Salt'n'Sauce Treatment

I submitted the following treatment for Salt'n'Sauce to Theatre West at the end of May 2006. Apart from some superficial changes, the storyline is that of the eventual script. The completed play also features an additional character to those outlined in this proposal - Emily, the stage manager.

September 2006

Salt'n'Sauce is a play about a play, a drama about a drama – Noises Off meets The Odd Couple.

Call-centre slave and aspiring playwright, John Lomas, runs up some stellar credit card debt to stage a production of By the Tale..., his modern adaptation of Chaucer's The Miller's Tale, at an off-off-Royal Mile venue on the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. John has recruited ageing actor Paul Barley to direct the play, and the dramatic duo settle into a modest (but pricey) studio flat anticipating a week of Fringe Firsts and salt'n'sauce-drenched junk food.

On their first night in the Scottish capital, Paul is delighted to discover that the city has far more to offer the foodie than the legendary deep-fried Mars bars and battered sheep's guts, while John feels that his parade is being rained on when he sifts the listings and finds that Travelogue, a play by his archrival Crispin Hicks, is fast becoming the Fringe's hot ticket. Crispin is a shiny new playwright, ten years younger than John and not so much snapping at his heels as swallowing him like a piece of plankton. The story of his university gap year travels around Europe, Travelogue is Crispin's follow-up to his first play, Cool – which received a rehearsed reading at the Royal Court.

The cast and crew of By the Tale... arrive in Edinburgh after eight fractious hours in an overcrowded, sauna-hot minibus and are disgruntled to learn that not only have their director and writer made the pilgrimage by air, they will also not be sharing the same accommodation. Paul has arranged for the company to stay at the church hall where they are performing the play - digs that boast a communal toilet and cold running water. The director points out that, since John is personally financing the production, he has a right to enjoy more comfortable transport and accommodation. John wonders about Paul's interpersonal skills.

The cast and crew spend the day of Tale's Fringe debut pounding the streets of the Old Town handing out flyers and putting up posters for the show, with Clive, an ebullient but irascible stage hand, dressed as a chicken 'to attract attention'. John doubts if this poultry publicity is what his play needs, and stays back at the flat trying to drum up some national press attention. He has little to show for his efforts apart from a mounting mobile phone bill, The Stage greeting his request for a review with the rebuttal that it is a 'prifishional tread pepper' that doesn't cover am dram – John is unsure if his promise of a profit-share is enough to raise the status of his show to 'professional'. The Sunday Times, meanwhile, simply laughs at John's audacity, but he scores with The Scotsman, which is sending a reviewer that evening.

Tale's premiere draws a fairly healthy audience made up mostly of the other acts appearing at the church hall and so almost all complimentary ticket holders, but the full house creates a good impression for The Scotsman's 12-year-old reviewer, who is overheard saying that she enjoyed the show.

After the performance, Paul blasts Emily, the stage manager and lighting operator, for being late on a vital lighting cue, reducing her to tears. John tells Paul later that he should be nicer to her, admitting that he's a bit smitten. Paul retorts that, 'She's about as sexy as Greyfriars Bobby, with none of his loyalty.' They notice that no-one from the cast or crew has joined them for an after-show drink.

Next morning, Paul returns to the flat with the latest edition of The Scotsman, which has no review of By the Tale..., but lists Travelogue high amongst its must-see shows on the Fringe. Stomach churning so much with jealousy he can barely eat any of the food Paul has brought from a nearby deli, John resolves to track down a contact he's got from the Fringe press office – the very unScottish-sounding George Brown from BBC Radio Scotland. Before he can do this, though, Paul needs him to flash the plastic for more gaffer tape, without which the show can't go on.

Following a performance at which they form half of the audience – the other half being the parents of one of the cast – John and Paul head to a stand-up comedy gig it's rumoured that the elusive George Brown will be attending. John is desperate for some radio coverage to boost bookings and offset the bill from his flexible friend, while Paul is angry that the cast now seems to be taking direction from the chicken-suited Clive – the curtain call that evening featured a cheesy salute from the stage to Emily in the box that was definitely not Paul's doing. John doesn't mind the cast saluting Emily, but is alarmed that he and Paul seem to be losing touch with the company.

The Scotsman finally publishes its review of By the Tale... midway through its run. The paper's 12-year-old has awarded two stars and written that 'Lomas's competent adaptation is indifferently directed by Barley'. Scouring the notice for quotable superlatives, John feels that '"competent" – The Scotsman' is unlikely to pull in the punters! The 'indifferent' Paul is disheartened by the review, but brings the news that the leading actor in Travelogue has been hospitalised after going into anaphylactic shock following a bee sting. John is filled with gleeful Schadenfreude at this major setback to his rival's chances of a Fringe First.

Abandoned again by the rest of the company after another performance at which Tale's cast outnumbered its audience, John and Paul drive their hired car up Arthur's Seat to take in Edinburgh by night. The latest news from the now openly hostile cast is that Tale's star performer, RADA-trained Glenn, has been recruited by Travelogue's producer to replace the bee-sting victim. Glenn jumped at the chance to be part of a five-star rated production and is frantically learning lines and rehearsing with Crispin's company. Paul's initial reaction to this news was a display of pyrotechnics worthy of the Tattoo, but John doused this, realising that Glenn has nothing to lose by jumping the By the Tale... ship – at least the performance times don't clash, so Glenn can be in both shows. John's cool-headedness in keeping everyone on side is at odds with his inner turmoil and he's tortured by the feeling that the more Crispin succeeds, the more he fails – 'It's sort of like The Picture of Dorian Grey, yeah? I'm the picture.' On Arthur's Seat, Paul is so moved by John's plight, he leaves his hand on his thigh for a very long time. John asks him to be less sympathetic and drive back to the flat.

With only two performances of By the Tale... left, John is so desperate to get a paying audience he's ready to roam the Royal Mile late at night handing out handbills – a good way to get beaten up, he feels. The production's constant need for improbable lengths of gaffer tape has pushed him dangerously close to his credit limit and, rather than calling the national press, he's been on his mobile to his bank arranging a substantial loan. Staging a show on the Festival Fringe hasn't proved the fillip to his writing career he hoped, condemning John to years of wage slavery instead. At least he and Paul have finally tracked down wee George Brown, who is giving away five pairs of free tickets for the final performance on his BBC radio show – hopefully the exposure will encourage others to come too.

John and Paul are the only guests at Tale's official break party in an Edinburgh curry house, which is lucky because John can barely afford poppadoms all round. The rest of the company has vanished quickly following the final performance, which was attended by ten residents of a local old people's home – winners of the five pairs of tickets – some of whom have managed to visit the toilet less than twice during the performance. The curry is a far cry from the Fringe First award ceremony John envisaged as the finale to his Fringe venture. Between sipping Cobra and putting pickle on his crisp bread, he makes notes in an exercise book. 'I'm going to write a play about this – the Festival thing,' he tells a despondent Paul. 'Just don't make it about putting on a play.' 'Why not?' 'It's too obvious.'

Salt'n'Sauce has a cast of two and its various settings around Edinburgh are represented minimally.