The Bedsitting Room Read online

  Lord Fortnum:

  (annoyed) Can’t afford it! Bread at sixty-four gns per fine ounce. See this? (Shows signet ring) I had this bit of bread mounted this morning.

  Captain Kak:

  Gad, beautifully cut.

  FORTNUM removes ring and holds it out to KAK.

  Lord Fortnum:

  Look, Doctor, all this, if you’ll give me a prescription to alleviate malnutrition.

  Captain Kak:

  Right! (Writes on pad) 'I grams Brown Windsor Soup. Eggs and Chips. Jam and Custard. There, I want you to take this three times a day before meals, any good restaurant will make it up.

  Lord Fortnum:

  I’ll try Boots Café…

  Captain Kak:

  Good, anything else?

  Lord Fortnum:

  Yes, ever since they dropped this bomb, I’ve had the morbid fear I might turn into a Bedsitting Room.

  Here the actors must introduce great tension.

  Captain Kak:

  A Bedsitting Room?

  Lord Fortnum:

  Yes!

  Captain Kak:

  Will you be empty? I – er – I mean – how would you visualise yourself as this Bedsitting Room?

  Lord Fortnum:

  A brick wall with brick wallpaper over it. A plastic draining board, fluorescent lighting, red bakelite door knobs and an outside wooden karzi. Oh dear, what should I do?

  Captain Kak:

  Well, I think you ought to stick out for thirty shillings a week – at a push you might get two quid.

  Lord Fortnum:

  Two quids??? Look, you’re not getting the point, I don’t want to be a Bed Sitting Room. You can’t have a Lord turning into that sort of thing. Woburn Abbey, Blenheim Palace, where the takings are reasonable, but a bed sit at two quids?

  Captain Kak:

  You sound quite Ad-Amant about that.

  Lord Fortnum:

  I am Ad-Amant. I am.

  Captain Kak:

  You sound quite Adamant about that Ad-Amant.

  Lord Fortnum:

  I am. I am. (Stresses)

  Captain Kak:

  Look, let’s be practical – have you seen a good estate agent?

  Lord Fortnum:

  Yes. (Full of meaning) He was quite quite beautiful.

  Captain Kak:

  (worried) What?

  Lord Fortnum:

  But he refused to handle me until I’d become this blasted Bed Sit. Two quid. The fool didn’t realise, I’ll do anything to stave off the prospect of becoming a Bed Sit. I’ll pay anything…even…(He produces a gold coin)…even Money!

  Captain Kak:

  (falls on his knees) Money!

  Black out, divine spotlight from directly overhead on KAK. Sound of Hallelujah Chorus by Handel (vocal chorus). FORTNUM gives him the coin, KAK bends his head in relief. Lights up. Music stops. KAK to his feet.

  Captain Kak:

  Well, well, Lord Fortnum, I think we can do business. Roll up your sleeve.

  FORTNUM rolls up sleeve.

  Lord Fortnum:

  Gad! An arm.

  Captain Kak:

  Say Ah.

  Lord Fortnum:

  Ahhhh.

  Captain Kak:

  Good, you can get dressed again.

  FORTNUM turns modestly away to pull down sleeve.

  Captain Kak:

  Now, I want you to start taking these Anti Bed Sit Pills; take six a day, one every half mile.

  Lord Fortnum:

  But I only live a mile away.

  Captain Kak:

  You’ll have to move further out, then.

  Lord Fortnum:

  But I…

  Heavy hammering on side door of theatre. In event of there being no side door near stage, a hand protrudes from the wings and beckons KAK. KAK opens the door or reaches the beckoning hand. Immediately a parking meter is thrust in front of him and ‘MATE’, the parking meter attendant, enters. Old cloth cap, ragged overcoat, zip-up boot slippers, large iron-frame spectacles, old, about fifty-five, unshaven, long hair. He has a packet of Daz slung around his shoulders.

  Mate:

  You can’t park here, sir.

  He writes a parking ticket, puts it in coffin.

  Mate:

  This should cost him a fortune. I–

  He suddenly is taken by the large packet of Lux which LORD FORTNUM has slung around his shoulder. FORTNUM tries to slide the packet out of sight.

  Mate:

  Hold it, hold, hold, what’s this then. Ohhhhhh. Wearing Lux in a Daz area. Eh oh ho ho ho ho.

  Writes a ticket.

  Mate:

  I shall have to report you to the Daz Committee, sir. Not to mention Bazonka.

  Lord Fortnum:

  Bazonka?

  Mate:

  I told you not to mention that, sir. I shall have to charge you and give you the following warning. (Suddenly sings long-drawn-out notes. Sings)

  We’re doing the-Daz

  We’re doing the Daz

  You get all the dirt off the front of yer shirt with Daz Daz Daz

  Whenever you ‘as

  A packet of Daz

  You watch every stain

  Go right down the drain

  With Daz Daz Daz.

  Put it in the Corfee

  Put it in the Tea

  Rub on your belly and shout

  Pianist:

  (from rostrum) “Hi diddle dee.”

  Mate:

  A Razz a Matz

  We’re doing the Daz.

  Keep Paddington White

  On a Saturday Night with

  Daz Daz Daz.

  Black out. Spot on stage. Hanging from the flies is a blond wig. Enter BOB TODD in ankle-length string vest, packet of Daz slung over shoulder. He places a ladder under the wig, ascends ladder and brings his head right into the wig to fit perfectly.

  Mate:

  It’s Treade Dick. England’s oldest consenting male adult for Smethwick.

  Shelter man:

  Dat’s smart, dat’s smart. Look what happened to me and my partner. While I was at home, sleeping with his wife, he was in der office robbing the safe. How can you do business wid people like that, eh?

  Captain Kak:

  You a family man?

  Bob Todd:

  (sings)

  When I was a young man

  My vests were always dirty

  They remained in that condition

  For many many years until I was approximately in the region of shall we say thirty.

  He produces a tambourine, rattles it violently without any meaning.

  Then one day,

  A handsome cross-eyed stranger came my way

  He poured white powder on my head

  An this is what he saiddddddd.

  Lights up.

  Mate:

  (reprised)

  p>I baptise thee Daz

  A razz a ma tazz

  Keep Paddington white

  On a Saturday night with

  Omnes:

  DAZZ! DAZZZ! DAZZZZZ!

  Mate:

  Is that your horse-drawn Rolls parked out there?

  Lord Fortnum:

  Who wants to know?

  Mate:

  Me. Me.

  Lord Fortnum:

  Well, listen, Mimi. That horse is a horse of a different colour. And why are you wearing that absurd Russian Soviet hat?

  Mate:

  ’Aven’t you ‘eard? There’s a rumour that the Ruskies are taking over.

  Both KAK and FORTNUM produce from their pockets two identical Russian hats.

  Lord Fortnum:

  Well, let the swines come, we’re ready for them, eh? Eh? (To KAK) Tovarisch. ∗

  Mate:

  That disguise don’t fool me. Why is your Rolls being pulled by a working-class Daz horse?

  Lord Fortnum:

  Look, that horse is Prince Philip’s third cousin.

  Mate:

  I don’t care
– it’s parked on a parking meter.

  Lord Fortnum:

  Yes, but I put money in it.

  Mate:

  Money!…(He falls to his knees and looks up) ‘Ere, they didn’t play it that time. Must be for C of E’s only. Well, I’m off, must be the hot weather.

  Here MATE blows a police whistle that is slung round his neck on string.

  Mate:

  Ah, there’s the lunch whistle! I think I’ll go and have it in the Daz Peopledrome and watch the traditional mixing of D X 7, the new wonder political whitener – it forces Brown in and Wilson out. Yes, remember, folks.

  Reprise of the Daz. Exits.

  Lord Fortnum:

  Well, there he goes, living proof that there he goes. I must be going.

  Captain Kak:

  Yes, don’t worry too much about this Bed Sitting Room–

  A red house brick drops from FORTNUM’s coat.

  Lord Fortnum:

  Doctor, I’ve dropped a brick.

  Captain Kak:

  Then it’s started…you must hurry with those tablets.

  Lord Fortnum:

  Yes, yes, thank you. What can I say?

  Captain Kak:

  Say, “How much will that be?”

  Lord Fortnum:

  (reeling) I don’t feel well enough to say that, Doctor. (Romantically) And Doctor?

  Captain Kak:

  Yes?

  Piano arpeggio.

  Lord Fortnum:

  (sings) I’ll bring along a smile and a song for everrrr.

  Kak and Fortnum:

  (sings) Only a Rose, IIIII Goveeeeeeeeeeee.

  FORTNUM pulls off shop front as they sing. Exits.

  Captain Kak:

  Always a safe exit. Now then…see…(Picks up milk bottle. Taps it) Ah, radiation’s falling, should be nice day tomorrow.

  Sudden sound of numerous bolts being withdrawn, chains being pulled through iron rings, keys in locks. As the noise continues, KAK starts to search the floor for the point of origin. He feels for a walking-stick. Suddenly a trap door in the floor opens slightly, gradually a MAN emerges dressed in black fedora hat, black jacket, middle-calf-length kilt, with wash brush as a sporran. Hot-water bottle hangs at the back, with a pair of yellow rubber ankle high boots. He carries a bell-mouthed blunderbuss. He doesn’t see KAK. He searches the stage. KAK coughs to draw attention. SHELTER MAN revolves, does a little dance and then challenges KAK.

  Captain Kak:

  Good God, a Zen Buddhist.

  Shelter man:

  (German-Jewish accent) It is over, then–

  Captain Kak:

  What?

  Shelter man:

  World War Three.

  Captain Kak:

  Oh yes, it was in all the papers.

  Shelter man:

  I get all the papers.

  Captain Kak:

  It was in the Stop Press.

  Shelter man:

  Oh, the one paper I didn’t get.

  Captain Kak:

  What’s down there, then?

  Shelter man:

  (indignant) What’s down there? Hyman Schlapper and Sons, Underground Furriers, Model Gowns, Felt Hat Cutters…(Confidentially) Tell me how many got killed in the war?

  Captain Kak:

  Forty-nine million.

  Shelter man:

  Oh, are we going to have trouble getting staff…Now den…(Produces his order book) How many gross of – er – der Gold Lame Cocktail Gowns…two, three gross?

  Captain Kak:

  Look, I find this distasteful if you must know, since they dropped the bomb I’ve stopped wearing them.

  Shelter man:

  Oh, what a pity. Still, be prepared, dat’s what I always say, what do you say?

  Captain Kak:

  It’s a long road that has no turning.

  Shelter man:

  He who laffs last laffs last.

  Captain Kak:

  Rolling stones gather no moss empires.

  Mate:

  (leaps in) I didn’t write this bit.

  Shelter man:

  Soo, is this your business den?

  Captain Kak:

  Yes.

  Shelter man:

  Want a partner?

  Captain Kak:

  I am the partner.

  Shelter man:

  Whose partner?

  Captain Kak:

  Mine. I’m Partner and Company.

  Shelter man:

  Yes, dat was der trouble. My wife, all she would do was Buy Buy.

  Captain Kak:

  Buy what?

  Shelter man:

  Black birds. Buy Buy Black Birds.

  Mate:

  (leaps in) I didn’t write that either.

  Shelter man:

  Mind you, she stopped it when I shot her dead.

  Captain Kak:

  Dead? Sorry to hear that.

  Shelter man:

  My wife died, you know.

  Captain Kak:

  I’m sorry to hear that again.

  Shelter man:

  I’m sorry to say it again…never did get a laugh…

  Captain Kak:

  Not the way you say it…

  Shelter man:

  What did you do before they dropped the bomb, then?

  Captain Kak:

  Nothing. I was in the Army.

  Shelter man:

  Oh? What regiment?

  Captain Kak:

  They wouldn’t tell, Official Secrets you know. From what I could make of the cap badge, it was the Royal Household Cavalry.

  Shelter man:

  You have to be a householder to get in.

  Captain Kak:

  No. This refers to Buckingham Palace, which alas was totally destroyed by the bomb.

  Shelter man:

  Tsu tsu. [Takes off his hat. Sings) God Save Our Gracious King.

  Captain Kak:

  No, no, we don’t sing that any more, we now sing God Save Mrs Gladys Scroake. She is the nearest in line to the Throne.

  Shelter man:

  (sings) God Save Mrs Gladys Scroake.

  KAK joins in and sings.

  Both:

  God Save Mrs Gladys Scroake, God Save Gladys Scroake.

  Shelter man:

  So the Royal Family were killed, then.

  Captain Kak:

  (smiles patriotically) No, they, a brace of pheasants and Helicopter Jim are safe in Barclays Bank, Australia.

  Shelter man:

  Schalom, oh ‘ere. Who – er – who won this war then?

  As the SHELTER MAN talks, KAK walks up stage, followed by the SHELTER MAN.

  Captain Kak:

  We don’t really know. According to the TAM rating, the Russians have.

  Shelter man:

  (frightened) Russians?

  He grabs KAK’s Russian hat and dons it.

  Captain Kak:

  But then, according to the Daz Warden (At this point KAK should be standing over the trap door. A pole with a white cowboy Stetson is quickly pushed up to KAK, who takes it, dons it) the Americans are taking over.

  SHELTER MAN pushes up peak of Russian hat and puts a cigar in mouth. Assumes a gum-chewing American attitude.

  Shelter man:

  Americans? OK OK OK. Then if you don’t know who won, who lost?

  Captain Kak:

  Oh, England lost. It was our turn, you know.

  Suddenly KAK starts to walk briskly around the stage. He walks off prompt side followed by SHELTER MAN, reappears followed by STRING VEST MAN, they walk behind pile of boots, reappear followed by MAN in red beard and leopard skin, disappear other side, reappear with DICKENSIAN CLERK, ALAN CLARE, DAZ WARDEN, all talking at the same time – all exit prompt side except KAK and SHELTER MAN.

  Shelter man:

  I thought they’d never go.

  Captain Kak:

  Mummy was awfully upset about the bomb…she got radiation sickness, you know…privately, of course…Dad
dy came in to me one morning, he said, “Son,” he knew that much. “Mummy’s got radiation sickness, she’ll have to be put down…”

  Shelter man:

  Down where?

  Captain Kak:

  Down anywhere…

  Shelter man:

  Ohh, there…some of my best friends are Jews, you know…

  Captain Kak:

  When we got permission from the Ministry of Euthanasia we gave her a wonderful send-off…we let her wear Daddy’s floral tennis frock…and took her to the Junior Carlton for tea…then we all went to see Son of Mousetrap…The play’s still running, you know…

  Shelter man:

  But Agatha Christie’s dead.

  Captain Kak:

  I’m sure she’d rather have it the other way, round – well…Finally we took Mummy to the Young Conservatives Club for supper and choosing my moment I said, “Mummy, the time clock on your pumps are undone.” She bent down to reset it and Father, timing his moment, passed her the bill and drew his sword…and (overwrought) I don’t have to go on, do I???

  Shelter man:

  Unless it’s a serial…of course you must go on.

  Captain Kak:

  Well, he plunged the sword into her back! When Daddy saw what he’d done, he put his head in the gas oven.

  Shelter man:

  That must have been terrible.

  Captain Kak:

  No, it was delicious! Well, it’s getting dark…

  Shelter man:

  Still gets dark at night, does it?

  Captain Kak:

  Yes, old traditions die hard…

  Phone bells off.

  Captain Kak:

  The bells!

  Shelter man:

  Oh, you still have the telephone?

  Captain Kak:

  No, only the bells…

  Enter MATE with a green telephone, with the bell inside it ringing.

  Mate:

  Are you the preferential Lux subscriber party wot’s ordered the Daz party line phone?

  Captain Kak:

  Yes yes yes…

  Mate:

  No no no. This isn’t it, sir, this is a model of the type you’re going to get.

  Captain Kak:

  Let me answer that phone, the bells are driving me mad MAD mad.

  Mate:

  Cat. CAT. Cat.

  Captain Kak:

  Let me answer that Cat!

  KAK closes with MATE and a terrific struggle ensues. All through the telephone bell rings. Fix working bell inside phone, button operated. The PIANIST starts to play loud, old-fashioned fight music. The SHELTER MAN moves around them like a referee. Finally, KAK rips phone from MATE.

  Captain Kak:

  Hello hello, Captain Pontius Kak here. What? Who? (To MATE) It’s for you.

  Mate:

  No no no no, I don’t want to become an addict. I tell you in the hands of the wrong people that becomes a lethal weapon. For instance (Picks up phone) Hello? Saigon, this is President Johnston, I haven’t had my breakfast yet, so go and bomb a few villages. Napalm, yes. How? Well done, I like ‘em well done. (Hangs up) Or the Foreign Office. (Posh) ‘Ello, Rhodesia? Ah, Mr Smith? Oh, this is the Hon Crappington Twoggle. Look, not a word to anyone, we’re sending you some parcels of petrol, old boy, beat the old Sanctions, eh? It’ll all blow over – well, until then, get the Wogs to push ‘em. (Hangs up) See? Green telephones mean war!