SC 1 - A FARM COTTAGE IN IRELAND - EVENING
MARY IS AT THE STOVE COOKING. SEAN COMES IN FROM A HARD DAY TOILING IN THE FIELDS
SEAN
Right what's for dinner tonight?
MARY:
Spuds.
SEAN:
Ah Jesus! Not spuds again! That's all we ever have. It's bloody spuds every night. I'm sick of bloody spuds. If I see one more spud then I'm gonna turn into a spud.
MARY:
But sure Sean, you always used to love the auld spuds. Remember that night we met at the Super Spud Gala in Wexford? You told me then that you'd never ever want to eat anything except spuds. God knows things aren't easy but I always make sure that the pot of spuds is on the range and ready in time for your dinner.
MARY BECOMES TEARFUL AND STARTS SOBBING
MARY:
You've found something else haven't you? All of a sudden spuds is no good. You've got all hoity-toity. Your father et spuds; and your mother and their fathers and mothers before them.
We all eat spuds in Ireland. It's what we're famous for. Show me the Irishman that doesn't like a spud and I'll show you a weirdo.
SEAN:
Ah but Mary love, I just can't face another spud. I really can't. I'm heaving at the prospect of spuds. Can't we have something else? For God's sake! I'm begging you Mary.
MARY:
What about Kentucky Fried Chicken just for a change then? I could send one of the kids out to get a family sized bucket. Would you like that?
SEAN:
Ah sure maybe I'll just have the spuds after all.
END: