[They enter the front yard walk up the steps to the front door.]
DAVE: Nope. Sorry. I’m out of my comfort zone.
[Dave walks to the pavement.]
DAVE: MUUUUCH better.
NIGEL: Oh, grow an endoskeleton, Dave. This is serious!
ANDREW: Which makes a change.
NIGEL: Mouth closed, Andrew. If you can’t be bothered to show a bit of moral support for your fellow man, Restal, then what’s the bloody point then, I ask you, what’s the bloody point then? Can’t you survive being useful to someone else for more than one DVD rental at a time?
DAVE: I can so! Just tell me what to do.
NIGEL: What? Er, well, how should I know? [hands over docket] Look, go back inside and scan a copy of this. It’s evidence for the court case. Front and back. [blinks] Hang on. What’s this? Parking offence code 2359? What does that mean?
ANDREW: Do you really expect an answer or are you thinking out aloud for dramatic purposes?
NIGEL: That doesn’t even deserve an answer. Now, 2359. Dave, look that up, find out what it means.
DAVE: ...how?
NIGEL: I dunno. Go to the council website and look up.
DAVE: The ones you said were doctored and also rubbish in every way, shape and form?
NIGEL: Well... just you go and... look up the parish church records or something.
ANDREW: “Parish church records?”
NIGEL: There has to be a list of parking offences. We find out what the hell 2359 refers to and then we can move to phase two of my operation!
DAVE: Which is?
NIGEL: No idea, we don’t know what 2359 means.
DAVE: Maybe it’s at the local library?
NIGEL: Well, then go there!
DAVE: It’s ages away! Can’t you give me a lift?
NIGEL: Oh, God, all right then. Andrew, YOU stay here and deal with Mr. Devereaux.
[Dave and Nigel head off, leaving Andrew on his own.]
ANDREW: Me? Here? Alone?
NIGEL & DAVE: [halfway into the car] YES!
ANDREW: Just checking.
[Wynona drives off. Andrew smoothes down his hair, clears his throat and presses the doorbell. Immediately, the door snaps open (without any bell ringing) and a swarthy, moustached man in a tuxedo two sizes too small dives straight through and rugby tackles Andrew, slamming him onto the path.]
ANDREW: Bloody hell!
DEVEREAUX: You’re after my cat, aren’t you? Admit it! You wish to abduct Devereaux the Third!
ANDREW: Actually, it’s about a parking ticket...
[Devereaux bitch-slaps Andrew.]
DEVEREAUX: DON’T LIE TO ME, YOU TURD ON THE FACE OF HUMANITY! YOU WEASEL IN THE LAP OF MANKIND!
ANDREW: This is about the whole Velvet Underground being played too loud in a built up area during the hours of darkness, isn’t it?
DEVEREAUX: I don’t CARE about ANY of that, you BOIL on the RECTUM OF CIVILIZATION!
ANDREW: Oh good.
[Devereaux pulls Andrew until he’s sitting upright and then slams him to the ground again.]
DEVEREAUX: NO ONE tricks or treats Martin Timothy Devereaux and gets away with it!
[Devereaux whistles. A small yappy dog emerges from the house.]
DEVEREAUX: Devereaux the Fourth! [points at Andrew] KILL!
ANDREW: Devereaux the Fourth! Heel boy!
[The dog looks at them both, then turns and walks back inside.]
DEVEREAUX: Cunning move, you feces in the salad of life. NOW GET OFF MY ISLAND!
ANDREW: I just wanted to know if you’d got any parking tickets lately!
DEVEREAUX: WHY?!
ANDREW: Because my friend, well... actually, not my friend, but still... we think the local government might be making it illegal to park in front of our own house!
DEVEREAUX: It’s not your house.
ANDREW: Oh, please, not petty pedantry this early in the morning!
DEVEREAUX: YOU URINE STAIN ON THE PANTS OF SOCIETY! You deserve everything you get!
ANDREW: Don’t tell ME what I deserve, YOU SPUNK STAIN ON THE CARPET OF DESTINY!
DEVEREAUX: Don’t call ME a spunk stain on the carpet of destiny, YOU TAMPON ON THE DINNER PLATE OF DEMOCRACY!
ANDREW: Don’t call ME a tampon on the dinner plate of democracy, YOU FLATULENT GUST IN THE CHURCH OF EXISTENCE!
[As they continue to scream at each other, we fade to...]
[Library. In the less-occupied and windowless reference section. Dave is standing by a shelf reading a hardback book about Dad’s Army, with seemingly genuine fascination.]
DAVE: So THAT’S what happened to Private Walker...
NIGEL: Dave!
[Dave rolls his eyes, closes the book and returns it to the shelf and flips through a thick atlas-like book.]
DAVE: Over here, Nige.
[Nigel enters, holding his glasses and rubbing his face.]
NIGEL: Bad news, Dave. We’re going to have to pay for the photocopier.
DAVE: You know, I don’t think your charisma would have worked on that librarian, even if he was FEMALE!
NIGEL: Bloody homophobes. Still, he was an ugly bastard, I wouldn’t have enjoyed it anyway. So Dave, what have you discovered?
DAVE: Um. Well. Quite a lot. Actually. Er. [points] Um, as you can see, that road is technically classed as “boundary land” because it’s just on the edge of railway property but not actually railway property itself. That means that we can’t be fined for just parking there because it doesn’t count as either a nature strip or a built-up area, and nor were we trespassing.
NIGEL: I could have told you that!
DAVE: Yes, but now we have proof.
NIGEL: And do we know what a 2359 refers to?
DAVE: Not REALLY no.
NIGEL: So all you’ve discovered over the last hour, basically, is that the local zoning map agrees with the patently obvious fact that even I could have told you.
DAVE: I’ve got the contact details of the Debt Collectors, though. If we can convince them to waive the fine, we’ll be good.
NIGEL: Right. Good. Dave, take a letter.
DAVE: What? What with?
NIGEL: God, do I have to do everything?
[Nigel takes out his mobile and fiddles with it.]
NIGEL: Right. Ahem. “I received the enclosed notice while my car was parked beside the pavement opposite my house in which I have resided at this address for 25 years. There are no signs forbidding parking, only non-dumping signs. The area is used for parking by local residents, those that attend the Ashram around the corner and various trades people taking lunchbreaks when the bludgers should be back in the office. Hell, I saw a council truck was parked there just the other day! No other resident has EVER been booked or was aware the space had become a non-stopping zone and so I...”
PHONE: BEEP! Your voicemail message is too long. Please record a more concise message. BEEP!
NIGEL: I fucking HATE technology!
PHONE: BEEP! Your new voicemail message has been recorded.
NIGEL: Christ in a hypersonic wave manipulator. Right, where are the council bylaws?
DAVE: Bad news there, dude. They don’t have them at the library.
NIGEL: Where DO they have them?
DAVE: Not a 100% sure.
NIGEL: Is there a website?
DAVE: Yes.
NIGEL: Good.
DAVE: But it’s crashed. And the local intranet is completely stuffed.
NIGEL: So, basically, this has been a complete waste of time?
DAVE: Not entirely. At least we didn’t have to speak to Mr. Devereaux.
[They start to leave.]
NIGEL: I dunno why you’re so scared of him. He’s not as bad as Parker.
DAVE: SYLAR’S not as bad as Parker...
DAVE: Nope. Sorry. I’m out of my comfort zone.
[Dave walks to the pavement.]
DAVE: MUUUUCH better.
NIGEL: Oh, grow an endoskeleton, Dave. This is serious!
ANDREW: Which makes a change.
NIGEL: Mouth closed, Andrew. If you can’t be bothered to show a bit of moral support for your fellow man, Restal, then what’s the bloody point then, I ask you, what’s the bloody point then? Can’t you survive being useful to someone else for more than one DVD rental at a time?
DAVE: I can so! Just tell me what to do.
NIGEL: What? Er, well, how should I know? [hands over docket] Look, go back inside and scan a copy of this. It’s evidence for the court case. Front and back. [blinks] Hang on. What’s this? Parking offence code 2359? What does that mean?
ANDREW: Do you really expect an answer or are you thinking out aloud for dramatic purposes?
NIGEL: That doesn’t even deserve an answer. Now, 2359. Dave, look that up, find out what it means.
DAVE: ...how?
NIGEL: I dunno. Go to the council website and look up.
DAVE: The ones you said were doctored and also rubbish in every way, shape and form?
NIGEL: Well... just you go and... look up the parish church records or something.
ANDREW: “Parish church records?”
NIGEL: There has to be a list of parking offences. We find out what the hell 2359 refers to and then we can move to phase two of my operation!
DAVE: Which is?
NIGEL: No idea, we don’t know what 2359 means.
DAVE: Maybe it’s at the local library?
NIGEL: Well, then go there!
DAVE: It’s ages away! Can’t you give me a lift?
NIGEL: Oh, God, all right then. Andrew, YOU stay here and deal with Mr. Devereaux.
[Dave and Nigel head off, leaving Andrew on his own.]
ANDREW: Me? Here? Alone?
NIGEL & DAVE: [halfway into the car] YES!
ANDREW: Just checking.
[Wynona drives off. Andrew smoothes down his hair, clears his throat and presses the doorbell. Immediately, the door snaps open (without any bell ringing) and a swarthy, moustached man in a tuxedo two sizes too small dives straight through and rugby tackles Andrew, slamming him onto the path.]
ANDREW: Bloody hell!
DEVEREAUX: You’re after my cat, aren’t you? Admit it! You wish to abduct Devereaux the Third!
ANDREW: Actually, it’s about a parking ticket...
[Devereaux bitch-slaps Andrew.]
DEVEREAUX: DON’T LIE TO ME, YOU TURD ON THE FACE OF HUMANITY! YOU WEASEL IN THE LAP OF MANKIND!
ANDREW: This is about the whole Velvet Underground being played too loud in a built up area during the hours of darkness, isn’t it?
DEVEREAUX: I don’t CARE about ANY of that, you BOIL on the RECTUM OF CIVILIZATION!
ANDREW: Oh good.
[Devereaux pulls Andrew until he’s sitting upright and then slams him to the ground again.]
DEVEREAUX: NO ONE tricks or treats Martin Timothy Devereaux and gets away with it!
[Devereaux whistles. A small yappy dog emerges from the house.]
DEVEREAUX: Devereaux the Fourth! [points at Andrew] KILL!
ANDREW: Devereaux the Fourth! Heel boy!
[The dog looks at them both, then turns and walks back inside.]
DEVEREAUX: Cunning move, you feces in the salad of life. NOW GET OFF MY ISLAND!
ANDREW: I just wanted to know if you’d got any parking tickets lately!
DEVEREAUX: WHY?!
ANDREW: Because my friend, well... actually, not my friend, but still... we think the local government might be making it illegal to park in front of our own house!
DEVEREAUX: It’s not your house.
ANDREW: Oh, please, not petty pedantry this early in the morning!
DEVEREAUX: YOU URINE STAIN ON THE PANTS OF SOCIETY! You deserve everything you get!
ANDREW: Don’t tell ME what I deserve, YOU SPUNK STAIN ON THE CARPET OF DESTINY!
DEVEREAUX: Don’t call ME a spunk stain on the carpet of destiny, YOU TAMPON ON THE DINNER PLATE OF DEMOCRACY!
ANDREW: Don’t call ME a tampon on the dinner plate of democracy, YOU FLATULENT GUST IN THE CHURCH OF EXISTENCE!
[As they continue to scream at each other, we fade to...]
[Library. In the less-occupied and windowless reference section. Dave is standing by a shelf reading a hardback book about Dad’s Army, with seemingly genuine fascination.]
DAVE: So THAT’S what happened to Private Walker...
NIGEL: Dave!
[Dave rolls his eyes, closes the book and returns it to the shelf and flips through a thick atlas-like book.]
DAVE: Over here, Nige.
[Nigel enters, holding his glasses and rubbing his face.]
NIGEL: Bad news, Dave. We’re going to have to pay for the photocopier.
DAVE: You know, I don’t think your charisma would have worked on that librarian, even if he was FEMALE!
NIGEL: Bloody homophobes. Still, he was an ugly bastard, I wouldn’t have enjoyed it anyway. So Dave, what have you discovered?
DAVE: Um. Well. Quite a lot. Actually. Er. [points] Um, as you can see, that road is technically classed as “boundary land” because it’s just on the edge of railway property but not actually railway property itself. That means that we can’t be fined for just parking there because it doesn’t count as either a nature strip or a built-up area, and nor were we trespassing.
NIGEL: I could have told you that!
DAVE: Yes, but now we have proof.
NIGEL: And do we know what a 2359 refers to?
DAVE: Not REALLY no.
NIGEL: So all you’ve discovered over the last hour, basically, is that the local zoning map agrees with the patently obvious fact that even I could have told you.
DAVE: I’ve got the contact details of the Debt Collectors, though. If we can convince them to waive the fine, we’ll be good.
NIGEL: Right. Good. Dave, take a letter.
DAVE: What? What with?
NIGEL: God, do I have to do everything?
[Nigel takes out his mobile and fiddles with it.]
NIGEL: Right. Ahem. “I received the enclosed notice while my car was parked beside the pavement opposite my house in which I have resided at this address for 25 years. There are no signs forbidding parking, only non-dumping signs. The area is used for parking by local residents, those that attend the Ashram around the corner and various trades people taking lunchbreaks when the bludgers should be back in the office. Hell, I saw a council truck was parked there just the other day! No other resident has EVER been booked or was aware the space had become a non-stopping zone and so I...”
PHONE: BEEP! Your voicemail message is too long. Please record a more concise message. BEEP!
NIGEL: I fucking HATE technology!
PHONE: BEEP! Your new voicemail message has been recorded.
NIGEL: Christ in a hypersonic wave manipulator. Right, where are the council bylaws?
DAVE: Bad news there, dude. They don’t have them at the library.
NIGEL: Where DO they have them?
DAVE: Not a 100% sure.
NIGEL: Is there a website?
DAVE: Yes.
NIGEL: Good.
DAVE: But it’s crashed. And the local intranet is completely stuffed.
NIGEL: So, basically, this has been a complete waste of time?
DAVE: Not entirely. At least we didn’t have to speak to Mr. Devereaux.
[They start to leave.]
NIGEL: I dunno why you’re so scared of him. He’s not as bad as Parker.
DAVE: SYLAR’S not as bad as Parker...
- to be continued...
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