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.

Sad Birthday

And the rant begins.

I'm a Tarvuist. There I've said it. I follow the teachings of the prophet Tarvu & the Tarvunty is my bible Tarvunty. I prize orange food highly & enjoy reading about irrigation. The Tarvunty wisely tells us that there are two universes; Universe A &, the rather bafflingly monikered, Universe B. We, of course, live in Universe B.
Except today. Despite definitely going to bed in Universe B, today I appear to have woken up inside Universe A. It's the only thing I can think of that explains the bizarre place I find myself in. See, rather disappointingly, Universe A appears to be stuffed to bursting with forelock tugging mentals who believe it to be both wise & appropriate to throw union flag decked parties to 'celebrate' the marriage of 2 total strangers who think nothing of taking your money to pay for their gaudy extravaganza but will have the police shoot you dead if you come anywhere near them (although the source for that whole 'police shoot-to-kill' policy is The Express. So. You know. Use your own judgment there).
I literally do not have the words to describe the bewilderment I feel at the complete lack of any sense of proportion on the part of the media who have gone on & on & on about a couple of people getting married in the breathlessly excited tones of a telephone sex pest, (whilst studiously ignoring a riot going on in Bristol) as well as at the apparent lack of any intelligence on the part of vast swathes of the UK population.
And whilst the weirdos in Universe A are waving their flags and dressing their infant daughters as Disney princesses (& I could spit a gallon of bile on that subject alone), the British police are jollying about the place pre-emptively arresting people deemed to have 'subversive' political opinions. And then there's the whole 'we're-totally-in-this-together-we-promise-heh-heh-heh' austerity bullshit where the poorest British children of Universe B must forgo a couple of free books because the Britain of Universe B is stony broke. But a few million quid for a couple of rich kids to yoke themselves together til the inevitable phone sex scandal for life could be found down the back of the governments sofa, no problem.

I'm almost as angrily incoherent about it all as this guy.

Oh, & today was my birthday. And a fairly miserable one it was too. Thanks Universe A. I'll be choosing my novelty religions with more care in future.