Ryan Wilce
Ryan Wilce is a South-West based Theatre Maker and Director. Ryan is particularly interested in directing new writing, and develop productions that are fast, utilise technology and are accessible for everyone to enjoy. Social Media -Twitter @ryan_wilce Instagram @rswilce
About Workers Cough
This piece follows two young working-class adults. Both effected by recent events. One has lost their job but needs it for their own and their family’s survival. The other works in childcare, her work is now open solely for the children of front-line workers. They both have to make decisions around risk and survival. This piece is written from truth and a response to the current global situation on Working-Class families of the UK, featuring moments of verbatim and influence from Owen Jones’ article ‘We're about to learn a terrible lesson from coronavirus: inequality kills’ The following work is an early draft of potentially a larger piece of work in the future.
Workers Cough
--
(To the audience)
It’s said fiction reveals. Can comfort and disturb. But so, should the truth. This truth.
This truth should reveal the injustice to the privilege
Comfort those struggling to know they are not alone.
Disturb those who have no awareness of the pain and anguish.
Class is more than a type of job.
Class is values
Class is weight of your struggles
Class is length of your battles
The truth we follow here comes from two who have those values, struggles and battles.
Their parents raised them to appreciate. Appreciate the small wins and overcome the big loses. All they have known is to work hard and love harder. Now wanting to give back.
Her- to raise the next generation
He – to follow the males before him, labourer
But they are both working the unknown engine.
Perhaps part of an engine
An engine of inequality lubricated by a lack of empathy and understanding. An engine of inequality using its piston to keep us down, even in the worst of times
An engine of inequality supported by a spark plug of greed, superiority complex’s and no knowledge of how real people live.
An engine of inequality that is building momentum whilst we burnt out.
---
(Character talking to his family. We don’t hear their part of the conversation.) Alright. Absolute Nightmare. They’ve laid me off. There is no help. I won’t be contributing. Absolutely won’t be doing that. I can’t sit still.
---
(To the audience) It really makes you sick.
Just as sick as… ‘IT’ As does exhaustion.
It’s happened. There.
Over there in our neighbouring countries.
We can see them
Their Working- Class
Being Crushed
By… ‘IT’… and the effect it’s having on this class. Our class. My class.
--
(Character to her family) I will have nothing though.
They don’t even care.
He has money.
I’m fucked.
NO.
I don’t think I’ll cope,
I don’t know how many children will be there and what they will carry.
We are just expected to deal with it.
What if I bring it home?
---
(To the audience) Your oak desk is lovely.
Your work phone is fancy.
Your home office… is it germ free?
Your brand-new work apple mac looks good enough to eat off.
Your brand-new work apple mac has enough room on it to feed this flat.
The trust in your lively hood is strong.
The trust in regular wage packet is stronger.
Your job…will it kill?
They need to find a job that probably will kill.
---
(Character to her family/partner/friend) They’re small.
Harmless…small.
It’s about them
It’s not frontline though.
It’s about kids not money or risk.
---
(To the audience)
Coughs colliding with inequality
Fever colliding with an unsupported proportion
The lower end of the system is now higher…
A higher risk
The stress of money
Leads to stress on the only system they give a fuck about
…The immune system
They’ve no cough
They need to provide…risk it, thoughts off.
--
(To the audience)
He makes breakfast for mum
Sister
And his Dad He goes.
Interview
Doors
Hand Shaking
Avoiding Carols splatter
He takes one final drag
Of the inhaler. He knows
Stupid
Stupid risk But it’s crucial.
Crucial to provide for them, For his aged parents and vulnerable sister.
The job’s his.
--
(To the audience)
Monday
For some
For others they are needed.
They are doing Monday
Monday as usual…but different
Different. It might kill
Oh she
She
She isn’t on that line
Not the front line
She’s the forgotten line
But the line that’s supporting the family’s line The front lines family line.
The owner, he’s self-isolating But the nursery he owns… Those ladies are working.
Not for the money but for the families.
The front lines families
They hand her medicine
They hand her payment
They hand her children
They hand her carriers.
---
(To the audience)
Rich. We know
They are looking…
Looking after their own
We know we are invisible
We are the forgotten We should graft graft amongst potential death
It’s many things this illness
It may be god
But it’ll teach
Teach all Inequality
Kills.
--
(To the audience)
He stacks - She cares - He refills
She cleans
His hand touches theirs
Their hand touches hers
In his face they breath and ask for more
In her face they cough and rub…direct from those on the frontline Is she offered any support?
He brings home more than a pay packet to his vulnerable loves
--
(To the audience) tell us
support them
tell us how to survive when we have to risk survival. To survive support them more to deliver their work which is crucial to supporting the front line To survive.
--
(To the audience)
Arrival home
11pm
He brings it in to the 2-bed flat
Austerity helps him carry it in
The bus homes
6:30pm She travels back with it Austerity pays for its journey.
He’s thinking of the bills and the food She’s thinking of the children Who’s thinking of them?
END.