Tuesday, January 13, 2009

For Fuck's Sake Spara (2010 Prediction)

Scene 1 – At Sea

[Not far from a small but beautifully formed fishing village on the Cornish Coast, a fisherman is examining crab-nets as the sun sets. The fisherman turns to camera.]

FISHERMAN: Evening all! Old Jim Andrews here, Cornish fisherman extraordinaire! You know, it’s at times like this as the wind blows damp air in from the sea that I look forward to getting home to my wife Annie and a cup of piping hot tea. Some people might call it a crude stereotype of a life, but I wouldn’t give it up for any other.

[There is a strange whistling sound. The fisherman stops, looks around, shrugs, and continues to extract crabs from the net.]

FISHERMAN: Anyway, what I’m really trying to say is...

[A hideous creature with diaphanous plastic gills and what look like sequins rises up out of the water, and slashes open the fisherman’s throat, spraying blood everywhere in pointless gore as he is dragged out of the boat and into the water. A pause. The creature leans over the top of the boat and speaks in a porpoise-like burble.]

SPARACUS: And now, for the exciting debut appearance of Matt Smith as the radical cool, young, Skins-style Eleventh Doctor in a darker-than-RTD-while-still-containing-the-essential-characteristic-lighter-interludes-and-a-negative-attitude-to-young-people atmospheric adventure by a dynamic and cutting edge history teacher with extensive fan fiction writing GENIUS!!!

[Another rather awkward pause.]

SPARACUS: And cue the opening titles!

by SPARACUS “FLAMINGO” JONES and his invisible friend SPIDER

Scene 2 – Generic Cornish Village

[Big, butch Spartha Jones lumbers down a cobbled street wearing a burgundy leather jacket and a mullet wig. She is sulking.]

SPARTHA: Why would UNIT send me to investigate strange sightings and disappearances near this village? Apart from the fact it’s what they do, anyway? I haven’t been so bored by a case ever since I entered into full-time investigative work for UNIT in the UK following the events of Journey till Dawn! Or The Snotaran Strategy, whatever it’s called. In fact, don’t I work for Touchwood now? Irrelevant point. Three weeks I have been in this village. The locals are distasteful and I suspect some of the older ones are rather prejudiced. Not like me at all. Oh well, there’s nothing for it. I shall have to go to the local inn.

[She turns around and sulks back up the street.]

SPARTHA: I wonder why this Cornish village is called Little Bampton when it’s such a home counties name rather than something Cornish? There’s only one Little town and that’s Little Petherick...

[Suddenly there is a familiar sound.]

SPARTHA: That sounds familiar.

[She suddenly notices the TARDIS is standing in front of her in a massive coincidence. The door is flung open with suitable gravitas.]

SPARTHA: Vulgar as ever, Doctor? [mildly surprised] Oh!

[A slip of a youth with floppy hair emerges, dressed in jeans and a casual jacket. He’s not quite as dynamic as the previous occupant, if he isn’t devoid of dynamism altogether.]

SPARTHA: Who are you, whiskerless youth? Where’s the Doctor?!

DOCTOR: Hey, babe. I’m, like, the Doctor. I’ve regenerated, like.

SPARTHA: No shit.

DOCTOR: Wow, it’s great to see you again, whoever you are... Wicked!

SPARTHA: [perturbed] I am perturbed that you’re so... so much younger. You also look, sound and act completely different. But you look younger. That is the most important thing.

DOCTOR: [nods] Yay! It’s great to be a kid again! I’m, like, so gonna get a myspace page. You look great in that jacket, babe! I’ve, like, so got the hots for you. How’s about we get up close and personal on the TARDIS double bed?

[The Doctor coyly lets his floppy hair descend over his eyes as TV viewers everywhere commit suicide. The resulting silence means that when a horrific scream from the distance is made, it is clearly audible. So it’s not ALL bad news.]

SPARTHA: Did you hear that?

DOCTOR: Like, hear what, babe?

SPARTHA: That horrific scream from the distance?

DOCTOR: Like, what horrific scream, babe?

[Another horrific scream from the distance.]

DOCTOR: Oh, yeah, that horrific scream from the distance.

SPARTHA: Hey! That’s coming from the shore! Come on, Doctor!

[Spartha turns and bounces off. The Doctor takes out a mobile phone.]

DOCTOR: OK. But, like, I want to film it all on my phone, so I can, like, put it on YouTube later...

[He skips after Spartha like the barely-functional retard he is.]

Scene 3 – On the Shore

[Deserted bar a beach hut and a bloodstained torn piece of fabric on the ground. Spartha runs up to the evidence, and after a while spots it. The Doctor wanders up, filming everything.]

DOCTOR: I don’t, like, even know why I’m filming this. It’s totally, like, boring, just running through a street. My hit rate will be shameful if I upload this...

SPARTHA: Oh no. Nothing for three weeks! And now this! I miss all the good carnage!

DOCTOR: [closes phone] Never mind babe. Let’s get back to the TARDIS and get hot and sticky!

[He tries to slip his arm around her, but she shakes him off.]

SPARTHA: [scowls] Are you on heat or something? Grow up! Someone has just been killed here! I know I have no reason to think that or any evidence to back me up, but that is the story we’re going with.

[Tears well up in the Doctor’s eyes.]

DOCTOR: [sobbing with self-pity] Look if you don’t, like, like me you could, like, just say!

SPARTHA: Stop weeping like a pathetic stereotyped Emo tool, you indescribably unlikable, useless, cowardly, whiny imposter! If you didn’t look so good and make me all buttery in my dusty and cobwebbed nether regions, I’d have killed you by now!

[Suddenly there is another scream, this time from behind the beach hut. The duo approach.]

SPARTHA: It’s the mangled, headless corpse of an old man! I’d recognize it anywhere!

DOCTOR: Like, is that the dude who just died or another one entirely? I’m, like, lost...

[Something scurries away into the shadows, ashamed of being involved in this show.]

SPARTHA: These claw and teeth marks couldn’t be human. Humans don’t have claws. I learned that in medical school. There are only TWO possibilities! Either this is the result of some kind of leopard or large cat... or, given that UNIT have sent me here and I am rarely used to locate missing leopards, there is something ALIEN involved in this TOTALLY POINTLESS MURDER!!

[She looks at the Doctor dramatically. A beat. He shrugs.]

DOCTOR: Yeah. Whatever. Must be a Weevil. They’re, like, totally into that senseless murder thing in backward 21st century towns.

SPARTHA: But these are not typical Weevil wounds, Doctor!

DOCTOR: OK, like, so it wasn’t a typical Weevil. End of, babe.

SPARTHA: I’ve seen them! Weevils do not resemble large cats and they live off Cardiff sewage, not Cornish bumpkins!

DOCTOR: Yeah, whatever. I’ll, like, just take some pics and then get back to the TARDIS.

[Spartha is puzzled as the Time Lord photographs the corpse on his mobile.]

DOCTOR: Sorted.

SPARTHA: So, what are you going to do? Analyze them or something using the computer database there?

DOCTOR: Nah. I’ve got some mates from facebook coming round for a party like. It’ll be steamin!

SPARTHA: [annoyed] I am annoyed! Act your damned age! Which, let us remember, is well over 900 and not like the brain-dead, sex-obsessed 26-year-old boytoy you resemble!

DOCTOR: Your point being, like...?

SPARTHA: You are not taking this seriously Doctor! I will continue to shout at you until you do so.

DOCTOR: So? I mean, like, just because an innocent human has been cruelly slaughtered, what do I care? Like I’m under 40 and obviously pathologically self-absorbed and unable to act convincingly...

SPARTHA: What we are going to do is contact the local police, simultaneously establishing why the hell they haven’t already come down to investigate the screams. And then pay a visit to the local pub to see if we can find out if there are any rumors among the locals as to what is causing this. I’m surprised I didn’t think of doing this three weeks ago, actually...

[Spartha wanders off.]

DOCTOR: [in his best Harry Enfield impression] Oh, that’s so unfair!

[Nevertheless, he is a spineless twat who acts like a three-year-old and so follows her anyway.]

Scene 4 – The Goat & Poofter

[A vibrant and noisy pub typical of most Cornish fishing villages under siege from invisible monsters, UFOs and people disappearing – and whose occupants, in the best traditions of borderline-illegal-Hammer-Horror-cliches, fall completely silent as the Doctor and Spartha enter. The locals scowl at them. The Doctor is uncomfortable at this complete lack of original thought.]

DOCTOR: How comes you ain’t checked out this dive before now? You, like, done ANYTHING in your three weeks here?

SPARTHA: [shrugs] Maybe I should have done, Doctor. However, I thought I could get all my local gossip from the fishermen which came to nothing.

DOCTOR: And, like, what did you do for the two and a half weeks after that?

SPARTHA: Shut up, numbnuts, I am an efficient UNIT agent with a sense of urgency! I am allowed to complain at the lack of leads!

DOCTOR: Whatever. [looks round] This place is minging.

[A couple of local offensive stereotypes at the bar scowl at him, easily doubling the ratings after everyone switched off after the dreadful first scene.]

ROUSTABOUT: Ere! We don’t like your sort around these parts! Layabout students! Get your hair cut!

DOCTOR: [pulls a face] Like, that’s bound to get me recommending this pub on myspace...

[Fulfilling the desire of the audience, the man goes to thump him. Tragically, however. the Landlord intervenes and saves the Doctor.]

LANDLORD: Ere now Gus, we’ll ave none of that in ere. [to the Doctor] Now what will you be avin to drink you immature and socially inept berk?

DOCTOR: A double vodka like for me, like, I wanna get completely munted!

SPARTHA: I’ll have a glass of water. By which I mean double vodka as well, but in a straight glass.

LANDLORD: [hands over glasses] There yer go, free of charge coz the BBC are payin the bar tab. Now get out of me sight, all of yer!

[The Doctor and Spartha go and sit down at a table, seemingly unaware that it is already occupied by a boy and a girl in their early 20s and thus keeping the Yoof Demographic in check.]

FRENCHY # 1: Elloo! I em Pierre and this is Francoise. We’re over here fram France. We both ztudy eculugy at ze Sorbonne. Do yu mand ef we jarn you?

DOCTOR: Yay! Pull up chairs guys! Oh. Wait. Like, you have already.

FRENCHY # 1: Let airz gev yu air life hiztaries wizzout evan arsken yair names! Yu zee, we are ekulugy ztuzents over here on holiday in ze summer break.

SPARTHA: ...we know. You just told us two seconds ago.

FRENCHY # 1: Actually ve have... vhat’s the English phrase?… an alterior moteev. Ve beth belong to Grenpiss and ve are ovar ere inwestigating ze operations of ze Gastroenteritix Coompany.

SPARTHA: And you think the best way to stay undercover is tell strangers in the pub your life story?

FRENCHY # 1: Wee, mon filly, wee! Yu zee, zey are a majair pollutont en France and zey are using yair coastline to dump zeir vaste. Zey make GM zynzetic rubbair and oil FOR ABZOLUTALLY NO RAISON VATZOEVAIR! Zey ave done a deal with yair govarnment to jare zarm of zeir carmpletely pointaless rezerch ef zey cen dump zeir vaste in yair sea! Iz, ow yu zay, jast like an epizood of Ze Goodies?

SPARTHA: Why are you telling us this, strange expositing Frenchman? How do you know that we aren’t working for the Gastroenteritix Company?

FRENCHY # 1: Vell, ze trooth es that––

DOCTOR: [bored] This is, like, so boring. How about you guys coming to a party at my place? It’s been advertised on Facebook, like. Thou, no one’s actually replied to my add for "wicked party inside police box bigger inside than out" and they, like, think I’m some tragically unfashionable Colchester history teacher in their 40s performing internet fraud...

SPARTHA: Don’t mind him, Pierre, he’s not himself at the moment.

[She kicks the Doctor hard in the shins. The Doctor stares at her for a moment, then picks up her glass, drains it, smashes against the table and drives it into her skull. The Frenchies exchange uncertain looks.]

DOCTOR: Actually, Pierre, never felt better. I’m, like, totally post-modernistic! Word!

[Spartha shoves the Doctor to the floor and tries to peer through the blood pouring down her face.]

SPARTHA: This is interesting. I’m investigating a series of strange deaths near here. Well, one dead. In the last five minutes. But it might be relevant somehow.

FRENCHY # 1: Wart meks yu zink zat?

[Suddenly the door of the pub flies open and a man staggers in. He is covered in claw marks and his left arm is hanging half-severed.]

DOCTOR: Yay! It’s Floppo, like, the adorably drunk clown! Only an alcoholic like him could head straight to a pub with his arm nearly torn off!

[He staggers and falls to the floor screaming. No one moves to help him.]

DOCTOR: Whoa. Rough neighborhood. Especially since, like, he musta walking around the village and no one like tried to help him. Or called the police. Why are the Cornish such assholes?

SPARTHA: It’s a mystery we may never solve.

[As the last remaining viewer swings slowly from a rope, the Doctor and leaps up and nudges the screaming victim with a toe.]

DOCTOR: Wow. People, like, are getting mutilated by monsters within, like, five minutes of each other! This is, like, so random. Wait. Did I say ‘random’? I meant... ‘consistent’. OK, Spartha, you’re the medic, you want to help him or something?

SPARTHA: No fear. I’m texting for an ambulance.

DOCTOR: Isn’t that, like, a tad lazy?

SPARTHA: Grow up, numbnuts! I still haven’t forgiven you for you uncouth domestic violence.


FRENCHY # 1: Hmm. I share iz pasharn, mon fille. Yu are, ow yu say, a tutul man-heting bee-yotch.

[The Doctor looks around the rest of the pub, but no one is paying attention.]

DOCTOR: You guys sure are harsh, you know that?

Scene 5 – Outside the Goat & Poofter

[An ambulance with a destination sign saying "LOCAL HOSPITAL" leaves, revealing the Doctor, Spartha (with a bandaged head) and the two Frenchies standing rather uselessly outside the pub.]

DOCTOR: ...anybody got any pot?

SPARTHA: Act your age, numbnuts! We have to assess the way forward!

FRENCHY # 1: And ow are we zuppozed to do zat?

[They all sit on a bench. A long pause.]

SPARTHA: Well, after three weeks of doing absolutely fuck all, we clearly need to investigate the beach and justify the location shoot. Again. And also the pollution angle, I guess, assuming it’s not too much of a Pertwee rip-off. That man had sand on his shoes and those wounds looked like animal bites.

DOCTOR: What man?

SPARTHA: The dead man.

DOCTOR: Which one?

SPARTHA: The one in the ambulance.

DOCTOR: Like, Spartha, he was still alive.

SPARTHA: It doesn’t matter! He had sand on his shoes!

DOCTOR: Everyone has sand on their shoes, babe, it’s a fishing village!

FRENCHY # 1: Pardon. I em, ow yu zay, keen to help?

DOCTOR: Whatever.

FRENCHY # 1: We ave erd of athar strenge animal atteks round ere.

SPARTHA: How irregular. The Unified Intelligence Taskforce hasn’t and they’ve been monitoring this town for months. I find this strange.

FRENCHY # 1: Owevair, as an eculugy studant...

DOCTOR & SPARTHA: We know! Change the bloody record!

FRENCHY # 1: Pardon. I juz like, ow yu zay, telling people zat I em an eculugy ztuzent. And as an eculugy ztuzent, I fend it ard to believe zat pollutian she could turn animals into ze kind of theng zat card inflict wounds like zat.

SPARTHA: Why should we care what an “eculugist” thinks? Are you an expert in DNA modification or animal experimentation? No? Well shut up, then Pierre!

DOCTOR: Besides, dudes, pollution can turn monsters feral. I’ve, like, encountered giant maggots the size of large rats caused by pollution. It was mingin! In fact like, this whole adventure like, is so totally, like, an amazing massive super rip off of that story, like random man, it’s like we is bein written by some out-of-it fan-fic dude! Totally!

SPARTHA: Ahem! I think you’ll find we were going to investigate the beach. You can lead the way.

DOCTOR: Wicked!

SPARTHA: And if any hideous monsters attack, you can be the first to die.

[The Doctor frowns, thinks for a moment, shrugs and grooves his way down the street heedless of any and all danger. The others follow.]

Scene 6 – On the Shore

[The group pass a car. One of the Frenchies stops and looks at it.]

FRENCHY # 1: Zoot allors! Zis is my car, mes ami.

DOCTOR: Dude, you parked your car within spitting distance of the murder scene. Total coincidence city.

SPARTHA: Puny males, always talking about cars. Come, Francoise, we shall poke about the sand looking for footprints that the tide has yet to wash away on the public beach. And don’t you dare ask what possible good that could do or I shall throttle the very life out of your body.

[Meekly, the other Frenchy follows Spartha as the first Frenchy opens the boot of his car.]

FRENCHY # 1: Merci! Eh, Doctor, look at zis mon braaaav!

DOCTOR: Only if it’s worth, like, taking a photo of with my phone.

[The Frenchy takes out a large bag.]

FRENCHY # 1: I ave, ow you zay, by totul coinsubsidance, packed two divarng zootz in ere. I ed tootorly ferguttan I hed packed zese. Zis convenience allows airz to go und zee where ze doomping is takeen pless, azzuming we ectually knew where zay were doing zu doomping!

DOCTOR: [puzzled] Wow. Suspiciously convenient, like. But how are we, like, gonna get out to sea? How could anyone, like, possibly traverse upon the water without a totally godlike gift? Oh. Wait. I remember. Boat things. And I have a TARDIS. And Spartha can always call in a UNIT helicopter. In fact, like, we’re kinda spoiled for choice...

FRENCHY # 2: I beleef I cahn elp ere...

SPARTHA: My god, you can speak!

FRENCHY # 2: [smiles] We highaired zat boat over zere earlior.

[She points to the only boat on the whole beach and who absolutely no one has noticed.]

DOCTOR: That is, like, unbelievably convenient!

SPARTHA: So. You hired a boat... and then went to the pub?

FRENCHY # 1: Wee.

DOCTOR: [grinning like a twat] Wicked!

SPARTHA: [scowling like a slag] Act your age! We need to be sensible and careful about this!

Scene 7 – At Sea

[The boat hurtles out of control over the water, as we see that the male Frenchy is manning the boat blindfolded and steering the wheel using only his buttocks. All the others are screaming hysterically as they try not to fall out of the high-speed boat.]


[Spartha reaches forward and smacks him in the back of the head at the exact moment the boat stop, so the momentum smashes the Doctor against the dashboard. The Frenchy takes off his blindfold.]

FRENCHY # 1: Well ma frenz, it appairs zat we are campletely out of ze fuel ze boat she needz in order to, ow yu zay, move a fucking zinch. Zo we might es well ztart darving here.

[The Doctor gets up, trying to straighten his floppy hair as blood trickles from his nose.]

DOCTOR: Yay, like, this is much better than just flying the TARDIS over the water, you dig? Right babes. Me and Pierre will like do the diving as you, Spartha, can’t know how to dive like, what with being a trained UNIT operative and shit... So, you two keep a look out and, you know, try and find a meaning to your totally pointless lives, like.

[In a scene essential to the for-want-of-a-better-world ‘plot’, the Doctor and the male Frenchy get undressed to get into the diving suits while the girls stare at the Doctor’s slim, smooth limbs and glistening torso. The Frenchy is foreign so no one cares if he has an almost god-like smooth chest.]

FRENCHY # 2: Zat guy yu repeatedly berate and try to physically azzalt is, ow yu zay, very beeyootifarl.

SPARTHA: [to herself] There is certainly a plus side to this regeneration. Especially after his last body, which was like Quasimodo on a bad hair day and who I never found physically attractive. Of course, it’s a shame about his personality, his new-found alcohol problem and his new found uncaring for human life. But with a body like that, it doesn’t matter. Looks are everything.

[The men now wear diving suits. The Frenchy’s doesn’t quite fit.]

FRENCHY # 1: Remind me, Monsieur Doctor, why muzt I wear ze womarn’s wetzoot intended for Francoise in ziz fashiyarn?

DOCTOR: Because, like, I’d lose gravitas and stuff swimming around in a tart’s rubber outfit, wouldn’t I? Sides, it wouldn’t be realistic, like if I happened to fit the suit you just happened to have at the same time as luckily hiring the car, wouldn’t it?

FRENCH # 1: Meh, if yu put it like zat...

Scene 8 – Under Sea

[The Doctor and Pierre dive in and swim about. Luckily the whole ocean is lit up with a lime green glow coming from the bright sludge seeping out of the metal drums beneath them.]

DOCTOR: [muffled] Beep. You know, like, this idea is actually pretty stupid now I think of it. We’re diving into the main concentration of toxic ooze creating, like monsters. How retarded are we, huh?

[The Doctor sighs and takes out his mobile and starts filming.]

Scene 9 – At Sea

[Spartha and the remaining Frenchy sit on the deck not doing anything because they are puny females. Suddenly there is the distinctive sound of another boat approaching. They both look up. Another boat is approaching, hence the distinctive and highly accurate noise. There is a gunshot, then another.]

SPARTHA: [with subnormal intelligence] They’re shooting at us!

FRENCHY # 2: Ow yu zay, no zhit, Zherluck!

SPARTHA: I mean that this evil corporation aren’t just loitering suspiciously around the dumping spot stupidly close next to a population centre so all their pollution will be instantly noticed, but they’re actually trying to kill us in the least-subtle and idiotic manner ever!

FRENCHY # 2: Mebbe zey are trying to get cart?

[More gunfire and the Frenchy tries to start the boat engine.]

SPARTHA: Hang on you stupid garlic-bicycle-rider! We can’t leave the Doctor and Pierre!

FRENCHY # 2: Zoot alorz, Zparza Jjons! I hed, ow yu zay, tutarly forgozzen zat! But, zince we are out ef fuel, we couldent leave zem anyway.

[They stare down into the water but there is no sign of the nauseating adolescents since they’ve dived out of view and even though they aren’t necessarily in trouble, this is given maximum tension anyway.]

SPARTHA: Oh. Wait. We should have given them a line or something so we could tell them they were in trouble, really, should we?

FRENCHY # 2: A little, wee.

SPARTHA: Shit. And I was so smug about being careful about this expedition. Still, if I kill all the witnesses, my reputation shall remain untarnished! NOTHING IN THE WORLD CAN STOP ME NOW!!

[She starts to throttle the Frenchy as the other boat continues to fire.]

...to be continued...


Jared "No Nickname" Hansen said...

Ah, Spara. Mindblowing lack of quality, commonsense or anything vaguely positive. This is hilarious. The original is astonishingly awful.

I think "ow yu zay, move a vucking eench" has to be my favourite line.

Or maybe "how on Earth can we traverse the water without Godlike powers?"

Youth of Australia said...

Glad you liked it. Was a real pig doing this and fighting the instinct to improve any/everything (which would defeat the whole purpose of mocking the original author). I do have to say the lack of BC/AR is refreshing though...

Bernie Fishnotes said...

SPARTHA: [scowling like a slag] Act your age! We need to be sensible and careful about this!

Scene 7 – At Sea

[The boat hurtles out of control over the water, as we see that the male Frenchy is manning the boat blindfolded and steering the wheel using only his buttocks. All the others are screaming hysterically as they try not to fall out of the high-speed boat.]

Is it wrong that this bit made me giggle madly?

Youth of Australia said...

I sure as hell hope not, as that was its main intention - to act as a mixture of morphine and brain bleach to the original.

Glad you liked it, Bernie.

Bernie Fishnotes said...

I did indeed...

I wonder if sparacus is actually going to eat his socks?

By the way, what was it he didn't post that you wrote about me?

Youth of Australia said...

Nothing really interesting. I posted "you bloody liar" but it ended up looking like I was yelling that at YOU rather than Spara so I put a post clarifying things. But he never put it up.

Censoring ME?! That'll kill his blogger reputation for impartiality once and for all, that will...

Bernie Fishnotes said...

I had wondered about that, but assumed that you meant spara.

After all, I wasn't lying!

Youth of Australia said...

I know you weren't. I suspect Spara deliberately ensured I came out as heckling YOU rather than him... mind you, his blog has settled back into the dust since then...

Youth of Australia said...

Well, I'd delete this comment, but can I live without such mindless adoration?

A clue: no.