The Skriker Quotes

“Twigs and beetles and dead body. Water and blood. You’ll never get back.”
― Caryl Churchill, The Skriker

“Heard her boast beast a roast beef eater, daughter could spin span spick and spun the
lowest form of wheat straw into gold, raw into roar, golden lion and lyonesse under
the sea, dungeonesse under the castle for bad mad sad adders and takers away.
Never marry a king size well beloved. Chop chip pan chap finger chirrup chirrup
cheer up off with you’re making no headway. Weeps seeps deeps her pretty puffy
cream cake hole in the heart operation. Sees a little blackjack thingalingo with a
long long tale awinding. May day, she cries, may pole axed me to help her. So I spin
the sheaves shoves shivers into golden guild and geld and if she can’t guessing game
and safety match my name then I’ll take her no mistake no mister no missed her no
mist no miss no me no. Is it William Gwylliam Guillaume? Is it John Jack the ladder
in your stocking is it Joke? Is it Alexander Sandro Andrew Drewsteignton?
Mephistopheles Toffeenose Tiffany’s Timpany Timothy Mossycoat? No ’t ain’t, says
I, no tainted meat me after the show me what you’ve got. Then pointing her finger
says Tom tit tot! Tomtom tiny tot blue tit tit! Out of her pinkle lippety loppety, out of
her mouthtrap, out came my secreted garden flower of my youth and beauty and the
beast is six six six o’clock in the morning becomes electric stormy petrel bomb.
Shriek! shrink! shuck off to a shack, sick, soak, seek a sleep slope slap of the dark to
shelter skelter away, a wail a whirl a world away.
Slit slat slut. That bitch a botch an itch in my shoulder blood. Bitch botch itch. Slat
itch slit botch. Itch slut bitch slit.
Put my hand to the baby and scissors seizures seize you sizzle. Metal cross cross me
out cross my heartburn sunburn sunbeam in my eyelash your back. Or garlic lickety
split me in two with the stink bombastic. Or pin prick cockadoodle do you feel it?
But if the baby has no name better nick a name, better Old Nick than no name,
because then we can have the snap crackle poppet to bake and brew and broody
more babies and leave them an impossible, a gobbling, a no.
I’ve been a hairy here he is changeling changing chainsaw massacre massive a sieve
to carry water from the well well what’s to be done? Brother brewed beer in an
eggshell. I said I’m old old every so olden dazed but I never see saw marjory before
three two one blast off!
Put me on a red hot shovel pushel bushel and a peck peck peck. Gave me red hot
metal in a piping hot metal in a pie ping pong what a stink. Call the vicar to exorcise
exercise regular sex a size larger six or seventh heaven and hellcat.”
― Caryl Churchill, The Skriker