(A manic end-of-days
party surges and seethes in a sweating Berlin cellar on the 27th of
April, 1945, as a mob of the undone try to obliterate the irresistible advance
of Armageddon. Many have drunk themselves into the floor. Those who have not
succumbed yet laugh, talk, eat, dope, bay, cry, drink, shout, smoke, spew,
fuck. They perform all these actions frenetically, some of them simultaneously.
The din of despair doesnt quite overwhelm the background thrum of guns,
grenades and shells. Two vast trestle tables are occupied by battalions of
bottles and slaughterhouses of sausages, hams, chops ,liver, kidneys and
steaks. One wall is lined with jerry cans of petrol; on another a gibbering
artist daubs an idyllic vision of crimson skies and black rain, of raging
rivers and flaming forests, of hills and mountains throttled by a sulphurous
In the foreground, pinned to a dentists chair, an SS
colonel in an undertakers black hat and tailcoat is grinning through
gritted teeth. He is being ridden by a naked forty year old prostitute with a
scarlet smear of a mouth, a pig-like snout and a rotting nose. In a pram nearby
an army private who has lost his arms and legs gazes with drooling eyes at the
poetry in motion of her asymmetrical breasts (with their iron cross and
deaths head tattoos) and the hanging gardens of her midriff, festooned
with representations of the flags of all the countries devastated and
subjugated by the forces of the thousand-year Reich. She and the colonel argue
over her price as she bounces up and down on him.)
ANNA BAUER: Sixty
COL. GRAF: Are you
mad? Ten cigarettes. And Im not a colonel, not any more. Use that
title again and Ill blow your head off.
(snarling): Sixty cigarettes, Herr Graf.
COL. GRAF: No fucking
Why do your breasts smell of sperm?
ANNA B.: Why does your
arse smell of shit? Sixty is a fair price. I am giving you my maidenhood,
giving it to a German before the Ivans take it. Somebody said theyre
taking revenge for what our troops did in Russia, that Germans have brought
this catastrophe on themselves. But our soldiers would never harm women.
Its lies, propaganda.
COL. GRAF: Actually we
did do quite a lot of damage to them. Most enjoyable. I remember a crippled
girl in particular
ANNA B.: Well, no doubt
they deserved it. But Ive heard of Ivans raping nuns and bayoneting
(smirking) Not at the same time, I trust
ANNA B. (bouncing
faster and starting to sweat): In East Prussia one woman had to
concede thirteen times in one day.
COL. GRAF: Yes, they do
say thirteen is an unlucky number. Faster, bitch, faster!
ANNA B. (speeding up
and panting): Well, thirteen isnt so bad. But I did hear that some
soldiers got a young mother in a barn and were raping her continuously, one
after another, until her relatives came and begged them to stop for a bit, so
she could breast-feed her baby, which kept on and on crying. The soldiers
wouldnt stop. But then the officer demanded to see the baby. And
when they brought her to him
he raped the baby.
(shouting): Typical Russians crude, sex-mad sub-humans. Oh, cunt
fuck tits, Im coming, Im coming.
ANNA B. (jumps off
him, grabs his penis and puts her thumb over the end of it): Sixty
cigarettes, you bastard, or I blow your balls off.
COL. GRAF: OK, OK,
he produces a Mauser pistol and clubs her unconscious with it. As he strides
off to get himself a glass of hock, he passes a man cackling dementedly as he
puts broken glass into a pair of discarded jackboots and then a young couple
with their arms around each other, whispering.)
HANNAH REYMANN: Thank
you for bringing me here, Peter. All this food
Youre so kind. The
wonderful. I was reduced to eating roots and grass. Some of my
neighbours have killed themselves and their children to escape a slow death by
MALE VOICE OFF: Send
nudes! No queers or mental defectives.
PETER BRANDT: Yes,
well, you know the joke: life is like a childs shirt short and
shitty. And now youve filled your belly, you can thank me properly. On
your back. Ive been wanting to fuck you again ever since you got married.
To that creature with a face like a man straining at stool. And now that
Obergruppenführer Otto is out of the way
HANNAH R.: Yes, Otto
was dangerous, a real sadist. Do you know, on his deathbed the priest asked him
if he forgave his enemies, and he said: I have no enemies. I shot them
all. Mind you, he was an absolutely first-rate looter. Do you see this
necklace? Beautiful, isnt it? Exquisite craftsmanship. Worth a fucking
Erm, anyway, now that bastards out of the way, by all means
PETER B.: Are you
mad? Look at all the others. Here, under the table. (They get on the
floor and partially undress.) Come on, sis, open wide! Say hello to your
old friend Willy. See how pleased he is to see you. Hes standing to
attention, saluting you. Heil Hitler!
(As they start to copulate, a nurse in the group at their
table speaks to a plump violinist from the Berlin Philharmonic, who is holding
his violin case in one hand and a chop in the other. He has a spiky moustache
and is wearing red boots with three inch heels, frilly knickers and a striped
corset which pushes up his breasts to produce cavernous
MARTHA JUNGE: Have you
heard these ridiculous rumours about death camps for Jews?
(gasping in outrage): Yes. Propaganda! Who in their right mind would
believe that? We Germans produced Wagner, Beethoven, Bach, Bruckner, Goethe. We
would never do that. Work camps, yes. Those sub-humans
should be made to do something useful.
MARTHA J. (ducking a
flying sausage as a food-fight starts): Yes, cheap labour. But never
MALE VOICE OFF: You
know the only trouble with him? His shit stinks.
(Bottles and glasses shatter in a cascade.)
CONRAD U.: Thats
the kind of thing the Ivans would do. Sub-humans! I hear their women dismember
our wounded soldiers and nail their still steaming hearts to house
(A drunk rushes past, shouting Cuckoo,
(recoiling): I can believe it of those animals. You should see what
Ive seen. Men run over by tanks, their insides squeezed out. A great mash
of blood and guts, with grey skulls and gold wedding rings all you can make
out. My god, what have we done to deserve all this? It is the end of
CONRAD U.: Ach, I know.
Ive seen looting and wanton destruction of things of beauty. Those
peasants, they unscrew light bulbs and send them home to illuminate their
hovels, when they dont have electricity in them.
FEMALE VOICE OFF: The
Devil made me do it. The Devil with his big bifurcated penis.
MARTHA J. (knocking
back her schnapps): Who will save us from them? Our leaders lie to
us, say Wenks army is coming to save us. But there is no army.
Göring with all his loot, pictures and statues and -
CONRAD U.: Yes, and
there is no wonder weapon to drive back the enemy. The scientists have failed
us too. Useless bastards! They should all be exterminated, they
(snorting): Oh, our leaders claim theyre holding off the
enemy until Wenk arrives. Holding them off with what? The fucking
Volkssturm? Old cripples and children! Hitler youth on bicycles, with helmets
that are too big for them and drop down over their ears. Pissing in their
shorts. Did you know they get sweets in their rations instead of
cigarettes? Like that one there propositioning the two schoolgirls. (She
shouts.) Hey, boy! Come here. Theyll wait for you. You can fuck them
later, for as long as you like. (He comes over.) You in the
PAUL GANTZ (a Hitler
youth aged 14, with a wet patch on the front of his shorts): Yes. Well, er,
I was. But I ran away. We had hardly any ammunition, and the rifle butts
were too long for our arms, so we couldnt hold our weapons up and shoot.
They lied to us. Said everything would be all right, wed save Berlin. But
theyve blighted our lives, those of us still alive. Theres only
death and destruction for us now
Before I got home, they caught me and
made me join Werewolf.
CONRAD U.: Oh yes,
Ive seen the slogans on the walls Traitor, take care, the Werewolf
MALE VOICE OFF: There
will be apricots tomorrow.
(scowling): A stupid name for a stupid project. It was crazy. We were
supposed to be a resistance movement, saboteurs and assassins, to hit the enemy
wherever we met him. With what? With exploding tins of Heinz oxtail soup
that dont explode. Or do explode and kill the boy carrying them,
and turn him into soup. Like Georg and Carl
(Enter a wolf, a superior and affected
CONRAD U. (taking a
step backwards): My god, a wolf!
WOLF: I say,
thats extraordinarily observant for you, Conrad, old boy. Sieg
heil. Ha! In a pig-dogs ear!
(goggling): You can speak. Are you a Werewolf? Watching us? I
wasnt really being defeatist, honest.
WOLF: Du calme, du
calme, mon petit chou. One is a pure, unadulterated wolf, not a sub-animal. A
lone wolf. In fact, the last wolf.
CONRAD U.: What? The
last wolf in Germany?
(languidly): No, darling. The last wolf in the world.
CONRAD U.: What? How
can you be?
WOLF: Oh my dear, I
would have thought that would be clear to the meanest of
No? Well. Look no further than yourselves humans
exterminating animals (and everything else while youre at
(frowning): How? In the war?
(A slight young man in the group of British people at the
other table has been listening in, and he now leans over and speaks
PAUL KENNEY: No, not
the war. The climate crisis.
CONRAD U.: The climate
PAUL K.: The climate
crisis. Or climate catastrophe now. (As Conrad U. shakes his head in
perplexity, the other British people start to take an interest in what Paul K.
is saying.) The world is ending right now. We humans have now destroyed the
earth and all species on it with fossil fuels, plastic
PETER MOORE (a man
in his fifties wearing a grey pin-striped suit): Shut up, you! Little cunt!
You dont know what youre fucking talking about. We
havent destroyed anything
OTHER VOICES OFF: Of
course we havent. Itll all be fine, youll see.
Oh, this is too, too absurd. Positively grotesque. Do you know, I sometimes
wish all humanity had just one head. So I could tear the throat out of you all
in one go. (He turns his back on them.)
PAUL K. (shouting to
be heard over the hubbub): Some of us warned people, but politicians and
big business lied and fobbed us off, and the general public (sheep) closed
their eyes, wouldnt think beyond their own comfort and pleasure. (He
turns to Peter M.) And now its too fucking late. (There is a crash
as chairs are smashed, and someone begins to weep loudly.) Your generation
have blighted young peoples lives, taken away our future. Fucking
politicians pigs bladders on sticks. Theyd lick the arse of
a hangman with dysentery if itd keep them in power. Theyre
PETER M.: Hey,
dont be blaming politicians. We did all we could. Declared a climate
emergency, er, signed pledges and accords
PAUL K.: Written on
wind and running water.
PETER M.: What? Have
some sense. We know whats best for the country. There were powerful
interests lobbying, spreading disinformation and
PAUL K.: Handing out
huge bribes. (Sings.) Loot, glorious loot, not sausage and
(bristling): I refute that. The problem was just too vast and complex.
And it wasnt our fault: China, America, India, they were massive
polluters. And people just werent ready for drastic changes. Who in their
right mind would have pushed them through?
PAUL K.: A caring and
responsible government? You should have led the way. Leaders lead.
PETER M. (draining
his glass of brandy and jabbing Paul K. in the chest): No fucking way! Are
you mad? Or blind? Didnt you see the gilets jaunes, or the
Australian election? Use your brain, think of the job losses. We wouldnt
have got back in, to carry on the good work
PAUL K.: Oh snot off,
you preposterous political person! Actually youre not a proper person at
all youre just a trainer bra of a person. And a grubby, tattered,
well-fingered bra at that. Its all fucked now. Youve
(Peter M. punches him in the stomach, making him sink to
the ground winded.)
PETER M.: It all seemed
so far off. But somehow it suddenly all went tits up with the domino effect.
The scientists never predicted that. And they never came up with a quick
solution of the problem to save us all either. Useless bastards! Its all
their fault. They -
DR ANNA SMITH (a
diminutive young woman shaking with rage): Dont blame us, you
slimy bloody lobby-snaker! We warned government and big business for
years. But you crazy morons just wouldnt listen. You were like
some idiot who jumps off the top of the Shard and as he passes the second floor
says: So far so good. We produced study after study proving the
damage being done, by poisoning rivers and oceans, by
(brandishing a beer bottle at her): Oh hark at the Poison Dwarf here.
Studies! Fucking scientific studies! You bastards told us diesel
was OK; then it wasnt. You said twenty-one drinks a week was OK, then
reduced it to fucking fourteen. And according to you lot absolutely
everything gives you cancer. No wonder nobody believed you. Stupid bastards.
Thinking you know whats best for people. Well, you dont.
I know whats best for me. And that includes thirty fags a day and
getting pissed out of my brain whenever I want.
(Peter M. backs off a bit, and looks on,
CARL WOOD (nodding
vigorously): Yeah, and steak and burgers. Ah, the cows
fool came up with the idea that cow-farts could do any harm? First of all we
couldnt eat meat, then we couldnt eat fish. So what the fuck
can we eat? Veg? Im not becoming a vegan for anyone. No fucking
way. There will be blood. (He crams blood sausage into his mouth
MALE VOICE OFF: He said
he saw Fate behind him, pursuing him on a bicycle.
(grinning): How do you know if someones a vegan?
CARL W. (mumbling,
with his mouth full): Don know.
GEORGE J.: They
CARL W. (laughing
and spraying out food): Thats a good one. Reminds me of
whats a word that means constipated, twelve letters, beginning with m?
No? Its mmmmmmmmmmmm.
(gasps): How can you joke at a time like this? How can you be so bloody
FEMALE VOICE OFF: Why
is there no wifi? Or music? Christ, what kind of a party is
EMILY JONES: Yes, and
you scientists went on about insects too. Who cares about
creepy-crawlies? Its a good thing when they die. They
DR SMITH: They
are an important part of the food chain. They
EMILY JONES: Oh, I know
all about the food chain. My mum told me. Thats why God put
animals on the earth. So they could feed us. And clothe us. So we should
eat animals, theyre all part of Gods plan, for the good of the
human race. Hes a kind God, a generous God, and he has a suitcase of
blessings for us.
DR SMITH (grimacing
in horror): But the damage from extensive
(slamming down his glass of beer): Shut the fuck up! Do you know what
really pissed me off? Being told I shouldnt fly to Benidorm. Or
buy so much stuff.
CLIVE GANTZ (a
middle-aged executive): Yes, everybody wants to buy things, to own things,
lots of things, and be somebody. Its only natural. And
its only natural for those who supply all those needful things to want to
make a modest profit. Only a fool would deny that and -
DR SMITH: But
CONRAD TH. (putting
his face right up to hers and yelling): Fuck off, bitch! Everybody else was
doing it. So why shouldnt I? You scientists kill me, whining on and on
about fucking climate change.
MARTHA BROWN (a
young woman in her mid-twenties, emerging from under the table and putting her
knickers back on): I knew nothing about it at first, and that was
better, I was happier then. I never put the news on the TV, erm, never
visually looked at it, like. There was lots on the internet saying it
wasnt true, was all fake news, so I didnt believe in it. Then
someone said it was changing, and I was literally petrified. But they
said the change wasnt due to humans and it would change back. It was,
erm, a bit confusing actually. But I never thought it would affect me,
would never happen in my lifetime. And I still believe that. So Im
not really worried.
DR SMITH (shouting
and waving her arms around): But its happening now, you crazy
cow. The environment is totally fucked and
CONRAD TH. (hitting
her over the head with a wine bottle and knocking her out): Fuck the
environment! I dont care. Im getting pissed.
GEORGE J. (falling
over): Fucking right! Me too.
(The Germans at their table have been listening in,
baffled, but now start smiling and nodding.)
CONRAD U.: Good idea,
tommy! Lets all get pissed together. Ja?
(When the other Germans start baying ja, the
British look at them in amazement.)
CARL W.: What are the
fucking Krauts doing here?
FEMALE VOICE OFF: There
will be sickness.
PETER M.: I dont
know. Cant say I like Huns. The Nazis were animals; and Germans a
terrible language, with all those absurd compound nouns. I mean, Im
basically out of sympathy with a language that calls a glove a
Handschuh. Its a bloody difficult language. Not like Italian.
Terribly easy language, Italian. You can learn it over a weekend.
CARL W. (knocking
back his schnapps): Never mind that. Dont be such a bigot. (Puts a
thumb up and shouts to the Germans.) Good idea, you jerries. Im with
you. Lets all get wasted and not mention the war
Actually old Adolph
wasnt all bad, was he? I mean, he loved German shepherds,
didnt he? The dogs, that is. Right, lets get pissed!
(The Germans and the British fill their glasses and come
together in the space between the two tables. They embrace and drink. One
German starts to vomit into a spiked helmet. An Englishman who has drunk so
much that the pores of his face are bleeding gets down on all fours and brays
like an ass. The wolf looks down its snout disdainfully.)
Do you know, something as criminally cretinous as the human race positively
deserves to be wiped out. The only thing to be regretted in all this is
the fact that you are taking other species with you.
(The animal curls its lip in a sneer, then suddenly howls,
making them recoil in terror. When the howl ends, it becomes clear that the
noise of battle has ended too. Colonel Graf cocks an ear and waits for several
COL. GRAF: I dont
know what youre talking about, wolfie, but I do know that the din outside
has stopped. ..Gantz, go and see whats happening out there. Go on, boy,
quick, quick! Its very strange, might be something important.
PAUL K. (suddenly
standing up, recovered by now): Ill go too. I want to see for myself
(They both exit the cellar. After a minute they return,
pale and wide-eyed.)
COL. GRAF: Well, what
is it? Speak up, boy.
PAUL G.: Its all
over. Its finished.
(smiling): What? The war?
PAUL K.: No. The
(The Germans crumble to dust, and the cellar and its
contents shimmer into non-existence, leaving the British people and the wolf
all alone in the midst of a vast and silent wasteland. The humans stare around
incredulously; the wolf eyes them contemptuously, and then
So, erm, would
you be interested in taking that on, Mr. Ford? Its just the first draft,
addressing a possible climate scenario in the not too distant future. It still
needs some work, but, er, theres enough there to give you a good idea of
what Ive got in mind. It could be developed into a one hour drama. What
do you think?
I think its
unbelievable, weird, grotesque.
Thats the point. All of that is so apt for peoples reaction,
or non-reaction, now to the climate crisis. Its in the tradition
of Georg Grosz and Otto Dix.
downbeat. Nobody wants to watch shit like that on TV. And what are the fucking
Krauts doing there?
provocative, isnt it, the juxtaposition of National Socialisms
Germans and Capitalisms British. And all the links there, they should
make people think, probe the various correspondences and
mad? People dont want to think. Theyd rather
die than think. They want to be entertained. Have some sense,
Well, erm, I
could put in more nudity and sex. Tits always sell
Or more jokes. The
amputee with no hands I could call him Hans. Or that bit about German
compound nouns I could get one of the Brits to ask whats the
German word for bra, and then give the answer
No? Well, er, what about dwarves and dragons? I could
work some of them in, easy.
Look, just tell
me what you want and Ill do it
With your OK, a big producer like
you, this would be my big break, really make my name
And this is
the big story of the twenty-first century, vitally important for
the whole human
No fucking way!
Its not economically viable. In terms of advertising, placement,
spin-offs, you name it. Who in his right mind would want to associate his
product with this depressing shit? Im not interested. And no other
company or corporation will touch it with a bargepole either. I can assure you
environment! This conversation is terminated. Thats it all over,
finished. The end.