There is no god and I am proof.

Monday, 31 May 2010

Hey Sheeple

So it's been two weeks and I have definitely gained back the weight I lost from running. FUN. Anyway I went running again and it was fucking amazing. The cold, the motion, the music.

I think now we might have two sketches. But both closely related because I couldn't think of a way to merge the two and they both come from the same idea. YOU'RE WELCOME AMERICA

Take that, BUSH
The UN. An alien spacecraft is landing. The aliens get out and move towards the leaders of earth. They are green. The Earth representative is called Jackson.

Grox: Salutations!

Jackson: Welcome to Earth!

Grox: And we in turn welcome you into a galaxy of marvels. What you have accomplished in these past weeks is what caused the Galactic Alliance to recognise Earth as a Category 5 developing planet.

Jackson: This is excellent news. Do you mind if we begin exchanging information at once?

Grox: This too is our desire. We take great pleasure in delivering knowledge.

Several hours have passed. There is a mix of aliens and humans around the negotiating table.

Tyez: -and the invention of reality television.

Robert: So...all those things are a prerequisite for a species to join the alliance?

Tyez: Yes and you completed the last one some of your "weeks" ago. Distributing your precious fuels amongst some of the less privileged species on your planet was an act of great generosity.

Robert: Uhh

Jackson: Well, that clears up most things for tonight. We could all use some rest. Grox, do you mind if I speak to you personally?

Grox: Not at all.

Jackson: Great.

They are walking outside.

Jackson: You know all those crazy conspiracy theories about aliens being Jesus and everything?

Grox: You figured it out?

Jackson: Those are true? Did you kill JFK as well?

Grox: Yes.

Jackson: Why? Is it because without those things we wouldn't evolve into a category 5 planet?

Grox: No. It was for a much higher cause than that. You know qxbpplp? That's why.

Jackson: Is that a place?

Grox: It's a concept.

Jackson: I'm sorry, could you explain it?

Grox: Of course, it's just like sheeeeeeecklp.

Jackson: Shit.

Grox: That's not the reaction we were expecting.

Jackson: It's out of surprise. Qxbpplp, you say? That explains everything. I shall get this out to everyone at once.

Grox: Phew, that could have been embarrassing.

200 years in the future. A future high school. Everyone is wearing just tight underwear and neon boots. They are also wearing neon shark fins. Aliens and humans are mixing.

Mr Helx: So today we are going to learn about qxbpplp. The most important piece of culure that we share with the humans. Michael, can you explain qxbpplp?

Michael: Of course! It's just like sheeeeeeecklp.

Mr Helx: Well, you're going to have to be more specific in your essay due at the end of this week. It is the principle on which the universe's philosophies are built upon. Without qxbpplp, we live in a meaningless world.

Michael: I love qxbpplp.

A tear rolls down Mr Helx's HUMAN face.

Oh man, did you see that ending coming? No, you didn't. In fact neither did I because I'd already written an ending in my head and it turned out different as I was writing it. I'm not sure which ending I like better, but this one I got to work in the future fashion trends. It's all shark fins and boots.

And now the second of the alien scripts. Oh god why do I punish myself so. Is it because I was away for two weeks and feel I owe you a bumped update? Yes. Yes it is and fuck. Also the next one is going to be short, please future John please just make it short so we can sleep.



A group of aliens appears in a busy street. Any quote marks are done with the hand gesture too.

Alkc: Hey, we're "aliens".

Ygrnt: This is our fantastic "technology".

Henry: Nice try.

Joseph: Yeah, that's not how you do irony.

Henry: Irony is when something bad happens so you just go damn that's ironic.

Ygrnt: I guess we don't know what irony means!

Henry: Yeah, that's really common around here. Hang out with us and we'll show you the ropes.


Joseph: This is so ironic.

Henry: Getting raped by aliens is pretty ironic.

Shot of the alien rape. It is horrific. I would do a drawing but all I can think of at the moment is sexy orgies and I would advise you do too. It is bringing me great pleasure but also slowing down my typing. Oh shit I think I ended the script I need to get out of italics otherwise I haven't finished.


Anyway, I hope we all learned that aliens are actually just Jesus lookin' pimp.


Monday, 17 May 2010

Dude we're all the same? So we're all gay?

I was out running yesterday (Yes, I went to bed instead of doing this. I had already turned my computer off when I remembered that I should have written this up. Shut up.) and I found a can of Diet Coke in a box that said 24x Diet Coke. It was sealed and the last one in the box so I took it and drank it and it was fucking delicious.

I love my run. Anyway this one is about office life.

Exploring more than just Sexualities
An office situation, just like last time. David is middle-management, called in to see his boss. Tony.

Tony: Daveeee

David: I prefer David.

Tony: That's great Davy. Listen you must have heard a lot of talk about promotion recently.

David: Yeah, but didn't Ted already get that?

Tony: Dave, you're going to be much higher than Ted. Much higher than all of us.

David: What.

Tony: We're sending you to an emerging market.

David: Oh no.

Tony: Come over here Tony. [Tony is standing by the window] Look up there.

David: I can only see clouds.

Tony: That's because it's daytime. When it's dark what would you see?

David: I guess, stars.

Tony: What else, dave dave?

David: [cringing] Nebulas?

Tony: Don't hold out on my Dave boy!

David: *sigh* You'd see the moon.

Tony: [Sitting back down] Guess where you're going.

David: Am I going to the moon?

Tony: Yeahhh!

Later on the moon.

David: This is shit.

A communicator buzzes on. It is Tony.

Tony: Hey, Dave.

David: Yeah?

Tony: You settled it?

David: Probably as much as I'll ever be.

Tony: Good. Now you're probably wondering what your duties are.

David: You didn't tell me while I was on Earth. Even though I asked.

Tony: Well no one wins when we play the blame game.

David: What are my duties?

Tony: See that pickaxe in the corner of your settlement?

David: The one with the label Cheese Miner?

Close up of the pickaxe. It has a brand name, Cheese Miner.

Tony: It's for mining cheese. Get at it!

David: This is the worst day ever.

Anyway that was a good idea, a medium execution making an okay sketch. Not filler. Definitely not filler. My favourite part was the direction "Later on the moon". Not many people get to write that do they?


Thursday, 13 May 2010

I am simultaneously writing and not writing

So I jumped up on a wall and then I slipped and fell off the wall but luckily I landed on my feet and also my hands stopped my face from hitting the wall and I was fine. That doesn't have anything to do with the script. I just thought I'd gain the sympathy of the reader before I begin. Then maybe I'll get those pity laughs that I crave.

I crave them so hard.

But a Man
An office situation. Stan is a guy in a shirt and tie. Also trousers. I mean I would have thought that you would have assumed that, but I had to tell you. God damn.

Anyway these guys call Stan into a room. They're behind a desk like in an interview.

Oliver: Come in, Stan.

Stan: Hi, guys.

Tina: Hello, Stan. We've got two pieces of good news for you.

Peter: You've been selected for that promotion.

Stan: With -

Oliver: With the raise.

Stan: And -

Oliver: And the car.

Stan: [Smiling] So what's the other piece of good news?

Peter: Henry!

Enter Henry.

Peter: Henry will be shadowing you to remind that all glory is fleeting.

Stan: I guess that could be...useful.

Tina: Oh more than useful. We've ran the figures. This will result in you being more productive in a managerial context.

Cut to two guys working on a computer program.

Jack: Have you run those numbers yet?

Ross: hahaha

Jack: hahahaha. Fuck, man.

Ross: Give me another hit of that.

Jack: Sure.

Back to the office.

Oliver: Anyway, he'll be following you around now. Also he reminds you all glory is fleeting by making all glory fleeting.

Stan: So he's not going to just tell me?


Stan: Yup.

Henry: R-tard.

Cut to: Stan has just finished a presentation.

Stan: And as you can see, our department has managed to increase sales and cut costs.

CEO: That's very impressive. Stan, was it?

Stan: Yes, sir.

Henry: He masturbates at work.

Stan: No I don't.

CEO: You would say that.

Henry: He thinks about shoes while he's doing it.

CEO: Gross, man. How'd you find out?

Henry and the CEO start whispering to each other, occasionally glancing over to Stan and laughing.

CEO: Yeah, so anyway we're docking your pay.

Stan: Why?

CEO: I'm not saying outloud. It's fuckin' gross, man.

Henry: Damn right.

Montage of Henry making things difficult for Stan. I mean beyond what you just read. You can tell what he's doing even though there's no sound. Actually maybe there is sound. I'll let whoever is in charge of this bit figure it out.

Alone in the office.

Stan: Henry?

Henry: Yep, Stan.

Stan: I hate you so much Henry.

Henry: Do you?

Henry takes off his mask to reveal he is Tina.

Tina: This was an elaborate test.

Stan: Did I pass?

Tina: I don't remember. The actual test was a long time ago. I just never found a good time to put a stop to the whole Henry thing.

Stan: I'm still manager right?

Tina: We'll let the computer whizkids decide.

Computer guys.

Jack: You do that thing?

Ross: Hahahahahaha

Jack: dude

So. Comedy about weed. This is the first time I have written that and probably the last time. But seriously people with jobs in computing need to do more weed.

Seems like the code would be better. I don't know how. Maybe the arrays would be in the form of smiley faces?

I know nothing about code.

Sunday, 9 May 2010

You wanna go, white boy?

First of all, I would like to express the joy of finally letting those feelings of a lack of meaning out. Expressing helps. Putting them into words helps and now when I feel them I feel less like moaning a horrible moan and just ignoring them like a slave of the chemical reaction we are all a part of.

ANYWAY, enough of that depressing shit, let's do some comedy!

Pure as the Driven Snow
A seminar video-tape. You know the type. This is going to be great. Steve is the teacher on the tape.

Steve: Welcome to your new career path! Many great people started out selling white paint, and you will be another of those great people. Before we begin let's close our eyes, and imagine what events in our lives led us to this point. What mistakes did we make along the way and choices that meant we ended up here?

Ha ha, not really. I'm not a fan of suicides.

[broooom crsh crsh. Text flashes on screen. "Technique number one"]

A suburban house. A man holds a can of white paint and is ringing the door bell. A woman answers the door.

Carl: Don't close the door! There are so many different types of paint that you can buy.

Woman closes the door.

Steve: [stepping into frame] Did you see what happened here? Carl started out his pitch with a negative. Never do that. Here's how it should have gone. [Steve shoots Carl in the head and replaces him].

Woman opens the door.

Steve: Hello! Lovely day we're having!

Woman: Yes.

Steve: Would you like some paint?

Woman: I'll have as much as I can afford.


Husband: If we don't get a lot of white paint, right now, we won't be able to murder everyone in London!

Wife: Who's that at the door?

Steve: [Stepping into frame] Be careful who you sell white paint to! Pass on all details to the police. It's the only way to be safe.

[Text flashes on screen. "Technique Two"

Carl: Hey, would you like to buy some white paint.

Door opens.

Carl: Hello, madam, first of all would you look at this piece of card.

[The card is completely black. Blacker than anything ever seen on television.]

Carl: Now, watch as I paint this small part of your door white.

Sandra: Wow! That colour doesn't remind me of death and oblivion like that card does.

Carl: It should though, because it is just as arbitrary a sensation on your retina as the card.

Steve: [Stepping into frame] Carl you idiot.

Carl: LIFE

Some hard hitting stuff there. Sorry for not updating yesterday, but I updated twice today which counts.



There is no beauty in my life.

Nothing in my life is beautiful. There are things with complicated patterns, get close enough and they're simple. There are lights everywhere, shining out into the darkness but they're powered by a fear of the unknown and an arrogance that says of itself that it never feared the darkness, that the darkness is afraid of it.

On a road you can take away the tarmac and the trees and the grass and the lines and you end up with what? A white room? Artless and nothingness. No ideas. Nothing to see, nothing to do, even if seeing or doing meant anything.

And art? Art, capital A "Art". A reflection of truths? And a truth is? Chemicals. Chemicals in the brain make a truth. Chemicals in the brain make religion and all other lies and chemicals in the brain make love and they make hate and they make everything they need to make this chemical reaction we call life keep on going and going and going until physics breaks down and it stops.

The pursuit of knowledge? Well done, now you can see the strings. You can see the clockwork you're inside and the clockwork that's inside and on and on and on and on and on. You're looking up the ladder at everything mundane or down the ladder at everything that exposes the meaninglessness of existence.

And suicide? You're going to throw away your consciousness? For what? In a world without meaning, why would suicide be meaningful?

And every time I think these thoughts I stop laughing at myself and I lie down and I cry because that is the only way to cope. To react in violence would be meaningless, it would be a howl and a howl only feels good and feeling is your caveman brain trying to trick you into continuing.

And on and on and on and on and on and on.

Saturday, 8 May 2010


If my facts are correct, this post is my 71st. Meaning my blog is nearing the end of it's natural life.


Also I didn't go for a run today so it isn't going to be pretty. The script that is. It is likely to contain unfunnyium. It is unlikely to contain traces of humour.

Also it's not a script it's a pitch for a gameshow.


Okay, so we've all heard of Deal or No Deal, a game based on complete chance, but there was at least an element of greed there, whether you should risk it for the large dollars or not. That is not how it is in my game show. You give your money to someone and they then try to get the most money they can for you. However, they might just steal it and take it home. But at any stage they can take 20% and gamble for loads or take 50% and play it safe or just run off with your cash. Somehow the rules will be tweaked enough for balance.

Now, there are also monkeys eating your shoes. This is quite a major part of it. It's set on these moving platforms over the jungle and wild animals are allowed on the vines in between the platforms. And they will kill you.

And no clothes allowed.


Right, so that was the result of me having to fill time and shit.

I will not be pestering people to read this.

Thursday, 6 May 2010

Bed time, but first things I need to do

Okay so it's election day, the polls are being counted up. It's all very exciting but also I need sleep, so it's a quick script this time around.

A Window into Men's Souls
A school classroom. A teacher is being harassed by his students.

Mr Glascock: I am trying to teach chemistry!

Student: But what about your glass cock?

All students: hahahaha!

Mr Glascock: I'll show you my glass cock!

Student: What.

Mr Glascock: [Enraged] RAAARGGHHH

Suddenly all the windows shatter and he dives out of them. Not all of them, just one. He's not going in and out like a weird dance.

Later, at the bank.

Mr Glascock: I demand you give me all of the money here!

Teller: Why?

Penn: Yeah, what?

Mr Glascock squeezes his hand closed and shatters all the glass.

Teller: Is that why?

Mr Glascock: Yes!

Teller: That's more of a threat.


Teller: God, whatever [he gives him all the money]


Bank Manager: Did you give him all the money?

Teller: Yeah.

Bank Manager: Why?

The teller squeezes his hand tight and some glass shatters.

Bank Manager: Oh, right.

Later, the army have the GLAZIER surrounded.

Glazier: How did you do this?

Soldier: We didn't bring any glass?

Glazier: My one weakness!

Soldier: A lack of glass is your weakness?

The soldier's gun turns into glass.

Solder: Shiiiiiit.

Glazier: Cool.

Soldier: I'm going to throw this at you if you don't come quietly.

Glazier: God, whatever.

Later at the court hearing.

Judge: I sentence you to death [bangs gavel. GLAZIER turns it to glass just before he does]

Judge: Aaarrghhh. Man, that hurts. [He dies]

Glazier: Can I go then?

Lawyer: [shrugs]

THERE WE GO. It was too long, had too many all caps and while I was writing it I wasn't wearing any clothes.

oh sexy images. If only I had mentioned that earlier this post might have been sexier. GET USED TO IT.

Wednesday, 5 May 2010

Git yer coat Martha We aint staying ter be Insultered

So there is some kind of problem with the back of my feet? Like it feels like the skin is coming off. God it's horrible, I'm sitting here with my feet on a pillow because it hurts to put them on the floor.

I feel my run may have exacerbated the problem.

Live Free, Die Sexy
TV Exec office, this guy is pitching to this other guy. You get the idea; it's been done so many times then why am I doing it again? Trust me with this, if you like puns you're gonna like this one.

Tom: So, ideas?

Peter: Okay, it's an airline-

Tom: Booooring.

Peter: Run by chimps. Title: Serve peanuts, Get Monkeys.

Tom: Gold. Here's a cheque for infinity pounds.

Peter: Next idea: It's an airline-

Tom: Been done before.

Peter: Run by vampires. Title: Creatures of the Flight.

Tom: [on his buzzer] Tracy I'm gonna need some new pants, these are all covered in my semen. Where now?

Peter: It's an airline-

Tom: Sounds terrible. Leave the pitch on my desk.

Peter: But-

Tom: Now, now Peter. You know the only butts I like are the ones on secretaries.

Peter: Okay, I'll write it up.

It is later and dark outside. Tom is sitting down to look at the pitch on his desk.

Tom: My god. [He pulls out a gun.] I am not worthy of existing in the same universe as this idea. [He shoots himself]

Somewhere else.

Peter: I hope he liked my idea about a gameshow based around shaving.

COMEDY GOLD! But seriously, I think this is actually a good sketch. I mean I could imagine seeing this in That Mitchell and Webb Look. One of their worse sketches, but it could be good.

Actually, most of their sketches are observational, aren't they? I guess this explains the lack of gameshows about shaving.

I hope you understand my underlying message that Jesus is our saviour. Not those dirty immigrants.

Tuesday, 4 May 2010


Anyway, got back from my run, wearing shorts that were too short. How could they be too short? Short enough that my inside thigh was rubbing together and burning? Yes I guess that would be too short. So I decided to make up for this by announcing that I will be updating daily. And I do mean that, so expect a large drop in quality as I desperately try to fill space.

This next sketch is about plastic surgeons.

Is Plastic Fantastic?
We open in the middle of a documentary style program, only because it helps me skip to the funny bits quicker. Matt the cosmetic surgeon is sitting on a chair being interviewed. Tina, the interviewer, is out of shot.

Matt: I'm the best plastic surgeon in the world. I made you into a woman.

Tina: I've always been a woman.

Matt: You'd think so. I'm the best.

Two surgeons are having a plastic surgery fight. After each body part is mentioned, it is shown on the surgeons.

Andrew: I gave you breasts.

Liam: So? I made your hands lobster claws.

Andrew: Whatever. I gave you a vagina-

Liam: Uh, I've still got a penis.

Andrew: I gave you a vagina instead of an anus.

Liam: So? I gave you my heart.

Andrew: Can I do you in the vagina/anus?

Liam: What else is it for?

Andrew: Are you on birth control?

Liam: What?

Andrew: That's a real vagina.

Cut to 9 months later and in a hospital.

Andrew: Just one more push!

So there we go, a beautiful tale about people that change people's profile pics sorry I mean faces. And bodies. A noble profession indeed.

Sex you later! (That's future-talk for goodbye. BACK ME UP ON THIS)