First draft Play:- “49 days a week” by Ken Canning/Burraga Gutya.

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Ken Canning

PLEASE BE WARNED THIS PLAY CONTAINS STRONG LANGUAGE AND VIOLENCE.

By putting this play on my blog . I m hoping to draw the attention of anyone wishing to help in the production side of this. I am based in Sydney and while I am a writer, that is as far as my talents go. Any ideas on how to transfer “49 days a week” to the stage will be greatly appreciated. For your interest, this unfortunately is a true story, only names have been changed. The setting is in the old Boggo Rd Jail cages, Brisbane during the 1970’s. It is part of the hidden history that Corrective Services have so cunningly kept from the public.

FORTY NINE DAYS A WEEK.

CHARACTERS:     Mick – (22y.o) 10 years armed robberies.

Ray – (29 y.o)18 years armed robberies.

Senior Prison Officer.

Prison Officers 1,2 and 3.

Five extras in prison officer’s…

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First draft Play:- “49 days a week” by Ken Canning/Burraga Gutya.

Standard

PLEASE BE WARNED THIS PLAY CONTAINS STRONG LANGUAGE AND VIOLENCE.

By putting this play on my blog . I m hoping to draw the attention of anyone wishing to help in the production side of this. I am based in Sydney and while I am a writer, that is as far as my talents go. Any ideas on how to transfer “49 days a week” to the stage will be greatly appreciated. For your interest, this unfortunately is a true story, only names have been changed. The setting is in the old Boggo Rd Jail cages, Brisbane during the 1970’s. It is part of the hidden history that Corrective Services have so cunningly kept from the public.

FORTY NINE DAYS A WEEK.

CHARACTERS:     Mick – (22y.o) 10 years armed robberies.

Ray – (29 y.o)18 years armed robberies.

Senior Prison Officer.

Prison Officers 1,2 and 3.

Five extras in prison officer’s uniforms.

Shock Jock – radio announcer.

Mick’s Mother, Rose. (47 y.o)

Mick’s Brother, Colin. (29 y.o)

John, an intellectually prisoner. (40 y.o.)

Rose, Mick and Colin are Aboriginal.

Ray is an Australian born Irishman.

The stage should be divided into four sections. These sections are of almost equal space. Two cages (side by side), a single cell, a kitchen and a small radio studio. By devising the stage in such a manner, it will be possible to move from scene to scene using lighting. Between the hours of 6am and 9pm the radio can be heard from speakers throughout the prison.

          ACT 1.

 

          SCENE:       INTRACTABLE SECTION OF CELL BLOCK

 

A side view of a cell, 5×3 paces. A single bed in the far corner. The cell is void of any personal belongings or anything décorative (ie. photos etc.) Between the bed and the invisible wall is a small wooden table and stool. On the table is a plastic wash basin, a half pint plastic drinking jug, writing pad and pen and a wooden box used for storing rations (jam, margarine, tea, sugar and bread.), as well as toiletries. The entrance is a thick steel door with a peep-hole, 2 inches in diameter, at eye level. The peep-hole has a cover over it which can be slid open from the outside. Opposite the door is a barred window, 8 foot from the floor, and has a tin awning outside of it. Lastly, at the foot of the bed is a tin sanitary tub with a lid on it. It is 4pm and Mick, a young Murri, is locked in his cell for the night. He is wearing underpants only and sitting on the bed.

 

MICK: (to himself).

Time and space, what can I do with them? Too much time, too little space. Christ! It’s hot in here; if I sweat anymore they’ll need a mop to get me out of here. At least dinner wasn’t bad, a bit more on me plate would’ve been better. Either the food’s improving or I’m going stark ravin’ mad. Madness wins the toss. These cunts would give good tucker to the pigs before they would feed it to us. Anyway, the pricks take the good stuff for themselves, what’s left is dished up to us. It’s a fuckin’ joke. (Mick stands and starts moving around). Fuck, I hate the low bastards, either floggin’ you or starvin’ you. Wait, settle down. Got to find a way to stop the anger. I know I’ll take a stroll. (starts pacing) Ah, that’s better, this is a great time waster. What can I do when I’m tired of walking, which I already am, (agitated) after all it’s a bit hard to handle, 5 paces turn – 5 paces turn. Have to stop soon or I’ll end up on the “hill”*, that’s disastrous. (STOPS). Come on. Come on, calm down, there’s still 15 hours before breakfast and contact. I know, a poem, that’ll get the shit out of me head. (SITS AT THE TABLE WITH PEN AND PAPER, STARING STRAIGHT AHEAD). Come on man think, let your feelings out, that’s it, something’s coming, come on get it right, don’t lose it, beaut, got it.

“Flames of past

burning out sanity of mind,

hell-fire forever scorching,

mental images to remind.”

(HE JUMPS UP KNOCKING THE STOOL OVER AND VIOLENTLY THROWS THE WRITING PAD AT THE WALL) Fuck that! You’ll screw yourself up thinkin’ about it – take it easy you dumb bastard. I’ve got to get this craziness out of me. Quick lay down. (DOES SO) Shut your eyes. Relax, that’s it. What now? A book? No, it’s not library day for another 2 days. I wonder what I’ve got in stock? (LOOKS UNDER THE BED) Forget it, I couldn’t stand 2 year old Women’s Weekly’s at the moment. I wish the fuckin’ radio speaker was a bit closer, I can’t hear the fuckin’ music. (LOUDLY) Bastards! I’ve used me weekly letter so letter writing’s out. (SITS UP) Tomorrow I’ll go on special request to get a special letter. What’s a good excuse? Try to think of something original instead of the same old rehabilitation bullshit. Ah, that’s the one, I’ll say I want a special letter to write to me Mother because her pet budgie died, that’ll slay ‘em. I’ll tell ‘em little Freddy was all she had and I want to convey me sympathies to help her through her grief. That’ll give ‘em something to think about. Anyway, fuck the letter, what about now? I’ll have another walk, no, stay cool, just lay back and get your head into something pleasant. (LAYS DOWN AGAIN, HANDS BEHIND HIS HEAD, LOOKING UP AT THE CEILING) Things could be worse, 10 years for the stick-ups, that’s nearly half done, another two and a half years for escapes and other shit blues, if I keep me head down, it won’t be long and I’ll be thinkin’ of freedom. Freedom! Can’t wait, there’s a thousand things I can do just on day one. Stop, don’t get too cocky, you’ve still got to front up on those assault blues. Dog cunts of screws, bash the fuck out of me and as soon as I lift me hands I’m on a fuckin’ assault charge. Should kill a couple of the sadistic pricks and be done with it. What about the head of the bash squad – he’d be a good candidate. (SITS UP AND TENSES HIMSELF, FACE CONTORTS AND HIS EYES FILL WITH HATRED) I can feel me hands around the fuckin’ dogs throat, tearin’ out his windpipe. Let the mongrel suffer first, watch the fear in his eyes, let him feel what it’s like, then snap, crush his windpipe. (RELAXES HIS POSE, LOOKING EXHAUSTED, AS IF IT REALLY HAPPENED ……TENSES AGAIN) Idiot, you’re supposed to be relaxing, get your act together, settle down. (LAYS DOWN AGAIN) Fuck killin’ screws, get you nowhere. They’d kick the shit out of you 24 hours a day. Fill you full of pills, end up in the gah gah bin, then dead. Come on, gotta keep livin’, in another few years this’ll all be a bad dream. What you need is someone nice on the outside. A nice girl to share your feelings. That’d be great, if you got out and met a really nice straight chick. (DREAMY) Maybe you’d get introduced by some friends and sort of hit it off right away. She’d understand. You’d have to tell her about your past because, let’s face it, from the eyes of a square head your behavior would be strange. (BITTER) Like pacin’ around a lot, hatin’ crowds, paranoia and the rest of the garbage from this shit box. (DREAMY) but this girl would be sweet and kind. She’d make you feel normal, give you love, give you strength and confidence. Making love instead of fucking would be hard. It’d be different to the old hump, grunt, blow and walk routine. (SITS). MAKING LOVE, IT EVEN SOUNDS BEAUTIFUL. She’d help you there, make you feel worthy of love. Maybe you’d end up married with a couple of kids. That’d be the ultimate, beautiful, little kids crawling up on me lap, loving me, trusting me, innocence. What a blast. (TEARS WELL UP IN HIS EYES) Come on, don’t go too far, if those bastards see me like this, I’m fucked. (A CLANGING NOISE IS HEARD OFFSTAGE, MICK JUMPS UP)The wing door – listen. (PUTS EAR TO OPENING OF PEEP HOLE) What the fuck do the dogs want now. Footsteps, wait there’s uh one ormaybe, yeah two of them. Their coming up the stairs. The steps sound slow and heavy, must be tired. End of shift night check I reckon, no drama, just watch the peep hole they’ll probably check me.Pick up a mag, it’s cool. (LAYS DOWN AND READS) A few checks and they’ll piss of me – the pricks. (ANOTHER CLANG IS HEARD) that’s it they’ve gone. Now where were we – oh yeah – nice chicks, that’d straighten me out. Don’t be stupid, remember that nice girl you met at the party. She was great. You had a few under your belt and felt pretty loose. You were crackin’ jokes, good time that. Got her number, when you rang her it was easy, but when you took her out you just jammed up. She couldn’t work it out. I’ll give her credit; she tried but couldn’t cope with your changes. She was a good kid. Really tried, couldn’t see why you needed to numb out on pills and piss. Face facts what decent (AGITATED) chick in her right mind would get mixed with a screwed up bastard like you. Your really fucked up man, you can’t function right, you never will. All those pleasant thoughts are just fuckin’ shit – this is your life, out there’s another world – not for you. Your head’s too fucked to communicate. It’s these cunts, lock you away, flog you and flog you some more. Biff, bash, locked up, treated like an animal. They put back on the streets and expect you to act as if nothing happened. Dogs. What a life. Fuckin’ mongrel, flea-ridden dogs – they’ll pay – Kill screws, kill cops, kill anything in a uniform that fuckin’ well moves. Fuck robbin’ or bashin’ ‘em. Burn the bastards, torture ‘em, tear their eyes out. Degrade ‘em – fuck ‘em in every hole the arrogant bastards have got. Wait a minute. Stop. Images blending together, racing through my brain. (JUMPS UP) Me hearts starting to pound – I’m spinnin’ out. (HURRIEDLY) Go on walk – five paces, turn, five paces, turn, faster, faster, come on faster faster faster faster until I’m fucked. Stop. (PAUSE) That was close, I thought I’d end up on the hill tonight. Fuck the hill, fuck everything. Just get out of here. (LAYS DOWN) I can feel the depression sweeping over me. Depression and loneliness. That’s good because I’ll end up depressed enough to just sleep to ease my mind. That’s the answer, depression, sleep and waits for the morning bell.

ACT 2:

Scene 1: Lights are out, cell is in semi darkness. Sounds of snoring, coughing, squeaking beds, etc can be heard throughout the wing. Mick is sound asleep. It is 11:30 pm. A loud clanging noise is heard and Mick leaps out of bed. Footsteps are heard.

MICK: (TO HIMSELF). How many. Shit there’s at least six . They’re runnin’. (AGITATED). Fuckin’ lovely the fuckin’ bash squad. I should’ve kept me big mouth shut, you had to pay out on that fuckin’ dog screw today didn’t you, fuckin’ idiot. Now your in for it, square up time – fuckwit, can’t help yourself. (SOUND OF FOOTSTEPS CRASHING UP METAL STAIRS – MICK BECOMES PANICKY). There comin’ up, fuckin’ hell (STARTS PACING ERRATICALLY). Dirty mongrel pricks, why can’t they drop off – sadistic bastards, I’ve had enough floggin’s – I’d rather be dead. Come on get ready. (HE JUMPS UNDER THE BED AND LAYS FLAT AGAINTS THE FAR WALL). At least the fuckin’ animals will have to drag me out of here before they get me. Why didn’t I just shut   me fuckin’ mouth. It’s not worth it – cunts wIll use any excuse for a bashin’.(FOOTSTEPS CAN BE HEARD ON THE LANDING OUTSIDE THE CELL). Alright, if you’re gonna bash me you’ll have to work for it, (LAUGHING TO HIMSELF HE FORCES HIMSELF EVEN FLATER UNDER THE BED WIPING TEARS OF LAUGHTER FROM HIS EYES). Drag me out you cunts, c,mon for it, re-arange me furniture. The old place needs a change. (HE CLENCHES UP TIGHT – THE FOOTSTEPS GO STRAIGHT BY HIS CELL. HE RELAXES AND CLIMBS OUT FROM UNDER THE BED). What’s goin on? Where are they goin? (THE CLANGING OF A CELL DOOR OPENING CAN BE HEARD NEARBY). Christ some other poor bastard’s copping the baton. (STARTS PACING AGAIN) Wonder who it is? Anyway at leasts it’s not me. Still some bastard’s coppin’ it. Dead set wrong. (SOUNDS OF FURNITURE BEING THROWN FOLLOWED BY HORRIFIC SCREAMS AND SICKENING THUDS). Fuck those screams. Poor cunt’s really coppin’ it. Fuckin’ animal bastards. Wish they ’d drop off him, can’t handle that screamin’. (PUTS HANDS OVER HIS EARS) (SCREAMS LOUDLY). Leave him alone you fuckin’ pigs!!! Can’t tell who it is. Poor bastard. When are these cunt’s goin’ to become human? Dogs. Fuckin’ dogs. Stop, stop, go away and leave the poor bastard alone. Nobody deserves that. (THUDDING STOPS, SCREAMS STOP. CELL DOOR SHUTS. FOOTSTEPS SHUFFLING AWAY. FINALLY MAIN WING DOOR SLAMS SHUT). Thank fuck for that. (SCREAMS LOUDLY). Lay down and die you cunts!! (WHIMPERING SOUND ECHOES TRHOUGH THE WING). Listen to the poor cunt. Fuckin’ horrible. I’ve got to get out of here before I crack. I can’t handle this anymore. (WHIMPERING GETS LOUDER). Sounds like they really give it to him. (OUT LOUD). You alright mate. (NO ANSWER). Bastard can’t even answer, poor cunt must be in agony. I don’t know what’s worse, getting’ a floggin’ or listenin’ to one. At least his is over with. Got to get back to sleep. Block out. (LAYS DOWN, SHUTS HIS EYES. THERE IS A NOISE OF SOMETHING ON THE TIN AWNING OUTSIDE HIS CELL WINDOW). What’s that, get ready, fuck it, your hearin’ things you dopey prick. Come on settle down, sleep. Can’t – too many noise. Any one of them could be those cunts. Got to be ready. (SCENE FADES OUT WITH MICK SITTING ON HIS BED, LISTENING).

ACT 3:

Scene 1: Morning bell echoes through the wing. Mick is still

         sitting his bed listening. Mick is still sitting on his bed listening.

       There are sounds of coughing stretching, muttering etc. Mick

         busies himself folding his blankets and sheets according to

         regulations. He then dresses and goes to plastic wash basin,

        washes his face and comb his hair. He does these things at a

         snails pace so as to fill in time. Also he is drained of energy from

         a sleepless night. Cell doors can be   heard opening as well as

       other prisoners shuffling around. Prison   officers are yelling

         orders and prisoners area muttering their replies.

 

MICK: (TO HIMSELF – MOVING AROUND). Listen to those whingin’

pricks. I’ve got to stay copped up in this stinkin’ hole. Fuck I’m

hungry. Cunts will leave me breakfast until last as usual.

Anyway, when I’m finished me slop they’ll take me down to

the cages. At least there’s fresh air there and I’ll get to talk to

Ray. Good bloke, don’t know how I’d handle it without him the

next cage. Always good for a joke, no matter what. After last

night I could do with a laugh. Shit, suppose it was him they

flogged. No, his slot is down below, they were up here. I wonder

who did cop it? I’ll find out soon enough. As long as it wasn’t Ray

–it’d be a long day without him. ( FOOTSTEPS ARE HEARD

COMING TOWARDS HIS CELL).Slops at last. Cold fuckin’ mush

again. I’ll eat like a king once I’m out of here, even if I have to

knock a bank to do it.(KEYS RATTLE, SLAMMING OF BOLT

         ECHOES AND VOICE BOOMS).

 

SEN. P.O. 1: Stand and face the back wall you bastard. (DOOR SWING

         OPEN SENIOR PRISON OFFICER ENTERS FOLLOWED BY THREE

         PRISON OFFICERS ONE IS CARRYING A BOWL OF PORRIDGE AND

       A SLICE OF TOAST WHICH HE PUTS ON THE FLOOR AT THE FOOT

       OF THE BED).

SEN.P.O. 2: C’mon I said right against the wall, feet spread, arms up

hurry get’em up. (TURNS TO P.01). Search him.

P.01: Right to bastard let’s see if you’re hidin’ anything from us

(P.O2 & P.O3 START RANSACKING THE CELL).

 

MICK: leave me fuckin’ gear alone. (SENIOR PUSHES HIS FACE INTO  

           THE WALL).

 

SENIOR: Shut your fuckin’ mouth you animal.

P.O2: Cells a bit dusty, clean it up before we’re back or you’ll be

charged.

MICK: What else is new.

P.O2: Smart bastard hey. (HE PUNCHES MICK IN THE KIDNEYS, THE

           OFFICERS LEAVE, SLAMMING THE DOOR. MICK TURNS AND

         SEES THE MESS THEY’VE LEFT).

 

MICK: (TO HIMSELF) . Mongrel cunts. At it already. Cool it. Just clean

up, they only want you to perform. Don’t play their idiot games.

         (HE PICKS UP TOAST AND EATS IT). If I ever see these cunts on

the outside they’re fucked. I’ll cut’em up piece by piece. (HE

         CLEANS UP HIS CELL AND STARTS PACING).I wonder if they’re

giving Ray the same treatment . Dog bastards. If I ever escape

again they’ll have to kill me before I’ll surrender. I’ll take a few

with me too. Fuck’em they’re takin’ their time comin’back to me.

Hurry up you pricks. I can’t breath in this hole. (SOUNDS OF

       FOOTSTEPS, CELL DOOR SLAMS OPEN, SAME OFFICERS ENTER).

 

 

SEN P.O: C’mon cunt you know the routine, face the wall (P.O’s 2 & 3

       SLAM HIM INTO THE WALL AND SEARCH HIM ONCE MORE).

P.O3: Turn around hands out in front. (MICK TURNS AROUND AND

     HANDCUFFS ARE PUT ON HIM). Time for your day in the sun. I

hope it fuckin’ rains.

MICK: Christ, I thought that sort of mentality finished in kindergarten.

P.O3: Don’t be a smart-arse or you’ll get the same as one of your

mates got last night.

MICK: How many of you did it take this time – 10, 12. Fuckin’ heroes.

P.O3: You’ll keep. (THEY PUSH HIM OUT OF THE CELL ONTO THE

       LANDING – SCENE FADES).

ACT 4:

Scene 1:                     INTRACTABLE YARD

 

         Mick has been taken to a yard with six cages built of the side

         wall. They are 4×4 paces square and 8 foot high. The floor is

         rough concrete. There is a sheet of tin ( 2 foot wide) coming

       from the back wall on the roof of the cages, running along the

       length of them. This is in case of rain. The only items allowed in

the cages, is the prisoners ration box a plastic sanitary tub. There     is a door at the front and just inside the door is made    of iron bars. The scene opens with Mick in the first cage with four escorting officers, one of them is taking the cuffs off. The other five cages are empty. Above the far end of the yard (out of sight) is a tower manned by armed officer. Mick has been in the intractable wing and yard for almost 3 years.

SEN P.O: (SARCASTICALLY).There you are lad, all the comforts of

home. (P.O’s LEAVE, SLAMMING THE DOOR THEY TALK

               AMONG THEMSELVES).

 

SEN P.O: You blokes are to leave him alone today, he’s getting a visit.

Don’t let him know or he’ll perform.

P.O2:       The bastard deserve a hidin” he’s been getting stroppy

lately. A   good biff would see him right.

SEN P.O: (STERNLY) No!Leave it for now. (MOCKINGLY). Can’t have a

mother seeing her little boy all roughed up, now can we.

(THEY EXIT THROUGHT THE SECURITY DOOR, LAUGHING)

MICK:     (TO HIMSELF). I wonder what the joke is? Probably something

sick they’ve just thought up.Wonder where Ray is this

morning? It couldn’t have been him bashed last night, the

bastards would be gloating about it by now. He might be

crook, hope he’s alright. Could be kept in to see the doctor.

               (STARTS WALKING SLOWLY AROUND). No, they’d see you

nearly dead before that. Fuck me dead, I needed to talk to

someone today. Cunt’s have got in it for me, I wish they’d get

it over with, fuck this waiting. Fuckin’ hell ray, why aren’t you

here. I just hope your alright mate. They wouldn’t have put

him back in normal discipline, he gives’em too hard a time.

Won’t take a backward step. Where could he be? I know, the

stinkin’ bastards have kept him in so they can flog me.

(AGITATED STARTING TO WALK FASTER).Mongrel pricks have

set me up here on me own just for a bashin’. Change of

tactics, give it to me in the day instead of night. (STARTS

           PACING) . That’s the only answer, Ray’s never sick. The cunts

just want to get me. (GETTING WORKED UP). Well fuck’em I’ll

give’em there money’s worth. No bed to crawl under, I’ll stand

and fight. Bastards will be sorry they started. What a fuckin’

low act, cocksuckers. I’m goin’ to have to kill one of ‘em so the

cunts will wake up. This is worse than me slot, can’t even pace

properly – four fuckin’ paces – what do the dogs think they’re

doin’.I’ll show’em when they get here. (HE TURNS TO FACE THE

           TOWER AND SCREAMS OUT). What the fuck are you lookin’ at

you dopey prick. If you want to gig, get in here with me and gig

you cunt.I’ve fucked better men than you, you fuckin’ animal

prick. You weren’t born, you dropped out of a dogs arse.

VOICE OF

TOWER

OFFICER: Shut up you fuckin’ thing or I’ll put a bullet in you.

MICK: (SCREAMING). You put a bullet in me. You wouldn’t have the

guts or the brains to pull the trigger. You’re only good for

standin’ up there lookin’ stupid. That’s right get on your little

radio and call your mates you gutless cunt. I don’t give a fuck

bring’em all down here, the more the fuckin’ merrier.’ Why

don’t you come and join’em? No way! You’d shit yourself, you

fuckin’ wimp. Anyway they wouldn’t trust you with a baton,

you’ve shove it up your arsse and have a wank. You perverted

prick. C’mon get down here you dog. You’re a good fucked

wasted, I bet your parents are proud of you, dressed in your

shit coloured uniform.Do you tell’em what a dead cunt hero

you are?    Don’t you fuckin’ well stand there get down and

have a go you weak bastard. What’re you waitin’ for – ten of

your mates as back-ups – weak fuckin’ mongrel. (LOCK ON  

           SECURITY DOOR IS HEARD, FOUR ESCORTING OFFICERS ENTER

           YARD).

SEN P.0: What’s goin’ on here? Come on lad quieten down.

MICK:     (CALMLY) I’m just tellin’ your mate here what a cunt he is.

P.O1:       Enough of that or we’ll come in an get amongst you.

SEN P.O: No leave him, he’’ll quieten down, won’t you lad.

MICK:     Like fuck I will, why don’t you let our fuckin’ hero mate in

and we’ll see who gets amongst who.

SEN P.O: (REMAINS CALM). Enough of that rubbish – just settle down

and well forget about it. What do you say?

MICK:     (HOSTILE). Forget about it! Bullshit! You cunts forget

nothin’. You think I’m to fall for that crap.

SEN P.O: (FATHERLY). Come on son, we don’t want any trouble, so just

forget about it and settle down.

MICK:     (AGITATED). You lyin’ weasel. The only reason that you don’t

want to bash me is because I’m awake up to your game.You

pricks want to sneak up on me but I’ m fuckin’ ready for you.

So come on lets get it over with, I’m ready 24 hours a fuckin’

day. Cut the bullshit and let’s go.

SENIOR: Come on lad, cut it out, your mums visiting today, so quieten

down or we’ll stop the visit.

MICK:     (SCREAMING). More fuckin’ bullshit! No fuckin’ visit – you

bastards are waitin’ for me to relax, then you’ll give it to me.

No fun in it for you if I’m ready. C’mon you weak cunts get in

here, fuck you. Weak bastards. C’mon be fuckin’ heroes.

P.O2:     Shut your filthy mouth or we will. You’ll be fuckin’ sorry in a

minute, you crazy bastards.

SEN P.O: ( STERNLY). Stop now! I’ll turn’em loose. (5 MORE OFFICERS

                ARRIVE AFTER HEARING THE SCREAMING).

 

MICK:     (HYSTERICALLY). We’ll, turn the bunch of shit – kickers loose,

they’ll only fall over each other.

SEN P.O: (LOUDLY). Last warning – shut up or you’ll cop the worst

bashin’ ever, you fuckin’ animal.

MICK:     (HISSING). Fuck off idiot, go and fuck each other or get in

here and suck me cock!

SEN P.O: (TO OFFICERS). That’s it! C’mon men get in and kill that crazy

cunt!

Senior P.O. Unlocks cage door, all officers surge in. Mick attacks. Officers bash Mick for 30 seconds with boots and batons – all that can be heard is thuds, grunts, screams and abuse. Finally Mick is left bleeding on the concrete. Another P.O. enters.

NEW P.O: Excuse me sir, his Mum’s in the visitors’ room.

SEN P.O: Go and tell her, that he is in solitary for attacking and

seriously injuring one of our men. Be polite and explain he’s

hysterical and can’t have a visit. The stupid bitch should be

shot for giving birth to this evil cunt.

ACT 5.     SCENE 1.   A small kitchen in a house. The kitchen has but

The bare essentials. Small table and a few odd chairs, sink, fridge,

Stove etc. Mick as a 14 year old is sitting at the table having some toast for breakfast. It is 8am and Mick is dressed for school. His Mother, Rose, enter the kitchen, still wearing her pyjamas and nursing a hangover.

 

 

THE MOTHER FLOPS DOWN ON A CHAIR AND BRUSHES HER HAIR FROM HER FACE.

 

ROSE:- Jesus I’m crook, make me a cuppa tea will ya love.

Mick glares at her and gets up to get the tea. She looks at what he has been reading – a comic.

ROSE:- What are ya readin’ this rubbish for? Don’t you ever think

Of ya school work?

MICK:-       (Sarcastically) There ain’t many laughs around this place, so I thought I would have a few.

ROSE:- (Dramatically) Oh! We are in a good mood this morning,

aren’t we?

MICK:-        Yeah, Mum, I’m a bundle of laughs, you and the old man                   are real comedians – ha bloody ha ha!! Here’s ya tea.

Don’t choke on it.

SHE TAKES A SWIPE AT HIM BUT HE EVADES IT.

 

ROSE:- Rising anger) Listen you little smart arse. I’m not in the                  mood for you this morning, so shut up or I’ll go and wake               ya father. He’ll soon put you in ya place. He only gets a few                  hours sleep a day and if ya wake him up he’ll knock yer

stupid block off. So why don’t ya just piss of to school or                    somethin’.

MICK:-        Mockingly) Yeah yeah, piss of to school Mickey. Don’t wake              daddy up, we all know how very hard he works.

MOTHER JUMPS UP – STANDS FACE TO FACE WITH HER SON.

 

ROSE: – (Gritting her teeth). Just what’s that supposed to mean.

(Points in his face). You ungrateful little bastard, ya father                  works day and night on that taxi to feed and clothe you.                    You go to school, I couldn’t and all ya can do is read comics            and make smart arsed remarks. Now shut ya friggin’ mouth              or I’ll get the jug cord and give ya a decent hidin’.

MICK TURNS TO WALK AWAY THEN SPINS TO FACE HIS MOTHER AGAIN WHO HAS JUST STARTED TO SIT DOWN.

 

MICK: – (Screaming) If that old bastard works so long and hard,

where’s   all the money going? How come I gotta

go down to the shop and book our food up? Where’s me

school uniform? And look at you, ya can’t even afford

decent booze, ya have to suck on that cheap plonk. If things

get any worse, you’ll be hittin’ the goom with the rest of the

goomies. All I can say is with the hours dad’s workin’ he

must be a fuckin’ lousy cab driver for the money he’s

earning. When are ya gunna wake up to yerself. Stop

gettin’ pissed and have a good look around.

HIS MOTHER SPRINGS AT HIM, SWINGING HER FISTS AT HIS HEAD.

MICK BACKS INTO A CORNER, CROUCHING LOW AND COVERING HIS

HEAD WITH HIS ARMS.

 

ROSE:- (hysterically) You little bastard! Nothin’ but fuckin’ trouble!

Never happy, always gotta argue. I’ve had a gutful of you.

(Steps back and looks accusingly at him) Look at ya brother,

Colin, up early, off to work, a real good kid, never a

problem. Pity you weren’t more like him, ya little creep.

All ya can do is…………………….

SHE STOPS AS LOUD BANGING CAN BE HEARD FROM THE BEDROOM.

MICK’S NAME IS CALLED OUT IN A BOOMING VOICE.

 

ROSE:- (Quietly) You’ve done it now. You’d better get in and see

what he wants.

MICK LEAVES THE KITCHEN. HIS MOTHER SITS BACK DOWN. SHE PICKS UP HER CUP OF TEA AND TRIES TO DRINK BUT HER HANDS ARE SHAKING TOO MUCH. SHE STARTS TO MASSAGE HER FOREHEAD. IN THE OTHER ROOM, HER HUSBANDS VOICE CAN BE HEARD SCREAMING ABUSE AT MICK. THIS IS FOLLOWED BY A SICKENING THUD AND A DOOR SLAMMING. MICK COMES BACK TO THE KITCHEN. HIS LEFT EAR IS RED AND SWOLLEN WITH A SMEAR OF BLOOD ON IT. HIS LEFT CHEEKBONE IS STARTING TO SWELL AND HAS A PRUPLISH COLOUR TO IT. HE HAS TEARS IN HIS EYES.

 

MICK:- (visciously to his mother) I’m going to carve that old prick up

one of these days. Just wait and see. Then you’ll have a

really good excuse to drink. Him dead, you livin’ in the park,

me doing life. How will ya little pet Colin get on then, he’d be

fucked, probably end up in the rat house. Yer all fucked!!

SHE PICKS UP HIS SCHOOL BAG, FORCES IT INTO HIS ARMS AND SHOVES HIM OUT OF THE KITCHEN TOWARDS THE DOOR.

 

ROSE:- Stop this rubbish and get outta here before ya father

hears ya again. He’ll kill you if he does. Now get to

school.

SHE CLUTCHES HER PYJAMA TOP, CRYING TO HERSELF “MY BABY

MY LITTLE BABY, THEN OPENLY WEEPS. MICK COMES BACK AND PUTS HIS ARM AROUND HER.

 

MICK:- (Soothingly) I’m sorry Mum, I’ll settle down. You know I love

You. It’s gonna be alright Mum, ok. We’ll have a………..

HE HEARS THE BEDROOM DOOR OPEN. HIS FATHER SCREAMS HIS NAME AGAIN. MICK HURRIES OFF. HIS MOTHER WATCHES HIM FOR

A WHILE THEN WITH HER HEAD DOWN RETURNS TO THE KITCHEN.

 

 

Scene 2:

 

MICK AND RAY IN THEIR SEPARATE CAGES. RAY IS SITTING ON THE CONCRETE, WRITING ON SOME PAPER WHILE MICK IS PACING AROUND HIS CAGE.

 

Ray:- Just about finished. I’ve written how the confinement of these

cages is affecting us, the continual bashing, the use of the

underground cells as further punishment, the use of dietary

punishment. Anything else. Fuck I wish they’d turn that radio off

for once…….can’t think. Fuck me, when I get out I’ll never listen

to a radio as long as I live.

Mick:- You’re right Brother, drives you fucking mad after a while.

Write what a no good bunch of pricks the fucking screws

are and how this stupid fuckin’ radio send ya psycho.

Ray:-   C’mon Mick, get serious, this has got to be done right. Once

this letter gets out we’re fucked. They are going to be giving

it to us day and night, so let’s get it right.

Mick:- Ok ok. Just trying to unwind a bit. You could mention how they

invent things to refuse our visits and the cell searches,

using the search as an excuse to wreck our cells.

RAY:- Good one Mick. That will do it, keep it short and simple. No use

going for overkill. The average square head couldn’t even

begin to imagine shit like this is happening.

Mick:- Then it’s set to go. You got it lined up to be taken out?

Ray:-   Yep, I slip it to one of the kitchen blokes at lunch and he gets

it to Mr. Tyler who takes it out in the afternoon. It will be

dropped at the newspaper office just after dark.

Mick:- Fuck, it’ll be in tomorrow mornings paper, the screws will go

apeshit. Is that Tyler a nutcase or what?

Ray:-  He’s a strange one, never hits crims, tries to talk to them. He

always goes on about rehabilitation. Did you know he got

punched out in the carpark after shift last week? One of the

sweepers told me. The screws got him in the carpark

and give it to him for being a do-gooder. Word is he’s resigned.

I reckon that’s why he doing this but no matter what, we keep

that to ourselves. The screws will already suspect him and they

throw everything at us to find out, so the best thing is to say

nothing.

Mick:- Yeah the fucking dogs will hate the idea that one of their own

went against them, but fuck’em we say nothing.

Ray:- (standing) Just be ready Mick, this will get bad but it’s worth it.

Mick:- (getting worked up) I’m ready, I’ll fucking tear they eyes out

and piss in the empty sockets.

Ray:- (laughing loudly). Michael me boy, you are one really sick

cunt.

MICK PULLS OUT A PACKET OF WHITE OX TOBACCO FROM HIS POCKET.

 

Ray:- (looking puzzled). What you doing mate?

Mick:- (laughing) Rolling a joint. Nah, scored some tobacco off the

sweeper last night.

 

Ray:-  You ever smoked before?

Mick:- Couple of puffs when I was a kid. Used to roll’em for me old

Pop, said it calmed his nerves. Just thought I’d give it a go

might settle me down a bit.

Ray:-     That stuff’s fuckin’ poison mate.

Mick:-   Just a few a day, been a bit edgy lately. Don’t stress Ray.

Ray:-     (testily) I’m not fuckin stressed mate. Your life, you want

to fuck it go ahead.

Mick:-   (sighs). Mate a few a day ain’t gonna kill me.

Ray:-   Yeah right, that stuff is highly addictive and will kill you in

the long run, before it does, it’ll fuck your whole system up.

Mick:-   (raising his voice). Ray, look where we are, this’ll kill me

before a few smokes will. Besides, I just said I’m only gonna

have a few a day.

Ray:-   (shrugging). That’s what they all say Mick. Watch, in a few

weeks, you’ll be sucking on them likes there’s no tomorrow.

Mick:-   I’ll take me chances mate, got to do something stuck in here.

Ray:-     The thing is Mick, we’ll get out of here one day, there’s no

escaping that shit. Oh well mate, your life.

Mick:-   Thanks mate but I’m cool.

Mick finishes rolling the smoke lights up and coughs. Ray just shakes his head in disgust.

ACT: 6.

SAME KITCHEN, EIGHT YEARS LATER. ROSE IS SITTING WITH COLIN (the oldest son). THE RADIO IS PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND.

 

Scene1.

Rose:-   How much longer are you off work love.

Colin:-   I go back to the doctor in a couple of days, get the stitches

out, so I’ll probably go back next week. First break I’ve had

in years Mum.

Rose:-   Is your hand still sore?

Colin:-   Nah, I’m tough like you Mum. (laughter)

 

ROSE SIPS HER CUP OF TEA AND SITS STARING OUT THE KITCHEN

WINDOW.

 

Colin:- What’s up Mum. Is it Mick?

Rose:-   Yeah, went to see him last week an’ they wouldn’t let me in, something about him attacking the officers.

Colin:- N you believe it. Mum, I met some fella’s who were in the nick, they reckon Mick’s being bashed in the cages. More like it’s that they flogged him too much and didn’t want you to see it.

Rose:- I dunno Col., when I saw him the last few times he was strange. He was telling me everything was good but there was something in his eyes. I got really scared just talkin’ to him. Not scared of him, it’s hard to explain. All I can say is the son I had is gone forever and it frightens me.

Colin:- Has he been getting g my letters? I’ve been writing him 3 a week since he was in, didn’t think I could write that much.

Rose:- Says he gets a kick out of your letters. He know with your job and the kids, ya can’t visit. (LAUGHS) Says the letters are better, gives him somethin’ to read at night and reckons at least you two don’t argue In letters. He said to tell you sorry he can’t reply but he can only have either a 20 minute visit or a letter to write each month but knows you understand that.

Colin:- I got a couple from him, he went on special request to write ‘em. He’s a funny bloke but he’s right, we don’t fight in the letters.

Rose:- Yeah, you two fought like cat and dog since he could walk and talk.

Colin:- Not all the time Mum, when we weren’t fightin’, he used to talk to me about a lot of things. Those times, he was a different kid.

Rose:- Yeah, it’s funny, he was such a sweet little kid and as soon as he could walk he followed you everywhere. (LAUGHING) Remember how you used to complain that you couldn’t move anywhere without tripping over him.

Colin:- (SMILING) He was such a skinny little runt I could never see him, always scared I would step on the little bugger.

Rose:- He idolised you Colin, then as he got older he started to fight with you, he always reckoned you were the favourite. There were times I thought he hated you, he became so jealous.

Colin:- Na, he wasn’t jealous Mum. He only called me your pet to get at you. We were very different Mum and Mick knew that. The only reason started arguments with me was because I was the closest to him, he just worked his frustration out on me. We had our own way of dealing with things and we understood each other.

Rose:- (IN TEARS). If only I didn’t get on the grog…………..

Colin:- He never blamed you for drinking Mum, he hated the grog, we both did but he never blamed you, he knew the shit the old man put you through. Don’t be too hard on yourself Mum, you’ve been off it almost a year now.

Rose:- Yeah, 20 years too late.

Colin:- Look Mum, he’s so proud of you getting off it. When he writes he counts the weeks.

Rose:- (WIPING HER EYES) Does he?

Colin:- Yep, he does Mum, he always says how strong you are to beat it. Since he hit his teens, he always called the grog, white mans poison and he knows some of our mob drink to drown the pain.

Rose:- You and him ever talk about all that stuff?

Colin:- All the time Mum, when you share a bed most of your life, you talk about anything and everything. Mick always talked late into the night when he was young. Sometimes I’d fall asleep and he’d get the shits but we’d have a good laugh about it.

Rose:- You two were closer than I thought. (ANGRILY) Fuck the grog, I missed so much.

Colin:- You’re still here Mum, that’s what counts and you see him every month, when they let you. I’m telling you Mum he is very proud of you, and he was never jealous of me. If anything I was jealous of him. I’ve always been the quiet one, just rolled with the punches and tried to make the best of what is. Mick just could not accept anything he thought was wrong, he had to kick up a fuss, that’s his nature Mum and nothing will change it.

Rose:- You’ve done alright Col, had the same job for over 10 years. Got a lovely wife and kids and look at Mick, the way he is, he could be locked up forever.

Colin:- I know Mum, the jobs ok, the money is steady but I still have to put up with all the coon jokes at work, makes me sick, when I hear the fuckin’ rednecks I work with, I wish then I was more like Mick, he’d never put up with shit like that.

Rose:- (STANDING, WALK ROUND THE TABLE AND PUTS HER HANDS ON COLIN’S SHOULDERS) It’s hard son, I know, but you can’t go fighting everytime some loud mouth opens his ignorant mouth. Sometimes you just got to keep going and make sure the kids have it better than we did.

Colin:- It really gets to me Mum, some nights I lay awake and I feel so weak for not giving those pricks a good belting. I start to think I’m a coward or something.

Rose:- Colin, that’s rubbish, even your little brother knows you’re no coward. Look at what you did to your Father. Whatever happens for the rest of your lives, you’ll be a hero to Mick for what you did.

Colin:- (SMILING) Yeah, the only fight I ever had and I won.

Rose:- More than won it, you put that bastard in hospital. Got rid of him anyway.

Colin:- I don’t know what you ever saw in him Mum, he was one very fucked up man.

Rose:- Hard to explain…………….( RADIO IN BACKGROUND)

Shock Jock:- Welcome to the Gavin Majors show. In this morning’s paper a letter from Castlereagh Prison was printed.

Rose:- Quick Col. Turn it up (COLIN RUSHES TO TURN UP THE VOLUME).

LIGHTING FADES DOWN AND FADES UP IN THE RADIO STUDIO BOOTH.

Shock Jock:- Two men have written to the Chronicle with claims of being kept in cages, beaten, placed in underground cells, dietary punishment…..the list goes on. Our lines are open.

Caller 1:- Two things concern me about this letter published this morning. Firstly we are dealing with criminals, they are by nature dishonest. How can we be expected to believe there is any truth in their allegations. Secondly, even if some of it is true, I couldn’t care less. They never gave society one thought when they were committing crimes. Now they are asking for sympathy, that is absurd.

 

Shock Jock:- I tend to agree with you sir, can they be believed?

Caller 2 :- I read this morning papers and I think there should be a full investigation into what is happening in our prison system. If there is any truth to what these men claim are happening to them, we as a civilised society should be concerned. Yes, they did break the law but does that give us a reason to brutalise them? What about when they are released? We should be trying to rehabilitate criminals not making them worse by dishing out barbaric treatment. This type of punishment makes us no better than we accuse them of being.

Shock Jock:- While I see where you are coming from, I can’t for the life of me see any of these hardened criminals getting any better. Let’s face it they would not be placed in cages if they were angels. I say they have bought any misery they are suffering upon themselves.

Caller 3:- Good on ya Gavin, hang the bastards. No we can’t do that anymore. Pity, that’s what these mongrels deserve. Leave ‘em in their cage and melt the key so the evil bastards don’t ever get out.

Shock Jock:- With me on the line we have the Minister of Prisons, Mr. Dawson. Good morning sir, do you have a comment for our listeners in regards to the allegations this letter contains.

Dawson:- Let me start by saying that I believe it was totally irresponsible for the Chronicle to publish this letter without checking the facts. The facts are, the two men who smuggled this letter out are very dangerous inmates. We do not take it lightly when we place a prisoner in what is called the cages. These men a repeated escapees, they are serving long sentences for violent armed robberies and they are a risk to the security of Castlereagh prison. Not only do they pose a security risk, but these men have shown themselves to be extremely violent with no regard for the law what so ever. They have been placed under total security, for to do anything less could possibly put prison officers and other prisoners at risk of injury or even death. Not to mention our concern for the safety of the general public if they manage to escape again. We have a difficult job in containing men as dangerous as this and I commend the officers whose charge they are in. At times they have to use force to make these men comply with directions but I can assure any listeners, at no time do my officers resort to bashings and such or any other form of undue force. They are professionals in dealing with top security prisoners and act accordingly at all times. They have my utmost support and respect. As for the allegations of dietary punishment and undergrounds cells, this is pure fantasy, designed to gain unwarranted sympathy.

Shock Jock:- And there you have it folks. I have known Minister Dawson for many years and it is my opinion he has always been a man of integrity. Let’s not get hysterical over this letter and its allegations. Look at it for what it is, a couple of crims trying to pull a fast one. Nothing more, nothing less. Now for something a little more soothing, one of my all time favourites, “This Guy’s in Love With You” by Herb Alpert. You have been listening to Gavin Majors on 11SB on your dial.

LIGHTS FADE IN THE RADIO BOOTH AS THE SONG BEGINS. THEY FADE UP ON THE CAGES AND THE SONG CAN BE HEARD OVER THE RPISONS SPEAKERS. MICK AND RAY ARE BOTH LYING ON THEIR SIDES IN THEIR SEPARATE CAGE, THEY ARE HANDCUFFED. THERE ARE 4 OFFICERS IN EACH CAGE SWINGING BATONS AND KICKING AT WILL. IN TERMINGLED WITH MICK AND RAY’S SCREAMS ARE THE HAUNTING LYRICS OF ‘THIS GUYS IN LOVE WITH YOU.’ THE SENIOR PRISON OFFICER IS OUTSIDE THE CAGES. HE IS MIMING THE SONG AS HE GENTLY ROCKS BACK AND FORTH. HE IS HOLDING HIS BATON AS A PENIS AND IS MASTURBATING IT IN TIME TO THE MUSIC. LIGHTS FADE DOWN THEN FADE UP IN THE KITCHEN AREA. LIGHTS FADE UP IN THE KITCHEN. ROSE HAS HER HEAD DOWN BURIED I HER ARMS AND WEEPING UNCONTROLLABLY . COLIN IS STANDING BEHIND HER HOLDING HER SHOULDERS LOOKING STRAIGHT AHEAD IN SHOCK.

Scene 2.

COLIN AND ROSE ARE SITTING IN THE KITCHEN HAVING TOAST AND TEA.

Rose:- Thanks for staying over last night Col. I just couldn’t be alone after all that. I didn’t get a wink of sleep as it was.

Colin:- I know Mum, I rang Anne and she insisted I stay, she heard the radio as well.

Rose: (SLAMS HER HAND ONTO THE TABLE AND STANDS, SCREAMING) FUCK FUCK FUCK. When will it stop. This is too much.

Colin:- (STANDS FACING HER AND HOLDS HER ARMS, SOOTHINGLY) Come on Mum. Calm down, getting worked up won’t solve anything.

Rose:- You don’t understand son, the look in his eyes I have seen lately is frightening. If he ever gets out, Christ knows what he’ll be like. Whatever they’ve done to him in there, they’ve turned him into something I can’t understand.

Colin:- (HUGS HER) mum, it’ll work out, just wait and see (DOUBT ON HIS FACE).

Rose:- (SITS AND MOANS DEEPLY, CRYING) Colin I saw his spirit last night and know I know what else was in Mick’s eyes. It was death.

Colin:- (ANGRILY) Stop the silly talk Mum, he’s a tough bugger, he’ll take anything they can dish out. I know him better than anyone, he will fight them to the end.

Rose:- (SADLY AND IN RESIGNATION) That’s my point son, that’s my point.

LIGHTS FADE DWON ON THE KITCHEN AND FADE UP ON THE CAGES. OFFICERS ARE GATHERED AROUND THE CAGES WITH ANOTHER PRISONER, A MAN AROUND 40, BALDING, SCRUFFY PRISON UNIFORM, WEARING THICK GLASSES AND LOOKING DEFEATED.

Senior PO. (FACING RAY) Put your hands out, cuffs on, you got a visitor.

Ray:- Who?

Senior:- Fucked if I know it just got called through.

RAY COMPLIES AND PLACES HIS HANDS IN A SPACE IN THE CAGE. ONCE THE CUFFS ARE ON THE OFFICERS OPEN HIS DOOR AND ROUGHLY PULL HIM OUT. THEY QUICKLY OVERPOWER HIM AND HIT HIM SEVERAL TIMES ACROSS THE BACK AND THE HEAD WITH BATONS. MICK STARTS SCEAMING ABUSE.

Senior:- (TO RAY) We are breaking up this little honeymoon, your going to Westlake prison, straight to the cages there until your sentence finishes, you cunt.

RAY CONTINUES TO STRUGGLE BUT IS CLUBBED DOWN AND DRAGGED OFF. MICK CONTINUES SCREAMING.

 

Senior:- (TO MICK) At least he’ll get out one day. The only way you’re getting out of this gaol is in a box you black cunt. Here we’ve got a new buddy for you.

TAKES THE CUFFS OFF THE OLDER PRISONER (JOHN), SHOVES HIM INTO THE CAGE RAY OCCUPIED. JOHN IMMEDIATELY COWERS INTO THE REAR CORNER AND IS SHAKING .

Senior:- I’m sure you two will hit it off.

Mick:- (YELLING)You fuckin’ dog cunt, I’ll square up with you and your fuckin’ mates, if it takes me a lifetime I’ll get you cunts. (SCREAMING) You’re all dead you dogs, fucking dead.

MICK MOVES ANGRILY AROUND THE CAGE KICKING OUT AND SCREAMING. JOHN REMAINS COWERING IN THE CORNER.

 

Mick:- (ANGRILY) What’s the fuckin’ matter with you cunt.

JOHN DOES NOT REPLY, INSTEAD HE IS SOBBING.

Mick:- (AS IF SEEING HIM FOR THE FIRST TIME). You ok bud.

John:- (BLUBBERING) What’s happening, why am I here?

AS SOON AS HE SPEAKS MICK REALISES THAT JOHN HAS A DISABILITY.

Mick:- You must have done something to piss them off. What are you in for, you’re not a fucking plant are you, sent to give me up.

John:- (VERY TIMIDLY) I was sent to gaol for shop lifting.

Mick:- What and they put you here, that is really fucked up.

John:- (STILL TIMID) The police said I stole from a store in town but it was a bright toy and I only took it out into the sun so I could see the colours properly. I went to court and they told me that I had done this lots of times so they sent me to gaol. I don’t remember doing it before.

Mick:- What they sent you straight here?

John:- No, I got 12 months and they sent me to an open gaol, it was very nice there. Yesterday I was working out in the bush and got lost. It got dark, so I climbed a tree, I was so scared, cos it was getting dark. They found me the next morning and said I was trying to escape and today they bought me here.

Mick:- Fucking pricks. You’ll have to go on request to see the visiting justice, you shouldn’t be here. Cruel cunts.

SEVERAL OFFICERS APPEAR AND UNLOCK JOHN’S CAGE RUSH IN AND COMMENCE TO BEAT HIM WITH BATONS. THEY HURL INSULTS ALL THE WHILE, SUCH AS RETARD, FREAK ETC. JOHN LETS OUT AND ANGUISHED SCREAM AND CONTINUES TO MOAN. MICK GOES COMPLETELY BESERK IN HIS CAGE. HE LUNGES AT THE BARS AND GRIPS THEM. HE TRIES TO SCREAM INSULT BUT HE IS THAT ANGRY THT ONLY WILD SCREAMS EMIT FROM HIM. THE OFFICERS FINISH THEIR BASHING OF THE PRISONER JOHN AND LEAVE. JOHN IS LAYIN OF THE CONCRETE CRYING UNCONTROLLABLY.

Mick:- (ANGUISHED VOICE)Try and sit up. What is your name anyway mate. Come on try to talk to me.

John:- (CRYING AND IN FEAR) My name is John. Why are they doing this? I never hurt anybody. Why? (SITS UP AND STARTS BEATING HIMSELF ON THE HEAD). I want to die.

Mick:- John, listen to me. There’s nothing wrong with you, those men are just evil cunts.

OFFICERS RE-EMERGE, UNLOCK JOHN’S CAGE AND DRAG HIM OUT.

P.O. 1 :- Come on you fucking retard, we’re taking to your cell. Clean yourself up you fucking thing, you’re going back to the yards until court. Say one word about any of this and we’ll bring you back here and bash your fucking slow brains out. Do you fucking hear me?

JOHN ABSENTLY NODS AND ALLOWS HIMSELF TO BE TAKEN OUT. MICK IS DEATHLY QUIET WITH A LOOK OF PURE HATE IN HIS EYES.

P.O. 1 :- We got plenty of tricks for you yet you crazy cunt. By the time we’re finished with you, you’ll think death is a picnic. Now get ready we’re coming back to take you to your cell, you’ve had enough sunshine for one day. (ALL OFFICERS JOIN IN A LAUGH).

 

 

 

Scene:3.

MICK IS IN HIS CAGE. JOHN HAS BEEN TAKEN AWAY. MICK IS DOING SIT-UPS WITH AGGRESSION. OFFICERS APPEAR.

 

Senior:- (WITH AUTHORITY) Stand up. Hands out. Cuffs on. Cell time you prick.

Mick:- (STANDING ERECT) Get fucked dog.

Senior:- Ah, I expected this.

TWO PRISON OFFICERS, IN FULL RIOT GEAR, STAND A T THE DOOR TO THE CAGE. THE SENIOR OPENS IT. THEY RUSH IN. MICK LAUNCHES HIMSELF AT THEM PINNING ONE OF THEM TO THE BARS OF HIS CAGE. THE 2ND OFFICER GETS BEHIND MICK AND WITH A BACKHAND SWING BRINGS HIS BATOON DOWN HARD ACROSS THE BACK OF MICK NECK. MICK COLLAPSES. THE SENIOR MOVES IN AND PLACE A SECURITY BELT ON MICK WITH HAND CUFFS ATTACHED. ANOTHER OFFICERS PLACED ANKLE CUFFS ON MICK. HE IS COMPLETELY BOUND AND UNABLE TO MOVE HIS ARMS. LIGHTS FADE OUT.

LIGHTS FADE UP. IT IS NIGHT TIME IN THE CELL BLOCK AND THE SENIOR AND ANOTHER OFFCIER ARE DOING CELL CHECKS. THEY ARE OUTSIDE MICK’S CELL DOOR. SPEAKING IN QUIET VOICES.

 

Senior:- Watch out when you slide open the peep hole, that crazy bastard might stick something in your eye, he’s been causing havoc all fucking day.

P.O. (TENTATIVELY SLIDES PEEP HOLE BACK AND SLOWLY LOOKS IN MICKS CELL. HE GOES PALE.) Fucking hell, look sir.

MICK IS HANGING IN HIS CELL BY A STRIPPED BLANKET. HE’S DEAD.

Senior:- (SMILING) Won’t have to worry about that cunt anymore will we.

P.O.:- He’s still twitching sir. (PLACES A KEY IN THE LOCK) We can get him down, he might be still alive.

Senior:- (GRABBING P.O’S HAND) Leave it, he’s fucked. Put the time back on your cell checklist. Let the morning shift find him. Too much paperwork and besides we’re better off without that evil black cunt.

P.O.:- (STUNNED)But sir……………….

Senior:- Officer, I said leave it and I fucking meant it. You didn’t see anything, got it!

P.O. NUMBLY NODS HIS HEAD. THEY WALK OFF. OBLIVIOUS TO THE OFFICERS THE HAUNTING SOUNDS OF A DIDGERIDOO AND CLAP STICKS FILL THE AIR. A SPIRIT MAN (FULLY PAINTED UP AND CARRYING A SPEAR) EMERGES FROM MICK’S CELL, CROUCHES BEHIND THE OFFICERS AND JABS THE SENIOR 3 TIMES IN THE LEFT KIDNEY WITH HIS SPEAR. THE SENIORS KNEES BUCKLE AS HE STARTS TO COLLAPSE. THE OTHER PRISON OFFICER CATCHES HIM AND HOLDS HIM UP.

P.O.:- (WORRIED LOOK) Are you ok Sir.

Senior:- (HOLDING HIS KIDNEYS) I’ll be ok. Just get me to the office so I can sit down. Must be something I ate. Better off that that cunt anyway. (LAUGHS PAINFULLY).

AS THEY EXIT. THE SPIRIT MAN IS STANDING PROUD AND ERECT WITH SPEAR IN A THROWING POSITON.     END

Copyright Ken Canning/Burraga Gutya

TIME FOR SOME POETRY.

Standard

END TIMES. 25/09/14.

YOU, the colonial monster,
have de-humanized me
for two centuries and more.
GUILTY guilty guilty.
Your barbaric crimes
so horrific, so calculated
your demise is the only answer.
You the colonial terrorist,
beware.
We, the First Peoples
are coming for our justice.
My words will leap from
every page that I
have ever written
and attack, yes attack.
Words of centuries of
anger and forced silence,
will wrap around you
in a rage of revenge.
Words penetrating
your feeble brains,
casting you into madness.
My words, of the oppressed
strangling you until
you beg for forgiveness.
Too late, your crimes
too brutal.
Revenge time is near.
Words hurtling off pages,
engulfing you
hanging you, head dangling
until the last drop of evil
colonial blood is bled out.
Only then can there be
PEACE.
Beware the remaining
neanderthal colonialists
my words are sharp
my aim true.
Your time of judgement,
is upon you.
(C.) Burraga Gutya/Ken Canning.

THE TRAITORS 25/09/14
Lay down at night,
with your hearts
of stone.
You born of
Mother Earth
from a culture
as old as time,
have chosen the path
of the newcomers,
the boat people of 1788.
How proud you stand
amongst your
colonial friends
in their lodges
while Sisters, Brothers,
Young and Old, die
from the disease
that is government.
Despite this you walk
with the devil
mimic him in style
and language.
You have lost your
place with us,
the proud Aboriginal Peoples
of this ancient Land.
You the traitor,
have been rolled
in the white man’s flour
and baked into his
perfection
of how he wants you.
A slave to him
and an enemy
to the Mother
who bore you.
(C.) Burraga Gutya/Ken Canning.

A TIME OF TELLING. 25/09/14.

In my spirit travels,
I have been to places
no person wants to be.
I have watched beheadings
before there was tv,
before terrorism was
the new catchcry.
I walked knee deep
in blood,
the blood of the innocent,
slaughtered by
the British invader.
I saw the many horrors,
seeing until my eyes burned.
(Glaucoma).
I heard the agony,
children being murdered
by uniformed beasts
who laughed
at their own cowardice.
The Mother’s screams
pierced my brain,
their babies stolen
by the so called
civilized ones.
Babies brutalized
Mother’s traumatized
beyond comprehension.
These sounds embedded
in my mind,
to remain forever.
(Mental Illness).
No amount
of media hosing down
can ever cleanse,
the blood stains
of your bloody history.
No historical scholar,
Professor, PhD
or other mindless
creatures,
can write away
the depths of pain
we feel.
Nor can your academic
slight of hand tricks
give you an insight
into the world
forced upon us,
by the likes of you.
Yes YOU.
For unless
you give us space
to tell the truth
of invasion,
you will be forevermore
be complicit with those
who have hidden
more than two centuries
of a violent madness
that continues today.
Stand aside you pillars
of false truths,
you academics
you deceitful politicians,
we shall heal the past,
by ensuring the present,
knows the FULL truth.
YOUR LIES MUST STOP.
(C.) Burraga Gutya/Ken Canning.

Indigenous Advisory Council

Standard

I was very interested to read the National Indigenous Times dated Wednesday 10th of September. The front page article,  continuing inside was in regards to whether the IAC should resign or not. Many interviewed were either real leaders in Our Communities or at least at the coal face of our struggles. With the exception of one, they all agreed the IAC members should resign and in fact many questioned why they were selected in the first place. The latest point of contention is the PM’s recent references to historical matters in this country, such as “This country was not populated um sparsely populated….” and “the arrival of Arthur Philip was defining moment of this country’s history.”

What a load of colonial rubbish by Abbott and make no mistake these statements were no slip of the tongue, he believes every word of this. As many people know when the IAC was first selected by Abbott, I took out a petition to have the IAC abolished and replaced by an elected body. One of its members chose to inbox me and phone me to sing  the praises of Abbott as a man of vision. This person was critical of me branding the IAC as being not connected to grass roots Peoples. Seems I am not the only one to think that way as the NIT article shows. The fact is that NONE of these members have met with ANY community that I know of and it appears that they have no intention of doing so. I would say that this is as far from being called grass roots as you can get.

The fact remains Abbott promised to meet with the IAC on 3 or 4 occasions per year and at other times if deemed necessary. After a big first meeting, which was merely a photo shoot for Abbott, NOTHING. No more meetings with the IAC, only meetings with the man of the moment Warren “Where’s Wally” Mundine. The IAC has been left in tatters with each member barely speaking to each other and the PM flicking them out the door like last weeks dirty laundry. I have to now say, “I told you so.” The young numb skulled member who told me I had no right to put up my petition and further more stated my actions were keeping back Indigenous issues, must now be looking in the mirror and really not liking what she sees. During the harassment via FB inbox and the phone, I made it very clear to this silly young member exactly what would happen. Abbott would use you for his own purpose, then give you the flick. I was told I really did not know what I was on about. The sad part was I really thought this young woman had some intelligence as I had watched her achieve highly during her studies. Just goes to show, brains and common sense  do not always match. Nor alleged brains compensate for experience.

Back to Abbott and his outlandish statements of late re white occupation of this country. Some people have let him off kindly and said his comments were just another of his many gaffs. No, never, this man is a white supremacist and means every single word of it. This is the man that stated that he would be the PM for Indigenous Peoples. The part of this that angers me, is that I did expect Abbott to come out with such rhetoric, but when he did where was the voices in the IAC. SILENT. This is beyond contempt. You have objected at my description of you being not part of grass roots Aboriginal Peoples. I will go one step further, after your masters historical attacks on us, the whole IAC should have walked out in protest immediately. All of you should have used the media to publicly chastise him for his idiocy. You are in this position. It is not good enough to speak ever so highly of Abbott when interviewed on NITV Warren and Ms Cashman. Have either of you thought of speaking out when your master is clearly in the wrong.

Yes, I did say the IAC moved away from being grass roots by accepting such a reviled position. I will now go one step further, unless all of you walk out now and distance yourselves from this racist PM, in my opinion you lose the right to continue with your empty chants of your doing the right things by your own Peoples. To date it is on YOU who are your own peoples and accordingly are now so far removed from the Communities you come from, you may have reached the point of no return. This does not apply to W. Mundine, he has already reached the point where Community minded Peoples consider him a mere servant to his white house master Abbott. He has fixed himself by choice in that role, do the rest of you want to end up like him? Let’s hope you come to your senses and walk out on this PM immediately and start listening to what many of us told you at the beginning. Abbott’s intention was never to seek advise but merely to use all of you as a publicity stunt and you fell for it.

I have to wonder was this a two way thing, as Abbott used you as simple pawns with no power or effect, have all of you used this “selected” position on the IAC to either pad out your wallets or your CV’s.

The petition is still running. As it seems these lackey’s will not resign by their own accord, please go to website below and sign and  share it where you can.

http://www.change.org/p/tony-abbott-we-the-undersigned-demand-tony-abbott-immediately-disbands-his-selected-indigenous-advisory-council