Little Britley on the Water – Pilot Script.
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Little
Britley On The Water. Pilot
Episode. Newsroom scene News Titles for the
Little Britley nine-o-clock news. They
are over the top and highly portentous.
Images of plane/train crashes, children crying and starving,
riot-police beating up protesters, etc.
At the end of the montage come the headlines. BONG! Shot of Lady of the
Manor, Elizabeth Whitby looking confused. Oxbridge: Strange
goings on in her Ladyship's outskirts. BONG! Shot of a Cat Litter
Tray. Oxbridge: Scandal in
BONG! Shot of Huge
Explosion. Oxbridge: Thousands
die in successful UN Peace-Keeping Operation. BONG! Shot of Adolf
Hitler. Oxbridge: And
suspected war criminal is released due to lack of evidence. 1.2 Music Ends. We are now in the
studio where Oxbridge Sellafield, an uptight news presenter sits smiling in a
slightly robotic way. Oxbridge: Good Evening,
I'm Oxbridge Sellafield. This is the
news. Some-time between 2 and Blurry shot of a
crop-circle in the shape of a vagina in the Mayor's garden. Oxbridge: …overhead view before his helicopter suffered
from a completely innocent systems fault and spontaneously exploded. Our hearts go out to his family. We apologise for the extremely poor quality
of this image. We can go live now to our "strange things on hillsides
correspondent", Garth Grolsh… Garth. 1.3 Garth standing
outside the gates of the Manor.. Garth: Yes, thank
you Oxbridge. I'm standing outside the
gates of the home of Her Ladyship Elizabeth Whitby. This hill top manor known to many,
including the post office, as "The Manor on the Hill" last night
witnessed, in as much as a Manor can actually be said to witness anything, a
strange shape appearing as if from nowhere in the grounds of this "Manor
on the Hill", on the hill. Oxbridge: And what's
the latest there, Garth? Garth: Well Oxbridge,
I can now confirm that there is in fact a strange crop formation which has,
quite literally, physically appeared, in reality, as if from nowhere, in the
grounds of her Ladyship’s Manor, The Manor on the Hill, on the hill,
belonging to her Ladyship Elizabeth Whitby. Oxbridge: Thanks
Garth. And we'll be getting further
updates as they happen. 1.4 Newspapers tumble
towards us. The first paper is
the Britley Herald, a broad-sheet. The
headline, next to a photo of the Crop-Fanny, is "Strange Shape in Her
Ladyship's Garden". The second paper is
The Shag, a tabloid: "Her Ladyship in Frigid Husband Junkie Child Nude
Garden Picture Shame.". The third is The
Daily Stalker, a radical underground paper: "Alien Life: The Proof at
last?" We hold on the Daily
Stalker for a moment. 2.1 The kitchen Scene We pull back from
the paper to show Tony Blah sitting at his breakfast table with Cherie Blah
frantically cooking eggs and cutting lines of coke on the kitchen work
surface. Tony is reading the Stalker. He puts it down. Tony: Are they
allowed to show those on the front page? Cherie: Breakfast
darling? Ewan, SCHOOL! Tony: I thought we’d
put a D-notice on these, you know, crop thingies? Cherie: (Puts a little
mirror down in front of him with a line on it) If you don't have breakfast
you won't get a head start on the day.
I learned that in law school. Of course that was before I became the
incubator for your brood. God I miss my Job! Ewan! Tony: (Rolling up a
Euro) Ewan! Education, education, education. Don’t make me repeat myself! Cherie: Breakfast… Tony: (Snorts the
entire line, his eyes bulge and his veins throb for a moment. Then a huge smile fixes on his face and he
is ready to face the world.) Right,
where's Peter? The back door opens
immediately and in walks Peter Mandelbot. Peter: Mr Mayor? Tony: You're late. Peter: Little bit of
trouble in the old colonials. Nothing
to worry about now. Nice and fluffy
again. Tony: (Throwing the
paper at him) Have you seen this? Peter: (Using a beam
from his eyes he lowers the paper gently to the table): Of course, Mr Mayor. Tony: Right, well,
you know, I want the whole council assembled for a meeting. Oh and we need some sort of distraction for
the press and the drones. Send Robin
down to the allotments with a team of, you know, strong-arms. Get him to tell
Saddam we want to read his diary. He
hates that. Peter: Right away
sir. Tony: Oh, and Peter? Peter: Mr Mayor? Tony: After the
meeting, would you be so kind as to prepare the, you know (his eyes flash
red)… lodge. Peter: Of course, Mr
Mayor. 3.1 The allotments. Helicopter shot
across industrial hell heading down towards Saddam's Allotments. They are an oasis of ill-looking green in
an otherwise smog filled industrial desert.
There is a shabby little run-down hut just inside the chain-link fence
that surrounds the allotment complex. 3.2 Robin Crook and
Saddam are standing outside the hut by a few sacks which are clearly labelled
"Fertiliser". Britley TV is
covering the event as are several paparazzi. Robin: …and what I
am saying to you, Mr Butaine… Saddam: Hussein. View changes to
Britley TV "live coverage" (small BTV logo appears and quality of
image deteriorates) Robin: …is that fertiliser
is, (to camera) and I think everyone knows this, (back to Saddam) primarily
used for the construction of weapons of messy destruction… Saddam: (points at
the sacks, he can hardly speak or understand English) Fertiliser. Robin: I see.
And that's your final answer, it? Saddam: (nods
sternly) Fertiliser. Robin: Well then, Mr
Bruce Wayne … Saddam: Hussein. Robin: …your
sanction breaking leaves me no choice.
I shall be forced by my (to camera) ethical foreigner policy (to
Hussein) to action my team of highly trained specialist weapons inspectors. 3.3 Out of BTV
view. We see the weapons
inspectors. They are three cowboy
mechanics, completely unskilled and belligerent in that peculiar British
working class way that is one part bully and one part frightened child. Weapons Inspector
One: Alright. Weapons Inspector
Two: (Wipes some snot from his nose) Alright mate. Weapons Inspector
Three: Afternoon. Robin: …now then, we
would like to begin by searching your wife's handbag, and then we'll go for a
good rummage in your underwear drawer… 4.1 The council meeting
room (Cabinet Office) at The Town Hall. Mandelbot runs the slide projector
which is showing a sequence of blurry shots of the crop formation. They show the shape from various
unfortunate angles and the whole thing is like a bizarre botanists
porn-cinema. Present are Tony
Blah (Mayor), John Deskjob (Railway Station Manager), Jack Score (Chief
Superintendent), Margaret Wrekett (Chamber of Commerce), Claire Snort
(Charity Shop Manager), Mo Nolan (Youth Club Boss), Chris Smith-no-relation
(Theatre Manager), Cuddly Dobson (Hospital Administrator), and Gordon Black
(Town Accountant). They have just
started the meeting. Wrekett: Well, no
mistaking what it is, anyway. Nolan: You can say
that again. None of the men have
any idea what the object is. Smith: Erm…? Score: Erm…? Blah: Right.
Right. Good. So we all, you know, know what it is. Dobson: That's good
enough for me Tony. Deskjob: Well, I'm
buggered if I know. Blah: Ha ha ha,
John, you grubby, old northerner you, you know what, you know, "it" is. Deskjob: (like a
hurt child) No Tony, I don't. Blah: Well, don't
worry, we'll get Jack… Jack: (panicked) No
not me…. Blah: Erm, right,
okay Claire, to explain it to you after the meeting. Snort: Don't worry
John, I'll put you right. Deskjob: Right. Good.
Aye. (He farts) OOP, pardon. Blah: Okay, so
there's only one, you know, important question left. Black: Who did it? Smith: Should we
offer visits to it as a lottery prizes? Nolan: How did it
appear in her ladyship's garden without anyone witnessing anything? Score: Will it help
if I have my son publicly flogged? Blah: Well, yes,
those are all, you know, very good questions, and there's nothing wrong with
any of them, you know, provided they're spelt correctly with joindy-up
writing, but I think, really, the key question is actually none of those,
what we need to be asking ourselves, and you know, I'm an ordinary man…. Whilst he prattles
on we pan around the room, they are all totally mesmerised by him, spirally
eyes, the works. Except Mandelbot who
carefully averts his eyes. Blah: … And I, you
know, ask myself ordinary things whilst I'm standing in the back garden,
like, you know, any other chap in the street, watching the gardener adjust
the stepping in the water feature, and I ask myself ordinary questions, real
questions, important questions, and I think that the question we should be
asking right now is this… The camera is now
back on Tony. Blah: (As if
revealing something fundamentally key to the nature of the universe) What is
the council's position on this? The hypnotic staring
ends to make room for huge applause. Wrekett: Great
question Tony. Deskjob: Aye, bloody
brilliant. Snort: (enjoying a
Bunty style fantasy) Sigh. Dobson: I think that
I can honestly say that that is the best question I have ever heard. A pager sounds. All assembled start frantically searching
for their pagers. Mandelbot calmly
retrieves his from his pocket and reads.
He looks up and notices the room full of frantic councilmen. Mandelbot: Oh for
pity's sake. (Firmly, to all of
them) I'm here. How can I possibly be paging you when I'm
standing right here? They all sit down. Mandelbot: (To Tony)
Apparently Reverend Susan's holding an emergency church service right
now. He's saying it's a message from
God. Blah: Jesus, I mean,
God, you know, that's clever. Mandelbot: Getting
good numbers too. And that's what
matters. Smith: Bums on
seats. Mandelbot:
Precisely. Blah: Right, thinks
he can out-spin me does he? Get him on
the phone for me. I'll take it in my
private chamber. He storms off toward
one of a number of doors leading off the room. This one has "Mayor's Private
Chamber" written on it. 5.1 The As we 'copter round
the outside of the church we can hear Rev Susan (a man) addressing the
congregation. Susan: We will now
sing a new hymn composed for us this morning by the St Aitken Compositional
Society, specially to mark the occasion of this blessing on our As the organ begins
to play the camera bursts through the doors of the church and we pan over the
packed pews full of sheep holding song-sheets. The organist is Elton John. The choir are all gorgeous young boys
dressed in dog collars, bibs, and posing pouches with crosses on the
pre-pubescent bulges. We arrive at the
vicar after the first four lines of the hymn. Congregation: Lord
you are so mighty, so firm and stout and proud, Your beard is long
and pointy and you live up on a cloud, You bless our town
of You use a mighty
biro in your big almighty hand, Hallelujah,
Hallelujah, Hall-leeeey-looooo-yahhhhh. Mr Faust the verger
brings a mobile phone up to Rev Susan during the god-awful Hallelujah chorus. The mobile phone is giving off a worrying
radioactive glow (as do all mobile phones we see in Britley once they are
"on"). Vicar and verger talk
to each other quietly under their breath. Faust: Phone for
you. Susan: Oh Jesus, not
now, I love this chorus. Faust: It's Blah. Susan: (with a
gloating grin) Oh really? I'll take it
in the office. The office is at the
back of the church, he starts to walk there, we follow him past the singing
sheep. During the Hallelujah some of
the singing has collapsed into bleating, but they come together again for
verse two. Susan: (into mobile)
Hello? Tony? Sorry, I can't hear you past the rather
huge congregation. Hold on a minute, I'm going in my office. He pauses and holds
the mobile phone up so that Blah gets a good idea of the size of his crowd
who begin singing the next verse. Then
he walks briskly towards the office and in.
We follow him all the way. Congregation: We are
meek and pointless, we try the best we can, And then you judge
us by some rules that we don't understand, We who breed in
darkness, who toil and sweat and grunt, Thank you Lord for
sending us your mighty - The door of the
office slams shut. 5.2 Susan: Ah! Rock and roll! (puts the phone to his head and talks
obsequiously) Hello Tony, sorry about
that, you know but what with all these hundreds of - 5.3 The Mayors Private
chamber. Tony sits behind his
desk on which is a row of phones. He
is talking on a mobile. Behind him are
loads of photos: Tony with his band. Tony
in school plays, on holiday white-water rafting with Clinton and Bush, in a
hot tub with the Spice Girls, on the front cover of Miss Girl, etc. He holds the phone using his shoulder as a
clamp because he needs his hands free to finish making up a line on his Red
Box. Tony: Fuck you,
Susan. Don’t give me any of that
shit. This has about as much to do
with God as it has to do with my twice-fucked arsehole. 5.4 Susan in his
office. It's full of Satanist stuff,
strewn around, like Lucifer's Bachelor Flat. Susan: Tell it to
the crowds, Tony. And if you had any
idea what caused it you'd be holding a press conference instead of wasting
your time on the phone to me. A hurl of expletives
distort out of the phone. He pulls it
away from his ear and puts his hand over the phone. As he pulls it away to see if Blah has
finished yelling we hear the odd word. Blah: You listen to
me you hypocritical sack of….. ram that cross up your self righteous….. (in a
totally different tone) I'm an ordinary man, Susan, you know, with ordinary…
(back to anger) and I won't be treated like your bitch... Susan: Sorry Tony,
gotta go, it's sermon time. He disconnects the
phone and puts it back in a Baphomet goat's head "phone
holder". He crosses to the door
of the office and stands for a moment with his hand on the handle. Susan: Right Susan,
keep it tight, start with the joke, schmoose into the morals, and end with
the contemporary dance sequence. Thank
you God, Thank you. He throws the door
open to a p.a. announcing "Heeeeeeer's Reverend Susan." The Crowd goes wild. Cut back to…. 5.5 Tony's Private
Chamber. Tony is finishing
off snorting his line. The phone is
abandoned on the desk beside him. Tony: Fuck. Hooo.
Fuck. (He sniffs) Right. He picks up the
phone. Tony: And another
thing Susan… Susan? Hello? Mother-fucker. 6.1 The Council Meeting
Room in the Town Hall. Blah rejoins the
others who are all talking on their mobiles.
They end their calls explaining "Tony's back, gotta go" and
the like and are all sitting attentively when Tony walks back in. Tony: Okay, problem
dealt with. Any other business? Deskjob: Running the
town? Tony: Gosh John you
simple relic of a kinder time, I would love to be, you know, in a position to
do that with you now but I've got a very important meeting to go to and, you
know, you've got an appointment with Claire, I believe. Deskjob: Oh, right,
eye, bugger-me my memory, eh? Claire: C'mon John,
let's go back and have a cup a tea and a spliff and I'll bring you up to
speed with reality. Mandelbot: It's time
Mr Mayor. He removes a James
Bond like device from his pocket and
enters a code. Several pagers start to
bleep. Black is the first to retrieve
his. The message says "LaundryMen
Assemble!". Black: Right, gotta
go. He makes a short
dash to a door behind him, throws it open, and walks in. As he walks he makes a clanking sound. Score: Ah, me too
I'm afraid. Smith: And me. They exit through
the same door. Mandelbot: Shall we? Blah: Well, you
know, erm, lets. After they go in the
door slams shut behind them. On it is
all sorts of Masonic type symbolism and carving. A small sign in the middle says
"Laundry Room". After a
short pause, it re-opens. Mandelbot: Frank? Dobson is sitting
smiling to himself. He has not noticed
that his pager, which is right in front of him on the desk, is bleeping. Dobson: Yes Peter? Mandelbot beams a
thought at Dobson. We see it come out
of his eyes and go into Dobson's Head. Mandelbot: (Voice
inside Dobson's head) I think my pager may be flashing. Dobson: I think my
pager my be flashing. His arm moves puppet
like to the pager, not so much grabbing it as bumping it, and his head lolls
forwards as if reading. Mandelbot is
now "driving" Dobson. Mandelbot: Oh
yes. Excuse me ladies. Dobson: Oh yes! Excuse me ladies. He makes a rather
disturbing zombie-like exit into the Laundry Room and the door closes behind
him. Nolan: What do you
think they do in there. Wreckett: My mother
always used to say to me that if a man's prepared to go into the laundry-room
at all you shouldn't put him off by asking questions. They both laugh like
doorstep gossips. Then they go a bit
glassy-eyed. Nolan and Wrekett:
Ahh, bless. Wreckett: Cup of
tea? Nolan: Love one. They start to leave,
as they do so they pause at the projection of the crop-fanny. Wreckett: What do
you think? Nolan: Neater than
mine. They leave. 7.1 The Lodge (or
"Laundry Room"). In contrast to the
antique wood-and-leather charm of the town hall, the Lodge is a high-tech Bond-Villain’s
Bunker where TV screens and computer racks mix uncomfortably with Masonic
statues and plaques. In the centre of
the room is an open floor-space. Blah,
Black, Score, Smith, Crook, and Mordillo stand in a half circle facing
Mandelbot. Mandelbot has Plunkett
gimped up on a lead in one hand. In
his other hand, he holds a melon-sized solid gold washing basket. All the others have dirty pants over their
heads which do little to disguise them but do distort them rather
amusingly. They are holding an opening
ritual as we pan round the room. Mandelbot: We
pledge… LaundryMen: We pledge… Mandelbot: ….to
gently lift stubborn stains from this world. LaundryMen: ….to
gently lift stubborn stains from this world. Mandelbot: To soften
with a rule of iron. LaundryMen: To
soften with a rule of iron. Mandelbot: To colour
balance with bias towards the brilliant whites. LaundryMen: To
colour balance with bias towards the brilliant whites. Mandelbot: To keep
the world not just clean, but really clean. LaundryMen: To keep
the world not just clean, but really clean. As they talk we pan
past two banks of TV screens (among other stuff). One, labelled "Ground Zero",
shows images of Little Britley. The
other, labelled "Ground >= Zero", shows images of Bedrock, Blah: Right, first
things first. What the fuck is it
supposed to be? Anyone? Mordillo: I can
honestly say I have never seen one of those in my life. Smith: And me. Cook: For god's
sakes, it's a fanny. Blah: Oh right! 'Course it is. Never seen one this well, you know, lit. Mandelbot: But no
ordinary fanny, this. Observe
gentlemen. A complex pattern of
geometrics is overlaid over the photograph. Mandelbot: This
fanny is vast. A simple fanny, and yet, when analysed correctly, a demonstration,
in vaginal form, of the workings and proof of Pythagoras' stolen theorem. Score: The science
that proves the existence of the soul. Black: That's one
clever fanny. Mandelbot: Clever
indeed. The social implications of
just one of its labia could plunge the markets into chaos. Blah: Jack. Seal the area off. No-one goes in or out of that fanny without
my permission. Score: 10-4
Affirmative Charlie Roger. Blah: What? Score: (slinking
off) Nothing. Mandelbot: So, who
has the power to put it there? Ideas,
gentlemen? Mordillo: Secret
military device? Cook: No not this
time, gentlemen. Blah: The
socialists? Smith: The Village
People? Black: I'll bet it
was aliens. Like the bastards who put
me in this cursed iron torso. Damn
them!!! He beats his chest
with rage, several clanks. Mandelbot: So then,
three options: The socialists, the Village People, and aliens. Discounting the impossible that leaves
socialists and aliens. Mordillo: What are
the socialists up to now? Mandelbot: Hang on. He pushes a
button. The screen display changes to
show the working men's club. Tony Been
and Arthur Scar are sitting at the bar looking thoroughly pissed off. Water drips. A cobweb has been spun between them. Mordillo: Oh, there
they are look, bless. Blah: Doesn't look
like they've been, you know, anywhere in days. Mandelbot: I
concur. Option Two then… Aliens. (Sinister chord). Mordillo: I'll make
enquires. Blah: Okay, call me
later on the mobile. Mordillo: Right-ho! Blah: Lovely
man. Safe hands for the future. Mandelbot: We need a
story for the press, something to throw the drones off the trail. Cook: Er… Miss
Wet-T-Shirt of Little Britley Competition? Blah: A reunion gig
for my band? Smith: A short
season of one-act plays by gay playwrights? Black: Tell them it
was hoaxers. Mandelbot: That's a
good idea, Gordon, but they won't buy it unless we can actually produce the
so-called hoaxers on camera. Blah: I'll handle
that. I've got a couple of friends in
exactly the right, you know, place. 8.1 Musical Number set
around Hesser and Darke's House of Nutters, the Britley Asylum. Darke: When the
Prozac that they give you makes you crazy And you feel like
going and shooting up the school Hesser: Ah, If the
armed response team misses You can bet your
life that this is Darke: Where they'll
send you and we'll Both: Drug you up
and leave you here to drool. McNutter: When you
can't hand another customer another happy meal Hesser and Darke:
You're welcome at the house of nutters! StressedOutHippyChickNutter:
When you feel a little guilty that your husband ordered veal Hesser and Darke:
You're welcome at the house of nutters! PregnantChildNutter:
If your twelve years old and up the duff BritneySpearsNutter:
Or sweet sixteen and not! GeniusNutter: If
television’s not enough LamaNutter: Or if
you talk to god All Nutters: You're
welcome… Darke: I'm Darke Hesser: And I am
Hesser Darke: When you're
brain is in a mess a year with us Will have you quiet
as a mouse Hesser: I'm Hesser Darke: And I'm Darke Hesser: And that
pervert in the park Is going to end up
barking starkers Darke: You'll all
end up barking starkers! Both: We'll all end up running starkers round our
house. A mobile phone
rings. Nutters run screaming back
inside. Hesser answers it. Hesser: Hello? 8.2 The Mayor's Private
Chamber. Tony on his mobile. Blah: Hesser? Tony?
Listen old man I need to borrow a couple of your inmates for a few
days for some minor spinning. Could be
good for you, too. 8.3 The Asylum. Hessers eyes are widening
with every word. Hesser: Really? TV, you say? Her Ladyship you say? Well, yes, it has been a bit lonely and
quiet up here. Darke and I were only
saying the other day how nice it was that people listened to us when we - 8.4 The Mayor's Private Chamber. One of the other
phones is ringing. Blah: Hesser can you
hang on a second. I've got, you know,
another call. He puts the mobile
down and presses the intercom. Blah: Betty, can you
have that call put through to my mobile. Betty Smoothjoy: Yes
Mr Speaker. Blah: It’s not the
speaker talking Betty, th..that's an intercom, er..it's me… Tony. I mean, you know, how many times do we have
to go through this? Betty: (Humouring
the intercom) Mr speaker, Mr speaker. Blah: Right. Thanks Betty. Just put it through to the mobile. Picks up the mobile. Blah: Mayor Tony. 8.5 Mordillo's Basement. An S&M Mordillo: Heir
apparent here. Got a little tip off
from some friends of mine who were out walking in Her Ladyship's Gardens last
night. Yes, at 8.6 Blah's Private
Chamber. Blah: Right. Thanks Michael. Cherie sends spanks. He pushes a button
on his phone. Blah: Hesser! Still there? Good.
Listen, change of plan. Won't
be needing you after all. Still, nice
song. Thanks. Bye then. 8.7 The asylum. The sound of the
phone disconnecting. Hesser and Darke
stand outside in the cold. A cardboard
box blows past. It's all a bit sad. Darke: Who was that? Hesser: That was
Blah. Phoned up to say he doesn't need
us. Darke: Oh. Pity. Hesser: Said he
liked the song, though. Darke: Oh. Well, that's something. I suppose. 9.1 The Crop-Fanny. Crook and Score are
standing to one side as about forty uniformed officers dig in the
background. It is a frenzy of
activity. A car screeches up and Tony
Blah gets out and runs up to them. Blah: Well….? Score: Well, we're
having a bit of trouble finding it Tone. Blah: Robin? Crook: Well, I
thought I knew where it was but… erm… Two Jags pull up
together. A man in traditional
Elizabethan serving clothes gets out of the front one, runs to the passenger
door of the back one, and opens it.
Deskjob steps out and strides confidently up to the group. Deskjob: Give us a
spade then, eh? Dam-Busters Type
Music. Camera pulls up and above as
Deskjob strides heroically to the clitoris and plunges his spade in. He digs down twice before his spade impacts
on something. Deskjob: By thunder,
there's sommat 'ere! He is joined by
policemen. In a flurry of digging they
unearth a huge padlocked trunk. They
lift it out and stand round it. A thud
comes from inside. Deskjob: What the
bloody hell is that? Mandelbot beams in. Mandelbot: I'll take
it from here. He disintegrates the
lock with a heat-ray from his eyes.
Slowly the trunk creaks open to reveal…. …Two writers,
dressed uncomfortably in tight tweedy jackets. They are pseudo-anarchists from the local
university. They probably write a
column in the daily stalker. Blah:
(arriving) Who the, you know, you
know, fuck, fuck, are they? Writer One: What
took you so long? We could have
suffocated in there? Writer Two: How
could you not have thought to check the clit? Cook: We wanted to
be sure there were no perimeter mines first. Blah: Yeah, Yeah,
you know, Yeah. Straw: Yes,
a..a..and we needed to dust the fanny for fingerprints. Due process, you know. Writer Two: You
didn't know what it was, did you? Mandelbot: Oh, but
we did. The question is… how did YOU
know? Writer One: What? Mandelbot:
Pythagoras' Stolen Theorem has been kept from the people of Britley for
centuries. Millennia. And you think you can reveal it and walk
away? Like it was a childish prank? Writer One:
Pythagoras's what? Writer Two: We're
satirists, mate. You know, satire. Blah: How is drawing
a big picture of a ladies, you know, naughty hole, satire? Writer One: It's a
cutting edge prank. Writer Two: It's
daring and cheeky. Mandelbot: Shall I
have them killed? Blah: Yes, better
had I suppose, just in case they, you know, tell the Theorem to anyone else. Writer One: What? Mandelbot:
(addressing two of the police) You two.
Please arrange to have these gentlemen regrettably shot whilst trying
to escape. Writer One: We're
not trying to escape. The writers are
being led away. Writer Two: We just
wanted to get on the telly. Writer One: Come on,
look, let's be sensible. You can't
kill us for calling her Ladyship a cu- A shot rings out. Mandelbot: Well,
that's that. I'd better get back to my
alcove and recharge. Blah: See you in the
morning then. Mandelbot: Right you
are. Blah: Oh, erm,
Peter. You haven't got any, you know,
any…er.. Peter hands him a
huge back of cocaine. Blah: Right. Night then. Mandelbot beams
out. Blah walks past the police who
are packing up the site. He makes a
call on his mobile phone. Blah: Hi. Noel? Liam?
My place, tonight. Bring Patsy
and Kate and any other bitches you can gather up, you know how Cherie is,
threes never enough… yeah, yeah, I got the stash…. you know, contacts… I'm a powerful man me… most popular mayor
in the history of Little Britley.
Yeah, yeah, see you later. We follow him past
Cook and Score, who salute him proudly, and out through the gates of the
manor on the hill, then the camera pulls back and up to show the manor and
the night sky. 9.2 An alien saucer hovers
above the skyline. We zoom over to the
window. Two aliens are looking down
towards the commotion below. Alien1: F'r Christ's
sake Flugnuggle, you drag me half way across the galaxy for this? Alien2: I'm telling
you Jimbimblefig, It was here yesterday, a huge great gestavenfloob. Massive. Alien1: Really? Alien2: Really. Alien1: Wow. The life-forms on this planet must be
having such a good time. END CREDITS. -------------------------------------------------------------- For
more information about Britley e-mail enquires@jasonorbaum.co.uk |
