No Nay Never: Scenes 6-7


PART 5 OF THE LEITHOLOGY QUINTOLOGY


Scene 6: Barry’s House, Burnley

Grandad turns up drunk at the family home after a all-night session


GRANDAD

Barry
At nine o clock in the morning
I heard grandad bashing the door in
Now he’s crashin’ on the kitchen flooring
Cos he never made it to his bed

I knew something was wrong with mi grandad
Cos he’s pukin’ up in Granny’s handbags
& starts stacking em up like sandbags
& then ranting ’bout the bloody war

Grandad’s been on the sauce again
He’s just drunk he aint insane
Grandad we love you
Even tho’ you smell like a brewery
Grandad we love you
Even when ya stink of wee

Grandads having a come down
He’s even bringing mi mum down
He’s been staying up well past sundown
& Grannies climbin’ up the wall!

Now Grandad acts like a tinker
Cos he’s always been a heavy drinker
& Gran says get off ya stinker
When he tries to get her into bed

Grandad’s been on the sauce again
He’s just drunk he aint insane
Grandad we love you
Even tho’ you smell like a brewery
Grandad we love you
Even when ya stink of wee

Grandad
I’m the paralytic diuretic man
I’ll never make it to the old bed pan
Better put those rubber sheets down gran
Cos I’m gonna wet the bed again

Barry
Now Grandad’s after a nightcap
Cos Grandma gave him a right slap
So he’s sneaking out thro the cat flap
& he’s going to the pub
He’s going to the pub
He’s going to the pub again


Enter Jackie

Jackie
Where’s dad?

Barry
Well, he came in, then he went out again

Jackie
What, on the lash?

Barry
What do you think?

Jackie
He acts like he’s bloody eighteen that lad – anyways, are you off to the match son

Barry
Aye mum, just setting off

Jackie
Who’ve they got

Liverpool
Bloody hell, scousers – I’d best get safety bar for mi car

Enter Gran

Gran
Your dad is a right pain in the backside Jackie – drunk as a skunk he was

Jackie
Hes just enjoying life mam

Gran
Well, there wo’nt be much left of it if he carries on drinking like that – ee-yah Billy, seriously, I do not recommend getting married – nowt but trouble it is

Billy
But, you’ve been married 50 years

Gran
Worst 50 years of my life

Jackie
Mum!

Barry
Reyt, em off – wish us luck

Jackie
Up the Clarets

Gran
If you see your grandad – tell him not to bother coming home

Jackie
Ee-ya mam, lets go t’café on’ market – ‘ave a natter & a brew

Gran
Then a spot of afternoon bingo

Jackie
If you like

Gran
Ooo…. go on then – my luck’s gotta change sometime….

Jackie
Nice one mam

Gran
I don’t mean it you know

Jackie
Mean what?

Gran
That thing I said about the worst 50 years of my life – you’ve made it a blessing to be alive, you have – if it weren’t for you, petal, me & your dad would have split up long ago

Jackie
What you on about, you love our dad

Gran
I might do, but he does my head in, & I’m not happy about his drinking at all

Jackie
He’s always liked a pint, mum, to tell you the truth I think its what keeps him alive… now get your coat & bag, I’ll meet you in the car

Exit Jackie / Gran finds her bag & coat & exits singing the first lines of a golden oldie number


Scene 7: Turf Moor, the Cricket Field Stand

The Burnley -Liverpool game is only a few minutes from kick off – Mojo & Peanut are stood next to each other talking


Mojo
The way I see it, Peanut, is like this… football, well its like a primal instinct innit… we have our tribe & the enemy have theirs, the players are like warriors, only instead of swords, they’ve got headers & shots & passes & all that, & instead of shields, there’s the keeper defending the goal

Enter City in disguise – she sits nearby

Peanut
Load of Scousers in today

Mojo
You know that Liverpudlian lads never get a blow job

Peanut
Why not?

Mojo
They think it’ll fuck up their benefits

Peanut
Ha-ha! You mentalist

Enter Barry

Barry
Alright lads

Peanut
Hey Hey – its the groom himself

Mojo
This time next Saturday you’re gonna be walking down the aisle, pal

Barry
I know, but it’s an evening kick off next Saturday – we can watch the game during the reception

Peanut
Buzzin’

Mojo
Here they come

The teams come out to cheers

SONGS FROM THE TERRACE (i)

1: In our Lancashire homes,
We speak with an accent exceedingly rare,
The Longside of Burnley will always be there,
In our Lancashire homes!

2: (to the tune of Auld Langs Eyne)
Burnley, Burnley, Burnley, Burnley,
Burnley, Burnley, Burnley,
Burnley, Burnley, Burnley, Burnley
Burnley, Burnley, Burnley,

3: Come on you Clarets !

4: Matt Busby said to Bill Shankly
Have you heard of the Northbank, Highbury
Shanks said ‘no, I don’t think so,
But I’ve heard of the Longside, Burnley.’

Mojo
So, what did you get up to last week ya fuckin’ vicelord – you just dissapeared with that bird. Behave yourself did ya?

Barry
Course I did – she was an off the chart mentalist, mate, & besides, its not right is it

Mojo
Good, she’s a good lass is your Sharon

Barry
I know

Peanut
I got laid

Barry
What

Mojo
He got laid

Barry
Did ya?

Peanut
Yep

Barry
Congratulations, pal

Peanut
It was that cowgirl from the party

Barry
Not bad, pal, not bad at all, she was hot

Mojo
Tell him what happened, like you told me

Peanut
well I put it in, then I pulled out, then I put in again, & then I wiggled it about a bit – she was fuckin’loving it

Barry
I bet she was Peanut

Peanut
I can’t believe I lost my virginity to a cowgirl in Dalkeith

Barry
Ee-ya, they’re kicking off

Mojo
Come on Burnley

Barry
Lets fuckin’ ‘ave em

Kick off

SONGS FROM THE TERRACE (ii)

1: No One Likes Us
No one likes us,
No one likes us,
No one likes us,
We don’t care,
We are Burnley,
Super Burnley
We are Burnley,
From the North

2: I went to the alehouse used frequent,
I saw old Jack Walker his money was spent,
He asked me to play,
I answered him nay,
With rubbish like yours I can beat any day.
And its No Nay Never
No Nay Never No More
Yill we play Bastard Rovers
No Nay Never No More
We hate Bastards, we hate Bastards!

3: Forever and Ever
For ever and ever,
We’ll follow a team,
It’s Burnley FC,
We rule supreme!
We’ll never be mastered,
By the Blackburn b***ards,
And keep the claret flag flying high!

4: We are the Longside, Burnley

Mojo
Wooah, come on

Peanut
Pass it, fuckin’ pass it

Barry
Yes… go on, go on, go on, go on…

{Burnley score}

Mojo, Barry, Peanut
Get in!!!! You Fuckin Dancer !!!! Yaaaahhss
{The guys jump around excitedly hugging each other}
Who are ya, who are ya, who are ya

Peanut
Fuckin real do

Barry
Yeah, come on Burnley!


THE CONCHORDIA FOLIO

“Its worth a pop, right, to try & knock that Shakespeare
Off his feffin’ perch!”

Interview: Damian Beeson Bullen


 

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