Based on a true story
A Dockyard basin-late afternoon
(With a large crowd milling around, a banner is strung over the pavement at the waters edge reading ‘Portsmouth Navy Days 1962’. A frigate, HMS Fife is berthed in the dock. The public is filing up the gangplank for tours of the ship. Marching band music can be heard.
A smartly dressed senior officer on the forecastle of Fife is standing beside a miniature cannon. Lined up in the basin are several small yachts, the officer fires the cannon and the yachts begin a race.
On the shore we follow another officer weaving his way through the crowd holding a slip of paper, scanning the faces of any sailors he sees. He works his way up the gangplank and finds his man, standing on the deck directing visitors)
Officer: CPO Morrissey?
Morrissey: (salutes) Yes Sir?
Officer: (smiling) I think you can book the rest of the day off Chief. This telegram just came through for you. (Hands paper over)
(Morrissey takes the telegram, as he reads a smile slowly spreads across his face, he is ecstatic.)
Officer: Well done Morrissey. Not that I think you men ever do need an excuse, but I can recommend the Good Intent on Green Street for the appropriate celebrations.
Morrissey: Yes sir, thank you sir. (Walks through door into ship)
A workshop aboard HMS Fife
(A young junior rating is sitting at the desk building a ship in a bottle, he is just raising the last sail when the door crashes open and Morrissey steps into the room, the rating is startled and the ship in a bottle collapses.)
Morrissey: (shouts happily) Dave! Round the rest of the shipwrights up will you? We are going ashore!
Dave: (looks at his model with resignation and puts it down slowly) any particular reason chief? Or are we just too sober again?
Morrissey: None of your cheek sailor, I just got this. (Hands over telegram)
(Dave reads it, a look of amazement growing on his face)
Dave: You mean…?
Morrissey: (proudly) yes! I have a son! Born this morning!
(Both men wait for a moment and then cheer loudly)
Morrissey’s sleeping quarters-morning
(The bed is occupied, Morrissey has obviously had a rough night, and he is still wearing his uniform, albeit in a more bedraggled state. He wakes up and his hand instantly goes to his aching forehead.)
Morrissey: (moans) Fucking hell.
(Morrissey gets up and staggers out of room, adjusting uniform as he goes)
Corridors aboard HMS Fife-morning
(The Corridor is very busy. The sailors are mostly spick and span, but the odd one is, like Morrissey, obviuosly very hung over. As Morrissey passes each hung over man, he nods to them, or says the occasional ‘Good Morning’. Some give him an odd look or smirk as they see him.
Eventually Morrissy arrives at his destination, a door with ‘Shipwrights’ written on it He opens the door, it is the workshop from before. Dave and two more sailors are working on jobs at benches inside, they are all hung over, they give Morrissey strange looks as well)
Morrissey: Do I have something wrong with me uniform?
(The men look up, puzzled)
Morrissey: Toothpaste? Cornflakes? Anything?
Shipwrights (together): No chief.
Morrissey: Then why the bloody hell am I attracting such attention this morning?
(the men appear more puzzled until Dave comes to a realisation)
Dave: I don’t think he remembers. You don’t remember do you chief?
Morrissey: Remember what?
1st Shipwright: Are you sure you don’t remember? It’s a hard thing to forget.
2nd Shipwright: (laughing) Not when you drink as much as him.
Morrissey: Oi! I swear I’ll put you all on a charge right now if you don’t bloody tell me!
Dave: Allright chief. Try to remember why we got chucked out of The Good Intent.
The Good Intent, a Pub- Previous Night
(Morrissey, the other shipwrights and several other sailors are seated around a large table, many empty glasses are strewn across it, a large vase of dahlias sits in the middle of the table. All the men are clearly very drunk)
Morrissey: (Raising a glass) Gentlemen, to my son. Malcom Morrissey!
(the men cheer and all take a big swig)
Morrissey: Gawd I’m hungry.
Sailor: What can you do? Everywhere’ll be closed by now.
Morrissey: ere’ these look good (leans forward and grabs vase)
(cries of mild disgust from the men as Morrissey moves to bite the flowers off the stalks)
A workshop aboard HMS Fife-Morning
(Morrissey’s face is blank for a while and then suddenly shrivels up in revulsion)
Morrissey: I Didn’t
All: You Did!
Morrissey: Bugger. That one’ll take forever to live down. And everyone was there?
(The men nod)
Morrissey: (sighs) Shit, (recovers) well anyway we’ve got a lot of work to do today, we’ll start by… (Knock on door)
(Morrissey turns and opens the door, revealing the senior officer who started the yacht race)
Gunnery Officer: Ah, Chippy! I wonder if you could help me. I have a slight problem, in my quarters.
Morrissey: certainly sir, I’ve just got to…
Gunnery Officer: Now, if you could. It’s of a rather urgent nature.
(Morrissey nods and follows The Gunnery Officer out of the door)
Corridor outside Gunnery Officer’s quarters-Morning
(Morrissey follows the Gunnery Officer down the corridor, and stops as the Gunnery Officer unlocks a door)
Morrissey: God what’s that smell?
Gunnery Officer: erm (sniffs) Cordite.
(Opens the door and steps in, Morrissey goes to follow but pauses again)
Morrissey: (to self)Cordite?
(follows Gunnery Officer into room)
Gunnery Officers Quarters-Morning
(The room is largely extremely tidy. There is a wisp of smoke drifting around, Morrissey instantly recoils at the stronger version of the smell from outside and stares at the unseen source of the problem in one corner of the room)
Gunnery Officer: (shuts door hurridly) it’s a long story Chief,
Morrissey: I think you’d better start from the beginning sir.
Gunnery Officer: you remember the starting cannon from yesterday?
Morrissey: (realisation dawns) that little thing did all this?
Gunnery Officer: I’m afraid so.
Gunnery Officers Quarters-Previous night
(the Gunnery Officer and a junor officer are sprawled in the room, they are very drunk and are slurring heavily, The starting cannon is sitting in the middle of the floor.)
Junior Officer: Shouldn’t you take that back to the armoury.
Gunnery Officer: (listing drunkenly) s’too late now. Here, look at this Charlie. (sits down next to the cannon) lets fire it!(said with sudden enthusiasm)
Junior Officer: What? Here?
Gunnery Officer: Why not? I think I have a charge around here somewhere (rummages in drawers)
(The men fumble around, impared by their drunkeness but determined for some reason. They charge the gun, then look for somewhere to put it before deciding on the wardrobe, they sit the gun in the bottom, trail the ripchord across to the bed and shut the wardrobe door. Both men then sit on the bed, the gunnery officer holding the cord.)
Junior Officer: Will this work?
Gunnery Officer: yes I just have to pull this… (loud bang cuts off last words)
(the room is suddenly filled with smoke as the wardrobe doors are blasted outwards, both men are startled by the sudden noise. We see two heads nervously peer inside the blackened hole in the wardrobe, smoke is drifting around liberally)
Gunnery Officers Quarters-Morning
Gunnery Officer: I’ll pay for everything of course Chief, but can you fix it without the, ah, captain finding out?
Morrissey: (inspecting the wardrobe) well…it’s my neck if he finds out and I didn’t say anything.
Gunnery Officer: (slyly) you know I heard about your, ahem, curious culinary choices last night,
Morrissey: (puzzled for a moment) Oh, you mean the Dahlias?
(Gunnery Officer Nods)
Morrissey: (recovers) erm…What happened to your clothes?
Gunnery Officer: They’re mostly allright, except for this (Holds up a shirt with a ragged burn hole blasted right through)
Morrissey: (taking measurements of the warobe door) I’ll be back later with your new door, all this one’s good for is firewood.
(Morrissey exits)
Gunnery Officer: (shouting after him) Congratulations on your son by the way.
Workshop-Morning
( The other shipwrights are still working on their own tasks when Morrissey enters)
Morrissey: Dave! Knock me up a pair of 8 by two sheets for new wardrobe doors will you?
Dave: Who needs a new wardrobe?
Morrissey: Don’t ask.
Dave: (shrugs)Fair enough
1st Shipwright: The officers mess rang chief, they broke another table.
Morrissey: (Despairing)For God’s sake! what is wrong with them? Dave, when the doors are done you and Shufty take ‘em over to the gunnery officers quarters, tell him I sent you and don’t worry about the smell. I’ll go over to the mess and sort ‘em out.
2nd Shipwright: have you heard anything more about you’re kid yet?
Morrissey: (pausing) No, I’ll have to see if I can ring the mother-in-law, then I’ll head for the mess, ring em back say I’m on me way, where’d I put me tools. (picks up bag and leaves again)
Telephone box-Morning
(the box stands in the dockyard, HMS Fife can be seen still moored in the basin, Morrissey is occupying the Phone box)
Morrissey: Hello, May? It’s Michael. What do you mean I’ve left it a bit late? I’m not on bloody Holiday you know, I rang as soon as I got a chance. How’s Jean? Good. And the baby? Is he alright? Great. Look, May, tell Jean I’m going to come home as soon as I can get the leave. As soon as I can, I swear. (holds phone away form ear) I don’t care if you don’t believe me just tell Jean, and give her my love will you. (with mock graciuosness) Thank you dear. Look I’ve got to go now. No, no I don’t want to hear about Len’s gout, or his piles for gods sake! No, goodbye May, goodbye. (puts the phone down hurridly) Christ! That Bloody Woman.
(Morrissey Steps out of Phone box and walks back towards HMS Fife)
Officers Mess-Morning
(The room consists of a number of circuar tables with chairs in the main body of the room, and a bar running down the left hand side, The is an officer waitng for Morrissey beside a table that looks slightly less stable than the rest, it is covered with a tablecloth. Two stewards are cleaning glasses behind the bar. As Morrissey enters they both regard him with horror, one nudges the other, who rushes out form behind the bar and begins to take away the vases that sit on each table.)
Morrissey: (embarrassed) Seriously lads. You don’t need to do that, I got it all out of my system last night, really.(gives up as they continue, and walks across to the waiting officer) So, what seems to be the trouble sir?
Officer: well, it’s in a bit of a sorry state Chippy, see for yourself. (pulls off tablecloth, the tabletop has caved in in the middle, the wood is heavily splintered Morrissey lets out a low whistle)
Morrissey: Lucky for you I brought some timber with me, now lets get amongst it. (rubs hands together)
(morrissey gets on the floor and slides under the table, time passes while he repairs it from below, replacing the broken wood and bracing the tabletop to reinforce it he is now nearly finished and he can see two pairs of feet standing beside the table.)
Morrissey: I’m nearly done now, just be sure not to dance on the table again. I won’t fix it the next time Erm…sir.
(one pair of feet shirts uncomfortably)
Officer: Of course chief.
Morrissey: What idiot was dancing on the table anyway?
Officer: (voice quavering) That would be the captain chief, and he’s, um standing here with me.
(the second pair of feet rocks on his heels)
Captain: (stern voice) I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that Morrissey, just fix my table would you? (the captain turns to leave) Congratulations on your son by the way. (marches out)
(morrissey remains silent for a moment and places his hand over his face)
Officer: is anything the matter chief?
Morrissey: (getting up from under table) no sir, it’s just business as usual.
end
A Dockyard basin-late afternoon
(With a large crowd milling around, a banner is strung over the pavement at the waters edge reading ‘Portsmouth Navy Days 1962’. A frigate, HMS Fife is berthed in the dock. The public is filing up the gangplank for tours of the ship. Marching band music can be heard.
A smartly dressed senior officer on the forecastle of Fife is standing beside a miniature cannon. Lined up in the basin are several small yachts, the officer fires the cannon and the yachts begin a race.
On the shore we follow another officer weaving his way through the crowd holding a slip of paper, scanning the faces of any sailors he sees. He works his way up the gangplank and finds his man, standing on the deck directing visitors)
Officer: CPO Morrissey?
Morrissey: (salutes) Yes Sir?
Officer: (smiling) I think you can book the rest of the day off Chief. This telegram just came through for you. (Hands paper over)
(Morrissey takes the telegram, as he reads a smile slowly spreads across his face, he is ecstatic.)
Officer: Well done Morrissey. Not that I think you men ever do need an excuse, but I can recommend the Good Intent on Green Street for the appropriate celebrations.
Morrissey: Yes sir, thank you sir. (Walks through door into ship)
A workshop aboard HMS Fife
(A young junior rating is sitting at the desk building a ship in a bottle, he is just raising the last sail when the door crashes open and Morrissey steps into the room, the rating is startled and the ship in a bottle collapses.)
Morrissey: (shouts happily) Dave! Round the rest of the shipwrights up will you? We are going ashore!
Dave: (looks at his model with resignation and puts it down slowly) any particular reason chief? Or are we just too sober again?
Morrissey: None of your cheek sailor, I just got this. (Hands over telegram)
(Dave reads it, a look of amazement growing on his face)
Dave: You mean…?
Morrissey: (proudly) yes! I have a son! Born this morning!
(Both men wait for a moment and then cheer loudly)
Morrissey’s sleeping quarters-morning
(The bed is occupied, Morrissey has obviously had a rough night, and he is still wearing his uniform, albeit in a more bedraggled state. He wakes up and his hand instantly goes to his aching forehead.)
Morrissey: (moans) Fucking hell.
(Morrissey gets up and staggers out of room, adjusting uniform as he goes)
Corridors aboard HMS Fife-morning
(The Corridor is very busy. The sailors are mostly spick and span, but the odd one is, like Morrissey, obviuosly very hung over. As Morrissey passes each hung over man, he nods to them, or says the occasional ‘Good Morning’. Some give him an odd look or smirk as they see him.
Eventually Morrissy arrives at his destination, a door with ‘Shipwrights’ written on it He opens the door, it is the workshop from before. Dave and two more sailors are working on jobs at benches inside, they are all hung over, they give Morrissey strange looks as well)
Morrissey: Do I have something wrong with me uniform?
(The men look up, puzzled)
Morrissey: Toothpaste? Cornflakes? Anything?
Shipwrights (together): No chief.
Morrissey: Then why the bloody hell am I attracting such attention this morning?
(the men appear more puzzled until Dave comes to a realisation)
Dave: I don’t think he remembers. You don’t remember do you chief?
Morrissey: Remember what?
1st Shipwright: Are you sure you don’t remember? It’s a hard thing to forget.
2nd Shipwright: (laughing) Not when you drink as much as him.
Morrissey: Oi! I swear I’ll put you all on a charge right now if you don’t bloody tell me!
Dave: Allright chief. Try to remember why we got chucked out of The Good Intent.
The Good Intent, a Pub- Previous Night
(Morrissey, the other shipwrights and several other sailors are seated around a large table, many empty glasses are strewn across it, a large vase of dahlias sits in the middle of the table. All the men are clearly very drunk)
Morrissey: (Raising a glass) Gentlemen, to my son. Malcom Morrissey!
(the men cheer and all take a big swig)
Morrissey: Gawd I’m hungry.
Sailor: What can you do? Everywhere’ll be closed by now.
Morrissey: ere’ these look good (leans forward and grabs vase)
(cries of mild disgust from the men as Morrissey moves to bite the flowers off the stalks)
A workshop aboard HMS Fife-Morning
(Morrissey’s face is blank for a while and then suddenly shrivels up in revulsion)
Morrissey: I Didn’t
All: You Did!
Morrissey: Bugger. That one’ll take forever to live down. And everyone was there?
(The men nod)
Morrissey: (sighs) Shit, (recovers) well anyway we’ve got a lot of work to do today, we’ll start by… (Knock on door)
(Morrissey turns and opens the door, revealing the senior officer who started the yacht race)
Gunnery Officer: Ah, Chippy! I wonder if you could help me. I have a slight problem, in my quarters.
Morrissey: certainly sir, I’ve just got to…
Gunnery Officer: Now, if you could. It’s of a rather urgent nature.
(Morrissey nods and follows The Gunnery Officer out of the door)
Corridor outside Gunnery Officer’s quarters-Morning
(Morrissey follows the Gunnery Officer down the corridor, and stops as the Gunnery Officer unlocks a door)
Morrissey: God what’s that smell?
Gunnery Officer: erm (sniffs) Cordite.
(Opens the door and steps in, Morrissey goes to follow but pauses again)
Morrissey: (to self)Cordite?
(follows Gunnery Officer into room)
Gunnery Officers Quarters-Morning
(The room is largely extremely tidy. There is a wisp of smoke drifting around, Morrissey instantly recoils at the stronger version of the smell from outside and stares at the unseen source of the problem in one corner of the room)
Gunnery Officer: (shuts door hurridly) it’s a long story Chief,
Morrissey: I think you’d better start from the beginning sir.
Gunnery Officer: you remember the starting cannon from yesterday?
Morrissey: (realisation dawns) that little thing did all this?
Gunnery Officer: I’m afraid so.
Gunnery Officers Quarters-Previous night
(the Gunnery Officer and a junor officer are sprawled in the room, they are very drunk and are slurring heavily, The starting cannon is sitting in the middle of the floor.)
Junior Officer: Shouldn’t you take that back to the armoury.
Gunnery Officer: (listing drunkenly) s’too late now. Here, look at this Charlie. (sits down next to the cannon) lets fire it!(said with sudden enthusiasm)
Junior Officer: What? Here?
Gunnery Officer: Why not? I think I have a charge around here somewhere (rummages in drawers)
(The men fumble around, impared by their drunkeness but determined for some reason. They charge the gun, then look for somewhere to put it before deciding on the wardrobe, they sit the gun in the bottom, trail the ripchord across to the bed and shut the wardrobe door. Both men then sit on the bed, the gunnery officer holding the cord.)
Junior Officer: Will this work?
Gunnery Officer: yes I just have to pull this… (loud bang cuts off last words)
(the room is suddenly filled with smoke as the wardrobe doors are blasted outwards, both men are startled by the sudden noise. We see two heads nervously peer inside the blackened hole in the wardrobe, smoke is drifting around liberally)
Gunnery Officers Quarters-Morning
Gunnery Officer: I’ll pay for everything of course Chief, but can you fix it without the, ah, captain finding out?
Morrissey: (inspecting the wardrobe) well…it’s my neck if he finds out and I didn’t say anything.
Gunnery Officer: (slyly) you know I heard about your, ahem, curious culinary choices last night,
Morrissey: (puzzled for a moment) Oh, you mean the Dahlias?
(Gunnery Officer Nods)
Morrissey: (recovers) erm…What happened to your clothes?
Gunnery Officer: They’re mostly allright, except for this (Holds up a shirt with a ragged burn hole blasted right through)
Morrissey: (taking measurements of the warobe door) I’ll be back later with your new door, all this one’s good for is firewood.
(Morrissey exits)
Gunnery Officer: (shouting after him) Congratulations on your son by the way.
Workshop-Morning
( The other shipwrights are still working on their own tasks when Morrissey enters)
Morrissey: Dave! Knock me up a pair of 8 by two sheets for new wardrobe doors will you?
Dave: Who needs a new wardrobe?
Morrissey: Don’t ask.
Dave: (shrugs)Fair enough
1st Shipwright: The officers mess rang chief, they broke another table.
Morrissey: (Despairing)For God’s sake! what is wrong with them? Dave, when the doors are done you and Shufty take ‘em over to the gunnery officers quarters, tell him I sent you and don’t worry about the smell. I’ll go over to the mess and sort ‘em out.
2nd Shipwright: have you heard anything more about you’re kid yet?
Morrissey: (pausing) No, I’ll have to see if I can ring the mother-in-law, then I’ll head for the mess, ring em back say I’m on me way, where’d I put me tools. (picks up bag and leaves again)
Telephone box-Morning
(the box stands in the dockyard, HMS Fife can be seen still moored in the basin, Morrissey is occupying the Phone box)
Morrissey: Hello, May? It’s Michael. What do you mean I’ve left it a bit late? I’m not on bloody Holiday you know, I rang as soon as I got a chance. How’s Jean? Good. And the baby? Is he alright? Great. Look, May, tell Jean I’m going to come home as soon as I can get the leave. As soon as I can, I swear. (holds phone away form ear) I don’t care if you don’t believe me just tell Jean, and give her my love will you. (with mock graciuosness) Thank you dear. Look I’ve got to go now. No, no I don’t want to hear about Len’s gout, or his piles for gods sake! No, goodbye May, goodbye. (puts the phone down hurridly) Christ! That Bloody Woman.
(Morrissey Steps out of Phone box and walks back towards HMS Fife)
Officers Mess-Morning
(The room consists of a number of circuar tables with chairs in the main body of the room, and a bar running down the left hand side, The is an officer waitng for Morrissey beside a table that looks slightly less stable than the rest, it is covered with a tablecloth. Two stewards are cleaning glasses behind the bar. As Morrissey enters they both regard him with horror, one nudges the other, who rushes out form behind the bar and begins to take away the vases that sit on each table.)
Morrissey: (embarrassed) Seriously lads. You don’t need to do that, I got it all out of my system last night, really.(gives up as they continue, and walks across to the waiting officer) So, what seems to be the trouble sir?
Officer: well, it’s in a bit of a sorry state Chippy, see for yourself. (pulls off tablecloth, the tabletop has caved in in the middle, the wood is heavily splintered Morrissey lets out a low whistle)
Morrissey: Lucky for you I brought some timber with me, now lets get amongst it. (rubs hands together)
(morrissey gets on the floor and slides under the table, time passes while he repairs it from below, replacing the broken wood and bracing the tabletop to reinforce it he is now nearly finished and he can see two pairs of feet standing beside the table.)
Morrissey: I’m nearly done now, just be sure not to dance on the table again. I won’t fix it the next time Erm…sir.
(one pair of feet shirts uncomfortably)
Officer: Of course chief.
Morrissey: What idiot was dancing on the table anyway?
Officer: (voice quavering) That would be the captain chief, and he’s, um standing here with me.
(the second pair of feet rocks on his heels)
Captain: (stern voice) I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that Morrissey, just fix my table would you? (the captain turns to leave) Congratulations on your son by the way. (marches out)
(morrissey remains silent for a moment and places his hand over his face)
Officer: is anything the matter chief?
Morrissey: (getting up from under table) no sir, it’s just business as usual.
end
