Notes

The music, and the sound of the weather, should be mixed with the dialogue like a DJ mixes tracks in a club.

Producers might consider using a live DJ as part of the performance.

I’ve hinted at the language of 90s London street culture but actors should feel free to be creative.

The orgasm of a pig does indeed last thirty minutes, but none of the other numbers claimed by the GHOST in the opening scene are true.

  

Credits

Spouts reams of that shit every day is from John Cale's Brotherman.

All that we are is the result of what we've thought. The mind is everything. What we think we become is by the Gautama Buddha.

Banquo is from the Scottish play.

The stanza beginning The shepherd's brow... is from The Shepherd’s Brow, Fronting Forked Lightning, Owns by Gerard Manley Hopkins.

Who you gonna call, Ghostbusters? is from the Ivan Reitman film, by Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis.

There is no spoon and Agent Smith are both from The Matrix, by Larry and Andy Wachowski.

The idea of unexplained events occurring outside a window is gratefully borrowed from If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things, by Jon McGregor.

The story of burned out meat lockers is from the oral history of Fabric, the London club.

Meatpacking glitterati is from The Fletcher Memorial Home, by Pink Floyd.

The passage beginning The story I have to tell... is by Friedrich Nietzsche, as quoted in Nietzsche, God And Doomsday: The Consequences Of Atheism by Henry Bayman.

I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate is from Blade Runner, by Ridley Scott.

The stanza beginning A thousand years ago... is from Iron Horse, by Alan Ginsberg.

The expression He blasts his way into the spiritual world, expecting to find bliss, but finds nothing is adapted from Jung and the New Age: A Study in Contrasts by David Tacey. The actual quote is The New Age man blasts his way into the spiritual realm, expecting to find bliss, but because he is so narcissistically wedded to the ego his experiences always meet with disappointment.

Thanks to my old clubbing friends: if you think you see yourselves in the play, don't worry: it's only an hallucination.