Banter

A short play about everyday misunderstanding's, in a pre-modernistic soap-operatic vein.


Man: What?! Divorce papers?? I thought you was kiddin! I was half cut, we dit'un even talk about it

Woman: we don't talk about nuffink, that's the problem, we never talk, you're always pissed

Man: what the fuck's that got to do with anyfink? you're more pissed than me

Woman: don't turn this on me, I wanted to make something out of it, I tried

Man: tried what? that fucking gyppo in The Lion?

Woman: you bastard! that was all lies and filthy rumours and you know it

Man: oh yeah, that's when it's your turn, you weren't so philosophical when they was talkin' about me and Ambalah

Woman: that's 'cos it was fuckin true! they wasn't rumours you cheatin' basterd!

Man: there's no talking to you, you just won't listen to anyfink I've got to say, you'd rather hear it from your skunky mates

Woman: don't bring me mates into this, at least they stand by me, and the word is "skanky" actually

Man: as long you're gettin' the rounds they stick by ya, and whose money is it that your buyin' the rounds wiv? eh?

Woman: you total basterd! I knew you'd bring it down to money, that's all it is wiv you innit? why don't you just pay me by the hour and treat me like one of your littel whore's?

Man: if I wanted to make money into an issue I wouldn't fuckin' give you any at all would I?

Woman: don't then! do you fink I can't make it wivout ya? I don't need you, typical man, you fink you can buy me? well horlicks to you Mr Man!

Man: What? Horlicks? oh Gordon Bennett! 'ave you slipped back into the fifties again?

Woman: Goodness Mr Man, you seem to be awfully perplexed, whatever can I do?

Man: stop talkin shite you cock-eyed bint! It's gunna to get me now, dash it!

Woman: oh dear, we seem to be perspiring, let's sit down and have a frank discussion

Man: Well said "the good lady" you're absolutely right as usual. What about a round of sandwiches and a jolly good cup of tea?

Woman: I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier! you put your feet up Mr Man and I'll busy myself in the kitchen.

Man: Yes, I'll put my feet up, that's what I'll do, I think this is going to work out very well

Mr Man winks at the audience and raises his elbow

Applause

THE END

I enjoyed that,

JJ

Travel XV, A Twat in a Box

What ho! Just got back from a weekend jaunt to Hamburg. Splendid, maarvellous city. Packed with history and all sorts of life (day and night), this place could easily fill more than a weekend break, as you would expect from a big city.

Yesterday we explored the huge port and a few other bits and pieces (Joahannes Brams Memorial, St Michel church etc) and went for dinner at Nil Restaurant. A very atmospheric little place, we were seated on a balcony, I recommend the Elk Steak, yum. Topped with a drink at a local bar, one of those spacious set-ups with sofa seating, we (girlfriend and I) finished off with a trip to St Pauli (red light district). The Reeperbahn is as much a tourist attraction as Pat Pong of Bangkok, we wandered into a huge marital aids shop (not martial arts, very subtle difference not only in spelling). It was mostly womens toys, I was given a re-assuring "you don't need that" while perusing the stamina increasing potions.

There was a tremendous seletion of gimp outfits and strange hardware in the basement, we left that more bemused than excited. The men's bit was dissapointing to say the least, an 800 euro solid rubber doll, a selection of blow up dolls and a selection of women's genitalia made of rubber in various colours. I thought to myself; I've only brought hand luggage, how will I explain this?, I don't even know what it's called "a twat in a box?". I left it.

Today we did the bus tour, as it was raining most of the day. The British influence on this city is striking, although it's more the case that the place already looked very British so the Brits took it over after the war and rebuilt it. They get credit for Hamburg being the press/media centre of Germany, well done! There was even a fish and chip shop (with vinegar) at the entrance to the railway station. I thought it would make a great picture but the lady working there had a different view. Obviously African, she charged out of the shop and grabbed my camera shouting "no pictures! no pictures!", I didn't expect that. The station was full of police officers as rival football fans arrived chanting and singing for the days game, a bit unnerving we thought. So we finished the tour and had nice (late) lunch back at the hotel before setting off back to Brussels.

We might go back in summer, I would recommend it.

I'll sleep well tonight.

JJ