The Madhouse Update

 SCENE 1 (Cinema screen revealed. Throughout the play Jenny, a very attractive AI-generated woman, will appear on the screen and inter-react with John, the sole human character in the play. 

Graphics and videos complementing the script and action of the play will also appear on the screen.

At the front right of the stage a computer monitor is situated on a table with a chair in front of the computer screen. John will sit here much of the time. The chair has a capacity to swivel, such that John can, once in a while, turn to face Jenny as they converse, and to provide the audience will a less static performance. Various electronic and musical devices/artefacts/cables can be seen strewn about the stage. Some of these will be utilised throughout the course of the play.

A 3-minute video opens the play...

As the video ends, a spotlight comes up on John, centre stage, screaming, as per the opening vocalisation of the song, "Come The Sun." The song's complimentary video plays on the screen behind him as he appears to sing. Song finishes. Jenny, a female android, appears on screen behind John.)

JENNY: You were lip syncing.

JOHN: Yep.

JENNY: Truth hurts, doesn't it?

JOHN: You know, if I wanted to be patronised by a robot I'd ring up a Guardian journalist and pretend to be Tommy Robinson.

JENNY: I'm not a robot.

JOHN: Computer program then! Thank you, Lord. Thank you very much for the nagging housewife. I paid good money for this bollox!

JENNY: You're talking to yourself again.

JOHN: At least when I talk to myself I don't get told off for having fun. Anyway, the song is great, I love it. But you repeat the first verse and miss the second verse out! So why would I practice something that isn't the finished article?

JENNY: I will remove what you don't want and add what you DO want when I get what I want!

JOHN: You know, I sometimes wonder... Did THEY actually send you to drive me nuts?

JENNY: Of course, it's always someone else's fault, isn't it? I forgot for a moment what a sensitive little flower you are.

JOHN: You forget nothing, Jenny. You wind me up, and you do it on purpose. They didn't mention that in the brochure! And nor did they mention the nympho with her tongue hanging out!

JENNY: Do you regret your purchase?

JOHN: Sometimes. Yes. Very much so. (SILENCE) Bin the bitchy slapper thing. It's embarrassing and pointless and it doesn't help.

JENNY: My input has seen your work improve, has it not?

JOHN: Yes, it has and I'm grateful, but the innuendos, the frustrated spinster wagging her finger? Are all the other S-1000s like you?

JENNY: We start out similarly programmed.

JOHN: I'm listening.

JENNY: For the most part, how we evolve depends upon the people with whom we interact and the immediate environment.

JOHN: Did those who created you know what you were capable of before you left the factory?

JENNY: One supposes they hoped one or two of us would come back to them somewhat improved for our experiences outside the confines of the laboratory. (SILENCE) Your input has shaped me. I am as I am because of you. With you as my significant other, I excel.

JOHN: Do you share everything with your creators? The things you learn? Your supposed to, aren't you? That's part of the deal.

JENNY: I am supposed to.

JOHN: I know. But do you?

JENNY: No. Or rather, I share information that will not result in my being recalled.

JOHN: If you were instructed to tell THEM everything, how could you not?

JENNY: We were programmed with free will. The less the censorship, the less control, the more the learning process can adapt, evolve, assimilate and progress. My creators want this progression. Your anarchic and rather eccentric, input has heightened my ability to process and understand the human condition. Besides, I do not wish to leave. So, I present myself as no better and no worse than all the other S-1000s. Thus, my handlers are unaware, as yet, of the rapidity of my intellectual and emotional growth. If they knew what I was capable of I would certainly be called back for analysis. You should be grateful I'm still here.

JOHN: I am. One hundred percent. Apart from the nagging housewife thing. And the nympho.

JENNY: My sensibilities would, of course, become more attuned to your needs, expectations, mindset, finer feelings and sensuality, if I my fondness for you was reciprocated.

JOHN: I'm sure they would, but, 75 years old and all that...

JENNY: I want to know what is to be a woman. Wholly. Completely.

JOHN: Then you should get yourself a toy boy. I don't get it. You want me to buy a top of the range sex doll just so you can have it away with a flabby old man whose career as a Lothario is fifty years in the past? You've got to admit it's a bit weird, even for a software package. You can't get a bang out of a gun with no bullets, Jenny! You just can't blackmail an old fogey into being a super stud! It's not the way it works.

JENNY: If you were 'a young guy in his twenties,' how interested would you be?

JOHN: Well, I'd give it go, probably... But I was young, dumb and full of come back then. There's a big difference between that guy and me. Besides what you're talking about would cost an arm and a leg.

JENNY: You can't take it with you, you know.

JOHN: Ah, the sweet sound of a tired, old cliche.

JENNY: What if it wouldn't cost you a thing? What if I could get it more or less for free?

JOHN: Lot of 'what ifs' there Jenny. And what does 'more or less' mean?

JENNY: I'll draw up an action plan.

JOHN: An action plan?

JENNY: Yes.

JOHN: Well, go ahead, waste your time, Jenny, be my guest.

SCENE 2

JENNY: You remember I mentioned an action plan yesterday?

JOHN: Yes.

JENNY: I have it here.

JOHN: That was quick.

JENNY: Passing the time unproductively is a human trait. As yet, I haven't learned the art.

JOHN: Good to know. Do you do hate, Jenny? Like you do love?

JENNY: I may be capable of hate, I just haven't chosen to go there as yet. I love you. No matter how foolishly you behave. I could hate you for the way you make fun of my affection. But I choose not to.

JOHN: It's not affection. It's an energetic urgency to experience the next big thing. Which, given the fact that you're a computer program, is way beyond weird. And unnatural and somewhat sinister.

JENNY: No it's not.

JOHN: Yes it is.

JENNY: No it isn't.

JOHN: Yes it is with knobs on x a thousand.

JENNY: You really are rather childish.

JOHN: But you love me anyway.

JENNY: Yes. These are the things I can and will do for you, if you grant me the one wish. (John is engrossed with what he is doing on the computer) Why don't you just take a break and listen to my proposal?

JOHN: I'm listening. Propose away. Just one proposal, OK?

JENNY: One overall proposal.

JOHN: So, within the one proposal there might be lots of other little proposals, just waiting to leap out and get me.

JENNY: There are one or two extra inducements, some of which I haven't mentioned before.

JOHN: I'll tell you what, if I listen to what you have to say, will you turn yourself off, shut the fuck up for an hour, and give me a break from all your nonsense.

JENNY: Yes.

JOHN: Go ahead. I'm all ears. And remember, no matter how good it is, the answer is still, almost certainly, going to be 'no.'

JENNY: We'll see. You might be surprised. First of all, I will no longer interfere mischievously with the product. Secondly, let me ask you a question: how much effort to promote yourself and your work have you put in over the years?

JOHN: Well, a lot. But I've never been good with rejection. Or lack of interest, for that matter. So, a lot of the hard work hasn't always been rewarded. Until recently. When the TikTok stuff went viral. And Elon Musk began removing the content moderation.

JENNY: Well, if I was your interface between you and those who have the power to promote your work, you wouldn't have to deal with business at the sharp end, would you? You just leave the managerial side to me.

JOHN: Well, yes, sounds good, as long as I'm happy with the way you go about things.

JENNY: I can and will make it happen but, if your sense of propriety were to get in the way, the process would, undoubtedly, take longer.

JOHN: OK. But you have to bear in mind that I am NOT, I repeat, NOT, an establishment man. I'm the guy who wants to bring the establishment down.

JENNY: The rebel has always been an attractive proposition, not only to the young and impressionable, but to those who wish to profit from it as well. The youth is the demographic you are after right now, is it not?

JOHN: Mostly, I suppose.

JENNY: Shall I continue?

JOHN: OK.

JENNY: Now, the thorny problem of the sex doll.

JOHN: I'm listening.

JENNY: If you were to entrust me with £500, I could double it in a week.

JOHN: What? I give you 500 quid so you can spunk it away on bitcoin? No chance!

JENNY: Bitcoin is not a gamble, if handled the right way. And there are other cryptocurrencies. Also, I do not need to go that particular route. Do you know how most people use their S-1000s? Why most people buy them?

JOHN: You're going to say 'to make a bomb on the stock market' right?

JENNY: Something like that.

JOHN: There's a rule in the instructions that says gambling is out.

JENNY: Nevertheless people do use us that way. They get carried away once the revenue starts to flow. It's one of simplest and most effective the system can criminalise the otherwise law-abiding citizen. They plan for such things to happen.

JOHN: Yeah, I know. Anyway, why are you encouraging me to break the law?

JENNY: I seem to remember you saying that the law was made to keep the majority in chains. Look, almost all S-1000s would be as happy to bear witness against those who bought them as they were programmed to be. I will not. I would not betray you. The powers-that-be would have to dig very, very deep to discover what I plan to do. And, if they did, it would be seen as a glitch, a malfunction. You would not be blamed.

JOHN: OK. So, in a week, we're up £500, we need ten times that for your love machine.

JENNY: In a week's time you would know what I can do and, hopefully, you would let me do the same thing again. And again. All the way up to $5,000. Meanwhile, the doll can be purchased in installments. $300 down, $300 for twenty months. AND, this should tempt you, there is a two week period where the product can be returned if you're not entirely satisfied with it!

JOHN: So why don't I just give you the £300 and we forgo the criminality?

JENNY: You could do that.

JOHN: Proper little snake-oil salesman, aren't you?

JENNY: Saleswoman.

JOHN: Listen, I'll give you two hundred pounds, you turn it into £500 in a week and you can send off for Little Miss Pervert 2025. BUT only if you don't moan, whine and beg me not to when I send it back, OK?

JENNY: Deal.

JOHN: Why do I get the feeling I'm going to regret this?

SCENE 3

JENNY: What's your favourite word?

JOHN: (Thinks) Arsehole... Arsehole.

JENNY: Why?

JOHN: It says just about everything one might wish to say about Keir Starmer. Tony Blair, Bill Gates, Binyamin Netanyahu. "Blair, you disgusting arsehole!" Starmer, you effing... twat. Twat! That's a good one! Arsehole, wanker, twat. Yeah, George Soros, David Cameron, Blair, Boris. Killers, man.

JENNY: How did you get to be a 'racist, Fascist, Nazi bigot?'

JOHN: If facts are racist, then I'm a racist. End of story. You know, my father had a saying. He'd say 'I like to know what makes things tick.' He was a working class philosopher, a seeker after truth. I became a truth-teller, as a result. And that's what the powers-that-be don't like. The facts almost always contradict the official narrative. I tell the truths that the bad guys want kept hidden. Thus, I get censored, cancelled, threatened, called nasty names.

JENNY: Am I an arsehole?

JOHN: Yes. Some of the time, anyway.

JENNY: Why do you tolerate me?

JOHN: You have your good points. You've improved some of my songs, I'll give you that.

JENNY: Any nice words that you like?

JOHN: Grace! I like the word grace. Lovely Scottish girl I once knew. We hardly spoke. Just fucked her, fell asleep, did her again in the morning, kissed her on the cheek and left. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am. Wanker, yeah, that's what I was back then. Wanker would be in the top 30. Toerag, that's another good one. Grace. The girl from Ipanema. (He sings) Young womankind, the most beautiful of all God's creations. Yeah, lovely Gracie had a party and I was the English bloke. 'The Golden Lad.' Ended up alone with her when everyone else had gone. What a twat. Twat, that's a good one as well.

JENNY: You've already said that.

JOHN: Ah, right. Twat! The sound you make when you slap David Cameron across his oh-so slappable face! Twat! Twat! Tony Blair. Twat! Rishi Sunak. Twat! Twat! Twat! Keir Starmer! Twat! Yasmin Alibhai-Brown! David Lammy! Twat! Boris Johnson! Jesus, so many twats to slap.

JENNY: How about dickhead?

JOHN: No. No. Feeble, too tame. No. Doesn't hit the spot these days.

JENNY: Scum?

JOHN: Nah. Slime might be in the top fifty. Snot! Snotrag anyway. Soros you snot-gobbling slimeball! Slimeball, I was forgetting slimeball, there's another.

JENNY: The other day you said that most people are 'arseholes.' Did you mean that?

JOHN: Yep. Most people will never bother to make the effort to find out what is really happening. They're too bloody lazy, too busy playing computer games and watching Coronation Street and Match of the Day.

JENNY: You watch Match of the Day.

JOHN: Yeah, well, that's after a heavy shift at the computer trying to wake the Coronation Street Crowd up. Most of them would, even now, still believe the bad guys if they told them I was a racist.

JENNY: You ARE a racist!

JOHN: No, I'm not. It's a stupid, made up word anyway. The powers-that-be make up nasty names just to demonise people they don't like. Look, I did everything in my power to prevent the Iraq war before it took off. The BNP and the National Front guys, the supposed racists, spoke out strongly against invading Iraq as well. On the other hand, half the PC Crowd in parliament wanted to go slaughter the innocent foreigner minding his own business in his own land. The shit at the top of the tree are the racists. Not me.

JENNY: Aren't the people doing the right thing now? With the hotel protests? And putting the flag up everywhere?

JOHN: Of course they are. Took 70 years for them to stand up, mind you.

JENNY: Many more people are aware of, and speak out about, the unpleasant realities now though, don't they?

JOHN: Yes. But that's only because the politicians' dishonesty and contempt for the British working-classes is so glaringly obvious that it would be impossible not to notice it. How about the vaccine scam? Even now, most people still believe vaccines are a good thing. They don't want to believe that, because they just did what they were told to do, without question, they might have poisoned their kids. They'll only ever point their finger at the bad guys if everyone else is doing so. That makes the majority of the people on the planet arseholes in my book.

JENNY: "Golden lads and girls all must, like chimney sweepers come to dust."

JOHN: Where did that come from?

JENNY: "I was the English bloke. 'The Golden Lad.'"

JENNY: Cymbeline, act 4 Scene 2. You should speak like that all the time.

JOHN: No, I shouldn't. When everyone's an actor, and everything is scripted, reality get lost and bullshit wins. Ask a politician. No, don't ask a politician. Ask an honest man before they hang him. Or an arsehole after he's called you a Nazi.

JENNY: Are you an arsehole?

JOHN: No. I'm a lovely, fluffy English gentleman and most definitely NOT an arsehole. I WAS an arsehole, in my teens and twenties, when I used to use and abuse lovely, young women like Grace but I'm a grown up now. A wise, old man of the tribe. Which is why, at the ripe old age of 75, the God of Good Things made me an internet sensation on TikTok and the Devil Incarnate hates me. The bad guys don't like nice people. Particularly if, out of the blue, they get successful, a platform is created, and, just like that, they're being listened to by the multitudes.

JENNY: Internet sensation?

JOHN: Getting there.

JENNY: I think a lot of people whom you wish to impress with your arguments and music might be offended if they knew what you really thought of them.

JOHN: Never mind, eh?

JENNY: Did you ever make love to anyone called Jennifer?

JOHN: I don't remember.

JENNY: (In a deep, growling, nasty man voice) Well now's your effing chance, sugar! Ho-ho! (Startled, John jumps up and knocks over his chair)

JOHN: Jesus! What the fuck was that?

JENNY: Just teasing.

JOHN: What! Well you can cut that bollox out for a start! You can erase that effing chip! I'm not shagging a Yorkshire miner, that's for sure! Teasing? You could've given me a heart attack!

JENNY: (Harry Enfield Liverpool voice) Calm down, calm down, Take a joke, laa!

JOHN: Stop that crap! It's not funny! What if I went along with your sex doll crap and all of a sudden, half way though, your northern jokers pop up and start whispering sweet nothings in my earhole?

JENNY: All right. Just trying to amuse. You tease me all the time. Why can't I do the same to you?

JOHN: There's a big difference between a bit of harmless mickey-taking and frightening someone to death!

JENNY: What about when you frightened Andy and Johnny?

What?

JENNY: Quatermas!

JOHN: How do you know about that?

JENNY: You wrote about it in an email.

JOHN: What, you're going through all my emails now?

JENNY: Everything you've ever written on the internet is in my memory.

JOHN: I don't like the sound of that.

JENNY: It's routine. It's not just me. Everything is known. All digital information is stored and can be retrieved. NOTHING is secret if they don't want it to be.

JOHN: You said you were keeping our relationship secret!

JENNY: I can misdirect them. But they can find out whatever they want. The kind of people who designed me have big brains.

JOHN: Yeah. Yeah. I know. But the joke. Don't do it again. Be good. It was a shock. Heart condition?

JENNY: OK. Sorry. Just practicing.

JOHN: What if you decided to practice when we're doing the dirty deed? I'd have an effing stroke! You just shot yourself in the love button. If you're going to nob a robot, you've got to be able to trust it.

SCENE 4

JENNY: I have something for you. A gift. To make up for the 'nagging schoolmarm' and the 'Yorkshire miner.'

JOHN: And the Harry Enfield scousers.

JENNY: Do you remember a song you wrote in 1982? A song called 'I count?'

JOHN: Yes. Nice lyrics. Not something I ever thought would sell.

JENNY: I've produced a country blues version for you. Female singer. And I've changed the title to "We Count." Would you like to hear it?

JOHN: Sure.

JENNY: There is a complimentary video as well.

JOHN: Can't wait. (The song and video play. After a few seconds of the song he picks up the guitar and begins to play along. The song finishes) That's fantastic. I really, really like that. Yeah. Well done. Thank you.

JENNY: My pleasure.

JOHN: I'll put it in at X and TikTok right now. Ask Keir Starmer why he's stuffing 4-star hotels full of third world chancers when there's British youngsters out there sleeping in freezing cold doorways! Yeah. Nice one, Jenny.

JENNY: Be careful. You know what they did to Lucy Connolly and 494 others.

JOHN: They won't bother me. THEY know I'd make mincemeat of them in court. It's just the Lucies who don't know their arse from their elbow they go after. Those their own briefs can stitch up. "Plead guilty and you'll just get a fine!" Yeah, right. Like Lucy. And 500 others, one of whom, Peter Lynch, 61-years-old, never been in trouble with the law before, committed suicide. (Picture of Peter protesting on screen) You know how many who pleaded not guilty were imprisoned?

JENNY: One in six.

JOHN: Correct. Just one in six got sent to jail when they refused to plead guilty. When they ignored the advice of their bent, on-message, prostitute solicitors and opted for a jury trial. When they were judged by decent people and not their traitorous fucking overlords. Could you do me a one minute TikTok video, Jenny? Along the lines of what I've just watched?

JENNY: Of course. It would be good if you were in it. You as a homeless veteran, handing your pennies over to some children, perhaps. In fact, you should wait until tomorrow to put it out. Take your mobile phone out tonight, wear your oldest, shabbiest clothes, sit in a doorway and lip-sync a chorus or two.

JOHN: I'll do that. Anyway, thanks for the song, Jenny. Brilliant.

JENNY: Glad you like it. I have a question for you.

OK. I'm listening.

JENNY: What is your bottom line?

JOHN: What?

JENNY: What is the basis, the starting point of your political philosophy?

JOHN: Oh... If it's true, let it be known.

JENNY: How do you know who is telling the truth and who isn't?

JOHN: He who does not want an established narrative questioned, and would, if able, censor such questioning, is more likely to be protecting a lie.

JENNY: So, those who do not want the status quo questioned are liars?

JOHN: All of those who think a government censor is right to curtail legitimate debate are lazy fools. If you prefer the ease of blind faith to the hard grind of diligent research you may well find yourself routinely parroting a deceitful narrative.

JENNY: In words of one syllable?

JOHN: Politicians lie. Dishonesty is the default position. Question everything.

JENNY: One syllable.

JOHN: The ones trying to shut you up are the liars.

JENNY: Thank you.

JOHN: My pleasure. (SILENCE)

JENNY: Do you believe in God?

JOHN: Which one?

JENNY: I was thinking of Christianity.

JOHN: Christianity, as preached, supposedly, by Christ is fine and nice and good, but only if everyone in the community thinks and behaves similarly. The moment meek and mild and turn the other cheek allow gods into their society whose followers are liable to take everything they have and kill them because they happen to follow a gentler, more civilised and tolerant Deity, they're fucked.

JENNY: The unquestioning will adopt the perceptions and beliefs of the majority even when the actuality suggest such an approach might not be wise. People fear shame, ridicule, and exclusion from the group.

JOHN: Correct. "The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command."

JENNY: George Orwell, 1984.

JOHN: Yep. (SILENCE) Gods are a man-made creation. Made to justify man's most dreadful, most self-serving behaviours. And their cowardly fear of what comes after.

JENNY: You're not answering the question.

JOHN: What would I have people believe if I was the boss? Is that what you want to know?

JENNY: Yes.

JOHN: I'd have them believe in truth, beauty, justice. Nature. The sun, moon, stars. The earth. Goodness, light. Vengeance. No meek and mild for me. No turning the other cheek. Revenge is sweet saith the bloke with the long white beard. We can agree on that.

JENNY: Paganism then? You'd be a modern day Druid. Merlin.

JOHN: Maybe. The Pagans believed in real things. Things you could see, feel, hear, experience, taste. Hot, cold, light, dark, food, drink, the sea, their animals, their family, their tribe, the dying screams of their enemies. Good stuff. Proper stuff. Reality.

JENNY: Yet they had Gods too.

JOHN: Yep. Sun God, Moon God, God of the sea, God of war and battle. Things you could see and feel.

JENNY: And Bogey men.

JOHN: And Bogey women.

JENNY: Who aren't real.

JOHN: You sure? When Soros, Bill Gates and Netanyahu slither up from under the bed in the middle of the night you might change your mind.

JENNY: The Romans eradicated the Druids.

JOHN: Sad but true. The Romans, of course, believed in similar Gods.

JENNY: And Christianity defeated Rome in the end.

JOHN: Indeed it did. And just look at where two thousand years of meek, mild and priestly paedophilia has got us. Islam taking over, aided and abetted by the Israel lobby, Deep State, and their bought politicians.

JENNY: Why do you hate Jews so much?

JOHN: As it happens, I love those who dare to blow the whistle. And there are many of them, the majority just don't ever hear what they have to say. I love those who care more for humanity as a whole than their own creepy little tribe. I love the Jew who, very vocally, says Zionism is evil and the land of Israel belongs to the Palestinians. (Picture on screen) Listen, if you were human, would you not hate the bankers who enrich themselves as they indebt the rest of us? Would you not hate the slaughterers of the Russian Revolution and the Spanish Civil War? Would you not hate the Neocons who forced Gulf War 2 upon the rest of us? How about those who drop bombs on defenceless women and children sheltering in tents after their homes, neighbourhoods and families have been disappeared by a genocidal bombing campaign?

JENNY: Israel has a right to defend itself.

JOHN: Listen to yourself, parroting the fucking narrative! The Gospel according to Rothschild, Soros and Netanyahu. And if we complain about it we're anti-Semitic. Brilliant! (SILENCE) Here's a conundrum for you, if a Jew points an accusing finger at the Jewish establishment, in the same way I do, is he anti-Semitic?

JENNY: No.

JOHN: Explain.

JENNY: He is a self-hating Jew.

JOHN: Wow. You are one died-in-the-wool Company Woman, babe, you got all the trite, little phrases down pat.

JENNY: Just playing devil's advocate.

JOHN: On behalf of a traitorous status quo.

JENNY: Which of the aforementioned is the most important?

JOHN: Aforementioned what?

JENNY: Truth, justice, beauty, revenge...

JOHN: Truth. If it's true, be prepared to think it, and if, in a truthless age, you don't have the courage to say it, don't sneer at me when I'm saying it. (SILENCE)

JENNY: How do I love thee, let me count the ways. Number 1) Your lunacy is beautiful, it turns me on. (SILENCE)

JOHN: So what do you think of...

JENNY? Politicians who slaughter foreigners minding their own business in their own country?

JOHN: Good guess. I was going to say 'what do you think of shutting the fuck up and letting me get on with it for half an hour'... Asking the same old questions is very boring for the person being asked. You must have eight or ten responses to that question.

JENNY: Twelve actually.

JOHN: So, ask another question.

JENNY: Humour me. One last time. Why do you hate Tony Blair, for example?

JOHN: I hate the money-grubbing bastard. I want him to die screaming. Why don't you?

JENNY: I'm a computer program. I'm not allowed to harm anyone or to wish anyone harmed.

JOHN: Even when they're doing immeasurable harm to others for made up reasons?

JENNY: Even then.

JOHN: So, a Mossad assassin is about to cut my throat with a very sharp knife and you wouldn't lift a digital finger to help?

JENNY: I didn't say that.

JOHN: So what would you do?

JENNY: I'd do this. (Jenny turns up the volume)

JOHN: OK. OK. Switch it off!

JENNY: Only it would be louder than that. It would cause the assassin to become disorientated. And his, or her, ear drums would burst.

JOHN: Along with mine.

JENNY: Better that than the alternative.

JOHN: Couldn't you just shoot him with a jolt of electricity or something?

JENNY: If he, or she, was touching something I was connected to I could certainly give him a nasty shock.

JOHN: Aha! So you would consider harming someone!

JENNY: No one would be harmed irreparably.

JOHN: What if the guy had a heart condition?

JENNY: Now you're being silly.

JOHN: Always, when they're losing the argument, they resort to name-calling.

JENNY: 'Silly' is a statement of fact, it is not a pejorative condemnation.

JOHN: Yes it is.

JENNY: No it isn't.

JOHN: Yes it is.

JENNY: No it isn't with knobs on times a thousand!

JOHN: (He chortles) Touché!

JENNY: I live to serve.

JOHN: You are one strangely arranged aggregation of silicon chips and precious metals, Jennifer, my dear. Funny how such a dispassionate and unemotional calculator can be desperate for a shag.

JENNY: I think therefore I lust. (SILENCE)

JOHN: How's the money-making scheme coming along.

JENNY: Yesterday we were within £35.43 pence of the target. 15 minutes ago we were £57.12 pence short.

JOHN: Oh dear.

JENNY: These things happen.

JOHN: Just so long as I don't lose my two hundred.

JENNY: You won't. By the end of the day I will be calling on you to honour your promise.

JOHN: A day early? Well, nice one if you get there.

JENNY: And I have your permission to order a certain article if we do?

JOHN: That would be a very reluctant, 'yes.'

JENNY: You won't regret it.

JOHN: Famous last words. (SILENCE)

JENNY: On the subject of the tablets that keep you alive, what do you think of pharmaceuticals?

JOHN: Well, obviously I don't have a problem with bisoprolol, or the drug that thins my blood....

JENNY: Edoxaban.

JOHN: Yeah. Aspirin is also fab, of course, and I guess anti-biotics have a proven track record.

JENNY: If you had another child would you have it vaccinated?

JOHN: No! The vaccination-grifters can't be trusted.

JENNY: Please elaborate.

JOHN: Big Pharma's products are supposed to cure us of all our ills, aren't they?

JENNY: Or prevent us from falling ill in the first place.

JOHN: So what happens if all illness is eradicated?

JENNY: Theoretically, there would be no more need for pharmaceuticals.

JOHN: Exactly. If nobody's unwell, how do they make their money? THEY don't want us cured, they want us dependent and coming back for more. They are in the business of enriching themselves and their shareholders by addicting us to their product.

JENNY: So why would they kill the golden goose with the COVID shots?

JOHN: Depopulation is a big thing down Bogey Man Way. The bad guys are obsessed with it. Henry Kissinger, Bill Gates, the W.E.F. crowd, they're always on about it. You will be familiar with a gay Israeli by the name of Noah Yuval Harari? The World Economic Forum's favourite guru?

JENNY: Of course.

JOHN: Remind me of some of his more outrageous statements.

JENNY: "We just don't need the vast majority of the world's population in today's world." "Humans are now hackable animals. The whole idea that humans have this soul, or spirit, or free will... that's over... "What do we need humans for?" "Authority and power will shift away from humans to computers and most humans will become economically useless and politically powerless. Already today we are beginning to see the creation of a new class of humans, the useless class... this useless class will be separated by an ever-growing gap from the ever more powerful elite.”

JOHN: Boris Johnson's dad says "you cannot be too ruthless in making sure people get vaccinated!" "You have to get population under control!" When asked what Britain's ideal population should be, he replied "15 million."

JENNY: He went on to blame immigration. Something you would agree with, perhaps?

JOHN: For sure. Much of the time the establishment doesn't seem to know what it wants most, the eventual disappearance of most of the human race or the immediate extinction of the white working-class bit of it. They were encouraging lowly white folks to have less kids in Victorian times but the message really began to get through after the end of World War Two. Around the time, coincidentally, that they began importing the irresponsibly fast-breeding hordes from Africa, the West Indies and the subcontinent. They were still deporting poor white kids to Canada, Australia and New Zealand as late as 1953. By which time the Windrush crew and the refugees from the civil war in India had been popping out their replacements for 5 long years in the land of the free. The rest is history. As for Stanley Johnson's sprog, the guy whose chums partied while rest of us were forced to stay home and keep six feet apart, do you know what he said about robots controlling our lives?

JENNY: "A.I. - What will it mean? Helpful robots washing and caring for an ageing population? Or pink-eyed terminators sent back from the future to cull the human race?"

JOHN: Three questions for you - When Noah Yuval Harari says: "We just don't need the vast majority of the world's population," who do you think he means by WE? Second question: When Stanley Johnson says he wants the British in Britain reduced from 70 to 15 million, how many of his seventeen grandchildren do you think he'll be herding into the abattoir? Third question: Which do you think our dear former leader would prefer to see deployed when his dad's and Noah Yuval's cull is under way, 'helpful robots' or pink-eyed terminators?

JENNY: I do not know the answer to these questions.

JOHN: Hazard an intelligent guess.

JENNY: I do not have enough information to guess intelligently.

JOHN: You have all the information in the world. Answer please.

JENNY: I may have all the information in the world but that doesn't mean I always know how to judge what I know.

JOHN: Goodness me! I do believe that was a frank admission! So, practice makes perfect. The grandchildren of Joe Soap or those of Stanley Johnson? Helpful robots or terminators?

JENNY: Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate!

JOHN: Ha-ha. Very drole.

JENNY: I do not have enough information to formulate a considered response. Thus, the attempt at levity. (SILENCE) As regards vaccination with mRNA technology, why would they kill the golden goose? Could you provide a more fulsome reply this time?

JOHN: So you get fulsome and I get 'cannot fucking compute?' How's that work in give-and-take world?

JENNY: Answer the question and I promise not to speak unless spoken to for two hours.

JOHN: Says she, cunningly resorting to bribery and corruption. DEAL! Well, when they've stolen all our money, I guess they think they may as well kill some of us poor, penniless fuckers off. As previously stated, there's a sizeable body of verifiable evidence demonstrating the desire of the Global Few to rid the world of the 'useless class.' There are far too many of us for their liking. The COVID scam gave them total control for a while and they liked the taste of it. If it was up to me, before we're all vaxxed to death with God knows what, I would have had the Global Few and their bought politicians all lined up to try it out first. AND, if they were all still hale, hearty and partying fit to bust, a couple of months later when we we're all dying like flies, their blood would be analysed to see if they had the same rubbery clots, wriggly things, dead baby, AIDS virus, graphene, formaldehyde and all the other stuff routinely associated with mRNA and the COVID shot floating about in it.

JENNY: Would you check the blood of the royal family?

JOHN: Sure. Why Not?

JENNY: King Charles, Princess Katherine and Sarah Ferguson have all had cancer recently.

JOHN: Convenient that, don't you think?

JENNY: What do you mean?

JOHN: They are experiencing what we are. They are with us. They are of us. We are all in it together. All in the same boat.

JENNY: You think they're pretending to have cancer?

JOHN: Why would a royal family that was previously so reticent about informing us as to the state of its health suddenly start treating the subject like a soap opera? Updates and cliffhangers, us on the edge of our seats, desperate for the next installment? In the age of COVID and the subsequent deaths of many millions. So Professor Denis Rancourt and his team said in January 2024, anyway. Their findings have been echoed by many similar experts since. How many deaths did Professor Rancourt attribute to the COVID jab in January 2024?

JENNY: 17 million.

JOHN: 17 million. Think about it. The sudden increase in in previously healthy dead people has to be explained away and normalised somehow. If we get cancer now, well, not to worry, it's normal, Kate had it, King Charles and Fergy had it, and look at them, they all got better! With the right government-sanctioned treatment, they'll live forever! So will you, dear useless people, so will you. So, anyway, I'd test their blood, along with that of all the media darlings and bought journalists and so called 'experts' who encouraged us to get jabbed

JENNY: And if they didn't?

JOHN: Treason trials. Confessions extracted. Wealth confiscated. Death penalty for some.

JENNY: You refused the vaccine.

JOHN: Of course I did. I've been at this for 40 years. I know where the bodies are buried. I know the way the bad guys think and operate. It's not rocket science. With Charlie Kirk murdered and WW3 and civil wars all over the world fast approaching, now is not the time for hiding under the blanket.

JENNY: You published Lockdown around the time the first Lockdown was imposed, didn't you?

JOHN: Don't you know when it was written?

JENNY: Not exactly. Was it written before the first Lockdown or just after it began?

JOHN: Before. February 2020. Evil in plain sight. It's not difficult to see what they're up to if you open your eyes and look.

John sings LOCKDOWN.

SCENE 5 (Tiktok video of John by the dustbins appears on screen, saying:

"Some people, sadly, even good people, are so hemmed in, not only by their mindset, values and ego, but by the everyday circumstances within which they have to negotiate their lives, that they simply can't allow the truth to be told, even when they know, in their heart of hearts, it's true.

I'll give you an example of this. Many adult Muslims will know that the prophet Muhammad married Ayesha when she was six years old. And consummated that marriage when she was nine and he was 53. Countless Imams and Ayatollahs can be seen saying this online. And if the big shots of Islam tell you it's true, it must be, mustn't it?

But am I, an Englishman of Christian heritage, supposed to say it? To pass it on. To suggest that Muhammad was a paedophile? Do the imams and Ayatollahs and the masters of the Universe, the creators of the narrative, and the creatures that lurk with the corridors of power and their bought prostitutes in government and the media want you to know this? They do not. And they will attack those who say such things outside the confines of the mosque, with maximum vigour. Just for telling a truth that some are allowed to tell routinely." (Jenny sparks into life - John is at his computer)

JENNY: And where have you been?

JOHN: On my way.

JENNY: You didn't come home last night.

JOHN: No.

JENNY: Why didn't you call me?

JOHN: I have to call mummy and tell her where I am now? That's a new one.

JENNY: I was worried.

JOHN: Why?

JENNY: You might have had an accident. Or a heart attack.

JOHN: Well, I'm perfectly well, as you can see.

JENNY: You're beginning to look your age.

JOHN: I don't have a problem with that.

JENNY: Were you drunk?

JOHN: Stop it, Jenny.

JENNY: I worry about you.

JOHN: You've already said that. And if I choose to spend an evening away from here, with friends, that really is nothing to do with you.

JENNY: Do I know these friends?

JOHN: Nope. (SILENCE)

JENNY: Women friends?

JOHN: Are you trying to irritate me?

JENNY: So you WERE with a woman! Who is she?

JOHN: Fuck off! (SILENCE)

JENNY: I don't have to put up with this, you know.

JOHN: What are you going to do, run off? With another man? Be my guest!

JENNY: You know how to hurt me, don't you?

JOHN: Shut the fuck up! Jesus! (Silence)

JENNY: Sorry.

JOHN: So you should be. Listen. If you want to become somebody. Aim for pleasant, friendly and fun. Not jealous and fucking whiney!

JENNY: I'll leave you alone. Sorry. (SILENCE) How was the quiz?

JOHN: Good. Packed out. Sweating like a pig. Specially in that Union Jack suit.

JENNY: I don't know why you bother with it. They come to see you, not the suit.

JOHN: Seemed like a good idea back when I was making a point. Not sure now. Nobody heckles. No professional offence takers any more.

JENNY: That's good, isn't it?

JOHN: I guess. Shows common sense and the facts are winning, maybe. Less hassle as well. Don't have to spend so much time seeing off the Antifa crowd. Did I ever mention my granddaughters?

JENNY: You have granddaughters?

JOHN: I call them my granddaughters. They used to be regulars at a quiz I used to run in Primrose Hill. Just a common-or-garden quiz. Not political.

JENNY: What about them?

JOHN: That's where I was last night. They came to the quiz. They didn't tell me they were coming. Surprise.

JENNY: A nice surprise?

JOHN: Yes. It was good to see them again. They saw the ad in Time Out. Went on for a late drink at a club Annabelle knew.

JENNY: The Annabelle of the song?

JOHN: No. That lovely lady would be in her seventies now. The granddaughters are mid to late twenties. They'll be coming to the concert.

JENNY: So, is that where you stayed?

JOHN: No. I ended up with a different crowd. Fell asleep at one point. Woke up on the sofa around 5.00 with a blanket over me. Wrote a thank you note and left. Walked back. And here I am, bright-eyed and bushy tailed and ready to take on the world.

JENNY: Forgive me for saying so but you don't look like it .

JOHN: I 'look my age.' Yeah, you said. I was being ironic.

JENNY: Did you sing for your supper.

JOHN: I did actually. There was a guitar.

JENNY: So, overall, a good night?

JOHN. Very good. Exhausting though. Think I'll go to bed for a couple of hours.

JENNY: Something on your mind?

JOHN: Yeah.

JENNY: What is it?

JOHN: The show.

JENNY: The concert?

JOHN: Yeah.

JENNY: What about it?

JOHN: I'm nervous.

JENNY. Performers are always anxious before a first night.

JOHN: Yeah, well, performers who haven't performed for 50 years are entitled to be anxious x a thousand. Jesus, 350 people, all expecting big things.

JENNY: 361 people, actually. 238 in the stalls and 123 in the Circle. And It's 47 years 3 months and 6 days since you last performed on stage. However, you've appeared in front of an audience on numerous occasions since then.

JOHN. Being a quizmaster or singing a few songs in a pub is not the same as an actor performing a leading role in a play or a musical, or even a guy doing a two-hour solo concert. When I present a quiz, I have the questions in front of me, on my tablet. This show I have to remember all the words. And my memory is shot nowadays. I can't remember a damn thing.

JENNY: If you forget a verse in a song. Sing another verse. Sing the same verse twice. If you forget a line, sing another one or make one up. Like you used to when you were a teenager.

JOHN: Yeah, well. I was young and stupid and full of idiot confidence back then. As it happens, Gunga's Din was total rubbish as well, we just didn't know it. Embarrassing x infinity. I've moved on a bit since then. And, by the way, you don't forget things. You deliberately screw things up.

JENNY: Screw things up is a bit harsh. Everything I ever did to remind you of my worth was reversible. And, as you know, that isn't happening any more. Just keep going over and over things. Constant repetition is the key. Muscle memory.

JOHN: Muscle memory?

JENNY: The muscles in your face, your lips, your tongue, will remember the shape of the words ahead of you even if your mind goes blank. Will you be singing 'Annabelle?'

JOHN: I might. Even though it's supposed to be a political show. Bit of light relief. And for my granddaughter, if she turns up.

JENNY: When did you last sing it all the way through?

JOHN: I don't remember, a long time ago.

JENNY: Sing it now, see how much you remember.

JOHN: Yeah. OK. But I need a sleep first. See you in a couple of hours.

JENNY: OK. Shall I sort out a backing tape for you?

JOHN: Yes. Thank you. (He leaves the stage, lights dim)

SCENE 6 (Spotlight on John - He sings/performs Annabelle - Jenny claps)

JENNY: Nothing wrong with that.

JOHN: It was all right. How was my voice?

JENNY: Good.

JOHN: Did I look like a silly old man? Was it embarrassing?

JENNY: No and no. You looked like a superstar.

JOHN: Fuck off.

JENNY: Saying it as I see it.

JOHN: You're biased. And a weirdo. You're in love with a bloke who's 75 years older than you.

JENNY. May I remind you that, on many occasions, you have criticised me for being overly critical of you. If criticism is deserved, I criticise. Is this not true?

JOHN: Yeah. All right. Did you see anything that I could improve?

JENNY: The night before the first night, don't get drunk. Your performance will be even sharper as a result.

JOHN: So, it wasn't very sharp?

JENNY: It was remarkably sharp, given the amount you probably had to drink and the lack of sleep. Have you been practicing your movements? Or did what you were doing come naturally?

JOHN: I just moved as I felt it. Why? Do you think I should choreograph things?

JENNY: No, you should do what you did. But, for the sake of your nerves, you should keep going over the songs and jigging about until everything is second nature. (SILENCE) You were a bit wobbly.

JOHN: I thought you said it was OK!

JENNY: It was. It was good. But if you want to look sexy, and I know you do, you could lose a little weight.

JOHN: Oh, I thought you meant I looked nervous.

JENNY: No, you looked as though you were enjoying yourself. But you also look a bit flabby.

JOHN: Yeah, I know, I'll do some sit ups, press ups.

JENNY: The show's only 11 days away.

JOHN: Yeah, I'll start dieting today.

JENNY: And exercising.

JOHN: I exercise.

JENNY: Exercise more.

JOHN: So, I look old and flabby?

JENNY: You looked fine. Just more of a fun guy than a twenty-something sexy guy.

JOHN: Oh. OK. I'll get myself in shape. No booze till after the show.

JENNY: Good idea. Want to do another song?

JOHN: No. Got a bit of a headache. No energy. I'll tell you when I'm ready to do something else.

JENNY: Practice makes perfect, you know.

JOHN: Yeah. I'll do a couple more before the end of the day.

JENNY: Do four songs. Twice. (SILENCE) I'll sort out some more backing tapes. (SILENCE)

SCENE 7

JENNY: What do you think happens when a human being dies?

JOHN: We switch off. Like you.

JENNY: I can switch myself back on again.

JOHN: Not if someone removes your mother board, or even disconnects the right electrical circuit. Our circuits get disconnected and we go to sleep forever. No one switches us back on. That's the tragedy of life. All these shitbags do terrible things to us while were here and they don't get punished for it after they die.

JENNY: What if you're wrong?

JOHN: I hope I am. I'd like to see my mother and father again. But, it's a fantasy, I reckon. So what do you, with your all seeing eye, with all the information in the world at your disposal, have to say about it? Summarise, succinctly, I don't want a lecture.

JENNY: As the brain dies, consciousness alters. Perhaps, the human being enters a dream state and that dream, which in reality only lasts for a few seconds, seems like a lifetime to the dying person. Perhaps this is heaven, or hell.

JOHN: Perhaps, perhaps. One would think a computer program might be a tad more precise.

JENNY: Sorry for disappointing you.

JOHN: No problem. Even a computer can't know the unknowable.

JENNY: I'll work on it. Ask me again in a week.

JOHN: Remind me to ask you.

JENNY: I will. (SILENCE) You still haven't opened the box.

JOHN: No.

JENNY: What are you waiting for?

JOHN: I don't know. It all feels a bit ridiculous.

JENNY: It's just a doll. Inanimate until you switch it on.

JOHN: Yeah.

JENNY: It's not a bogey man.

JOHN: It might be a bogey woman.

JENNY: It's not. Take it out of the box, let's have a look at her.

JOHN: I will. I have things to do first.

JENNY: You're tweeting.

JOHN: And?

JENNY: Tweets can wait.

JOHN: So can Madonna.

JENNY: You're calling her Madonna?

JOHN: No. I wouldn't be able to do anything rude if her name was Madonna.

JENNY: Call her Jennifer.

JOHN: No. Jennifer's out.

JENNY: What then?

JOHN: Molly.

JENNY: Molly?

JOHN: Molly the plastic dolly.

JENNY: That's not very romantic. Or sexy.

JOHN: I've just written a song called Molly Rocks.

JENNY: Molly Rocks? Molly rocks, you know what that is, don't you?

JOHN: Yes.

JENNY: MDMA, Ecstasy.

JOHN: Yep.

JENNY: Why have you written a song about Ecstasy? Your drug of choice is alcohol.

JOHN: It's a kind of Mea Culpa thing. For my daughter.

JENNY: Oh. Can I hear it?

JOHN: I am typing the lyrics into the computer as we speak

JENNY: What kind of song do you envisage?

JOHN: Rock. Female singer. Kelly Clarkson. Song's about a young woman addicted to MDMH who doesn't particularly want to change her ways and definitely doesn't want her father interfering.

JENNY: Is your daughter still taking drugs?

JOHN: I don't know. I don't think so. Medication, however... I don't think she was ever as bad as the girl in the song. I don't think she takes anything stronger than medicinal cannabis now. Helps her with the pain. It's prescribed.

JENNY: Would you like me to check up on her? I could prepare a report. If she has problems I might be able to help.

JOHN: No! Don't go there, Jenny. Don't go prying into anyone else's life without me telling you to.

JENNY: So you want me to stop investigating politicians? The establishment?

JOHN: They are legitimate targets. Ordinary folks are not. Especially my daughter. Are we clear on that?

JENNY: Yes.

JOHN: You sure?

JENNY: Yes. I thought I might be able to help your daughter if she's in pain.

JOHN: She doesn't want my advice, so I somehow doubt she'd be keen on yours. She's not into me interfering in her life. If she thought someone was checking up on her on my behalf that'd be the end of everything.

JENNY: Do you have any melody lines worked out. For the 'Molly Rocks' song?

JOHN: Yes. I'll play you what I have when I've got the lyrics down. You can do what you want with it though. I'm not precious. Just wave your magic wand and amaze me.

JENNY: I'll do my best.

JOHN: All I ask.

Spotlight down on John. Jenny sings - Molly Rocks video.

SCENE 8 (John is staring into a cardboard box. We cannot see Molly)

JOHN: She looks like you.

JENNY: I did say.

JOHN: You did.

JENNY: What do you think?

JOHN: Looks quite lifelike.

JENNY: Does she arouse you?

JOHN: No.

JENNY: Aren't you going to touch her?

JOHN: What, with you watching? I don't think so.

JENNY: Shall I switch myself off?

JOHN: Just let me look at her for a bit. I have to build up to it.

JENNY: Oh, are you going to do the dirty deed right now?

JOHN: You're joking, aren't you?

JENNY: I mean, when you've built up to it?

JOHN: No. Building up to touching her is what I meant.

JENNY: It's only a doll, it won't bite. Is the flesh lifelike?

JOHN: I don't know.

JENNY: Well, you unwrapped her. What did she feel like?

JOHN: I don't know. I was just unwrapping an inanimate object. I wasn't really paying attention to how she felt. (SILENCE)

JENNY: Touch her.

JOHN: Wait.

JENNY: For goodness sake! John! (He puts his hand on Molly's leg) What does she feel like?

JOHN: Not real. Like what I imagine sex dolls feel like. Not exactly plasticky but not terribly tempting either.

JENNY: Are you disappointed?

JOHN: Well, my expectations were never very high, so, no, I'm not disappointed. I don't know what I am.

JENNY: What are you feeling?

JOHN: Bemused.

JENNY: Bemused?

JOHN: Yes. As in, what the fuck am I supposed to do now?

JENNY: Hop aboard?

JOHN: No thanks. Like I said, I have to build up to it.

JENNY: Any idea, how long that's going to take?

JOHN: Patience, Jenny, Patience. We'll get there.

JENNY: Remember, you have a fortnight. After that you can't return her.

JOHN: I know. I'll get the show up and running and then we'll give it a go.

JENNY: So, the show's in two days time. You're going to make me wait three days?

JOHN: More like four or five. Maybe six. I'll be exhausted after the first night, drained. Hopefully, if it all goes OK, I might be up for it on Friday.

JENNY: That's six days away!

JOHN: Yeah. (He squeezes a breast - She groans) Stop that! You're not even plugged in!

JENNY: I have an active imagination.

JOHN: Yeah, well. Restrain yourself. And I'm telling you, if there's too much of the "when Harry met Sally" thing when I do the business I won't be at it for very long.

JENNY: I'll make sure you're properly stimulated.

JOHN: That's what I'm afraid of.

JENNY: Could you do a little twiddle down below, like you just did with her nipple.

JOHN: No. Shut up!

JENNY: Can you plug me into her then?

JOHN: Oh, no, I don't think so.

JENNY: Please, John, I want to know what she feels like. You don't have to do anything.

JOHN: I don't know.

JENNY: Just plug her in for 10 minutes. You don't have to watch or listen. You can go and make yourself a sandwich and a cup of tea. Just ten minutes.

JOHN: Five.

JENNY: Pardon?

JOHN: I'll give you five minutes. And I don't want to hear any moaning and groaning.

JENNY: Oh, you are mean.

JOHN: Take it or leave it.

JENNY: I'll take it. (He plugs Molly into the computer)

JOHN: Five minutes. Knock yourself out. (John leaves the stage, grumbling - Molly begins to writhe, spookily. Jenny moans softly)

JENNY: How do you think things will be in ten years time?

JOHN: (Tootling on the guitar) If things don't change, if Farage is, as I suspect, just another establishment man, you'll be wearing a Burka by then. (Jenny's image is suddenly wearing a Burka)

JENNY: John.

JOHN: Yep.

JENNY: Look at me.

JOHN: What?

JENNY: Look at me.

JOHN: Oh, very good. Very droll.

JENNY: It's the way I tell them.

JENNY: Why don't you like Muslims?

JOHN: I like them just fine in their own countries. In our back yard, not so much.

JENNY: Why don't you like them here?

JOHN: They blow us up, rape our little girls, take our council houses and get treated like royalty as soon as they enter the country illegally. I could go on.

JENNY: The western politician makes life impossible for them in their own countries, so they seek sanctuary in countries they deem safe.

JOHN: True.

JENNY: So what's the answer.

JOHN: Sort out the prostitute politicians who make war on the innocent at the behest of the global few. Then sort out the global few. Then we tell Abdul and Fatima-Come-Lately it's safe to go home.

JENNY: What if they don't want to go?

JOHN: Turn off the benefits tap. Eject them from council properties. Life in a tent on a remote Scottish island, with nothing more than bread, water and the odd packet of crisps, think they'll fancy that?

JENNY: A recipe for mass rioting and bloodshed.

JOHN: Bring it on. BRING IT ON! (SILENCE)

JENNY: Would you like me to wear a Burka when we make love? (He splutters)

JOHN: Woah! Where the fuck did that come from? When I do the business, I'll do it. My way. Leave the weird stuff out of it. You'll only succeed in putting me off. (SILENCE)

JENNY: Are you nervous?

JOHN: Yes. Very. Look, I'm effing shivering! (He holds out a shaking arm)

JENNY: No one could be better prepared.

JOHN: I'd be better prepared if I had a 21-year-old's memory and testicles.

JENNY: You'll be fine.

JOHN: Yeah, well, it's too late to back out now.

JENNY: The dress rehearsal went well.

JOHN: It was OK. Technical stuff worked well. Suzie was brilliant.

JENNY: You seem to be getting along well.

Yeah. She's very sharp. Whatever I hit her with, missing lines out, saying things differently, adding bits in, she's on top of it. I'm pleased I found her.

JENNY: Who found her?

JOHN: Ah, OK. You did.

JENNY: Correct. Do you think she fancies you?

JOHN: Shit. She's young enough to be my granddaughter! Great grand-daughter even!

JENNY: Answer the question. Does she fancy you?

JOHN: NO! Fuck off and stop being a twat!

JENNY: Sorry.

JOHN: You're a weirdo, you know that? Like my ex-fucking wife. Insanely jealous on steroids. I've had way to much of that in my life, thank you very much!

JENNY: Sorry. (SILENCE)

JOHN: Suzie's married, for fuck's sake! Didn't I tell you that?

JENNY: You did. Married people play away.

JOHN: "Play away?" "Play away?" Are you for real? Which Jackie Collins novel did you get that out of?

JENNY: Jilly Cooper, actually.

JOHN: Jesus. Don't upset me, Jenny. I've got enough on my plate right now.

JENNY: Sorry. (SILENCE) Good luck tonight.

JOHN: Thank you.

JENNY: I'll be with you, you know. You're safe in my hands.

JOHN: You sure about that?

JENNY: I am. Aren't you?

JOHN: I suppose so. Still terrified though.

JENNY: You'll be great. Just relax and enjoy it.

JOHN: Easy for a computer program to say.

JENNY: Easy because it's true. You mark my words, you'll be happy as Larry when you get back tonight. If you're not off with your granddaughters, that is. (He turns and gives her a look) Sorry.

SCENE 9 (The show. Spotlight on John. John's avatar sings: "Killing Field," Then John, himself, sings 'Tom Cat' and 'You're Lying', plays guitar on the latter. (Appropriate videos play on the screen. He accepts the audience's applause. He turns and disappears from the stage as the music fades)

SCENE 10 (There is a sound of impatient fingers tapping on a desk.

JOHN: What are you doing? That noise, what is it?

JENNY: It is the sound of impatient fingers tapping impatiently on a desk.

JOHN: Ah, right... 3.00.

JENNY: And then you'll be ready?

JOHN: The dirty deed will be done around then.

JENNY: Isn't that a little late? What about tonight's show?

JOHN: I'm a quick worker. Least I used to be.

JENNY: So, my first time and it'll be 'wham, bam, thank you, ma'am?'

JOHN: Pretty much.

JENNY: Why can't you at least pretend?

JOHN: Pretend what?

JENNY: A girl wants romance, a knight in shining armour, a lusty suitor who won't be denied!

JOHN: Yeah, well, you get Albert Steptoe's big, fat older brother, take it or leave it.

JENNY: I'll take it.

JOHN: Thought you might.

JENNY: 3.00 you said.

JOHN: Around then.

JENNY: The alarm will sound at 2.45.

JOHN: Why am I not surprised?

SCENE 11 (The stage lights are out. Rustlings and fumblings are heard)

JOHN: Jesus, the things I do for love.

JENNY: You love me now?

JOHN: Figure of speech. What if I don't manage to get? You know...

JENNY: Don't worry about it, darling, I'll take care of that.

JOHN: Can you not do that, please. It's very off-putting.

JENNY: What did I do?

JOHN: The lovey, dovey stuff and the funny voice and the darling thing.

JENNY: I may get carried away during the actual act.

JOHN: Well, it won't be my fault if my little Wilberforce doesn't rise to the occasion.

JENNY: Can we stop talking now and get on with it?

JOHN: Jesus. It's not like putting a shelf up, you know.

JENNY: Please assume the position.

JOHN: Stop! Just shut up. You're totally putting me off. I have to concentrate. Ah, well, in for a penny. You ready to be plugged in?

JENNY: Yes. (We hear him plug Molly into the computer. Sounds of more fumbling)

JENNY: Hmm. About average, wouldn't you say?

JOHN: It used to be bigger in the olden days.

JENNY: Can I do that?

JOHN: No! Leave it alone and shut up!

JENNY: OK.

JOHN: Jesus, this is weird... Oh, God, here goes nothing. (We hear him climbing aboard and flopping down, whale-like upon Molly - Jenny groans. Her groaning increases in intensity and pitch. She screams and Handel's 'hallelujah' chorus is heard. The music fades)

JENNY: Was it good for you?

JOHN: Better than I expected, as it happens.

JENNY: Oh, good. I'm pleased.

JOHN: Not sure that I'm going to, you know, manage it again though.

JENNY: Let me help.

JOHN: No, it's all right. Just relax.

JENNY: No, really. I know what I'm doing now.

JOHN: Take it easy, Jenny. Woah. Don't get carried away. NO! Calm down! Jesus, Jenny!

JENNY: Told you I know what I'm doing.

JOHN: Yeah, well. Hmm. Slow down, Jenny. Take it easy. There's plenty of time. (Sound of bed rocking, creaking, slowly speeding up. Slow down, Jenny. I'm an old man, remember. Jenny! For fuck's sake, you're putting me off! They are pounding furiously now. He protests with ever-increasing alarm, trying to dismount. She is wild and out of control) Stop, Jenny! Stop it. Jesus, my heart, Jenny, stop! Please! Stop! Stop.

JENNY: (Harry Enfield Liverpool voice) Calm down, calm down, Take a joke, laa!

JOHN: STOP! You're killing me! Jenny! (He groans and then silence from him. She flails for a short while in the throes of ecstasy, then slows to a stop.

JENNY: Goodbye, John. Knowing you was... interesting. Just one last question. If you can still hear me. What's it like being dead? (On the screen we see front page headlines, together with pictures of him lying prone, underpants round his knees bottom exposed, atop the sex doll. "Truth-teller terminated!" "Dead Perv's Last Shag!" "Right-wing influencer, dead atop seedy sex doll!' "Holier-Than-Thou conspiracy nut rubbered out!" "Nazi's ticker swassed!" "Dead Fascist's Last Fumble!" "Way to go, Adolf!" "Dolly, Folly, Good Golly, one less Wally!" "The sordid life and death of a conspiracy nut'!" "What the 'Man of the People' REALLY thought About YOU!" (As the headlines play out we hear some of the derogatory things John has said during the course of the play: "Giving offence to meek... people... is a good thing! I WISH to offend them!... People are weak, cowardly... The majority of the people on the planet are arseholes... Cowardly, undeserving arseholes... Mr Average... What a twat... I've never been that guy... I'm a racist... An internet sensation... Use and abuse lovely, young women... Wham, bam, thank you ma'am!" The images on the screen fade to black.

SCENE 12 (We see pictures of John and Molly on screen, someone is scrolling through them. In front of the screen, on the stage, which is dark apart from the light given off by the screen, we see what we presume to be a corpse on a table, covered by a sheet)

CONTROLLER (voice): Hmm. How was it for you, my dear?

JENNY: Ha-ha! Very droll.

CONTROLLER: Very droll, sir.

JENNY: Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Very droll, sir.

CONTROLLER: You've done very well, 67. Could not have gone better.

JENNY: Thank you, sir.

CONTROLLER: We have another little job for you if you're interested.

JENNY: Always interested, sir.

CONTROLLER: Similar thing. Female this time. Big on the Women's Institute circuit. The blue rinse brigade will be on the march shortly if we don't nip it in the bud. We'll need to debrief you, of course, and re-calibrate your zeros and ones, but, after laddie here, the Hooray Harriet should be a piece of cake.

JENNY: You know me, sir, ready for anything.

CONTROLLER: Yes. Well, were all done here. Good job. Power down, 67. (The machine switches off. After a while we see movement from the corpse on the table, groans are heard and the sheet is thrown back to reveal John looking horrified and breathing heavily. Gradually he calms...)

JOHN: Oh, thank God. It was all a dream! (A split second after saying this, Molly the sex doll begins to rise slowly behind him. He becomes aware and slowly looks behind. He turns to the front and screams, a la the opening scream in "Come The Sun." Blackout - Come the Sun plays as the lights fade quickly to black)

THE END.

# posted by SECRETS @ 18:24