Edwards - The Political History of Smack and Crack

Ed Edwards

THE POLITICAL
HISTORY OF SMACK
AND CRACK

NICK HERN BOOKS

London

www.nickhernbooks.co.uk

Contents

The Political History of Smack and Crack was produced by Most Wanted and Offstage Theatre in association with W14 Productions, Alastair Michael and Soho Theatre. It was first performed at Paines Ploughs Roundabout at Summerhall as part of the Edinburgh Festival Fringe on 3 August 2018. The cast was as follows:

Bold = male actor (mostly Neil)

Neutral = female actor (mostly Mandy)

Italics is live dialogue whetherboldor neutral.

Lines can be reassigned as seen fit, taken as stage directions, etc.

(There are also occasional stage directions in brackets for clarity.)

This edition features the full-length version of the play. A slightly shortened version was first performed at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe.

This text went to press before the end of rehearsals and so may differ slightly from the play as performed.

.

1875, Connecticut, USA.

A woman is carried into a hospital, screaming.

Agony. An iron fist squeezing the breath from her body.

Chest caved in, ribcage smashed.

Hollow, hopeless, hysterical.

From the hefty wooden wheels of the stagecoach and all the weight of three fat New Yorkers BANG and down and over and disaster!

Sound of her own bones breaking, crunch and crack and shock.

And here she is and the doctor, shaken, looks at the bloody breathing mess before him.

The blood-curdling cries, scraping jagged against his eardrums, and he says,

Pass me the vial that Henderson just brought in.

And the nurse opens a leather pouch and theres a tiny glass bottle and the doctor gets a syringe.

And plunges it into the clear pure liquid and draws up

Mmm.

And taps and squirts a tiny drop.

And the nurse says, Is it safe?

And the doctor says, Shes dying.

And the vein is found and the needle meets, punctures, slips inside.

A little blood, drawn back, tumbles like a thin scarlet ribbon into the gleaming crystal solution and then

Down, the thumb presses gently, the liquid slides easily,

The magic goes to work.

A rush, a flooding, relief and heaven and the pain lets go its evil gnashers and a sigh: Thank God, maybe, Ill be, will I? Who cares? Thank God, the pain, releases the grip of, the agony, thank God, the torture, thank

And shes gone, but at least its with some peace.

Not screaming terrified into the hereafter, but slipping, sighing, surrendered.

The fight gone.

The giving up glorious.

In the goodbye to life and plunging to eternal sleep is an element of ecstasy.

And the nurse says, Doctor, what was that, in the vial?

And the doctor says, Its new, an opiate, very powerful painkiller. Well see if it catches on.

And the nurse picks up the tiny glass vial and looks closely at the label. Heroin.

Eh-up! (NEIL cheekily pockets the vial.)

.

Manchester. Present day.

Hes not what he was, Neil.

Hes not.

He bends over a bit now, like this.

Bit of an old crock. (To NEIL.) He bends over more than that!

Mandys even worse.

Shes seen better days, yeah. But shes not as bad as Neil. Fucks sake!

Shes younger than Neil is.

Whats that gotta do with it?

Im just saying.

Shes definitely not what she was. Shes not.

She was good in her day though.

Now youre talking.

Gorgeous actually.

She didnt know it back then though.

She knew it alright.

Yeah she did. She had a top arse back then.

Its still not bad Mandys arse. Even now.

Thank you very much.

Even though, some days, Mandys on a walking stick.

Its a crutch! And its not because she cant walk that, its this condition shes got.

Yeah, it depends on the conditions whether shes got it or not.

Walking stick! Sounds worse than it is that does. Comes in handy though her stick, when she needs it.

Take the other week.

Take the other week for instance. And this proves, by the way, on a good day, shes still got what it takes.

Out shopping she is.

Shoplifters of the world unite. As Mandy always says.

Its Morrissey who says that.

Yes but Mandy doesnt just say it. Shes out there doing it.

Take the other week for instance.

There she is coming out of Boots on Market Street, minding her own business, when this brawny security guard accosts her cheeky bastard, staring at her chest like that.

Then she realises.

Her boobs are lumpy.

Theres this shower gel she cant resist.

LOccitane Neroli and Orchid. It doesnt fit up your sleeve (So down her bra it goes.)

Step back inside the shop with me will you please, madam.

Sorry my kids are waiting for me up there, theyre gonna be worried.

Dont make me put my hands on you love, he says with a certain relish.

Im not going anywhere, am I, not on this.

She wafts her stick at him.

Her sticks like this charm redefining her in the public mind, making her seem harmless, vulnerable even.

Her five-inch heels are the problem.

Not exactly running shoes. The sticks her only hope.

Its weighted. Shes had the end off, put a bit-of-something inside, glued it back on. Its heavy.

Its not that heavy.

It is when it cracks you unexpectedly in the face.

Like that. Crack! (In the Guards face.)

Fffockinell! BANG! The loudest crack is his head hitting the deck. An old lady nearby gasps.

Oooh! Mandys off up Market Street stumbling on her heels like a dickhead. She just knows, behind her, the security guards gonna be up in like one two

Three! Hes up! Humiliated by the attention the old dears trying to give him, Terry hes called Terry the guard gives chase.

Outside Urban Outfitters by now, Mandys all knees and elbows and arse sticking out, and she cant help it she does a little wee in her knickers. And she knows its stupid but she just cant let go of her shoes. Theyre so cute and expressive of who Mandy is, and shes got so attached to them since she robbed them from Russell and Bromley last week

She catches the eye of this bunch of lads

Its one of Mandys skills that, catching the eye of a whole bunch of lads.

Shes like, bang