What goes around comes around

By Alan Hick

What goes around comes around is a play loosely based on the novel of the same name. Anthony, the protagonist, is a slightly dishevelled fictional Brussels bureaucrat, with a weakness for draught Guinness, an addiction to aspirins, and a secretary obsessed with grey. After being for many years the beating heart of Message from Europe, he is now stuck in a rut, struggling with a mad Project Master, an imaginary European bureaucracy in crisis, and a looming referendum in which the shouty Out campaign is based on lies and smears. Haunted by memories long gone, Anthony appears to be doomed to become an anti-hero of the modern age, or maybe he is just a Peter Pan who has momentarily stopped believing in magic... From Brexit with love? Not really...but a charming journey of fun, mischief, and renewal.

Alan Hick was born in Stockton-on-Tees in 1954, studied in Norwich, and completed a Ph.D. at the European University Institute in Florence. He lives in Brussels and has worked most of his life for Europe. He has numerous publications on contemporary European history and EU social policy. Recently retired, he now writes fiction for fun and mischief! His mother was French, and his wife is Italian. Devastated by Brexit, he remains a dedicated European, in the unshakable belief that What goes around comes around.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Europa Edizioni
• Release date: Sep 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9791220133340

Book preview

CHARACTERS:

ANTHONY - an ageing bureaucrat at Message from Europe, who doesn’t drink more than every day. MARY - Anthony’s (Scandinavian) secretary, obsessed with grey.

GERTRUDE - a frightening accountant from mainland Europe, or Mars.

MIGUEL - a waiter from the cafeteria, who avoids bullrings.

JUSTINE – the office Casandra.

MARCEL – the office black marketeer.

GIGI – the office Casanova.

The PM – the mad Project Master, a Savonarola in Yves St Laurent blue and dandruff.

MORTADELLA – the PM’s Chief Advisor, apt to fall off his chair.

MAX – the PM’s Deputy Head of Sector, or something just as meaningless.

MATEY – a loud, guffawing English bore campaigning for Out! 

JOSEPH – a European ancien combatant.

ANNIE – an Irish dancer and drinking companion, or is she?

BARMAN – a silent throttler of hissing Guinness taps FIFI – oh là là!

***

(Young) ANTHONY - a first-year student who wants time to stand still.

TERESA – a final year student, Venus and Vespa wrapped up in one.

***

University beards, office stiffs, partygoers.   

AND

GEORGE CLOONEY – as himself (in your dreams!).

ACT ONE - SCENE ONE 

BRUSSELS, MESSAGE FROM EUROPE HQ 

Brussels a few years ago, at Message from Europe, a service for propagating Europe, in the place of achieving it. Just off Schuman, a grey and vomit-colored, twowindowed, paper-littered office is lit up by occasional flashes of lightning and lashes of rain pitter-pattering on the window. Enter ANTHONY, a slightly disheveled, grey-suited bureaucrat. He switches on the fluorescent lights and a loud chorus of Ode to Joy bursts out from somewhere inside his head. He gives out a silent shriek, clutches his head, and turns the lights (and music) off.

ANTHONY: Damn, where did I put those aspirins?

He tentatively walks to the window, opens it slightly just as a lightning flash goes off, a rumble of thunder echoes, and a gust of rain splashes his sore head. Another silent shriek. He closes the window and switches on a soft desk light… to no music … A polite knocking at the door. Enter MARY, dressed in tidy grey, a trim and tenacious secretary with good manners and perfect English, as only the Scandinavians know how, clutching the dreaded black file…

MARY:  Morning boss!

ANTHONY: (A whispery grunt) Morning…

MARY: I see you got wet…

ANTHONY: Yes. I’m like the British monarchy…long to reign over…

MARY: Ugh…So how was your drive in today?

ANTHONY: (Averting her eyes) Fine. I woke up with a headache.

MARY: Oh.

ANTHONY: Then I couldn’t find my aspirins.

MARY: Oh!

ANTHONY: Then I got stuck in a traffic jam.

MARY: As usual.

ANTHONY: Beneath a soggy black sponge that substituted for sky.

MARY: Ugh.

ANTHONY: Then I battled with traffic lights irritatingly stuck on amber.

MARY: Oh no…

ANTHONY: And finally, I joined a zombie army of mindless, middle-class car junkies crawling into work… and with about as much attitude as Prozac… Brussels in the rain…so motivating.

MARY: Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked… Personally, I like Brussels in the rain.

ANTHONY: (Wearily) Why on earth would you say that?

MARY: Because everything is grey, as it should be. Grey, orderly, plain, and predictable. No drama, no change…

ANTHONY: No joy, no hope…

MARY: No surprises, no disappointments…

ANTHONY: No point, no purpose…

MARY: I think grey. Grey every day. Grey, grey, day in, day out. All under control. Neat and tidy grey. Yes, the future is grey…

ANTHONY: (Slightly stunned) Mary, I really feel for you… Personally, on a day like this, I think black.

MARY: Oh?

ANTHONY: Black like gloom!

MARY: Oh!

ANTHONY: Black like a bleak, blotchy rain-sodden

February morning in Brussels! Black like…

MARY: Black like your morning file… (Still smiling, she hands over the dreaded black file) You might like to check

these reports. The Project Master sent them last night.

ANTHONY: The PM …? (Sinister music) Good God, has he no home to go to?

MARY: They are all marked urgent.

ANTHONY: Ah urgent. Yes, I must look at them straight away. (He moves the file away) Mary, you do know that urgent is as meaningless as priority about as useful as a bullet to the head? Speaking of which… (He

clutches his head again)

MARY: The PM specifically insisted that the file be treated as an urgent priority for the project. (She gently

pushes the file back)

ANTHONY: An urgent priority? 

MARY: Yes, for Europe I think he said. (She pretends to salute)

ANTHONY: The PM…What does he know about

Europe? What he learnt from Google or PlayStation. (He looks at the file, sighs, and closes it again) Someone should tell him that his project is brain dead! It died the day they rejected his last Blueprint for Europe. It’s about as relevant as yesterday’s breaking news.

MARY: The PM blames you for that. He apparently won’t take no for an answer.

ANTHONY: The PM is mad and deluded.

MARY: Oh!

ANTHONY: Anyway, what have I got to do with it?

MARY: Well, you used to be the heart and soul of

Message from Europe…

ANTHONY: That’s when we had proper direction and gave voice to the people, Mary. Before the PM was dumped on us. Now, we’re just a small cog in a smaller wheel…going around and around, but never forward.

MARY: But our performance and productivity rates are improving constantly. I read it in the Annual Report.

ANTHONY: The Annual Report is just another propaganda scam, a top-down love-fest for internal navel-gazers.

MARY: Oh!

ANTHONY: Nobody outside our walls reads it or cares anymore.

MARY: Oh! That’s a pity…

ANTHONY: Our once noble project, Mary, has been hijacked by PMs just like him parachuted all across the top hierarchy, stuck in neo-functional fortresses of their own making, deluded, remote and unloved. It’s no surprise that the general public has turned away.

MARY: (After a pause) Be that as it may, the PM still won’t take no for an answer.

ANTHONY: Don’t you see, Mary, there is no answer.

MARY: What do you mean?

ANTHONY: Well, if we perform too well, we’re accused of meddling in ordinary people’s lives.

MARY: Oh?

ANTHONY: And if we adopt a lower profile, we’re accused of being secretive and not giving value for money.

MARY: Oh! But that’s not fair.

ANTHONY: Either way, we’re going to be given a hard time.

MARY: Yes, but in the meantime, it pays the bills.

ANTHONY: And for my draught Guinness… (Slight smile)

MARY: Be that as it may, top management must be obeyed, that’s in our rules.

ANTHONY: Their rules, Mary, not ours. Do you know what rules top management has recently invented for us all?

MARY: I have a feeling you’re going to tell me… ANTHONY: Top management rule number one…

MARY: What’s that?

ANTHONY: Blame lower management, always and without hesitation.

MARY: Oh!

ANTHONY: Rule number two…

MARY: O-Oh…

ANTHONY: Blame the citizen for not understanding the project’s core message. Then, blame lower management again.

MARY: But what is the core message?

ANTHONY: Rule number three… The core message is…a mystery.

MARY: A what?

ANTHONY: