Sorry, You're Not a Winner (NHB Modern Plays)

Samuel Bailey

• Publisher: Nick Hern Books
• Year: 2022
• Print ISBN:
  9781839040580
• eBook ISBN:
  9781788505017
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: British Drama
• Index: Literature

Liam and Fletch grew up together. Born on the same street. Best mates since primary. Inseparable. The only difference was while Fletch was getting suspended from school, Liam was studying. And now he's going to Oxford. But with Liam gone, who's going to keep Fletch out of trouble? Sorry, You're Not a Winner explores aspiration, social mobility and getting caught between classes. It asks: if 'making it' means leaving everything you know and everyone you love behind – what's the point? This powerful and striking play by Samuel Bailey was first produced in 2022 by Paines Plough and Theatre Royal Plymouth, in association with the University of Plymouth's School of Society and Culture, before touring nationally. 'An intricate and moving study of social mobility... gripping and nuanced... Bailey continues his development as one of the most socially engaged writers working in theatre today' - Guardian

ONE

The car park outside ‘Bowl X’– bowling alley, arcade, pool hall – Worcester. Evening.

LIAM, eighteen, jeans and a hoodie. A football at his feet.

FLETCH, also eighteen, tracksuit, holds a can of lager and a small bottle of vodka.

FLETCH. And I said to him, Jamie, mate, I’m gonna give yer a choice, cus that’s only fair, I’m gonna give yer a choice and that choice is either say sorry to me now for what you said or I’ll spark you right out front of yer mate and don’t think that I won’t neither.

FLETCH holds out the drinks.

Vodka or Kroner?

LIAM. I’ll wait ’til we get there.

FLETCH. Don’t be stupid, no one will be there for another hour. No one decent. Have a drink. Do you want the vodka or the can of Kronenbourg?

LIAM. Give us the can, then.

FLETCH hands LIAM the can.

FLETCH. It’s been rolling around down there for about a week, mind.

FLETCH unscrews the vodka bottle and takes a swig.

Rank.

Shit. Cheers! Here’s to you being a clever cunt.

LIAM. Nice one.

They bump can/bottle.

So, what did he say, then?

FLETCH. What did who say?

LIAM. Jamie, obviously.

FLETCH. Right, yeah. He said, ‘that’s not much of a choice’.

LIAM. Did he? Said that?

FLETCH. He fucking did, you know. So, I said, Jamie mate, sometimes in life the choices we get to make aren’t always the ones you’d choose, if you follow me, and to be honest the choice between getting your head caved in and saying sorry seems a pretty clear fucking decision, as I see it.

LIAM. Jamie Connolly always was stubborn.

FLETCH. Thick, I call it.

Shall we get some sniff in for tonight? We are celebrating.

LIAM. Yeah, finally getting away from you.

FLETCH. Funny.

LIAM. But I en’t getting it from Gaz. Not after last time.

FLETCH. How dare you. He’d have to pay me to take that gak. I get the finest beak in all the shire.

LIAM. Got a number?

FLETCH. Bex’ll get us one.

LIAM. Picking her up, are we?

FLETCH. She’s on tills ’til eight. After.

LIAM opens the can, which fizzes in his face.

LIAM. Shit!

FLETCH. Told yer. Shannon’s going and all, you know.

LIAM. What, tonight?

FLETCH. Apparently. Could give her one before you go.

LIAM. Give her one before I… She en’t interested.

FLETCH. You never think any birds are interested in yer.

LIAM. And somehow you always think they are.

FLETCH. I’m a handsome lad.

LIAM. Yeah, right.

FLETCH. And I’ve got a big cock. It just gives yer confidence having a weapon like that between yer legs.

LIAM. You do know I’ve seen it, don’t yer? It’s like an acorn.

FLETCH. When have you seen it?

LIAM. Loads of times. Every Sunday morning when we played for Colts.

FLETCH. That was under-thirteens! I’ve had a growth spurt since then.

LIAM. Must have been some spurt. Go on, then. Let’s see.

LIAM tries to bag FLETCH. FLETCH fends him off.

FLETCH. As if. Get away, you bender. I’m en’t getting my knob out in a car park like some dogger. Anyway, it’d take too long to get it back in me trackies.

LIAM. Sure it would.

LIAM sets down his can and picks up a few small stones. Weighing them in his hand.

FLETCH watches, swigs his vodka.

Be loads of fit girls down there, anyway.

FLETCH. Fit as Shannon Bishop?

LIAM. Yeah, must be. Got to be at least a few in the whole year. Find out tomorrow, I guess.

FLETCH. Posh birds are well frigid.

LIAM. How would you know? You don’t even know any.

LIAM starts throwing the stones off into the distance.

Not aiming for anything. Just throwing.

FLETCH. You’ll come back up though, won’t yer?

LIAM. Course, yeah. All the time.

FLETCH. For the odd City game and that?

LIAM. Obviously. And I’ve gotta see my mum, en’t I?

FLETCH. I’ll pop round. Keep her company.

LIAM half-heartedly chucks a stone at FLETCH.

LIAM. Dickhead.

FLETCH. Nah, she’ll miss yer, mate.

LIAM. I’ll be back. Loads.

FLETCH. ’Member Pricey’s birthday, here? Did that all-nighter after up the rec?

LIAM. Ginge put Macca through Time Crisis 4? Yeah.

FLETCH. They still en’t fixed it. Fucking Kelly Burton. Spreading shit as usual.

LIAM. Took me weeks to get the top score on that.

How long’s he got left now?

FLETCH. Macca? Eighteen months. Something like that.

LIAM. You ever been to see him?

FLETCH. Once I did, yeah. They’ve moved him now, down south, some place near London. Got a letter from him. Full of cockney pricks, he said. Could ring ’em and see if they wanna come down the party, if you want? Not Macca obviously… the rest of ’em might be up for it?

LIAM. Could do. It is my last night.

FLETCH. Or just see ’em when yer back next?

LIAM. Yeah… I’ll see ’em when I’m back next.

A beat. They swig.

FLETCH pulls out some scratch cards.

FLETCH. She proper likes yer. Shannon. Always has.

(Scratching.) Ah, you little fucker. Nearly had it. They could be cherries, couldn’t they?

She’s tidy, mate. I’m telling yer. You should have a go.

LIAM. Have a go. Do you listen to yourself when you talk? She was in my sets, I think I’d know if she fancied me.

FLETCH. She had that boyfriend, didn’t she, then? That fucking nonce Dan Bellamy, getting with her when she was in Year 9 and he was like twenty-fucking-two.

Now, yer leaving, en’t yer?

LIAM. And that’s a good thing, is it?

FLETCH. Makes you interesting, dunnit? Different.

LIAM. I did actually get with her once. Ages ago, before she was with Ry. That summer we used to hang out on the Biddles’ field behind the petrol garage, before they built the new houses on it. We were down there with everyone and you went off with Dave and Matty and Bex had to go in and it ended up just me and her and… Only getting off with each other and that but…

FLETCH. Lucky bast...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title page
• Contents
• Original Production Details
• Dedication
• Acknowledgements
• Characters
• Sorry, You’re Not a Winner
• About the Author
• Copyright and Performing Rights Information