Yes, okay I admit it. I sent the same script in to both comps. (Hangs head in shame) James from Sitcom trials gave me some useful feedback when I saw him at last week's trials, as did Alice and Jeanne at SitSat.
However, being a hog I want more! So, if anyone has the time to read this and leave any comments, I'd really appreciate it. You can be as Rood as you like. 
FRANK 'N' STAN'S MONSTER
INT. LOUNGE.
AYESHA (20s. Pretty) is sitting on a sofa (facing the audience) her head bowed forward, eyes closed. On either side of her, sitting on chairs facing each other are FRANK (late twenties) and STAN (late twenties) having a whispered conversation.
STAN:
Isn't she the most perfect thing you've ever seen?
FRANK:
I've got it – we cut her up into little pieces and bury her where no one will ever find her.
STAN: (louder)
What? No!
FRANK:
Sshhhhh!
Stan slaps his hand over his mouth as he realises that he was too loud. They both look across at Ayesha to make sure she hasn't moved.
FRANK (Cont'd):
Are you mad? We don't want her to hear.
STAN:
But I love her, Francis.
FRANK:
We'll need to get our hands on an acetylene torch to do it properly, of course – but maybe we can borrow one from that mate of yours.
STAN:
You can't be serious. When you first saw her you said she was gorgeous.
FRANK:
I meant gorge-like – what with that huge wide gob of hers that's always open. We've got to do something.
STAN:
Well, then... we'll run away together. Just the two of us.
FRANK: (thinks)
Don't be an idiot, Stanley. They'll still be able to trace her back to us.
STAN:
Ayesha and me. I'm going to run away with her.
FRANK:
Run? You don't even know she can walk yet. You wouldn't be able to control her, anyway. No – we've got to get rid of her.
STAN:
But look how incredibly beautiful she is. Look at her perfect body. Don't you feel anything? I feel a little like God must feel.
Frank looks her up and down and we see that he is definitely attracted to her.
FRANK
Well, I'm hoping He doesn't feel like this about His creations, but we've got to get rid of her – it's all gone wrong.
STAN
I won't listen to you – she's just a little messed up in her head, that's all.
FRANK:
Exactly! We haven't created the perfect woman – we've just created another woman!
AYESHA:
Bup, ba-da-da-da-da-daaaaaa!
Francis slumps back in his chair despondently.
STAN:
I don't like her doing that, Francis?
FRANK:
If I could have found a computer chip that didn't make that bloody noise when it turned on, don't you think I'd have used it?
Ayesha looks from Stan to Frank and smiles.
AYESHA:
Who are you?
FRANK: (exasperated)
Nobbing Nora!
AYESHA (looking to Stanley)
Who are you?
STAN:
Stanley.
AYESHA:
Who am I?
STAN:
Ayesha.
AYESHA:
Where am I?
Frank puts his head in his hands.
STAN:
You're in our lounge. This is your home.
FRANK:
That's right, it's a home not an interrogation cell! Jeez! It's like living with Jeremy Paxman - in a dress.
AYESHA:
What is interrogation room, Nobbing Nora? What is Jeremy Paxman?
Stan smirks at what Ayesha has called Frank. Frank gets up, stands in front of Ayesha and leans over her pensively.
FRANK:
Yeah, funny Stanley. Now, I've just had a thought, maybe it's just a dry connection somewhere. You know, it might be a simple case of...
Frank slaps Ayesha across the top of her head and clasps his hand as it obviously does him more damage than it does her. Ayesha is totally unaffected. Stan jumps up angrily.
STAN:
What are you doing? You can't hit her.
Ayesha emulates the slap by hitting Frank across the head. He's sent flying into Stan and they end up sprawled on the floor.
FRANK:
My God, she attacked me! Did you see that?
STAN:
You started it! She was just defending herself.
FRANK:
Defending herself? We've created a killing machine.
STAN:
Well, you could have... smudged her make-up.
FRANK:
Oh no! Then she'd have messed up lipstick – for eternity. Because you couldn't turn her off if I died, could you?
STAN:
You can't turn her off either, Francis.
FRANK:
I'm working on it! Help me up. Am I bleeding? I think I may have concussion.
Staggering to his knees, Frank holds on to a standard lamp that tips over and hits Ayesha in the face. She starts moving about as if having been electrocuted, she then bows her head forward again.
FRANK (Cont'd):
I did it! Yes!
STAN:
Oh no, please don't have damaged her face.
Stan tries to inspect her.
FRANK (Busking it):
Yes, that's what I thought would happen - if I, er, induced a power surge – she'd just switch off.
AYESHA:
Bup, ba-da da da da daaaaaa!
FRANK:
Or... re-boot. (shoulders sag) That's it, I'm going to get a chainsaw.
STAN:
What for?
FRANK: (sighs)
I'm going to chop down a tree for Christmas.
STAN:
Isn't it a bit early?
FRANK:
I'm going to chop her up into little pieces, you twat!
STAN:
No!
Ayesha looks at the guys and holds out her arm as if to shake hands.
AYESHA:
Hello, I'm Ayesha. Pleased to meet you.
Frank and Stan do a double take and then jump into each other's arms and dance about whooping.
FRANK/STAN:
We did it, we did it!
FRANK:
I knew I'd be able to fix it!
AYESHA:
Let's have sex. Ooooooh, you're gorgeous. I want you, now.
STAN:
Wha... what's happening, Francis?
Ayesha starts to undo her clothes, Stan fights to keep them on while Frank, realising what's happening, begins unbuttoning his shirt.
FRANK:
She's... yeah, she's gone into default mode. Hey, why are you stopping her? Come on let's take her for a test drive.
AYESHA:
Mmm, that feels sooo good, lover.
STAN:
Test dr... what are you saying? This is our creation.
FRANK:
And? Look, if we're going to sell this to others and make millions we need to know that it... she... you know... what the performance is like?
STAN:
I can't believe you're talking about her like that.
Stan tries to shield Ayesha's ears, but quickly goes back to trying to cover her body as she continues to disrobe.
FRANK:
We also need to see if she irons and cooks - or are you going to stop her from doing that, as well?
STAN:
That's different. You just want to take advantage of her.
FRANK:
Take advantage? She's not real, Stanley. Besides, you can be next.
STAN:
I'm an artist. I can't create something beautiful and then... you know, put my.. defile it with...
FRANK:
Defile it? This is why we made her, isn't it?
STAN
Of course not.
FRANK
What? Well... why the...? Were you not around when we were discussing this?
STAN
I thought when you saw how perfect she was you'd change your mind... see her as a lovely, angelic lady who would be good company. Who would love us and who would stay with us and not laugh if we didn't do things right.
Frank looks at Ayesha struggling to get her clothes off and ravage Stanley.
FRANK
Well, she isn't going to laugh – I promise.
SFX: Doorbell rings.
FRANK:
Bollocks, who the hell is that? You haven't invited any of your arty friends over for a private viewing have you? Oh - just ignore it.
Stan is losing his struggle with Ayesha who is looking dishevelled and continuing to make encouraging noises.
AYESHA:
Oh, yes, baby. Oooh you know how to please a lover.
STAN:
Where did you get her dialogue from anyway? Have you been downloading pornography?
FRANK:
Stanley, for God's sake!
STAN:
Sorry, it's just that-
FRANK:
Of course I have. I'm not an amateur - this is what our customers will be expecting.
SFX: Doorbell rings and is more persistent this time.
STAN:
That could be important.
FRANK:
Well, I can't go. What if work have sent security or even the police, to find out if their prototype personality chip happened to accidentally slip inside my pants?
STAN:
Well, I'm not leaving you alone with Ayesha, I know what will accidentally slip inside her pants!
FRANK:
Right, let's see if we can move her into my bedroom, then.
STAN:
Why your bedroom? As if I didn't know.
The two of them struggle manfully to lift or drag her but she is obviously far too heavy for them. Frank stops, wipes his brow and fumes at Stan.
FRANK:
Your mate couldn't, just once – just bloody once in his life, work with aluminium or even steel?
STAN:
He has an affinity with iron. It's honest and earthy. He wouldn't dream of asking me to create an installation out of plastic, so-
FRANK:
Whatever. Just see if you can hide her while I get rid of whoever's at the door. Coming!
INT. LOUNGE/HALL DOOR.
FRANK walks to the door, opens it and sees LISA (early thirties). He goes out of the door, closes it behind him and starts doing up his shirt again.
FRANK: (a bit meek)
Oh, it's you... hi.
LISA:
What took you so long to open the door? Playing with yourself again?
FRANK:
What? Playin... I was fourteen! You barged into my bedroom. Can't you just leave it alone for once?
LISA:
Isn't that what I said?
FRANK:
Look, I'm busy. It's been great seeing you again.
He turns to go back in his flat.
LISA:
I need a drink and a talk.
FRANK: (sighs)
A drink... oh, let me guess – you've split up with your boyfriend?
LISA:
He has got a name.
FRANK:
Geoff?
LISA:
No – scum-headed buttbox.
FRANK:
I'm too busy right now.
LISA:
Thanks for the sympathy.
Tries to walk past him but he puts his arm out to stop her.
LISA: (Cont'd)
What are you playing at?
FRANK:
I, er... you wanted sympathy – come here yooooooou!
Has an awkward attempt at trying to turn his blocking manoeuvre into a cuddle, but she pushes him away.
LISA:
Get off. You think maybe I'd be up for a bit of incest or something? I just need a drink.
FRANK:
Listen, you can't come in.
LISA:
It's just that this one has got to me – a bit like when me and Rob split up.
FRANK:
Who? Rob? You haven't been out with a Rob – this year.
LISA:
Yeah, I have.
FRANK (looking into the distance as he counts off on his fingers)
David, Nathan, Steve L, Marty, Steve B, Colin, Mark, Bri, Gary, Jim, Leo, Sarah, Brad, Geoff aka scum-headed buttbox.
LISA: (frowns for a second)
Yeah, right, I meant just like when I split up with Leo. I knew it was one of those shorter names.
FRANK:
At least have the decency to remember their names. You just eat men up, then spit them out, don't you?
LISA:
Well, I've never actually spat them out, to be honest.
FRANK:
Lovely.
Lisa tries to push past him again, but he stands adamant.
LISA:
What is your problem? Come on Frank, I need a drink – what have you got?
FRANK:
I've got... we've got a project we're doing.
LISA:
C'huh, forgot you were still at school. What are you two doing? Designing paper planes?
FRANK:
I mean... experiment. I can't let you in. He's doing something arty – making a model. Yeah, that's it, he's making... creating a model type thing. Anyway-
LISA:
You're hiding something.
FRANK: (very nervous now)
Me? No.
LISA:
Yeah, you are. If you were remotely normal, I'd say you had a woman in there. What's Stan doing, trying to deflate her while you keep me busy?
STANLEY'S VOICE OFF (shouting):
You give me my trousers back right now, Ayesha.
LISA:
What the..?
(THIS WAS CLIFFHANGER FOR TRIALS)
Lisa barges through the door...
INT. LOUNGE.
Standing with his back to us, minus his trousers, is STAN. AYESHA is partially hidden from view and appears to be moving her hand up and down close to his waist rhythmically.
FRANK:
Stanley!
LISA:
My god-
Stan looks over his shoulder and then moves away from Ayesha. We see that she is standing at an ironing board, wielding an iron uncontrollably and making a complete mess of trying to iron Stan's trousers while he attempts to pull them back from her. He sees Lisa and tries to hide his modesty.
STAN:
She... she wanted to do some ironing. I couldn't stop her.
FRANK:
Oh, right. Good. Ironing - we need to know about that.
Lisa looks from Frank to Stan to Ayesha and back.
LISA:
What do you mean: need to know? What's going on? Aren't you going to introduce... your friend?
FRANK:
No, this is nothing to do with you.
LISA:
Hey – nice dress. I had one exactly the same as that until it just... disappeared.
FRANK: (quickly trying to deflect her interest in the dress)
Yeah, anyway, this is Ayesha, she's... um, East European. Just arrived in the country. Doesn't speak a word of English – can't even understand it.
AYESHA:
Hello, I'm Ayesha. Pleased to meet you.
Lisa looks at the two guys and raises her eyebrows.
LISA (to Francis):
What did she say? You know, what with her not being able to speak English and everything.
STAN:
We taught her that. She, er, we... um.
FRANK:
She's our cleaning lady. She was just auditioning for it.
STAN:
Yes - and ironing lady.
LISA
Auditioning?
FRANK
Auditioning, interviewing... whatever you do with cleaning ladies. Blimey! Is that the time? You really should be going, Lisa, I'll get you a bottle of wine and you can go and have your drink in the park – maybe meet your next boyfriend on one of those nice benches?
LISA:
Don't be ridiculous. Cleaning woman! You expect me to believe that?
Frank and Stan look at each other like rabbits caught in a car's headlamps.
LISA (Cont'd):
She's stunning!
The guys are visibly relieved.
FRANK
Yeah?
LISA
Absolutely gorgeous.
STAN:
Do you think so? Well, thanks, I really wanted to create this beautiful-
FRANK:
Stanley!
AYESHA: (putting down iron and looking at Lisa)
Let's have sex. Ooooooh, you're gorgeous. I want you, now.
Lisa is taken aback, but recovers.
LISA:
Wow. Did I just hear right... what did you say?
Stan tries to stop Ayesha approaching Lisa, while Francis leaps between them and grabs Lisa to lead her away.
FRANK:
Ha ha ha ha ha. Little joke. We taught her to say that. She was actually trying to say... er, hello I'm from East Europe, I don't speak English so good. Funny, eh? (feigning anger at Stan) I told you, Stanley, that's very inappropriate to teach-
AYESHA:
Mmm, that feels sooo good, lover.
LISA (taking a real interest):
She's just so open, isn't she? She's amazing - so fresh!
FRANK:
Yeah, amazing. Still, you've got to go now.
Starts to seriously bundle Lisa out of the apartment.
LISA:
I can't believe I'm saying this about one of your friends, but - I'd really liket to put her forward to appear in a shoot for the magazine. What's her name again?
STAN:
Ayesha.
LISA:
Ayesha what?
FRANK:
Just Ayesha!
LISA:
Plain Ayesha. That's brilliant!
Thrusts Lisa out and slams the door.
FRANK:
We've got to get rid of her!
STAN:
We can't she's your sister, you-
FRANK:
No - Ayesha. This is all getting out of control.
STAN:
But Lisa thought she was beautiful. If she thinks she's stunning and she appears in the magazine, she could become a supermodel!
FRANK:
Oh, right - our uncontrollable, sex-obsessed, artificial, messed up automaton with serious weight issues? (Thinks about it for a second before raising his eyebrows.) Hey, hold on a minute...
