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Night People


"Night People by Dafydd Williams goes all over the place in a televisual way. The boys are funny, caring, boozy and daft, carting their lost dreams into the Docks' nightfall.

The writing is vibrant and fluent,this work is highly commended"

 Alan Osborne (Merthyr Trilogy)



A One Act Play by Dafydd Williams

Highly Commended by the Drama Association of Wales



Danny Jones: Llanelli Supporter, Late 30’s 

Stella Jones: Danny’s Wife, Mid 30’s

Rita: Cardiff Prostitute 40’s

Geraint  Bartell: Student early 20’s 

Rhian Wood: Geraint's Girlfriend early 20’s

Elvis O Riordan: Cardiff Taxi Driver 30's

Jim Riddleton: Detective Inspector  40's




The set consists of a raised stage, painted to represent a cobbled street, with pavements and a drain. It projects from a backdrop of terraced houses with a Public House on the corner. On the other side of the street are old factory buildings and a large chimney stack. Painted in dark colours to represent night. The only light comes from an old fashioned lamp post with a square light at the top. The actors enter and exit from the back of the street either stage left or right.



Act 1

Scene 1

The action begins in darkness. We hear the hoot of an owl (unusual in a city) then softly begins ‘Sospan Fach’ working up to a crescendo (Llanelli Male Voice choir)

Lights up on two characters Danny Jones and Geraint Bartell


DJ: Scarlets! Scarlets! (Loud)

GB: Sssh, Sssh Mun!

DJ: What do you mean Sssh! It’s a Saturday Night and we beat the blue and blacks.

GB: What the hell was the name of that pub we were just in?

DJ: Y llwybrau gynt lle bu’r gan yw lleoedd y dylluan.

GB: Yes, all this is very well and I am sure there are more philosophical and profound arguments for what you speak but what the hell was the name of the pub we were just in?

DJ: Don’t be disrespectful butt, you may be the Post Grad but I do have important things to say. I know what’s right and wrong. I’m a Father for God’s sake.

GB: Did you buy a present? No!

DJ: Duw give us a chance man. I’ve been too busy drinking (Both begin to chuckle, DJ well inebriated begins to imitate ‘Dawns y Glocsen’ with an imaginary brush, then picks up a stone from the street and begins to run up and down imitating Bill Mclaren) There’ll be a whirling of dervishes tonight down in Trimsaran, there’ll be a tossing of leaks in Kidwelly. It’s the new boy Jones with the ball. He may be in his thirties but can this fellow run. A Dummy pass to the dummy Geraint Bartell, a kick over head a la Gareth from a different era and it’s down in the corner. The crowd are euphoric. Scarlets! Scarlets!

 Picks the stone up and throws it far into the night sky. We hear a tinkling of glass and shouting and cursing.

DJ – Sorry Missus. I shall pay the finest glazier in the land to come and fix it in the morning.

GB – If Robat Ddu from the Amgueddfa could see you now. You’d be sacked for taking the national sport in vain.

DJ – Let’s sit a while and mull. I’ve had a belly full of ale and I want to chew the cud.

GB- You just love the sound of your own voice.

DJ – Eistedded y bardd(Danny drops down to the pavement and sits on his haunches)

GB – (stands half facing the audience, holding an imaginary book) Danny Jones, you thought that you had come to Cardiff tonight to see your brother in law, watch the Scarlets play and have a belly full of ale but no Danny Jones, Plasterer of Trimsaran Dyfed, this is your life.

DJ – (Looks astonished) I don’t know what to say. I’m overwhelmed. How did you know I was here? I’ll kill that Viv Evans, I thought he was behaving odd in the Builder’s Merchants.

GB –Danny Jones, Plasterer to her Majesty, the Queen’s Arse. You were born in a terraced house, in the Tumble, Llanelli in the year of our Lord 1964. You’re first memory as a child would have been of the hordes of Aunties and Uncles who would traipse up the gravelled drive to see the new baby. Did you know that as a baby you would end up as a plasterer.

DJ- I thought that I would either be famous or dangerous.

GB – You are neither, it must be a bit of a shock.

DJ – I’ve come to terms with, it but please carry on.

GB – Well an undistinguished spell at Gwendraeth  Comprehensive and then the obligatory City and Guilds and still your Aunties and Uncles would come traipsing up the drive. 

DJ – Yes and I was sixteen by this time and had courted Stella, the girl who eventually became my wife.

GB – Unfortunately due to broadcasting cuts we cannot bring anybody here to see you tonight because I don’t know where we are.

DJ – Stella is at home with our beautiful daughter Shireen.

GB- At 21 you dabbled with politics.

DJ- (stands) I dabbled.

GB – I wonder whether the fact that you are such a good plasterer explains why you failed as a politician?

DJ – Yes, well, I have asked myself that question. I had a desire, no small desire either, a very great desire to change the history of Wales. To change the whole course of her history, to make Welsh Speaking Wales something lively, strong and powerful, a part of the modern world…and I failed completely.

GB- (Looks to the audience and raises an eyebrow) Why do you think you failed?

DJ – It was Christmas 73, I was nine years old and in to everything. The Aunties and Uncles were lined up the drive. It was snowing. The song was playing on the bright blue radio (Snow begins to fall and we hear ‘Nadolig Pwy a wyr’ sung by Ryan Davies) I knew I was different, I knew I was special. I would watch my mother stuffing that turkey from between the railings of the stairs. I would watch my dad disappearing into the cwtch at the bottom of the yard and plumes of smoke and Mam would curse.

GB – Sorry to cut across, why were you so special? Had you picked up the oval pig’s bladder already or were you attracted to other boys?

DJ- Neither, I knew that at nine years of age I had a conscience. I had watched the black and white footage of the Prince’s Investiture. I had been breast fed the water of Trywereyn through my veins. I could go on but I won’t.

GB- in your plastering work, I notice that you deal in strange shapes, artexing and suspended ceilings. In an attempt to achieve the perfect wall and in the light of what you have just mentioned would you in fact say that you have actually failed to do what you set out to do?

DJ- Yes I think so, but I don’t like to dwell on it as I am only twenty nine and I have a good few years ahead. Any psychologist worth his salt would say that what I am actually doing in my plastering is taking revenge, making amends to myself for my failure.

GB- Is this why at the age of twenty  five you converted to Catholicism?

DJ - I don’t think I stopped understanding Welsh life by turning to the church of Rome, but it was quite unique in those days for a plasterer to do this, they are a  very non-conformist discipline. Indeed I had always hankered after the easier life of a Brickie’s Mate, and I felt that I was closer to this by turning to Rome. I wanted to be like Lewis Roberts or Twm Siop Siafins.

GB – May I say one thing personally at this point. I am glad to hear you saying that and to hear you naming these people.

DJ- Heroes

GB – Martyrs

DJ – Unfortunately the Welsh don’t like Martyrs.

GB – Well, we come to the end of tonight’s programme. Danny Jones, what would your advice be to a young plasterer today at the start of his career.

DJ- Steep yourself in the literature of your language. Dedicate yourself to it and appreciate it to your utmost. Everything else comes second. Knowing your flyhalf to your firkin is of wholly secondary importance compared with knowing your own Welsh tradition.

GB- Danny Jones, Plasterer, Gwladgarwr, This is your Life!

(We hear clapping, a single person clapping, then a woman’s laughter. Enter Rita, a Cardiff Prostitute, stage left from the vicinity of the pub)

Rita- Very good, don’t let me stop you, the show’s not over surely.

(DJ gets to his feet, he is now less drunk and indeed looks a bit embarrassed in the woman’s company. Geraint just has a very broad, Cheshire Cat grin on his face. Rita is about 38, she is heavily made up and is wearing a Mohair Jacket and Thigh High Boots)

Rita – Well Cat got your tongue, that was bleeding beautiful. I didn’t understand it but it was beautiful.

GB – Aren’t you cold dressed like that?

Rita – I’m used to it my love. Down for the Rugby are we? I’ve just met a few of your friends in the pub. Very friendly they were too and very generous. Where are you from then boys?

DJ- Trimsaran

Rita- Sounds like a Knitting Pattern

DJ- And you?

Rita – Grangetown

GB – Sounds like a right fucking hole.

Rita – No need to be like that sweetie. That’s the first time you’ve sworn all night.

GB – How do you know?

Rita- I can read you Welshy boys like a book. It’s all respectable at the beginning of the night, then after your sixth pint,you get a bit maudling, then you start singing, then you start crying after your ninth and then you call out for your Mam after the Tenth.

DJ – What’s got into you mun?

GB – I don’t like piss Takers, especially piss taking of my home. That’s the problem with you Cardiff’ites. You don’t even recognise that you’re Welsh.

Rita: I’m not Cardiff love, I’m Docks, there is a distinct difference. I am Tiger Bay born and bred.

DJ- Don’t get all gwleidyddol (political) now mun, save it for the lection. This fine lady doesn’t want to hear about Trimsaran declaring UDI. Here take my Coat, you must be freezing(Snow Flakes begin to Fall)

Rita- What a gentleman! I’ll play Welsh for you any time my darling, that’s theMissionary position or I can do it Doggie!

GB – Being fucked by England.

Rita – Look it’s only 10.00. How about you boys buying me a drink in the warmth of that pub over there and we can discuss our identities, nice and cosy like.

DJ- What is the name of that pub?

Rita- Does it matter?

GB – Suppose not (With a quizzical Look)

‘Nadolig Pwy a Wyr’ by Ryan Davies plays.


Scene 2


The front room of a newly built bungalow in the Tumble, Llanelli. Stella Jones and Rhian Wood, the wife and girlfriend of Danny and Geraint respectively are sitting on a sofa, munching chocolates and drinking vodka, Bon Jovi are playing loud on the stereo.

 Rhian – Windy tonight Stell, was that a slate falling off the roof or  my stomach rumbling?

Stella – When the cat’s away, the mice will play Rhi

Rhian – I wonder what they’re up to now.

Stella – I’ll give you one guess.

Rhian – Lifting the little finger.

Stella – All five of them more like, in a sweaty fist like motion.

Rhian – That’s the way Geraint is in bed. No je ne sais quoi. Can never find it!

Stella – Danny gave up looking years ago. March 12th 1992 to be exact.

Rhian – God I hope they’re all right.

It’s different down Cardiff way.

They're more aggressive. They stab store detectives down there.

Stella – Rhi, just lie back, stop worrying and think of England.

Rhi – that’s what Geraint says when we’re in bed as well. No wonder sex is shit,if I got to think of England. I’d rather think of Tenby, or Newquay or even Porthcawl.

Stella: remember that weekend we all had down Trecco Bay, well great or what? First time we we’re all together. You hadn’t known Geraint that long then had you?

Rhian – Christ, we were cockled both nights. The caravan moved a good few feet that weekend.

Stella – Bloody Hell, did you see the light flickering then? We’re going to have a power cut I bet you.

Rhian – Typical, God Knows, it’s a girl’s night in.

Stella – you gonna marry him then Rhi ?

Rhian- Oh I love him something cronick Stell, but I dunno, I get very jealous. He gets a bit slimy when he’s pissed, a bit of the roaming eye. The South Walian Syndrome.

Stella – He loves you as well, he told Danny down the Constitutional Club!

Rhian- He’s very deep your Danny, very political. He comes out with some marvellous quotations.

Stella – A little bit too deep for my liking if the truth be told.

Rhian – You don’t mean

Stella – No I wouldn’t turn the clock back now,I wouldn’t give our Shireen up now, even though she’s with his Mam tonight but I like a man with a sense of humour, Danny is quickly losing his.

Rhian – It’s that bloody job. He’s probably plastered every house this side of Ammanford. Bound to drive you doolal.

Stella- Hey did you hear about Betty Stafford’s mother, she was run over by the Help the Aged bus in Llangennech last Tuesday. No don’t laugh! She was walking past the Co-op over to Salem and Bang. Pie Iesu.

Rhian – Christ, you don’t know what’s round the corner Stella.

Stella – Well betty Stafford’s mother didn’t that’s for sure.

Rhian – Ooh your awful…..Brian the Barbers got a good sense of humour. I’ve seen you talking to him outside the shop.

Stella – Don’t you tell Danny. You’ve got to have different male company occasionally Rhi.

Rhian – what you don’t mean?

Stella - If you want monogamy, marry a swan.

Rhian – Oh my God, you’re not….

Stella – Not yet, Rhi, but if he comes back from the match stinking of cheap perfume again…..there’s no knowing what a woman will do. Anyway you’re a fine one to talk, I’ve heard about you bilingual secretaries. Talking in Tongues. I know where your tongue has been Madam up at Menter Cwm Wotsit. Cef, look out girls, here I come, Davies. You little rascal.

Rhian – oh bugger off, we went for a meal once. Danny would kill you though.

Stella – He’ll have to catch me first. Hey pass us another of those walnut whips girl and drink from thine cup because tomorrow is Sunday and the menfolk will be back in the bosoms of their family.

Rhian – As long as Geraint’s not in any bugger else’s bugger tonight.

Stella – I shouldn’t think so. Llanelli won, he’ll be looking for his Mam round Cardiff.

Rhian – that’s what I’m worried about.

Stella – Stop worrying Rhi, you’re giving me the jitters now.

Rhian – Paid a Becso (Don’t worry) Danny is probably boring the bosoms off the Hennesseys with his Comrade Lenin Impression.

Stella – He’s not that bad.

Rhian – It was you that said…..

Stella – I know, I know. Let’s leave it shall we.

Rhian – Well you’re a fine one to talk.

Stella – Just shut up will you 

(Lights go out to stimulate a power cut)

Rhian – Oh Soddin hell! Come on let’s get down the Chinese!


Scene 3

Lights up on Detective Inspector Riddleton.  He wears a white mackintosh and a homberg hat. He stands in spotlight. Elvis Presley sings “ I saw her crying in the chapel”. We hear the rumble of a London Type Cab. The Meter running, laughter, "thank you drive"!. The engine stops. Enter stage right behind the factory, a man who is dressed like Elvis, but who looks nothing like Elvis. He is fat, his hair is greased forward in a poor quiff and he has gravy stains down the front of his jacket. He enters and takes up a position beside the wall as if taking a leak. Unzips his flies and says “Uuhuh”.

DIR- You can get arrested for that Browning.

Elvis jumps in fright.

Elvis – Look what you made me do, all over my blue suede shoes.

DIR – Look Browning you bleeding ponce, I need some information (moves towards Elvis and stands on the end of his shoes) You dropped three people off at the Jubilee Club tonight. Who were they?

Elvis – That’s confidential.

DIR – Look Browning, don’t worry, you’re in so much shit already. I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. We have you on video in that nurse’s uniform you slippery eel.

Elvis – Stop calling me Browning.

DIR -  Elvis, the KING, Nashville’s home loving boy, I’ll give you some Pecan Pie. Now who was in that Cab?

Elvis – They came out of the Astoria Club about eight. One was a Teenager and the other two were in their early twenties.

DIR – Names, Elvis, I need names.

Elvis – Ring the rank, they took the call.

DIR – You still living with Spry?

Elvis – Return to Sender. Got my own flat in Splott.

DIR – Where?

Elvis – You’re the Copper, do a bit of detective work, now get out of my face. You’re starting to harass me. I wouldn’t push your luck, Riddleton, you’re not dealing with one of the Great Train Robbers now you know.

DIR grabs hold of Brownings’ left cheek

DIR – Now listen here chubby chops, you beefburger eating, drug infested alcoholic, there are two crimes that I can pin on you and if you do not co-operate I am going to close Gracelands, and all the cross-dressers who therein reside, will be tossed out on the streets.

Elvis coughs and splutters, doubled up in pain.

Elvis – Scott Jameson and the Gensen twins from Pentwyn.

DIR – Pentwyn, you ignoramus and it’s not Lanrummy, it’s Llanrumney. Now get out of my sight you Jailhouse Rat, or I might just have to call WPC Priscilla Presley from headquarters to give you an enema!

Smoke and lights out as Elvis disappears. We hear laughter and live music from the pub, fades. DIR is now centre stage. He is chewing on a tooth pick. 

Four unsolved murders in Cardiff in the last four years.

We keep arresting the wrong bloody people.

It’s when the rugby’s on, the vermin start  crawling along the back streets, ready to pray on the hicks from the sticks.

I have been around you see. I knows the people very well.

He’s a right corker. Elvis O’Reardon from Tremorfa, we’ve had him up on pimping, soliciting, flashing, kiddy fiddling and non payment of TV Licence.

He’s Filth!

When that prostitute got killed back two years ago,  him and his mob made out that it was a copper who did it.

I ask you.

Somebody big at Butetown Nick. It was like a scene out of Z Cars and Dixon of Dock Green rolled into one.

Silly see, can’t control their mouths. Engage brain before opening mouth.

Somebody threatened my daughter once. I’d helped send them down, only fraud, nothing awful but I’ll never forget the way he looked at me in court. I started receiving messages at home and work.

Rubs his eyes

Fuck it, this wind

I soon caught up with him, inside, on visiting day, kind of captive audience if you know what I mean. I broke his fucking legs there and then in his fucking cell! My daughter, the apple of my eye. The SLAG (Screams in Pain)

It’s the country boys cause a lot of trouble when they come into the city, they bring their country ways to quote the Dukes of Hazzard. They should make singing in Pubs Illegal. Saw some of them bastards doing a clenched fist salute to Land of My Fathers.

Silly Sods.

The Gensen Twins eh and young Scotty. Drug dealers working out of the Canadian and the Tredegar Arms. They can be worked on.

DIR bends down and picks up what looks like a grain of corn, he places it on the palm of his hand and blows it off.


Scene 4

Lights up, Danny Jones, Geraint Bartell and Rita are now back in the open air. They have all linked arms and are laughing heartily. As they walk we hear the Voice Over Narration of a Woman’s Voice, a sharp desperate voice.

It was October and I was walking ome down Westgate Street, passed that nightclub and the taxi-rank and I catches him out the corner of my eye. I’ve never known rain like it that night and when I turned down by the Western Mail Building and he was still there. He must have fancied his chance so I walks on for a bit and then I confronts him down the side of the Empire Pool. I remember his face now, narrow and gaunt. His eyes were frightening but I’ve had allsorts in my time and if this one was going to pay for a week’s rent, who cares about the eyes. He was quite rough and after he’s finished I cleaned up and turned to go. I reckon he’d just come out of prison because he smelt of the place. I been visiting loads of times in there, anyway I turned to go and look for my pimp and then I felt it cold in my back and I fell forward.

Rita – So you see my sweeties, the Docks is a separate part of the city or at least it was, before this bleeding barrage.

GB- Aye, I heard about that on the Telly.

Rita – And I suppose it’s a bit like your knitting pattern round here. All the characters dying off and instead of the Farmers and Tin Plate Men, you were telling me about, we had Somali and Yemeni Sailors and Big Mammas and Jazz singers and women with hearts of gold. Look out you’ll have me crying out for my old duck’s in a minute (Pulls out a Hanky and gives a blow)

Rita – I don’t enjoy it you know……with a client.

DJ- Ever?

Rita – It’s a job. Haven’t you got any ladies of the Night down in Knitting Pattern?

GB – There’s a Massage Parlour in Carmarthen.

DJ – How do you know that you little dog?

GB – Sammy Jenkins at the White Lion goes there for a Hand Shandy on a Friday Night!

DJ – Sure it’s not you giving him the hand shandy?

Rita – Sure what’s the harm? I can’t believe your both so wet behind the ears.

GB – I’m wet somewhere else just looking at you Rita? How much?

DJ – Rhian is going to kill you…

Rita – You dissapoint me, with all those beautiful words earlier on and those brandies, I thought you boys were different. I thought I was going to be treated a bit special tonight.

DJ – Dal dy ddwr Geraint a clyma cwlwm yn yr hen beth yna (Hold your water and tie a knot in it)

Rita- What was that my sweet?

DJ-I was just saying how fond of you I was and how much I have enjoyed tonight.

Rita – Feelings Mutual. I wasn’t in the Mood tonight. You know sometimes how you just like to talk.

GB – oh he knows how to talk all right, he wanted to be a Politician and save the world.

DJ – And I would have done if it hadn’t been for that Fascist Councillor Tal Jenkins and it was only a little bit of the world that I wanted to save. Our square mile, our filltir scwar.

GB – Should have seen our boy in full swing Rita, he could talk the hind legs of a Drayman’s Horse. I remember the time at Welfare Hall, you organised a sit in by the 'Merched y Wawr'; the Women of the Dawn, Rita, to protest at grant funding for  voluntary organisations. You should have seen him sat between the blue rinses and the big brooches, Byddin Cuddiedig Cymru: Wales Secret Army.

DJ- Don’t exaggerate Ger mun, you’re bloody sozzled.

Rita – he sounds absolutely magnificent. Any room in that Filltir Scwar for me?

GB – You speak Welsh?

Rita – No but I’m a bloody good mimic! You got to be in this game.

DJ – I’m married with a daughter Rita!

Rita – That’s not what I was asking. Did I not tell you about my friend Lia, she was murdered.

GB – Well look, I’d love to hang around here but I’ve just seen a monkey carrying his balls over there and they were blue.

Rita – Murdered by a Johnnie, one of her customers. Stabbed  between the shoulder blades. They found her in a drain gulley by the Empire Pool. Two years ago to the very day. Lovely girl she was! Came from your way originally, Newtown I think she said.

GB – That’s nowhere near….

DJ – Ssssh Mun!

Rita – Married a bloke from Leckwith who beat her up on the honeymoon and she soon drifted down here. They all do in the end. The defenceless ones who become hard  then. Your skin becomes hard after a while did you know that boys, because you drink so much and smoke so much and some Johnnies want to do filthy things.

Rita turns on GB and DJ and moves towards them aggressively.

Rita-I had one of your sex stick a bottle up my cunt once and then one had me by the neck and took his Johnny off and came on my face without my permission.

GB- Whhhoa, well it wasn’t me and it wasn’t him either.

Rita – We all know who did it, who killed Lia!

GB – Were you and Lia lesbians… I mean lovers?

DJ – Geraint, for fuck’s sake mun!!!

Rita – Turns you on little boy does it? The thought of two women? Do you blame us? Do you really blame us?

He lives up on the hill in Cyncoed with his wife and baby.

DJ – If you know who did it, why don’t you phone the police?

Rita – Because he is a Po…….

DJ – Can we get you a cab Rita?

Rita- Why am I boring you Sweetie? Doesn’t sound nice does it, a woman talking about men like that. The whore with a heart of gold, well you can ;piss off back to knitting pattern and let us get on with our remarkable poverty stricken lives. Leave us to get fucked by the men in grey suits class who work here during the day and then come back and fuck us during the night and then they build a fucking great big pond so they can sail their boats on it. Four Prostitutes in a canoe on the lake, can you imagine it boys? Can you imagine it, coming back next year for the game when your baby will be one year older and coming  down to see old Rita. By then another one of us might have been murdered and the murderer not caught.

Go back to Knitting Pattern boys, go and build your bungalow and go and sing your songs. You can go and Fuck yourselves as far as I’m concerned.

GB- It was lovely meeting you!

DJ – Shut up Mun, can’t you see she’s right. It’s all a bloody farce. This is all shit. Should have been you a politician Rita, not me. It’s bureaucracy and conspiracy in high places.

GB – Oh look out, you’ll be blaming the electricity board next. And Anyway Danny Mun, this is all getting out of hand.

DJ – What happened to Lia’s parents?

Rita – Mother collapsed and her Dad came down to find the Killer

DJ- What happened

Rita – He only got as far as Cardiff Central Police Station. He was seen by a Detective Inspector Riddleton who put him off the scent, told him that it was probably a couple of brothers from Adamsdown. It might as well have Cannon & Ball, They were doing time at the time. He came down to see me after. Lovely man, I can see him now. Never had any bother in his life! He was devastated. He’d lost his daughter and then his wife.

GB- I want to go home to my girlfriend! I want to get out of Cardiff, Now!

Rita- Look I’m sorry, come back to my flat in Riverside. You can both catch some kip and catch the early train tomorrow.

Enter DIR from stage left whistling the Beatles Hit “ Lovely Rita, Meter Maid”

DIR – Lovely Rita, Meter Maid. You’re out late. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends!

DJ – No Comment!

DIR- Been in trouble with the Police before have you Sir? Cymdeithas Yr Iaith Gymraeg perhaps? Meibion Glyndwr? Plaid Cymru? You’re all that way inclined aren’t you?

GB- Hey who the Fuck are you?

DIR – I am Fucking Detective Inspector Riddleton of Butetown Nick since you asked. I have nothing to hide

Rita- You have.

DIR – Rita?

DJ – Right shut up Geraint, Rita don’t say anymore!

DIR – This lady is a Prostitute gentlemen and you are all breaking the law if you’re doing what I think you’re doing!

DJ – No Comment

DIR – Perhaps you’d all like to come back to the station and keep saying No Comment Danny Jones Plasterer to the Queen’s Arse!

GB – What the….? How do you know that?

DIR – Your Sugar Daddy isn’t normally so quiet is he? Comrade Jones, we have a file on you up the Station.

Rita – Lia, my friend the prostitute who was stabbed two years ago! Do you remember her Inspector Piddleton and her Father?

DIR- You’re turning into a Screeching Harpy in front of my eyes. Been on the Crack again have you?

Rita – If I have, it’s off a Copper that I got it!

DIR – Jackanory, Jackanory!

DJ motions to Rita and GB to sit on the ground cross legged!

DIR – So what’s this, the three wise monkeys routine. You sure you haven’t been over the Four Green Fields for some undercover training Comrade Jones.

Irish Socialist Republican Army on Manouveres unless I’m mistaken.

All right, I ‘ll need to call for a bit of back up!

Rita- You’re Filth Riddleton and Lia’s Murderer is working up…….

The same rumble of a London Type Cab. Three figures appear stage right and DIR turns and pulls a blade out and presents it to the lead figure.

Lights Down

Voice Over Radio News Announcement

Police are beginning house to house enquiries in the Butetown district of Cardiff after the body of another Cardiff Prostitute was found face down in the Barrage. Police are also appealing for information regarding two Llanelli Supporters from Trimsaran Danny Jones and Geraint Bartell who haven’t been since leaving the Cardiff v Scarlets Rugby game last Saturday. Please ring Crime Stoppers with any information.

Nadolig Pwy a Wyr and the Hoot of an Owl in Darkness.


Y Diwedd