ME. What do you mean you’re having a rave? Not here you’re not.
JOE. Chill, we’re hiring a room above a pub in Hackney.
ME. No you’re not.
JOE. We are, it’s all sorted. We’ve been to see the bloke and it’s all arranged.
ED. What, you some sort of nightclub don now?
JOE. Shut up Ed. We’re selling tickets and 140 people on Facebook have already said they’re coming.
ME. Oh my God Joe, what if someone gets stabbed? What if a fire starts? Didn’t you hear about that dreadful thing in Brazil. What if a load of horrible kids show up and cause trouble? What if…
ED. What if a massive fight starts and all the chandeliers get smashed?
JOE. There’s no chandeliers in there, idiot. There’s nothing in there. It’s just and empty room.
ME. There’s windows though. Someone might fall through a window.
JOE. They won’t.
ME. How do you know they wont?
BRIAN. Exactly. You’ll be responsible if anything bad happens.
JOE. It won’t.
ME. You’ll have to get insurance, security, some kind of license…
JOE. No we won’t.
ED. How much you selling tickets for?
JOE. Four quid.
ED. Who’s gunna pay four quid to go and stand in an empty room?
JOE. Shut up Ed. Me and Joe Parks are gunna be DJ ing.
BRIAN. No Joe. It’s a mad idea. We’re happy for you to go to these raves..
ME. Well, not exactly “happy”…
BRIAN. Well, I think it’s okay to go along to something that’s been properly organized by sensible adults but I’m not agreeing to you, a seventeen year-old, being responsible for the whole thing. It’s ridiculous. Forget it. No Joe, I mean it.
BRIAN. Is this blue the right colour then?
JOE. Yeah, that’s cool. Then just put the writing down the side… yeah like that. That looks good.
ED. Let me see. ‘Wavey Nights presents, GET WAVEY’. Hahaha. ‘GET WAVEY!’ What’s that supposed to mean.
JOE. Shut up Ed, it doesn’t mean anything. It just sounds good.
ED. It sounds stupid. I hope you’re gunna give mummy some money for all the ink and paper.
JOE. Shut up Ed.
BRIAN. Right. Shall I put the address at the bottom then? And the price in the corner?
JOE. Yeah. Then can you print them and cut them out. I’m going bed. Mummy, find a box or something for me to put all the tickets in please. I’m gunna take them to college tomorrow. Night.
BRIAN. How was school?
JOE. COLLEGE. I’m gunna punch you if you say school one more time. It was good: sold thirty tickets.
BRIAN. Well done. Let me know if you want me to print any more.
JOE. Cool. Mummy, make me a snack please: I need to answer all these emails from people wanting tickets.