Lairy Couple

I'm sitting in the luggage compartment of an old-fashioned train watching a mother and her teenage son playing together in the next carriage. They fight and he pulls a plastic bag down over her head. Their behaviour becomes more raucous and erotically charged. I realise she is not his mother but must be an older girlfriend.

Fighting My Way Out Of A Dream

"Can you tell your builders not to leave such a mess in my garden, " I say to one of the workmen. The head builder, a huge man in his 50's , emerges blocking my way. He punches me and then empties a box of screws and nails on my neat tiered garden. "Just leave it!" I shout backing away. My only exit is through the flat upstairs where the men are working. I push my way past a dozen aggressive workmen. I know I have to wake up to get to work but more people pour in through the front door so it becomes harder to leave. Eventually I get out and wake up.

Young Boys Discovered With Heads Severed

J comes rushing into the crowded library/museum, her hair wild. "They've got him! They've got the second boy," she sobs and collapses in my arms.
A young boy of five has been found mutilated and despite his severed head, he was able to speak confirming how the last boy died. There is a huge commotion in the hall. I don't seem that bothered - I am searching for my jacket, a heavy puffed brown thing - ugly - so I can go for a walk with the family.

The Sensitive Punk And The Violent Skinhead

A punk in the 70's is set upon by two brutal skinheads. The punk writes about the experience. He is forced to leave home and move to the Scottish Highlands to get away from the thugs who continue to pursue him. He lives there for 20 years, a bit of a hermit, writing constantly. One of the skinheads is no more and the other comes searching for the punk. This skinhead needs him badly. When he finds him he picks a fight which becomes sexual. Perhaps in some strange way they both need each other.

Wild Boar Hunt

In a scrubby field a powdered Redcoat sits astride a white horse. Behind him an apologetic older man dressed similarly. Suddenly there is a commotion and a wild boar darts out into the long grass pursued by a motley crowd of dogs. There is nothing to be done to stop them from killing it but Hazel rushes in and does her best. The boar is slaughtered with a mallet brought down on its head. Hazel is mortified and returns to me shaken.

Murder At Number 150

I am scared to call in at my neighbour's flat. I am sure he has been shot dead. I know he lives on the top floor of the council block. Is it at number 150?

Revolutionary Army

Back in the sixties, Nixon is bombing Vietnam and I have been ordered to use a machine gun to control my class in the supermarket. I refuse. I notice various men being thrown out and beaten up in the alleyway outside. I go to offer my help (after the beating) to one man. He tells me he is OK, then grins flirtatiously and says he likes how I dress like Isaac Newton. I end up taking part in a violent demonstration against the government.

Sick Comedy

I watch two 1970's comedians as young men. They are playing out a scenario where one is pretending to have learning disabilities and is dribbling his food. I find the humour uncomfortable. One of them turns and winks at me. Then, as a joke, he simulates shooting the other in the mouth. It seems the natural progression for this fashionable style of comedy.

London Bomb Attack

After an increase in terrorist attacks on England has been predicted, a bomb goes off in Murder Street in London. Our city is becoming like Iraq. Five people are killed and there is panic in the air. What has our government led us into? "The panic you feel is just shapes in your head," someone tries to reassure me.

Attack By Kelvin MacKenzie

Kelvin MacKenzie and a seductive female teacher are on the verge of trying to kill me and my female counterpart. The woman is so good at concealing her violent nature, that there is no chance for us to kick her. Mackenzie is leaving the building but he wants to get us both first. He has already had a heart attack so we thought he was about to die but no he picks himself up and his renewed assault becomes more deadly. Now he is spraying me with poisonous purple car paint. So much hate and stupidity. I will have to escape into the dark forest outside.

The Innocent And The Guilty

20 years ago a man was jailed for a brutal murder and then beaten to death by the investigating police. We all assumed the man's guilt and although we did not condone the police violence we seemed to enjoy it at the time. Now questions are being asked. A journalist smuggles herself into jail as a washerwoman to uncover the truth. Another man becomes an undercover prisoner for 10 years.
Meanwhile the prison guards carry out random searches. Everybody runs away in panic.
It is impossible to distinguish the innocent from the guilty. Maybe the players have forgotten themselves.

Case of Mistaken Identity

There is the sense that this is the final scene of a very complex story. A man, framed for the kidnapping of children, is finally revealed to be someone of great charity and wisdom. A trust is set up in his honour. The real culprit, a huge mogul dressed in white, storms into the room and in a brutal scene assaults the charitable man. This thug has however been cleverly duped and, in an unexpected twist to the tale, murders himself by mistake. We are thankfully spared the violent details.
My contribution was set and costumes.

There Are No Observers

"Get out! Get out now!" the guard shouts at me when I attempt to enter a room of the house. Inside I recognise some of the prisoners - some are from my special needs group. In the kitchen I meet all the ordinary people who have become jailers. "It's horrible being a guard," one woman tells me, "Before long everyone will be in thumbcuffs chained to the pavement." I ask what the prisoners have done. "Hardly anything," she answers, "But we have to restrain them for the slightest thing."
Everyone is now a suspect. You are either prisoner or guard. Which am I?

Terrible Vengeance

The boy is beginning to understand his roots. No matter how decently he is treated now, his resentment for the damage wrought on his ancestors has to be avenged. As I peer through a small window in an operating theatre, I see a fantasy sequence playing out in his head. He is older now and feels nothing for his victim, a man who had once cared for him. Trampling on him he breaks all his bones and then forces the body through a mincer.

Violent Encounter

Two thugs pursue a young man jostling and hitting him. After telling them to leave him alone he hits one in the face and a terrifying fight ensues. He realises that what these men want is to be given a bloody nose. He punches them again and again. It seems to satisfy them.