The Individual vs. Community Theme Analysis

JOHNNY: I ain’t scared of Kennet and Avon. I been running rings round that lot since before you were born. There’s council officials ten years dead, wake up in cold wet graces hollering the name of Rooster Byron. I’m in their dreams and their worst nightmares. Besides. My lawyers in New York deal with all that. Here, Davey? Did you smash my telly up?

DAVEY: No, son. You did. With a cricket bat.

DAVEY: You know what I reckon. I reckon she’s been got by a werewolf. She’s been turned away from The ‘Rakers, wandered off into the night, in tears, whereupon a werewolf has heard her tragic sobs, and he’s followed her through the brush and he’s pounced. He’s torn her arms and legs off and eaten her virgin heart. Seriously. In a day or two, someone’ll find a bloody patch of turf in a clearing, with just these pink fairy wings flapping in the breeze.

DAVEY: They’ve got a point, though, haven’t they? I’m not being funny, right, but if you’re sat in your brand-new house you’ve sweat your bollocks off to buy, and find out four hundred yards away there’s some ogre living in a wood…I bet it never said in the brochure: ‘Detached house, three beds with garden overlooking wood with free troll. Free ogre what loves trance music, deals cheap spliff and whizz, don’t pay no tax, and has probably got AIDS. Guaranteed non-stop aggravation and danger.’ I bet that weren’t in the brochure.

GINGER: He’s dead. They pronounce him stone dead. St. John’s put a blanket over him. Paperwork, everything. All the mums are crying, how they should build a statue to him in the town square, when suddenly everyone turns round and he’s gone. He’s vanished. There’s just a blanket with nothing under it. They follow this trail of blood across the field, past the whirler-swirler, into the beer tent, up to the bar, where he’s stood there finishing a pint of Tally-Ho.

JOHNNY: They’re fifteen-, sixteen-year-old kids. Course they’re bloodying drinking. It’s not like you don’t serve kids. Bloody What’s-it’s Stringer, sat at the bar, he’s fourteen year old. Orderin’ Maker’s Mark and Coke.

DAVEY: Who can say these days. You ask me, BBC Points West has lost its way.

GINGER: What?

DAVEY: Points West used to be solid local news. First they’ve done the cuts, merged with Bristol, now it’s half the bloody country.

DAWN: I get here and you’re sitting around, getting pissed with a bunch of kids. The police are coming. They’re going to bulldoze this place. You’re having a party.

DAWN: Marky comes home every day in floods. Scratches. Bruises. His bag-handle torn. ‘Your dad don’t pay no tax. Your dad’s a gyppo. He’s going to prison.’ ‘Not my dad, Mum. My dad’s great.’ My dad’s the best.’ ‘He is, Marky. He’s amazing. He a one-off. He can’t even take his own boy up the fair. Can’t keep a promise to a six-year-old child.’ Question: Do you have drugs in there? Where your son is.

DAWN: Just make sure there’s nothing in there when the police get here. Just do that for your son. Me, I don’t care. I don’t want him growing up on the bus to and from prison.

TROY: And, you know what they done? They undone their flies and they pissed on you too. All overs you. On your face. In your hair. In your mouth. Took photos with their phones. Sent it to everyone. I bet Lee there’s got it on his phone. Pea. Tanya. I know Davey has. He filmed it. Show him, Davey. Show Rooster what you done. They told me all the stories, Rooster. Took me right back. Nothing changes up here.

FAWCETT: This land belongs to Kennet and Avon Council.

JOHNNY: Says who?

FAWCETT: The law, Mr. Byron. The English law. I am showing the recipient a legally recognised petition of local complainants concerning the illegal encampment and activities hereabouts.

JOHNNY: How many houses are you building? Who gets the contract? Who gets the kickback? You’re right. Kids come here. Half of them are safer here than they are at home. You got nowhere else to go, come on over. The door’s open. You don’t like it, stay away. What the fuck do you think an English forest is for?

GINGER: I thought we were mates.

JOHNNY: Mates.

GINGER: I thought we were. Friends and that.

JOHNNY: I see. I see. Well. Listen to me now. Listen very careful. (Beat.) We’re not friends. I’m not your friend. I’m Johnny Byron. I’m nobody’s friend. Is that clear? Now get. You and all these rats. Just leave me alone. Or yours is what’s coming.

JOHNNY: School is a lie. Prison’s a waste of time. Girls are wondrous. Grab your fill. No man was ever lain in his barrow wishing he’d loved one less woman. Don’t listen to no one and nothing but what your own heart bids. Lie. Cheat. Steal. Fight to the death. Don’t give up. Show me your teeth.

JOHNNY: Come, you drunken spirits. Come, you battalions. You fields of ghosts who walk these green plains still. Come, you giants!

Relentlessly he beats the drum. Faster. Faster. Staring out. He pounds on and on until the final blow rings out and…

Blackout

Curtain.

The End.