Comedy Plays by award
winning playwright Stephen R Davies
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Script
Second Chance
(It’s Christmas. A Living Room. Decorated
appropriately. A small desk in the back corner. A man is seen with his back to
the audience going through the desk draws and the papers on top. He then kneels
down and starts to check out the Xmas presents under the tree. Nigel enters,
quietly. Wearing a dressing gown and carrying a “Santa Stop Here” sign as a weapon)
NIGEL: (Creeps up behind the burglar and whacks him
over the head with the Sign)
Got you, you bastard.
(Takes off his dressing gown cord and ties the burglars hands behind his
back)
That should hold you.
(His dressing gown now flaps open to reveal ridiculous pajamas, Rupert Bear
or some such. Goes to drinks cabinet and pours a large glass of Malt. Picks up
the phone and dials 999)
Police please. (Pause) Ah Police? I want to report a
burglary. (pause) I said. Can you
hear me? (Straining to hear) I said I want to report a burglary. What? I
can’t hear a word your... (Pause) A
burglary. I want to report a burglary (Pause)
What the hells that it sounds like a disco? (Pause) That is the Police station isn’t it? What
do you mean am I sure I want the Police station of course I do I’ve caught a burglar. (Pause) What? Eh?, a what? Oh right yes (Looks over
at Burglar) He’s about my height.
What? No, oh sorry, of course you don’t now how tall I am, about five foot
eleven (or insert height of actor if different) with a dirty overcoat
and unshaven. A big Mack and a beard. No I don’t want a Bigmac and a beer.
That’s what he’s wearing. What do you mean who is. He is. Look I’ve called to
report a break in and I’ve caught the culprit red-handed. (Pause) Of course I’m sure. (Pause)
He’s laying on my floor. (Pause) I haven’t done anything to him, much.
What’s he look like. I’ve told you he looks like a drug addict to me. I mean he
could be a mad axe murderer for all I know, you’re not missing anybody are you.
No, I was kidding, no don’t, no don’t go and check. Hello. Hello. (To him self) Bloody hell
BURGLAR: (Gives a
little groan and lifts his head slightly)
Urrrgh!
NIGEL: (Hits him over the
head again with the phone receiver. Knocking him out) Hello, yes I’m still
here. You haven’t got anybody missing. Oh good Iam glad. Well I’ve got one for you.
No it can’t wait ‘till tomorrow. Just get somebody round here to take him away.
(Pause) Look, can you turn that music
down I can’t here a word your…What? Yes I do know it’s Christmas eve. (Pause)
No this is not Watkins from Traffic. I’m serious.(Pause) I don’t know his name and address do I. What a stupid
question to ask, if by some chance you haven’t noticed villains don’t go around
in stripped jerseys with a bag with Swag written on. Although if they did you
lot might actually catch the odd one every now and again. I’ve told you I don’t know his name and
address if I knew his name and...Ah! right, sorry, yes, my name and address.
Yes of course, my name is Spink, Nigel Spink. Are you Ok? (Pause) It sounded like sniggering to me. That’s OK then. Nothing
wrong with the name Spink. I heard that. The address is 37,
BURGLAR: (Starts to come round. Gives a groan) Uhhhh!
NIGEL: Bloody hell (Goes over to
the burglar and helps him up, roughly) Come here you. Right, sit there… (Pushes him onto the sofa)…and don’t
move. The police are on their way.
BURGLAR: (Still a bit groggy. Shaking his head)
Good God, what the..
NIGEL: I’ve called the police so don’t try anything.
BURGLAR: What did you
have to do that for?
NIGEL: Well
call me old fashioned but, I think it’s sort of traditional to call the police
when your house is being robbed.
BURGLAR: I don’t mean
that. What the hell did you hit me over the head for?
NIGEL: Oh,
I’m sorry. I’m just supposed to ask you nicely to leave am I?
BURGLAR: You
could have tried that.
NIGEL: And
you would have gone?
BURGLAR: No
NIGEL: I
thought not.
BURGLAR: So
you hit me. With what? A bloody baseball bat?
NIGEL: No,
this. (Picks up the now broken sign)
Look at it, ruined. It cost me ten quid that. I’ll have that back out of you in
compensation.
BURGLAR: Huh,
you’ll be lucky.
NIGEL: What?
BURGLAR: Nothing
NIGEL: Yes.
Compensation. Now there’s a thought. You’ll get six months and I’ll put in a
claim for compo. Criminal damage,
stress, pain and suffering.
BURGLAR: Oh
that’s rich. Pain and suffering. It’s me that’s got the pain and suffering and
probably a fractured skull.
NIGEL: So
what? (Goes to drinks cabinet and pour another
drink)
BURGLAR: I’ll
tell you so what. I could sue you for actual bodily harm.
NIGEL: Yeah
right
BURGLAR: That’s
a good idea that. I think I’ll do you,
you'll have to pay me compo. Where there’s blame there’s a claim.
NIGEL: How
about, where there’s crime there’s time.
BURGLAR: Remember
what happened to Tony Martin.
NIGEL: Think
your self lucky I don’t have a shotgun
BURGLAR: You
didn’t have to hit me so hard. In fact I feel a bit, woozy.
NIGEL: Serves
you right. I know the law. I can use reasonable force.
BURGLAR: Bloody unreasonable I thought.
NIGEL: A man’s got the right
to defend his own property.
BURGLAR: Yours, Ha!
NIGEL: What?
BURGLAR: Nothing.
I could have concussion. Funny thing concussion. It can affect you days later.
Might even have caused a blood clot. I could drop down dead.
NIGEL: Good.
BURGLAR: That’s
manslaughter.
NIGEL: Shut up.
BURGLAR: Five
years at least.
NIGEL: (Getting angry. Grabs Burglar by the lapels
with one hand and raises the other in a fist) Just shut up or I’ll...
BURGLAR: That's
right go on hit me again, I want you to.
NIGEL:
(Letting him go) No, you're
not worth it.
BURGLAR: Nasty temper
that. It'll get you into trouble one day
NIGEL: I need another
drink. You just sit there and be quiet. (pour
another glass of scotch)
BURGLAR: That'll
not do you any good either
NIGEL: Shut
up.
BURGLAR: It'll
destroy your liver.
NIGEL: I'm
not the least bit interested in the opinions of a petty villain. Anyway, I thought
I told you to be quiet.
BURGLAR: Suit
your self. Just offering a bit of advice.
NIGEL: Well
don't. I don’t need advice, not now, not in the future and certainly not from
you.
BURGLAR: Done
well for your self haven't you? Nice house, nice car, nice kids, nice wife.
NIGEL: Not that it’s any of your business but, yes all achieved by hard graft.
Something you’ve no idea about. You probably think manual labour is a Spanish
bullfighter At least what I've got is mine.
BURGLAR: Pull the other
one.
NIGEL: What
do you mean?
BURGLAR: Well.
I bet this nice house is mortgaged up to the hilt, the Beamer is on HP, the
tele’s rented and your flexible friend is bent double.
NIGEL: It’s
just a temporary situation, things will turn round when I… What the hell am I
doing engaging in conversation with the likes of you. Just keep your nose out
and that shut.
BURGLAR: The
likes of me eh! What are "The likes of me?"
NIGEL: All
right (Getting up to pour another drink)
Since you ask, I'll tell you what the likes of you are. Scum of the earth, a
good for nothing sponger, a parasite on society. You’ve never done a honest
days work in your life. You claim your dole money, which incidentally is paid
for out of my taxes, to keep, yes, the likes of you, in Carlesberg Special
Brew, drugs and what ever else it is you take. Then when that's gone you’ve got
to start thieving. If I had my way they'd bring back the birch or hanging or
both
BURGLAR: Oh just listen
at Mister completely law abiding citizen?
NIGEL: Absolutely.
BURGLAR: Not
even a speeding ticket?
NIGEL: Look,
if you had to stick to speed limits you’d never get anywhere. Never get any
business done, beside which everybody does it.
BURGLAR: (Sarcastic) That makes it alright then.
NIGEL: You've
some need to talk. At least I don't go around breaking into other peoples
homes.
BURGLAR: Neither
do I.
NIGEL: I
beg your pardon.
BURGLAR: I
said neither do I.
NIGEL: Very
funny. You broke in here.
BURGLAR: As
a matter of fact I didn't break...
NIGEL: I
suppose you've got a key.
BURGLAR: Well...
NIGEL: He’s
got me at it again. I don't even know why I’m wasting my breath on you. Just
shut up. (Looking out of the window)
Where the hell have the police got to. (Picks up a cigarette and lights it)
BURGLAR: They're not
bothered.
NIGEL: Be quiet
BURGLAR: You ought to pack that in
NIGEL: Eh?
BURGLAR: That. Smoking. Just look at
the packet
NIGEL: Smoke contains
nitrosamines, benzene, pentechloroethane and dioxin which will cause your lungs
to shrivel to old maggoty boot leather and you will die a horrible, long
excruciating, painful, writhing in agony type death. (turns packet over to
read the other side) P.S. so will everybody around you. I think they’re
going a bit over the top with these heath warnings.
BURGLAR: Told you it’s no good for
you.
NIGEL: Ha! Health tips from
your friendly local drug addict, that’s a laugh. We’ll have the gay Mafia next
coming round and critisiseing your curtains.
BURGLAR: Oh no. Oh dear.
NIGEL: Shut up
BURGLAR: Oh God!
NIGEL: Look I won’t tell you
again. What’s up?
BURGLAR: I don’t feel to good. I
think I’m going to..
NIGEL: To what?
BURGLAR: I think I’m going to… (leans
over side of sofa away from audience and throws up)
NIGEL: You dirty
bleeder. Do you know how much that carpet cost?
BURGLAR: Phew! I feel
better for that. It must be the concussion. I’ve gone light headed.
NIGEL: My carpet,
just look at my carpet, my beautiful carpet.
BURGLAR: Fifty two pounds thirty
seven pence a square yard.
NIGEL: Exactly...How the...
BURGLAR: Could I have a
glass of water?
NIGEL: Get stuffed. Just
look at it, just look at the mess. What the hell have you been eating?
BURGLAR: I think I’ll
really need a glass of water, or else…
NIGEL: Don’t threaten me.
BURGLAR: Or else I’m
going to be sick again. (Starts to lean over)
NIGEL: All right, all
right, hold it. Just stay there and don’t move (Nigel exits)
BURGLAR: (Leans over side of the
sofa to have a look at the mess) I
don’t remember having carrots!
NIGEL: (Enters carrying a
glass of water in one hand and a bucket with a cloth in the other) Here (Offers Burglar the glass of water)
BURGLAR: Erm! (Gesticulates his
hands are tied behind his back)
NIGEL: Ok I’ll untie you
but, no tricks (Puts his Cig in his mouth and starts to unfasten him)
BURGLAR: Ok, Ok, Just
be quick will you, only I think I might…
NIGEL: (Talking with Cig in his mouth) All right hold your
horses. (Cig falls out of his mouth behind Burglar burning Burglars hands)
Shit!
BURGLAR: Ow, Ow, what
the bloody hell are doing.
NIGEL: I’ve dropped
my cigarette. Hold still it’s dropped behind you. (business) There I’ve
got it. Bugger, just look at my sofa. There’s a dirty great burn hole in it.
BURGLAR: Never mind
your sofa, just look at that (showing his hand to Nigel) Bloody third
degree burns that is.
NIGEL: Where? I can’t see
anything. A bit of a red mark that’s all. Here (hands him the cord) Now tie it round your legs. I don’t want you
running off.
(As Burglar
ties up his own legs Nigel picks up the glass of water and bucket. He hands the
glass to Burglar)
BURGLAR: (Looking at
the bucket whilst taking sips of water) Good idea, I should get that
cleaned up as quick as possible.
NIGEL: Oh, I’m not
going to do it, you are.
BURGLAR: Eh?
NIGEL: That is if you
want to leave here in one piece
BURGLAR: Ah right,
batter me again. Go on, that’s just what I want you to do. Makes my case
better.
NIGEL: Your case,
what do you mean. Your case for what?
BURGLAR: When the
police arrive. I’ll just tell them how you beat me up, bound me hand a foot,
held me against my will and tortured me.
NIGEL: Don’t be
ridiculous
BURGLAR: Really, ridiculous is it. Just
wait until they examine me, huge contusion on my head where you belted me,
twice, wheal marks on my wrists and ankles from being tied up…
NIGEL: But…
BURGLAR: And then
there’s the cigarette burns.
NIGEL: That was an
accident. (Pouring yet another large whisky)
BURGLAR: Not the way
I’ll tell it
NIGEL: Nobody’ll
believe you.
BURGLAR: Won’t they?
NIGEL: No. It just so
happens that the Magistrate and the Chief Constable are in the same lodge as
me.
BURGLAR: Ah! The Freemasons. I
wondered when we’d get round to them. They’re going to help you are they? Your
big buddies. The Brethren. So called friends. When the chips are down you know
where to go. All for one, one for all, trouser legs rolled up. I wouldn’t count
on it if I were you.
NIGEL: You’re really
starting to piss me off now (Grabs Burglar by the scruff of the neck picks
him up of the sofa and pushes him down on his knees in front of the bucket)
Just clean that up. NOW!
BURGLAR: Take it easy. I’ll do it. (Take
cloth from the bucket and stats to mop. As he is bent down he is facing a low
table at the side of the sofa, upon which is a picture of NIGEL’s wife and
family)
(NIGEL goes
and pours himself yet another drink. By now starting to get a little drunk)
BURGLAR: (Picks up
the photo in frame) You’re a lucky fella you know. I had a nice family like
that once.
NIGEL: What are you doing. (Snatches
photo from him) Give me that. (Looks soulfully at the photo and slumps
down in the armchair)
BURGLAR: Where are they?
NIGEL: (In a world of his
own staring at the photo. Looks up) Eh?
BURGLAR: The wife and
kids. Where are they?
NIGEL: Gone.
BURGLAR: Gone?
NIGEL: Yes, gone. I was late
back from a Lodge meeting one night.
BURGLAR: Oh yeah, what
happened?
NIGEL: It wasn’t my fault
BURGLAR: It never is.
NIGEL: It was the
Grand Master’s birthday so we all stayed a bit later than normal for a drink.
BURGLAR: A bit later?
NIGEL: Well, Ok it was three
o’clock when I got in.
BURGLAR: And you’d said you’d be in a
what time?
NIGEL: Twelve
BURGLAR: So you had a
row?
NIGEL: No, not then.
You see I was clever. As I sneaked in
the Cuckoo Clock in the hall Cuckooed three times so, I Cuckooed another nine.
Clever eh?
BURGLAR: Brilliant
NIGEL: I get up for breakfast
and she says “What time did you get in last night?” so I say twelve, why? She
says “In that case we need a new Cuckoo Clock” Why’s that I said. She says,
“well last night it Cuckooed three times paused, cuckooed another four said
shit, Cuckooed twice more cleared it’s throat, Cuckooed a further three time,
knocked over the coat rack, tripped over the cat and farted”
BURGLAR: Of course, I remember now,
that’s how it started.
NIGEL: (Annoyed) Ungrateful (Casts
the photo aside) The bloody lot of them. I work my fingers to the bone to
put food on the table, provide a nice house, nice car, and what do I get? The
washing machines not been working properly and she’s had a hard day doing the
shopping at the supermarket and not just any supermarket, oh no, it has to be
Sainsco’s the most expensive, can’t go to Fretto’s. Wouldn’t be seen dead with
a Fretto’s bag. Where does she think the money comes from eh? The most
difficult thing she’s had to do all week is decide whether to give the W.I.
coffee morning chocolate digestives or custard creams. And then it’s
“Penelope’s got this and Jennifer’s got that, her husband does this, he takes
her here, he takes her there.” He drives a Reliant Robin for Gods sake. And if
I hear one more word about bloody Desmond and bloody, Lisa, bloody Beckett with
their two holidays abroad every year.
“Why don’t we have a holiday, I want to go some where I’ve never been
before” How about the bloody kitchen. Then there we go with floods of tears. What’s
a matter now? She says “I’m home sick” I said this is your home. She says “I
know it is, I’m sick of it” so I said well piss off then. (Standing) I
need another drink. (Pours another drink)