Raging Hormones

 - a stage comedy

 

 

'Two working class couples from northwest England + a secret affair +

midlife crisis =  raging hormones!

 

And all Jack ever wanted was a quiet life in front of the TV ...'
 

'A down-to-earth British comedy of warring couples and sparring partners ...'

 

 

Outline:

 

Judy and Jack Quigley are about to embark upon a Spanish holiday with Judy's sister, Beryl, and her husband, Stan.

 

Beryl is all excited but is having a hard time dragging Jack away from his beloved TV. For some unknown reason he is reluctant to leave for the airport - which is even more apparent when Beryl and Stan arrive with the taxi.

 

Finally, Jack gives in to their pressure and they all leave for their vacation - only to return a week later at loggerheads with one another.

 

Marital war has broken out, since it has emerged that Jack and Beryl have had a secret affair.

 

Now all hell has broken loose in the Quigley household and it looks like both marriages may now be over ...

 

 

Setting:

 

The front living room of Jack and Judy Quigley.

 

A4 Page Length: 73

Running Time: 70 mins

 

 

Raging Hormones

Full script now available for production by theatre companies worldwide.

 

For more information send a Request by email.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Raging Hormones

 

 

 

Act One

(excerpt)

 

 AT RISE :     JUDY QUIGLEY , late-forties, stumbles into the Living

                        Room dragging a pair of heavy SUITCASES behind her.

                        Her husband, JACK, early-fifties, is slumped in the SOFA,

                        mesmerised by the TV, oblivious to her struggle.

 

JUDY :   Right.  That’s it.  We’re all set.  If I’ve forgot to pack anything now we’ll just have to buy it there or do without.  Do you hear?

 

JACK :   Yeah, love.  Just watching this, love.

 

JUDY :   Ooh, I can’t believe we’re goin’ on holiday!  We’re actually goin’ away.  I’m dead excited!

 

                        (Singing, SHE does a little ditty around the SUITCASES)

 

JUDY (continued) :   We’re all off to sunny Spain ... viva espana!  Never thought we’d be going back again ... in me viva estate car!

 

                        (JACK is shaking his head with despair)

 

JUDY (continued) :   Put y’ face straight, will y’.  Y’ miserable thing.  We’re goin’ on holiday!  Y’ should be happy!

 

JACK :   Yeah.

 

JUDY :   Jack love, y’ve worked all year for this.  Smile!  We’re goin’ away!

 

                        (Still watching the TV, HE flashes a false grin)

 

JUDY (continued) :   Is that it?  Is that the best you can do?  Y’ could shrink violets with that face. What’s up with y’?

 

JACK :   Nothing, Judy love.  Nothing.

 

JUDY :   Well you may not be excited, Jack - but I am.  An’ I’m not goin’ to let you ruin it either.  Y’ can start by puttin’ y’ face straight.  Do you hear?

 

JACK :   Yeah, love.

 

JUDY :   Well?

 

JACK :   Yeah, love.  Right, love.  Just watching this.

 

JUDY :   Have you heard a single word I’ve said?

 

JACK :   Eh? … Yeah ...  ‘Course.  Two sugars in mine, love.

 

JUDY :   Are y’ goin’ to put y’ face straight or what?

 

JACK :   Face, love?

 

JUDY :   Y’ face!  Are y’ goin’ to put it straight or what?

 

JACK :   Judy love, if me face was any straighter they’d land jumbo jets on it.  Now I’m tryin’ to watch this.

 

                        (JUDY throws her arms in the air)

 

JUDY :   An’ I don’t know why I bother!  It’s the same with everything these days.   When it comes to things like this it’s always me who has to drum up the excitement. 

 

JACK :   Keep the noise down, Judy love.

 

JUDY :   Just look at y’.  The King Edward of the couch potatoes.

 

JACK :   Y’ what?

 

JUDY :   You.  The only time y’ move from in front of that thing is to visit the little boy’s room!

 

JACK :   Give over.

 

JUDY :   I swear if that settee had a built-in you-know-what there’d be no shiftin’ y’!

 

JACK :   Bollards!

 

JUDY :   I beg y’ pardon?

 

JACK :   Eh? ... Bollards, love.

 

                        (Innocently, HE points to the TV set)

 

JACK (continued) :   What’re concrete or plastic posts in a road?  Bollards.

 

JUDY :   You an’ y’ flamin’ quizzes!  I wouldn’t mind if y’ learned anything.  But y’r answers are always wrong.

 

JACK :   Are they ‘eck.  I’m always right me.

 

                        (HE taps the side up his head)

 

JACK (continued) :   Bloody mastermind up here.  Brain of Britain.

 

JUDY :   More like Bird Brain of Britain.  What was that one the other day all about?

 

JACK :   I haven’t the foggiest, m’dear.

 

JUDY :   Apart from the obvious, Jack … No, wait a minute … Something like … what was the coldest place on Earth or something.  An’ what did you say?

 

JACK :   Would’ve been right, whatever I said.

 

JUDY :   Our Beryl’s chest, you said.

 

JACK :   Chest freezer, love.  Chest freezer.  I said Beryl’s chest freezer.  Yeah.

 

JUDY :   An’ then y’ changed y’ mind to Skegness.

 

JACK :   It was a toughie all right.  Came to me in a flash.

 

JUDY :   What did, our Beryl’s chest?

 

JACK :   Skeggers.  ‘Ey, d’ y’ remember it was bloody freezin’ when we went up for y’ Gran’s funeral.  Warmest place was the flamin’ crematorium.  It was packed out that day.  Everyone huddled round them curtains, ready to toast their marshmallows an’ all.

 

JUDY :   Don’t be so disrespectful.  My Gran had nothing but praise for you when she was alive.

 

JACK :   Aye, an’ now she’s dead she hates me guts.  Skeg-bloody-ness.  It haunts me every dream.

 

JUDY :   Anyway.  I won’t let you ruin this holiday, John Quigley.  Not like y’ did with the last one.  Oh no.

 

                        (SHE wags an admonishing finger)

 

JUDY (continued) :   Oh no no no.

 

                        (JACK sits up, waves the REMOTE CONTROL)

 

JACK :   Hang on.  Now hang on a minute, our Judy.  It wasn’t my fault we had the bleedin’ runs all week.

 

JUDY :   No, but you didn’t help did y’?

 

JACK :   What did you want me to do, eh?  Run after y’ with the bog roll?

 

JUDY :   Anyway, I’m not arguin’.  Accordin’ to the forecast it’s goin’ to be sunny, an’ I don’t want you mopin’ round all week with a long face.  That’s all I’m sayin’.

 

JACK :   (beneath HIS breath) If only.

 

JUDY :   You hear?

 

JACK :   They shoot horses don’t they?

 

JUDY :   I beg y’ pardon?

 

JACK :   Nothing.  Nothing.

 

                        (SHE scurries up to JACK, pointing)

 

JUDY :   Shall I tell y’ what the trouble with you is?

 

JACK :   Love of my life, I’ve got a feelin’ y’ gonna tell me whether I like it or not.

 

JUDY :   The trouble with you is y’ve turned into a right misery guts.

 

JACK :   Now there’s a surprise.

 

                        (She straightens up, hands on hips)

 

JUDY :   Just look at y’.  We’re goin’ on holiday an’ that face could turn milk. Y’re acting like the dog died or something.  Jack love, what’s wrong with y’?

 

JACK :   Nothing.  Nothing wrong with me.

 

JUDY :   Oh, and I suppose there’s something wrong with me then is there?

 

JACK :   I never said that.

 

JUDY :   Is there?

 

JACK :   Eh? No, love.  Nothing a spot of HRT won’t put right.

 

JUDY :   An’ what’s that supposed to imply?

 

JACK :   Nothing.  Nothing ... Y’ know?

 

JUDY :   Jack, have you got a problem with my attitude all of a sudden?

 

JACK :   No, love.  Not all of a sudden.  No.

 

JUDY :   Mmm.  I’ll tell you one thing and I’ll tell you one thing straight.  If I had HRT you wouldn’t be able to keep up with me.  I’ve seen what it’s done to Brenda Flannigan.

 

JACK :   ‘Ey, has that Russian shot-putter’s association been in touch with her yet?

 

JUDY :   Full of the zest of life she is.  Y’ never know, I might give it a whirl meself.  Make me into a new woman.

 

JACK :   Sooner y’ get y’self down the Doc’s the better it’ll be for both of us, love.

 

... end of excerpt

 

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all content © 2010 keith houghton