Waiting for the Plot: The Lost Plays of Sheridan Beckett

In the tumescent years between the pregnant pauses that led to the wars of the last century, an odd talent sprang unremittingly from the public rooms near the soiled colleges of the outer counties of Southern Ireland.

Borne of cheap uisce beathadh and bad air, sad aires and tawdry crisps,
an insensibility crawled out of the privet hedges and into the gutters of upper academia, spewing forth words and sentences that changed forever the way in which theatre-goers clutched their programmes and book-readers wielded their thesauri.

That insensibility was Sheridan Beckett.

The life of Sheridan Beckett:

We know very little about the life of Sheridan Beckett,
beyond his criminal proceedings, his outstanding debts, his birth certificate and his death certificate.

The only artifact of his personal life that we know of is a defaced typewriter in the Sheridan Beckett Memorial Kiosk on the grounds of the Speth Brewery in Arkfordshire, Smeck, Eire.

A modicum of decorum prevents us from detailing the appearance of the typewriter. Suffice it to say that a pornographer would be shocked by its appearance.

There are very few photographs of Sheridan Beckett. Most were taken by Polaroid operators on the occasion of his visits round to entertain the constabulary, usually without his full consent or consciousness.

When or why he found the time to write is a matter of some controversy, mainly in the minds of the directors of the paper company that produced the sheets that he typed upon. They have been attempting for some years to keep their appointment to a cadet branch of the Royal Kennel Staff by suppressing any mention of their watermark.

Various responsible scholars don't blame them.

The Work of Sheridan Beckett:

No living, sober, or responsible person can ever remember Sheridan Beckett ever having had a position, outside of voluntary footrest in the common rooms of various theatrical societies and RSPCA offices.
A search of all relevant records cannot show any cause why he might not be characterized as having been a derelict, a vagabond, or completely successful at having avoided employment for his entire life.

The Plays of Sheridan Beckett:

No complete manuscript version of any of his plays has ever been found, if you excuse a rather voluminous grafitto on a church buttress in Inner Thih, Orbingson, in 1965 that was poorly photographed for evidentiary purposes before being sand-blasted off, as Easter was only two days away.

What little that has been found by bored scholars from France and frustrated graduate assistants from the University of Ohio has been gathered together in a little quarto chapbook so that it can be ignored in toto.

To the best of our knowledge, his plays were only put on by local theatre associations that were trying to appear avant garde and needed the quid to pay his and their overdraughts.
The only coherent review of one of these productions that we have been able to find was for the Lady's 'In The Fringe of a Doiley' Footlights and Meddling Circle, Ironside, Clad, in April of 1972.
They had attempted to put on Sheridan Beckett's most famous play,"Script" and the reviewer at the Ironside Broadside and Shipping List, one Ilyyswit Van Ryan (who later stood for Dollyswill in 1983, was elected, but was unable to take her seat because it was discovered that she had the mange) was only able to bring herself to say that the production should have been called "Scrapt"

Out of sincere kindness and a wish to get this over with,, we will refuse to print any of his actual scripts beyond an title and a very brief synopsis, so that any lower school or upper university instructors or lecturers who detect even a hint of any of this in their pupils, will then know quite what to do. And with what.

If, Not?: forty-two minutes of the cast sitting in the audience critiqueing an imaginary performance on a dark and empty stage.


Foot: A bucket of an indefinable muck is placed in the lobby and the audience is forced to remove their shoes and enter the theatre. The cast of four naked actors examines the footprints and makes rude comments.


Script: A typewriter covered in Ivy sits center stage. A cast sits around on folding chairs ostensibly doing a first reading (and well they might be) and tearing out the pages they don't like. Ends with a rude song incorporating audience member's names.


Kith and Kiss: A strange and multi-lingual script has a four member cast pretend to be relatives at a reunion who kiss cheeks and then criticize each other's breath. Ends with a real boxing match. The winner gets to leave the cast forever.


Actor without direction: A large cardboard compass is made into a costume for an unlucky two member cast who discuss what kind of director they would like for an non-existent play. A three tin whistle orchestra is called for. The whistles are played over the actor's lines in borrowed dust bins.

In Conclusion:

We've managed to avoid any proofreading of this piece. We hope to successfully continue in that vein. If you are the sort who scans and article quickly to see if anything of interest, then we have something for you: THE END.

If you are the sort who reads carefully through the first time and hopes that it is worth it, then we have something for you, too: YOU FOOL, YOU JUST WASTED FIFTEEN MINUTES AND YOU'LL NEVER GET THEM BACK!

Of course, you are both thinking (that's your first mistake) that we are the ultimate fools, 'cause we wrote this thing. Actually, we dictated it over megaphones while swimming laps in a pothole in Portobello Road...

Our deepest thanks to our stenog and typist, Mandy R. Wristless, may she rest in peace (only over the weekend. We need her back on Monday for our piece on the Freudian implications of where one discards their used chewing gum).

PERPETRATORS:

Bookflippers and copy machine editors: Bill and Betty Etal.

Interviewer of survivors and widows: Timothy Asquith Font.

Last person to touch the coffee urn without switching it off: Emelia Misc.

Man with a broken camera: Ed.

Golgotha Review Proctor: Dr. Sindee Pratt-Fall, MD, PHD, ACC, RSPCA, ADD, MADD, Ret.