[[SHORT INTRODUCTORY CZECH ANIMATION BEFORE OUR FEATURE PRESENTATION:
From black we see scratchy white and grey
emerging. A mouse (trying desperately to avoid obvious potential
similarities with Maus), scurries about this emerging cityscape.
We see stylised versions of Sheffield landmarks about the place, but everything should seem spiky and oppressive and the animation style is dark, hairy and jerky.
The university arts tower erupts from the centre of this emerging city; its height exaggerated. The mouse is on top of it, and falls off, with blood spurting about the place as the art tower continues to rise.
As we pan around it we see a giant Babysham-like figure crawling up the building. Mice in bi-planes fire at him and he swats at them. He is climbing to the top when one of the swatted planes smashes into the side of the arts tower and the whole thing explodes.
There is debris and blood everywhere, and from the rubble rises a blooded but more powerful Babysham, who shakes off bits of mouse. His red laser eye twinkles in the moonlight. Thousands of mice are marching in Nazi masses about his feet; all very Nuremberg. Babysham mounts a series of steps up to the City Hall. The Hall is draped in red banners with pentogramatic mice inscribed in white circles half way down. He enters the building and we crane up. The glass dome in the centre of the roof shatters as a beam of brilliant white light shines up into the dark sky.
Tickertape falls, and a host of mice bear signs that say "VOTE BLUNKETT" and "DUCHOVNY FOR PRESIDENT" and "HYLDA BAKER!" and other weird things. A mouse in a tank rolls along a street, knocking other mice and buildings down. A gunmouse comes past the camera turns towards us and growls. An MGM style border slaps over him.
Black screen. Mock computer screen in similar
style gives us a World in Action naked Babysham and a load of technical
specs written in Czech.
John Hurt provides a voice over:
JOHN HURT (VO)
This is a story about an ordinary human.
When he was made, they found something wrong with him
and threw him away like a piece of rubbish into an old dark storeroom.
Then, from the United States, a spotty man brought him to life
with his cosmic dust. He took him to Microsoft,
where a group of techies gave him special powers.
That man became BABYSHAM,
The most unstable cyborg in the universe!
Through the above, the animation provides appropriate visuals as asides to the technical data. At the final line, the screen turns into a black screen of death before exploding into a bright white shower of glass and whiteness. Mix:]]
1. - INT 1 - POLICE INTERVIEW ROOM - NIGHT
White (from lighting).
Zoom slowly to reveal:
Over-head shot of Babysham sat at a desk. A light hangs in shot and bathes all around it in a fluorescent glow - It's one of those bar neon tubes dangling on chains see...
Babysham is wearing some sort of futuristic brown-bandaging kind of full shirt thing, over which is some leather strapwork - some sort of hi-tech gun-holstering. Around his eyes he is wearing heavy white bandaging, but the quality of light should make this equally likely to be an elaborate blindfold. We zoom down onto him ever so gently, passing the light.
As we do this we superimpose credit captions...
...and we get the following conversation between Babysham and an unseen detective called Marty (I say unseen - we'll slowly reveal him with the zoom).
Look, you've got it all wrong...
Don't give me that pile o' horse shit.
Now we've had that thing tested out.
I don't suppose there's any chance of a drink is there...
Shut your fucking face. I'm sick! Sick to
fucking death of having to go through this
bloody rigmarole every time with you!
How many times have we been in this
situation now? I'll tell you... Four. Four
times. Now you're either very careless
or very stupid. I'm not sure which....
I think it's a bit of both.
By now we've tilted to get a better view of
room and the detective. It's night. There's much shadow in here.
We can't see as far as the walls cos the lighting is really crap. We can make out a window in one wall behind the detective. Through it we can see that we are high over the environs of Snig Hill, Sheffield.
The detective is pacing and smoking. He holds a gun wrapped in an evidence bag. It's a big hi-tech weapon.
Black. Maybe a few pointless LEDs on it for effect. Nothing too naff.
I'm sick of the site of this, you know...
He slams it on the table and sits down opposite Babysham.
Hey. That's fragile.
Now this gun...
Your gun... lasered down three people.
You tested yeah?
What's the point in that?
How many other people in
this city carry around a hi-tech
I don't like to cut corners. I'd hate
to see you squirm out of this one.
Seems like an awful waste of money.
I could've told you it was my gun.
Is my lawyer here?
Shot of Alan sat in a dark corner of the room.
Hello. Just checking. Can't see a thing here...
Are you going to press charges here?
Well that depends on what pathetic
explanation Mr Babysham comes up with.
I'm sorry if my narrative style is unappealing.
Maybe I could liven it up a bit, do some silly
voices for you?
Spare me the voices. Just tell me
why you shot them?
I didn't shoot anybody. I'm not
even clear on who got shot.
Did you get shot, Alan?
No. I didn't get shot.
And I didn't get shot...
Who got shot?
I think you should just tell them what
happened. I'm getting hungry.
Well this is a long story.
Do you guys do sandwiches?
Just talk. Ok.
Ok. Is that tape rolling?
The tape's rolling.
Good. I'd hate to have to repeat myself.
Right well... um... it all began a week last Wednesday.
You'd released me after the Monsanto debacle
and I'd just got back to the office...
We then fast-forward through the action of the last four episodes. Finishing back at this point.
...And so I opened the box,
blasting the contents with my laser eye
as I did so. And unfortunately, there was a
somewhat nasty psuedo-nuclear accident.
Somewhat nasty? You destroyed Tinsley viaduct.
But look on the upside:
They've had to close down Meadowhall.
And I'm sure there's loads of old gits
happy that the cooling towers have gone.
I'm not sure though that the people of Rotherham
particularly enjoyed the rain of raw sewage they received.
It can't've done the place any harm.
What would you have rather he done?
Not opened the box!
Michael Hogben had a gun pointed at
one of my colleagues. I had no choice.
We had a gun pointed at Michael Hogben.
You had a gun pointed at me.
We had more than one gun.
Pointed at me.
One of them was pointed at Hogben.
And lets face it... you were the one
with the apocalyptic object d'art.
Even if you did have a gun trained on
Hogben, which I doubt, I'm not going
to trust you to shoot him before he
shot Jade. I opened the box. I don't
think I did all that bad in containing
its nightmarish contents with my optical
superpowers either, to be perfectly frank.
Six people died as the M1 Motorway
fragmented in a nuclear wind.
You saw the situation. Hogben
had a gun to Sham's head. Sham
was just a tool in this. It's clearly
Hogben who is to blame and I
trust he's being questioned too.
He's... helping us with our inquiries.
You have arrested him, haven't you?
We're questioning him, certainly.
You've not arrested him?
Babysham lifts his eye-bandaging and peers around. His eyes are bloodshot and bruised.
It's not because he's a celebrity is it?
Not at all. We merely felt that
the press interest would be detrimental to the case.
Interesting use of "not at all" there.
If there really were loads of
antiques experts trying to raise
Satan on my patch, I want to
research it properly without the
press sticking their neb in and
scaring everyone off.
It's Michael Hogben.
He's hardly David Beckham.
Or Sven Goren Eriksson.
As for your story that
Terry-Thomas was responsible
for the three murders... I think
you'll find he's long since dead.
It wasn't Terry-Thomas.
It was Tim Wonnacott.
He's another antiques expert.
Well if he's shot, he'll need
treatment. We're watching the hospitals.
His wound was cauterised by the blast.
He could get by without medical attention.
Babysham. Look. Your story...
It sounds crazy. Do you seriously
expect me to believe that you were
being held at gunpoint by the stars
of TV's Bargain Hunt?
Marty, you saw Hogben
with a gun to our heads,
playing extreme Take Your Pick.
You were there. I saw you.
Did that nuclear wind blow out your brain?
Have you tested Buffy for prints?
Will you stop trying to tell
me how to do my job?
Look. You know us, Marty.
How many times... How many times
are you going to go through this
bloody rigmarole with us? Every other week,
you arrest us and then we prove it was
someone else and so you let us go.
Come on. You should know by now...
You can trust us.
Except on the weeks we don't
arrest you, you have a tendency to
break that trust catastrophically
through some daft endeavour or other.
Ok, so perhaps it's slightly cyclical.
But the point is, it's a "trust us" week.
Ok. Alright. I'll let you go.
But you stick around next door
or I'll break your neck and lock you away for ever.
That's on the tape.
Tape ran out two episodes ago.
Well I still heard it.
Come on. Help me out, Alan.
Alan assists Babysham from the room. We watch as they cross the offices and away, probably with Babysham waving to Helen or someone, despite the blindfold. Marty stays in his office. Spillaine enters. Marty is peering at the walls.
You let them go, boss?
That wise, boss?
Sooner or later he'll screw up.
Then I can send him down.
This city needs a fall guy,
and they'll never settle for Hogben.
As they talk, we follow Marty's POV. We notice that the whiteboard in the office is made by a company called Mayburn; that there's an advert for the Antiques Roadshow's visit to Magna; that there's an open newspaper with a photo of Sven Goren Eriksson, a photo of Jade from Big Brother, and a headline about Princess Eugenie; that there is a child's toy made by Tomy; that Marty's mug is advertising YTV and Emmerdale Farm; that on the pin-board there is a poster of Leticia Dean dressed in a police uniform, with a gap drawn onto the front of her teeth, a poster for the ski village, a "save the Adelphi Theatre" poster and an aging forgery-warning poster with a Faraday £20 note; that there is a cricket box and a toy Chief Wiggum on the filing cabinet; that there is a book on the Great Sheffield Flood on the desk; that there is a map of the city on the back wall; that there is a copy of the script in the bin.
Marty rushes across the offices and through a door at the far side. Helen walks up to the door.
You alright, boss?
(with violent digestive noises)
I shouldn't've had that biriani...
2 - INT 5 - BABYSHAM'S FLAT - TUESDAY, DAWN (c.6:15am)
Shot through the window:
Alan is bathed in the glow of the 5am News on ATV.
JANICE MONK (OOV)
(herself, on telly)
...have still not been able to ascertain
the cause of the dramatic explosion in a Sheffield
sewage works that destroyed part of the M1,
forced the closure of the Meadowhall shopping centre
and sent a rain of effluent on parts of Rotherham.
A build up of gas is being touted as a possible culprit
although witnesses claimed...
Over all this, we crane out into:
3 - EXT 4 - BABYSHAM'S LEDGE - CONT.
...to see Babysham meditating on the concrete ledge, watching the new dawn. The television fades away under the incidental music. We should shoot Babysham to look as much like Buddha as possible, with the sun as a halo. The music utilises an auto-harp, and as we crane around we notice that it is being played by Babysham. In the background, and increasingly prominent, a mobile phone mast (or similar) glints in the sun.
We follow the mast down to find that it is on the roof of the police station, and then we make an arty dive through the fabric of the police station to find ourselves in:
4 - INT 29 - GOTHIC CRYPT DOUBLING AS POLICE CELLS - CONT.
Same set as Babysham's crypt but with the bed and toilet of a police
cell rather than any tombs or suchlike. We see a spider crawling up the
wall above the bed.
Suddenly a hand grabs it and we follow it to the mouth of Tomy. Tomy munches on the spider. He is maniacal. He leaps about like a monkey and clambers to the high transom windows to try and catch a view of our autoharpist.
Tomy cackles and howls. He scoops up another invertebrate from the barred windowsill and eats it.
[Fade to black. Babysham Caption Card. An animated Babysham comes in and writes End of Part One in chalk. ATV quick ident.
Simulated ad break:
5 - INT - PLUSH BBC OFFICE, BROADCASTING HOUSE - EVENING
Dark. Michael Grade smokes a cigar in a plush
Art Deco room. His feet are up on the desk. He blows rings.
Opposite him sits a giant pink bunny with a basket. They are in negotiations but all we get is twee music.
ANNA FORD (VO)
Easter can be a time of smelly relatives and
cleaning polish. But not this year, with two
limited edition Grade Scented Easter Eggs.
The bunny pulls two cheap plastic eggs from its basket. They have some brightly coloured fluid in them (one yellow, one green). As they're revealed, a haze of colour floods the room. Grade's suit goes bright red. His cigar goes pink. He puts it out in an ashtray and breathes in the scent of the eggs.
ANNA FORD (VO)
Molten Chocolate and Jugged Hair,
or Roast Lamb and Mint. Two
limited edition Easter Infusions
from the makers of Grade Plug-Ins.
ATV quick ident.
BOTTS THE CHEMISTS:
6 - INT - DOCTOR'S SURGERY - EVENING
Jonathan Miller wears the body of a pink bunny suit (complete with oversized collar), and a stethoscope. Enter Alan Bennett.
And what seems to be the trouble?
I've been having this queer trembling in my undergarments.
Well why don't you drop them.
Bennett drops his trousers and underpants to
two Easter Eggs hanging from beneath his shirt tails.
Miller gently feels them.
Oh yes. I can see the trouble.
Yes. You've not grabbed
your easter eggs. Here.
Miller yanks the eggs and they come away in his hands.
Miller hands Bennett the eggs. Bennett looks very pleased with himself.
And may I prescribe some other
Easter related items for your enjoyment?
A box of Easter Cards, an Easter Tree,
these magnificent Easter Crackers,
and a wonderful Crucifixion Scene
for your mantle piece. All available
from Botts. That's Bott's for Easter.
As he did all that, he brought out all manner of Easter crap from behind the desk, and passed them to Bennett. He is now laden and unable to pull up his trousers. We track around as he tries to bend down and pull his trousers up (dropping some items in the process). On his revealed arse is the squiggly blue text of the Botts logo.
ATV quick ident.
7 - EXT - PLAYGROUND - DAY
Poor people's children play. Twee music. Rob Brydon gives us his voice-over accent:
ROB BRYDON (VO)
Easter time approaches, and your children will be off from school.
Don't let them go outside and be molested by a paedophile.
A sinister man (Mark Heap, obviously) appears and grimaces. Shot from a low angle. Colour is subdued. Music sinister. Shot of empty roundabout in slow motion. Crying.
8 - INT - MIDDLE CLASS LIVING ROOM - DAY
Elgarish music. A cheery living room full of Easter tat. A table at which two siblings of differing gender sit around a set of encyclopaedias. They are looking at the LAT-LUD volume of a children's encyclopaedia.
ROB BRYDON (VO)
If you're a responsible parent,
you'll want to keep them indoors
with this fabulous Dorking
Kimberley encyclopaedia set.
Small flashing caption: ENCYCLOPAEDIA HAVE NO CONNECTION WITH PAEDOPHILES.
ROB BRYDON (VO)
Each day this week with the Daily Mail,
these five volumes build up into one
massive fountain of knowledge, to
give your child a grounding in the
glorious conservative doctrines that
made Britain great, but which the
wishy-washy liberal state schools
fail to teach. So don't delay.
Buy the Daily Mail now:
You owe it to your children!
Over this we see the children reading about
asylum seekers are evil, and about the best ways to kick them. There's
a page on Enoch Powell with a diagram of what a river of blood might
look like. A cartoon Tebbit explains how to correctly mount a bicycle.
When we see the girl again, she has straight blonde hair in an alice band, wears a pussy-bow blouse and a long skirt. The boy has brylcreemed hair and a suit with a dotty blue hanky in the pocket. Their mother clearly loves them dearly, and shows it with hugs. She hands them Easter eggs. They are very very happy.
ATV quick ident. Babysham Caption Card. Animated Babysham rubs off "End of Part One" and writes "Part Two". This is on a blackboard on the wall of the next scene. Pan to:]
9 - INT 32 - LETITIA'S FLAT - TUESDAY MORNING
Shot of door, with some pre-lapped buzzing. More buzzing. Moderately
impatient. The curly dark hair that is the back of Letitia's head comes
into view, with a purple satin dressing-gown beneath. Clearly she has
sleeping, and she has a sleep-mask over her forehead, though we do not
see her face in this shot.
The door is opened to reveal Babysham, stood stooped with his eye at the spy-hole.
We reverse angle to reveal that it is not actually Letitia who has answered the door. Rather it is ERIC CATCHPOLE (Chris Jury), the character from Lovejoy. He has whiskers and a button-nose drawn on in black face-paint.
We can hear some strumming from within.
Is Ms Mayburn in?
Maybe. Maybe she is.
And maybe she isn't.
What's it to you?
Babysham flashes some sort of ID.
Here from the tenants' association.
Come to look at your exterior cladding.
You too, eh?
Well you'd better come in.
TINKER DILL (Dudley Sutton) is sat in a zinc bathtub in the corner of the room. He wears a tweed suit and a pince-nez and is covered in foam "soap-suds". He is strumming a guitar and singing "Bad Moon Rising".
I'm afraid madame is not at home
at the present moment in time.
Oh? Only as the tenant,
I need her to sign something.
Any idea when she might be back?
Oh... I wouldn't think she'll be back
for a while. Gone on holiday, she has.
Babysham points at the window.
Go right ahead. Be our guest.
Babysham pokes his head outside, which we can accompany with an exterior shot.
Well on the matter of guests...
if she's on holiday... by rights,
your staying here needs to be
ratified by the association chair.
And not wishing to be rude...
it obviously hasn't been or else
you'd be down on my list rather
than Ms Mayburn.
He returns inside.
Cos that's how it works.
Oh... we're not staying here.
No. No, we're just in for you.
She wanted someone in for you.
So we're here. For you.
Well I'm honoured.
We're not staying here at all.
Not at all.
Right. Well any idea when
Ms Mayburn will be back?
Nnnnnno. Probably a month.
Yeah. She seemed quite tired.
A month, I'd say.
Then she'll be back
all refreshed. Unless
she likes it there, of course.
And decides to stay.
Then she'll be somewhat longer.
I don't suppose you have
an address for her at all?
She didn't want to be disturbed.
Of that she was most adamant.
Right. Well could one of you
sign my paperwork please?
Do you have a pen?
Then no. We can never sign
papers for people who have pens.
We only sign with our own blood.
Well you can do that, if you'd rather.
Well if you'd like to step into my study...
The kitchen area.
Eric removes a vial from the fridge. It is full of blood. He puts his thumb over the top and shakes the contents. He then proffers his thumb for Babysham.
Babysham has produced a fairly random looking sheet of paper with signatures and printed names on it.
If you could sign just here please...
Eric prints his thumb onto the page.
I need you to print your name too.
Or just tell it me if you'd prefer,
and I'll write it myself. If pens
bother you so much.
Tinker. Tinker Dill.
Well thankyou. Both of you.
You've been very amenable.
Not a problem.
Well I'd better be going.
Go right ahead.
Thankyou and goodnight.
Eric shuts the door on Babysham. We hear a shop bell ting as he does so (a prelap from the next scene). The following line partially post-laps.
Well I think we handled that rather well, don't you?
10 - INT 36 - BOOKSHOP - DAY
We are in the bookshop from ANS 9 as a door swings back into a closed position and tings the bell above it. We track back past shelves of books. We track into the back, past the counter where STEW (Ewan McGregor) is leant, drinking a warm mug of chicken cupasoup. He wears a baggy jumper and jeans. His hair is the usual hairy mop and beard, though slightly grey at the fringes. He is talking past the camera throughout.
He did seem extraordinarily happy
to have received his book, certainly.
Even though it wasn't exactly what he'd asked for.
I suppose it was the thrill of anticipation
taking him to new heights of emotion.
LEON (Jean Reno) is sat on a pile of books at the opposite side of the room.
Yeah. But... I mean: he ordered a book,
we made him wait for a third of a year...
and then when we finally give him
a completely different edition,
he's deliriously happy.
It's a good thing we didn't have
the right book in there and then...
He might well've exploded.
Which would be messy.
Yes. Well that's that albatross shot anyway.
Only a few dozen more to pick off.
Aren't you supposed to not shoot them?
At which point the phone rings. It rings once. A trimphone with a proper bell in it. Stew picks it up.
Hello? Books Fi... Babysham, hi.
Theological matters? Sure...
I can pop down. Can't interest you
in a book at all, can I? Ok. Righto.
Bye then. Byee. Ta ra. Bye.
He puts down the phone.
Wants to pick my brain on
matters theological. Coming?
What if a customer...
Two in the same month?
Wishful thinking, I know....
Well we'll leave a sign.
They leave through the tingy door. Wipe downwards to:
11 - EXT 29 - SHALESMOOR - LATE THURSDAY AFTERNOON
A tram whizzes across shot from Hillsborough. Fancy in-road camerawork. The driver should be female. As the tram whooshes by, a severed head bounces across the street and away from camera to the right, in the direction of Infirmary Road et al. It should leave a spurted trail of blood, but we pay the head no heed. We instead continue to follow the tram as it comes screeching to a halt at the Shalesmoor stop. Out step Stew and Leon like a pair of aliens bent on cool and calculated destruction. Leon has the day's Guardian (7th October). Stew has an A5 hard-bound "Black and Red" notebook full of papers. We follow them as they attempt to negotiate the traffic islands here. Cue Leon getting marooned as the lights change. We use a crane for a lot of this, before focussing on them in the wilderness of the traffic island (which is moderately arboreal).
Stew is the first into a fixed and isolated shot of traffic island in which we have placed a bare lime tree in a concrete-walled bed. The pelican crossing light is also visible in the top corner of the shot (the man is red). Stew looks tired, as if this journey has gone on for hours. He sits on the wall under the tree and begins unfastening his German para boots.
Stew tries to pull off his boot but can't get it off. He gives up. He has another go at the boot. Again he fails.
Leon enters shot, similarly tired.
Nothing to be done.
Cars pass by as Leon presses the button on the crossing.
I thought you were gone forever.
Stew does up his boot again.
The man on the crossing light changes to green.
Well, shall we go?
Yes. Let's go.
They don't move as we mix to:
12 - EXT 30 - KELHAM ISLAND TAVERN - LATE AFTERNOON
More arc-y crane-work as Stew and Leon negotiate the Green Lane corner. A prostitute stands on the corner. She waves to Stew who waves back. All very sunny and happy like a chat show title sequence.
13 - INT 37 - KELHAM ISLAND TAVERN - CONT.
Next we fit a funny lens: not fish-eye, but slightly warped that way. We do a Vertigo-zoom straight up the entrance corridor of the Kelham Island Tavern pub as Stew and Leon walk through. It should be slightly creepy and should emphasise the narrowness and length of this passageway. The camera tracks into the pub behind them, with a skilful twist of the aperture as we enter the bar. A large round jolly man welcomes them to the pumps but the dialogue isn't audible under the atmospheric soundtrackery. There is a considerable pause while Stew looks at the pumps, intercut with shots of the expectant barman's face. Then Stew says something to Leon and Leon orders while Stew moves across to the corner, where, beneath a Bosch print, are Babysham, Alan and Jade.
Babysham has his usual, Alan has something Pictish, and Jade has a
Stew sits opposite them at the long table, looking all Last Supper-y.
Good to see you.
You know Alan. This is Jade.
She's sort of attached herself to us
over the last couple of weeks, and to
be honest, we're glad of the company.
This is Stew. He's the son of God.
Always stuck in the shadow of my dad.
Never seem to shake it off. I run a
book shop in Heaven. Not an easy
business. We keep getting petrol-bombed.
I'm sorry to hear that.
As Leon arrives with the beer, Stew opens his book, pulls out a biro and starts making a note of what beer it is. Cue much craning around to see the taps and the blackboard.
This is Leon. He's an alien clone.
He co-runs the shop with me.
Pleased to meet you.
And you, I'm sure.
Leon, meet Jade.
She's helping us out.
Right. How do you do.
I hear the shop's not going too well.
Heh. No. Not really.
Keeps getting set on fire a bit.
Apart from that, and the lack of customers...
How's the lawying?
Not bad. I have a bit of a cash cow with Babysham here.
When he pays me that is.
I pay you with my warmth and affection.
And I let you help out. That's a great honour I bestow upon you.
You should be very grateful.
So what can I do you for?
Satan. What's the deal there?
You mean Lucy?
Ha. No. I mean Satan.
Stew drinks from his pint.
What about him?
Is he real? And if so,
what's his line of work?
I've never come across him.
We talking red skin, horns and goat legs?
Dunno. I just came across
a devil-worshipping sect of antiques
dealers who seem pretty convinced
that they regularly raise Satan.
Do they not realise they're in hell?
That's what I said.
What's your beer like, Leon?
Oh, I don't know. Hang on.
Stew tastes Leon's pint.
As far as I know, Satan isn't real.
But I'm only the son of God...
There's a lot of deities and demons
about the place; all pretty ordinary
characters. It could just be one
of them enjoying a bit of attention.
What's this cult called?
The Mouseman's Guild.
You heard of them?
I'm an observer. It's my duty
to acquire useless information.
Traditionally harmless enough.
A bunch of Robert Thompson devotees
that got together in Beverley in the '60s.
Robert Thompson? Wasn't he a folk singer?
That was Richard Thompson.
Or Linda Thompson.
Robert Thompson was a carpenter. Put
little mice on his furniture and what have
you. Anyway, this sect.... they got a bit
darker when a bunch of them started
interpreting the writings of Thomas
Chippendale a little unconventionally.
Started using chair legs as a magical path
to enlightenment, that sort of thing. Not
that there's anything wrong with that sort
of thing. So long as they don't get them stuck.
That could be potentially embarrassing.
Or toxic shock syndrome. They could get that.
Shut up. Apart from them using chairs
as communal dildos, and the obvious
Pythonesque dressing up as mice stuff...
well... devil worship is a new one on me.
What do you know about Letitia Mayburn?
Just testing how far your knowledge runs.
It's that bloke off Bargain Hunt in charge of them, you know.
Who? David Dickinson?
He doesn't do Bargain Hunt anymore. Well not the proper one.
He still does the prime-time one.
Tim Wonnacott then?
No. He's there, but it's the irritating one that's in charge.
That could be any number of people.
It could only really be Michael Hogben.
Yeah. You're right.
That's the one.
He got me to open this box
that blew up Meadowhall.
He's suddenly gone up
in my estimation.
It was quite a bad thing, actually.
The viaduct went too.
Oh well; it's not as if it's the real one, I suppose.
Shame though. Cooling towers gone too?
He's an evil little man.
And he reckons he's raising Satan?
Wouldn't put it past him.
Look... Could this just be a sort of...
construct of Hell? Like Willow, say?
Or the thing with the two Jim and Carolines?
Could be. Hopefully that's all it is.
Just your twisted little minds conjouring up
a far fetched storyline about people you
remember off the telly. Like some crazy dream.
Trouble is, such things end up dangerously real
in Hell. I think I'd better stay and keep an eye
on things to make sure nothing funny's going on.
Fine by me. You're welcome
to borrow Alan's room if you like.
I've got rooms. I can put them up.
That alright with you, Leon?
Mm? Yes. Sounds diverting.
Right. Oh. Can you do us another favour too?
Sure. What is it?
14 - INT 32 - LETITIA'S FLAT - EVENING
Buzz. The door is opened by Tinker.
Tinker? Off Lovejoy?
Maybe. Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not.
Who can say. It can be so hard to tell these days...
I'm here about the rent.
Stew steps into the flat.
Eric is laid on the kitchen surface. He wears a black velvet catsuit (with a tail), cat ears and paw-gloves (which he is licking). His face-paints are bolstered with mild latexing for added catiness.
Is it my fish?
No. It's the Son.
Tell him to do his thing with the fish.
You got any fish, Stew?
Nnnoo... So what's going on here then?
Tell him to come here and give me a saucer of milk.
Tinker subtly shuts the door.
Go there and give him a saucer of milk.
Hold onto your noses: someone's had their
Russian novels out... Not sure I like the look of this.
Today you might not like the look of this,
tomorrow, who knows... you're loving it.
Shut up. Where's the woman?
I want to charge her rent.
Since when has he been the landlord?
Since when have y...
If you don't have owt sensible to say...
Have a seat.
Seated, he sniffs, desperately.
Oh, for fuck's sake.
I really hate angels.
He picks an orange from the font and starts to peel it as the room slowly and barely perceptibly begins to change.
So what're you up to?
The entrance melts away into the plastic vinery and the wall. The room lengthens with the help of a Vertigo zoom.
Oh. You know... The usual angel stuff.
Pan around to reveal the opposite wall to the kitchen. It is dark and distant and from it emerges a crack of bright light.
Well can you stop it?
It's really disorientating.
This widens and from it enters Bhuvana in a white slinky outfit and long silver ear-rings. The imagery should to an extent recall Zool from Ghostbusters although there's no red eyes or hair grease. Bhuvana isn't wearing her hat, and she speaks in her North East accent rather than the Finnish.
Do I know you?
The floor cracks open and Stew falls out of the room.
I don't know... If a job's worth doing, eh?
She walks up to the hole in the floor.
You were supposed to be organising a coup.
And all you could scrape together were twelve
weedy little men and a couple of prossies?
You're flaming useless, petal.
The interior of the hole is:
15 - INT 29 - GOTHIC CRYPT - CONT
Stew is sat in the sofa, a little shaken and plaster-covered. The sofa has landed on Babysham's sarcophagus.
Bit o' dry rot there, I think.
I'm Stew Jester. What's your name?
He raises a hand to shake, though he is a floor down from Bhuvana.
Do you not know your mammy when you see her, flower?
Reaction shot of Stew. Fade to black.
Mock silent film-stock. Simple unserifed white on black caption (jittery):
16 - INT 38 - STUDIO WITH STARFIELD BACKCLOTH
Fade up on cheese-cloth b&w footage of a starfield backdrop a la Méliès. 78 rpm sound-quality piano arrangement of Also Sprach Zarathustra. The Sun comes into view from off right. It is actually Bhuvana's head with elaborate make-up. She smiles.
She wrinkles her nose a la Bewitched, and there is stardust from it as The Moon appears to her left. The Moon is a computer-generated likeness of Dennis Potter in similar make-up. The Moon opens his mouth to shout.
The Sun cringes at the loudness of the Moon. The Moon is evidently making a lot of noise, which should tie in to the noisy bit of the music. The Sun edges out of shot.
The music has concluded and the Moon is quiet and upset. He has an idea. He wrinkles his nose and the Earth appears where the Sun previously was. It is just the Earth. It has not been anthropomorphosised. The Moon grins a happy grin. Further music is ad libbed to match the film.
17 - EXT 31 - MABLETHORPE DUNES - DAY
Fade up on the dunes of Mablethorpe, shot to avoid sight of the sea. As we pan, we reveal, superimposed in the sky, the Moon (although now looking more like the Sun, makeup wise). He is shouting a lot. As we move across the scene, and the Moon/Sun entity moves across the sky, we see a lime tree, and under it the naked forms of Stan (Fred Ward) and Rita (Nicola Walker). Both have silent-era over-the-top dark makeup. The two are running about like animals (on all fours) with little care for anything really. Other random pairs of animals also appear in shot, with similarly dark makeup.
The Moon/Sun/Potter entity "sets" out of shot.
Rita is sniffing at a lime on the tree. A closer examination of the lime reveals that it has the face of Bhuvana. It smiles.
"Eat of me, for I am your Mother come to impart wisdom."
Rita sniffs and then eats some of the lime. As she chews we mix to her dressed as a stereotypical severe 1960s librarian type with glasses and tweed. Stan sniffs at her arse and she hands him another lime from the tree. He sniffs at it and eats it and melts into a stereotypical blonde '20s Oxbridge type in boating costume (with Prisoner black jacket) and round Lucky Jim specs. The two snort at each other and look intelligent. Then eat more limes until only one remains.
Enter Potter, now as a fully fledged Sun. He shouts.
"Insolent sinners! You will pay dearly for this!"
A flare from the Sun ignites the lime tree (which disintegrates in the flames). The flames contain the face of Bhuvana, and as the new Sun-Potter potters off again, the flames become a vapour which absorbs itself into the dejected forms of Stan and Rita.
Some time later...
A new bit of dunes. We pan to a mockup of the
Tunisian hotel thing that's used as the Larrs Homestead in Star Wars.
18 - INT 39 - JUDEAN PEASANT DWELLING - DAY
Mary (Leah Coombes) is a 10-12 year old Jewish girl. She wears the obligatory blue bedsheet and a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses. Gabriel Byrne (giving it the full Alan Rickman deadpan misery) appears before her in a white dress (big '70s Demis Roussos look), complete with coathanger and tinsel halo. He has two pathetic looking chicken wings (actual size, and with mangy feathers) sticking out the back. Mary is understandably startled by the sudden appearance (complete with cut jerk).
He speaks in Aramaic.
For lip readers he should be saying (in a Geordie accent):
Fear not, for thou hast found grace with the big one.
And if you play thou cards right, thou shalt conceive
and bear a son, and thou shalt call his name Stew,
which is interpreted, "fish pond", for he will be big with fish.
He accompanies this with various lewd gestures, like some curious attempt at a chat-up spiel by an unsophisticated porn-subscriber. He should end with his arm around her, touching her arse.
Cut to Mary on a bed, and Gabriel leaping onto her.
Animation insert of little winged sperms with Bhuvana's face. Appropriately jolly music a la Monty Python intermission.
Cut to Mary alone on the bed, heavily pregnant and smoking. She looks to her side but Gabriel is gone.
19 - EXT 31 - DUNES - DAY
Mary pushing a pushchair containing a pineapple in a romper suit, although we don't really focus on the pineapple and it shouldn't be obvious. She sucks on a lollipop. In the sky is the Potter Sun with a Spiderman mask on.
We sweep over the dunes, away from Mary, but maintaining the presence of Potter, who shouts.
Potter slips out of shot, and over a dune we see the arse of Bhuvana sticking up. She is digging a hole in the sand. She wears a feather boa among other items of clothing. She looks up and replies.
"Go away. I am busy."
As Potter catches up with the shot and re-enters, we switch to a close up of Bhuvana buried to her neck in the sand. She wrinkles her nose and we return to the wide shot where she turns into a Lime tree (wearing the boa). Potter moves closer to the tree and shouts. He strikes the tree with a lightning bolt and the accompanying music should play the riff from Dracula Mountain.
"This time I will take away all of your powers and
hide them where you will be unable to find them."
The Lime trembles.
Enter a farmer (Bill Bailey) who plucks the only lime on the tree and then squeezes it into the jade box from episode 4. As the juices dripinto the box, we colour the box green.
Timelapse of the lone tree during which we seamlessly mix its setting to:
EXT 32 - FINLAND SNOWSCAPE - DAY
Beat. We hear a whistle blow. Enter Maati (Mark Heap) dressed as a Nordic God (a la Rod from ANS). He swings about a big sword. He walks past the Lime. Then double takes. He fondles a branch and then swings his sword at it. Abracadabric FX as we change to extra-gaudy Technicolor and the associated film quality.
This reveals that Maati's costume is actually knitted in elaborate colours. It also reveals that the Lime has transformed into a very cold and naked human Bhuvana who is stood like a tree. When she realises she is no longer a tree, she shivers and tries to warm herself. Maati rubs her with snow, and we fade out.
We fade up on:
20 - INT 29 - GOTHIC CRYPT - AFTERNOON
Stew in the same expression as before the flashback. He takes an intake of breath. Fade to black with post-lap of him expelling his breath.
The black is actually:
21 - INT 1 - MARTY'S OFFICE - NIGHT
At the centre top of shot, the striplight flickers into life. It takes a while to warm up and ideally we should maintain a vignette effect around the edge of shot. We can just about make out the door, but the light is significantly less powerful than in the opening shot of the episode.
The light is the only sound until we hear the distant pop of a bottle of beer being opened beyond the door, and then the sound of it being poured.
Marty enters via the door. He clutches a mug of beer and has a banana hanging from his mouth. He sits down at the desk. The tape recorder from the interview is still there.
Marty munches at the banana while rewinding the tape. At some random point he presses play.
[TAPE: Indefinable mass screaming. More apocalypse than Beatles gig.]
Marty quickly stops the tape and runs it back a good bit more. He drinks some beer, dipping his banana in it.
...nuclear wind blow out your brain?
Have you tested Buffy for prints?
Will you stop trying to tell me how to d...
...ry other week you arrest us and
then we prove it was someone
else and so you let us go.
Come on. You should know by now...
You can trust us.
Except on the weeks we don't
arrest you, you have a tendency to
break that trust catastrophically
through some daft endeavour or other.
Ok, so perhaps it's slightly cyclical.
But the point is, it's a "trust us" week.
Ok. Alright. I'll let you go.
He stops the tape, and, banana in mouth, scrambles through the desk drawer for a diary. He pulls it out and examines it.
He rewinds the tape audibly.
...haps it's slightly cyclical. But
the point is, it's a "trust us" week.
Marty runs his finger down the diary, and stops three quarters of the way down.
He fast forwards a little way.
Well I expected him back by now.
I do hope he's alright.
The latter line post-lapping into:
22 - INT 11 - JADE'S HOUSE - THURSDAY NIGHT
The room is a little like 69 in ANS: two opposing settees with a
window between overlooking the garden.
It is stormy weather again, which provides a seamless segue from the tape hiss. We see nothing but reflection in the window. In the occasional flash of lightning we might make out a shed, a gazebo and a pond with a fountain.
Leon and Alan are sat on one settee, Jade and Babysham are sat on the other. Lighting is such that the characters are only really visible if they lean forwards into the light at the centre of the room. The settees themselves are in darkness.
The characters lean forwards when they are speaking, and then lean back into the gloom.
Well I didn't say at the time
because I know you don't like
my complaining... but it did seem
a bit of a crazy idea sending the
Son of God into a nest of Satanists.
It never really occurred to me that way.
At some point we're going to have
to decide he's in trouble and go after him.
I guess so.
A week should do it.
It's been four hours already.
I say we give it till ten o'clock.
It's nearly ten now.
I'll get my boots then.
Leon leans forwards and gets up.
Babysham and Alan get up too. They look out of the window at the rain, to kill time. All we see is their reflections.
In a flash of lightening we might subliminally catch a glimpse of some demented dancing figure in the garden.
Jade checks her watch. Lightning shines on her face and glints in her eyes. This sequence should have a lot of red in it, and probably a warm filter.
There is an open staircase in the room. It starts from the opposite
wall to the window, and heads up across the centre of the room to a
in front of a first floor window that is above the window that Babysham
and Alan are at. Both windows are of a similar size.
We have a crane to follow Leon up the stairs. We start from beneath, and wrap around to get behind him. We then crane up.
As he climbs, we casually hear Babysham say the following:
You know, I've just realised;
I've missed three ballet
classes on the trot now.
Madame Galena will kill me.
As Leon reaches the mezzanine, the soundtrack turns, and Stravinsky
stabs in a rather Psychotic manner.
Suddenly, a damp, semi-naked human form slams into the top window from the blackness of outside, and slumps down to the bottom window. The form is Jason Donovan in a tutu. He is seemingly dead. The sequence should be redolent of Dario Argento or Brian Di Palma. Really red blood streaking down the panes.
As Jason hits the window, Leon stumbles backwards in shock, and rolls partly down the stairs, falling off the edge a quarter of the way down. He catches the edge and hangs off the stairs above Jade.
Jade begins to get up, unflustered.
Looks like Jason Donovan's
been skipping classes too.
Alan and Babysham look at the body, illuminated occasionally by lightning.
Leon falls to the settee just as Jade moves away.
Madame Galena has a
very professional approach.
In a prolonged sheet-lightning burst, Jason's feet are seen to be still twitching ferociously. They wear red ballet shoes.
The lightning gives way to pitch black, and the credits roll (white
Animated Babysham enters to the right as they roll past, and chalks up a noughts and crosses board. He sets about a game by placing an X at the centre. An O within the credits is justified such that it scrolls into place at bottom centre and stays there (the rest of the credits carry on). Babysham plays bottom right. The credits play top left. Babysham plays bottom left. Credits play top right and Babysham kicks himself for missing an obvious win. He then grudgingly plays top centre. Credits play left centre. Babysham plays right centre and then scrubs off the board. In its place he lays out some Hangman spaces: _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _. The credits aren't stupid though, and they spell BABYSHAM with no difficulty using the same method as before. The credits then roll out. Animated Babysham goes off in a huff leaving the word BABYSHAM to glow there in the centre of the screen. Increase contrast and then flicker out like a dead electric light.