Babylon Heights
Author: Irvine Welsh; Dean Cavanagh
Date: 2006-06-01 07:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Drama; European; English; Irish; Scottish; Welsh
Description: If you put four dwarfs in a room with enough opium and alcohol, it's bound to end in tears. In 1935, MGM studios embarked on a movie adaptation of L. Frank Baum's The Wizard of Oz. The production called for the casting of many dwarfs to play the Munchkins of the mythical Land of Oz, and the studio began recruiting 'small persons' from all over the world. During production, rumors spread around Hollywood of wild Munchkin sex orgies, drunken behavior and general dwarf debauchery. More sinisterly, a Munchkin is said to have committed suicide by hanging himself on the set during filming—what appea
Publisher: W. W. Norton Company
Rights: Copyright © 2006 by Irvine Welsh and Dean Cavanagh

IRVINE WELSH
AND
DEAN CAVANAGH

Babylon
Heights

W. W. Norton & Company

New York    London

Introduction

In 1935, in depression America, MGM studios in Hollywood embarked on a major film project: a movie adaptation of L. Frank Baum’s book The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. The resulting film not only lived up to the old cliché of becoming a timeless cinematic classic, it also propelled the first modern fable from America into the popular universal cultural heritage, putting Oz-lore alongside the likes of Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

The production was highly ambitious; among other things, it called for the casting of many dwarfs, who would play the little people of the mythical land of Oz, the Munchkins. The studio began the recruitment of the small persons, not just from all corners of the USA, but from all over the world.

This mass importation of dwarfs into Hollywood was not always the delightful, benevolent and painless process as suggested by the optimistic and uplifting movie. In keeping with the uninformed spirit of discrimination that prevailed against visibly different people back in those days, all the dwarf performers were billeted in the Culver Hotel, separate from the rest of the cast and crew.

Once settled, the small performers behaved in much the same way any other group of people leaving home to work on an exciting new project would. Rumours persisted of wild Munchkin parties and drunken behaviour. Judy Garland herself made reference to this in 1967, disparaging the dwarf performers as ‘little drunks’ on live television. The plethora of official and fan-based literature growing up around The Wizard of Oz has generally sought to play this down, usually dismissing the remark as ‘a joke’.

However, Garland’s hints of dwarf debauchery merely echoed comments made by the film’s producer Mervyn LeRoy. At the time of the motion picture’s release, he also ‘joked’ of Munchkin sex orgies and police regularly being called to the hotel. Interestingly, Judy Garland’s daughters would later echo their mother’s claims.

Clearly, given the nature of any Hollywood production, the time people spend away from their homes on demanding film sets and stuck in claustrophobic hotel rooms, the absence of the rowdy excesses often associated with the film industry would be rather peculiar.

More sinisterly, the macabre assertion that a Munchkin committed suicide by hanging himself on the set, during filming, has become a persistent Hollywood myth. This is said to be visible in the final print of the movie, supposedly at the Tin Man scene, where what certainly looks like a small human body is clearly visible hanging from a tree. Official sources have disparaged this contention, claiming that this figure was simply a bird. We’ll probably never find out what actually happened, but imagine that a Munchkin did indeed hang himself. What could have possibly driven him to such a desperate act?

Babylon Heights

This play is dedicated to the memory of Julia De Vittoris (1965–2001) whose ‘lust for life’ was second to none.

‘Even giants get lost in Hollywood.’
Bert Kowalski

Characters

Bert Kowalski, mid-forties, born in New Jersey, grew up in poverty, he has spent most of his adult life performing in circuses and freak shows. As a result he has formed a harsh view of performing dwarf life, basically believing that it is undignified humiliation for money. His cynical, wise-guy behaviour is his defence against the harsh world.

Bert’s dwarfism probably comes from non-genetic causes: chronic kidney diseases, diseases where the body doesn’t absorb protein normally (cystic fibrosis etc.), malnutrition in early life or heart and lung disease.

Charles Merryweather, early twenties, born in Streatham, London, he comes from a middle-class family. His father was a doctor who was guilty of not recognising that his son suffered from Turner’s syndrome. As well as restricted growth, Turner’s syndrome sufferers are also characterised by diminished or absent sex glands and no puberty. Thus Charles has little concept of sex or sexuality. His voice is quite high and he will look like a young boy.

His early life was largely innocent and idyllic, spent playing, often alone, in the large family garden, which gave him a love of nature. He went on to find employment as a gardener at Kew Gardens, his life in the workforce a far harsher experience.

Raymond Benedict-Porter, late forties, born in Vermont, he comes from a well-to-do New England family. Although he has done the same ‘dwarf circuit’ as Bert, Raymond has always had serious thespian ambitions. He probably suffers from chondrodystrophy, a form of dwarfism believed to be hereditary.

Like many such affected persons, Raymond is physically very strong and dexterous. He has a high self-regard, seeing himself as an actor, whose height is almost an irrelevant factor. When he does acknowledge his condition, he is more likely to look to artistic dwarfs like nineteenth-century French painter Toulouse-Lautrec for inspiration, rather than to his peers.

Philomena Kinsella, mid-twenties, born in County Kerry, Ireland, she probably suffers from pituitary dwarfism, which is caused by the body producing insufficient growth hormones. In the present day, like many other forms of the condition, this has been all but wiped out. With pituitary dwarfism, the sufferer’s proportions are normal and they tend to have a doll-like appearance and are often possessed with above average intelligence.

Philomena comes from a remote and rural part of Ireland, where old myths regarding the ‘little people’ still held sway at the turn of the last century. Irish leprechauns are associated with trees and bushes and some peasant people who have had a dwarf child believe it is their duty to ‘give them to the little people’ i.e. leave them in the woods for other leprechauns to look after.

The requirement to lead this kind of subsistence life is probably why leprechauns have the association with mischief, trickery and deviousness. Like many of them, Philomena would have needed to steal and con, usually from local farmers, simply in order to survive.

Settings

Act One, Scene One: 1930s hotel room in Culver City, California.

Act One, Scene Two: a restaurant dining room in Culver City.

Act Two: 1930s hotel room in Culver City, California.

Staging Notes

In order to maximise audience empathy with the ‘trapped’ dwarfs, the four actors who play the Munchkins will be of ‘regular’ size. Instead, the stage equipment – beds, doors, table, etc. – will be outsized. The production is best suited to a small space, probably a ‘black box’ stage, which should feel tight and claustrophobic, where the audience will be very close to the production.

The only reference to the outside world is the booming offstage voice of the ‘normal people’, which should be intrusive and threatening.

Act One

Scene One

We hear the strains of the song ‘The Wonderful Wizard of Oz’ and the lights go up on a mid-1930s hotel room. There are four beds, four chairs, a dressing table, mirror on the wall, a sink, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers with a telephone on top, a door rear centre-stage and one to the left leading to a bathroom. A set of Hotel Regulations is posted on the wall.

Everything is outsized; the beds are twelve-foot long and eight-foot wide, and the door is at least twelve-foot high.

Bert – New Jersey accent, forties, shabbily suited, with a permanent scowl etched on to his face, carrying a battered outsized suitcase – pushes the door open and stands at the threshold looking in.

As the music fades we hear a voice offstage.

Booming male voice (off)     There you go, shorty. Make the most of it. (Laughter.)

Bert looks up in the direction of the voice, glares, steps in and shuts the door behind him. Bert is forever wiping sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.

Bert    Cocksucker!

He sighs, puts down his case and explores the room. He views it with disdain.

. . . cheap lousy cocksucken . . .

He coughs loudly and climbs up on to the bed and begins to jump up and down on it as he starts to undress. As he is trying to take off one of his shoes he falters, staggers and falls off the bed, crashing to the floor.

(Clambering to his feet.) Fuck!

Going to his case, Bert sits down on it and lights a cigarette (three times the regular size). He looks around the room and shakes his head. He pulls the sleeve of his jacket back to reveal his watch. It is three times the regular size of a watch. He reads it and pulls the sleeve back over it. He stares out at us for a while, smoking, then gets up and opens his case. He pulls out a script (three times the regular size), sits back down and flicks through it.

. . . shit. Piece o’ goddam shit . . .

He coughs again and goes to the chair, puts it in position, climbs up and picks up the phone.

. . . that the desk? . . . yeah, Michigan . . . uh? . . . yeah, yeah, I hear ya . . . OK, OK . . . fuck you very much, OK . . . yeah, that’s right, you heard me right, honey: fuck you very much, OK.

He slams the phone on the hook and climbs down.

Asshole!

He goes back to his case, picks it up and takes it over to the chest of drawers. He opens the bottom drawer and starts to put his clothes in.

The door opens and Charles – English, early twenties, nervous, suited, carrying a case – enters. He puts his case down and surveys the room. He is clearly impressed with it.

Bert    Don’t even think about calling out.

Charles    Calling out?

Bert    Lousy studio cocksuckers.

Charles    Ah . . .

Bert    Sucks you ask me, kid.

Charles heads over to Bert.

Charles (extending his hand)     Charles Merryweather, London, England.

Bert glances at Charles’s hand and carries on putting his clothes away.

Bert    Bert Kowalski, no fixed abode.

Charles waits, then awkwardly rubs his hands against his trousers and explores the room.

Charles    . . . Culver Heights, the name alone – smashing. The grounds – so beautiful! The flora and fauna, those gorgeous palm trees! You think they might have some picture postcards for sale?

Bert    Picture postcards?

Charles    To send home.

Bert    You one of Singer’s?

Charles    I didn’t know I would have to sing –

Bert    No, Singer’s mob, Leo Singer, the schmuck who got the MGM contract to recruit the likes of us.

Charles    Ah, yes.

Bert closes the drawer and climbs up on the bed.

Bert (delving into his pocket)     You smoke?

Charles    That’s very kind.

Bert pulls out a lighter and waits.

Bert    . . . Well?

Charles cottons on.

Charles    Oh, right, I see.

Charles pulls out a cigarette case and offers it up to Bert. Bert has to reach down to take a cigarette.

Bert (lighting it up)     I heard somewhere cigarettes stunt your growth.

Charles    Oh?

Bert    I don’t listen to gossip though.

Charles frowns and lights his cigarette.

Bert    So, they’ve got midgets in England then, uh?

Charles (affronted)     Midgets?

Bert    English, right?

Charles    You said –

Bert points to himself and Charles.

Bert    Dwarfs, leprechauns, Munchkins, little people . . . freaks. You know, fucken midgets.

Charles sighs and goes to his case. He picks it up and heads over to the chest of drawers.

Bert (watching Charles put his clothes away)     You read the storyplay yet?

Charles    The story, yes, I’ve –

Bert    What you think?

Charles    I think it’s very well written.

Bert    That mean you like it?

Charles    Yes, yes, I wouldn’t be out here if I didn’t believe it had artistic merit.

Bert laughs and lies back on the bed. Charles sighs and continues putting his belongings away.

Charles    Have I said something funny?

Bert    . . . artistic merit?

Charles    Well, yes, yes, it’s very –

Bert    It ain’t your fucken Shakespeare, right? Alas, poor Tin Woodsman, I knew him well. Piece o’ sophomore shit you ask me. You ask me it’s a fucken waste o’ time piece o’ shit.

Charles    I must, really, I mean, I must say I find your language . . . well . . .

Bert    Yeah?

Charles    I . . . I don’t want us to get off on the wrong foot here.

Bert     Wrong foot? What’re you trying – spit it out, uh, just spit it, OK.

Charles    . . . Well . . . well, what I mean is, I mean I’m unused to it.

Bert    American? You’re not – you’re unused to the American language, you don’t understand me, right? That it, Charlie? You don’t understand me?

Charles    No, I mean, I mean yes I understand you, I understand, it’s just, don’t take this the wrong way.

Bert    I won’t, what is it, what’re you trying to say? You wanna spit it out for me?

Charles    I find it very coarse.

Bert    American?

Charles    I don’t –

Bert    You find American coarse?

Charles (closing the drawer)     Yes, I mean, no, I mean –

Bert    Sounds to me you don’t know what you mean.

Charles    It’s the . . . you know, the – must you use vulgarities?

Bert    Like midget? You mean like midget, right?

Charles fingers his temples, exasperated. He takes a deep breath. He goes to the bed and looks up at Bert.

Charles    I think we’ve got off on the wrong foot here. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together and I, I think it only right and proper that we try to get along. I’m just not, I mean, I find it very . . . well, it’s very off – its off-putting.

Bert laughs at Charles.

Bert    . . . I’m fucken shitting you, kid. I know what you mean, I know what you’re trying to say . . . Charlie?

Charles    Yes?

Bert    No sweat, OK? I get it, Charlie. You find it – what’s that again? – coarse, right?

Charles    Well, yes, yes if you must –

Bert    I like it, I like it, Charlie, fucken coarse, great word, don’t you go worrying about my coarse language, OK?

Charles    Um . . .

Bert lies back. Charles frowns and heads towards the bathroom.

Bert    Hey, open the window if you’re cutting logs in there, OK?

Charles    Cutting logs?

Bert    Figure o’ speech: American. Just open the window, just do me a favour and open the window if you can reach it.

Charles enters the bathroom, Bert laughs to himself.

Bert    . . . fucken jerk!

Charles returns from the bathroom, shoves the chair to where the phone is and climbs up. He picks it up.

Charles    Um, yes, ah, this is Mr Charles Merryweather in room – yes, yes, of course I’ll hold . . . (Turning to Bert.) There’s no paper in there.

Bert    You really gonna let that fucken harlot on the desk know you need to take a shit? Don’t shatter the whore’s illusion o’ midgets. I got some paper in my case you can borrow, and when I say borrow I ain’t meaning I want it back, you get my drift?

Charles puts the phone down and gets off the chair. Bert climbs down from the bed, opens his case and hands Charles a toilet roll (three times the regular size).

Bert    . . . stayed in these roach hotels before. Last thing they think of in these fucken roach hotels is ass-wipes.

Charles (heading back to bathroom)     That’s very generous. Thank you.

Bert    Hey, think nothing of it. Us midgets gotta stick together. We’re a dying breed, I heard somewhere we’re gonna be extinct by the fifties, I don’t listen to gossip
though.

Charles    That’s – where did you hear that?

Bert    I told you, kid: I don’t listen to gossip, and you know something, you know something and you want my advice, you don’t listen to it either, OK?

Charles    . . . Right. Thank you. I won’t.

Charles pauses and closes the door behind him.

Bert goes to Charles’s drawer and rummages through it. He finds a wad of dollar bills. He smiles to himself, peels a couple off and looks as though he is about to pocket them. He stops, thinks better of it, puts them back in the wad and closes the drawer. He goes to his case and pulls out a pipe (three times the regular size) and a small package wrapped in brown paper. He fetches the chair and climbs up on the bed. He goes through the ritual of packing the pipe and lighting it up.

Charles returns from the bathroom, holding the toilet roll. He looks on as Bert smokes the pipe. Bert notices Charles’s shock.

Bert    Whatsamatter? You never seen a bronchiatric dwarf before? I gotta smoke this shit; opens up the lungs.

Charles    Oh, dear, excuse me, I didn’t mean to . . . I didn’t mean to stare.

Bert    Kind o’ fucken upbringing you ain’t ever seen no bronchiatric dwarf, huh?

Charles puts the toilet roll down next to Bert’s case. Bert tokes on the pipe and settles back on to the bed. Charles puts his hands in his pockets and paces around, every now and then looking over at Bert. Bert is now nodding in and out of consciousness.

Charles    Are you all right, Mr Kowalski?

Long pause.

Bert    Kinda shit did you do back in England, Charlie?

Charles    Sorry?

Bert    Work. What kinda work ya do? There ain’t blue blood in those little veins of yours . . . you ain’t like fucken royalty or shit back there, are ya?

Charles (bowing his head)     Oh no . . . no. Nothing like that! Although I did have a position as a gardener at the Royal Gardens in Kew.

Bert picks up the pipe and package.

Bert    . . . thought I could be in the presence of fucken royalty . . . you just never know nowadays . . . Could you . . . put these back in my case, Charlie . . . put these back in my
case . . .

Charles climbs up on to the bed and picks up the pipe as Bert nods off.

We heard thumping and shuffling noises as the door opens. Raymond – late forties, American, well spoken, well dressed, holding a large case, stands at the threshold.

Offstage, we hear the voice again.

Booming male voice (off)     In there, little fella, try not to get up to any mischief.

Charles cowers in fear of the voice but Raymond looks up evenly at its source.

Raymond    If I were four feet taller I’d take you outside and give you a damn good thrashing, young man.

Booming male voice (off)     Ha, ha, ha. Hey, Harry, we got a funny dwarf here. Take me outside, ha, ha, ha.

Raymond puts the case on the bed. Then he pulls in another large leather bag and closes the door. He stares at Bert and Charles. Charles climbs off the bed with the instruments.

Raymond    Philistines!

Charles (offering his hand)     Charles Merryweather, London, England.

He notices Raymond staring at the pipe. He starts to pack the instruments into Bert’s case.

Poor Mr Kowalski suffers from a bronchial complaint.

Raymond shakes his head and wanders around the room, still holding his case.

Raymond    And you’re his nurse, right?

Charles (heading over to him)     I see what you mean, no, I’m a Munchkin like you.

Raymond glares at Charles, goes over to a bed and throws his bag up on it.

Raymond    Four beds. Any other ‘ailments’ I should know about?

Charles (offering his hand again)     Charles Merryweather, London, England.

Raymond (shaking hands)     Benedict-Porter. Raymond.

Raymond’s grip is strong and Charles winces a little.

Charles    Pleased to meet you Mr Ben-ah, Mr Por . . . um, which do you prefer?

As they break grip he rubs his hand.

Raymond    Both, but Raymond will suffice.

Charles    Raymond? Excellent . . . Charles or Charlie, I don’t have a preference. My friends call me Charles or Charlie. I really don’t mind. Whichever you prefer, Mr . . . ah . . . Raymond.

Raymond    Charles sounds more dignified. Yes, I’ll call you Charles. Charlie sounds common. There’s far too much bastardisation of our language going on, don’t you think?

Bert (asleep, shouting)     NO!

Charles and Raymond stare at Bert. Raymond shakes his head and goes to the chest of drawers and unpacks his case. Charles stands with him.

Charles    Jolly good storyplay.

Raymond    I prefer the book.

Charles    You prefer the book?

Raymond    The storyplay has been adapted from a book. You didn’t know that?

Charles    A book, no.

Raymond    Yes.

Charles    Which book? From which book has it been . . . ah . . .

Raymond (sighing)      The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.

Charles    Oh.

Raymond    Yes. Very popular.

Charles    I see, I see, they’ve simply abandoned the ‘wonderful’?

Raymond    Quite . . . Is this your first ‘acting’ role?

Charles    Yes, well, no, I mean, I had a small part in an amateur production of A Midsummer’s Night Dream in Deptford. It got cancelled after the second night and I think it was a very amateur production.

Raymond    Amateur?

Charles    I think so. Nobody was paid.

Raymond    I toured extensively with Richard III.

Charles    Really?

Raymond    Mmm, extensively.

Charles    Whom did you – did you play?

Raymond    Richard of course.

Charles    Richard, right . . . Wasn’t he a hunchback?

Raymond closes the drawer and heads off towards the bathroom.

Raymond    Not just a hunchback, not simply a hunchback.

Charles    I’m not familiar, but I recall him being a hunchback.

Raymond    Quite, he was, but he was much more besides. He was much more than a hunchback.

Charles    There’s no paper in there, Mr Benedict-Porter.

Raymond    No paper?

Charles    No, no paper, Mr Kowal—

Raymond    Why do you assume I need to evacuate my bowels? Do I look like I’m in need of a bowel movement?

Charles    No, no, I just –

Raymond    Not that I’m not regular, you understand, on the contrary. Nothing wrong with my bowel movements: like clockwork. Are you a sufferer?

Charles     Sufferer?

Raymond    Constipation . . . do you get ‘bunged up’, dear boy?

Charles    Um.

Raymond    Just say if you do, nothing to be ashamed of, just speak out if you do because I’ve a cure for constipation if you’re a sufferer. Very simple cure, just say if you’re –

Charles    No, no, no, I’m – I’m not a sufferer. I don’t – no, not constipation. I’ve a friend though, a friend who’s a
. . . I suppose you could call him a sufferer.

Raymond    I can’t help him: your friend. It’s a hands-on cure, very simple. It involves freeing up the colonic passage. Takes no time at all. Very common among small people. Yes, a common complaint I suppose you could call it, but I’m afraid I can’t help your friend though, hands on, you understand? I take it your friend’s back in England?

Charles    Yes, yes he’s still there. I think he’s still in England.

Raymond    London?

Charles    Yes . . .

Raymond    Does he know of Frederick Matthias Alexander? He runs a school there. An Australian originally. An actor by training. I’m a great disciple of his technique; it has such widespread application.

Charles    I don’t know any Australians in London . . . and I’m sure my friend wouldn’t either.

Raymond    As I thought, shame really, a real shame, very simple and effective. Takes no time at all. It can be very painful, I hear?

Charles    It can?

Raymond     Constipation.

Charles    I, ah, I really wouldn’t know.

Raymond    No . . . no, neither would I, but I’ve heard it can be horrendously painful.

Charles    I suppose, I mean, I’d imagine it would be.

Raymond    So I’m told . . . so people have said.

Suddenly Bert groans. Charles and Raymond look over at him. Raymond goes into the bathroom.

Charles goes and takes a close look at Bert. After a while he picks up the script from the floor and paces around reading it aloud.

Charles (poorly reading the Cowardly Lion’s lines out loud)     ‘Put ’em up . . . This is great . . . ‘rhinoceros, imposserus’ . . .

He laughs as he marvels at the script.

Raymond (entering with two glasses and going to his case)     Would you care for a libation? I hate to drink alone. I find it leaves a sour taste . . .

Charles watches Raymond pull out a bottle of Scotch (three times the regular size) from his case.

Charles    Ah, I don’t usually – not really my cup of tea, whisky, I’m not really a whisky –

Raymond (pouring the drinks)     Nonsense, there you go.

Charles reluctantly takes the glass and sips from it as Raymond downs his in one and pours himself another. Bert grunts again. Raymond looks across at him.

Raymond    We should maybe turn him on his side. An acquaintance of mine choked on vomit.

Charles    Oh dear.

Raymond    Nasty business.

Charles    His own, was it? The vomit that he choked on?

Raymond    His own?

Charles    Vomit.

Raymond (frowning)     He didn’t strike me as the kind of person who would ingest other people’s vomit. And yes he did survive and thank you for your concern. I’ll give you a hand.

They climb up on to Bert’s bed and turn him on his side. They climb back down.

You’re not going to join me?

Charles (handing the full glass back to him)     Um, no. I was made to – I tried it once. It didn’t agree with me. I got terrible heartburn.

Raymond    Heartburn?

Charles    Terrible heartburn.

Raymond    Afraid I can’t help you there. Constipation: different kettle of fish. Now if it were constipation you were talking about . . . No, heartburn’s not my specialty.

He takes the bottle of whisky over to the chair, climbs up and sits down. Charles pulls up a chair next to him.

So, tell me, what’re you doing out here?

Charles    Out here?

Raymond    In Culver City in the year of Our Lord nineteen hundred and thirty-five, yes.

Charles    Ah, I’m going to be a Munchkin, I’m going to be a Munchkin just like you and Mr Kowalski, Mr Porter.

Raymond    Quite . . . but how did you find out about the production? I can see you’re not a real actor and do please call me Raymond, Charles.

Charles    I will, thank you, Raymond.

Raymond    Think nothing of it.

Charles    You’re most kind.

Raymond    Quite. Now, as I was saying, I can see you’re not an actor.

Charles    Oh, does it . . . ah, does it show?

Raymond (scrutinising Charles)     It’s not obvious, but then one needs a trained actor’s eye to spot a fellow thesp.

Charles    A trained eye?

Raymond    To spot a fellow thespian.

Charles    So . . . so I’m obviously not an actor in your eye?

Raymond    Quite.

Charles    I didn’t . . . there didn’t seem to be a problem. They asked for – I sent them a photograph and they –

Raymond    No, no, no, forget – just forget about photographs. You’re confusing the map with the terrain. Of course they wouldn’t be able to determine whether you’re a real actor from a photograph.

Charles    Right. I see, but –

Raymond    How did you hear about the production?

Charles    Well, a friend of a friend told me –

Raymond    The sufferer?

Charles    Sufferer?

Raymond    The constipated friend, the sufferer. He’s the friend of a friend?

Charles    Oh, no, I see, no, no, he’s just a friend. It was another friend, well, a friend of a friend, he, he told me they were looking for . . . for people like me. I’ve always wanted to come and visit the United States, I’ve never seen a palm tree or a Californian redwood, and I thought –

Raymond    Yip Harburg and Harold Arlen insisted that I come on board.

Charles    Oh, ah –

Raymond    The composers: Harburg and Arlen. Yip and Harold.

Charles    Oh, right . . . um, so when I heard –

Raymond    Close friends of mine . . . they’ve written an adorable song called ‘Over the Rainbow’, unfortunately the studio don’t feel that it fits in with the tone of the rest of the compositions. Terrible waste. Very close friends.

Charles    Oh, yes, I can imagine . . . Anyway this friend of a friend –

Raymond    I wonder who’s going to be joining us. I do hope it’s a fellow thesp.

Charles    I, ah, I wouldn’t know, but as I was saying –

Raymond    You’re not one of the Washington Merryweathers by any chance? You’re not related?

Charles    Washington Merryweathers, um, I don’t –

Raymond    Lovely people. Lionel’s a hoot. We were in the Scottish play together.

Charles     Macbeth?

Raymond    Ah, you see . . . if I hadn’t already worked out you’re not a thesp I’d have known you weren’t by now.

Charles    Oh . . . I see. So you weren’t recruited by Mr Singer, the circus impresario? Mr Kowalski says that the studio gave him the contract to recruit all the Munchkins.

Raymond    I don’t know anything about a Mr Singer. (Standing up and wandering over to look at Bert.) What is it you expect to find out here?

Charles    Find? What do you mean find?

Raymond    I mean find in the sense of . . . the everyday common sensical definition.

Charles    Right.

Raymond    You see, everyone – and by that I mean absolutely everyone – everyone who comes out here hopes to find something. That ‘something’ usually being the pot of gold.

Charles    Aaaahhhh, I understand.

Raymond    So?

Charles    Am I out here for the –

Raymond    I don’t know. Are you? People usually are, that’s what they’re usually out here looking for.

Charles    Well, I would like to see some of the exotic plants and flowers that grow in warmer climates. Flora and fauna have always fascinated me so if I think about it, I suppose I am, I am out here looking for something.

Raymond    Never mind flowers and something, what’re you doing out here, what’s the real motivation?

Charles frowns and pauses.

Charles    Well, ah, as I was saying, this friend of a friend told me that they were looking for people like me out here and I –

Raymond    Don’t let me interrupt you.

Charles    Oh, ah, right, so anyway, anyway this –

Raymond    Don’t take it personally. I don’t even know you. For all I know you may very well be an intelligent young man.

Charles    No, no, of course not. So as I was –

Raymond    I’m not judgemental.

Charles    No, no, I don’t think for one moment –

Raymond    Can’t afford to be, Charles. Not in my profession: kiss of death. I’m an empty vessel, you see. We need to be tuned into all walks of life, keep in step as I say . . . No, no, no, no, no I’m not judgemental. Don’t take it personally. Don’t be offended.

Charles    No, I really . . . I really understand what you’re saying, Raymond.

Raymond    Actors are empty vessels waiting to be – oh listen to me going on . . .

A long pause. Raymond goes into his suitcase and takes out a sleeveless top. He unbuttons his shirt, carefully taking off two outsized gold cufflinks, which he carefully puts on the top of his locker. Then he strips to the waist and puts on his sleeveless top. His muscles bulge. He goes into the leather bag and pulls out two outsized barbells.

Charles    Anyway . . .

Raymond starts doing arm curls with the barbells.

Raymond    Kowalski. You say he’s called Kowalski?

Charles    Yes . . . um, Bert.

Raymond    Oh, please don’t mind me. I like to keep in tip-top physical condition. Do you exercise?

Charles    No, but I did do gardening work in London. Outdoors . . . very healthy work.

Raymond (looking him over)     Hmm . . . all good and well, but you should attempt to keep up a satisfactory level of fitness. A film set can be a demanding environment, physically and mentally. Healthy body, healthy mind. (Looks across at Bert.) So it’s Bert, eh . . . Bert Kowalski?

Charles    That’s right. Bert Kowalski. Do you know him?

Raymond    No, Bert Kowalski doesn’t ring any bells. Might not be his real name though. Did he claim to be an actor?

Charles    Um, I don’t think so . . . he does use very coarse language though.

Raymond    He does? Really? How coarse? How coarse are we talking?

Charles    Oh it’s very –

Raymond    Profanities?

Charles    Pro—

Raymond    He’s profane?

Charles    Ah, I wouldn’t know, I can’t really say, but he uses very coarse words. Very vulgar for a short man with a bronchial complaint. I think we got off on the wrong –

Raymond puts down the barbells. He gets his breath then starts another routine.

Raymond    Very coarse language, eh? Could be a thesp, could well be a thesp.

Charles    An actor?

Raymond    Could be, wouldn’t be unheard of if he were.

Charles    I don’t know, but it could be his, you know, it could be his condition. His bronchitis, I’m only assuming but . . . well, I mean you never know, do you?

Raymond    If he is indeed profane there could well be a reason behind it.

Charles    Yes?

Raymond    Oh yes. Oh yes indeed, but we’d only be guessing and guessing games invariably lead to confusion. My experience . . .

Raymond drops the weights and rolls them under his bed.

Charles    Yes?

Raymond    Yes, it can lead to confusion.

Pause.

Charles    Probably best not guessing then –

Raymond    Quite.

Charles    You’re right. I probably shouldn’t guess.

Raymond    Wise, wise of you because it makes sense, in the long run in my experience, it makes sense. You’re a very wise . . . (Pause as he looks Bert over.) Cunt.

Charles    I beg your –

Raymond    Did he use the C word? Very emotive word, cunt . . . a lot of thesps use it. Lionel Merryweather can be relied upon to pepper any conversation with a cunt or two . . . very emotive word. It’s in the dictionary, you know?

Charles    Oh . . . ah –

Raymond    You didn’t know?

Charles    . . . mmm . . .

Raymond    It’s of Teutonic origin of course. Very emotive. I’m an admirer of emotive words. Being an actor, you understand . . . my tools: emotive words. Being an actor you need sharp precise tools. Cunt is a great tool. I’m more fond of it than, I don’t know, say for instance ‘fuck’ off the top of my head . . . fuck is losing its resonance if you want my opinion. Far too common a curse: fuck. Very rare you hear hoi polloi employing cunts in their limited vocabularies. At least here. I wouldn’t know about England.

Charles    Oh, ah, well, my mother always says –

Raymond    Abuse, you see, common everyday abuse, it’s rendered fuck impotent. It’s everywhere nowadays. Let’s just hope cunt doesn’t become as commonplace. One of the few emotive taboo words we have left to play with: cunt.

Charles    Right.

Raymond    It’s got a very precise sound to it. Cunt’s a precision tool.

Raymond pours himself another large whisky. He offers the bottle to Charles. Charles shakes his head, he tries to hide his embarrassment by picking up the script.

Charles    Fascinating read.

Raymond    Noel’s done a fantastic job.

Charles    Noel?

Raymond    Noel Langley, the scenarist. I’m going to be playing the Mayor by the way.

Charles    The Mayor?

Charles scours the script. Raymond sighs heavily and points Charles to the right page.

Raymond    The Mayor of the . . . there, look.

Charles    Oh, yes, silly me, the Mayor of the Munchkins. That’s really, I mean it sounds so . . . well, it sounds really grand. Mayor of Munchkinland. You must be really pleased. I don’t, what do you think . . . ? Probably just have me in the background, I suppose. Probably something really small. Not like you though, eh: Mayor of Munchkinland. You must be very proud of yourself.

Bert groans and turns over. Raymond and Charles look over at him. Bert lets out a loud fart, smiles to himself and turns back over. Raymond carries on as usual.

Raymond    So you’re going to be an extra then?

Charles    An extra?

Raymond    An extra Mu— an extra small person.

Charles    I couldn’t rightly say. A man from the studio picked me up at the station, he picked me up, brought me here and told me to stay put until I heard otherwise. I suppose it will be, I mean it’s bound to be something small. A small part, I should imagine.

Raymond    Yes, you’re bound to be an extra small person. I’m surprised I’m having to share with an extra though. I must make a mental note to bring it up with Mr LeRoy.

Charles    Mervyn! I mean, Mr LeRoy! You know Mr – you’re going to bring it up with Mr Mervyn LeRoy? You know him?

Raymond    Intimately. We’ve worked together.

Charles    Really? You’ve worked with Mr LeRoy?

Raymond    We go back a long way.

Charles    You go back with Mr Mervin LeRoy, well I never. Who’d have thought I’d be sharing a room with . . . well, I mean, that’s just –

Raymond    Must be an oversight.

Charles    Oversight?

Raymond    Sharing: having to share.

Charles    Right, I see.

Raymond    A little word in Mervyn’s ear should remedy it.

Charles    It must be – I mean, you’re not used to sharing with extra small people.

Raymond    No, don’t take it personally, don’t take it as a personal attack, you understand.

Charles    No, of course –

Raymond    I’ve nothing against you, Charles. You know that, don’t you?

Charles    Yes.

Raymond    Yes, of course you do. I hardly know you, we’ve hardly got to know each other.

Charles    Of course.

Raymond    I feel I can trust you though, Charles. Something tells me I can trust you.

Charles    Yes?

Raymond    Oh yes, I’m intuitive. If there’s one thing I am it’s intuitive.

Charles    I’m glad you feel you can –

Raymond    There’s no doubt.

Charles    Well, I’m flattered.

Raymond    My credo . . . (Pause.) . . . Well?

Charles    Sorry?

Raymond    My credo: ask me what it is?

Charles    Mmm: what is your . . . ah. . .?

Raymond    Credo?

Charles    Yes.

Raymond    My credo is trust, Charles.

Charles    Oh, right, I see, I see.

Raymond    Nothing means more to me than trust.

Charles    Really?

Raymond    No . . . no, if I can’t have trust I can’t have anything.

Charles    That’s very . . . ah . . .

Raymond    Quite. So now you know and your mind should be set firmly at rest around me. I am a man of trust and I know you are too, Charles.

Charles    Thank you . . . Raymond.

Raymond    Think nothing of it.

Charles    No, no, it’s really, It’s really ah, really thoughtful of you.

Raymond    What are we without thoughts?

Charles    That’s true.

Raymond    Nothing.

Charles    Yes.

Raymond    Without thoughts we are nothing.

Charles    I know.

Raymond    True, and trust comes out of truth.

Charles    It does?

Raymond    You don’t think so?

Charles    Um, I haven’t really –

Raymond    It does, Charles: trust me.

Charles    I will, I will.

Raymond    Good.

Charles    I’m glad you can trust me, Raymond. It makes me feel really . . . really at home.

Raymond (tapping his nose and winking)     Buddy Ebsen’s in an iron lung and that’s from the horse’s mouth.

Charles    . . . ‘Buddy Ebsen’s in an iron lung and that’s –’. . . can’t say I’ve heard of it. Is it a moving picture or a theatre play?

Raymond    No, no, Buddy Ebsen was cast as the Tin Woodsman. He kept inhaling aluminum dust and they’ve had to put him in an iron lung for his own protection.

Charles    What sort of dust is that?

Raymond    Aluminum dust . . . you must have aluminum in England?

Charles    Al-u-min-ium?

Raymond    Al-u-what? Aluminum, dear chap. There’s enough bastardisation of our language without you English . . .

He realises what he’s saying and pauses.

Charles    Oh . . . dear, that’s . . . that’s just – an iron lung? Dear me.

Raymond (conspiratorially)     Keep it to yourself but Jack Haley’s going to be taking his place. Jack’s going to be the Tin Woodsman but that’s strictly between you and me, it’s not become official yet, but feel free to quote your source when it becomes so.

Charles ponders this for a while, scratching his head and turning to Raymond.

Charles    But . . .

Raymond    Yes?

Charles    Well, I mean . . . why would he want to do such a thing?

Raymond    A thing?

Charles    A thing, yes.

Raymond    Dear boy, an actor’s life is precarious at the best of times. Jack Haley can’t be frowned upon for stepping into Buddy Ebsen’s Tin Woodsman shoes.

Charles    No, no, no. The man? The man in the iron lung? Why would he want to inhale aluminium . . . huh, aluminum dust? Why would the man in the iron lung want to inhale the dust in the first place?

Raymond sighs heavily, finishes off his whisky and pours another large one.

Raymond    He didn’t want to inhale aluminum – al-u-minium dust in the first place.

Charles    No?

Raymond    No, definitely not. He most certainly didn’t want to inhale the dust.

Charles    I see . . . he was compelled?

Raymond    He was inhaling the dust from the make-up they were applying to him so as to make him look metallic.

Charles    Aaahhh, right, I see. He was inhaling, huh, aluminum dust accidentally.

Raymond    That’s right, there was nothing compelling about the inhalation.

Charles    No?

Raymond    Absolutely not.

Charles    What bad luck.

Raymond    Bad luck? Bad luck doesn’t even enter into it, Charles. Luck is not the issue here.

Charles    It isn’t?

Bert wakes up and watches them. They are unaware of him.

Raymond    No. Negligence is – I believe – the word that sums up this sorry state of affairs.

Charles    Right. I understand.

Raymond    I know you do, Charles. I know you understand because you are a very understanding young man.

Charles    Yes? You think so?

Raymond    There is no need to be bashful, Charles.

Charles    Oh, huh, I didn’t realise I was being –

Raymond    It’s unbecoming.

Charles    Oh, right . . . I see.

Raymond    Trust and understanding go hand in hand, Charles.

Bert    Any of that malt looking for a home?

Charles and Raymond turn and look at Bert in surprise.

Charles (going over to Bert)     Ah, Mr Kowalski, this is Mr . . . ah –

Raymond (pouring a glass for Bert)     Benedict-Porter. Raymond Benedict-Por—

Bert    I know who he is, Charlie, I know who he is. Used to be the most in-demand midget on the circuit . . .

Raymond hands up the glass of whisky to Bert. Bert knocks it back in one and holds the glass back out to Raymond.

Bert    . . . man’s a legend in littledom.

Charles is impressed. Raymond pours Bert another shot and smiles to himself as Bert climbs down off the bed and takes the glass from him.

Raymond    I wouldn’t go as far as to say legend.

Bert climbs up on to a chair and smiles at Raymond.

Bert    No, guess you wouldn’t. Guess you wouldn’t call yourself a legend. You’re too modest, right?

A pause as Raymond and Bert eye each other. Raymond pulls off his top and puts his shirt back on. Charles breaks the ice.

Charles    We’re all going to be Munchkins. We’re all going to be Munchkins together.

Bert    That’s right, Charlie, we’re all going down that yellow brick road.

Charles    I can’t wait.

Raymond    Actually the Mu— it’s only Dorothy and her friends who get to travel down the yellow brick road.

Bert    Wichita.

Raymond    . . . Wichita?

Bert    ’Twenty-nine. We worked the circus, remember?

A long pause as Raymond tries to remember.

Raymond    . . . No, no, you’ve lost me there, Mr Kowalski. Can’t recall ever performing in Wichita.

Bert    Fred Corelli’s troupe, you must remember. We were the flying fucken dwarfs f’chrissakes.

Raymond    Flying . . . no, no, I can’t . . .

He downs his whisky and pours himself another shot, finishing off the bottle.

Oh dear, the well’s run dry.

He goes to his case and pulls out another bottle.

Bert    Guess it was a long time ago: ’twenty-nine. Guess ’twenty-nine was years ago.

Raymond (opening the bottle and approaching Bert)    I’m sure I’d remember ’twenty-nine.

Bert    Yeah, I’m sure you would. How can you forget the flying fucken dwarfs?

Raymond    I’d have remembered.

Bert    Yeah, you would remember. Anyone’d remember flying, right?

Raymond pours himself and Bert another glass.

Charles    Um, anyone know what time dinner’s served? I could eat a horse.

Bert    Yeah, but could you eat a horse of a different colour, Charlie?

Charles    A different colour? A horse of –

Raymond    Mr Kowalski’s referring to the horse of a different colour from the storyplay, Charles. He is being witty.

Charles    Right.

Bert    Jerking you off, Charlie.

Raymond     Pulling your leg I believe is the vernacular, Charles.

Charles    Oh, no, no, it was merely a figure of speech, I didn’t mean –

Bert    Yeah, I know. I know what you mean, Charlie. I know you ain’t figuring on eating a horse of a different colour. Any horse-eating gonna be done in here n’ I wanna know about it. I know you ain’t a horse eater, Charlie.

Bert drains his glass and holds it out.

Raymond    Dinner’s served at seven, Charles. In answer to your question, that is.

Charles    It is?

Raymond    Yes: seven.

Charles (checking his outsized watch)     Seven? Splendid.

Raymond    I wouldn’t get too excited. The cuisine here is dreadful. There’s a wonderful little restaurant across the street, we should eat there.

Charles    Oh . . . I was, ah, I was planning to have all my meals here. I’m a little, I haven’t really –

Bert    Whatever ya do, don’t go to that crummy joint. Met one little guy at the desk when I booked in, he’d gotten here yesterday – Tiny Taylor – he told me to pass on that joint. Said he didn’t know what they put in the food but it sat like a fucken rock in his gut all night.

Charles is now looking really uncomfortable, a fact not lost on Raymond.

Raymond    Everything all right?

Bert    Maybe Charlie’s on a tight budget. Tight budgets all the rage round here. Maybe Charlie wants to be all the rage. Tight fucken budgets! Makes you wanna turn to drink, uh, Ray?

Raymond gets Bert’s hint and tops up the glasses. Bert looks over at the fourth bed and finishes off his whisky.

Bert    Wonder where the missing Munchkin is.

Charles    So was I. I was wondering.

Raymond     Assuming it is a small person.

Pause.

Charles    Oh . . . you don’t, you don’t think they’d put a big person in here with us, do you, Raymond?

Raymond    A big person?

Charles    Yes, you know, a, a –

Bert    A regular guy. You mean a regular guy, right, Charlie?

Raymond    Does that worry you, Charles?

Bert    Does it, Charlie? It worries you?

Charles    Well, ah, I don’t, I mean. It would make more sense to keep us all together, wouldn’t it? I just thought we’d all be Munchkins in here together.

Raymond    No no no, there’s definitely a note of anxiety in your voice. You’re worried, aren’t you?

Charles    I’m not worried, I just feel, I’ve nothing against big people, I know lots of big people and I’m not worried. I just, well, I suppose it makes sense. I suppose, what I, what I’m trying to –

Bert    Don’t sweat it, Charlie. This is Munchkin central. There’s gonna be no integration. Two hundred midgets under the same roof. They gotta be able to keep an eye on us. Can’t have midgets running riot around Culver City. Bad for publicity.

Charles    Yes, yes you’re right, it makes sense . . .

Raymond    I can’t imagine what on earth you’d have to fear from big people, Charles. Some of the kindest people I’ve ever met have been of regular stature.

Bert    Biggest heels I met been big people. Condescending cocksuckers. This gig ain’t gonna be any different . . .

Charles    . . . they’ll always know where the Munchkins are.

Bert    . . . beats the fucken soup kitchen though. Just about beats the soup kitchen and there’s very little in it you wanna know the truth.

Raymond    I wouldn’t know.

Charles    If we’re all under the same roof it makes sense.

Raymond    I have to disagree with you, Mr Kowalski: soup kitchens? Please! I believe this picture will be a resounding success. Mr LeRoy is a genius, and it’s common knowledge that Mr Louis B. Mayer himself is right behind the enterprise. One hundred per cent behind it, I heard.

Bert    That right, is it? The gospel?

Raymond    From upon high: good sources.

Charles (to himself)     We’d get under their feet.

Bert    You in for a cut of the profits, Ray?

Raymond     Money isn’t the point.

Bert    Nothing wrong with dough.

Raymond    I’m not saying there is.

Bert    Don’t knock dough, Ray.

Raymond     Raymond.

Bert    You knock dough, we ain’t pissing on the same patch. You got some knockout broad on Hollywood Boulevard, legs so fucken long you gotta stand on Charlie’s shoulders to get a sniff o’ her sweet pie; she ain’t gonna look twice at the likes of us. But you got a big bunch o’ greenbacks in your tail, you ain’t no short-assed gnome no more.

Raymond    I’d hardly –

Bert    What, Ray? Leave money out o’ this: you got a beef with money you need examining.

Raymond    Please, Mr Kowalski; I have a point that needs getting across.

Bert    Point away, Ray.

Pause.

Raymond    The point here isn’t the money. I’m proud to be associated with a moving picture of such high production values. I really believe it has quality. It’s a timeless story. Don’t you agree, Charles?

Charles    Agree with what?

Raymond    That it’s a timeless story. The Wonderful Wizard of Oz?

Charles    Um, yes, ah . . . I love the Cowardly Lion . . .

He grabs a hold of the script and flips the pages. Bert shakes his head and pours himself another whisky.

Charles (reading the lines)     ‘Put ’em up’ . . . very funny. That’s just . . . well, I mean, it’s very, very funny. I think it’ll be very funny when it’s finished. Your friend is a very funny writer. (Pause.) So you don’t, you really don’t think they’ll be putting big people in here with us?

Raymond    What attracts me is the universal theme of finding happiness in your own backyard, so to speak.

Bert    Where is your backyard nowadays, Ray?

Raymond    Washington and it’s Raymond if you don’t mind.

Bert    So you got out o’ Detroit, uh?

Raymond    Detroit? I –

Bert    I told you. We worked out in Wichita together, ’twenty-nine, Fred Corelli’s troupe, flying fucken dwarfs. How could you forget the flying fucken dwarfs, Ray? You were the catcher, you had to catch me in those strong mitts of yours.

Raymond    . . . ’Twenty-nine, you say?

Charles    I can’t see them putting big people in here really.

Bert    That’s right: ’twenty-nine. Flying fucken dwarfs.

Raymond ponders, pulls out his cigarette case and offers one to Charles and Bert. They all light up.

Raymond    . . . Wichita . . . um . . .

Charles    Is that prairie country?

Bert    Uh?

Charles    Wichita, Kansas. Grasslands. I’d imagine there’d be nothing interesting or exotic regarding flora and fauna. Am I right?

Raymond    I really can’t recall working in Wichita in ’twenty-nine . . . no, you’ve lost me in Wichita, I’m afraid.

Bert    You should maybe ask the marvellous Mr LeRoy if he can arrange a meeting with the Wonderful Wizard . . . you could ask him to fix you up a memory, Ray.

Charles    Wichita. Is there a lot of agriculture around Wichita, Bert? Cattle country, I’m assuming.

Raymond    It’s impossible for one to keep track of all one’s appearances, Mr Kowalski. I’m sure you’d understand if you were as in demand.

Bert    I’m sure I would.

Raymond    Yes.

Bert    Sure.

Charles    I’ve always wanted to see a Californian redwood. There are trees so big that they’ve been hollowed out so that motor cars can drive through them. I would doubt that Wichita is a heavily forested area though, eh, Bert?

Bert    Maybe not so many trees in Wichita, Charlie, but there’s a hell of a lot o’ skeletons rattling in closets.

Bert glares at Raymond. Raymond wanders about the room. A large envelope is slid under the door. Nobody notices.

Raymond    . . . I promise you’ll be the first to know if my memory recalls anything pertaining to Wichita in ’twenty-nine, Mr Kowalski.

Suddenly Charles catches sight of the large envelope. He goes over and picks it up.

Charles    . . . It’s addressed to Kowalski, Merryweather, Benedict-Porter and Kinsella. I think Kinsella might well be our missing Munchkin.

Raymond    Obviously.

Raymond takes the envelope out of Charles’s hand and starts to open it.

Bert    Don’t you think we should maybe wait for Kinsella, Ray?

Raymond    Kinsella might never show up.

Bert    You don’t think?

Raymond    It could happen.

Bert    That Kinsella won’t show?

Raymond    No. Kinsella might show. There’s also a possibility that Kinsella won’t show.

Bert    You know these things, uh?

Raymond    Look –

Bert    Go ahead, you were saying, Ray.

Raymond    I was, I was saying it could be important – this letter – and for the umpteenth time it’s Raymond and/ or Benedict-Porter.

Bert    If it were important the desk would o’ called. It ain’t professional opening other midgets’ mail. Besides, Kinsella might be one of those touchy midgets that get real pissed if they think they’re getting left out. You know the sort, Ray.

Raymond    I don’t know ‘the sort’.

Bert    Sure you do: uppity fucken midgets.

Raymond    I really can’t see what harm it would do.

Charles    I think Raymond’s right, Bert. I’m sure Mr Kinsella would realise we’re only –

Bert    You know Kinsella, Charlie?

Charles    No, we’ve never, obviously not . . . but –

Bert    For all you, me, Ray there, all we know Kinsella’s a real cranky evil little sonofabitch. Think about it, Charlie, you’re gonna be sharing a room with him for weeks, you don’t wanna be making enemies with dwarfs you don’t even know yet.

Raymond    I’ll take full responsibility if Mr Kinsella finds the gesture untoward.

Bert     Untoward?

Raymond    That’s what I said.

Bert    I heard you: you’re saying untoward.

Raymond    Correct.

Bert    OK.

Raymond    There’s no harm.

Charles    Can I just –

Bert    No harm, uh? Nothing untoward, right?

Charles    Please, Mr –

Bert    Call me Bert.

Charles    Mr Kowalski, I’m trying to . . . look . . .

Raymond starts to open the envelope again. Charles moves over to Raymond.

Charles    Um, maybe Mr Kowalski’s right about –

Raymond    Charles, this is between me and the missing Mr Kinsella. Who, if we’re being realistic, might never show . . . there are more unprofessional small people out there than you could ever dream of.

Bert    You don’t even know he’s an unprofessional midget, Ray. Anything could o’ happened to the little guy. Culver’s a big city. He could o’ got lost. Even giants get lost in Hollywood, Ray.

Charles    Bert has got a point, Raymond.

Raymond    You’re an authority on who gets lost and who doesn’t get lost in Hollywood now, Charles?

Charles    I, huh –

Bert    Kid’s got a point.

Raymond    You’re an aficionado now, Charles?

Charles    I wasn’t trying to –

Raymond    Then don’t.

Bert    Kid’s just cautious, Ray.

Raymond    Raymond and/or Benedict-Porter for the last time, Kowalski!

Bert    Kid’s entitled to be cautious. Ain’t nothing untoward going on, eh, uh, Charlie?

Raymond    I’ve said I’ll take full responsibility.

Raymond pulls out a sheet of paper from the envelope and reads it. His expression slowly turns to one of shock, then anger and finally rage.

Charles    . . . What is it, Raymond?

Raymond shoves the paper into Charles’s hand and storms over to the chair, puts it near the telephone and climbs up. Bert takes the sheet of paper from Charles, reads it and laughs out loud. Charles stands over Bert’s shoulder.

Charles    . . . Oh dear, he thought he was going to be the Mayor of Munchkinland.

Bert    Looks like he’s gonna have to settle on being third Munchkin soldier from the left . . . plays his cards right, they might elect him one day!

Raymond (into phone)     . . . Desk? . . . put me through to Mr LeRoy, this is Mr Raymond Benedict-Porter. (Long pause.) . . . Oh, I see . . . (Furtively putting his hand over the mouthpiece.) . . . Yes of course, of course I’ll hold.

Charles    . . . Mr Kinsella’s going to be one of the Lullaby League.

Bert    . . . Had my heart set on being the Coroner.

Charles    I suppose being a Munchkin baby isn’t too bad, considering.

Bert    Maybe you get to suck on some Munchkin titties.

Charles    Oh dear. You don’t think –

Bert    Ray’d give his high teeth to be a Munchkin baby right now, Charlie.

Raymond (shoots a disgusted pout at Bert then speaks into phone)     Ah, Mr LeRoy . . . Mervyn . . . Raymond Benedict-Porter . . . Fine, fine, and you? . . . Oh, good, good . . . Oh yes, yes, and it was a pleasure working with you, Mervyn . . . I hate to bother you . . .

Charles – frowning – and Bert – shaking his head – watch Raymond’s performance on the telephone.

Raymond    . . . but ah, I’ve just received my call sheet . . . That’s right, ah, there seems to be a little mistake, well, more of an oversight . . . Do you happen to have your call sheets handy perchance?

Charles    How come he gets to call out and we don’t?

Raymond (into phone)     . . . Oh, right, I see, I see . . . yes, I thought it must be a mistake . . . yes, I understand. No, no problem . . . Oh yes I’d love to, yes, give us chance to catch up on old times, yes, Mervyn . . . au revoir. My regards to Mrs LeRoy . . . Yes, bye.

Raymond climbs down off the chair and finishes off his whisky.

Bert    A mistake, uh?

Raymond    Mervyn’s given me his assurance it’ll be remedied.

Charles    Um, I hate to ask, and I hope you don’t feel I’m preying on your good nature, Raymond–

Raymond    These things happen on such large productions, Mr Kowalski . . . but of course you wouldn’t know that, would you?

Bert    No, guess I wouldn’t. I guess I wouldn’t know what happens round these parts.

Charles    Ah, Raymond, I was wondering –

Raymond    Quite.

Bert    Guess we’re not all big shots in the world o’ entertainment.

Raymond    No.

Bert    Guess I know more about what goes on in places like Wichita, uh?

Charles    I was wondering, Raymond –

Raymond    You’re still performing in the circus, Mr Kowalski?

Bert    You want me to put in a word someplace?

Raymond (feigning a chuckle)     Oh, no, no, I’ve moved on from circus. I haven’t had to lower myself since –

Bert    Wichita, ’twenty-nine?

Charles    Raymond –

Raymond    I was going to say I haven’t had to lower myself to circus since –

Bert    Wichita, ’twenty-nine?

Raymond glares at Bert and shakes his head.

Charles    . . . I was wondering if you could make a call out for me, Raymond? I’d be willing to recompense you of course, it’s just that I’d like to let my parents know that I’ve arrived safely. They won’t let us make outside calls, you see.

Raymond is flustered. Bert stares at Raymond. Raymond bows his head and runs his fingers through his hair.

Raymond    . . . Ah . . . um . . .

Bert    Well, Ray?

Charles    If it’s the money you’re –

Raymond    No, no, it’s not that, Charles, it’s just that I’d feel a little, I mean I’ve got a relationship with the producers and I’d hate to –

Bert    Cut the crap, Ray, you can’t get an outside line. You couldn’t get an outside line if this hotel was on fire and all the midgets in here were frying.

Raymond    Don’t talk – who do you think I was just talking to?

Bert    Yourself.

Raymond    You think I was –

Bert    Sure.

Raymond    Talking to myself?

Bert    We heard ya, Ray.

Raymond    Don’t be – why would I want to do that? Why would I want to talk to myself?

Bert    A number of reasons, the chief one being maybe people don’t wanna listen to your crap any more.

Raymond sighs and pours himself a whisky.

Raymond    Is there something eating you, Mr Kowalski? Something’s eating, you seem intent on trying to needle me, is something eating you?

Bert     Eating me?

Raymond    Yes, something eat— you’re trying to needle me.

Bert    Why would I want to needle you, Ray? I don’t even know you, remember?

Bert picks up the toilet roll and goes into the bathroom. Charles stares at Raymond, puzzled.

Charles    . . . You were . . . I mean, on the tele . . . you weren’t –

Raymond    Take no notice of the drug fiend. I’ll be having words with Mervyn, see if we can’t get him off the production.

Charles    I must say, Raymond, I mean, the poor chap’s chronically bronchial –

Raymond    Don’t be – are you –

Charles    He’s coarse but, I mean, his condition is –

Raymond (laughing)     Wake up, you idiot! He’s an opium addict. If anything has damaged his lungs, it’s smoking opium.

A long pause. Charles lets Raymond’s words sink in.

Charles    . . . Opium? I didn’t –

Raymond    Of course you didn’t.

Pause.

Charles    You mean . . . ? You mean he was . . . he was smoking opium?

Raymond    You want me to spell it out?

Charles    I can’t . . .

Raymond    Well, you’d better: you’d better wake up and believe it.

Charles    And I offered – I mean, you’re positive?

Raymond    Bert Kowlaski’s a notorious drug fiend. He’s been fired from every circus from here to Arkansas. Notorious.

Charles    Oh dear.

Raymond    If you only knew.

Pause.

Charles    But I . . . I thought, I thought you didn’t know him, Raymond?

Raymond    I don’t know him, but I know of him. He’s bad news and I suggest quite strongly that you stay clear of him until I can have a discreet word in Mervyn’s ear.

Charles    Oh my! I didn’t . . . and I . . . opium indeed. I’ve heard it sends people, heard it sends them . . .

Raymond    Insane?

Charles    Does it? In your, in your experience, Raymond? Does it send them – I mean, that could be dangerous. It could be dangerous: insanity.

Raymond    Not could, is.

Charles    Really?

Raymond    Yes. Insanity is dangerous.

Charles    And you think, you think –

Raymond (pointing towards the bathroom)     You need any more proof? The man’s half demented already. You heard him going on and on and on about Wichita, ranting, ranting on and on about Wichita . . . the man’s delusional, Charles, the man’s delusional and the last thing Mervyn needs is delusional Munchkins on his production.

Charles    . . . You don’t think it could make him turn, turn him and make him turn violent, do you?

Raymond    There’s no telling with these fiends: violence is a possibility.

Charles    Oh dear.

Charles sits down and shakes his head. Raymond pours him a glass of whisky and hands it to him.

Raymond    Here. Drink this.

Charles    I don’t really –

Raymond    It calms the nerves. Trust me.

Charles    Huh, but –

Raymond    Just drink it for heaven’s sake.

Charles    You’re sure, Raymond?

Raymond    Positive. Drink it.

Charles    I don’t know.

Raymond    There is absolutely nothing to know.

Charles takes a sip of the whisky and pulls a sour face.

Raymond    It’s less – take it back in one – it’s less harsh if you take it back in one.

Charles knocks the whisky back and coughs. Raymond has another ready for him.

Charles    My word . . .

Bert returns from the bathroom, climbs up on his bed and lies down. Charles eyes Bert suspiciously.

Bert    Wake me up during the credits.

The door slowly opens. Bert sits up, Charles and Raymond turn and stare.

Philomena, early twenties, smartly dressed – holding her outsized case – peeks her head round the door like a frightened rabbit.

Raymond    . . . Yes? Can we . . .?

Philomena (furtively closing the door on herself)     . . . I must have the wrong . . .

Bert (laughing, shouting after her)     Hey, wait a minute, honey, I got a itch needs scratching.

Bert lies back and laughs to himself. Raymond shakes his head and pours Charles another shot.

Raymond    Here.

Charles    No, really.

Raymond    My dear boy, you’re going to have to develop a taste for whisky if you wish to hold on to your sanity.

Charles    Really?

Raymond    Oh yes.

Charles    Oh dear.

Raymond    Major productions are very stressful.

Charles    I feel a little . . . I feel queasy.

Raymond (handing him the glass)     You will, you will feel a little queasy. It’s an acquired taste and you will feel a little . . . drink it.

Charles reluctantly knocks the whisky back and grimaces. Raymond looks over at Bert, sleeping, and shakes his head.

Raymond (quietly)     Just look at him, Charles, all the self-esteem of a sewer rat. Be sure to keep an eye on your valuables until I can arrange for his removal.

Charles    You’ll be having words with Mer— Mr LeRoy?

Raymond    Strong words.

Charles    Yes?

Raymond    Oh yes. Very strong words.

Charles    About Mr – about Bert?

Raymond    Definitely, I’ll definitely be having strong words in Mervyn’s ear.

Charles (holding his stomach)     I can’t see me acquiring a taste for it, Raymond.

Raymond (pouring another glass)     Nonsense, Charles . . . here.

Charles    No, no, I feel . . . I feel really . . .

The door opens. Philomena sheepishly stands at the threshold, crying as a voice mocks:

Booming male voice (off)     No mistakes, no mix-ups, honey, this is home. Don’t worry, those little guys won’t bother you. Hey, Harry, those little bastards got it made! Broads and everything . . .

Bert groans in his sleep. Charles rushes into the bathroom, cupping his hands over his mouth. Raymond approaches Philomena.

Raymond    Whatever seems to be the matter, young lady?

Philomena    . . . They . . . I . . . they say I’ve . . .

Philomena breaks down. Raymond puts his arm around her and helps her in with her case.

Raymond    What? They said what to you?

Philomena    . . . they say . . .

Raymond    The desk?

Philomena    . . . they say I’ve got to share this room . . .

Raymond    The desk said you’ve got to share this room?

Philomena    . . . they say there are no other rooms and that I’ve got to stay in here and share.

Her eyes flit hurriedly around the room, taking note of everything.

Raymond     The desk said this?

Philomena    I think so.

Raymond    Oh, I’m sure it’s a mistake. They’ve got me down as a soldier on the call sheet. Oversights happen on productions of this scale.

Philomena    I, I don’t –

Raymond    I’m the Mayor of Munchkinland and they’ve got me down as a soldier. Simple oversight, dear, nothing to worry about.

Offstage, we hear Charles retching. Raymond and Philomena look over at the bathroom door. Bert groans and their attention is drawn to him.

Raymond    We’re expecting a Mr Kinsella. It’s on the call sheet. It says Kinsella. Mr Kinsella.

Philomena breaks down again, running to the chest of drawers and sobbing into it, her face turned away from them. Bert wakes up and watches them.

Philomena    Kin . . . that’s me. I’m Mr – I’m Kinsella. Philomena Kinsella . . . I just, I just want to go home. (She turns round to face them.) This is a mistake, I shouldn’t, they said I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t have come here.

Raymond picks up the call sheet and moves over to her.

Raymond    I stand corrected. It doesn’t say whether you’re a male or female Kinsella, accept my apology.

Philomena    I’m not a man.

Raymond    No, no, it simply says Kinsella. No Philomena, no female, just Kins—

Philomena    Oh, this is just . . . it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have come out here.

Raymond    Nonsense, whoever told you that? Don’t worry your pretty little head, Miss Kinsella, I’ll have a word with Mervyn, see if we can’t find you female quarters.

Philomena    Mervyn?

Raymond    Just got off the phone with him.

Philomena    And, and this, this Mervyn can, he can get me another room?

Raymond    Mervyn LeRoy, Miss Kinsella. Mervyn LeRoy the producer.

Bert    Don’t listen to him, honey. He’s full o’ shit. Used to be a big shot on the midget scene, now he’s gonna be playing third fiddle in a troop o’ Munchkin soldiers.

Raymond glowers at Bert.

Philomena (to Bert)    I shouldn’t have come . . . this is awful . . . they told me, they said something awful would happen.

Bert    I’ll take care of you, sweetie.

Raymond    Stay out of this, Kowalski.

Bert (patting the bed)     Climb up here, we can rehearse our lines together.

Raymond    Cut it out, Kowalski!

Bert    Can’t blame me for trying, midgets get horny too, Ray . . . remember?

Bert climbs down off the bed and goes to his case and rummages about in it, his back to the audience, clearly packing away his pipe.

Raymond leads Philomena to a chair and sits her down.

Philomena    This is just awful.

Raymond    Now, now, Miss Kinsella. Nothing that can’t be remedied.

Philomena    I can’t . . . why would they want to – they know I’m not a man.

Raymond (pouring a glass of whisky)     Here, drink this, it’ll calm your nerves.

Philomena    Thank you, but –

Raymond    No, please, I insist.

Charles returns from the bathroom, looking decidedly ill. He is surprised by Philomena’s presence.

Raymond    Charles, I’d like to introduce you to –

Bert    Our missing Munchkin’s here, Charlie, and he’s a fucken doll.

Raymond    This is Miss Kinsella, Charles. I was explaining to her that they’ve obviously made a mistake. I’ll be having words with Mervyn, see if we can’t find her some female quarters.

Charles offers his hand to Philomena. They gently shake.

Raymond    Charles is from your neck of the woods, Miss Kinsella. Now, what about the suggestion that we repair to the restaurant across the street before turning in? I don’t know about anyone else but I’m famished.

Raymond heads to the chest of drawers. Bert climbs down from the bed, then rubs his hands together.

Bert    I heard the food’s bad, but I don’t listen to gossip.

Raymond is looking on top of the chest and in his drawers for something. The cufflinks are gone.

Charles    I don’t know, will there be big people there?

Bert    Who you thinks gonna be waiting on us, Charlie?

Raymond    Everything will be in order and we’ll all be quite safe. This I guarantee. Miss Kinsella?

Philomena    I’m not staying here by myself.

Raymond    Good, that’s settled. Can’t seem to find those cufflinks . . .

Raymond has another search, then shrugs and goes into his case, produces a different set and puts them on. Charles pulls on his jacket. Bert is ready and clearly impatient.

Bert : C’mon. Ray!

Raymond looks suspiciously at Bert, then extends his arm in a loop and Philomena takes it. They exit as the lights go down.

Scene Two

Bert, Raymond, Charles and Philomena are sitting at an outsized table on outsized chairs in a restaurant. The large plates have been cleared and there are several huge wine bottles – all empty. The four big glasses each have a mouthful of wine left in them.

Philomena    That was a wonderful meal. I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight after having eaten all that.

Charles    Yes, it was rather a lot.

Raymond    It’s generally not a good idea to eat so much so late. Hard on the digestive system, you know. But I never have a problem sleeping, being a practitioner of the Alexander Technique.

Philomena    Thank you for making me feel so welcome, you’ve all been very kind. I didn’t mean to become hysterical, it’s just not what I expected . . . (To Charles.) You didn’t think I was hysterical, did you? Sister Helena used to say I was hysterical . . . I’d hate to think I’d been hysterical in front of you.

Charles    No, no, no – not at all. I do think it’s been rather a shock for all of us. It isn’t every day that you’re going to be a Munchkin in a Hollywood film! Such a beautiful spot as well. (To the others.) Did anyone see that wonderful silver birch tree in the courtyard at the back of the hotel?

Raymond    The fish was exquisite. I recall being in a Broadway production, some time ago – the name escapes me – there was a wonderful fish restaurant with equally exquisite fish. Have you been to New York, Miss Kinsella?

Philomena    We sailed into it but only had time to stay one night before we got put on a train. I’d have liked to have seen more of it. This is what’s known as an ‘Italian Restaurant’, isn’t it?

Bert    They got Italian joints where you come from?

Philomena    Joints?

Bert    Restaurants.

Philomena    Perhaps in Dublin, not in my town, no.

Bert    You’re next door to Italy and you ain’t got one?

Charles    I believe there are Italian Restaurants in London but I haven’t come across one.

Bert    I reckon your King eats Italian food any time he likes, huh?

Charles    Well, I suppose if the King wanted to eat Italian food, he would just set sail to Italy.

Bert    Suppose if you’re a king . . . or even a mayor, you get those privileges, hey, Ray?

Raymond    Are you trying to needle me again, Kowalski?

Bert    I’m just sayin some people get to eat anything they like. (Lets out a loud belch.)

Charles    Really, Bert. There’s a lady present.

Philomena    Oh , I don’t mind. I come from a family of eight. My brothers –

Bert    Don’t get on no high horse here, Charlie, just cos you’re a gardener to the fucken King. (To Philomena and Raymond.) You guys realise we’re in the presence of royalty here?

Philomena    Royalty?

Charles    Well, I did have a gardening position at the Royal Gardens at Kew but I would hardly say . . .

Bert    Hear that, Philomena? If your bush ever needs to get trimmed, Charlie here’s your man.

Philomena    What bush? What do you mean?

Bert    Forget it, honey. (Shouts to floor.) Hey there! (Turns to others.) Let’s get that waiter over here with another bottle o’ wine.

Charles    Keep your voice down! The big people might –

Bert    Big people my ass! You give them too much respect, Charlie!

Charles sheepishly bows his head.

Bert      Show ’em too much respect n’ they walk all over you. Fucken bullies you want my opinion!

Raymond      Keep your voice down, Kowalski.

Charles      Actually, huh, Bert’s got a point . . . the big people I worked with in the gardens could be terrible bullies.

Bert    Yeah, right. Get some of those big cocksuckers in a mob, they start thinkin that you’re put on this Earth for their fucken amusement. Right, Philomena?

Philomena    Goodness, no. They were all very kind in the village back home. (Pause.) Well, most of them were. Some of them gave us food. Then the nuns . . . the nuns picked me up and looked after me. Not all big people are bullies.

Bert    OK, but you’re from the land o’ the little people, right? Maybe us types get a better deal where you’re from, honey.

Charles recoils as if in memory. Raymond turns to him.

Raymond    Does the name Jeffrey Hudson ring a bell?

Charles    Jeffrey. . .?

Raymond    Jeffrey Hudson was a small person who was a retainer at the court of Charles I. ‘The King’s dwarf’ they called him. He was born in Rutland, the smallest county in England, I believe. Motto: ‘Multum in Parvo’ – much in little. He was probably one of the first small-people performers, a forerunner – in a crude way of course – to the thespians of today.

Bert    A fucken court jester!

Raymond    I’m sure that you would look at it like that.

Bert    What other way is there to look at it, Ray? He was there to amuse the fucken King, like little Charlie here. Only it wasn’t even no king that Charlie had to amuse, it was that mob o’ green-fingered cocksuckers, right, Charlie?

Charles    I should never have left home, should never have left my garden. I was safe at home. I thought I’d be taken care of at Kew, but those big bullies – all I wanted was to be left in peace to do my job of work – I . . .

Raymond    What you need to do with such people is give them a taste of their own medicine.

Bert    You’d know all about that, Ray . . . Big Jim Murdock, right?

Raymond    What are you, talking about, Kowalski?

Bert    Big Jim was the circus strongman with Fred Corelli, back in Wichita, ’twenty-nine . . .

Raymond    I’ve told you, Kowalski. I –

Bert    Nice guy. Couldn’t handle the sauce though. Turned into a real mean bastard on the sauce. Like a different fucken guy.

Charles is looking uncomfortable.

Bert    Know the type, Charlie?

Charles    Yes, the big gardeners . . . they . . . they . . .

Philomena notes his distress and comforts him.

Bert    Big Jim’s been on the hooch all day playin cards and I’m takin him and his buddies for the dumb schmucks they are, cleanin those big assholes right out. Well, Jim gets sore and he gets the notion that he’s gonna throw some dwarf ass around. Like see how far he can throw us . . .

Raymond    Kowalski . . .

Charles    They hung me upside down from a tree . . .

Philomena    No! Surely not. Never in the gardens of the King himself!

Bert    . . . We all had shit, Charlie, we all had shit. Thing is, instead of me, this asshole picks on Ray here, Ray with those fucken mitts like vices . . .

Raymond is about to react to Bert when Philomena runs her hand up and down his arm.

Philomena    Goodness! They are very strong arms. Feel the muscles in Raymond’s arms, Charlie.

Raymond flexes his muscles and smiles at Philomena, then looks half hopefully at Charles.

Philomena    Go on, Charlie.

Charles    What?

Philomena    Feel his muscles.

Charles    I don’t want to feel his muscles!

Bert    . . . So Ray grabs this cocksucker by the balls and won’t let go till this asshole – this fucken strongman – starts squealin like a short-changed Times Square hooker.

Philomena and Charles look at Raymond in admiration.

Charles    Is that true, Raymond? You bested a big chap?

Bert    Not just a fucken big chap, Charles; that limp-wristed waiter faggot who won’t bring over more fucken wine is a big chap. We’re talkin Big Jim Murdock, who’s as much a fucken giant to the likes of those waiter cocksuckers as they are to you. Wichita, ’twenty-nine, right, Ray?

Raymond    It’s true that I have been known to stand up to bullies. It’s also true that I do have an exceptionally strong grip. However . . . I am an actor and if truth be known I don’t particularly like to dwell on my physical achievements. But . . . well, Kowalski, you seem intent on trying to needle me.

Raymond grabs Bert’s hand and Bert prepares for a bout of arm-wrestling but Raymond starts to squeeze. Bert is clearly in some discomfort.

Bert    Chrissakes, Ray –

Raymond    I have to say though, Mr Kowalski, that on this particular occasion you are mistaken . . .

Raymond increases the pressure on Bert’s hand.

Bert    I – fuck, Ray –

Raymond    . . . I wasn’t in Wichita in nineteen twenty-nine.

Bert    OK! OK!

Raymond    Do you understand, Kowalski?

Bert    Yep, yep! Leggo my goddam –

Raymond    I’m so glad that we understand each other. It will make our stay together so much more civilised.

Incidentally, you haven’t seen a pair of gold cufflinks in the room, have you?

Bert    I don’t know nothing bout no cufflinks –

Raymond    I’m sure you’d inform me if you came across them.

Bert    I would, I fucken would . . . please . . .

Raymond releases his grip as Bert gasps and wrings out his hand.

Bert    Jesus Christ . . .

Raymond    Now that this little misunderstanding has been cleared up, I must now turn my attention to getting myself more appropriately cast – and Miss Kinsella suitably billeted, of course.

Philomena    Oh, Raymond . . . you really think you’d be able to do that?

Raymond    Mervyn LeRoy I would count as – I would consider – and I can say this of perhaps only a handful of people in my acquaintance – as a close personal friend. I would also be failing in my duty if I stood by while an honourable and decent young lady (looks to Bert) was forced to remain in proximity to the morally questionable.

Philomena    Oh thank you, thank you so much, Raymond . . .

Raymond sees something from the corner of his eye.

Raymond    Waiter! Another bottle of wine if you please. Thank you. (Turns again to Bert.) There we are, Mr Kowalski. Civility and authority: tools of the trade for the thespian and the mark of a gentleman.

Charles    I think it’s so marvellous that we’re all going to be living together.

Raymond raises his glass in toast.

Raymond    To Hollywood!

Charles and Philomena– with enthusiasm – and Bert– with reluctance – join in the toast.

Act Two

The song ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ starts to play.

The same hotel room, only a lot more ‘lived in’. Clothes are strewn around, empty bottles of whisky litter the floor, beds are unmade and ashtrays are overflowing; it is clearly some weeks into the production.

Charles enters dressed as a baby Munchkin. He looks around, then satisfied the room is empty, heads straight for a full bottle of Scotch on the table. He’s clearly stressed out and in desperate need of a drink. He polishes off the whisky, pours another and repeats the process.

Raymond, wearing a Munchkin soldier uniform and carrying a wooden gun, enters tentatively, standing in the doorway.

Charles turns to face him, tense with rage and fear.

Charles    Keep away from me!

Raymond    My dear boy, whatever’s the matter?

Charles    What you did to me last night . . .

Raymond shuts the door behind him. He takes a step forward.

Raymond    It was for your own good . . . it was an old thespian trick, well utilised in theatrical circles in order to combat the –

Charles    You hurt me . . . I can hardly . . .

Raymond steps forward. Charles steps back.

Charles    Keep away from me, you . . . you beast!

Raymond stops, moves back towards the door.

Raymond    You caused the pain yourself by being so tense. I told you to relax. All functioning depends on the correct balance of tension in the entire neuromuscular system from head to toe. Granted, I normally practise this with other actors, skilled in the art of relaxation, the Alexander Technique . . . I forgot that the lay person often has difficulty . . . (Stepping forward.) Let me see what’s wrong . . .

Charles, snarling dementedly, charges forward a few paces and Raymond retreats, opening the door.

Charles    FUCKING LEAVE ME ALONE!

Raymond    I’ll let you simmer down, Charles . . . a most unseemly outburst.

He exits and shuts the door behind him.

Charles makes for the whisky and pours himself another drink. Something catches his eye. His drawer in the chest is slightly open. He goes over and pulls it open. He rummages through the drawer in panic.

Terrified, he starts looking around, under beds, pillows, mattresses, etc.

Philomena enters dressed as one of the ‘Lullaby League’. She is holding a yellow brick in her hand. She looks exhausted and immediately takes off her shoes.

Philomena (sitting down on the floor, massaging her feet) . . . Half past four this morning I was on that set. Half past four! Sure, we didn’t get a break until twelve. Miss Garland didn’t come on set until ten and then she kept fluffing her lines and that horrible little dog kept peeing everywhere . . . managed to get a yellow brick though. Little memento. One of the labourers said it would be OK . . . What was all that noise last night? I didn’t get to sleep until after twelve, and I had to get up at three thirty. Were you and Raymond arguing, Charlie? It sounded like you were arguing. It’s not fair really, I mean it’s really not fair. We should all learn to get on . . . are you . . . Charlie, are you listening to me?

Charles    . . . My . . . my money’s gone. My wallet . . . I trusted him. We were all supposed to be Munchkins together. He did that to me, now my money’s gone.

Philomena (not listening to Charles)    Oh, nearly forgot, I heard a rumour, well, it was the labourer, the labourer who gave me the yellow brick, he told me not to say anything, but . . . well, do you want to know or not, Charles?

Charles    Uh?

Philomena    Victor, Mr Fleming. He’s leaving us to do a motion picture called Gone With the Wind. I can’t wait to tell – what am I saying? Raymond’ll probably know. There’s not much gets past Raymond. The things Raymond doesn’t know about this production aren’t worth knowing. Sure, he told me that himself. He’s a very wise man.

She looks over at Charles and notices he is preoccupied.

You’re not listening, Charles. Charles, are you listening to me?

Charles    . . . My money, it’s . . . it was, I left it in here, and now it’s gone. I trusted him –

Philomena    Gone! It can’t have just gone, it can’t have gone . . . I hope you’re not suggesting that someone in here . . . that it’s just gone.

She puts the yellow brick on her bedside table and goes over to Charles.

You’ll have only been misplacing it, Charles. Have another look. It can’t have gone, money doesn’t just go. Have another lo—

Charles (breaking down and crying)     I’m telling you it’s fucking gone.

Philomena (feigning shock)     Well, there’s no need for that kind of talk! (Pause.) Wait till Raymond gets here and talk to him. He’ll know what to do.

Charles    Him . . . he’s an evil, twisted liar! How would he know what to do! Did he get the part of Mayor from his ‘friend’ Mr LeRoy? Did he?

He grabs Philomena by the shoulders and forces her to look around the room.

Did he get you another room? Did he?

Philomena pulls away from him.

Philomena    Don’t blame Raymond, he explained that he didn’t want to put any pressure on his friend Mr LeRoy. I know you’re upset about the money, but it can’t have gone, it must just be mislaid, that’s all. You’ve mislaid it.

Charles    It’s not fucking mislaid. It’s all I had, everything I had. How I am going to get home?

Philomena    Would you like me to have a look for you, Charles?

Charles wipes at his eyes and pours another whisky.

Charles    I’m stuck here . . . I’m stuck here like that stupid little bitch in Oz.

Philomena    Please! You’d make a stevedore blush, Charles Merryweather, you really would. You’ve been spending too much time around that horrible Bert Kowalski . . . I’ll have a look for you.

Charles (yelling)     ARE YOU DEAF?

Philomena    There’s no need to be . . . You might want to be askin your ‘good friend’ Mr Kowalski if he knows of your money’s whereabouts if you insist that it’s ‘gone’.

Charles    Bert’s a good friend of mine. Bert wouldn’t – just stay out of this.

Philomena    Very well, be like that. See if I care, I was only trying to help . . . and besides, if it has ‘gone’ it’ll have ‘gone’ on liquor that you’ve forgotten about.

Charles    I haven’t forgotten about liquor! Just . . . just leave me alone.

Philomena (looking around at the mess)     And if you think I’m cleaning this room up again, you’ve got another thing coming. I’m an actress not a bloody chambermaid.

Philomena picks up her make-up box and marches into the bathroom indignantly. Charles sits sobbing into the whisky. Bert enters dressed as a ‘Lollipop Kid’. He is smoking a very large cigar and is full of himself. Charles quickly wipes at his tear-stained face and tries to act normal. Offstage, we hear the bath taps running.

Bert    . . . What a guy. Victor Fleming. Victor Fleming’s some guy! If this picture don’t break all box-office records I’ll shave my ass in Times Square . . . Got talking to Mervyn at lunch, told him how much I enjoyed Fugitive from a Chain Gang, offered me a part in his next picture, he’s calling it Quo Vadis. Great title, beats me the fuck what it means, but, eh, beggars can’t be choosy . . . That fucken leprechaun in the tub again?

Charles nods his head in positive.

Bert    Fucken pussy of hers must stink like Docherty’s Pig time she spends in that tub. Should be careful she don’t wash that little Irish ass away.

He notices Charles’s downbeat mood.

’Sup with you, you need your diaper changing or something?

He picks up a bottle of whisky and pours the last drops out of it. He knocks back the whisky and sighs.

You fancy eating out at the diner tonight, Charlie?

Charles    I’ve no . . . I’m short –

Bert    No sweat, it’s on me, cleaned the Cowardly Lion out at lunch. Told him, said: ‘Never mind asking the Wizard for courage; when you get to the Emerald City, you just ask him to teach you how to play craps, you schmuck.’ You should join us sometime, Charlie. They’re good people . . . Garland let me sit on her lap today . . . gee, I had me one hell of a fucken boner, she must o’ noticed, put me down real fast, must o’ thought I was gonna toss my cookies right there and then. What I wouldn’t give to stick my head up that gingham dress and munch away on that sweet apple pie o’ hers . . . (Looks to Raymond’s bed.) . . . That fucken pain in the ass not been back yet?

Charles winces and shakes his head in the negative.

Bert    So whaddayasay?

Charles    What do I say about what?

Bert    Play our cards right, might even pick up some Munchkin pussy. I heard those two Dutch dwarfs sucked just about every cock in Culver City, coroner reckons they’re partial to a toot or two on the white stuff . . . but you know me, Charlie, I don’t listen to gossip . . .

He pulls out a little bottle and winks at Charlie.

. . . Cocaine. Cost me a pretty penny . . . can’t see the attraction myself, if I wanted to get paranoid I’d compare dick sizes with the Scarecrow, got a pecker on him the size o’ Philomena . . . So whaddayasay?

He looks around the floor for a bottle with any whisky left in it.

’S’bout time that cocksucker put his hand in his pocket. He’s putting the bite on every fucken midget here, owes the Mayor fifteen bucks, even tried to tap up the Wicked Witch o’ the West for a five I heard . . . When’s that fucken leprechaun gonna start cleaning this place up! If she didn’t spend so much time soaping up that stinking pussy o’ hers . . .

He lights up his cigar and looks across at Charles. Charles has his head bowed.

. . . You know she ain’t really no dwarf. She was once five ten, she’s just fucken shrunk on account o’ all the time she spends in the tub . . . What’s eating you, Charlie?

Charles    Nothing . . . I just . . . I want to . . . I just want to go home, Bert.

Bert    As little miss cock-tease herself says: ‘There’s no place like home.’

Charles    I need to –

Bert    You want my advice, you stay away from that fucken cocksucker Ray if you want my advice. Guy’s trouble. Guy’s getting himself a name, I hear things, people are talking about him. I knew, knew it wouldn’t be no time ’til people started talking ’bout him, knew it wouldn’t be no time at all ’til Ray got himself a name. I could – I mean – if I was like that, if I was that way induced I could tell you things about that cocksucker.

Charles    Some of the chaps on the set have been talking, Mr Taylor included, about living in California together, after the filming. Down in San Diego. There’s even talk that an architect is building houses for little people! Do you think we could get one, Bert?

Bert    That’s all a cocksucking myth. Don’t believe that kinda bullshit, Charlie. I heard it all before, a nice community for little people. Houses for little people! Wise up, kid! Hell’s gonna get a cold snap before they build houses for the likes of us.

Charles looks cut to the quick.

Charles    Oh my, I really hoped . . . I need to get out of here.

Bert    Reckon the way it’s going, one more week we should be –

Charles    A week?

Bert    A week the very least is all.

Charles shoots over to Bert.

Bert    What?

Charles (gripping hold of Bert’s lapels, pleading)     No, no, a week! No, that’s no good. A week’s no good, I need –

Bert    Woah, take it easy, take it easy, Charlie.

Charles    This place is evil, Bert. It’s evil. I need to get out. I need to get away right now!

Bert    Hey, evil’s a little over the top. Sure, they’ve got to calling this place Babylon Heights but I think you’re maybe overreacting here a little.

Charles    I can’t – I just can’t face it any more.

Bert    Face it? Face fucken what? You can’t face me and you suckin down on juicy sirloins and quarts o’ bourbon, maybe getting our dicks sucked by those two Dutch honeys later, uh?

Charles    No, it’s, it’s not that.

Bert    You gotta – look, you gotta calm down, Charlie, I’ll go down the liquor store, uh? Get us a drink, OK? You just need to calm down a little. Here, come on, lie down, uh, have a nap, Hollywood’s got a way o’ getting to little people.

Charles    . . . I really need to get out, Bert.

Bert    Yeah, yeah, sure you do, kid. You need – we all need to get out. You get a nap, you get a nap and I’ll get us a drink, OK?

Bert leads Charlie over to the bed. Philomena comes out of the bathroom, a towel over her hair and a long dressing gown buttoned up to her neck. She glowers at Bert.

Philomena    I heard every word, Mr Kowalski, and there is absolutely nothing unsavoury about my va . . . If you must know, the only reason I take regular baths is because they relax me. Unlike you I don’t need alcohol and opium to make me feel comfortable and if you are planning on having a word with Mr LeRoy would you please kindly tell him that I’ve got a few words for him regarding your own disgusting behaviour . . . and, and, and if you must know, the reason Charlie wants to get out of here is because he’s sick of being corrupted by you, you’ve turned him from a decent young man into a nervous wreck.

Bert    You finished?

Philomena    May God have mercy on your black soul.

Philomena grabs a hold of a chair and climbs up on to her bed.

Bert (helping Charles up on to the bed)     How’s about you letting me sniff that pussy o’ yours you’re so confident it don’t reek, Philomeany?

Philomena (yelling)     I hope you burn in hell, you odious little animal!

Bert    Quit playing hard to get, honey.

Philomena pulls the covers over her head. Bert laughs as he lays Charles on the bed and climbs down from it.

Charles    . . . How am I going to get home, Bert? I wish . . . When do we get paid, Bert? Will they pay me now? If I . . . will they pay me if I ask them now, Bert?

Bert    Just calm down. You’ll get paid, don’t worry about getting paid, Charlie. They’re cocksuckers, OK, they suck cock but they’re MGM cocksuckers; they’re not gonna welch on paying Munchkins. That’s the kind o’ publicity they don’t need. You imagine – just picture it: two hundred Munchkins rioting in Hollywood, midgets running fucken riot in the hills is the kind of publicity they don’t need right now. Think about it: bad for business . . . and besides, Louis B. Mayer’s a fucken dwarf f’chrissakes. He won’t see us get fucked over.

Charles    . . . You spoke to . . . Bert, you said you spoke to Mr LeRoy?

Bert    Uh-huh.

Charles    That’s good.

Bert    Mighty fucken civil you ask me. I spoke to him. The guy listens.

Charles    Well . . .

Bert    You got a point you wanna get to?

Charles    Look, look . . .

Bert    I’m looking, I’m looking.

Charles    . . . something . . . something has . . .

Bert    Go ahead, I’m all ears. I’m all ears from my ass to my halo, friend like you wants to talk: go ahead.

Charles    Thank you, Bert.

Bert    You’re welcome.

Charles    I’ve . . .

Bert    You need a good drink inside you. What you need inside you they sell at the liquor store under the counter round the back away from fucken weasly eyes.

Charles    I don’t . . . listen . . .

Bert    You need a bottle o’ bourbon in you.

Charles    Don’t – please don’t say that.

Bert    Then fuck the bourbon I’ll get malt.

Charles    Just – could you, just until they pay me, could you ask him if I can, if they’ll put me in another . . .

Charles starts to weep again.

Bert    What? . . . Go on, Charlie? What do you want? What do you want me to ask Merv?

Pause.

Charles    . . . No . . . nothing, Bert . . . I can’t, I don’t want you to ask him anything. I can’t –

Bert    Anything.

Charles buries his head in the pillow. Bert ponders for a while then makes for the door.

Bert    I’ll go get us something to drink, Charlie. Calm you down, OK? I’ll get us a bottle to calm you down, right?

Bert exits. Charles climbs down and goes and stands at the side of Philomena’s bed. He reaches up and tugs on her leg.

Charles    Please . . . Philomena, wake up, Philomena.

Philomena sits up.

Philomena (angry)     I wasn’t asleep.

Charles    I’m sorry, Philomena.

Philomena    What do you want, Charles?

Charles    I’m sorry for, I need to . . . Philomena, have you any money you could loan me? I’ll wire it to you as soon as I get home, I promise –

Philomena    You’ve got to be kidding, Charles! Loan you money, loan you money so you can buy more liquor and opium!

Charles    No, no, I won’t – I’ve got to get away from here. I’ll make sure you get my pay, you can have it, have it all, I don’t want it . . . I just want to go home. I’ll wire you –

Philomena    I haven’t got any money to give you, and if I did I wouldn’t. You didn’t listen to me, I told you time and time again to stay away from that monster but you wouldn’t listen to me. Mr Benedict-Porter . . . Raymond . . . was right –

Charles    Don’t! Don’t talk about that . . . I can’t . . . I just need to go home.

Philomena    I’m sorry for you, Charles, I really am, but sure you’ve got to learn . . . Will you look at yourself. You’re a wreck, Charles Merryweather. That’s what alcohol and opium does to people . . . I didn’t hear you – why didn’t you ask Kowalski? You didn’t ask him for money, did you? You should have asked him for your money back!

Charles    He won it from the Cowardly Lion.

Philomena    You don’t believe that, do you? You don’t seriously – you don’t believe the Cowardly Lion would seriously have anything to do with an animal like Kowalski?

Charles    He’s not an animal!

Philomena    I’ve worked with animals and I’m telling you he is.

Charles    Bert’s good to me. He listens.

Philomena     I listen. Mr Benedict-Porter listens. That’s all we ever do. All we ever do is listen to you, Charles. It’s you that doesn’t listen . . . if you, if you listened you’d know that.

Charles    I just . . . I just want to go home.

Philomena    You should have thought about that. You should have thought about going home before you decided not to listen to us.

Philomena lies down and pulls the covers over her head. Charles breaks down and starts to cry.

Charles    Please, Philomena. I know . . . I know you’ve got money. I’ll . . . I promise I’ll wire it to you.

Philomena    No, Charles. No, it’s for your own good. Now –

Charles    But –

Philomena    That’s my last word, I need some sleep.

Charles (yelling at her)     YOU’RE A MEAN FUCKING LITTLE WITCH!

Philomena sits up, at the end of her tether.

Philomena    You won’t manage to drag me down to your and Kowalski’s level, Charles Merryweather, I’ll tell you that now! Never!

She pulls the covers over her head. Charles staggers over towards his bed. He suddenly stops and grabs at his stomach. He slowly delves under his baby romper, pulls off the diaper and wraps a towel around his waist. He inspects the diaper. It is covered in blood. He drops it to the floor and runs crying into the bathroom like a man possessed. Charles slams the door shut.

Philomena sits up. She looks across at the bloody diaper on the floor, climbs out of bed and goes to it. She is puzzled as she gingerly picks it up by a corner. She walks over to the bathroom door and knocks on it. Charles can be heard sobbing in the bathroom.

Philomena    Charles, what’s wrong? . . . What’s wrong, Charles? You should go see the doctor if you’re passing blood, it could . . . it could be serious, Charles. It’s not healthy and you should go see the doctor . . .

She knocks harder.

. . . Your nappy’s full of . . . it’s covered in blood, Charles. Do you hear me, Charles? I don’t want to alarm you but your nappy’s full of blood . . . please, let me – come out of there. Now. (Pause.) I’m . . . I’m sorry I told you to . . . Charles, Charlie. Listen, Charles. It could be, I think, it could be your drinking. You’re drinking far too much. Don’t say I didn’t warn . . . Look, forget what I said, I didn’t mean it, Charles. I’m really tired. I didn’t mean what I said, but you should have listened to me. I knew it would all end in . . .

She stares at the blood-soaked diaper.

. . . This is what happens when you don’t listen to people. When you don’t listen to people and you end up passing blood through your back passage into your nappy like that animal, Kowalski.

Charles (off)     Lend me some money, Philomena! I’m begging you. I. Am. Begging. You. To. Lend. Me. Some. Money!

Philomena    Money’s not going to solve anything, you hear, just come out, come out and we’ll talk about –

Charles (off)     I just want – I need to go home.

Philomena    Sure I’ll go to the doctor’s with you myself if you’re ashamed. If you’re ashamed about the . . . I’ll go with you. It’s the least I can do, Charlie.

Long pause. Charles can be heard sniffling. He comes to the door.

Charles    Why . . . ?

Philomena (sighing)     What? Why what?

A pause. Charles walks over to where the diaper is. He picks it up and puts it in a drawer.

What? Why? Talk to me.

Charles    . . . Why won’t you lend me the money to go home?

Philomena    Because – that isn’t the issue here, Charles. The issue here is the blood in your nappy and your drinking. Money’s not the issue, the issue’s your . . . money’s not going to solve anything . . . what you need –

Charles (yelling pathetically)     JUST LEND ME THE FUCKING MONEY! THAT’S WHAT I NEED, I NEED MONEY TO GET HOME!

Philomena seethes. She is about to yell back at him but she counts down her anger and tries a calm approach.

Philomena    I’m trying to . . . Look, Charles, I’m trying to help you.

She puts an arm around him and leads him to his bed. He lies down, whimpering softly.

If you’re ashamed, it’s nothing to be – I’ll go to the doctor. I’ll go out of my way and bring him back, I’ll bring the doctor back to you to look at your back passage.

Charles     No! I don’t need a doctor. Just . . . just stay with me. Stay with me in case he comes back.

Charles cries softly, as Philomena lies alongside him, hugging him.

Philomena    Oh, that evil man Kowalski, he’s really hurt you by giving you all that drink and opium. You an innocent as well . . .

Charles    It’s not Bert . . . it’s that horrible Raymond . . . (Pause.) Do you think that they will have a special place where all Munchkins, all little people can go and live together?

Philomena    Sure they will, Charles, I’ve heard it said. I’m going to save up and buy a little house with a big lock on the door.

Charles    And I can come and stay with you?

Philomena    Sure, if you want to, Charles, but wouldn’t you like a place of your own?

Charles considers this.

Philomena    But you can stay with me if you want, Charles . . . (She strokes his face.) . . . Skin as soft as a baby. Sure, that’s what you are, you’re my little baby boy.

She starts to sing.

While goin’ the road to sweet Athy, hurroo, hurroo

While goin’ the road to sweet Athy, hurroo, hurroo

While goin’ the road to sweet Athy,

A stick in me hand and a drop in me eye,

A doleful damsel I heard cry,

Johnny I hardly knew ye.

Charles is lulled and succumbs, sucking his thumb like a child.

Philomena    Do you like it when we hold each other like this, Charles?

Charles    Yes.

Philomena    I thought you might. You men are all the same. It feels nice, doesn’t it?

Charles    Yes.

She starts to caress him, his head, shoulders and arms.

Philomena    You know what I used to do to men back home, to men I liked? Men that were kind to me?

Charles    Big men?

Philomena    Men of all sizes, Charles. All sizes. I used to be able to make them feel nice. Wouldn’t you like to feel nice, Charles?

She moves down his body, slowly kissing his chest, then moving under the sheets. He is in increasing discomfort as she kisses his stomach, pulling aside the towel.

Charles    NO! STOP IT!

Philomena stops, pulls back, raising her head. She looks up at him in shock.

Philomena    Jaysus! Where’s . . . what happened to your boy thing, Charlie!

Charles squeals, jumps out of the bed with the towel around him and pulls on his clothes.

Philomena    Charlie –

Charles    Why do people always touch me? . . . WHY CAN’T YOU ALL LEAVE ME ALONE?!

Philomena gets up from the bed with her gown fastened.

Philomena    I’m going to get a doctor. You’re not right, Charles Merryweather, all I wanted to do was make you feel better –

Charles    NO! I’LL NEVER BE BETTER!

He runs out, slamming the door behind him. Philomena climbs up to the phone and picks it up, dialling the desk.

Philomena    Hello . . . it’s room two-two-four. It’s Charles . . . Mr Charles Merryweather in two-two-four. He’s . . . there’s blood coming out of . . . he’s . . . not right . . . he needs a doctor. (Pause.) But where is the doctor? (Pause.) Room two-two-four. (Pause.) No, he’s not in the room now, no, he just left. (Pause.) I don’t know . . . (Pause.) I’ll go and find him then call you back.

She climbs down and takes her clothes into the bathroom to get dressed. Seconds later, Bert enters holding a bottle of whisky in a brown bag. He is barely in the door before he starts to screw off the top of the bottle. He kicks the door shut and looks around, seeing Philomena’s shoes on the bed.

Bert    You hiding somewhere, Charlie, uh?

He hears noises coming from the bathroom.

Still in the fucken tub! I don’t believe this shit!

He crashes on his bed and unscrews the bottle again, taking a slug.

Jesus fucken Christ. You must be the cleanest leprechaun that ever lived . . . either that or the dirtiest one, huh? You washin’ your sins away, Philomeany?

Philomena comes into the room with a hateful expression on her face, pointedly ignoring Bert. She locates her shoes and sits on the bed, focusing on lacing them up. Bert shrugs and takes another long pull on the whisky. He savours the taste.

Bert    . . . Bet you spent a lotta time in the tub back in Ireland washing all that nun pussy. What a fucken job! If there’s any vacancies in that line of work, you be sure to vouch for your old buddy Bert Kowalski, you hear.

Philomena ignores him. Bert kicks off his shoes. He takes another long pull on the whisky.

Bert (looking over at Charles’s drawer)     . . . the hell’s Charlie gone, you freaky fucken leprechaun?

Bert lights a cigarette. Philomena heads to the door, exiting, just as Raymond furtively enters, obviously unnerved a little by her abrupt departure. He closes the door and surveys the room.

Raymond    No doubt you’ve been upsetting her again. Where’s she gone?

Bert    Little witch was treatin me like I was fucken invisible.

Raymond    A highly understandable strategy, sadly deployed a little too late . . . (Looks around the room in disgust.) . . . This really isn’t on. Just look at this room. It’s a pigsty. There’d be hell, hell to pay if the desk saw this room.

Bert    All I care the desk can go fuck itself.

Raymond winces in distaste as he goes to his bed, takes off his hat and undoes his jacket. He picks up an empty bottle of whisky and shoots a glance at Bert.

Raymond (picking up a glass)     Um, could I? I mean, would you mind?

Bert (offering him the bottle)     Why change the routine, uh?

Raymond    Thank you.

Raymond pours himself a large glass of whisky and keeps a hold of the bottle. Bert clicks his fingers and makes a gesture. Raymond reluctantly hands Bert the bottle back.

Bert    You see Charlie on your way in?

Raymond    Charles?

Bert    Yeah, Charlie. You see him?

Raymond    No, why?

Bert    Why, why because he’s got fucken cabin fever, that’s why.

Raymond    Oh . . . ?

Raymond climbs up on to a chair and starts to take off his boots.

Bert    Kid wants to go home. Told him to hang in. He sure is edgy.

Raymond    Edgy?

Bert    You know . . .

Raymond    It happens.

Raymond sighs heavily and takes another measured sip of whisky.

Bert    How’s army life?

Raymond    You won’t . . . look: oversight, OK? I keep telling you it was a simple mistake. A slip-up in casting: some scatterbrain secretary making a hash of the call sheets and you won’t let it . . . I’ve told you, I won’t add to Mr LeRoy’s hectic work schedule. I value our friendship too much to have him worrying about one little oversight.

Bert    You’re all fucken heart, Ray. You know that? All heart. When it comes time for burying you, Ray, when that day comes they’re gonna put you in a specimen jar, gonna bury you in a specimen jar cos you’re all heart, Ray.

He climbs down off the bed. He sees the yellow brick on top of Philomena’s locker. He picks it up. He takes it with him back to his bed, holding it up to the light, examining it.

He was shakin’ like a goddam leaf, sweatin like Philomeany’s pussy, the poor fuck. White as a ghost, fucken DTs you ask me.

Raymond    Charles?

Bert    Charlie, yeah. That’s right. Must o’ – probably couldn’t wait.

Bert puts the brick down and shakes his head. Raymond twiddles with his empty glass. Bert goes to him and pours him a shot.

Raymond    I meant to pick a bottle up on the way in.

Bert    Yeah, right . . . you seen the Mayor today?

Raymond    What if I did?

Bert    Asked me to remind you about that loan.

Raymond (snapping)     Not that it’s any of your business, but I paid him back this afternoon.

Bert    Hey, just passing the message on. I’m just the messenger all right? I get a fucken message from the Mayor it’s my business, OK?

Raymond    Point taken . . . You said Charles was . . . he seemed irate?

Bert    Irate? He seemed pissed is what he seemed. But irate, yeah, guess you could say irate.

Raymond    I think he’s hysterical.

Bert    Like earlier?

Raymond    No, no, no, Kowalski, I wasn’t particularising, you understand. I just think that his condition in general is hysterical.

Bert    Edgy, irate, pissed, hysterical, it’s all the same shit. Kid’s gone anyway.

Raymond    Gone where though?

Bert    I dunno. To get some liquor or to get his cock sucked by one of them Dutch broads, or to join some crap game. What does anybody do round here? Anyways, he’ll be back.

Raymond    You know he doesn’t set foot outside of this room other than to work unless he’s accompanied by you, Kowalski. You know how nervous he is. I tried to tell him about your pernicious influence, attempted to provide adult guidance to an impressionable young man. I think that you’ve debauched him, and I’m going to call the desk to inform them of his state of mind.

Bert    You do that.

Raymond    I intend to. To let them know of his hysterical state of mind.

Bert    You’re gonna call them, huh?

Raymond    . . . The desk will know who to contact. The desk will have procedure for this kind of thing.

Bert    This kind o’ thing? The desk’ll have things?

Raymond    Quite. Procedures.

Bert    ‘Procedures’ for hysteria? The desk’ll have ‘procedures’ for hysterical midgets, Ray?

Raymond    Medical procedures. They will have a local doctor they can contact; somebody who’ll be able to give Charles something to calm him down.

Bert    He just needs a drink, or maybe even a little smoke.

Raymond    This is what all this is about, isn’t it, Kowalski. A young boy – a sensitive boy – has been driven hysterical by your debauchery, and your only concern is that the desk remains unaware of your nefarious practices.

Bert looks towards the bag that contains his pipe and his opium stash.

Bert    C’mon, Ray, gimme a break –

Raymond    I’m no snitch, Kowalski, but as a professional I am duty-bound to put the well-being of a colleague and a member of this cast above the concealment of your dubious and highly illegal personal habits.

Bert looks around at the empty whisky bottles.

Bert    This stuff . . . you drank as much of this stuff as me, Ray, this illegal stuff.

Raymond    I doubt whether any local sales clerk would testify in court that I was the one who purchased these bottles of Scotch.

Bert sits upright and points angrily at Raymond, denouncing him.

Bert    No they wouldn’t, you cocksucker! They couldn’t. Cos purchase is the last fucken thing you’ll do! It ain’t gonna stop you fucken drinkin; it ain’t gonna stop your fake-ass Ivy League mouth from wrappin itself round the neck of any bottle some other stiff’s spent his hard-earned dimes on, it ain’t gonna stop you doin that!

Raymond    I’m giving you a chance, Kowalski, a chance, you hear: a chance to clear up this evidence before I call the desk.

Bert    You two-faced asshole! You drank the shit; you clean up the mess!

Raymond picks up the phone.

Raymond    I’m calling the desk.

Bert    . . . You remember Muzzy Starr, Ray?

Raymond    What?

Bert    Muzzy Starr. Sure you do, sure you remember him, Ray.

Raymond    What is this? I’ve never heard of – (Into phone.) . . . Desk? Yes, Mr Benedict-Porter, no, no, no, don’t put me on ho—

Bert    Muzzy Starr, Ray. He’s around, he’s around San Francisco right now. Right now he’s around there getting his raggedy little ass shot out a fucken cannon.

Raymond is trying to contain his ire.

Raymond    Is there, a-are you trying to say something to me, Kowalski? Because if you are – if you are trying to say something to me –

Bert    Wichita, ’twenty-nine. Muzzy was, what? sixteen, seventeen? In ’twenty-nine Muzzy was seventeen, sixteen, uh?

Raymond    We’ve been through this. I thought I’d made it abundantly clear that I have never set foot in Wichita!

Bert    Muzzy’s got proof you set foot in Wichita.

Raymond    Look –

Bert    Muzzy’s got a ripped asshole and fucked-up insides proves you set foot in Wichita. Little fella’s been shitting in a bag since then. Proof, Ray, proof: ripped ass and fucked-up insides. You know what else he’s got, Ray? Witnesses. He’s got witnesses too. You remember the Bearded Lady, uh? Nothing much got past that big ol’ hairy bitch in Wichita, Ray.

Raymond seethes and slams the phone down.

Raymond    Have you – is that it? The dope’s eaten your brain, you’ve finally –

Bert    He’s got proof, Ray. Muzzy’s got all the proof he needs. You think I’m fucken dumb, Ray? You take me for some dumb fucken schmuck or something?

Raymond    I’ve never heard of this –

Bert    He’s a phone call away. That poor little fuck’s been searching high and low for you, Ray.

Raymond    You’re insane!

Bert    Insane, uh?

Raymond (picking up the phone)     Quite, you’re quite insane, Kowalski. Now I’m going to call the desk, I’m going to call the desk about poor Charles’s drink- and opium-induced hysterical condition.

Bert    Gimme a fucken break, Ray, they’ll probably turn a blind eye to the booze, but if they find my stash –

Raymond looks towards the bathroom.

Raymond    Flush it away, Kowalski.

Bert    Ain’t you ever had no break before?

Raymond    I don’t go poisoning impressionable young men with drugs.

Bert    No, no, you go around fucking dwarfs in the ass.

Raymond     What!

Raymond climbs down to the floor.

Bert    Muzzy Starr, Ray. He’s got witnesses, like me and you he’s got witnesses.

Raymond    For the last time –

Bert    Guy comes to you, guy can’t take a shit, you tell some guy you can cure him, you cure him all right, Ray. You stick your big fat hairy cock in his little asshole and some guy never stops shitting.

Raymond    How – I can’t – you’ve got a diseased mind, Kowalski. You’re diseased! It’s the alcohol and the drugs. There’s help available, you know. There are people that can help you, Kowalski.

Bert    Bearded Lady told me all about it. That big ol’ hairy bitch marked your card, Ray. She tells me and I bump into Muzzy Starr outside Reno one night. Get him stoned he tells me everything. He tells me the gory details, Ray. You know I ain’t one for gossip, but – Jesus – that poor kid. The thing you done to that poor little – fuck, Ray, I mean . . .

Raymond    Have you finished – for the last time – have you finished, Kowalksi?

Bert    You’re not denying it, right? You’re not saying you didn’t fuck his ass with your cock, Ray?

Raymond    What’s the point? What is the point? . . . you’re wearing me down.

Bert    Bearded Lady, Muzzy Starr’s witness, right . . . she . . . she reckons she could o’ got you work, Ray . . . could o’ got you work as a sideshow freak.

Raymond    Carry on, Kowalski, carry on indulging yourself.

Bert    That schlong you got on you.

Raymond    This is –

Bert    That right, is it, Ray? That right you got a . . . said you had a – said you was hung like a fucken horse. You’re not denying it? You ain’t denying you got a pecker on you size of a baby’s arm, Ray?

Raymond stands up, shakes his head and goes to the chair to climb back up to the phone.

Bert    . . . She, the Bearded Lady, she said you weren’t no fucken dwarf when it came down to your dick, Ray.

Raymond    I’m calling the desk, you’re sick, Kowalski. Maybe I was wrong. Perhaps you’re past the point of help, with your, your delusional nonsense. But I’m damned if I’m going to let poor Charles go the same way.

Raymond starts to climb up.

Bert    No desk, Ray, no desk. Think about it. I know things, Ray, don’t be calling no desk.

Raymond    Shut up – will you just shut your mouth one minute.

Bert    No desk. Don’t you dare you, you – hold it right there.

Raymond    What? What are you going to do if I don’t hold it right here?

Bert goes over to the chair. Raymond climbs down and they face each other.

Bert    You fucked Muzzy Starr in his ass, you fucked him in his ass with that schlong you got and I don’t hear you denying it. Muzzy’s a big guy now, Ray. Last count he was three feet six. You know what else Muzzy Starr is, Ray?

Raymond    A liar?

Raymond suddenly grabs Bert around the throat. He starts throttling him. Bert can barely breathe.

Raymond    Now, now, now you listen . . . you listen to me now, Kowalski. Just you listen to me for one goddam minute . . .

Bert’s eyes bulge as he tries to gasp in acquiescence.

Bert    . . . OK . . . you’re choking . . . OK . . .

Raymond     Choke you? I should kill you, you sick – now listen to me, listen.

Bert    . . . OK . . . listening . . . let go . . .

Raymond releases his grip. Bert is rubbing his neck and gasping for air.

Raymond    This nonsense, this delusional nonsense has gotten out of hand.

Bert    OK. Just don’t –

Raymond    The things, those sick things you’re saying, listen to me, you fool, are you listening to me?

Bert    I’m listening.

Raymond    You better listen, Kowalski, you better listen to me . . . Now: Muzzy Starrs and Bearded Ladies, Wichita ’twenty-nine and constipation cures. I don’t know anything about all that, all right?

Bert looks away. Raymond pokes him in the chest. Bert flinches.

Raymond    Do you hear me, Kowalski? Do you hear what I’m saying about non-existent Bearded Ladies and constipation?

Bert    I hear you, I hear you –

Raymond    Raymond. Say it, I want to hear you say Raymond.

Bert    . . . Ray . . . Raymond.

Raymond    Look at you, Kowalski, you sick drug fool.

Bert    You’re a fucken bully, you know that.

Raymond shoots to Bert and pulls his hand back. Bert crouches against the wall in a pathetic defensive heap.

Raymond    Why you –

Bert    OK, OK, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, OK?

Raymond (pacing about)     . . . Not a word of this, Kowalski. Not a word, you hear? Not one word and I keep my mouth shut about your dope.

Bert    Leave my dope out o’ this.

Raymond    That’s what I’m saying. I’m saying I’ll leave your dope out of this. You’ve no proof, you’ve nothing to suggest –

Offstage, raised voices coming from the corridor.

Raymond    You’ve no proof I’ve ever set foot in Wichita, you, you and this mythical Muzzy – this mythical Bearded Lady, I mean, a Bearded Lady for heaven’s sake!

Raymond is distracted by noises coming from outside.

Bert (quietly to himself)     They ain’t mythical, they’re unmythical, they’re shittin n’ pissin unmythical witnesses and they got proof you stuck your dick in his little asshole –

Bert spots something on the floor; he follows a trail to Charles’s drawer. Raymond watches him.

Raymond    What on earth are you doing now? You really are in a terrible mess, Kowalski!

Bert    Look, look here. Shit looks like blood or something.

Raymond (following the trail)      Blood?

Bert    Sure looks like blood or shit or something.

Raymond    Make your mind up for heaven’s sake.

Bert    OK, blood, it’s fucken – looks like blood.

Raymond    It could be, ah, you know . . .

Bert    No, I don’t know –

Raymond    Women’s problems. You know, down below. She could be menstru—

Bert    She don’t strike me the kind o’ broad that’d just bleed all over some hotel.

There are more noises outside in the corridor. Raised voices, doors slamming.

Raymond    What – what’s all that noise?

Bert    Noise? What noise?

Raymond    Out – in the corridor, the noise out in the corridor.

Bert    How’d I know? You think I’m psychic, uh?

Raymond     Listen!

Bert    You think I can see through walls or something? I’m no psychic.

Raymond    I know what it means, Kowalski. I know what psychic means and it doesn’t mean you can see through walls.

Bert    I ain’t saying I can. I ain’t no psychic: like I give a shit about the noise out there and seeing through some fucken piece o’ shit wall.

Raymond    No, sick, not psychic: sick. You’re sick, Kowalski.

Bert (walking away)     There’s only one sicko in here and it ain’t me.

Bert, the bottle in his hand, moves to the door and looks out. He goes out and closes the door behind him. He flies back in through the door, falling on his backside, managing to keep the bottle upright.

Voice (off): You just stay in there, shorty!

Bert gets up and bangs on the door. It’s locked.

Bert    COCKSUCKER! You lousy fucken . . . (Turns to Raymond.) They’ve locked us in!

Raymond    What? You’re insane, they can’t . . .

He moves across to the door and tries it. It is locked. He bangs on it.

Please open this door. This door should not be locked from the outside. There are fire regulations posted on the wall of every corridor that clearly state this.

Bert springs forward in panic and starts pounding the door.

Bert    They’re gonna torch this fucken joint with all us fucken midgets in it! They’re gonna – it’s a trick! They’re gonna burn us all alive and make some big claim against one o’ those insurance companies!

Raymond    Calm down. Will you calm down, you hysterical fool!

Bert stops and takes a deep breath.

Bert    You’re right . . . I heard LeRoy telling Leo Singer that we were gonna all be needed a few more days . . .

The noises outside recede as Raymond moves away from the door.

Raymond    I’m calling the desk about this outrage! I’ll demand that they put me on to Mervyn. He’ll get to the bottom this nonsense, and heads will roll! Of that I can assure you.

He climbs up to the phone. He picks it up.

It’s off the hook. They’ve left the phone off the hook!

Now very angry, he jumps down and paces around. He pounds the door violently.

I demand that you open this door immediately! I am a personal friend of Mervyn LeRoy!

Bert looks at him.

Bert    Forget it, Ray.

Raymond    How can I – How can I forget it, Kowalski? How can I forget that we’re locked in here?

He picks up empty bottles of whisky, checking for dregs.

This is outrageous. Utterly outrageous.

Bert    You ain’t wrong.

Raymond lifts up his barbells from under his bed and starts doing arm curls in an increasingly demented rage.

Bert puts his ear to the door.

Bert    I can hear noises . . . I think . . . yeah, I think somebody’s coming.

He stands back as the door opens and Philomena is pushed in. It slams shut behind her and is locked. Raymond puts the barbells on the bed.

Bert    What the fuck?

Philomena     Jaysus . . .

Raymond    What is it, Miss Kinsella? What was all that noise? Why have they locked that damn door again?

Bert tries to open it and bangs on it.

Bert    Open the fucken door! (Turns to Raymond.) This ain’t right.

Bert takes a swig on the whisky. He shakes his head solemnly, looks down at the floor.

Raymond    What the hell is going on here, Miss Kinsella? What was all the damn commotion about? We’re locked in here; the regulations, the fire regulations have been blatantly flouted . . .

Philomena    . . . it was . . . it was . . .

She breaks down and runs sobbing into his arms. He is uncomfortable but sits her down next to him on the bed.

Raymond    Try to calm yourself, Miss Kinsella, try to calm yourself and speak. Take deep breaths . . . there . . . that’s better . . .

Philomena starts to compose herself a little.

Philomena    . . . they were shooting a scene with Miss Garland and the others . . . they’re shooting this big dance-number scene and – Jaysus – poor Charles, my poor angel . . . .

Raymond    Never mind that for now. You were out there. You . . . will you tell me what they’re talking about in the corridor, and why are they keeping us locked in here?

Philomena    I need to . . . it’s about the scene. The big . . . the big scene.

Bert    This is the big scene, right? Garland, the fucken Scarecrow, Cowardly Lion, the other one –

Raymond    Tin Man? Tin Woodsman?

Bert    Yeah, yeah, Tin Man.

Raymond    Jack Haley?

Bert    Whoever, you fucken listening to her?

Raymond    Yes, go on, Philomena: this big scene . . . and . . . ?

Philomena    And this big scene they’re shooting, all of a sudden a Munchkin – oh Holy Mary, mother of God! Poor Charles, my sweet angel . . .

Raymond    What? What about a Munchkin, Miss Kinsella?.

Philomena    Mr Taylor . . . Mr Taylor, he said it was Charles.

Raymond    What was Charles for heaven’s sake? What was Charles?

Philomena    . . . he’s . . . Charles has . . . they’re saying, Jaysus, they’re saying . . . there’s a rumour, there’s talk, they’re saying he’s . . . saying he’s hung himself from a tree. Charles, our little Charlie. They’re saying –

Raymond    What!

He turns away, clasping his face in shock, as Bert puts an arm around a wailing Philomena. Raymond turns round and looks at her again.

What did you say?

Bert    You heard her fine, Ray. Don’t make her say it again, OK?

Raymond    . . . This . . . this is what they’re saying? They’re saying this out in the corridor? Charles has . . . suicide? Suicide right out there – in front – out on the sound stage he’s committed –

Philomena    Not just in the corridor, they’re saying it all over the place.

Bert    Poor fucken kid. Knew he was close to the edge. Didn’t realise how close.

He looks pointedly at Raymond, who is visibly disturbed. He gets up and paces around.

Raymond    . . . So . . . so they’re saying a Munchkin . . . Charles, Charles has hung himself from a tree, from a tree on the sound stage?

Philomena    . . . Sure it was Charles, our little Charlie; Charles Merryweather, he was the Munchkin that hung himself . . .

Raymond    I don’t believe it.

Bert    Tiny Taylor always gets his facts right. Tiny Taylor’s great with facts. I believe it. Shit, why shouldn’t I? The mess Charlie was in it makes sense he’d do something like that.

Raymond    And he says it’s Charles? . . . Let me get this straight. He’s saying Charles, our Charles has hung himself on the sound stage in front of –

Philomena    Yes! My poor, sweet Charlie. (Pulls away from Bert.) My angel. Corrupted by the evil around him!

She runs to the door, banging on it, then falling on her knees, pleading.

Let me out! I shouldn’t be here! It was a mistake . . . (Sobbing.) Please, let me out. (Turns back to Bert.) You killed him, Kowalski! You killed him with your unholy ways, just as surely as if you’d shot him with a gun!

Raymond    A sentiment I heartily endorse, Miss Kinsella. (To Bert.) You’ve been the bad apple in the barrel right from the start, Kowalski.

Bert    I was the best friend that kid ever had! He told me so himself! We were buddies, f’chrissakes!

Raymond    You have blood on your hands, Kowalski, blood, but in a sense I blame myself. I ought to have nipped your malign influence on him in the bud straight away.

Bert registers the blood on the floor again, he touches it, raises his hand. He looks to Philomena, then to Raymond, who falls silent. He then starts to look through Charles’s drawer. He finds the soiled diaper.

Bert    . . . Christ!

Raymond looks across.

Raymond    . . . What’s . . . what’s that?

Raymond goes over to Bert, who is staring at the bloody diaper.

Bert    . . . Charlie’s fucken diaper. It’s . . .

Raymond walks away and scouts the empty whisky bottles.

Raymond    . . . I need – really I need a drink.

Bert stares hard at the bloody diaper. Something has dawned on him. He looks at Raymond.

Bert    . . . You – fucken – you’ve been . . .

He shoots over to Raymond and shoves the diaper in his face. Philomena looks up and pulls herself to her feet.

Raymond    Get – what’re you –

Bert    Up to your old tricks, eh, Ray!

Raymond    Get that thing out of my face!

Bert    You – should o’ known, should o’ fucken known. What am I here, a fucken schmuck?

Raymond    You’re insane!

Bert    This – it explains – this explains it all, you piece o’ shit.

Raymond cuts away from Bert, who angrily follows him around the room. Raymond is nervously on the back foot as Bert taunts him with the bloody diaper.

Raymond    I’m warning you, stop waving that thing in my face.

Philomena rises to her feet.

Philomena    What in the name of Jaysus is going on here?

Bert    Old habits die hard, uh, Ray?

Raymond    If you’re – you’re sick if you’re insinuating that I’ve anything to do with this, Kowalski.

Bert    You can’t keep that dick o’ yours out of assholes, can you, Ray?

Raymond    I could have have you – slander! It’s slanderous what you’re –

Bert    It ain’t slander, Ray. It ain’t fucken slander. It’s sodomy, Ray. Fucken sodomy, that’s what it is.

Philomena    What are you saying now, Bert Kowalski, you vile little man!

Raymond    He’s lost his mind. (To Bert.) All those drugs – you’ve lost your mind, do you hear!

Raymond tears the diaper from Bert’s hand and hurls it out the window. There is silence.

Philomena    It was Charlie’s diaper. I told him to see a doctor, about his back passage. It was bleeding.

Bert    Looks like he saw Doctor Ray here!

Philomena looks at Raymond doubtfully.

Philomena    I’m sure Raymond . . . Mr Benedict-Porter, wouldn’t . . .

She steps back from Raymond.

Raymond    I only wanted –

Bert    I know what you wanted, Ray . . . Ray?

Raymond    What?

Bert    I know what you wanted. You wanted to take advantage, Ray. I know all about you.

Raymond    What’s that supposed to mean?

Bert    Supposed to mean? It ain’t ‘supposed’ to mean anything. It means I got your card marked, OK, Ray?

Raymond pauses, turns and looks over at Bert.

Raymond    . . . I never . . . suicide . . . there was just no need for it.

Bert    They’ll investigate.

Raymond    They don’t investigate suicide.

Bert    Not what it was, Ray, the cause of it. They’ll investigate the cause, Ray.

Raymond    I should think –

Bert    You know what they’re calling this place, Ray? Uh, Ray, uh? . . . Philomena? I’ll tell you anyway: Babylon Heights. They’re calling this place Babylon Heights, Ray. Police gonna come here and . . . not hard to imagine, right? They see a bunch o’ little freaks and they put two and two together. Charlie . . . that’s what I’m thinking. They won’t just wanna know the how, Ray. They’ll wanna know the why.

Raymond    Oh dear.

Bert    Yeah, exactly: oh fucken dear.

Bert goes to his bag and pulls out his pipe.

Raymond    Jesus Christ, Kowalski! How can you even think about smoking that stuff at a time like this?

Bert stuffs the paraphernalia in his pillowcase.

Philomena    Why did he go and do that? He was a good boy, even though he wasn’t really like a boy. He was so gentle.

Raymond    Look, let’s try to be rational. The deal here is –

Bert    Deal? You don’t know how to deal. I know blind pissants deal better than you, Ray. Deal? You ain’t no fucken gambler, Ray. You’re a fucken calculator. Face it.

Raymond     Calculator?

Bert    That’s right: you calculate.

Raymond    Whatever, whatever arrangement we –

Bert    Deals, arrangements, fucken treaties n’ pacts, gimme a blind pissant sonofabitch New Jersey landlord over your calculating shit any day.

Raymond    Look –

Bert    Look? No: you look, you look, Raymond. I can handle a fucken snoopy Keystone grilling me over my medicine but what you caused here ain’t no fucken joke, you hear me?

Raymond    I didn’t – I’m not saying it is, Bert.

Bert    You shouldn’t.

Raymond    I’m not. Look –

Bert    This ass aint for sale.

Raymond    I know, I –

Bert    You ain’t gonna stick some fucken flag in my ass n’ claim it . . .

Raymond    I can produce some cash.

Philomena is now interested.

Bert    You’re Mr Mervyn LeRoy now, you fucken – I can produce my ass you can produce.

Raymond    If you’d just –

Bert    You don’t produce shit, Ray . . . Ray?

Raymond    . . . What?

Bert    You don’t produce shit, Ray, what you produce, Ray, is raggedy assholes and fucked-up insides with that big fucken dick o’ yours.

Raymond    Please, please will you . . . look, Bert . . .

Bert    I seen dead panhandlers produce more n’ you, you lying fairy ass cocksucker.

Raymond    This is going nowhere.

Bert    I don’t agree, I think this is going somewhere. I think this might be leading to some ass fucker getting some hard labour when the Keystones start lookin to explain as to why they got a dead midget on a film set.

Philomena    Or a dope fiend.

Raymond    Exactly, Miss Kinsella –

Philomena    The pair of yis. The pair of yis killed my Charles. I should tell them all about your opium (turns to Bert, then Raymond) and your unnatural ways. Ruined that boy. My poor Charles . . .

Bert    Since when did he become your fucken Charles? His name was Charlie Fucken Merryweather. Since when did he become Charlie Fucken Baby-Leprechaun Kinsella?

Philomena    Since I was the only one that really cared for him! To you he was just a drinking partner in crime. (Turns to Raymond.) And to you he was just a toy to satisfy your evil, warped urges. How could you, Mr Benedict-Porter? He respected you! And I’m ashamed, ashamed is what I am, to say that I did too!

Raymond    Look, I –

Philomena    My poor, poor Charles. Oh, don’t you worry; I’ll be silent. I’ll say nothing, cos it won’t bring my poor Charles back now, will it? But sure, you’ll pay for my silence, so yis will!

Bert    What the fuck are you sayin?

Philomena    I’m sayin that it’s going to cost the both of you!

There is a long silence, which Bert breaks with a loud laugh.

Bert    It’s gonna cost us! How much is it gonna cost us? You are one mean fucker. You are one mean, twisted, little bag of Paddy leprechaun shit! How much is it gonna fucken cost us?

Philomena    I want twenty-five dollars each, and I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head, you poisonous little Polack bastard!

Bert is dumbfounded for a beat; horrified but also somewhat impressed.

Bert    I can’t lay my hands on that kind of dough.

She turns to a sheepish Raymond.

Raymond    I can.

Philomena    Then I need fifty from you, Raymond. Fifty, or I’ll tell them all about what you did to Charles.

Raymond    Fifty dollars and it stays in this room?

Philomena nods cagily at him.

Bert (to Raymond)     Whaaat! You been bumming whisky off me last three weeks n’ now you can get your hands on fifty fucking bucks?

Raymond    . . . I . . . I won it, I won it if you must know.

Bert     Shit.

Raymond    Yes.

Bert    You won it? You don’t gamble, Ray.

Raymond    I do.

Bert    You don’t.

Raymond    . . . Chess, if you must know, I won it from poor Charles.

Pause.

Bert    You’re shitting me, you cocksucker.

Raymond    I am not.

Bert    Shitting me big time; chess my hairy midget ass.

Pause.

Raymond    . . . All right, all right, if you want to know the truth –

Bert    I do, that’s what I’m saying. I wanna know where you got it. Chess my ass. I reckon you fucken stole it – stole it from Charlie.

Raymond    No! I never took his money!

Philomena    I wouldn’t be surprised.

Bert    That’s it, ain’t it! You not only fucked him in the ass, you stole the kid’s money.

Raymond    All right, if you want to – look, it’s an advance. Mervyn – Mr LeRoy gave me an advance on my wages.

A pause. Bert is thinking. So is Philomena. Raymond staggers to his case under the bed, rummages around and takes out the dollar bills. Philomena pulls them out of his hands and starts counting them.

Philomena    . . . That’s fifty dollars! Is it Charlie’s money?

Raymond    No, it’s my money.

Bert    Bullshit.

Philomena    If it is Charlie’s money . . .

Raymond    I swear that it isn’t. Check with Mr LeRoy if you like.

Philomena    If it is his money . . . sure, he’d want me to have it before you . . .

Raymond    I’m positive he would, assuming it was his, but it’s not, it’s –

Philomena    I’m not a fool, Raymond. Don’t take me for one.

Raymond    No. Of course not.

Bert    You’re a fucken devious little witch, is what you are. No, honey, we’re the fucken fools. (Turns to Raymond.) Specially you, Ray. Your ass is far too close to the ground for all that cocksuckin Ivy League bullshit you come out with. (Turns to Philomena.) But you; you got me, you got me fucken speechless and that don’t happen often.

He shakes his head regarding Philomena in a loathing admiration and starts preparing his pipe.

Philomena    You call me all the names you like, Kowalski, but it’s youse two who are the baddies! I did nothing wrong to Charlie. I tried to help him.

Bert    It’s as well it’s you that she cleaned out, Ray. My conscience is like my fucken wallet, as clean as a whistle. (Turns to Philomena.) If anyone killed Charlie, it’s Mr Assfuck Arizona here!

Raymond strikes Bert about the head as he about to light the pipe. Opium flakes spill from it on to the bed.

Bert    Whoa, whoa – quit it!

Raymond    I’ve had it with you, Kowalski; had it with you and your bitter, poisonous mouth –

Bert    Leave me the fuck alone!

Bert picks up the yellow brick and batters Raymond in the face with it. Raymond flails about and screams. Bert picks up an empty whisky bottle and brings it down hard on Raymond’s head. Raymond staggers across the room in blind panic. He knocks over Philomena’s make-up box before falling to the floor. Bert stands over him, the broken bottle in his hand.

Raymond (hysterical)      . . . What’re you –

Bert    Fuck you, fuck you, you midget fucking piece o’ shit cocksucker, OK!

Raymond scampers away, trying to get to his feet. Bert kicks Raymond. Raymond curls up in a ball. Philomena sees her make-up box tipped over and runs urgently towards it.

Bert    . . . Nobody – you don’t fuck with my dope, OK? Nobody fucks with my medicine.

Raymond    My head!

Bert sees Philomena trying too quickly and furtively to tidy up the contents of the spilled box. He approaches her.

Bert    What the fuck are you –

Philomena    Get back, it’s my box, it’s my –

Bert    But these ain’t your cufflinks!

Raymond gets up and bends down over the box, which is broken. It has a false bottom and there are several stolen items splayed out on the floor, including his cufflinks.

Raymond    Why, you thieving . . .

Philomena crosses herself and recites some Hail Marys. Bert reaches over and picks up a wallet that has fallen from the box. Inside it is a wad of cash. Philomena springs to her feet. Bert holds the money in the air as she tries to grab it from his outstretched hand.

Bert    . . . the fuck is this, as if we didn’t know already?

Philomena    That’s my money! Give it here!

Bert     You took his goddam money!

Philomena    If you must know, I was given – I was given that money by several men in the crew for looking after them.

Bert    Yeah, sure. What the fuck is it doing in his wallet then? You took his fucken money!

Philomena    NO! I never did!

She throws a tantrum, falling down on the bed, punching the pillows with her fists, sobbing.

Bert    Stop that shit, it don’t impress us.

She turns round and sits up, swinging her legs off the bed.

Philomena    I borrowed the wallet from him! He gave it to me to keep my money safe, he didn’t want me losing it. We were close, me and Charlie, and I . . . I was looking after it for him.

Bert    Like you looked after Ray’s cufflinks? You’ve been rumbled, you leprechaun cunt!

Raymond    We have a criminal justice system here in the United States of America, Miss Kinsella; a criminal justice system designed to protect citizens of the United States of America, like myself and Mr Kowalski, against foreign tricksters like yourself. These cufflinks have been in my family for three generations –

Philomena (sobbing)     I was only keeping them safe for you, I would have given them back . . .

Bert    You think you had it bad with them nuns back in Ireland; see how your little Irish ass likes it in prison with some of the dirtiest, nastiest broads this side of the pond, honey . . . right, Ray?

Raymond    The authorities will take a dim view of your behaviour, I can assure you, Miss Kinsella, a dim view. You will either be incarcerated here, as Mr Kowalski has suggested, or immediately deported home for punishment. This is a very serious matter.

Philomena jumps on the spot in tearful frustration.

Philomena    Oh Raymond, Bert, please . . . I know I’ve been bad, but we all have. It’s this place . . . it’s like poor Charlie says, it’s evil. And now they’ve locked us in . . . what will become of us . . .?

Raymond and Bert look at each other.

Philomena    And my poor, poor Charlie . . . us ruining each other won’t bring him back, now will it? What’s to be gained from it all? We . . . what we need to do is stick together.

Bert thinks. Raymond stares at Philomena.

Bert    She’s right though, Ray, we’re all to blame. We all gotta come clean here. And we do need to stick together now. We’re locked up here, like you said, Ray, like fucken animals. It’s us against those cocksuckers. Dwarfs don’t have it easy, ever. Look how Charlie ended up, chrissakes.

Raymond    None of us are blameless, but we have to remember that Charles did take his own life.

Philomena    Which is a sin. (Crosses herself, looking upwards.) I’m sorry to speak ill of you, Charlie, but it is a sin to take the life that the Lord gave you.

Bert    But what a shitty life the poor little fucker had. What a fucken shitty dwarf life –

Raymond    Charles’s problem wasn’t his lack of inches. It was –

Philomena    The other thing?

Raymond    . . . his thin skin.

Bert (to Philomena)     What other thing? (To Raymond.) Whadaya mean, thin skin? The skin around his asshole?

Raymond    No! For heaven’s sake, Kowalski, look outside. As bad as it is here, it’s worse out there. People are struggling. Roosevelt’s doing the best he can, but frankly . . . people are struggling to survive.

Bert    You don’t need to tell me that, Ray. I been out there, you know. I gotta go back out there again . . . if these big pricks . . .

He launches at the door.

OPEN THIS FUCKEN DOOR!

He bangs on it hard again, but there is no response. He turns and looks to a sheepish Philomena.

What other thing? What did you mean?

Raymond    Some of them, the thin-skinned ones, the born victims, they just go to the wall. And it doesn’t matter what height you are; it’s the stuff you are made of. If you are weak, then you will go down.

Bert    Sure you will, especially if you got a faggot rapist up your ass. (To Philomena.) What other thing, dammit?

Philomena    Charles was an angel. He had none of the boy things. The bits that boy’s have.

Bert    You mean he was a broad? You trying to tell me that Charlie was a fucken broad? You’re fucken shittin! Charlie had a twat?

Philomena    I . . . Charles was . . . he was an angel.

Raymond    He was no angel, you stupid girl! My God, look at you, you thieving, whoring little ignoramus!

Philomena looks briefly tearful, then screws her face up in a malicious defiance. Raymond shakes his head disdainfully.

Raymond    You know from the circuses, Kowalski, you know about hermaphrodites. He was one of them. A commonplace occurrence in certain forms of dwarfism; incomplete or ill-formed sex organs.

Bert    Jesus . . . No wonder the poor little prick wasn’t doing handstands when I told him about those Dutch broads. (To Philomena.) How’d you know about it?

Philomena    He was sad, and I wanted to make him happy . . . (shrugs casually) the way you can make men happy.

Bert looks to Raymond and they raise their eyebrows.

Bert    Jeez, you were right, Ray. (To Philomena.) I really underestimated you all along, Philomena. Poor Charlie. You stole his cash, then tried to suck a dick he didn’t have.

Noise from offstage. The door is being unlocked.

Voice (off)     One of you guys, get your ass out here. We got a proposition t’ make.

Bert and Raymond both make a move. Philomena glares at them both.

Voice (off)     Just one of ya!

They look at each other. Bert nods at Raymond, and stands back.

Bert    You’re the fancy talker. Go ahead. Use your ‘influence’.

Raymond hesitates. Philomena nods at him and he tentatively exits. The door shuts behind him.

Philomena    Where do you think they’re taking him?

Bert    For a nice little fucken stroll down the yellow brick road with Mervyn LeRoy and the head of the cocksucking studio. How the fuck should I know?

Philomena    I only asked.

Bert    It ain’t where they’re takin him that’s the big mystery to me, honey. The big mystery to me is where the hell did you learn to be such a devious little broad?

Philomena    I know I’ve sinned . . . but I’ve had to live that way, as God’s my witness, it was the only way. I was living wild ’til the sisters took me in. I hated it there, I hated those nuns!

Bert    Yeah, it ain’t no fun living with big people. And living with fucked-up broads who ain’t getting their chimneys swept, I can only imagine how much that must stink. (Pause.) Bet they took it out on you, huh, kid?

Philomena    I was like a slave to those twisted, evil bitches. Sure I prayed every night to get out of that place. Then, when I was in town with Sister Bernadette one afternoon, I saw the advertisement for this production in our paper. Mr Singer had put it in. It seemed like the answer to all my prayers. So I stole the money from the convent and I headed out here.

Bert    I can’t blame you for that, kid. But here it’s different; here you gotta look after your own kind.

Philomena    I know I’ve done wrong, Mr Kowalski, but I pray all the time. I always ask for forgiveness for all my sins.

Bert    Jeez, I gotta do this religion thing; do what the fuck you like then just shoot off a quick prayer and your ass is clean again.

The door opens. Raymond comes back in. The door shuts behind but is not locked.

Raymond    They want to cut a deal.

Bert    The desk? The desk wants to cut a deal?

Philomena    What do they want?

Bert    Let’s be clear about this, Ray, are we taking about the cocksucking desk or the fucken studio here?

Raymond    I was talking to the chap from the desk. I have absolutely no idea whom he is making the proposition on behalf of, Kowalski; hotel, production, studio, Culver City, or the US Government itself. Let’s just say, and I’m sure that this will chime with your victim mentality, that the ‘big people’ have made us an offer.

Bert    Lousy cocksuck—

Raymond    Would you like to hear what this offer is?

Philomena    Yes, yes, tell us.

Pause.

Bert    Sure, go ahead.

Raymond    They want us to gather up all Charles’s stuff into his suitcase and pass it out to them. If anyone asks, he left earlier today, saying that he planned to head back to London after doing some travelling.

Bert    That ain’t no deal to me, Ray. That’s half a fucken deal. The wrong fucken half.

Raymond    We are to be remunerated the sum of one hundred dollars each.

Philomena    One hundred dollars! Oh, we must take it. It’s what poor Charles would have wanted us to do. My angel was too good for this world but he left us this good fortune!

Bert (whistles)     That’s a lot o’ dough for little people.

Raymond    I’m aware of that, Kowalski. We should . . . I don’t know.

Bert    Mmmm.

Philomena    I say we take it!

She looks over to Charles’s case, and falls down on to her knees in prayer.

Raymond    It poses questions. Ethical questions.

Bert    Don’t talk to me about tell me ethical questions. I don’t need no lesson in ‘ethical questions’ from some hermwhatchamacallit fucking rapist, and (turns to Philomena) I sure as shit don’t need no thieving cocksucking leprechaun Joan of Arc going all holy on my ass.

Philomena scowls and rises.

Raymond    Well? What do you think?

Bert    All I’m sayin is that it’s a lot of dough and Charlie ain’t comin back, poor little sucker.

Raymond    Quite. And whatever one says about the pressures that we, as actors on this production, have been under, whatever one’s personal view of such pressures . . .

Bert    I know them pressures, Ray. Right, Philomena?

Philomena    With that money I could have my own little house here, with a nice big lock on the door.

Bert    Buys a fucken bolt-hole. Buys a stake in this midget community, for sure, and enough greenbacks to ride out the tough times.

Raymond    . . . there is the broader question of loyalty. As a friend of Mervyn LeRoy the disclosure right now of this act by Charles, this selfish act, of free will, and we would do well to remember that suicide is an act of free will . . . I suppose what I’m trying to say is that the negative publicity could jeopardise the entire production and for professional and personal reasons I’m loath to let that happen.

Bert    So you’re gonna take one for the team, huh? You’re so goddam noble, Ray. Saint fucken Ray. Of course, the hundred bucks means zilch to you.

Raymond    You’ve spoken at length about the importance of money, Kowalski. We’re all fully aware of those ramifications.

Bert    Yes, I’m fully fucken aware. I ain’t sayin this dumb Polack ass ain’t for sale. But I’ve had it with the pious crap. And the one reason, the one good reason I can think of right now for taking that dough and getting out of this crummy joint, is that I won’t ever have to listen to your bullshit no more!

He grabs Charles’s case and lugs it towards the door. He bangs on the door.

Open up, you lousy cocksuckin giraffe-assed freaks!

The door opens.

Go on, take it.

Bert pushes the suitcase through the door and follows through after it, pursued by Philomena and Raymond, as ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ starts to play in refrain.

ALSO BY IRVINE WELSH

Fiction

Trainspotting

The Acid House

Marabou Stork Nightmares

Ecstasy

Filth

Glue

Porno

The Bedroom Secrets of the Master Chefs

Drama

You’ll Have Had Your Hole

Screenplay

The Acid House

BABYLON HEIGHTS

Dean Cavanagh lives in Bradford, West Yorkshire,
with his wife and children.

Irvine Welsh is the author of eight books of fiction
and one play.

Babylon Heights premiered at the Exit Theatre, San Francisco, on 14 June 2006.

This play benefited greatly from read-throughs at the Magic Theatre and the Edinburgh Castle in San Francisco and the Attic Studios in Dublin. Special thanks to Alan Black, Jim Reece, Jessica Heidt, Beth Quinn, Emer Martin, Graham Cantwell and Rachel Rath.

Copyright © 2006 by Irvine Welsh and Dean Cavanagh

First published by Vintage Books, one of the publishers in

The Random House Group Ltd.

First American edition 2006

All rights reserved

Production manager: Amanda Morrison

For information about permission to reproduce selections from
this book, write to Permissions, W. W. Norton & Company, Inc.,

500 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10110

The Library of Congress has cataloged the printed edition as follows:

Welsh, Irvine.

Babylon Heights / Irvine Welsh and Dean Cavanagh. — 1st American ed.

p. cm.

ISBN-13: 978-0-393-32986-5 (pbk.)

ISBN-10: 0-393-32986-0 (pbk.)

1. Wizard of Oz (Motion picture : 1939)—Fiction. 2. Dwarfs—Fiction.

3. Short people—Fiction. 4. Dwarfs in motion pictures—Fiction.

5. Suicide—Fiction. I. Cavanagh, Dean. II. Title.

PR6073.E47B33 2006

2006015473

ISBN 978-0-393-35239-9 (e-book)

W. W. Norton & Company, Inc.

500 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10110
www.wwnorton.com

W. W. Norton & Company Ltd.

Castle House, 75/76 Wells Street, London W1T 3QT

Table of Contents

- Cover
- Title
- Introduction
- Act One
- Act Two
- Also By Irvine Welsh
- About the Authors
- About the Book
- Copyright