Skit Comp 1-8.4

As we decide how to revamp the system I'll leave this week's as normal and congratulate KASM and GERRY McDONNELL for winnin'! Enjoy, have 10 points apiece and PM me for next week's subject please...
Hence:

Votes - Points - Name

4 - 10 - Kasm, Gerry McDonnell
3 - 5 - Alex Mahon; Mr Sunshine
2 - 1 - scratchyr, Timbo, Cool Mikado
Very special mention: Rick, Craig H, Nils
Special mention: Steve B, Nigel

Your new subject: DISASTER (chosen by AngieBaby)
Rules:
One entry per person. Can be a sketch, joke, lyric or anything along those lines. Please try and only post your entry/vote and no other posts.
You can edit your entry as much as you want, up until the closing time.

Competition Closes: 8.4.10

Overall Leader Board is now:

Points - Name

117 - Cool Mikado
114 - Mr Sunshine
111 - Chris Forshaw
107 - Otterfox
103 - Frankie
98 - Fred Peters
94 - Nigel Kelly
85 - Michael Monkhouse
82 - Charley Rance
78 - Timbo
78 - Kasm
66 - Jude
65 - Baumski
53 - Scratchyr
35 - Afinkawan
32 - Gerry McDonnell
30 - Angiebaby
32 - Swerytd
32 - Paul Watson
28 - Leevil
22 - Blobster
21 - Mikey J
26 - David Chapman
20 - James Harris
20 - Blobster
20 - Roscoff
20 - Kevin Murphy
20 - Dannyjb1
20 - Niteowl
20 - Lazzard
18 - Tom
17 - Ellie
16 - Alex Mahon
16 - Eggie
15 - Bushbaby
15 - Cinnamon
15 - Dale
12 - Geoff Mutton
11 - Badge
11 - Steven
10 - Robo
10 - Nitram Skir
10 - Socrates
10 - Tom Campbell
10 - Tommy Power
10 - Waring
09 - ajp29
09 - ShoePie
08 - Stylo
07 - James
07 - garyd
07 - Winterlight
06 - Little Jersey Devil
06 - Hellboy
06 - Wayne Lewis
06 - John Kelly
06 - Andrew Lynch
06 - The Giggle-O
05 - Drew
05 - Pedros
05 - Summer G
05 - Mannikin Bird
05 - Tumble
05 - Greggles
05 - Happy Shopper
05 - Timothy Marshal-Nichols
05 - Rob B
04 - Andy W
04 - losaavedra
04 - Nil Putters
02 - Stephen Birch
02 - Stu R
02 - Imamazed
02 - Slack Bladder
02 - Paul Nash
02 - Boits
02 - Gavin
02 - Craig H
01 - Ming The Mirthless
01 - Minty
01 - Shpadoinkle
01 - Shaggy292
01 - amillionpounds
01 - Jake How
01 - David Bussell
01 - Charisma
01 - Skibbington von Skubber
01 - Ginger Jesus
01 - Nick Rivers
01 - Daddy Maz
01 - Martin Bickle
01 - Batman
01 - Ray Dawson
01 - Marion
01 - Tooting Jo

Spot any mistakes? There may well be, I'm a tinker's cuss, so PM me. Thanks...

Two old ladies at a bus stop.

SHEILA
Hello, Ethel. Alright?

ETHEL
Not so bad, Sheila. I can't complain too much.

SHEILA
No, we don't complain.

ETHEL
Well I could, but it never does me much good, does it?

SHEILA
No. No.

ETHEL
No.

SHEILA
This weather we've been having is terrible, isn't it?

ETHEL
Horrible stuff. What happened to English summer time, eh Sheila?

SHEILA
I know. I had another cow crash through my window last night.

ETHEL
Oh, you've had spate of them recently, haven't you?

SHEILA
Well, you know me Ethel, I don't like to complain.

ETHEL
No.

SHEILA
No. But that's three cows now in four days. I suppose mine is the only house in the street left standing, though, so I haven't got it all bad. And Billy was whisked off to goodness knows where last night, so at least that's something too.

ETHEL
Everyone on my street was wiped out in a big wave, like that buddhist on the mountain on the telly.

SHEILA
It never rains but it pours, eh?

ETHEL
Well, I could've done without that Earthquake last week. Bits of me moved that I didn't know I had, Sheila.

SHEILA
Do you know, I think we might be the only people left.

ETHEL
It does look that way, doesn't it?

SHEILA
I might pop into Tesco then, get some bread, just in case.

ETHEL
Oh, it's a shame. I liked that Jeremy Kyle.

SHEILA
Hang on, Ethel. Who's this?

ETHEL
He's running.

A man runs up to them - he's completely battered by the elements. He walks past the two ladies and leans, out of breath, against the bus stop.

(BEAT)

SHEILA
There is a queue, you know.

He looks at them incredulously and walks to the back of the queue. Ethel and Sheila nod, satisfied.

Madonna's doing a concert for Haiti victims. Haven't they suffered enough already?

INT. WEMBLEY STADIUM - HAITI BENEFIT GIG - NIGHT

HARRY THE VENTRILOQUIST IS SOZZLED AND DUE ON STAGE. HE'S DRESSED LIKE A STEREOTYPICAL SCOTTISH HIGHLANDER. HIS DUMMY - SIR HUMPHREY - IS DRESSED LIKE COLONEL MUSTARD

STAGE MANAGER:
You're drunk. After this show, you'll never work again. Do you hear me? Now get out on that stage.

HARRY
Kiss my arse, ya fat f**k. (To Sir Humphrey) come on. Might as well go out with a bang.

HARRY STAGGERS ACROSS THE STAGE. THE AUDIENCE CHEER.

HARRY:
(Slurred speech-Scottish accent) Thanks ladies and gentlemen. Now you might think I'm a bit drunk. Truth is, I'm still reeling from shock. You see I met this girl in the pub last night. We got talking and...well... she got a bit hot under the collar.

SIR HUMPHREY:
(posh accent) Was she wearing a scarf?

AUDIENCE BURST OUT LAUGHING. HARRY WAITS UNTIL IT DIES DOWN.

HARRY:
Oh, very funny, Sir Humphrey. I meant that she got randy. So anyway, we went back to her place and she said...

SIR HUMPHREY:
Thanks for the lift. Now f**k off.

A FEW TITTERS FROM THE AUDIENCE.

HARRY:
No, Humph, she didn't. She said, let's get undressed. She led me towards the bedroom. We stripped off then dived under the quilt. After a bout of heavy petting she said, I want it doggy style. So...

SIR HUMPHREY:
You rubbed your willy up and down her leg like a demented Jack Russell.

HARRY:
(Rolls eyes) As I was saying before pick-your-nosio stuck his conk in. The bird says, I want it doggy style. So I said, aye, no bother, darling. And the woman said, but get rid of the dummy first.

SIR HUMPHREY:
And I popped my head out from under the quilt and said, I wish I could but the f**ker won't let me go.

THE AUDIENCE FALL SILENT. HARRY TURNS TO SIR HUMPHREY WHO IS WIPING HIS EYES.

HARRY:
What's up with you?

SIR HUMPHREY:
I'm in pain.

HARRY:
How come?

SIR HUMPHREY:
You've got your hand up my bottom.

HARRY:
You never complained before.

SIR HUMPHREY:
You never had it so far up before.

HARRY NOTICES THE STAGE MANAGER GESTURING FOR HIM TO COME OFF THE STAGE.

HARRY:
(Turns to audience) And now for something completely different.

HARRY PULLS DOWN HIS ZIP THEN SNAPS OFF SIR HUMPHREY'S NOSE.

HARRY:
Ladies and gentlemen. A quick impression.

HARRY STICKS HIS WILLY THROUGH THE GAPING HOLE WHERE SIR HUMPHREY'S NOSE WAS.

HARRY:
Pinnochio.

STILL WEARING SIR HUMPHREY AS A COD PIECE, HARRY GIVES A TWO-FINGERED SALUTE TO THE AUDIENCE AND STORMS OFF.

INT.FANCY RESTAURANT.EVENING

A MAN AND A WOMAN ARE SITTING OPPOSITE EACH OTHER EATING. THE WOMAN HAS HER BACK TO THE CAMERA. THE MAN SUDDENLY LOOKS UNCOMFORTABLE AND PUTS HIS KNIFE AND FORK DOWN THEN LOOSENS HIS COLLAR AND TAKES A LARGE SIP OF WINE

WOMAN
Are you alright?

MAN
No, not really

THE MAN SUDDENLY CLUTCHES HIS CHEST AND MOANING SLUMPS FORWARD UPSETTING PLATES AND GLASSES AND KNOCKING OVER A BOTTLE OF RED WINE

WOMAN (standing up with her back to camera)
Oh no, oh my God no, somebody help me!

WAITRESS (rushing up)
What's happened?

THE WOMAN TURNS HOLDING HER SKIRT OUT AWAY FROM HER; THERE IS A LARGE RED WINE STAIN ON IT

WOMAN (struggling to speak)
My skirt... it's, it's ruined!

WAITRESS
Oh Jesus, okay, don't panic, I'll ...I'll get a cloth!

THE WAITRESS RUSHES OFF, PUSHING PAST THE FEMALE CHEF WHO HAS EMERGED FROM THE KITCHEN

CHEF (assessing the situation looking serious)
Okay relax, what's your name?

WOMAN (shakily)
Claire

CHAEF
Okay Claire, look at me, look at me, is there any on the blouse?

WOMAN (shaking her head looking desperate)
No, no, just the skirt. Please help me!

CHEF
Okay Claire, I'm going to go to the kitchen and I'm going to get some salt. Everything's is going to be alright Claire, okay! Everything is going to be alright!

THE CHEF TURNS AND HURRIES OFF LEAVING CLAIRE LOOKING SCARED AND CONFUSED. BEHIND HER THE MAN LETS OUT A LONG PAINFULL SOUNDING GROAN

WOMAN (snapping at him hysterically)
Oh just shut up will you!

INT.RESTAURANT KITCHEN

THE CHEF IS ON THE PHONE

CHEF
Dry cleaners please... emergency!

May 6th 1937, New Jersey.

Two men are staring in awe at the sky.

Man 1 : Isn't that a zight to behold?

Man 2 : Amazing what those Germans can do isn't it?

Man 1: Well thank you Sir, as zit happens I am German.

Man 2: Really?

Man 1 : In fact I am one of the chief designers of ze craft.

Man 2 : I'd like to pat you on the back. I mean, who would have thought that as well as making your voice go all funny Helium can transport people all over the globe. And, of course, completely inflammable.

Man 1 : Helium? But ze Hildenburg is an Airship filled with Hydrogen.

Man 2: Oh....

Man 1 : What is zit you say.?........bugger?

End.

A WOMAN IS ON THE PHONE. SHE GASPS, COVERS HER MOUTH AND BEGINS CRYING UNCONTROLLABLY. HER HUSBAND ENTERS. THE WOMAN DROPS THE PHONE.

HUSBAND
What's wrong love?

WOMAN
Something terrible has happened.

HUSBAND
What? is it your mum?

THE WOMAN SHAKES HER HEAD

HUSBAND
It's not your dad is it?

WOMAN SHAKES HER HEAD

HUSBAND
It's Billy, Christ it's Billy isn't it?

WOMAN SHAKES HER HEAD

HUSBAND
It's Horne & Corden

HUSBAND
Matthew Horne & James Corden are dead?

WOMAN SHAKES HER HEAD

WOMAN
They've commissioned a second series.

END

DISASTER SATURDAY.

DEREK AND STEVE ARE ROOM-MATES. SATURDAY MORNING DEREK IS WOKEN UP ABRUPTLY BY STEVE WHO IS SHAKING HIM AND HITTING HIM ACROSS THE FACE.

STEVE:
Wake up, wake up, Wake up!!

DEREK:
(ANNOYED) What!? I'm awake. Whats wrong with you!?

STEVE:
You told me to wake you if you slept it in.

DEREK:
Yeah. On a week day. Jeez!

STEVE:
Oh. Sorry about the ol' punches across the face there. Might have taken in a weensy bit far.

DEREK:
You think?! The least you can do is make me breakfast to make up for it.

STEVE:
Fair enough.

STEVE WALKS OFF AND DEREK GETS OUT OF BED AND HEADS FOR THE STAIRS GROGGILY.

STEVE:
(SHOUTING FROM DOWNSTAIRS)
Be careful of the stairs. I'm freezing it.

DEREK:
Wha...?

DEREK TUMBLES DOWN TO STAIRS VERY CLUMSILY.

DEREK:
Ow my flippin' ear! What the f**k are you doing freezing the stairs?!

STEVE:
Never mind that. Here's a lovely fry up for you.

DEREK:
This better be good. Hmm. These scrambled eggs taste a bit different. Did you put something in them?

STEVE:
(NONCHALANTLY) Oh yeah. They're lambs eggs.

DEREK:
La- What in the name of Jesus are lambs eggs?!!! (he spits it out. stands up and puts on his jacket)

STEVE:
Where are you going?

DEREK:
I'm getting out of here before I throw you down the bloody stairs.

STEVE:
What? Like the way you threw yourself down the stairs earlier?

DEREK:
Ye...Oooh. Just, just keep pushing me!

DEREK PUTS HIS HANDS IN HIS JACKET POCKETS AND HIS HANDS ARE COVERED IN GOO.

DEREK:
What the f**k is this?

STEVE:
......Well we were out of pots and pans, werent we.... I had to mix the ingredients somewhere.

DEREK:
What is wrong with you? What is actually wrong with you?!!

DEREK STORMS OFF. HE IS WALKING ALONG A COUNTRY ROAD. A CAR PASSES DRIVING INTO A HUGE PUDDLE OF WATER SOAKING HIM FROM HEAD TO TOE.

THE CAR PULLS UP AND IN IT IS SUSAN WHO DEREK OBVIOUSLY FANCIES. SHE LETS DOWN THE PASSENGER WINDOW.

DEREK(water flowing off of him):
What the f...oh hi Susan. How are you?

SUSAN:
Hi Derek. I'm so sorry. Did I splash you?

DEREK:
No, no. I-I-I'm j-just out of the shower and I am forgot to dry off.

SUSAN:
Oh. I was sure I got you. I definitely got someone.

DEREK:
Yeah. I saw him. He am.....he... I think he jumped into a field, you know, to am.. to dry off.

SUSAN LOOKS INTO THE FIELD.

SUSAN:
I don't see him. I really should go back and apologise.

DEREK:
No!! He's gone. He's after thumbing a lift.

SUSAN:
But no cars passed us.

DEREK:
Yes. Very true. He, he, he got a lift on a tractor...in the field. He's gone...away...probably forever.

SUSAN:
Oh ok.

AWKWARD SILENCE

DEREK:
Sooo.........what am......

SUSAN:
Well I'd better get going.

DEREK:
Yep sure yeah. See you again.

SUSAN DRIVES OFF. WE STAY WITH SUSAN AS SHE DRIVES. AFTER ABOUT 20 SECONDS SHE HEARS A HIGH-PITCHED DRONE. SHE LOOKS OVER AND SEES THAT ITS DEREK. HIS HAIR IS CAUGHT IN THE WINDOW AND HAD BEEN RUNNING ALONG BESIDE THE CAR ALL THE TIME.

SUSAN PULLS UP.

SUSAN:
Oh my God!! Derek are you ok. I'm so sorry. Why did'nt you say anything?

DEREK:
Ah I did'nt want to disturb you. You looked busy....lovely day isn't it.

SUSAN:
Are you alright? Are you hurt?

DEREK:
No no. (blood rolling down his head and blood stains all over his jeans) Never better. I'll just head back home.

SUSAN:
Well look, heres my number. Give me a call later and let me know how you are.

DEREK:
(DELIGHTED) YEAH! I mean, um yeah sure whatever.

DEREK IS WALKING BACK WITH A SPRING IN HIS STEP AND IS ADMIRING THE PIECE OF PAPER WITH SUSANS NUMBER ON IT WHEN A CROW FLIES DOWN GRABS THE PAPER AND FLIES OFF.

CUT TO SEVERAL CLIPS OF DEREK CHASING THE CROW THROUGH FIELDS, BUSHES, ROOVES OF HOUSES, TELEPHONE POLES. THE CROW KNOCKS HIS GLASSES OFF AND THEY SMASH ON THE GROUND. HE FINALLY GIVES UP.

HE IS WALKING PAST A RUGBY PITCH AND A PLAYER IS ASKING DEREK TO GET THE BALL OUT OF THE BUSH AND KICK IT TO HIM. DEREK PICKS UP WHAT HE THINKS IS THE BALL BUT IS ACTUALLY A BEEHIVE. HE KICKS IT AND THOUSANDS OF BEES FLY OUT STINGING HIM ALL OVER.

DEREK IS NOW SOAKING, HAS BLOOD FLOWING FROM HIS HEAD AND LEGS, IS WEARING BROKEN GLASSES, HIS CLOTHES ARE RIPPED AND HE HAS STING MARKS ALL OVER HIM.

HE STUMBLES IN THE DOOR.

STEVE:
Well how was the walk. Are you feeling better?

DEREK:
Help me! Ring me an ambulance (cough) and then get me a mirror. I have to see..owww... the damage.

STEVE:
The lines are down. Someone must have been tampering with the telephone poles and both our mobiles were in your jacket pockets.

DEREK:
A-at least get me a mirror for God sake...Let me see what I look like before I die (gasp).

STEVE:
Aw do I have to?...Ok, here.

DEREK LOOKS IN THE HAND HELD MIRROR BUT HE HAS NO REFLECTION LOOKING BACK AT HIM. STEVE LOOKS IN AND HIS REFLECTION APPEARS.

DEREK:
(IN DISBELIEF) Where the f**k is my reflection?!! What, how can this happen. Wheres my reflection gone?! Where the Christ is it? Am I dead?

STEVE:
How am I supposed to know.

WE ZOOM INSIDE THE MIRROR AND SEE DEREKS REFLECTION RUSHING IN THE DOOR. LOOKING AT HIS WATCH AND HURRIEDLY PUTTING ON MAKEUP AND FAKE CUTS AND BRUISES AND TEARING HIS CLOTHES TO LOOK EXACTLY LIKE THE REAL DEREK.

REFLECTION DEREK:
I bloody told Steve to wake me.

END.

WHAT'S A REAL DISASTER?:

RICK - (Looking aghast at the sports pages of the Sun):
Is this a disaster, or WHAT?

NICK: What?

DICK (not paying attention): Eh?

RICK: We've drawn Barcelona in the next round.

NICK: It's not an ACTUAL disaster, well not yet!

DICK to NICK: (mind elsewhere) What's not a disaster?

RICK to DICK: Barcelona, that's the disaster! Am I right or what?

DICK: Earthquake?

RICK: I hope so, it'll get the game cancelled.

NICK: Where there's life there's hope. We'll sort that lot out, you wait and see.

DICK to NICK: Volunteering are you? Can't see you scrabbling through ruins.

RICK to NICK: See, even Dick thinks it's a disaster!

NICK: It's Dick's thinking that's a disaster.

DICK to NICK: I'm thinking what's a disaster?

RICK to DICK: Hang on. I said Barcelona's a disaster, or what? So you can't choose WHAT as a disaster!

DICK: What? Barcelona's not a disaster?

NICK to RICK: See, Dick agrees with me. Barcelona's not a disaster.

RICK: Messi's recovered. He'll be in the lineup! Now IS this a disaster, or what?

DICK: Messy recovery eh? That's good news, eh? Or what?

NICK to DICK: Scumbag. Traitor. Shithead.

RICK: Yeah, and a Barcelona supporter to boot!

DICK: I'll boot him alright. Where is he? The bastard.

NICK to RICK: Involving Dick in a conversation's a disaster, or what?

RICK: Yeah, you're right there. That IS a real disaster.

DICK: What's a real disaster?

INT. BOARDROOM - DAY

EXECUTIVES OF THE CHARITY 'WORLDWIDE RELIEF' ARE IN A BOARD MEETING.

JOHNNY TOERAG:
Right guys, we need a new appeal to keep the cash rolling in.

TONY CUMSLOW:
Why don't we fake a disaster? Something that'll really get the public's attention.

JOHNNY TOERAG:
We tried that with Haiti - the overheads were outrageous.

SALLY SWALLOWS:
I think we should play the Africa card again.

JOHNNY TOERAG:
No, the public don't give a f**k about Africa any more. Plus Bob Geldof has already ruled himself out.

BILLY LICKZET:
I bet we could get him for Children in Need. I've seen Peaches' video; she needs bigger tits.

JOHNNY TOERAG:
Have you got anything productive to add Billy?

BILLY LICKZET:
I have. The Premier League's nearly over; we could arrange a charity match in the summer to raise cash for the mentally ill. The advertising would sell itself, 'Footy for the nutty'.

JOHNNY TOERAG:
We can't do it. It's a World Cup year and Harry always demands 20%. I like the idea of a catchy slogan though, have you got anything similar?

BILLY LICKZET:
How about corporate sponsorship for certain appeals? We could have Coca Cola for Bipolar, Pepsi for Epilepsy and UPS for Downs.

JOHNNY TOERAG (LIGHTING A CIGAR):
It's going to be a good year guys.

INT. TV STUDIO. NIGHT

SPORTS COMMENTATOR (DICK) IS INTERVIEWING A DOCTOR SITTING ON A COUCH IN THE STUDIO

DICK (SHOCKED)
...I'm sorry, just explain to our viewers one more time. You've - REMOVED Rooney's right leg?

DOCTOR
Yes.

DICK (DISBELIEF)
What, like - removed, as in, amputated?

DOCTOR
I'm afraid so. The accident was so bad that his pelvis was shattered. It was the only course open to us.

DICK PUTS HIS HEAD IN HIS HANDS

DICK (UNDER HIS BREATH)
England's injury curse strikes a-bloody-gain! (BREATHING DEEPLY, TRYING TO RECOVER) Okay, okay. Let's all calm down here. So, how long before he can be up and about again on his feet... er, foot.

DOCTOR
Difficult to say... perhaps a month or so with the right care and rehabilitation, he-

DICK (BRIGHTENING)
So, you're not ruling him out of the World Cup completely, then?

DOCTOR
Pardon?

DICK (WARMING TO HIS THEME)
Well, there are around 90 days left before the Cup starts. (WRITING CALCULATIONS ON THE BACK OF HIS HAND) Say he was hopping about a bit after 5 weeks - that's 35 days? There's no reason to say he couldn't learn how to play, one-footed, in the following... well... month or so?

DOCTOR
That's ridiculous.

DICK
Okay, point taken - you're saying more like a month and a half, then? 42 plus 35 still gives us what... 13 days left to achieve match fitness?

DOCTOR
Richard...

DICK
Call me Dick.

DOCTOR
That's very candid of you. But you don't understand - Rooney's whole body is a mess. Neither he, nor his left leg, will ever play football again. Do you understand? Am I making myself clear?

DICK PUTS HIS HEAD IN HIS HANDS AGAIN AND SOBS PATHETICALLY

DICK
Jesus Christ - bloody fated... (SUDDENLY SEEING A GLIMMER OF HOPE) Hold on: 'Rooney and his left leg'?

DOCTOR
Pardon?

DICK
You didn't say anything about his right leg, did you!

DOCTOR (FROWNING)
What?

DICK
Rooney's got more talent in his right foot than the rest of the England team put together. Surely with today's technology-

THE DOCTOR SEEMS PLEASED WITH HIMSELF. HE TAKES A LARGE BLACK BAG FROM BESIDE THE INTERVIEW COUCH AND OPENS IT TO REVEAL ROONEY'S SEVERED RIGHT LEG., WHICH TWITCHES FURIOUSLY

DOCTOR
In close consultation with doctors in Germany, Switzerland and America, and with the blessing of Fabio, Sir Alex and his Holiness the Pope... we have managed to keep Rooney's right leg alive and with all its faculties intact.

DICK JUMPS UP AND KISSES THE DOCTOR ON HIS FOREHEAD

DICK
Result! You're a genius. So, the dream is still on - football's coming home! Yee-ee-ees!

DOCTOR
Um, there is still one slight problem.

DICK
Problem? We have the most famous, skilful limb in England ready to do battle and single-leggedly bring the World Cup home for us! What could be wrong?

DOCTOR (SIGHS)
I'm afraid... a scan has revealed it's got a fracture of the 4th metatarsal.

DICK COLLAPSES TO HIS KNEES AND BURIES HIS HEAD IN HIS HANDS AGAIN

DICK
Fuuuuuuuck!

END

EXT. A STREET. DAY.

A BEGGAR IS SLOWLY COLLECTING COINS IN A BOWL FROM PASSERS BY.

BEGGAR:
Any spare change?

A PASSERBY THROWS SOME COINS INTO HIS BOWL

BEGGAR:
God bless ya.

BEGGAR:
Any spare change?

ANOTHER PASSERBY THROWS SOME COINS INTO HIS BOWL

BEGGAR:
God bless ya.

BEGGAR:
Any spare change?

A THIRD PASSERBY THROWS SOME COINS INTO HIS BOWL

BEGGAR:
God bless ya.

HE GATHERS UP ALL THE MONEY AND GOES INTO A CORNER SHOP.

HE EXITS MOMENTS LATER HOLDING A SCRATCH CARD. HE SITS BACK DOWN AT HIS BOWL.
HE LOOKS INTO HIS BOWL FOR A COIN TO SCRATCH THE CARD WITH. IT IS EMPTY.

A MAN WALKS BY

BEGGAR:
Any spare change?

END.

INT OFFICE

TWO MEN ARE SAT EITHER SIDE OF A RATHER PLUSH DESK IN GEORGE'S OFFICE

GEORGE
So, how is the project coming along Max?

MAX
Well, I'm almost there. I think the DVD is finally ready

GEORGE
Do you think we're bringing this out too soon?

MAX
No, it is important that we deal with all these terrible events while they are still fresh in the mind. Have you seen much of the footage?

GEORGE
(VOICE TREMBLING) I have - it's hard going. The screams, the tears, the cries of agony.

MAX
It's the looks on the faces of the people in the crowd that got me.

GEORGE
(BREAKING UP) Yeah, just standing there, watching the horror, completely powerless. Max I....

MAX
George look, I know it's hard but we have to get this story out there.

GEORGE
You're right - in my heart I know you're right! So, have you thought of a title yet?

MAX
How about...Liverpool FC - Premiership season 2009-2010

GEORGE FALLS ON DESK SOBBING INTO A CLUB SCARF

ENDS.

EXT. DAY. ROAD.

A NUMBER OF MEN IN SUITS AND BLACK TIES STAND OUTSIDE A HOUSE. A POLICEMAN APPEARS AND RINGS THE FRONT DOOR BELL. A WOMAN ANSWERS.

WOMAN:
You're too late, he's already dead.

COP:
No madam, I've got some more bad news. The local undertaker has just crashed the hearse, it's a total write-off.

WOMAN: (sobbing)
The ceremony is due at the crematorium in an hour, what can I do?

COP:
You have two options. Number one, all the mourners form a human chain and pass the coffin between them but looking at the paltry turn out at your dead husband's funeral, that's not feasible.

WOMAN:
And number two?

CAMERA ZOOMS QUICKLY INTO COP'S FACE.

COP:
Call Superundertakerman.

COP PRODUCES CARD AND GIVES IT TO WOMAN. WOMAN MAKES PHONECALL. CUT TO MAN HOLDING A PHONE. HE IS DRESSED AS AN UNDERTAKER BUT HAS AN 'S' STUCK TO HIS FRONT MADE OUT OF BROWN MASKING TAPE.

SUPERUNDERTAKERMAN:
So just the hearse then? no casket or embalming fluid, that should be no problem. Well, you're ten minutes away, I'll be there in twelve.

SUPERUNDERTAKERMAN IS NOW IN A QUEUE AT AN ICE CREAM VAN, WHEN IT'S HIS TURN TO BE SERVED HE PULLS THE ICE CREAM SELLER OUT OF HIS VAN AND HIJACKS IT. HE THEN STOPS AT A SHOP, GOES IN AND COMES OUT WITH BLACK BIN LINERS WHICH HE COVERS THE ICE CREAM VAN WITH AND STICKS THEM ON USING BROWN MASKING TAPE.

CUT TO MAKESHIFT HEARSE PULLING UP AT CREMATORIUM WITH COFFIN HANGING OUT OF IT.

WOMAN:
Oh Superundertakerman, you've turned a potential funeral-related crisis into a sublime cortege and you've also dished out free 99's to the half a dozen or so mourners.

SUPERUNDERTAKERMAN:
No trouble at all lady, and hey, I cover sea burials, extremist Islamic stonings, the whole gamut of bereavement for all colours and creeds so pass the word. That'll be eight grand please.