LASAGNE FOR ONE

by Steve Prentice & Troy Maguire

Short Film
Email: [email protected]

Lasagne for One
By Steve Prentice



THE STAGE IS DARK AND THE SONG “MY OLD FRIEND THE BLUES” BY THE PROCLAIMERS IS HEARD.  THE LIGHTS COME ON AND A MAN, ABOUT 30, ENTERS A SUPERMARKET.  LOOKING SOMEWHAT DISHEVELED AND TIRED HE STANDS TO GAZE AROUND AT THE STORE.  A VOICE, WITH SCOTTISH ACCENT, IS HEARD (VOICE-OVER), IN HIS MIND HE CONVERSES WITH HIMSELF. 


Andrew:  “Here we go again Andy boy, (A SLIGHT SHAKE OF HIS HEAD) once more intae the breach.  Ye know, there are some days when I would rather be heading intae the heat o’ battle rather than performing this fuckin’ task.  I mean it least in the course o’ ye average battle there is a reasonable chance that some Nazi, Zulu, Englishman or whoever might stick a bayonet or spear up ye arse and put ye right out o’ ye bloody misery by killin’ ye stone deid.  No chance o’ that in this place unless of course ye die o’ boredom waitin’ to get ye trolley past some auld bastard who cannae make up their mind whether tae take the John West tuna or just settle fe the No Frills poverty brand. And then there’s the poor sods like me, we unmetrosexual types, only comin’ oot at night tae save ourselves the embarrassment ‘o’ bein’ caught shoppin’ in broad daylight. Ah’m tellin’ ye.”




ANDREW SHAKES HIS HEAD IN BEWILDERMENT AND THEN GRABS A SHOPPING TROLLEY.  HIS INNER-VOICE CONTINUES  (VOICE-OVER) AS HE SLOWLY WALKS AROUND TO CARRY OUT HIS SHOPPING.  HE STOPS AT SHELVES TO LOOK UNENTHUSIASTICALLY AT ITEMS, ONCE OR TWICE PICKING AN ITEM UP BUT SOON REPLACING IT. 




Andrew:  “Before she left me, I never, and I repeat, never darkened the doorsteps o’ any supermarket, and here in Australia they’re not just supermarkets but super-bloody-mega markets, so where as back home ye could nick in and nick out o’ ye local Spar in jig time, I am afraid in the land Down Under that is just non- possible.  Some o’ these places are aboot as big as Glasgow itself with a few o’ the out-lying schemes chipped in fe good measure. The distance between the bread and cheese in this place would, in Scotland, be considered far enough tae catch a cab. Basically, it takes so long tae buy the produce tae make a sandwich in here that ye have tae pack some sandwiches before ye set off incase ye get a bit peckish half way there.  It’s not uncommon tae hear wee kiddies askin’ ‘ Are we nearly there yet?’ as they get pushed aboot in the front o’ the trolley.
 Alright, so Ah’m exaggeratin’ slightly but believe me Ah’m no’ exaggeratin’ about how frankly awful this weekly ritual is becomin’.

I have been called a sexist on more than one occasion and probably will be again, however, I think I can justify this next little point Ah’m aboot to make.   Supermarket shopping should be a female only pursuit!  The obvious problem with this is, if ye don’t have a woman ye can use, did I say use, no! no! no! Andy Boy that just won’t dae at all, what I meant tae say was, if you don’t have a woman who will let ye utilize her shopping expertise then ye are well and truly stoofed.  .  On that point alone, it looks fe the foreseeable future very much like I’ll be giving away four penalty points on every visit tae the table. Actually, now that I think aboot it, there are only a few reasons why…. (HE BUMPS INTO AN OLD WOMAN WHO WHEELS A SHOPPING TROLLEY INTO ANDREW) OOYAH! …fe fuck sake!”

ANDREW TURNS TO FACE HIS “ASSAILANT”.   THE ELDERLY LADY REALIZING HER FAILURE TO WATCH WHERE SHE WAS GOING APOLOGISES

        Lady:  Ooh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.

Andrew: (SOMEWHAT PATRONIZINGLY):  “Naw, naw it’s alright, it was probably my fault, I was in the way. I’m such a clumsy sod ya naw”


THE LADY SMILES A LITTLE SHEEPISHLY AND MOVES ON. 


Andrew (VOICE-OVER, CONTEMPTUOUSLY):  Aye ol’ darlin’ nae harm, just wheel the bloody thing intae me as hard as ye like, it’s just another aspect of supermarket shoppin’ I cannae get enough o’.  (A SHAKE OF HIS HEAD)   Well one things fe sure Andy lad, their drivin’s as bad in here as it is in the bloody car park.  As I say, ye might no’ get a spear up ye arse in here but ye’’ll get plenty o’ fuckin’ trolleys that’s fe sure, that’s the first yin the day and I’m only in the place two minutes. Anyway where was I before I was so rudely, not tae mention, painfully interrupted….Oh Aye, the reasons guys come tae these wonderful establishments.  Okay,

Number one:  They’ve been dumped by their missus and cannae get a new one and therefore live on their own: Sad losers a la yours truly. Moi, Andrew Carmichael Esquire.

Number two:  They don’t live close enough tae their mothers:  Aye, if only I didn’t live on the other side o’ the planet. I think even my auld dear’s patience would be tested if she had tae take a thirty hour plane ride tae deliver my shoppin’ tae the front door every week. Pity that, ‘cos’ the added advantage o’ emotionally blackmailing yir maw intae doin’ the shopping is you could really put ye EB skills tae the test and get her tae pay fe it as well.  (HE SHRUGS) Aye well, suppose that’s just one o’ the pitfalls ye don’t think aboot when ye set off fe sunnier climes, ye know what I mean.

Number three:  Their missus makes them dae the shoppin’. In which case they bloody deserve tae be here and, in fact, if they let their missus wear the troosers in the hoose then they probably like bein’ here anyway. So if ye do see the odd guy readin’ the labels on the Salt Reduced Baked Beans, he my friends, is one serious hen-pecked hubby and sap tae boot. And then there’s

Number four:  The guys wife has snuffed it and he is tae auld or tae attached tae the memory o’ his missus that he won’t get himself another one.  They probably make up the highest proportion o’ the male species in any supermarket anywhere in the world except in Sydney during Mardi Gras week or downtown San Francisco any day o’ the week.  These fellas are also, without doubt, the most universally pitied human beings on Earth.  Every single lassie I have ever known has told me how she hates tae see these wee men dodderin’ around the shops with their canvas shoppin’ bags (THE VOICE TRIES TO EMULATE THAT OF A FEMALE)  ‘It’s so sad, those poor wee men left on their own and having tae do their own shoppin’, (VOICE RETURNS TO NORMAL) blah de blah de fuckin’ blah, and buyin’ a load o’ shite that no other person in their right mind would look at, except me o’ course. I have tae say though I dae feel sorry fe these auld fellas, not because their wife has gone tae the Great Big Woolworth’s in the sky but purely because the poor auld guy has tae suffer every bit as much as guys like me who are total failures in snaring ourselves a wee lassie.

Aye, there ya have it.  It’s almost enough tae make you want tae become a Communist.  Not, o’ course, enough tae make you want tae gae run off and live in a Communist country, ‘cos’ that would only aggravate the situation, wouldn’t it?  I mean, you have tae queue fe half a day just tae get intae a bloody supermarket in some of those countries.

Anyway, I’d best get down tae the job in hand. (ANDREW’S VOICE NOW HAS A MORE DISTINGUISHED, ENGLISH TONE)
 ‘Where tae Mr. Carmichael, Sir?’ 
(ANDREW’S VOICE)  The first port o’ call, James, and the place where most single men should get arrested fe loitering with intent: Aye, the Frozen Dinners freezer! Crack on James and don’t spare the wonky trolley wheels!
(ENGLISH VOICE)  ’Eh, Sir,.begging your pardon Sir,.there is just one thing, what direction is it?’
(ANDREW’S VOICE, HE SHAKES HIS HEAD)  James, James, James, you should know the rules by now, my good man! Just drive around aimlessly fe hours until you can see a scrum o’ sexual inadequates, like yours truly, fightin’ over the last McCain Frozen Roast Beef Dinner .
(ENGLISH VOICE)  ‘But o’ course Sir. What was I thinking?  Very good Sir.’
(ANDREW’S VOICE)  Drive on James!




ANDREW PUSHES HIS TROLLEY BUT SUDDENLY STOPS AS HE SEES AN ATTRACTIVE YOUNG WOMAN, A SUPERMARKET EMPLOYEE, STACKING ITEMS ON THE SHELF. HE PRETENDS TO LOOK AT AN ITEM AS HE WATCHES HER.

Andrew:  Aye, it’s easy peasy Andy and just a tad ironic, the rejected man findin’ love in the place he detests most.  They’re crazy aboot guys who’ve had the emotional dagger thrust intae ‘em by another woman.   And ye just have tae listen tae ye average sociologist or anthropologist or any other kind o’ foocken apologist tell ye aboot how supermarkets are the place tae meet lassies in the twenty first century.  That’s right son, no longer must you spend a full night plyin’ some bird with G&Ts and givin’ her the old flannel tae get her knickers off when all ye really have tae dae is bump intae the lady o’ ye dreams whilst pickin’ up a tin of prunes.  Ahh Shite!!!!! And more bloody shite!!!  (HE DECIDES TO MOVE ON)

Now let me tell ye somethin’, I’d be the first chap tae admit that I’m not exactly Rudolph Valentino when it comes tae dealing wi’ the fairer sex however I dae know a wee thing or tae aboot what ye average chick-a-dee is looking fe in a potential suitor. And what it is not is some arsehole that has tae dae his ain bloody shoppin’!.  Now, if the lassie manages tae ‘change’ ye and makes ye go shoppin’ because she’s asked/forced ye then that’s a different story, it’d be OK then because that, as we all know, that is the very nature o’ the beast.  For example look at the process o’ a newly wed couple goin’ tae buy a hoose.  The guy will gae in, he’ll look for somethin’ that’s reasonably tidy and modern, somethin’ that he can move straight intae and can see himself with his feet up on the couch watchin’ Friday night football, and that he only has tae paint over the chipboard once every five years or so.  When he finds such a place he will have bitten the hand off the auctioneer before he has a chance tae raise his gavel tae the ‘goin’ once’ position and duly handed over his hefty deposit, which incidentally he was forced intae savin’ up by his nearest and dearest.   Unfortunately this simple approach is not acceptable tae the majority o’ the female species.  By all means the new dream home must be tidy and somethin’ that she can move intae straight away but here the similarity ends.  A woman buys a home with the full intention o’ rippin’ the shite oot o’ the place and turning it intae somethin’ which bears nae resemblance tae the place she just ‘had tae have’, but more importantly also bears nae trace o’ the previous (female) owners colour schemes or style.  Then tae compound this total bloody stupidity, once she has the hoose exactly how she wants it (through forcin’ her long sufferin’ husband tae spend weekend after weekend knockin’ down walls, paintin’ a Michaelangelo replica on the ceiling o’ their bedroom and installing an Italian water feature a la Backyard Blitz (that Jamie Drury bastard has got a lot tae answer fe) she’ll go and put the fuckin’ hoose on the market!!!!  Then buy some other place that she can rip the shite oot o’, and so on and so forth, I think ye get the picture.   Quite simply, a woman would rather try and fail tae change some psychopathic, alcoholic axe murderer intae becomin’ the compliant, thoughtful, liberated, sexually excitin’ modern man o’ her dreams than pick up an already compliant, thoughtful, liberated, sexually excitin’ (not tae mention frustrated and desperate) modern man o’ her dreams that some other woman previously had carved in her own image and had kicked intae touch so that she can gae and look fe some other sociopath that she has convinced herself ‘ I can change him’.  Recurrin’ theme alert!!  I mean if this wasn’t true, why has every single serial killer under the sun from the Boston Strangler tae the Yorkshire Ripper had a bigger female fan club and more marriage proposals than Robert Redford, Ewan MacGregor and Russell Crowe put tegither….

  Andrew Carmichael QC turns on his heel briskly and heads back across the courtroom and with a confident swagger retorts, (HE USES A “RUMPOLE” TYPE VOICE)‘ and with that M’Lud, the prosecution rests!!’  (ANDREW’S VOICE) whilst behind him the twelve men, good and true, in the jury box are givin’ him a standin’ ovation.  The Defence Lawyers, fe their client Ms Average Female, are already hastily stuffin’ their papers intae their briefcases, they know the game is up.  The Judge addresses the jury  (“RUMPOLE” AGAIN) How do you find the accused, Sane or Insane?’ (ANDREW) The spokesman struggles tae get himself heard over his still cheerin’ comrades (ANDREW , QUITE SERIOUSLY) ‘ We find her not just insane but absolutely bloody looney Mu Lord’.   (ANDREW’S VOICE AGAIN) Ms Average Female, was only slightly disappointed with the verdict because in reality she couldn’t give a fiddler’s fook what those dickheads decided except o’ course the Spokesman, he was quite handsome but, more importantly, looked rather threatening and slightly unhinged, (ANDREW ATTEMPTS A FEMALE VOICE) ‘ I’ll wait fe him outside, maybe get him tae buy me a drink later’. (ANDREW AGAIN) Andrew Carmichael QC sat smiling tae himself, he was victorious once again…(ANDREW COMES OUT OF HIS DREAM TO SEE WHAT’S LEFT IN THE FREEZER DEPT)…Oh shite!! 

What the fook’s going on here, James? (ANDREW’S VOICE MORE DISTINGUISHED) ‘I really couldn’t say sir, I really don’t think I’ve seen the cold store cabinet quite so badly stocked. (ANDREW HAS A LOOK AT WHAT IS LEFT TO CHOOSE FROM)  What have we got here? Let me see……hmmm……..hmmm…….Brilliant…just as I suspected, I’ve been left with all the crap that nobody else wants.  Frozen Southern Fried Cane Toad, Lean Cuisine Sweet’n’Sour Dogs Bollocks and Thai Style Pig’s Arse, all fe one o’ course.  Well, it looks like it’s goin’ tae have tae be five boxes o’ the old Lasagne. Just as well I like the stoof, but now, because I don’t have any other selection in my trolley, not only will I look like a total sad case when I get tae the checkout but I’m now goin’ tae be a sad case with as much imagination as a student wearin’ a CND badge and a traffic cone on his head. …dear oh dear. 


HE WHEELS THE TROLLEY TOWARDS THE CHECKOUT BUT HE STOPS AS THE ATTRACTIVE SUPERMARKET EMPLOYEE HE NOTICED EARLIER HAS JUST DROPPED SOME ITEMS TO THE FLOOR.  HE STARES AND THEN RESIGNS HIMSELF TO LENDING ASSISTANCE.

Andrew:  (TO HIMSELF)  “Go on Andy, be a chivalrous bastard, a bitter, chivalrous bastard but nevertheless… (HE STEPS TOWARDS HER AND BENDS DOWN TO HELP HER PICK UP THE ITEMS/CANS.  HE TALKS)  “ Aye, is there anythin’ worse than droppin’ a loada (HE LOOKS AT A LABEL) Mr Heinze’s Pea ‘n’ Ham specials all over the supermarket floor.  (SHE SMILES AS SHE IS ABOUT TO ANSWER BUT HE INTERRUPTS)   I know, I know, droppin’ a loada Mr Heinze’s Pea ‘n’ Ham specials all over the floor when it’s Thursday night shoppin’.  (SHE GIVES HIM A VERY PLEASANT SMILE AND HE THINKS TO HIMSELF)  Pity ye didnae drop tinned prunes instead eh?  (SHE LOOKS AT HIM A LITTLE QUIZICALLY) Sorry, I was just havin’ a wee joke with myself there.  (ANOTHER SHY SMILE FROM HER AND ANDREW’S INNER VOICE RETURNS FOR A MOMENT)  Hmm, that’s an interestin’ response, a smile, I havenee seen tae many o’ those lately especially from a lassie. 

THEY FINISH PICKING UP THE ITEMS AND STAND.  THEY SMILE DURING AN UNCOMFORTABLE PAUSE UNTIL ANDREW TALKS TO THE SEEMINGLY SHY WOMAN

Andrew:  Well, if ye ever need any help with ye Pea ‘n’ Ham specials just let me know (HE LOOKS AT HER NAME TAG) Brianna.  (SHE NODS AND SMILES AT HIM BEFORE WALKING AWAY.  SHE GLANCES BACK AT HIM AGAIN AS SHE EXITS)  Hmm, ye know somethin’ Andy lad, the ol’ lasagne’s startin’ tae become a wee bit tiresome, it might just be time tae make a change in ye culinary habits.  So, fe tonight, I think we shall dine with our new friend Mr Heinze (HE TURNS AND GRABS A CAN OFF THE SHELF.  HE SMILES AND LOOKS TO WHERE BRIANNA HAS JUST LEFT) and should his produce have the desired effect we might just come back fe more eh.  (HE EXITS TO THE MUSIC OF THE PROCLAIMERS’ “I’M ON MY WAY”)


THE END

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