I posted up the first section of a radio sitcom about a failing undertaker many moons ago, and have now managed to exhume the second bit. Here it is. All critique/demolition gratefully received.
FX: SOUND OF DOOR CLOSING & PAPERS RUSTLING & SHAKING
NIGEL:
Oh God, these accounts are appalling. (BEAT) Oh God, could you please in your mercy visit some dreadful tragedy on our defenceless seaside community. A plague of grasshoppers, for instance Lord - no scratch that, Lord, not grasshoppers, they're hardly fatal. But a plague of - well, plague itself would be pretty effective, I suppose.
FX: NIGEL FARTS LOUDLY
Note to self: Squatting down like this is undignified for a man of your age and dangerously conducive to flatus. I'll let some air in.
FX: FURTHER FARTING. WINDOW OPENING. TRAFFIC NOISES.
Hey you! Yes, you! Old couple standing at the traffic lights. What are you waiting for? It's perfectly safe to cross. Go on! What have you got to live for?
FX: HEAVY VEHICLE WHOOSHES PAST. THE WINDOW CLOSES
Another opportunity lost! (BEAT) God's a washout anyway. I wonder what the Devil would make of it all?
FX: IMPRESSIVE SOUNDS, GONGS ETC, AS THE DEVIL HIMSELF ENTERS
DEVIL:
(INITIALLY IN GUTTURAL SATANIC TONES) I am he of whom you spoke.
NIGEL:
You're the Devil?
FX: FARTS
Sorry!
DEVIL:
(IN SUAVE TONES) Oh, I think that term's a little old-fashioned, don't you? I prefer to think of think of myself as a Worldly Desire Fulfilment Facilitator - or Wodfufac if you want the acronym.
NIGEL:
Oh my God.
DEVIL:
Please! Don't mention the G-word. There's no room for him in my underworld.
NIGEL:
You don't have a G-spot then?
FX: NIGEL TITTERS NERVOUSLY. THEN NIGEL FARTS NERVOUSLY
DEVIL:
Very droll. (BEAT) Do you mind if I just open the window?
FX: WINDOW OPENING
DEVIL:
(SHOUTING) Hey, you. Old couple at the lights! Go on, cross! It's perfectly safe!
FX: HEAVY VEHICLE WHOOSHING PAST
Damn! I thought they might have gone for that.
NIGEL:
I've tried it already. I think they get wary after a time.
DEVIL:
Never mind. Leave no stone unturned in the services of mortality. That's rather good, by the way. You could use it as a company motto.
NIGEL:
I'll think about it.
DEVIL:
Do so. Anyway, Nigel, you're looking great. Care for a glass of scotch? Cigarette? Or how about a spot of heroin from my personal stash? It's jolly strong.
NIGEL:
No thanks.
DEVIL:
Loosen up, Nigel! What harm can it possibly do?
NIGEL:
Quite a lot, some say.
DEVIL:
I see you're a man of principle. I like to see that in our suppliers. But I've got to tell you Nigel, I'm disappointed in you.
NIGEL:
I've done my best, but there's only so much I can do. I can't increase the mortality rate.
DEVIL:
Nothing is impossible, Nigel! You need to be more proactive. Let me put it this way, Nigel. If you can increase the supply, the rewards will be out of this world. But if you fail, so are the penalties. I'll leave it with you Nigel.
FX: WHOOSHING SOUNDS AS DEVIL DEPARTS.
FX: DOOR OPENING
SUSAN:
Here's your coffee. Who were you talking to just then?
NIGEL:
That was, er, a rep from Wodfufac.
SUSAN:
Wodfufac?
NIGEL:
They're a consultancy firm.
SUSAN:
I didn't see anyone come in - or leave.
NIGEL:
Yes, very interesting chap. Ex-SAS and likes to keep his hand in. Doesn't believe in using doors.
