The Pravda Is A Handbag

Arthur is sitting in the darkened theatre. Beside him is the playwright who had poked him earlier in the queue.

The play begins. Two characters in a paint-splattered room, Jim and Liz. They need money and they need it soon.

Arthur isn't paying much attention. He is looking round for Paul.

The playwright becomes annoyed with Arthur, and sticks an elbow in him.

Ouch! says Arthur. Why did you do that?

Stop craning round, says the playwright crossly. You paid to come in here, so pay attention.

Mm, says Arthur. I thought it was going to be about a knife.

Knife's in the Pravda, hisses the playwright. Now just shut up and listen.

What's the Pravda? wonders Arthur.

He pays momentary attention.

Ah, the Pravda seems to be a sort of handbag.

He looks around again for Paul, but doesn't see him.

He still has the gift knife in his pocket, the one Paul didn't want. He twists the knife and accidentally makes a long slit in his pocket.

He doesn't realise that now his two gold coins are likely to fall out.

The playwright is determined to force Arthur to appreciate his play. It is a good play, cutting edge and edgy, about the nature of reality and truth. It's not just about the handbag. Jim and Liz have big ideas. They are going to forge a painting. Hence the paint.

How to make this irritating young man understand that?

The playwright leans across to Arthur and closes his large bony fingers round his throat.