I See What You've Done There

Whenever I hear this


I imagine this

I think we can all agree that my imagination is quite poorly.

Converses With Idiots

A Screenplay. Based on events that happened and which were recounted in a furiously early in the morning phone-call to the writer who wasn't really awake yet.
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FADE IN: INT. A SUPERMARKET - DAY

A strip-lit headache in chrome & despair.

People from every walk of life episode of Jeremy Kyle you've ever seen mill about by the fag counter which also doubles as the customer service desk (probably so you can buy cigarettes with which to hasten your death after being on the receiving end of a customer service).

We PAN ALONG the huddle of people who apparently believe they are forming a queue and ZOOM IN on SOME WOMAN, a customer whose only desire is to return a cd, then fuck off home to eat biscuits.

SOME WOMAN (stepping up to the counter):
Hello there SATURDAY EMPLOYEE! Good to see you.

CLOSE UP of the blank face of SATURDAY EMPLOYEE who remains silent.
CUT TO face of SOME WOMAN who has just finished rolling her eyes.

SOME WOMAN: I would totally like to return this cd of Shrieking Harpy & The Steampunks please. And look, here is my receipt so there should be absolutely no problem here yeah?

CUT TO the blank face of SATURDAY EMPLOYEE

SATURDAY: Can't....Becaaaaaause...errrrrrrmmmm... Copyright law? Yeah. Copyright law.

CUT TO SOME WOMAN. Her face shows that she is trying to decide between laughing and killing herself, right there, by the Kit Kats.

SOME WOMAN: Er....lolwut?

SATURDAY (mercifully off-screen): Copyright law. Can't return CDs.

(turning to address MONDAY TUESDAY THURSDAY SATURDAY & SUNDAY EMPLOYEE who is pretending to count boxes of Silk Cut and studiously ignoring the bellowing mass of increasingly irritated lottery ticket purchasees waiting to throw their pounds into the void)

Because of Somali pirates?

MONDAY TUESDAY THURSDAY SATURDAY & SUNDAY (nodding as though her neck muscles know no fear): The copyright law.

SOME WOMAN: I don't believe you know what you are talking about. Did I mention my receipt?

SATURDAY: Copyright law. Illegal to refund cds because it...funds.....terrorism. You know, cuz of the...the....the pirates.

MONDAY TUESDAY THURSDAY SATURDAY & SUNDAY (still nodding): Pirates.

SOME WOMAN (attempting to use humour to prevent herself from pelting SATURDAY with tic-tacs): Maybe I should've left the parrot at home today then! A Ha hahaha ha...ha ha......cough.

TRACKING SHOT of a tumbleweed rolling along the top of the counter separating SOME WOMAN from SATURDAY & MONDAY TUESDAY THURSDAY SATURDAY & SUNDAY.

SOME WOMAN: So, listen. IANAL but AFAIK...

SATURDAY: You talk like an internet.

SOME WOMAN: Yes. I can sometimes pass as a kidz. Anyway, copyright law has nothing to do with anything. Copyright law is all sorts of crazy about who is able to collect royalties on creative works, where and when stuff can be sold and how much they should get paid and junk. Copyright law has nothing to say on the matter of refunding CDs. It is not relevant. What is relevant though is the Sale of Goods Act which does not in any way exempt retailers from refunding CDs. I do understand that you do not have to offer me a refund or an exchange, even with a receipt, unless the product is faulty which this is not. Except if you count the singing of Shrieking Harpy which most definitely is faulty. It is, however, generally viewed as good practice to offer refunds in other circumstances, especially if the customer is returning a quite clearly unused product in the state in which it was purchased accompanied by a BASTARD BLOODY RECEIPT LIKE THIS ONE!

SOME WOMAN holds receipt up to camera.

SATURDAY: Copyright law.

MONDAY TUESDAY THURSDAY SATURDAY & SUNDAY (now nodding so viciously her head has become little more that a yellow/blue blur of perm & eyeshadow): Pirates. Pirates opened the packaging.

SOME WOMAN: YOU SOLD IT TO ME LIKE THIS!

MONDAY TUESDAY THURSDAY SATURDAY & SUNDAY (her head now moving so fast it's addressing SATURDAY from another dimension): Look! You can see the hook marks on the box!

SOME WOMAN (weeping): All I wanted was to be able to fuck off home and eat biscuits!

SOME WOMAN throws herself across the counter where she lays sobbing loudly.

FADE TO BLACK
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The most important thing to note here is that this screenplay passes the Bechdel Test. I expect the offers to direct to come pouring in any day now. Any day now.

..then I took an arrow to the enjoyment centre of my brain

Here are a thing I enjoyed in 2011

Game of the Year - Pheasant.

A-ha-ha-ha.

But seriously.

Game of the Year - There's this game my 2 year old niece made up where we sit by the back door and scan the skies during daylight hours, looking for the moon. Should we be lucky enough to see it we have to shake our fists at it furiously and yell 'clear off you pesky moon'. We do this until the earth has spent enough hours turning away from said moon (quite possibly in disgust) that it disappears from view OR one of us (me) is asleep. There is also a slightly more complicated version of this game that requires me to purchase and then don various items of invisible space clothing first so I can go up into space to bust the moon right in its chops but the invisible equipment I am required to purchase from my niece is prohibitively expensive.

Anyway, the point is that playing this repetitive and strangely exhausting game with a toddler for hours and hours on end is still a more fun, more satisfying and less disappointing experience than playing any portion of Skyrim for any length of time whatsoever.
So, to reiterate, the 'shouting violent, if impotent, threats at an indifferent celestial body' game that sprang from the still developing brain of a tiny child is my pick for game of the year. And not Skyrim.