I made a thing
Foolishly, a friend and I had a go at writing a sitcom that will never be made. BUT! What do you think?
Episode Two
ROGER BOYES BETTING SHOP. EXTERIOR. DAY. WINDOW SIGNS SUCH AS "PRO-CELEBRITY POLE-VAULTING" WITH IMPROBABLE ODDS FOR DAWN FRENCH, PATRICK MOORE ETC. SEVERAL CUSTOMERS CAN BE SEEN ENTERING THE SHOP, ALL ARE WEARING ROBES MADE OUT OF SHEETS AND/OR CURTAINS. ONE OR TWO ARE WEARING ELABORATE HEAD-DRESSES.
CUT TO: BETTING SHOP. INTERIOR. DAY.ROGER BOYES AND A BORED BLONDE ASSISTANT ARE BEHIND THE COUNTER. BOTH ARE WATCHING, LIPS CURLED IN BEMUSEMENT AS THE ROBE-CLAD CUSTOMERS CONDUCT SOME SORT OF CEREMONY INSIDE THE SHOP. STAN, THE ELDERLY, MOST COMMITTED OF THE CUSTOMERS IS WEARING THE MOST ELABORATE HEAD-DRESS AND IS LEADING THE ACOLYTES IN PRAYER.
STAN (close up)
...And grant us, oh great dark ones, your gift of foresight in these darkest of hours. Particularly in the 3.30 at Kempton Park on which I intend to lay a small wager.
CUSTOMERS
So mote it be.
STAN
May you, oh powerful Cthulhu, through these entrails, grant us the favour of the first scorer in West Brom against Fulham tonight.
CUSTOMERS
So mote it be.
STAN
And may this blood spilled on the vinyl floor of perdition spell out the winner of this year's Eurovision, as foreseen in the lost prophesies of Ry'leh.
CUSTOMERS
So mote it be.
STAN
Right -who's got the holy knives of Neasden?
(Silence, blank faces)
Come on, this offering's not going to kill itself, you know.
SHEEP (close up)
Baa!
ACOLYTE
I've got one of these (holds up a Kentucky Fried Chicken spork)
ROGER
Right! Out! The lot of ya! OUT!
STAN
But we're just about to...
ROGER
I don't care. I'm not having blood and entrails all over my floor. It puts the punters off.
STAN
But we ARE your punters.
ROGER (momentarily stunned at the thought of kicking out his only regular customers)
Right. OK. Right. You can stay. But I'm not havin' sacrifice an' worship of false idols in me shop. It ain't right. Either place a bet or get out. And you can take those stupid robes off an' all. It makes this place look like a Turkish bath.
ACOLYTES start drifting out. One or two take off their robes to reveal their everyday clothes. All except Stan, who is wearing nothing but a pair of y-fronts, welly boots and his head-dress.
STAN
But this is important! I've got 50p each way riding on this one.
ROGER
Well whoop-de-doo, if you don't mind me saying. What in the name of all that is holy possessed you to sacrifice a sheep in my shop?
SHEEP (close up)
Baa!
STAN
We couldn't find a virgin.
ROGER
You've got a point there...
STAN
So you don't mind then? (Wields the Holy Spork above his head) Hold still, love, this won't hurt a bit.
SHEEP (close up)
Baaaaaaa!
ROGER
Out! OUT! NOW! And take Flossie with you. She's baa-ed.
Episode Two
ROGER BOYES BETTING SHOP. EXTERIOR. DAY. WINDOW SIGNS SUCH AS "PRO-CELEBRITY POLE-VAULTING" WITH IMPROBABLE ODDS FOR DAWN FRENCH, PATRICK MOORE ETC. SEVERAL CUSTOMERS CAN BE SEEN ENTERING THE SHOP, ALL ARE WEARING ROBES MADE OUT OF SHEETS AND/OR CURTAINS. ONE OR TWO ARE WEARING ELABORATE HEAD-DRESSES.
CUT TO: BETTING SHOP. INTERIOR. DAY.ROGER BOYES AND A BORED BLONDE ASSISTANT ARE BEHIND THE COUNTER. BOTH ARE WATCHING, LIPS CURLED IN BEMUSEMENT AS THE ROBE-CLAD CUSTOMERS CONDUCT SOME SORT OF CEREMONY INSIDE THE SHOP. STAN, THE ELDERLY, MOST COMMITTED OF THE CUSTOMERS IS WEARING THE MOST ELABORATE HEAD-DRESS AND IS LEADING THE ACOLYTES IN PRAYER.
STAN (close up)
...And grant us, oh great dark ones, your gift of foresight in these darkest of hours. Particularly in the 3.30 at Kempton Park on which I intend to lay a small wager.
CUSTOMERS
So mote it be.
STAN
May you, oh powerful Cthulhu, through these entrails, grant us the favour of the first scorer in West Brom against Fulham tonight.
CUSTOMERS
So mote it be.
STAN
And may this blood spilled on the vinyl floor of perdition spell out the winner of this year's Eurovision, as foreseen in the lost prophesies of Ry'leh.
CUSTOMERS
So mote it be.
STAN
Right -who's got the holy knives of Neasden?
(Silence, blank faces)
Come on, this offering's not going to kill itself, you know.
SHEEP (close up)
Baa!
ACOLYTE
I've got one of these (holds up a Kentucky Fried Chicken spork)
ROGER
Right! Out! The lot of ya! OUT!
STAN
But we're just about to...
ROGER
I don't care. I'm not having blood and entrails all over my floor. It puts the punters off.
STAN
But we ARE your punters.
ROGER (momentarily stunned at the thought of kicking out his only regular customers)
Right. OK. Right. You can stay. But I'm not havin' sacrifice an' worship of false idols in me shop. It ain't right. Either place a bet or get out. And you can take those stupid robes off an' all. It makes this place look like a Turkish bath.
ACOLYTES start drifting out. One or two take off their robes to reveal their everyday clothes. All except Stan, who is wearing nothing but a pair of y-fronts, welly boots and his head-dress.
STAN
But this is important! I've got 50p each way riding on this one.
ROGER
Well whoop-de-doo, if you don't mind me saying. What in the name of all that is holy possessed you to sacrifice a sheep in my shop?
SHEEP (close up)
Baa!
STAN
We couldn't find a virgin.
ROGER
You've got a point there...
STAN
So you don't mind then? (Wields the Holy Spork above his head) Hold still, love, this won't hurt a bit.
SHEEP (close up)
Baaaaaaa!
ROGER
Out! OUT! NOW! And take Flossie with you. She's baa-ed.
posted by Alistair Coleman at 3/06/2006 11:54:00 am
5 Crumbs:
I reckon it's a winner!
Far better than most of the shite that's on telly these days, anyway.
PS. Wanna buy a sheep? One careful owner, full MOT, and three months tax left on it.
Dude, you gotta get a real job.
That sounds frighteningly like what's actually on telly, which means your spicy brains are looking suspiciously like they're almost past their sell-by date. Save yourself. For the love of Dog!*
*Did I mention I occasionally suffer from dyslexia? Most times I quite enjoy it.
Good start, but please kill the Y-fronts: conjures up too many images of Are You Being Served?
The sheep, BTW< is certain to bring in that key Scotland demographic.
I've GOT to keep the Y-Fronts. You should read the cafe scenes.
Not only that, but boxers with wellies? I mean, seriously.
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