There is no god and I am proof.

Sunday, 12 December 2010

Follow your heart



s'not 'propriate

Guess who's back? It's me you dirty mutha's. It's been raining and snowing and cold for so long. I haven't been running for so long and that's because of the weather. So I've decided to do this without running. Which is kind of stupid, but whatever. I wrote this at sk00l.

Repeat After Me
Edward Summers is working in his office. He is dictating to his robo-secretary.

Edward: Play the tiger sound again, Sandrex.

Sandrex: Certainly sir.

A tiger sound plays.

Edward: Mix it with a cloud.

It plays again with a dope beat behind it.

Edward: Okay, I think that's enough. Finish the report on how I'm working on a device that can mimic the aural nerve and then you can go home early.

Sandrex: Thank you boss.

Edward goes into his lab. He turns on a device that looks like a laser crossed with a metal ear. He slips and his head goes between the beam.


It is later that night. Edward wakes up on the floor.

Edward: I'm alive! And I feel like I can mimic any sound, reproduce any noise and replicate anything that enters my ear!

Edward looks around.

Edward: Also I'm alone, that would have been a weird thing to say outloud if there were people listening.

Sandrex: Well, I think it's weirder if there weren't people.

Edward: Sandrex! What are you doing here you stupid bitch?

Sandrex: You said you loved me!

Sandrex slaps Edward. She is a robot so he goes flying across the room.

Edward: Guh.

Edward mimics the roar of a tiger to scare Sandrex away. Sandrex malfunctions and falls on the floor.

Edward: What a power!

Edward Summers goes home to his fiancée, Summer Hayes.

Edward: I'm home, Summer.

Summer: Hello, darling

They make out.

Edward: Honey, I have some great news. I can mimic any noise I hear.

Summer: That couldn't ever get annoying. Excuse me I need to use the telephone.

Summer goes to the telephone. It is half a metre away, so this scene is not a long scene. Just in case you were worried.

Summer: Hello, is this the relevant authorities?

Edward: I wonder who she's talking to.

Summer: And you can come and collect the uh dangerous individual I'm talking about?

Edward: I sure hope this dangerous individual isn't near me!

Police come in and arrest Edward.

Copper: You have the right to remain silent.

Edward: How could you do this to me Summer? We were going to be married!

Summer: I didn't want to be Summer Summers.

Edward: [being dragged off] You could have been Hayes-Summerrrrrrss

Later in his cell. Mr Red enters.

Mr Red: Hello Edward.

Edward: What do you want with me?

Mr Red: We've heard about your...mysterious power. We'd like to offer you a job.

Edward: I'm listening.

Later. Edward and Mr Red are walking in the government facility.

Mr Red: You'll be working in our devastating insults department.

They stop at a door with several obvious attack marks.

Edward: What are these...

He gestures at the marks.

Mr Red: They're not the most popular guys.

They go through the door. Sitting around a table are five guys and three girls.

Gus: Hey, Mr Red, your wife still living in Montana?

Ted: Because she should!

Edward: That's a devastating insult? It doesn't even make sense.

Mr Red dries a tear from his eye.

Mr Red: Now listen here, you've got to work with this kid. Try and insult him.

Edward: Woah wha-

Mr Red leaves and slams the door.

Sam: So, nice sweater. Where'd you get it, your mom's pussy?

Edward: Where'd you get it, your mom's pussy?

Sam: He mimicked my voice perfectly!

Ted: You're a gay douche!

Edward: You're a gay douche!

Ted collapses onto the floor.

Jen: He's impervious to our insults.

And so the weeks went by and Edward got to know Jen some more. He was very happy in his job and with Jen the world seemed a bright place. They got married and moved to the suburbs where they had two wonderful children. Except they didn't.

Sendrex: Sir! Your throat had exploded.

You see, it isn't just sound that enters the ear, but also air. His throat started producing air and his voicebox couldn't contain it.

What an ending. Everything was a death hallucination. Except the power was real, so fuck you people who say I'm a lazy writer! I thought of this for real.

Wednesday, 10 November 2010



a fantastic script entered

Not sure if I mentioned, but I entered a sketch writing competition. I'm not bitter, and am pleased to congratulate Mr Cj Tuor, no matter how many things I have heard about his penchant for cock gobbling and racism. Indeed, I am able to look past the sickly bodily fluid-stained shell to see the boyman underneath. He truly deserves everything that he ever gets in the future.

Anyway here's my entry, retitled for modern audiences.


A boardroom. Day time. Michael, Sheila and Tony are midway through a presentation to Sean, Robert, Mary and Susan.

Sheila: We're dynamic, we're synergistic and most importantly we're well coordinated.

Long pause.

Michael: So next time you need advertising, think Osiris advertising!

Sean raises his hand.

Michael: Sean.

Sean: Yes. I thought you were a printing company?

Flashback. Caption says 10 minutes ago. Michael and co walk through door.

Michael: Hello, we're Osiris printing and we've got a very special presentation for your company in particular.

Susan: What's the name of our company?

Michael: Hi, the name's Mike. I run a printing company.

Back to present-day.

Susan: So you can see how we might think you were a printing company.

Michael: In a way, we do still print. [Michael sees a poster on the wall saying “Follow your dreams”] We print dreams.

Sheila: Using advertising.

Michael: We print dreams using advertising.

Sean: Well, we've already got an advertising company on the books-

Michael: [to sheila and tony] Okay, they don't like the advertising.

Sheila: We're a manufacturing company!

Michael: Osiris manufacturing? Really sheila?

Tony: By RA's holy testes, we could be a logistics company!

Michael: That's dumb and so are you Tony. [Turning back to the boardroom] I'm here to talk to you about Osiris logistics, helping you with your logistical analysis and evaluation.

Robert: Logistics huh? WELL that's a different story.

Sheila: Yes, we're really very logistical. Do you have a lot of logistical needs?

Robert: Do I? Listen lady, I have a whole lot of logistical needs and all of them need satisfying.

Sheila: Well that sounds like an interesting business idea-

Michael: Stop whoring yourself, Sheila! Jesus woman, have some respect for your body.

Sheila: I-

Michael: Whatever. Gentlemen, hello! I speak to you on behalf of Osiris Insurance, providing business insurance with the grace of the god of the dead.

Mary: Is that good?

Michael: It's satisfying, Mary.

Sean raises his hand.

Michael: Yes, Sean.

Sean: It's creepy that you know all our names.

Michael: I do a lot of research before I present to a company.

Sean: What's the name of our company?

Michael: Don't you just hate it when you run out of pens?

Sean: Wha-

Michael: Well, those days are over, buddy, when you buy pen insurance from Osiris pen corporation.

Sheila: Top quality pens at low quality prices!

Robert: Surely a low quality price is one that is too high?

Robert points like an asshole.

Sean: Shut up, Robert, I want to hear about the pens.

Tony throws his arms in the air.

Tony: By Ra's sweaty flank, I'm bored as hell.

Michael: Shut up, Tony! Why did I even hire you?

Flashback. 10 days earlier. A small office. Michael is sitting behind a desk with Tony sitting in front of him.

Michael: Got any skills?

Tony: By Ra's powerful chin, I love egyptian gods!

Michael: You're hired!

Camera pans right, Sheila is in the room.

Sheila: Won't that get annoying?

Michael: Pfft, ever heard of a cool saying, Sheila?

Tony: Yeah, sheila.

Sheila: You didn't do it there!

Tony: By Ra's mighty heels, I don't know what you're referring to.


Michael: [to himself] I'm regretting that.

Sean: Listen, I think you guys should leave.

Michael: I respect your decision, Sean.

Michael, Sheila and Tony leave through the door. Through the window of the boardroom we see them arguing furiously.

Sheila: That powerpoint presentation did not go well.

Michael: Really Sheila? Is that why we're out here?

Sheila: I don't think it's necessary to shout. And I don't think it's necessary to go through so many fake companies before we say what we really do.

Michael: And I think it is necessary that we go through all the companies! It weakens their resolve when we tell them what we really are!

Sheila: I'm not saying the method's wrong, I'm saying it needs finessing! We could just have two fake companies-

Michael: Two? What is this, Burma? You want me to march in there and only say two fake companies off the top of my head?

Sheila: I'm just saying it might help.

Sean comes through the door.

Sean: Excuse me, we heard you arguing. Those companies you said were fake?

Sheila: [ashamed] Yes.

Sean: We really need a bunch of fake company names. I guess we'll hire you.

ALL: Hooray!

Flashforward. 10 days later. A man hangs from a noose from the ceiling of an office. He has his back to us and he rotates around. It is Michael.

Can you guess which recent script I cannibalised to make that one?

The person who guesses correctly wins a used towel.

Sunday, 7 November 2010

New Start New Blog

A sickening blur stops
Suddenly and without warning
Why would you touch this
You cannot touch this

Seriously bro I mean
You cannot touch this
Do not try to touch this
Because you cannot touch this

So it's been a month since my last update. But there will almost certainly be an update following this one, because I recently entered the cracked sketch writing competition, meaning I can post the sketch once they announce that I haven't won. It's based off a sketch I wrote for this blog before, see if you can guess which one.

You know when I post it, which isn't now. Now I'm doing a sketch about the nature of satire.

Political Business
A writers room. David and Saul are the head writers.

David: Okay, it's a sketch about the coalition.

Saul: That's right on topical, Dave.

David: Thanks, Saul. I pride myself on being topical. So, it's a sketch about the coalition.

Saul: Topical.

David: We see David Cameron and he's paying a dog to lick his testicles.

Sally: So...the dog represents Nick Clegg?

David: Well no. Nick Clegg then walks in the room and pays a cat to lick his testicles.

Sally: The animals are...voters?

David: Well no. Voters then walk in and they're paying a menagerie of animals to lick their testicles.

Saul: No female voters?

David: Female voters get their outer labia licked.

Sauls shoots finger guns at David.

Saul: Smart thinking.

Sally: This doesn't seem like satire to me.

David: How so, Sally?

Sally: Nothing represents anything.

David: Really, Sally? Sounds like you don't have a dog lick your testicles.

Saul and David highfive.

Saul: Seriously though, you'd understand if you had a dog lick your outer labia.

Sally: You've both had a dog lick your testicles?

Sauls shoots finger guns at Sally. Sally turns to the other writers in the room.

Sally: And you've all had dogs lick your testicles/outer labia?

The other writers nod.

Harry: Mine was a tiny mouse.

Sally: Hrmmm.

Later. Sally has left.

David: Man, imagine if Sally gets a dog to lick her outer labia.

Saul: She could be great at writing political satire.

David: Yes.

David stands up and walks to the window.

David: Maybe too great.

Sally's flat. She is dialling a phone.

Sally: Hello, is that Dean's Pets and Pet Supplies?...Yes, what's your cheapest dog?...Uhuh...uhuh.

Dean's Pets and Pet Supplies. David and Saul have just entered.

David: Okay kill all the dogs. [to shopkeeper] Shopkeep! I'll buy all of your dogs!

Saul: I thought we were killing the dogs.

David: Yes, kill the dogs, as in buy all the dogs.

Saul: Phew

David: And then later kill the dogs.

Saul: Phew

Sally's flat.

Sally: That's the fifth pet shop with no dogs.

A warehouse.

David: Okay, so we were holding these dogs for resale and then the warehouse burned down.

Saul: Man the pigs will believe anything.

David: Yes. yes they will.

How did you like it? This is the first script for my new tumblr account.

Tuesday, 5 October 2010

Blasé Monsters

the forward thinking man has one eye on the prize
and one eye on his nuts
for what use is the price if you have nothing
nothing at all
to enjoy it with

the forward thinking man has two eyes on the prize
for he reasons that everyone else
will be too busy watching their own nuts
to go for other people's

So. It's been a while. But I need these breaks otherwise I'll stagnate and I might write scripts about the same things over and over. Any this next one involves a certain snake-themed superhero we all know and love I'm just kidding jesus you guys.

eh? what are you guys like.

Author feat Author
The lobby of a publishing house. Allen Bigsby is an author and is waiting. Cindy is a receptionist and Cranston Humberbatch-Potts is in his office.

Cindy: Mr Humberbatch-Potts will see you now.

Allen: Thanks.

Allen stands up and goes into the office.

Cranston: Mr Bigsby? How do you.

Allen: Just fine, Mr Humberbatch-Potts.

Cranston: Please that's far too unwieldy a name. Call me Cranston.

Allen: Sure sure.

Cranston: So. Otter and Castle Publishing House is very happy to be working with you.

Allen: I'm pleased. You liked the submission?

Cranston: Yes, very much so.

Allen: Just to go over it again, it's a murder mystery-

Cranston: I love it already!

Allen: You've already read it though.

Cranston: I read so many things. But not all of them by up and coming new authors like you!

Allen: [coughs] So. It's about a family who's father is murdered. It's about the relationships between the father and the rest of the family. [Cranston looks bored.] It's got a lot of uh...sexual tension.

Cranston: Hmmmm.

Allen: Racial...racial tension?

Cranston: Hmmm.

Allen: Racially sexual tension? Does that...does that work for you?

Cranston: Is this your first time working with a publishing house?

Allen: Well, an up and coming author has to surface somewhere. [nervous laughter]

Cranston: Quite. Well, I know that the houses you see on TV and all that portray our business in a certain light, yes, and that's all well and good. But here at Otter and Castle Publishing we generally don't have authors write an entire book their first time. We've always seen it as a little harsh asking someone to come up with a whole book at once. I mean a whole book! Who would ask for that?

Allen: I think in the past-

Cranston: Yes, but we mustn't dwell on the past! Now, we're going to bring in another literary genius like yourself to help you write your book.

Allen: will he write murder mysteries?

Cranston: You could say that. You could very well say those words without it necessarily being true.

Allen: So this author knows about murders?

Cranston: He knows a lot about the "murders" of bad bicycle repair. So he "solves" these murders by writing books about bicycle repair.

Allen: Well in my book it's a father that gets murdered-

Cranston: It could be a bicycle!

Allen: Bicycles...I don't know how to make this clear without sounding patronising. Bicycles can't die.

Cranston: Hmm.

Allen: Or indeed, be killed.

Cranston: You'll have to talk about this with Yusef, your new writing partner.

Allen: Where will-

Cranston: My secretary will give you all my details. Now I have a very urgent meeting with a lady author! Going to write a book about sex. Sex? From a woman?

Allen: I hear they're often a big part of sex.

Cranston: Have fun with Yusef.

The next day, at the writing meeting with Yusef. They are together in a small room sitting opposite each other over a table.

Allen: So. You write books about bicycle repair?

Yusef: I will answer none of your questions.

Allen: Why no-

Yusef: Not unless you address me as the "Wordsmith Victorious".

Allen: You write books about bicycle repair, wordsmith victorious?

Yusef: That is the dream, Mr Bigsby.

Allen: So, do you know much about murder mysteries?

Yusef: I don't know, you didn't use my name.

Allen: You know much about murder mysteries, wordsmith victorious?

Yusef: Well I have only completed one.

Allen: You've only read one murder mystery book?

Yusef: I've only murdered one person.

Allen: That's uh

Yusef: A lot of people would judge me. Thanks you Mr Bigsby. You are a kindly soul.

Allen: Are you going to kill me?

Yusef: Only if this book is not entirely about bicycle repair.

Allen: I'll leave you to your work.

Anyway, the good part of this script was co-written by Paul Karl King, the sexiest beat poet in all of the frozen wastes of Canada.

The rest was written by John who got drunk and tried to get a girl at a party by shouting about nihilism. Life equals zero please sleep with me

Sunday, 3 October 2010

Serious Story Telling PLUS H1lar1ou$ 0utake$

For fourteen hours the man lay down
on the road begging for death
not one car came
not one car drove
and the man rebuked the tarmac
the man rebuked the lines painted on the road
"they always get driven on, but i can't?
what is this world
this world without an end"

So I was running and decided to listen to. Those boys down at Justice know how to do an album.

Anyway, this next one is a sequel to the last script, but not the last post. Because the last post was more akin to a tweet on a twitter.

Humour is the best medecine...AGAINST CRIME
The office of the executive of the channel. Mr Thompson is talking to Humourbot3000x.

Mr. Thompson: I'm excited about your new programme. It's unfortunate that we had to fire your partner.

Humourbot3000x: Well, he was an evil robot.

Mr. Thompson: Yes. That's why we've got you a new writing partner. Say hello to Humourbot3000z.

Mr Thompson pulls the sheet off the gigantic object in the middle of the office. It is Humourbot3000z, the latest model in the Humourbot3000 series.

Humourbot3000x: This is the first time I have seen a Humourbot3000z.

Humourbot3000z: And I a Humourbot3000x.

Humourbot3000x: Let us discuss the differences in our design.

Humourbot3000z: I have a water cannon installed in my shoulder.

Humourbot3000x: I can impersonate farts.

Humourbot3000z: I cannot. That feature was removed when they built the Humourbot3000y series.

Humourbot3000x: I remember the Humourbot3000y series.

Mr Thompson: Well I'm glad you are friends now.

Humourbot3000x: ERROR

Humourbot3000y: ERROR

Zoom in to Humourbot3000x's brain. Enter John.

John: The concept of friendship is difficult enough for a robot. They rely on the emotions of humans to be their leader when calculating friendship. However, being friends with another robots does not involve human emotions and as such creates an infinite loop. This error was recognised in the programming of the Humourbot3000 series and a work around was installed. This workaround means that the two robots must become partners in fighting crime to understand more about each other. They must become....Robo-cops. OH SHIT THAT'S ALREADY A THING

Zoom out.

Humourbot3000z: Let's ride!

The robots kick down the door of Mr Thompson's office and exit.

Mr. Thompson: It's cheaper than hiring humans!

A warehouse. A drug deal is going down.

Greggy C: Yo, Hillary B. You got the sniff?

Hillary B: Sure I got the sniff, Greggy C. But have you got the dough?

Greggy C: Hey, dawg, you know me. We cool.

Sleepy B Dog What for Jimmy How Down: I sure hope shit don't go foul.

The robo-cops kick down the wall of the warehouse.

Sleepy B Dog What for Jimmy How Down: Oh no!

Humourbot3000z: Didn't anyone tell you drugs were bad for you?

Greggy C: Yes?

Humourbot3000x: THEY WERE CORRECT

Hillary B: Shoot these mother fuckers up!

Humourbot3000z: X! Impersonate a fart. Their laughter will paralyse them.


Hillary B: That sounds like a toaster.

Greggy C: That sounds like the toaster I used to have as a child. Drugs is bad, I'm quitting this game.

Sleepy B Dog What for Jimmy How Down: I quit too. I prefer toast over drugs any day.

Hillary B: Well screw you fools! I'm going to fight til the en-

Hillary B is crushed by Humourbot3000z as he tries to kick her down as he did the door.

Humourbot3000x: Did you just try to kick her down?

Humourbot3000z: Looks like I've got a lot to learn.

Humourbot3000x: Human life is not sacred.

Humourbot3000z: Let's report back to base.

Back at the executive office.

Mr Thompson: I told you guys to write me a series, not arrest drug pushers!

Humourbot3000x: Sir you instructed us to become friends.

Humourbot3000z: Didn't you read the manual?

Mr Thompson: I glossed over it.

Mr Thompson sighs and takes a drink from his liquor cabinet.

Mr Thompson: You know, funny as it sounds, I do need a crime investigated. Someone's been stealing pens from the stationary cupboard. You two need to find out who.

Humourbot3000x: While you were talking I used my computer brain to work out that you stole those pens.

Mr Thompson: It wasn't me.

Humourbot3000x: Looks like I've got a lot to learn.

At the stationary cupboard. The robo-cops kick down the door.

Humourbot3000x: Looks like someone took some stationary.

Humourbot3000z: Not so stationary stationary.

Humourbot3000x: Let's search for clues.

Humourbot3000z: Nah, let's just frame some guy.

Humourbot3000x: That sounds funny, pal.

Suddenly inside their brains! A circuit flicks and Humourbot3000x and Humourbot3000z are friends.

Humourbot3000z: I will wash us clean of this madness.

Humourbot3000z uses his water canon and washes the both of them.

Humourbot3000x: We are writers not detectives.

Humourbot3000z: Let's write about our experiences.

Humourbot3000x: I'll bring the fart impersonations!

Mr Thompson and John and the drug dealers enter.

All: Hahahahahahahahaha bleep blorp zam clam.

That ending there is from messrs Kurtz and Straub and their daily affirmations.

Anyway this is a script that I think I might be proud of and also hopefully the last time we see these guys. Although there is the comedy rule of threes....

I guess that's why cobraman isn't funny. There's no comedy rule of infinity.

Friday, 1 October 2010

Robots Icing Robots

Listen bros

Imma gonna post someting real quick to remember me by

wooooh drunk post this is dumb

Thursday, 30 September 2010

This is How the World Ends, Not with a bang but with a giggle

long time ago there was a man
and the man had a secret
a secret so sharp
it cut anyone who heard it

he told only the people that he loved
and only hurt those closest to him
until he stopped telling his loved ones the secret
which hurt them emotionally

You guys, I'm thinking about buying a peacock. £45 for an indian blue, that's a pretty good deal. I will name him Hermes and he will be the pimpingest pet of all.

Anyway, today we're putting that realism shit to bet and we're doing one about robots.

Electric Laughter
Two men sit in a small office. Jerry and Richard are executives.

Jerry: So I hired these two writers.

Richard: Are we still talking about the comedy show?

Jerry: Yeah. Anyway, this is the first time I've hired writers without meeting them in person.

Richard: Are you sure that's wise? They're going to perform on TV.

Jerry: Their stuff was so good, we've just got to let them perform. Anyway, Dave said they were real funny in person.

Richard: Okay, I trust Dave.

Jerry: Oh man, when we meet these guys we should fuck with their heads. Speak in french or something.

Richard: That's funny, Jerry. Alright, we'll pretend we're french when we meet them. When are we meeting them?

Jerry: On Thursday.

Richard: Guess I'm gonna bone up on my french then.

Jerry: Rich.

Richard: What?

Jerry: You said bone.

Richard: Yeah, it's a word.

Jerry: I know.

Jerry pats Richard on the head. SUBTLY

Jerry: I know.


Jerry: You ready?

Richard: Mai oui!

Jerry opens the door.

Jerry: Bonjour!

Enter Humourtron 3000x and Humourtron 3000y

Humourtron 3000x: Language identified: french.

Humourtron 3000y: Bonjour. Il est agréable de vous rencontrer. Nous sommes enthousiasmés par cette opportunité.

Humourtron 3000x: Quand pouvons-nous commencer à discuter de vos plans pour le spectacle de comédie?

Jerry: Oui?


Humourtron 3000y: English resumed.


Humourtron 3000x: We are the final product of a programme to create a robot with the greatest sense of humour.

Humourtron 3000y: Witness my colleague's impersonation of a fart.


Richard: You sound like a toaster.

Humourtron 3000y: Therein lies the humour.

Jerry: This is so fucking stupid.

Humourtron 3000x: Perhaps you would enjoy another impersonation.

Richard: Of what a fart?

Humourtron 3000x: Fart selected. BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Jerry: Maybe they could be in a sketch about robots.


Richard: This is awful. This is so awful.


Jerry: Man that fart impression is pretty funny.

Humourtron 3000y: I wish I had that skill.

Jerry: Why don't you?

Humourtron 3000y: Fart impersonation requires a pure soul. Evil robots cannot impersonate farts.

Richard: Wait what-

Humourtron 3000y murders everyone.

There are two ways to end a sketch satisfyingly. Love or violence. Recently I have been choosing violence because I don't want to go back to making everybody gay.


not that there's anything wrong with that

Sunday, 26 September 2010

I want to beat April but I can't

a little boy found a knife one day
he took it everywhere with him
he loved that knife

he took it to the park
he took it on the the train
he even took it to school

then one day some fool tried to step up
so the boy slashed that poor fucker in the face
but it was okay because minors can't be charged for crimes

moral: if you're young stab people

So I was on my run thinking of ideas for the script. Anyway, I thought of this great one about a superhero. Basically he had all the powers of a snake and I thought of all these adventures. Ten minutes later after I've planned out how he gets his powers and stuff, I remember Cobra Man.


Anyway this next one is set on a train.

Tracking Device
A train. Stephen and Helen are strangers sitting opposite one another.

Stephen: Hello!


Stephen: What why?

Helen: Because I am a woman and will get mad at anything.

Stephen: Those women eh?

Stephen is correct.

Helen: I don't want to sit here opposite you, rape-pig.

Stephen: Bloody women. All the same!

Helen: You are an oppressor!

Stephen: Learn to drive.

Helen stands up but forgets to take her bag.

Guard: We have arrived at Stoke. Passengers change here for trains towards Norfolk and the Butlins area.

Helen leaves the train.

Helen: I have a pressing engagement in Stoke.

Guard: Oh really? Where?

Helen: I am not an object!


Back on the train.

Stephen: That lovely young lady left her bag.

A beeping noise starts to come from the bag.

Stephen: I better investigate that beeping noise.

Stephen proceeds to stick his head in the bag and jerk it around a lot. He comes away disappointed and throws it on the floor in disgust.


Jason: Why are you shouting person I do not know?

Stephen: This unattended luggage is making a beeping sound.

Jason: Here, let me help stamp on it. I know, I'll get out my wire cutters. Start cutting around.

As Jason turns his back to find the wire cutters, Stephen uses the window of opportunity to run away.

Jason: Oh great, my day keeps getting better!

Flashback. Jason is in his kitchen eating cereal.

Jason: I didn't put enough milk on this.

Back to the train, Jason hangs himself. And the bag goes on a mysterious journey, until it ends up in an MI5 base.

Mr Green: Who do you work for?

Mr Treat: You don't have to say anything.

Mr Green: Why...why are you undermining me?


Mr Green: Was that a confession?!

Mr Treat: God, probably.


Mr Green: You know what? I don't care about confessions any more. I just want respect.

Mr Treat: Yeah? Well I don't care look I pulled the bag apart, there's a smaller bag inside.

Mr Green: And inside that a larger bag!

Mr Treat: And inside that the smaller bag again!

Later at MI5 base.

Mr Green: And that's why we think this bag could stop the war on terror.

General Hilford: That's stupid you're fired.

Mr Green: What about our idea of putting some Friends boxsets in the bag and giving them to Al Qaeda?

General Hilford: You're double-fired.

Mr Treat: Hooray! We've been promoted!

I guess we learned a lot about ourselves on the journey. I think I need a break from these.

They're just, they're getting difficult.

Monday, 20 September 2010

Sometimes If You Want to Have a Son You Need to Get On Your Knees

oh pain! that ghastly screech
yet these creatures call it speech
filled with hate and lust and pain
the creature is man. they're all insane

their hide shines in unearthly colour
their faces a nasty human sheen
beneath that awful wasty pallor
lurks a soul that's more unclean

I wrote this in Further Maths and during a seminar about writing personal statements. There were illustrations, but they were stick men and not very good.

I fear I may have been watching too many bad american stand up comedians.

The Uncharted Rise of Larry Charlton
Larry Charlton and Stevie "Gold" Weinstein are backstage, in a small room.

Stevie: Are you feeling okay, Larry? You are a famous comedian after all.

Larry: I feel just fine, Gold, my manager.

Stevie: Well okay then. It's a few minutes until you go on.

Larry: I think I'd like to reminisce about how I got to this point in my life.

Stevie: Sounds like a good idea Larry.

The screen fades and we see a younger Larry Charlton, on stage performing his stand up comedy.

Audience's laughter.

Larry: And what's up with all these rich mother fuckers driving around in big fucking cars? You been eating too much rich food, rich guy? Stuffing that caviar down yo throat, mother fucker?

Audience's laughter.

Larry: That's why you need that big fucking car, you don't ever have to quit yo guzzlin'/

Audience's laughter.

Larry: And what's up with all those mother fuckers being fucking dumb shits in their cars? Cutting you off and fucking all else. This guy knows what I'm talking about, this guy right here. Take a driving lesson you stupid mother fucker! Learn to drive!

Audience's laughter.

Larry: You know when you banging bitches, yeah you gotta put yo dick right in them. Yeah, this mother fucker down here, he gets it. Yeha, so you're banging one of them then bitch over here, bitch over here starts yelling 'bout how she feels, she feels "neglected" or some shit. Boys, bitches think you a mother fucker whatEVER you do.

Audience's laughter.

Larry: Yeah, yeah. Thanks everybody, you a real bunch of cool moterfuckers.

Fade to black.

Larry's voice offscreen: And then of course there were the movies.

A trailer for a family comedy film.

Narrator: Kenny C was the best at shooting his gat in the hood.

Larry: Shit boyee, you got crackadizzle or what? Do I have to pull out my AK?

Narrator: But all that changed when he got offered a new job.

Larry: You want me to be a teacher?

Record scratch.

Narrator: Now he'll have to shoot a different ammo. Knowledge.

Larry is at the front of the classroom.

Larry: My name's Kenny C, but you guys can call me Mr Teach!

Tiffany: Shit, Mr Teach, we ain't never had a teacher we can relate to so well.

Larry: It's 'cause I'm a brother.

Narrator: This Summer. D is for Da Hood.

Fade to Black.

Larry offscreen: That was my last movie, after the phenomenally successful, Bear in the Hood and A Harlem Woman. I decided to settle down and have a family.

Larry's manager's office.

Gold: Larry, you've been very successful. I just want to discuss some work-

Larry: No, Gold. I've retired to spend time with my kids.

Gold: Well that's just it, Larry. When you signed with me, you signed this contract that means after your first born reaches the age of fifteen, you must become a satanist.

Larry: That's all kinds of fucked up.

Gold: That's the way us satanists/jews work.

Larry: NOOOOOOOOO, okay I'll do it.

Fade to black. Then we are back where we started, backstage.

Larry: I guess that takes us up to now.

Gold: We've come a long way together.

Larry: Not many people have seen a career like I have.

Gold: You're on, kid.

Larry stumbles onto the stage. It is at the front in front of a lot of people wearing black robes.

Larry: Large crowd, huh? Okay, uh. I love....I love Satan/

Man: You're shit!

Man2: Yeah, you're the worst satanist!

Larry: Hey cool off mother fucker this is my first time.

Man2: Didn't you use to be famous or some shit? If so I have lost all respect I held for you.

Man: Yeah.

Larry: Wait a second, I was famous. I could those old skill that I once knew in the past that is behind me.

Larry adopts his stand up stance.

Larry: You know when you're driving yo car in the road, and there's some dumb shit jesus sheep driving all slow.

Audience's laughter.

Larry: Yeah, this guy down here, this mother fucker down here, he gets it. He knows what I'm talking about. You're all get out of the way, mother fucker! I'm trying to drive and you're worshipping an oppressor god! Get some driving lessons!

Audience's laughter.

Larry: And worship the true prince of Truth. Yeah those dumb mother fuckers really get on my nerves. You know what most gets on my nerves, though? Those fucking tiny packets of ketchup you get in those NASty diners you see. They're a real mother fucker to get open and when you do there's nothing fucking in 'em.

Audience's laughter.

Larry: Yeah, this mother fucker right here, this mother fucker gets it. Anyway, we've all had a great time tonight, but the real reason we're here is our lord Lucifer. So here's High Priest Archaeon with the real message of tonight.

Larry goes backstage.

Larry: How was it?

Gold: You did good Larry. You did good.

I heard if you say this script three times into a mirror I appear and demand sexual satisfaction. I mean I'm not very strong, so you probably won't have to acquiesce, but I will insist. Note: this may also happen if you do not read the script three times into a mirror.

Jesse, you done gone fucked up yesterday. We were supposed to podcast? If you forgot I guess that's okay, only other explanation I can think of is that you thought I meant Sunday the 26th. That's what I mean now. That's when we're doing it. At 12pm your time.

Anyway minecraft eh? I was chased down a mine I had dug to the depths of the earth by a skellington waiting at the top when I surfaced. It was v. scary.