Act One
STUDIO
An artistās warehouse studio.
A man in a t-shirt, jeans and trainers hangs by one arm from an overhead girder, surveying a huge invisible painting.
He is SIMON DYKES, an artist in his thirties.
Below him a scruffy seven-year-old BOY with tangled hair wearing a loincloth plays with a toy chimp.
A noise is heard off. SIMON and the BOY look at one another. The BOY runs off. SIMON drops from the beam and straightens up.
LEVINSON: (Off.) Hello? Simon?
A man in a sharp suit, big glasses and red bow tie enters. He is GEORGE LEVINSON.
LEVINSON: Simon. Are you alright? You left the door open.
SIMON: Disastrous for a painter.
LEVINSON: What?
SIMON: To lose your sense of perspective.
LEVINSON: For drawing?
SIMON: No. Like the figures in this painting. Trapped in a few millimetres of oil and pigment. Like microbes on a slide.
LEVINSON turns to look at the painting.
LEVINSON: Oh my god⦠Simon⦠These are what⦠Like chimpanzees?
SIMON: The teddy bears have evolved.
LEVINSON: Yes, I can see that. You sure youāre OK? No oneās seen you for weeks. Fuck me⦠This is like whatā¦?
SIMON: An aeroplane at zero gravity. Travelling at thirty-two metres per second before impact on an empty reservoir in Staines.
LEVINSON: And theyāre all chimps?
SIMON: Yes. Now I want my life back. I want to feel human again. Homo erectus. Get hammered. Theyāre all yours.
SIMON hands LEVINSON a large bunch of keys.
LEVINSON: Will you be at Sealink later?
SIMON: Yeah.
SIMONās phone rings.
SIMON: (To LEVINSON.) Iāll text you.
SIMON answers the phone.
SIMON: Hey, monkeyā¦
SIMON exits.
LEVINSON lingers a moment then follows.
SEALINK
SARAH enters typing on a phone and drinking a cocktail.
Enter two thirty-somethings bearing drinks: TABITHA and TONY FIGES.
TABITHA: (Chewing gum.) Poor little Sara-kins. All on your lonesome.
SARAH: Fuck off Tabitha. (To TONY.) Tony.
TONY: Looking good Sarah.
SARAH: Eyes only Tony.
TONY: I can dream.
SARAH: Yeah. Be careful what you wish for.
TABITHA unfurls a tape and starts measuring SARAH.
SARAH: Whatās she doing!?
TONY: Sizing you up for a new piece.
TABITHA: Collection of coffins and urns.
SARAH: Whatās it called?
TABITHA: All My Friends and Relatives.
SIMON enters, looks around and sees them.
SARAH shrugs TABITHA off and goes to SIMON. They kiss candidly.
SARAH: Finished?
SIMON: Finished.
Prompted by TABITHA, SIMON raises his arms into a crucifixion pose as TABITHA measures him up.
SARAH takes SIMON by his belt buckle.
SARAH: Iāve got something for you.
SARAH leads SIMON forwardā¦
TOILETS
The sound of toilet cisterns and piped Vivaldi.
A waiter in black carries a designer toilet seat. They proffer cocktail straws to SARAH and SIMON.
SARAH and SIMON snuffle up a line each. The waiter exits.
SARAH: Did you hear about your boys?
SIMON: Yes. She got custody.
SARAH: Oh Simonā¦
SIMON: Itās fucked up. Iāve fucked up everything in my life. Now itās pay back time and Iāve lost my children.
SARAH: Do you want to talk?
SIMON: No. I want to escape.
SARAH touches SIMONās face and kisses him. She pulls out an amulet on a necklace and holds it up to the light.
SIMON seizes the necklace and examines it.
SARAH: Itās from the Maeterlincki tribespeople in the Amazon rainforest. God, Simon, Iāve missed you. I want to fuck your brains out.
SIMON jams himself into SARAH. They snog vigorously as he hitches up her skirt.
The toilet door is kicked open.
TABITHA: Jesus, you two. Youāre like bonobo monkeys. Canāt it wait?
SIMON and SARAH separate.
SIMON: Theyāre apes, not monkeys. Same as us.
TABITHA: Speak for yourself. Have an E.
SARAH takes a tab of E off TABITHA.
SIMON: I shouldnāt. Iāve got to work tomorrow. I open next week.
TABITHA: Next week is the dark side of this moon, wouldnāt you say Simon?
TABITHA pops an E in SIMONās mouth.
SEALINK
SIMON, SARAH and TABITHA step back into the bar. It has filled up.
TONY is shouting with a drunk woman. LEVINSON looks on.
WOMAN: (Scouse accent.) Contemporary art is shit.
TONY: All of it?
WOMAN: Yes all of it. What are you?
TONY: Iām a critic.
WOMAN: A critic! Arenāt you shamed!?
SIMON: (To TONY.) Whoās this?
WOMAN: Who am I? Who the fuck are you?
SIMON: Simon Dykes.
WOMAN: Seriously? The artist? Jesus! Your work is the worst of the shit!
SIMON: (To TONY.) I like this woman.
TABITHA: (To WOMAN.) Youāre in.
TABITHA starts measuring her up.
WOMAN: And who the fuck are you?
TABITHA: Tabitha Buckfast.
WOMAN: Oh no⦠Iāve heard about you.
The sound of gunfire is heard: two men dressed as JIHADISTS step into the bar and level AK-47s at the crowd.
Silence.
LEVINS...