deadly is dead, hello

deadly is dead, hello

Enter stage left Holte Ender, an old man in a vintage Villa shirt, track suit bottoms and worn trainers. In his hand is a cup of Bovril. He speaks in a way familiar to all Villa supporters, a mixture of world-weariness, complaint and doomed resignation.

Holte Ender) This is a play about our chairman kicking the bucket. He never kicked anything else for the Villa, I hear you say. There is not a Villa supporter who needs to be told what he has done for the Villa, nor what the Villa has done for him. We owe him and he owes us. That is not the point. This is just an amusement, a bit of harmless entertainment for those of the true faith. He won't really be dead and we shall not wish him so. The Witton Lane stand shall still be there and still not called the Witton Lane stand when our little play is done

(Turns to exit right but returns centre stage). For the record these words were written the day after the Villa beat Darlington (Exits muttering). A bloody quid for a cup of Bovril....

Darkness. The sound of a radio playing. A game is in progress. Alan Green is commentating.

"....This must be Chelsea's last chance. The Villa fans are whistling for Uriah Rennie to blow for time as their team's defence protects this one goal lead they have held since the second minute. The linesman signals that time is up as Zola puts the ball back into the Villa penalty area. Wise sets himself up for a shot but Ehiogu makes a wonderful tackle. The referee has awarded a penalty. This is incredible,. In the eighth minute of added time in the FA Cup Final Uriah Rennie has given Chelsea the chance to level the score....."

High in the Wembley stands D. Ellis and S. Stride sit and watch the unfolding drama as Wise picks himself up and places the ball on the penalty spot. He walks back a few paces, David James crouches and makes himself ready. The stadium is silent. Ellis groans and slumps forward.

The scene is a private ward in a Birmingham hospital. Ellis lies unconscious. A nurse is attending to the life support apparatus around her patient. A doctor and consultant are deep in conversation.

Doctor) It really is amazing, the way he keeps hanging on.
Consultant) He seems to be willing himself to stay alive for some purpose.
Doctor) Apparently the club have arranged for the manager to come in later and sing to him just to see if that brings him round.
Consultant) Is he any good?
Nurse) From what I saw on TV it will finish him off for sure.
Doctor) Nurse, make sure that he doesn't disturb the other patients. Especially Mr Francis in the next ward. He thinks he's a tangerine.
Nurse) Very good, Dr Shipman (Doctor and consultant leave).

Mr J. Gregory enters the ward carrying a guitar slung over his shoulder.

Nurse) Can I help you?

Gregory) I've come to sing to Mr Ellis, to see if I can bring him round.
Nurse) Well make sure it's something nice. Do you know any Cliff Richard songs? Gregory) Do you think I would admit it if I did?
Nurse) Then what about Matt Munro?
Gregory) (Begins to sing) "Goodbye Norma Jean, though I never knew you at all...."
Nurse) That's Marilyn Monroe. Just make sure it's something nice. I will be listening.
Gregory) Is he behind these curtains?
Nurse) Yes, of course he is.
Gregory) Then will you do something for me? Can you open the curtains while I step forward?
Nurse) Be quick then.
Gregory) (Adjusting his guitar and composing himself) Tonight, Matthew, I am going to be Bob Dylan (steps through curtains to Ellis's bedside and sings). "Knock, knock, knocking on heaven's door."
Nurse) I said something nice. Come out of there.
Gregory) Okay (thinks for a moment). Tonight, Matthew, I am going to be Robert Plant. (Steps through the curtain again and sings). "There's a chairman who's sure, all that glistens is gold and he's buying a stairway to heaven."
Nurse) Nor that. I won't tell you again. Something nice or you're out.
Gregory) (Okay, okay. Give me a minute. Right, do the curtains. Tonight, Matthew, I am going to be Westlife (Steps up to the bedside and sings). "Goodbye old friend. it's hard to die. When all the birds are singing in the sky."
Nurse) That's it. You're out. (She points to the door and Gregory shuffles out).
Gregory) (Turning round). What about "My old man said be a City fan..."
Nurse) Out.
Gregory) (Faintly, in the distance) "And I said...."

The nurse returns to tending the equipment round Ellis's bed.

Nurse) That was horrible, wasn't it Mr Ellis? Fancy him not knowing any Cliff Richard songs. I sing them all the time to Mr Francis in the next ward. I don't know why you don't get him to be your team manager. Of course, he thinks he's a tangerine and keeps singing I'd Look Lovely In A Jelly, but that's more sense that some managers come out with. Bryan Robson and Harry Redknapp to name but two.

Ellis groans faintly.

Nurse) (Taking his hand). Mr Ellis? Are you coming back to us? I knew you would. Can you hear me?

Ellis groans again.

Nurse) Doctor Shipman said you were trying to come back to us. Do you want to know how the cup final went?

Ellis groans again, louder this time.