SCRIPT A

Lucy is struggling to prepare a meal with baby crying for attention. Saucepan boils over as she is picking up some toys. Trevor comes in. He is wearing a football scarf and hat.

TREVOR: (singing) WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS! Come on love, I've only got a few minutes for my dinner.

LUCY: What?

TREVOR: I've got to get off in a tick or I'll miss the kick-off.

LUCY: You're going to football this afternoon?

TREVOR: You know I am. It's the big match.

LUCY: You've only just got in from the pub.

TREVOR: You know I always have a drink with the lads on a Saturday morning.

LUCY: And what about me, stuck here with the baby getting your dinner? I wish I had time to go out on a Saturday morning.

TREVOR: Oh come on, love. Don't nag or I'll miss the kick-off. Now, what's for dinner?

LUCY: You promised to start decorating the hall this week-end. What about that?

TREVOR: I never did. The weekend of the big match? Come on, let's eat.

(Sits at table, picks up knife and fork and bangs them on the table)

LUCY: (shouting) I'm not your slave. Get your own dinner.

TREVOR: All right, maybe I will. There's other places to eat than here, you know.

(Trevor goes out and slams the door)

R3-M2-PAGE 5

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