Showing posts with label Jovial. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jovial. Show all posts

Saturday, 14 May 2022

No… No, You Ate Yours.



Great Meals fade in reflection. 
Everything else gains
Do you know why? 

'Cause it's only Food
This shit we put in us, 
keeps us going, 
it's only Food.




Shrink :
Who's gonna tell me about it, then?
You or The Boil?

Richard E. Grant :
No, no. I think we should start again.
There's no 'side' to any of this.
There is Me. There is a Boil.

The Boil happens to be Abel to Speak
but that doesn't qualify it 
to give an opinion.

It was Me that decided
to come here, not it.

Shrink :
You don't think the inclusion
of The Boil could perhaps help us?

No. I'm not interested in its opinions.

Shrink :
Even if it says something
that might be of relevance?

Shrink :
I'm not interested in it,
no matter what it says.

In my opinion, it should 
be lanced instantly.

It was the only reason
I agreed to come off the garage roof.

If it wants to join in,
it can pay its own bill.

Come and Lie Down.

Please.
Tell me about advertising.

Now, You Resigned 
from an important firm 
with a very highly paid job.
I'd like to know Your Reasons.

Well, at least try and 
give me an example 
of even one of those reasons.

All right. Reason one.
Advertising conspires 
with Big Brother.

And you're afraid of Big Brother?
Someone or Something 
Coming into Your Life and 
Telling You What to Do?

No. I'm not afraid of Him. 
I'm one of the few who 
really understands Him.

Oh?

The man who conceived of Big Brother never knew what was coming down the line.

Thought his filthy creation
was gonna be Watching Us.
But it is Us who Watch it.
There's one in every living room.

The monstrous injustice of it is,
We stare at it of our own Free Will.

So we could say, principally,
that it's Television that you blame?

We can say entirely it is The Crooks
who've infiltrated it that I blame.

They've moved in on 
The Greatest Means of Communication 
since The Wheel.
And now They've done it,
Their Greed is Insatiable.

They're cutting down jungles
to breed hamburgers,
turning the whole world 
into a car park.

They'd sell off The Sea to satisfy
the needs of their great god Greed.

They won't be satisfied, not till 
we're all squatting in one 
of its fucking hatchbacks
on a motorway.

There isn't going to be
anywhere left to go
except in slow revolutions 
towards the crest 
of the next slag heap.

Do you have trouble
in getting an erection?

- What?
- Can you get an erection?

- Yes!
- Masturbating much?

Constantly! I've got
a talking boil on my neck!
What would you do?

What does this mean to you —
"Are you ashamed of your false teeth?
Put an end to the miseries of dentures.
You could smile again with confidence.
Just ask Barbara Simmons."

The boil said it a few nights ago.
Sounds like a particularly 
crude voiceover.

Voiceover?

The Voice That Sells.
If you're selling perfume,
it sounds like A Lover.

If you're selling 
something inedible 
you want people to eat,
it'll sound as stupid 
as they'll have to be 
to buy it.

In this case, it would sound
like A Dentist, someone in the know.

I see. So one could say that it's,
erm, The Voice of Authority?
Like, erm...Well, like 
a parent's voice, almost?

If You Like.

Has The Boil spoken this morning?

Yes, I had a row with it, and it got
very heated when I refused to shave.

Tell me about your parents.

Not part of The Plot.
As far as I know, they 
were completely normal.
I come from a completely 
normal family.


Tell him about your grandfather.

That was the boil. Ignore it.

I don't think we should do that.

It's the first time it's spoken in front
of me, and it might be important.

It has nothing important to say. 
It is destructive, self-satisfied 
and abusive.

You cun...


You see? 
Don't Listen.

Come on. Fair's fair.
You've had your say. Now I'll have mine.

Don't listen to it! Don't listen to it!

Why don't you tell me
about your grandfather?

If you tell me, the boil might be quiet.

My grandfather was caught molesting
a wallaby in a private zoo in 1919.

- A wallaby?
- May have been a kangaroo. I'm not sure.

- You mean sexually?
- Suppose so. He had his hand in its pouch.

- Fucked it, didn't he?
- He did not fuck it!

Just... just lie back.

- What happened to him?
- He pleaded insanity and got three months.

Does the authoritarian attitude
they took with him upset you?

- No. He died before I was born.
- Do you sympathise with him?

If I had been stuck in a trench
for three years,

- I might do something stupid myself.
- Like showing affection for an animal?

- He'd fuck one.
- Shut up!

Ask Barbara Simmons.
He'd fuck her as well.

Oh, my God. How could the boil have
possibly known about my grandfather?

That means it can read my mind.

No, Mr Bagley, it does not.

We'll speak about that in a moment,
when we've had a look at this boil.

What you mean is you want
me to have a look at it. No.

What would you say if I said
that you don't want to look at it

because you're frightened
of what you might see?

I'd say you'd be absolutely right.

Isn't that trying to pretend
it doesn't exist?

Isn't that exactly what you're accusing
everyone else of doing?

Now, we must reduce
this guilt in two ways.

First, it must be physically
reduced with surgery.

And secondly, we must reduce
your punishing conscience

by refusing to allow it to hide.

Once we get it out into the open,
it'll be easier to fight.

And I'm certain that
by the time your neck's healed,
you'll be smiling at this problem
and be back at work.

Never. No matter what you reduce,
I will never go back to advertising.

Perhaps. But now, let's have a look
at this bully on your neck.

Just look at it in The Mirror...
and tell me What You See.

Oh, God in Heaven!
It's grown a moustache!

Oh, My God!
Oh, My God.
Yes.

Yes?

The Bastard looks just like Me!

What you must understand
is that it's not The Boil
that can read You.

It is you, Mr Bagley,
that can read the boil.

You can read it because it is you.
At least, a part of you.

The Boil knows 
What You're Thinking
because you've projected
Some of You into it.

You've given it the side
that you find intolerable,
the bullying, aggressive,
dictatorial side.

The side that sells 
Toothpaste and Soap.

You've decided that 
Selling These Things is a 
Bad Thing for You to Do,
and you are unable 
to accept The Guilt for 
what you feel you've done.

Therefore, you've transmitted
these qualities into The Boil.
Perhaps, by doing this, you hope 
to escape Your Guilt.

But you've created a symbol of 
Foul-Mouthed Authority instead.

Your Very Own 
Big Brother.

Monday, 6 December 2021

People







[Great hall 2]
As they walk through the castle grounds, 
Romana notices that The Tharil's burns have been healed.
 
The Doctor is served with 
a plate of food.

Tom : 
My Goodness!
You Live Like Kings!

BIROC
We are Kings.


[Great Hall]
(The contents of the lunch hamper are being handed out, 
which is far more important than 
what their Captain has to say.

RORVIK: 
Now listen, I'm only going to say this once
We're stuck here with no warp motors 
and no navigator. 

Now in practical terms 
that means we stay here forever 
unless we do something about it
Listen! And that means The Mirror
There's A Way through
You've all seen it. 
That's why we brought up the MZ. 
Will you listen to me 
when I'm talking! 

(Rorvik gets out his blaster. 
That grabs his crew's attention.)

RORVIK: 
This is very serious. 
We are in A Terminal Situation. 
A DEAD End.

[Great hall 2]

Tom : 
Such variety
Where did it all come from? 

BIROC
The Universe is 
Our Garden. 

Tom :
Ah. So this is what it was all like. 

BIROC: 
At the height of Our Empire
before The Tharils became 
The Slaves of Men

Tom :
I notice you don't do 
too badly for staff

This Garden of Yours, The Universe —
How do you manage it? 

BIROC
We use Our Power.
For those who travel on the Time Winds. 
The vastness of Space is no obstacle
Everything is Ours. 

(A Tharil BACKHANDS The Serving Wench pouring wine. 
The Doctor goes to help her up again.

Tom : 
Including her

BIROC: 
They're only People

Tom : 
So You're 'The Masters' the Gundan 
spoke of? The Enslavers

BIROC
The Weak enslave THEMSELVES, Doctor. 
You and I know THAT

Tom :
Yes, yes — 

He pours rich, Red Wine into a TINY, ornate chalice until The Cup runneth over, before BACKHANDING the thing HARD, in once swift movement of his arm into a wall in the distance, where it CLATTERS to The Floor with a CRASH

This is no way to 
run An Empire. 

(A Tharil points a knife at the Doctor. 
Romana sees it all from the gallery.

ROMANA
Danger! The Doctor's in danger! 

A troupe of Gundan robots enter. 
Romana rushes to The Doctor's side.


ROMANA: 
Doctor! 

(And an axe cleaves the table.)