A Satirical Musical in Three Acts
Dramatis Personae
GARY: 30s, originally from Hull, now in London
MIROSLAV: 40s, Serbian-born, devout Eastern Orthodox, Gary’s coworker
CHLOE: 20s, born and bred East Ender, proprietor of “Proper London Pawn & Oddities”
ENSEMBLE: Plays various roles—traditional churchgoers, London social media types, market traders, bobbies, etc.
ACT I: A Prayer Unanswered
Scene 1: A London Office Kitchen
(Lights up on a sleek, glass-walled office kitchen in Shoreditch. GARY is making tea. MIROSLAV enters, eyeing the kettle.)
MIROSLAV: (Suddenly, earnestly) Gary. Do you believe in God?
GARY: (Pauses, teaspoon in hand) Can’t say I do, mate.
MIROSLAV: (Frowns) But why? Everyone needs to believe in something.
(A soft, melancholic piano melody begins—a hint of a Northern folk tune.)
GARY: Right. Well. It started when I were a kid in Hull…
(Lights shift. The back projection shows grainy VHS footage: the iconic opening scenes of British WWII Commando films, like “The Guns of Navarone” and “Where Eagles Dare.”)
Scene 2: A Council Flat in Hull, 1990s
(Young GARY (played by ENSEMBLE) sits cross-legged before a bulky CRT telly. The dramatic score swells.)
YOUNG GARY: (Voiceover) I watched all these old films. My granddad’s favourites. All these brave Commandos with their sleek, quiet pistols—suppressors and all.
(He mimes holding a Welrod pistol.)
YOUNG GARY: I wanted one. More than anything. To be like them. Quiet. Effective. Resolved.
(His MUM (ENSEMBLE in a floral apron) bustles in.)
MUM: Gary! Stop moonin’ about with pretend guns! Your tea’s getting cold!
YOUNG GARY: But, Mum, if I had a proper commando pistol—
MUM: You’ll have a proper clip ’round the ear if you don’t finish your homework!
Scene 3: St. Hilda’s Church
(A simple, stone-walled church. YOUNG GARY kneels awkwardly at the altar rail.)
YOUNG GARY: (Whispering) Alright, God. I know we don’t talk much. But if you could see your way to… getting us one of them Welrod pistols. The quiet ones. I’d… I’d start believing proper. I’d go to Sunday service. I’d even join the choir.
(Silence. The distant hum of a vacuum cleaner. A shaft of dusty light falls from a high window.)
YOUNG GARY: …Hello?
(Nothing. The light fades. The piano tune returns, sombre.)
YOUNG GARY: Right. So that’s that, then.
Scene 4: The Theory Tested
(Back in the London kitchen. MIROSLAV stares, aghast.)
MIROSLAV: You lost your faith… over a pistol?
GARY: Made a request. Didn’t get a delivery. Basic logic.
MIROSLAV: (Agitated, waving his hands) No! No! This is where you went wrong! Your methodology!
(Music swells—a dramatic, Eastern European violin riff.)
MIROSLAV: Listen! You should have taken the pistol first!
GARY: (Blinking) Sorry?
MIROSLAV: Then you go to confession! You ask for forgiveness! You have the item, and you are cleansed! This is the correct order!
(The music cuts. They stare at each other.)
GARY: So… sin proactively, repent retroactively?
MIROSLAV: (Beaming) Exactly! Now you understand!
ENSEMBLE: (Appearing around them, singing in a round)
First the deed, then the plea,
That’s the proper hierarchy!
Secure the earthly prize,
Then apologise to the skies!
(Lights fade to black.)
ACT II: The Wisdom of the Crowd
Scene 1: The Twitterverse Ablaze
(The stage transforms into a giant scrolling feed. GARY types on his phone.)
GARY: “Colleague’s advice: nick it first, ask God’s pardon later. Thoughts?”
(A percussive, grime-inflected beat kicks in. The ENSEMBLE, as various LONDON PERSONAS, flits across the stage.)
CITY BOY ENSEMBLE: Your mate’s a diamond! True Balkan pragmatism!
ART STUDENT ENSEMBLE: So transactional! So postmodern!
MARKET TRADER ENSEMBLE: He’s givin’ you the treasure map, not the treasure! That’s proper friendship, that is!
(A mock-Victorian music hall tune starts.)
ENSEMBLE: (Singing)
Don’t give a man a fish, nor a rod nor line,
Just point to the river, and say “It’s all fine!”
Your Serbian pal’s done the noble deed,
Planting the pragmatic seed!
Scene 2: A Dash of Cold Water
(A BOBBY (ENSEMBLE) steps forward, helmet under arm.)
BOBBY: Hold on. God might forgive and forget.
(Sirens wail softly in the soundtrack.)
BOBBY: But the bloke you nicked it from? He won’t. And he’s got my number on speed dial.
BOBBY: Firearms Act 1968. Minimum five years. That’s not a detour; that’s a destination.
(The music turns into a tense, minimalist cello piece.)
ENSEMBLE: (In a hushed, echoing canon)
Forgiveness is divine,
But the Old Bailey draws a line,
A new path you may find,
Leads to a different kind of grind.
Scene 3: The C of E vs. The Algorithm
(Stage splits. Left: A traditional English parish church hall, with ENSEMBLE in tweed and pearls, arranging jam jars for the fête. Right: A neon-lit “Wellness Tech Startup” scene.)
PARISH ENSEMBLE: (Singing a slow, hymn-like tune)
Faith is a savings account,
With modest, steady deposit.
Virtue compounded daily,
A quiet, lifelong profit.
STARTUP ENSEMBLE: (Singing a frenetic, auto-tuned pop track)
Sin now, repent later!
Our app facilitates the Saviour!
One-click confession, guilt-free session,
Maximum transgression, streamlined redemption!
GARY: (Centre stage) So… Church of England is a Building Society… and this is… Buy Now, Pray Later?
Scene 4: The London Experiment
(GARY alone in a spotlight.)
GARY: (Sings)
From Hull’s grey docks to London’s sprawl,
To put this theory to the test.
Will proactive sinning see me rise or fall?
Let’s see how London measures best.
(He mimes boarding a train. The beat becomes driven, determined.)
ENSEMBLE:
To Penge! To Peckham! To Camden Town!
Where will his great experiment go down?
The gospel according to Gary begins…
Will it be a salvation… or one of our sins?
(Blackout.)
ACT III: A London Education
Scene 1: “Proper London Pawn & Oddities”
(Lights up on a cluttered, magical shop in Bermondsey. CHLOE stands behind a counter littered with oddities. A sign reads: “Licensed Firearms Dealer. Curiosity Specialist.”)
CHLOE: (Without looking up) Alright, mate. What’s your poison? Victorian tear-gas pistol? WW2 commemorative revolver? We’ve got a lovely deactivated Sten gun over there.
GARY: (Nervously) I’m… just browsing.
CHLOE: First timer? Need a history. A reason. “Collection, sport, or personal protection?” Paperwork’s a nightmare, but we’ll sort you.
GARY: (Pointing at a case) That one. The… Welrod.
CHLOE: Ooh, specialist. The silent one. Lovely. With deactivation cert, historical assessment… call it… a day’s wage on a building site.
GARY: A day?
CHLOE: Less, if you cash in your recycling. It’s not the price, love. It’s the process.
(A jaunty, music-hall-inspired tune starts.)
CHLOE: (Sings)
You want a piece of history?
We’ve got the forms and bureaucracy!
Fill out this, sign there, wait in a queue,
It’s the British way to see it through!
Why skulk and steal and live in fear,
When you can own it legally here?
Scene 2: The Epiphany
(GARY paces outside the shop, represented by shifting streetlight projections.)
GARY: (Sings)
*I crossed the country with a plan,
To test a theological strand.
But London’s lesson, crisp and clear:
The law’s a maze you must navigate here.
MIROSLAV’S GHOST: (Appears) Take it! Then be forgiven!
CHLOE’S VOICE: (Echoes) Section 1… Firearms Certificate… good reason…
GARY:
My grand larceny plot dissolves in this fog,
Replaced by pamphlets from the Met,
A hundred-question form to fret,
And the shocking, simple, mundane truth:
You can buy the fruit of your youth.
Scene 3: The New Creed
(GARY stands centre stage, holding a blue folder.)
GARY:
I didn’t steal a Welrod pistol.
I got a Security Guard licence instead.
Took a course. Passed the checks.
(He opens the folder.)
Got my Certificate. All legal. All tidy.
GARY:
And because the course counted as “skilled training,”
And because my instructor knew a bloke…
(He produces a burgundy booklet.)
I got a visa. Leave to Remain.
My great sin-offensive turned into… admin.
Scene 4: Finale – A London Hymn
(The entire company assembles. The music blends the earlier themes into a new, cohesive London sound—part hymn, part punk riff, part electronic pulse.)
GARY:
I sought a shortcut to a childhood dream,
A theological hack, or so it seemed.
But London taught me, loud and not so cheap,
The proper way is slow, and deep.
MIROSLAV: (Shrugging) The principle still stands…
ENSEMBLE: SIN FIRST!
(General laughter.)
CHLOE:
Every city’s got its logic, every culture has its rules,
You can’t just transplant seedlings into different, stubborn soils.
The wisdom isn’t in the twist, the clever sideways leap,
It’s in reading the instructions, buried boring, buried deep.
PARISH ENSEMBLE:
Steady plodding wins the race…
STARTUP ENSEMBLE:
Disrupt the old-timey embrace!
GARY: (To the audience)
So here’s the gospel I’ve divined,
In London’s messy, glorious grind:
True faith might not get you the gun,
But showing up, and getting done,
The legal, tedious, right pursuit…
That’s what eventually bears fruit.
ALL: (In triumphant, messy harmony)
The bridge you burn might be the one you need,
The fastest route is often fool’s good speed.
So file your forms, and stand in line,
Your London miracle will be…
Perfectly. On. Time.
(The music resolves. Lights narrow on GARY. He holds up his Firearm Certificate, then thoughtfully places it down. He picks up a well-thumbed copy of “The Met Police Firearms Guidance: A Citizen’s Handbook” and smiles. Slow fade to black.)
CURTAIN
Production Notes:
· Music: A blend of British folk, music hall, grime, and Westminster chimes. Leitmotifs for Hull (folk), the Church (hymn), and London (eclectic mix).
· Setting: Relies on projection and minimalist set pieces (a Tube sign, a pub stool, a church rail) to evoke location quickly.
· Humour: Deeply British—understated, rooted in irony, bureaucracy, and class observation. The satire is less brash, more weary and affectionate.
· Core Idea: The “Protestant work ethic” comically clashing with “digital age instant gratification,” all filtered through the relentless, procedure-obsessed reality of London life. Salvation is found not in divine intervention or clever loopholes, but in completing the correct forms.
BY TROY LEE