What do the audience experience when they first enter the room?

(The audience as they enter the room would have to almost stop as they walk through the doors, to step around a carefully constructed, installation of objects, covering the floor that has an immediate visually shocking impact. The objects are unusual and wouldn’t normally be seen on the floor so already the audience would be questioning what the piece will be about. A microphone is left unattended stage right. A projection screen can be seen, either on the back wall or placed on wheels in the centre of the room, to give the appearance of a hospital screen in a waiting room. It is not clear what image is projected on the screen, close up images, disjointed images, to leave the audience again questioning what the piece will include. )

(The lights fade, some intense music is heard to set an atmosphere. The light and sound snap up and there I appear, stood behind the microphone. I tap the microphone.)

Testing, testing, 1,2,1,2…

(The lights fade down.)

Bloody thing won’t work!

(Loud, sharp sound is heard, lights snap up again.)

It’s one of those things that’s hard to explain. Everyone thinks they know how it works, how what works, how who works, how I work, how you work, is it an it? I’m not really sure. Maybe it’s more of a thing. But if I say it’s just a thing that makes it sound really casual and it’s not, this is a serious thing.

Issue.

Problem.

Life consuming, bloody annoying thing.

(The projection screen starts becoming gradually clearer, I kneel beneath the screen rummaging through piles of boxes, starting to fix things, making something artistic. I don’t talk for a while, a voice over begins playing.)

So what’s it like?

(I start in a calculated, constructed route, picking up the objects up from around the floor, whilst the projection shows words, lots of words.)

Type One

Not fun

Feel numb

Hands shaking

Feet tingling

Head sweating

Back aching

Eyes closing

Mouth swirling

Mouth sticking

Sticking

Food

Need food

Haribos

Biscuits

Chocolate

Anything sweet

Any type of chocolate

Yes please

Can’t say no

Give me cake

Oh shit…

(I go back to the microphone)

I can now feel myself on a swing, you know like when you sit in a swing, but not a normal swing, a baby swing, meant for people not my size. And you get stuck and you think shit I’m going to have to call the fire brigade and you start to panic you don’t know whether to laugh or cry or maybe to just sit there and wait… but you get out. And let a sigh of relief that you haven’t had to call for help and have an embarrassing phone call to a stranger. But then you’re in the same park a few days later and you can’t help but just… try to fit back in the swing that clearly you’re not going to ever fit in properly. But you think don’t worry its fine I can fit in, I’ll just climb back in and

oh shit…

(The projection has little characters on now on a seesaw and they have little smiley faces that look stupid but they represent what I’m now going to say, I want these projections to play a big part in my piece.)

So now I’ve moved onto the seesaw. But when you’re on your own it’s a bit tricky lets face it. You just sit there at the bottom looking around hopelessly, hoping someone will come and save you. Then they do and woosh you’re up in the air and not sure if you’re flying up in the air but going to have a soft landing or if you’re stomach’s going to turn and have one of those landings where your bum lifts off the seat so high it smacks back down so hard it hurts.

(The projection changes to the inside of the body working, a spotlight is now on my stomach, a sound is heard. Lights blackout. Then snap straight back up. I have an injection in my stomach, slowly the noise of the springs can be heard pressing down from the device.)

(There is another voice over whilst I move around the room again. Numbers could play a crucial part in my piece.)

Does it hurt?

How many do you have to do?

Is that the one where you aren’t allowed to eat sweets?

Aww you’re so lucky you get to eat biscuits in class, it’s not fair.

(I’m back at the microphone)

It’s not fair? A lot of things aren’t fair. I’m not dying, I know I could be a lot worse off. But the thing is it’s not really fair that I have to puncture my skin on a daily basis with sharp needles that leave my body covered in little dots, hard skin, bruises, giant bruises, especially if you hit a vein. Oh and waking up in the middle of the night sweating, being stuck to the sheets, trying to get up to reach for a tiny little machine that your life depends on. What number am I on? My life revolves around numbers, little glass cartridges, liquid, all these clever devices that… can you imagine if they were faulty, I’d be screwed. (add speech about a liquid that I’ve no idea what is really in it, it looks like water, but water gives us life too…)

Oh and of course let’s not forget food, sugar, carbs, that means carbohydrates not calories. I count carbs alright. Yes I love a good biscuit but honestly if you’d rather stick 21,0472 needles in you and pricked your finger 27,375 times then okay… you go ahead I don’t mind swapping with you, go ahead. You go eat a biscuit in class.

(a countdown clock on the projection screen is shown as I pour out a box of needle boxes/ something impacting as music starts playing)