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A monologue from the play by Don Nigro
JANET (thirty two)
Janet Achurch is a tall, blond and voluptuous actor with a drinking problem.
She has just found out that her fellow actresses have been conspiring to take her part away from her and move the show (Ibsen’s Little Eyolf) to the West End for more money without her.
Janet is enraged and bitter at this betrayal and has started drinking again.
It’s theater that will kill me some day. Charles had the bright idea to take me on a grand theatrical tour of Australia, New Zealand, and Tasmania.
All the great Tasmanian theaters. He thought there must be money in it somehow. It turns out they are not particularly big on Shakespeare in Tasmania.
I was dreadfully ill, but we had to keep performing to pay our way home.
They kept me going with alcohol and morphia until we got back to England, where the doctor informed me that my problem was an addiction to alcohol and morphia.
Getting this role was such a great thing for me.
And now you’ve stolen it from me. Stabbed me in the back. Stabbed me in the front. Stabbed me in my big, fat a**.
The fact remains that I am doing the best work of my life here, in this wretched, dismal, wonderful clat-farting play,
so of course you all feel compelled to conspire with a bunch of damned men to betray me so you can get rich dragging poor old Ibsen off kicking and screaming to the West End.
We’re doing a great thing here. We’re doing Ibsen, difficult, boring, drab, cranky old Ibsen, and we’re doing it as well as anybody has ever done it in the history of the world,
and the first chance you three stupid wh*res get to cut my throat and take my part away and ruin it all, you jump at it,
so g*ddamned anxious to make yourselves slaves once again to those greedy West End bastards with money in their pockets and sh*t between their ears.
Aren’t you the least bit ashamed of yourselves?
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