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Who's Afraid of the Working Class?
Andrew Bovell, Patricia Cornelius, Melissa Reeves, Christos Tsiolkas, Irine Vela
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eBook - ePub
Who's Afraid of the Working Class?
Andrew Bovell, Patricia Cornelius, Melissa Reeves, Christos Tsiolkas, Irine Vela
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Five plays are intertwined in one in this story of fringe dwellers living in an age of social, economic and moral deprivation. Mostly without work, and politically disengaged, they work at survival.'With intelligence, well-judged humour and the searching qualities of truly memorable theatre, the play peels away political propaganda and notions of correctness to present a candid, difficult, searing portrait of the poor and marginalised.' â Sydney Morning HeraldWho's Afraid of the Working Class? was adapted into the feature film Blessed.
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LittératureSous-sujet
ThéùtreSUIT
KENNETT BOY MONOLOGUE
A YOUNG BOY in his mid-teens comes onto the stage.
I love Jeff Kennett. I think heâs a good guy, a sexy guy. I like it that heâs tall, I like it that heâs smart, I like it that he doesnât give a shit about anyone. Heâs an arsehole, I know that. Heâs a cunt. Itâs obvious. Heâs a silver-spoon-up-his-arse cunt, he canât hide that, but I donât care. Heâs not whingeing all the time, not bludging, not making excuses. Heâs got style; he looks good and he knows it; heâs got class. Itâs written all over him. But, heâs not soft. Heâs not soft at all.
Not like my dad. No, not at all like my dad. My old man is one of those guys whoâs wasted his whole fucking life. He works a shit job, has for thirty fucking years, since he was a kid, pouring concrete. And, man, you should listen to him, listen to him go on about it. âIâm so tough, we brickies are so special.â Yeah, right. Hasnât done a fucking thing with his life. Hasnât seen the world, hasnât had an original thought. Nothing tough about him except his mouth and his forearms and even theyâre going to fat. My mumâs no different. Sheâs brain-dead as well.
My father hates Jeff Kennett, calls him scum, says heâs destroying the unions and the working class. But I can tell that deep down inside he respects him. Youâve gotta. Kennett doesnât give a shit about anyone, does whatever he likes. He even stands up to that ugly piece of shit, Howard. And thatâs the leader of his fucking party! Kennett is a legend. Bet my old man wouldnât mind being like that, instead of following orders all his fucking life. Weak cunt! Just a day, just one day, Iâd like to see my father be like Kennett. Just fucking once.
I want to go down on Kennett. When I do go down on a guy, when I come to that, itâll have to be someone like him. Tough. Arrogant. Knows what he wants. Thatâs my favourite wank dream. Iâm with school, an excursion to Parliament House. SomehowâI skip over this bit while Iâm pulling offâKennett and I end up in a lift. Itâs him and itâs me. Sometimes thereâs this other guy, some suited, young, wog guy I saw on the Channel Nine News, some wog guy who hangs around Kennett. Sometimes heâs there, banging away with us, sometimes he just watches. And then sometimes heâs not there at all.
The lift stops. Thereâs a moment that the light flicks off, then it flickers back on again. Kennett puts a hand on my shoulder. Heâs way tall, way taller than me. He notices Iâve got a stiffie in my school pants, Iâm stretching the cotton. Heâs dressed real fine. Beautiful suit, slim tie. He winks at me and then itâs on. Every time I wank to this, it changes. Sometimes heâs hairy, blonde curls, all over his chest and stomach. Sometimes heâs smooth. He doesnât take off his clothes, just opens his shirt, unzips the pants. I dream that his dick is squat and thick, and that when he comes, he comes in fucking buckets. Just pours the come over me, over the wog guy. Thatâs my favourite wank.
Fuck! I could come now. Man, I could come all over this fucking stage.
I wish I could tell my father about this dream. Maybe that would get the cunt alive. Poofter son...