Sketch Comp 4 - 11.8.12.

Good stuff so congratulations to LAZZARD for winning. Get ludicrously yet legitimately poo-faced and PM me for next week's topic.
Hence:

Votes - Points - Name
6 - 10 - Lazzard
5 - 5 - Sootyj
Special mention: Otterfox, Shandonbelle

Your new subject: EMPLOYMENT (chosen by Overlay)

Rules:
One entry/vote per person. Anyone can enter regardless of colour, sexual preferences or inside leg measurement, except the kid at school who masturbated all over my rugby kit, I know who you are.
Can be a sketch, joke, lyric or anything else as long as it's original and vaguely linked to the topic. 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: 11.8.12

Overall Leader Board is now:

Points - Position - Name

10 - 1 - Lazzard
5 - 2 - Sootyj

[A Bond-a-like SPY in a nice tux sips from a glass of wine. He swills it enjoyably round his mouth, and swallows]

SPY: Ah, the Mouton Rothschild ‘53, a remarkable year.

[Reveal examiner in white coat and clipboard, which they tick]

EXAMINER: Excellent. You have passed your final test, Tomkins, a secret service role awaits you.

[EXAMINER moves on, as does camera, to SPY 2, in front of whom is a cocktail glass.]

EXAMINER: Assessment?

SPY 2: Vodka martini.

EXAMINER: Obviously. Shaken or stirred?

SPY 2: Shaken, then stirred.

EXAMINER: Correct. From which area of Russia did the vodka originate?

SPY 2: [Swigs again. Considers] Very clever, Sir, but this is Grey Goose, from Picardy, France

EXAMINER: Outstanding.

[Another tick. EXAMINER moves on to SPY 3, who is eating crisps]

EXAMINER: Started already have we? Very well. What do you make of them?

SPY 3: Err…prawn cocktail.

EXAMINER: Well, of course. And?

SPY 3: Erm…Golden Wonder?

EXAMINER: [Impatient] Yes, yes. The year, man, the year?

SPY 3: Sorry?

EXAMINER : Would you be so kind as to tell me the vintage of the crisps you are eating, if it’s not too much trouble?

SPY 3: Would I... [trails off in amazement] You’re joking, right? I can do wine and stuff, but this isn’t fair. We never covered this. Can’t I have a swig of whisky, or something? A cigar, I’m good on cigars.

EXAMINER: Do you have an answer?

SPY 3: [Trying to gauge EXAMINER’s response as he says it] Two thousand…and…ten?

EXAMINER: I see. This seems sadly symptomatic of your general malaise, Jenkins.

SPY 3: Oh come on! Crisps don’t have vintages, it’s a farce.

EXAMINER: If you wish to raise a grievance, please do it through the proper channels; now, if you wouldn’t mind, we do have a tight schedule.

[He moves on to SPY 4, who stands next to a large petrol station pump] Provenance?

SPY 4: [Picks up petrol pump handle, and pours some in his mouth. He thinks for a moment]. Jordanian. 2011, I’d wager.

EXAMINER: You see, Jenkins, your colleagues have done their homework. Well done, Simnel.

SPY 4: Thank you, Sir. To get that wrong would have been [self-indulgent Roger Moore chuckle] fuelish.

[Everyone laughs lightly, except SPY 3, who scowls and mimics "fuelish", mouthing silently. SPY 4 smugly smiles, nonchalantly lighting a cigarette from a silver case, and promptly explodes]

[Cut to SPY 3 and examiner lying in bloody tatters some distance away from the scene]

SPY 3: Judging by the colour of the flame and the angle of trajectory, I’d say super-unleaded.

EXAMINER: Too little too late, Jenkins, too little too late.

[They die].

SPICE TO MEET YOU

TV STUDIO.

KNOW-ALL EDMONDS Good evening lovelies and gentlemen, I am Know-All Edmonds, and on the eve of Spice Girls The Musical it gives me the most enormous, er – pleasure – to introduce... Every bishop’s favourite Spice Girl, Baby!

Enter EMMA BUNTON to applause.

EDMONDS Emma, I want to…

EMMA (singing)If you wanna be my lover, you gotta…

EDMONDS No, I want to talk about your career. You started as a…

EMMA (still singing) Wannabe.

EDMONDS But became a…

EMMA Viva Forever…

EDMONDS I think you mean Diva Forever.

EMMA Stop right now, thank you very much.

EDMONDS Sorry.

EMMA Who do you think you are?

EDMONDS I said Sorry.

EMMA Holler.

EDMONDS SORRY!... Now the next is really a double-question.

EMMA For tonight is the night, when two become one.

EDMONDS Do you have a special message to your fans?

EMMA People of the world, Spice Up Your Life!

EDMONDS And your…?

EMMA Mama.

EDMONDS About the Olympics concert?

EMMA Say you will be there.

EDMONDS Lovely. Well I think that’s enough…

EMMA Too much of one thing is bad enough.

EDMONDS But before I say…

EMMA Goodbye, my friend…

EDMONDS One final question. What have you achieved outside Spice?

Long pause.

EMMA Oh f**k off.

Career Prospects

Open on a wood-panneled office - school photos all over the wall - a cabinet full of sports trophies. A rather officious looking TUTOR sits behind a large oak desk.

A sign on the desk reads "Careers Master"

SFX: KNOCK- KNOCK

TUTOR: Enter

A posh looking 17 year -old boy enters wearing Eton coat-tails.

TUTOR: Ah! Jeremy Bartleby - Smythe, isn’t it? Sit, sit...

Jeremy sits.

TUTOR: Now, this is all a bit of a formality, but, if the sweaty oiks at Ofsted want Careers
Advice on the curriculum - Careers Advice they shall bloody well get.

JEREMY: Quite, sir.

He consults his notes.

TUTOR: But looking at this I really can’t see there being any problems. Your father's old
college are more than happy to take you - your monogrammed napkin awaits you
at the Bullingdon - then it’s off to party HQ for a nice little safe seat and Bob’s your
uncle. (looking at his notes again) Bob is your uncle isn’t he, Bartleby Smythe?

JEREMY: Absolutely sir.
(pause)
It’s just, I was thinking, maybe I didn’t want to go that route.

TUTOR: Sorry - you’ve lost me?

JEREMY: I’m not sure I want to be a Tory MP.

The Tutor is flabbergasted.

TUTOR: But, but - all the work we’ve put in - the braying lessons, creative tax-management,
the sense of entitlement - and your accent is beyond reproach - even I can barely
understand it...

JEREMY: Yes, well I was actually thinking of getting a voice-coach - learn to drop the odd ‘h‘
(tries it out)
...‘ere and vere.

TUTOR: My God - it’s uncanny!

JEREMY: Thank-you , sir. I thought I might jettison the double barreled name, too - change it
to plain old Jerry Bartle - pretend to like soccer instead of rugger - drink tea out of a
mug.

TUTOR: Steady on!

JEREMY: You see, sir, my long term goal is to completely hide my background and blend in
with the ordinary working folk.

The Tutor begins to twig, smiles..

TUTOR: So, what you’re telling me is you actually want to be....

JEREMY: A Labour MP - absolutely sir!

TUTOR: Well that’s alright, then, you had me worried for a bit there - I thought you were going
to eschew the overblown lifestyle altogether...

JEREMY: But Sir, you do understand, that as a Socialist I’ll have to dedicate myself to stamping
out the private school system with all its sickening privileges and outmoded values?

TUTOR: Of course (makes air-quotes) “ Jerry” - but not until the kids are safely through
first though, eh?

JEREMY: Absolutely, sir.

Int Office
RICHARD is interviewing WALTER. They are both american.

RICHARD: So, why do you want this job?

WALTER: I, err, want to explore strange new worlds

RICHARD: Yes

WALTER: Seek out new life and new civilisations

RICHARD: Yes, can I stop you there. That's from Star Trek.

WALTER: I'm sorry, I know. I have pop cultural tourettes syndrome.

(Checks watch)

Uh oh. Fifteen minutes to Judge Wapner.

RICHARD: I see...there seems to be a large gap in your resume. Would you care to explain that.

WALTER: Theorizing that one could time travel in his own lifetime Dr Sam Beckett stepped into the Quantum accelerator and..

(Whispers)

..vanished.

RICHARD: (Looking suspicious) I see

(beat)

WALTER: Oh Boy

RICHARD: Let's move on. Do you have a clean driver's licence?

WALTER: (Rocking slightly) I'm an excellent driver. I'm an excellent driver.

RICHARD: (Gives a deep sigh) Can you tell me anything about your ambitions?

WALTER: As far back as I can remember I always wanted to be a gangster.

RICHARD: Right!! Well, I think that's everything I need to know. Your name will be added to the shortlist.

WALTER: The list is an absolute good. The list is life. All around its margins lies the gulf.

RICHARD: Uh huh. (beat) well, we'll see you at the next round of interviews but between you and me I think you got it man. I look forward to working with you here on the script team of Family Guy.

A WEASELLY JOB CENTRE WORKER (DEN) IS INTERVIEWING ATTAROCK THE DINOSAUR SLAYER A VASTLY MUSCLED MAN IN A LOIN CLOTH ARMED WITH A GINORMOUS SWORD

DEN
So Mr Attarrock what have you been doing to seek work in the last 2 weeks?

ATTAROCK
It's just Attarrock! I have no need of your puny mortal titles!

DEN
Yes but you need our job seekers allowance and our housing benefits. So have you attended any job interviews? Have you been reading the local press?

ATTAROCK
I have no time for such puny mortal concerns. It is only I mighty Attarrock who protects you weaklings from the return of the mighty terror beasts.

DEN
Well that's scarcely a workable job seeking plan is it? And I believe you just admitted to not being actively seeking employment

ATTAROCK
Do you know what a velocaraptor would do to you girly man?

DEN
I don't care they've been extinct for millions of years. I am sending you on a 2 week preparation for work course.

ATTAROCK STORMS OFF.

DEN
Right who's next? Tyra? Tyra? Hi Tyranasaurusrex?

A TYRANOSAURUSREX APPROACHES HIS DESK IT IS POORLY DISGUISED AS A RUDE GIRL

DEN
Eeek!

ATTAROCK RETURNS AND SLAYS THE DINOSAUR IN A VICIOUS BUT EXITING MANNER THAT YOU'D BUY A DVD OF IF IT WAS A SUPER HERO MOVIE (EVEN IF THE MOVIE WAS A BIT SHIT).

ATTAROCK
See you womanly man the terror lizards have returned! I stalked that wily one for 2 weeks, night and day.

DEN
Really?

ATTAROCK
Yes.

DEN
You were not available to work claim closed.

INT: JOB INTERVIEW

APPLICANT: Hello. I'd like to apply for the role of straight man in this BCG skitcomp sketch please.

EMPLOYER: I see. And do you have any relevant experience? It's a very competitive market you know.

APPLICANT: Oh yes tons. I've just played a Tyranasaurusrex in a Sootyj sketch. That was quite a demanding role as I had my head brutally hacked off. Before that I was Richard in an Overlay sketch and previously the Tutor for Lazzard.

EMPLOYER: How did that go?

APPLICANT: That was tricky. A lot of words to remember.

EMPLOYER: Yes we all noticed that.

APPLICANT: But my lowlight was playing Know-all Edmonds. Rubbing up against Baby Spice - or Old Spice as she's known now - and my Mr Blobby wouldn't perform.

EMPLOYER: Were you trying to be funny there?

APPLICANT: Only a little bit.

EMPLOYER: Well in that case you're over-qualified as a straight man I'm afraid. (PAUSE) Being a straight man is like having sex with a....

APPLICANT: I've got good timing!

EMPLOYER: Yes but you've haven't have you. You've just ruined my joke before I delivered it.

APPLICANT: I could be Spy number five in Gappy's sketch.

EMPLOYER: They're all dead mate. They're all dead.

APPLICANT: Please let me be a straight man. It's all I've ever wanted to do. I promise never to be funny again.

EMPLOYER: Well you're in the right place I guess. I couldn't do this sketch without you.

APPLICANT: Shouldn't we finish on a punchline?

EMPLOYER: Oh don't worry. We've got until the 11th. I'll edit something in later.

INT. CAVE

THE INTERVIEWER IS SQUATTING, PICKING LICE OUT OF HIS PUBES AND EATING THEM. UG ENTERS.

INTERVIEWER
Ah Mr…

UG
Ug.

INTERVIEWER
Do please squat on your haunches. Mouth dry? If you would like a drink of water there is a stream half a day’s walk away.

UG
Ug alright, just butterflies in stomach. Butterflies not very filling.

INTERVIEWER
So Mr Ug what makes you think you are cut out for the hunting and gathering industry?

UG
Ug’s family all mammoth hunters.

INTERVIEWER
Ah, and how is the mammoth business?

UG
Dropped right off. Ug family drove mammoths off edge of cliff. Now no more mammoths.

INTERVIEWER
Yes, the whole extinction of megafauna has been rather boom and bust. These days the hunting and gathering industry is moving to a more sustainable model.

UG
Ug see, Ug kill, Ug eat.

INTERVIEWER
Yes about that. The role we have you in mind for requires that whatever you hunt and gather is given to us. Then maybe we give you a bit back.

UG
Ug not come down from trees yesterday.

INTERVIEWER
It's a new economic concept. We're calling it do-our-work-for-us-or-go-hungryism. You see this land now belongs to us.

UG
Ug see signs.

INTERVIEWER
Our corporate logo. A flayed body lashed to an ant hill.

UG
Gets message across. Ug hunt now.

INTERVIEWER
Actually the emphasis of this particular post is very much on gathering.

UG
Gathering women’s work.

INTERVIEWER
If you don’t mind me saying that is a rather Neanderthal attitude.

UG
Duh.

INTERVIEWER
Fair point. So where do you see yourself in a year’s time?

UG
Stealing your women and feasting on your liver.

INTERVIEWER
Ambition, I like that. But first as part of our rigorous selection progress we will need to assess you against the other candidates.

UG
Ug be right back.

UG EXITS. ROARS AND SCREAMS OUTSIDE. UG RE-ENTERS, APPARENTLY TRIUMPHANT. THEN HE COLLAPSES TO HIS KNESS A SPEAR PROTRUDING FROM HIS BACK. A TALL HANDSOME HOMO SAPIENS FOLLOWS HIM IN.

UG
Bloody fast trackers get all the breaks.

UG KEELS OVER. THE INTERVIEWER SHAKES THE HOMO SAPIENS HAND.

END.

YOUNG GIRL ENTERS THE GARAGE WHERE HER DAD IS SITTING, READING A NEWSPAPER ON AN OLD SOFA. SHE’S CARRYING A PLATE OF DINNER FOR HIM AND PUTS IT DOWN ON A WORK BENCH TO TALK TO HIM.

DAUGHTER: Dad, I want to do something in politics, but I’m finding it really hard to understand a few things. Do you think you could explain the government and the NHS to me? I don’t want to turn up for a job interview knowing nothing about the system.

DAD:Er…it’s a difficult one, but I’ll try to make it as simple as possible. Er…oh, I know! Here we go…let’s try comparing it to something you can relate to more easily.

DAUGHTERkay.

SHE SITS DOWN BESIDE HIM.

DADkay…When I started work I paid my mother (air quotes) “the government” a percentage of my wages to help with bills and food. Oddly, there was hardly anything in the cupboards that I liked to eat, but she would never be without her own luxury items and insisted I pay it, or else. My father “the NHS” still paid the utility bills and complained he had to pay them, regardless of whether I was contributing or not. So, I split the money I was already paying my mother between them. Winter came and I found myself freezing in my bedroom. My father “the NHS” told me that, after consulting with my mother “the government”, he couldn’t see the point in heating my room as I could get into bed if I was cold. Heating was pumped through the rest of the house, but the back door was always left open so the dogs “benefit scroungers” could come and go as they pleased. Needless to say, not much of the money I paid into the household was actually allocated to my own needs and I moved out as soon as I could. Unfortunately, seeing as my mother “the government” always tells my father “the NHS” what to do, I don’t think he will ever be able to spend his money how he pleases. Also, she has, since, filled the house with even more dogs “benefit scroungers” and bought the most expensive garden shed “Millennium Dome” I have ever seen. Still, there is nothing of any nutritional value in the cupboards and my father “the NHS” sits in the dark quite a lot to save money and to avoid being sought out for an argument.

DAUGHTERh dear…I don’t think I want to work in politics now. It all sounds rather depressing.

DAD:Well, it’s up to you…but, whatever you decide, you’ll need to pay your way here at home somehow.

DAUGHTER:Yes…I know, Dad. Oh, I think I can hear mum calling…dinner’s ready. Mum’s cooked a fantastic roast with all the trimmings!

DAD LOOKS BLANKLY AT HER…TOTALLY UNAMUSED.

DADkay…off you go then. Oh…and pass me my beans on toast before you leave… and a couple of blankets from over there…oh…and turn off the light. Oh…and get that f**king dog out of here!

INT: JOBCENTRE

ADVISOR: Well, I've had a good look at your employment record.. and taking into account your previous work experience, I've managed to arrange an interview for you with BT, Ms Brooks.

EXIT WOMAN IN SOBS

ADVISOR: (swivels round in chair and shouts) NEXT!

A SHABBILY-DRESSED YOUNG OIK SWAGGERS OVER AND SITS DOWN

ADVISOR: Ah! Hello! Very nice to see you again. Well.. I’ve had a good look at your qualifications and I have to say I’m very impressed: seven PhDs and two Professorships, plus a Nobel Prize.. and all by the age of 22! The world is surely your oyster! So.. I’ve collected some top-salaried placements for your perusal. Would you like me to run them past you?

DODGEPOT: Yeah.

ADVISOR: Right then: the first one does involve a bit of travelling, but it’s a highly-competitive salary of £150,000 a year, plus all flights and other expenses: Arctic Surveyor.

DODGEPOT: I’d never warm to it.

ADVISOR: Yes, you’re probably right. Now let’s see. How about this one? £200,000 a year working at CERN, attempting to agglutinise quantum energy into matter?

DODGEPOT: I'd never stick it.

ADVISOR: Hmmm. Well.. how about a Nuclear Research Fellowship at the plutonium factory?

DODGEPOT: I couldn’t handle it.

ADVISOR: Submarine Technology?

DODGEPOT: I wouldn’t fathom it.

ADVISOR: Tropical Disease research?

DODGEPOT: I’d get sick of it.

ADVISOR: Forensic Pathology?

DODGEPOT: I wouldn’t have a clue.

ADVISOR: Oh dear oh dear. All these top jobs and you’re just not interested. Perhaps you should get a job on the Space Shuttle?

DODGEPOT: Eh? I don’t know nuffink about alien stuff.

ADVISOR: That may be so, but it might bring you back down to Earth! BWAAAAAAAAHAHA!

DODGEPOT: You taking the piss?

ADVISOR: No, Professor! Heaven forfend! Well I must say this is all very frustrating. Perhaps you should lower your sights somewhat? How about jungle clearance in Brazil?

DODGEPOT: I couldn’t hack it.

ADVISOR: Laying roads in Manchester?

DODGEPOT: Way too hardcore.

ADVISOR: Oh dear oh dear.. well.. there’s a very interesting one that just arrived this morning: the position of William Hague’s houseboy.

DODGEPOT: Oh yeah? And just what exactly would that entail?

ADVISOR: Well, no-one's really sure.

DODGEPOT: Naaaaaah.. I couldn’t make a fist of it.

ADVISOR: Are you taking the piss?

DODGEPOT: Yeah.

ADVISOR: Well I just don’t know. I’ve bent over backwards to help you, Professor. So, please, do tell: what is it that you’d like to do?

DODGEPOT: I’m quite interested in researching North American buffalo migration.

ADVISOR: Well, we don’t have anything like that on the books at the moment, but I’ll keep my ear close to the ground on that one.

DODGEPOT: You ARE taking the piss!

ADVISOR: Absolutely not, Professor!

DODGEPOT: Well, actually, there is sumfink that I’d quite like to do.

ADVISOR: Yes? What’s that?

DODGEPOT: I’d like to be a Stand Up Statistician.

ADVISOR: Oh. That’s very interesting.. but just what exactly is that? I’ve never heard of it.

DODGEPOT: Well, you just get up on stage and reel off stats.

ADVISOR: Really? Can you give me an example?

DODGEPOT: Sure. Apparently, 3 of every 8 CSI fans eat breakfast, 5 of every 12 Doctor Who fans like going to IKEA, and 7 of 9 Star Trek fans masturbate in front of the telly.

THE ADVISOR STANDS UP AND PUNCHES THE OIK FULL IN THE FACE, WHO THEN CRASHES BACKWARDS THROUGH THE PLATE GLASS WINDOW OUT ONTO THE PAVEMENT AND GETS RUN OVER BY A MOBILITY SCOOTER

ADVISOR: (sits back down, swivels round in chair and shouts) NEXT!

PINOCCHIO SITS SLUMPED ON THE SOFA WATCHING TV.

Britain's Bingooooing mad!
Daaaad…can I have a Foxy Bingo account?

GEPPETTO ENTERS, WIPING A PLATE ON AN APRON THAT SAYS 'MY DAD - WORLDS BEST WASHER UPPER'

Come with me son. (He opens the front door)

PINOCCHIO
But dad, it's 7.30pm…Coronation Street is about to start…look, the Harvey's ad is on….dad, can we get that dining table with four matching chairs?

GEPPETTO (zaps the TV off with the remote control)
I thought opening an eBay shop would be the answer to all our money worries, but no, they bid, but they do not pay…while this Harvey's pollute our TV screens with their cheap timber. Advertising is the scourge of us poor single parents.
Still, I do my best to make an honest crust, and now you too must learn the value of working for…

PINOCCHIO
Mmmm, stuffed crust pizza, eat all you can for £4.99. Can we go to Pizza Hut tomorrow dad?

GEPETTO TUTS LOUDLY AND USHERS PINOCCHIO OUT THE DOOR. THEY WALK DOWN THE STREET

GEPPETTO
Look over there Pinocchio, tell me what you see (he points to two men in chefs whites standing huddled down the side of a restaurant)

PINOCCHIO
Em, two men smoking cigarettes?

GEPPETTO
Correct, er…but these men are 'working' Pinocchio, and having had their 'smoke' break, these men will toil long into the night, having of course washed their nicotine stained fingers first in line with basic food hygiene standards...one prays.

And look there….what do you see now Pinocchio (he points to a black cab, just then the cabbie honks his horn at an overtaking motorbike)

PINOCCHIO
An angry man sticking his middle....

GEPPETTO (interrupts hurriedly)
An angry 'working man' Pinocchio. And once the man regains his composure and puts both hands back on the steering wheel as per the Highway Code, he will toil long into the night.

PINOCCHIO
What about that lady dad, is she working? (He points to the back of a woman in thigh high boots and mini skirt leaning into a parked car)

GEPPETTO (clears throat)
To all intents and purposes, yes, er, she is indeed working, and she too shall toil long into the night.
Now come along Pinocchio, time to go home.

BACK HOME, PINNOCCHIO IS BEING TUCKED INTO BED

GEPPETTO
So, what have you learned tonight about the world of real honest work young man?

PINNOCHIO
That it makes people smoke in doorways and stick their middle fingers in the air and wear not enough clothes on a cold night and...and...I don't want to grow up.
Daaad….can we go to Pizza Hut tomorrow?

PRIVILEGED PLACEMENT POSTS FOR THE POSH AGENCY.
LUSH OFFICE. LUSH LADY (LL) INTERVIEWING AND OLD LUSH (OL).

LL: What sort of job ….

OL: Hey, no three-letter words, I want a complacent placement NOT one of those ‘j’ things.

Suitably chastised, LL continues
LL: Of course, how silly of me. Sorry, won’t happen again. Let me put it another way, what line
Of work…

OL: Hey, no four-letter words, either. Do I look like a ‘W’ type-person. I want a nice niche not a nasty hands-on thingy.

LL: (flustered) Oh, erm… I see. Ok how many letters are in the word that relates to your circumstances that will be acceptable to you.

OL: That’s a tricky one. What words have you got.

LL: I’ve got a a ten-letter word that begins with ‘e’.

OL: And what does it end with.

LL: (nervously) mployment.

OL: What the f**k is eemployment- never heard of it.

LL: Not eemployment, Em ployment.

OL: You said it began with ee – if you had said e, as in E mployment, I would have got it straight away.

LL: (with relief) So this word is acceptable, then.

OL: Don’t be stupid. Do I look like someone who’s looking for an ‘e’ word. Cut the nonsense, just show
me what you’ve got and I’ll choose one. Couldn’t be easier, eh.

LL: (resigned) Ok, here’s a list of openings that you may find of interest.

OL: Gentleman’s Club membership profiler – nope; Distinguished Country Club Standards and Dress Monitor – nope; Queen’s Equerry – nope; Trans-Atlantic Cruise Ship Cuisine Consultant (Wine)
You reeker, this is the one. God, why didn’t you show me this sooner.

LL: Because wine is not only a 'W' word it's also a four letter word, you c**t.

(A plush, book-lined office. MILES sits behind a large mahogany desk.)

(TIM knocks and enters the room)

MILES (motioning for Tim to sit): Timothy! Good to see you looking well again, you’ve been missed. A fortnight stuck at home watching daytime TV didn’t drive you mad, then?

TIM (laughing): Ah not quite, not quite.

MILES: So, what can I do for you?

TIM: Well, I’m here to hand in my notice. (hands over letter)

MILES (while scanning notice): You’re leaving? But why, man?

TIM: I’m moving onwards and upwards, Miles. I’ve secured a position with a firm of real lawyers.

MILES: Real lawyers? This is the most respected firm in all of England! You’re a QC, man!

TIM: I’m going to be given the chance to stick up for the underdog, to fight for those who have been ill-treated and have the courage to stand up and say ‘this is not fair’.

MILES: Alright I understand, you’ve always had a big heart, Tim. Your work for Amnesty International isn’t enough for you? Look, I have some other fascinating human rights cases here you could work on, pro-bono.

TIM: No, no, no. I want to help people who’ve tripped or fallen at work or in the street in the past three years. People who’ve suffered whiplash injuries in car accidents that were not their fault. People who’ve twisted their knees on slippy floors!

MILES: Alright....well it isn’t our usual area but you’re one of our top men, so as long as it brings the fees in feel free to take on some personal injury claims if you wish.

TIM: And can I offer no-win, no-fee?

MILES: Oh for goodness....you know that’s not how firms of our calibre operate; we’d have to turn down too many high-risk, groundbreaking cases....

TIM: Then I’m afraid this is goodbye.

(TIM heads for the door)

MILES: Tim, look, is this really about the... incident, at the Snowball Masquerade? Because if it is, then as far as I’m concerned it...

(TIM turns back dramatically)

TIM: NOTHING happened at the Snowball Masquerade! Nothing! And I’m going to prove it to you, you’ll see!

(TIM leaves)
(Phone rings, MILES picks it up)

MILES: Bosworth & Bosworth, Miles Bosworth speaking. Er, Wednesday morning? I’ll have to check my calendar. Excuse me? I’m sorry; I’m not familiar with a Mr Kyle...

1. INT RECRUITMENT AGENCY. A MAN (CHRIS RICHARDS) IS TALKING TO HIS EMPLOYEE (MIKE)

CHRIS:
Ah Mike. Are you ok with me calling you that?

MIKE:
Sure.

CHRIS:
Beautiful. Now Mike, I know things have been tough here at Richards Recruitment, especially after recent unfortunate events.

MIKE:
When Geoff from accounts tried to sue us because he reckoned sitting next to the photocopier had given him double vision?

CHRIS:
Not that unfortunate event.

MIKE:
Oh, you mean when we found you in the ladies toilet swinging naked from the light fitting, reeking of gin crying that all the jobs had run out?

CHRIS:
Yes, that’s the one. Anyway, ever since then you’ve been doing rather well. I’d normally be delighted with this, if the deals you’d clinched weren’t so unusual.

CHRIS PICKS UP A PIECE OF PAPER

CHRIS:
Take this one for instance. You found two people for a local startup who make reinforced dog collars that help protect against pet strangulation.

MIKE:
Great little company. Who wants their beloved mutt choked to death?

CHRIS:
Trouble is Mike. I’ve never heard of dogs being strangled, and in the weeks leading up to the jobs being available, I noticed you popping out most lunchtimes wearing black leather gloves and a balaclava, carrying a bag of doggy treats.

MIKE:
I offered to walk my neighbours dog while they were on holiday. I needed the gloves and balaclava because I’m allergic to dog sweat. The doggy treats were for their cat, who’d gone wrong after a wardrobe fell on it.

CHRIS:
Ok, what about this other one. One person hired for a new company that makes boomerang detection devices. The company are apparently doing really well. So well in fact they’ve got an add in the local press.

CHRIS PICKS UP A NEWSPAPER

CHRIS:
(READING)Avoid down-under putting you six feet under. Thompson’s early warning boomerang detection system.
They’ve even got a delux edition, that warns you when the boomerang comes back.

MIKE:
That’s something to celebrate isn’t it? Especially given our economy at the moment.

CHRIS:
Well yes. It’s just a few weeks before you secured the deal I walked past your office and found you shaking hands with a Aboriginal gentleman. You were both laughing hysterically, holding up a blood stained boomerang.

MIKE:
It was my mate Charlie. He was celebrating coming out of his coma and brought me some doughnuts. Even though his short term memory was shot, he remembered an old aboriginal joke. When he told me it, we were laughing so hard his boomerang accidentally fell in the bag and got covered in jam.

CHRIS:
Hmm. Ok, Mike, Ok. I’m prepared to accept your ludicrous explanations, mainly because you’re making money and most days I’m spaced out on gin. But please (beat)

MIKES PHONE RINGS. CHRIS MOTIONS FOR HIM TO PICK IT UP

MIKE:
(TALKING ON PHONE)Yeah. Yeah. Look I’ve told you this already. You know. Heroes in a half shell. Yeah. Ok, that’s great thanks.

CHRIS LOOKS PUZZLED.

CHRIS:
Try to keep this under control.

FADE

2. EXT STREET. AN ELDERLY COUPLE ARE STANDING AT A BUS STOP. SUDDENLY A BEARDED MAN ON A BIKE GOES PAST THEM, SHOUTS ‘COWABUNGA’ AND THROWS SHIT ALL OVER THEM. THE CAMERA PANS PAST THE COUPLE OVER TO A LARGE QUEUE OF PEOPLE. AT THE FRONT OF THE QUEUE IS A SIGN THAT SAYS ‘BUS STOP SHIT SHIELDS £10’.

Hello boys and girls. Just to let you know I'll be away from the computer next week (eye treatment, yuk) so the results will be up later than usual. Good aren't I.