An ambulance pulls up outside and I think, “Oh no! Who now?” I get up and peer through the window. Two of the paramedics that climb out, slinging bags of serious looking equipment over their shoulders, are women. One is quite chubby but I like women in uniform. I have to remind myself that someone is ill and that getting an erection right now is not appropriate, that one of my neighbours is ill.
I am friends with my neighbours and a sense of dread drenches me as I run through, in my mind, who it might be, what might be wrong. There are police out there too now, and I watch as they walk up my path. “Wrong house!” I shout through the window, worried now that whoever it is that needs help is not getting it. Mrs May next door, is ninety-something. We chat often and I bring her her morning paper. She reads The Mail and I joke with her about how she must be some kind of right-winger. “I like the crossword.” she tells me. We must have had that conversation 1,000 times. At least. I well up at the thought that something bad might have happened to her. The cops and medics are ringing my doorbell. “Wrong house.” I shout again, but they don’t hear me because of the thick glass we have, to shield us from the passing planes overhead as they approach Heathrow.
I go to answer the door, to explain, but it is too late, they have kicked in the front door. I turn to watch them kick my flat door in too and stare, horror struck, at my own lifeless corpse on the couch, wrists, gaping, red, open grins, a huge pool of congealing blood making sticky, ugly sounds against the feet of the paramedics as they approach my dead body.
Entrance of the Gladiators was the first radio play I wrote. It was broadcast on Resonance FM on 15 Feb 08.
Here are some of the things that were said about it.
“Terrific. Sour, wild, moving, furious and odd as hell.”
“There’s no way I’d act in, or have anything to do with this sick shit!”
“Powerful, original and grippingly told.”
You can download or listen to it from here.