John Lennon: Four In Hand

Following is John’s complete sketch from
Oh! Calcutta!


FOUR IN HAND
by John Lennon

Four chairs, backs to the audience. Facing them, a large projection screen divided into four sections, one for each chair. Three men impatiently waiting. A doorbell rings.

1: There he is now. I told you he’d make it. (He opens the door.)

George enters: he wears a fedora.

1: If you’re going to join the group, George, you have to remember we always start on time.
George: Sorry I’m late, fellas.
2: We don’t like people breakin’ the rules, George.
George: I already said I’m sorry.
3: Look--We gonna talk, or we gonna jerk off?
1: Ok, let’s get started. This is your seat, George. Now this (pointing to screen) is a new kind of machine--a telepathic thought transmitter. Whatever you think about flashes on the screen. Now the rules of the game are this: all of us think of things to jerk off to--until somebody comes--and the first guy who comes has to stop everybody else from coming. Got it?
George: Got it.
1: All right. Let’s give it a try. Whatever comes to mind, George.

1 goes to his seat. George sits between 2 and 3. Rhythmic music starts. Images start to flash rhythmically on the screens. The men’s arms start to move rhythmically in front of them. The screens facing 1, 2 and 3 show Hollywood and Playboy-type pinups. George’s screen remains blank. The rhythm builds up while screens 1, 2 and 3 are all pulsating with glamorous women. Suddenly, we hear the strains of the William Tell Overture, and during a crash of cymbals, a picture of the Lone Ranger flashes on George’s screen. All screens go blank and all four men stop masturbating.

3: What the fuck was that?
1: What are ya tryin’ to do, George?
2 (rises, adjusting his pants): I told you not to invite outsiders.
George: I’m sorry, fellas, it’s just the first thing that came into my mind.
2: We haven’t had a vacancy in six months, George! Harvey only left because he got a divorce.
3: How’d you like a silver bullet up your ass?
1 (walking to George): You sure you’re all right, George?
George: I’m fine, thanks.
1: All right, let’s try it again.

They all sit down again.

1: And cut the horseshit, George.

The music starts again and the images start to flash. They are slightly more nude than before--close shots of breasts and bottoms. By trial and error, the four screens begin to form a composite picture. George is dutifully collaborating. Finally, at the height of the rhythm, screen facing 1 shows a nude model’s head, screen facing 2 shows her breasts, screen facing 3, her legs. Pause. The recumbent image of the model is almost complete. Suddenly the strains of the William Tell Overture are heard again with another image of the Lone Ranger on George’s screen.

George (exultantly): Aha! A-a-a-a-ah!

He rises. His screen continues to flash the Lone Ranger. With one jabbing sweep of his arm, he flashes Lone Ranger pictures on the other screens as the music builds. As each image flashes, 1, 2 and 3 lose their concentration completely and give up the contest.

George (turns as he goes to exit): See you next week, fellas.
1: Get the fuck outta here!!!

Sound of four “whistling” gunshots as each remaining screen blacks out.

The End