LONDYNCZYZY

Stefan Jaruzelski

Episode 1

Act 1 Scene 1:

A large house in Islington. The owner, Sir Ken, a high ranking civil servant, is hunched over a huge desk scribbling on a government report. The door bursts open. Enter Annie, his wife, a statuesque thirty odd year old with a fine embonpoint visible through her low-cut see-through blouse.

Annie: I’m well-pissed off Ken. This marriage is goin nowhere fast. You are a miserable old git, your ears are too big and you smell. We never go out anywhere coz you’re always working and I’m not sure I’d want to anyway. I’ve had enough I tell you. I’m out of here – and I’m taking little Kenny with me.

Sir Ken: Wot’s come over you then you stroppy slag? Aven’t I give you everythin you’ve asked for – a platinum credit card and a chauffeur driven car to Bluewater every week? Is there some fucker else on the scene then?

Annie: Yis, now you mention it. I’ve bin avin it off with my new geezer Count Ron. In fact I’m up the duff. We’re settin ourselves up in a nice little gaff in Notting Hill if you must know – and little Kenny will be going to Harrow where Count Ron was educated.

Sir Ken: Ang on a minute you cheeky c**t. Little Kenny int going nowhere – and neither are you you bleedin whore. I’m not givin you a divorce an if you do set up with that Count Ron I’ll have the pair of you blackballed out of every club an boozer in the Smoke. I’ve got influence remember – I’m on good terms with Lord Mandelson.

Annie: You pointy eared bastard Ken! After all I’ve done!! I was just a 12 year old when you came sniffin round. You was 50 then you decrepit old git! All that bollocks about a hidden lollipop in your pants. I could have you banged up even now I reckon. I’ve got a right to a bit of happiness with Count Ron before I die.

Sir Ken: You’ve got no right to nuffink you cow. Remember I’m top dog in the Home Office so no-one’s goin to bang me up. Now piss off and come back in wearin your nurse’s uniform an bring me a G&T.

Act 1 Scene 2

A cornfield in the middle of Manchester, a small village just north of Watford. A couple are prancing through the golden stalks. She, a gorgeous young nymphet in a very short skirt what rides up whenever the wind blows; he is a somewhat older bloke with a serious beard and sandals.

Len: Gosh Kitty, wot a great day. It’s lovely out here in the country away from that filthy Londyn. An good of you to see me. I knew, when our hands touched as we stubbed out our fags outside the Frog an Firkin that you wasn’t indifferent to me. I know you was keen on that toerag Count Ron but now I sense you’ve given him the elbow.

Kitty: More like he elbowed me Len. But it’s true I am goin short of a bit of the old pork sword. Even though you are a much older bloke I think you’re well fit. Is it all that bikin you do back an to from Manchester?

Len: No Kitty – not just bikin – I’m nuts about farmin an all. I like nowt better than reapin an stookin an muckin out t’pigs. If you marry me Kit it’ll be like a paradise here just off Deansgate – better than that dirty hellhole Londyn an your disgustin brother-in-law Steve an his slut sister Annie. Wot d’you say? I’ve got loadsamoney and a few hundred acres just down the road. You could be in the Trafford Centre every weekend – an there’s a Harvey Nicks round the corner from our cottage apartment at No1 Deansgate floor 15. Wot d’you say?

Kitty: Oooo yis Len! Lets do it now! Right here in the cornfield among the golden stalks! I’m hoochin me skirt up. I’m gaggin for it.

Len: Er…ang on a mo Kit. We don’t want to flatten the crop – be vandalism that would. Let’s go back to the motor an have a bunk up on the back seat.

Act 2 Scene 1

A sea-side apartment in Marbella. Annie is listlessly flicking through the shopping channels on satellite TV while Count Ron is immersed in a two day old Daily Mail.

Annie: Christ this is borin Ron! I miss Londyn an all me old mates at the Frog an Firkin. I miss little Kenny too. I don’t even know what school he’s at. Couldn’t we sneak back incognito like?

Count Ron: No we couldn’t Annie. That gobshite husband of yours would have us bang to rights as soon as we stepped off the plane an nobody in the Frog would speak to us coz we’re disgraced. Adultery is a serious crime in Londyn. Why don’t you watch them Eastenders videos I sent for while I just nip out to the racetrack? Oh..an get that drippin tap fixed too. There’s the number of one of them Polish plumbers in the local rag.

Annie: >sigh< Yis Ron.

Act 2 Scene 2

Later - the same apartment. The doorbell rings. Annie opens the door to reveal Stefan the plumber. He is tanned and fit and wears nothing under his blue denim bib overall. He has a Saddam Hussein moustache and an afro hair do. His hairy chest sprouts out over the top of his overall. Music from a Bee Gees’ album begins to play – first softly and then louder.

Stefan: I am Stefan the plumber at your service ma’am. You very sexy lady if I may say. I like blouse with buttons missing. I much better plumber than local Panchos from the Manana Plumb Shop. You made right choice. As fellow northern European I more at home with Tolstoy and Dostoievski than that Cervantes shite that local plumbers go on about, so perhaps we have chat later on Russian 19C novel. Now what is problem? Perhaps your drain hole is running hot..

Annie: Ooo Stefan you’ve proper swept me off me feet. Yis praps we could have a chat later on the complete works of Gogol wot I got from the Oxfam shop last week. But first it’s the tap. Count Ron, my partner, sez it’s driving him mad and distracts him from giving me a good seeing to.

They move over to the sink. As Annie reaches over to the tap Stefan also reaches out and places his hand on hers. The Bee Gees music swells. Stefan bends Annie over the units then carries her into the bedroom. In the now empty lounge the 42" plasma TV clicks on.

Voice on TV: This is channel Britchav. Here is a newsflash. Exiled Britchav Count Ron today tried to shoot himself at the Marbella racetrack. The bullet glanced of his head and hit a Moroccan bookmaker in the leg. The bookmaker had no papers and was put down immediately by track security. We now go over to the General Franco Gunshots Unit at the city hospital.

Count Ron: No it wasn’t the bet. I’m used to losing after years of following the tips in the Mail. It’s her indoors. We’re both getting pissed off here in the constant sunshine and occasionally we yearn for something other than egg an chips and a pint of Watneys when we go out for a nosh. In short we miss Londyn. And I think she’s aving it off with a local plumber Sancho. I comes in last week to find a copy of Don Quixote on the table with a marker in Chapter 36. Fishy innit? It’s a fact that no-one born north of Barcelona ever got past Chapter 4. I should have married that tasty hornbag Kitty Sherbertdip – she was well up for it. But now she’s hooked up with some northern yokel. Bugger innit?

Act 3 Scene 1

The cottage at No1 Deansgate floor 15.

Len: Well I’m off now Kit. Have you made me snap tin up? I want a ploughman’s and a flagon of mead – not that Londyn shite you did last week. I was a laughing stock in the big meadow when I gets out a prawn an avocado ciabattia wrap with a Harvey Wallbanger to wash it down.

Kitty: Where exactly is this big meadow Len? I’ve bin walkin round and lookin out the window and I can’t see nothing like a cornfield. I sometimes wonder if your not snappin a bit off with some darkie peasant floosie from Moss Side. Last week for instance you came home with your pants on back to front.

Len: Don’t be daft Kit. Look on the map. You’ll find Castlefields just at the other end of Deansgate. What d’you want me to do – bring back some horseshit? Well I’ll be off. Oh and try an get that bath outlet fixed – it takes half an hour to go down. I’ve written down the number of a Polish plumber on the pad.

Act 3 Scene 2

The cottage later the same day. The door bell rings. Kitty opens to find Jorge the Polish Plumber. He is dressed in a surgeon’s white coat emblazoned with the words ROD-U-LIKE. He carries a doctor’s style leather bag with a Louis Vuitton logo. He is tall, lithe with thick black hair brushed back like George Clooney.

Jorge: I plumber Jorge from Polski Plumbo high class pipe repairs for the Manc elite – we have many exalted clients like Lord Rooney and Sir Ferguson. That very nice frock madam – or is it belt? Suits your lovely legs – do they meet at top? Your drain hole it needs rodding?

Kitty: Do come in Jorge. You look well fit for an oik plumber – and such clean nails.

Jorge: I take up plumbing on advice of friend Stefan who says there are many perks of job. Before this I was concert pianist in Lodz.

Kitty: Right. I’ll just put on this CD of Murray Perahia playing Chopins Etudes Op 25 then while I fill the bath to show you how it blocks.

Jorge: Ah! The divine Frederic AND Murray! This music excites me greatly! It always gives me, how you say? – the horn.

They retire to the bathroom.

Jorge: I think proper test is if we both strip bollock naked and plunge in water together to raise level above overflow.

Kitty: Oooo yis Jorge! Whatever you say.

They get into bath. The sound of Chopin’s Etudes gets louder.

Jorge: I now will rod your drain hole and rapidly stick plunger in and out to make it fine.

Act 4 Scene 1

Greek Street Soho Londyn. Annie, disguised as an ugly person meets her son little Kenny (now 18) and his friend Cedric

Annie: Kenny! It’s you!!

Kenny: Bugger off you old slag – and no I don’t want a Big Issue.

Annie: It’s me Kenny! Your mum!

She whips off the grey wig and chucks the old mac in litter bin to reveal her fine embonpoint.

Kenny: God! It is you mum! Wot you doin here in Greek street? Dad’d have you banged up if he knew. He’s well in with the Home Sec Jackie Collins – she’ll do anything he says. He’s still mad about you runnin off with Count Ron. And what happened to the other sprog you were havin?

Annie: It died. You’re all I’ve got left Kenny. But what you doin poncin about in Greek street when you should be in school. Didn’t we have you down for Harrow?

Kenny: Harrow?! Oooo no! I’m being privately educated at Lord Mandelson’s mansion in South Ken. I’m taking PPE.

Annie: PPE?

Kenny: Politics, Philosophy and Eroticism. In the mornings a dry old turd from Cambridge comes in and lecturers on the life and works of Herbert Morrison. Then in the afternoon Alistair Campbell speaks on Machiavelli – or to give the course its full title – That Fucking Crafty Twat Machiavelli. In the evening Lord Mandelson arrives and after an excellent dinner all three of us, me, Cedric and Pete strip off, smear ourselves with baby oil and wrestle on the rug. The winner is the one who finishes up wedged between the other two like the ham in a sandwich. It’s all very Greek – his lordship is very good at it.

Annie: But what about girls Kenny? Cedric an Pete don’t sound like suitable company for a young lad.

Kenny: Girls!!? Wash your mouth out mum! Pete says sleeping with one is like going to bed with a porpoise. I’d never get a distinction in eroticism if I tried that.

Annie: Praps you’d like to come and stay with us at Marbella Kenny. There’s girls down there might change your mind. I’ve got a fine embonpoint but these days, with implants, some of them are out here. (holds her cupped hands out)

Kenny: I’ve told you mum I’m not interested in embonpoint and neither is Cedric or Pete. So I suggest you bugger off back to Marbella quick before dad or Jackie Collins sees you.

Annie: Ooooo Kenny luv!!! You ungrateful gobshite!!

Act 4 Scene 2

Greek street. The flat of Stefan’s daughter Wislawa. Annie, distraught, puts down a Biggles book and speaks to Stefan who is polishing a 22mm copper solder ring bend.

Annie: Me whole life’s a fuck-up Stefan! I’m a failure. I’ve lost everything. Kenny won’t see me and Count Ron is distant and always in the boozer or at the racetrack. My old mates in the Frog an Firkin treat me like shit.

Stefan: You still have very fine embonpoint Annie. I buy video camera and we make plenty money on internet. You will be star like Marilyn Monroe, Paris Hilton or Edith Evans.

Annie: No Stef. It’s no good. I’m going to top myself. I think I’ll chuck myself under a train.

Stefan: No not train Annie. Think of trauma for poor driver. I have better idea. You take out big life insurance favouring Kenny and me then you run into Stockwell tube station dressed as Muslim and shouting Allah Akbar! Police shoot you in head. You escape stigma of suicide which is crime for Catholics and me and Kenny get lots of money. Good eh?

Annie: Hmmm..it might work.

Stefan: Tomorrow I take you to Burqa Bargains next to Finsbury Mosque. Then across to the Bomb Exchange for explosive belt. Because of your fine embonpoint it will be invisible.

Fade Out – End of Episode 1

Will Kitty and Jorge become an item? Next week Count Ron joins the Marbella Town Council and bans Don Quixote from the library. Will Kenny stop shirt lifting after he spends half an hour on the trampoline with Jordan? Will Annie really get shot now that Commissioner Blair has been sacked? Or will she become Bin Laden’s new squeeze in a cave in Pakistan? Tune in next week to Channel Polski (47) and find out.