The Greasy Spoon — Pardon?
Scripts
Here's a new radio script featuring the Joe and Bob in the greasy spoon. I might get people far more skilled behind a microphone than me to perform them.
SCENE BRIEFING
SETTING: A snug, steam-fogged greasy spoon cafe in Coventry city centre. 10:15 AM on a chilly Friday.
CHARACTERS:
• JOE: Early sixties. Built like a lamppost, deeply sleep-deprived, world-weary cynic.
• BOB: Early sixties. Flat-capped, sturdy, irrepressibly gossipy.
• BRENDA: Mid-fifties. Proprietor, quick-witted in an apron, entirely willing to play along.
FX: GREASY SPOON AMBIENCE. HISSING GAGGIA STEAM WAND, SPATTERING BACON ON A STEEL HOTPLATE, CLINKING THICK-RIMMED MUGS, MUFFLED RING-ROAD TRAFFIC OUTSIDE.
BOB:
Alright Joe?
JOE:
Pardon?
BOB:
I said, are yer alright?
JOE:
Ah yeah, not bad.
BOB:
Shall we have a sarnie today?
JOE:
Wha’?
BOB:
(EXASPERATED)
Have yer gone bloody deaf?
JOE:
Who’s Jeff?
BOB:
Wha’?
JOE:
Who the fuck is Jeff?
BOB:
(LOUD)
No, yer yampy bugger, I said “‘ave yer gone deaf”?
JOE:
(INDIGNANT)
Oh. No need to shout. Yeah, I have.
BOB:
Really?
JOE:
No. I’m winding yer up.
BOB:
(ANNOYED)
Well, pack it in, it’s annoying.
JOE:
Grumpy bugger.
BOB:
Jeez, the Sky Blues. Not a great start to the season.
JOE:
Ah yeah, true that, not a great start to the season.
BOB:
I just said that.
JOE:
Did yer?
BOB:
Yeah. You ain’t messing are yer?
JOE:
Dressing wha’?
BOB:
Not fucking dressing I said messing.
JOE:
Oh. No, I ain’t. Deaf as a fucking post.
BOB:
What’s going on?
JOE:
Dunno. Me ears are blocked.
BOB:
Ah, the ol’ wax build-up.
JOE:
Yeah, I’m pouring more oil down me ears than me old Allegro used to need.
BOB:
Yer need ‘em suctioned, mate.
JOE:
Why would I section me ears?
BOB:
(ANNOYED)
Fer fuck’s sake! I said: “suctioned”.
JOE:
Alright, no need to shout. Yeah, I know. I’m going in a couple of days.
BOB:
So I’ve gotta put up wiv yer being deaf for the next few days?
JOE:
I reckon so.
BOB:
Well, that’s one thing, I can slag yer all I like.
JOE:
(INDIGNANT)
I Heard that. Piss off. Stop mocking the afflicted.
BOB:
Right, can yer manage a sarnie?
JOE:
Always mate. Especially if you are paying.
BOB:
Right, I’ll get ‘em. You won’t be able to hear Brenda.
JOE:
Yeah, true, that.
BOB:
You’re agreeing so I have to get ‘em.
JOE:
Pardon?
BOB:
Piss off.
FX: SLURP OF TEA FOLLOWED BY THE SOUND OF BOB’S FEET WALKING AWAY FROM THE TABLE AND JOE’S SATISFIED CHUCKLE AS THE GREASY SPOON BACKGROUND FADES OUT.