Kirk – Mid fourties, George’s wife.
George – Mid fourties, Kirk’s husband.
Ted – Late thirties, Kirk’s brother.
Bob – Late seventies, Maude’s brother.
Maude – Early eighties, Kirk and Ted’s mother.
Trisha – Teenager, Kirk and George’s daughter.
Aunty Polly – Mid thirties, George’s sister.
Gordon – Mid thirties, Polly’s drip boyfriend.
(Summer barbeque – everyone is outside either talking around the table, sun-bathing or smoking – all drinking)
Kirk: Innit ‘ot?
George: It’s fuckin’ ‘ot!
Ted: I dunna ‘ow they can stand it in this fuckin’ country.
Kirk: And the bloody flies!
George: The flies! …fuck me… (swipes fly)
Kirk: Trisha you’re gonna get like a bloody lobster if you lie about like that!
Trisha: (sunbathing) I’m fine mum!
Kirk: You’re bloody not! You’re gonna get ‘orrible bloody wrinkles if you keep at it…
Trisha: (not listening – turns up volume on your iPod)
George: Trish will you take those fucking things out of your ear! Your mother’s tryin-a talk to you!
Trisha: What!? What do you want!?
Kirk: Who are you, the fucking Queen Mother? Get inside Trish you look like a bloody toma-o!
(Trish sighs and rolls her eyes. She walks inside.)
Maude: Vhat? Vhat’s going on neh?
Kirk: TRISHA. IS. BURNING. NAN. VERY. HOT! (Makes a fan with her hand)
Maude: Hey! Shout you don’t need to neh? I can hear!
Kirk: (To George) Well fuck me select hearing is what I’d call it.
Kirk: GIN AND TONIC?
Maude: Yes ok fine alright.
(Kirk goes inside)
George: (To Kirk) Bring us another pint a Pride will ya darlin’?!
(To Ted) Did you see the Gunners play last night?
Ted: Did I fuck – that new black bloke they got is fuckin’ sublime!
George: Cor! Bloody ‘ell he’s fuckin’ brilliant! I ‘aven’t seen sportsmanship like that since that French git left the team.
George: You know – the French one. Black one.
Ted: How black?
George: Not THAT black.
Ted: Ahhh Thierry Henry yeah fuckin’ brilliant that boy was!
Bob: What we talkin’ ‘bout?
Ted: Oh ‘ello Bob! How long you been ‘ere?
Bob: Just got ‘ere didn’t I? ‘Ooh’s fuckin’ brilliant?
Bob: French git. Brilliant football player mind.
George: Kirk! Where’s me bloody drink!?
Bob: Gizz a light will ya?
Kirk: Yeah alright! Keep ya bloody knickers on!
(Gives drink to George who kisses her on the cheek and smacks her bum.)
(Kirk sits next to Maude)
Kirk: ‘Ot innit Nan?
(Trisha walks back outside)
Kirk: Hey! You’re not going back out in that blaring sun are you?
Trisha: No mum. (Sits down)
George: Come ‘ere would you love?
Trisha: (Walks over) Yeah?
George: Make sure you speak to ya Nan won’t you?
Trisha: (sighs) Dad…
George: Well she ain’t gonna be ‘ere for much longer is she? She’s old. She’ll probably die soon.
Trisha: Uh…yeah fine.
George: Good girl. (Turns back to Bob and Ted)
What you think of the tele ‘ere then? Not much is it?
Ted: I swear to fuckin’ Christ, everytime I turn on the tele there’s bloody Africans dying!
George: Fuckin’ ‘ell! Tell me ‘bout it…
Ted: I mean…who fuckin’ cares?
George: That or some fuckin’ war-torn Mussie country.
Ted: Fuckin’ ‘ell ‘ave you seen what’s been going on there?
Kirk: Boys! No politics please!
George: Do you mind darlin’? We’re tryin-a ‘ave a conversation ‘ere right?
Bob: Bomb the lot of ‘em.
Bob: The fuckin’ Mussies.
George: You know…he’s fuckin’ right, they’re going ‘round blowin’ each other up anyway. Fucking liberty.
Ted: The state of the world these days…know what I mean?
Bob: I walked down Sutton High street the other week…not one white face.
George: Not one!?
Bob: Not one…fucking…Englishman.
Ted: In England!
George: Fuck me. (Shakes his head)
(Aunty Polly waltzes into the garden with her drip of a boyfriend, Gordon. He brings a professional camera along with him.)
Ted: Jesus fucking Christ here we go…
Bob: She’s only brought that fuckin’ Scouser with ‘her.
Polly: Hellooooooo everyone! Trish my GOD! You are looking thinner than ever come and give me a kiss won’t you poops?
Trisha: Hello Aunty Polly. (Awkwardly hugs)
Trisha: (Just stares at him)
Polly: Hellooo boyyysss! Ted you’re getting a bit of a gut on you now! (laughs)
Ted: Same to you Pol!
Kirk: (With a casserole pot in her hands) Ted! Right come on everyone now Polly’s here we can eat!
(They all start to move towards the table laden with food.)
George: Thank fuck!
Ted: I’m hungrier than a black man right now!
Kirk: Ted really! What would Dad say?
Ted: Come off it Kirk just pass the mash won’t you?
(As Trisha walks past Ted he gives her bum a squeeze)
Ted: Looking good Trish!
(Gordon takes close up pictures of the cutlery)
Bob: (To George) The fucks his problem?
George: Fuck me if I know. Weird…
Bob: Fuckin’ queer.
Ted: (To Maude) DO YOU WANT SOME PEAS NAN?
Maude: Drink just make me another one neh?
Ted: She’ll be on the table before no time!
Bob: (To Trisha) I’ll cut you some pork love?
Trisha: No thanks Bob.
Bob: (pause) …why? What’s wrong with ya?
George: Oh didn’t you hear? Trish has become a lesbian!
Kirk: George be quiet! She’s vegetarian.
Maude: Vhat’s that? Some new thing? I don’t understand…
Kirk: SHE DOESN’T EAT MEAT, NAN!
Maude: Vell vhy not!? Vhat’s wrong vit you neh?
Trisha: Nothing I –
Ted: I’ll give ‘er some meat!
George: Eh! Watch it Ted.
Trisha: Can I eat upstairs mum?
Kirk: Course you can darlin’. Go put the tele on.
George: No Kirk. She’s eating with us. The family.
Kirk: Oh George just leave her alone won’t you?
Polly: Oh come on darling poops you haven’t seen us in so long!
Trisha: I reall-
Gordon: (Holds camera up to her face) Hold it there Trish.
Trisha: (Pushes his camera away) Please I jus-
Bob: Sit down Trisha ye rabbit food’s getting cold! (Cackles)
Kirk: It’s alright darlin’ off you go.
George: She sits with the family. What’s wrong Trish? Don’t you like us?
Trisha: I’m just tired…
George: What’s wrong with us eh?
Trisha: YOU’RE ALL FUCKING POTTY! I can’t STAND it any longer just LET ME BE! It’s like living in a fucking LOONY BIN here!
(Pause. Silence. Gordon takes a picture of the table.)
Kirk: Trish –
George: How fuckin’ dare you use language like that! In my own bloody house! Get those skinny legs up them stairs!
Trisha: Gladly. (Exits)
(Pause while everyone eats)
Bob: D’ya know who hate?
George: What’s that Bob?
Bob: The fuckin’ Jocks.
Ted: Oh don’t even get me started!
George: Fuckin’ bunch of useless cun-