Overheard Conversations #26

Location: hairdressing salon
Characters: Lisa - mid-twenties, brandishing a hairdryer. Amy - seventeen, brandishing her pocket money.

Lisa: I love doing your hair. Look how shiny it is now.
Amy: Oh, er, thanks.
Lisa: I was in a right mood before. Half an hour with your head and I'm all relaxed again.
Amy: Er -
Lisa: Did I tell you I moved in with my boyfriend last week?
Amy: No.
Lisa: But I'm moving out tonight.
Amy: Why?
Lisa: He bloody made me a packed lunch this morning, didn't he?
Amy: Aww -
Lisa: He shouted down the stairs 'There's a packed lunch for you in the fridge'.
Amy:  He's -
Lisa: 'Cheese and ham' he shouted.
Amy: Don't you like -
Lisa: And then at lunch time he sent me a text, didn't he?
Amy: A text?
Lisa: Yes, it said 'Look inside the sandwich'.
Amy: Was it a ring?
Lisa: A ring?
Amy: An engagement ring?
Lisa: No. (BEAT.) I peeled back the bread and there's this message on the ham.
Amy: Message?
Lisa: He'd cut the cheese into letters.
Amy: Letters?
Lisa: He'd written I love you inside my sandwich.
Amy: Awww ...
Lisa: In cheese.
Amy: But -
Lisa: I love you in bloody cheddar!
Amy: It was a nice -
Lisa: Cheddar! Cheddar cheese! I said to him 'I'm not having anyone saying anything to me in cheddar! I'm going back to me mum's!' (BEAT.) Anyway, love, do you want serum on your hair?

Roll credits

Overheard Tannoy Announcement #1

Location: The Southport to Liverpool train - 13th July 2011.


(CLICK. WEARY SIGH. MALE VOICE. BROAD LANCASHIRE ACCENT)

" 'Ello. It's Wednesday. I know it's Wednesday 'cos this morning I woke up and 'eard on the radio that one lucky winner in this country 'ad won £161 million on t' Euro Lottery.

" For just that moment I dared believe it could've been me. I went downstairs and checked on t' Internet and all my dreams came crashing down.

"I 'adn't won a dam' thing an' I would 'ave to come into work this afternoon.

"Lookin' on the bright side, at least comin' into work got me away from the mother-in-law. Because if I 'ad won that lottery I'd have 'ad to spend the afternoon with 'er.

(BIG SIGH. CLICK)

(CLICK AGAIN) Oh, yes this is the 16.30 to Hunts Cross calling at  - well, all the stations inbetween."

Overheard Conversations #25

Location: a restaurant in a busy much unloved shopping centre.
Characters: A Banshee, an Idle Boy, a Saintly Ma.

Banshee: What were you doing in that shop?
S. Ma: I was having a consultation.
Idle Boy: Consultation?
S. Ma: With a Chinese doctor. I've been ill for weeks.
Idle Boy: Have you?
S. Ma: Thank you for noticing. (BEAT) Where are our drinks?
Banshee: Did you buy anything?
S. Ma: Some tablets -
Banshee: You bought tablets from a Chinese doctor in a shopping centre?
S. Ma: Chinese medicine has a very reputable, um, reputation.
Banshee: In a shopping centre?
Idle Boy: Was his name Doctor Snake Oil?
S. Ma: He didn't tell me his name. (BEAT) He didn't speak English.
Idle Boy: I've got some magic beans here. Would you like to buy them while you're at it?
S. Ma (TO PASSING WAITER): Excuse me, we ordered drinks - Oh. He's very busy.
Banshee: Herbal Medicine! Real medicine has used up all the bits that work. The rest is just twigs.
Idle Boy: Don't! You'll ruin the placebo affect.
S. Ma: I really need that drink.
Banshee: What did you buy?
S. Ma: I don't know. (TAKES BOX OUT OF PLASTIC BAG). It says here -
Banshee: You don't know what you bought? You didn't research it before you bought it?
Idle Boy: How much was it?
S. Ma: Thirty pounds (HASTILY) but that's for two weeks' supply.
Banshee: Thirty pounds?
Idle Boy (REACHING FOR BOX): It's here on the side. Cordyceps.
S. Ma: Yes, that's a very therapeutic herb.
Banshee (SCROLLING THROUGH PHONE): How do you spell that?
Idle Boy: C.O.R.D.Y.C.E.P.S.
Banshee: Hang on ... (READS SCREEN). Herb?
S. Ma: Yes, it's been used in Chinese medicine for centuries.
Banshee: It's a dead caterpillar.
Idle Boy: Urghh!
Banshee (READING): A microbe colonises caterpillars and mummifies them from the inside out.
Idle Boy: Cool.
Banshee: And then when the caterpillar is dead, a fungus -
Idle Boy: Fungus!
Banshee: Sprouts from the skull of the dead caterpillar.
Idle Boy: Let me see. (HE GRABS PHONE) Hey, it's been tested on castrated rats!
S. Ma: You're making that up.
Banshee: No, he's not. Look.
(SAINTLY MA TURNS PALE)
Idle Boy: About those beans, Mum ...?

Roll Credits

Overheard Conversation #24

This conversation hasn't actually happened yet. But it will. On Friday.

Two glamorous types (think Thelma and Louise) are heading North in a spotlessly clean, valeted and waxed automobile.

Artist: Tell me again, why are we going to Morecambe?
Driver: It is the hidden jewel of the North East.
Artist: That's Filey.
Driver: Because I'd rather go to Budapest but that wasn't probable.
Artist: Possible?
Driver: Everything's possible! (BEAT) Also Eric has a lovely statue, one and a half times life size. And he was a big man to start with.
Artist: Big?
Driver: Don't be Volga! Ha! Did you see what I did there?
Artist: Budapest is on the Danube.
Driver: Near enough.
Artist: I'd like to take a photograph of Eric, to add to my to add to my Towns With A Terrible Sculpture portfolio.
Driver: Okie-doke. (BEAT.) You haven't mentioned my eyebrows.
Artist: I didn't like to.
Driver: You always mention my eyebrows.
Artist: They're a distinguishing feature.
Driver: They are.
Artist: In a study, subjects were asked to identify celebrities with either their eyes or their eyebrows digitally edited out. The subjects were able to recognise the celebrity 46% of the time with their eyebrows edited out, compared to 60% of the time with their eyes edited out.
Driver: And?
Artist: The findings indicate the importance of eyebrows in providing cues to an individual's identity.
Driver: So if I put two Elastoplasts over my eyebrows, you'd not recognise me for 54% of the time?
Artist: I'm not sure just how many people walk around with Elastoplasts over their eyebrows. You may be fairly unique in that ...
Driver: Hmm. Fascinating though eyebrows are, I've bought you a present. (GESTURES AT GLOVE COMPARTMENT.)
Artist: A CD?
Driver: A relaxing CD.
Artist (READING): Drifting, Alone on the Shore, Voyage of Discovery, Rainforest Rhapsody, Rising Sun, Stillness?
Driver: And Daydreaming. (BEAT.) It's made in Hong Kong, you know. Without a single musician.
Artist: Erm ..?
Driver: For your insomnia. It will send you into a deep, comatose state.
Artist: I was relying on Morecambe for that.

Roll credits



The Students Are Revolting ...

Location: a crowded bus
Characters: a Banshee (quite obviously 17 years old); a Boy (even more obviously 16 years old).

Boy: How did the protest go today?
Banshee: It was too cold.
Boy: Yeah, but all that marching keeps you warm.
Banshee: No, it was too cold to go.
Boy: They protested in London.
Banshee: It's warmer in London.
Boy: It's not tropical.
Banshee: The policehorses and riot shields create a wind break, that's why it's warmer.
Boy: Ohhh ... (BEAT). Anyway, I agree with everything they're doing.
Banshee: Why aren't you protesting then?
Boy: It's too cold. (BEAT). But I didn't agree with them throwing paint up Nelson's column.
Banshee: There are always a few idiots. Last week I stopped one girl egging the former Tory party office. Former!
Boy: It's not as if Nelson Mandela's ever done anything to students.
Banshee: What?
Boy: Nelson Mandela. He's on the side of the oppressed.
Banshee: What's Nelson Mandela got to do with it?
Boy: There was no need to throw paint up his column - that's all I'm saying. He sits at the top, cross-legged holding his hands out, all peaceful -
Banshee: No, he doesn't!
Boy: I mean his statue does, not Nelson himself. I'm not stupid.

Roll credits

Overheard Conversation ~22

Location: A book-lined room.
Characters: Three female poets

Poet 1: We need someone rich enough to look after us.
Poet 2: Why?
Poet 1: So we can spend all our time writing.
Poet 3: What about Felix Dennis?
Poet 2: Who?
Poet 1: He's a billionaire.
Poet 3: He likes poems that rhyme.
Poet 2: I can do poems that rhyme.
Poet 3: Someone'll have to do Felix.
Poet 1: Don't look at me. I only bend over three times a day.
Poet 3: What?
Poet 1: Once to put my knickers on, once to put my socks on.
Poet 3: What about the third time?
Poet 1: I save that for emergencies.
Poet 2: Would Felix count as an emergency?
(BEAT)
Poet 1: Linda-Next-Door hears me counting down - one, two, three - bend, and then a groan when I straighten up again.
Poet 3: I'm not sure if Felix would go for that - although the groan might work ...
Poet 1: Shall I read my poem? Damn! Hang on - one, two, three -

Roll credits

Overheard Conversation #1034

Location: a barge on the Leeds-Liverpool Canal. (Closer to Leeds than Liverpool). Sunday morning. 10.45am.

Characters: interchangeable - four men, all golfers, all older (but sadly not wiser).

Man: Who's driving the boat?
Man: It's moored up.
Man: It is? I feel like I'm moving.
Man: You're swaying.
Man: There's no gin in this glass. It's all ice.
Man: That's a triple measure!
Man: Only in Scotland.
Man: Do you know the best way to get a woman into bed?
Man: By not pouring your measures in a Scottish fashion?
Man: Read her palm.
Man: Eh?
Man: Where've you stashed the Gordon's?
Man: First you chat up her mate.
Man: By reading her palm, too?
Man: No, you grill the mate for information.
Man: Is there any tonic left?
Man: Then you grab the other girl's hand and tell her you can see sand on her lifeline.
Man: Sand?
Man: They've all had a romance in Dubai.
Man: Any lemon?
Man: You've been listening to The Duck.
Man: Who used all the ice?
Man: It worked on the girl in the purple dress.
Man: Who?
Man: Puerto Banus, 1995.
Men: Ohhh ...
Man: He saw bandages by her little finger.
Man: What?
Man: A nurse. Two brothers and a sister.
Man: Younger?
Man: And an Arab with soulful eyes.
Man: A man at the top of his game, The Duck.
Men: Mmmm ...
Man: I've found it. Who wants topping up?
Man: To The Duck!
Men: The Duck!

Roll credits

Overheard Conversation # 20 (or How To Speak European)

Location: the kitchen of a picturesque (i.e. draughty and damp) farmhouse in small hamlet in the middle of Tuscany.

Characters: (This is an Italian epic, hence the cast of thousands)
Donatella (46), Sergio (54), Zio Elio (indeterminately old), Zia Carla (ditto), Cesare (4), Laura (6), Au Pair (18)

Dinner has been eaten. Over small cups of espresso and torta di noci, the extended family - and the English au pair - discuss the pressing issues of the day: opera, theatre, literature, politics, and - erm - yoghurt ...

N.B. The conversation is in Italian, but for ease of understanding (unless you are actually Italian), it has - mostly - been transcribed into English.

Zio Elio: Where did you get those yoghurts?
Donatella: The lemon ones?
Zio Elio: Yes, the ones we've just eaten.
Sergio: I didn't eat one.
Zio Elio: Yes, you did.
Sergio: No, you ate mine. You ate two.
Cesare: Zio Elio's a greedy pig! Zio Elio's a greedy pig!
Zia Carla: Basta! (Which means enough, not what you thought it meant.)
Donatella: From the shop.
Zio Elio: Which shop?
Donatella: In Lizzano.
Laura: I didn't like mine. I gave it to the dog.
Zio Elio: It's a sin to waste food, Laura.
Laura: I didn't waste it. The dog ate it. Is it a sin to feed the dog?

(FADE OUT as the nature of Sin in regard to dogs is discussed at some length. FADE IN.)

Sergio: I prefer Swiss yoghurt anyway.
Zia Carla: The Swiss don't make good yoghurt!
Sergio: The Swiss make excellent yoghurt!
Zio Elio: That lemon yoghurt was definitely Italian.
Cesare: What yoghurt?
Laura: Cretino!
Donatella: We need a neutral opinion.
(ALL TURN AND STARE AT THE AU PAIR)

Au Pair: O! Hmm, gosh, English yoghurts are not so good. They are full of -

(SEARCHES DESPERATELY FOR A WORD AND REMEMBERS THE GOLDEN RULE: CHOOSE AN ENGLISH WORD AND STICK AN ITALIAN-SOUNDING ENDING ON IT)

- preservatives.

Si, si sono pieno di preservativi!

(SLUMPS EXHAUSTED BUT TRIUMPHANT IN HER SEAT).

All: Eh?
Au Pair (EMPHATICALLY): Sono pieno di preservativi.
Zio Elio: Preservativi?
Au Pair: Si. It is almost impossible to find a yoghurt in England that is not full of preservatives.
Sergio: É vero? Is this true?
Zia Carla: This cannot be true!
Au Pair: É vero! English yoghurts are full of preservativi.
Donatella: Preservativi? Gli Inglese sono animali!

Roll Credits

An Italian woman eating an English yoghurt

Overheard Conversation #19

Queen: So you're - ?

Aide (WHISPERS): The new Prime Minister.

Queen: Is he?

Aide (WHISPERS): Yes, Ma'am.

Queen: He's awfully pink. (LOUDLY) Wear a hat, young man, and avoid direct sunlight.

Cameron: Yes, Ma'am.

Queen: One bought ones wallpaper from your grandfather's shop. Excellent quality.

Cameron: With the greatest respect, Ma'am, I believe you're referring to George.

Queen: George?

Cameron: Osborne. He's the new Chancellor.

Queen: Chancellor?

Aide (WHISPERS): The Country's banker.

Queen: I hope he's washed his hands. So you can't give one a good deal on Lincrusta? The morning room is looking a little tired.

Cameron: I'll see what I can do, Ma'am.

Queen: Well, Mr. Clegg, one is awfully pleased that you're the Prime Minister. One wasn't terribly keen on that Cameron chap.

Aide (WHISPERS): Ma'am -

Queen: His mouth's far too small. Shifty eyes.

Aide (SLIGHTLY LOUDER): Ma'am -

Queen: And his wife's in Trade, you know.

Aide (SHOUTS): Ma'am!

Queen: Will you please stop interrupting - Mr. Clegg, one would be most pleased if you could sort out the fox-hunting. Philip's been dreadfully restless since that silly Mr. Blair banned it.

Cameron: I'll add it to the list, Ma'am.

Queen (MUSING): When one heard there was a Hung Parliament, ones heart leapt.

Cameron: It did, Ma'am?

Queen: For one glorious moment one thought horrid Dennis Skinner had finally been suspended. Literally.

Aide: Ma'am -

Queen: The man's a menace. Each time one opens Parliament, he's chancing his arm as a comedian - you're not funny, are you Mr. Clegg?

Cameron: Frankly, I'm  Dav-

Queen: Yes, well first name terms will suffice, Frankly, but you'll still need to call one Your Royal Highness.

Aide (WHISPERS): Eastenders in five minutes.

Queen: Off you trot, Mr. Clegg, and try not to break anything.

Roll credits

Overheard Conversation #18

Location: an office
Characters: Tutor, a Young Scholar

YS: That essay I've got to hand in tomorrow?
Tutor (WARILY): Yes...?
YS: I thought I'd look at Animal Farm.
Tutor: Why?
YS: I like pigs.
Tutor: The assignment asks you to look at a short story.
YS: Animal Farm's not very long.
Tutor: It's a novel.
YS: Yes, it is very original.
Tutor: It's not a story.
YS: It's a very good story!
Tutor: You can't do Animal Farm.
YS: Oh. (BEAT.) Okay, I'll look at the religious symbolism in James Joyce's Eveline.
Tutor: The assignment brief asks you to look at a story in the context of your own writing.
YS: I know that.
Tutor: Is there much religious symbolism in your own story?
YS: My story hasn't got any religious symbolism.
Tutor: Hmmm...
YS: Although it could be converted into a story from the Bible.
Tutor (SHUFFLING THROUGH SOME PAPERS): It's about a boy setting fire to a dustbin.
YS: Yes, but the character does a bad thing and the person he hurts forgives him and saves him from punishment for his sins.
Tutor: You really shouldn't force a fit ...
YS: If I make the binman Spanish?
Tutor: Spanish?
YS: Give him a beard and sandals?
Tutor: Why?
YS: Because then my story would be full of religious symbolism.
Tutor: Does Eveline have a beard and wear sandals?
YS: I think the beard is implied rather than realised.
Tutor: You haven't read it, have you?
YS: Not exactly, but the notes on Wikipedia are very good.

Roll credits as tutor curls up in the foetal position under her desk

Overheard Conversation #17

Location: Foyer of a Police Station. A pale wood counter with a bell.
Characters: Woman, middle-aged (though it pains me to say it). Police Officer (even older - ha!)

Woman: Hello? Hello? (SEES NOTICE: RING BELL. SHE RINGS THE BELL.)
A UNIFORMED POLICE OFFICER APPEARS VIA A SIDE DOOR.
PC: Can I help you?
Woman (THINKING THIS IS NOT THE TIME TO CORRECT HIS USE OF ENGLISH): Yes. I hope so.
PC: How can I help you?
Woman: I've been receiving nasty emails -
PC:Yes?
Woman: I have them here. (SHE WAVES A SHEAF OF PAPER.)
PC: Do you know who is sending these emails?
Woman: A poet.
PC: A poet?
Woman: A disgruntled one.
PC: And he's sending you emails - Why?
Woman: Because's he's very cross.
PC: No, why's he sending them to you?
Woman: I run a poetry group -
PC: You're a poet, too?
Woman: Well, yes, I suppose I am. But I'm not writing very much at the moment.
PC: Hmm... So a very cross poet is sending you, another poet, emails? Do they - ahem - rhyme?
Woman: Officer, I am very well that this sounds like a plotline from Midsommer Murders - perhaps you could read the emails? (SHE HANDS THEM OVER.)
PC (SCANNING ONE): He is cross, isn't it? More than cross -
Woman: Furious?
PC: He likes the eff word -
Woman: And the C word. (SHE LEANS OVER AND POINTS AT THE PAPER.) He uses it six times in one sentence there.
PC: Is his spelling always this bad?
Woman: Yes. (SHE POINTS AGAIN.) See, just there he says I'll wake up in hospital with my kneecaps missing.
PC: Does he now?
Woman: And no teeth.
PC: Pleasant chap. Why you?
Woman: Why me what?
PC: Why's he sending 'em to you?
Woman: Because I asked him not to send me any more emails about hanging Tony Blair.
PC: He wants to hang Tony Blair?
Woman: Amongst others.
PC: Others?
Woman: He's not overly keen on the Dalai Lama either. (BEAT.) And the Pope makes him apoplectic
PC: That was quite poetic, Madam.
Woman: Thank you.
PC (SELF-CONSCIOUSLY): I write a bit of poetry myself.
Woman: Really?
PC: Nothing fancy. (BEAT.) Humour mostly. (BEAT.) Would you like to come through? I'll need to take some details. (SHOUTS) Bob! Bring a tea through for Sylvia Plath here!

Roll credits

Overheard Conversation #16

Location: Living room, extravagantly upholstered. Ornaments, lots of 'em. Potted plants and vases of spring flowers.

Characters: Annie, 83. Liza, 40ish. Both are drinking tea.

Annie (LEANING BACK IN HER ARMCHAIR): Right, now Easter's over, I'm on the minge.

Liza (SPLUTTERS): Pardon?

Annie: I'm on the minge.

Liza: I'm not sure what you mean, Annie ...?

Annie: I'm not spending another penny. I'm being mingy. Haven't you heard that expression?

Liza: Yes, but, er, minge isn't the same as mingy.

Annie: Of course it is.

Liza: No, it really isn't.

Annie: Well, what's a minge when it's at home?

Liza (VERY EMBARRASSED): Umm, well, you're, er, sitting on it.

Annie: An armchair?

Liza: No, it's, ummm, more physical.

Annie (THINKS BRIEFLY): A bottom? A minge is a bottom?

Liza: Not exactly ...

ANNIE PONDERS THIS.

Annie: Ohhh, I see! (BEAT.) Oh heck, I've told everyone I was on the minge. I told the milkman this morning. And the chiropodist.

Liza: I'm sure they'll have worked it out.

Annie: You didn't.

Liza: No, well -

Annie: I'll explain next time I see them.

Liza: Yes.

Annie: I'm always doing that.

Liza: What?

Annie: Getting my words muddled.

Liza: Oh?

Annie: Yes. Only last week I called that Graham Cameron a wanker.

Liza: Graham Cameron?

Annie: Him as wants to be Prime Minister.

Liza: You mean -

Annie: And our Maureen said "Auntie Annie, you can't call people wankers." And I said "He's an idiot. Of course I can call him a wanker."

Liza: And what did Maureen say?

Annie: She told me what a wanker was.

Liza (FAINTLY): Oh -

Annie: And, you know, I just couldn't visualise it.

Roll Credits

Overherd Conversation #15

Location: Call centre (The future is bright, the future is -)
Characters: Customer Assistant - Keeley. Customer - John

Keeley: Hello, thank you for waiting. My name's Keeley, how can I help you?
John: Oh. Right. I want to check when me contract runs out.
Keeley: First I'll have to ask you a few security questions.
John: Right.
Keeley: Your full name?
John: John Lewis.
Keeley: Like the shop?
John: Yup.
Keeley: I expect people say that all the time?
John: They do.
Keeley: Okay ... And what's the password on your account?
John: Daisy.
Keeley: Let's just check that. (BEAT.) No. Sorry, Mr Lewis, that's not the right password.
John: Jane?
Keeley: Try again.
John: Susie?
Keeley: No ...
John: Betty?
Keeley: No, not that one either.
John: Milly?
Keeley: No, sorry.
John: Lily?
Keeley: I'm afraid not ...
John: Right, Daisy, Jane, Susie, Betty, Milly, Lily ... JUDY? Yes, it's Judy.
Keeley (VERY APOLOGETIC): No, I'm really sorry, Mr Lewis ...
John: I know! I used Wife's name. Maureen.
Keeley (VERY RELIEVED): Yes! That's it.
John: Maureen.
Keeley (BRIGHTLY): Well, you certainly know a lot of ladies, Mr Lewis.
John: Them were me cows.

Overheard Conversation # 14

Location: A charity shop in a small market town in North Yorkshire.

Characters: An attractive, tall, slender woman with an intelligent glint in her eye. Let's call her Jane.

A plump woman with curly grey hair of pensionable age (the woman, not just the hair). She is standing behind the counter and is very much in charge of the till. (Which seems to be getting the better of her.) Let's call her Agnes.

Various onlookers/customers displaying various degrees of impatience.

JANE PERUSES THE BOOKSHELVES AND SELECTS A BOOK OF SHORT STORIES ENTITLED 'EXPLAINING DEATH TO THE DOG'. SHE JOINS THE QUEUE AND WAITS HER TURN. SHE HANDS THE BOOK TO AGNES.

AGNES LOOKS AT THE BOOK, LOOKS AT JANE, LOOKS AT THE BOOK AGAIN AND THEN STARES AT JANE - FOR LONGER THAN IS SOCIALLY ACCEPTABLE. THERE IS AN UNCOMFORTABLE SILENCE.

Agnes: Funny title ...

Jane: Yes, that's what attracted me to it.

Agnes: You wouldn't think it funny if you'd buried as many dogs as I have.

Jane: Er, no ...

Agnes: You wouldn't find it funny at all.

Jane: No.

Agnes (PUTS DOWN BOOK AND FOLDS HER ARMS): Last year was a dreadful year.

Jane: Oh?

Agnes: Yes. I lost my husband.

Jane: Oh, dear ...

Agnes: Forty-eight years we were married.

Jane: I'm sorry.

Agnes: And six months later, the dog died.

Jane: Oh -

Agnes: I still miss him.

Jane: Yes.

Agnes: It's why I work here.

Jane: To keep busy?

Agnes: The house seems so empty without him.

Jane: It's very sad.

Agnes: He seemed to know what I was thinking; could read my mind.

Jane: After forty-eight years -

Agnes: No, not him. The dog.

Overheard Conversation # 13

New Feature! Added Analysis! (Poo, Gosh, &c., &c.)

Location: Queue in the inaccurately named Fast Checkout Lane of supermarket.
Characters: Man in steel-capped boots, man in yellow hard-hat - both in their mid 30s.

Boots: So I turns round and goes to the boss I'm not 'aving tha'.
Hard Hat: Yer never!
Boots: And he went Well it's in yer contract, lad.
Hard Hat: Right!
Boots: Then I turns round and goes I've never even seen a bloody contract!
Hard Hat: 'e tried to pull that one on me. I wasn' 'avin' none of it.
Boots: So then I goes None of the Lads'll be 'appy 'bout this, Boss.
Hard Hat: Bloody right. I turns round to Joe and warned 'im Don't be working too fast on tha' wall, kid.
Boots: Then 'e turns round and goes We'll see wha' the Site Manager 'as to say.

And so on. Reader, I was dizzy with the amount of turning around they'd been doing. More pirouetting than a ballerina en pointe - and not nimble looking chaps by any means.

Teenagers - stay with me; all will become clear. Teenagers: we feed them, clothe them, put roofs over their heads, send them to school, straighten their teeth and encourage them to bathe occasionally. They are hardly ill-used if the only joy we get out of this arrangement is annoying and embarrassing them.

One delicious way to annoy teenagers is based on the above conversation:

Banshee: I wasn't happy with Riviera this afternoon. She's that stuck-up cow whose mum's on Hollyoaks. So I went -
Ma: Where? Went where, darling?
Banshee: I didn't go anywhere. Listen. So she turned round -
Ma: In a full circle or only ninety degrees?
Banshee: Are you on something? So I went -
Ma: You left the room?
Banshee: No! I goes -
Ma: Where did you go?
Banshee: I didn't go anywhere! LISTEN. So Riviera goes -
Ma: Riviera left the room?

At this point the Banshee will scream and storm out in High Dudgeon. The Ma smiles (like La Gioconda - subtly satisfied), flicks off the T.V. and picks up Saturday's Times Jumbo Cryptic Crossword which she's been staring at for three days now, yet has still only managed to solve nine clues.

P.S. Blogger won't let me post a picture, and I'd found a very fetching ballerina to illustrate my point. Bah, Blogger, Bah!

P.P.S. O, how lovely. You're fixed again.

Overheard Conversation #12

Location: Post Office Counter
Characters: Female Customer (limping and carrying a parcel and a shoe). Behind the counter, a Young Chit of a Girl, with dyed black hair and nose-stud.

Woman (PLACING BROWN PAPER PARCEL ON SCALES): I'd like to send this first class, please.
Chit (POINTING AT PARCEL): What's that say?
Woman: Near Keighley, West Yorkshire.
Chit: Airmail, then?
Woman: Airmail?
Chit: If it goes by boat it'll take longer.
Woman: Boat?
Chit: I'd pay the extra for airmail, if I was you.
Woman: First Class will do, thanks.
Chit: But it's going Abroad.
Woman: No, it's going to Yorkshire.
Chit: Isn't that Abroad?
Woman: No. It isn't.
Chit: It's in Ireland.
Woman: No, it really isn't.
Chit: You sure?
Woman: Yes. I'm sure.
Chit: It's in England?
Woman: Yes, it's in England.
Chit: Oh. That'll be £2.49, then.

Overheard Conversation #11

Location: Bookshop on Bold Street: the Children's Section.
Characters: Yummy Mummy and a Small Boy (aged 5-ish)

Small Boy: But why do I need a diary, Mummy?
Woman: Because it will help you remember how to write, darling.
Small Boy: But I know how to write, Mummy. We do it at school all the time.
Woman: Yes, but it's the school holidays now and Mrs Jones said you had to keep a diary because last year you forgot how to write.
Small Boy: But I don't want a diary! I want the Thomas book!
Woman: You can have the Thomas book if you choose a diary.
(BEAT)
Small Boy: What's a diary?
Woman: A book you write in.
Small Boy: Oh. (BEAT). I've got one of those.
Woman: No, Benjy, that was your sister's French book. It was really very naughty of you to write in it.( SHE HOLDS UP A RED NOTEBOOK). How about this one?
Small Boy: Don't like red. (BEAT). Hate red. Red is yucky.
Woman: Well, there's lots of colours here to choose from ...
Small Boy: Pink. I want a pink diary.
Woman: Pink?
Small Boy (FIRMLY): It's my favourite colour in the whole world.
Woman (SIGHS): How about this nice blue one?
Small Boy: Pink. That one.
(HE WALKS OVER TO THE SHELF AND SNATCHES THE PINK NOTEBOOK HIS MOTHER IS ATTEMPTING TO HIDE BEHIND OTHER NOTEBOOKS).
Small Boy: This is a lovely diary, Mummy. (BEAT). I'm going to write in it now.
Woman: Let's wait until we get home, darling.
Small Boy: But I want to write now!
Woman: Benjy, Mummy has to go to Marks & Spencer's to get Daddy's cake.
(SMALL BOY IS NOW SEATED AT A BRIGHTLY COLOURED PLASTIC TABLE AND IS OPENING THE PINK NOTEBOOK).
Small Boy: I'll wait here.
Woman: No, you have to come with me, darling.
Small Boy (WAILS): But I want to write in my diary!
Woman (WARNING): Benjy ...
Small Boy: I'll forget how to write, Mummy! (BEAT). I think I've already forgotten a little bit.
Woman (EXHALING LOUDLY): Five minutes. Five minutes and then we have to go.
(SMALL BOY REACHES FOR A POT OF CRAYONS IN THE CENTRE OF THE TABLE, DELIBERATES, THEN CHOOSES A RED CRAYON).
Small Boy: I'm going to write hello. (BEAT). How do you write hello, Mummy?
Woman: Huh.
Small Boy (FORMS THE LETTER CAREFULLY): Mmm ...?
Woman: Eh.
Small Boy: Mmm ...?
Woman (WANDERS OVER TO THE BOOKSHELVES): Luh.
Smal Boy: Mmm ...?
Woman (CALLING): Luh.
(SMALL BOY SHRIEKS AND COVERS HIS MOUTH WITH HIS HAND).
Small Boy (UPSET): I've got a swear in my diary!
Woman (CONFUSED): What?
Small Boy (WAILING AND JABBING AT THE PAPER WITH HIS FINGER): I've got a swear in my diary!
Woman (REALISING AND SMILING): No, that's not a swear word, darling. Hell isn't a swear word.
Small Boy: Oh. (BEAT): Is it just fucking by itself, then?
(WOMAN GASPS)
Small Boy (SLOWLY): Fucking Hell.
Woman: Stop that!
Small Boy (VERY SLOWLY): Fuck-ing Hell.
Woman: I said stop that!
Small Boy (QUICKLY): Fucking Hell.
Woman: Your tongue will go black and fall out of your mouth!
Small Boy (SINGSONG): Fuck-ing He-ell, Fuck-ing He-ell ...
Woman (GRABS BOY'S ARM AND YANKS HIM TO HIS FEET): Stop that this instant! You're making Mummy very cross!
Small Boy (SMILES. BEAT): Fucking Hell -
Woman: I'll tell Daddy!
Small Boy (LOUDER): Fucking Hell.
Woman: I said stop it!
Small Boy (NOW CHANTING): Fucking Hell, Fucking Hell, Fucking Hell.

(WOMAN DRAGS SMALL BOY DOWN THE STAIRS AND OUT OF THE SHOP. THE PINK DIARY IS LEFT ON THE TABLE).

Roll credits

Overheard Conversations #10

Location: Living room, interior, evening.

Characters: Mum, Teenage Daughter (Banshee), (Not so) Small Boy.

Small Boy (ENTERING LIVING ROOM WAVING SHEET OF PAPER): I've done my homework!

Banshee (WATCHING TV): Shhhh!

Mum: Well done.

Banshee: Shhhh!

Mum: Did you spell check it?

Banshee: SHHHH!

Small Boy: Forgot.

Mum: Pass it here.

BANSHEE TURNS UP THE VOLUME OF THE TV.

Mum: Why's it in German?

Small Boy: What?

Mum: WILL YOU TURN THAT DOWN, PLEASE! (TV VOLUME IS LOWERED). Why have you done your homework in German?

Banshee: It's German homework?

Small Boy: I don't do German. I do French.

Banshee: So why's your homework in German?

Small Boy: Babelfish.

Banshee (SNORTS): Babelfish's rubbish.

Mum: What's a Babel Fish?

Small Boy: It's an online something that translates something into something else.

Mum (CONFUSED): And what homework is this?

Small Boy: History.

Mum: Why have you written your history homework in German?

Banshee: Because he's an idiot.

Small Boy (PRODUCES A CRUMPLED PIECE OF PAPER FROM HIS POCKET): I've got it in English, too. I can read it out.

Banshee: I'm trying to watch TV.

Mum: Go in the other room.

Small Boy (CLEARS THROAT AND READS LOUDLY): Our great leader, Adolf Hitler -

Mum: What?

Small Boy: - is a much misunderstood man, who -

Banshee (TURNS OFF THE TV): This is gonna be good.

Small Boy: - is not at all violentistic -

Banshee: Violentistic!

Small Boy: - but very humoristic and in the privacy of his own home he often curls back his upper lip and does an excellent rabbit impression -

Mum: WHAT?

Small Boy: He is a vegetarian who is kind to small children and animals -

Banshee: HAHAHAHAHA!

Small Boy: - and takes a daily walk in his local park, stopping for a nice warming drink in -

Mum (SNATCHING THE PAPER FROM SMALL BOY): What on earth is this?

Banshee: He's a Nazi. I warned you. Woodcraft Folk, then Scouts -

Small Boy: I'm a spy!

Mum: A what?

Small Boy: A spy. The thing is, Mum, I'm pretending to be an English spy pretending to be a German journalist and I've cleverly revealed lots of information about Hitler so that then The Allies will be able to use it -

Banshee (SIGHING LOUDLY): If only Churchill had known about the rabbit impersonations!

Small Boy: - and then they'll send a group of undercover assassinators -

Mum: Assassins

Small Boy: Assassinators -

Banshee: Disguised as small children and animals?

Small Boy: To assassin him. They could poison his nice warming drink -

Mum: You can't hand this in! Your teacher will think we're a family of fascists!

Banshee: And?

Mum: What was the title of this homework?

Small Boy (SEARCHES POCKETS AND PRODUCES A TATTY SCRAP OF PAPER. HE UNFOLDS IT AND READS): The Vikings and Their Trading Empire.

Mum: What has this got to do with the Vikings?

Small Boy (SHRUGS): Nothing.

Mum: Then please explain why you have written an essay on how wonderful Hitler is in German?

Small Boy: Babelfish wouldn't do Viking.

Roll Credits

Overheard Conversations #9

Location: Outside a hut set in waste ground . Exterior. Evening.

Characters: Mum, Teenage Daughter (Banshee), Small(ish) Boy.

Mum & Banshee are standing outside the hut. It is dark and cold.

Banshee: I can't believe you've let him come here.

Mum: It's good for him to join things.

Banshee: Look at the place!

Mum: What about it?

Banshee: It's in the middle of nowhere.

Mum: We're in Garston.

Banshee: They could be teaching him anything!

Mum (CONFUSED): What?

Banshee: It's a paramilitary organisation.

Mum: It's the Scouts.

Banshee: I wouldn't let my child come here.

THE SCOUT HUT DOOR BURSTS OPEN. SMALL BOY COMES RUNNING OUT WAVING A PIECE OF PAPER.

Small Boy: You have to sign this for next week!

Mum (SQUINTING AT THE PAPER): What is it?

Small Boy: My shooting permission slip.

Banshee: Ha! What are you going to be shooting, Rory? Jewish people?

Small Boy: I'm going to camp next weekend -

Banshee: To learn how to make bombs?

Small Boy: I need to take a cake -

Mum: I'll make you one -

Small Boy: And a sleeping bag -

Banshee: A detonator, plastic explosives, a hunting knife -

Small Boy: And wellies. Have I got wellies?

Mum: Yes, they're under the stairs -

Banshee: Not forgetting the black balaclava, latex gloves -

Mum (FIRMLY): How was Scouts?

Small Boy: Great! We chopped up a piano with massive axes and burned it!

Mum: What?

Banshee: Next week: book burning.

Small Boy: Ken, he's the leader, he's got no feeling in his left hand -

Banshee: Has he got a hook?

Small Boy: When he was a welder a piece of white hot metal jumped inside his glove and destroyed his nerves -

Mum (BRIGHTLY): Let's go for the bus -

Small Boy: And the first he knew about it was when he smelled the burning flesh.

Banshee: Lovely!

Small Boy: Ken says I can train my grip by squeezing a tennis ball. Have we got any tennis balls, Mum?

Banshee: Perhaps you could practise on small animals?

Mum (THROUGH GRITTED TEETH): Yes, we've got a tennis ball.

Banshee: When he grows a small, black moustache don't say I didn't warn you.

Roll credits

Overheard Conversations #8

Location: Bus. Interior. Day.
Characters: One woman, of pensionable age. One man in his 20s.

Woman: That makes a change.
Man: What does?
Woman: A green bus with people on it.
Man: Where?
Woman: Just passed us.
Man: Oh.
Woman: They never have people on them.
Man: No?
Woman: Not normally. (BEAT). I can't see the point of green buses.
Man: No?
Woman: No-one's ever on them.
Man: Mmm.
Woman: Always empty.
Man: Mmm.
Woman: Mam wouldn't have anything green in the house.
Man: Cabbage?
Woman: It wasn't green for long.
Man: Eh?
Woman: She boiled everything for hours. Cabbage, socks, vests. Me dad's teeth.
PAUSE.
Woman (OUTRAGED): Did you see that mattress?
Man: Where?
Woman: Just passed it. Dumped in the alley by the lights.
Man: Oh.
Woman: Disgusting.
Man: Mmm.
Woman: Some people!
PAUSE.
Woman: Town was busy.
Man: Hmm.
Woman: Friday's always busy.
Man: Mmm.
Woman: I don't know where people get the money.
Man: Hmm.
Woman: Spending for the sake of spending.
Man: Mmm.
Woman: That top in TJs? £9.99. I could make it for that!
Man: Someone did, Nan.
PAUSE.
Woman: Did you see last night's Echo?
Man: No.
Woman: Front page. Lad from Brookside's opening a swingers' club.
Man: What?
Woman: Shame I'm so old.
Man: Nan!
Woman: I loved to swing.
Man: Swing?
Woman: Legs everywhere.
Man: Are you -?
Woman: I'd be shattered the next day.
Man: Shattered?
Woman: There were a couple of regulars. Me and Sylvia fought over them.
Man: Nan -
Woman: There was George. He knew how to hold a lady. Firm but gentle. Always in control.
Man: I don't think -
Woman: Larry was - well, he was nice enough, but a bit heavy-handed. I'd be black and blue after a few goes with him.
Man: Goes?
Woman: We never stopped from the moment we took our coats off. I'd come home dripping.
Man: I really don't think -
Woman: I met your grandad there.
Man: Grandad?
Woman: A right charmer. He had me bent over backwards! (BEAT). I blamed him for my hip.
Man: I don't think -
Woman: Of course he said my hip had nothing to do with it. But then he would.
PAUSE.
Man: Can we talk about green buses again?

Roll credits.