Dirty Dishes

Kitchen Sink Drama — Screenplay by Keith M. Green

FADE IN:

INT. Billericay. A council flat kitchen. Evening.

In a run down yet spotless kitchen BARRY — a burly geezer clad in string vest, marigolds and faded jeans is doing the washing up. His thick muscular arms are firm but gentle as he handles the soaked tableware. He is attempting a stoic look, yet there is a darting restlessness in his eyes; a look befitting of one struggling with an indecent urge. Amongst the sounds of clattering plates and the squeaks of rubber over wet glass, we hear him let escape a whisper of excitement, a muffled moan of pleasure.

BARRY

Ad Libs — Phwoarrr… yeeeerrrrr… get some you saucy tart… etc. (starts softly, gets gradually louder towards scene end)

As Barry continues with his task he becomes increasingly agitated — his face eventually betraying any facade that he is not deriving sexual pleasure from the experience. As time goes on his escaped groans and heavy exhalations grow in intensity, he rips off the gloves and begins to use more force as he works the sponge in a circular motion over a ceramic plate and ends up moving at such extreme speed it’s almost as if he’s trying to scrub the plate out of existence. His moans reach a climax of pleasure and his eyes widen in excitement.

CUT TO BLACK

FADE IN:

INT. A council flat living room. Evening.

Barry and RAQUEL — Barry’s girlfriend, plastically glamorous to the point of parody with her bracelet hoop earrings, orange tanned skin and ballooned lips and boobs close to bursting wearing a revealing combination of low cut top and high cut hot pants — are sitting on a sagging, threadbare sofa watching TV. Their body language is distinctly separate, each leaning on their respective sofa arm forming a vague ‘V’ shape between them. Raquel is absentmindedly scrolling on her phone whilst Barry watches David Attenborough preach from the TV about how we need to do more for the planet whilst standing at the top of the shard. Barry interjects amidst David’s spiel -

BARRY

Y’see, the fing wif David is,

Barry says in his thick colloquial accent, pointing at the telly like a tattooed zombie.

BARRY

I wish e’d stop goin’ on about rubbish and go back to telling us what make giraffes ‘orny, aHA HA!

The caustic crackling laughter of the oaf caught by (to his mind) the surprising wit of his own punchline punctures the stale air and causes apparent discomfort to his distracted companion. Raquel rolls her eyes in place of a head turn to study her acquaintance, a look of disdain amplified to caricature by her contorted proportions she pauses, before sighing out the minimal required effort to cast the illusion of communication in a bored drawl.

RAQUEL

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

She says still more interested in her phone. After a second or two of silence save Attenborough’s drivel, she looks up at Barry’s expectant face as if he’s waiting for validation for his flash of comedic brilliance. Raquel emotions fleet across her face, a worried nervousness followed swiftly by a return to calm, she takes a small breath in and shoots Barry a saucy look.

RAQUEL

Yeeah… like, y’know all this talk of horny animals is making me feel like one

Raquel giggles, a spark of lust across her eyes, a small smirk on her face, humble in comparison to her lovers self glorification.

BARRY

Yeah!?

He says as if he can’t believe his luck. They then rapidly exchange a number of flirtatious glances, as if mapping out their facial expressions through from the first kiss to the final climax in a matter of seconds.

BARRY

Well get yerself up there and I’ll be right up.

Raquel giggles and stands proudly. Then hops over the back of the sofa, letting out a frightening squeal of pleasure as Barry spanks her as she does so. Swinging her hips more than is necessary she slinks off screen right, with Barry’s gaze fixated on her pendulous buttocks. After a moment of Barry staring vacantly into space his mind awash with fornication, he blinks and grins to himself in prideful satisfaction. He scratches his balls and then reaches for the remote. As he lifts the remote to point at the screen, an advert for Fairy Liquid washing up comes on, he is immediately frozen, like a rabbit in headlights — his extended arm locked mid gesture. As the advert plays Barry’s face becomes more and more tense and contorted. He becomes restless and fidgety, putting the remote back down and then picking it up again all the while with his eyes darting across the floor, searching — and simultaneously trying to resist the urge — for some stained bowl or greasy spoon of guilty pleasure. As the advert comes to a close, Barry, his face a mess of longing, guilt, worry and lust pounces on an empty cereal bowl, clutching it warily to his chest as if protecting his “precious”, he shamefully scuttles out of the room throwing a nervous glance over one shoulder as he does so. The end of the fairy advert plays.

CUT TO BLACK

FADE IN:

INT. The bedroom. Evening.

Raquel is lying on the bed in a skimpy lingerie with her head propped against the headboard and her chin on her chest, looking irritated and bored at her phone. Absent-mindedly scrolling through her instagram feed she huffs a sigh of disappointment. Barry enters the room, avoiding eye contact. He sits on the edge of the bed with his back Raquel, holding his body in a small, shrunken way, like a dog that knows it’s done wrong. He begins to undo his belt. Raquel glares at his back.

RAQUEL

I’ bin waitin’ f’r ages

She states plainly, ire repressed through deadpan expression. Cautiously Barry begins

BARRY

Sorry babe, match of the day was on so…

As he says this, he turns to Raquel revealing his palms in an open display of apology, revealing the wrinkles on his hands that betray his feeble lie.

RAQUEL

Fuck sake Baz-

She begins before stopping abruptly at the arrival of disturbing information. Gearing up for a row, she investigates

RAQUEL

Why are your ‘ands all wrinkly?

This questions proves to be rhetorical as not a second after uttering the words, her face becomes a maze of outright fury.

RAQUEL

‘ave you been doin’ the washin’ up?!

She interrogates with no attempt to disguise her anger. Barry is frozen, caught in the intensity of the moment and desperately wracking his brain for a plausible explanation, this is quickly followed by the crushing realisation that his hesitation has already betrayed him. Panicking he stutters

BARRY

No ‘Quel, babe, is is not what it looks like…

He tries desperately, but Raquel is having none of it. She sits up with her arms folded and brow furrowed and spits back

RAQUEL

I know what I saw!

Knowing full well he’s in the dog house, Johnny attempts damage limitation -

BARRY

We-well is was jis a little bit, for old times sake, nuffin too bad, I swear, j-j-jis a bowl an-an-an a few plates

Upon hearing the “P” word Raquel snaps.

RAQUEL

PLATES?! FUCKIN PLATES!?!

She yells, her voice cracking with anger and confusion at the absurdity of it all.

RAQUEL

Right! That’s it. I have FUCKIN ‘ad it wif these FUCKIN’ PLATES!

She screams, jumping up as she does so and marches forthrightly out the door.

As if struck by a frightening realisation, a instinctual premonition of trouble round the corner, Barry follows her down the stairs repeating-

BARRY

Adlibs — ‘Quel where yeu goin’?!, ‘Quel!?, Where yeu goin’?!, etc.

RAQUEL

I’ve ‘ah up to here Barry!! You’ve bin caught wrinkle handed for the last time, this has got to stop!

Raquel arrives at the kitchen and promptly begins smashing spotless plates on the kitchen floor, Barry not close behind is half way through attempting another feeble call of her name when he cut offs sounding immediately more panicked and hurt upon entering the kitchen and seeing Raquel.

BARRY

NO!

He screams as if he feeling personally responsible for the lives of plates that were taken too young.

BARRY

‘Quel what you doin’?! Not the plates please babe not the plates

Barry wails and tenses as if in a waking nightmare, folding his arms across his body and looking up in horror as the sterile white shards whizz across the kitchen floor. But Raquel doesn’t stop.

RAQUEL

I’ve bloody ‘ad enuff Baz, these plates are fuckin goin’!

BARRY

No ‘Quel, stop, babe, please, babe please! Stop!

The final utterance comes out as a command rather than plea and as he says it a powerful looks takes over his face and he grabs Raquel’s wrists squeezing tightly, causing her to drop the bowl she’s holding, which bounces and rolls on the floor, the couple frozen in the violent tableaux as the bowl rotates on its bottom emitting a distinct rotary ringing sound which speeds up before stopping mute. Raquel winces

RAQUEL

Owww.. stop it, yer- hurtin’ me!

BARRY

Just please babe, not the plates.

Barry says his heart asunder and fractured like the ceramic shards strewn across the tacky Lino floor print. Raquel sobs

RAQUEL

I can’t, I, I can’t go on like this Baz, either these plates go or I do.

BARRY

‘Quel, baby… don’t talk like that, please, I jis- I jist love doin’ the washing up is all

RAQUEL

That’s the problem Barry!

She ripostes instantly,

RAQUEL

You love that washin’ up more than me!

She manages to stammer out before descending into a desperate squawk of whimpers and sobs. Raquel continues crying into Barry’s chest and he looks down at her head comprehending the harm he’s causing, he resolves.

BARRY

Look, babe, I’m sorry, I couldn’t stand losing you, I promise, I’ll never do the washing up again, ever.

He says sincerely, pushing the hair back from her face gently as he does so. Raquel raises her head slowly upwards to reveal a moved and bright tear streaked face.

RAQUEL

Really? I’ll do all the washing up from now on?

BARRY

Fer you girl, anything

RAQUEL

Oh Barry!

They kiss.

FADE OUT

FADE IN

INT. The living room. Evening.

The couple are sitting happily watching the TV. Some plates are piled on a small table in front of the sofa. Barry is leaning on the arm of the sofa, with his arm around Raquel who is cuddled up to him with her head on his chest. We hear the announcement for the next program coming from the telly Barry picks up the remote and turns off the TV.

BARRY

Here you go love.

He says warmly passing the dirty plates to Raquel.

RAQUEL

Aww fanx babe

She replies affectionately, smiling and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. Drawing back only a little, she whispers with a playful mischief in her eyes

RAQUEL

I’ll see you upstairs in a bit.

Barry giggles

BARRY

Awight girl

He raises his eyebrows repeatedly in his signature comical cheekiness. They kiss briefly then exit.

INT. Kitchen. Evening.

Raquel is doing the washing up, amongst the soundscape of a sink full of metal and ceramic we hear her whimper in whispered ecstasy

RAQUEL

Phwoaaarrrr…

CUT TO BLACK

END