end of scene

The following day. Roger has his feet up and is enjoying a drink. One of John’s cars arrives from the kitchen, a large cigar attached.  Roger helps himself to the cigar and lights it.

ROGER:        Now, that’s what I call service. (pause as he enjoys smoke)

                        Bring on the dancing girls.

Music begins.  Something raunchy…Tina Turner etc.  Maddy appears, dressed as Miss Whiplash.  She cracks her whip several times, causing Roger to leap up.  He looks at his drink.

ROGER:        Either I’m going to wake up soon or this is bloody good gear.

MADDY:        Down boy. (she cracks the whip again)

ROGER:        I knew it.  Miss Whiplash.  I could tell as soon as I set eyes

                        on those pins of yours the other night. (he leers)  Like I said, 

                        I’m not much good at faces, but I never forget a leg.

MADDY:        Not Miss Whiplash.  Remember Calamity Jane?…(she sings)

                                    In boyhood days…coming all over the page…


ROGER:        I remember now!  The Tossers Paradise, wasn’t it?  Just

                        off Tottenham Court Road. You were good.

MADDY:        Wouldn’t be hard, would it?  Most of them were better

                        on their backs than on their toes.

ROGER:        I mean it. You were class.  Does John know?

MADDY:        It never came up. (she cracks the whip) 

                        And I want to keep it that way.

ROGER:        Okay by me.  You should take it up again, gal.

                        (leers) Old strippers never lose their knickers, eh?

MADDY:        Down, I said.  (she prods him in the chest with the whip

                        handle, forcing him to kneel)

ROGER:        I’m beginning to like this even…

MADDY:        Silence!  From now on you will speak only when spoken

                        to.  And later, if you’re a good little doggy, you might

                        be rewarded with something to chew on…(smile)

                         maybe even something to lick…

ROGER:        Now you’re talking my…oow! 

                        (Maddy raps him on the knuckles) 

                        ‘ere that’s a bit…Oow!  Oow! 

                        (Maddy raps him again)

MADDY:        Get the idea?  (Roger nods)  Good. 

                        (she produces a dog collar and lead)

                        Now, put this on…( Roger does so)

                         … because bad dogs like you have

                        to be kept under control…isn’t that right?  (Roger nods)

The cigar has been placed in an ashtray by this time, and Roger is eyeing it.

   MADDY:     Does Roger want to smoke?  Well, Roger must beg

                        (Roger begs by flapping his hands and panting)

                        Roger must do better than that.  Roger must lick my feet…

                        (She removes her shoes and stands, waiting)

                        Come on, boy, lick!…

ROGER:        (eventually doing so) Cor!  Stone the crows!  (he spits)

                        I hope my next assignment tastes better than that.

 MAD:             There’s a good doggie.

.She pats him on the head, then sticks the cigar in his mouth. She leads him round the room by the lead: he follows her, attempting his impression of a dog bounding. She jerks the lead, causing him to leap upwards. As he does so, his trousers falls down, revealing a pair of y-fronts.

MADDY:        (laughing despite herself)

                        Oh my God!  Geoffrey Archer y-fronts!

                         (he attempts to pull his trousers up)

                        No!  Leave them….Sit, boy…sit!  No!  Not there!

                        (she places a stool close to him)

                        There.  Sit!  (he does so, his trousers round his ankles)

ROGER:        This is…oow! (he is hit)

MAD:              Ah-ah.  Now we are going to play a little game – you like games

                        don’t you? – but just in case you are a bad dog 

                        and try  to run away…I have a little surprise planned…

As she speaks, she is uncovering an eye-bolt fixed to the back wall. She fixes the lead to this, using a padlock.  She then checks the collar attached to Roger’s neck, and we can see that she is fixing a padlock to it. Roger is now tied securely to the wall, his movement restricted to a radius of about eight feet.

                        …because we don’t want you running away now, do we?

                          Not before the fun starts, do we?

While she has been doing all the above, Roger has been distracted by her sensuous movements – deliberate on her part of course – so that he isn’t

really aware that he is tethered securely.

                        …Would you like something to drink?

  She removes the cigar from his mouth, looks at it, then puts it in the ashtray

                        …You can speak.

ROGER:        I could murder a can of Stella.

She goes to the fridge (off) and returns with a can of lager, and a dog bowl.

ROGER:        You’re a diamond.  I always said to John you were a…ooow… (Maddy hits him )  You said I could talk…

MADDY:        That was then. 

                        (she places the bowl in front of him and pours some beer into it)

                        You can drink that – while I go and prepare.  (she exits)

ROGER:        Drink that, she says!

He tries to reach the drink, but it is out of reach. He tries for the cigar, but that, too, is out of reach. He reaches up to undo the collar, but finds that he can’t. Further inspection reveals that he is securely tethered. He tries pulling the lead from the wall, but fails.

ROGER:        ‘Ere, what’s the game?  I like a bit of fun, but this is

                        getting beyond a joke…

Maddy returns, having changed into more conventional clothes.

MADDY:        It’s not a game. Not any more.  It’s deadly serious.

ROGER:        Where’s Miss Whiplash? You takin’ the mick or something?

MADDY:        (as the door bell rings) I’ve seen all you have to offer,

                        and believe me, it’s not worth taking.

Maddy goes to the door, and lets Liza in. Liza marches in and ‘inspects’ Roger, making sure to stay out of reach.

LIZA:            Not interrupting anything, am I?  ‘Cos I can always

                         come back…when you’re less tied up.

ROGER:        (trying to pull his trousers up)

                        Where’s my money, you bitch?

LIZA:              Somewhere safe away from you.

ROGER:        And my house.  You can’t sell my house.

LIZA:              Our house, dear.  Remember, marriage is a partnership.

                        Everything down the middle, isn’t that right?  But don’t

                        worry, once the sale goes through, you will get your

                        share.  Eventually. I’m not greedy, I only want what’s rightfully mine.

ROGER:        You cant!  I’ll swing for you first.

He rushes at her, only to be pulled up short by the lead. He falls down – and so does his trousers

LIZA:              Oh dear.

ROGER:        Come on, what’s the effing game then.

LIZA:              Not the game you were expecting, anyway.

ROGER:        This is…inhuman. I thought…

LIZA:              We all know what you thought. You thought you were

                        in for a bit of pleasant skin-lashing…

                        (she takes the whip from Maddy and cracks it)

                        and maybe a nice blow-job at the end of it…

                        (she cracks it again, this time connecting)

Roger howls in pain and rage.  Maddy brings two chairs and a small table to the foreground, and places them out of Roger’s reach. The table has a red button attached to its surface. Underneath it can be seen a large knob and a trailing cable.

LIZA:              What more could a man ask for at the end of a hard day?

                         Nothing like a bit of bondage  and oral sex for winding down…

                        I’m not embarrassing you?  (laughs)  Oh dear!

                         Me, I’m the High Queen of going down… remember?

                        When it comes to blow jobs I can blow for England,

ROGER:        You filthy…

LIZA:              I can do you one of my specialties right now.

                         Half price…what do you say?

ROGER:        Jesus, you’re disgusting…

Maddy has now arranged the table and chairs to her satisfaction.

MADDY:        We are going to play a game – but I can’t promise you will like it.

                        It’s a sort of question time with penalties.

                        And the penalties depend on the answers you give…

ROGER:        You can’t do this to me, you bloody cows…

MADDY:        And if you don’t answer…

ROGER:        Are you fucking listening?

MADDY:        We’ll cut your balls off.

She places a pair of shears on the table. There is silence for a moment.

MADDY:        Now that we’ve got your attention…

LIZA:              We’ll start off with a simple question. What is your name?

Roger laughs, then sits on his stool and folds his arms.  He has no intention of playing the game.

LIZA:              You’re amused? Perhaps you think it’s a stupid question…?

ROGER:        A stupid game…

LIZA:              The stupidity lies in not answering.

ROGER:        You can’t make me answer.

Maddy presses the red switch and Roger immediately leaps from his stool and brings his hands to his neck.

ROGER:        Christ! Turn it off!  Turn the facking thing off!

LIZA:              I didn’t hear your answer.

ROGER:        (dancing about) Ohh!….you…you!  Alright, alright…it’s Roger.

LIZA:              Roger what?

ROGER:        Roger…fack…Roger Stackpole.

Maddy pushes the red button again.  Roger subsides.

LIZA:              See?  That wasn’t so difficult after all.

ROGER:        You..you…(he sees Maddy’s hand hover over the button)

                         What the hell is that thing?

MADDY:        (teasingly) Well now, do you know, I’m not too sure.

                        (laughs)  Tell you what though – it’s a lot better than the

                         wax treatment.  See… you press this little red button and…

                        (she does so and Roger dances again)…

                        well, you can feel what it does. And if you turn this knob….

                        ( she does so and Roger dances even more)….

                        well, you feel it even more.

Roger is left dancing for a moment, until Liza draws Maddy’s attention to the fact.  She switches the machine off, and Roger subsides, gasping.

MADDY:        Oops!  Sorry.  We don’t want to kill you off just yet.

ROGER:        A drink….I…need…something.

Liza edges the can of lager within Roger’s reach, using her foot. Roger grabs for it and drinks deeply.

LIZA:              You know, I could get to like this.  Remember  those old war films?   Someone is always being tortured?

                         (imitates an interrogator)  

                        Right, you swine,  we haf vays of making you talk…

MADDY:        And lights.  They always have bright lights shining in their faces…

LIZA:              Uniforms too….Don’t forget uniforms….

During this last exchange, they rush around, looking for props to ‘support’ their game.  Maddy finds a torch and a military-style overcoat.  Liza finds a pair of black leather gloves in her bag, and ‘darkens’ her face with make-up.  She ties her hair back in a pony-tail, then dons the overcoat.  She takes the torch and shines it in Roger’s face.

ROGER:        You’re facking crazy…

Maddy goes to the light switch and dims the lights

ROGER:        Completely doo-lally. (beat)  What do you want?

During the following exchange, Maddy speaks in what she believes is a German accent

MADDY:        How do you feel about turkeys?

ROGER:        Turkeys?

MADDY:        Yeah. Turkeys.  You know…bit like chickens, only

                        bigger.  And redder.  And they make funny noises.

                        (to Liza)  How do they go again?

LIZA:              I don’t know.  Cheep-cheep, isn’t it?

MADDY:        No,no.  Chickens go cheep.  (to Roger) How do turkeys go?

ROGER:        I don’t facking….(Maddy presses the switch)…gobble-

                        gobble, gobble-gobble…gobble-gobble…( switch off)

MADDY:        That’s more like it…( switch on)  One more time, I think….

ROGER:        gobble-gobble, gobble-gobble…

LIZA:              Chickens?

ROGER:        Cheep-cheep, cheep-cheep….

MADDY:        Turkeys?

ROGER:        Gobble-gobble, gobble-gobble…

LIZA:              Chickens?

ROGER:        Gobble-gobble, gobble-gobble.

LIZA:              No, chickens.

ROGER:        Cheep-cheep, cheep-cheep…

MADDY:        (switch off) By jove, I think  he’s got it!

Roger more or less collapses onto his stool. Maddy walks around him, ‘inspecting’ him with the torch.

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