Olympians
By Robbie Curran.
Dramatis Personae:
Les Cunningham: (58)
Married and with two children living in Stratford. Has a job as an IT programmer up in town, very financially comfortable and worldly. He is the more East-London of the two boys and is true to his roots. Likes his comedy and often puts on jokey voices, a trait he passed onto his son Danny. Confident, witty, a people-person, but can get angry if pushed in the wrong direction.
Danny Cunningham: (19)
University Arts student, back home with family for the summer. The more smarty-pants of the two. Into books, plays and culture, which has led him to abandon his Stratford accent, although it occasionally comes back when he doesn’t feel he has to put up appearances. Insecure, self-doubting and a hopeless romantic, he really wants, but doesn’t know how, to be with Emma.
Emma Ross: (19, maybe a voiceover, yet to be decided).
Arts student from Reading, travels into London only to find her friends are now meeting with her on a different day. She is an open woman, sometimes unsure about what she wants in life, but lives for the people she meets and finds something special in Danny though has enough respect for him for to work out her mutual feelings for him.
The set is a working middle-class living room in a house in Stratford 2011, one year before London 2012 kicks off; sofa centre-stage facing the audience (where “TV” would be), the table in front of sofa has a closed laptop with newspapers on top, and upstage is a window with a view of the Olympic constructions site.
Three exits needed for kitchen, stairway to upstairs bedrooms, and front door.
It ‘s early afternoon in the summer holiday. Les Cunningham (58) and his son Danny (19) are watching a football match on TV, while the rest of the family are out. Les watches in a stripy supermarket shirt with jeans and socks. He is enthusiastic, engrossed and involved. Danny is reading a novel in a casual vest and pants, peaking occasionally at the score.
Les:
Come on left! Leftfield you idiot. – no, get off Harewood!
Danny:
Oh yeah, when’s mum and Freya back?
Les:
RED, you tosser of a what? Oh, round 8 son. Right…ok…ok…ok…okay…ye-ye-ye-NO! Aw, phew. (looks at Danny for support) Come on, there’s still a chance, still a chance. Right, yeeep, go on go on, yes, yes, and –
Danny:
(Half-heartedly) Yaaay. 1-0 to Arsenal. Sorry Dad, you’ll still go up. (gets up from sofa).
Les: You don’t even support them!
Danny:
Yep.
Les:
So it has come to this? I, Les Cunningham of Stratford, raise you for 20 years and you don’t turn out to be a Hammers fan?
Danny:
Dad, I’m allowed my own choices.
Les:
Not with this you bloody well aren’t.
Danny (Offstage):
(Chuckles), How many sugars?
Les:
Guess.
Danny:
What?
Les:
Guess.
Danny:
Er…Two?
Les:
Do I have to tell you again?
Danny:
Ok (brings them in.) Cheers.
Les:
Cheers my boy.
They clink mugs and sip, Les finds it sour.
Danny:
Is it ok? Oh no, I haven’t –
Dad pauses, looks at him knowingly.
Danny:
(annoyed) Oh, what was wrong this time?
Les:
Too. Much. Milk. Leave a little out the top, then just a tad of milk, no overflowing it, its not gravy.
Danny stares at him and smirks.
Danny:
Well, my housemates don’t complain.
Les:
Out loud you mean.
Danny:
Good point.
2 beat silence as they shake off the awkwardness.
Les:
Now as your Great Uncle Donald would say: (Deep, slow elderly, posh voice) Anyhow…
Danny:
(Cutting in laughing) Anyhow…
Les:
Now, tell me about your ‘ladyfriend’.
Danny:
What about her? (Laughs nervously)
Les:
Well how are you playing it? How are you playing the field as you say? (Grinning)
Danny:
Oh, she’s not my girlfriend Dad… not yet (sad, then happy)
Les:
HAHA! That’s the way you do it, you play that guitar on the MTV –
Danny:
Stop.
Les:
Ok (smiles) still, she’s a pretty girl.
Danny: (Beat)
What? How do you-
Les: (Jokey Jamaican accent)
I has seen her on your fassbook a week ago innit!
Danny:
Wha -you been stalking?
Les:
Nope, friend list, Emma, click click, found her!
Danny: Awkward beat, he is embarrassed and doesn’t know how to react.
I’ll check if Father Ted’s on demand.
Les:
Go on, it’d be nice to hear you talk about her.
Danny: Takes a moment to think
Well she’s fit, but that’s not what I’m after, she’s funny, makes me laugh. Lot in common I think. She’s…a real woman.
Beat
Les: Cracks up a little,
You absolute lovey.
Danny:
Yeah, it’s tough stuff. Y’know I’d rather not talk about it.
Les: (Jamaican Accent)
Go on !
Danny:
Put it this way mate, first of all, she’s easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met…and then bloody hell, we get talking, I get to know her (smiles happily) It’s nothing mutual, I know it so I’m not gonna fuss. I only mentioned her cos… well I genuinely like her. But we’ll leave it at that. Though I’m not gonna lie, I bloody wish I could make something happen.
Pause. Les gets up and looks out the window.
Les: Bloody nuisance that is. Looks like a bloody roller coaster!
Danny:
This the village sculpture?
Les:
Yeah, it’s rubbish.
Danny:
You’re doing it again.
Les:
No, I’m not.
Danny:
Dad – no-one likes a cynical arsehole.
Les:
Hey, hey, no need to shout Danny, I’m only here.
Danny:
I – moans, gets laptop out, types and surfs the web.
Les:
I’ll check the mail.
Danny:
K, see you in a bit.
Exit Les. Whilst he is offstage, Danny receives a mobile phone call from Emma. Whilst this happens Les listens in, whilst opening a letter containing Olympic tickets. His face says it all. But he remains deadly silent, Danny doesn’t notice.
Danny:
Hello?
Emma (voiceover):
Um, oh ok. Hi Danny.
Danny: suddenly speaking a lot clearer than with Les (almost like a uni-voice)
Emma? Oh hi, you ok?
Emma:
I’m very well thanks, enjoying home?
Danny:
Yeah great…thanks for calling (instantly regrets saying it)
Emma:
That’s quite alright (laughs nervously) Just wanted to ask, are you free this afternoon?
Danny:
Yeah, sure I’ve got nothing on…I think (unsure)
Emma:
Cool, yeah unfortunately I’ve had a bit of a hiccup, you see I was going to have a day’s shopping with Beth and Frankie and I only just got the message that we’re doing it tomorrow and, um…seeing as I’m in town, do you want to meet up?
Danny:
Err yeah that’d be great, yep, yep I can do that.
Emma:
Fine…(beat)…what shall we do? (they laugh)
Danny:
Err lemme see, one sec
Types and clicks a bit.
Well there’s Brown’s in Butler’s Wharf if you’re hungry, I hear that’s quite nice.
Oh, how long you got?
Emma:
I think my train to Reading leaves around 10, yeah anything’s fine.
Danny:
Cool, there’s also Swiss Cottage, there’s some nice places in the 02 Centre.
Emma:
Well you know London better than me, I trust your taste
They chuckle.
Danny:
Yeah shall I come to Paddington now?
Emma:
Only if that’s ok –
Danny:
– NO! Its awfully fine. (Looks puzzled why he phrased it that way). I’ll be there in half an hour ok?
Emma:
See you then, bye!
Danny:
Bye.
He hangs up.
Les:
So what’s your call?
Danny:
Mmm?
Les:
Where you taking her?
Danny:
How did you - (annoyed) Dad!
Les:
Oh come on, don’t act like I have no idea.
Danny: (Blows through lips after beat)
Dunno. Probably somewhere cool around Kensington, Wimbledon way. Somewhere nice.
Les: (sceptically)
Nice.
Danny:
Or maybe Chiswick – nice cafes up there these days.
Les:
Chiswick? Bit far isn’t it?
Danny:
Na, it’ll be worth it, she’ll like it. To be fair, she is already at Paddington.
Les:
Well get a move-on then!
Danny runs offstage ‘upstairs’ to his bedroom to grab his clothes.
And put on that jacket I got you, (Fast show posh voice) suit you sir!
Danny: (shouting from upstairs)
I’ve got me jeans on, denim and denim don’t work dad!
Les:
They do if you’re confident my boy.
Danny:
Fair enough.
Comes back down in a rush to put his clothes on, very stressed
I mean it’s not even officially a date Dad.
Les:
Why you taking her so far away then?
Danny:
Dunno, might work better.
Beat.
Les:
There must be a lot of Londoners she knows from Warwick. I’ve a hunch that if she’s come down and wants to meet you, then it’s you she wants, not the ‘ambience’.
Danny:
It’s not as simple as that.
Les:
Took Tess to some right dumps before we, y’know. (Beat) You’ve got to open up Dan. Show her who you are.
Danny:
I will, I will.
Les:
How?
Danny: Thinks, struggling for ideas.
I’m guessing talk about theatre, I mean we both do drama stuff so we can have a laugh about that…er…films? I dunno what to say, I’m an idiot.
Les:
Want my advice?
Danny:
I can sense it coming alright.
Les:
Take her round here.
Danny: (Stands shocked at this idea)
I don’t think that’s a good idea.
Les:
Why not?
Danny:
Well, I’m not sure she’d be comfortable.
Les:
I doubt –
Danny:
Look I don’t want to talk about it.
Les:
Fine, fine…
Danny:
Look. She’s a classy girl, so I’m going to make a decent impression I need to buck the fuck up. Y’know, I mean, she’s not gonna wanna come to Stratford, what’s there to do, I mean I wouldn’t want to come to – (catches his angry eye) oh, shit.
Les:
Are you badmouthing our borough again boy?
Danny:
No, I –
Les:
Everytime we hit another thing to get excited about you have to bloody slag off your background.
Danny:
Hey, that’s not true.
Les:
Oh stop fibbing, everyone knows you’ve always had a problem with this home.
Danny:
Well I can tell you, DAD, it has not been easy!
Les:
Oh lord –
Danny:
Ok you go to private school then mate, hmm? Why don’t you bloody well try it, for a day? You go and have yourself re-shaped, you go, and realise that people won’t always respect you, not yourself, YOU.
You remember the parents meetings? All the non-scholarship parents going on about bleeding Hampstead this, and Finchley that and did you know we summer in LA? I was another class, Father. Missing parties in Muswell Hill, never moving up…just stuck where I was.
Uni’s not so bad, but I still feel judged. Think. We are East Londoners. The proles of London. We have White-Trash Pikey roots and have worked our way up in the world by becoming cultural stereotypes on shitty good-for nothing soaps and have been made somehow artistically valid by fucking Pinter!
You mention our home to anyone, they will think we’re cockney monkeys, Towie wankers, of heads of the fucking English Defence League! But we don’t protest Dad. When you break it down, people only care about the West … including Emma –
Les:
– You won’t get her.
Pause.
Danny:
I know.
Les:
Know why?
Pause.
Danny: (thinks)
I am nothing, just a short, poor loser.
Les:
Oh you never listen. Danny, don’t give me any lip with this alright? (He nods) She won’t wanna be around you, because all you do is moan. You’ve always been focussing on what’s wrong with you: your problems, your struggles, your loneliness. You only talk about them. “I’ve got no girlfriend, I’m poor, I’m such a prally” - whatever. No-one cares about a loser, and if you think you are one, then you bloody well are one. But you aren’t. You aren’t.
Think about it., how many sons have both parents intact who also love him and are still together, eh? Your travels, your possessions, you interests, you’re young, and damn handsome, I must say. Now, about Emma. You listen to her, right? Lemme guess, she’s the only woman you want to listen to? (He nods) I remember that with your mum, it’s in your genes it is. You don’t think at all do you? You just…be. Keep that up! It works.
I think you can get her, if you’re honest. Show her round our neck of the woods. Stratford, give it a year, will be the place to be. Blimmin’ heck our garden’s gonna be hosting the greatest show on earth! Billions would like to be there and we have our balcony. Be proud, son, I’m bloody proud of you. Look ahead, East is the new West. We not cockneys, we’re Olympians!
Pause.
Danny:
You’re right, thanks pal, means a lot , really.
They hug.
Les:
Bloody hell, we’ve wasted ten minutes arguing, put your shoes on!
(he does and Les proudly watches)
Just remember, be yourself and she’ll like it, and who knows?
(Reveals Tickets)
You might one day take her women’s volleyball!
They uproar in excitement.
Danny:
We actually got tickets, fuck me!
Les:
Oy!
Danny:
Whoops. For what?
Les:
Swearing.
Danny:
No Dad, the events!
Les:
Basketball, football, athletics, swimming, and the opening ceremony!
Danny:
Danny Boyle’s directing that AAAAAH!!!
Les:
You’re such an arse. Now get… best of luck!
Danny: (Grabs things)
Thanks dude, catcha later, bye! (exits)
Les smiles for a moment, looks out window, smiles, sits on the couch, presses the remote a few times, sips his tea with a sour look on his face, and smiles as the Father Ted Theme Tune Plays out.
