?

Log in

No account? Create an account
 
 
10 August 2009 @ 05:43 pm
but there ARE five people in fall out boy!  
I am returned from London, which had sunshine and books and a Helen, to Ireland, which has rain and a non-starting car and a miniature flood. My intention to take in a lot of Cultural Sites was negated by lolling around on bookshop floors discussing poetry and gaylit for hours and hours; I think in the end ours was by far the better plan. The only time it rained was when we were in Starbucks in Charing Cross, writing a Ryan-ified version of New Perspective. Laughing hysterically about butter. Life does not get much better than this.

Randomly, here is a bit of a script I wrote in 2006, and rediscovered just now. It is actually quite funny! I was a lot funnier three years ago.



EXT. ANTONIO'S MANSION.

A shot of a wide, sweeping driveway, lined with ostentatious box hedges cut into crazy shapes, and ending in a fountain or water feature. The shot circles in, following the driver of a sports car zooming through the gates. This is ANTONIO. A close-up reveals him to be wearing sunglasses, swigging from a vodka bottle and singing loudly -- and tunelessly -- to Abba's Dancing Queen. As soon as he nears the house, however, he jabs the radio console and changes the music to contemporary hip-hop.

ANTONIO
(softly)
Feel the beat of the tambourine … OH YEAH.

The double doors open as Antonio approaches, staggering slightly and clutching the vodka bottle. His MOTHER appears.

MRS FELUCCIO
Antonio! I want a word with you.

ANTONIO
Not now, mother. I have urgent business to attend to.

MRS FELUCCIO
Is it more important than listening to what your mother has to say?

ANTONIO
In the interests of my digestive system, yes.

Mrs Feluccio looks puzzled, until Antonio proceeds to throw up into the rose bushes, upon which she just looks disgusted. Wiping his mouth, Antonio pushes past her into the house, which is just as ostentatious and tasteless as the garden.

MRS FELUCCIO
(following)
Look at you, drunk at ten in the morning. Just like your bloody father. Did I ever tell you what happened to your bloody father?

ANTONIO
Repeatedly.

MRS FELUCCIO
He came to a bad end, and so will you if you keep this up.

ANTONIO
He died in bed, mother, at the age of eighty-one. I call that quite a charming and peaceful end.

MRS FELUCCIO
It might have been, if it weren't for all the loose women who were in it with him. Oh, Antonio. You're breaking my heart.

ANTONIO
Don't be ridiculous, mother. You don't have a heart.

MRS FELUCCIO
What you need is to settle down with some nice girl. A nice girl who'll calm you down …

ANTONIO
On the contrary. What I need is several Alka Seltzers and a frontal lobotomy. What you need is a daughter-in-law to terrorise, now that there's no chance of you staging a dictatorial coup in some Eastern European coal mine. Do me a favour, and go back to Hell now.

MRS FELUCCIO
… this one, for example.

Mrs Feluccio, who appears not to listen to her son at all if she can help it, ushers in TASHA. Tasha is casually dressed, in scanty lingerie and a sheet.

MRS FELUCCIO
You've obviously tarnished this poor girl's reputation forever. The least you can do is make an honest woman of her.

Antonio wraps an arm around Tasha's waist and pulls her close to him. She giggles.

ANTONIO
Fantastic idea, mother. Absolute genius. We'll tie the knot tomorrow. What's your name, again?

TASHA
Tasha.

ANTONIO
Oh … you're not Becky? I thought there was a Becky. Why did I think there was a Becky?

TASHA
Because there was a Becky. She had to go. She has a twelve o'clock appointment with one of her regulars.

MRS FELUCCIO
And are you a hairdresser too, Tasha?

TASHA
No.

ANTONIO
I need a drink.

MRS FELUCCIO
Another one?

ANTONIO
Don't look at me like that or I won't offer you any. Tanya, you'll have a stiff one, won't you?

TASHA
Oh no, I never drink at work.

ANTONIO
I wasn't talking about a drink.

MRS FELUCCIO
It's times like these I'm ashamed to call you my son.

ANTONIO
Then please don't. It would be the best birthday present ever.

TASHA
She's your mother?

ANTONIO
No, she's a psychotic stalker who's been pestering me to impregnate her with our love-child. Could you phone the police on your way out?

Tasha leaves.

ANTONIO
Damn, there goes another sheet.

CUT TO:

INT. CHANGING ROOMS OF MANCHESTER UTD.

The PLAYERS are crowded into the changing rooms in varying states of undress. The MANAGER is looking around, frowning. He is wearing a three-piece suit in lime green, accompanied by a tie featuring the Tasmanian Devil. (His motif will continue to be hallucinogenic suits and ties with famous cartoon characters on them.)

MANAGER
Where the hell is Anthony? Late again?

PLAYER #1
Do you mean Antonio?

MANAGER
That's what I said.

PLAYER #1
You said Antonio.

MANAGER
Yes. Anthony. Has he arrived yet?

PLAYER #1
No … Antonio hasn't arrived. Neither has Anthony.

MANAGER
Then why are you wasting my time? Everyone, listen up.

There is a very feeble effort made to listen up.

MANAGER
I take it you've all heard about our latest purchase?

PLAYER #2
Soap for the showers? Please say soap for the showers.

MANAGER
No, not soap! Don't think I've forgotten what happened to the last soap we bought. Besides, who ever comes down here?

PLAYER #3
We do.

MANAGER
I mean, who important ever comes down here? Yeah, no one. Just what I thought. Anyway, what I meant is: we've just signed up a brilliant new player for our team. Jamie Sullivan, come on down!

JAMIE enters. He looks very young.

PLAYER #1
Here, how old are you, twelve?

MANAGER
Of course he's not twelve! What are you, an idiot?
(to Jamie)
You're not twelve, right?

JAMIE
No, I'm seventeen, sir.

PLAYER #2
Aw, man. Can he even shave yet?

JAMIE
I can. Shave, that is. But I don't need to use much foam.

MANAGER
Enough time for chitchat later! Where the hell is Anthony?

PLAYER #2
Don't you mean Antonio?
 
 
Current Mood: lonelylonely
Current Music: dancing queen // abba
 
 
 
fat girl rules the worldfatgirlrules on August 10th, 2009 04:49 pm (UTC)
This is...brilliantly funny. I can actually see this being a very good stage play.

I want more. Give me more, I demand it!

Please?
every Starbucks should have a polar bear: Art: singingscoradh on August 12th, 2009 04:35 pm (UTC)
I would if I could! I have no idea where I was planning to go with this three years ago, though. Probably a parody of Footballer's Wives, which I can remember watching at the time...