: (Marie Antoinette herself.) Fuck orf.

ELIZABETH: (As she crosses back to SAM.) Well, one thing that bitch has done for me, I’ve changed my mind about voting Labour.

SAM: Yeah?

ELIZABETH: From now on I’m voting Communist.

SAM: Aw, you’ll never get to the polling station.

ELIZABETH: All right then, ring up a car-hire and I’ll go and vote Communist now. And don’t look at me like that, Sam, it really does irritate me when I’m being serious.

JULIA: Oh my dear, look what Christine’s got! – and a magnum!

SAM: Hey Christine, is that real?

CHRISTINE: (To MAURICE.) Angel! But where did you get it?

MAURICE: Veuve Clicquot ’26!

CHRISTINE: (Wrinkling her nose, smiling and blinking at him.) Darling, not a word – I’ll take it upstairs, we’ll have a little party in my flat.

MAURICE: (Calling after her as she makes for the staircase.) Don’t ask me what it cost!

LETTICE: (At the window.) My dear! There’s Michael Crowley with that frightful tart from next door.

ELIZABETH: How too heavenly! (Hurrying to join her.) It isn’t true!… But they’re divine together! Sammie, do come and look at Michael Crowley and Fifi –

MAURICE: (As he cranes over LETTICE’s shoulder.) Swaying into the Bunch of Grapes!

LETTICE: (Marie Antoinette again.) Would you mind not breathing down my neck and fingering my bottom.

MAURICE is seized with convulsions of silent laughter while ELIZABETH lets rip with a rich rude Saturday night peal. Without a glance at either of them LETTICE goes unsteadily to the bar room.

BILL: Your sherry, Arbe. (Sotto voce.) And it’s all fixed up about the steaks. But there’s only one – it’s all right, I’ll have something else.

R.B.: If you inthitht. You get plenty of meat in the Navy don’t you Pooth.

BILL: Oh stacks of it, Arbe.

MAURICE: (Clapping SAM on the back.) Well, you old rough-necked G.I. – Britain’s latest heart-throb!

ELIZABETH: (Putting her arm through SAM’s.) Oh darling, I can’t wait to see the tests – are you pleased with them? – how does he come out?

MAURICE: But a cup, dear – which I do assure you thousands of members will be up for. (Splutters of silent laughter through which he adds:) Of the audience I mean, of course.

SAM: Hey Doris! What about those two Scotches?

DORIS: (Snappily.) If you wait. I’m doing the whole work of the damn club tonight.

ELIZABETH: No but seriously, Maurice, what should be the next move? I mean ought Sam to get some terrib...

Table of contents

• Front Cover
• Half-Title Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Contents
• Introduction
• Characters
• Act One
• Act Two