Dammit Lavatories

	Hugh is Peter, a lavatory attendant, inside a lavatory,
	making strange noises as he wrestles with some 
	recalcitrant object or other.


Hugh		(Off) Come on. Come on ... Gotcha.

	Lavatory flush sound.

	Stephen, as John, another attendant, crashes in and 
	throws his coat onto a hook "baa-ing".

		(Off) That you, John?

Stephen		Who else, Peter?

Hugh		I was beginning to wonder where the hell ...

Stephen		Traffic, Peter, plain and simple.

Hugh		That's a bitch, John.

Stephen		Took the switchback routes wherever I could, but
		the A47 is a car-park at the moment.

	Hugh comes out of the stall carring a plunger and 
	wearing rubber gloves.

Hugh		Damn that ballcock.

Stephen		It's no good blaming the cistern, Peter. So fill me
		in. How's business this a.m.?

Hugh		Quiet, John. Very quiet. Couple of noisy ones in
		stall three earlier on.

Stephen		Really?

Hugh		Yeah, but mostly it's been quiet.

Stephen		Right. Calls?

Hugh		Yeah, had one from the maintenance boys about
		fixing the towel rollers ...

Stephen		And?

Hugh		Can't make it till next Tuesday.

Stephen		Dammit.

Hugh		That's what I said, John.

Stephen		Damn, blast, triple damn, with an extra side order
		of damn.

Hugh		Yup. I said that as well.

Stephen		How the hell do they expect us to run a public
		lavatory complex without maintenance back-up?

Hugh		Beats me, John. They said they'd give it top
		priority ...

Stephen		Top priority my arse! (Scrunches up a cup) That's
		just a lot of hot air, Peter.

Hugh		I know John.

Stephen		Our clients can't dry their hands with hot air.

Hugh		Well actually ...

Stephen		Peter, don't start on this electric hand-drier stuff
		again. I've read your report, and it's good work,
		but now is not the time.

Hugh		Not the time? I wonder if you'd have said that
		when we were running the health club?

Stephen		Forget the health club, Peter, God damn it!
		Marjorie won. Pure and simple. It wasn't a clean
		fight I grant you, but she won. That's it. Over.

Hugh		You don't have to throw Marjorie in my face, John.

Stephen		I'm sorry, Peter. But dammit we've got a chance
		here, a chance to build the finest damned personal
		relief centre Uttoxeter has ever known.

Hugh		But when, John? What's the timeframe?

Stephen		Hell, Peter, only a fool would try and answer that
		question. Six months, maybe.

Hugh		Every morning when I leave the house, Sarah
		kisses me on the cheek ...

Stephen		Sarah? But your wife is Nancy?

Hugh		Sarah's the au pair, John. Helps out with a lot of
		Nancy's chores.

Stephen		Right.

Hugh		She kisses me and dammit if there aren't tears in
		her eyes.

Stephen		Peter, I know it's hard ...

Hugh		Kids have a hard time at school. "Haha, Sherman's
		dad is a lavatory attendant ..."

Stephen		Don't ever say that, Peter. (Scrunches up a cup) The
		Peter I know is an equal partner in an enterprise
		that is going to alter the face of Uttoxeter's
		sanitation for ever.

Hugh		But the shame, John.

Stephen		Peter, you're doing this for Nancy and the kids.
		When you refill the soap dispensers, it's for them.
		When you pick the cigarette ends out of the urinal,
		it's for them. When you unclog a U-bend with
		your bare hands, you're doing it for them!

Hugh		Dammit, John, you're right.

Stephen		That's more like it. (Scrunches a full cup. It hurts.)
		Now let's get to it.

Hugh		Shoot.

Stephen		Paper in every stall?

Hugh		Check.

Stephen		Evacuation points cleaned?

Hugh		Check.

Stephen		Even under the rim?

Hugh		Even under the rim.

Stephen		Mirrors polished?

Hugh		Till you could see your face in them.

Stephen		Good work.

Hugh		Had to close the urinal momentarily for cleaning
		purposes. And when something like that happens,
		as you know, the weak go to the wall.

Stephen		Did you stop them?

Hugh		No trouble.

	A drunk shuffles in coughing.

		Good morning, sir.

	Man coughs.

		This your first visit to our facility?

	Man coughs again.

		If you require our full relief service, the cubicles
		are to your left, otherwise you will find the quick
		service stall situated ahead of you.

	Man lurches awway and vomits into a corner.

		Dammit!

Stephen		Dammit, Peter, we're still not attracting the right
		kind of customer.

Hugh		I know, John. But a lot of the more desirable
		punters are going next door.

Stephen		And why in hell aren't they coming here?

Hugh		Because they're women, John.

Stephen		Peter, I want you to get in next door, and find out
		who's running their operation.

Hugh		I already know who's running it, John. It was quite
		a shock, I can tell you.

Stephen		Don't say it, Peter. Don't tell me ...

Hugh		That's right. Marjorie.

Both		DAAAAMN!