fiction

LIFE AINT WOT IT USED TO BE (continued)

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Scene 2

Lionel’s new place. He is  calling it THE FUN PALACE. It has lots of trendy touches; cushion everywhere, coffee  tables, drinks, food, lots of pictures on the walls. Lionel is smoking (it could be weed) with a glass of drink in his hand.

LIONEL:                                                                                                                                                                            The life of…Lionel eh! I’ve got money coming out of me…out of every orifice

John and Alma are wandering about, admiring the lavishness of the place.

JOHN:                                                                                                                                                                               By the looks of things you’re getting rid of it  as fast as you’re getting it in. (looks around) How much did this kip set you back?

LIONEL:                                                                                                                                                                        There was not much left out of a hundred K. And another hundred to get it up to the standard I have in mind.

JOHN:                                                                                                                                                                        HUH!  It’s far from the life of…Lionel you were reared.  Where was it again? Whitechapel?

LIONEL:                                                                                                                                                                                  I’ll have you know we were almost middle class. Dad was a tailor. He had his own business.

JOHN                                                                                                                                                                                OhYeah!. That  broken shed at the bottom of your garden, wasn’t it?

LIONEL:                                                                                                                                                                         We got by. (sees Alma studying some paintings) What do you think Alma?

ALMA:

(looking at a painting) This is very good. Why has this one got your name on the bottom?

LIONEL:

That’s because I painted it.

JOHN&ALMA (amazed)                                                                                                                                                                       WHAT?

LIONEL:                                                                                                                                                                   grinning)
(I was an artist long before any of this…(pause) At the age of thirteen I won a scholarship to St Martins School of Art on the Charing Cross Road. Imagine, at that age catapulted in to the weird world of beardie bohemians and naked art. One of the first models I had to draw was Quentin Crisp, who later became famous for writing The Naked Civil Servant. And when I drew him he was naked too! Anyway, by the time I was sixteen I mounted my first exhibition at the College, mostly paintings of pregnant women. I was pretty good apparently.                                                               But then, when I left home, my mother had a clear-out of my room. Everything, including most of my paintings wound up in a skip. Mind you, by then I had given up painting anyway

ALMA:                                                                                                                            Why?  Why did you pack it in?

LIONEL:                                                                                                                         because it’s too lonely an occupation, Alma. And I like plenty of people around me -as you know!

ALMA:
(smiling)
I didn’t know you had it in you, Lionel. You’re full of surprises.

JOHN:
(teasing)
Yeah, full of something.

LIONEL:
(laughing)
Cheeky bastard.

ALMA:
(pointing at another painting)
Is that supposed to be you, Lionel? It looks… abstract.

LIONEL:
(grinning)
It’s modern art, Alma. You wouldn’t understand.

JOHN:
(concerned)
Lionel, you’re spending money like it’s going out of fashion. What happens when the well runs dry?

LIONEL:
(defiant)
It won’t, John. The money will keep coming.

ALMA:
(softly)
Just be careful, Lionel. Success can be a double-edged sword.

LIONEL:
(smiling)
Don’t worry about me, Alma. I’ve got everything under control.

(He takes a long drink from his glass, then sets it down with a shaky hand. The lights dim slightly, focusing on Lionel as the others fade into the background.)

LIONEL:
(to the audience)
But the truth was, I didn’t have everything under control. The money, the fame, the pressure… it was all starting to take its toll.

 (looks around as if fearful somebody might be listening)

To be honest, I have already sold the rights to Oliver to Donald Albery. Well, I didn’t know it was going to be so successful, did I? And worse still, I have already sold the film rights to Max Bygraves!  Well gave them away more or less, for the price of a packet of fags and a few beers! Well, five hundred smackers – and now I hear tell he’s already been offered a quarter of a million for them!

(The lights dim further as the scene transitions to the next part of the story.)

Lionel sitting at a table. John comes in and throws some papers on the Table

JOHN:                                                                                                                                    We need to talk about TWANG!!

LIONEL: (sweeps the papers of the table)                                                                            No, we fucking don’t

JOHN: (picking the papers up)                                                                                            Yes, we bloody do. You’re broke. Stoney broke.

LIONEL:                                                                                                                                      Think I don’t bloody know that! Okay. I admit it was a turkey. I thought it was the golden goose, but it turned out to be a bloody turkey. The biggest turkey I ever wrote.

JOHN:                                                                                                                                          What went wrong, Lionel? (shows him the papers) Everything’s in the red.

LIONEL:                                                                                                                             What could I do, John? When my other backers pulled out, I was left with only that American outfit – and they wanted guarantees. So, I had to cough up myself when the shit hit the you-know-what. (pause)                                                                          I could have walked away I suppose. But I thought – I genuinely thought -I had a big hit on my hands. I believed in it, John. Really believed. I even thought it could be bigger than OLIVER!                                                                                                    (pause)                                                                                                                                  What went wrong? I don’t really know. Too many chiefs, maybe. (pause)                      I knew we were in trouble when Joan Greenwood walked out two nights before the opening.                                                                                                                          It was supposed to be a comedy, but in the end, I don’t know what it became. (laughs) Robin turned out to be more of an East End wide boy than anything else.

JOHN (laughing)                                                                                                                           A bit like yourself, eh! Robin Hood and his Merry Men a comedy!

LIONEL:                                                                                                                   Yeah. The critics killed it off even before we opened. After a month of desperation I’d had enough and called it a day. (shakes his head)                                                        Y’know, OLIVER! was still running in the West End on the night we closed.

Another pause as he pulls a piece of paper from his pocket

LIONEL:                                                                                                                             I wrote a song about it the other night. Wanna hear it? (sings)

Twang! Goes My Heart
(A playful, upbeat tune with a touch of melancholy)

Verse 1:
Oh, the stage was set, the lights were bright,
We dreamed of glory, we dreamed of night.
But the jokes fell flat, the set fell down,
And the critics laughed as they tore us down.

Chorus:
Twang! Goes my heart,
When the curtains part,
And the world can see my art.
Twang! Goes my soul,
When the reviews roll,
And they say I’ve lost control.

Verse 2:
I wrote the songs, I wrote the lines,
I thought they’d sparkle, I thought they’d shine.
But the audience groaned, the actors cried,
And my dreams of fame went up in smoke and died.

Chorus:
Twang! Goes my heart,
When the show falls apart,
And the crowd just wants to depart.
Twang! Goes my pride,
When I’m left inside,
With nowhere left to hide.

Bridge:
Oh, the spotlight fades, the laughter dies,
But I’ll keep on singing beneath these skies.
For every flop, there’s a spark of gold,
And a story that’s waiting to be told.

Final Chorus:
Twang! Goes my heart,
But I’ll make a new start,
With a song and a dream and a part.
Twang! Goes my soul,
But I’ll reach my goal,
And I’ll never let them take my role.

Outro:
Twang! Goes my heart,
But the show’s just the start,
And I’ll keep on playing my part.
Twang! Goes my heart…

End of scene

LIFE AINT WOT IT USED TO BE (continued)

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ACT 2

Scene 1

Scene: A Dream of Lionel-Land

The stage is dark. A soft spotlight appears on Alma, sitting at her dressing room mirror, looking tired. She hums softly, then drifts off to sleep. The lights shift, and the stage transforms into a whimsical, colourful dreamscape—Lionel-Land!

Lionel Bart enters, dressed in a flamboyant suit, leading a lively ensemble of dancers and musicians. They perform “I  WISH I WAS IN LIONEL-[LAND” with Alma joining in, her spirits lifted by the fantasy.

Alma: (singing) 

I wish I was in Lionel-Land, hooray! Hooray! Where the nights are bright and the skies are gay! Hooray!

“I Wish I Was in Lionel-Land”

(In the style of Lionel Bart – to the air of I Wish I Was In Dixie- Land)

(Verse 1)
Oh, I’ve seen the lights of London town,
Where the rain falls down and the world spins ‘round.
But I dream of a place, oh, so grand,
Where the streets are paved with melody, in Lionel-Land!

(Chorus)
I wish I was in Lionel-Land, hooray! Hooray!
Where the trumpets play and the dancers sway.
With a song in my heart and a skip in my hand,
I’d be oh so happy in Lionel-Land!

(Verse 2)
There’s a pub on the corner, the tunes never end,
With a piano man and a jolly old friend.
We’ll sing “Consider Yourself” with the band,
And the whole world’s a stage in Lionel-Land!

(Chorus)
I wish I was in Lionel-Land, hooray! Hooray!
Where the nights are bright and the skies are gay.
With a wink and a nod, and a jolly good band,
I’d be oh so merry in Lionel-Land!

(Bridge)
Oh, the rivers would flow with a musical stream,
And the stars would all dance to a ragtime dream.
Every cobblestone hums, every lamppost can sing,
In the land where the melodies ring!

(Verse 3)
So I’ll pack up my troubles, my hat, and my cane,
And I’ll hop on a train to that sweet refrain.
For the world’s full of wonder, but I understand,
That my heart belongs in Lionel-Land!

(Final Chorus)
I wish I was in Lionel-Land, hooray! Hooray!
Where the music’s grand and the laughs never end.
With a song in my soul and a smile so grand,
I’ll be oh so happy in Lionel-Land!

(Outro)
Oh, Lionel-Land, my sweet, sweet home,
Where the melodies wander and the stories roam.
With a tune in my pocket and a dream in my hand,
I’ll be forever in Lionel-Land!

The song ends with a flourish, and the dream fades. Alma wakes up, back in her dressing room, smiling wistfully.

Later, in Lionel’s flat. Lionel at the piano trying to compose. Alma helps.

ALMA:                                                                                                                            I had a dream last night. Well, in my dressing room. I nodded off for a little while, and I remember you were singing a song you had just written. It was called ‘I wish I was in Lionel-Land’  or something like that. It sounded like the air to ‘I wish I was in Dixie’, but the words were different. Then I woke up.

Lionel laughs then plays a few notes and sings.

LIONEL:                                                                                                                           I know that tune. It’s an old American Civil War song. I think someone recorded it recently. (sings a few bars). ‘I wish I was in Dixie/ Look away, look away/ In dixie land I will make my stand. Look away…                                                                                                    something like that. Do you remember the words from last night?

John enters with some drinks etc

ALMA:

Ha! I was dreaming! (pause/sings) I think the chorus went something like this;            I wish I was in Lionel-Land, hooray! Hooray!/ Where the nights are bright and the skies are gay! Hooray!

LIONEL:                                                                                                                       Hmmm. It might have possibilities. Maybe I will work on something later on. (to John, taking a drink) I wrote a new song last night – apparently

JOHN:                                                                                                                            In your dreams!

ALMA:                                                                                                                                      No. In my dreams. (smiles) Oh, don’t ask, John (to Lionel) I think it has your whimsical style Li; full of charm…with a touch of nostalgia.

LIONEL:                                                                                                                              Oh, I’m  nostalgic now , am I! All my songs are merry, I’ll have you know.

AMMA:                                                                                                                             You sound like Sean Kenny now. I remember him saying once ‘All our wars are merry, and all our songs are sad’. Or was it the other way round?

LIONEL:                                                                                                                          Yeah, well, Sean’s Irish, so he should know. ‘for the great Gaels of Ireland are the men that God made mad/ all their wars are merry and all their songs are sad’. Chesterton.

JOHN:                                                                                                                             Hark at him! A poet and we don’t know it!

LIONEL:                                                                                                                        As Sean himself might say, ‘If I didn’t go to school itself, I met the scholars’ on the way home’

JOHN:                                                                                                                          Yeah that sounds like Sean. Full of Blarney! A bit like yourself, come to think of it! You’ll be telling me next you read Chesterton at school!

LIONEL:                                                                                                                        All I read at school was the Dandy. Desperate Dan and Korky the Cat were my introduction to literature. As for Chesterton, I sometimes found that the poets of the past were often good for tuning up my own lyrics.

JOHN:                                                                                                                        You mean you nicked some of their words!

LIONEL:                                                                                                                      Why not? Everyone does it, in my view. There’s nothing new under the sun. I bet even Shakespeare did it!

JOHN:                                                                                                                      Comparing yourself to Shakespeare now eh! (to Alma) What do you think Alma           

LIONEL:                                                                                                                    Hah! I’m more popular than Shakespeare ever was in his day. I bet he didn’t have two plays running at the same time in the West End. Both playing to full houses every  night!

ALMA:                                                                                                                      Don’t get too cocky Li. You know the old saying? The bigger they are, the harder they fall. What’s  next on your agenda?

LIONEL:                                                                                                                                 Oh, I have got big plans for the next three or four years. First will be Blitz, then Maggie May, and then my piece de resistance – Twang.

JOHN:                                                                                                                       And what’s going to pay for all this extravagance?

LIONEL:                                                                                                                       Well, Oliver’s doing well isn’t it? And it’s only got started. They say it will run for years.

JOHN:                                                                                                                         Do you remember what Noel Coward said to you a little while ago. ‘Dear boy, never put your own money in any of your own plays’

LIONEL:                                                                                                                       Ah! Coward. What does he know? He’s a has-been – and has been for the last twenty years or more. Come on, Let’s celebrate.

Drinking, laughing, singing, dancing etc (Lionel slyly swallow s couple of tablets on the qt) They sing/play a couple of songs from Blitz & Maggie May

CONSIDER YOURSELF

(From Oliver!, music and lyrics by Lionel Bart)

Consider yourself at home,
Consider yourself one of the family.
We’ve taken to you so strong,
It’s clear we’re going to get along.

Consider yourself well in,
Consider yourself part of the furniture.
There isn’t a lot to spare,
Who cares? Whatever we’ve got, we share!

Chorus:
If it should chance to be
We should see some harder days,
Empty larder days,
Why grouse?                                                                                                              Always a-chance we’ll meet
Somebody to foot the bill,
Then the drinks are on the house!

Chorus:
Consider yourself our mate,
We don’t want to have no fuss,
For after some consideration,
We can consider…
Yourself one of us!

Consider yourself at home,
Consider yourself one of the family.
We’ve taken to you so strong,
It’s clear we’re going to get along.

Consider yourself our friend,
Consider this a ’and up, if you please, sir!
We’re very ’appy to give
You our ’umble company.


We’re ’appy to ’ave with us
Cheerfulness, charm and innocence,
All the ingredients
For ’appiness.

We now hear the sounds of guns and bombs, people screaming etc And the voice of Winston Churchill on radio;

WC: (voice)

I would say to the House… that I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat. We have before us an ordeal of the most grievous kind. You ask, what is our policy? I will say: it is to wage war, by sea, land and air, with all our might and with all the strength that God can give us; to wage war against a monstrous tyranny, never surpassed in the dark, lamentable catalogue of human crime. That is our policy. You ask, what is our aim? I can answer in one word: it is victory, victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory, however long and hard the road may be; for without victory, there is no survival.

Lights change and they sing the song MAGGIE MAY, from the musical of the same name.

MAGGIE MAE

 ow gather round you sailor boys, and listen to my plea                                               And when you’ve heard my tale you’ll pity me                                                                 For I was a real damned fool in the port of Liverpool                                                    The first time that I came home from the sea I was paid off at the Home,              from a voyage to Sierra Leone                                                                                           Two pounds ten and sixpence was my pay                                                                When I drew the tin I grinned,                                                                                                     but I very soon got skinned By a girl by the name of Maggie May

Oh, Maggie, Maggie May, they’ve taken you away                                                      They’ve sent you to Van Diemen’s cruel shore For you robbed so many a sailor, and skinned so many a whaler                                                                                          And you’ll never shine in Paradise Street no more                                                                                                                                          

I shan’t forget the day when I first met Maggie May                                                            She was cruising up and down on Canning Place With a figure so divine,                     like a frigate of the line So, being a sailor, I gave chase                                                          Oh, Maggie, Maggie May, they’ve taken you away                                                             They’ve sent you to Van Diemen’s cruel shore                                                                            For you robbed so many a sailor, and skinned so many a whaler

LIFE AINT WOT IT USED TO BE (continued)

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Scene 7

Lionel’s grubby flat.

LIONEL:

I had become enchanted with the story Well, the film version anyway. The first song I wrote was WHERE IS LOVE. 1 was in my car, returning from somewhere, and I had to pull over and write it down while it was still fresh in my mind.

You know somethin’? I have never spent more than an hour on any tune. A song should be like a sneeze – spontaneous.

Anyway, 1fled with a mate to a little fishing village near Torremolinos in Spain and rented a little place there, with a maid, for two pounds a week and wrote OLIVER! there.

That little fishing village near Torremolinos… it was like another world. The sun, the sea, the quiet… it all came together, and the songs just poured out of me.

When I came back I hawked it around about a dozen managements and they all turned it down. They said, with it full of orphans and set in a workhouse, it sounded too depressing.

Eventually, Donald Albery, owner of four West End theatres, took a chance on it. The rest is history…

Lighting changes and we see Lionel, John, Alma, and a few musicians sing/play a medley of  songs: WHERE IS LOVE…GOT TO PICK A POCKET OR TWO…REVIEWING THE SITUATION

(add a verse or two of each song)

ALMA:
(singing along)
You’ve outdone yourself this time, Lionel. This is magic.

JOHN:
(grinning)
I told you it would be a hit.

End of scene

Scene 8

Lionel sitting at a table drinking from a glass of whiskey. He looks at the almost empty whiskey bottle. John and Alma are close by.

LIONEL:

(to John)  You drinkin’ all my whiskey?

JOHN:

Your whiskey! Who bought and paid for it? Come on, Lionel, you’ve had enough for  now.

ALMA:

Yes Lionel. You’ve got a premiere in a few hours. You need to sober up.

LIONEL: Who’s drunk? It would take more than this gnats piss (waves his glass) to get me high (waves about) You got anything stronger? (this to John) You know…the old wacky baccky…or somethin’ stronger…

JOHN:

I don’t do any of that stuff. You know that. Why don’t you ask your other so-called mates.

ALMA:

Lionel! You’re supposed to be escorting me to the show. You need to pull yourself together.

JOHN:

Something’s bothering you. I can see it In your eyes. What is it?

LIONEL:

I’ll tell you what it is, mate. If anything goes wrong on that stage tonight I am going to walk out of the theatre and wander round Trafalgar Square until it’s all over.  That’s how wound up I feel.

ALMA:

What can go wrong? That last rehearsal was flawless. Everybody said so.

LIONEL:

I’m a believer that if something can go wrong it will.

JOHN:

A pessimist!

LIONEL:

Yeah. A glass half-empty kinda’ guy…(looks  at his empty glass) which reminds me…

Lights dim. Lionel on his own.

 LIONEL:

Something did go wrong. (pause) I’m sitting in the stalls in my ‘escape hatch’ when it  does. At the start of scene two, one of the scenery bits is supposed to move away a bit to reveal a domestic scene but it doesn’t move far enough, and in my state  I saw doom and disaster. I don’t suppose anybody noticed except my self and Sean Kenny the set designer. But I panicked and took off for Trafalgar Square and walked around in a daze until I guessed the show was over. As I got back I could hear this rumbling noise and all this activity outside the theatre. My first thought was ‘my God, they think it was awful’. Then Donald Albery, the owner, spotted me, and grabbed my arm, shouting ‘you have got to go in. They are shouting for you in there. They won’t leave until you go in. There have already been something like twenty five curtain calls. We have a hit. A big hit’

And we had. The biggest hit in the history of the West End musical.  It was to run for 2618 performances,  more than seven years. And during that time it had also run for more than three years on Broadway….

Many people run on stage shouting ‘it’s a hit…we have a hit’ etc. Lionel is laughing and dancing with everybody. We hear a version of FOOD. GLORIOUS FOOD… ETC,

Lights dim, end of scene

END OF ACT 1

LIFE AINT WOT IT USED TO BE (continued)

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Scene 5

LIONEL: (in spotlight)                                                                                               My mother was forty-nine when she had me. Or so she said! Or was it forty-one? Anyway, by that time she had very little strength left to give me the affection and love I craved.  I remember sitting by the piano as a boy, playing tunes to make her smile. But she was too tired to even clap. Not only was I deprived of love, I had no money either, so you can imagine when I hit it really big with Oliver, the novelty of being wealthy was more than I could cope with. Trouble is money doesn’t automatically bring love, does it? And I needed love. So I thought I could buy it.

John Gorman appears in another spot. They both sing a verse of ‘Can’t Buy Me Love.

BOTH:                                                                                                                           Can’t buy me love, love
Can’t buy me love

I’ll buy you a diamond ring my friend
If it makes you feel alright
I’ll get you anything my friend
If it makes you feel alright
‘Cause I don’t care too much for money
For money can’t buy me love

LIONEL:

I wish I had written that. Not bloody Lennon.

JOHN:

Don’t forget McCartney.

LIONEL:

They wrote that in Alma’s flat you know. In fact I think she helped.( Pause}                   

Money can’t buy me love.

JOHN:

You bought plenty of other stuff though. You’ve always been chasing something, Lionel. Love, fame, money… but you’ve already got more than most people ever dream of. You had four fancy cars at one stage. And a chauffeur-driven limo. Not to mention that palace in Chelsea.

LIONEL:

Aye. The Fun Palace. Money was no object and I had this desperate need to be loved. And I used to think that giving someone an expensive present was a foolproof way of buying their affection. Today, of course, by some irony the situation is reversed. I’m so broke it is they who are giving me the gifts. The worst thing about being bankrupt John, Is having no…money! It really pisses me off. In fact, I was so pissed off this morning that I wrote this new song – Bankruptcy Blues.

He hands john a copy of the lyrics and they sing it, with Lionel on piano

BOTH:

Bankruptcy Blues”
(In the style of Lionel Blair)

(Verse 1)
Oh, the bills came knocking, and the debts piled high,
The bank said, “Sorry, love, but now it’s goodbye!”
I once had a fortune, now I’ve got naught but air,
But I’ll tap-dance through the chaos, ‘cause I just don’t care!

(Chorus)
It’s the Bankruptcy Blues, oh, what a lark!
I’m singing in the dark, though the future’s not so stark.
With a wink and a grin, I’ll let the troubles slide,
For every cloud’s got a silver lining inside!

(Verse 2)
The creditors are calling, but I’m out of sight,
I’m waltzing through the ruins, keeping spirits light.
They took my car, my house, and my fancy yacht,
But they’ll never take my joy—oh no, they cannot!

(Chorus)
It’s the Bankruptcy Blues, oh, what a show!
I’m down, but not out, and the world will know.
With a twirl and a spin, I’ll rise from the ash,
For life’s a grand performance, and I’m here to sashay!

(Bridge)
So here’s to the dreamers who’ve lost it all,
Who’ve stumbled and fallen but still stand tall.
Bankruptcy’s a chapter, not the end of the book,
With a song in my heart and a hopeful look!

(Final Chorus)
It’s the Bankruptcy Blues, oh, what a ride!
I’ll take it in my stride, with my pride as my guide.
With a laugh and a song, I’ll turn the tide,
For life’s a stage, and I’m still on the bright side!

(Outro)
So raise a glass to the ups and the downs,
To the smiles and the frowns, and the spins and the rounds.
Bankruptcy’s a dance, and I’m leading the way,
With a twinkle in my eye, I’ll steal the day!

JOHN:

There’s still life in the old dog eh! (pause) When you mentioned the Fun Palace back there, something that’s been bothering me for ages came to mind. Where did that name come from?

LIONEL thinks for a moment

LIONEL:                                                                                                                       The Fun Palace? It was something that Joan – Joan Littlewood – wanted to set up. An avant-garde theatre scene of the 1960s. A sort a visionary project conceived by Joan  and architect Cedric Price, designed to be a dynamic, interactive cultural space that blurred the lines between art, technology, and community.                               Although it was never fully realized, it remains a symbol of radical creativity and innovation. It was never built due mainly to financial and logistical challenges.   Joan’s Fun Palace was supposed to be this grand, revolutionary thing. Mine? Just a fancy house with too many rooms and not enough love.                                     (laughs) I just nicked the name for my place!

Lionel visualises a conversation between himself and Joan

JOAN:
(gesturing wildly)
Imagine it, Lionel—a place where art, science, and community come together. No  

LIONEL:
(skeptical)
Sounds like a pipe dream, Joan. How are you going to pull it off?

JOAN:
(grinning)
With a little help from my friends. You in?

LIONEL:
(laughing)

If you build it Joan, they will come! (to the audience)
Life’s a stage, and I’m still dancing. Even if the music’s stopped.

End of scene

Scene 6
LIONEL:(to the audience)                                                                                           When I was a young kid in the East End, there was a sweet shop opposite our house where you could get a chocolate bar with a toffee in it for a penny. It was called ‘Oliver’, and the wrapper around it had a picture of a lad asking for more. I never forgot that image. And then I saw that film by David Leon…

John Gorman appears

JOHN:                                                                                                                       Yeah. Oliver. I was there too, remember? We had bunked off from our National Service to see it. I remember you sayin’ you had never even read Oliver Twist back then.

LIONEL:                                                                                                                           I still haven’t got round to it.

JOHN:                                                                                                                         How can you write a play about a book you haven’t even read?


LIONEL:                                                                                                                      Easy peasy. I was reading an article one night recently about how Dickens had gone about writing it, and it hit me—this story was meant to be sung. The characters, the drama, the heartbreak… it was all there, just waiting for a tune

He plays and sings at the Piano. Alma Cogan comes in during this and joins in

LIONEL:

I’ve already written a few (sings’ Food, Glorious, Food’) 

 Is it worth the waiting for?
If we live ’til eighty four
All we ever get is gru…el!
Ev’ry day we say our prayer —
Will they change the bill of fare?
Still we get the same old gru…el!
There is not a cust, not a crumb can we find,
Can we beg, can we borrow, or cadge,
But there’s nothing to stop us from getting a thrill
When we all close our eyes and imag…ine

Food, glorious food!
Hot sausage and mustard!
While we’re in the mood —
Cold jelly and custard!
Pease pudding and saveloys!
What next is the question?
Rich gentlemen have it, boys —
In-di-gestion!

Food, glorious food!
We’re anxious to try it.
Three banquets a day —
Our favourite diet!

Just picture a great big steak —
Fried, roasted or stewed.
Oh, food,
Wonderful food,
Marvellous food,
Glorous food.

source: https://www.lyricsondemand.com/soundtracks/o/oliverlyrics/foodgloriousfoodlyrics.html                                                                                                                                                       

LIONEL:
There’s a lot more, but It goes something like that.

ALMA:
A musical about a workhouse boy? Lionel, are you sure this will work?
LIONEL:
It’s not just a workhouse boy. It’s a story about survival, hope, and the power of love. And I feel it’s going to be a hit. (Pauses) What if they hate it though? What if I’ve made a terrible mistake?
JOHN:

Relax, Lionel. You’re creating something extraordinary. Just wait and see.

LIONEL:

Alma, I was thinking of asking you to maybe play the part of Nancy. You know who Nancy was?

ALMA:

(laughing) Of course I do. Not like you, I read the book. She was Bill Sykes girlfriend

LIONEL:

Yes, she was. Nancy is one of the most complex and compelling characters in Oliver!, She plays a crucial role in the story, embodying themes of loyalty, love, and sacrifice. Here’s a bit of a scene I am working on with Nancy and  Oliver. Let’s read it together.

He hands her a sheet of the script.

LIONEL:

I’ll be Oliver. (then he looks at John and hands him a page) You can be Bill

LIONEL:(reads) A dimly lit room in Fagin’s hideout. Nancy is sitting alone, holding a shawl. Oliver enters, looking scared.

OLIVER:
(softly)
Nancy?

NANCY:
(smiling)
Oliver. Come here, love.

LIONEL reads. ‘Oliver sits beside her, and she wraps the shawl around him’.

NANCY:
You’re safe now, Oliver. I won’t let anything happen to you.

OLIVER:
(tearfully)
But what about Bill? He’ll hurt you if he finds out.

NANCY:
(softly)
I know, love. But some things are worth the risk.

(She begins to sing As Long As He Needs Me, her voice filled with emotion.

NANCY:
(singing)
As long as he needs me…
Oh, yes, he does need me…
In spite of what you see…
…I’m sure that he needs me.

Who else would love him still
When they’ve been used so ill?
He knows I always will…
As long as he needs me.

I miss him so much when he is gone,
But when he’s near me
I don’t let on.

As she finishes, Bill Sikes enters, his face dark with anger.

BILL:
(grabbing Nancy)
What do you think you’re doing, Nancy?

NANCY:
(defiantly)
I’m doing what’s right, Bill. For once in my life, I’m doing what’s right.

BILL:
(angrily)
You’ll regret this, Nancy.

He drags her away as Oliver watches, helpless. The lights dim as the scene fades.

LIONEL:

That’s far as I’ve got. What do you think? Are you up for it?

ALMA:

I don’t know. You know how I hate being tied down to anything – or any place – for too long.  I’m a singer Lionel. I like variety. A new place every week. A long run is just not my scene. (pause} Look at Fings Aint Wot they Used To Be. It’s already been running over six months in the West End. And they say it’s sold out for the rest of the year. And it ran for over a year at Stratford East before that.

LIONEL:

And you could have been part of it Alma. Instead, Barbara Windsor is getting all the attention.

ALMA:

Like I said, I don’t think it’s me.
LIONEL:

You might come to regret it. I just have a feeling that this is the big one.

ALMA:

(smiles and sings)

Que Sera Sera, whatever will be will be

The future’s not ours to see, Que Sera Que Sera.

End of scene

LIFEAINT WOT IT USED TO BE (continued)

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Scene 4

Lionel’s flat. Sometime later. Both are relaxing

ALMA:
(pausing)
There’s something I need to tell you, Lionel.

LIONEL:
(stops playing)
Sounds serious. What is it?

Lionel’s flat. Sometime later. Both are relaxing

LIONEL:                                                                                                                     When did we first meet Alma? It was at your flat in Kensington, wasn’t it?

ALMA:                                                                                                                                     Yes, I think so. Tommy Steele brought you along. You had just written Rock With The Cavemen for him and it was a big hit.  Must be five years or more now.  (teasing)
But you’ve written so many hits—Living Doll for Cliff, As Long As He Needs Me for Shirley…but you can’t expect me to remember that far back.

We see her nervously fiddling and twisting her handkerchief

LIONEL:
(looking up)
You’ve been quiet tonight, Alma. Something on your mind

ALMA:
(takes a deep breath)
It’s about John. John Lennon.

LIONEL:
(raising an eyebrow)
What about him?

ALMA:
(hesitating)
We… we had a thing. A secret. It didn’t last long, but… it happened.

LIONEL:
(stunned)
You and Lennon? When?

ALMA:
(softly)
A couple of years ago. It was just after they started getting big. He was… different. Wild. And I was… curious.

LIONEL:
(bitterly)
Curious? Is that what you call it?

ALMA:
(defensive)
It wasn’t like that, Lionel. It was just a moment. A mistake.

LIONEL:
(standing up)
A mistake? You and one of the most famous men in the world? That’s not a mistake, Alma. That’s a headline.

ALMA:
(pleading)
It didn’t mean anything. It was just… something that happened.

LIONEL:
(sighing)
And now you’re telling me. Why?

ALMA:
(because I care about you, Lionel. Because I don’t want there to be any secrets between us.

LIONEL:
(softening)
Secrets have a way of coming out, Alma.

ALMA:
(smiling faintly)
I know. But I’d rather you hear it from me.

(They sit in silence for a moment, the weight of her confession hanging in the air. Lionel walks over to the piano and plays a few notes, lost in thought.)

LIONEL:
(softly)
You’re full of surprises, Alma.

ALMA:
(smiling)
That’s what keeps life interesting, isn’t it? Anyway, now it’s you turn.

LIONEL:                                                                                                                      My turn?

 ALMA:                                                                                                                         What secrets are you hiding? Come on…fair’s fair!

Lionel is silent for a while

LIONEL:                                                                                                                          I can’t read or write music

ALMA: (laughing)                                                                                                   Everybody already knows that! Come on…give!

LIONEL:                                                                                                              Well…lots of people think we are a couple, don’t they? I mean, we go places together, don’t we? And we often go away together for a couple of days… stuff like that.

ALMA:                                                                                                                             Like a married couple you mean? But we not really like that, are we?
(teasing) You know, Lionel, we’d make a great team. Maybe we should just get married and write hit songs together forever.


LIONEL:
(laughing)
And who’d keep us in line? You’d be off touring the world, and I’d be locked in a room with a piano.

ALMA: (jokingly)

I’m serious! (pause) Lionel, you’ve been my best friend, my collaborator, and the one person who always understands me. So, what do you say? Shall we make it official?

LIONEL:
(stunned)
Alma, are you serious?

ALMA: (smiling)

I could be
LIONEL                                                                                                                       N…No, you couldn’t.

ALMA:                                                                                                                       And we both know why, don’t we? (Lionel nods) We’re just friends. Good friends, but still only friends. (pause) Are you happy with that?

Lionel nods again

ALMA:                                                                                                                         Then so am I

ALMA sings ‘A HARD DAYS NIGHT’ while Lionel accompanies her on piano

Song by

The Beatles

It’s been a hard day’s night
And I’ve been working like a dog
It’s been a hard day’s night
I should be sleeping like a log
But when I get home to you
I find the things that you do
Will make me feel alright

You know I work all day
To get you money, to buy you things
And it’s worth it just to hear you say
You’re gonna give me everything
So why on earth should I moan
‘Cause when I get you alone
You know I feel OK

When I’m home
Everything seems to be right
When I’m home
Feeling you holding me tight
Tight, yeah

It’s been a hard day’s night
And I’ve been working like a dog
It’s been a hard day’s night
I should be sleeping like a log
But when I get home to you
I find the things that you do
Will make me feel alright, owww!

So why on earth should I moan
‘Cause when I get you alone
You know I feel OK

When I’m home
Everything seems to be right
When I’m home
Feeling you holding me tight
Tight, yeah

Mmm, it’s been a hard day’s night
And I’ve been working like a dog
It’s been a hard day’s night
I should be sleeping like a log
But when I get home to you
I find the things that you do
Will make me feel alright
You know I feel alright
You know I feel alright

(They share a quiet moment, the tension slowly easing. The lights dim as the scene fades.)

End of scene

Scene 5

LIFE AINT WOT IT USED TO BE (continued)

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scene 2

 A single spotlight on Lionel, now in his 50s, standing centre stage. The rest of the stage is dark, creating a sense of isolation. As Lionel speaks, faint projections or shadows of key moments from his life appear in the background (e.g., Joan Littlewood, Alma Cogan, the premiere of Oliver.

LIONEL:
(to the audience)
Twenty -five years. Doesn’t sound like much, does it? But when you look back… (pauses) It’s like staring at a different person. That young bloke, full of fire, thinking he could take on the world. And for a while, he did.

(He steps forward, the spotlight following him.)

LIONEL:
Fings Ain’t Wot They Used to Be. What a title, eh? Joan came up with that. Joan Littlewood. She always had a way with words. Me? I just wrote the tunes. But together… (smiling) We made magic. (pauses as he remembers)

 Frank Norman was the geezer who wrote the story.  It was his first play. A straight play; no music or nothin’; Frank sent it to Joan and she liked it, but told him it was a musical. She dragged me in to write the songs. ‘A cockney musical, Joan’, I said, ‘you’re ‘avin’ a laugh’. But she wasn’t. ‘Those days are long departed, dear, she said to me, ‘when every actress has roses round her vowels, and every actor wears a butler’s suit and speaks a mouthful of mockney. Oh no, this is the real Mccoy’.

And so Joan and her Theatre Workshop group began rehearsals at the Theatre Royal, Stratford East early in 1959. Some of those who took part are household names today; Yootha Joyce, Barbara Windsor, James Booth, George Sewell….

(He looks off into the distance, as if recalling a memory. A faint projection of Joan Littlewood appears in the background, directing a rehearsal. Then we see her for real at back of the stage ‘encouraging’ Rosey (Barbara Windsor) to sing a more upbeat rendition of WHERE DO LITTLE BIRDS GO)

JOAN:

Come on Barbara, it’s not a funeral march! Put some oomph into it

ROSEY:

Where do little birds go…in the wintertime? / There will be blizzards and snow too…in the wintertime.                                                                                               And the thought of it horrifies me so / where do…where do…where do little birds go?

JOAN:

No…no Barbara! Get those arms and legs moving. Imagine you are going to fly away…

LIONEL:
(calling out)
Easy, Joan. They’re doing their best.

JOAN:
(turning to him)
Their best isn’t good enough, Lionel. Not for this. You wrote something extraordinary—now let’s make it real.

LIONEL:
(smiling)
You’re a tyrant, you know that?

JOAN:
(grinning)
And you’re a genius. Now stop flattering me and get to work.

(They share a laugh, then Joan turns back to the cast, while Lionel watches with admiration.)

Scene 3

Lional’s flat, papers everywhere. drinks and a half-empty bottle of whiskey. Lionel is at the piano, playing a few notes, while ALMA COGAN sits on the couch, scribbling lyrics on a notepad.

LIONEL:
(playing a melody)
What about this? (sings) 

We got love, we got laughter,
We got dreams to chase.
No matter what comes after,
We’ll always have this place.

.ALMA:
(thinking)
Hmm. It’s close, (pause)   It reminds me a bit of ‘Dreamboat’

LIONEL:

I didn’t write that one, did I?

ALMA:

You’ve written so many you can’t remember! But no, you didn’t. (pause) I think this one needs …more sparkle

LIONEL:
(grinning)
Sparkle? You’re the one with the laugh in your voice, love. Maybe you should sing it.

ALMA:
(playfully hitting his arm)
Cheeky. But seriously, Lionel, this could be huge. It’s got that magic—like Oliver!, but for the pop charts.

LIONEL:
(softly)
You’re my magic, Alma.

(There’s a pause. Alma looks at him, surprised by his sincerity.)

ALMA:
(smiling)
Careful, Lionel. You’ll make me blush.

LIONEL:
(laughing)
Impossible. You’re the queen of cool.

(They share a moment of quiet connection before diving back into the song.)

ALMA:
(scribbling)
What if we change this line? (sings) “We got love, we got laughter, we got nights that last forever…”

LIONEL:
(playing along)
Yes! That’s it. You’ve got it.

(They work together, refining the melody and lyrics. The tension between them is palpable, but they channel it into their creativity.)

ALMA:
(singing)
“We got love, we got laughter, we got dreams to chase. No matter what comes after, we’ll always have this place.”

LIONEL:
(softly)
That’s beautiful, Alma.

ALMA:
(smiling)
It’s ours.

(They share a quiet moment, then Alma stands and takes the notepad.)

ALMA:
Let me try it from the top.

(She begins singing the full song, her voice filling the room. Lionel watches, captivated, as the lights dim slightly, focusing on Alma.)

ALMA:
(singing)

Verse 1:
We got love, we got laughter,
We got dreams to chase.
No matter what comes after,
We’ll always have this place.

Chorus:
Through the highs and the lows,
Wherever we go,
We got love, we got love.
In the stars up above,
In the songs that we sing,
We got love, we got love.

Verse 2:
We got nights that last forever,
We got mornings wrapped in gold.
Even if we’re not together,
We’ll have stories to be told.

Chorus:
Through the highs and the lows,
Wherever we go,
We got love, we got love.
In the stars up above,
In the songs that we sing,
We got love, we got love.

(As she finishes, the room falls silent. Lionel looks at her, a mix of admiration and longing in his eyes.)

LIONEL:
(softly)
You’re incredible, Alma.

ALMA:
(smiling)
We’re incredible, Lionel.

(They share a smile, but there’s a hint of sadness, as if they both know their time together is fleeting. The lights fade.)

LIFE AINT WOT IT USED TO BE

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opening scene of my new play

LIFE AINT WOT ITUSED TO BE

By

Tom O’Brien

Scene1

Lionel Bart’s flat, late at night. He’s sitting at a piano, scribbling notes. A friend, JOHN GORMAN enters. The flat is cluttered with sheet music and memorabilia, There here is a photo of Lional and John in National  Service uniforms on the wall.

JOHN looks at the photo then sings

JOHN:

Stand by your beds, here comes the Vice Marshall,

He’s got lots of rings, but he’s only got one arsehole

Do you remember that?

LIONEL:

How could I forget? (pauses) If we hadn’t been in that same carriage on that train to Padgate to do our National Service, we’d probably never have become friends

JOHN:

Some co-incidence eh!

LIONEL:

Co-incidence my arse! It was fate

JOHN:

(laughing) Remember that bloody Corporal on our first parade? Irish he was, by the name of Buckley. He stood in front of you, eyes burning, the peak of his cap almost touching your face. (dons an army cap and becomes the Corporal)

Where do you come from? (shouting)

LIONEL:

London, Corporal (he stands to attention)

JOHN:

I thought so. You’re a fucking spiv. I can tell by your tie. (He grabs Lionel by his tie and almost chokes him) You’re a fucking spiv. What are you?

LIONAL:

Leave it out, John. Jesus! (he frees himself) I had twelve weeks of that Irish bastard. That was enough. Still, one good thing came out of it; I met you – and we’re still friends after all this time.

They drink some beer and mess around, singing ‘stand by your beds’ again

Lional plays a few notes on the piano.

JOHN:
Jesus , Lionel, it’s almost two in the morning. You must’a been at this for hours.

LIONEL:
(without looking up)
It’s almost there, John. I can feel it. The melody, the words—it’s like they’re just out of reach.

JOHN:
(sitting down)
You’ve been saying that for weeks. What’s so special about this one?

LIONEL:
(smiling faintly)
This one’s different. It’s not just a song. It’s… a story. A boy, alone in the world, searching for something. For family. For home.

JOHN:
(raising an eyebrow)
Sounds heavy.

LIONEL:
(grinning)
Wait till you hear this one…

Lionel claps his hand in a rhythmic beat. He sings a couple of lines:

They changed our local Palais into a bowling alley and

Fings ain’t wot they used to be

The stage lights up. Singers & Dancers appear. Lionel plays the piano

All sing FINGS AINT WOT THEY USED TO BE.

They’ve changed our local palais into a bowling alley and
Fings ain’t wot they used to be
There’s teds wiv drainpipe trousers and debs in coffee houses
And fings ain’t wot they used to be
There used to be trams
Not very quick got you from place to place
But now there’s just jams, half a mile thick
Stay in the human race, I’m walking
They’ve stuck parking meters outside our door to greet us

No, fings ain’t wot they used to be
Monkeys flying around the moon
We’ll be up there wiv ’em soon
Fings ain’t wot they used to be
Once our beer was froffy, but now its froffy coffee
No fings ain’t wot they used to be
It used to be fun

Dad and old Mum paddling down Southend
But now it ain’t done
Never mind chum
Paris is where we spend our outings
Grandma tries to shock us all
Doing knees-up rock ‘n’ roll
Fings ain’t wot they used to be

We used to have stars
Singers who sung A Dixie Melody
They’re buying guitars
Plinkety plunk, backing themselves with three chords only
Once we danced from 12 to three
I’ve got news for Elvis P

Fings ain’t wot they used to be
Did the lot we us to
Fings ain’t wot they used to be

Spotlight back on Lionel and John

LIONEL:

That’s the start of it, John. My meteoric rise, they’re callin’ it. (laughs) They’re ‘avin’ a laff. I’ve been writin’ for fifteen years. Tunes and other stuff. Lots of hits too. What about Tommy Steele…how many have I written for him?…

They both sing a verse of ROCK WITH THE CAVE MEN

Or Cliff Richard….

Both sing a verse of LIVIN’ DOLL

Or  Shirley Bassey…

Both sing a verse of AS LONG AS HE NEEDS ME

LIONEL:

Hey! I didn’t know you could sing!

JOHN:

Oh, I can warble a bit. You’re not the only one who can do that.

Lights fade

Scene 2