Sunday morning.  God did not set aside the Sabbath as a day of rest.  Ever since Adam and Eve first went scrumping for apples in the Garden of Eden, and learned how to make cider, God realized that many of His flawed creations would drink themselves to their knees on a Saturday night.  Being merciful, He therefore set aside the Sabbath as a quiet day for a hangover.  By His immaculate reasoning, those kind of people who go to church to sing His praises shouldn’t touch the stuff anyway. 

We know its Sunday morning by the strange, pearly angel light materializing through the curtains, church bells calling the sober to prayer, a small dog barking its head off in the distance, and a pain, worse than death, far, far worse than death, which is the hangover. ( He crosses the stage and accidentally knocks over a beer can on the floor).  Sorry. 

HUNGOVER 1

(Stirring underneath sleeping bag on floor).  Nnh.  Ugh.  Ahh. 

HUNGOVER 2

(Stirring underneath sleeping bag on sofa).  Nooo. 

HUNGOVER 1

Are you alive? 

HUNGOVER 2

Oh my God. 

HUNGOVER 1

I’ve lost my legs. 

HUNGOVER 2

What? 

HUNGOVER 1

I’ve lost my legs.  They won’t work. 

HUNGOVER 2

I’ve lost my right arm. 

HUNGOVER 1

What? 

HUNGOVER 2

My right arm.  I must have been sleeping on it.  I can’t feel it anymore. ( He feels down in the sleeping bag).  Hold on.  What’s this? ( He pulls out a pair of girl’s kickers). 

HUNGOVER 1

Yours? 

HUNGOVER 2

I don’t remember.  I mean, I don’t remember how I got them. ( He opens them out.  They are quite large).  Bloody hell!  Look at the size of them! 

HUNGOVER 1

You must remember that! 

HUNGOVER 2

Oh no. ( He buries his face in the sleeping bag). 

HUNGOVER 1

God.  My head.  How much did you have? 

HUNGOVER 2

Enough to sink an off-licence.  What time is it? 

HUNGOVER 1

(Looking at watch).  Half-ten. ( He climbs out of the sleeping bag and rises unsteadily to his feet).  Do you want a coffee? 

HUNGOVER 2

Will Monica mind? 

HUNGOVER 1

No.  She’s okay. 

(Monica appears in her dressing gown, looking fresh). 

MONICA

Good morning.  I head you groaning.  Would you like a coffee? 

HUNGOVER 1

Thanks, Monica.  Thanks for putting us up as well. 

MONICA

I didn’t have much choice.  You obviously weren’t going anywhere. 

HUNGOVER 2

Sorry, Monica. 

MONICA

That’s alright.  Why are you holding a pair of knickers? 

HUNGOVER 2

Oh. ( Quickly hiding them).  I just found them.  In the sofa. 

MONICA

Oh.  Right.  I don’t suppose anyone will claim them now.  How are you feeling? 

HUNGOVER 2

Death seems quite an attractive option at the moment. 

HUNGOVER 1

Hey.  Did you see Mark Fowler puke last night? 

MONICA

Yes.  I had to clean it up actually. 

HUNGOVER 1

Sorry.  It was funny though.  All over that girl. 

MONICA

Yes.  I’m sure she’s seeing the funny side of it this morning.  Would you like any toast? 

HUNGOVER 1

(Making himself at home).  No thanks. 

HUNGOVER 2

(Making himself at home).  No thanks. 

MONICA

Right.  How do you take your coffee? 

HUNGOVER 1

(Picking up and flicking through the TV listings).  White, two sugars, please. 

HUNGOVER 2

Black, no sugar, thanks. 

(Monica turns towards the kitchen). 

HUNGOVER 1

Hey.  Monica.  Can we turn on the TV? ‘ Rawhide’ will be on soon. 

HUNGOVER 2

Nooo.  Its too grim.  That programme should be called ‘Raw Grimness’.  Oh sorry.  Do you watch it, Monica? 

MONICA

No. 

HUNGOVER 2

Well it’s grim.  Too grim for a Sunday morning. 

MONICA

Watch what you like.  I’m going to make some coffee. ( Exits). 

NARRATOR

Well, Sunday mornings are grim at the best of times.  And he’s right about ‘Rawhide’.  Have you seen that programme?  It’s grim.  But this is just one Sunday morning in many.  You’ll have lots of Sunday mornings.  And one morning, if you’re really lucky, you’ll wake up with a clear head next to someone you love.  And then a bit later on you’ll think about things like reading the papers and having a bath and taking the dog for a walk.  Getting old isn’t so bad.  It’s a lot better than dying of a hangover on a Sunday morning. 

But for those of you who already wake up with a clear head, don’t get old too quickly will you? ‘ Gather ye rosebuds while ye may’.  Good advice that.  And I should know. ( Looks at watch).  Time to go.  The sun’s coming up.  And whoever heard a ghost in the sunlight?  Good morning everyone. ( Exits). 

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About Me

I am a fully qualified teacher of Drama, Media and Film Studies with ten years’ work experience in secondary and further education.  I graduated from the Central School of Speech and Drama (one of the most respected Drama conservatoires in the world) with a first class Honours degree in Drama and Education and a PGCE. 
I was a writer-in-residence and workshop leader for a Southend-based youth theatre for ten years, during which time I developed my creative writing skills to include playscripts, poetry and songs.  With my deep interest in Film, I have now expanded these skills to include screenplays. 
I now wish to take a sabbatical from teaching to focus on a proposal for a PhD thesis.  This will involve developing new collaborative methodologies for intertextual musical theatre in the context of a resynthesis of art, philosophy and science. 
My specific areas of interest and expertise are as follows: Academic, Acting, Analysis, Assessment, Auditions, Collaboration, Creative Thinking, Directing, Drama, Education, English, Film, History, Lecturing, Literature, Media, Poetry, Philosophy, Playscripts, Screenplays, Songs, Teaching, Television, Theatre, Tutoring, Workshops, Writing. 

I’m writing a first draft for a musical.  It's called Marty Gull (Marty[r] Gull[ible]).  It's a surreal, satirical, tragicomic piece of musical political theatre: a cautionary tale of school politics, backstabbing egos and the state of the nation. 

I’ve written the first draft libretto using a medley of melodies in my head from well-known musicals. 

I would like to extend an open invitation to all budding musicians and composers to submit their own musical interpretations.  I would also welcome interest from actors (age 20-25) who can sing and dance. 

The plan is to develop a new collaborative form of musical theatre.  Once we get a good working team of lyricists, composers, musicians, actors and designers together we can decide on the final evolution of the piece and arrange copyright accordingly.  I would like to submit or even take the piece to Central as a work-in-progress. 

Ultimately, I would be interested in using all of this as a springboard for a thesis on new art forms and musical theatre.  But, most of all, I would love to have the opportunity of working with kind, creative and talented people. 

If you like the sound of any of this, please post a comment at http://martygull.blogspot.com/or get in touch with me through one of the following methods: