Smales and Swagger
Early morning in a dark bedroom.
Daybreak is just beginning to illuminate the inside. Shapes can be seen. Clothes flung in a heap. A ripped polythene bag out of which has spilled little bottles of fluids: ‘Boots No. 7 Passionate Massage’, ‘Drive Him Mad and Bad’ and ‘Crème Uber Maintaino-Stiffo’.
Some of these are missing their lids.
An IKEA four poster bed dominates the room. Ropes and hand-cuffs are neatly organised on a chest beside it. A riding crop, nurse’s uniform and truncheon are carefully hanging on hooks from the wall. The air inside the room is thick and gritty.
Gerald Swagger is snoring from somewhere within the bed.
More light comes from a flickering candle at a desk to the side where a naked Penny Smales is writing with an old fashioned feather pen. She dips it into an ink pot, writes, dips, writes.
Penny: (Quietly) …performance was reasonable. I think that the crème was a success. It maintained peak stiffness for at least 40 seconds longer than usual. Next time I will try dancing naked with a net and smear it all over with a trident, like in that film we saw about Titans on sex-film night. I wonder if you can get tridents in 'Age Concern'? Memo to self : Check the 'Age Concern' trident situation.
Gerald: (Suddenly Awake) What’s that bloody stink? Have you been using candles again? I told you I don’t like you using candles, didn’t I?
Penny: Go back to sleep, dear. You need your strength for your morning fonduling.
Gerald: (Farting noisily) How can I bloody sleep with that stink, fat arse? What’s this on my knob?
Penny: That’ll be bacon, dear.
Gerald: Bacon? Why have you put bacon on my cock?
Penny: I heard about at Bingo. A website called ‘Sex, Bacon and the Liberal Bedroom.’
Gerald: Liberal party? Are they coming? I can’t stand that Paddy Pantsdown or Nick Clegg! Bastards! Have they got bacon on their knobs too?
Penny: Turn your hearing aid on, dear.
Gerald: It’s got bacon on it. I’m not putting that in my ear am I? I’m not walking around with some bacon sticking out of my ear. People will point and say ‘look at that silly old twat, he’s got bacon in coming out of his ear'.
Penny: No. The liberal party are not coming, but you will be.
Gerald: (Loudly): What? I can’t hear you. This bacon is stuck down my earhole. This bacon on my knob won’t come off neither. Bloody hell! It’s been sellotaped on! Did you sellotape it on when I was asleep?
Penny: No, I used rubber bands.
Gerald: Rubber Johnnies? How am I going to cook this bacon now? I’m not sticking my knob under the grill, am I? What if the Rubber Johnnies melt onto the grill? How will I get it off? Brillopad?
Penny: (Taking her walking stick, rising from the desk and hobbling seductively to the bed) Don’t worry. I have a method of ‘getting it off’ that I think you’ll like.
Gerald: (Alarmed) Get back you stupid old fool! It’s bloody raw! You can’t eat raw bacon, can you? You’ll get tapeworms!
Penny: Oh, I never thought of that. It’s all this pursuit of pleasure. They don’t warn you about that, do they, when they say it adds years to your life?
Gerald: No you didn’t think, did you? Now kindly, if you don’t mind, remove this bacon off my cock. I’ll take it back to the butcher, tell him it went off and see if he’ll give me some more.
Penny: But once you’ve gone, he’ll put it back out on a tray and sell it to someone else.
Gerald: And what’s wrong with that? It’ll be pre salted. Now untie me and go and charge up the Shopmobility cart.