The Removalists
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Playwright’s Biography
First Production
Characters
The Removalists
Act One
Act Two
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COPYRIGHT PAGE
CURRENCY PLAS
The Removalists
First published in 1972 by
Currency Press Pty Ltd
PO Box 2287
Strawberry Hills NSW 2012
www.currency.com.au
[email protected]
Reprinted 1973, 1974, 1975, 1977, 1978, 1979
Revised edition published 1980
Reprinted in 1981, 1983, 1984, 1986, 1989 (twice), 1992, 1993 (twice), 1994,1995, 1998, 2000 (twice), 2002, 2004, 2005, 2007, 2009, 2011
Copyright © David Williamson 1972
First electronic edition published in 2012 by Currency Press Pty Ltd.
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Any performance or public reading of The Removalists is forbidden unless a licence has been received from the author or the author’s agent. The purchase of this book in no way gives the purchaser the right to perform the play in public, whether by means of a staged production or a reading. All applications for public performance should be made to the author, c/o Cameron Creswell Agency, Locked Bag 848, Surry Hills NSW 2010, ph +612 9319 7199; email: [email protected]
Printed book ISBN: 9780868190389
ePub ISBN: 9781921428630
mobi ISBN: 9781921429972
Front cover design: Kevin Chan.
PLAYWRIGHT’S BIOGRAPHY
DAVID WILLIAMSON’S first full-length play, The Coming of Stork, premiered at the La Mama Theatre, Carlton, in 1970 and later became the film Stork, directed by Tim Burstall.
The Removalists and Don’s Party followed in 1971, then Jugglers Three (1972), What If You Died Tomorrow? (1973), The Department (1975), A Handful of Friends (1976), The Club (1977) and Travelling North (1979). In 1972 The Removalists won the Australian Writers’ Guild AWGIE Award for best stage play and the best script in any medium and the British production saw Williamson nominated most promising playwright by the London Evening Standard.
The 1980s saw his success continue with Celluloid Heroes (1980), The Perfectionist (1982), Sons of Cain (1985), Emerald City (1987) and Top Silk (1989); whilst the 1990s produced Siren (1990), Money and Friends (1991), Brilliant Lies (1993), Sanctuary (1994), Dead White Males (1995), Heretic (1996), Third World Blues (an adaptation of Jugglers Three) and After the Ball (both in 1997), and Corporate Vibes and Face to Face (both in 1999). The Great Man (2000), Up for Grabs, A Conversation, Charitable Intent (all in 2001), Soulmates (2002), Birthrights (2003), Amigos, Flatfoot (both in 2004), Scarlett O’Hara at the Crimson Parrot (2008), Let the Sunshine (2009), Rhinestone Rex and Miss Monica (2010) and Don Parties On (2011) have since followed.
Williamson is widely recognised as Australia’s most successful playwright and over the last thirty years his plays have been performed throughout Australia and produced in Britain, United States, Canada and many European countries. A number of his stage works have been adapted for the screen, including The Removalists, Don’s Party, The Club, Travelling North, Emerald City, Sanctuary and Brilliant Lies.
Williamson was the principal screenwriter for Balibo which won the 2010 Australian Film Institute Award for best adapted screenplay. He has also won the Australian Film Institute film script award for Petersen (1974), Don’s Party (1976), Gallipoli (1981) and Travelling North (1987) and has won twelve Australian Writers’ Guild AWGIE Awards. He lives on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast with his writer wife, Kristin Williamson.
FIRST PRODUCTION
The Removalists was first presented at the Café La Mama, Melbourne, on 22 July 1971, with the following cast:
SERGEANT DAN SIMMONDS Peter Cummins
CONSTABLE NEVILLE ROSS Bruce Spence
KATE LE PAGE Kristin Green
FIONA CARTER Fay Byrne
KENNY CARTER Paul Hampton
ROB, THE REMOVALIST David Williamson
Directed by Bruce Spence
CHARACTERS
SERGEANT DAN SIMMONDS
CONSTABLE NEVILLE ROSS
KATE MASON
FIONA CARTER
KENNY CARTER
ROB, the removalist
ACT ONE
The play opens in a small inner suburban police station, built fairly recently, but already having an air of decrepit inefficiency. SERGEANT DAN SIMMONDS, fat and fiftyish, lounges at a battered old desk from which he surveys CONSTABLE NEVILLE ROSS, as if he were auditioning him for a crucial role in some play. ROSS is twenty. There is a long pause.
ROSS: Well. What would you like me to do, Sarge?
SIMMONDS: For a start you could stop bouncing up and down on your bloody toes. [Pause.] D’you think they’ll stop your pay cheque if you’re caught standing still.
ROSS: [nervously] The pay’s not too bad these days, is it?
SIMMONDS: [looking at a crossword puzzle he has been doing] Magician in six letters, Ross. [Pause.] It’s all right. I’ve got it. [He writes something.] The money is not good, Ross. The money could be good if you happened to be in the right places but this isn’t one of them. No pay-offs here, boy. A few perks, but no pay-offs.
ROSS: A recruit under twenty-one gets full adult pay these days. Did you know that?
SIMMONDS: How old are you, Ross?
ROSS: Twenty.
SIMMONDS: Money’s not important, boy.
ROSS: You’ve got to consider it.
SIMMONDS: You’ve got to consider your arsehole too. What’s your old man do for a crust?
ROSS: My old man?
SIMMONDS: Is he still alive?
ROSS: Yes.
SIMMONDS: What’s he do?
ROSS: [embarrassed] Er… I’d rather not say.
SIMMONDS: [irritated by ROSS’s reticence.] God, he must be a nightman or something. Slinging shit.
ROSS: He’s a carpenter.
SIMMONDS: What’s wrong with that? Christ was a carpenter. Shouldn’t be ashamed of your old man because he’s a carpenter.
ROSS: I’m not ashamed of him.
SIMMONDS: No? I thought I noticed a little bit of hesitancy in your voice, boy. I thought it sounded as if you were ashamed of him.
ROSS: I’m not ashamed of him.
SIMMONDS: Is he in the building trade?
ROSS: No.
SIMMONDS: That’s a pity. M’son’s looking for a carpenter. He’s sub-contracting his house. Are you going steady?
ROSS: Sort of.
SIMMONDS: Well, when you get married make sure you don’t go to a project builder. ROSS: Why not?
SIMMONDS: Well, just look at your project builder. What is he? Really?
ROSS: Dunno.
SIMMONDS: He’s just a sub-contractor. Get me?
ROSS: I suppose he is.
SIMMONDS: Your project builder just hires your tradesman, and he isn’t very particular about who he hires, either. No offence to your old man, Ross, but they’ve got carpenters working contract who couldn’t drive a nail into a lump of fresh horse shit. M’son’s worked it out that as well as being able to pick your tradesmen you can save yourself upwards of a grand.
ROSS: Sounds like a good move.
SIMMONDS: Like I say. It’s better to save the stuff than to have to earn it. Pity your old man’s not in the building game.
ROSS: Yeah.
SIMMONDS: Most of the carpenters I know are in the building game. Does he make furniture?
ROSS: [thinking] Er… no. Not exactly.
SIMMONDS: That’s a pity. M’daughter’s husband’s looking for someone to knock up a few cupboards for him. They need ’em too. Five kids in seven years. Bastard’s a mick. She’s not but he’s pretty strict. Ought to be kneed in the balls. So what, if he’s got to face the priest. She’s the one who’s got to have ’em. Can’t stand micks. You a mick?
ROSS: No.
SIMMONDS: My wife’s a mick. It’s not her fault and I respect her point of view. [Pause.] They’re taking over the force, you know. Salmon sandwiches on Friday if you want to get to be a sergeant, Ross. I told m’daughter not to marry the bastard but she couldn’t afford to be choosy. Not bad looking, mind you, and a good arse, but she’s an irritable bitch. Her mother all over again. [Pause.] Pity your old man doesn’t make furniture.
ROSS: Yes.
SIMMONDS: [after a pause] If he doesn’t make houses and he doesn’t make furniture, then what in the hell does he make?
ROSS: Why… er… did you want to know?
SIMMONDS: Is he the one that gave you this thing of yours about money?
ROSS: I haven’t got a thing about money.
SIMMONDS: Then why were you carrying on about the pay?
ROSS: I wasn’t carrying on about the pay. I just said that you’ve got to consider it. SIMMONDS: [looking at ROSS as he takes a roll of notes out of his pocket] See that?
ROSS: Yes.
SIMMONDS: What is it?
ROSS: Money.
SIMMONDS: Where did it come from?
ROSS: I don’t know.
SIMMONDS: I can walk out of this station tonight, grab m’self a cray and half a dozen tubes, get home, sit m’self down in front of the box and watch the wrestling. [He waves the money.] D’you know where it came from?
ROSS: No.
SIMMONDS: From my pay packet. That’s where it came from. No pay-offs. No nothing. From my pay packet. D’you know why I’m never short of a dollar, Ross?
ROSS: No.
SIMMONDS: Because I’ve never been stupid enough to mortgage m’self up to the hilt. Bought m’self a little weatherboard in Box Hill nineteen years ago. Know what my repayments are?
ROSS: No.
SIMMONDS: Five dollars a week.
ROSS whistles in admiration.
Don’t chase your arse, boy. Get me? There’s a lot more to be got out of life than chasing your arse. There’s a good life here for you in the force if you know how to organise yourself.
ROSS: It’s a pretty good life, is it?
SIMMONDS: If you know how to organise yourself and get your priorities straight. [Pause.] Stuff the rule book up your arse. That’s the first thing you’ve got to learn. Get me? Life’s got its own rules.
ROSS: [vaguely uncomfortable] I… er… suppose this is a pretty busy station?
SIMMONDS: It could be if you let it be.
ROSS: How do you mean?
SIMMONDS: Just what I said. This district has got the highest incidence of crime in the metropolitan area.
ROSS whistles.
All your underworld is within a two-mile radius of this station.
ROSS whistles again.
Tough as nails around here, mate. I’d hate to think of the number of stiffs lying in shallow graves in the Dandenongs, courtesy of this district, boy.
ROSS: [wide-eyed] Really?
SIMMONDS: [nodding] I reckon this’d be about your city’s geographical centre of crime.
ROSS purses his lips.
That’s why they opened up this sub-branch. [Pause.] To help the main station. [Pause.] And we do. [Pause.] But there’s only two of us here. Right?
ROSS nods.
And we can’t handle anything big. Get me?
ROSS nods doubtfully.
Get me?
ROSS nods doubtfully.
We can’t handle anything big because there’s only two of us. [Pause.] We can handle anything small, but then again it’s hardly worth the effort if it’s small. [Pause.] The workload around here is very much a matter of how we see things, Ross. Something doesn’t have to be very big before it’s too big for us and, likewise, something doesn’t have to be all that small before it’s not worth worrying about. This is the best posting in the city, boy. Think yourself lucky.
ROSS: What do we do, then?
SIMMONDS: Anything that looks interesting. And if there’s nothing interesting [pointing to a television set] we watch the midday movie. There’s an old Errol Flynn on today. Like Errol Flynn?
ROSS: How often do you get something that looks interesting?
SIMMONDS: Depends what sort of mood you’re in. Some days just about anything’s interesting. I thought perhaps your arrival might have been interesting.
ROSS: [embarrassed by his lack of interest] Oh, I… er…
SIMMONDS: Just joking, Ross. [Pause.] Got one boy posted out here who walked in and said, ‘I’ve heard about you, you great fat heap of shit’. That was interesting.
ROSS: Why did he say that?
SIMMONDS: I hope you’re not a young smart-arse, Ross, because there’s no room for that here. There’s one person in authority here and that’s me. Do you understand, Ross?
ROSS: Yes.
SIMMONDS: Let’s get that straight right at the outset. [Pause.] What’s your father do?
ROSS: [uncertain] I don’t think it’s any of your business.
SIMMONDS gets up and circles ROSS.
SIMMONDS: I thought we just had this out. Who’s in authority here?
ROSS: I just don’t think it’s any of your business.
SIMMONDS: [loudly] Look, Ross. I’m in authority here and I’ll decide what’s my business and what isn’t my business. [Pause.] You’re a bit of a rebel in your own quiet way. Aren’t you? Makes you feel good?
ROSS: [defensively] No.
SIMMONDS: Doesn’t make you feel good?
ROSS: No.
SIMMONDS: What? You just like being a rebel for the sake of being a rebel?
ROSS: No.
SIMMONDS: [ominously] I hope you’re not going to turn out to be a smart-arse, Ross. You’ll go for a row of shitcans if you try anything smart with me, boy.
ROSS: [surly] I just didn’t think it was any of your business what my father does.
SIMMONDS: [after a pause] How long have you been in the force, boy?
ROSS: A year.
SIMMONDS: Not in training. In the force. In it.
ROSS: This is my first posting. You know that.
SIMMONDS: [looking at his watch] Half an hour. That’s how long you’ve been in the force, boy. That’s how long. Half an hour and you think you know what’s my business and what’s not.
ROSS: I don’t think that at all.
SIMMONDS: [after a pause] Fail your Leaving?
ROSS: No.
SIMMONDS: We’re starting to get a lot in who failed their Leaving. Got your Inter?
ROSS: [embarrassed] Got my Leaving.
SIMMONDS: [raising his eyebrows] Is that a fact? Don’t get many who’ve got their Leaving. [Sarcastically] You’ll rocket to the top, boy. You’ll be a sergeant by the time you’re fifty-five. Why’d you join the force?
ROSS: Don’t really know. [Pause.] I just thought I’d like to be a policeman.
SIMMONDS: So you joined the force? That’s pretty smart, Ross. I can’t think of many better ways of becoming a policeman than joining the force. I can see why you got your Leaving. [Pause.] You don’t come from a broken home, by any chance?
ROSS: No.
SIMMONDS: Last bloke who came here with his Leaving was from a broken home. Had a bit of trouble with him. [Stating] You’re not from a broken home.
ROSS: No.
SIMMONDS: Yes. If your father’s a carpenter he’d be pretty stable. People who work with their hands are always pretty stable. It’s us bastards who work with our heads that go off. [Pause.] Yes. I tend to find that there are two types who join the force, Ross. Bums and very smart men. And when I’m talking about smart, I’m talking about the type of smart you’ve got if you can think on your feet, not the type of smart that gets you good marks in arithmetic. Get me?