Pub jobs - to do or not to do. That is the question . . .

(SFX Beeps. The Driver is allocated a job, presses his computer box. The Chorus create ‘The Pub’. The Driver is parked outside. He takes out his notebook and writes, sharing his ideas with the audience)

Driver - A Man with a kind of, collage of drunkenness face, mm I quite like that, no, a face like a collage of drunkenness, a drunken collage of a face, (to audience), I know, I'll work on it. (Continues writing) He opens the pub door and falls over, I don’t laugh out loud, he gets up and approaches the car window passenger side, opens the door, leans in towards me and all I can smell is stale beer. And, to put it mildly, he's aggressive, rude and bullying

A Man with a kind of collage of drunkenness face - Don't let anyone, (he falls forward and bangs his head on the roof above the door) Don't let anybody else, except this face, remember this face right! get in here! This my taxi alone, and only mine!

Driver - He slams the door and staggers back into the pub, I watch him through the window. (starts writing again) A face like a collage of drunkenness. (He continues writing) Like a human Francis Bacon portrait. No, scratch portrait, like a human piece of Bacon, no, skin like tinned tomatoes and a sausage for a nose, a human fry up! ha ha, no, too cruel, (He crosses the words out in his notebook as he watches the antics inside the pub). Looks like he's trying to get his girlfriend out; she's having none of it. He goes into the other room, tries to punch some guy, falls over again, then doesn't get up. I decide to leave, I don’t fancy getting involved in this scenario. Cancel job, (He cancels the job, SFX his computer box beeps,) my box beeps. Another job, (He puts his notebook away, starts the engine.) He's being thrown out by a couple of big guys, falls over again, then tries to stand whilst pointing at me and shouting,

A Man with a kind of collage of drunkenness face - Oy! Don't move that bleeding' car!

Driver - Don’t think so mate, waited long enough and all this hassle for less than three quid; I’m offski! (He drives away.)