Sleeve Cape

Alright you guys listen, I just got back from my run (hey this story again nice; such variety; I love it when he goes on about his run - Just a sample of the many emails I get when I talk about my run.) and I had an idea for a new garment. Like a new kind of clothe. Like trousers and waistcoats and skirts are types of garment. Well get ready for this one.

Imagine if you will a jacket, with straps on the inside, to attach to your shirt. Now, you attach these straps, sort of braces-like clamps, and suddenly you don't have to wear the sleeves or anything. You've got a kind of coat-shaped cape. Now you could make the coat part whatever, like have whatever design. And the best part is you can convert probably anything into a sleeve-cape.

So anyway, that's what's going to be big in twenty 'leven.

And now, after presenting my fantastinating idea, I will give you a script for your patience.

Margaret and the Miners

For this to work you need to accept two presumptions. Margaret Thatcher is prime minister again and adamantium is a thing.

We join the action in the office of No 10.

Official: So, we've got the results of the satellite scan here. It shows a large patch of adamantium ore, here. Where all the miners live.

Thatcher: How will we extract this ore? This natural resource?

Official: I was going to get the miners to do it. Should I...should I do that?

Thatcher: No. No I've got a much better idea.

THE NEWS

Newsreader: The government today announced their new program to extract the valuable adamantium ore from North Yorkshire and Newcastle. All roads in Britain will be adapted so that they draw power from the cars that run on them. An official compared this plan to "A treadmill for cars" and said that it would make our cars healthier, although it will take twice as long to get anywhere.

Newsreader: Miners have expressed outrage at this plan. We go live to their press conference.

MINERS

Miner: C'mon. Let us mine the ore.

Thatcher: No.

See there was satire. But man I am just too excited about the sleeve-cape. Seriously, I am thinking about making some prototypes.

Goodnight, god bless.

HEADonism

This next sketch came to me in a dream JUST KIDDING it came to when I was doing my evening run just like most of 'em do.

Y'all know I don't like writing my dreams down 'case they come real.

Getting Ahead

The scene is a New York Apartment. A man leans out of the window with his camera, and takes a photo. The camera has a long lens on it. The man's name is Tim.

Tim: That's was a good one.

Interviewer: [unseen] Who was it?

Tim: I didn't know them. Just felt right.

Interviewer: How?

Tim: Well sometimes it's because of their hair colour or their clothes, but this one I think it was a combination of all these things.

Interviewer: Is this one going in the special room?

Tim: [He looks away] It's too early to tell.

Night Time

Tim gets out of bed. And approaches the pottery wheel.

Tim: I do most of the work at night, the electric is cheaper.

He takes out a printed photo.

Tim: This is the one from earlier. Can you see the bone structure? It's pretty neat.

Later, we see Tim putting the finishing touches on a statue of a head. It is the one from the photo.

Interviewer: Wow.

Tim: Yeah, she's a pretty one. Prettiest this quarter I reckon. Maybe of the fiscal year.

Interviewer: So...

Tim: I usually get first goes. Then I sell them.

Interviewer: How much do they-

Tim: About 68 dollars.

Interviewer: And how many do you-

Tim: Probably 5 a week?

Interviewer: Do you ever worry that one day you'll just lose the talent?

Tim: Well talents only go away if you don't use them.

Interviewer: K. Could I...could I purchase this one?

Tim: 70 dollars.

Interviewer: I'll give you 90 if I get to go on her first.

Tim: That's...that's a tough...

Interviewer: I'm sorry, it was presumptuous.

Tim: 70 will be fine.

Later

The interviewer is putting wigs on the head. He is a flamboyant man.

Interviewer: Why, you look just darling!

Enter Tim.

Interviewer: I love playing with it.

Tim: What?

Interviewer: I

Tim: You're supposed to have sex with it!

He punches the interviewer in the face!

Extreme! But seriously, this is what you get if you watch Napoleon Dynamite before you write. You end up with this mental shit that I'm pretty sure I'm going to look back on with scorn.

Didn't even mention pepsi.

Sad Men

Today I got to spend 3 hours at school waiting for a lesson that never happened. Those 3 hours were also part of a lesson that never happened. So while waiting I did some homework and wrote this bitching scriptes, bizzybizzy lone.

Man: It is the dark where I live, and the dark I send you.

He pulls out a knife and stabs everyone in the supermarket where this is set. He begins furiously masturbating over the dead bodies.

Projector closes and Sam steps in front of the projector. It is a room of ad execs.

Ben: How does this sell pepsi?

Sam: I'm not sure you understand. This came to me in a dream!

Ben: Yes but-

Sam: A dream!

Ben: Well...can we see the posters?

Sam: Sure!

The posters of pictures of the ad execs sleeping.

Ben: Is that me? Greg. [He shoves the person next to him] Greg, I think that's you, there.

Greg: I like it.

Ben: Greg, you can see your penis!

[Cut to shot of Greg's penis. An UNCOMFORTABLY long shot.]

Sam: It's to show YOUR dreams. [points at the execs]

Ben: We need to vote on this.

[Voting. It is Ben's turn]

Ben: I'm going to vote tactically and say yes.

Sam: [counting up votes] That's six yesses and one no.

Ben: Who was the no?

Sam: I've gone off this idea.

Ben: But it's got Greg's penis!

[Greg's penis is shown again.]

Sam: Wait, what's that written on the tip?

[Greg's penis' tip has pepsi written on it.]

Greg: What.

There was originally a drawing of the tip with pepsi written on it, but I can't be bothered to scan it or whatever.

Also Greg represented misery. I hope you all realised that on your own, because if I have to explain it to you I'm not sure I'm proud of that.

Halfway to Helsinki

You know what maybe we'll not introduce this one just let the words speak for themselves, hmm?

HMMM? Dat's what I thoight.

Hipsters don't lie

An apartment. Three strangely dressed people are lying on couches, discussing fashion and trends.

Henry: I don't like, follow the mainstream.

Farquar: I know right? I just, you know.

Shar: This is so dumb you guys, we're like, talking?

Henry puts a cigarette out on his thigh because he heard it was cool.

Henry: I'm going outside to sigh.

OUTSIDE

Henry is sighing at cars as they go past. He goes inside again.

He goes for a walk in the woods while indie music plays.

INSIDE

Henry: Fuck this noise, I'm starting a band.

Shar: I'm singing.

Henry: K.

Farquar: And I'll DJ.

Henry: Triple K.

Black guy: That's RACIST

Henry: What's more racist is that you noticed it.

Black guy: Dayum. [eats some fried chicken and water melon - Writer's note, I have lots of black friends.]

They all go for a walk in the woods while indie music plays.

INSIDE

It is the scene of the first performance of the Racy Racists. It sounds like horrible noise and all the audience are hipsters taking photos of each other.

Henry: It's really difficult to play the guitarflute with everyone with the camera flashes.

Farquar: [Record Scratch]

Henry: This band needs more people.

INSIDE

Henry sits at a table while others bring their instruments. They are all fucking weird instruments like the one in Professor Branestrawm.

Henry: [Cutting off his ring fingers] You're all in the band.

All: Yes. [they begin to grow moustaches]

Henry: Except you [points]. You've got the wrong image.

Man: You're pointing at the wall.

Henry: [Pointing at the man] You're out of the band.

Man: Didn't even want it anyway. [puts a cigarette out on his thigh. Henry laughs, because that is no longer cool]

Henry sighs.

The band go for a walk in the woods while indie music plays.

INSIDE

Henry has decided that there are too many people in the band so he gathers everyone together.

Henry: There are too many people in this band. So we all have to drink this cyanide.

Everyone takes a sip

Shar: This is so dumb you guys.

There you go a witty attack on the hipster community, long may those crazy cats live.

Triangle

"Triangle, circle, square. That's a simple chant right there. Your basic chants, they're £4 a letter; you'll find them down that aisle there. And then they get harder as you progress, so watch yourself. Someone might have used one as well, you know, hidden behind a cardboard stand and put all the stuff together and drawn the pledge on the ground. So, you might find it extending or something, into another dimension. Take this watch and if it starts behaving normally, then you're fucked." The clerk moved away as he finished and turned back to stone.

That, sirs and ladies, was a section from my new novel about a supermarket for wizards. Not really, I just wrote that now. God, you must feel a fool.

The Strain

The time is 1996, love was in the air and so was a feeling of impending change. For it was an election year. Shit wait that was 1997. What happened in 1996? No wait I know.

A psychiatrist's office. A woman lies on his couch. She is talking.

Sandra: It's my father.

Dr. Gawn: It's not your father.

Sandra: It's my mother?

Dr. Gawn: No, Sandra. You are the fuck up here. That is why you are in the office with me. Here, look at these cards. [He pulls out a card and shows her it. It says "You are a failure"]

Sandra: I'm not a failure.

Dr. Gawn: It's a butterfly. [The card flies away like a butterfly.]

Sandra: You're an awful therapist, but a great magician.

Dr. Gawn: I try. [weeps]

Sandra: [weeps]

Dr. Gawn: [weeps]

Sandra: [weeps]

Dr. Gawn: [weeps]

Sandra: [creeps]

Dr. Gawn: [leaps]

Sandra: [sleeps]

Dr. Gawn: All of those things rhymed. Rewind this and see if you can figure it out.

Thinking about it, maybe I should rename that sketch "The Enigma". Because it's enigmatic.

Like myself. Can't figure me out. I'm too complex a person and yep. Well you ruined it. Good guess though.

What is you?

Your smile. Like a dream. A disgusting dream. Of whores and clowns and whiteness together and all the infinite blackness forever at last. The marriage of hallucination and the scream. The scream of mine to which there are only answers and the question is hidden. Guess when this next sketch is set?

The 80s!

A car pulls up outside the building and out pour policemen. They storm into the building shouting, "We must find it". Cut to an empty room.

[Frank enters]

Frank: This room. Ah yes. I remember it from the dreams.

Gordon: Tell us, Frank. What else can you see?

Frank: [closing his eyes] I see the wall. It...it's a fake. Push into it.

Gordon moves over to the wall. He pushes it and it is squashy like jelly. He is repulsed.

Gordon: You bastard Frank.

Frank: [shoots Gordon] You k-k-killed her, Gordon!

Gordon: Out of love Frank. Out of love.

Frank: Noooooooooooooooooooooo

AND NOW IN FRENCH

[Frank entrée]
Frank: cette salle. Ah oui. Je me souviens du rêve.

Gordon: Dites-nous, Frank. Que pouvez-vous voir?

Frank: [fermer les yeux] Je vois le mur. Il ... c'est un fake. Poussez en elle.

Gordon se dirige vers le mur. Il pousse et il est moelleux comme de la gelée. Il est repoussé.

Gordon: Salaud Frank.

Frank: [pousses Gordon] Vous kk-tuée, Gordon!

Gordon: Par amour Frank. Par amour.

Frank: Noooooooooooooooooooooon

You just got culture'd.

I only beat you

Because I love you? Well if that was the case I'd beat you harder.

Because I love you so much. Anyway, Fenghar is on my ass because he's bored and wants readings or some shit. FUCK YOU I'LL WRITE SCRIPTS IF I WANT TO IT JUST HAPPENS THAT I DO

Spiderman: Hello, citizen. How may I be of service?

Citizen: Hi, I guess. Why are you asking if you can be of service.

Spiderman: The bus is taking a while to get here. (He is booming all of this like a shouty man. Like in that advert. Cillet bang. He is shouting like him.)

Citizen: Yes.

Spiderman: So I wondered if I could be of service.

Citizen: I don't mean to sound rude, but who do you think you are? Not like in an accusatory way, but I actually want to know.

Spiderman: I'm Spiderman!

Citizen: But, you're just wearing a suit.

Spiderman: Oh Shit! I'm not in my costume? Oh shit shit shit.

Citizen: Yeaahhhhhhhh...

Spiderman: [Swings away on his web]

Citizen: Phew, he didn't realise I'm Superman.

Superman: That's because you're not. [Incinerates Citizen with a laser blast from his crotch, because crotches are hilarious]

THAT HAD POPULAR CULTURE IN you love that you whore you love it so much

can you hear that? Someone is coming up the stairs as I write. They are behind me about to stab me and instead of running I am documenting this event.

The guy has stabbed me in the gut, it is actually quite painful. I am going to click publish post now, could whoever reads this call the police, and possible an ambulance.

Could you stop crying please?

Adam: Please. You're scaring the lemurs.

Amy: I can't help it.

Adam: Really? Because you could just...you know. Stop.

Amy: It's a disease. I cry all the time, except when I would normally cry.

Adam: How did you catch it? Is it like a sex thin-

Amy: No

Adam: So how

Amy: It's a sex thing.

Adam: Oh shit do I have it now?

Amy: But we haven't had sex.

Adam: Haven't we?

Turns out they have, because all this time we've been doing close-ups on their faces and it turns out they were fucking!

BLOWS YOUR FUCKING MIND

Superhero Tiem lololol deliberate typo

Window man was just an ordinary window salesmen, until one day he was attacked by bees. He died later that day from the bee attack.

But the time-frame which we are discussing is not later that day. We are discussing mid afternoon, where his delusions taught him to think he was at the height of his power, when in fact he was in a coma. I may have just revealed the ending but if you could forget that I had that would be just great.

Window-Man: I...I saw him die. He fell off the bridge just as I was crossing. I could have saved him.

Emma: How, Window-Man? How could you have saved him? Your powers are not that strong!

Window-Man: Aren't they? [He kills Emma to demonstrate his power] Noooooo what have I done? How truly ironic.

Enter Bees

Window-Man: Fuck you bees! [He opens up a window into the soul of the bees and they see that the true enemies are themselves. They proceed to sting each other] Fuckin' bees.

Window-Man begins to patrol the town, searching for crime to prevent. Then a man made of infinity wanders in and destroys Window-Man.

BUT NOT REALLY BECAUSE IT WAS A COMA ALL ALONG.

or was it?....

Race Car Drivers

Listen this one we're just gonna roll with it. We're gonna take a smooth dive and also I'm going to start regularly updating proppers and that.

Zoom! A formula one car drives past. Followed by several more, but they're not as loud as the first one because they're not as good drives as "RACER COOL". Who is Racer Cool?

No one knows.

Anyway, Racer Cool and his car go past the finish line, he does a lap of honour and then gets out of his car. He gets on a waiting motorbike and arrives at a posh party. He takes off his racing clothes and he is wearing a tuxedo. He takes off his helmet for the first time and we see that it is the Prime Minister, but we don't know this because no one has called him it yet, but just wait and it will happen. He goes inside.

Party-man: Hello, Mr Prime Minister. Or should I say Tom?

Tom: Yeah, call me Tom.

Party-man: We were just watching the racing. Racer Cool won again. If only we knew who he was.

Tom: If only. [Takes off his shades. He's wearing shades by the way, but not now.]

Party-man: Yeaaaaaah. Would you like a er-

Tom: I already ate.

Party-man: Good-good. [long pause] What did you have?

Tom: Humble pie.

The Who play like in CSI.

Party-man: Does that mean you're humble? I thought that phrase means you got something wrong.

Tom: I couldn't really think of a cool food right then and there.

Party-man: That's um...it uh...yep, coming!

Tom: [Looking at the viewer] No one called him. [A tear rolls down his cheek]

Well that's that. It's been a while since I wrote a script as I went like that, and I'm pretty sure they're of a better quality when I think of them first. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed because otherwise you are closer to death, but not really because a couple of minutes here or there hasn't done anything, and if you hadn't read this perhaps you would have been run over by a bus, but now that you have read it the bus has already gone past.

I just saved your life.