Prick Up Your Ears Page #6

Ive always liked him.

The others are more instinctive.

I won't sulk. Just introduce me.

Say who I am, then Ill make myself scarce.

This is what it must be like

when one is about to meet the Queen.

Except, when one meets the Queen...

one normally hasn't threatened

to ram one's typewriter up her ass.

Mr. Orton?

Im his personal assistant.

He's waiting for you in the car.

Joe!

- That was Paul McCartney.

- Was it?

Kenneth, you are going to have

some memories.

So Ken didn't get to the awards ceremony,

and I did.

I give you the award

on behalf of the Metropolitan Police...

At moments of triumph,

men can do without their wives.

They cramp our style.

- But sharing is what wives want.

- Right.

And Ken was a coach as well as a wife.

Poor Ken.

Still, it was a popular win.

Joe was young, the play was naughty.

It all seemed very bold.

My plays are about getting away with it...

and the ones who get away with it

are the guilty.

It's the innocents who get it in the neck.

But that all seems pretty true to life to me.

Not a fantasy at all.

I've got away with it so far...

and I'm going to go on.

Thank you.

- Shall I drop you?

- Actually, the 24 is handier.

- Why, where are you going?

- Just going on somewhere.

- Congratulations again.

- Thank you.

What did you say?

- Did you say anything?

- Nothing.

You know me.

Thank you.

Various people...

kissed me.

You should pack.

- Do you read my diary?

- No.

Why?

Maybe you'd like me a bit less.

Should I take my typewriter?

- No, this is a holiday.

- Oh, just in case.

Which one do you want?

Abbott or Costello?

I don't mind.

Which one do you think likes me?

Im not sure liking comes into it.

Im not sure liking comes into it.

So your sister's husband works in Epsom?

Epsom, yes.

In a hotel?

Yes. Waiter.

Epsom's in Surrey...

near London.

And to think there's another two

coming round at 7:00.

My life's beginning to run to a timetable...

that no member of the royal family

would tolerate.

- Im improving.

- You are.

Having it sucked regularly

is turning you back into a human being.

Who is this? No one knows we're here.

I gave the Beatles' office the number.

Just in case.

Its Brian Epstein.

I was very impressed

with your screenplay, Joe.

But some areas Im not sure

Ive understood correctly...

and perhaps you could

talk me through those?

Dalighted.

The Beatles are all pursuing

the same girl, right?

Yeah.

Well, maybe.

Knowing the boys as I do,

I would say that was...

well, iffy.

However...

it's on Page 53...

Scene 86, when we definitely

seem to kiss reality goodbye.

Cut to the boys in bed with Susan.

One of them is smoking a joint.

He passes it around.

Two points there, Joe.

One, these boys do not take drugs.

They never have taken drugs

and they never will take drugs.

Its only a joint.

Second point.

If the boys are all in bed with Susan...

this means, as I understand it,

that they are all in bed with each other.

No, no, no.

Why?

Why? Because these are

normal, healthy boys.

I take it they all sleep together.

They do not.

But they're all very pretty.

I imagined they just had a good time.

Sang, smoked, f***ed everything in sight,

including each other.

I thought that was what success meant.

Mr. Orton, success means...

it means a respect for the public.

Besides, one of the boys is happily married.

Im sorry, Mr. Orton.

I hope you're having a pleasant vacation.

Why do you have to work?

Enjoy yourself.

I am enjoying myself.

- Listen to this.

- Not now. I don't want to.

Not here.

We'll get enough of this

when we get back to London.

Stop it.

Piss off.

Stupid nutter!

When we get back, we're finished.

This is the end.

Why don't you add,

"Im going back to Mother"?

That's the kind of line

that makes your plays ultimately worthless.

He's waiting to be paid.

Actually, he's rather sweet.

I think Ill retire.

Lick my wounds...

or have them licked for me.

You might at least open a window.

The place stinks.

That's good.

Peggy sold the Beatles script

to someone else.

I get paid twice over, apparently.

The Observer would like to interview me.

The Observer would like to interview me.

And Vogue wonders if Id be interested

in modeling some clothes.

So much for the holiday.

- What?

- I take you away for four weeks...

you come back,

still the same jealous b*tch as before.

Have you got them out?

Yes, you have. I know you, come on.

Come on, do your act.

- No!

- Come on, do your act.

How many is it, the fatal dose?

Twelve, is it?

One, two...

Here you are. Fetch.

And another. Yeah, and another.

Here.

- Answer that.

- No.

Answer it.

Hello?

Hello, Leonie.

Yes, it was very nice. Thank you.

Hold on.

Hello.

When was this?

Does that mean

there will have to be a funeral?

Sh*t.

Ill come up. Okay.

Bye.

- My mother's dead.

- Oh, Joe.

I know what it's like.

My whole life changed

when my mother died.

Im so sorry.

Im not.

And while Im away, see a doctor.

A proper doctor. You're sick.

Hello, duck.

Your mother's ready now...

if you'd like to come in

and pay your respects.

I think father first.

Stop it, Joe. I don't want to laugh.

I didn't know her. I don't want to laugh.

I still don't know

why you want to go calling yourself Joe.

John's a much classier name.

You've left her glasses off.

Yes. You'll find that's normal procedure.

Generally speaking, people prefer it.

What's happened to her teeth?

Mislaid, apparently.

Shame.

She was proud of her teeth.

Oh, God. Chuck them away.

I want something to remember her by.

You've no feeling at all, do you?

Ive started night school now.

Modern English Literature.

Its amazing how many writers are queer.

Do you think Mom's why you like lads?

Lay off.

You do look at lads. Ive seen you.

You do look at lads. Ive seen you.

Ive had a better time than they had.

Sexually.

We had no time at all.

There must have been times...

when you were happy.

Yes.

Several.

You kiss now. You never used to kiss.

That's London.

I never told you...

I met Paul McCartney.

Thought you were a bobby at first.

- Black tie.

- A funeral.

- Who died?

- My mother and two sisters.

Dead in the fire that consumed our home.

- You must be heartbroken.

- I am.

Handle my balls.

Do you need any assistance

in stripping the corpse?

I do not need a lesson in anatomy.

I was a trained nurse.

I am now removing her underclothes.

Please. You forget, this was my mother.

- Im sorry.

- What about?

Your mother.

Hand me the prop teeth.

Don't mess about. Im on.

Use these instead. They were my mother's.

Jesus Christ!

Is there anything else?

Is there anything else?

Her teeth.

I don't know what to say about the end.

It wasn't a natural act.

Well, obviously.

I didn't mean that.

These things happen, that's all.

I have an appointment with the psychiatrist

at 10:
00 tomorrow.

Yes.

Thank you for all the trouble you've taken.

You don't want a psychiatrist.

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