A Short Play About Plank and Lily

[PLANK is looking a little cheeky. LILY is yawning.]

PLANK: Fancy doing something extreme? I was thinking of-

LILY: Christ yes! S&M? Swinging? Bareknuckle boxing? Badger baiting? Driving the car into the quarry? Telling your Mum what we did? Punching a fox? Swearing at a Priest? I’m PUMPED!

[Pause]

Sorry, what were you thinking of doing?

[PLANK reveals an open pot of Sour Cream and Chive Pringles.]

PLANK: …eating two at a time…

[Curtain]

Carl Burkitt 2025

The grown ups

There’s a naked lad in the soft play.
I’m a grown up so I frown at his silliness
and avert my eyes like a camera operator
when a streaker runs on to a football pitch.
I wonder when chaos left my soul.
My clothes are heavy, bored,
as serious as the other grown ups.

Carl Burkitt 2025

New Year’s Day is

New Year’s Day is every day. It is who am I? It is the slap of Lycra and a £9.99 takeaway pizza. New Year’s Day is a bullseye. It is League Two long ball football. It is a painkiller, an orange juice, a LEGO octopus. New Year’s Day is a bagel with cream cheese and an old school friend. New Year’s Day is loss. It is hamstrings stretches. It is loss. New Year’s Day is the vegetable you’re quite looking forward to after a five-day festival, a stranger asking you how you’re doing, a lightbulb in need of replacing.

Carl Burkitt 2025

Boxing Day is

Boxing Day is every day. It is a lie in. It is getting up early to go for a run just to get it out of the way. Boxing Day is crisps. It is the loo roll’s longest shift. Boxing Day is Thursday or Wednesday. It may even be Monday. Boxing Day is an unfindable piece of LEGO from a fresh packet. Boxing Day is chutney and getting a tram into the city centre to have ramen. Boxing Day is strangers walking in the park. Boxing Day is death and not knowing what to do with yourself. Boxing Day is football players pretending they were professional the night before. It is cold sprouts and trying to locate batteries.

Carl Burkitt 2024