Ten minutes off for tea-break in the middle of the night in that place and I couldn’t find a seat, not one. All them Greek had it, Poles, Greeks, Blacks, the lot of them, all them aliens had it. And they had me working there…they had me working.
All them toe-rags, mate, got the manners of pigs. I might have been on the road a few years but you can take it from me I’m clean. I keep myself up. That’s why I left my wife. Fortnight after I married her, no, not so much as that, no more than a week, I took the lid off a saucepan, you know what was in it? A pile of her underclothing, unwashed. (Turns R.) The pan for vegetables, it was. The vegetable pan. That’s when I left her and I haven’t seen her since. […] I’ve eaten my dinner off the best of plates.
Shoes? It’s life and death to me.
DAVIES. What’s this?
ASTON. (Aston crosses to L. of Davies. Davies hands him Buddha. Taking and studying it.) That’s a Buddha.
DAVIES. Get on.
ASTON. Yes. I quite liked it. Picked it up in a…in a shop. Looked quite nice to me. Don’t know why. What do you think of these Buddhas?
DAVIES. Oh, they’re…they’re all right, en’t they?
DAVIES. Yes, I was pleased when I got hold of this one. It’s very well made.
DAVIES. (With great feeling.) If only the weather would break! Then I’d be able to get down to Sidcup!
ASTON. You Welsh? (Pause.)
DAVIES. Well, I been around, you know… I been about….
ASTON. Where were you born then?
DAVIES. (Darkly.) What do you mean?
ASTON. Where were you born?
DAVIES. I was … uh … oh, it’s a bit hard, like, to set your mind back … going back … going back … a good way… lose a bit of track, like … you see what I mean….
MICK. Jen … kins. […] You remind me of my uncle’s brother. He was always on the move, that man. Never without his passport. […] I think there was a bit of the Red Indian in him. (Turns to face Davies.) To be honest, I’ve never made out how he came to be my uncle’s brother. I’ve often thought that maybe it was the other way round. I mean that my uncle was his brother and he was my uncle. But I never called him uncle. As a matter of fact I called him Sid. My mother called him Sid too. It was a funny business. Your spitting image he was. Married a Chinaman and went to Jamaica. (Pause.) I hope you slept well last night.
You’re stinking the place out. You’re an old robber, there’s no getting away from it. You’re an old skate. You don’t belong in a nice place like this. You’re an old barbarian. Honest. You got no business wandering about in an unfurnished flat.
MICK. […] You still got that leak.
ASTON. Yes. (Pause. Gets plug from shelf.) It’s coming from the roof. (looks up.)
MICK. From the roof, eh?
ASTON. Yes. (Pause.) I’ll have to tar it over.
MICK. You’re going to tar it over?
ASTON. Yes.
MICK. What?
ASTON. The cracks. (Pause.)
MICK. You’ll be tarring over the cracks on the roof.
ASTON. Yes. (Pause.)
MICK. Think that’ll do it?
ASTON. It’ll do it, for the time being.
MICK. Uh. (Pause.)
DAVIES. (Abruptly.) What do you do—? (They both look at him.) What do you do…when that bucket’s full? (Pause. Mick looks at Aston.)
ASTON. Empty it. (Pause.)
DAVIES. Who was that feller?
ASTON. He’s my brother.
DAVIES. Is he? He’s a bit of a joker, en’t he?
ASTON. Uh.
DAVIES. Yes…he’s a real joker.
ASTON. He’s got a sense of humour.
DAVIES. (Crosses to chair, sits. Faces Aston.) Yes, I noticed. (Pause.) He’s a real joker, that lad, you can see that. (Pause.)
ASTON. Yes, he tends…he tends to see the funny side of things.
DAVIES. Well, he’s got a sense of humour, en’t he?
ASTON. Yes.
ASTON. (Crosses to window, looks out.) Once I get that shed up outside … I’ll be able to give a bit more thought to the flat, you see. Perhaps I can make one or two things for it. I can work with my hands, you see. That’s one thing I can do. I never knew I could. But I can do all sorts of things now, with my hands. You know, manual things. When I get that shed up out there…I’ll have a workshop, you see. I … could do a bit of woodwork. Simple woodwork, to start. Working with…good wood. […]
DAVIES. Yes …well, I know about these sorts of shirts, you see. Shirts like these, they don’t go far in the wintertime. I mean, that’s one thing I know for a fact. No, what I need, is a kind of a shirt with stripes, a good solid shirt, with stripes going down. That’s what I want. […]
MICK. No, he just doesn’t like work, that’s his trouble.
DAVIES. Is that a fact?
MICK. It’s a terrible thing to have to say about your own brother.
DAVIES. Ay.
MICK. He’s just shy of it. Very shy of it.
DAVIES. I know that sort.
MICK. You know the type?
DAVIES. I’ve met them.
MICK. I mean, I want to get him going in the world.
DAVIES. Stands to reason, man.
DAVIES. I was saying, he’s … he’s a bit of a funny bloke, your brother. (Mick stares at him.)
MICK. Funny? Why?
DAVIES. Well … he’s funny. …
MICK. What’s funny about him? (Pause.)
DAVIES. Not liking work.
MICK. (Rises.) What’s funny about that?
DAVIES. (Slow turn to Mick.) Nothing. (Pause.)
MICK. (Crosses to Davies.) I don’t call it funny.
DAVIES. Nor Me.
MICK. You don’t want to start getting hypercritical.
MICK. I’ll be quite open with you. I could rely on a man like you around the place, keeping an eye on things.
DAVIES. Well now … wait a minute … I … I ain’t never done no caretaking before, you know….
MICK. Doesn’t matter about that. It’s just that you look a capable sort of man to me.
DAVIES. I am a capable sort of man. I mean to say, I’ve had plenty of offers in my time, you know, there’s no getting away from that.
MICK. Well, I could see before, when you took out that knife, that you wouldn’t let anyone mess about.
DAVIES. No one messes me about, man. […]
DAVIES. (Crosses to L. of Aston.) Yes, but what about me? What…what you got to say about my position? (Pause.)
You’ve got … this thing. That’s your complaint. And we’ve decided, he said, that in your interests there’s only one course we can take. He said…he said, we’re going to do something to your brain. He said…if we don’t you’ll be in here for the rest of your life, but if we do, you stand a chance. You can go out, he said, and live like the others.
The trouble was … my thoughts … had become very slow … I couldn’t think at all … I I couldn’t … get … my thoughts … together … uuuhh … I could … never quite get it … together. The trouble was, I couldn’t hear what people were saying. I couldn’t look to the right or the left, I had to look straight in front of me, because if I turned my head round … I couldn’t keep … upright. And I had these headaches. I used to sit in my room. That was when I lived with my mother. And my brother. He was younger than me. And I laid everything out, in order, in my room, all the things I knew were mine, but I didn’t die. The thing is, I should have been dead. I should have died. Anyway, I feel much better now. But I don’t talk to people now. I steer clear of places like that café. I never go into them now. I don’t talk to anyone … like that.
You can’t live in the same room with someone who … who don’t have any conversation with you.
Furniture … mahogany and rosewood. Deep azure-blue carpet, unglazed blue and white curtains, a bedspread with a pattern of small blue roses on a white ground, dressing-table with a lift-up top containing a plastic tray, table lamp of white raffia […] it wouldn’t be a flat it’d be a palace.
I’ve seen better days than you have, man. Nobody ever got me inside of them places, anyway. I’m a sane man! So don’t you start mucking me about. I’ll be all right as long as you keep your place. Just you keep your place, that’s all. Because I can tell you, your brother’s got his eye on you. […] He knows all about you. I got a friend there, don’t you worry about that. I got a true pal there. Treating me like dirt! Why’d you invite me in here in the first place if you was going to treat me like this? You think you’re better than me you got another thing coming. I know enough. They had you inside one of them places before, they can have you inside again. Your brother’s got his eye on you!
You’ve been stinking the place out.
What a strange man you are. Aren’t you? You’re really strange. Ever since you came into this house there’s been nothing but trouble. Honest. […] I can take nothing you say at face value. Every word you speak is open to any number of different interpretations. […] Most of what you say is lies. You’re violent, you’re erratic, you’re just completely unpredictable. You’re nothing else but a wild animal, when you come down to it. You’re a barbarian. And to put the old tin lid on it, you stink from arse-hole to breakfast time.
Anyone would think this house was all I got to worry about. I got plenty of other things I can worry about. I’ve got plenty of other things. I’ve got plenty of other interests. I’ve got my own business to build up, haven’t I? I got to think about expanding … in all directions. I don’t stand still. I’m moving about, all the time. I’m moving … all the time. I’ve got to think about the future. I’m not worried about this house. I’m not interested. My brother can worry about it. He can do it up, he can decorate it, he can do what he likes with it. I’m not bothered. I thought I was doing him a favour, letting him live here. He’s got his own ideas. Let him have them. I’m going to chuck it in.
You make too much noise.
