British Comedy Guide

Legal Privilege - Sitcom Script Page 13

Click through and order yourself the box set. It's *fantastic*.

Done. I treated myself because...it is Tuesday.

Excellent. With the cast alone, you should love it. :D

There's also Lunch Monkeys, but that's not so much about the law as the dogsbodies of the firm.

Doesn't the term Dogsbody come from the character of Constable Dogberry in Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing.
A role so small and menial, it was performed by Ben Elton.

Quote: sootyj @ August 27 2013, 7:20 PM BST

A role so small and menial, it was performed by Ben Elton.

I think anyone who can try to belittle a writer and performer as accomplished in the field of comedy as Ben Elton puts his own personal views about comedy in serious question! if you can't at least admire the skill and writing ability of a man who has brought us such classics as Blackadder, Friday Night Live, Popcorn, and We will rock you , to name but a few, then you might as well just sit at home watching reruns of Only Fools and Horses! saying "Classicccccc!" every episode!
Implying Ben Elton is "Small and Menial" in the world of comedy is like me saying "I do like studying Physics, I just think Albert Einstein was an Idiot who knew Nothing!"

The concept of irony escapes you like a butterfly floating away from a clumsy bear.

Quote: sootyj @ August 27 2013, 7:20 PM BST

Doesn't the term Dogsbody come from the character of Constable Dogberry in Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing.
A role so small and menial, it was performed by Ben Elton.

I thought it was something to do with the Navy? Interesting thought though.

Showing my Kenneth Brannagh geekiness - Michael Keaton played Dogberry. Elton played Verges. :$

Nearly at 200 posts in Critique - have I reached new Cotter heights?

Back to class made it to 25 pages, still very much the Paduwan to Cotter's Jedi Master.

nb youre right dogsbody in t5he 19th century was naval slang for peaspudding.

COTTER HEIGHTS

Is that an acting dancing singing writing producing directing drama school?

Marc what did you name your massive colonial plantation, that takes up half of Norfolk?

Quote: Marc P @ August 28 2013, 12:09 PM BST

COTTER HEIGHTS

Is that an acting dancing singing writing producing directing drama school?

Well you live there, you tell me!

Still waiting fro planning permission. The statue's been erected.

Is it the Back to Class one or the Harris and Doyle one where he fell through a window?

nb I think I might post up a bit of reediting I did of his book.

Original.

CHAPTER THREE

Clive, wearing a plain black jacket and his usual well-worn lapis lazuli gloves, is sitting on a tree stump in a partially forested clearing. An icy frost is underfoot and cold needles are in the air biting the skin, keeping the body aware of it's surroundings. He's clearly been sat there for a while as his body seems almost adjusted to the milieu. The early morning is usually Clive's favourite time of the day as he has plenty of time to think about his life. This morning, though, thoughts about yesterdays events intrude and the expression on his face is every bit as frosty as the weather. He looks around him and tries to conjure up happier memories.

"I remember coming through here as a boy. Holding me mam's hand." He said aloud, the memory animating, a wistful smile transforming his face. "Used to love the park. The greenery, the open air, the space. Quiet as well. I suppose looking back on it I was quite an..." Clive struggles to find the right word but eventually plucks one out from obscurity "Isolated child. Me mam looked after me well enough, you know. Me dad..." Again he seemed to search for the words "brought enough money in, you know. I was happy enough but I was always at, at me happiest when I were at the park. Even then I thought wouldn't it be great just to spend all your time here. With the animals. They consider them vermin some people. You know, the pigeons and the squirrels. But I don't see them like that. That's the problem nowadays. If it doesn't fit in with their plans, they're just got rid of." He said bitterly, not really thinking about the squirrels "Well, I like the old ways. It's quiet enough here. It's... nice. That's it. Nice." He said letting the surroundings calm him once more. "They're not vermin anyway. It's nice to see, you know a bird tweeting away and a squirrel foraging. I remember I used to play just over there." He points to a sparse bit of undergrowth "there's a little pond in behind, you can't really see it from here but... It was a sort of hide-away. I used to go down there, not many people knew where it was. All the other kids were in the playground. Well, concrete slabs, swings? No thank you! I'd rather go on the green. What's the point of coming to a park if you're not going to go on the greenery? I was over there the other day. Had a little sit down, you know. A little think, it's nice to do that every now and again." he said wistfully preoccupied as he pondered into the middle distance aware of his own mortality and his insistence to live his life in a manner of his own choosing. "Looking through the paper, seeing about this credit crunch that's come in. They're saying they might need to make cut backs in certain areas. They're saying about local employees, council and the like. Some of them might not be needed. Aye! What a load of rubbish. I've lived through worse. Depressions come and go like Prime Ministers. It won't mean our area of course." Said Clive sounding more confident than his troubled expression would suggest. "It will be those secretaries or people in suits will that will the be first to go. They'll be fools to cut back down here. People like coming through this park. Saw a kiddie the other day. Come though with his mam. Looked happy as Larry. It still brings a smile to people's faces. If it doesn't... what is it they say ... If it ain't broke don't fix it. That's it. That's my motto. Well, things are changing now." Clive suddenly sits up, straightens himself out and bellows in Churchillian manner. "Not here though, not in this park. We shall never surrender." And at that moment the orangey glow of the sun, sailing clear of the cold white clouds overhead bathed the clearing, dappling the rimed ground with flecks of golden light as it filtered through the branches of the surrounding trees. Clive smiled and took it as a sign from above. "See that? That nice!" he said. "The suns coming though the trees there. You couldn't pay for that view. Beautiful!" He takes another look and begins to squint as he see's the sun gleaming through the autumn leaves, glimmering as it goes across the stagnated pond. Clive smiles gleefully but a slight crack appears in that once happy smile like an emperor looking out on his empire on the eve of battle knowing full well the outcome. Clive's voice cracks slightly when he utters his last goodbye to his safe haven that will now be open for all to plunder and pillage his hard work and dedication lost under a mire of sickly greed and pestilence "absolutely beautiful."

Sootyj Sweded version

Silence fills the late afternoon air as the sun sets in the distance in an almost picture perfect park, casting an orangey glow upon the weary worn out frame of Clive Dundhill a man in his early fifties wearing a pair of spectacles, a blue bobbled woolly hat and a well worn dark blue cardigan as he painstakingly strolls towards a park bench and sits himself gently down. Clive has a beard tinged with the occasion speckle of grey and is wearing a pair of holey gloves that are well past their prime much like the occupant of the gloves. Clive begins to survey the park which is in pristine condition with an assortment of flowers taking pride of place behind the rickety park bench that Clive now occupies. "It's a relief to sit down really" says Clive who is clearly fatigued from his days work. Clive then catches his breath and utters "I've just finished the lawn. That shouldn't need doing for another week or two. I'll properly head off in a minute. Done all I can this week." A self-satisfied grin appears across his face. "The place is looking champion though. Done myself proud as always."

The click of a safety catch being released startled Clive.
Sanchez, Esteban and Carlos the Wanker surrounded him. The barrels of their .45s glinted like train tunnels for the express death train, first stop hell.

"You, how did you find me?"

"It was easy signor Clive, or should I say Dirk Fist."

Oozed Carlos the Wanker.

"Si you always announce your intentions. You always say "It's a relief to sit down." followed by "Clive who is fatigued by his days work."

Tittered Carlos.

"You see your internal dialogue is more of a descriptive monologue muchachos. It doesn't reflect a narrative only a narration of events it....ouch!"

Carlos's face exploded in pain. Clive swung the petrol strimmer like a broadsword of good dialogue.

"Ow you batty man your plastic leaf cutting threads have cut my eyebrows."

Howled the international terrorist and drug dealer.

"Run he's mental."

Shrieked Esteban like the big girl he was.

And they fled like the cowardly foreigns that they were.

Clive returned to his beloved bit of park.

Clive proclaims as he gazes upon the greenery of the park and then begins to speak once more "It's weird to think I've been here ten years. I wonder if they'll put on any sort of 'do' for me?" Clive begins to enjoy the idea for a split second before reacting in mock annoyance "Oh! I can't be doing with all that. Surprise party. No thank you." The very idea seems to sit well with Clive even though he would never admit to it. "I wonder if they will though?" says Clive as he contemplates to himself then is incensed by the blatant disregard for his work. "Argh! No. There's a kid over there, he's left his litter on the lawn. I'll pick that up before I go." Clive exclaims more in frustration then anything. "Can't they see there're bins? They're not just there to look at you know." Clive pauses and wistfully shakes his head. "They need to be taught. There's people employed to go around picking this stuff up, we've got better things to do with our time. I've got to attend to the lawns, water the plants..." He seems to tail of and sighs then continues his attack on society today. "No respect nowadays. Back in my day, there were. It's the parents you see. Too lazy. All these go back to work as soon as they're born parents, you know. They used to call them yuppies. Don't know what they call them now." Clive stares into the middle distance seemingly thoughtfully contemplating the down fall of British manners and respectability then he mummers "Wonder what I'll have tonight? Might do that steak and kidney. I like that steak and kidney. You can rely on it."

But not as much as the bullets from a 3006. 30 of which Clive was inserting into the curved magazine of his Bren. The Bren which had seen off General Gaultieri, his 40 ninjas and the Belgrano.

When a badger gets Tuberculosis you don't wait for it to go after your cows.
You send a Jack Russell Terrier down it's set to blow that mother away.

Clive formerly Dirk Fist formerly Lola Pineapples the highest paid lap dancer in Belize.

Clive was that terrier a Jack take no shit Terrier. And those mother f**king Badgers better be ready.

A smile warms up his usual sour disposition and all seems to be right with the world once again.

Quote: Tim Azure @ August 28 2013, 12:01 PM BST

Cotter depths.

You know, I've rather warmed to the lad. He certainly made an impression. People like him go far. We'll all be begging him for an autograph in a couple of years.

He's a nice guy and when it came down to it, more than anyone here he listened. To the extent of recruiting writers to work with him on his later projects.

Certainly as an actor he's doing very nicely.

(I always thought MarcP fancied him a little, preparing his show reels, inviting him down to Norfolk for a sherry....)

Quote: sootyj @ August 28 2013, 12:33 PM BST

(I always thought MarcP fancied him a little, preparing his show reels, inviting him down to Norfolk for a sherry....)

If that's true, it's very sweet - with or without a sexual motive.

Share this page