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Suggested monologues

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Here we offer you four suggested monologues, from which you are welcome to choose one or be inspired by them.

ELEKTRA / HUGO VON HOFMANNSTHAL

Elektra: Alone! Woe, all alone. The father gone, chased down into his cold crevasses. Where are you father Don't you have the strength to drag your face up to me? It is the hour, it is our hour! The hour when they slaughtered you, your wife, and he who sleeps with her in one bed, in your royal bed. They beat you to death in the bath, your blood ran over your eyes, and the bath steamed from your blood, then he took you, the fig, by the shoulders, dragged you out of the room, head first, dragging your legs: your eye, which stared, opened, looked into the house. So you come again, put foot to foot and suddenly stand there, both eyes wide open, and a royal circlet of purple is around your forehead, it gouges itself out of the open wound of your head. Father! I want to see you, don't leave me alone today! Just like yesterday, like a shadow, there in the corner of the wall show yourself to your child! Father! Your day will come!

CLASS ENEMY / NIGEL WILLIAMS

Colossus: You are from Turkey, mainly. Illegal. Twelve men in a cart. With a cheap flight, by train. Some stick under the wagon or claw at the wings of the plane, what do I know, roll themselves up in a carpet and come in the mail. Full pipe: Spaghetti-Eaters, Yugos, Bimbos, Kanakers, camel drivers. Hottentots, garlic eater, get down from their trees, make a great spring at our expense; and when they have eaten our development aid, they come here. Animal unreported numbers. The only thing you can tell by the stench and the shit is that they're getting more and more. And once they are there, they walk to the immigration office. Your Kanaker friends are sitting there, they will get you all the papers, they have infiltrated everything. and then get on with the illegal work. and once they have a booth in the street, the whole gang will follow suit. The children will come next morning. You see, the foreigners don't breed like normal people, no, the children just slip out like the sausages, one by the other, and squeak like the piglets. Really. Then they collect child benefits en masse. In a few days the children will be big, grow like monsters and as soon as they can walk, jump in and attack people. Robberies are like fucking them, only better. Always on the grandmas, in the dark, then of course you can forget the grandmas. It is clear, logo. Then they all go out, find a German girl and she is raped to inaugurate the new apartment. Must be a virgin, otherwise that doesn't apply. All the Germans are moving away, of course, and total foreign infiltration is the order of the day. Just don't tell me it's not exactly the same with the foreigners. Because, if you ask me, that's how it goes with foreigners. Just don't tell me it's no use.

CLASS ENEMY / NIGEL WILLIAMS

Kebab: Okay window. I started with the window panes when I went to school over by the subway. Says that ass to me in class: "What are you doing here, Kanake?" He said, just like that. Never before had anyone called me that: Kanake. Had I never heard before, understand what I mean? So go home and ask my mother. I say: “Ane, what do you mean, Kanake?” She just laughs. But my father freaked out. They got into a row and then they kept talking back and forth. First him, then her. Continuiously louder. Everything imaginable. In the end they called themselves Kanake and a bunch of other things. Funny, I didn't like that. I didn't like the fucking word: Kanake. I just don't like it. I couldn't forget either. Well When I go to school the next day, I pass a shop in the Schlesische: kitchen studio. Instant water heaters, electric stoves, toasters and everything. Everything squeaky clean and shiny, and in the middle stands a little girl, cut out, a cardboard advertising dummy, with a gap in her teeth and grinning like on television. I stop and look at the girl and for some reason I didn't like her. I mean, it's like this: I'm hanging at the Schlesisches Tor and around me are Turks everywhere, garlic eaters in the driveways, Turkish women go out and into the laundromats, Turkish schnauzers like my age in used Fords, these fat, hundred years old. And in front of me in the shop window is this cardboard girl, this blonde German, grinning. I mean, she's blonde and clean, you can just throw up. Well, I thought, lick me, sweetie. It was because she said something to me, understand? Honest. She said "Kanake" to me. Like the boy in my class. There were other Germans in such a large photo behind her, they also grin and say "Kanake" and everything. “Everything belongs to us. The water heaters, electric stoves, toasters. We have everything we want. So fuck off, little caraway turk ”. Well, I took a rock and threw it. Wasn't big enough. I threw another one. Was nothing either. I packed my school bag full of stones and stuff and what was lying around there. And when the street was empty, I turned, took a lot of swing and turned and turned, and then I went in with it. Broooch! Man! If you had seen the glass, you should have seen it!

TOP DOGS / URS WIDMER

Frill: I would never have thought that, I would never have thought it possible, a discharge, what is that anyway? You are dismissed, well, there you have just been dismissed, hundreds of thousands have been dismissed, that’s no shame. You stand on the street, on which there are millions. You won't attract any further attention. That's what it is for, the street, the laid-offs have to be standing somewhere. Fight back the tears. I would never have thought that I would go so crazy. When Henner told me that. - We are right there, he's the top boss, Henner Sie, Heinrich Sie, but what haven't we done together! - When he told me, he accompanied me to the door. Hand on shoulder. Greetings to home. So nice. You too, I say. And as soon as I was outside, it just shook me like that, I sobbed, but sobbed something like that, I see myself like today, what are these now, four, five months maybe? I stand next to my car in the underground car park and bang my head against a concrete pillar. Even now, when I think about the tears ... What else should I think of ... There. Can you see it. Here we go again. Where did man get all the tears from? I can't go into any underground car park. Laughs. It's not that bad, my car is gone anyway. My mother could not cry, had chronically blocked tear ducts. And then it went at the speed of light. The car. The House. The apartment in Savognin. And the woman, gone, with all the children, wonderful children, Sabine and, yes, the other, the boy, out of my face ... Pascal !, exactly, Pascal: she's gone with both of them. Now lives in Seefeld. Says I'm a monster A sentimental monster. A failure. I don't sleep any more. I am dead tired and lie there and cannot fall asleep. I listen to the noises in the house, whether my wife is packing the suitcase, even though she packed the suitcase weeks ago. Nobody in the house, dead silent. How am I supposed to sleep there? I'll strangle them all three. I'm killing myself. Rope, rope, into the Limmat, it's not that easy to kill yourself. Take a hotel room, top floor, down there ... I'll kill myself, that's one thing that's for sure. In a sudden pain he grabs the back of the neck I. Au. There. My neck. Keeps him crooked. I've been so muscular since I was released ... See. Au. Here also. This is lumbago. An incipient lumbago. He shoots you in the back unexpectedly. I can feel it coming hours beforehand, like a premonition, an absolutely certain premonition. Now. There. Ouch. Since then I have had rashes, allergies, itches everywhere, unbearably, on my legs, in my back, in my anus, hemorrhoids, you will go crazy. clears his throat hysterically Chch. Chch. Something always gets stuck there. Chch. Back there. Chchchchchch. Crumbs, one crumb is enough. There! The eyelid! It always twitches. Can you see it! What would I say to myself if I were your boss and had to fire me? I? To me? So that's a strange thing, yourself. Well, I would say Herr Krause. I am forced to fire you. You have excellent, really first class, but I'm forced, I'm extremely sorry, the very best employee actually ... He fights back tears, as before. No tears now, Herr Krause. Heinrich. You're a crybaby, I'll tell you that frankly from man to man, you are a tearful washcloth. I can't stand you, Heinrich. Frill. The way you stand there with your stupid baby face, pretend you're an eagle, Krause, while your nose is a lonely heirloom from your father. That was an eagle, you can never hold a candle to it. At most you are a cuckoo, you are a duck, a parakeet. A workaholic of the third kind. Pathological. Don't you actually have a wife? Don't you know what a woman wants on the weekend? She wants fun on the weekend, a friendly shopping on Saturday afternoon, man, Krause, then a dinner somewhere with a good glass of red, and then home and maybe a snooze whiskey at home, it's the weekend! And then sex, Krause, man, woman want sex on Saturday! Every woman wants this, everyone! Also one that looks as good as yours, Krause. You could have married an uglier one. Now you have her, and she wants sex on Saturday, a little more than legs in the air and twice in and out. You have to bring your imagination into play. You are fired Krause!

FURTHER MONOLOGIES