Well, here's the next instalment:
CREDIT SEQUENCE - SCENE 2. STREET. EXT. DAY. (MONDAY)
DAVE CYCLING TO COURT.
SCENE 3. COURT. EXT. DAY. (MONDAY)
DAVE DISMOUNTS FROM HIS BIKE AND ENTERS COURT.
SCENE 4. COURT. INT. DAY. (MONDAY)
DAVE ENTERS. REACTION WHEN HE SEES THE 2 SECURITY GUARDS AND AIRPORT-STYLE METAL DETECTOR ARCHWAY.
DAVE:
Hello!
SECURITY GUARD:
If you’d like to enter your pockets into the tray, sir.
DAVE GLANCES TO THE WALL, WHERE WE SEE A SIGN THAT SAYS: “NO RECORDING EQUIPMENT (INCLUDING CAMERAS AND AUDIO DEVICES) - MAXIMUM PENALTY 2 YEARS’ IMPRISONMENT”.
DAVE:
(UNDER BREATH) Bastard.
Is that bit optional? I don’t really, er… You know, I’ve got lots of bits and bobs in there - it’ll be a real hassle getting it all out.
SECURITY GUARD:
It’s the same rule for everyone, I’m afraid.
DAVE:
I’ll be back in just a sec.
DAVE EXITS.
SCENE 5. LIVING ROOM. INT. DAY. (MONDAY)
JIM IS FINISHING OFF HIS DRINK. MATT IS ON THE FLOOR, UNDER A BLANKET, PLAYING ON THE X-BOX.
MATT:
Hadn’t you better be off looking at that story?
JIM:
Yes. Someone’s died, I can smell it.
MATT:
You’re sick, man.
JIM:
Small furry animals are good too. Little buggers shift mountains of newspapers. Poor sods - more useful dead than alive.
MATT:
I really don’t reckon it was much of an accident, Jim.
JIM:
Well I’m going to find out. Don’t go anywhere, will you? God, it’s like the Marie Celeste in here.
JIM LEAVES.
SCENE 6. COURT. INT. DAY. (MONDAY)
DAVE ENTERS. MATT’S ‘PHONE IS VISIBLY POKING OUT OF THE TOP OF HIS SOCK.
DAVE EMPTIES HIS POCKETS AND PUTS THE BAG ON THE SIDE. HE THEN STRIDES CONFIDENTLY TOWARD THE X-RAY ARCH, BEFORE STOPPING IN FRONT OF IT. HE REALISES THAT THE PHONE WILL STILL SET OFF THE ALARM. WE SEE HIM PUZZLING WITH THIS CONUNDRUM.
SECURITY GUARD 2:
Sir, I think you have your ‘phone in your sock.
DAVE:
Do I?
SECURITY GUARD 2:
Yes. Just there.
DAVE:
Ah, yes. The, er, microwave signals, you hear so much about it – well, I’d rather my ankle was irradiated than my groin – you know, I might be needing those chappies. I probably won’t be needing my ankle for anything much.
DAVE TAKES OUT THE ‘PHONE
DAVE:
So, what happens next?
SECURITY GUARD:
Just walk through, sir.
DAVE WALKS THROUGH. THE GUARDS HAND HIM HIS ITEMS.
SECURITY GUARD 2:
Now remember to switch it off when you get into court.
DAVE:
Oh, right, I can have it, but just switched off! That’s clever.
SECURITY GUARD:
Yes.
DAVE ENTERS THE MAIN RECEPTION.
SECURITY GUARD 2:
What do you reckon he was then?
SECURITY GUARD:
I don’t know, but there’s a flasher up at twelve.
SCENE 7. LIVING ROOM. INT. DAY. (MONDAY)
MATT IS ALONE IN THE ROOM, UNDER A BLANKET ON THE FLOOR.
MATT:
Where’s my big bag of weed? I had it around here somewhere.
WE SEE MATT LOOKING FURTIVELY AROUND.
MATT:
I guess I’ll have to make my own entertainment.
MATT FIDGETS UNDER HIS BLANKET, AND JUST AS HE STARTS TO FIDDLE WITH HIMSELF,
JIM ENTERS.
JIM:
What a waste of time. Just some kids setting fire to a bin. I was hoping for so much more. I need to ring Dave.
MATT:
Oi, knock, would you?
JIM:
I live here. You don’t pay any rent.
MATT:
I was trying to find my happy place.
JIM:
You couldn’t have done much worse than this room, could you?
MATT:
Metaphorically.
JIM:
Matt, I’m only going to tell you this once: don’t have a wank when I’m in the same room.
MATT:
Alright. I’m a man, aren’t I? I’ve got needs. And I’m having major problems with Abi at the moment, I don’t mind telling you.
JIM:
Don’t. What’s your telephone number? I should ring Dave before he gets into court.
MATT:
I don’t know, it’s a new number, isn’t it? Abi’s got it stored on her ‘phone though, I think.
JIM:
So what’s Abi’s number?
MATT:
I don’t know, do I? I’ve got it stored on my ‘phone.
JIM:
That’s bloody useful, isn’t it?
MATT:
No, it’s alright, I’ve got it on a bit of paper, look. Here. Hang on Jim, I need someone to talk to.
JIM:
Call the Samaritans. No, don’t even waste their time.
MATT:
I’ve got a big problem.
MATT LIFTS THE BLANKET – WHICH IS ‘STARCHED’ RIGID - AND SITS NEXT TO JIM.
MATT:
I think I’m going… (NODS TOWARDS GROIN) Impudent.
SCENE 8. COURT TOILET. INT. DAY. (MONDAY)
DAVE IS STOOD AT A SINK IN FRONT OF A MIRROR. HE ROOTS IN THE BAG AND FINDS THE RAZOR. HE ROOTS AROUND IN THE BAG AND FISHES OUT A TRANSPARENT BAG FILLED WITH TOILETRIES.
DAVE:
God, Matt’s got everything in here. Change of clothes. Connect Four. Toothpaste, hair gel, ah – shaving foam. Excellent.
DAVE TAKES OUT THE FOAM AND PUTS THE BAG BACK. HE CONTINUES TO SHAVE.
TWO LAWYERS ENTER, DISCUSSING A CASE. THEY EYE DAVE GOOD-HUMOUREDLY, AND USE THE URINAL.
LAWYER 1:
…about a ten to one shot he would’ve got off with just a fine, but not with Judge Quentin.
LAWYER 2:
He did have four hundred and fifty marijuana plants growing in his back garden, Jack!
LAWYER 1:
He says his wife was growing them. Apparently he didn’t know anything about it.
LAWYER 2:
What did he think they were, nettles?
LAWYER 1:
It’s all very sad. His wife has MS. She needed the pain relief.
THE DUO MAKE TO WASH THEIR HANDS
LAWYER 2:
He must have been in on it!
DAVE HAS FINISHED SHAVING. HE RINSES HIS FACE, AND, EYES SQUINTED, FISHES IN THE BAG. HE REACHES OUT A DIFFERENT TRANSPARENT PLASTIC BAG FULL OF MARIJUANA, WITH RIZLA PAPERS AND A CIGARETTE LIGHTER CLEARLY ON DISPLAY. HE PICKS UP THE CANISTER OF SHAVING FOAM, PUTS IT IN, THEN RETURNS THE BAG TO THE SATCHEL. DAVE AND THE LAWYERS ARE OBLIVIOUS TO THE CONTENTS OF THE BAG.
LAWYER 1:
(HANDING DAVE SOME PAPER TOWELS) Here.
You haven’t seen Quentin in action before, have you?
LAWYER 2:
No, I don’t think I have.
LAWYER 1:
You’re in for a treat!
THE LAWYERS LEAVE.
DAVE:
Knock ‘em dead, Dave!
SCENE 9. LIVING ROOM. INT. DAY. (MONDAY)
SAME POSITIONS.
JIM:
You mean impotent.
MATT:
Yeah. The funny thing is, I don’t have a problem – you know, on my own, like. The problem comes when, you know, me and Abi fancy a bit of one-on-one. I get all excited, and then when the time comes, I can’t do it.
JIM:
I don’t want to know.
MATT:
I thought you might have some experience.
JIM:
Thanks. But I’m not helping you. I just had the best night’s sleep in months.
MATT:
I’ve identified the root cause already.
JIM:
Have you?
MATT:
I don’t know what to do about it. It’s been driving me mad, but I suppose it was obvious when I thought about it. Read my lips: voodoo dildo.
JIM:
President Bush’s speech writers weren’t a patch on you, were they? What do you mean, ‘voodoo dildo’? Are you hiding a bag somewhere that you just pick words out of?
MATT:
Don’t laugh, I’ve just heard myself, I know it sounds a bit loopy. My ex-girlfriend, right, I wanted to give her a romantic gift for her birthday coming up next month. And a little tip - a good place to look is the Innovations catalogue - they get all sorts of wicked stuff in there you won’t find in the shops.
JIM:
Glow-in-the-dark incontinence pads? Inflatable tea-cosy?
MATT:
Ah, shut up Jim. A personalised dildo. You put your Mr Man in the mould, pour on the plaster of Paris, and get a reproduction willy. It’s called a CopyCock.
JIM:
That is not a romantic gift, Matt.
MATT:
‘Course it is. It’s a comfort thing, like thinking that wherever she is in the whole world, on a cold, lonely night, she’d have my hand to hold.
JIM:
It’s not quite like that, is it?
MATT:
Anyway, I’m telling you, it’s all gone wrong. A week ago I finally told her about Abi. She went mental, like. Screaming about coming to get me and telling me I had to send all her stuff back. That’s part of the reason why I got a new ‘phone. But I posted all of her stuff back, and that’s roundabout when the problem started.
You see, I can’t find that copy of my penis anywhere – it must have been in the box I sent her.
JIM:
Wow, it was Christmas come early for her, wasn’t it?
MATT:
I think she’s using it as some kind of voodoo doll. She’s sapping my powers from me.
JIM:
What do you want me to do about it?
MATT:
I don’t know. But she’s mad, man. She’s got voodoo powers. She’s the dark side of the force and my light sabre’s on the line. We need to get my cock back.
