Act 1 Scene 2
The O No arena, a music venue built on a former toxic wasteland in
the London marshes which has successfully reinvented itself as a toxic
wasteland of culture. The female popstar Pl-attitude or ‘Player-attitude’ is
onstage in front of 20 000 fans made up of teenage girls and mostly homosexual
men.
Pl-attitude: singingHave you got what I need?
Dancers: Uh-uh! Uh-uh!
Pl-attidude:
I’m not
ashamed of it!
Backing singers: Skank!
Ah-ah!
Pl-attidude: Better get used to it.
When
they’re down on me
I’m down
on you
Then pin
me up to the wall
And give
it to me all!
Cos I’m
a..
Backing singers: Skank!
Ah-ah!
Pl-attidude: Gonna sing and dance about
it!
Let me
be your
Backing singers: skank!
Pl-attidude: And you can be my bank.
I’m a
car and I’ll empty your tank.
Or let
me give you a....
Backing singers: Ah-ah!
The song ends and the crowd screams and cheers in robotic delirium.
Pl-attitude surveys the crowd and then starts skipping around the stage as the
music begins for her next song. Pla-attitude looks out at the crowd and starts
her next number:
Na-na-nanana na!
The crowd react by screaming and jumping up and down. Several girls
at the front are knocked over and trampled by the crowd who have now taken up
the chant of ‘Na-na-nana-na!’
Na-na nana
na!
The crowd are now all echoing the call of ‘na-na-nana na!’ except
the half a dozen small girls who are trying to stop themselves getting trampled
to death by what has now become a mindless 20,000 strong herd with one thought
in its mind: ‘Na-na-nana na!’
Looking out at the crowd and Pla-attitude from the VIP salon are
three gentlemen. One of the men walks over to the window and slides it closed
reducing the noise from the concert.
Mr Hands: Thank God!
Second man: She’s totally certifiable you know that don’t you?
Trevor: Curiously Oh?
Second man: Drily Just look at her
for a start. She feels the need to dance up and down a stage for over an hour
in front of a group of children, whichever way you cut it, that’s strange
behaviour. We can chalk down narcissistic personality disorder as a matter of
course. But what else? Why does she need a room full of 20,000 teenagers to
give her life meaning? Isn’t that rather
excessive? Most people are content with a couple of close friends to obtain
their comfort. But of course, she doesn’t have any friends. She has an emptiness inside her the size of
Bournemouth.
Third man: No friends eh?
Mr Hands: piping inOf course not. We don’t allow her to have them. Everyone
who is close to here, including her present gentleman friend have all been put
there by us.
Trevor: The Tailors?
Second man: languidlyWho else?
Trevor: But why?
Second man: Isn’t it obvious. She is a very high profile person. She has the
media at her beck and call 24 hours a day. Her life is under constant scrutiny
and so is she. That’s why there must be maximum control.
Trevor: Over everything?
Mr Hands: Don’t want her saying
anything which isn’t on the script. No ad-libbing.
Second man: Certainly not. She has her lines and there they are gestures to the singer on the stage who is
still singing Na-na-na.
Trevor: What’s it all about though.
Why do the tailors promote these troubled young people and make them into
stars. Is it for money?
Mr Hands: The money is more of a
bonus than anything. She’s a holding fund. Her net assets of 40 million she
never gets to touch. We give her pocket money. Her real fortune is used by us
for our investments and shall we say, ‘expenses’.
Trevor: So what else is behind it
all then?
Second man: cutting inWarfare my boy, warfare!
Trevor: Warfare!?
Mr Hands: Yes indeed, we’re at war with the public.
Trevor: Why?
Mr Hands: Because they outnumber us
100 to one. We’re the Spartans here. Fighting a barbarian horde by any
means necessary. Most of the public if they knew who we were and what we got up
to would hang us from the lampposts. That’s why we’ve got to distract them and
give them something else to fuss about, preferably something totally
meaningless. Better if it’s something which we can use to project OUR values on
to them and make them think more like us.
Trevor: Na-na-na?
Second man: taking overThat’s the meaningless part. Pure drivel. How can
someone oppose us rationally and intellectually if all they can think of is
‘Na-na-na?’. But there’s more. If we can subvert their moral values to make
them more like ours then what moral right do they have to oppose us? We are
tunnelling beneath the moral high-ground which has been used to attack and
denounce us for centuries. Now, as the public’s morality and imagination sink
lower and lower they find themselves on the same level as us. If they don’t
even have the wit and awareness to protect their children from this noxious and
sexualising rubbish then they do not deserve the mercy we won’t give them
anyway. They are happy to see their young children emulate these fallen-women
but we’ve still got some way to go before they have to complete moral freedom
we enjoy, but we’re getting there. The next stage is the biggest of all. A task
so difficult and a change in perception so radical that from the present view
point it would appear impossible. But we know that nothing is impossible
because we have done so many impossible things before. We have committed the
most duplicitous and reprehensible impostures upon the human race in the name
of our war. We have achieved glorious victories when crushing defeat seemed the
most logical outcome.
Trevor: So what is the next step?
Mr Hands: Ahh, I can’t tell you yet. You’re not cleared for than
information.
Second man: Suffice it to say, that it’s not only policemen who are getting younger.
Mr Hands:grinningDeftly managed.
Second man: Would you like to meet Miss Plattitude?
Trevor: Not particularly.
Mr Hands: Too bad, you’re going to. That’s why you’re here.
Trevor: Oh really, I was wondering about that. I suppose my niece will be
impressed if we can get a photo taken together.
Mr Hands: I know the set-list like an ugly scar on the back of my hand,
she’ll come off for a two minute break after this one while she changes her
costume. Let’s go backstage.
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