Foreskin's Lament

Greg McGee, John Thomson

• Publisher: Victoria University Press
• Year: 2014
• ISBN:
  9780864737991
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Drama
• Index: Literature

One of the most successful and well-known New Zealand plays is also compelling reading on the page. The power, humour and irony of the language all serve to illustrate a penetrating analysis of New Zealand society, as seen through the lens of sport.

Foreskin’s Lament

Act One

Set — Dim light The inside of a dressing shed. Floor and walls of bare boards. Clothes are hanging along two walls left and right. Low forms below the clothes, with shoes, socks stowed under them. In the backstage wall, two wooden doors. The word ‘shower’ is etched crudely in white paint above the door on the left Centrestage, with assorted bottles of liniment and rubbing-oil on it, is a long wooden table. There is a strong smell of liniment Old socks, jockstraps, boots, balls, and a couple of beer bottles are littered about.

From off-stage, a loud bull-horn voice.

TUPPER: Get excited about it! Go over the top of him, don’t hang off! Use your bloody feet, you pack of poofters. Ruck! Ruck! You won’t hurt him, you won’t hurt him, I guarantee it!

Pause

Oh shit.

Pause

Now come on Kenny lad, get up, don’t just lie there, it can’t be that bad. Come on, on your feet, play the game son. They’re not dishing out any Oscars tonight, you know.

Pause

Oi! Mean, Irish! Come over here and take him away. No, you won’t need that stretcher Larry, a couple of the lads will help carry him. Just needs a bit of a rub-down, don’t you, Kenny?

During the following speech: Lights. IRISH and MEAN, in dirty rugby gear, carry KEN, similarly dressed, on stage through the unmarked door. KENS arms are draped over the other two players’ shoulders. Behind them, like a mother hen, comes LARRY, dressed in ordinary trousers and a colourful track-suit top over a business shirt.

Right! The rest of you bastards mind where you’re putting your bloody great feet — you’re meant to be kicking shit out of the opposition, not our guys. Keep an eye open for the ball while you’re at it.
Okay, we’ll take it from a set scrum over here on the right. We’re going to spin it to the left. Foreskin will be coming into the line outside centre, he’ll drop it — on purpose this time! — and we’ll have the loose forwards out there to tidy up as quick as a wink of my Aunt Fanny’s twat. No shirking, let’s finish with a bit of guts — whaddarya anyway?

LARRY: Just put him there on the table. Easy does it, my lads … there.

LARRY supports KEN’S legs as IRISH and MEAN sit him on the table with both legs flat in front of him. KEN is facing up-stage.

Now, let’s have a good look at it, Kenny.

IRISH and MEAN sit down on the forms and watch with interest as LARRY begins feeling KEN’S leg. IRISH rustles about in his bag for a cigarette.

LARRY: Come on, you two, out you go. The Tupper will be having chickens.

IRISH: Jesus, do we have to? All this extra training isn’t good for me. The fitter I get, the more effort it takes to get exhausted.

MEAN: That’s Irish.

IRISH: It’s not Santa Claus, that’s for sure. And I haven’t seen the sheila since Monday, I’ll be gett...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half-title
• Title Page
• Table of Contents
• Dedication
• Foreword
• First performance
• Author’s note
• Characters
• Foreskin’s Lament
• By the Same Author
• Copyright