DYNAMIC WORK

The Curious Case At Victory Mansions

From the top of Victory Mansions, it was said that you could see the whole of the world and a few miles beyond that. Mr Edward Shrew was the owner of the highest room in the building and would sometimes charge a penny to any passer-by who wanted to see the ends of the Earth.

On a clear evening it was also the place to watch the heavens move across the sky and for that Mr Edward Shrew charged any interested parties two pennies for the pleasure.

Edward would push his clients through the smallest window in his attic and would then tell them to hold on for dear life. Three of his passers-by had slid off the roof at different times, one killing another passer-by below.

Mr Shrew used to tell the local policeman that the bodies belonged to unhappy souls who had jumped because they couldn’t take it anymore. Mr Edward Shrew always took precautions, in that he measured the width of a client’s backside in order to establish if they were small enough to fit through the window. On one occasion, Mrs Pettigrew had lied about her size and had been well and truly stuck in the window for several days. While up there, she had been hit by rain, snow and on the Tuesday night, some lightning which left her with a permanent bald patch. From that time on, Mr Shrew measured everyone.

It was on one particular bank holiday Wednesday that Professor Grand paid Mr Shrew his two pennies, Grand had his backside approved for size and then he was pushed on to the roof. Professor Grand was the leading light in the country on shiny things in the sky. If ever a person had a question on shiny things in the sky, Professor Grand was your man. And it was on that Wednesday evening that Professor Grand did something very unusual. He shouted out for the very first time in his life.

You see Professor Grand had seen something peculiar in the sky and it had surprised him. It was a shiny thing (of which he knew everything) but it was a shiny thing that blinked and winked.

“Werry, werry, strange,” said Professor Grand. “Werry strange, indeed.”
When Professor Grand was back on the safety of the street, he sent a messenger around to each of his esteemed colleagues, to arrange a meeting in order that they discuss the shiny thing that blinked and winked in the night sky.

Seven of his friends thought that it might be comet on its way to crash into the Earth. Three thought it a sign from the Heavens about something or other that they couldn’t be specific about and one thought it was the start of an alien invasion.

Professor Grand decided to refrain from coming to a conclusion until he knew more. So each evening, he would pay Mr Shrew his two pennies (an income that he was beginning to appreciate), and although he had been there the night before, Mr Shrew still insisted on measuring the professor’s posterior.

“Can’t be too careful, you might have put on some weight in the meantime, Proffy,” said Shrew.

Professor Grand hated being called ‘proffy’ but as long as he needed the roof he knew to keep his thoughts to himself. Each evening, the professor clung on for dear life and took notes about the way the shiny thing, blinked and the way the shiny thing, winked. Yet there seemed to be no pattern to any of it. It wasn’t getting any bigger in size, which led the professor to think that maybe it wasn’t headed towards Earth after all.

I will place it out before you, dear readers, what was puzzling the dear professor. Sometimes, even when there were clouds in the sky and no other stars were visible, the shiny thing still blinked and winked.

“Werry, werry, werry strange,” said Professor Grand. In fact there probably wasn’t enough ‘werries’ in the world to cover the professor’s curiosity and worries. Sometimes it stopped, perhaps for a week or more and strangely on Christmas Day.

‘Curious’, wrote the professor in his notebook.

One sunny afternoon when Professor Grand was sleeping at his large house on the other side of town, two police constables called at the building opposite Mr Shrew’s Victory Mansions and arrested the man on the top floor. Apparently he had been going out at night on to his roof, standing on the top of the chimney and using his telescope to look into all the bedrooms opposite. From afar, the reflection from the telescope seemed to blink and wink.

Professor Grand died without knowing the truth.

bobby stevenson 2016

Tuesday, 15 March 2016

The Look of Strangers

There are those amongst us who slip into to this life like a well-worn glove, who very rarely question its strangeness and in most circumstances prefer to take everything that it offers.

Then there are people like me, Michael Andrews, sometime author, sometimes happy but mostly otherwise confused. There are days when I intentionally tell myself I’m stupid so as not to think too much, so as not to over analyse too much. But on other days...well on those other days I look around and scare myself with what I see. All of us sharing a little rock in space without rhyme nor reason, perhaps that is part of what makes me an author or maybe I’m just going plain mad.

There can only be two answers to this universe; either there is a God in control of everything or there is no one in control and now that I’ve had that thought I don’t want to get out of bed - ever.
Perhaps I’ll just hang on to my mattress and hope that Gravity does its job and keeps me in place.

So on the days I have to go into the city to see some colleague or other, I look at the faces on the subway or on the buses or on the trains or in all those faces of people walking. I look for some recognition that I am not alone in this belief, the belief that this existence really is only for the stupid and that the rest of us are terrified out of our minds the whole time.

And then there is always that nagging feeling which has been around since I was a kid – a feeling that I might have forgotten something important, something that when I remember it will make sense of all of this.

Then I see those faces in the city, those faces looking back at me and I rub my own face looking for marks, or bleeding from my nose or words written on my forehead that say ‘stare at this man’ – but there’s nothing on my face, it’s just the look of strangers.

Maybe they are also looking at me for some recognition that I am going through the same hell as them, but I have that well disguised expression of the stupid and they find no comfort in my face.
But I now know what it is and the truth is even more terrifying than my fevered imagination could have ever created.

I am going to tell you all this as a warning, to tell you to take care. I will tell you what I know and then let you decide.

Last Saturday morning the sun was bleaching the streets of the city and so I decided to take a walk from the central station up to the bohemian part of town.

I passed by the government buildings, the Royal palaces, the squares and avenues that were full of tourists. I walked under trees and arches and I walked around bistros, street cafes, theatres, cinemas and all of them full of strangers, some of whom caught my eye and other who walked on.

Then as I passed a glass shelter at a bus terminal a strange thing happened, I could see in the reflection that many of those who were behind me or had walked passed me were now looking in my direction.

But when I turned around no one was looking. No one was staring and everyone was going about their business. Now I know what you’re thinking. You’re saying it’s the start of the decline, the start of the long journey into the dark. Soon names will be a thing of the past and I will be left in a corner with vacant eyes.

Perhaps I was thinking something similar myself until it happened again.
I had a pair of sunglasses, the type that allows you to see behind oneself, maybe made for this very exercise and there they were again, people looking at me behind my back and when I turned once again - nothing.
Paranoid? - Perhaps.

I took my phone, the one with the video recorder, and began to keep it in the palm of my hand, always filming behind me. At the Gin Joint Cafe I had a coffee and excitedly started to watch the film.

There they were - people who showed no interest in me apart from a look while passing – who, when they were behind me, would stop, look at me and apparently discuss amongst themselves some detail or another. People who were apparently strangers were talking about me.
Insane? - You would think.

I did what any insane person would do, I turned quickly and started to follow them through the streets and the arches and the squares until several of them disappeared into a doorway, one that slammed shut in my face. I waited on them but no one came out.

I waited and waited and still nothing.
I walked with my head down back to the railway station until in a shop window I saw more of them, a new crowd watching me.
I am ill, I must be.

I let it be. I went about my life ignoring the look of strangers. Some still walked by me and watched my face as if they were drinking in every last detail.
I just assumed I was wrong.

Then one night in the Gin Joint Cafe I drank more than I should have. I sat at the bar like the old soak of a writer I was. It had just gone eleven o’clock when the girl sat next to me.

“You’re Michael Andrews, the writer?”
“What do you want? An autograph or maybe you want to buy me a drink?”
“I just wanted to shake your hand” she said “we are not supposed to do this. It’s against everything.”
“What is?” I asked, slipping back another short.
“Well talking to you, the greatest writer since Shakespeare.”
“I think you’ve got me mixed up with someone else.”
“No I haven’t, Michael Steven Andrews, born 1963, died 20... wait I’m not supposed to let you know that.”
“You know when I am going to die?” I asked.
“You died years before I was born” she said.
“We come back to visit all the great ones, you and Shakespeare are the most popular.”
“Come back from where?”
“The future, your future, I mean you have already found out that Einstein was wrong and things can travel faster than light. It won’t be long until you start sending objects back in time.”

I was about to ask what asylum she had escaped from when she disappeared.
So now you know what I know. When you get that look from a stranger then perhaps they are more than just inquisitive. Perhaps they are one of your own descendants or a student or a time tourist.
Who or whatever they are, just do what I do and keep on walking.
It's safer that way.

bobby stevenson 2016

Monday, 14 March 2016

Once Upon A Time In New York City

I guess I’d been running ever since I’d left San Antonio; maybe it’s a universal truth that we’re all running from something, or maybe to something. Who knows? Who cares?

Back then, back in that hot summer of 1977, I’d been looking for work all the way from Savannah, Georgia down to Texas. I’d found some work but it usually dried up quickly and I’d be back on that Trailways bus before you could say ‘adios amigos’.

My daddy ran from something when I was about 4 years old -- us.
My mother told me, that my daddy felt that me and her had 'trapped him', and so he’d left one morning without saying goodbye. After that, my mother read the newspapers like her life depended on it. Scanning for words, like ‘Georgia man found dead’, ’Georgia man caught robbing bank’, she wasn’t real clear about what she was looking for, but she felt that my daddy was sure to have a bad finish to his living.

We never did hear from him again, but I guess he left me one thing – the ability to keep running.
Being a life-runner don’t make you a bad person, no sir-eee, but it don’t make you a good man either. I mean, folks are just getting to know you (and you, them) when you’re off like a flare from the sun, just ‘cause it’s all getting too close for comfort. There’s not enough space between you and the other soul breathing down your neck. It ain’t right, I’m telling you here and now, I know it ain’t right - but sometimes a man just can’t help himself.

That’s what had happened in San Antonio, I’d been working as a guide at the Alamo – telling them folks all about their heroes and trying to stop them looking towards the Woolworth store that stood across the street – seeing as it kind of killed the atmosphere for them tourists. Still, they all seemed to tip well and I was stashing away a good few greenbacks. I even bought myself one of those new-fangled portable tape players and one of the new music tapes – Fleetwood Macs’ Rumours.
Man, I never got tired of those songs – they were like gold, pure and simple.

But you see, I had met someone in San Antonio and they were talking about me and them settling down and moving into an apartment together. So me being me, I took that as a signal that it was my time to be shaking and moving down the highway and, just like my daddy, I left with the new dawn and without ever saying goodbye.

Okay, so I had issues. Tell me one soul on this planet who ain’t got any? Living is so weird and unnatural that not to have any issues would be a sign of something wrong in your heart and head.
I took the bus as far as Jacksonville, Florida and then I shot straight up past my own city of Savannah. Man that killed me, ‘cause it is such a beautiful place, but I just didn’t want to see any of my old life. I had the chance to look around as the bus drivers switched over but in the end I just grabbed a coffee and kept on heading north.

Do you ever sometimes feel that things happen to you just at the right time? Strange, ain’t it? But sometimes you can’t argue them facts into the dust. Some days are made for you and you can’t dismiss them.

That humid Wednesday in July was one of those days. I had changed buses at Myrtle Beach and then took the one that was heading for New York City. Man, that bus got real hot and sticky - a stinky humid hot. When all life is pushed together in those conditions, you’ve got to go some to love your fellow-man.

It was a truly beautiful evening as the bus rode up 8^th avenue where the whole world and their brothers and sisters were out on the streets of Manhattan, playing music, laughing, smiling, taking time out of their troubled lives to party. It was good to be alive, and all I could think about was about getting me some of that Manhattan clam chowder.

The bus had only pulled into the Port Authority when it happened. The whole world went dark. Not just the bus, not just the bus terminal, but whole damned world as far as anyone could see (or not). Pitch black. No two other words could describe it. Pitch. Black.

Some guy up front of the bus lit one of those fuel driven cigarette lighters – man the smell of that thing, it ain’t good. A couple of minutes later and the bus driver had got the bus lights working and we could see again.

At least, we could see inside the bus, but outside man – it was like the end of everything.
The driver was saying things like ‘calm down folks, it ain’t the end of the world’, but as the old woman next to me said, ‘how did he know it wasn’t’. The driver took a step off of the bus and disappeared into the dark. The rest of us passengers were grumbling about how we were going to get our luggage out from the bus hold.

I heard a woman screaming somewhere out there that her dog had escaped from her. Some guy shouted that he’d been mugged. It might not be the end of the world but it sure felt like it.
I guess it was a different city back then, folks didn’t look you straight in the eye – it felt as if it was everyone was out for themselves. Of course, things have changed since that day in September (you know the one I mean), folks take time with others now, but in 1977 well it was dog-eat-dog world. Maybe I’m being unkind to the city - but as a guy from the south, it was the way it looked to me.

The man on the bus with the lighter had managed to open the door for the luggage and had started throwing everyone’s stuff on to the ground. In the dim light I saw my bag flying passed my shoulder, so I grabbed it and head off into what? I wasn’t too sure.

I heard a kid further up 8^th Avenue say that the aliens had landed and he and his ma were going into hiding. Most folks were just shadows and silhouettes. Some had lit fires down alley ways. A young woman was screaming for someone to help her, ‘cause her elderly mother was stuck in an elevator and she needed to get her to hospital.

I decided to head up towards Central Park – it might be safer, it might not. I could hear the sirens of police cars, ambulances and fire-trucks from all over Manhattan.

Some woman ran passed me and shouted that a power-station had blown up somewhere and that the whole of the city was broken. I guess she might be right. Maybe the lights would come back on, maybe they wouldn’t. Up ahead of me I heard the noise of a window being smashed. Turned out it was a store that sold all those electrical things, TVs, radios and the rest. There were people pushing passed me with their arms full of robbed stuff.

As I passed the window of the store, I could see the lit ends of cigarettes moving around the place like fire-flies. Next thing I know, some big guy has grabbed me by the throat and has me shoved up against a wall.

“Your money!”
That was all he said, then someone else called out that the cop cars were heading our way and he let me go, then the man disappeared into the night. Me, still keeping hold of my money.
I walked up towards Columbus Circle – folks had parked cars on the sidewalks with the headlights aimed straight into the stores. It was a chaos and people were just helping themselves.

As I crossed the Circle to the Park, I heard a gunshot come from over to my right - near some hotel or other. Somebody shouted ‘You ain’t coming in here’ and there was the sound of another gun shot. That night Manhattan had turned into crazy town.

Central Park was just Central Park. As I walked in the pitch black hoping not to hit or fall from anything, I could hear folks singing up ahead. Down below me I could hear a couple having sex. Not sure what kind of couple it was.

Over at the area they call the ‘Sheep Meadow’, I could see a few bonfires burning. I wasn’t sure if the noises were folks fighting or partying.

Then a thought went through my head – one about where all this running really gets you. It gets you very lost and in deep trouble. I was only thinking that way for a minute or two when a soft voice carried over from the darkness.

“Hi there,” she said.
And stepping out from the shadows, into the fire light, was a face that belonged to an angel.
“Wanna join us?”, asked the face and then she pointed to a group of about 10 people sitting around a fire.

I didn’t get a chance to reply as she’d already started to walk back towards the bonfire.
As I sat down I could hear a couple on the other side of the fire talking about all this being the end of the world.

“There’s gonna be blood sacrifice before this night is out,” said the man’s voice.
“I think we should pray,” said a younger girl’s voice.
“For what?” Shouted an old man.
“For forgiveness,” said the girl.
“Bull shit,” said the man, who was getting angrier. “Every time something bad happens to anyone, you lot blame the way we live”.

Then the angel face spoke up and asked me who I was and where I had been going before the darkness fell. So I told her - and them - my story, and in the dark and with all the words out there, my life sounded pretty pathetic.

Just then a gunshot sounded out somewhere across the park.
“It’s getting like the wild west round here,” said a kid.

Inside I had to agree and as the minutes ticked on, there was chaos growing everywhere.
The sirens grew louder, and the gunshots more frequent. A gang, who must have looted a store, ran past us, laughing, all with music systems under their arms. A few seconds later some cops almost ran through our fire while chasing them.

More and more bonfires grew up around the park as folks tried to find some safety in a place where night-time was normally the enemy.

Usually no one came here in the dark, unless they were looking for something that could only be done in the blackness. You hear what I’m saying. Tonight ‘though, it was the safest place (if anywhere was safe) in a city at war.

For a long time, our little gang, talked and talked, and in the talking we all realized that – yeah, we really were pretty much the same – same fears – same hopes – same dreams. These were folks who would have never mixed in the normal day-to-day, but tonight they found themselves clinging to a lifeboat in a park.

At some point I fell asleep, for the next thing I knew it was the sun rising and warming the end of my nose. We had made it through the night and next to the dying embers of our fire a young couple huddled together.

Most of the folks I had talked to had disappeared into the night. I had shared intimate thoughts with people whom I had never met before, whose faces I had never actually seen, and who I would never talk to again.

I walked over towards the East side and all I could see was the scars of the mayhem from the dark night. Somewhere out there, someone was brewing coffee and I was going to find them.

bobby stevenson 2016

Monday, 29 February 2016

Two Mature and Childish (3 screenplay intros)

CLOSING DOORS - THE LAST DAYS OF TONY HANCOCK

(Warning - Strong Language and Adult Situations)

“ONE BY ONE HE SHUT THE DOOR ON ALL THE PEOPLE HE KNEW, THEN
HE SHUT THE DOOR ON HIMSELF.”

SPIKE MILLIGAN ON TONY HANCOCK

This is just the first few pages of an early script about the last days of Tony Hancock (British Comedian)

Tony went to Australia to attempt to revive his Television career but without the support of his writers and pals (all of whom he dumped), the revival failed and he took his own life at the age of 44 in the basement of his producer’s house.

This is an excerpt from Wikipedia:

Hancock died by suicide, by overdose, in Sydney, on 24 June 1968. He was found dead in his Bellevue Hill apartment with an empty vodka bottle by his right hand and amphetamines by his left.

In one of his suicide notes he wrote: “Things just seemed to go too wrong too many times”.

BLACK SCREEN

TITLES:
“ONE BY ONE HE SHUT THE DOOR ON ALL THE PEOPLE HE KNEW, THEN
HE SHUT THE DOOR ON HIMSELF.”
SPIKE MILLIGAN ON TONY HANCOCK

BLACK SCREEN
DIRECTOR (V.O.)
Okay Tony, can we take that line
again?

HANCOCK (V.O.)
“Oh no, I’ve got the giraffe again,
I’ve got three of these, why can’t
I get the packet with the
hippopotamus?”

Silence.

HANCOCK (V.O.) (CONT’D)
Does that sound funny to you? It
doesn’t sound funny to me.

BELL RINGS.

DIRECTOR (V.O.)
Take twenty everyone, there is some
noise on the tape.

TITLES: “June 1968, ATN-7 Studios, Sydney, Australia.”

FADE IN:

INT. TV STUDIO – DAY

TONY HANCOCK, forty four going on sixty.
Tony is walking towards his trailer. His PA hands him a cup
and his PRODUCER walks beside him.

HANCOCK
Well?

PRODUCER
What Tony?

HANCOCK
Does it sound funny? These are no
Galton and Simpson.

PRODUCER
Give them a chance.

HANCOCK
Give them a chance? Give them a
chance? Listen matey, I’m out of
chances. Me.

The producer places his hand on Hancock’s shoulder. Hancock
stops and kills the moment with a look.
The producer’s hand retreats.
Hancock continues walking but the producer stays where he is;
he knows better.
Hancock enters his trailer.
SLAM….a closing door.

INT. TRAILER – DAY
Hancock, life-tired, sits staring into an unforgiving mirror.
He opens a Qantas Airline Bag or should that be
pharmaceutical central?
Some tablets are placed on the table, a bottle of vodka is
retrieved from under the table – it’s been taped there – and
is poured into Hancock’s cup.
He swallows the lot.

KNOCK.

HANCOCK
What?

PA (O.S.)
It’s me.

HANCOCK
Wait.

The airline bag is closed and the bottle taped back under the
table.

HANCOCK (CONT’D)
Enter.

PA
It’s the sound men; it was a bird
they picked up on the tape.

HANCOCK
So?

PA
Well they’re trying to shoot it out
of its hiding place using a
catapult and some moth balls.

HANCOCK
You couldn’t make this stuff up and
unfortunately neither can my
writers.

PA
It’s just….

HANCOCK
…it’s just what?

The PA turns towards the door and there are some fans waiting
to talk to Hancock.

Hancock gets up and goes over to the door.

HANCOCK (CONT’D)
Fuck off.

He slams the door shut and then approaches the PA. Their
faces are an inch apart.

HANCOCK (CONT’D)
What do you think I am? A tin of
beans.

The PA slides away and out the door.

INT. HOTEL ROOM – NIGHT
A TELEVISION is on.
The room is empty and someone is showering in the bathroom.
We will find out that this is Hancock.
On the television is an interview with Hancock and John
Freeman.

TELEVISION HANCOCK
“It’s partly true that I’m a lonely
person. There are times when you’re
desperately lonely, standing in the
wings, at say, the Palladium….”

Going around the room we see the items that reflect his life
at the moment.

TELEVISION HANCOCK (CONT’D)
“….You’re out there alone. To be
shot at, shouted at, booed, have
rivets thrown at you (which I’ve
had) and seven pence ha’penny
thrown at me at Bristol – which I
picked up carefully off the stage
and bought myself a half of
bitter…”

A script lying open on the bed.

TELEVISION HANCOCK (CONT’D)
“How do you make comedy? You don’t
make it with measured ingredients -
it’s not cake. You make comedy with
feeling…..”

The Qantas bag on the bedside table.

TELEVISION HANCOCK (CONT’D)
“What I play on television is an
extension of myself and the
idiosyncrasies of other people
combined…”

Two bottles of brandy and a bottle of vodka.

TELEVISION HANCOCK
“You are, after all involved in
life, and you do certain stupid
things yourself. So if you are
going to stand there and throw
stones, at what point of perfection
do you stand? If one is going to be
critical without any chance of
comeback, it’s like hitting a
child”.

A HAND turns off the television. It’s Hancock’s. He slumps on
the bed in a towel , pours a vodka into a glass and smiles to
himself.
He picks up the ‘phone.

HANCOCK
Get me Mrs Sennett in Bournemouth,
England. (Pause) That’s right, my
Mum.

While he waits, he picks up a couple of tablets from the
bedside table.
He washes them down with vodka.

HANCOCK (CONT’D)
Mum. Guess who?

INT. TV STUDIO – DAY
PEOPLE doing things. Carrying cables, scenery. People
painting.
The PA exits from Hancock’s trailer.

PRODUCER
How is he?

The PA crosses his fingers and moves on.

PRODUCER (CONT’D)
Come on now people. We have a show
to put on.

The producer spots some of the team, watching.

PRODUCER (CONT’D)
I thought it was your day off?

STAGE HAND
Tony Hancock is in town.

PRODUCER
Hope he’s worth it.

The producer claps his hands.

PRODUCER (CONT’D)
Move. Someone get Tony. You.

A YOUNG GIRL is selected.
She nervously goes over to the trailer and knocks the door.
There is no response. She knocks again.

PRODUCER (CONT’D)
Just leave it. I’ll get him.

The girl runs off.
The producer loudly knocks the trailer door.

PRODUCER (CONT’D)
(shouting)
Coming in.

INT. TRAILER – DAY
The producer enters.
Tony is somewhere between Sydney and the moon.

PRODUCER
For fuck sake, what did you take?

HANCOCK
(slurred)
You know….what Sid said about me?
He said….what was I talking
about? Oh yes, Sid. He said….that
I have the best timing in the
business. The best.

Hancock is not in charge of moving his head; it has its own
life.

INT. TV STUDIO – DAY
There are many EXPECTANT FACES as Hancock and the producer
emerge. However this turns to disappointment as the producer
supports Hancock from the trailer. He carries him to the set.

PRODUCER
Come on people. We have episode six
to put in the can.

The enthusiasm has eroded in the studio, everyone is going
through the motions.

STUDIO LATER
Hancock stands ready, however his face shows that although
the light may be on, nobody is home.

DIRECTOR
All you have to do is pick up the
‘phone.

Hancock nods like a drunk.

DIRECTOR (CONT’D)
And action.

Hancock lifts the receiver, dials very badly then ‘speaks in
tongues’ into the phone.

DIRECTOR (CONT’D)
Cut. That’s the sixteenth take and
that bastard is incapable of saying
a line.

Hancock stands lost and sweating from head to foot.

DIRECTOR (CONT’D)
Hancock, you c*nt. Get out there
and act.

Hancock is in turmoil. He is practising ‘Chinese burns’ on
his wrists.

DIRECTOR (CONT’D)
(to producer)
Are you going to fucking call
someone?

The producer nods. A PA hands him a phone.

PRODUCER
(into phone)
Get me the Managing Director.

INT. HOTEL ROOM – DAY
This is another time and another place. Hancock is shaved,
dressed and sober.
He sits reading the paper and drinking coffee.
A KNOCK at the door.

HANCOCK
(with gusto)
Enter.

The producer enters.

HANCOCK (CONT’D)
Coffee?

PRODUCER
Please.

The producer sits as he pours him a cup.

HANCOCK
So, did you see yesterday’s rushes?

PRODUCER
Ehm…no, not yet.

HANCOCK
Well, we can look at them today.
I thought yesterday went well.

These two guys are remembering different days.

PRODUCER
If you say so.

HANCOCK
Of course, I say so.

Hancock gets up.

HANCOCK (CONT’D)
Well, come on. Let’s get a move on.

Hancock is already out the door.

HANCOCK (O.S.) (CONT’D)
Come on.

INT. CAR – DAY
The producer looks at Hancock, not sure who is riding in his
car.
Hancock is happy and smoking.

HANCOCK
I’ve got to get me Mum something.

Silence.

HANCOCK (CONT’D)
I hear the contract is for 26
shows. I was thinking I might do it
in three batches and head home. See
Mum and Joan. What do you think?

Silence.

HANCOCK (CONT’D)
Have I upset you?

PRODUCER
No. The Managing Director wants to
speak to you when we get in.

HANCOCK
Any idea, about what?

The producer looks at Hancock. Then shakes his head.

HANCOCK (CONT’D)
Can’t be too serious then.

There is a look on Hancock’s face as if he may know what the
talk is about.

HANCOCK (CONT’D)
We could always take the whole
thing back to England.

PRODUCER
If you don’t do it here, it’s all
over. If you fuck up in Australia,
there’s no where else to go.

The car pulls into the studio gate.

INT. PRODUCER’S HOTEL ROOM – NIGHT
The producer sits going through some paper work.

The phone RINGS.

PRODUCER
Hello.

HANCOCK (V.O.)
Evening.

PRODUCER
Tony.

HANCOCK (V.O.)
I’ve decided. I’m going to take the
cure.

PRODUCER
Where are you?

INT. HOSPITAL ROOM – NIGHT
Hancock sits in a hospital gown.

HANCOCK
Cavell House Private Hospital at
Rose Bay. That bastard said it was
this or the first bloody ‘plane
back to Blighty

...........to becontinued

boy

2.BURIED
(Warning – Strong Language and Adult Situations)

First Ten Pages of a Script

Episode One – “The House of Tricks”.

BLACK SCREEN
FRAN (Voice over)
It’s sad when you get hurt so much that you can finally say,
‘I’m used to it’.

CAR ENGINE.
FADE IN:

EXT. STREET. 1966 – NIGHT
A DARK CAR cuts through the night like a shark.

INT. CAR. 1966 – NIGHT
Ribbed leather rear seat of an expensive car, probably a 1960s Rover.
Light from the occasional street lamp sweeps across the seat.
The car slows then stops, and a back-door opens.
The driver CLICKS the dial of the car radio, it sweeps through radio stations. It settles on something SOULFUL.

A CHILD, FRANKIE, his face is 14 years old, his eyes are ancient, slides onto the seat.
FRANKIE smiles over to someone, probably the driver. Then the usual terror makes his face adopt a grimace.

This kid has done all this, too many times, before.
Frankie closes the door.
The car drives off.
The street lights illuminate a thoughtful boy with a million things on his mind.

LATER
The car slows once more, and stops.
This time, DAN, 10 years of age and terrified, slips onto the seat next to Frankie.
Frankie doesn’t look at the kid, he just slides over.
Tears are forming on DAN’S FACE.

With both boys staring straight ahead, Frankie places his hand on top of Dan’s, then puts his fingers between Dan’s (as if to say, I’m here too).
SOMEONE outside the car, straightens Dan’s clothes, pats down Dan’s hair, and then closes the car door.
The CAR SPEEDS away.

INT. WESTMINSTER SQUARE. 1966 – NIGHT
Dan looking haunted out of the window of the car.
CAPTION: “LONDON – 1966”
The CAR drives around WESTMINSTER SQUARE.

EXT. GARAGE. 1966 – NIGHT
The CAR drives through the entrance of an UNDERGROUND PARKING AREA.

INT. GARAGE. 1966 – CONTINUOUS
The car stops beside several Bentleys, Rollers and Jaguars.
A LARGE BOUNCER TYPE – (we take it he’s the driver) – gets out and opens the door for the kids.
Frankie has done this all before, he knows the routine and where his place is in things.
The Bouncer waves to the boys to get out. Frankie stands beside the door – he looks back and sees Dan is sitting, petrified.

FRANKIE
Come on.

Dan still doesn’t want to leave the car.

FRANKIE (CONT’D)
I said, come on.

Frankie takes Dan’s hand and leads him out.

FRANKIE (CONT’D)
I’ll look after you.

Frankie means it.

DAN
I’m called D….

Frankie puts his hand over Dan’s mouth.

FRANKIE
Don’t tell me your name.

The two boys and the Bouncer walk across the garage to a private elevator.

INT. ELEVATOR. 1966 – CONTINUOUS
The lift doors open onto a sumptuous apartment.
This is a room full of MONEY and very little else. LUST has chased COMPASSION out of the door.
It is populated with the British establishment doing what they do best.

INT. THE HOUSE OF TRICKS. LOUNGE. 1966 – CONTINUOUS
Cravings being satisfied in every corner.
Frankie and Dan are standing in the middle of the room as OLD MEN eye them up.
As Dan becomes more anxious, Frankie squeezes Dan’s hand tighter.

SOMEONE grabs Frankie by his neck and drags him off to a room.
Frankie struggles to look back at Dan. Frankie smiles at him.
Dan is upset after being separated from his protector. Dan is standing isolated in a room of predators.

DAN
Don’t let them take me. Please, someone help me. Please. My name is Dan! Help me!

SOME OF THE ROOM turn for a second, smile at the boy, then turn away.

DAN (CONT’D)
Dan! Da….

Dan starts to cry. AN ARM picks up Dan and lifts him off to a waiting room.
Dan tries to hold on to the door frame, but his little fingers just scrape the paint and he’s pulled into the bedroom.

JIMMY (25) is the man who is keeping an eye on the room. He is watching and you can tell his mind is never on deep conversations; he is superficial.
Jimmy is conversing with several men. The ‘MINISTER’ is in his forties and overweight.

JIMMY
As you can see, new talent comes in all the time.

MINISTER
Fresh, delectable meat.

The Minister licks his lips and the OTHER MEN, laugh.

JIMMY
I prefer to say ‘fresh talent’.

MINISTER
Whatever you say James. Your parties are always a triumph.

JIMMY
You flatter me.

The Minister stuffs extra money in Jimmy’s jacket pocket.

MINISTER
I’ve had one helluva day in the House, so let me see the bait.

JIMMY
If you gentlemen will follow me. (To a TOPLESS MUSCULAR MAN)
My friends’ glasses are empty.

Jimmy snaps his fingers. The muscular man fills glasses.
The Minister rubs his hands, then grabs the bottle from the muscular man.
The Minister pushes himself to the front of the men and enters the room where Dan has been taken.

INT. THE HOUSE OF TRICKS. DAN’S BEDROOM. 1966 – NIGHT
A terrified Dan is tied to a bed and a LARGE MAN stands next to him. Dan’s mouth is silenced by tape.

MINISTER
Wonderful. Simply magnificent.

The Minister turns to the men.

MINISTER (CONT’D)
Gentlemen, behold the delicious quarry.

The Minister bends down beside Dan. He runs his finger over the scared boy’s hair, then lets his hand caress the boy’s face.

MINISTER (CONT’D)
Beautiful and fresh and ripe.

The Minister rips the tape from Dan’s mouth.

MINISTER (CONT’D)
I like to hear the whimpers – it makes me feel all warm inside.

The Minister looks at the men with him, and they all LAUGH.

The Minister puts his two fingers over the little boy’s mouth, who is about to say his name.

MINISTER
Shh, little one!

INT. THE HOUSE OF TRICKS. FRANKIE’S BEDROOM. 1966 – NIGHT
Frankie keeps looking back at the door, even although he is lying almost naked, face down on a bed.
The YOUNG MAN, who is surprisingly young (mid twenties), FORCES Frankie’s head to face forwards.
Frankie is ‘matter-of-fact’ about the process.

The Young Man is stripping off in the background.
The Young Man’s view of the naked Frankie lying face down on the bed.
The Young Man bends over and inspects a birth mark on Frankie’s lower back. From his accent and manner, this guy has been jettisoned out from a fifties’ public school.

YOUNG MAN
Interesting.

FRANKIE
What?

YOUNG MAN
That thing on your back.

The Young Man traces the mark with his fingers.

FRANKIE
The woman who delivered me was drunk.

YOUNG MAN
It rather looks like a strawberry. It’s…..pretty. Just like you.

The Young Man smiles to himself, then leans forward and kisses the birthmark.
The Young Man stands up.
The back view of the Young Man, naked. He has ROPES in his hand.

INT. THE HOUSE OF TRICKS. LOUNGE. 1966 – MORNING
THE MORNING AFTER THE NIGHT BEFORE. The sun is shining in the windows and bleaching away the debauchery of the previous evening.
The Rich and Famous have long since departed. They never spend the night in this type of place.

A TEENAGE BOY lies sleeping, half-naked on a sofa.
The CLEANER shakes the boy awake, who then starts to dress himself.
This is a business and everyone does their bit.

INT. THE HOUSE OF TRICKS. FRANKIE’S BEDROOM. 1966- CONTINUOUS
Frankie is sitting on the edge of the bed. He looks terrible but then again, he’s survived another night.
Bed sheets are strewn around the room, whatever went on in this place was wild.
The Cleaner enters and tries to ignore the boy. The Cleaner knows better than to say anything, but he can’t help himself and hands the boy his sweater.

FRANKIE
Thanks.

CLEANER
That’s all right.

The Cleaner smiles and continues cleaning up.

INT. THE HOUSE OF TRICKS. LOUNGE. 1966 – LATER
Frankie walks through the lounge and takes in the aftermath.
He heads for Dan’s Bedroom – he wants to make sure Dan is all right.

INT. THE HOUSE OF TRICKS. DAN’S BEDROOM. 1966 – CONTINUOUS
The room is empty except for the stench of depravity. There is blood on the sheets. Dan didn’t give up easily.
Frankie RUNS from the room.

INT. THE HOUSE OF TRICKS. BATHROOM. 1966 – CONTINUOUS
Frankie THROWS UP in the toilet. He probably does this every time.
Frankie has a gulp out of the water tap and then splashes his face.
Outside the bathroom, and reflected in the bathroom mirror, are TWO MEN (BIG MAN and FAT MAN) carrying a BODY wrapped in bed-clothes.

They continue into the lift.
The lift doors close.

INT. THE HOUSE OF TRICKS. LOUNGE. 1966 – CONTINUOUS
Frankie sneaks out of the bathroom and decides not to follow them by using the lift.
Instead, he uses a STAIRWELL that he has obviously used before.

INT. THE HOUSE OF TRICKS. STAIRWELL. 1966 – CONTINUOUS
Frankie looks carefully over the edge of the bannister.
NOISES from the guys in the garage, below.
Frankie creeps down.

INT. GARAGE. 1966 – CONTINUOUS
BIG MAN and FAT MAN dump the body on the ground, like a piece of meat.
Big Man opens the boot of the car and both men throw the body in the boot.
The door is SLAMMED shut.

BIG MAN
I’m going for a piss. Make sure he don’t run.
Big Man exits smiling at his own joke.
Fat Man smirks. He goes around the vehicle and lights a cigarette.
Seeing that the coast is clear, Frankie crawls over to the back of the car.
Frankie carefully opens the car boot, a little.

Fat Man, smoking, thinks he hears something, but sees a RAT moving across the floor and pretends to shoot it with his fingers.
Frankie holds the boot while pulling the cover off of the body.
Frankie jumps back.

There is Dan’s battered little face staring back at him. COLD and DEAD. His mouth is taped up.
Frankie has let the car boot swing up. This spooks Fat Man.
Big Man takes a gun from his jacket. Frankie scuttles behind the other cars. Both men search under the them.
Frankie crawls under from one car to another, as one of the men tries to grab Frankie.

BIG MAN
Come out you little shit.

Fat Man’s arm is attempting to grab under the car at Frankie.
Frankie scuttles quickly from underneath one car to another.
Frankie’s POV of the men’s legs walking around the other direction.
Frankie pushes himself out and runs for a door. It opens. He stumbles as he’s running so fast, but he scrambles up.

INT/EXT. TUNNEL. 1966 – CONTINUOUS
Frankie runs along a tunnel. In the background, Big Man and Fat Man are entering.
The door at the other end of the tunnel is BLOCKED by a PILE OF RUBBISH on the outside.
Frankie keeps kicking at the door. The rubbish slides and the door opens – enough to let someone the size of Frankie squeeze through.

EXT. LANE. 1966 – CONTINUOUS
Frankie runs down a lane behind the buildings.
At the end of the lane is a HIGH STREET, full of PEOPLE. Frankie disappears into the crowd as Big Man and Fat Man reach the end of the lane.
Big Man and Fat Man split up to search. Inside the crowd is Frankie getting lost and running.
MUSIC plays and continues over the start of the next scene.
Camera lifts up over London and into the big blue yonder. We travel over distance and time, landing in…

EXT. RUGBY PARK. FIELD. PRESENT – DAY
MEN GRUNTING.
CAPTION: “PRESENT DAY”
THE CRUNCH of a RUGBY SCRUM. We are in the middle of it all, the grunts and the sweat.
A REFEREE looks into the scrum, then blows his whistle.
The MATCH is OVER.
The BULKY MEN head to the clubhouse.

We are interested in FRANCIS (60s). This is an old man’s league and these are old men.
CHARLIE (60s) one of the players from the opposing team slaps Francis on the back.

CHARLIE
Played well, Fran…..considering.

INT. RUGBY PARK. SHOWERS. PRESENT – DAY
Francis is showering in among the usual banter. These are all MAN BEASTS who have played this sport to a good level, once upon a time.
Francis turns his back to us in order to wash. On Fran’s back is the strawberry birthmark we saw earlier. It might be older, and more tired, more wrinkled even , but it’s still the same one.

INT. RUGBY PARK. BAR. PRESENT – DAY
Charlie, from earlier, is at the bar, he brings over the TWO BEERS to the table, where Francis is sitting.

CHARLIE
Fran.

FRANCIS
God bless, Chaz. God bless you my friend.

Charlie sits down.

CHARLIE
Not enough to let us win, apparently.

FRANCIS
What can I say, the man upstairs supports Heaverbrook Over 60s. Always has.

CHARLIE
How’s life, anyway, you old scoundrel? How’s the family?
……..to be continued.

Dinosaurs-Cartoon-Style-Vector

3. FRANKIE & DINO

A couple of pages out of a script written for a US kids’ animation

EXT.DINOCAVE. DAY
DINO (pronounced Deeno) the young dinosaur is watching his
father (his hero), FRANKIE brushing his hair in the mirror.
Dad likes what he sees.
Next to the mirror is a photo of a dinosaur who resembles
Dean Martin.

FRANKIE
Did I ever tell you how your mom and I came to name you, Dino?

DINO
(to himself) Yes, dad it …

FRANKIE
It was after that great dinosaur
singer, Dean Martinsaurus.

FRANKIE gives the photo a polish while he starts to SING.
DINO covers his ears.

FRANKIE (CONT’D)
“When the moon hits your eye like
a Jurassic sky, that’s
Dinosauria”

With the singing over, DINO takes his paws away from his
ears.

FRANKIE (CONT’D)
Ain’t you excited? Heck! I know I am.Me and my son in our first
trek into…
(Frankie sings this bit)
“ta..ta. ta.ta..the Unknown
Forest”
FRANKIE looks at DINO.

FRANKIE (CONT’D)
Ain’t you even the slightest bit
excited?

DINO
Sure, dad but why do they call it
the Unknown Forest?

FRANKIE
It’s not the (Frankie uses rabbit
ears quotation marks with his
fingers) “Unknown Forest”. It’s
the
(Frankie starts to sing
this bit again)
“ta..ta. ta.ta..the Unknown
Forest”

DINO
But why, dad?

FRANKIE
Because, it’s unknown and it’s a
forest.

DINO
But fathers and sons go there
every year. Don’t they know it
even a little bit by now?

FRANKIE
Dino, it’s not good to ask too
many questions.

DINO
That’s not what my teacher says.

FRANKIE
She’s doesn’t know what she’s
talking about, she’s just a
Microraptor.

DINO
She’s smart.

FRANKIE
She’s small. Small raptor, small
brain.

DINO
She says you’re the smartest man
in Dinosauria.

FRANKIE
She said that?

DINO
Sure did, dad.

FRANKIE
You must introduce me next time.
FRANKIE looks back at the mirror and GROWLS at what he
sees.

FRANKIE (CONT’D)
You monster!
FRANKIE winks at his reflection.

INT.PATH ON THE WAY TO THE UNKNOWN FOREST
FRANKIE and DINO trudge on.

DINO
Are we there yet?

FRANKIE
We’ve only just left.

DINO
So we’re not there yet?

FRANKIE
No. Patience, my son.

DINO
Are we there yet?

FRANKIE
Can’t you do something? What about Eye-Spy?

DINO
Dad, that is so last ice age.

FRANKIE
Well what about that thing you’re carrying?

DINO
Oh, okay dad.
DINO takes a large shell he’s been carrying and puts it to his ear. DINO seems pleased.

FRANKIE
So what is that thing?

DINO
It’s a SyPod, dad. You can hear the sea. All the kids have got one.
FRANKIE walks on totally amazed.

FRANKIE
What will they think of next? Jeez…
FRANKIE and DINO reach the edge of the Unknown Forest.
There is a long QUEUE of DADS and KIDS.
As FRANKIE and DINO arrive at the back of the queue, the rest turn.

ALL
HI!

DINO/FRANKIE
Hi.
HERBIE, the Unknown Forest guide, is walking down the queue selling stuff from a basket.

HERBIE
(to FRANKIE)
Map of the Unknown Forest?

FRANKIE looks at DINO who is looking back at his hero.

FRANKIE
No thank you sir, we don’t need a map of the
(Frankie starts to sing
this bit again)
“ta..ta. ta.ta..the Unknown
Forest”

HERBIE
Whatever.

HERBIE starts to walk on, when DINO’s back is turned.
FRANKIE whispers.

FRANKIE
(whispering)
Can I have a map, just in case?

HERBIE
Hey I ain’t got all day, bud.

FRANKIE hands over the money and HERBIE hands him the map.
DINO turns around.

DINO
What’s that you got there, Dad?

FRANKIE hides the map behind his back.

FRANKIE
It’s a surprise.

The Queue moves

DINO
Is it a free pass to all the rides in Dinosauria?

FRANKIE
Nope. Now looky here, the queue’s moving. Let’s walk.

DINO
Is it a lifetime supply of DinoCola?

FRANKIE
Nope. Where do you get this stuff?

DINO sees it’s just a map.

DINO
It’s just a map, Dad.

FRANKIE
It’s not just a map. There’s where you’re wrong.It’s a map
to (Frankie starts to sing
this bit again)
“ta..ta. ta.ta..the Unknown
Forest”

DINO
If you say so. (to himself) It’s not that unknown, then.

FRANKIE and DINO are now at the entrance to the Unknown Forest. AVOLONIA is there to greet and meet.

AVOLONIA
Hi boys! Aren’t you two cuties.

FRANKIE
I like to think so.

AVOLONIA
So welcome to the

(She sings
this bit)
“ta..ta. ta.ta..the Unknown
Forest”

FRANKIE looks at DINO with ‘I told you so’ expression.

AVOLONIA
If you two boys could just shuffle over to the Father/Son Welcome Area,
little old me would be real grateful.

FRANKIE
Let’s go son into the….

DINO
I know, Dad. ‘Ta…ta…the unknown..’

Excited FRANKIE is already way ahead.

……..to be continued

bobby stevenson 2016