WitchTrial: An Autobiographical Piece

About my first play.

The Making Of WitchTrial

        In my second year an old graduate returned to the university to take up a Masters Degree in Small Business. His name was Dom and he was famous for being a sleazy Tory. However, he was also one of those Tories who was organised, energetic, charismatic and stuck by his mates. If only I had met more of them. He immediately re-joined our re-enactors society called BattleSoc and became a natural leader. I guess I became his protégé of sorts. Though at the time my then girlfriend was a Labour Zombie Voter (LZV). She wasn’t happy.

        Soon after he got wind of the first meeting of the second Drovers Arts Festival. I had vague memories of the first in my first year at university. We had turned up on campus and had seen a number of tents and stalls. Minor stuff really. There had been a rock concert in the Main hall which we had avoided due to the smell of marijuana.

        I was a bit sceptical but the two of us went along. Soon it turned out that the festival was being run by one of my Archaeology Professors. A kind man who only taught me for one module and corrected my English impeccably; especially the usage of commas, full stops and semi-colons.

        Then there was a Liberal Democrat councillor (later Mayoress) and a huge number of crusties. Crusties are old hippies in their forties and fifties who haven’t given up their hippy ways. They wear hemp, smoke pot and have funny coloured dreadlocks. But are actually really nice people. I cannot commend their kindness enough.

        The meeting highly impressed me and instantly I was full of ideas for what to do. Dom and I volunteered to take part in the festival on behalf of the students. Though he had alternative plans to create his own festival. A plan I had reservations over and helped to incorporate into the actual Drovers Arts Festival.

        Over the course of a few meetings it turned out that they were very light on drama. They had art, concerts by the likes of Hawkwind (Big fry for a s****y little Welsh town in the mountains), poetry readings, arts and craft stalls and so on. We worked hard on incorporating student societies (After I was elected CSA Officer). But then they wanted a volunteer for a new one-off drama. For some reason I volunteered.

        Now, ever since I had wanted to be an archaeologist I had also wanted to be a writer. It was a massive dream for me. Really massive. But, I had never really written anything of note. I had been a Dungeonmaster and role-player for AD&D. But that was it. My friends and I had played a game where each took control of a country and we’d fight it out or develop the nations. I’d have to say that Mr. Sycamore definitely deserved to win and he should have done. Also that my brother was a sneaky git and added a great sense of character to his little nation.

        As the year progressed I put my fingers in more and more pies. I had the time to do so though my academic results suffered as a consequence. I averaged 65% for the year and my aim was a 2/1 degree which required over 70%. My second year sacrifice of such non-academic activities led to a resurgence and that much coveted 2/1.

        During the exams I finally got down to writing the play. It was a bit late to start and not an opportune time. The exams took place throughout May. The Festival started three days after the exams finished in early June. My place was pencilled in for the Wednesday, a nice 7 days after the end of exams. In a window between tests I wrote the draft of the script.

        The idea was to write a broad comedy inspired by Blackadder and Monty Python about a Witch Trial in Wales. The only problem being that Wales never had any Witch Trials. The first draft took huge chunks out of the Blackadder script books and quotes from Monty Python and put it together. Basically it centred around an accused witch known as Nelly Clohessy. It included a number of sub-plots and hints of demon worship by the maniacal Inquisitor.

        We had the Inquisitor, the corrupt Judge, a local mayor, the earnest defence lawyer, Nelly Clohessy, her friend who had already confessed (Nimue Rhys) and a bumbling idiot along with his wife (He’s not a knight; he’s just a naughty boy). It took the line of a courtroom case with prosecution and defence, a bought jury (made up of the audience) and a trial by combat at the end. We had also got permission to use the town’s disused Courtroom.

        The script was rather short but we had plans. However, the committee didn’t agree. They forced the price down to £1. With the rent of the place being £80 it was going to be tough to break even on the project. They were not happy. This was mostly due to a self-acknowledged thespian turned bearded lady.

        With a week and a half to go I went back and re-wrote the play with a motto. “I’m going to show that old bint that I can do it.”        We talked to BattleSoc and got hold of the equipment for the fight scenes plus old costumes for all the actors. Dome, the fixer, then cajoled the university’s finest actors into taking roles.

        There was just one problem. The actors were all due to take part in the English Department’s A Midsummer’s Night Dream on the Friday, Saturday and Sunday meaning that they would have 3 days to rehearse. In addition we were allowed to use the location on the day of the performance meaning we had no clue as to the layout prior to that.

        During the rehearsals we constantly updated the scripts using new jokes and lines of enquiry. The actors were wonderful. In the end I didn’t have to do much. They took the play, loved it, and ran with it creating their characters. The play was fashioned into a good shape and I learnt a lot about how good collaboration could be; Later I would learn how rare such instances can be.

        The night before, after a rehearsal in a old classroom we kitted up. First we sent the witch and her friend to the Student Bar and told them to sit down and enjoy themselves. Then we went down to the bar dressed in medieval costumes, with weapons, and proceeded to arrest them in public, distribute leaflets and leave. One singular act of publicity.

        All was set. On the day of the performance we had our dress rehearsal then prepared the set. We let the Student Union Charity run the cloakroom, packed the actor’s room with snacks then printed off as many Programmes as my printer would allow (40). We were terribly nervous. Especially me. This was my theatrical debut… moments before a minor actress pulled out for unknown reasons…Shite!

        We quickly erased her from the script. She was to play the bumbling idiot’s wife with the final line about not being the messiah. Oh well. As the time drew nearer more and more people came. Children came (cue to actors: curb the swearing), locals came, politicians came, the committee members, actor’s families, and multitudes of students scenting entertainment on the cheap. There had been predictions of 40-50 people at most. In the end we had an audience of 127. None of them used the cloakroom.

        Actors forgot their lines, the Judge tried to steal the show with a cheap blowjob quip and we nearly decapitated the Inquisitor’s dad with an errant sword swing but it went well. The first half had been the prosecution’s case. It had been filled with missed lines, flat jokes and absent actress. But, it had worked quite well. People were positive. At halftime I ran a competition to win a box of Malteasers.

        Then we came back for the defence. Then happened the Inquisitor (Dom) and I (as his assistant) bribed the Jury into voting her as guilty of being a Witch. Her friend’s character protested and was duly killed off set with the throwing of a knife. It was a real knife so was a little scary but the trick worked. Apparently some people began to cry then.

        In a desperate plea the Witch tricked the Inquisitor into a trial by combat. She pleaded with the audience for a champion to stand up for her. As she did the inquisitor put a chain mail vest and other armour on the bumbling idiot. Unknown to the audience the idiot was played by the university’s finest fencer (a wonderful, tall and lean chap called Ian).

        Also unknown to the audience was the fact that we had secreted the President of BattleSoc in amongst them. He was secretly wearing medieval garb with a sword hidden under the seat. At the appropriate time, as the Inquisitor looked to find her guilty our man in the audience stood up and made a rallying cry for her defence. Mark, the ginger haired Goth, was a reluctant actor but he had the physique, the charm and the presence to carry off action hero. There was wild cheering at this point.

        Next Ian and Mark faced off in a prearranged duel. It was here that a wild swing from one of them caused the Inquisitor’s dad to jump into the lap of the man next to him to avoid decapitation. Guess we didn’t think about health and safety… tsk. Mark, ever dashing, defeated the fencer and fine actor Ian in a good old duel. Now defeated the Inquisitor and I fled through the back door…which actually led to the old holding pens for criminals so we didn’t go too far.

        Now free to go Nelly Clohessy professed her gratitude to her saviour. He asked her to marry her and they lived happily ever after. Cue more tears and cheers as they left. Somehow, the slapstick comedy had ended up being an action tearjerker; a true feel good moment in the Festival.

        That night we partied hard. We divided the money up among the actors, gave a contribution to the festival and paid the charity guys some compensation for a night of inaction. . In the end the piece once thought off as a dead donkey triumphed and won the award for best event at the festival. Though it remains to this day the only play I have ever written.