GOING HOME - A PLAY BY DAVID ROBERTSON
(OPENING SEQUENCE. WIND BLOWING. THE SOUND OF BAGPIPES IN THE NEAR DISTANCE PLAYING THE OPENING BARS OF ‘GOING HOME’ BY DIRE STAITS. A LOUD BANG OF A SHOTGUN BEING FIRED AND THE BAGPIPES TAILING OFF IN DISCORDANT NOISE AS THEY DEFLATE).
PRINCE PHILLIP: (HAPPILY) Good! Bagged another!
THE QUEEN: (APPROACHING FROM A DISTANCE)(STERNLY) Phillip!
PRINCE PHILLIP: (UNDER HIS BREATH) Bloody woman. (PAUSE)(SPEAKING LOUDLY - INNOCENTLY) New headscarf dear?
THE QUEEN: (ARRIVING BREATHLESSLY) Phillip! I’ve told you before, not to shoot the musicians!
PRINCE PHILLIP: (SOUND OF A SHOTGUN BEING BROKEN & CARTRIDGES LOADED) Bloody racket. (PAUSE) Bloody mercy killing I call it. (PAUSE) Anyway what are you doing out here? I thought you were upstairs ‘Googling’ yourself again.
THE QUEEN: (CROSSLY) One’s butler logged one on to internet bingo. One likes to shout ‘Palace’ when one wins.(PAUSE) Anyway why aren’t you packed, didn’t you get ones e-mail last night?
PRINCE PHILLIP: You know I don’t use those bloody things. What do you take me for, one of those Golden Grahams?
THE QUEEN: (EXASPERATED) One’s told you before, the correct term is ‘silver surfer’.
PRINCE PHILLIP: Whatever. (PAUSE) Anyway, what am I supposed to be bloody packing for?
THE QUEEN: We’re going home.
PRINCE PHILLIP: But we are home you stupid…
THE QUEEN: (CROSSLY) Not this home. I mean the big one in London.
PRINCE PHILLIP: (SULKILY) Not London again! (PAUSE) Anyway, I can’t go yet, Gillie tells me there’s a corps of buglers just over that ridge there, I’ve sent him on to flush them out.
THE QUEEN: (IMPATIENTLY) We’re leaving in the hour. I’ve got to see that new Prime Minister chappie. (PAUSE) And you can leave those guns here. I’m not having you taking pot shots at the tourists again!
PRINCE PHILLIP: (GRUMBLING) I thought he was a bloody Scot. Why can’t he come up here to see you. (PAUSE) Anyway, what does he want? Not going try to trim the civil list again is he, the slimy little..
THE QUEEN: (SIGHING) Apparently, it’s something to do with sending Harry off to war again.
PRINCE PHILLIP: Well send his bloody father to sort it out. I saw him up on the moor yesterday, mooching about in his kilt, chatting up the heather. He obviously needs something to do.
(ESCALATING ROAR OF JET PLANES, SCREAMING OVERHEAD, THEN FADING AWAY, FOLLOWED BY TWO LOUD SHOTGUN BLASTS)
THE QUEEN: (ANGRILY) Phillip!
PRINCE PHILLIP: (BELIGERENTLY) Bloody Red Arrows! Always following us about, frightening the horses.
THE QUEEN: Anyway, Charles can’t go. Camilla won’t let him.
PRINCE PHILLIP: Ought to send the pair of them off to fight. Might give us a bit of peace. Anybody would think they were still on honeymoon, the way they carry on. And while you’re at it, send his brother as well!
THE QUEEN: Eddie’s far too sensitive.
PRINCE PHILLIP: (PENSIVELY) Ah! I’d forgotten about the soppy one, I meant Andrew, thought it might stop him trying to shag everything in sight!
(SOUND OF ELECTRIC GUITAR IN THE FAR DISTANCE, PLAYING CLOSING BARS OF ‘GOING HOME’ BY DIRE STAITS)
THE QUEEN: Oh Lord, there’s another rock star on the roof!
(TWO LOUD SHOTGUN BLASTS AND THE SOUND OF A DISCORDANT GUITAR, THEN SILENCE)
THE QUEEN: (SHARPLY) Phillip! (PAUSE) (CONSPIRATORILY) Damn good shot!
PRINCE PHILLIP: Thank you, ma’am.
END
(OPENING SEQUENCE. WIND BLOWING. THE SOUND OF BAGPIPES IN THE NEAR DISTANCE PLAYING THE OPENING BARS OF ‘GOING HOME’ BY DIRE STAITS. A LOUD BANG OF A SHOTGUN BEING FIRED AND THE BAGPIPES TAILING OFF IN DISCORDANT NOISE AS THEY DEFLATE).
PRINCE PHILLIP: (HAPPILY) Good! Bagged another!
THE QUEEN: (APPROACHING FROM A DISTANCE)(STERNLY) Phillip!
PRINCE PHILLIP: (UNDER HIS BREATH) Bloody woman. (PAUSE)(SPEAKING LOUDLY - INNOCENTLY) New headscarf dear?
THE QUEEN: (ARRIVING BREATHLESSLY) Phillip! I’ve told you before, not to shoot the musicians!
PRINCE PHILLIP: (SOUND OF A SHOTGUN BEING BROKEN & CARTRIDGES LOADED) Bloody racket. (PAUSE) Bloody mercy killing I call it. (PAUSE) Anyway what are you doing out here? I thought you were upstairs ‘Googling’ yourself again.
THE QUEEN: (CROSSLY) One’s butler logged one on to internet bingo. One likes to shout ‘Palace’ when one wins.(PAUSE) Anyway why aren’t you packed, didn’t you get ones e-mail last night?
PRINCE PHILLIP: You know I don’t use those bloody things. What do you take me for, one of those Golden Grahams?
THE QUEEN: (EXASPERATED) One’s told you before, the correct term is ‘silver surfer’.
PRINCE PHILLIP: Whatever. (PAUSE) Anyway, what am I supposed to be bloody packing for?
THE QUEEN: We’re going home.
PRINCE PHILLIP: But we are home you stupid…
THE QUEEN: (CROSSLY) Not this home. I mean the big one in London.
PRINCE PHILLIP: (SULKILY) Not London again! (PAUSE) Anyway, I can’t go yet, Gillie tells me there’s a corps of buglers just over that ridge there, I’ve sent him on to flush them out.
THE QUEEN: (IMPATIENTLY) We’re leaving in the hour. I’ve got to see that new Prime Minister chappie. (PAUSE) And you can leave those guns here. I’m not having you taking pot shots at the tourists again!
PRINCE PHILLIP: (GRUMBLING) I thought he was a bloody Scot. Why can’t he come up here to see you. (PAUSE) Anyway, what does he want? Not going try to trim the civil list again is he, the slimy little..
THE QUEEN: (SIGHING) Apparently, it’s something to do with sending Harry off to war again.
PRINCE PHILLIP: Well send his bloody father to sort it out. I saw him up on the moor yesterday, mooching about in his kilt, chatting up the heather. He obviously needs something to do.
(ESCALATING ROAR OF JET PLANES, SCREAMING OVERHEAD, THEN FADING AWAY, FOLLOWED BY TWO LOUD SHOTGUN BLASTS)
THE QUEEN: (ANGRILY) Phillip!
PRINCE PHILLIP: (BELIGERENTLY) Bloody Red Arrows! Always following us about, frightening the horses.
THE QUEEN: Anyway, Charles can’t go. Camilla won’t let him.
PRINCE PHILLIP: Ought to send the pair of them off to fight. Might give us a bit of peace. Anybody would think they were still on honeymoon, the way they carry on. And while you’re at it, send his brother as well!
THE QUEEN: Eddie’s far too sensitive.
PRINCE PHILLIP: (PENSIVELY) Ah! I’d forgotten about the soppy one, I meant Andrew, thought it might stop him trying to shag everything in sight!
(SOUND OF ELECTRIC GUITAR IN THE FAR DISTANCE, PLAYING CLOSING BARS OF ‘GOING HOME’ BY DIRE STAITS)
THE QUEEN: Oh Lord, there’s another rock star on the roof!
(TWO LOUD SHOTGUN BLASTS AND THE SOUND OF A DISCORDANT GUITAR, THEN SILENCE)
THE QUEEN: (SHARPLY) Phillip! (PAUSE) (CONSPIRATORILY) Damn good shot!
PRINCE PHILLIP: Thank you, ma’am.
END