Screenplay #6

Fat Shifters

Slater Wilcox

High paid jobs and get fit regimes are the new cocaine for yuppie pussies. Bums are trampled to death by joggers, stray dogs are hideously scalded by steaming cappuccinos, and loners experience major social suspension. In this cruel world of the have and have nots who can cut the mustard and who’s just cuttin’ the cheese?

SCENE ONE

Jon and Julia jog down the street in jogging tights, talking about the latest episode of THE BIG BANG THEORY.

Jon: Did you see it last night? It was hysterical! There was a bit where Jared nearly got laid but he didn’t cuz he’s too annoying and socially awkward to get any of the pussy that’s banging. But it is funny right? HA!

They neatly side step a lonely looking fellow with no friends.

Julia: Eurgh, did you see that guy? I think he was checking out my camel toe. Pervert.

Jon: Your camel toe? No way Jules, he was checking out my M-C-T.

Julia: MCT?

Jon: Yeah, Male Camel Toe. And my camel toe is way bigger than yours.

Julia: Nuh-uh! [Hoiks her jogging bottoms up to accentuate her camel toe]

Jon slows his jogging pace, looks down at the contours of Julia’s newly configured camel toe and nods in an impressed manner. They then continue to jog in silence for a minute or two.

Jon: Where shall we eat tonight? Or do you wanna get something easy from Waitrose? I kind of fancy getting something from Waitrose, work today was so boring and I need something delicious to perk me up. Karen at work has such an attitude problem, she bosses everyone around and she’s not even senior management! I mean where the hell does she get off on that?

[They start to cross a high bridge which runs over a murky, sinister looking river]

Julia: Yeah, that is kind of weird and Jesus Jon, FUCKING BORING. I can’t live in a world when I have to start competing with you over camel toes! Go to hell MOTHERFUCKERRRRRR......

Julia abruptly cuts away from Jon and takes a running leap over the barrier, headfirst off the bridge.

That's why, asshole.

Whilst walking around town to buy a tin of beans for dinner I looked up from the pavement to see the singer of this Exeter band walking a couple of steps ahead of me with his girlfriend. He had his arm around her like he was some hot shit and he looked happy. I know the guy to say hello to but I didn't want to today. His vanity pisses me off and I wasn't in the mood. I don't really understand how humans can be vain when we treat each other so badly without even knowing. Instead of saying hi, I stopped where I was and watched them walk off into the distance. Ressuming my walk and staring at the ground, I noticed a big pile of dogshit in my path. I neatly side stepped it and wondered if he ever steps in shit whilst out walking with his girlfriend; too distracted by her beauty to be nervously scanning the streets for excrement. I doubted it, he doesn't seem like the kind of guy to embarrass himself in front of girls. He seemed like he had a natural shit avoiding instinct - he didn't need to be looking for the stuff, that isn't cool and he ain't no shit heel. I wondered if he ever left floater which wouldn't flush or if he'd ever blocked her toilet and had to explain what had happened. I wondered if he feels ok when naked infront of her or if he's got a little beer gut, odd cock and a hairy ass. But mostly I thought about shit. Then I thought about the fact that I didn't even see her face.

MoonChild: Ride the fuckin' Lightning.

Strangely enough I don't remember wiritng the two posts from August. Why the fuck did I want to change my name to Craig? I think it has something to do with returning to employment and the drink habit I get every time I get a job. Last week i went to work with one of the worst hangovers I've ever had. It was a sunny Thursday morning, I stepped out of my van into the school carpark and saw all the pupils and teachers milling about happily. I felt the last of the booze ravaging about in my system and thought "I'm fucked." I reassured myself by thinking about if I were fired I could just start my fifth tenure on good old jobseekers. I wasn't fired, but i have realised i shouldn't drink so much. Instead i will spend my evenings working on my contemporary masterpiece about a piece of shit weirdo who is on the fringe of society. It's going to be like a sexed up Alan Bennet monologue. Bellow is a scene from it.


The was a certain amount of pride in the fact that I didn't sleep in a bed. I slept on a pile of duvets and quilts on the floor in my sleeping bag. Going away from the night involved taking half of the bed with me. I'd always kind of hoped someone would come back here one night, on an informal sex visit. If they were digusted by the crust punk bed I'd know they were too materialistic for me and we certainly wouldn't be doing any fucking. The bed was a sort of test. It was a sad pile of shit. It was where I slept and now there was a girl on it. I had at least three sex dreams about her in the past two weeks so it seemed strange that she was actually here in person. We sat with our backs against the wall, our legs touching.

She looked into my eyes and firmly said, "I've cheated on him before you know. It's alright."

She seemed very sexually experience and I became slightly unnerved, I hadn't slept with anyone for nearly four years and had only had one girlfriend when I was 19 years old. Lately when I've taken a piss I'd wonder if my dick would fall off into my hand, dead from lack of use.

- Craig

Crime of Passion

I have become obsessed with Big Brother Skateboarding magazine again. It always happens when I ebay my possessions - I sell them, then a few weeks later want my shit back plus more. It happened when my mum threw away my Smurf collection when I was 20 years old. For years I had these eight smurf figures on the windowsill in my room; I thought they looked cool but it may explain why I so rarely got any pussy - guys with enormous penises and interesting personalities don't have Smurf collections. One day I returned home to find my mum had thrown away my motherfucking smurfs. It wasn't a big deal but over time I couldn't stop thinking about what happened to them. Where had they gone? On some crazy fuckin' smurfin' adventures no doubt. Then I started to miss them and one night shortly afterwards I freaked out and bought 10 smurfs off ebay. I felt very smug and I knew treacherous mother wouldn't dare throw these away cuz then I'd hit her back with 20 more smurfs. When they came in the post the reality of smurfs wasn't as exciting as the prospect and I remembered all the times those little fuckin' smurfs hadn't got me laid. What the fuck does a 20 year old man do with 10 plastic smurf figures? I hid them in shame.

Right now I am selling off my Big Brother collection but it has made me nostalgic. Big Brother went far beyond skateboarding and it was what got me into writing nonsense in the first place. I have also rediscovered my first crush on a completely unattainable girl - Kendra Gaeta. She wrote for Big Brother from about 1993 to 1999. She was cute and made fun out of a lot of serious skateboarders. Last night I couldn't stop thinking about her and in the morning found her myspace page so I could get the picture which appears at the top of this page. I also found a crazy song Wesley Willis sung about her in 1994:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ebVX17u844

I have also uploaded a page from Lucida Console #7 about a real life crush that happened in 2007 that involved neither Smurfs or Kendra but instead, a real life girl! Very banal.

Riders on the fuckin' storm

Friday night was my last fling in Plymouth for a while. I was nervous about moving cities so I turned to the bottle. A gin bender - the worst bender. After the gin was finished, my friends and I went to the local shithole bar and drank a bunch of energy drinks. The gin had made me depressed and aggressive and the enegry drink had made me restless. My mind was a mess and I became socially awkward. I tried to talk to a newly discovered major babe (I thought I knew them all in Plymouth) but had to stop: I had lost control of my motor skills and was in serious danger of acting less-than-sexy. I hurried away from the bar and went to find some consolation in some bins. After half an hour of sticking my head in other people's rubbish I entered into emotional turmoil and quickly returned to my friend's house where I fell asleep on the doorstep. I'm quite glad to be moving away from this fuckin' town and in the future I hope to have less homeless tendencies. It's not getting me laid and I always end up feeling mental. The first step towards reinvention is assuming the mysterious pen name of "Craig". So long Plymouth, hope y'all shit yourselves.

- Craig

Suck my Dickens

Back off tour, feeling downbeat and miserable. This last tour was amazing. El Morgan and The State Lottery made me like I had reached the pinnacle of human happiness. I don't think I could have had a better time. I got home and hit a trough of dispair. I feel like everything is tiresome dogshit but I have no reason. Anyway, enough of the moping; here's the first draft of an idea I had whilst reading Roger Mellie's Profanisaurus Rex. I wanted to make a dictionary of touring band slang and here's my first attempt. Fuck on brothers and sisters.

Charles Dickens
A promoter who puts on a shit show in a shit venue. As in "Fucking hell this promoter looks like a right Charles Dickens" Meaning you may have "Great Expectations" but you're in for "Hard Times" in a "Bleak House".

Early Bird Special
When you're the first person to wake up and you get to shit before anyone else.

Party Blanket
When you sleep on the same floor that you partied on.

Punk Pasta
The famous promoter pasta dish which is prepared hours before the show and left to cool. Compromising of ice cold pasta and a thin film of Tesco value tomato sauce. Especially delicious when it's the only thing you've eaten all day.

Terminal Vanlocity
The point in a van journey where you absolutely can't take anymore and flip the fuck out.

Chunky Drive-by
When someone pukes out of the van window whilst in transit, and the vomit hits a pedestrian or the car behind.

I'm done. This is terrible.

BAM! POW! While you're waiting to hear mortar fire, check this out.

Attack! Vipers! Promo shot August 2010

This week has seen a splodge of activity on the blog because I feel so goddamn creative and inspired at the moment. This current spell on the dole (my fourth so far) is the best yet. My JSA Personal Advisers should be promoted to SUPERvisers. I mean, they are just THE SHIT. Giving out indespensible advice about starting a career in the local bacon factory and helping me with my fashion dillemas (how didn't I know that Tesco sold cheap clothes?!). I always come away from the jobcentre feeling as sharp as a thumbtack and as charming as George Clooney in a sexy rom com.

I am less than excited about employment and all the bullshit surrounding it but I am excited about having some zines to sell next week. They are being printed in Andrew and Kay's flat right now! In the meantime here's some more stuff to browse over.



A rather bizarre piece from Urgent Avenue #1