Margot, Memoirs of an Unhappy Queen

Enters a scatty young woman wearing mourning reading a text aloud, then starts looking for something…

“I hate war, I hate war, HATE… I don’t know if some other war would suit me better, I doubt it… but this one… in your war I have already lost general, sir! … in this war my victory was not planned… in this war there will be no victor – not the Orthodox, Catholics neither, nor the Muslims… who then? Well I’ll tell you general, Sir … it won’t be « the Lions » as you say, but vultures… vultures, smugglers and mafia... because when oil flows in from Bulgaria, Marlboro from Turkey, coffee from Austria, Pampers from Italy, whores from Ukraine, Tampax from Slovenia… vultures’ money does what no-one else can. It opens fronts, stops artillery fire, snipers take a break: heroin from Albania is passing through! …aaah HEROIN… Here no one smokes hash any more, you roll a joint with heroin – heroin is easier to come by than a sandwich! Aaaah-buuut – you can’t find any Rizla paper – this thin, fine paper for rolling joints… that’s nowhere to be found. Now thaaat, this Rizla, honourable smugglers, both ours on our side and the ones over there, chose not to smuggle in this war… Why?... Eh, well, that we don’t know… This is the fourth year of the war – I’ve rolled all of mum’s poetry collections… so what now? Those on the other side have probably already smoked the few books they had… They have probably already all switched to the needle… I can’t shoot up… I tried, it hurts…