Here are the opening scenes of a sitcom I've just started working on. First draft. Do you think there's any hope??
SCENE:
Most of the action takes place at the offices of Middleton & Son, undertakers. They're based in a sleepy and slightly odd seaside town that bears more than a passing resemblance to Ventnor on the Isle of Wight. The offices are rundown and shabby - the business appears to be failing. There is a general air of 1960 about the place, which is when Mr Middleton Senior set the firm up.
SCENE 1. INT. LOCATION #1 - DAY 1 [9.00]
MIDDLETON & SON'S PREMISES. NIGEL MIDDLETON'S OFFICE.
NIGEL MIDDLETON, THE 'SON' IN THE FIRM'S NAME, IS 53 AND LOOKS IT. HE'S IRASCIBLE, SEEDY, SCRUFFY AND GOING DOWN THE PLUGHOLE. BUT HE'S NOT GOING DOWN WITHOUT A FIGHT. HE'S STANDING IN HIS OFFICE, HOLDING A STATEMENT IN HIS HAND AND ADDRESSING A STUFFED HARE.
NIGEL:
Just look at this statement! Just look at it! Profits down 50% last year. What am I supposed to do, eh? What am I supposed to do? There just aren't enough natural deaths these days.
HE LOOKS OUT OF THE WINDOW. AN OLD COUPLE ARE STANDING AT THE SIDE OF THE ROAD, DITHERING ABOUT WHETHER TO CROSS. NIGEL SHOUTS AT THEM
Go on, cross. It's perfectly safe. What are you waiting for?
A CAR WHIZZES PAST. THE COUPLE LOOK UP.
Go on! What have you got to live for? (THE COUPLE DON'T MOVE) Here's my card. Just in case you change your minds.
NIGEL THROWS HIS BUSINESS CARD OUT OF THE WINDOW. ADDRESSES HARE AGAIN.
Did you see the paper this morning, hmm? Shocking. Doctors reckon 80% of cancers will be curable within the next five years. And smoking's down. People are taking exercise. What sort of chance have we got?
MR BARCLAY, 58, ENTERS AS THIS MONOLOGUE IS PROGRESSING. HE'S SILVER-HAIRED, DISTINGUISHED LOOKING BUT THERE'S SOMETHING FAINTLY PERVY IN HIS APPEARANCE. HE'S THE KIND OF CHARACTER WHOSE FIRST NAME IS NEVER REVEALED.
MR BARCLAY:
It's not all doom and gloom, sir. The obesity figures are very promising.
NIGEL:
It's swings and roundabouts though, isn't it. Obese cadavers cost us a fortune in wood. Morning Barclay.
MR BARCLAY:
Morning, sir. I'm sorry I'm late by the way. There was what I can only describe as ordure in my sleeping quarters. It was odiferous in the extreme and...
NIGEL:
We can't go on like this, Barclay.
MR BARCLAY:
No. I made that perfectly clear to the culprit.
NIGEL:
I'm not talking about that. I mean the firm. It's going down the pan. We need a plan. I want everyone in here at 11am sharp for a brainstorming session. OK?
MR BARCLAY:
Yes, sir.
CUT TO:
SCENE 2. INT. LOCATION #2 - DAY 1 [9.30]
THE RECEPTION OF MIDDLETON & SON. A RESPECTABLE MIDDLE-AGED PUNTER WALKS IN AND RINGS THE BELL. THERE ARE HACKING AND THUDDING NOISES GOING ON. EVENTUALLY JOHN APPEARS.
JOHN PRENTICE, 28, IS A THICK-SET, AMIABLE YOUTH WHO'S NOT BURDENED WITH INTELLECT AND LOOKS AS IF HE'D BE BETTER OFF WORKING IN A BUTCHER'S SHOP. HE'S ACTUALLY WEARING A BUTCHER'S APRON AND WIPES HIS HANDS ON IT AS HE COMES TO THE COUNTER.
JOHN:
Alright?
PUNTER:
Excuse me, but I think you've got my father here.
JOHN CONSIDERS THIS
JOHN:
What, is Mr Middleton your old man?
PUNTER:
No, no, you misunderstand me.
JOHN:
Yeah, I was gonna say, 'cos you look too old for Mr Middleton to be your old man. No offence or nothing.
PUNTER:
My father's dead!
JOHN:
I'm sorry about that. (BEAT) So why did you say we've got him here then?
PUNTER:
This is the undertakers, isn't it?
JOHN:
Oh, right, yeah. I see what you're driving at. You reckon we've got your old chap on the slab.
PUNTER:
Yes. His name is - was - Stanley Harding.
JOHN:
No, that's not much help, see. They don't introduce themselves.
PUNTER:
But surely they must be labelled in some way?
JOHN:
Tell you what, do you wanna come down and have a look. See if you can pick him out?
PUNTER:
No! (BEAT) Isn't there anyone else I can talk to?
JOHN:
Yeah, alright. (SHOUTS) Mrs Talbot!
SUSAN TALBOT, 44, APPEARS. IT IS IMMEDIATELY OBVIOUS THAT SHE IS A SENSIBLE WOMAN WHO HOLDS THE WHOLE THING TOGETHER.
(STILL SHOUTING) Got a bloke here looking for his dad!
SUSAN:
I can hear you, John.
JOHN:
Right.
SUSAN:
And I can take care of this now.
JOHN:
Right.
JOHN DOESN'T GO
SUSAN:
Which means that you can get on with your work.
JOHN:
Right.
JOHN DOESN'T GO
SUSAN:
John, go away and get on with your work!
JOHN:
Right.
HE GOES THIS TIME
SUSAN:
I'm so sorry about that. Can I help you?
PUNTER:
I think you've got my father here. Stanley Harding?
SUSAN LOOKS IN THE REGISTER
SUSAN:
Just a moment. Oh yes, here he is. He came in the day before yesterday. So - did you want to discuss the arrangements for the funeral?
PUNTER:
Yes, but just one thing.
SUSAN:
What's that?
PUNTER:
He is definitely dead, isn't he?
SUSAN:
Oh yes, there's no doubt about that.
PUNTER:
Good.
CUT TO:
SCENE 3. INT. LOCATION #3 - DAY 1 [9.40]
THE MORTUARY. COFFINS IN A ROW. JOHN ENTERS. SMOKE STARTS BILLOWING OUT OF ONE OF THE COFFINS.
JOHN:
Oh Christ. Oh Jesus Christ.
HE FETCHES A FIRE EXTINGUISHER AND SPRAYS THE COFFIN. THE COFFIN LID STARTS TO OPEN. JOHN SCREAMS AND RUNS AWAY. MICHELLE COMES OUT. MICHELLE CARTER IS 22, CYNICAL, SMART AND TOTALLY IRRESPONSIBLE
MICHELLE:
You great big Jessy. That was hilarious. You should have heard yourself screaming. You better go and change your underpants now.
JOHN:
What were you doing in there?
MICHELLE:
Smoking a joint. You get a better hit in a confined space.
JOHN:
Middleton'd fire you if he found out you were doing that.
MICHELLE:
I couldn't give a monkey's. Anyway it's you that's just trashed that coffin. Look at it.
JOHN:
It'll wipe off.
MICHELLE:
It might not. It might have stained the wood. Then you'll be in trouble.
JOHN:
Oh, God.