Chapter Text
Warning: There is very strong language throughout the series.
Episode One
CHARLIE is sitting on a chair in his kitchen, wearing a blue jumper.
OLIVER, sitting on the end of a bed in his house, is wearing a pale grey hoodie.
CHARLIE has his head tilted back staring at the ceiling; OLIVER has his head propped on one hand.
OLIVER: The Welsh must have a good phrase for the end of the world.
CHARLIE (lowering his head to look into the camera): Why d’you have to say that?
Staged
OLIVER: You know, Dylan Thomas must have written about it; written a poem or something.
CHARLIE: Of course. He wrote, er, Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night.
Oliver Wood Charlie Weasley
OLIVER: Well, there you go.
CHARLIE: I did a bit for the BBC.
OLIVER: Did you?
CHARLIE (in a dramatic voice): ”Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
OLIVER: D’you know what it is in the original Welsh?
CHARLIE: How d’you mean?
OLIVER: Thought it was translated.
CHARLIE (leaning forward, speaking in a somewhat ‘I can’t believe this’ voice): Translated?
OLIVER: Yeah, d’you know what he originally wrote?
CHARLIE: He originally wrote, Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night.
OLIVER: In English?
CHARLIE (high-pitched): Yes!
OLIVER: Well, that’s disappointing.
CHARLIE: Cachu hwch. [Pronounced phonetically as ‘kachee hoch,’ with the ‘ch’ of ‘cachu’ and the ‘ch’ of ‘hwch’ rasped, as if gargling.]
OLIVER: Ooh, what does that mean?
CHARLIE: Total fucking disaster.
OLIVER (overdoing the gargling sounds): Kachee hoch.
CHARLIE: Sounds like you’re throwing up.
OLIVER (much the same as before): Kachee hoch.
CHARLIE (correctly): Cachu hwch.
OLIVER: Kachee fuckin’ hoch.
CHARLIE: No, no, now you’ve gone Scouse! Cachu hwch.
OLIVER (a little better): Kachee hoch. Kachee hoch. I could be Welsh. I could definitely be Welsh.
( CHARLIE laughs.)
CHARLIE: We would never let you in!
OLIVER: You’d love to have me! You’d beg to have me!
CHARLIE: We have been fighting the Scots off for centuries. We’re not gonna let you in now!
OLIVER (overdoing the gargling even worse): Kachee hoch.
( CHARLIE laughs, then stops and sighs. BOTH of them look away from the camera.)
COLIN drives up to a house and parks outside.
Episode One
Cachu Hwch
COLIN (sitting in his parked car, talking into his mobile phone): Oliver. Can you hear me?
OLIVER (over phone): I can. I can’t see you, though. You got the camera on?
COLIN: Er, no. I’ve been driving, so this is just an old-fashioned phone call.
OLIVER (in a pale grey hoodie and dark blue shorts, lying on his stomach on a lounger in the garden, holding his mobile): Oh, without video?
COLIN: No video.
OLIVER: Oh. Primitive.
COLIN: Can I moot an idea with you?
OLIVER: There’s a word you don’t hear every day.
COLIN: What word? ‘Moot’?
OLIVER: You also use semi-colons in your emails, I’ve noted.
COLIN: Yes, well, I’m trying to cut back on that. Look, is there a version of this lockdown where we carry on with rehearsals?
OLIVER (pausing for a moment): Rehearsals?
COLIN: Yeah. Look, bear with me. What if we spend two or three hours a day discussing the play, then when the theatres re-open, we’ve got something ready to go. Everyone else wastes six weeks; we swan into town. The British public will need entertainment.
OLIVER: You think the British public need Six Characters in Search of an Author?
COLIN: It’s funny.
OLIVER: Well, it’s Italian.
COLIN: We’ll make it funnier if we rehearse.
OLIVER: You speak fluent Italian, do you?
COLIN (fluently): Si, ho studiato Italiano a l’universita.
OLIVER: Well, that’s ... I speak a little German, tiny bit of French. Um, but how do we do it?
COLIN: Um, have you got Zoom?
OLIVER: I use a Portal.
COLIN: Er, well I’m colincreevey1981. If you can find me an app, we could chat.
OLIVER (looking up, calling out): Persephone! (Into phone) All right, just give me a minute, hang on. I’ll go inside.
( He starts to get off the lounger.)
OLIVER is sitting on a sofa in front of the laptop, staring up and offscreen. A ringtone is playing from the laptop.
PERSEPHONE (offscreen): Look, on the screen.
OLIVER (still looking at her): Yeah.
PERSEPHONE (offscreen): No, look at the screen. Top right-hand corner, there’s like a Preferences bar thing ...
OLIVER (still gazing up at her): Yeah.
PERSEPHONE (offscreen): You just need to go down ...
OLIVER: I’ll just let you do it.
( COLIN , now indoors, appears on the screen.)
COLIN: Oliver! (He waves.) Hi!
OLIVER (looking at the screen): Hi, Colin. (He waves.)
COLIN: Hi! Like this!
OLIVER: Yeah, it worked.
COLIN: We’ll do it like this!
PERSEPHONE (offscreen): Is it working?
OLIVER (looking at her): It is, so far, yeah. (To the screen, pointing offscreen) Persephone's here. She just ...
COLIN: Right. Hi, Persephone.
PERSEPHONE (leaning into shot): Hi, Colin, nice to meet you.
COLIN: Yeah, lovely to officially meet you too.
PERSEPHONE: I’m sorry about the play. It’s a real shame.
COLIN: Thank you, yeah.
PERSEPHONE: It’s a real fucking shame.
COLIN: Yeah, it is.
OLIVER (to PERSEPHONE): We’ve got to keep rehearsing.
PERSEPHONE: Oh. How?
OLIVER (gesturing to the laptop): Wi... with this.
COLIN: Like-like this.
PERSEPHONE (hesitantly): Have you, um, have you spoken to Charlie?
( COLIN stares blankly. OLIVER and PERSEPHONE look at each other, then OLIVER looks into the screen.)
OLIVER: Have you?
COLIN (hesitantly): Well ... (He shakes his head.)
OLIVER and PERSEPHONE are sitting side by side at their dining table.
PERSEPHONE: I just think it’d be better coming from you.
OLIVER: I’m not the director.
PERSEPHONE: Yes, but he’s your friend (thinks and then clicks teeth) ….. and, your brother in law.
OLIVER: He’s not gonna like it.
PERSEPHONE: You don’t know that.
ONE OF THE WOODLINGS (offscreen): Mum!
PERSEPHONE (calling out): Yeah, I’m here! Hold on!
OLIVER: He never really warmed to the play.
PERSEPHONE: Well, that’ll change.
OLIVER: ... or to Colin.
( PERSEPHONE groans.)
PERSEPHONE: I don’t understand why he was doing it, then.
OLIVER: Well, for me, I think.
PERSEPHONE: Well, then maybe he’ll do this for you too.
A WOODLING (maybe the same one, maybe another, offscreen): Dad!
OLIVER (calling out): Yeah, just coming! (To PERSEPHONE) You seem weirdly keen on this.
PERSEPHONE: Not weirdly keen! I just think it’d be good for you.
OLIVER: What d’you mean?
PERSEPHONE: D’you remember when we went away for the weekend, got snowed in, just us and the kids? You went a little bit mad, didn’t you? You started spelling everything backwards in your own head.
OLIVER: Yeah.
PERSEPHONE: Mm. I just don’t think I could deal with that again, so a distraction would be good for ...
OLIVER: For you.
PERSEPHONE: ... for me, yeah.
TWO OR MORE OF THE WOODLINGS (simultaneously, offscreen): Mum! Dad!
OLIVER and PERSEPHONE (calling out simultaneously): Hold on a minute!
( PERSEPHONE looks away, then back at OLIVER , who is gazing blankly into space, his mouth moving slightly.)
PERSEPHONE: It’s started already, hasn’t it?
OLIVER: It has, yeah. I’ll call him.
( He gets up from the table and walks away, sighing. PERSEPHONE rubs her hand over her face and yawns.)
OLIVER is sitting on the end of the bed wearing a pale grey hoodie.
CHARLIE is sitting at the kitchen table wearing a grey T-shirt.
He is turned away from the camera and looking to his left.
Birds can be heard tweeting, though it’s not yet clear where from.
OLIVER: Charlie?
(No reply.)
OLIVER: Charlie?
CHARLIE: Oli.
OLIVER: You all right?
CHARLIE (still looking to his left): Give me a minute.
OLIVER: What’re you looking at?
CHARLIE: I’m worried that I’m in a Hitchcock film.
OLIVER: What d’you mean?
CHARLIE: The birds are coming back to Port Talbot.
OLIVER: That’s nice.
OLIVER: You all right?
(Finally CHARLIE turns to the screen.)
CHARLIE: Just adjusting. You all right?
OLIVER: Yeah, not bad.
CHARLIE: Started spelling words backwards in your head yet?
OLIVER: I have a bit, yeah.
CHARLIE (smiling, and leaning closer to the screen): Have you tried ‘Finsbury Park’?
( OLIVER raises his eyes and gazes off into space.
CHARLIE smiles in anticipation, chuckling silently.
OLIVER continues to gaze blankly, his lips moving slightly, for several seconds.
CHARLIE eventually gets fed up with waiting.)
CHARLIE: It’s Krap Yrubsnif! [He pronounces it ‘krappy rub-sniff.’]
OLIVER: I almost had it.
CHARLIE: Krappy rub-s... I shouldn’t be telling you; you’re the one who does it!
OLIVER: It’s not a skills-set! It’s a compulsion.
CHARLIE: Tonks has me painting.
OLIVER: Oh. She there with you?
CHARLIE: Yeah. She is. We were up early this morning, to capture the dawn.
OLIVER: Well, our family all sketched pineapples yesterday.
CHARLIE: Oh! How’d you get on?
OLIVER: I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.
CHARLIE: Seems fair.
OLIVER: Uh. One second.
( He gets off the bed and walks offscreen.
CHARLIE turns his head to the left, then shoots up on his seat like a meerkat.
A bird can be heard tweeting nearby.
He stands up and walks off to the left.)
CHARLIE (offscreen): I see you, you little feathered shit.
( OLIVER comes back with a piece of paper and sits down on the end of the bed. Offscreen, CHARLIE bangs on a window and a bird can be heard flying off.
He comes back to the table, still glaring off to the left, and then sits down.
He looks at the screen as OLIVER holds up the paper to show a rough drawing of the outline of a pineapple.)
CHARLIE: Very good.
OLIVER: Yeah. And yours?
( CHARLIE reaches down and picks up a beautiful detailed painting of a dawn seascape with hills in the distance and a beach in the foreground.
OLIVER leans forward and stares at it, his mouth dropping open.)
OLIVER: You did that?
CHARLIE: Yeah, just this morning.
OLIVER: Fuck off!
CHARLIE: What?
OLIVER: You did not paint that this morning.
CHARLIE: Yes I did!
OLIVER: You did not paint that this morning.
CHARLIE: I did!
OLIVER: I don’t believe you!
CHARLIE: You drew the pineapple!
OLIVER (brandishing his paper at the screen): My pineapple is shit!
CHARLIE (putting the painting down): Well, it just needs a bit of shading.
OLIVER: Oh, shut up.
CHARLIE: Little charcoal.
OLIVER: Where did you learn so much about art?
CHARLIE: I learnt it for a role.
OLIVER: Which role?
CHARLIE: David Frost.
OLIVER: What, could he paint?
CHARLIE: Are you angry with me for having a hobby?
OLIVER: Well, evidently, yeah.
( CHARLIE laughs silently.)
OLIVER: Yeah, can I moot an idea with you?
CHARLIE: You don’t use the word ‘moot.’
OLIVER: Yeah I do.
CHARLIE: I’ve never heard you use that word before.
OLIVER: Well, I mean I have ... historically I have used it.
CHARLIE: Colin uses that word.
OLIVER: ... Does he?
Episode One
Short montage of COLIN around his house, apparently waiting to hear from OLIVER. Sometimes he’s sat at the table, staring at his phone, and even just staring out of the window. After a while he just washes his hands, very thoroughly.
CHARLIE (through slightly gritted teeth): Colin wants to rehearse a play over the internet?
OLIVER: It’ll be fun. It’s a funny play.
CHARLIE: Is it?
OLIVER: We’ll make it funny. You know Colin speaks Italian?
CHARLIE: I speak Italian.
OLIVER: We all speak Italian. Everyone speaks Italian. So, come on. What d’you think? You up for it?
( CHARLIE runs his hands over his face, sighing and groaning.
He lowers his hands and then looks up and to his right.)
CHARLIE: Oh, hang on a minute.
(There’s the sound of something being put on the table.)
CHARLIE: Thanks, babe.
( He reaches offscreen and picks up a glass of red wine and takes a drink from it.)
OLIVER: Is that A... Did ... Is that ... Did Tonks just bring you wine, Charlie?
( TONKS leans into view and looks into the screen.)
TONKS: Hi, Oli!
OLIVER (smiling): Hi, Tonks.
TONKS: Hi. Good to see you.
OLIVER: And you.
( TONKS disappears offscreen.)
OLIVER: Bit early, isn’t it?
CHARLIE: What time did you get up this morning?
( He stands up, picks up a nearby chair and moves it to the right of his own, then sits down on his chair again.)
OLIVER: Um, about eight.
CHARLIE: Yeah, well I was up at five, for the dawn, so I’m three hours ahead of you ...
( TONKS sits down next to him.)
CHARLIE (looking offscreen, presumably at a clock on the wall): ... and it’s after six.
(He lifts his glass.) Cheers! (He drinks.)
TONKS: Did Charlie show you his painting, Oli?
OLIVER: He did, yeah, yeah.
TONKS: Isn’t it stunning?
OLIVER: I can scarcely believe it.
CHARLIE (to TONKS ): We’re discussing Six Characters in Search of an Author.
TONKS (turning to the screen): Oh, yeah. I heard about the cancellation, Oli. That’s such a shame.
CHARLIE: Oh, Oli’s not ready to give up on it yet. He has an idea to, er, cast it and then rehearse it like this. (He gestures to the screen.)
TONKS: Well, could that work?
OLIVER: Well, I mean, in theory. I mean, you know, and then we’re ahead of everyone else. When all the theatres re-open, we get our pick of the West End houses.
( CHARLIE has looked off to his left while OLIVER was talking.
Now he turns back and leans close to the screen.)
CHARLIE (quietly): If the birds haven’t taken over by then.
( He stands up and walks off to the left.
TONKS leans closer to the screen.)
TONKS: Has he told you about the birds?
OLIVER: He di... He mentioned a growing militia, yeah.
CHARLIE (offscreen): I mean, when will they re-open? (He wanders around behind TONKS , gesturing dramatically. TONKS bites her lip, looking a little anxious.) I mean, what are we gonna do? Just, like, meet up every day ad infinitum? “Morning, Oliver!” “Morning, Charlie.” “Oh, there’s nothing to be done.” “Yes, I’m beginning to come round to that opinion.” (He turns and leans down to the screen.) I mean, it’s like something out of the damned play.
TONKS: You don’t do well in confinement, do you?
( CHARLIE sits down, sighing, and takes another drink from his glass.
TONKS pats his shoulder, stands and walks offscreen.)
OLIVER: Look, here’s how I see it, okay? Firstly, we are not going anywhere, so it’s a good way to exercise our brain for a couple of hours every day. Secondly ... nice to see Tonks, by the way ...
CHARLIE: Yeah, she’s still here. She’s still here, so ... She’s just rooting around for something in the cupboard, so don’t say anything rude.
( He stands up.
The camera cuts back to OLIVER just before the top of CHARLIE’S legs come into view.)
OLIVER (turning his head away): Oh, your flies are undone.
( CHARLIE bends down to look into the screen.)
CHARLIE: Lucky you.
OLIVER: Secondly, I get to spend some time with a mate. If something comes out at the other end of it, then wonderful. If it doesn’t, we’ve read the play a few times and we’ve got to know a great author.
CHARLIE (now seated again): Pirandello was a fascist.
OLIVER: Was he?
CHARLIE: Yes.
OLIVER: Well, yeah, I mean most writers were fairly dubious people. I mean, look at the Marquis de Sade.
CHARLIE: Look at Nabokov.
OLIVER: Hemingway.
CHARLIE: Orwell.
OLIVER: Adolf Hitler.
CHARLIE: Shakespeare!
OLIVER: Shakespeare?
CHARLIE: Yeah! He was a rapacious, litigious landlord.
OLIVER: Er, yeah, but he’d stopped writing by then, hadn’t he?
CHARLIE: Maybe.
( TONKS comes over with a tray of cold cuts, tomatoes and grapes.)
CHARLIE: Ooh.
( She sits down as he starts picking through the choice.
OLIVER stares.)
CHARLIE (to TONKS ): Pirandello was a fascist, you know.
TONKS: Why do you say that?
CHARLIE: Well, the play was first performed under Mussolini in 1921.
TONKS: Mussolini only came to power in 1922, so Pirandello couldn’t have been a fascist because the National Fascist Party didn’t exist in Italy until a year later.
( CHARLIE turns and looks at the screen.
OLIVER raises his eyebrows at him.)
CHARLIE: Well, I still don’t think he was very funny. (He eats a grape.)
OLIVER: Colin’s worked really hard on this, you know. It’s a big deal for him, working with you. He said that.
CHARLIE (frowning): Really?
OLIVER: Yeah, he’s always saying that. He’s always banging on about your Hamlet. You should hear him.
( CHARLIE looks more interested.)
OLIVER: It was life-changing, that was, for him, he said, when he saw it, yeah. He was absolutely thrilled that ... when you said you’d come on board.
( CHARLIE looks flattered.)
CHARLIE: Really?
OLIVER: Yeah.
CHARLIE: Huh.
( OLIVER sitting in his garden with his phone to his ear.)
COLIN (over phone): Oliver, hi!
OLIVER: I’m gonna set up a video call with all three of us.
COLIN: Is Charlie on board?
OLIVER: He wants to hear about it from you.
COLIN (sounding nervous): Okay.
OLIVER: Did you see his Hamlet?
COLIN: No.
( OLIVER grimaces.)
OLIVER: All right, never mind. All right, stand by, I’ll sort it out.
A computer ringtone can be heard, then COLIN’S screen appears in the middle of our screen, flanked by OLIVER’S on one side and CHARLIE’S on the other.
CHARLIE is sitting at his kitchen table wearing a dark blue T-shirt; OLIVER is sitting on the end of the bed wearing a pale grey hoodie.
Nobody’s interested in what COLIN is wearing, but he’s sitting on a sofa in a living room.
They exchange greetings, repeatedly talking over each other for quite a while.
COLIN: Should I start?
OLIVER: You should start, Colin.
COLIN: Sorry, Oliver, you go ahead.
( CHARLIE closes his eyes tiredly.
He drops his head while OLIVER and COLIN keep talking over each other.)
OLIVER: I wasn’t saying anything.
COLIN: Oliver?
OLIVER: Colin.
(There’s a short silence while CHARLIE rubs his hands over his face and sighs.)
CHARLIE: Well, this is hardly Shakespearean.
COLIN: Oh, okay, well I’ll start. Yeah?
( OLIVER and CHARLIE nod.)
COLIN: Okay. Er, Oliver, thanks for sorting this out. Um, Charlie, it’s lovely to see you again. Um, I know that you’ve got some questions, but why don’t I try and summarise where we’re at, and then we can take it from there? Sounds all right?
CHARLIE: Fine by me.
OLIVER: Yeah.
COLIN: Okay. So I’m suggesting that we, um, we carry on casting this thing, and we rehearse it, like this. Er, it won’t feel natural, but we could discuss the play, and maybe even stage a little bit of it, and we might find that we’ve got something the people need when this whole thing passes.
( CHARLIE leans very close to his screen.
COLIN leans back from his own screen, nervous.)
CHARLIE: Why do you wanna do this, Colin?
COLIN (leaning a little further forward): Honestly?
CHARLIE: Honestly.
( COLIN looks to his right for a moment, then takes a breath, turns back to the screen and starts to lean forward.
Then his screen freezes.
CHARLIE raises his eyebrows, and then COLIN’S frozen image disappears and is replaced by a message reading, “Connection Lost.”)
OLIVER: Oh.
( CHARLIE sighs.)
OLIVER: Hm. ... I think he was about to talk about your Hamlet.
Oliver Wood Charlie Weasley
(Continuing from the previous scene)
CHARLIE: I want my name first.
OLIVER: What?
CHARLIE: On the poster.
OLIVER: There isn’t a poster.
CHARLIE: “Charlie Weasley and Oliver Wood in Six Characters.”
OLIVER: No.
CHARLIE: Why not?
OLIVER: You were first in Good Omens.
CHARLIE: So?
OLIVER: So it’s my turn.
CHARLIE (rolling his eyes in exasperation): Oh, God, that’s so childish. It’s not about turns.
OLIVER: Yes it is.
CHARLIE: No it isn’t.
OLIVER: Yes it is.
CHARLIE: No it isn’t!
OLIVER: Yes it is.
CHARLIE: It’s about alphabetical order.
OLIVER: No it isn’t.
CHARLIE: Yes it is. ‘Weasley’ comes before ‘Wood.’ AND! ‘Charlie’ before ‘Oliver’
CHARLIE: Have you got a middle name?
OLIVER: Yeah.
CHARLIE: What is it?
OLIVER: John.
CHARLIE (throwing his arms up triumphantly): Christopher!
OLIVER: Christopher! Fuck off!
CHARLIE (laughing): Trois points to moi, Nil point to you.
OLIVER: You made that up.
CHARLIE: No I didn’t.
OLIVER: Yeah . (He leans forward and starts typing.)
CHARLIE: What are you doing?
OLIVER: I’m checking Wikipedia.
( CHARLIE smirks. After a moment OLIVER reels back angrily.)
OLIVER: Oh, for ...!
( CHARLIE cackles and pumps his arms triumphantly, then leans forward close to the screen.)
CHARLIE (in a deep American trailer voiceover voice): Charlie Christopher Weasley and Oliver John Wood in Six Characters in Search of an Author.
( He sits back smiling smugly.)
OLIVER (pointing at his screen): Also says you’re a cun...