Monologue Analysis: BU21 by Stuart Slade
Character Context
Character: Graham
Age: Late 20s to early 30s
Speaking to: Likely an audience, as BU21 employs a storytelling format where characters break the fourth wall to share their personal experiences. Graham is narrating his experience during and after a catastrophic event in London.
Synopsis
Graham’s monologue in BU21 provides a brutally honest and darkly humorous account of his reaction to a plane crash in Fulham. While he initially frames himself as a heroic figure, the truth emerges: Graham was not directly involved in the rescue efforts but instead became a media darling due to a series of misunderstandings and his own opportunism. This speech explores themes of guilt, shame, and the human desire for recognition, even in the face of tragedy.
Original Text
*I always fucking hated it around Fulham. Pretentious cunts, Hooray Henrys,
women who call themselves Yummy Mummies, whereas in reality they’re
furious skeletons in gym kit, one missed meal away from the grave – cunts
called Geoffrey driving Range Rovers. Abysmal people.
I suppose at least they’re always getting their houses done – I drive for a
building delivery firm, so I suppose middle-class vanity is what keeps it afloat –
lofts and cellars and extended kitchens and shit –
But nobody wanted to see that shit happen. Not even in Fulham.
I was one of the first TV interviews, right? But you probably know that already?
It’s kind of iconic, if I say so myself.
Half an hour after. Still in, you know, shock:
GRAHAM is now ‘on TV’, just after the crash – or he behaves as if he is.
The plane – it came down right here – right over there, you understand? I wasn’t
more than a hundred yards away.
Pause.
I tried to save as many as I could. I think I got to five or six. I don’t know. I wish
it could have been more –
Pause.
And you know something? Whoever did this, I’ve got a message for you, pal –
we won’t ever be beaten. Not by you, not by anyone – because we’re Londoners,
and we’re shoulder to shoulder, forever. You get me?
(Normal voice.) And when you agree to do one, they ask you to do another, and
another – and it just sort of snowballs with a momentum of its own that you’re
not really in control of – Until you’re like a fucking celebrity and sweet old
biddies come up to you in Tesco and thank you for what you said, with tears
streaming down their faces. Seriously, I’ve been hugged by more weeping old
ladies than Tom Jones, you know?
Weird as.
[...]
So the truth of it is that I wasn’t actually there. Okay?
Not in the way that people, you know, imagine. I wasn’t there when it happened.
That morning I was helping out a mate on a painting and decorating job in
Munster Road. Sanding down the filler, you know? And I was just getting in the
van to go to Brewers for some more filler – Tetrion, you know – and I saw this
plane – you know – about a mile or so in the distance, go down –
So I fucking motor down as fast as I can to see what’s going on, but I get as far
as the Fulham Road, and everything’s fucked with the traffic. So I leave the van,
and I run down to where the flames are.
My blood’s really up, you know? Fucking pumped. Adrenaline.
This is about fifteen, twenty minutes after it had happened, by this point.
There were all these people coming towards me, scared shitless. People were
just, you know, out of control. I got knocked down and I cut my head, and I
didn’t even feel it.
But I kept on going, because I wanted to see, you know, what was going on?
Everybody does it. When there’s a crash on the motorway, everybody slows
down to rubberneck shit. It’s human nature. We’re just made like that.
No, you know what? I take that back. I was going to help – in my mind, that was
my definite fucking aim to help – but when I got there it was just, you know,
chaos, and I was actually really, really frightened.
And I get closer and closer, but still I can’t see anything because of all the police
and firemen and shit –
And I was covered in all this white filler dust from sanding down the walls of the
house in Munster Road – like a fucking ghost – and when I get to Harwood Road
this ambulance driver takes one look at me and puts a foil blanket over my
shoulders and walks me over to the triage thing by Fulham Broadway Station,
telling me over and over that I’m going to be alright and shit.
And I didn’t, like, stop him – I mean, I had a cut. Here. Little one. (Points to his
head, a little embarrassed.)
I guess I just wanted to be a part of it.
I dunno.
And it’s at this point that the TV crew comes up to me.
And it’s not as if I was going to be all like, ‘Yeah I just popped down to gawp at
some dead bodies – alright, Mum!’ – (Does thumbs-up to camera.) on national
TV, on the fucking BBC, because I’d have looked like a total cunt.
So I – I just riffed it, on the spot, I just riffed it. Fuck knows why. I guess I –
And yeah, of course I felt ashamed – and the next morning I woke up with like a
massive hangover – so I drank a bottle of whisky just so I could fucking sleep –
and you know sometimes you wake up with this enormous fucking hungover
paranoia, and you’re like ‘what the fuck did I do last night?’ and then it dawns
on you, with suddenly nightmarish clarity –
‘Oh yeah, I lied about rescuing people out of a catastrophic plane crash on
national TV.’
Not happened to you, right?
And you fucking brick yourself, mate. You fucking brick yourself.*
Suggested New Thoughts Chunking / Paragraphing
"I always fucking hated it around Fulham. Pretentious cunts..."
Graham begins with a rant about Fulham, setting his sarcastic tone and disdain for the middle-class environment.
"I was one of the first TV interviews, right?"
He shifts to discussing his media attention, initially presenting himself as a hero.
"So the truth of it is that I wasn’t actually there. Okay?"
The monologue pivots as Graham confesses the truth, dismantling his earlier narrative.
"And I was covered in all this white filler dust..."
Graham recounts how a misunderstanding led to his portrayal as a survivor, blending humour and regret.
"So I – I just riffed it, on the spot..."
He reflects on his decision to lie, capturing his guilt and the snowballing consequences of his actions.
Journey Keypoints
Hook: Graham’s disdain for Fulham immediately draws attention with its humour and bite.
Turning Point: His confession reveals the truth about his absence during the crash.
Climax: Graham reflects on how his lie escalated, leading to shame and regret.
Resolution: He acknowledges his guilt but maintains a darkly comedic perspective.
About the Playwright: Stuart Slade
Stuart Slade is a British playwright whose works delve into trauma and the human condition. BU21 explores the personal aftermath of a fictional terrorist attack, blending dark humour with raw emotion. Slade’s writing challenges audiences to confront uncomfortable truths about grief, guilt, and identity.
