Pause. They munch away at the chips. FENTON and CHIPS perch on the rostrum near the bike. VINCENT and RODERICK move stage left. VINCENT sits on an upturned petrol can, RODERICK leans on the bench.

VINCENT: Nearly had a fight on our hands on the way here. Did we not wee fella?

CHIPS: Aye, we did.

VINCENT: Clever bastard in a Three Litre Capri pulls straight out in front of us.

RODERICK: Where?

VINCENT: Skelmanthorpe.

CHIPS Out of the King’s Head car park.

VINCENT: I gave ‘in all me lights, and the stupid bugger stopped dead.

CHIPS: We didn’t.,

VINCENT: Smashed his rear lights and a winker, did we not Chips?

CHIPS: Well, served ‘in right.

RODERICK: What ‘appened?

VINCENT: (enjoying himself)  Oh, then he tries to say it’s my fault.

RODERICK: What did you say?

CHIPS: ‘E didn’t say owt. ‘E thumped ‘im.

VINCENT:  Och no, no. I just pushed him a wee push. That’s all. (They laugh.) I think he’d filled his trousers. (They guffaw)

FENTON:  Ey, you don’t want to tangle wi’ bloody Skelmanthorpers y’know Vince. They bite yer lugs.

CHIPS: Eh?

FENTON:  “Thorpe Lug Biters”. They bite lumps out of yer ears.

RODERICK: (laughing) Gerroff, tha’ll tell us owt.

FENTON:  True. Should ‘ear me father’s tales about Shelley lads raidin’ t’Skelmanthorpers. Thorpers were famous for bitin’ ear’oles.

RODERICK: Ah, well t’ Shelleyers were famous fer beltin’ arse’oles.

They laugh.

FENTON:  They used to meet ‘ere. At Shelley Woodhouse.

RODERICK:  Straight up?

FENTON: Yeh, they were famous, Shelley Woodhouse feights. They used to chuck turnips at each other out o’ Willie Jenks’ field.

CHIPS: What did Willie Jenks say?

RODERICK:  Not a lot. ‘E were inside with ‘is hat pulled right down over ‘is ear’oles.

They laugh.

FENTON:  S’right though, yer coulda been in bother theer Vince. Thorpers ‘ad a reputation fer bitin’ lugs.

He flaps his own ears with his dirty hands.

VINCENT:  Huh. Well I would have bitten his bollocks, see how he liked that.

CHIPS laughs - VINCENT silences him with a look. Pause. They eat.

.

FENTON:  You don’t get much o’ that now though.

RODERICK: What? Ear’ole gnashin’?

FENTON: No, Shelleyers against Skelmanthorpers. Seems to ‘ave disappeared. All that, like, sparrin’ between villages. Kids.

Pause.

CHIPS:  (loyal)  I suppose it has Fent, yes.

FENTON:  In me grandad’s day there were three gangs in this village alone. Top o’ Shelleyers, Bank Bottomers, an t’ Shelley Woodhouse-ites. When me dad were a lad they’d all joined together. Village against village. Like, Shelley, agen t’ Skelmanthorpers, or t’ Kirkburtonites.

CHIPS:  Yeh?

FENTON:  Then when I were at school, it were all t’ villages joined togither, agen t’ townies. (Pause.)  Well, it’s funny, innit.

RODERICK: (munching) Whorris?

FENTON: Allegiances. Sorta, gettin’ bigger all the time.

VINCENT: Whadya mean?  Football violence an’ that?

RODERICK:  I shouldn’t worry about it owd lad, if I were you. You’ll be out the runnin’ altogether soon.

FENTON: Eh?

RODERICK:  Well, you’re right in the middle ‘ere, aren’t yer?  This ouse like. Shelley one side, Skelmanthorpe t’ other.

FENTON:  Yeh, Shelley  Woodhouse.

RODERICK:  (laughs)  Shelley Woodhouse? Once this road-widenin’ slices up yer garden lad, yer’ll be off the map. Neither one place nor t’other!

FENTON:  Gerroff!

RODERICK:  Bloody reight lad. Wipe-out!

CHIPS:  Long as there’s a good long, wide straight bit, for testing the bikes. Eh?

VINCENT:  Aye, that’s right Chippy. Get up to all of twenty-three miles per hour on that thing of yours.

CHIPS: (ruffled)  Tha knows nowt about ‘em.

VINCENT: (making to getup)  I beg your pardon?

CHIPS:  Nothin’.

VINCENT: (sitting down) Tha’s better!

Pause

RODERICK:  Tell yer dad to stop ‘em doin’ it Fent. Bring his influence to bear.

FENTON: Eh?

VINCENT: What influence is that?

RODERICK: ‘Is dad works for t’ Highways Department.

VINCENT:  (surprised) He’s involved wi’ plannin’?

FENTON:  (lsughs) No no man. ‘E drives a tipper now like.

RODERICK: Aye,  for Kirklees Metropolitan  Borough Council. What a laugh!

FENTON: Ey, come on Roderick.

RODERICK I mean Kirklees man. The name. Anybody  ever ‘eard of it?

FENTON:  It’s this whole area man. This is it. Kirklees.

RODERICK:  Oh yes I know it is, in theory. How come though? Where is Kirklees? There’s Kirkburton down t’ road. That lass ‘at you knocked about w’ Fent, ‘er at worked at Co-op, come from Kirkheaton. (derisive) But bloody Kirklees?

VINCENT screws up his chip paper and aims it at CHIPS.

VINCENT: There’s yer paper back, son.

CHIPS: Huh, thanks a lot!

RODERICK: (soldiering on)  Denby Dale Urban District Council had grey lorries, right? Kirkburton U.D.C. ‘ad red ‘uns. An’ Holmfirth. U.D.C. had. green lorries. They paint ‘em all yeller an’ print Kirklees Metropolitan Borough on em. An’ the isn’t such a place. Well, yer can’t credit it, can yer?

Slight pause.

CHIPS: Well, I don’t know mesen really Roderick. What do you reckon Fent?

RODERICK: Anyway it’s bloody laughable.  I s’pect they’ve got it worked out like, some road.

CHIPS: You’ve lost me, anyway.

VINCENT:  I’ve been lost since I came south of Hadrian’s bloody wall. (They moan, anticipating what’s to come.)  Aye well, gie me Glasgow any day o’ the week, bloody Sassenachs that y’are.

FENTON: Gerrout, yer Scotch bloody renegade.

VINCENT:  At least we don’t leap around bitin’ people’s ears.

CHIPS: Ey!  What yer got on under that kilt, Vincent?

Slight pause.

VINCENT: (dangerously soft) An’ wha’ s that supposed tae mean?

CHIPS: (anxious) Eh?

VINCENT darts across and picks up CHIPS by his shirt front, almost off his feet.

VINCENT: What’s that mean you wee shite?

CHIPS: Ey,  A were nobbut coddin’.

VINCENT expertly  turns CHIPS  round and holds his arm in a half-Nelson.

VINCENT:  Now then. Are ye goin’ a take that back?

CHIPS:  Ey, yer ‘urtin’.

VINCENT Take it back.

RODERICK: Boot ‘is cheeky young arse, Vince.

VINCENT:  Speak Chippy. Come on, speak ter me!

RODERICK: E’s got more bloody rattle than t’ parson preached about.

FENTON: Vincent. Nuff’s enough man.

VINCENT:  Fuck off Fenton. I’ll le him go when I’m good an’ ready.

Slight pause.

FENTON:  (quiet, not menacing) Vincent.

Pause.

VINCENT gives CHIPS’ arm an extra twist and throws him off.

VINCENT:  Ah, go on. Yer like a wee lassie anyway!

Silence, except for slight snuffles from CHIPS by the bench stage right

RODERICK and FENTON are now busy working.

VINCENT:  Just mind yer own bloody business in future.  (VINCENT begins to feel a bit silly. He takes a small cardboard box with air-holes in it from his pocket, removes the lid and takes out a hamster. He cuddles it and. holds it to his face.) How’re you then, ma furry wee friend? Mm? How’re ye doin’ there. Mmm ? (He makes his way over to RODERICK)   See this Roderick? Bought it in town.

RODERICK:  What the hell is it?

VINCENT  pushes it at him.

VINCENT:  It’s a plaguey rat!  (RODERICK recoils.)  It’s a fuck’n hamster, you big lassie.

He laughs, RODERICK takes it

RODERICK:  Uh huh!  Funny little thing.

VINCENT:  Eh?

RODERICK:   ‘Ell fire. It’s like tryin’ to…  tryin’ to keep ‘old of a polythene bag full o’ warm water. It kinda runs through yer fingers.

VINCENT: Er… are ye sure she hasnae…  er…

RODERICK:  Neow, I don’t mean that. (Pause.) Do you like hamsters then?

VINCENT: Och, I used to keep them when I was a wean. (He takes it back.) I was passin’ a pet shop in the town.

He cuddles it in a gooey way.

RODERICK eats his last chip and throws the paper behind the packing cases.

CHIPS clears up his spilt chips and disposes of his own and VINCENT’S  paper under the bench stage right in the rubbish bucket. Then he joins FENTON  who  has left some chips unfinished on top of the bike. He is  cleaning the rear wheel.

CHIPS: Shall I hold yer the lamp, Fent?

FENTON: (grins) If yer don’t mind, yeh.

CHIPS No, that’s OK.

He does so. VINCENT puts the hamster back in its box and puts the box  on the back of the bench stage left. He picks up a “Bike” magazine and reads.

RODERICK continues to work.

CHIPS: Me dad’s up in arms about the road scheme you know.

FENTON:  Is he? ‘Ow’s that?

CHIPS:  They’ve stopped ‘im buildin’. Said ‘is plans didn’t fit wi’ what they want above this road.

FENTON: Didn’t fit?            .

CHIPS:  Oh, they’ve got right fussy yerknow. It’s a helluva job gettin’ plans through. now. An’ it teks forever. Nobody seems to know what the bloody ‘ell they’re.doin’. See, me dad were goin’ to build semis, twenty of ‘em.  On that bankin’ where that bit of an outcrop used to be.

FENTON: Yeh.

CHIPS:  Well, ‘e reckons ‘e’s goin to have to build Mews Houses now,  jus so’s he can get his plans passed.

FENTON: Mews Houses?

CHIPS: S’what ’e said. S they’ll probly let ‘im build them. Georgian Mews ‘Ouses.

FENTON: Well that teks the bloody biscuit right that does. (laughs) This is a mews. Or it was.

CHIPS What?

FENTON: This. That’s what a mews is, a stable. Tch.  Meks yer badly dunnit. They shove a road through,  we pull our mews down, an’ yer dad bobs some pretend ones up, ‘cos they sound good. Eh?

CHIPS: It’s not ‘is fault.

FENTON: All  the ‘ouses’ll look alike. Load o’ townies’ll come an’ live in ‘em. An’ they’ll drive off to the office in Marinas an’ Cortinas with their jackets ‘angin’ up in the back. In their shirt sleeves. ‘Ave you seen ‘em?

CHIPS: Eh?   

FENTON:  Noddin’ their ‘eads in time to their stereos. Windows tight shut so’s . their crappy air-conditionin’ doesn’t get upset. Idiots.

Pause.,

CHIPS: Reckon you’ll ever ‘ave a car’ Fent?

FENTON: Not without I can ‘ave a bike as well lad, that’s for sure.

CHIPS: What about, like when yer get wed?

FENTON: (laughs) When I get wed?

CHIPS: Yeh. What about then?

FENTON: Get wed? who’m I goin’ to wed?

CHIPS: (cheeky) Eh? what about Greeny?

FENTON: (stops  smiling) Greeny? What yer talkin’  about? 

CHIPS: Yeh. Greeny. In our office. Christine Green. (Slight pause.) Bigtits Green!

FENTON: (quickly) What about ‘er?

CHIPS: She’s allus ta1kin about yer. You tekkin ‘er to t’ pictures an’ that.

FENTON: She tells you that?

CHIPS: (cheeky) Yeh, she thinks she can tell me owt. She thinks I’m just a little lad.

FENTON:  She’s not a bad judge.

CHIPS: (taunting) ‘Bigtits’ Green I call ‘er.

FENTON slings an oily rag at him.

FENTON: Bloody cheeky  twat Chippy. Listen, do you want that bloody fart-bike fixed, or what?

CHIPS: (laughing) Course I do.

FENTON: Bloody shut it then.

Returns to work.

CHIPS:  What about her though? (FENTON  glowers at him.)  She sits opposite me yer know. In t’ office. All day long. Typin’ me dad’s letters an stuff. I watch ‘er when I’ve nowt to do. (Slight pause.)  She asks me about yer a lot. I’ve tell’d her she’s got no chance. (FENTON  carries on working.) The office Marina needed tekkin’ up to your garage yesterday for a service an’ a new starter motor. She asked me dad if she could drive it up. (FENTON  looks up.)  She did. He were in a bad mood. Said no. (Pause.)  I say it to her face yerknow  (Slight pause.)  Bigtits Green!

FENTON bursts out laughing

FENTON: You silly little bastard. Come ‘ere with thi!   (He grabs CHIPS  and turns him  upside down, holding  him inches above the bath of old paraffin. VINCENT  puts down his magazine and he and RODERICK  join in the fray.)   Sorry? Eh? Are yer sorry?

CHIPS is laughing hysterically.

CHIPS:  Gerroff me yer sod! Gerroff!  Yer rotten bugger! Gerroff!

RODERICK:  Grab ‘is bollocks Vince.

A face has appeared at the high window at the back of the shed. FENTON  puts CHIPS  down. VINCENT spots the face. He points and shouts.

VINCENT: Hey! HEY!

They all look at the face. It is MARY. She disappears and footsteps are heard running away. VINCENT dashes for the door.

VINCENT: Who the fuck is that?

FENTON stops him at the door.

FENTON:  Hold yer horses Vince. It’s only that Mary kid. From up the road.

CHIPS: Mary Waite?

RODERICK: That loony kid?

VINCENT pushes FENTON off.

VINCENT: What’s she fuckin’ doin’ peering through windows?

FENTON:  She’s not bloody loony. She’s backward or summat. She goes to a special school  in town.

VINCENT: What’s she doin’ hanging round here? 

FENTON:  Ey, leave off man. She’s OK. She’s harmless.

CHIPS: She’s bloody gormless!

FENTON: She often mucks about in our garden. Our Celia talks to her a lot. She’s got no mates ‘er own age.

VINCENT:  (in disbelief)  Who, Celia?

FENTON: Mary,  silly bugger. Celia’s just interested in her. Gives ‘er extra readin’ sometimes.

CHIPS:  She’s absolutely bloody daft is Mary.

 VINCENT: Aye, well you should know at lot about being bloody daft!

He stoops and looks under the bench stage right.

CHIPS:  She were in t’ same class as me sister till they sent her to t’ special school.

RODERICK:  Does your Celia have to teach her then? Part of her job like?

FENTON: No. Just interested.

Slight pause.

RODERICK:  One o’ the boss’s kids is in your Celia’s class. Thinks the world of her.

VINCENT  has picked u an old six volt bike horn from under the bench.

VINCENT: Hey!  Does this work?

FENTON:  (looks at it) Yeh, probably. Give us a lift Chips.

FENTON  fetches the front wheel for the bike from behind the rostrum. Assisted by CHIPS  he fits it between the front forks.

RODERICK is still working away. VINCENT starts to fix wires from under the bench on to the terminals of the horn.

VINCENT: I could use this on the van. (grins)  Specially when passin’ through Skelmanthorpe!

FENTON: Let’s ‘ave a look. Hold it up. (VINCENT does so.) Oh, it’s off an owd A.J.S. Wrong voltage for the van. It’s jus six volt.

VINCENT: Well, I can bridge the battery. Could I not do that? Use half power on it?

FENTON: Well you could do aye. Leave it a bit Vince. I’ll ‘ave a root round. Up at the garage. Probably find a twelve volt one chuckin’ about.

VINCENT: Och no man. This’ll do. (He fiddles with the wires.) You get used to making do at Garner’s. Very much so.

RODERICK: Has ‘e ad ‘is hair cut yet?

VINCENT: Who Bryn?

RODERICK: Yep.

VINCENT No. He’ll be able to tie it between his legs soon.

RODERICK:  Ooh hoo, that could be painful!

VINCENT:  He sometimes plaits it you know? Big fat greasy plait. Just tae keep it out the way when he’s working the drag-line.

CHIPS:  Is he Welsh?

Slight pause.

VINCENT:  I beg your fuck’n pardon?

CHIPS: I just wondered if he’s Welsh.

RODERICK:  Is who bloody Welsh?

CHIPS: Well, it’s a Welsh name innit? Bryn?

FENTON laughs.

VINCENT: Bloody dopey twat!  It’s the hair man.

RODERICK:  Long hair! Brynner.

FENTON:  It’s before his time. Yul Brynner, Chippy.

CHIPS: He’s bald.

They all moan.

VINCENT: Dope. His real narne’s Alfred.

RODERICK: Yeh, an’ ‘e’s a Pakistani.

VINCENT: And he’s well known fer burning cakes.

RODERICK: Japatties!

They laugh.  CHIPS looks puzzled.

FENTON:  (wearily) Ey, get yer finger out Chippy or they’ll never stop pullin’ yer leg.

He gives CHIPS a friendly push.

VINCENT: Actually, I think he may be a Welshman. He swears away in some language. It’s probably  Gaelic.

RODERICK: Try ‘im with ‘Yakki Dar’. Allus works. (They laugh.) Does Bryn actually own the quarry or what?

VINCENT: Yep. Lock, stock and diamond saw. And that bugger must have cost a mint o’ money. He must be worth fuck’n thousands y’know.

Slight pause.

CHIPS: (brighter)  Is it real diamonds or what?

FENTON:  (quickly)  You’ll ‘ave to go look at it.

CHIPS Will ‘e let yer?

FENTON: Course.

VINCENT: Industrial diamonds, set on the cuttin’ edge of a ten foot circular saw. It’ll piss through a six ton stone block like it was butter. About  a hundred times faster than the old frame saws.

RODERICK: I don’t know how you stand workin’ for ‘im. Up to yer  knees in yeller clay.  Bloody stone-dust shit everywhere.

VINCENT: Better ‘n bloody cow shit.

Slight pause.

RODERICK: You know that ramshackle owd. Fordson Major  yer’ve got. up  theer?

VINCENT: The tractor, yeh.

RODERICK:  Our boss selled that to Bryn ten year sin’.  It were fucked then.

.

VINCENT:  Still bloody works mind. I ‘ve pulled five ton up the incline with it. Through slurry.  (RODERICK shrugs non-committally)  I have sonny boy. Mind, Bryn talks to they machines you know. The big crane is the eighth wonder of the world. Fairground came round wanting to buy the engine, turn it into a lighting set. He wouldn’t sell it lad. He can start it first time, everytime.

CHIPS: What do you do there Vince? Dress stone?

VINCENT: Dress stone? Fuck off Chips, that’s a skilled mason’s job. I’m a. skilled pusher, puller, heaver and. strainer.

CHIPS: I just were wonderin’…

VINCENT: Mind, sometimes I set the charges.

Slight pause.

RODERICK:. Do yer?

VINCENT Aye. That’s good like. Settin  the gelly.  Blowing the bloody place apart.

FENTON:  I haven’t heard any blastin’ up there in ages.

VINCENT: Been too cold. Freezin’. Get cracks in funny places when it’s freezin’. Can spoil a whole block. Wee bit warmer now though. Might  do some next week.

CHIPS:  Me father gets dressed stone off him sometimes. ‘E scares me though, does Bryn. Like a bloody gorilla.

.

VINCENT:  Oh, he’s a strong bastard alright.  Never see him back down to anyone. Treats me OK mind. Money  straight in ma hand on a Friday.

Slight pause.

CHIPS:  Aye but, er…  what does ‘e do about National Insurance? Who does ‘is books an’ that?

RODERICK:  (derisive) Aaaw!

CHIPS:  Well, it’s a hell of a job you know. I do that at work. How do yer pay yer income tax?

VINCENT: (laughs harshly)  Gaa, fuck the income tax.

CHIPS They’ll catch up with ‘im though. Bound to. There’ll be ‘ell to play when they do.

VINCENT: How c they prove he’s got anything? Eh? He hasn’t even got a house, just great, dirty caravan.

RODERICK: (knowing laugh) Aye. An’ a great, dirty, starvin’ Alsation guardin’ t’ gateway.

Slight pause.

CHIPS Yeh, what about you, though?

VINCENT: What about me? If they come sniffing round me, I’ll be off again.

CHIPS:  What, go somewhere else?

VINCENT: Of course man, I’m used tae it.

FENTON: Long as Bryn keeps his Jag outa sight eh? (laughs)  There no tax disc on that bugger either.

VINCENT: (simply)  Och, he doesnae believe in all that, man. (Slight pause. He fiddles with  the horn, speaks  with adiniration)  He’s got his head screwed on alright. An’ when the man is carryin’, the sky’s the bloody limit. Sixty quid I got last week..

RODERICK: Phew, ‘ell fire jack!

FENTON: Can’t be bad

Slight pause.

RODERICK:  Even so, I don’t know how you stick it in . Specially the weather we’ve ‘ad lately. All t’ buildin’s are fallin’ in bits. Rain must piss in.

VINCENT: Aye well. (winks)  There are er… other compensations. Beside the money.

FENTON:  (grins) Oh aye? (Slight pause)  Well come on then, yer bugger.

VINCENT  is slightly embarassed, he laughs coyly.

VINCENT:  Wendy. It’s worth the discomfort for Wendy.

CHIPS:  Who’s Wendy?

VINCENT:  (agressive) Oh, come  back when you’re old enough Chips.

RODERICK:  She’s a nurse in town isn’t she.

FENTON: Cracker she is Chips. Lives wi’ Bryn Garner.

CHIPS: What, in that mucky caravan?

VINCENT: Shut up Chips.

CHIPS: On t’ quarry edge?

FENTON: (quickly)  Er, you fancy ‘er  a bit then, do you Vince?

VINCENT:  Oh, come on. She is twenty-two and bee-autiful. Och, the things I could get up to wi’ her. Now, that feller must have somethin’ to keep her.

RODERICK: Aye, something like a donkey’s, probably.

They laugh.

VINCENT: (aggressive)  No listen. Here, when she steps out the caravan in the mornin’s, she looks a dream. (calmer)  She goes to the bus stop lad, clean as a new pin. An’ bright  as paint. And she smiles and looks really happy you know? Tremendous! (Slight pause.)   All that,  like,  an’ Bryn’s probably been in town, shaggin’ some other bird all night.

CHIPS: An’ she stays? In that  shitty owd caravan?

VINCENT: Will somebody shut him up?

CHIPS: Well, I. were only thinkin’ that…

FENTON: (quietly) Shut up Chippy.

VINCENT:  She stays, ‘cos that man is a fuckin’ man, that’s why. Not a prattling half-wit.   (CHIPS shrugs defensively, but stays quiet.)   Know what he did last Monday?  See, on the Sunday night, he’d caught a dose of crabs. Off  some old whore in the town. Know what he did? (Slight pause.)  Monday mornin’, freezin’ cold, ‘e comes out the caravan, stark bollock naked. Honest.

RODERICK:  Yeh?

VINCENT: He jumps in this old tin bath full of diesel oil and scrubs away at himself, shoutin’ “Die you bastards, die!”

FENTON: Hoo hoo! Jesus Christ!

Slight pause.

CHIPS: Crabs?

RODERICK: Did. it get rid of ‘em?

VINCENT: Dunno,  probably.  You know his third finger’s almost missing?

FENTON: Yeh, right hand.

RODERICK: Wendy shut her legs?

CHIPS: Eugh!

VINCENT: He used to wear a ring, well, silver half dollar made into a ring. Used to wear it  on that finger. So, one day he’s up in the cab of the big crane, ‘bout twelve foot off the ground. ‘Stead o’ climbin’ down the iron ladder, he swings and jumps down. Done it hundreds o’ times you see? So this day as he’s swinging down from the cab, his silver ring catches on a steel staple. He canna get a hold with his left hand. So now he’s hanging by his finger you know?

CHIPS:  (grimaces)  Eugh!  Shit!

VINCENT: So he doesn’t shout and yell for help. Not Bryn. He swings hard down, breaks the ring, and pulls most of the bloody finger off!

CHIPS:  Oh no!

RODERICK:  (makes spewing noise)  Phwor,. ‘ere come mi chips.

FENTON: God. Musta given him some jip when he got the feelin’ back.

VINCENT: Wouldn’t bother him Fent.

RODERICK: You can ‘ardly credit that, can yer?

Pause.

VINCENT: However,  Wendy fancies me too. I know that. I’ve seen her watching me from the caravan sometimes.

FENTON:  Aye, well mek sure Bryn’s not watchin’ you. You might lose more than yer finger.

VINCENT: (grins) One o’ these days, lads. I’ll be in there, I’ll sweep her up (loudly) Carry her away! Eh? She’s scared of him you see. Well, she must be.

CHIPS: Yeh, I fuckin’ would be.

VINCENT:  (bravado) I’m not though. (Slight pause.)  I’m not scared of him.

The horn suddenly blares out. VINCENT has connected it to the new battery.

CHIPS: Fuckin’ ‘ell!

VINCENT: Hey hey! The bugger works!

FENTON:  Oi.  That’s a new battery. S’not properly charged yet.

VINCENT stops the noise

VINCENT:  Sorry Fent.

He puts the horn on the floor and  is about to disconnect it when  there is a sudden scuffle outside the shed.

The face is at the window again. Everyone looks up.

VINCENT leaps outside. The face disappears. There are sounds of struggling. CHIPS goes to the door to look and gets pushed to one side as VINCENT re-enters. He is  half carrying the struggling MARY.

MARY is 15, but educationally a dull 10 year old. She is dressed in an anorak, blouse and jumper. Her jeans are shapeless and she is wearing wellington boots. She is also wearing mittens, and she has a slide in her hair. Her nose is running.

VINCENT:  Heh hey! Look what I’ve found!

MARY:  Yarrrgh!   Gerroff!   Gerroff!   Get off!   Fuck off!

FENTON: Put ‘er down Vince.

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