Thursday 13 September 2012

If I was Chris Brown's Mum: A short play

Int. Day. A suburban living room. Chris Brown lies on a DFS recliner listening to his Skullcandy headphones and eating a packet of Mini Cheddars. Enter me, brandishing a large stick.

Chris! STOP LISTENING TO THAT RAPPY MUSIC AND COME 'ERE

Chris: What, ma?

Me: I said, come here - and wipe that smirk off your face you suppurating little turd. No, c'mere a minute. *waves stick threateningly*

Chris: Don't do it, ma.

Me: I won't, Christopher. Because I believe in love and tolerance and equal rights, unlike you. I wish you were more like your father, Arnold Brown, the famous Scottish comedian.

Chris: Don't be hatin' on me, bitch.

Me: DON'T YOU DARE CALL ME A B**** OR I WILL TAKE AWAY YOUR BEANO ANNUAL!

Chris: Sorry, ma.

Me: Now I want a word with you about all these tattoos you've been getting. Firstly, they look like a 13 year old boy has been drawing wonky pictures on you with a leaky biro. Secondly, is that a poorly rendered image of Rihanna's beaten and bloody face on your neck?

Chris: No, it's just some random woman.

Me: I can tell when you're lying, Christopher. Your lip wobbles and you get a squeaky bottom. Remember that time you stole a pencil from the pencil museum in Keswick and you followed through?

Chris: I didn't!

Me: IS IT RIHANNA? If you lie, there'll be no CITV FOR A WEEK!

Chris: OK, OK, yes.

Me: That's disgusting. I am ashamed of you. RiRi should have you murdered by a hitman and the crime scene made to look like a suicide *just a little hint for you there, love*

Chris: I'm sorry, Ma.

Me: Oh, you will be. Because until you get that monstrosity lasered from your neck, and apologise for your vile attitude towards women, you will be wearing THIS jumper. And you won't be able to go on the swings with Bazzo and Dobber from school for an entire month! Do you understand?

Chris: But muuuum!

Me: Enough! Now go to your room and think about what you've done. I have replaced all your offensive posters of naked ladies with pictures of leading feminists. So next time you have a hand shandy - and DON'T TELL ME YOU DON'T - you'll have to look at Andrea Dworkin and Camille Paglia with flecks of spit in the corner of their mouths, arguing about the third wave!

Chris: WAAAA! *slam!*

ENDS