Fog

Tash Fairbanks, Toby Wharton

• Publisher: Methuen Drama
• Year: 2012
• ISBN:
  9781408172407
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Literatura
• Subtopic: Arte dramático

'Dis is a war zone, ya get me? An' we gotta take 'em all out, see?' Fog is about two families: one white and dysfunctional, the other black and aspiring. Fog and Lou were put into care as young children by their soldier father, Cannon, following the untimely death of their mother. Ten years later, Cannon returns, expecting to reassemble his family around him. But he feels a stranger in this 'new' England of broken promises. And nothing could prepare him for the damage that abandonment and an inadequate care system has wreaked on his kids. He desperately tries to repair what has been broken, but is it all too little too late? Fog is a stunningly powerful and gritty play which confronts important social themes with a clear-eyed lack of sentimentality. The play looks at the care system and the effects on the children placed there. It explores the difficulties we face in trying to reconnect with people who have been absent throughout childhood, and the inadequacy of communication: words are used as loose sticking plasters to try and patch up and hide the exposed wounds of fractured relationships.

Scene Four

Loud burst of pirate station fills the theatre, playing grime tune, with a couple of MCs going back to back. Cue for Cannon to move his furniture from acting space. Michael enters and he and Fog arrange the furniture for Michael’s sitting room. Must include TV, two comfy armchairs and coffee table, on which there are some textbooks and Fog’s spliff-making stuff. Their ashtray is an empty Coke can. Michael lights up half a spliff, watched by Fog.

Michael What, traffic lights?

Fog Yeah. I’m on dat, blud, I’m on dat.

The game is to inhale, hand the spliff on, hold your breath till it’s handed back to you, repeat till end of spliff. They play, delaying the return of the spliff, laughing and coughing.

Fog Oi. Oi, my weed. My weed is potent! You know man’s gonna be top shottah. Big man sorted me out, blud.

Michael What, Simeon?

Fog Yeah.

Michael Simeon? For real?

Fog Yeah yeah, me and him are cool now, blud. I’m one of his soldiers now, ya get me.

Michael Heavy.

Fog Yeah man. Sorted me nine bar of punk, zed of barley. Two grand flat. I’m on my way. To da future.

Michael That’s heavy.

Fog Yeah, you’ll see. Two months, man’s gonna be stacking his collateral, boy.

Michael Gonna be rolling, yeah?

Fog Yeah, you’ll see, when I pull up in my whip. Beep beep! BM. Audi TT. Jump in, drive ya round the block. (Michael laughs.) Ya like dat, innit?

Fog turning into MC with Jamaican accent.

White boy turn top shottah

Holds pretend gun in the air.

Gonnin’ a’ di air

Deal widdit propah,

Dis is da white boy shottah.

Tiny pause.

Got my trainer from Foot Locker!

Michael (laughing) Yeah, man.

Fog Yeah!

Michael Yeah yeah.

Fog (in strong Jamaican accent) Pretty boy! All de gal dem want you.

Michael Shut up, man.

Fog Got bare gels now, ennit? All want a bit of Michael. My boy, ya get me?

Beat.

What what what?!

‘Fink you’re a big boy

‘Cos you got a tash?

(Together.) Bullets’ll catch your face like a rash!

Michael That lighter’s sick, blud.

Fog Yeah man, my dad’s, ennit.

Michael Yeah, got your dad back now?

Fog Yeah, it’s good, blud! Milton Heights. Ya get me.

Michael T’ings are changing for you.

Fog Top floor, blud.

Michael On you’re way now.

Fog Top floor! Milton Heights.

Michael Yeah man, movin’ up.

Fog Dassit, I’m movin’ up.

Michael So wass he sayin’?

Fog Who?

Michael Your dad.

Fog Telescopic vision, blud. Night sight ‘fra red.

Michael What?

Fog He let me hold it, blud. Up ‘ere. He showed me. It’s how you hold it, blud. See? (On feet, moving forward.) Out ta da balcony, ta di advantage point… movin’ quiet, no sound, no need, know da drill, get it in my night sight… bang! Took out da dog!

Michael laughs.

Fog Lootenant Colonel Cannon.

Michael Who dat? Yer dad?

Fog Nah, me, blud, me. Royal Marine, fuckin’… SAS Para, ya get me? Ya don’t fuck wid da SAS in da killin’ fields, blud. Mark my words.

‘Permission to leave, sir? For da sake of my motherless kids.’

‘Permission… not permitted, soldier.’

When you’re Lootenant Colonel, see, they don’t fuckin’ let you go! Dass da t’ing. Dass da t’ing! Man’s been dere every time. Ev-er-y time! Vietnam… fuckin’… fuckin’…

Michael Bosnia?

Fog Yes!

Michael Iraq?

Fog Yeah, all o’ dem tings blud, all o’ dem.

Bernice enters, carrying two forks, two plates and a bag of takeaway.

Bernice Got a posh Chinese! (Looking at Michael.) To celebrate! Oh, hello Bernice. Dat’s nice, Bernice. And why are we celebrating, Bernice? Well, Michael, thanks for asking. The answer to your question is because I am so on the way to promotion. Your big sister is going to be the next Manager, South East Division!

Michael Seen.

Bernice This is big time, Michael! This is Oxford for you. You get me?

Michael I told you, I ain’t.

Bernice Nah nah nah. You are going.

Michael shakes his head.

Bernice Anyway, I digress. Yeah, I had no suspicion of it. That’s the weird thing. It was just a normal morning. (She begins to lay out takeaway on the coffee table.) Read my emails, did my figures, passed them on to Margot, blah blah blah – early, as always, then at 10.28 – flagging it up – Janice says – told you about Janice, didn’t I? Husband snores and keeps dying in his sleep.

(To Fog whose leg is stretched out in front of her.) ‘Scuse me. Excuse me. (Fog moves leg.) Thank you – she says let’s go for our break now. So, we’re nearly out the door when… what happens? The phone rings. Leave it, says Janice. No, I can’t, I say. Just my luck it’ll be Vince and it’s still only… keep up, Michael…

Michael 10.28.

Bernice (nice French accent) Exactement. Peking roast duck. King prawns. So I pick up. ‘Hello, Sales and Services, Bernice speaking. How can I help you?’ And Vince says, ‘You can help me by coming to my office immediately, Bernice.’ Mi-chael, my whole life passed before me… Nah, hold on. What are you doing?

Michael I’m giving him some prawn crackers.

Bernice Two plates? Two forks? Two peopl...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Contents
• Introduction
• Cast List
• Characters
• Scene One
• Scene Two
• Scene Three
• Scene Four
• Scene Five
• Scene Six
• Scene Seven
• Scene Eight
• Scene Nine
• Scene Ten
• Scene Eleven
• Scene Twelve
• Footnotes
• Author Biographies
• Authors’ Postscript
• Imprint