A Tiny Play: 'Don't Take It Personally' by Rachel Fehily

A legal family drama in 600 words

Two barristers walk on stage from left and right, a man and a woman, wearing wigs and gowns, laden with briefs and texting on their mobile phones. They look at each other at the same time from a distance. Man jerks his head to the woman. She beckons him. They sidle up to each other in the middle of the stage outside a courtroom door, which has two steps leading up to it. On it hangs a crooked ‘in camera’ sign. They put their briefs and phones down on the steps.

MARK: (Pointing a finger.) You’re drinking like a fish.

JUDY: (Throwing both hands up in the air.) And you’re a lazy bitch.

MARK: (Folding arms in front of body.) You haven’t paid this month’s maintenance.

JUDY: (Folding arms as well in a defensive gesture.) My business is going down the toilet. I’m living in a bedsit. Why should I pay for your botox and Brazilians?

MARK: (Holding up her hand in his face.) Talk to the hand. We’re in the list next week. I’ll let you whinge to the judge.

JUDY: (Turning away.) You’re expecting the order for €4,000 a month to continue? Have you seen the discovery? Why don’t you go out and get a job you lazy bitch?

MARK: I’ve three children under 12 and haven’t worked since 1999. How am I supposed to find a job in this recession?

JUDY: You’d no problem leaving the kids with the au pairs and spending all day in the gym when we were living together.

MARK: Why don’t we let the judge decide? He’s not going to be impressed by your behaviour.

JUDY: Go ahead. At the end of the day it’s division of the assets.

Shagging my secretary isn’t a crime.

MARK: Doesn’t make you look good.

JUDY: It’s not a beauty contest.

MARK: Lucky for you (laughing), I saw your fat, red face earlier.

JUDY: (Laughing as well.) You’re no looker either, despite all the treatments. If we can’t agree, I suppose the house will have to be sold.

MARK: (Whining.) I want to stay in the house. I can’t move far away from the school and all the kids’ friends.

JUDY: Well you can’t afford to buy me out.

MARK: I’m only looking for a right of residency until the kids finish school.

JUDY: (Suddenly friendly) . . . then a sale? 50/50 split?

MARK: (Putting his arm around her shoulder.) Maybe, if you can do something about the maintenance.

JUDY: If you’re prepared to be realistic.

MARK: (Staring into Judy’s eyes.) There might be no need for a forensic accountant to look at your business and I wouldn’t have to report you to the taxman for all those cash transactions.

JUDY: (Holding Mark tightly.) I would rather you were at home minding the children but I can’t afford the four grand a month.

MARK: (Snuggling into Judy’s chest.) I could live on a bit less, get part-time work but I need you to be reasonable.

JUDY: I’m the most reasonable man you ever married. (Puffing out her chest.)

MARK: You’re the only man I ever married. (Looking coy.)

Both barristers look at each other and pull away suddenly.

JUDY: (Suddenly businesslike.) Okay, I need to go and talk to my client.

MARK: (Similar tone.) And I’m sure I can talk mine into doing a deal on the maintenance.

JUDY: No need for the stress of a full hearing.

MARK: Who wants that?

(They bow to each other and pick up their briefs.)

JUDY: In or out tonight sweetie?

MARK: Oh let’s stay in darling, I’m shattered. Why don’t we pick up a Mexican from Baggot Street? JUDY: Perfect.

They kiss each other passionately and walk off stage together.

* To coincide with the staging of Tiny Plays for Ireland in the Project Arts Centre in Dublin by Fishamble, The Irish Times is publishing some of the scripts that made the grade