ROBIN HAWDON
P L A Y W R I G H T

the old devils
E X T R A C T
*

CHARLIE: (raising his glass) Well here's to us all. Welcome to Wales, you poor bastard.

ALUN: I'll drink to that. (They all drink)

PETER: (looking at the menu) Oh Christ. Lunch of the day all in bloody Welsh. (to CHARLIE) We aren't meant to read this, are we?

CHARLIE: (apologetically) You have to do it. People are getting to expect it.

PETER: What is it? Translate.

CHARLIE: Chicken.

WAITER: In honey, sir.

ALUN: (with disgust) Chicken in honey! You mean you actually get people eating muck like that?

CHARLIE: Not much, no. But it looks good in Welsh and they like to see that on the menu.

PETER: (in disgust) Christ.

CHARLIE: Well it's fairly harmless, isn't it?

PETER: No, it isn't. It's just another part of the immense Offa's Dyke of bullshit that's.... that's.....

CHARLIE: Threatening to engulf us. I know. But I'm afraid I don't think putting a couple of dozen Welsh words on a menu lets the side down very far.

WAITER: Can I recommend the soup, sir. Potato and leek today.

CHARLIE: We do that quite well. Unless Peter thinks the leek is in for impure reasons.

PETER: All right. And I'll follow with the beef.

ALUN: Sounds good enough for me.

MALCOLM: And me.

ALUN: There, that was pretty painless. (To the WAITER) And a couple of bottles of number twenty three. Chateau de Cardaillan. At least that's not in Welsh.

WAITER: Right, sir. (Produces a piece of paper) Oh and by the way, sir, a fan has asked if you wouldn't mind signing an autograph for her.

ALUN: What fan?

WAITER: The young lady on the far table.

(All turn to look. Appreciative noises. ALUN signs and waves in her direction as the WAITER goes off.)

ALUN: Sorry. You more or less have to do it. You needn't if you don't mind looking a shit, but I'm a bit too cowardly.

CHARLIE: (to ALUN) Well go on then. Get on with it.

ALUN: What?

CHARLIE: (looking towards the girl) Your sort of thing, I'd have thought. In fact there was a time when I could have been a horrible nuisance to her myself.

ALUN: What are you talking about?

CHARLIE: Start your approach. Get her phone number. That's how you're supposed to behave, isn't it?

ALUN: You do me too much honour, Charlie. Age comes to us all. Besides which, I prefer the older ones now.

(Awkward glances between the others. He covers up.)

What I mean is, the young ones lack that essential security-conferring streak of gratitude.

CHARLIE: (rising with difficulty) And on that note I think it's time to go and make room for another drink or two.

MALCOLM: Good idea. I'll come with you.

(They go off.)

ALUN: This gives me a chance to tell you, Peter - what happened all those years ago is over and done with as far as I'm concerned. For what that may be worth. I have no unfriendly feelings about it at all. You'll want to hear about Rhiannon's feelings from her, and forgive me if I intrude, but as far as I know they're the same. I'll never say anything more on the matter.

PETER: That's generous of you, Alun. Thank you.

(The WAITER appears with an open bottle of red wine.)

WAITER: The wine all right for you, sir?

ALUN: (nodding) Thank you. (As the WAITER starts to go) Just a minute. Why have you opened it?

WAITER: So that I can pour it, sir.

(CHARLIE and MALCOLM return. ALUN lays it on for their benefit.)

ALUN: I realise that, you horrible little man. I do appreciate that you have to take the cork out before you can get anything else out. But why didn't you open it at the table? Didn't they teach you that at whatever chips-with-everything caff you learnt your trade in?

WAITER: (cool) Sorry, sir.

ALUN: This isn't house plonk, you know - it's a good bottle of wine.

WAITER: I'll bring a new bottle, sir. (Goes off)

ALUN: (grinning) Just can't get good service these days.

CHARLIE: Perhaps it slipped your mind that I'm part owner here.

ALUN: Not at all, that's why I piped up. I could see it would have been difficult for you to say anything. Now listen, gang, I've got a proposition. I was thinking of going on a jaunt or two over the next few weeks. Nothing fancy - a sort of scenic pub-crawl really. With, you know, some eventual literary creation held distantly in mind. I thought of taking in Carmarthen, Brecon, Caerhays, see if the pubs are still standing at Harriston and Bargeman's Row. And end up with a bit of a pilgrimage and piss-up at Birdarthur, shrine of Brydan, last of the bards. How about you lot joining me? Then we can show South Wales what real boozing is.

(Pause. They look at each other)

CHARLIE: Oh Christ, there goes my New Year's resolution.

*