SOIXANTE HUIT - SOIXANTE NEUF

Alex Crick

SCENE  1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9

SCENE ONE 

A student room , Lancaster University. May 1968. Lux, 19 and Harry,20 are busy packing holdalls. 

Lux: We must go. 

Harry: Sure. I’m not saying we shouldn’t.

Lux: What are you saying ?

Harry: I’m just making a point.

Lux:  A point ?

Harry: Can’t I make a point ?

Lux:  What is your point ?

Harry:  My point ?

Lux: Yes, what exactly is it..

Harry: You expect me to explain that !

Lux:  You don’t make yourself clear, Harry .

Harry: I make myself perfectly clear. I’m a language man. That’s my thing. Clarity of expression is my thing. You’re always jealous of the way I can explain myself. You think language is a female attribute. Well, my linguistic brain is pretty sharp, even though I’ve got bollocks.

Lux: I hadn’t noticed. What is your point anyway ?

Harry: If you can’t understand my point, Lux, my perfectly clearly expressed point, I see no reason to try to make it clearer.

Lux:  You don’t need to make it clearer. I’m not stupid.

Harry:  Did I say you were stupid ?

Lux:  You implied I was stupid.

Harry: How did I imply it ?

Lux: You said you didn’t need to make your point clearer, as if I needed it to be clearer to understand it.

Harry: You asked me to make it clearer.

Lux: Oh, Harry ! That’s so childish !

Harry:  Childish ?

Lux : Blaming me because you can’t make a point properly.

Harry: I can make a point absolutely clearly. The point is you can’t understand the point I make.

Lux: Well, what is your fucking point , Harry ?

Harry: My fucking point is the CRS are bastards.

Lux: Some fucking point ! Has the world been waiting for that piece of enlightenment !

Harry: I’m not saying it’s world-shattering, Lux. I’m just saying we’re going to Paris and the CRS are bastards.

Lux: Let me tell you something, Harry. They aren’t just bastards, they’re trained bastards.

Harry: Absolutely ! .

Lux:  What ?

Harry: My point precisely.

Lux: Your point ?

Harry: Exactly. Just what I was saying.

Lux: No, Harry. Just what I said .

Harry: Yeah, reitierating what I’d said.

Lux: Reiterating ? There was no reiterating, Harry. I was making a completely different point.

Harry: No, Lux. You were saying just the same as me. The CRS. Bastards. We’re going to Paris and those bastards are going to try to break our heads.

Lux: That’s what you’re saying. It’s not what I’m saying, Harry. It’s not what I’m saying at all.

Harry: Well what’s your point ?

Lux: What’s my point ?

Harry: Yeah, what exactly is the point you’re making because it isn’t clear to me in the slightest.

Lux: Harry, you’re just being obtuse.

Harry: I’m not obtuse, Lux. Many things I may be but obtuse is not one of them.

Lux: I didn’t say you were obtuse, I said you’re being obtuse.

Harry: What’s the difference ?

Lux: What’s the difference ?

Harry: Yeah, what’s the difference between being obtuse and being obtuse.

Lux: That’s just a fucking perverse question, Harry.

Harry: Perverse ?

Lux: Yes !

Harry: What’s perverse about wanting clarity ?

Lux: You’re not clarifying things, Harry, you’re just behaving like a baby.

Harry: No you’re behaving like a baby.

Lux: Are you trying to say you don’t want to go to Paris ?

Harry: That’s amazing !

Lux: Is that what you’re trying to say, because I can go on my own.

Harry: You don’t even speak French, Lux !

Lux: I’m not going sightseeing, Harry.

Harry: All the more reason to need French.

Lux: This is a matter of action.

Harry: So you think you’re going to go to Paris in the middle of a revolution and  you won’t have to talk to anyone ?

Lux: I can communicate.

Harry: And suppose you get arrested ?

Lux: I’ll contact the British consulate.

Harry: And say what ? I came to Paris to join the revolution and the bastards arrested me !

Lux: I still have the protection of my British passport, Harry, whatever I’m going to Paris for.

Harry: Well this is revolution Lux and in revolutions things get overthrown. Things get lost. Things get confused. And my advice is, if you’re going to Paris to make revolution be sure you can speak the lingo.

    A knock. Enter Spin.

Spin: Ready for off ?

Lux: Almost.

Spin: Got a little Molotov cocktail in your luggage, Lux ?

Harry: Do you know what a Molotov cocktail is, Spin ?

Spin: A bomb. Isn’t it ?

Harry: It has to be made in situ.

Lux: The expert.

Spin: I think you’re mad.

Harry: I don’t claim to be an expert.

Spin: My father says they should shoot the rioters.

Lux: They aren’t rioters, Spin.

Spin: They look like rioters to me !

Harry: Riots are the voice of the unheard.

Lux: Harry, it pisses me off the way you’re always dropping pithy little quotes you’ve read in a Sunday supplement.

Harry: How do you know I read it ?

Lux: You couldn’t invent something as succinct , Harry.

Harry: Are you saying I’m verbose ?

Spin: I should think my father knows more about it than you two anyway.

Lux:  Not verbose, just not very succinct. Your father’s a fascist, Spin.

Spin: As a matter of fact, he’s a Conservative.

Harry: Like she said. Isn’t that the same: verbose and not very succinct ? Aren’t they the same thing ?

Lux: All conservatives aren’t fascists, Harry. And no it isn’t. There’s a nuance of difference.

Spin: My father says, only the conservatives can sort out the economy.

Harry: Is that what I said ? That her father’s a fascist ? Isn’t that what you said, as a matter of fact ?

Lux: What I was pointing out, Harry, is that all conservatives aren’t fascists. That’s just a fundamental mistake in thinking.

Harry: No, I was just making the connection. There’s a nuance of difference !

Spin: I don’t know how you can be fagged. All that way for a fight. My father says you can’t beat the police at that game. They’re the best streets fighters in the world.

Harry: We’re going to Paris, Spin, not Basingstoke. In Paris they have two revolutions before breakfast. It’s a national pastime: 1789, 1848, 1870…...

Lux; This is the final conflict. Not a nuance of difference Harry, a very great difference.

Spin: How do you know ?

Lux: Because I’m armed with theory, Spin. Theory in my right hand, praxis in my left. This is a new world we’re making.

Spin: You couldn’t leave me some dope, could you ?

Lux: You know I don’t smoke.

Spin: What I really meant was, you know, the money for some dope. I haven’t had a spliff since Wednesday.

Harry: Why don’t you ask your father ? So verbose and not very clear is a nuance but fascist and conservative is a great deal of difference ?

Spin: I can’t. He sent me a hundred quid last week.

Harry: A hundred quid ? What the hell did you do with it ?

Spin: I don’t know. It just sort of, evaporated.

Harry: Went up in smoke.

Lux: I can’t afford it, Spin. Anyway, you owe me twenty quid. Yes, Harry. A great deal of difference. My parents are conservatives too.

Spin: I know. And I owe thirty to McGee and fifteen to Egger and ten to Brown and….

Lux: Don’t you care about what’s going on in the world !

Spin: No need to get all pre-menstrual !

Lux: I’m not pre-menstrual I’m angry. You should be angry. All you do is sit around smoking dope and dropping acid. You never open a book. This is a university, Spin. You’re supposed to take learning seriously.

Spin: But I’m so bored !

Lux: There’s a revolution going on in Paris and all you can say is you’re bored !

Spin: I’m like Emma Bovary. I’m a bored woman.

Lux: Why don’t you do something for a change ?

Spin: Like what in this place ? God, the north of England. All my friends went to Oxbridge, Durham and Bristol and I end up in Lancaster.

Harry : Durham’s in the north. And your dad isn’t a conservative, he’s a fascist.

Spin: Is it ?

Harry: If you were up there you’d be able to go to the Miners’ Gala. It’s  a great working-class festival.

Spin: Why are you two always talking about the working-class. Fuck the working-class. If they don’t like being working-class why don’t they get jobs with Barclays Bank like my father ?

Harry: All that dope has addled your brain, Spin.

Spin: All what dope ? God, can’t even get stoned round here ! Anyway you’re not working-class either of you so I don’t know why you’re always pissing on about it.

Harry: I may not be working-class but I’m from the working-class.

Spin: Your father’s a fucking property developer !

Harry: But he was born working-class.

Spin: And now he’s got money, so he isn’t working-class. Everybody wants money. It’s human nature.

Lux: That’s so ahistorical, Spin. I resent that, Harry. My father’s right-wing but he’s not a fascist.

Spin: So what ?

Lux: It’s a matter of ideology, not nature.

Spin: What the fuck’s ideology ?

Harry: Everything your dad’s always telling you. So why did he say, in my hearing, that Mussolini is the greatest leader Italy ever had and all they could do was hang him from a lamp-post ?

Spin: I sometimes wonder why I’m friends with you two. You think you’re so fucking intellectual. Well, my father went to Oxford and that’s more intellectual than you two put together.

Harry: And he became a banker.

Spin: What’s wrong with that ? Don’t you have a bank account ?

Harry: The banks should be nationalised.

Spin: My father says nationalisation is a disaster. He says the National Health Service is communist.

Lux: He’s right. My father was just making a comment about the poor political leadership in Italy. That’s all.

Spin: I wish I could meet some interesting people.

Harry: You left them all behind at Bennenden, Spin. You don’t believe that do you, Lux ? The man is an out-and-out fascist.

Spin: They were more interesting than you lot. Charles was a great guitar player.

Lux: We know that, Spin. Have you packed a camera ?

Spin: Few photos for the album, eh ? Here’s me throwing a Molotov at the flics !

Harry: Admit it ?

Lux: What ?

Harry: That your father’s a fascist.

Lux: How can I admit it when it isn’t true ? Where’s the fucking camera, Harry.

Harry: How should I know !

Lux: Well you had it last !

Harry: How can you be so sure ?

Lux: Because I was naked at the time ! Remember, Harry ?

Spin: Oh ! You dirty little bastard !

Harry: She’s my girlfriend, Spin. There’s nothing dirty about it.

Spin: You’re like a dirty old man. You remind me of my old geography teacher. Mr Sanderson. He was a funny, nervous little man who combed his hair across his head to try to hide his baldness. And he walked with this odd, springy step and had this ugly, sniggering, artificial laugh. He used to…

Lux: We don’t want to know, Spin. Just find the camera, Harry.

Harry: I can’t remember where I put it.

Spin: Oh my god ! Suppose someone else picks it up and gets the film developed ! What a scrape !

Harry: Will you stop using those public school expressions ! Fagged ! Scrape ! You sound like you’ve come straight from the pages of Billy Bunter.

Spin: And you sound like you’ve come straight from Coronation St. You can’t even speak properly, Harry.

Lux: Have you ordered a taxi ?

Spin: Driver ! Take me to the Revolution ! Number one Barricade St ! Keep the change, comrade !

Harry: Sometimes you’re almost witty, Spin, which for someone from your background is amazing.

Spin: I can’t believe you’re going to leave me on my own just for some stupid student prank !

Lux: This isn’t an Oxford rag, Spin. This is serious. We can change the world ! No more poverty ! No more war !

Spin: No more dope ! Now that’s serious.

Harry: I thought you were getting the taxi !

Lux: Can’t you get anything right ? Let’s go.

Harry: What about the camera ?

Lux: Fuck the camera !

Harry: Shut the door when you go, Spin. We’ll send you a card.

                                                                        They go.

Spin: Send me some dope ! If I find the camera, I’ll take it to Boots ! The dirty little bugger. Revolution ! Oh fuck, I just can’t be fagged with anything !

                                                                        Blackout.

SCENE TWO

            A cheap hotel room, the Latin Quarter. Victor stretched out on the bed, smoking. Lux seated.

Victor: We emptied a waste paper bin over the head of Paul Ricoeur.

Lux: Really ? Who’s he ?

Victor: Philosophe. Of the wrong kind. Christian and bourgeois. He talks rubbish, we empty rubbish over his head.

Lux: That’s great. This is a great moment, Victor. To be at the centre of history !

Victor: Want to fuck ?

Lux: What ?

Victor: Before your boyfriend gets back. Free love is part of the revolution.

Lux: He might be back any minute.

Victor: Lock the door.

Lux: Okay.

                                                She locks the door and starts to take off her clothes. Footsteps, knocking.

Harry (off): Open the fucking door !

Lux: Just a minute.

Victor: Tant pis !

Harry( off): For fuck’s sake !

                                                Lux opens the door. Harry rushes in carrying baguettes and wine.

Harry: What’s the door locked for ?

Victor: This is a revolution. We have to be careful.

Lux: So, you got the stuff.

Harry: Do you have to smoke  those things? God, the stench in here ! I know what it is Victor, but how do you dry it ?

Victor: What does he say ?

                                                                        Harry pushes the window wide open.

Lux: Don’t be so bourgeois, Harry. He’s free to smoke if he likes.

Harry: And where’s my freedom to breathe fresh air ?

Lux: That’s so petty.

Harry: Who’s paying for this room ?

Lux: Must you introduce money ?

Harry: Don’t be so bourgeois, Lux

Lux: You’re so pathetic, Harry.

Harry: Well, you won’t want any of my pathetic wine, then will you ?

Victor: Oh, les enfants !

Lux; There’s a fucking revolution going on out there and you quibble about a few francs and cling to your plonk like a baby to its rattle.

Harry: As a matter of fact, there isn’t a revolution going on out there. There’s nothing going on.

Victor: Wait till tonight.

Harry: Tonight I’m staying here.

Lux: You coward !

Harry: Who ran away and left me on my own ?

Victor: C’est comme ca. You can’t plan a revolution.

Harry: You ran away from the revolution !

Lux: What’s the point of getting arrested ?

Harry: You wouldn’t have got arrested, Lux. Those guys weren’t trying to arrest me, they were trying to smash my skull.

Lux: You’re always talking about people smashing your skull.

Victor: He’s right. CRS. Salauds. You have to run fast when they come after you.

Lux: Anyway, you escaped.

Harry: No thanks to you two comrades !

Victor: You can’t fight a war without losing some soldiers, you know ?

Harry: Okay. You get out there tonight soldier and let those bastards have it, because I’m staying here to get nicely smashed on some very bourgeois Bordeaux.

Lux: There’s no need to be so melodramatic, Harry. I mean, you’re just showing off your neurosis as if it’s a status symbol.

Harry: My neurosis ! That’s a good one.

Lux: Don’t try to deny it, Harry. I’ve met your parents.

Harry: Lux, your mother !

Lux: Don’t start.

Harry: Start ?

Lux: Whenever you talk about my mother you get insulting.

Harry: You evoke my neurosis and I’m insulting !

Lux: I’m not insulting you, Harry, I’m just pointing out what you’re doing. I’m just giving an objective explanation of what’s going on here.

Victor: Revolution gets everyone emotional. Save your anger for the CRS.

Lux: I’m not angry, Victor.

Victor: Well, you’re a little bit hors de toi.

Lux: No, I’m in control. I’m always in control. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed that about me, Victor.

Harry: I’m surprised you haven’t noticed it too.

Lux: What’s that supposed to mean ?

Victor: Okay. You’re in control. Let’s talk politics. We’re trying to change the world. This is not the time for bickering in a hotel room like bored children in les grandes vacances.

Lux: He’s bickering, Victor. I’m just putting clear and objective arguments.

Harry: You’re accusing me of being neurotic.

Lux: I’m not accusing you, Harry. I’m pointing it out.

Harry: And that’s objective !

Lux: Your neurosis is a fact, Harry.

Harry: So is your frigidity, Lux.

Lux: I have orgasms, Harry. I just have them when you’re not around.

Harry: Well if you have orgasms, you keep them pretty secret !

Victor: What is this to do with the revolution ?

Lux: We need a sexual revolution too, Victor. A woman must be in control of her own body.

Harry: What about a man ?

Lux: You clearly have no control over your body, Harry.

Harry: Well, you’re not by any means the first, Lux.

Lux: Oh, god !

Harry: Oh god what ?

Lux: Not that old line ! My other women have never complained. Do me a favour, Harry, that’s the cheapest evasion a man can mount of his inability to satisfy a woman.

Harry: There are many satisfied woman who will testify on my behalf.

Lux: I really can’t believe this, Harry.

Harry: What can’t you believe, Lux ?

Lux: That you can be just so fucking immature !                         

SCENE THREE

                        A street. Night. Sounds of clashes, jeering, cheering, sirens, breaking glass. Chants of Nous sommes tous un groupuscule. An injured student lies on the pavement , his head bloodied.

Lux: We’ve got to get him out of here.

Victor: No time ! Run !

Lux: We can’t leave him !

Victor: The CRS will call an ambulance. It’s their duty. They don’t want dead students on the street. Come on !

Lux: For god’s sake, Victor ! Let’s carry him. Get his shoulders.

Victor: Okay. But if we meet the CRS we drop him and run.

Lux: Okay, okay ! Which way ?

Victor: Oh, putain ! This way. We’ll leave him in Bruno’s café. He’ll look after him.

Lux: He needs more than a patron de café, Victor ! He’s fucking unconscious. Look at his head !

Victor: La vache ! He’s heavy.

Lux: Let’s take him to a hospital.

Victor: How ?

Lux: A taxi.

Victor: Mais tu es folle ! Taxi drivers are throwing paves at the CRS.

Lux: An ambulance.

Victor: Oh, mais merde ! He’ll be okay. He got a bump on the head. He bleeds a bit. He’ll be okay in the morning.

Lux: I’m scared !

Victor: One thing to be scared of, the CRS. We see them, we go. You stick around, your head looks like his.

Lux: Where is the nearest hospital ?

Victor: Too far. We can’t get there.

                                                            A siren sounds, growing louder.

Victor: CRS ! Allons-en !

                                         He lets go of the student whose crashes painfully to the ground.

Lux: Victor !

Victor Quoi !

Lux: You let him go !

Victor: Drop his feet !

Lux: We can’t leave him !

Victor: You stay.

                                                            He runs off. She hesitates.

Lux: Victor !

                                                            She looks at the student. The siren gets ever louder. She lets go of his feet and runs off. The siren gets very loud then diminishes. Lux edges gingerly back on stage.

Lux: Victor ! Victor ! It’s all clear. They’ve gone. Victor !

                                                            Victor comes equally gingerly back on stage.

Victor : Fais vite ! Let’s get out of here. They’ll be back.

Lux: You take his feet.

Victor: But he’s too heavy for you.

Lux: (Struggling to lift him) I’ll lift him, Victor. I’m not leaving him to you. You drop him a second time he might hit his head. You could kill him.

Victor: Is he still alive ?

                                                            She drops him and recoils.

Lux: You think he’s dead !

Victor: Maybe now ! You dropped him, that’s very dangerous.

Lux: For god’s sake Victor ! Make sure he’s alive.

                                                            The sound of marching feet and beating truncheons growing louder.

Victor: Les salauds ! Come on !

Lux: Supposing he’s dead ?

Victor: The CRS won’t be interested . They like to hurt people. Let’s go !

Lux: Let’s take him with us !

                                                            The marching and beating get louder.

Victor: Adieu ! Bonne chance !

                                                            He runs off. Lux looks down at the student. She grabs his feet and tries to drag him off. He doesn’t move. She lifts his shoulders from the ground and tries to drag him. He doesn’t move. The marching gets suddenly much louder. She drops the student and runs off.

Blackout

SCENE FOUR

                        The hotel room. Harry is on the bed with a bottle of wine. A radio on his bedside table is playing Georges Brassens: Je Suis Un Voyou.

                        A`knock.

Harry: (Turns off the radio) Who’s that ?

Spin: C’est moi !

Harry: Who the fuck’s moi ?

Spin: It’s me, Harry. Let me in.

Harry: Who’s me ?

Spin: For fuck’s sake ! ME ! Don’t you recognize my voice, Harry ?

Harry: Spin ?

Spin: Genius !

Harry: What the fuck are you doing here ?

Spin: Waiting for you to let me in !

Harry: What are you doing in Paris ? There’s a fucking revolution going on !

Spin: You’re telling me ! I was nearly arrested. I had to smile, feign stupidity and flash my passport.

Harry: Flash your what ?

Spin: My fucking passport ! Now open the door, Harry.

Harry: Lux isn’t here.

Spin: So ?

Harry: She’s on the barricades.

Spin: You don’t expect me to wait for her to get back do you ?

Harry: It’s her room.

Spin: Don’t you sleep in it ?

Harry: Sort of.

Spin: Oh, let me in you cunt !

Harry opens the door. Spin enters dressed in combats a Che Guevara t-shirt under her jacket, dragging a huge suitcase.

Harry: What the fuck are you wearing, Spin ?

Spin: I didn’t want to look out of place. Do you like my t-shirt ?

Harry: That’s Che Guevara. What would your father say about him ?

Spin: Handsome isn’t he ?

Harry: He was a communist.

Spin: He probably just did it to impress the girls.

Harry: He shot people who let him down, Spin. He was a revolutionary. He thought you had to kill the enemies of the revolution.

Spin: My father says communists are no better than Hitler.

Harry: Would you wear a t-shirt with a picture of Hitler on the front ?

Spin: Oh god no ! Ugly little man.  I wouldn’t want him anywhere near my tits.

Harry: What’s in the suitcase, copies of The State and Revolution ?

Spin: I’ve just brought a couple of dresses in case I get the chance to go anywhere nice.

Harry: Are you staying for a year ?

Spin: Why did you book into such a crumby hotel ?

Harry: It’s cheap, and in any case the streets are full of Marxists, Trots, Maoists, anarchists, revolutionaries of all shapes and sizes. It’s not healthy to been seen coming out a fancy hotels or wearing anything bourgeois for that matter.

Spin: Anything what ?

Harry: Middle-class.

Spin: Oh, that’s just silly. My father says the middle-classes are the only people with real values.

Harry: That’s very similar to what the Maoists say.

Spin: Is it ? Well, at least some of them have common sense.

Harry: No…..forget it.

Spin: That’s so rude, Harry. You’re always saying “forget it” to me as if I’m too stupid to understand anything.

Harry: I can’t believe you’d come here, Spin !

Spin: I can’t believe you’d come ! Leaving me alone. You’re horrible to me. Why are you always horrible to me, Harry?

Harry: Don’t start that public school stuff, Spin.

Spin: You see ! You’re always horrible. I can’t stand it, Harry.

Harry: Oh God, don’t start crying, Spin.

Spin: I can’t help it. I’m exhausted. I came all the way here to be with my friends and you don’t make me welcome. You’re a bastard, Harry.

Harry: Okay, I’m a bastard. But we came here to overthrow capitalism, Spin. We’re not on holiday. We’re revolutionaries.

Spin: Some revolutionary, pissed on plonk in a smelly hotel ! Why aren’t you on the streets ?

Harry: Me and the revolution have had a lovers’ tiff.

Spin: I knew you wouldn’t like it.

Harry: It’s not a question of liking it, it’s matter of principle.

Spin: What’s the difference ?

Harry: You can like or dislike Brussels sprouts but it isn’t matter of principle. It’s not that I don’t like the revolution, it’s that I’ve been let down.

Spin: You need someone you can rely on, Harry. I’ve come all the way from Lancaster to see you. It took me an age and I had a terrible scrape at Waterloo with a chap who…

Harry: Don’t say “scrape”.

Spin: Why do you have to be so horrid !

Harry: It grates on my nerves, Spin. It sounds so fucking snooty.

Spin: I can’t help my background. You can’t help yours. Things about you get on my tits too.

Harry: For example ?

Spin: The way you say “fuck” instead of “fack”. It’s so vulgar. I mean, if you were to ask me to “fuck” I might say no, just because of the way you say it.

Harry: Well, I’m not going to ask so don’t let it worry you.

Spin: I’m not short of people who want to fuck me, Harry.

Harry: What woman is, Spin ?

Spin: You say such horrid things !

Harry: It’s not horrid, it’s true ! It’s  what blokes are like.

Spin: Well, I think it’s horrid. The point is, I’m attractive to men. Not all women are`attractive to men, Harry. The problem is I’m not as attractive as I’d like to be to the men I’d like to be attractive to.

Harry: Want some wine ? There’s a mouthful left.

Spin: Have you got a glass ?

Harry: No, this is true bohemianism. Straight from the bottle.

Spin: True what ?

Harry: It’s the life artists live, or used to , in Paris. You know, scraping by, living on your wits, putting art before ambition for money and status, a community of imagination. That kind of thing.

Spin: My father says art is a waste of public money.

Harry: Bohemians don’t take public money, Spin. They’re outsiders. Like me. People who don’t belong anywhere.

Spin: You’re just feeling sorry for yourself. It’s pathetic.

Harry: It’s objectively true.

Spin: Oh god, don’t say that. You sound like Lux.  Always on about what’s objectively this and objectively that. What’s so fucking good about being objective anyway.

Harry: Don’t you have any desire to understand the world, Spin ?

Spin: Oh, I can’t be fagged ! It’s so fucking difficult ! I’d rather enjoy myself. I’d rather live in the world ! God, I feel as if I just can’t get my life going. I’m just stuck on a train going nowhere. That’s objectively true !

Harry: No, Spin, it’s entirely subjective. It’s just the way you feel about things.

Spin: Are you saying the way I feel doesn’t matter ?

Harry: Of course it matters, but you’re feelings can lead you astray. Your feelings can be false.

Spin: How do you know what’s real and false about my feelings ?

Harry: Because it’s easy to see when people are being phoney ! You can see that yourself, can’t you ?

Spin: Fuck you, Harry ! I’m off ! I’ll go and stay in a proper fucking hotel and get my father to pay.

Harry: No,no! Stay, stay !

Spin: So you think I’m a phoney ?

Harry: No ! Not just you. Everybody. We’re all phonies.

Spin: You don’t make any sense to me, Harry. All your objective stuff and you just don’t make any sense at all. You’d think  someone who knew how to be objective about everything would at least make sense.

Harry: We live in a phoney culture, Spin. It’s what we are. It’s what goes on in our heads. It’s all, I don’t know, phoney, false.

Spin: I think that’s subjective. It’s just the way you feel about things. I don’t even have the faintest idea what you mean by everyone being phoney. What do you expect people to be like ?

Harry: This conversation is a waste of time, Spin.

Spin: That’s so horrid ! You always say that, Harry. You always say there’s no point talking to me about serious things. You treat me like an idiot.

Harry: No I don’t. But it’s question of level. You know, why do people talk about the weather ? Remember Bert’s lecture ? Phatic communion. That stuff. People don’t talk about serious things when all they’re really after is social warmth. They talk about anything. It’s the talking that’s important. Just someone to chat to and it’s not what’s in the words that matters. See what I mean ? But serious stuff. That needs a different arena. You start chatting to your friends about serious stuff and pretty soon you won’t have any friends.

Spin: Sometimes I think I don’t ! And why do you always call prof Lawrence, Bert ?

Harry: D.H.  His name was David Herbert. He hated David. He liked to be called Bert.

Spin: And why does everyone call you Harry when your name’s Frank ?

Harry:  Frank Roberts. Hence Harry Roberts. The train robber.

Spin: Don’t you mind being nicknamed after a train robber ?

Harry: It was a joke. As soon as Harry Roberts hit the headlines all my mates at school started calling me Harry. It stuck. It was a joke. Friendly. Now everyone calls me Harry.

Spin: And everyone calls me Spin, thanks to you !

Harry: It’s a joke ! You have to see the friendliness behind it.

Spin: I wouldn’t accept it from anyone but you. Even if you are horrid.

Harry: It was just a way of being friendly and funny. For god’s sake, some people take life so fucking seriously. The world’s so screwed up the best thing to do is laugh at it.

Spin: Well, why did you come here then ? Trying to make revolution ! What’s funny about that ?

Harry: Oh, it’s the funniest thing under the sun if you do it right ! It’s pulling the rug from under the feet of the pompous, the arrogant, the pretentious, the poncey rich, the poseurs, the twats down in St Tropez with their million dollar yachts who think they’re fucking gods and goddesses and mince around expecting everyone to ogle them, and then all the fucking half-wit sycophants who do ogle them ! It’s about the subversive power of democracy, Spin. You know what democracy means ? It means no-one is good enough to have power over anyone else. But like everything , it gets corrupted. Time-serving politicians with egos the size of jumbo-jets get hold of democracy and it means vote for me then piss off back to work, do as you’re told and watch your television. That’s what I’m here for. To say the streets and everything in them, every factory, every school, every office, every hospital, every café, every shop: they’re ours.

Spin: Someone has to be in charge, Harry. If no-one’s in charge, there’ll just be chaos.

Harry: Take a look around, Spin. The world’s in chaos. That’s ‘cause we’ve got people in charge. 

Spin: My father says strong government is the answer.

Harry: Don’t you think it’s time to stop quoting your father, Spin?

Spin: You’re being horrid again. You’re always undermining me. You never miss an opportunity. I can’t open my mouth without worrying that you’re going to make some clever comment to make me feel small.

Harry: I’m just trying to say. At your age. You know, your father, he isn’t the fount of all wisdom. We outgrow our parents. It’s a good idea to start thinking things through for yourself. No, it’s essential to start thinking things through for yourself.

Spin: Oh, I can’t be fagged. It’s so hard. And so confusing. How am I supposed to make sense of it all ? Even the great minds just disagree with one another.

Harry: On our behalf.

Spin: Not on my behalf. They just give me a headache.

Harry: Well, there’s paracetemol. There’s an invention of great minds for you. Without them, you couldn’t even get rid of your headache.  Those great minds struggling to find a bit of truth. They give us some clues to follow. We all have a responsibility to try to make sense of things.

Spin: Well, my father went Oxford and he knows what he’s talking about so why shouldn’t I just listen to him. It’s a lot easier than sorting it out for myself. And anyway, I agree with him.

Harry: Sure. He approves of your dope smoking, I suppose ?

Spin: God, he’d have a fit !

Harry: There’s something to work on. Something you disagree about.

Spin: Anyway, I bet you agree with your parents about lots of things.

Harry: Yeah, but I don’t quote them all the time ! I don’t begin every third sentence with “My father says….”

Spin: You’re so horrid ! Why can’t you just be nice to me, Harry. I’m knackered. Why did I come here ? I just want to go to sleep and wake up and find everything different.

Harry: Take the bed. Lux will have to share. I’ll crash out on the floor.

Spin: Why can’t Lux crash out on the floor ?

Harry: Too draughty. You know how fussy she is. It’s her upper middle-class background. It’s made her precious.

Spin: Like me, I suppose.

Harry: We all struggle against circumstance. Is the world as you’d have chosen it ? You were just born into this crazy time. Here we are, trying to make something of our lives in circumstances we didn’t make. It’s the same for all of us.

Spin: No, the world isn’t as I’d have chosen it. I’d be lots richer and I would never have gone to the north and I’d find a man who wouldn’t be horrid to me all the time.

Harry: See what I mean ? That’s your manifesto. You’re just like me, Spin. You’re fighting to remake the world to fit your inner needs.

Spin: God, I’m so fagged out, Harry.

                                                            She starts to take off her clothes. Rapid steps on the stairs, off. A frantic hammering on the door.

Victor: Vite ! Vite ! Open the door !

                                                            Harry opens and Victor and Lux fall in. She has her hands to her face which is covered in blood.

Spin: Oh my God !

Harry: Shit !

Victor: CRS. Les salauds !

Spin: Shouldn’t we get her to a hospital ?

Francis: Mais non ! Too dangerous. We had to fight with CRS.

Harry: What the hell hit her in the face ?

Victor: Rubber bullet. Not straight from the gun. A ricochet. Her nose is bleeding. It looks worse than it is.

                                                            Harry has assembled towels. He brings water from the en suite and begins to try to clean her up.

Harry: You’re going to be okay, Lux. You’re a real class warrior now ! Scars to prove it.

Spin: You’re crazy !

                                                            Lux groans half articulately.

Harry: What ?

                                                            Lux groans again.

Harry: I can’t make it out.

Spin: She says you’re a silly cunt, Harry.

Harry: That’s enough, Spin.

Spin: Look at her face ! Suppose her nose is broken ! You may have ruined her looks.

Harry: I didn’t smash her face, Spin. The State did.

Spin: You always talk such crap, Harry. A policeman did. And whose fault is it ? If you hadn’t brought her here….

                                                            Lux shakes her head and tries to speak.

Harry: Me ! Do you think she followed me ? I couldn’t have stopped her. Supposing she’d come on her own. Where would she be now ?

Victor: She’s among comrades here.

Harry: Oh yeah, where are they all ?

Spin: She needs friends not comrades.

Harry: She needs both. We all need both. Shit Victor, why didn’t you look after her out there ? Why didn’t you protect her for fuck’s sake ?

Victor: Protect her ? She can take care of herself, no ?

Harry: No ! Not in Paris in the middle of a revolution. She’s just a middle-class kid from Surbiton. She’s about as street-wise as a hedgehog.

                                                                        Lux violently pushes him away. He falls over. Blackout.

SCENE FIVE

                        A table in the Deux Magots. Harry and Lux sit opposite one another. Her nose is heavily bandaged.

Harry: I tell you it’s him !

Lux: Don’t rubberneck !

Harry: He hasn’t noticed. He’s writing. It is her with him.

Lux: You can’t tell from the back.

Harry: Well, it looks like her and who else would he be with ?

Lux: How do I know ?

Harry: They’re committed to one another. Like a bourgeois married couple. Only without the licence. Free choice. He’s not a big bugger is he ?

Lux: He isn’t a rugby player, Harry. You don’t have to be a heavyweight to write philosophy.

Harry: An intellectual heavyweight, Lux ! Don’t you think it’s amazing ? It’s like sitting in Le Procope with Voltaire or Diderot. He used to go there to get away from his missus you know.

Lux: Where did she go to get away from him ?

Harry: She was a nag, Lux ! She was married to one of the greatest minds of the eighteenth century and she nagged him to death.

Lux: I’m not surprised if she was just married to a mind.

Harry: You wouldn’t want to be married to someone mindless would you ?

Lux: What you mean by mind Harry is that he was an intellectual. That doesn’t mean he was a good husband.

Harry: A good husband ? What kind of bourgeois crap is that ?

Lux: You know what I mean .

Harry: Be precise, Lux. You can’t afford to be sloppy in your theory. We’re in the midst of a revolution remember. We’re putting theory into practice. We can’t overthrow the reign of the bourgeoisie and talk about being a fucking good husband, for god’s sake !

Lux: If he was married he should have been a good husband.

Harry: He was a revolutionary in his time, Lux, like us. They threw him in prison for his writings. Don’t you think it’s a bit pusifuckingllanimous to talk about being a good husband? What do you think he should have done, taken a job in a bank ?

Lux: That’s so ahistorical, Harry.

Harry: What’s more ahistorical than talking about being a good husband.

Lux: You’re just perverting my point, Harry.

Harry: What is your point ?

Lux: It’s perfectly simple, if you take the trouble to try to understand. And what, anyway, is your point ?

Harry: Lux, that’s Jean-Paul fucking Sartre over there. We’re in the same room as one of the greatest minds of our time. It’s partly thanks to him  De Gaulle has fucked off out of the country. The workers are taking over their factories. Imagination in power ! Think where it might lead, Lux. Here we are, two English students from the boring suburbs sitting in the Deux Magots in a great city risen to revolt and a few yards away Sartre is scribbling in a notebook. Have you got the camera ?

Lux: Shit Harry, you can’t take a picture ?

Harry: Why not ?

Lux: You don’t work for fucking Paris Match ! He’s a private individual. He’s sitting in a café. Leave him in peace.

Harry: He’s a private individual but he’s also a public figure, Lux. His picture’s in the newspapers all the time !

Lux: Harry, you’re so irresponsible !

Harry: I’m a literary man, Lux ! It’s something you don’t have the same feeling about.

Lux: You’re a literary man !

Harry: You know it, Lux.

Lux: I know you’re full of bullshit, Harry. I’m the one with the smashed up face. I’m the one whose made the sacrifice for the revolution. All you want is a snapshot of Sartre for your album. Don’t you think that’s a bit trivial in the circumstances ?

Harry: That’s not all I want, Lux. That’s your typical overgeneralisation. I wouldn’t mind a picture and for you that becomes all I want. You see how that let’s you see yourself in a good light ?

Lux: Don’t give me the kindergarten psychoanalysis, Harry. I read Freud before you.

Harry: You read some Freud, Lux.

Lux: In any case, de Beauvoir is a better writer.

Harry: Oh, come on !

Lux: Come on what ?

Harry: She’s a good writer, but better than Sartre ?

Lux: Have you read Memoirs d’une Jeune Fille Rangee ?

Harry: I’ve looked at it.

Lux: What’s that supposed to mean ?

Harry: I’ve dipped into it.

Lux: Oh, and I suppose you’ve dipped into L’etre et le Neant too .

Harry: That’s a seminal text.

Lux: Ha !

Harry: What’s wrong with that ?

Lux: How do you know it’s a seminal text ?

Harry: That’s such a stupid thing to say, Lux.

Lux: De Beauvoir is a better writer. Sartre is taken more seriously because he’s a man. As a matter of fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if she writes his books for him.

Harry: That’s not feminism, you know, it’s just ignorance.

Lux: And didn’t Frieda do a lot of the donkey work for good old D.H. ?

Harry: He was bound to spark ideas off her wasn’t he? They were married. But she wasn’t a writer.

Lux: How do you know, Harry ?

Harry: Just look at Lawrence’s style.

Lux: Yeah, well just look at my face and forget taking photos of Jean-Paul Sartre to show your grandkids.

Harry: Oh, are we starting a family ?

Lux: There are other wombs in the world, Harry.

Harry: You know, I’d like to make you pregnant.

Lux: What would Jean-Paul make of that ?

Harry: It’s a revolutionary act. It flies in the face of bourgeois caution and parsimony. We should have six kids, blow all that two point four stuff out of the water.

Lux: You want six kids, you’d better get yourself a sex change.

Harry: Biology is biology.

Lux: Don’t give me that anatomy is destiny rubbish.

Harry: Who said anything about destiny ?

Lux: And why isn’t Jean-Paul at home changing nappies ?

Harry: He’s sixty-three.

Lux: A granddad ! How many grandchildren does he have ? Eighteen ?

Harry: I don’t suppose he’s lived the kind of life where having kids would have fitted in.

Lux: Or maybe he’s too cautious or parsimonious.

Harry: He’s a revolutionary, Lux.

Lux: So am I, but I’ve got a broken nose.

Harry: Didn’t I tell you the CRS` are bastards !

Lux: I didn’t need telling, Harry. I needed some intelligent support !

Harry : I wasn’t even there !

Lux: Precisely !

Harry: You don’t expect me to offer you protection do you ? Wouldn’t that be a bit sexist ?

Lux: I’m not saying protection.

Harry: Well what are you saying ?

Lux: That’s typical of you, Harry.

Harry: What is ?

Lux: That fucking pedantry.

Harry: What’s pedantic about asking you what you mean ?

Lux: You always get hung up on semantics. It’s always what do you mean by this and what do you mean by that. Anyone’d think you didn’t understand English.

Harry: Or maybe I understand English too well. Maybe it’s because I’m so sensitive to language that I’m always asking for precision.

Lux: You’re about as sensitive as a lamppost, Harry.

Harry: Very good. Nice simile.

Lux: Don’t patronise me. The point is, this is about solidarity. And where were you ? Sitting in the hotel room getting pissed and sulking.

Harry: I wasn’t sulking, Lux. I was acting on principle.

Lux: What principle is that, precisely ? That when you don’t get your own way you go off and suck your thumb in  a corner? That  principle  makes every two-year old a moral genius.

Harry: I can’t believe this !

Lux: Don’t you think we should be going ?

Harry: Why ?

Lux: We’ve finished our coffee.

Harry: This is the Deux Magots, Lux. Coffee’s not the point.

Lux: Well, what is the point ?

Harry: Can’t you rise to the occasion ?

Lux: I might ask you the same thing.

Harry: I never have any trouble in that department.

Lux: True. Always eager as a puppy-dog.

Harry: I’m glad you admit it.

Lux: Admit ? God, it’s endurance that’s the problem not eagerness.

Harry: So you say.

Lux: Well I should know shouldn’t I ?

Harry: Should you ?

Lux: Now you’re scraping the barrel, Harry.

Harry: Female physiology is difficult, Lux.

Lux: Oh god !

Harry: That’s natural selection for you.

Lux: Don’t give me that reactionary Darwinist crap !

Harry: It’s not reactionary and it’s not crap. You know  Marx wanted to dedicate volume one of Capital to Darwin ?

Lux: You know Darwin said no ? You know why ? Because he was a reactionary.

Harry: He was of his time, but think what he did ! Wasn’t that a triumph for materialism ?

Lux: Not when it lets men blame women for their sexual inadequacies.

Harry: There’s nothing inadequate about me.

Lux: There speaks the male of the species.

Harry: They’re going !

Lux: Stop staring. You’re just making a fool of yourself.

Harry: We are part of history, Lux. We’re making history here !

Lux: Yeah, and history has broken my fucking nose !

Blackout.

SCENE SIX

                        The hotel room. Victor is on the bed smoking a spliff. Spin is on the floor.

Spin: They went out to eat or have a coffee or something. God I’m famished. I’ll have to go to a café.

Victor: T’en fais pas. I’ll go out and buy a few things. Bread, cheese, ham, tomatoes. We’ll have a little feast.

Spin: Get some more dope while you’re at it. It’s the only thing keeping me sane in this situation.

Victor: What situation ?

Spin: Being here. The revolution. My friends who think they’re going to change the world, though why it needs changing I’ve no idea.

Victor: It has to change. It’s a law of the universe. Nothing stands still.

Spin: Well, let it change of its own accord instead of fighting in the streets with riot police. Have you finished with that spliff ?

Victor: Fighting in the streets with riot police is the way the world changes of its own accord. Everything is inevitable before it happens.

Spin: Is it inevitable  you’re going to keep dragging on that ?

Victor: Here.

Spin: It doesn’t make any sense. If it’s inevitable, why do you need to do anything.

Victor: Because it’s the doing something that’s inevitable.

Spin: I suppose it was inevitable Lux should get her nose smashed in by a rubber bullet.

Victor: Absolutely.

Spin: You’re like Harry. You talk bullshit.

Victor: You like him though.

Spin: He’s horrid to me.

Victor: But you still like him.

Spin: What’s that to do with you ?

Victor: Have you fucked with him ?

Spin: God ! You can’t ask me that ?

Victor: Why not ? This is a revolution. Everything can be put in question.

Spin: That’s just d impertinent. I don’t like the way you talk at all. You’ve no manners. Frankly, you’re horrid. Sometimes.

Victor: But you smoke my dope.

Spin: I thought you were a socialist. Aren’t you supposed to believe in sharing everything ?

Victor: Anarchist.

Spin: Oh god ! What’s the difference ?

Victor: If you go out putting posters up at night, you have two things to fear: the police and the communists. The police will beat you, arrest you, kick you around in the back of a camion blinde and let you go. The communists will smash your skull and throw you in the Seine.

Spin: They should recruit them for the CRS !

Victor: The CRS is like the Communist Party. They  control people and they control by fear and brutality. Only the anarchists want to give people their freedom.

Spin: Listening to you could turn me into a communist.

Victor: Yes, communists are very conservative.

Spin: My father says communists want to take  over  the world.

Victor: So do conservatives. Everyone who controls the power of the State wants to take over the world. It’s the logic of State power.

Spin: This is exceptionally good dope. Where d’you get it ?

Victor: From a poor Algerian who sweeps the floors in the metro.

Spin: He should sell more dope and give up the job.

Victor: Life is not so easy for most people. And hardest for those at the bottom. He gives up his job he becomes a non-person. He loses everything. He works for small money and sells dope on the quiet. It’s a good way to beat the system.

Spin: What system ? My father says all the stress is at the top. It’s just as well there are people like my father prepared to take responsibility or the working-classes would still be living in caves.

Victor: What does he do, your father ?

Spin: He’s a banker.

Victor: And what does he do ?

Spin: Oh, he’s very high up. He makes lots of big decisions.

Victor: What is a big decision ?

Spin: You’re just trying to catch me out. You’re being horrid. I don’t understand why people are always being horrid to me. It’s not as if I’m not a nice person. Anyway, my father runs things. He’s an executive.

Victor: That’s just a word that hides the laziness and uselessness of the overpaid.

Spin: Fuck off ! My father works very hard. What do you do ?

Victor: I work very hard avoiding working for people like your father. I read. I think. I invent graffiti. I write it on walls. I work very hard  trying to undermine capitalism.

Spin: And you say my father’s lazy. You’re just a layabout.

Victor: Have you seen the graffiti metro boulot dodo ?

Spin: As a matter of fact I have. I saw it in the metro. I suppose you expected me to say no didn’t you ?

Victor: As a matter of fact, I did.

Spin: You’re just like Harry. You think you’re so fucking clever and I’m a dizzy, empty-headed fool. Well I can read you know. I can read fucking graffiti just like anyone else.

Victor: Don’t you think it’s clever ?

Spin: Not particularly. Don’t tell me it’s by Jean-Paul Sartre or someone and full of hidden meaning. I’m sick of all that stuff. Why do meanings always have to be hidden and what’s the use of  a meaning no-one can see anyway ? I think it’s all a big fraud to make people look clever. I mean, what the hell has Jean-Paul Sartre ever done ?

Victor: He writes. That’s his raison d’etre. It’s important work.

Spin: Well it’s not as important as being a banker, in my opinion.

Victor: Bankers are here, there, all over the place. Put on a suit, wear a tie, learn the jargon, you’re a banker. Sartre is unique. Like Aristotle, Descartes, Voltaire, Flaubert. It’s the uniqueness that matters. We all must try to find our own uniqueness.

Spin: I bet he’s rich.

Victor: Maybe, but he didn’t try to be. It just happened to him.

Spin: I wish it would just happen to me. I wish I could marry some gorgeous man with money coming out of his ears and go and live on the Cote d’Azur have a big d yacht and do nothing but smoke dope for the rest of my life.

Victor: Wouldn’t you rather marry Harry ?

Spin: He’s spoken for. At the moment.

Victor: It must be very frustrating knowing he’s fucking her all the time.

Spin: I don’t care. I don’t give a fuck. Actually. I don’t even think about it. Anyway, she doesn’t have orgasms. She told me. So serve him fucking right.

Victor: Maybe he likes it anyway.

Spin: I don’t give a shit as a matter of fact. I’d rather have a nice bit of Afghan Black.

Victor: We could fuck if you like.

Spin: I beg your pardon !

Victor: What’s the matter ?

Spin: You’re the matter. It’s sick. You can’t speak to me like that.

Victor: Why not ? I’m honest.

Spin: Is that what you call it ?

Victor: The revolution sets us free. We can say what we think.

Spin: I don’t want to know what you think !

Victor: You want me to get some more dope ?

Spin: Yes. That’s a nice idea.

Victor: Well, I’ll get the dope you do me a favour. That’s fair.

Spin: That’s not fair it’s fucking prostitution !

Victor: That’s a bourgeois idea. Once capitalism has passed, people will be freer in their attitudes to their bodies.

Spin:  Forget any free attitudes towards my body ! I’m not an anarchist.

Victor: No, you’re a very middle-class English girl.

Spin: What’s class got to do with it ?

Victor: Class has to do with everything. Class has made your mind.

Spin: And what’s made yours ? Reading Jean-Paul fucking Sartre and god knows who. Well, if all that philosophy makes you act like a shit my father’s right.

Victor: I only asked. I asked politely.

Spin: Your idea of good manners and mine aren’t the same.

                        Footsteps. Knocking.

Victor: Come in !

                        Enter Sophie.

Sophie: Victor, what are you doing here ? You’re supposed to be working for the revolution !

Victor: I am working. I’m thinking.

Spin: Yeah, and you should know what he’s thinking ?

Sophie: Who’s this ?

Victor: An English revolutionary.

Spin: I’m Spin. Mandy actually, but everyone calls me Spin because I’m dizzy. At least that’s what Harry says. He is an English revolutionary. I’m just here for the spliffs.

Sophie: This is very irresponsible of you, Victor.

Victor: Sophie, in revolutionary times everyone contributes selon son gout.

Sophie: Et ton gout c’est quoi ? Cette salope d’Anglaise ?

Spin: I  do understand French, if you don’t mind, putain !

Sophie: Ta gueule !

Spin: Et ta soeur ?

Victor: I’m  just having   a rest, Sophie. Revolutions can take a long time. Think of 1789. We must reflect on what we are doing. No need to come here and start a fight with our English comrades.

Spin: I’m not a fucking comrade, I’m a conservative !

Sophie: You’re just trying to fuck her, aren’t you Victor ?

Victor: Mais non !

Spin: Mais oui !

Sophie: Is this the way you show solidarity with the working-class, fucking with an English conservative while we risk our lives fighting the CRS ?

Victor: Are you fighting with the CRS now ?

Sophie: We’re planning tonight’s campaign, Victor. We’re talking to the young workers. We’re distributing leaflets. We’re writing grafitti.

Victor: Voila !

Sophie: What do you mean, voila !

Victor: Voila !

Sophie: What are you talking about, Victor ?

Spin: Voila !

Sophie: Why do you have to interfere ?

Spin: Voila ! Voila ! Voila !

Sophie: Mais elle est completement malade !

Spin: I’m not as mad as you, mademoiselle ! You think hurling cobblestones at policemen is going to change the world. Haven’t you noticed they’ve got water cannon and prisons ? Do you think they’re frightened of a few students ? I think it’s all silly. It’s just impossibly fucking silly and I wish I wasn’t here. The only thing worth doing is getting stoned.

Victor: Tonight I’ll be in the streets. For the moment, I’m reposing. You can’t turn revolution into a kind of work, Sophie. Then how will we change anything ? The old attitudes. The same conneries. The old dead time of the factory and the office. We have to change our own minds, Sophie. We change the objective conditions of life so that our minds can be different.

Spin: Oh god, not objective again ! I object to objective. I want wallow in subjectivity. Let the objective go fuck itself. What’s that supposed to mean anyway, the objective conditions of life ?

Sophie: So you’ve found yourself an intellectual to fuck, Victor.

Spin: He isn’t going to fuck me and that’s objective. And anyway, what’s so good about being an intellectual ? It’s all you go on about, you revolutionaries. Jean-Paul fucking Sartre and Karl Marx and Rosa shitty Luxemburg. Do you think the whole world should be full of intellectuals ? Shit, what a mess we’d be in then,like my father says. All you do is argue with one another over details no-one else cares about. And then you end up throwing stones at riot police ! Is that intellectual ! It’s just vandalism in my opinion.

Victor: You have a very English mind. You think revolution is vandalism. You think revolution is a crime ! It’s very charming but it’s no good. Capitalists are not friendly. They use workers to get rich and they don’t care. They don’t care about anything but their money. How can you expect such people to be democratic ? They only give enough freedom to keep themselves rich. The freedom that will bring equality, they don’t allow. So we have to take it and it can only be taken on the streets, in the factories.

Spin: Who wants equality ? I don’t want to live in a country where everyone is the same.

Sophie: Victor, are you going to leave this silly girl to her dope and come and do some real work ?

Victor: Sophie, I’m having a little pause dejeuner. Why don’t you do the same ?

Sophie: Do you think I’m stupid,Victor ? You know what he likes, soixante-neuf. That’s what he wants you to do with him.

Victor: She’s a nice English girl. She doesn’t want soixante-neuf with an intellectual French revolutionary in a hotel in the Quartier Latin.

Sophie: I’m talking about what you want, Victor. You think you can just fuck me and then disappear ?

Victor: I haven’t disappeared ! Here I am ! Was it hard to find me ? No !

Sophie: You exploit me sexually, Victor ! You’re a sexual capitalist !

Spin: You should start a revolution ! Throw a few cobblestones at him, that’ll change his ways.

Victor: I exploit you ?

Sophie: You come to fuck with this stupid English girl ? Why ? She’s probably never done soixante-neuf in her life.

Spin: Do you think I’m a fucking virgin or something ?

Sophie: I don’t care what you are. Why don’t you go back to Hampstead Common or wherever you come from ?

Spin: Hampstead Common ! Ha ! And you say I’m stupid.

Victor: I didn’t come to fuck with her. I’ve never met her before. I came to see Lux and Harry. She was here. I’m just being friendly. I’m making her welcome in Paris.

Sophie: She isn’t welcome here. We’re trying to overthrow people like her.

Spin: I’m not for overthrowing. You make me sound like something you spread on a sofa.

Victor: You’re attitude to revolution is bourgeois, Sophie !

Sophie: My attitude to revolution is serious, Victor ! La revolution sera totale ou ne sera pas.

Spin: If you two are anything to go by, it’ll be the latter.

Victor: You treat it like work ! You want to control everything, just like a capitalist. You don’t choose revolution, you’re a compulsive revolutionary. It’s your neurosis and if you couldn’t make revolution you’d do something else to be in control.

Sophie: You talk shit, Victor, to make an excuse for yourself because you’re trying to fuck an English counter-revolutionary.

Spin: Why are you always sticking labels on me ? God, you people have to put everything in a neat pigeon-hole. I’m not a counter-revolutionary. I don’t give a shit for silly revolution and I think you’ll all be sorry when the tables turn. You’ll find someone in power who makes Stalin look liberal, and serve you right.

Victor: You think I want to go to bed with every woman I meet !

Sophie: Every woman who’ll let you. Every woman who’s stupid enough.

Spin: Speak for yourself.

Sophie: You’re just an opportunist, Victor. You know how reactionary that is ?

Victor: You confuse opportunism and openness, Sophie. You want to be a revolutionary but you think like a middle-class Catholic because that’s how your mind was formed.

Sophie: And how was your mind formed? Lycee Louis le Grand is hardly a breeding ground for socialists.

Victor: The difference is that I know how my mind was formed. I’m not trying to be something I’m not.

Sophie: You are a complete charlatan, Victor. There is nothing real about you. You’re no kind of revolutionary. You’re a cheap seducteur and you don’t even have good taste in women. Any more.

                                    Footsteps. Enter Harry.

Harry: Guess who we saw in the Deux Magots ?

Spin: Karl Marx.

Victor: Where’s Lux ?

Sophie: Another one !

Harry: Another one what ?

Spin: Middle-class English revolutionary he wants to screw.

Harry: Who wants to screw ?

Spin: Your revolutionary friend here. He asked me to go to bed with him. Sixty-nine is his favourite.

Harry: Did you do it in front of her !

Spin: I didn’t do it at all !

Sophie: Who are you ?

Spin: Harry Roberts, the famous English train robber.

Sophie: So you spend your time with criminals, Victor ?

Harry: I’m not a criminal. It’s a joke. A typically English joke. But listen. We saw Sartre ! As large as life. De Beauvoir was with him. Isn’t that amazing ?  If only I’d had the camera !

Spin: Is he handsome ?

Harry: No, he’s an ugly little man.

Spin: Why would you want a photo of an ugly little man ?

Harry: He’s famous, Spin ! Imagine you’d seen Flaubert in café, wouldn’t you have wanted a photo ?

Spin: What did Flaubert look like ?

Victor: Where’s Lux anyway ?

Harry: She’s gone to buy some clothes in Galeries Lafayette. To cheer herself up. She’s feeling bad because of her broken nose. She thinks her looks are ruined.

Spin: She’s no need to worry about that.

Sophie: She needs new clothes for the revolution ? Victor, these English people are idiots.

Harry: Excuse me ! You’re a guest in our hotel room.

Sophie: You’re a guest in our city. You may have noticed things are not quite normal.

Harry: We came to join the revolution. We’re socialists.

Spin: I’m a conservative !

Harry: Myself and Lux. We came to do our bit to change the world.

Sophie: And what have you done ?

Harry: My girlfriend has a broken nose. She was hit by a plastic bullet on the Boulevard St Germain.  

Sophie: Too bad. But it’s no great contribution. The CRS are salauds. They break your nose. So ? It was a waste of time to come here just to get her nose broken. She could have gone to an English football match.

Victor: Oh mais ! There’s no need to insult our English friends.

Sophie: They aren’t my friends, Victor. My friends are working for the revolution. They don’t go the Deux Magots to take pictures of Sartre.

Harry: I didn’t go to take a picture of Sartre. I went because it’s a radical intellectual lieu. I went for the atmosphere or to experience something you just can’t experience in England. Oh, I’ve seen Francis Bacon drinking in the Coach and Horses, but it’s not the same as here. And Sartre just happened to be there. And that moment comes and goes. What’s wrong with a souvenir ? It’s human. What are the paintings at Lascaux but an attempt to freeze experience ? To have something to refer to when the moment’s gone ? Something for posterity ? What’s wrong with that ?

Sophie: Taking pictures of celebrities isn’t art, that’s what’s wrong with it. It’s just pretension. It makes me sick.

Spin: Here, here ! Pictures of ugly old communists. You could at least photograph somebody handsome.

Harry: You’re obsessed with appearances, Spin.

Spin: Of course I am. Appearances matter. Don’t try to tell me you’re not impressed by beautiful women, Harry.

Harry: Impressed is the wrong word.

Spin: Aroused any better ?

Harry: That’s what this revolution is for, to do away with a society of appearances !

Spin: Are you going to make everybody blind ?

Sophie: You aren’t going to do anything ! You are all fainéants. You’re little schoolchildren playing truant from the revolution because its lessons are too difficult.

Victor: I’m going to buy a few things to eat.

Spin: I’ll come with you. You can introduce me to your Algerian metro friend.

Sophie: A few things to eat ? This is no time for a picnic, Victor !

Victor: Food first, morals after. Remember Sophie ?

                                                                        Exit Victor followed by Spin.

Sophie: Mais c’est degueulasse ! She is a stupid girl. A stupid, stupid girl. What have you English people come here for ? To play at making revolution. It’s not a game. We are trying to change the direction of history. You English don’t understand revolution. When something goes wrong, you fix it  in a sort of way, and then  pretend it wasn’t wrong at all. We French celebrate our great moments of transformation.

Harry: Yeah, and your mate has certainly transformed this hotel room. Who does he think’s going to tidy up after him, the fairies ?

Sophie: How can you think of such trivial things  at such a time ?

Harry: The devil is always in the detail, as we English like to say. It’s the little things that matter. I think we should have a revolution for courtesy. Politeness is the basis of justice ! There’s a bold declaration for you.  Call it Roberts’ Law. It’s just damn bad manners of capitalists to treat their employees shabbily. It’s bloody bad manners to be rich when others are scrimping by. No-one with a sense of shame could do it. What makes you feel ashamed ?

Sophie: What makes you think I have something to be ashamed of ?

Harry:  Everyone has something to be ashamed of. Have you ever wondered why we have a sense of shame ? The answer should be obvious but the more you stare at the question the harder it gets. Do you believe in god ?

Sophie: Merde ! I’m a Marxist.

Harry: So you do believe in god. Sorry ! But we must have evolved with a sense of shame for some reason. You know what I think it is ? I think shame is a mirror but it shows us only one side of our image. The ugly side. The vicious. The callous. The selfish. The cheap. That’s what shame’s for. To make us turn away from the image of our ugliness and find what’s beautiful in us.

Sophie: You’re not impressing me with your attempts to appear intellectual.

Harry: What makes you imagine I’m trying to impress you ?

Sophie: Oh, you’re that kind of boy. You come to Paris to show off, to pretend to be a revolutionary. You like to sit in the Deux Magots as if you’re a bohemian intellectual. You want to take a picture of Sartre. And all to impress the girls.

Harry: You don’t know much about English girls. Most of them have never heard of Jean-Paul Sartre, and the English are genetically predisposed to hate philosophy.   They prefer to box ideas in. They extend the franchise to prevent revolt and then say: “ There we are, that’s democracy old chap. Let the plebs vote, so long as they’re voting for their betters.” But democracy as an idea ! That’s dangerous.

Sophie: But your university girls with a picture of Che Guevara on their wall, they are the ones you want to seduce.

Harry: I don’t know any girls with pictures of Che Guevara on their walls, not even Lux. She has a picture of Rosa Luxemburg, hence the nickname. Most of them have Paul Newman or Status Quo. They prefer the warm bath of sex symbols and entertainment to the bracing waters of serious ideas and struggle for social change.

Sophie: So perhaps you came to Paris hoping to seduce French girls. The excitement of the revolution. Old ideas are breaking down. You can take advantage and, what is it you say, “get your end in” ?

Harry: Away. Get your end away. No. I came here with Lux. I came to fight for social change. I believed Paris could show the world again how to get beyond old forms. Like 1789. I wanted to be part of that because England’s in the grip of the middle-classes and they’re as   hopeless as a failed soufflé. Once they were energetic and radical. They looked down their noses at the working-class but they were driving things forward. They built towns and cities. They sat in non-conformist pews and they stuck two fingers up at the aristocratic, Anglican snobs. Then they retreated to the suburbs and the golf course and public life imploded like a dead star.

Sophie: But you don’t want to be part of it any more. Quel dommage ! Progress is not so easy as you thought.

Harry: Sure ! Yes. I’ll be out tonight with the best. I’ll be chanting CRS  SS ! I’ll link arms and march in solidarity.. It’s just that it’s not what I expected.

Sophie: Did you think we’d have a guillotine in front of Notre Dame ? Did you expect to see De Gaulle mounting the scaffold ? Perhaps our revolution isn’t melodramatic and bloodthirsty enough for you ?

Harry: I’m too squeamish for all that stuff. In any case, I’m a pacifist. It’s just there’s something not right. Something in the atmosphere.

Sophie: Oh, you wanted a carnival ! A party ! You’re disappointed because it’s serious. The CRS have real batons and real tear gas and they are real State thugs and the students and the young workers really want to fight. What a shame ! Paris in revolution is not a fun fair !

Harry: The opposite, as a matter of fact. It’s not serious enough. I don’t know, there’s some kind of cheating going on . Like shirt pulling in football. It ruins everything. What’s the point of playing a game with strict rules and then breaking the rules ? It’s a game because of the rules. If you break them, you break the spell. It’s the same kind of feeling here. A kind of irresponsibility towards the noble desire to ratchet up the level of fairness and justice in society. Something seems to be pulling downwards. The point is, I really am a socialist !

Sophie: Don’t think that makes you special ! We all are. Or anarchists. Or anarcho-syndicalists. Or Maoists. Or anarcho-maoists. Or communists. Or Situationists. We’re all fighting for the big change but we are like children over the details.

Harry: No, so many people here aren’t socialists at all. You know what I think ? I think when this all dies down most of them will go back to their homes, their universities and start worrying about how to build their careers. They’ll become professors and newspaper editors and lawyers and politicians and bankers and they’ll earn big money and live in all the fancy places and forty years from now they’ll tell stories of the barricades over canapés and Bollinger on a Saturday evening to entertain their friends. And their children will be spoilt rotten and think it’s their right to have a BMW and three holidays a year. It suddenly struck me that this isn’t going to last. We aren’t going to make it. Like the anarchists saying, ask for something they can’t take away from you. Free public transport for all in Paris. That at least would be a gain. But I’ve just suddenly been overcome with the bleak feeling we won’t win a thing. Too many people are too comfortable and those who aren’t are too disaffected, or defeated or cowardly or just plain stupid to rise up. I thought it would be much more disciplined than this. There just isn’t enough momentum. We’re pissing in the wind. They’re going to defeat us by selling the masses a commercialised fantasy. Marx was right. It’s the extension of the domain of the struggle. You know what I think ? I think the struggle is going to be about identity and none of the old ways of fighting will be any good. You can go on strike for more money or shorter hours, but how do you fight a consumerist identity you don’t even recognize? My country was once the workshop of the world but it’ll become the hairdressing salon of the world. There won’t be any miners to lead a working-class avant-garde. We’ll have to start again and build a new radicalism but in much more confusing conditions.

Sophie: You English have no sense of revolution. That’s why you came to Paris.  A romantic idea. We French know that every revolution brings a counter-revolution. Cut off the heads of the aristocrats and before you know it there’s a restoration. You have to keep going. You have to take to the streets over and over. After this, things will never be the same in France. 68 will be the number that makes the capitalists nervous. That’s what we’ll win.

Harry: It doesn’t seem much, does it ? And anyway, when capitalists get nervous they just build bigger weapons or train more riot police.

Sophie: Typical English defeatism !

Harry: Typical French arrogance !

Sophie: Anyway, why not make the best of things ? What do you say ? Chin out ?

Harry: Chin up.

Sophie: Voila ! The revolution may let you down but there are other things to enjoy. Perhaps you can go back to England feeling like you’ve won. You know, there’s something I like about you’re silly pessimism.

Harry: I’m not a pessimist, I’m just realistic.

Sophie: Of course. Be realistic, demand the impossible. But why not enjoy what’s in front of you at the same time ?

Harry: Victor and Spin may be back any minute.

Sophie: Well, we’ll lock the door. Voila ! If they knock, we’ll keep quiet and they’ll think we’ve gone out.

Harry: Why would you be interested in an English defeatist ?

Sophie: Oh, we are much more passionate than you. French women admire a man who knows how to love. I have a feeling you would be a good lover. Soixante-huit, soixante-neuf.

Harry: I’m here with my girl-friend.

Sophie: And you think she hasn’t noticed Victor ? He’s handsome as a god isn’t he ?

Harry: Is he ?

Sophie: You haven’t noticed ? He has the kind of face that makes women, what do you say, folle d’amour.

Harry: Just his face ?

Sophie: A face like that is enough. You walk the streets of Paris or any big city, you see thousands and thousands of men, ugly, ordinary, boring, obscene and then out of the crowd comes Victor’s face. You know what that does to a woman’s brain ? Il est adorable ! It’s terrible but it’s true. Your girl-friend is in love with him.

Harry: You haven’t seen them together.

Sophie: I don’t need to. I’ve seen the way women fall for Victor. He’s one of those men who doesn’t have to do anything to attract attention. He simply walks into a room. That’s why he’s so relaxed. And your girl-friend has come to Paris for the revolution. What better than a beautiful revolutionary ? Victor knows exactly what he’s doing. Have you noticed how he moves ? Have you seen the sleepiness in him ?  Do you think she can resist that ? It wouldn’t surprise me if at this very moment…..

Harry: Lux is shopping, Victor is with Spin. I suppose she’s fallen for him too.

Sophie: Oh, she will, when she wakes up. She’s not really a woman is she ? But even a little girl like her will find herself looking into his eyes and wondering what’s happening to her. Victor will seduce her if he’s nothing better to do. Your Lux is more of a challenge. She’s with you. Is she very beautiful ?

Harry: She’s too preoccupied with the revolution to get into bed with Victor.

Sophie: I thought she’d gone shopping ?

Harry: Just to lift her spirits. She’s suffered a blow to her dignity. Her face has been smashed in. Anyone would want to comfort themselves after that.

Sophie: And shopping is so much easier than changing the world. That’s what the capitalists know. They’ll turn the world into one big centre commercial. They’ll give us all cheap credit and make us fanatics of the department stores. We’ll go shopping for our identity and we’ll be the saddest spectacle in the universe. That’s the revolution your girl-friend is helping bring about. The real one means giving up too much.

Harry: You make it sound like Lent. What are you giving up ? Chocolate biscuits or pain au chocolat ?

Sophie: I’d give up everything to see capitalism swept away. Sometimes I think I’d even give my life. Like you, I really am a socialist. Wouldn’t you rather die for a cause than live without one ? What kind of life is it ? Metro boulot dodo. We don’t live, we are lived. We’ve made a monster. Our society is a Frankenstein and it controls us. We go to work. We make money. We worry if we have enough. And what is enough ? We never have enough. Even the richest people want to make more. They need another yatch or another private jet. No-one can have enough when money is a proof of your worth because your worth is something you can’t prove. Don’t you agree ? Aren’t we, what do you say, soulmates ?

Harry: Yes, soul mates. And you’re right. Our society is a mess so our minds are a mess. How the hell did we get here ?

Sophie: Soulmates. Or bedfellows.

Harry: Shoulder to shoulder on the barricades is where we belong. That way we might stop the capitalists from turning us all into compulsive shoppers.

Sophie: Such hard work, revolution. We need some relief. Maybe Victor is right. Maybe I treat revolution like  work. I just need to take off my clothes and relax. Your bed looks so comfortable.

                        She gets under the sheets so they cover her completely and  holds them up like a tent as she undresses.

Sophie: That’s better ! Don’t you love to be without clothes ?

Harry: When I’m in the bath.

Sophie: Come under the sheets with me. Please. What have you got to lose ?

Harry: A lot if Lux found out.

Sophie: Who’s going to tell her ?

Harry: These things have a way of making themselves known. Anyway, I’m no good at dissembling. My nature is too straightforward. I’d give myself away.

Sophie (Popping her head out): Are you going to insult me !

Harry: It’s not an insult.

Sophie: Don’t you find me attractive ?

Harry: Of course. You’re a very beautiful girl.

Sophie: I’m a very beautiful woman.

Harry: Woman. Fine. But I’m spoken for.

Sophie: Are you an old married man ? Anyway, I thought you were a revolutionary. Don’t you know our attitudes to sex are like everything else? They’re cultural. Why can’t we sweep away the old ways ? I’m offering you my body, my tenderness without any demands. Isn’t it cruel of you to turn me down ?

Harry: I’m not turning you down. I mean, in different circumstances….

Sophie: Oh, mais non ! Let’s make our own circumstances. What are we doing in the streets ? Aren’t we trying to make new circumstances for ourselves because new circumstances mean a new humanity ? Well, have a little pity for me. I’m naked. I’m waiting. If you don’t make love to me I’ll be so humiliated.

Harry: But I didn’t ask you to take your clothes off !

Sophie: It was the way you looked at me.

Harry: What ?

Sophie: A woman has an instinct for these things. You gave yourself away by the look in your eyes. I know you’re unhappy because your girlfriend has fallen in love with a handsome French icon of the revolution…

Harry: We don’t know that !

Sophie: I know it.

Harry: Neither of us knows that. Lux is a very friendly and generous girl…

Sophie: So am I. I’m offering you my body. Just like she offers hers to Victor.

Harry: You don’t know that !

Sophie: Men are always in denial when they find a woman has been unfaithful. A man thinks it’s his privilege to betray a woman. It’s in his genes, all that rubbish. Men know nothing about women. We love sex much more than you do. We love the simple pleasure of it. It’s true. That’s why we try to hide it behind sentimentality. As for men, they think sex is a big, important matter. They can’t accept the physical pleasure for what it is. That’s why they try to pretend to be so unsentimental about it. Your girlfriend has just met a man who has made her feel sexier than any man she’s ever known. She can’t believe it. She knows she’ll have an orgasm in five minutes if she goes to bed with him. What’s going to stop her ?

Harry: Me !

Sophie: You’re very sweet.

Harry: Don’t patronise me.

Sophie: Don’t keep me waiting.

Harry: Put your clothes on. Let’s go and have a coffee. We can talk things over.

Sophie: I don’t want to talk. How can you expect me to put my clothes on ? I’ve decided to act. It’s just like the revolution. We can’t turn back. If we left the streets now we would look stupid. Do you want to make me look stupid ?

Harry: This is impossible !

Sophie: You mean you can’t ….

Harry: Of course I can. I mean morally. I’m committed to Lux. She’s my future.

Sophie: And I’m your present. We’re in the middle of a revolution. No-one knows how things will work out but it’s exciting. Life usually goes on without any chance of change. One day after another. Year after year. People live out their whole lives and nothing essential changes. One generation after another and things change so slowly no-one notices. No-one feels they’ve helped change to happen. It’s happened in spite of them. People feel their lives have happened in spite of them. Then once in a while there comes a chance to be part of real change, to feel you’re making change happen. Everything is melting. For a brief moment, a moment which must be rare in the modern world, it’s as if the world was new. As if we were the first people on the planet. The whole future belongs to us and what we do will decide it. This is a moment when you can feel you’re escaping the weight of history. A moment of unbelievable freedom. Just take that freedom. For a brief hour. Just take it for what it is before the weight of history falls on your shoulders once again. Take that freedom and make me blissfully happy for one hour in my life.

Harry: You really believe it would make you happy ?

Sophie: I know it would.

Harry:  But it’s just physical sensation. Once it’s over it’s over. And what do we do with ourselves ? I hardly know you. We’ve no past. No future. There’s nothing shared beyond this brief …….thing. What makes you happy has to have more continuity about it than that doesn’t it ?

Sophie: How do you know this won’t be the beginning of something that will last ? What do we do, wait and wait before we find out how it feels to make love to one another ?

Harry: I’m committed to Lux.

Sophie: Then you are a stupid, stupid boy ! She isn’t committed to you.

Harry: You don’t know her.

Sophie: But I know Victor and I know his instinct for women. He wouldn’t have made friends with you if he hadn’t known your girlfriend was falling for him. That’s how he works. He doesn’t waste his time. He knows how a woman feels because so many women have been in love with him. If he meets one who won’t be seduced, he runs away. The moment he meets a woman he starts to ask himself whether she will go to bed with him. He’s a cynic. He’s a capitalist of the bedroom. All that matters to him is quantity. He accumulates women like a capitalist accumulates money. And just as a capitalist counts his worth in property, so Victor counts his worth in sexual conquest. Unfortunately, women are stupid enough to fall for him just like the workers are stupid enough to make the capitalists rich. I tell you, he knows he can seduce your girlfriend or he wouldn’t be here. He has the power. The power of his beauty has corrupted his soul. Just like the power of money corrupts the souls of the rich.

Harry: So you want me to go to bed with you as an act of revenge on Lux ! Wouldn’t that corrupt my soul ?

Sophie: Mais non, mais non, mais non ! Don’t misunderstand me. Not for revenge. For sweetness. Oh, make love to me. Make me feel like a woman. Forget Victor and Lux. Revolution is a new beginning. Brief but powerful. That’s all I ask. Give me that brief powerful moment that can let me start again. Create a revolution in my woman’s heart. It’s so much more difficult than overthrowing capitalism. Do it if you have the least feeling for me. Make me feel alive !

Harry: You’re putting me in an impossible situation !

Sophie: History has put us in an impossible situation. What can we do ? We’re always making choices in contexts other people have left to us. We are the  inheritors of the stupidity of generations. Do you think you can find some pure context in which to act ? It doesn’t exist. We act in the mess we find ourselves part of, whether we like it or not.

Harry: Sure, but we can still act to make things better or worse. There’s no excuse in blaming the past. What’s done is done. All the tragedies of the past will have to stay there. But there is a tomorrow and I can make tomorrow better or at least no worse. If I can’t improve, then let me do no harm.

Sophie: That’s right. Do no harm. What harm will it do to satisfy my woman’s longing ? But to leave me here, naked, exposed. Ah, the humiliation. Would you inflict that humiliation on a young woman ? How would I rise from it ? How would I pull myself back up to dignity ?

Harry: But I haven’t put you in a humiliating situation !

Sophie: Of course you have !

Harry: How !

Sophie: By letting me know you wanted me. Look what you’ve awakened in me ? And you’re a handsome man,do you know that ? I’m a vulnerable woman and when a woman’s vulnerable it’s wrong to exploit her.

Harry: Don’t you think you’re being unfair ?

Sophie: Why shouldn’t I be ? Sometimes we have to be unfair to get what we want but when what we want’s the right thing, what else can we do ?

Harry: If you have to be unfair to get what you want, it isn’t the right thing.

Sophie: There you go again, thinking there’s a pure context in which we can act. What if I’m a little bit unfair in pursuit of a greater fairness ? It’s unfair that Victor is so handsome. Nature is unfair. It gives him the looks which mean he can go to bed with a different woman every day. Think of all the shy, ugly men in the world. What’s fair about that ? He breaks my heart every time he meets another woman’s eyes in a café, in the street. Two seconds, and already she’s in bed with him. Isn’t it fair that I have a little love ? You’re so sweet. And your girlfriend is betraying you because she’s met an exceptionally handsome man who believes in revolution. Be fair to yourself. Be fair to me. Come on.

                                    He stands looking at her. She lies down, her knees bent under the sheet.

Blackout.

SCENE SEVEN

                        The hotel room. Harry alone on the bed reading L’Etre et le Neant. Enter Lux, breathless, with shopping bags.

Lux: Phew ! What a trek ! Where’s Spin ?

Harry: She went out with Victor. Didn’t they find you ?

Lux: Find me ? Did they go looking for me ?

Harry: I assumed they would.

Lux: Why ?

Harry: I told them you’d gone to Galeries Lafayette. I guessed they’d want to track you down.

Lux: You make me sound like some kind of prey.

Harry: All women are prey to Victor.

Lux: Want to see what I’ve bought ?

Harry: Revolutionary fatigues ?

Lux: I got them in the sale. Isn’t this lovely ?

Harry: You’re going to look perfect on the barricades !

Lux: But  the sequins ! I love sparkly things. Do you want to see it on ?

Harry: Maybe you should wait till Victor gets back. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.

Lux: What are you being such a shit about, Harry ?

Harry: A shit ?

Lux: What the fuck’s the matter !

Harry: Nothing’s the matter !

Lux: What’s the two-year-old act for, Harry ? God ! Can’t you make an effort ? I’ve bought myself some nice things. Is it too much to be pleasant about them ?

Harry: I thought we came here to overthrow capitalism.

Lux: You can’t be overthrowing capitalism twenty-four hours a day.

Harry: I thought that’s what revolution was about ? I didn’t think it stopped for a fucking tea-break at eleven or paused while the ladies go to the fashion sales.

Lux: I’m not a lady, Harry, I’m a woman.

Harry: No, you’re a lady, Lux. A middle-class lady who likes to go round the sales and buy sparkly tops. I don’t think that’s quite what Marx had in mind when he envisaged the rising of the working-class. That’s why we’ve made a big mistake coming to Paris, Lux. This isn’t a revolution, it’s a bunch of middle-class kids indulging themselves. It’s a carnival of egocentricism, the political equivalent of a shopping spree. They aren’t serious about change. They’d run a mile from what equality really means. But they can show off their radical pretensions by throwing a few paves at policemen, knowing full well  the police will win,and they can go back to mummy and daddy’s apartment on the Avenue de la Grande Armee.

Lux: Why are you such a cynic, Harry.

Harry: Because I see the world as it is, Lux.

Lux: Who do you think built the barricades ? Who ripped up all those cobbles ? Middle-class students don’t have the muscle or the skill. The young workers did that. They’re going on strike. They’re going to occupy their factories and kick the capitalists out on their arses. Then they’ll control what they make and….

Harry: Things like that sparkly top.

Lux: Why not, Harry ?

Harry: Because while you’re buying your sparkly top, Lux, people are going hungry. That’s how capitalism works. It makes even people like you, who think they’re fucking radicals, put their own fripperies before justice. Do you know how hard a thing justice is, Lux ? It means  if the starving need food, we’ll do without sparkly tops and cars and holidays and colour fucking televisions and the next fucking Beatles L.P. Do you see any sign of that ? What I see is a consumerist nightmare. What I see is a future in which the poor of the world will perish for want of a bowl of rice or a bit of clean water while people like us run two fucking cars and worry if we can’t change them every three years.

Lux: Not if this revolution succeeds, Harry ! Then we’ll have a new world in which everything is shared equally. People are greedy because the system makes them greedy, change the system, change the people. You’ve been telling me that for ages. How many times have I heard you explain it ? How many times have I heard you carefully spell out to some arse-licking Tory that medieval conditions produce medieval minds. People would die to defend the Divine Right of Kings, but no-one believes in it now. Isn’t that what you always say, Harry ? Context is what makes us what we are because we’re material creatures and our minds make reality from the reality we make. Well, this is a new reality being made, Harry. Just like 1789. This is the future being born and we are the midwives.

Harry: This is a messy fucking abortion, Lux. The new world isn’t being born, it’s being destroyed.

Lux: You never miss the chance for a clever-clever comment do you, Harry ?

Harry: It’s not clever-clever. I can explain it.

Lux: Yeah, if I’ve got three hours to spare and can stay awake.

Harry: It takes courage to face down your own immediate advantage, Lux.

Lux: What the fuck’s that supposed to mean !

Harry: 1789 wasn’t like this.

Lux: Well, thank you A.J.P. Taylor ! And there’s me thinking 1789 was a student uprising and the streets full of riot police !

Harry: You know what Marx said ? “If the slogan of 1789 was Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, that of 1848 was Cavalry, Artillery, Infantry.” And you say I’m a cynic.

Lux: Maybe Marx was a cynic too.

Harry: But he was right wasn’t he? Danton and Robespierre weren’t fighting for justice for others, they were fighting for their own advantage. This time we’re asking people to put their own advantage after the well-being of others. They won’t do it.

Lux: They’re doing it, Harry. Night after night out there we are doing it !

Harry: You think people know what they’re doing ? Human beings are just fucking clever monkeys. That’s all we are. We’ve got these huge fucking brains full of hundreds of millions of neurons and that’s why we can send rockets into space or do differential calculus. But you know what we can’t do,Lux ? We can’t understand ourselves. You don’t even know why you’ve bought that sparkly top. As a matter of fact, you’ve got no fucking idea.

Lux: As a matter of fact I have. I bought it because I like it. Wow ! How’s that Dr Freud ?

Harry: Balls to Freud. We can’t see into our own minds. Just glimpses.  We evolved to survive, not write psychological text-books.

Lux: Well, why don’t you start learning how to survive instead of spouting theory like a philosophy professor on speed ?

Harry: You and me have come to Paris to ask clever monkeys with money to give it away so the poor can be fed, so the breaking hearts of the excluded and neglected can be eased. They won’t do it, Lux, because they want to buy sparkly tops and flash cars and drugs and champagne. We’re doomed.

Lux: Does that make you feel better ? There you are. The last degree of cycnicism. Does that make you feel superior ?

Harry: I’m just trying to tell you how I see things.

Lux: And maybe I don’t like your picture.

Harry: Maybe you don’t. Because the poor will fight back. They’ve  no choice. But they’ll fight dirty.

Lux: Good for them. The rich have always known how to fight dirty.

Harry: We’re doomed.

Lux: Speak for yourself, Harry.

Harry: You know what your children will say when you tell them you came to Paris in ’68 to overthrow capitalism ? They’ll say: “What’s capitalism ?”

Lux: You mean we’ll have destroyed it ! I like the idea my kids won’t know what capitalism is.

Harry: You know what you’ll do when you’ve got kids ? You’ll buy them more expensive toys than the kids next door, you’ll try to get them into the best school, you’ll push them to do well, you’ll want them to get the best jobs. And in the meantime, mothers in Africa will watch their children die. We’re doomed, Lux. Why don’t you put on your sparkly top, I want to see it.

Lux: Fuck you, Harry ! 

Harry: So what are you going to do ? Take it back ?

Lux: I’m going to do just what I was doing before. You depress me, do you know that ? Everything about you depresses me.

Harry: You’ll get over it. You’ve had your nose broken in a failed revolution. It’s not exactly the middle-class idea of success.

Lux: I had my nose broken because of you !

Harry: Come off it, Lux. You had your nose broken because this is serious stuff. You start threatening the power of the State, it fights back. A few kids get their faces smashed, what the hell do they care about that ? Don’t lose yourself in a silly middle-class, pseudo-radical fantasy that power and wealth will give in to a bunch of protesting philosophy students. Especially philosophy students in sparkly tops.

Lux:  I knew you shouldn’t’ve come. From the start you were nervous. You’re just worried about the CRS smashing your head. That’s the truth. You’re a coward and you try to hide your cowardice behind your cynicism.

Harry: What’s wrong with worrying about the CRS smashing your head ? You’ve got to know what you’re up against. You can’t beat the armed State at violence. You know why there are boulevards right through the middle of this city, Lux ?

Lux: You know how many times you’ve told me ? You’re always showing off your ignorance by  repeating the bits of crap you know.

Harry: It’s not crap, Lux. It’s history. They’ve learned. They know how to defeat street protests. It’s a science. You can get a million people on the streets of Paris and they can disperse them with half a dozen water cannon and a few thousands canisters of tear gas. When are we getting water cannon and tear gas ? Or hadn’t you noticed, only the State is allowed to use violence now. It’s a great step forward, Lux, but it doesn’t half fuck up the chances of revolution.

Lux: It’s nothing new, Harry.

Harry: No, but democracy is. In 1789 the forces of order had no legitimacy, now they’ve got the electorate on their side. We’re fucked.

Lux; This has got nothing to do with politics has it ?

Harry: Shopping at Galeries Lafayette’s got nothing to do with politics.

Lux: What’s eating you, Harry ?

Harry: Boredom.

Lux: No, something that bites harder  isn’t it, Harry ?

            Enter Spin.

Spin: Oh, that’s nice ! Where’d you get it ?

Lux: Galeries Lafayette.

Spin: Lovely ! Where shall we go ?

Lux: On the streets.

Spin: Wearing that you’ll have no shortage of customers.

Lux: We’ve got a revolution to finish.

Harry: You’ve only got one nose. Stay indoors.

Lux: I’ll be with Victor. He’s got a bit of street nouse.

Spin: Oh, he won’t be going out tonight, we’ve had an exhausting afternoon.

Lux: Really ? How’s that ?

Spin: Oh, you know. He’s so energetic and passionate. The passion itself wears you out. An English temperament just can’t keep up .

Lux: So what were you doing ?

Spin: Enjoying ourselves. When in Paris and all that.

Lux: We didn’t come here to enjoy ourselves.

Spin: Speak for yourself. Anyway, Victor enjoys taking to the streets. They don’t see it all that seriously. That’s what I’ve realised. It’s just a kind of celebration. Letting off steam. Victor thinks they’ll be back at work in a few weeks.

Lux: He said that ?

Spin: Don’t sound so surprised, Lux. Did you think you were going to change the world ?

Lux: We are going to change the world.

Spin: Why change a world where you can buy lovely things like that in Galeries Lafayette. How much was it ?

Harry: She got it in the sales. Cut-price capitalism. Everyone can dress like a millionaire for a few quid. Gramsci saw it coming, that’s why he cleaned his shoes with his hat.

Spin: Paris is a wonderful city ! Don’t you think ? I’d like to live here, once this fuss is over. Victor took me to his father’s flat in the sixieme. You should see it ! It’s huge ! And so close to everything. I think it’s amazing. To live in the very heart of the city in a lovely place like that. It has this fantastic living-room with a view right over the city. And the bathroom ! The taps are gold-plated ! And you walk out of the door and the city is at your feet. Oh, to have money and live in a city like this. Don’t you think that would just be bliss !

Lux: Why the hell did you go to his father’s flat ?

Harry: Why the hell do you think ?

Lux: Keep your fucking mouth shut, Harry !

Spin: Where else could we go ? He just wanted to show me round. He’s really a charming boy. I like him enormously now I’ve got to know him better. His politics are just silly, but when you get under that, he’s really very nice.

Lux: You don’t understand anything about politics, Spin.

Spin: What do I care ? I understand men and I understand how to have a good time. What else matters in life ?

Lux: Justice matters, for God’s sake ! We can’t live like hedonists, we can’t all be wrapped up in our own silly desires like little children. You should fuck off back to England, Spin, because you’re out of your depth. You’ve got yourself caught up in something you just don’t understand. You should leave it to the people who do.

Spin: No, you’ve got yourself caught up in something you don’t understand. I’m enjoying myself, at last. I’ve had a lovely afternoon. I’m so glad I came ! I suppose I should be thankful there’s an uprising. I wouldn’t have come to Paris otherwise. Isn’t it funny how all the things you plan go wrong and out of nowhere, completely without any planning at all, something happens which changes your life for the better ?

Harry: Don’t be too sure it’s for the better, Spin.

Spin: Cynic ! You always know how to spoil the fun, Harry.

Harry: I always know that after the party someone’s got to clear up. I have a little voice in the back of my head saying: “No matter how good things are, something can always go wrong. And because it can, it probably will. So expect the worst and be glad if you avoid it.”

Spin: You’ve got that in your head ! You should see a psychiatrist.

Lux: Where’s Victor now ?

Spin: He’s gone to meet some friends to talk about revolution. I suppose it passes the time.

Lux: Why didn’t you come and find me ?

Spin: I didn’t know you were lost.

Lux: Harry told you where I’d gone. He thought you were going to come and find me.

Spin: Did Harry tell us ? I don’t remember. Anyway, you were on a shopping spree to compensate for the destruction of your looks. You didn’t want a man hanging around. They just turn shopping into a trial.

Lux: That’s not the point, Spin. You’re my friend. I was on my own in Paris. Don’t you think the right thing to do was to keep me company ? And my looks aren’t destroyed. Once the swelling and bruising have gone you’ll hardly notice.

Spin: Of course you won’t. I wasn’t meaning to insult you. You can always tell people you’ve done a bit of amateur boxing ! But no, I didn’t think you’d want me trailing after you like a lap-dog.

Lux: Well you trailed after us all the way to fucking Paris !

Spin: I just came to join in the fun. Is there any dope in this room ?

Lux: For Christ’s sake, haven’t you had enough pleasure for one day !

Spin: What am I supposed to do while you two are out on the barricades ?

Harry: You’ll have me for company. I’m packing my tatty rucksack and heading back tomorrow.

Lux: Oh come off it ! Things are heading for a climax. You can’t pull out now !

Harry: I can pull out whenever I like.

Lux: And leave me on my own !

Harry: You’ll be with Victor.

Lux: And who am I going to travel home with ?

Spin: I didn’t say I was going.

Lux: What’s the point of staying ?

Spin: Oh, I’m sure I can find something to occupy me while you fight your way through the ranks of riot police.

Lux: No, we signed up for this together, Harry. This is part of our fucking relationship.

Harry: You said you’d come on your own.

Lux: I was calling your bluff.

Harry: No you weren’t ,Lux. You were expecting excitement and victory. You weren’t expecting to get your nose broken.

Lux: But you were expecting to get your head broken !

Harry: Too right. From the very start I was nervous. We’re civilized monkeys but were monkeys. Just let civilization slip a little and the beast takes over. And out on those streets, Lux, are men who are trained to inflict violence to keep order. It’s what they do. It’s what they’re itching to do. And they’ve got riot shields and helmets and batons and armoured vehicles and tear gas and water cannon and guns. And if that isn’t enough they’ve got judges and courts and prisons. When are we going to learn that violence is their weapon?

Lux: Okay, so let’s fight fire with fire !

Harry: They’ve beaten you. All it took was a stray rubber bullet. You know what those strikers should do ? They shouldn’t go on the streets or the picket . That’s putting themselves in the firing line. They should strike and go fishing or dancing or do the gardening or take off on a hike or a bike ride or meet their mates in the café for a chat and a game of cards . What’s the State going to do then ? Send the CRS to the riverbank to smash people’s heads for casting out ? Round them up in the cafes for having a pastis and an afternoon of pontoon ?

Lux: They don’t want a holiday ! They want to take on the system, Harry.

Harry:  You know what’ll happen to those strikers ? They’ll be beaten or starved back to work. It takes more imagination than you’ll find on a barricade to defeat a State that’s set up to look after the rich and powerful first. It’s not violence we should use to overthrow capitalism, Lux, it’s humour, subtlety, gentleness in the face of all provocation, friendliness, ease. That’s how we make all the paraphernalia of oppression redundant.

Lux: Nice little speech, Harry, but this isn’t the student union. And I’m not beaten.

                        A knock. Enter Sophie.

Sophie: Salut !

                        She goes straight to Harry and kisses him on the mouth.

Spin: Aren’t French habits charming ! Have you seen Victor ?

Sophie: I was hoping to find him here.

Lux: Don’t I get an introduction ?

Spin: This is Sophie. She’s a passing acquaintance of Victor.

Sophie: And you must be Lux.

Lux: Pleased to meet you.

Sophie: How was your shopping trip ? Or did Victor find you and interrupt it with something more interesting ?

Spin: No, he was busy showing me the sights of the city. You don’t realise just how big the Eiffel Tower is until you’re under it, do you ?

Sophie: Victor is very charming isn’t he ? You couldn’t have had a better guide. What else did he show you ?

Spin: Oh, he’s full of little surprises ! I was beside myself for the whole afternoon. What about you  ?

Sophie: I kept Harry company, as everyone else had abandoned him.

Lux: He likes being on his own. Don’t you , Harry ?

Harry: Don’t speak on my behalf, Lux.

Sophie: I think he appreciated my company more. We French are very welcoming. We’re famous for it. Stay with the French and you get your appetite satisfied.

Lux: Speaking of food, I need to eat. Come on, Harry , let’s go and find something.

Spin: Why don’t we all eat together ? You can wear your new top.

Sophie: Let’s wait for Victor.

Harry: I’m not hungry.

Lux: You must be famished, Harry. You haven’t eaten all day.

Harry: How do you know ?

Lux: I know ! I know you, Harry. We haven’t got long. Things’ll start heating up on the streets soon.

Harry: And I’m staying where it’s cool.

Lux: Take me for something to eat at least ! You can’t expect me to go out alone !

Harry: You went to Galeries Lafayette on your own.

Lux: Things are quieter during the day, Harry. You know that.

Spin: Not always.

Sophie: We’ll all go together when Victor arrives. A good meal then on to the streets.

Lux: I don’t want to go trooping off in a gang. Come on, Harry. I’m getting claustrophobic in this room.

Harry: I’m getting claustrophobic in this city.

Spin: How do you know Victor’s coming, anyway ?

Sophie: I always know when he’s coming. He’s very predictable. He’s enjoying himself. There are certain things he can’t resist. Above all, he likes to keep people guessing. It’s his little power game. He plays one person off against another because he has to. It’s the only way he can feel real. But he does it so consistently it becomes absolutely transparent. Believe me, he’ll walk through that door any minute. 

                        Enter Victor.

Spin: Victor !

                        She goes straight to him and kisses him on the mouth.

Sophie: Voila ! Victor, we’re all waiting for you ! We want go out to eat, don’t we Harry ?

                        She puts her arm around Harry’s shoulder.

Harry: My appetite has disappeared completely.

Lux: Spin says you spent the afternoon showing her your father’s luxury flat. Some fucking revolutionary !

Victor: The flat doesn’t belong to my father. He can just use it. Anyway, she wanted to go there for a bath. She said she was grubby and uncomfortable. What’s wrong with that ?

Sophie: Nothing Victor. Nothing at all. As for me, I got to know Harry a little better. We’ve all had a nice afternoon doing exactly as we liked ! That’s revolutionary in itself, wouldn’t you say, Victor ? The defeat of dead time. But now there’s serious work to do. Things are moving fast. Workers are on strike all over France. Factories are occupied. What happens in the next few days will determine the future of Europe for a century. If the workers hold out, if they replace capitalist production with workers co-operatives, if distribution is simplified, if power is spread widely through society, then we can call for elections and whoever wins they’ll have to govern a new economy, a new society. But if the workers are bought off with a pay rise or shorter hours and go back  under the old relations, then whoever wins the election there’s sure to be a turn to the right. The opportunity will have been lost, the right will seize their chance and Europe will swing into a period of reaction.

Spin: Boring, boring, boring ! Why don’t we just go and have a lovely meal, some wine and some dope and let Europe take care of itself ?

Lux: Spin, you’re such a fucking idiot !

Spin: You want to change the world, Lux, but you can’t even control your own life ! You’re life’s a fucking mess and that’s the truth!

Sophie: Calm your lover down, Victor ! This is getting too personal.

Victor: She isn’t my lover !

Sophie: There’s no need for bourgeois hypocrisy here, Victor. This is revolution. You spent the afternoon fucking her and I spent the afternoon fucking Harry…

Lux: You bastard !

Harry: I didn’t go to bed with her ! As a matter of fact, she gives me the creeps !

Spin: If you went to bed with her she’d probably give you the clap.

Sophie: Oh, Harry, you’re behaving like a pere de famille whose mistress is the au pair ! You can deny it, but in the end the truth will be known .No-one ever manages to hide an affair from everyone for ever.

Lux: I’ve got a fucking broken nose and what do you do, you jump into bed with that tart behind me back. You’re a shit, Harry ! You’re a lying little shit !

Harry: And you wouldn’t have got into bed with him if you’d had the chance !

Lux: Don’t try to excuse yourself by accusing me. Your guilt is yours. You can’t make me responsible for it.

Harry: I don’t have any guilt, Lux.

Lux: Then you’re some kind of moral moron, Harry.

Victor: Good work, Sophie. As usual.

Sophie: I don’t know what you mean, Victor.

Victor: You’ll never be anything but a jealous, resentful little middle-class girl, Sophie . Going out on the streets is easy. Any pauvre type can throw a Molotov cocktail. But changing your self is hard. It’s too hard, isn’t it Sophie ? Either you get your own way or you destroy everything. Just like every dictator the world has ever known.

Sophie: You think just because you’re beautiful you can break all the rules. But I watch you, Victor, and I learn. Every time you meet a woman’s eyes in public I experience what you experience. I know how to break you, Victor. That’s what troubles you. And I have to live in the world as it is. I’m a woman in a society dominated by men who behave like little boys. That’s why I go out on the streets, Victor, because another world is possible.  But just like you, this one has to be broken. Now, Harry, shall we go and make revolution ?

Harry: There is no fucking revolution.

Spin: Hurray ! That’s the best thing I’ve heard since I came here. Let’s all go and get stoned. That’s the  way to change the world. Everything is much better the other side of an ounce of dope.

Harry: That’s not changing the world, Spin, it’s denying it. That’s  monkey brains . When  reality’s too hard, we flip into confabulating mode. Then we build barricades and throw milk bottles full of petrol at riot police and hope the big, bad oppressive capitalist State will wither and die.

Spin: I hope the big, bad capitalist State will last forever. Or at least for my lifetime. After that, I don’t really give a shit.

Harry: Because you’re doing okay ?

Spin: I’m not doing half as okay as I’d like ! But I’ll be rich one day.

Harry: That’s what half the world thinks. It defies arithmetic.

Spin: Fuck arithmetic. Anyway, why shouldn’t I be rich if I want to be ?

Lux: Because we’ll stop you, Spin.

Harry: No we won’t. Because we’re doing okay, aren’t we? The big, bad State has educated us. You can get a grant to spend three years reading Marx and Sartre. Some oppression, eh ? And the people who are oppressed don’t want barricades and Molotov cocktails. They want a few more quid a week, a nursery for their kids, a decent school, a house where the roof doesn’t leak. Take your eyes off the overarching shape of history and look at the details. The details are people’s lives. Real people. Don’t ask them to risk the little they’ve got for a dream that might turn to ashes. We aren’t going to change the world this way. We’ll only change it by long, slow, determined, principled work. Not very glamorous is it ?

Victor: You’re English. You don’t understand revolution.

Sophie: You’re French and you don’t understand it.

Lux: Shut up for fuck’s sake ! All of you ! I’m pissed off with this ! All of it ! Look at me ! Look at my fucking nose ! Look at my face ! Why the fuck did I come here ? 

                                                She collapses into sobs.

Harry: You came as a revolutionary tourist, Lux. Come and see the uprising ! A once in a lifetime experience ! Next time, we should go to the Grand Canyon.

Sophie: Well, Victor, our comrades are waiting. Your English friends seem to have found revolution is not to their taste.

Victor (To Lux): I’m sorry.

Lux (Her face in her hands) : Fuck you !

                                    Exit Victor.

Sophie: Look for our pictures in the paper. I’ll be the one kicking a flic in the teeth ! A bas les bourgeois !

                                    Exit Sophie.

Blackout.

SCENE 8

                        The student room in Lancaster. Harry is on the bed reading Loot. On the wall is an enlarged newspaper photograph of a foot about to make contact with a riot policeman’s face.

                        Enter Lux. She is dressed in knee-high boots, a short, red, leather skirt, fishnet tights. Her face is garishly made up and       her hair is short and peroxide blonde. She inspects and adjusts herself in a mirror.

Harry: For fuck’s sake, Lux !

Lux: Don’t lecture me, Harry.

Harry: Why can’t you just sing ?

Lux: Because that’s not how it works, Harry. You know that. It’s image. It’s a package. You have to be able to sell it. No-one will buy good singing just because it’s good singing.

Harry: My granddad used to buy Kathleen Ferrier.

Lux: Who ?

Harry She was born down the road from here. She’s thought of as a great voice, in certain circles.

Lux: Yeah, among the dead mostly.

Harry: Among a few of the living with the right kind of ear too, I guess.

Lux: Did she make money ?

Harry: Oh masses. Probably as much as five hundred quid.

Lux: I don’t intend to sing for MU rates for the rest of my life, Harry.

Harry: Shit, Lux !

Lux: What ?

Harry: What about the music ?

Lux: The music is a means to an end.

Harry: Maybe you should have a little more respect for the means.

Lux: Maybe you should have a little more respect for money.

Harry: That’s crass ! You know it ! You know that’s crass, Lux !

Lux: What I know is this. There are people who make millions from performing this stuff. Enough money to be able to do what they like with their lives. Enough money to buy a little freedom.

Harry: So what happens to the poor in the department store of liberty ?

Lux: I want to change the world, Harry. You know that.

Harry: No, I know that you say you want to change the world and you think you want to change the world. But just now you seem to be making pretty much a complete agreement with it.

Lux: Lots of rich people are socialists, Harry.

Harry: Lots of paedophiles are apparently sexually abstinent priests.

Lux: Bad analogy. Very bad analogy. It’s not a crime to be rich.

Harry: It’s not a crime to have seventeen wives if you live in the right culture. Haven’t you noticed, Lux,  under capitalism it’s being poor that’s the crime !

Lux: Don’t exaggerate, Harry. No-one says it’s a crime. Anyway, what’s the fucking Welfare State for if not to give the poor rights?

Harry: And what’s taxing the rich for if not to fund the Welfare State ?

Lux: I’m in favour ! Tax the rich ! When I’m rich they can tax me. What will I care ?

Harry: Well, you might care, Lux, because a fleet of Rolls-Royces is expensive, and then there’s the private jet and the homes in France, Italy, America. And then this nice little private island comes on the market for only two million and there’s the school fees for your kids because you can’t let them go to the local comp with the hoi-polloi. A superstar lifestyle is expensive, Lux, and pretty soon you’re cursing the taxman for taking that half million you could have used to buy another house or two. (Sings) “Taxman,yeah, I’m the taxman and you’re working for no-one but me.” That’s what rich pop stars sing ,Lux.

Lux: So what ? The State takes the tax anyway.

Harry: That depends on who’s in control of the State.

Lux: What are you saying, Harry ? That I shouldn’t try to make it as a pop singer ?

Harry: What I’m saying, Lux, is that it’s kind of shoddy.

Lux: No, Harry. It isn’t shoddy at all. It’s slick. In fact, it’s so fucking slick people are falling over themselves to buy it. That’s what you’re missing, Harry. This is what people want ! No-one forces them to buy records. They want to do it. They’re crazy for pop songs. It’s democratic, Harry. It’s choice. People have the choice of what to spend their money on and they choose to buy pop records. And I can sing, Harry. I can fucking well sing better than a lot of the millionaires on Top Of The Pops. So I’m just going to give people what they want, Harry. Lots of people. And each of them gives me a little bit of their money and I become very rich. And then, if you play your cards right, so do you.

Harry: I don’t want to be very rich, Lux. I don’t want to be even moderately rich. I don’t want to be rich at all.

Lux: Well, aren’t you the fucking martyr.

Harry: That’s balls !

Lux: Why ? What do you want to do ? Take some crappy public sector job, get pushed around for forty years and retire on a pension that wouldn’t keep a hungry cat ?

Harry: So where’s your Welfare `State now, Lux ?

Lux: I’m in favour of it I just don’t want to work in it.

Harry: And who’s going to if not people like us ?

            A knock. Enter Spin, smoking a joint.

Spin: Wow ! You look fantastic ! Every guy in the audience is going to want to fuck you !

Harry: That’s what they said about Kathleen Ferrier.

Spin: Who ?

Lux: Do you think the skirt is short enough ?

Spin: Any shorter and you might as well take it off. Doesn’t she look fantastic, Harry ?

Lux: He thinks I should give it up and become an NHS nurse.

Spin: If that’s the new uniform, men’ll be queuing up to go into hospital. Oh, I wish I could sing !

Harry: You could mime. No-one knows the difference. And dressed like that, no-one cares. As a matter of fact ,the next move in pop music must be women singing in their underwear or naked. Pop striptease is sure to be the next fashion.

Lux: You always undermine your own arguments by exaggeration.

Harry: It’s called hyperbole.

Lux: Don’t patronize me, Harry. I know what’s it’s called.

Spin: Maybe you should try it, Lux. You could make a fortune !

Lux: I could make a fortune anyway. No need to exaggerate.

Spin: Always stay one step ahead of the competition. Maybe Harry’s right. Maybe somebody will do it. Why not be the first ?

Lux: Maybe Harry’s wrong. I’m a singer, Spin, not a stripper.

Harry: That’s just what Kathleen Ferrier said.

Spin: Who the fuck is Kathleen Ferrier ?

Harry: A singer, Spin. Rumour has it she contemplated throwing her knickers to the audience to steal a march on her rivals.

Spin: Did she do it ?

Lux: Harry !

Spin: Fuck you !

Harry: Singing is singing. It should be the singing that matters. What kind of fucking culture is this ? Not the thing itself but always the attendant fantasy.

Spin: It’s only pop music ! You’re not supposed to take it seriously, Harry.

Harry: Oh, yes you are, Spin. You’re supposed to take it very seriously. The music isn’t serious, but the activity is as serious as hell. It’s a matter of life and death because it’s a matter of money.

Spin: God, you always make everything so gloomy. I have to smoke three more joints to get over the depression every time I talk to you.

Lux: People pay money for Beethoven , Harry. It’s no different. You’re just a snob. You’ll pay a fiver to go and listen to the Halle but you get on your high horse about kids paying for pop music. What’s the difference ?

Harry: There’s a lot of difference.

Spin: I can’t see any difference. Except Beethoven is boring.

Harry: Your ears are clogged up with dope, Spin.

Spin: Well, what’s the fucking difference ? Lux is right. Just ease up and let people have what they want.

Harry: How do people know what they want ?

Lux: They know better than anyone else. They know better than you. Try going around telling people Beethoven is good for them, Harry. Kids’ll still prefer The Monkees. If that’s what they choose for themselves, who’s to say they’re wrong ? Not you, not anyone.

Harry: People don’t choose in a vacuum, Lux. They choose in a context. Who controls the context ? That’s the question. You know that’s the question.

Lux: I know you talk a lot of shit, Harry.

Spin:  I sometimes think you’re even prettier with your broken nose, Lux. There’s something very..I don’t know. Don’t you think so, Harry ?

Harry: The beneficial effects of a rubber bullet in the face. You could write a thesis on it, Spin.

Spin: Don’t be so horrible to me !

Lux: Anyway, this is democracy. Like I said, people choose. They control the context.

Harry: Now who’s talking shit !

Lux: My father says most people are too stupid to have the vote.

Harry: He should go into politics.

Lux: You’re beaten Harry and you know it. You think democracy should make everyone choose what you suppose is good for them. Well, that’s the point. You can’t control what people choose. You’ve got to go along with it. If you don’t, you’re lost.

Harry: No, just the opposite, Lux. Controlling people’s choices is exactly what capitalism has learnt to do in response to democracy. Popular culture is capitalism’s revenge on democracy. It’s a way of saying to people: this is the best you can have, you can’t choose any better because you don’t know any better. And who’s behind it ? The men in suits. The accountants. The managing directors. The big shareholders. Who’s behind  The Beatles ? The execs at EMI. Bright graduates like you, Lux, overseeing popular culture. Selling tat to the masses at inflated prices for big profits. A million copies of a Beatles single. How much does each copy cost when you’re selling that many ? Almost nothing. They could sell the fucking things for sixpence and still make plenty. But at 7/6d they make tens of millions. So Lennon has a psychedelic Rolls and the faceless execs and shareholders fill their bank accounts and pump up their pension funds. Meanwhile, what’s waiting for the working-class boys and girls of Liverpool who queue to buy the latest 45 ? Crappy jobs if they’re lucky, crappy houses, crappy lives. It’s the old exploitation in a new package. Physical exploitation has given way to psychological exploitation. And the worst of it, Lux, is that it’s exploitation of kids ! Don’t you think that’s pretty tawdry ? Selling second-rate pseudo-culture to children in order to make a fortune !

Lux: Children have a right to their own culture, Harry. They don’t want to listen to Mozart or read fucking Chekhov. They enjoy it. That’s what you hate isn’t it ? You’re a puritan. You can’t stand people having a good time. So what if people make a bit of money out of it ? It keeps the wheels of the economy turning. And so long as people choose, there’s no harm in it. It’s what people want. You just can’t argue against that. You’re a cultural fascist, Harry. You’d force everyone to listen to improving music and read high-minded books from morning to midnight. Why is there no pop music in the Soviet Union ? Because they’re Stalinists, Harry. Like you. If you give people the choice, they go for popular culture. They don’t mind paying for it. You just make an issue of that because you want control.

Harry: Well, why not give it away ?

Lux: What ?

Harry: Make it free. Kids want their own culture. Okay. Give it them. They can still choose. People want crappy culture that’s their business. What I despise is making big money out of it.

Spin: You’re just jealous because she’s more successful. My father says socialism is the politics of envy.

Lux: It’s not just the music or the film or whatever. It’s the package. People want stars. They like to identify with them. It gives people a lift. Maybe people need it, Harry. Maybe they need to identify with the rich and powerful. Maybe that’s what keeps society going.

Harry: It what keeps this crazy society going. Like fawning after antediluvian royals. It’s neurosis, Lux. So is pop stardom.

Spin; Then most people must be neurotic, according to you.

Lux: In the end, Harry, I just don’t care.

Harry: Well, that’s not true.

Lux: Oh yes it is, sweetheart. I’m brimming over with don’t-give-a-fuck-ism. It’s a sweet feeling,Harry. You should try it.

Harry: But you care about success ?

Lux: Who doesn’t ?

Harry: Then you do give a fuck. You want the structure in place to deliver you success. And to be successful you’ve got to agree with it. Remember what happened to Greta Garbo.

Spin (mimicking): I want to be alone ! God, if I had that kind of money I wouldn’t be alone for a minute. Life would be one long party and all the invitees would be gorgeous men.

Lux: Some people piss on their chips,Harry. All kinds of people: accountants, teachers, doctors, film stars. That’s human nature.

Harry: She didn’t piss on her chips. Hollywood shat on her. Still beautiful, still talented but rejected. It destroyed her flimsy poor-little-rich-girl’s ego.

Lux: Got to go. Van leaves at seven. Wish me luck.

Spin: You won’t need it in that get-up ! Just wiggle your tits and your arse !

Lux: Wait up for me. (She kisses Harry).

Harry: Can’t you squeeze me in ?

Lux: Malc says no. You know what he’s like. Packs every inch with equipment.

Harry: Good luck. Enjoy it.

Lux: Byeee !

                        Exit

Spin (collapsing in a chair): Oh, she’s so lucky. Pretty, intelligent, talented. What are you going to do with the evening ?

Harry: I was thinking of reading for a bit.

Spin: Boring ! You could take me out for a drink if you like. I’m already stoned I might as well get pissed into the bargain.

Harry: I think I prefer you sober, Spin.

Spin: Why are you always so horrible to me !

Blackout.

SCENE 9

                                    Same as previous. Subdued lighting. Lux is on the bed, still in the red skirt but with bare legs and feet. Her hair is messed. Her make-up smudged. She is sobbing.

Harry: Don’t take it so hard.

Lux: Fuck you, Harry ! You should try it. Those people are fucking morons.

Harry: Well, yeah. But you know, one bad gig.

Lux: It wasn’t bad, Harry, it was a fucking disaster ! And they booed me ! How could they fucking do that ! They’ve got no fucking taste and no fucking sensitivity.

Harry: Just kids, I guess. You can’t expect a mature response from immature people.

Lux: They were our age, Harry ! Most of them ! They just came for that. They just wanted to take the piss. I was singing up there. I’m a fucking artist ! Don’t they understand that ? What’s the matter with this fucking country ? People don’t deserve artists. And they called me a whore ! The little shits. You know what they were shouting ! “Show us your monkey you slag !” Don’t they have any fucking education ?

Harry: A back-street pub in East Lancs, Lux. A bunch of lads out on the piss and looking for trouble. They’ve probably been working in a factory all week. They’re just showing off to their mates. And you know, you look……well….

Lux: I look what ?

Harry: You look middle-class.

Lux: Dressed like this !

Harry: Yeah. Even dressed like that. You move like a middle-class girl. You have a very middle-class demeanour.

Lux: You’re talking shit, Harry. There’s no such thing as a middle-class demeanour. It was just pearl before swine. They didn’t even listen to the fucking music !

Harry: They were probably too pissed, Lux.

Lux: What kind of shitbag comes to a concert pissed ?

Harry: Most of them.

Lux: Don’t start getting snobbish, Harry. That’s the last thing I need. A  lecture on the fucking superiority of Beethoven.

Harry: Okay. Okay. But audiences are fickle. Even the best audiences. You don’t have to think it’s your fault  they heckled and booed. They’d heckle and boo Charlie Parker.

Lux: So would I. His music is shit.

Harry: Or Joni Mitchell or whoever.

Lux: They would not boo and heckle Joni Mitchell, Harry.

Harry: What makes you so sure ?

Lux: They would never be at a Joni Mitchell concert. They don’t have the fucking taste or intelligence.

Harry: Okay. So you need to play the right venues. You need to be in front of the right people.

Lux: That’s Malc. He’s got no fucking idea. He’ll take any gig. He thinks we should play anywhere people want us. I said: “Malc, what kind of fucking place is this ? I’m a singer for god’s sake !” What does he say: “They pay us. They pay, we play.” He’s a moron. And he says to me: “What key are you going to sing this one in ?” What key ? How the fuck do I know ? They’re the band. I just sing, they’ve got to worry about the fucking key.

Harry: Well, I guess they can expect you to know what key you’re singing in, Lux.

Lux: Fuck off, Harry ! Just fuck off with comments like that !

Harry: Maybe learning a bit of musical theory would make you a better singer, Lux.

Lux: Maybe it’d just give me a headache. Remember when I went for singing lessons and she had me doing scales ? I don’t want to sing scales, I want to sing fucking songs ! Do you think Joni Mitchell sits around for hours practising sodding scales ? I’m not a child.

Harry: Sure, sure. The thing is…

Lux: The thing is I’m pissed off ! I don’t know what I’m doing singing with those crapheads. They’re no good. I need another band.

                        A knock. Enter Spin in her dressing gown.

Spin: What’s going on ? The noise woke me up. Do you know it’s five in the morning?

Lux: What do I care about the time ?

Spin: Shit, you look like you’ve been raped by a gorilla. What happened ?

Harry: She was raped by a gang of gorillas from the other side of the East Lancs Road.

Spin: Have you called the police ?

Lux: They didn’t like my singing ! (She sobs)

Spin: They can’t rape you just because they don’t like your singing. God, imagine what would happen to Lulu !

Lux: They booed me, Spin ! The little shits ! And they called me a whore ! Those people don’t deserve culture.

Spin: That’s what my father says. The working classes just don’t appreciate the better things in life. Got any dope ?

Lux: I’ve got to find myself a decent band. In fact, I’m going to see Malc right now and tell him he’s sacked. I can’t sing with those amateurs. I need a professional outfit to back me, then we can start playing bigger gigs. The bigger you think the bigger you get. Malc thinks small. That’s his deficit. He’ll play any little venue for a few quid.

Harry: You can’t go knocking on his door now, it’s five in the morning !

Lux: I can’t wait, Harry. Time’s moving on. I’m already twenty. I’m going to be an old woman before I hit success if I don’t make things move. I’ve got to act to pull myself out of this.

Harry: Yeah, yeah. But act, don’t act out.

Lux: What’s that supposed to mean ?

Harry: I mean, you know, in this emotional state. Maybe….a little calm….get things in perspective.

Lux: I’ve got things in perspective, Harry. I’ve got to push for what I want or I’m going to be left out.

Harry: But there’s no need to go and wind Malc up. You know how he gets.

Lux: I don’t give a fuck how he gets ! He’s sacked !

                                    Exit

Spin: She’s screwed up about this !

Harry: She’s screwed up.

Lux: That’s not a nice thing to say about your girlfriend.

Harry: It’s five in the morning. She’s gone picking a fight with a Hell’s Angel. Shit.

Spin: Why don’t you come to my room ? We can put earplugs in so we won’t hear the row.

Harry: I think that’s one of your less subtle attempts, Spin.

Spin: Christ, you’re so humiliating !

Harry:  Don’t humiliate yourself, Spin. You make yourself vulnerable.

Spin: I am vulnerable, Harry. You know that. I’m vulnerable and you’re horrible to me.

Harry: I’ll be nice to you, Spin. Right now I’ve got to calm Lux down.

Spin: The truth of the matter is, she can’t sing.

Harry: She can sing.

Spin: I can sing in the shower, Harry. Would you like to come and hear me ?

Harry: I’ve heard you.

Spin: My voice is much sweeter close up.

Harry: That’s really nice. But whatever you do, don’t tell Lux she can’t sing.

Spin: She wouldn’t take any notice. She’s got a hide like a rhino.

Harry: Let her find out for herself.

Spin: She just has.

Harry: You know Lux, everyone else is to blame.

Spin: Why do you stay with her ! She’s such a bitch to you.

Harry: She’s my girlfriend.

Spin: Haven’t you heard of finishing with someone, Harry ? It happens every day. Then you’d be free.

Harry: Not free, just unattached.

Spin: Then you can attach yourself elsewhere.

Harry: Then I wouldn’t be free.

Spin: But at least you wouldn’t be unattached.

Harry: I’m not unattached now.

Spin: But what are you attached to ? I know she’s my friend. But she treats you badly.

Harry: Not badly.

Spin: Badly, Harry. She just takes you for granted.

Harry: She’ll grow out of it. She’s young.

Spin: Oh, listen to grandad ! Have you got any dope ?

                        Lux rushes in, breathless. Slams and locks the door.

Lux: The bastard !

Harry: Oh Christ !

Spin: I think I’ll go back to bed.

Lux: Don’t open that fucking door !

Harry: Shit !

Spin: Haven’t I time to sneak out ?

                                    Heavy footsteps and immediate hammering on the door.

Malc: Open the fucking door, Lux !

Lux: Piss off, Malc ! You’re sacked. End of story. You can’t play. I’m finished with your shitty tin-eared band.

Malc: You’re not finished with anything till I get my money.

Harry: What money ?

Lux: You’ll get your money. Now fuck off back to bed and dream of being a guitarist.

Malc: At least I won’t have nightmares about playing with you !

Lux: You’re nothing without my voice. You know who those shits were booing tonight, Malc ? You ! And I have to stand out front while you pretend to play that bass guitar in the shadows. Not any more, Malc. I’m solo ! I always should’ve been.

Malc: The only way you got in my band was by letting me fuck you. That’s the truth. Your voice is crap. You don’t know E minor from your arsehole. You won’t get a solo gig from here to Tierra del Fuego. And when do I get my money ?

                                    Lux and Harry stare at one another. Spin looks from one to the other.

Lux: Once, Harry !

Harry: Quantity isn’t the issue, is it ?

Lux: Isn’t it ?

                                                Hammering.

Malc: You wake me up at five in the morning to call me a hairy-arsed, pea-brain who couldn’t play the tambourine in the school band, I want my money.

Harry: Go back to bed, Malc.

Malc: I feel sorry for you, mate.

Harry: Thanks for the sympathy. I’ll bring you your money tomorrow.

Malc: You’re okay, Harry.

Harry: You’re okay too, Malc.

Malc: Sweet dreams, Lux. Sweet dreams of singing in the bath.

Lux: Fuck you !

Malc: I already did.

                                    Retreating footsteps.

Spin: Malc, what a gentleman !

Lux: Well, if you’re going to finish with me just do it and fuck off !

                                    Harry signals with his head to Spin. She gets up and leaves quietly.

Harry: I’m not going to finish with you, Lux.

Lux: Well, aren’t you the fucking martyr !

                                    Silence. She has her back to him. Slowly her head drops and she begins to sob.

Blackout.