ComedyCollective Writers Project
John Random

PRESS-GANGED

by John Random

FX: TAVERN ATMOS. C. 1790

MR. SILAS: Sit ee down, lad. (CALLING OUT) Landlord, a flagon of your best 7-Up!

GEORGIE: Oh, thank you, Sir, thank you.

MR. SILAS: Now, Master Georgie. Remind me. Which exam was it you had today?

GEORGIE: HND in Peasantry. One hour twenty minutes. Farm on one side of the soil only. I fell down on me Country Lore.

MR. SILAS: Such as?

GEORGIE: Question Foive: If thy path be crossed by three jackdaws and a woodcock, what be that a sure sign of?

MR. SILAS: I don’t know; what did you put?

GEORGIE: That thou have strayed into a bird sanctuary.

MR. SILAS: Master Georgie. Let me be frank. The land is no place for ee. Heed my words and take the king’s shilling.

GEORGIE: What and join the navy! From what I hear, tis all rum, sodomy and the lash.

MR. SILAS: Aye, there’s a full social programme.

GEORGIE: No, no - I wouldn’t want to go to sea.

MR. SILAS: Why, what else will you do?

GEORGIE: I thought I might join one of the new sunrise industries -like spinning jenny manufacture or…

MR. SILAS: Son - listen to me. Me and my burly friends here have set our ‘earts on ‘avin’ you as our new shipmate. Aint that so, boys?

GENERAL MURMURS OF ASSENT. IMPLIED THREAT.

GEORGIE(WORRIED) No, Mr. Silas - don’t send me to sea. Ask of me what thou wilt and I’ll have it wilted, but not the sea. The sea claimed my father. He doyd under mysterious circumstances.They found his clothes washed up at Dead Man’s Cove.

SILAS: What’s odd about that?

GEORGIE: They’d been droy-cleaned.

SILAS:(STERNLY) Enough of your idle talk, you lily-livered scoundrel. You’re comin’ with us!

GEORGIE: But I’m not cut out for the sea. Look at me. The cut of me jib’s all wrong. Me jibs are completely jiggered…

SILAS: Sign here, please. (CALLING OUT) Blind Pew. Could you just witness this?

GEORGIE: But I’m a landlubber. I’ve always lubbed. Lubbing is in me blood what am I signing?

SILAS: Your life away.

GEORGIE: Oh well, as long as it’s nothing serious.

SILAS: You sail on HMS January with the morning tide.

GEORGIE:(HORRIFIED) When?!

SILAS: The January sails… ten o’ clock tomorrow morning. Everything must go.

GEORGIE Tell me - new recruits. Do you pipe ‘em aboard?

GENERAL GUFFAWS

SILAS: No Lad, we usually just scrape ‘em off the dock with a shovel.

ComedyCollective Writers Project
John Random