BELFAST CITY CENTRE – SOUNDS OF TRAFFIC, HORNS BLARING AND OUR INTREPID TOUR GUIDE (KEN) TOUTING FOR BUSINESS. PASSER BY NAMED SEAN, HECKLING. BUS DRIVER NAMED LIAM

KEN: C’Mon, Ladies and Gentlemen see the real Belfast, all the sights and sounds of the Big Smoke, good and bad. Twenty quid return and rest assured we will return you here. Won’t leave you stranded in bandit country. Ha, Ha,Ha!!

SEAN: Big Smoke! Are you havin’ a laugh, mucker? You’re standing outside the Europa the most bombed hotel in Belfast. How did ye ever get this job? An English Belfast tour guide. I bet ye don’t stop the bus in some places, ye plonker. Give yer job to somebody who knows the place before yer knees get shaped different, know what I mean,mate?

KEN: (glancing nervously behind him at Europa): Are you threatening me, Sir? I’ll have you know that I know Belfast like the back of my hand.

SEAN: Aye and that’s covered in black hairs. Couldn’t find yer way to yer knuckle.

KEN: Friends in low places, I have. Did more than one tour round this city.

SEAN: Ach, No! No! ye weren’t? Oh, Jesus you were a squaddie! Showing murals and bullet holes round the war zones. Well, you should know where they are, ye fired a lot of them. I’m off! Don’t wanna be caught in the crossfire. See ya around, Bullseye!

KEN: Bullseye?

SEAN:  Aye, you’re a target!

KEN: Yeah yeah!  Roll up, roll up, folks! Take a trip on the big, red bus!

CHINESE VOICE: Excuse, plees, you take us to wall holes?

KEN: Hey, what? What?

(a dozen Chinese voices gabble at once)

CHINESE: Wall holes! PLees.

KEN: Oh, you mean hole in wall, get money out? Right?

(more Chinese chatter)

CHINESE: No, No, wall holes. Guns shoot at soldiers. They miss. Wall holes. Like Dublin post office. Yes!

KEN: Bullet holes! In the wall. Well, I don’t know about that.

JIMMY: Yeah, yeah, you do! Falls Road Library (WHISPERS TO KEN) It’s old. Bound to be a few holes in the walls, and the Beehive bar. My brother got shot in the arse there. Picking shrapnel outta his rear end for months, they were. Passing car, know what I mean.

KEN: Why the hell was his rear end pointing towards the road? No, don’t tell me. No mental pictures please.

JIMMY: Card school, ye pillock.

KEN: (SHOUTING ABOVE GABBLING CHINESE) No problem, Gents. Wall holes it is.

(SOUNDS OF SHUFFLING FEET, CLICKING CAMERAS AND MORE GABBLING)

CHINESE: We get pictures, yes.

KEN: Yeah, yeah, lots of pictures.

CHINESE: Camera is top range. Yasamakaki!

KEN: Aye, well Yasamakaki on down the bus there, please. Or on top, if you prefer.

CHINESE: Up top! Hee, hee! I likee up top!

(CHINESE GIGGLES)

KEN: Jesus, God help me.

JIMMY: On topee! I Likee on topee!

KEN: Shut up!

DEEP VOICE (BEHIND KEN): Make way for His Royal Highness Prince Abdul Harim and entourage.

KEN: What the….?

DEEP VOICE OF ARAB: Prince Abdul Harim wishes to board your vehicle for tour of historic battle sites and colourful graffiti.

JIMMY: Here, you, Maharajah, Them’s not graffiti, them’s art.

ARAB: (IGNORING SEAN) Would there be ample accommodation for the Prince’s Harem.

JIMMY: Harem! Jesus, now I’ve heard it all. One wife not enough for you, Mate.You have to suffer – Hmm!- (COUNTING) one, two, three, Christ eight times. You’re a sadist, so ye are, or a pervert. Wait, hold on there. One for each night and an extra in case you’re feeling energetic. You’ve got your head screwed on, Son and no mistake. You’ll do for me.

KEN: Do you guys not have limos at your disposal? Not that I don’t want the custom, mind you.

ARAB: Ten other wives have gone shopping. The Prince is not pleased. Western fashion offends his fragile sensibilities.

(CLATTER AS JIMMY FALLS OF HIS PERCH)

JIMMY: Couldn’t be that fragile with frigging 18 wives. I’d be at death’s door but what a way to go! (DREAMILY)

KEN: (SIGHING) Hop on. We’ll scour the battlefields.

JIMMY: (GETTING OFF THE FLOOR) I’m even knackered thinking about it. What next? Blimey, who or what is this?

ITALIAN VOICE: Buon Giorno, Senors. I may come aboard, Si. Why those lovely ladies have their faces hidden. I can see by their eyes they are beautiful.

KEN: Get on the bus, please. Right Jimmy on our way.

SOMETIME LATER –  HALFWAY THROUGH TOUR. CLICKS OF CAMERA, WHISPERINGS OF EIGHT WIVES, SOUNDS OF COMMAND FROM HIS HIGHNESS.

ITALIAN: Beautiful lady in black, your eyes speak volumes. Please may I sit with you and drown in their depths.

JIMMY: You’ll be drowning in the Lagan, Mate if you make another move over there.

ITALIAN: But she shouldn’t be covered. It is her destiny to be loved to distraction. I have the gigolo’s skills to send her into a paroxysm of ecstasy.

JIMMY:   You’re sending her where, Mate. I think her hubby would rather have her where he can see her. She’s going nowhere.

ITALIAN: You misunderstand, my friend.

JIMMY: Don’t think so, Son. Sit down and don’t rock the boat. Calm your pecker or end up talking with a high voice. That’s my advice.

ARAB: You have insulted The Prince whose sexual prowess is legendary in his country. We will duel.

ITALIAN: Duel! But, Si, I love to sing. We will start with Amore.

(LAUNCHES INTO EXPRESSIVE RENDITION OF AMORE)                                         

JIMMY: I think he meant DU-ELL not DU-ETT, Guiseppe.

ITALIAN: My name is not Guiseppe, you imbecile.

(SOUND OF SCREECHING BRAKES)

JIMMY: What did you just call me, Eyetie?

KEN: Now folks, just calm down. Everybody sit back down. We are very near to the wall holes – hole walls – bullet holes! And the historic battlefields.

                                                 TOO LATE _ MUCH TOO LATE

(SOUNDS OF FIGHTING BETWEEN IRISH AND ITALIAN COMPLETE WITH THAT COUNTRYS EXPLETIVES, CLICKING CAMERAS AND LOUD ARAB VOICE PROCLAIMING:  Ladies, we are leaving this den of sin. This is not for your eyes or ears. Come, My Liege.

KEN: (sighing)   Hello, is that the police and ambulance. Maybe even fire brigade. Help please.