Script Sample

When I go for a walk on the street, all I see is men. Their height, the straightness of their teeth, the shape of their chin, what brands they wear, who they’re hanging out with, where they’re going, what they’re reading on the tube, how bad it is that they’re smoking right now, they should totally quit because that is not a good influence on a child….

I have never thought about men this much in my life. 

I’m thinking about the quality of their sperm and their exposure to micro-plastics and then I think of tiny little pieces of bic-biro lodged into the head of the sperm like shrapnel and imagine my child being born half-human, half-lego, and their child, my own grandchild, being born full-lego.

I sit next to an eligible contender on the tube and lightly brush my fingertips over his forearm to feel if his skin is as soft as Joey’s.

I watch a rugby match on tv for the first time and find myself looking for a specific pair of chicken legs. 

I scroll donor sights for a very precise combination of Jewish and British heritage. 

Men with pale rosy skin are hard to come by; with soft cheeks; not too much taller than me - but, a little so I still get to be the little spoon most of the time; rounded shoulders; a, elegant neck; dancer’s feet -

Is it weird to want a baby that looks exactly like the person you’re fucking? 

Because I do not want a man to have my baby I want Joey to have my baby. I actually just want a baby Joey. One of their eggs so that we can make a baby together. A baby whose smile takes up their entire face that turns into an adult whose smile takes up their entire face. 

No fucking way. 

Was the end of that conversation. Apparently, they said, I can’t force them to do the egg extraction. Or endure something so female in an environment so catered for women, with no leeway one way or the other. But my god if it were as easy as sticking a needle in them and putting it in me, I’d do it tonight in their sleep.

I start taking pictures of the men. The tube men and the Costa Coffee men and the men crossing the street. I screenshot the donor websites that have pictures. It’s mostly pictures of them as a baby, so my phone gallery is now just a sea of chubby faces that merge into one.

—

Darling, gone through to voicemail again I’m afraid so here I am. You really shouldn’t keep your phone off, what if someone wants to reach you? Get a landline darling, they’re fantastic. We recently got a cordless one and have a few dotted around - just installed one next to the telly, I just mute This Morning, put on the subtitles - your father showed me how - really changed things 

Was calling for an update? But yes, of course, won’t get one right now, you’re not on the other side of the phone…

So I was looking up all the procedures darling after our last chat - honestly fascinating - and I was looking up some websites too - so many great ones out there, my love, I’ll email you the links. It's so wonderful what you’re doing by the way. Or hoping to do so. Or will do? So one website had lots of interviews - so wonderful darling - anyway, lots of interviews mentioning male figures and role models and it would be good to think about, darling, with whoever you chose, you might want to think about that?

All I’m saying is, what if you have a little boy, or boys? Twins are common … you know with two, erm- non-male parents. They might want a male in their life to show them how to be a man.

I’ll send you the link, let me know - starting again, gotta go my love. 

ps. Thanks for your offer to clean the flat but I’ve decided to keep the old boxes anyhow - sentimental value you know plus I thought one day I could get the chair in the living room upholstered in the old blue fabric? When i get the time of course. Give me a call sometime, bye!

—

It’s a Saturday morning, I’m barely awake and Joey has their bags packed for a stag party, but with girls. I tell them I think it's nicer if I’m not there. Spend time with their mates. I’ll just weigh them down. Plus I’m really getting somewhere with my project and it will be good for me to have some alone time to work on it, without distractions. 

I practically push them out of the house.

Call the plumber!

They manage before I slam the door on them. 

You call the fucking plumber, I tell the wall.