The Warden

Here's a new radio script featuring the warden. I might get people far more skilled behind a microphone than me to perform them.If you meet the warden, I'd ignore him...

SETTING:

A NONDESCRIPT ROAD IN A NONDESCRIPT TOWN SOMEWHERE IN ENGLAND

CHARACTERS:

• NARRATOR: A polite, middle-aged man trying to be helpful.
• THE WARDEN: Officious, friendly — to some people
• YOUNG LADY: Pleasant young lady wearing a summer dress
• BUSINESS MAN: Wearing a smart suit and a bowler hat

FX: THE SOUND OF OCCASIONAL PASSING TRAFFIC ON AN OTHERWISE QUIET SUBURBAN STREET.

NARRATOR:
I first saw him ten Tuesdays ago on a Thursday. He was standing on the footpath directly adjacent to the tarmac, looking first in one direction, then the alternative direction, and occasionally attempting to scan both at the same time without much success. I decided to check if he was okay.

NARRATOR (CONT'D):
Good afternoon, mate, are you alright?

WARDEN:
(STIFFLY)
Why should I not be functioning well?

NARRATOR:
No specific reason. Simply making sure you are okay. You look a bit lost. 

WARDEN:
(ANNOYED)
I am NOT lost. I know precisely where I am NOT.

NARRATOR:
Yeah, fine then, mate. You don’t need any help?

WARDEN:
(FLATLY)
No.

NARRATOR:
Grand. As long as you are sure I can’t be of any help.

WARDEN:
No.

NARRATOR:
Right, well, I am—

WARDEN:
(ABRUPT)
I am the warden.

NARRATOR:
Excellent. Warden of what, exactly?

WARDEN:
The street.

NARRATOR:
Er, right. So what does that mean? What do you have to do, like? 

WARDEN:
I communicate with the general public in a manner that is universally perceived as friendly, approachable, and easy-going. So kindly piss off.

NARRATOR:
Ah. Well, that response doesn’t quite fit—

WARDEN:
Are you one of those thick buggers? You know, intellectually deficient?

NARRATOR:
No mate, I reckon the auld grey matter is working well. 

WARDEN:
(ANGRY)
Fuck off, then.

FX: THE SOUND OF A LADY’S LIGHT FOOTSTEPS AND THE HUMMING OF A HAPPY TUNE.

WARDEN (CONT):
(POLITE)
A most glorious day to you, my exceptionally fine lady! And permit me to observe how utterly magnificent you appear under the current meteorological conditions!

YOUNG LADY:
(POLITE, EMBARRASSED)
Oh, thank you!

FX: THE SOUND OF A MAN’S FOOTSTEPS WEARING LEATHER SHOES WITH METAL SEGS

WARDEN:
A very prosperous day to you, sir! May I extend my profound gratitude for your tireless macroeconomic efforts in stimulating national fiscal growth? Furthermore, you look exceptionally smart.

BUSINESSMAN:
Thank you indeed, good sir. Most gratifying.

NARRATOR:
(CLEARING THROAT) 
That was dead nice and that. So, what about me?

WARDEN:
(ANGRY)
Are you still occupying valuable geographic space, arse-face?

NARRATOR:
Look, there’s no need for that—

WARDEN:
(ANGRY)
Sod off! You are actively depleting my reserves of patience.

NARRATOR:
(PERPLEXED)
Why are you so aggressively polite to everyone else, yet so bloody rude to me?

WARDEN:
(SIGHING)
The algorithm has failed to validate you. The index doesn’t function on your specific frequency.

NARRATOR:
(CONFUSED)
What index?

WARDEN:
(OFFICIOUS)
The Normative Index for Character Evaluation,  N.I.C.E. for short.

NARRATOR:
And what the hell is that? Are you legally certifying that I am not nice?

WARDEN:
(OFFICIOUS)
It is the standardised mathematical matrix by which wardens of my grade calculate whether an individual possesses sufficient existential value to warrant a polite greeting. According to the data, you do not. You are a statistical irrelevance. Therefore, bugger off.

NARRATOR:
(RESIGNED)
I buggered off… ah, not straight away. I got an idea. 

NARRATOR (CONT):
Oi! Warden! 

WARDEN: 
(ANNOYED)
What now?

NARRATOR:
(LOUDLY)
HAVE A NICE DAY, WON’T YOU? AND CAN I SUGGEST YOU F—

FX: LOUD MUSIC TO FADE