flattered. I admit it. I was interested in your book.
STYLER: I still want to write it.
FARQUHAR: Really?
STYLER: ( Grasping at straws .) I can still write it. If you donât hurt me.
FARQUHAR: I would have thought youâd write with a great deal more conviction if I did hurt you. It would certainly help sales.
STYLER: Noâ¦
FARQUHAR: âMark Styler, best-selling author of Serial Chiller and its sequel, the even more fatuously titled Bloodbath was tortured by his next book⦠Easterman: the York Minster Monster and quite literally so by its subject. This can be discerned from the growing incoherence of each chapter culminating in the short sentences of the final paragraphs written, it is believed, by the writer using a pen held in his toes, following the loss of all his fingersâ¦â
STYLER: Oh no.
FARQUHAR: ââ¦and indeed handsâ¦â
STYLER: Pleaseâ¦
STYLER sobs uncontrollably. FARQUHAR watches him.
FARQUHAR: I was only joking.
STYLER: What?
FARQUHAR: Youâre safe.
STYLER: Safe.
FARQUHAR: In my hands. But thatâs the point Iâm trying to make right now. How safe would I be in yours?
STYLER: What?
FARQUHAR: If you were going to write a book about me, and perhaps you may still write a book about me, what would you put in it? Thatâs what I want to know. I want to get inside your head, not because Iâm interested in you â Iâm not â but because Iâm interested in just how and why youâre interested in me.
STYLER: I was going to tell your story.
FARQUHAR: Yes. But my story according to who?
STYLER: You mean â âto whomâ.
FARQUHAR: ( Furious .) Donât play the pedant with me, you little shit! ( Pause .) You were going to write what you thought of me, not what I am. Those are two quite separate things.
STYLER: I would have been fair.
FARQUHAR: Oh yes?
STYLER: Yes. I swear. I wanted to understand you, to know why you didâ¦what you did. If youâd read my other booksâ¦
FARQUHAR: I havenât.
STYLER: â¦youâd know. I mean, look at Chikatilo. Even him. I tried to be sympathetic.
FARQUHAR: What was the title once again? The True Story of a Monster in the Ukraine . Thatâs not what Iâd call sympathetic.
STYLER: That wasnât me. That was the publishers. They wanted the book to sell. They liked the word âmonsterâ. But I never thought that. I never used the word. Not onceâ¦
FARQUHAR: You used it about me.
STYLER: No.
FARQUHAR: When you were talking âDr Farquharâ. âWhat turned this golden boy into this revolting monster?â Those were your exact words.
STYLER: I said that?
FARQUHAR: You also said I was homosexual.
STYLER: ( Remembering .) Oh shitâ¦
FARQUHAR: A repressed, mother-dominated homosexual. That was what your deeply profound and incisive view of my life amounted to. That was your opinion and you were going to shout it out from every W H Smith in the country.
STYLER: Noâ¦
FARQUHAR: What? I misheard you, did I?
STYLER: No. Butâ¦it was just a theory. ( Quickly .) I can see it was wrong now. I donât think that any more.
FARQUHAR: ( Effeminate .) Oh? What makes you think it was wrong?
STYLER: Pleaseâ¦
FARQUHAR: Easterman â the novel. The story of a pathetic nancy boy who killed fourteen men and five women â five women, thank you very much â simply because he was artistic and because heâd wet the bed as a child.
STYLER: I never said that. I was never going to say that.
FARQUHAR: Then what were you going to say?
FARQUHAR picks up the scalpel and approaches STYLER who shies away.
You know, usually itâs the biographer who ties down and then dissects his subject, but this time it could be the other way round.
STYLER: Donâtâ¦
FARQUHAR: But Iâm giving you an opportunity to save yourself, Mr Styler. Tell me the truth, what you believe, not what you think I want to hear. Give me
STYLER: I still want to write it.
FARQUHAR: Really?
STYLER: ( Grasping at straws .) I can still write it. If you donât hurt me.
FARQUHAR: I would have thought youâd write with a great deal more conviction if I did hurt you. It would certainly help sales.
STYLER: Noâ¦
FARQUHAR: âMark Styler, best-selling author of Serial Chiller and its sequel, the even more fatuously titled Bloodbath was tortured by his next book⦠Easterman: the York Minster Monster and quite literally so by its subject. This can be discerned from the growing incoherence of each chapter culminating in the short sentences of the final paragraphs written, it is believed, by the writer using a pen held in his toes, following the loss of all his fingersâ¦â
STYLER: Oh no.
FARQUHAR: ââ¦and indeed handsâ¦â
STYLER: Pleaseâ¦
STYLER sobs uncontrollably. FARQUHAR watches him.
FARQUHAR: I was only joking.
STYLER: What?
FARQUHAR: Youâre safe.
STYLER: Safe.
FARQUHAR: In my hands. But thatâs the point Iâm trying to make right now. How safe would I be in yours?
STYLER: What?
FARQUHAR: If you were going to write a book about me, and perhaps you may still write a book about me, what would you put in it? Thatâs what I want to know. I want to get inside your head, not because Iâm interested in you â Iâm not â but because Iâm interested in just how and why youâre interested in me.
STYLER: I was going to tell your story.
FARQUHAR: Yes. But my story according to who?
STYLER: You mean â âto whomâ.
FARQUHAR: ( Furious .) Donât play the pedant with me, you little shit! ( Pause .) You were going to write what you thought of me, not what I am. Those are two quite separate things.
STYLER: I would have been fair.
FARQUHAR: Oh yes?
STYLER: Yes. I swear. I wanted to understand you, to know why you didâ¦what you did. If youâd read my other booksâ¦
FARQUHAR: I havenât.
STYLER: â¦youâd know. I mean, look at Chikatilo. Even him. I tried to be sympathetic.
FARQUHAR: What was the title once again? The True Story of a Monster in the Ukraine . Thatâs not what Iâd call sympathetic.
STYLER: That wasnât me. That was the publishers. They wanted the book to sell. They liked the word âmonsterâ. But I never thought that. I never used the word. Not onceâ¦
FARQUHAR: You used it about me.
STYLER: No.
FARQUHAR: When you were talking âDr Farquharâ. âWhat turned this golden boy into this revolting monster?â Those were your exact words.
STYLER: I said that?
FARQUHAR: You also said I was homosexual.
STYLER: ( Remembering .) Oh shitâ¦
FARQUHAR: A repressed, mother-dominated homosexual. That was what your deeply profound and incisive view of my life amounted to. That was your opinion and you were going to shout it out from every W H Smith in the country.
STYLER: Noâ¦
FARQUHAR: What? I misheard you, did I?
STYLER: No. Butâ¦it was just a theory. ( Quickly .) I can see it was wrong now. I donât think that any more.
FARQUHAR: ( Effeminate .) Oh? What makes you think it was wrong?
STYLER: Pleaseâ¦
FARQUHAR: Easterman â the novel. The story of a pathetic nancy boy who killed fourteen men and five women â five women, thank you very much â simply because he was artistic and because heâd wet the bed as a child.
STYLER: I never said that. I was never going to say that.
FARQUHAR: Then what were you going to say?
FARQUHAR picks up the scalpel and approaches STYLER who shies away.
You know, usually itâs the biographer who ties down and then dissects his subject, but this time it could be the other way round.
STYLER: Donâtâ¦
FARQUHAR: But Iâm giving you an opportunity to save yourself, Mr Styler. Tell me the truth, what you believe, not what you think I want to hear. Give me
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