Sketch 7: The Neighbour of the Beast

Them next door


EXT. STREET – OUTSIDE FRONT DOOR FLAT

Mr Johnson knocks on the front door of the flat. The door creaks open and a slim white hand with long perfectly manicured nails reaches around the frame. The hand belongs to Thorax the Dark Overlord. Thorax’s face is whiter than bleached snow and he has a small, pointed goatee beard. He wears long black robes with a hood. He has a small daisy pinned to his lapel. Inside the flat, we can just see a nervous looking clown chained to a wall.

Thorax: Mmmmmmmyes?

Mr Johnson: Er… hello, I’m your neighbour. From number 668, next door?

Thorax: How splendid. Fresh meat.

Mr Johnson: I’m sorry?

Thorax: Nothing, I said it’s fresh to meet you. Fresh. Like the kids say. I love the kids, just delici – delightful!

Mr Johnson: Yes, well, very nice to meet you. I just wanted to tell you that my wife and I will be having a little soiree on Saturday evening and there may be a bit of noise –

Thorax: Now isn’t that a coincidence…

Mr Johnson: Why… are you having a party?

Thorax: No, but I will be making a lot of noise.

Mr Johnson: I see. Right. Well, I just wanted to warn you. It’s a one off, kind of a house warming thing. Do you think I should tell the other people on the block?

Thorax: No need, they’ll all be here. With me.

Mr Johnson: Ah, so you are having a party then.

Thorax: Not really a party. More of a gathering, a black mass, a dark celebration if you will.

Mr Johnson: Right. So it won’t be a problem then? With the noise?

Thorax places a hand on Mr Johnson’s shoulder, curling his fingers around it slowly.

Thorax: Listen, maybe you and your fertile young wife would like to join us on Saturday night?

Mr Johnson: Um, hmmm, it’s a tempting offer, but like I said, we’re having our own party.

Thorax moves in even closer to Mr Johnson, staring into his eyes, until their noses are almost touching.

Thorax: Not like mine. I’ll show you the pleasures and indulgences beyond the flesh. We shall make pain your ecstasy. You will learn the true joy of sin.

Mr Johnson: It sounds lovely, but really, we just can’t make it.

Thorax: We’ll have trifle.

Mr Johnson: What?

Thorax: Yes, we’ll have trifle and jelly and cake.

Mr Johnson: No, really, as I told you –

Thorax: And little triangle sandwiches – no crusts. And goodie bags. And a adult-sized bouncy castle…

Mr Johnson: – yes, well –

Thorax: – and pineapple cheese on sticks and –

Mr Johnson: No!

Thorax: Please? We’ve got a clown.

Mr Johnson glances down the corridor behind Thorax at the chained-up clown.

Mr Johnson: Oh alright. Maybe half an hour.

Thorax claps his hands together with delight.

Thorax: Lovely, lovely.

Thorax smiles pertly and closes the doors.

Mr Johnson stands there for a moment, smiling quietly before turning to go.

Mr Johnson: What nice people.

Fade out

© NIck and Keith 2006

Sketch 6: Home skool rools

Home School PTA

INT. LIVING ROOM

Mrs Johnson and little Johnny are seated in two wooden chairs in front of a large desk in what is otherwise a perfectly normal looking living room.

In the background of the shot is a large banner hanging across the room, which reads "Welcome to the Home Schooling Parent Teacher Night".

Mr Johnson enters, wearing a long professor’s gown and mortarboard. He picks up a folder of papers from the desk and opens it, reading it as he sits down behind the desk.

Mr Johnson: Ah, Mrs – (consults file folder) – Mrs Johnson, so glad you could join us this evening to speak about the progress of your little – (consults file folder) – Johnny.

Mrs Johnson: But… but I live here. With you, John.

Mr Johnson: That’s Professor Johnson, if you please Mrs – (consults file folder) – Mrs Johnson. And while you and I both know that every child is important, it’s vital that parents such as ourselves attend meetings such as these to discuss the educational career of little men like our – (consults file again) – Johnny here. Having said that, Mrs – (consults file folder) – Mrs Johnson, I feel it is imperative that I express some concern over little Sean’s –

Mrs Johnson: – John’s.

Mr Johnson: – John’s educational… failures shall we say.

Mrs Johnson: Failures? What failures? I mean, some areas are a bit stronger than others, but he’s done well in most of his studies, John.

Mr Johnson: Professor Johnson, if you please Mrs – (consults file folder) – Mrs Johnson and I’m afraid I must disagree. Your little boy –

Mrs Johnson: He’s your son as well, John.

Mr Johnson: – your little boy has demonstrated characteristics that suggest a future plagued by indecision and limited educational potential. He’s been tardy on a regular basis –

Mrs Johnson: – that’s because you don’t roll out of bed until 11.30 –

Mr Johnson: – and absent for a full week on one notable occasion –

Mrs Johnson: He was in hospital having his tonsils out. You took him there, you tit!

Mr Johnson: – and we’ve also found that he’s a bit of a loner. He just doesn’t get on with the other children at Johnson Elementary.

Mrs Johnson: But he’s an only child.

Mr Johnson: That’s as may be. But he’s shown a distinct lack of interest in a variety of subjects. Now, while we at Johnson Elementary have made every effort to allow for these, shall we say, idiosyncrasies, we simply cannot accept full responsibility when we are fully aware that some of the problems fall squarely on the shoulders of his home environment.

Mrs Johnson: But we’re home schooling him, John

Mr Johnson: I’m afraid I’ve heard all the excuses I’m prepared to hear, Mrs – (consults file folder) – Mrs Johnson. How can you explain his weakness in physics, chemistry and, by far his worst subject, maths?

Mrs Johnson: Ahh, you’ll need to talk to his father about that one. He handles the sciences.

Mrs and Mr Johnson stand up. Mr Johnson removes the gown and mortarboard and hands them to Mrs Johnson, who puts them on as the two switch places. Mrs Johnson sits behind the desk and consults the file folder.

Mrs Johnson: Now Mr – (consults file folder) – Mr Johnson, having looked at your performance with regards to young – (consults file folder) – Johnny here, and based on previous complaints from other teachers, I’m afraid we have no other choice but to let you go. You’re sacked.

Mr Johnson appears shocked. Johnny raises his hands in small fists of triumph.

Fade out

© Nick and Keith 2006.

Sketch 5: Jesus Saves

Keeping the faith

INT. PLAYERS’ TUNNEL AT A FOOTBALL GROUND

Football pundit, Ray Speedy is on camera ready to get his post-match interview.

Ray: Well, what a great game. And here we are with Chelsea’s international goalkeeper, the Bethlehem Blockade, Jesus Christ. (Turns to face Jesus) Jesus, that was a terrific performance.

A huge microphone is shoved into the face of the Messiah. He is wearing the stereotypical robes as well as shiny goalkeeper's gloves.

Jesus: Thanks, Ray, but no taking my name in vain, alright?

Both Ray and Jesus pause in mock-seriousness before both break out laughing. Ray jokingly nudges Jesus in the ribs, and Jesus winces with agony. Ray looks startled, but then Jesus smiles and points at Ray in a cheesy, "gotcha" style.

Ray: (laughing uncomfortably) Well, it’s only your third game but your boys managed a European tie – how d’you think the team played?

Jesus: We were being totally crucified in the first half, but in the second, we just seemed to get a whole new lease of life. And I know how that feels.

Ray: So, with this draw, the second leg is very much in the lap of the Gods… er, God… er… your dad… er… Anyway, how about your own personal performance, Jesus?

Jesus: Well, I saved everything. That’s my job.

Ray: That’s very true, but you did have some trouble with that cross from the Italian International, Pilate.

Jesus: Yeah, I thought they were going to nail us there. The Romans are always gonna give you problems. Thankfully, Judas backed me up on that one.

Ray: Rumour has it he's chasing a transfer.

Jesus: Oh, I really doubt that – there are always rumours.

Ray: And what about the press reports about a late-night liaison between the two of you in the garden of Gethsemene?

Jesus: Totally unfounded. You know how it is with the press Ray. I have every faith in Judas and I can tell you this: I’ll be dead before he goes to the other side.

Ray: Fair enough. But still, you looked to be in a bit of trouble at half time, did you pick up an injury?

Jesus: Well, I’ve had a couple of niggling palm injuries in my time, as you know, but that’s the life of a goalkeeper, really. And I’ve been out for 40 days and 40 nights, so I wasn’t 100% fully match fit, but I’ll definitely be available for the second leg.

Ray: So, you’re off for few jars with the lads now?

Jesus: Yeah, the lads always invite along – always time for some bread and fish with the boys, you know. And I do this killer trick with wine and water.

More laughter from Ray. Jesus smiles at the camer and mouths "Hi Mom" with a wink before wondering off.

Ray: (to camera) Jesus Christ, goalkeeper extraordinaire, son of God and a very shrewd signing indeed. Back to you in the studio, Des.

Fade out.

© Nick and Keith 2006.

Sketch 4: The Car Salesman Cometh

Baby, you can drive my car for just £1,000 down and £5,000 in installments

EXT. A QUIET STREET

A driver pulls up outside a row of shops. A car pulls up just in front of him and parks up. The driver begins to consult a map. An oily-looking, overweight salesman shimmies up to the passenger side and jumps in.

Salesman: Electric windows? Steering wheel? Gear thing? Lovely motor.

Driver: Sorry?

Salesman: Don’t be sorry, nothing to be sorry about – this deal is completely unapologetic. She's a little beauty, this one, and I can let you have it today for only eight-nine-seven-five sir. Eight, nine and seventy five and she’s yours.

Driver: Are you talking to me?

Salesman: I am talking to you and only you, sir – but there are other interested parties so I would have to advise you not to delay, sir.

Driver: I’m sorry but you must be mistaken. This is my car.

Salesman: Yes sir, exactly – this is YOUR car. It has YOU written all over it. It just has that feeling, doesn’t it? That sense that it really is YOUR car. And it could be. Just under nine thousand and you could drive away with this little baby today.

Driver: Who are you? What are you talking about and why are you in my car?

Salesman: Exactly – your car indeed. Shall we discuss financing?

Driver: I don’t think you understand – this is MY car. I OWN it –

Salesman: Give it time, give it time and it will be. Feel that leather interior, isn’t it lovely, smooth like a virgin’s… well, you know.

Driver: Look, I’m fully prepared to call the police –

Salesman: Oh yes, of course – ‘Police help! I’m being robbed by this mad salesman’. Very well, sir, I can see that you’re a man who knows what he wants, so here’s what I’ll do. I’ll let you have this little beauty for just – wait for it – eight thousand. What do you say to that?

Driver: What are you…? What is going on here…? I just… I mean the bloody thing’s only worth four and half thousand…

Salesman: Don’t believe everything you read sir, this is a very fine vehicle. Dashboard, keys, little pine tree air-freshener. All the extras. Look, I don’t normally do this, but I like the cut of your jib, so if you really do want this gorgeous motor – it’s yours for a cool six and a half. Now what do you say?

Driver: (mulls it over, then turns to face the Salesman suddenly, with his hand outstretched) Done.

The Salesman reaches over and takes the keys out of the ignition.

Salesman: Now, how about this lovely, exclusive … er… car starter-upper, sir? Eh? Just the thing for the busy executive. I can let you have it for £75.

Fade out

© Nick and Keith 2006.

Sketch 3: Send out the Clowns

Glengarry Glen Clowns

INT. CALL CENTRE-TYPE OFFICE

Clown 1 walks in and hangs up his mac. There are three clowns sitting at various desks and there is a blackboard at the front of the room. Clown 1 nods acknowledgement at other clowns and gets a cup of coffee from a side table.

Clown 1: Don't know why they couldn't have had this meeting earlier. I have places to go, y'know. Clowning to do.

Clown 2: We all got clowning to do.

Clown 1: Yeah, but I got REAL clowning to do, you know what I mean? Funny stuff. Places to be. People to get laughing.

At that moment, the door opens again and an impressive looking Clown Star, wearing a very expensive suit, with large red shoes and otherwise typical clown make-up steps up to the front of the room and stands in front of the blackboard.

Clown Star: Right, are you all done clowning around? We need to talk about something important. Everyone here?

Clown 1: All but one.

Clown Star: Well, I'm starting. Screw that clown. (Takes a large horn out of his pocket and honks it loudly at Clown 1) Put that coffee down. Coffee's for clowners only. You think I'm messing with you? I am not messing with you. I'm here from the big top. Barnum and Bailey, my friend. And I'm here on a mission of clowning mercy. You call yourselves clowns, you sons of bearded bitches?

Clown 3 half stands up, as if to leave.

Clown 3: Gimme a break. I don't have time for this crap.

Clown Star: You got all the time in the world, my friend, cause the good news is – you're sacked. The big cannon has been lit and you're being shot the fuck outta here without a net in sight. The bad news is: you all got one week to get your big shoes back on, starting with tonight. Have I got your attention? Good. We're throwing a new pie into the mix, my friends, and adding a little something to this month's clowning quota. As usual, first prize is a very, very small bicycle. Second prize is a set of juggling knives with those special bendy bits that let you scare little kids without any fear of killing 'em unintentionally. Third prize is: you're fired.

Get the picture? You laughing now? You've got gags. Barnum and Bailey paid good money for good gags.

Clown 1: (quietly, almost to himself) The gags are weak.

Clown Star: The gags are weak? You're weak. I've been in this business 15 years –

Clown 4: (interrupting angrily) Who are you? What's your name?

Clown Star: Who am I? Who am I? Fuck you! That's who I am –

Clown 4: (aside) Strange name. You don’t look Chinese…

Clown Star: (ignoring Clown 4) Just remember this: you drove a big old clunky Cadillac to get here tonight, with all that unfunny room inside. I drove an eighty thousand dollar customised Extra Tiny Mini Cooper with barely enough room inside to swing my dick.

Clown Star spins around to a blackboard and writes down three letters- ABC.

Clown Star: 'A,' 'B,' 'C.' – 'A,' always, 'B,' be, 'C,' clowning, always be clowning. Always be clowning. Remember that.

Clown 3: If you're so funny, how come you're here wasting your time with such a bunch of clowns?

Clown Star walks over to Clown 3 and gets right up in his face. He gestures at a flower on his lapel.

Clown Star: You see this flower? You see this fucking flower?

Clown 3 nods.

Clown Star:That flower cost more than your trailer, my friend. (Sprays Clown 3 in the face with the flower) You think this is abuse? You can't take this, how can you take the abuse you get under the big top? You don't like it? Leave.

Clown Star glares for a moment, turns and walks out.

Clown 1: (stands up and puts on his coat) I don't know about you clowns, but I'm not gonna take this shit. This place is a fucking circus.

Clown 1 exits

Fade out

© Nick and Keith 2006.