Saturday 8 June (final) – Unmovable Feast

by Vidya Rajan

A beautiful dinner party, at a long table. Everyone who has been on stage is here now. They’re feasting, drinking, eating, alive. There’s also a figure – who hasn’t been there yet, on one of the corners of the table, their words are in italics. Everyone, including the figure, speaks in high, bright voices – it hardly matters what they say, or who says it. This is chatter, they talk over each other, mini-conversations, cross-purposes, a joyful cacophony. The non-italicised text is from the previous plays, if more text is needed to create the party – it should be taken from previous plays.

— You know, absolutely, this is what I said – you’ve been in the street again – I can see it!

— Oh now that’s an out and out lie!

— It’s not easy to speak,

— Good one, you crack me up!

— Okay, so if I can be serious for one second – truth be told, I was quite worried.

— It’s sad, some of their parents, you know can’t look after them anymore. They need a place to rest.

I was very worried too. Will it make a difference?

— I mean did you see it? There were thousands! Thousands of kids not going to school

— There’s a real shift in the seasons.

But I thought maybe, this was the time, and it was worth it.

— Were you on first?

— Shit? What was it called?

— I’ll burn for you – no seriously, that’s what he said. I will burn for you.

— Sometimes it feels like the end.

Continue reading “Saturday 8 June (final) – Unmovable Feast”

Saturday 8 June – The Fights

by Ross Mueller

(Outside a prize fight is in progress.

Lights up in a tiny dressing room, backstage at “The Fights”.

A is wearing fighters trunks and a robe and a towel. Shadow boxing. The door opens and the crowd noise is loud. The “A Team” begins to assemble in the dressing room. They are dressed as a Crew and they are encouraging A; noting the speed and the precision of the shadow punches.

B enters the room. The noise level outside is peaking. Somebody has landed a heavy blow. B slams the door shut.

Silence.

B motions for A to come and get hands wrapped. A is immediately obedient and sits in front of B on a massage table. B begins by looking at the bruises on A’s hands)

B    Wow…  Wow… Look, at you. Look at you kid. When you were seventy five kilo’s – you were beautiful, you coulda been another…

(B starts wrapping the hands of A)

But that skunk we got you for a Manager, he brought you along too fast.

A    It wasn’t him Charlie… It was you.

Continue reading “Saturday 8 June – The Fights”

Friday 7 June – National Interest

by Emilie Collyer

We return to the kink dungeon from a few weeks ago where we met professional Dommes, Dee and Kay. The same props that were in evidence then are here now too – caps, suits, short grey-haired wigs, glasses, generic round pale face masks – but this time the women are packing them away.

DEE:    I can’t believe it.

KAY:    End of an era.

DEE:    And what stupid reason did they give?

KAY:    Some bullshit about zoning.

DEE:    Do you think it’s locals that complained?

KAY:    Nah. They protested the closure, we’ve been getting flowers and gifts and messages of support all day.

DEE:    So what’s the real fucking reason?

Kay holds up the generic, pale, round face masks.

DEE:    What?

KAY:    During the raid⎯

Continue reading “Friday 7 June – National Interest”

Thursday 6 June – Sara and Annie

by Keziah Warner

Sara and Annie are at the spa. Both in baths of olive oil.

Annie is extremely-self-consciously naked. Strangely, Sara is still wearing her trench coat.

Sara is on her phone. Annie’s phone is on the floor by the bath – a little too far away. She looks around, trying to think of something to say. She waits for Sara to put her phone down. Eventually, she decides to reach for her phone. Not wishing to be noticed by Sara, she slowly, excruciatingly slithers her arms and shoulders over the edge, followed by her torso so she is hinging on the edge of the bath by her hips. She’s five months pregnant so it’s extremely awkward and precarious. She grasps at the floor a few times before managing to get hold of her phone.

At this point, she realises she is balanced more on the floor than in the bath. She puts her phone in her mouth, places her palms flat on the tiled floor and bends her elbows to brace herself. She makes two little bouncing motions up and down like push ups to gain momentum and then powerfully flings herself up and back. The oil splashes loudly as she lands in the tub.

Sara looks up from her phone for the first time.

SARA: I’ve just realised I’ve been here before.

ANNIE: Oh?

SARA: Yes, Jeremy and I came for a wax.

ANNIE: Jeremy had a wax too?

SARA: Yes. Full body.

ANNIE: Right.

SARA: I don’t remember why now.

ANNIE: Must have been painful.

SARA: Yes he had a reaction. Got a rash everywhere.

ANNIE: Really?

SARA: Everywhere.

ANNIE: Wow.

Continue reading “Thursday 6 June – Sara and Annie”

Tuesday 4 June – Till Next Time

by Amelia Evans

A flower is on stage. Characters A, B, C, D, E and F are there.

A is doing a high intensity workout from the computer screen

C is playing a killing video game

B is reading the paper

D is watching the news from June 4th 2019, while tweeting on their phone.

E is talking on their phone

E     It’s ok.

Yes I know.

    But whatever it is – it’s ok…

    Even if it’s that…

I know

    But if it’s that – then it’s that and that’s ok

    Ok?

Ok

C dies in the game

A get’s tired and just watches the video of others working out

B starts making paper planes from the paper

D falls asleep

E hangs up the phone – turns off D’s TV, puts a blanket over them

A Turns off the workout video

C Turns off the video game and sits with B making paper planes

A looks at the flower.

They all take a breath.

Monday 3 June – Retail Politics

by Ben Ellis

Cafe on the ground floor of a corporate building

SAM. Retail politics

JACKIE. Funny saying

SAM. That’s what they kept saying on floor twelve

JACKIE. Those last four days were the best of my life

SAM. You were certain we’d lose

It’s like childbirth

SAM. You were screaming about having Bill as PM

JACKIE. You forget the pain because of the beautiful result

SAM. It was beautiful

JACKIE. Do you ever feel..

SAM. Feel…

JACKIE. Feel…

SAM. Feel…

Continue reading “Monday 3 June – Retail Politics”

Sunday 2 June – Morrison!

by Emilie Collyer

The PM’s office.

PM:    So are those guys still writing the plays?

AIDE:    I believe there are quite a few women writing them as well, sir.

PM:    What?

AIDE:    Women sir, writing the plays.

PM:    Yeah?

AIDE:    You said … guys.

PM:    And?

AIDE:    Never mind.

PM:    So are they?

AIDE:    I believe for another week or so, sir.

PM:    Great. I want them to write me a musical.

AIDE:    Sir?

PM:    Like that one on Broadway. The smash hit. About that guy, the hero of the American founding fathers.

AIDE:    … Hamilton, sir?

PM:    That’s it, yeah!

AIDE:    Have you … seen the show, sir?

PM:    Nah.

AIDE:    So you don’t know the story?

PM:    Well it’s called Hamilton, right? So I reckon it’s a bloody ripper story about a great guy called Hamilton. Was he a President? I mean he must have been right? If they made a whole show about him.

AIDE:    Not exactly sir …

PM:    Anyway it’s coming to Sydney. So what I want, before it gets here, is for a new musical. An Australian musical. About a Prime Minister. An ordinary guy. A man of the people. A hero. Something brand new. Never been done before. I’ve got the perfect name: Morrison!

AIDE:    Um …

PM:    What?

AIDE:    You do know there was a musical about Paul Keating, sir.

PM:    What? Shit. What was it called?

AIDE:    Keating!

This is upsetting news.

PM:    Did people like it?

AIDE:    I believe it did very well, sir.

PM pulls himself together, he’s not one to be down for long.

PM:    Well as you know, I believe in miracles and I believe the Australian people are ready for a NEW all Australian musical about a Prime Minister. An ordinary guy. A man of the people. A hero. I’ve even got a few ideas for the words.

AIDE:    The words, sir?

PM:    Of the songs. How’s this: ‘I am not giving away my shot. I’m just like my country, I’m young, scrappy and hungry …’

AIDE:    Er, I believe those lyrics are taken directly from the musical Hamilton, sir. I’m not even sure we can put them in this play without infringing copyright. Can you … tweak them a little?

PM:    Yeah, yeah, I can do that. Just warming up. How about: ‘I am not handballing away my shot’ – footy reference, folks will love a footy reference. ‘I’m just like my country, I’m middle-aged, well-off and angry …’

AIDE:    Angry, sir?

PM:    All right. Fair enough. Um … Oh. Oh. Daggy! Yeah that’s it! ‘I’m middle-aged, well-off and daggy.’ Oh and even better, even better, how’s this: ‘I am not giving away my cap. I am not giving away my cap! I’m just like my country, I’m middle-aged, well-off and daggy and I’m not giving away my cap.’ What do you reckon?

AIDE:    Um …

PM:    Get those writers in here.

AIDE:    So you can … give them the lyrics they should write?

PM:    Head start that’s all. They can do the rest.

AIDE:    I’ll … see if I can get onto them …

PM:    And hey, that Keating musical.

AIDE:    Yes sir?

PM:    Was that an all white cast?

AIDE:    Um …

PM:    ‘Cause that’s where we can trump him. Arrogant bastard.

AIDE:    Oh he didn’t write the musical, sir.

PM:    But you can bet he likes to gloat about it. We’ll go one up. Try this on for size: Post-racial casting. Colour-blind casting.

Beat.

AIDE:    You know about colour-blind casting, sir?

PM:    Course I bloody do. Why?

AIDE:    I find that … surprising.

PM:    Yeah well like I said last time, you don’t know everything about me.

AIDE:    Clearly not.

PM:    Hang on now. Back up. Did you say Keating didn’t write his own musical?

AIDE:    That’s correct, sir.

PM:    Ha. What have we got left in the marketing budget?

AIDE:    For the playwrights, sir?

PM:    Nah. Changed my mind. I can write the bastard. That’ll show that poncy Keating a thing or two. We don’t need writers. I’ve already got the first song. How hard can it be?

AIDE:    So the budget is for …

PM:    The cast! I’ve got the perfect idea for who to play me.

AIDE:    Sir?

PM:    Guy Sebastian. Beat. Genius, right! He’s a dead bloody ringer! Go on then!

AIDE:    I believe he’s judging The Voice at present, sir.

PM:    I’ll turn his red chair. I’ll bloody burn for him! Go on! Go get him!

AIDE:    Yes sir. Beat. And if he doesn’t want to?

PM:    Whaddya mean?

AIDE:    If he can’t be bought, Guy Sebastian.

The PM laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs.

PM:    Good one mate, good one. You crack me up. Go on now! Get on it!

The aide exits.

The PM is excited, humming, singing.

PM:    ‘Sco-o-o-ott Morrison. They call me Sco-o-o-ott Morrison. And there’s one or two things I haven’t done. Just you wait. Just you wait …’

THE END