The Entertainer Page #8

- Your dad's a bit slewed.

- I don't want any. I want to talk to Dad.

I'm talking to Frank about my landlady.

She always used to remind me

of a bloke I used to know.

- Listen, this'll interest you.

- I want to talk to you about Phoebe.

He was Irish and he did a trampoline act.

We called him Lady Rosie Bothways.

The end of me old cigar

Oh, shut up, Frank!

What's the matter with you? Don't you

care what's going to happen to Phoebe?

Jeannie, love. Shall I tell you something?

All my life I've been

searching for something.

A draught Bass you could drink all night

without running off every ten minutes,

without feeling sick, and all for fourpence.

The man who could offer me that

would really get my vote.

Oh, he's funny. Archie, you're a bit

of a bastard, you really are.

- Insult me. I don't mind.

- Don't start being humble.

- What's the matter with her?

- Don't ask me.

You can't hurt yourself

any more, can you?

- Why don't you leave him alone?

- That's right.

He doesn't give a damn about anyone.

He's two pen'orth of nothing.

- That sums me up.

- Leave him alone.

He wants to divorce Phoebe.

What's going to happen to her?

You can't change anybody.

Have you seen this girl

he wants to marry?

I caught them together yesterday.

She's a professional virgin.

If you're going to start that,

I'm going home.

She's pretty, spoilt, vain and stupid.

Her parents are probably stupid too.

- How old is she?

- 20.

I suppose you think you're going to get

them to put up money for this new show.

- That was the idea.

- What do you mean "was the idea"?

Well, before you started getting fussed

about it, old Billy went and did something.

He went and saw my little girlfriend's

parents and he... told them.

Unfortunately he did not realise that in

the meantime I had signed a few cheques.

- He scotched it?

- Oh, yes. Completely.

So you needn't worry.

About Phoebe, anyway.

Old Archie isn't going

to get his oats after all.

("Why Should I Care?" plays on piano)

Dad...

Yeah?

Oh, I... (sniffs)

You're like your mother.

She always felt everything very deeply.

Much more deeply than I did.

You're what they call a sentimentalist.

- What are you talking about now?

- (laughs) I know.

You think I'm just a tatty old

music-hall actor.

But you know, when you're up here...

When you're up here...

you think you love all those people

around you out there.

But you don't.

You don't love them like...

Oh, if you learn it properly

you get yourself a technique.

And smile, darn you, smile and look

the friendliest, jolliest thing in the world.

But you'll be just dead and used up.

Just like everybody else.

See this face?

This face can split open

with warmth and humanity.

It can sing.

Tell the worst,

unfunniest stories in the world

to a great mob of dead, drab erks.

And it doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter because look.

Look at my eyes.

I'm dead behind these eyes.

I'm dead.

Just like the whole

damn shoddy lot out there.

Hey.

Did I ever tell you

the most moving thing I ever heard?

- Oh, Dad...

- No, no, it's not a gag.

It was when I was in Canada.

I used to slip over the border sometimes.

One night I heard some Negress

singing in a bar.

If ever I saw any hope or strength

in the human race,

it was in the face of that old fat Negress

getting up to sing about...

Jesus, or something like that.

I never even liked that kind of music,

but to see that old bag singing

her heart out to the whole world...

And you knew somehow that it didn't

matter how much you kicked people,

how much you despised them.

If they can get up and make

a pure, natural noise like that,

there's nothing wrong with them.

If I'd done one thing as good as that

in my whole life,

I'd have been all right.

I wish to God I was that old bag.

I'd stand up and shake

my great bosom up and down

and lift up my head and make

the most beautiful fuss in the world.

Dear God, I would.

But I'll never do it.

Do you think you're going to do it?

Well, do you?

I don't know.

I really don't know.

I'll probably do exactly the same as you.

Of course you will.

Mind you, you'll make a better job of it.

You're more clever.

(Phoebe) Archie.

Aren't you coming home?

Frank sent me here.

There's a policeman outside asking

for you. What do you think he wants?

It's the income tax man.

I've been expecting him for 20 years.

Don't look so scared, Phoebe, love.

Old Archie's drunk again.

It's only the income tax man.

The policeman's outside with Frank.

What do you think he wants, Archie?

Bastards. The rotten bastards.

They've killed him.

They've killed Mick.

O Lord

I don't care where they

Bury my body

No, I don't care where they

Bury my body

Cos my soul's gonna live with God

Quick march!

- They're giving him quite a sendoff.

- They say he'll get the VC.

What will they do, send it on to him?

- Could I have a photograph?

- Oh, please.

- Who are you?

- I'm the boy's uncle.

- They've got a job to do.

- Don't think they're not enjoying it.

- Are you all right?

- Yes, I'm all right, dear.

- I'd like to go now.

- Just one last question.

I do realise that this

is a very difficult situation.

I wonder if you could spare me

a few minutes.

All right, boys. Wrap it up.

Bum.

About this story - this is how I've angled it:

"The background of a hero".

I thought we could do something with

those patriotic songs you sing in your act.

That's... They're my own material.

I don't think...

- How's the show going?

- Eh? Oh, well...

People just sit back and stare at you.

They just sit. But London, that's the place.

You're not planning a comeback

by any chance, are you?

No return to the stage?

- He's retired.

- Pity.

There's nothing like the old music hall.

Well, thank you so much, Mr Rice.

Please accept my sympathy...

- They look as if they're about to go now.

- I'll pay all your debts, settle everything.

- I'll see that nothing happens.

- You're the one to persuade him, Bill.

Only don't tell him that I asked you.

Frank's all set to go, aren't you?

- Could we have that? Want some, Dad?

- Yes.

Brother Bill. Admiring the view?

Worth the climb, isn't it?

Frank's been telling me about

Claire's letter. I'm willing to help.

I'll pay all your fares and you can

start a fresh life. The three of you.

What's the matter, son?

You want to be a Mountie?

We could all be together.

Bill would look after everything.

- When's the London train?

- 9 o'clock.

- Who are we seeing? Rubens?

- No, Klein.

- Charlie Klein?!

- What are you going to London for?

It's about a new show.

He's coming to make it look respectable.

Why don't you come too?

You can see Graham.

Afternoon. Mr Klein, please.

- Who shall I say?

- Mr Billy Rice, Mr Archie Rice.

Will you take a seat, please?

Charlie Klein's all right. I used to know

him when he was about Jeannie's age.

Put him up for my club.

As soon as I heard the name Rice,

I said to myself "It can't be!"

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