Coach Potato

Here's some of my sitcom script.

It is about a life coach with the canny knack of being able to help others to overcome the issues in their lives while being totally incapable of solving his own. Ultimately Edward spends half his time hiding his own inadequacies from his clients and the rest just getting caught up in their problems.

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SCENE ONE. EDWARD’S FLAT. INT. 0910

CAMERA PANS ACROSS THE LOUNGE AREA OF WHAT WAS ONCE A SMART OPEN-PLAN FLAT. IT IS NOW SLOWLY DETERIORATING WITH MAGAZINES SCATTERED ABOUT AND THE WASHING UP NOT DONE. A RADIO IS PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND AND WE CAN HEAR BILL WITHER’S ‘LOVELY DAY’ FINISHING AND BBC RADIO 2’S TERRY WOGAN’S DULCET TONES.

TERRY: (OOV)
Top of the morning to you all. The time is ten past nine and it’s another fine day...

EDWARD APPEARS THROUGH THE BEDROOM DOOR DRESSED IN JUST HIS BOXER SHORTS, SOCKS AND AN UNDONE WHITE SHIRT. HE IS CLEARLY SEARCHING FOR SOMETHING.

TERRY: (OOV)
That was Bill Wither’s doing his own impression of weather forecaster, Michael Fish. It’s going be a ‘Lovely Day’, with a possibility of light showers this afternoon, ha ha...

EDWARD:
Shut up!

EDWARD OPENS A DRAWER AND DUMPS THE RADIO INTO IT.

EDWARD:
Now then. Trousers. (BEAT) Trousers, trousers...

HE LOOKS AROUND THE ROOM. SOMETHING CATCHES HIS EYE IN A CORNER OUT OF VIEWERS EYESHOT SO HE BENDS DOWN AND PICKS SOMETHING UP. IT’S A BELT.

EDWARD:
A-ha!

HE TAKES THE BELT AND PUTS IT ROUND HIS WAIST OVER HIS SHIRT. HE STANDS IN FRONT OF A FULL LENGTH MIRROR TO LOOK AT HIMSELF.

EDWARD:
Hmm, a bit short in the leg maybe.

CUT TO STREET OUTSIDE. EDWARD’S FRIEND FRANK WHO IS WEARING OVERALLS IS STROLLING UP TO THE EXTERNAL DOOR OF THE FLAT WHILE EATING A BACON ROLL. BEFORE HE GOES IN SOMETHING CATCHES HIS EYE FROM UP THE STREET COMING TOWARDS HIM. IT’S JULIA, EDWARD’S FORMER PA DRESSED IN A CHICKEN COSTUME ON HER WAY TO DO A PROMOTIONS JOB.

FRANK:
Julia? Is that...is that you?

JULIA:
Er yes, I‘m afraid it is.

FRANK:
Nice outfit!

JULIA:
What? This old thing?

FRANK:
Another promotions job?

JULIA:
No, I’m going to a funeral.

FRANK MOMENTARILY TAKES HER SERIOUSLY.

JULIA
C’mon Frank get a grip.

FRANK:
Who this time?

JULIA:
Mr Cluck’s Chicken Bar.

FRANK:
(GRIMACES) Nice. (BEAT) I’m just on my way up to Eddie’s. Are you coming?

JULIA:
Nah, there’s a bit of a flap on you see...

FRANK:
Heh, did you see what you did there? (FRANK MIMICKS THE BIRDY SONG ACTION)

JULIE GIVES AN UNIMPRESSED SMILE.

FRANK:
I have to say Julie that I actually rather like the outfit? It’s kinda cute. (BEAT) I suppose a cluck is out of the question?

JULIA:
Frank, in a man’s eye I may be a bird but I’m no-ones chick. I am a woman and no amount of feathers can disguise that. I want a relationship based on love and understanding, not fancy dress.

CUT BACK TO EDWARD’S FLAT. EDWARD IS NOW TYING A SPOTTED HANKERCHIEF AROUND HIS HEAD TO MAKE HIMSELF LOOK LIKE A PIRATE. HE JUMPS AROUND CHILDISHLY.

EDWARD:
A-hahhh! Jim lad!

HE STANDS UP HANDS ON HIPS AND BEHIND HIM, ON THE WALL, IS A TASTEFUL ART PRINT OF PENGUIN. THE PENGUIN LOOKS TO BE SITTING ON HIS SHOULDER LIKE A PARROT.

CUT BACK TO STREET OUTSIDE.

FRANK:
So you’re not coming in then?

JULIA:
Er, no. I’ll see him later anyway as I’m meeting up with him at the Royal Park hotel.

FRANK:
Ah, so you’re going to get stuffed at last?

JULIA STARTS TO GET DEFENSIVE AT ALL THE CHICKEN JIBES.

JULIA:
Frank, please! No, it’s just to make sure he’s ready for this life coaching thing he’s doing. That’s the theory anyway. There’s no guarantee he’ll remember his appointment with me let alone the clients.

FRANK:
Julia, I gotta ask. Why do you put yourself through it? You don’t work for him anymore. He hasn’t picked up on your desperate flirting so far so why should he start now?

JULIA:
I know, but he just needs to see the real me.

FRANK:
Quite difficult I’d imagine in that get up.

JULIA:
Which is precisley why I don’t want to arrive on his doorstep looking like a genetically modified chicken.

FRANK:
Point taken. (BEAT) Don’t worry - I’ll make sure he gets there. I have a plan. (TAPS HIS NOSE)

JULIA
Cool. (SIGHS SADLY) Anyway, I must fly...

FRANK:
Ha ha! Must fly! That’s good that is!

JULIA:
(ROLLS EYES) Yes, Frank - priceless. See you later.

JULIA PLODS AWAY AND FRANK GOES INSIDE THE BUILDING.

CUT BACK TO EDWARD WHO IS STILL IN A STATE OF UNDRESS IN HIS FLAT. HE SPOTS A SCHOOL TIE ON THE BACK OF A CHAIR WHICH HE PICKS UP.

EDWARD:
Look at that - I haven’t worn this in nineteen years and yet here it sits waiting for me to reverse the ageing process. Where all my other ties are, and my trousers for that matter, God only knows.

JUST THEN THE DOORBELL GOES.

EDWARD:
Oh, who’s that?

EDWARD WALKS THROUGH TO THE LOUNGE, GRABS HIS COFFEE WHICH IS ON THE BOOKSHELF AND HEADS TO THE DOOR. IT’S FRANK.

FRANK:
Hello sailor.

FRANK HAS KNOWN EDWARD FOR SO LONG THAT BEING DRESSED AS A SEMI-CLAD PIRATE IS OF NO SURPRISE. WITHOUT ANOTHER WORD HE WALKS IN THE FLAT, SNATCHES EDWARD’S COFFEE AND FINISHES IT.

EDWARD:
(STILL STANDING AT THE OPEN DOOR LOOKING INTO THE HALL) Morning Frank.

FRANK:
(HANDS THE MUG BACK TO EDWARD) There’s no sugar in this.

EDWARD:
Yeah, and now there’s no coffee either.

FRANK:
Better put the kettle on again then hadn’t you lad.

FRANK SITS DOWN ON THE SOFA ONLY TO FIND THE REMAINS OF A TAKEAWAY CURRY WHICH MAKES A SUSPICIOUS STAIN ON THE BACK OF HIS OVERALLS. FRANK GLARES AT EDWARD WHO CAN ONLY SHRUG APPOLOGETICALLY. FRANK PUTS THE REMAINS ON THE COFFEE TABLE AND STARTS WIPING HIS OVERALLS WITH THE LOCAL PAPER.

HE THEN PICKS UP A PILE OF MAGAZINES AND THROWS THEM ON THE SOFA, SITS ON THEM AND STARTS READING THE PAPER IN SILENCE. EDWARD IS PERPLEXED.

EDWARD:
So, er....what do I owe this pleasure?

FRANK:
Do I need a reason? You are my oldest and best mate. Today is a big day for you and I wanted to be here to offer my support.

EDWARD:
(TAKEN ABACK) Really?

FRANK:
Nah, I need a lift into town - the van’s off the road.

EDWARD:
Not in the canal again?

FRANK:
No-oo. (BEAT) Is that kettle on yet?

EDWARD:
No, I haven’t put the kettle on.

FRANK:
It’d suit you. (WINKS)

EDWARD:
Huh-huh. (BEAT) Actually I do need a suit though - I can’t seem to find mine which is a bit of a puzzle as I have at least half a dozen.

FRANK:
Ha! I knew you’d forget. Julia took them to the cleaners for you.

EDWARD:
Oh. Oh, yeah...

FRANK:
Why she does all this stuff for you, I don’t know - it’s not as if she works for you any more.

EDWARD:
Julia and I are like that (CROSSES FINGERS). We’ve been through a lot, me and her. I gave her her first job, she put me up when I separated from Selina. I even rescued her when her house caught fire.

FRANK:
Yes, but that was your fault, remember? She had some bug didn’t she and you said: “Don’t worry Ju, you just relax - I‘ll look after you.”

EDWARD:
Yeah well...

FRANK:
Four fire engines from three different stations had to be called all because you wanted to rustle up some tea and toast.

EDWARD:
I know and I have apologized to her on numerous occasions. She did at least get the house redecorated on the insurance. She’d been moaning about that for ages.

FRANK PICKS UP THE LOCAL PAPER AGAIN.

FRANK:
If you had paid her something approaching a living wage she may have been able to do something about it herself. She’s besotted with you, you know that don’t you. If you don’t start treating her a little better you’ll lose her.

EDWARD:
You what? You’re talking like we’re married or something.

FRANK GINGERLY SCREWS UP THE CURRY STAINED NEWSPAPER COVER AND STARTS READING THE INSIDE PAGES.

FRANK:
(TO HIMSELF) If she had her way...

EDWARD:
(LOOKS AT HIS WATCH) Anyway, we better go. If you get your arse off my copy of Private Eye we still have time to pick up one of the suits before the meeting.

FRANK:
Ahh, but if only that were true. Sketchley’s are closed today.

EDWARD:
You’re joking!

FRANK:
‘fraid not - some nutter parked his van through its front window.

CUT TO A SHOT OF THE VAN IMBEDDED IN THE SHOP WINDOW AND FRANK EMERGING THROUGH THE BACK DOOR.

EDWARD:
Oh terrific!

FRANK:
Sorry.

EDWARD’S MOBILE RINGS.

EDWARD:
Hello? Edward King Life Coaching. If your life’s a joke then I’m your bloke.

IT’S CHRISTOPHER THOMPSON, EDWARD’S (VERY YOUNG) BANK MANAGER WHO IS FOREVER TRYING TO GET HOLD OF EDWARD TO GET TO CLEAR HIS OVERDRAUGHT. THE SCENE CUTS BETWEEN THE TWO CHARACTERS.

CHRISTOPHER:
Mr King? This is Christopher Thompson the manager of Southern bank.

EDWARD:
Oh, Christ!

CHRISTOPHER:
I’m sorry?

EDWARD:
Oh, Christ-opher, how glad I am you called. I afraid I can’t speak right now as I’m...erm...in an important business meeting, yes.

AT THAT VERY MOMENT FRANK TURNS ON THE TV AND THE THEME MUSIC FROM BOB THE BUILDER BLARES OUT. EDWARD DIVES INTO HIS BATHROOM TO CONTINUE THE CALL.

CUT TO BATHROOM. AS EDWARD TALKS HE REALISES HE WANTS A PEE.

CHRISTOPHER:
Mr King, is this the same meeting as last Monday, and the Thursday before that and the previous Friday?

EDWARD:
It has overrun slightly yes.

CHRISTOPHER:
We must talk about your finances as soon as possible.

EDWARD IS NOW DESPERATE FOR THE TOILET AND BEGINS TO SHUFFLE AROUND UNCOMFORTABLY.

EDWARD:
Yes...OK, we will...erm...

CHRISTOPHER:
But when Mr King?

EDWARD:
Um, look can you hang on a moment...

EDWARD CAN WAIT NO LONGER AND RELIEVES HIMSELF THERE AND THEN.

EDWARD:
Ahhhhh!

CHRISTOPHER:
Mr King? Is that...is that running water I can hear?

EDWARD:
Er, yes it is. I’m near a fountain. Like I said I’m in a meeting. Big business deal. Posh hotel.

CHRISTOPHER:
Really? Where’s that?

EDWARD PANICS AND THINKS OF THE FIRST NAME THAT COMES INTO HIS HEAD.

EDWARD:
Oh, um, the Royal Park hotel, yes.

EDWARD BITES HIS KNUCKLE IN ANGER WITH HIMSELF AS HE’S GIVEN AWAY WHERE HE WILL BE THAT MORNING.

CHRISTOPHER:
(SUDDENLY HAPPIER) Oh I see! So you’re saying you could be a little flushed in the near future then?

EDWARD:
(HOLDING ONTO THE LAVORTORY CHAIN) I‘d say that was a near certainty, yes.

CHRISTOPHER:
I’m going to be down that way myself in a while so we may just bump into each other. (SMILES MISCHIEVOUSLY)

EDWARD CUPS HAND ROUND MOUTH AND PUTS ON A FAKE VOICE.

EDWARD:
(FALSETTO) Calling Edward King. Would Mr Edward King please report to reception.

EDWARD:
I’m being called Mr Thompson - gotta go now, bye! (QUICKLY HANGS UP)

CUT BACK TO THE LOUNGE AS EDWARD RETURNS TO THE ROOM.

FRANK:
Who was that?

EDWARD:
The bank - they want their money back.

FRANK:
Tell ‘em to there’s a queue and it starts at this sofa. You still owe me for that Howard Jones LP you bought back in ‘84.

EDWARD:
(IGNORING HIM) Trouble is I’ve gone and told him I’ll be at the Royal Park.

EDWARD HAS A BRAINWAVE.

EDWARD:
Hey if I don’t go I can pretend to Robinson that it was all a test. It will get him to be assertive and use his initiative to see what he does under pressure...

FRANK:
Oh, good move. Confuse and jilt your first client and piss off your bank manager.

EDWARD:
Alright, alright. It was just an idea. (BEAT) C’mon, move! I still have to buy a suit. Time for the old card to take another hammering.

FRANK GIVES EDWARD A KNOWING LOOK.

EDWARD:
Alright I’ll cut it up straightaway afterwards.

FRANK:
I’ll tell you something else that needs cutting - your hair.

EDWARD LOOKS UP PUZZLED. HIS HAIR IS TOTALLY OBSCURRED BY THE BANDANA.

EDWARD:
How can you tell? You can’t even see it.

FRANK:
...and I know just the place. I’ve got a job down at Supercuts so you can drop me off.

EDWARD:
(IRRITATED) No, I’ve changed my mind. I’m not your chauffeur - you can find your own way there.

FRANK:
(DISAPPOINTED): Oh.

EDWARD:
Ha! That’s foxed you.

FRANK LOOKS AT THE COFFEE TABLE.

FRANK:
I wouldn’t leave those car keys lying around if I were you...

EDWARD:
Eh?

FRANK SUDDENLY SPRINGS UP, GRABS THE KEYS AND BOLTS FOR THE DOOR.

EDWARD:
You little git!

EDWARD RACES OUT AFTER FRANK. FOR A FEW SECONDS ALL IS QUIET THEN EDWARD COMES BACK IN, PICKS UP THE MOST HORRENDOUS PAIR OF BERMUDA SHORTS WHICH WERE HANGING, HIDDEN, ON A COAT STAND. HE PUTS THEM ON AND THEN WALKS OUT AGAIN.

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There's more if you want it....

Another long post! (As a scene I'd say it was too long - if it weren't for the intercuts.) It is well written, but from my own POV I didn't laugh out loud or chuckle once over the entire section. Some bits made me smile. Is it building up to something more? At the moment it seems clever and neat (I liked the touch of the penguin picture) but I'm not rolling in the aisles. But then I suppose the main meat of the action is not upon us yet.

There was a bit of exposition that seemed a bit forced, or unnecessary. A couple of in-your-face errors like "overdraughts" which may serve to alienate prospective producers too.

I am looking forward to reading more.

As I say, it is clearly well-written, it didn't grab me immensely, but I think sitcoms need time to be appreciated - and I do look forward to reading the next bit.

Quote: James Williams @ January 29, 2008, 12:43 AM

Another long post! (As a scene I'd say it was too long - if it weren't for the intercuts.) It is well written, but from my own POV I didn't laugh out loud or chuckle once over the entire section. Some bits made me smile. Is it building up to something more? At the moment it seems clever and neat (I liked the touch of the penguin picture) but I'm not rolling in the aisles. But then I suppose the main meat of the action is not upon us yet.

There was a bit of exposition that seemed a bit forced, or unnecessary. A couple of in-your-face errors like "overdraughts" which may serve to alienate prospective producers too.

I am looking forward to reading more.

As I say, it is clearly well-written, it didn't grab me immensely, but I think sitcoms need time to be appreciated - and I do look forward to reading the next bit.

View original

Overdrafts? How did that get through? Ouch!

Thanks for the comments - the scene is too long I guess so I'll look at that.

I'll post the next bit here as you mention it and I happen to think this next bit is a lot stronger. You may disagree.

SCENE TWO. INT. EDWARD‘S CAR. DAY.

EDWARD IS LEANING FORWARD IN HIS SEAT AND IS DRIVING A LITTLE TOO FAST WHICH IS INDICATED BY THE SLIGHTLY PAINED EXPRESSION ON FRANK’S FACE.

FRANK:
In a hurry are you?

EDWARD:
Funnily enough, yes. Clearly it’s escaped your notice that I have an appointment and I’m dressed as a jumble sale. I can’t be late the first meeting can I - what kind of impression would that make?

FRANK:
Right now I’m more worried about what impression my face might make on your windscreen. Slow down!

EDWARD:
The suit? Do you remember that? I do still have to buy one.

FRANK:
Is it really necessary? I mean, I’d have thought that a casual look would be more likely to put your clients at their ease.

EDWARD:
What kind of casual do you think this is? I’m supposed to be a life coach not the crimson pirate. I need to project a vision of success, a clean cut image of sophistication. I want my clients to aspire to be like me.

FRANK:
Ha!

EDWARD:
What do you know about style anyway? Why should I pay attention to someone who has more food staining his overalls than paint? You could get a second job as a scratch and sniff restaurant menu.

FRANK:
This all a bit sick, isn’t it?

EDWARD:
What is?

FRANK:
This life coaching lark. I mean, why are you doing it? You’re separated from your wife, your 13 year-old son is more successful in business than you are and you’re on the run from your teenage bank manager.

EDWARD CONSIDERS THIS VIEW AND APPEARS NOT TO DISAGREE.

FRANK:
You have a diploma in advanced disorganisation and without me and Julia to bail you out, your life would just disintegrate into a putrid mess.

THERE’S A BRIEF PAUSE.

EDWARD:
Finished?

EDWARD PARKS THE CAR AND TURNS TO FACE FRANK.

EDWARD:
Look, I know my life isn’t perfect but that is what qualifies me to stop other people screwing up theirs. I‘ve done the practical and identified all the wrong ways of doing stuff - I’m a martyr, I am. (BEAT) In fact ‘martyr’ is my middle name.

FRANK:
No, it’s MarTIN. You’ve tried that one on me before.

EDWARD:
As hard as it may be to believe I actually love the life coaching stuff I do. It gives me a real sense of satisfaction, y’know? I now have the chance to earn a living from doing something I enjoy and who can say that these days?

FRANK AGREES WITH A NOD AND SMILES.

EDWARD:
Frank, I want you to know that I appreciate what you’ve done for me over the years. Ever since we were kids you seemed to get caught up in my scheming and yet you’re still here. We may bicker, we may argue but we’re friends and that’s what counts.

FRANK:
(WISTFUL) Yeah.

EDWARD:
Right, you fat old sod, get out of my car!

SCENE THREE. HIGH STREET. EXT. DAY.

THERE’S A BURGER VAN ON THE STREET SELLING TEA, COFFEE AND OTHER ASSORTED JUNK FOOD.

FRANK:
Right, I’m starving. I’m just going get something from here. (TO BURGER SELLER) Bacon roll mate...oh, and chuck a fried egg in with that.

EDWARD:
Another one? Have you any idea what cholestrol is?

FRANK:
Yes, it’s a word neither of us can spell.

EDWARD:
(IGNORING HIM) Right, where’s the barbers then?

FRANK:
(POINTS) Down the end of the street on the left.

EDWARD:
OK, I’ll see you down there in a minute.

CUT TO LONG SHOT OF FRANK WALKING DOWN THE STREET TOWARDS THE CAMERA EATING HIS ROLL AND CARRYING HIS TOOLBOX. EDWARD CAN BE SEEN NIPPING FROM SHOP TO SHOP BEHIND HIM PURCHASING ITEMS OF CLOTHING. FIRST A SHIRT, THEN A TIE FROM ACROSS THE STREET AND FINALLY THE SUIT, CHANGING INTO EACH ITEM AS HE WALKS ALONG THE ROAD. FRANK IS OBLIVIOUS TO THE MAYHEM GOING ON OUT OF EYESHOT. EVENTUALLY AS THEY REACH THE DOORS OF THE BARBER EDWARD IS READY.

EDWARD:
(BREATHLESS) OK, sorted!

FRANK, STILL CHEWING, LOOKS EDWARD UP AND DOWN AND THEN DWELLS ON HIS FEET. EDWARD FOLLOWS HIS EYES. CUT TO A SHOT OF EDWARD’S FEET - HE’S WEARING FLIP FLOPS.

EDWARD:
Well, you did say the smart casual look.

EDWARD GOES INTO A SHOE SHOP WHILE FRANK LEANS ON THE WINDOW OUTSIDE. THEY CARRY ON A SHOUTED CONVERSATION.

FRANK:
(TO EDWARD) So this Robinson guy. What’s his story?

EDWARD: (OOV)
Excuse me. My client’s personal details are completely confidential. Do you expect me to betray his confidence in the street?

FRANK:
You’re not in the street - I am.

EDWARD: (OOV)
Oh. (BEAT) It’s the guy who inherited that carpet factory on the Bedford Road.

FRANK:
And he wants your services because...

EDWARD: (OOV)
Not sure yet. I got the impression it’s about the sudden responsibility of the factory and the fact he’s nearly 40 without having got his legover. He wanted to meet at the Royal Park Hotel so who am I to stop him using his new found wealth on my behalf.

EDWARD EMERGES FROM THE SHOE SHOP WITH ALL HIS OLD CLOTHES IN A CARRIER BAG. HE HOLDS HIS ARMS OUT WIDE.

EDWARD:
Ta-da! How do I look?

FRANK:
Actually not too bad though I’d lose the er, briefcase.

EDWARD:
Hmmm... Hang on...

HE NOTICES A CHARITY SHOP AND JUST CHUCKS THE BAG INTO THE DOORWAY. FRANK SHAKES HIS HEAD WITH DISMAY. HE PICKS UP HIS TOOL BOX AND HEADS INTO THE BARBERS. MEANWHILE A TRAMP SEES THE BAG AND STARTS SEARCHING THROUGH IT. AN OLD LADY WHO WORKS IN THE CHARITY SHOP COMES OUT AND A SCUFFLE ENSUES. EDWARD WINCES AND HURRIES INSIDE THE BARBERS.

SCENE 4. BARBERS. INT. DAY

FRANK IS ALREADY INSIDE THE BARBERS AND CAN BE SEEN DISCUSSING A JOB WITH THE OWNER, MR CALLOW, AN EXCEEDINGLY BALD MIDDLE-AGED MAN.

FRANK:
OK, Mr Callow. I’ll fix your sign first and then do that cupboard for you.

MR CALLOW:
Cheers Frank.

FRANK EXITS AND MR CALLOW RETURNS TO HIS CUSTOMER. THERE IS ONE OTHER BARBERS CHAIR WHICH IS EMPTY. MEANWHILE ANOTHER CUSTOMER IS WAITING (NEVILLE) SKINNY, AGED ABOUT 25 AND OF A GEEKY APPEARANCE. EDWARD SITS DOWN NEXT TO HIM AND LOOKS HIM UP AND DOWN.

EDWARD:
Alright?

NEVILLE:
Eh? Oh, yeah, fine.

EDWARD:
Been here long?

NEVILLE:
(LOOKS AT HIS WATCH) I dunno - about 30 minutes or so.

EDWARD LOOKS AT THE MAN HAVING HIS HAIR CUT - HE IS OF AFRO-CARIBEAN DESCENT AND ALMOST AS BALD AS THE OWNER.

EDWARD:
Over 30 minutes? What the hell are they doing? He’s got no hair left to cut. (BEAT) What did he look like when he came in?

NEVILLE:
(SADLY) Much the same.

THERE’S A PAUSE.

EDWARD:
(QUIETLY) It makes you wonder when you see a bald barber. I mean, how can you tell that he knows what he’s doing? (BEAT) I knew this guy once who grew his hair real long at the back and he combed it over so he had a fringe at the front.

EDWARD PUTS HIS HANDS TO THE BACK OF HIS HEAD AND SWEEPS THEM FORWARD TO THE FRONT AND LEAVES HIS FINGERS DANGLING OVER HIS FOREHEAD LIKE A FRINGE. THE BARBER LOOKS ROUND BEMUSED SO EDWARD QUICKLY PUTS HIS HANDS DOWN.

EDWARD:
Sorry.

NEVILLE LOOKS CONFUSED. EDWARD FOLDS HIS ARMS AND SIGHS AND THERE IS ANOTHER PAUSE.

EDWARD:
(SUDDENLY IMPATIENT) Look, I can’t wait here all day. Get up there and say that it’s your turn now.

NEVILLE:
I can’t do that.

EDWARD:
Of course you can. Do you want to stay here indefinitely?

NEVILLE:
Well, no...

EDWARD:
What are you waiting for then?

NEVILLE:
I’d be embarrassed.

EDWARD:
Rubbish. You can do anything if you put your mind to it. Life is all about decisions. It’s not circumstances that run our lives it’s our reactions to them. We all have the power within us to change anything if we only have the courage of our convictions.

NEVILLE:
Really?

EDWARD:
Yeah, yeah, of course.

NEVILLE:
I suppose I have been here quite a while.

EDWARD:
An eternity my friend. You’re a busy man.

NEVILLE:
Actually, I’m unemployed.

EDWARD:
Never mind that, your time is precious. You gotta take control of your life.

NEVILLE:
(SMILING AS CONFIDENCE GROWS) Yeah. (BEAT) I can do it can’t I?

EDWARD:
Of course you can.

NEVILLE STANDS UP AND THEN SITS DOWN AGAIN.

NEVILLE:
(NERVOUS) He must be nearly finished by now - I should wait.

EDWARD:
Nonsense. Prove to me and more importantly to yourself that you can do this. (BEAT) What’s your name?

NEVILLE:
Neville.

EDWARD:
Neville? Very butch - I like it. OK then, repeat after me: ‘My name is Neville and I deserve the best. It’s my destiny’.

NEVILLE:
(MEEKLY) My name is Neville and I deserve the best...

EDWARD:
No, no, no, not good enough.

NEVILLE:
(MORE FORCEFUL) My name is Neville and I deserve the best. It’s my destiny.

EDWARD:
Again!

NEVILLE:
(WITH RELISH) My name is Neville and I deserve the best! It’s my destiny!

EDWARD:
Excellent, now get going.

FULL OF PURPOSE, NEVILLE GETS TO HIS FEET AND STRIDES OVER TO THE BARBER AND STANDS JUST BEHIND HIM. NEVILLE GIVES THE THUMBS UP TO EDWARD BEFORE TURNING TO MR CALLOW.

NEVILLE:
(SHOUTING) Hey you!

MR CALLOW:
(STARTLED) Jesus!

MR CALLOW IS SO SURPRISED THAT HE SNIPS THE CUSTOMERS EAR WHO YELPS IN PAIN. HE JUMPS OUT OF THE CHAIR AND IS CONSIDERABLY BETTER BUILT THAN NEVILLE. BLOOD IS ALREADY DRIPPING ON HIS SHIRT.

CUSTOMER:
You bloody maniac, look what you’ve done?

NEVILLE:
(ACTING TOUGH) My turn now, baldy! If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get outta here!

NEVILLE DRAMATICALLY GESTURES TOWARDS THE DOOR LIKE A BASEBALL UMPIRE WHO’S GIVEN A BATTER OUT.

CUSTOMER:
Why you..!

NEVILLE LETS OUT A TERRIFIED WHINE AND RUNS AWAY AS THE CUSTOMER CHASES HIM OUT OF THE SHOP. MEANWHILE EDWARD GETS UP AND STROLLS CONFIDENTLY OVER TO THE BARBER’S CHAIR AND SITS DOWN.

EDWARD:
(SMILING) Just a trim please.

END OF SCENE

Don't mean to be blunt, just trying to be realistic.

Firstly, you're not going to be able to get Terry Wogan to participate in the script. There's too much direction, the jokes are lame and people talking to themselves while getting dressed I don't think is ever a winner. The concept is a pretty obvious one too, I suppose. Helping others, but can't help himself.

A lot of the stuff on the 'critique' section does read the same. Overlong, too much direction, poor jokes, which is why companies don't allow much unsolicted material. Put it away, write another episode/idea and come back to it and say 'Can I make it any better?'

Yowser! That's put me in my place!

Best go back to my day job then...

It feels very oldschool BBC1-ish and safe, which is no bad thing considering the ENORMOUS success of My Family.

Pre-Watershed stuff is always hard to do, and you'll always get people saying they detest it because it's tame and not immediately hilarious - but you seem to have a turn of dialogue that would suit that sort of thing well.

So as I say, to me it does feel like a twee, middle-class Nicholas Lyndhurst vehicle, but what's wrong with that? "After You've Gone" has just got another 20 f**king episodes, so the BBC certainly aren't binning that style of comedy just yet. If you're ever gonna make a shitpot full of money writing TV comedy, a succesful pre-watershed sitcom is the golden goose, believe me.

Having said that, from what I've read here it is rather bloated and you need to get your scene headings right. Scene 1 should actually be 3 separate scenes if I'm reading it correctly. Oh and the puns...even a pre-watershed BBC1 sitcom would balk at that amount of puns.

So what I'd do is go back to the beginning and ask yourself where the story is going, and mercilessly chop out all the shit that isn't getting you there. Remember, every line of dialogue should be driving the story forward, or the audience will get bored.

It's not crap, far from it. It's well-written but needs to be much pacier, and maybe you could spice it up a wee bit. Believe it or not, Dibley has some pretty racy moments / fruity language!

Oh and of course Wogan wouldn't play himself - that's what impressionists are for.

I'm pissed off with it now to be honest, Wots.

It's been sat around for ages and I'm just going to forget it. Any work I'll do on it as a sitcom entity will be like polishing a f**king turd...

Now, there's a nice, safe pre-watershed sitcom scenario: 'F**king Turds' set in a brothel bog.

I think there's a couple of potential sketches mind so I may hang on to those but for now Coach Potato is dead.

Thanks for reviewing but time to chuck it out.

Quote: Tuumble @ January 31, 2008, 4:46 PM

Now, there's a nice, safe pre-watershed sitcom scenario: 'F**king Turds' set in a brothel bog.

View original

Sorry mate, already sold that one to BBC3

Heard back from Baby Cow regarding this...

'Thank you for sending us your script submission. I'm sorry to say we have decided not to take it forward into development. Good luck with it elsewhere.'

That's it - I will polish this turd no more...

Don’t chuck it out; you’ll be surprised what you can salvage later. (Although I’m sure you mean store-away rather than chuck out).
I posted a sketch on here a few days ago; it went down reasonably well, however Perry pointed out that it might be more suitable for a sitcom rather than a standalone sketch. I had another look at it, not only would it be suitable for a sitcom but it’s suitable for something I’m writing at the moment, right under my nose! Just needed somebody else to point it out!

I found the rest of the script of this tonight so rather than leave it in the drawer I thought put up with the rest. Feel free to butcher - I'm not expecting great things.

-----------

STREET OUTSIDE SUPERCUTS HAIRDRESSERS. DAY.

FRANK IS STANDING OUTSIDE WITH A SCREWDRIVER IN HAND MILDLY INTERESTED IN THE SCUFFLE GOING ON BEFORE HIM AS THE CUSTOMER HOLDS NEVILLE IN AN HEAD LOCK. THEY SCRABBLE ACROSS THE PAVEMENT AND OUT OF THE SHOT. MR CALLOW COMES TO THE DOOR.

MR CALLOW: Frank, your friend wants you.

FRANK: Oh does he now. Tell him I'll be in in a bit.

MR CALLOW: Erm, he needs you now. He says it's important (BITES LIP).

FRANK: (SIGHS) Hang on then...

FRANKIE FINISHES TIGHTENING A SCREW ON THE SIGN AND GOES BACK INSIDE. FRANK WALKS UP TO EDWARD WHO IS STILL SAT IN THE BARBERS CHAIR. MR CALLOW STANDS BY LOOKING WORRIED.

FRANK: (SIGHS) Yes?

EDWARD: Tapered or square?

FRANK: What?

EDWARD: Tapered or square? (BEAT) The hair at the back.

FRANK: What are you asking me for?

EDWARD: Well it maybe because I haven't got eyes in the back of my head.

FRANK: You may as well have. You spend most of your time talking out of your arse. What's wrong with using the mirror?

EDWARD: I don't trust them - they make me look fat.

FRANK: Trust doesn't come into it. You really do have a fat head.

FRANK: (LOOKS QUIZZICALLY AT EDWARD'S HAIR) Oh, I don't know (BEAT) Square.

EDWARD: Thank you Frank. Tapered please Mr Callow.

FRANK THROWS HIS ARMS IN THE AIR IN EXASPERATION. HE THEN GOES AND FETCHES HIS TOOLBOX. MR CALLOW CONTINUES CUTTING EDWARD'S HAIR.

EDWARD: What time is it?

FRANK PUTS THE TOOLBOX ON THE COUNTER BY THE SINK IN FRONT OF EDWARD'S CHAIR AND LOOKS AT HIS WATCH.

FRANK: If you want to know how long until the meeting you've got just over 10 minutes.

EDWARD: Yeah, should just about make it. (BEAT) What are you doing?

FRANK: This cupboard door is damaged. Couple of tacks and some wood glue will sort it out.

MR CALLOW REACHES OVER TO THE COUNTER AND TAKES A DOLLOP OF HAIR GEL AND SMEARS IT ON EDWARD'S HEAD.

EDWARD: What the...? Urgh, what's that smell?

MR CALLOW: It's hair gel. It's a new range we're trying with a scent of fruits of the forest.

EDWARD: Oh terrific, I'll really attract the girls smelling like yoghurt.

JUST THEN, CHRISTOPHER THOMPSON THE BANK MANAGER COMES INTO THE BARBERS, FOLLOWED SHORTLY AFTERWARDS BY ANOTHER BARBER WHO EMERGES PROMPTLY FROM THE REAR OF THE SHOP.

2nd BARBER: Please take a seat sir.

EDWARD STARTS PANICKING DOING AN IMPRESSION OF A TENNIS SPECTATOR AS HIS HEAD GOES FROM SIDE TO SIDE LOOKING AT MR THOMPSON AND THE 2ND BARBER MUCH TO THE ANNOYANCE OF MR CALLOW WHO IS CHASING HAIR WITH HIS CLIPPERS.

EDWARD: (WHISPERING) Frank, over here.

FRANK LEANS CLOSE TO EDWARD

EDWARD: (WHISPERING) That's my bank manager

FRANK LOOKS AND STARTS TO LAUGH

FRANK: Ha ha! You're cornered - there's no way out.

EDWARD: You gotta help me

FRANK: You need a disguise - grow a beard (FRANK DISMISSIVELY STARTS HAMMERING)

EDWARD LOOKS DOWN ON HIS APRON AND SEES ALL THE HAIR AND THEN AT THE HAIR GEL WHICH IS NEXT TO FRANK'S WOOD GLUE. WITHOUT REALLY LOOKING EDWARD SCOOPS UP WHAT HE THINKS IS THE HAIR GEL AND SMEARS IT OVER HIS CHIN AND WITH HIS OTHER HAND HE PRESSES HIS CUT HAIR ON TOP OF THE GLUE. THE BEARD LOOKS RIDICULOUS. MR CALLOW HAS STOPPED CUTTING EDWARD'S HAIR DUMBFOUNDED.

FRANK: Right Mr Callow. All done. A tenner should cover it.

MR CALLOW: (STILL LOOKING AT EDWARD) Er, OK... I'll get you the cash.

EDWARD: (STILL WHSIPERING) Great idea Frank. You're not as daft as you look.

FRANK: (SMILING) I wish I could say the same.

MR THOMPSON DOES A DOUBLE TAKE AT EDWARD. HE CAN'T QUITE BELIEVE WHAT HE'S SEEING. FRANK LEANS CLOSE TO EDWARD AND WHISPERS IN HIS EAR WHAT HE'S JUST DONE WITH THE WOOD GLUE AND POINTS TO THE TWO JARS ON THE COUNTER. EDWARD JUMPS UP AND RUNS OUT THE SHOP AND FRANK COLLAPSES IN LAUGHTER AS MR CALLOW RETURNS HOLDING THE MONEY.

MR CALLOW: Here you are Fra...where did he go?

FRANK: (TAKES THE MONEY) Ha ha! To buy a beard trimmer I expect

MR CALLOW: Hmmm, well as he's your friend and he hasn't paid I'll take a cut too.

MR CALLOW SNATCHES BACK THE TENNER AND PULLS A QUID OUT OF HIS POCKET AND GIVES IT TO FRANK WHO IMMEDIATELY STOPS LAUGHING.

FRANK: (ANGRY) I'll kill him. I will - I will really will kill him.

END OF SCENE