Frankenfight (2013)

Frankenfight was created for Stage Night at the Horse Hospital in London, and contains only words used in Frankenstein.

Listen to Frankenfight new audio version here:


Frankenfight was narrated by Alex Walker (him) and Zoe Mavroudi (her).

Organised by Tai Shani, Stage Night was an evening of new performance work by 4 artists: Annabel Frearson, Liam Wright-Higgins, Holly Slingsby, Alice Theobald.


Him: What?
Her: What?
Him: What?
Her: What?
Him: What?
Her: What?
Him: What?
Her: What?
Him: And?
Him: And?
Her: How can you sit there as if nothing has happened?
Him: Nothing has happened.
Her: Oh come off it.
Him: Well.. well, what do suppose I should do?
Her: Say something.. anything... sorry might be good.
Him: Sorry for what?
Her: You know full well what for.
Him: Do I?
Her: Of course you do.
Him: What?
Her: What? How could you?
Him: What?
Her: Do I really need to say it? Go through it all over again?
Him: And?
Her: That... that... that... You.. you..
Him: What?
Her: You know.
Him: Do I?
Her: Why should I say it? Work it out for yourself.
Him: Great.
Her: So?
Him: So what?
Her: So?... So?
Him: What?
Her: Out with it then.
Him: Out with what?
Her: I mean, did you even think for one minute about how I might feel? One minute? One second even?
Him: May be.
Her: So you do know what I am talking about then?
Him: What do you care any way?
Her: I see. About me now is it?
Him: Well why not?
Her: Because this is about what you did. You. You.
Him: But what real difference does it make?
Her: What do you mean, what difference does it make?
Him: I mean, what real difference does it make?
Her: How can you even say that?
Him: But does it?
Her: What?
Him: Make any difference?
Her: Of course it does.
Him: How?
Her: How?
Him: How?
Her: I saw you!
Him: And?
Her: With my own eyes. I saw you. I saw you.
Him: Saw me what?
Her: You know full well.
Him: What if you did?
Her: But did you not think how I might feel? Do you even care how I feel? Do you? Well, do you? Because from where I am standing it really does not seem like it.
Him: Well what do you feel?
Her: What do you mean, what do I feel?
Him: Well what do you feel?
Her: What's it to you?
Him: Every time..
Her: Every time what? What is that supposed to mean, every time?
Him: Nothing. I mean you do this every time.
Her: Do what every time? Every what time? When? Tell me?
Him: This.
Her: What?
Him: You know.
Her: Well if I did, why would I ask?
Him: What you are doing right now.
Her: And what is that?
Him: Being like this.
Her: Like what?
Him: This. That.
Her: This that what? Go on, explain yourself.
Him: Work it out for yourself.
Her: No. You tell me how I am if you know me so well. Go on. Tell me. Say it like it is.
Him: And I thought you knew everything!
Her: The fact that you are an are soul, that much I do know.
Him: Spare me.
Her: Are soul. Are soul.
Him: Every time.
Her: There you go again. What is it with this every time? Every time you act like an are soul. That much I know.
Him: Is that all you can say?
Her: Well what more is there to say?
Him: How am I supposed to know?
Her: Did you think I would not notice?
Him: Notice what?
Her: What you were doing?
Him: What was I doing that was so god awful, any way?
Her: Good grief.
Him: What?
Her: Call yourself a man?
Him: Do I?
Her: You should see yourself sometimes.
Him: And?
Her: To think I fell for him, it, that, there..
Him: Getting angry, babe?
Her: Think you know it all now, do you? Think you are above it all?
Him: Above what all?
Her: This. Me. Feelings. Beneath you, are they?
Him: I hope so.
Her: You hope so. You hope so. What kind of answer is that? You hope so..
Him: Forget it.
Her: No I will not. You would love that, you would truly love that.. Forget everything. Why not?
Him: Well, why not?
Her: Because you have up set me, that is why not.
Him: Have I?
Her: So, tell me, if I did that to you, you would not mind? You would not care? Is that what you are saying?
Him: Try it. Might free you up a little.
Her: Are you calling me ...? Right then. Fine.
Him: Fine. Looking forward to it.
Her: You wait. You wait and see.
Him: As I said, looking forward to it.
Her: Unlike you, I keep my promises.
Him: I doubt it.
Her: How dare you? How dare you?
Him: Well, do you?
Her: That is for me to know and you to wonder, then.
Him: Lovely.
Her: And what is that supposed to mean?
Him: Imagine.
Her: Unfortunately with you I have to imagine.
Him: Charming.
Her (song): "Victor Victorious, you are so glorious, heaven sent, transcendent, (in rapture)"!
Him: Pathetic.
Her: Well a girl can dream, can she not?
Him: Dream land, seems about right.
Her: There you go again. Mr Above It All.
Him: So? Better than crawling around in the ravine of your emotions, I can tell you.
Her: Would you even know an emotion if it sat on your face?
Him: Chance would be a fine thing.
Her: You are disgusting. I hate you.
Him: Who said I was talking about you?
Her: Well that says it all.
Him: What?
Her: What? I think some one did sit on your face, but breath.
Him: Delicious.
Her: I rest my case.
Him: What?
Her: What?
Him: What?
Her: What?
Him: And?
Her: And what?
Him: Well what do you feel any how?
Her: You really want to know?
Him: Go for it.
Her: All right then, seeing as you ask.. seeing as you ask... seeing as you ask.. I will tell you  how I feel... Are you ready?
Him: Be my guest.
Her: Great... Shall I do it in order of magnitude or ..?
Him: You choose.
Her: Fine. Right then. Here we go. A. You make me feel abhorred...
Him: A broad? But you are a broad.
Her: Abhorred. Stupid.
Him: Aboard what? A ship?
Her: Are you doing this on purpose? Abhorred, as in abhorrence.
Him: Go on then... all abhorred..
Her: You make me feel abhorred, as in abhorrence, as in you are an abhorrent bore.
Him: Thank you.
Her: You make me feel absent. And that my absence makes no difference to you what so ever. We are hardly even acquainted any more. I feel closer to my Face Book friends than to you. I feel like an acquirement. Not even an acquirement: I almost wish that you would tree it me like an object because you value your objects more highly than me. You have cut me adrift.
Him: Come abhorred!
Her: I feel afflicted, aged, full of aggravation and agitation, agitation, agitation, AGITATION.
Him: All right, I am listening.
Her: Agony would feel better than this. At least it would be a proper feeling. Alone, of course, alone. Utterly alone. Altered. Altered. Not even changed, only altered. Altered.
Him: What time is it?
Her: Anguish, how about that for a feeling. Anguish.. anguish, anguish, anguish, anguish, anguish, anguish, anguish, anguish, anguish, anguish, anguish.. Half past ten. Annoyed yet? There is plenty more. Antipathy: good friends with anxiety. Brought on by an overwhelming sense of continual apprehension. No more ardour, ardour, ardour, ardour, ardour, ardour, ardour, ardour, ardour oh god! Now simply arduous.
Him: Was that necessary?
Her: Probably not but I enjoyed it.
Him: Enjoyment. Now there's a thing of the past.
Her: We are agreed on that at least. Where is the affection? What happened to the adventure, to the alpine apartment? Our animal desire. To the anticipation of touching one another. I long to be adored, to feel accomplished, admired, allured, allured - can you picture that? Addressed would be pleasant.
Him: Fine; I will buy you a new dress. Will that make all of this go away?
Her: For God's sake, you are not even hearing me. You are putting words in my -
Him: Words, well if you do not like words I would be more than happy to put something else there.
Her: I would rather give head to a corpse.
Him: I will most probably be dead by the time you find the remotest appetite for that kind of pleasure, so, be my guest.
Her: You murdered my desire a long time ago.
Him: Murdered! Murdered! Is it possible to murder something that is already dead?
Her: Is it easier to forget than confess that you once had feelings for me?
Him: Feelings, feelings, feelings. I still have feelings for you. Not particularly pleasant feelings, but feelings none the less. .. Can I go now?
Her: You can avoid the arguments but the issue remains.
Him: But what the blood he, free can, sod in, mother far can, nothing out of nothing is this? Tell me. Name it. One single, tangible, real life, living, actual action of mine that you object to.
Her: I don't know. .. I wish you flushed the tour let more often.
Him: Do able.
Her: You don't like my friends.
Him: I like Elizabeth.
Her: She's not my friend.
Him: I still like her.
Her: You read my he may all.
Him: Less since you fell out with Elizabeth.
Her: You never like the presents I give you.
Him: They're always so practical.
Her: You say phenomena instead of '- on': as in, fear no more none.
Him: Pedantry is not always attractive.
Her: You make hideous sounds with your teeth in the night.
Him: It's the way I was made.
Her: You by vegetables from half way across the world.
Him: I thought it was good to support foreign peasants?
Her: They don't see the money. Besides, the fuel miles overweigh any no shone all benefit.
Him: Harrowing.
Her: You won't let me have children.
Him: On a scale of one to ten, which is worst, the vegetables or the children?
Her: You won't let me have children.
Him: But for what hellish reason would we? So we can hide our contempt for one another in a child?
Her: You're right. Instead of a child we have created a monstrous being between us. At what point did this marriage become a laboratory of hate? How did we become instruments of mutual torture? This diabolical marriage has taken us to pieces. And now it inhabits us. And it will always haunt us as part of who we are. Even if we split up - well, why not? - and never set eyes on each other again. Even then this fiendish creature that we have created will continue to exist within us.
Him: What, like Sad Am Whose Saying?
Her: Not so much, but there is certainly some very ugly chemistry here.
Him: And you like power.
Her: As with you and extremes. Let's face it, you weren't even with me on our wedding-night, you were so out of it.
Him: Curiously that's the only detail you seem to remember about our wedding-night.
Her: That, and your mother weeping. She's still breaking her injunction, by the way.
Him: So here we are, bound together in a barbarous embrace on the ship wreck of our marriage.
Her: Beautiful words, my dear, beautiful words. There. Happy now? Are you wholly far can happy now?
Him: Happy; happy; happy happy happy happy happy. What on God's earth is happiness any way? Happiness.. Happiness... Happiness... Happiness.. Happiness. Is it a form of madness? An illness? A sickness, may be? A horror scene of infinite kindness, overflowing goodness, genial gentleness, a fever of eagerness, a face full of softness, sweetness, cheerfulness, gladness, loveliness.
Her: Or is it a case of just not being alone in the darkness?
Him: Or the whiteness.
Her: Your happiness is selfishness.
Him: Does happiness need witnesses?
Her: Blindness.
Him: Ugliness.
Her: Guiltlessness.
Him: More like forgetfulness, surely.
Her: Dilatoriness.
Him: Await a minute..
Her: Weakness.
Him: You like firmness, do you? A touch of ruggedness?
Her: Consciousness would do.
Him: Are we through with this yet?
Her: Not even close. Idleness.
Him: I would rather call it stillness. So for you happiness is all about usefulness, right?
Her: Is that such a weakness?
Him: It can lead to unhappiness.
Her: So what is the truest happiness? Is it all about wildness and wantonness, the balminess of carelessness?
Him: More.
Her: Greatness! Brightness! Loudness! Fierceness! Rawness! .. then.
Him: No no no no no no, no, no no no, no no no no, no, no no no no no no no, no, no no no no no no no, no, no no no no no no no, no, no no no no no no no, no, no no no no no no no, no, no no no-
Her: He low.
Him: No no no, no, no. The feeling of happiness that started with considerateness, such as kindliness towards helplessness, gradually drifted from the calmness of thoughtfulness, and now, over nourished in the pasture of mildness has developed a restlessness, an unwillingness to practice mere sensitiveness. In its place enters a coldness, a wiliness, a clearness and eagle-eyed acuteness that, tinged with wickedness, has set its sights, and with a swiftness way surpassing mild inquisitiveness, rushed head long in to the sportiveness of sadness, and begins to seek bleakness with seriousness. And so there you have it: Happiness finds its own happiness in a secret enjoyment of wretchedness, a beholding of the beauty of squalidness; it is best friends with the arbiters of bitterness; the lover of mind blow in hideousness.
Her: I see. And where does that leave us?.
Him: Is there still an us? The us: thus. Thus! Thus, thus, thus, thus, thus, thus, ...
Her: Shut the far cup, will you.