King of Scotland' and 'The Tobacco Merchant's Lawyer'

Iain Heggie

• Publisher: Methuen Drama
• Year: 2011
• ISBN:
  9781408156452
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Drama
• Index: Literature

King of Scotland is an award-winning, dark comedy and a free adaptation of Gogol's A Diary of a Madman. Long-term unemployed Tommy McMillan joins a government-funded retraining scheme 'Up The Ladder'. Cited as a shining example of the government's employment policies and chosen for a media profile, Tommy is taken on by the Department of Upward Mobility. The department gets more than they bargained for, however, when they discover just how far up the ladder Tommy is expecting to go. Featuring trouserless bankers, talking dogs, flying taxis and a razor-sharp parody of the workings of politics, King of Scotland is an outrageous Fringe First-winning monologue. This volume also contains the biting satire The Tobacco Merchant's Lawyer. Set in 1780, Glasgow is booming, but the American war is looming, and the city's wealth is dependent on the import and export of American tobacco. Cantankerous and impoverished, Enoch Dalmellington is more harried by problems: how to marry off his dreich pious humourless daughter Euphemia, being able to afford his pew at the Tron Kirk, and what to do about Mistress Zapata's scurrilous predictions about Glasgow in the twenty-first century.

King of Scotland

Freely adapted from the short story
‘Diary of a Madman’ by Gogol

King of Scotland began its national tour at the Tron Theatre, Glasgow, on 10 May 2011. The cast was as follows:

Tommy McMillan Jonathan Watson

Director Iain Heggie
Designer Peter Screen
Lighting Designer Andrew Wilson
Production Manager Woody McMillan
Producers Jonathan Watson and Iain Heggie

Character
Tommy McMillan

Scene One

Tommy’s bedroom in his multi-storey home.

Bed with TV at the foot of it, table and chair, coat stand, a door. Possibly a window.

We find Tommy searching. He is not wearing jacket or shoes. He finds random object. He throws it away. He sees us.

1.

I’d’ve even been happy with a budgie.

But they’re like: ‘No pets allowed in these flats.’

I’m like: ‘Be nice.

A wee pet.

Be company.’

They’re like: ‘That’s the rules.’

I’m like: ‘Aw, fuck the rules.’

They’re like: ‘Do you want the flat or not?’

I’m like: ‘Nice of you to offer.

I know they’re in demand.’

They’re like: ‘Are you joking?

No one wants them.

They’re classified hard to let.’

I’m like: ‘Perfect.

I’ll take it.

If they’re hard to let that’ll discourage the riffraff.’

Move in.

Turns out the entire building’s teeming.

And not just with the riffraff.

Also their pets.

Dogs, cats, canaries, hamsters, a snake.

It’s like a zoo in these flats.

Which is a complete scandal.

Totally contrary to the rules.

And the noise is diabolical.

I’m going deaf with the racket.

So no way am I getting a budgie.

Tweet, tweet, tweet.

I’d end up ringing the noisy wee bam’s neck.

Oh, I’d’ve arranged a funeral.

Minister in.

Cup of tea all round.

Budgies are human too.

Tommy continues searching. He finds another random object, which he throws away.

2.

Which is more than I can say for some people.

That government of ours.

OK the unemployment levels are on the climb.

But sending people for interviews?

To train for work.

In a call centre.

At the Department of Social Inclusion.

In among all the bams and scum.

And if folk are no wantin’ to work?

Makin’ them work anyway!

So it’s compassion down the shithole with this government.

They don’t seem to realise it’s a lifetime achievement:

Twenty-eight consecutive years of unemployment.

But I’m a fighter.

I’ll show them.

All my life I’ve been good for nothing.

And I’m not changing now.

Tommy searches, finds a cup of tea. He goes to throw it away. He changes his mind and drinks.

3.

So I’m sitting in this interview.

This Sir Alec guy.

Posh cunt.

You know the type.

Burke’s Peerages coming out his arse.

My kind of guy, you know?

He’s like: ‘And tell me Tommy, how long have you been unemployed?’

I’m like: ‘Twenty-eight years, Sir Alec.’

He’s like: ‘That’s it.

Interview over.

Sorry it was so short.’

I’m like: ‘What have I done wrong?’

He’s like: ‘Nothing.

You’ve done nothing wrong.

You’re exactly what we’re looking for.

When can you start?’

So good on Sir Alec.

He’s seen the future.

So he has.

And I’m it.

Oh, you hear all the wankstains.

They’re all calling him Sir Smartaleck.

Behind his back.

Which is like totally unfair.

The guy actually deserves a medal.

He’s struggling by on three-hundred-and-odd grand a year.

When it’s an established fact posh cunts like him need to clear

at least a million.

They’ve got estates the size of Africa to maintain.

Tommy puts down his tea, goes to search and rapidly interrupts himself.

4.

Job sucks though.

Well, no wonder.

It’s that Nicola.

Specs, big honk, hairy ears.

How are you supposed to respect the nebby cow?

Total schemie.

But thinks she can tell me what to do.

Just because she’s above me at work.

Sink estate, the slag.

Sink estate and the cheek to stay on for her highers!

Gets in to the department.

Pushes shoves sucks cock till she gets floor supervisor.

She’s not well liked.

Tommy searches He finds a shoe puts it on.

5.

As for all the other bams in the work.

Seeking asylum seemingly — half of them.

I say to them — (Loud voice.) ‘If it’s an asylum you’re seeking

you’re in the wrong place.

The asylum’s in Edinburgh.

It’s the shite modern building at the bottom of the hill.

Just keep away from the ancient wan at the top but.

That’s not for the likes of youse.’

Wouldny mind.

But they don’t even bother to learn the lingo.

Canny understand a word they’re sayin’.

Guarantee every word they speak’ll be utter gibberish.

Which is actually my favourite language.

And ideas above their station.

These asylum seekers.

Well, one shag a month and think they’re God.

That’s only one shag more than I get.

6.

Then the big man himself.

The Minister for Social Inclusion.

Big Danny.

Workaholic seemingly.

False reputation if you ask me.

Never see the prick.

Nicola’s like:

‘He works in London.’

I’m like:

‘What’s the point of him working in London?

Everybody in London’s already included.

Should be working up here.

Up here everybody’s all still excluded.’

Lackadaisical cunt.

Tommy searches, hobbling on one foot. He gives up.

7.

This work malarkey definitely does suck but.

If it wasn’t for Sir Alec I’d be out.

Few weeks ago there.

Nicola’s like: ‘I’m fed up with you.

Go and see Sir Alec.

He’s in his office.’

He’s like: ‘How are you getting on, Tommy?’

I’m like: ‘To tell you the truth, Sir Alec, I’m thinking of chucking it.’

He’s like: ‘What’s wrong?’

I’m like: ‘Well it’s one scumbag on the phone after another.

And they’re giving it: “I’m socially excluded.

I want my rights.”

So I’ll be like: “Sorry, Jim.

I can’t help you.”

So they’ll be like: “...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Contents
• King of Scotland
• The Tobacco Merchant’s Lawyer
• Author Biography
• Imprint