This monologue is entirely fictional. Any resemblance to a real person is purely coincidental. The educational aim is for the student to learn to swear convincingly, to own what they’re saying and not to punch every word, if you know what I mean. Although written for a girl, the monologue can also be performed by a boy.
A girl alone in front of a phone, filming herself.
Her:
You fucking filthy, sick, narcissistic wanker! You treated me like shit, you limp dick, you hurt me, messed with my head and treated me like a new car you could show off. It wasn’t love, for fuck’s sake, no… you used my body, my mind, my naïveté to feed your own impotence, to prove to yourself that you could, that you had balls, balls, with a twenty-year-old girl.
Why did I get into this, why am I only saying something now, why haven’t I spoken up all these years, people ask me, why didn’t I file a complaint within thirty days, because that must mean you liked it, you liked being in the most exclusive theatre circles, you liked sitting at the table with actors you’d only ever seen on stage and in films before, you benefited from it, you whore, you liked the cock and now you like kicking someone when he’s down, a great director like him, what if the poor man hangs himself from the chandelier, his life is a living hell, do you know that, do you? Who’s going to pay for that, because the world will be poorer without his work, the guy’s a star, he pisses all over Stanislavski, do you realise who this man is?
I’ve spent whole days talking about nothing but you with the twelve therapists over all these years, and now I can say I know who you are: to me, you’re some sort of Tate brother, for fuck’s sake! You wanted to be so macho, I don’t know who the fuck beat you up as a child or what problems you had, but, bro, let me tell you something: you’re not the only one in this world who’s had problems, we all have. Look, for example, my biggest problem was you.
You just wanted to fuck young flesh, you lover boy, you! You invariably started with an expensive restaurant where, coincidence or not, the place was full of famous people from showbiz.
At first you were good at hiding who you were, at first you knew how to make me fall in love with you. In your sick mind, you probably thought you loved me too. In your sick mind, maybe you did love me. Except people do wake up, they do fall out of love and want to leave the relationship. From that point on, you have no excuse, for fuck’s sake! Like a spoilt child whose toy had been taken away, you became threatening, violent, unpredictable. You gave me panic attacks, nightmares, dark thoughts. You hurt me like no one else ever has. The problem isn’t that you fucked me, the problem is what you did to me after I no longer wanted you to fuck me, for fuck’s sake, that’s the problem: you threatened me, humiliated me, punished me. When Dad found out what you’d done to me, he wanted to come after you. I don’t know why I fought to convince him not to. I was stupid.
If you did anything good for me, you taught me how to swear. Before I met you, before you put me through all that shit, the worst I ever said was “fuck it all”, now I have a PhD in swearing, you pathetic wanker, you limp dick, you scalded rat with a human face!
Fuck you, I’ll make you famous myself if you couldn’t manage it on your own!
That’s all I had to say. Sorry, maybe I got a bit carried away with all the swearing. I used to be a refined, delicate girl, but, as they say: fuck me, who the fuck has been sucking fucking cock here, bro? Let me tell you: I’ve sucked cock too, but just you wait and see how much it’s going to suck for you from now on!