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LOVESONG TO A BEARDED LADY

Published by K Kishmot at Smashwords

Copyright 2011

Caption: A NEW CAREER IN AN OLD CITY

1.INT DAY KEN PHICTOS DETECTIVE AGENCY OFFICE

KEN PHICTOS plays an old 45 of the Rockford Files theme tune. He is dressed like James Garner in said series. In his sparse office: desk, basic telephone, answering-machine and nameplate: KEN PHICTOS P.I.

JOE, is a South Londoner too. Round glasses, same age as PHICTOS, slightly balding. He chews a finger-nail.


PHICTOS:(picking up the beat and singing) Ken Phictos is the man/ He'll even be famous in Japan/ He will be/ A man of history... (breaking off. South London accent) I tell you, Joe, I feel like a million dollars.

JOE: Well I hope it goes well for you,... (reading the name plate as though it were of great significance)... Ken Phictos P-I, mate. At the very least I can vouch for your lock picking skills.

PHICTOS: Thanks mate. I can vouch for your nose-picking skills.

JOE: Your nose-picking skills more like. Well let's not hope you have too much time to perfect that art... (looking at his watch)... Well I must be off. CELIA's doing a special this evening. (With relish) Bolognaise.

PHICTOS: I'm surprised she's decided to cook after all your years of gourmand like criticism. She used to like to cook for me... perhaps she will again one of these days. I bet she'd be delighted.

JOE: I wouldn't bet your detective agency on it.

PHICTOS: Wouldn't you?

JOE: You'd lose it if you did. Basically. (PHICTOS does an “oh Yeah” nod) CELIA only cooks on rare occasions. It is something she hates, nay, abhors and only as a token of deep affection does she inconvenience her beautiful hands for my sake.

PHICTOS: Come off it... (pause) Your barbershop for my detective agency she'll cook for me.

JOE: Five hundred smackers not only says, but does a song and dance about it that she won't. Five hundred smackers.

PHICTOS: No. The barbershop for the detective agency?

JOE:(cautioning)You'll lose it, you'll lose it...

PHICTOS: Up yours I will. I'll make sure you set up an advice line to help people get over the trauma of your crap haircuts.
You wait my son.

JOE: I'm not your son... The punters love my haircuts. You included. I studied James Garner’s haircut one whole week (nodding at PHICTOS'S haircut) before doing you. Free, may I say... Ken's Farty Barbershop Adviceline. Some of the crap you've come out with in your day (pause)... can't match the crap you've come out with to-day.

PHICTOS: You wait my son (extending his hand) My detective agency for your barbershop. (JOE opens the door.) Joe, you've always shat your pants.


JOE leaves. PHICTOS looks at his nails. JOE returns, hand outstretched. He marches up to PHICTOS.


JOE: Right! you're on.

PHICTOS: I'm on what?

JOE: The bet. We'll shake on it. Let's see what a real shitpants looks like.


FADE OUT


TITLE: (1920s jazz music) lOVESONG tO A bEARDED Lady


FADE IN


2.INT DAY MRS BROGLE 'S FRONT-ROOM


MRS BROGLE:(VOICE OVER) He was some sort of sales bloke.


MRS BROGLE is an attractive smartly dressed woman in her forties with ash blond hair in the latest style. On the sofa with MRS BROGLE, a SALESMAN demonstrates a flexible tube that allows you to free your hands when you're on the phone. She is captivated by the SALESMAN'S charms and looks.


SALESMAN: See, if you move it to the left...

MRS BROGLE : But it really doesn't look all that sturdy.

SALESMAN:(standing up) Oh, so you're an expert are you?

MRS BROGLE:(VO continues) Then he leaves. Next day as I'm vacuuming - I vacuum every day -(actions as described)- the suction-head hits against something. It was near where he'd been sitting. I pick it up. It's a black wooden box.


MRS BROGLE opens the box: A Jack-in-the-box. A shrunken head springs out. She screams.


3.INT DAY KEN PHICTOS DETECTIVE AGENCY OFFICE


It is now evening. The Jack-in-the-box is on PHICTOS'S desk. The head is swaying. PHICTOS glances at it uneasily.


MRS BROGLE: I took it to the police. It looked just like my husband. It looked real. I couldn't find the card the salesman had given me, if he had given me a card that is. The police said they examined it and it wasn't real. As for my husband, he's been missing for four months, they said there was nothing they could do about it apart from what they'd done. Everyone has a right to go missing if they want to. Apparently.

PHICTOS: That was helpful.

MRS BROGLE: Exactly my thoughts Detective Phictos, eggsactly my thoughts.

PHICTOS: So, did your husband disappear after an argument?

MRS BROGLE: No. I had the dinner on and he said he was just going to the loo.

PHICTOS: Then what happened?

MRS BROGLE: He's often prey to a spot of constipation.

PHICTOS: Didn't the police do anything about it?

MRS BROGLE: Sorry... ? Oh... They did their best.

PHICTOS: Well, we'll have to look into this. (respectfully examining the Jack-"out-of-the-box"). What did your husband do?

MRS BROGLE: He was recently retired. He'd been a clock mender at Watley’s... Where’s your computer if you don’t mind me asking?


PHICTOS writes down Watley’s in his pad. He looks up.


PHICTOS: I do know that Bill Gates the Third is the richest man in the world and I do have a computer on its way, Mrs Brogle.

MRS BROGLE: Detection is a round the clock business. Have you ever even seen The Big Sleep as an example?

PHICTOS: That's the one with Dennis Quaid isn't it?

MRS BROGLE: No, that's The Big Easy. The Big Sleep's with Humphrey Bogart.

PHICTOS: Humpty Dumpty?

MRS BROGLE: No. Humphrey Bogart.(She gets to her feet.) I’m not quite sure if you’re the right man for this job, I’ll have to think over it.

PHICTOS: There’s no one quite like me, Mrs Brogle . There’s no one quite like me.


4.INT NIGHT CELIA AND JOE'S FLAT


JOE and CELIA are watching T.V. with the lights off. They kiss and cuddle.

CELIA is. Half-black half-white, pretty, often wears flash designer glasses.

The door bell rings. They ignore it. The door bell rings again.


JOE: Guess who?

CELIA: Who? Oh, Ken.


JOE gets up, annoyed. The bell rings again.


JOE: We're not in mate. (The bell rings out a one note signature with the rhythm of the first six notes of the Rockford Files – be baar bebaba bar) We don't need another hero.


The bell rings the same signature.


JOE: Go back to your home and prepare for government.


5.EXT NIGHT CELIA AND JOE'S FLAT


JOE opens the door to speak to PHICTOS on the doorstep, not to invite him in.

PHICTOS smiles. JOE steps out. MR WANGLE, the neighbour opens his door. and scowls. He is in his dressing gown.


JOE: I'm sorry for the noise Mr Wangle. (MR WANGLE stares at JOE and closes the door. JOE lowers his voice) You're not staying too long. Right?

PHICTOS: What do you take me for?


6.INT NIGHT CELIA AND JOE’S FLAT


JOE puts the light on. PHICTOS enters. On one of the walls is a prominent wooden cross.


CELIA: Ken couldn't you've come a little earlier at least? You’ve been in the Horse and Groom haven’t you?

PHICTOS: The pub is an important place to be and to be seen in. Where would British society be without it?

CELIA: Those glasses of yours are ready, if you’d like to collect them tomorrow.

PHICTOS: I'm so excited Celia, my brain’s buzzing.

CELIA: Yeah, a couple of pints spotted you, took you for a mug and thought your stomach would be a nice place to be seen in. Not satisfied with the general ambience down there they decided to visit your brain–cells. They partied, you got drunk.

PHICTOS: Speaking of stomachs and all its rumble-tum-jums... (pause, to CELIA, rubbing his stomach)... You couldn't put a few beans on for us, I'm starving.


CELIA looks at JOE uncertainly, the bet in mind.


JOE: Take a seat Ken, I'll get you some beans.
I can tell you've landed a case. I said a prayer for your success as I left your agency today.

PHICTOS:(sarcastically) Hmmm. Thanks... Give us this day our daily beans (on an excited note)... I'm going to hit the heights. I'm going to be more than a private investigator. People'll say he's such a great private investigator that we want him to be a public investigator.

JOE: A public investigator!

CELIA: That's what I'm saying to you Ken, if you don't watch out you'll end up being a public-house investigator crawling on the floor looking for cigarette butts and pennies.

PHICTOS: I saw that one coming.

JOE: No you didn’t. Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.

PHICTOS: Fools rush in where angels fear to tread but Phictos balances on spider webs.

CELIA: Shall we go out and buy you a Spiderman costume?

JOE: In fact why don't me and Celia make you your own costume, with a cape and a big P on the chest.

PHICTOS:(pleased with himself) Aah, aah! If you want to be really clever about it Joe why don't you get one of your angel friends to lend me a pair of their wings.


7.INT DAY WATLEY’S CLOCK SHOP


Crowded with clocks of different size, make and shape there’s a constant chime is in the air, chimes of every kind, even the most outlandish. A cuckoo-clock can also be heard at times. An Asian man in his early twenties, ANWAR, stands behind the counter.

Wearing glasses, PHICTOS enters.


ANWAR: Can I help you, sir?

PHICTOS: I’m detective Phictos of the Phictos detective agency.

ANWAR: Are you?

PHICTOS: Yes I am. Have you worked here long?

ANWAR: No I haven't. You a detective then? (mysteriously) What about the flies... ?

PHICTOS: The flies?

ANWAR: The flies that are open...


He points at PHICTOS'S open flies and laughs.


PHICTOS: Oh!


PHICTOS adjusts his flies. ANWAR goes to fetch someone. A beautiful woman appears. She sports a moustache. She has jet black hair and an hour-glass figure. She wears a red and black silk dress. Her name is MIRANDA. She exudes power and mystery.


MIRANDA: Can we help you or are you (making an in-quotes gesture) "just looking"?


PHICTOS looks at MIRANDA’S moustache. She returns his gaze ambiguously. Not: What are you looking at or I'm proud of my moustache. But: I can see you fancy me.


PHICTOS:(clears his throat) I'm detective Phictos of the Phictos Detective Agency.

MIRANDA: That's funny, we had a detective Phactos of the Phactos detective agency in here recently.

PHICTOS: Detective Phactos!?

MIRANDA: Phactos, Phictos? What's the difference? You're all a bunch of nosy parkers. Snoopers. Vermin.

PHICTOS:(getting out a small notebook) When did he come here? This Phactos character?

MIRANDA: Well he was very generous with his wallet if you can grapple with that subtlety.


PHICTOS: I can't stand money grabbers personally.

MIRANDA: Could you leave my shop please?

PHICTOS: Why?

MIRANDA: You're wasting my time. Time is money.

PHICTOS: Alright. Alright. I'm not parting with more than twenty.

MIRANDA: Can you come through please. We don't want you to upset the customers.


MIRANDA and PHICTOS go through to the back. A cuckoo springs out from a cuckoo-clock. But it is not a cuckoo. It is the same small head of MR BROGLE that we saw pop out of the Jack-in-the-box in Scene 2.


8.INT DAY WATLEY’S BACKROOM


The spacious back-room is dingy and dark. There are orange sofas, a laminated top with a kettle and sink. The lozenge patterned curtains are closed.

MIRANDA swaggers to the kettle. She is wearing appallingly ugly slippers. One of them has a bell at its toe.


MIRANDA: Tea?

PHICTOS: Two spoons of sugar, please mad..ms..mi-

MIRANDA:(in a hypnotic tone) Miranda, Miranda... (normal)So what can I do you for?

PHICTOS: Did detective Phactos leave a card?

MIRANDA: He left lots of cards.


PHICTOS: May I examine them?

MIRANDA: Of course.


She hesitates to encourage him to reach into his wallet. After a waiting contest PHICTOS gives in. He fumbles out a 20 pound note. She whips it off him, puts it in her cleavage. She opens a drawer and dumps a deck of playing cards in his hand.


PHICTOS: Are you joking?

MIRANDA: Why? Do you need a laugh?

PHICTOS: This isn't on. Are these the cards he gave you?

MIRANDA: Yeah, we had a game of poker. Do you fancy a game?

PHICTOS: Did he ask about Mr Brogle?

MIRANDA: Who?

PHICTOS: Phactos.

MIRANDA: Who's Phactos?

PHICTOS: Phactos.

MIRANDA: Phictos, Phactos, you're all a bunch of nosy, nasaling miscreants.

PHICTOS: Listen madam you’re wasting my time. Valuable time.

MIRANDA: Don't talk to me about time mate, I know all about it. I fix the time.

PHICTOS: Did you know or know of a Mr Brogle and did a detective Phactos come here to ask any questions about him?

MIRANDA: Got a photo of him?

PHICTOS:(embarrassed) I can describe him...

MIRANDA:(in a reverie)
Feel I not wroth with those who bade me dwell
In this vast lazar-house of many woes?
Where laughter is not mirth,
nor thought the mind?
Nor words a language, nor ev'n men mankind
Where cries reply to curses, shrieks to blows
And each is tortured in her separate hell-
For we are crowded in our solitudes-
Many, but each divided by the wall
Which echoes Madness in his babbling moods...


PHICTOS stands up.


PHICTOS: You're a phoney, if I may say so and it's all rather crappily done.


MIRANDA sits down, oblivious to PHICTOS, as though remembering something sad. She laughs sadly to herself. The kettle whistles.


MIRANDA: Will you have that tea?

PHICTOS: I am a bit thirsty...

MIRANDA: Ah, now we have poetry, it means so much to me.


MIRANDA sinks back into her reverie as she makes the pot of tea.


MIRANDA: If you need a pee in the alphabet of life don't let it run down your leg.

PHICTOS:(CU PHICTOS'S expression: You what guvnor?!*) Which way to the toilet?

MIRANDA:(pause) You said you were a detective. Over there. See you later Urinator.


9.INT DAY WATLEY’S TOILET


As he urinates PHICTOS’S glasses slip off the bridge of his nose. He tries to catch them, but they fall into the toilet-bowl and his pee sloshes all over the place.

He washes his glasses, puts them on, and points at himself in the faded mirror like a parent telling off a child.


10.INT DAY WATLEY’S BACKROOM


PHICTOS returns. The table has been brought to the centre. It has a green baize cloth over it.

MIRANDA sits at the table, a hand of five cards in front of her. A white egg with two eyes and a nose attached to it sits beside her in an old fashioned egg-cup. A hand has been dealt out for PHICTOS.


MIRANDA: Five card stud. Low ball.


PHICTOS waves a big "no" with his finger.


MIRANDA: A question for an item of clothing?

PHICTOS: I like to gamble and I like to win Ms-what's-your-face, but I know enough to get a fresh pack of cards. Clearly you haven't got a clue about the regulations of the game.

MIRANDA: My name is Miranda... Go on then, go and get some cards.


10.INT DAY NEWSAGENT


The NEWSAGENT is grey haired and old looking yet he is dressed like a teenager.


PHICTOS: Have you got any playing cards.

NEWSAGENT: Playing cards. I think so. A set?

PHICTOS: Two sets.

NEWSAGENT: Do you play tennis, sir?

PHICTOS: No. Do you?

NEWSAGENT: No. But I'm glued when Wimbledon's on. I was an award winning member of the Womble Society as well.

PHICTOS: That's interesting.

NEWSAGENT: I'm an interesting person. That'll be three pound five pence.


PHICTOS pays him.


NEWSAGENT:(lowering his voice) Do you need anything sir?

PHICTOS: Like what?

NEWSAGENT: Do you need any "H"?

PHICTOS: "H", what's that?

NEWSAGENT: You know... Horse. Dragon smoke.

PHICTOS:(angry) You know... It's scum like you who are destroying this country.

NEWSAGENT:(slipping into a junky accent) Yeah? And it's scum like you who aren't letting people be, man.

PHICTOS: I could report you, mate.

NEWSAGENT: For offering you fireworks?... Piss off out of here.

PHICTOS: Up yours.

NEWSAGENT:(sticking up two fingers) You have a nice evening too. I hope you win every game of cards you ever play. Arsehole.


PHICTOS leaves in disgust.


INT DAY WATLEY’S CLOCK SHOP


PHICTOS passes ANWAR. A CUSTOMER swings a watch on a chain in front of him.


ANWAR: You can't hypnotise me into giving you more for that watch than it's worth.

CUSTOMER: I'm not a hippopotamus my good brother...



11.INT DAY WATLEY’S BACKROOM


PHICTOS re-enters. The egg is still on the table, also a teapot and some fine-bone china tea-cups.

MIRANDA sits in the same spot It seems that she has just spoken to someone but this is not clear. Seeing PHICTOS standing there triggers a premonition.


CUT TO:


12.INT NIGHT GOLDLIFECLUB-CLUB AREA


Some time in the future.

The MAD HATTER: dressed in tails and spats and a frilly shirt wears his top hat with a diamond encrusted crown round the outside. Carries his machete he like a pirate' s cutlass. His face is exactly one half black and one half white. One hand is white, the other black. Sometimes he uses Jamaican patois sometimes cockney but at all times his accent is English public school.

MIRANDA’S hair is blonde, she looks knock-out. No moustache.

In the background a stage converted into a fighting ring is empty but there’s blood on the floor. Two of the HATTER’S BODYGUARDS mill around as he and MIRANDA play poker. MIRANDA’S egg character sits beside her in its egg-cup.


MIRANDA: I'll raise you five thousand to see you.

HATTER: Five and two says your pigs will fly

MIRANDA: Don't you fucking forget the twenty thou that's coming to me.

HATTER: What does de lillt eggman got to say?


HATTER whips out a silver revolver. MIRANDA stares coolly at him as he smiles and opens the chamber. He leaves one bullet in and spins the chamber. He slaps it down on the table.


HATTER: Let’s raise the stakes to legendary proportions...


CUT BACK TO:


13.INT DAY WATLEY’S BACKROOM


PHICTOS:(holding the cards above his head) Prepare for defeat.

MIRANDA:(distracted but sultry and sexy) Shut the door Phictos, we don't want the steam to escape, do we...?

PHICTOS:(sits, the cards are dealt) Two questions for my coat and tie.

MIRANDA: Your coat, your jacket, your shirt, your trousers for four questions.

PHICTOS:(hesitates) If you don't guarantee to give full satisfactory answers you can fold your hand now .

MIRANDA: We're both adults here... I guarantee to... satisfy.

PHICTOS: It's still low-ball right?

MIRANDA:(tittering) It still is.


PHICTOS shows his hand. So does MIRANDA. PHICTOS wins.


PHICTOS: Who is Mr. Brogle?

MIRANDA: He was an employee of the proprietor before me.

PHICTOS: Who was that?

MIRANDA: David European, a has been pop-star, now deceased from a cocaine overdose.

PHICTOS: Did detective Phactos come here to find out about Mr. Brogle?

MIRANDA: Yes.

PHICTOS: Do you know anything of the whereabouts of Detective Phactos?

MIRANDA: I honestly don't. I can say that Detective Phactos was a handsome man in his late thirties.


This time PHICTOS deals.


MIRANDA: Do you want to see me in the nude?

PHICTOS: Do you want me to see you in the nude?

MIRANDA: Not particularly. You're not my type.

PHICTOS: What is your type?

MIRANDA:(looking at the egg) I like the egg shaped poetical know-it-all -etical type... All your clothes for any questions ranging from Homer to the colour of my knickers yesterday when the sky turned from mauve to grey.

PHICTOS: Don't bluff with me, love. I've got a fantastic hand.

MIRANDA: You in the absolute fig-leaf less nude for all the questions and help you want about Mr. Brogle with whom I maintained a friendship.

PHICTOS: No.

MIRANDA: Yes.

PHICTOS: Not on your nelly.


MIRANDA: You must have a crap hand.

PHICTOS: I've got a good hand.


MIRANDA sneakily turns over his hand and turns over hers.


MIRANDA:(excited, though in a cool way) I win! I win! Your clothes noddy, your clothes. You can be my Nathan Nudist and I’ll be Cuthbert Cubist.

PHICTOS: How dare you? You're a degenerate cheat.

MIRANDA: How dare you call me a cheat? You're the cheat around here. We're here with an agreed gambling pattern. You're reneging.

PHICTOS: I'll be back when you've thought about decency and fairness.


A noise in the wardrobe. A small bald man in a vest, pants and socks holding a video camera stumbles into the room. His name is JAQUES.


MIRANDA:(casual, to the bald man) Hello. How 're you doing?

JAQUES: I'm fine thanks. How are you?

MIRANDA:(sneering at PHICTOS) Apart from this arsehole... everything’s ticking over nicely, thanks.

PHICTOS(realising – to JAQUES) Were you videoing me?

JAQUES: Don't be ridiculous.

PHICTOS:(going towards JAQUES) You were, weren't you? You filthy pervert. And as for you madam you disgust me.


MIRANDA: Oh piss off out of my shop. You smell!

PHICTOS:(smelling his armpit) I smell... great... (as he grabs the video camera) I'll get... (he fiddles to get the tape out) this... (and he pockets it and storms out of the room) You disgust me to the max... -imum, you arse-licking shitemongering, shitty panted, degenerate, buffoons.


14.EXT DAY WATLEY’S CLOCK SHOP


PHICTOS stomps out. He looks at the shop number and notes down the address theatrically.

He notices a book of matches on the pavement. He picks them up. He checks if anyone has noticed him doing this. He walks along for a bit before he opens the book of matches. Inside, an address:


77 HOROLOGY MUSE
South Norwood


15.EXT DAY HOROLOGY MUSE


It is a narrow cobbled cul-de- sac. The various premises are light-industrial units. Instead of the sound of buzz saws and lathes, it is very quiet.

PHICTOS comes into view. He checks the door numbers. No.77 is a slim three-storey building with a big blue horse-carriage door. PHICTOS looks for an entrance and finds nothing. But he tries the horse-carriage door and finds it open.


16.INT DAY 77 HOROLOGY MUSE


The ground floor is empty.

PHICTOS takes the steps up to a room full of odd paintings, a sofa and a fridge. He looks out the window. The street is completely still.

He opens the fridge. It’s full of clear jars of dirty water and faeces. Each has a label: DRINK ME. There is also one can of beer. PHICTOS looks at the excretions. He takes out one jar. Examines it. Smells it. Odious. He shoves it back in.

Up more steps. A strange door with a bright picture of Humpty Dumpty on it.


17.INT DAY 77 HOROLOGY MUSE UPPER ROOM


PHICTOS pushes the door open. He steps in. There’s a haunting stagnancy about the place. Light streams in from the only window.

A MONOCLED MAN in Victorian costume is crouched over a desk, motionless. PHICTOS tiptoes towards him.


PHICTOS: Hello?


The MONOCLED MAN remains still.

A small mattress is by the wall on which an early 19th century oil painting, depicts a man mending a clock. The rest of the room is full of boxes, stacked with matchbooks

PHICTOS approaches the desk. He sees that the MONOCLED MAN was in the process of writing 77 HOROL.

Suddenly the MONOCLED MAN moves. It gives PHICTOS a start. But the man does not look at PHICTOS but finishes off OGY MUSE.


PHICTOS: Who are you?


The MONOCLED MAN doesn't reply. Instead he pushes a button and a recording of what PHICTOS has just said comes on in a loop.


PHICTOS VOICE LOOP: Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? [then] Who who who are you? etc.


Keeping a suspicious eye on the MONOCLED MAN PHICTOS examines the matchbooks in the boxes. In each and every matchbook is the same thing:

77 HOROLOGY MUSE
South Norwood


No eye contact whatsoever, the MONOCLED MAN offers PHICTOS a matchbook. Instead of the address it has written in it:

Do you want a cold can of beer?


PHICTOS: The beer in the fridge? (No reply or reaction) What are those turds in there. Your fridge has turds in it.


Unbeknownst to PHICTOS the MONOCLED MAN presses another button underneath his desk. A small man on stilts [name is STILTS]opens the door holding a gun. PHICTOS turns to face him.


PHICTOS: If you don't stop pointing that gun at me I'll call the police.


The "Who are yous" come on again.

STILTS fires. PHICTOS falls to the ground.


FADE OUT

FADE IN


18.EXT DAY CHINATOWN


A beautiful sunshiney day. PHICTOS regains consciousness on a bench where some Chinese people are talking.


PHICTOS:(muttering) I've got to get on with those Kung Fu classes.

He yawns and stretches. He looks around, comprehends finally that he's in Chinatown in London.


19.INT. DAY PHONE BOX


Casually PHICTOS dials.


PHICTOS: Hello, Joe ?

JOE:(long pause) Ken! Ken! Thank God! Thank God! We've been worried sick about you. Thank God!

PHICTOS: What do you mean?

JOE: What? What, do I mean?

PHICTOS: What day is it Joe?

JOE:(with reserved concern) Well, ... well... it's a Tuesday.

PHICTOS:(mulling) Tuesday. Hmmm.

JOE: Ken. Ken?

PHICTOS: What Joe?

JOE: Are you cool, calm and collected?

PHICTOS: You know I’m the coolest...

JOE: Are you prepared for a shock?

PHICTOS: Is Celia OK?

JOE: Celia's fine Ken. Are you bracing yourself?

PHICTOS: Yes I am.

JOE: Wellll... You've been gone a whole year... We've been worried sick about you! We even went to the police. We had your picture on the telly. We hired a detective to search for you. Did you disappear on purpose?

PHICTOS:(long pause) Get out of it Joe... I've just been knocked out like a proper detective.

JOE: No Ken. This isn't a wind up. I swear.

PHICTOS: What do you mean a whole year?

JOE: That's what I mean Ken. A... a... a... a whole year. That's how long you've been gone. They took back your flat and your office... I've been so upset... Some nights when you were first gone I was crying.

PHICTOS: Alright mate HA-HA the jokes over, right?

JOE:(after a long pause) Do you have any money?

PHICTOS:(has one ten p left) A year? A year! One whole year? I can't even remember it

JOE: Get a cab to here. We’ve bought a house. I'll pay your fare when you get here. The barbershop.


PHICTOS is no longer listening. He stares at the passing world. He drops the phone.

He searches his pockets. Everything he had including the glasses are gone. He looks through his pockets once more. He phones the operator.


PHICTOS: What year is it?

OPERATOR: Don't be silly, sir.

PHICTOS:(shouting) I said what year is it?


The operator tells him. He violently tries to pull the telephone cord away from the dialling box but falls down on his backside. He laughs to himself and then starts to weep.


20.EXT DAY CENTRAL LONDON


PHICTOS flags down a cab.


Caption: OUT OF AN UNMINDED GAP


21.INT NIGHT CELIA AND JOE’S HOUSE - DINING-ROOM


A small and neatly decorated room with a picture of JOE and CELIA'S wedding on the wall.

JOE, CELIA and PHICTOS are sitting round the table eating bangers, mash and fried eggs but PHICTOS is still in a daze. Silence. PHICTOS picks at his food.


PHICTOS: They stole one year out of my life and decimated my future.

JOE: Thank God you're alive Ken.

PHICTOS: Who?

JOE: God.

PHICTOS: And who's he when he's at home?

JOE: Our creator.


PHICTOS breaks into tears. JOE and then CELIA rise from their seats and put their arms around him.


22.EXT DAY LOCATIONS AROUND LONDON


PHICTOS visits WATLEYS. It is boarded up. He goes to HOROLOGY MUSE which has been razed to make way for a supermarket.

As he wanders and wanders, it seems he becomes younger and younger until we see him as small child beside his dad and mum's gravestones. Then he is in a park and a kind looking woman is beckoning him.


MOTHER: Come on come to mummy. Who's a clever boy then?


The young tiny PHICTOS wanders towards his mum falteringly. She picks him up and whirls him round.

He finds himself on a roundabout with other children and their mothers who are laughing at him.



23.INT NIGHT PUB


PHICTOS drinks alone. After a while he spots two black men, one looking a little zonked. They are smoking rolling tobacco. Their Rizla packet cover is torn. PHICTOS watches them through the night.
When they go home he follows them, takes down their address.


24.INT. NIGHT PHONE BOX


PHICTOS: This is an anonymous tip off from a reliable source. Out of 18b Jubilee Crescent drug dealing is occurring.


25.INT DAY JUNKSHOP


PHICTOS mills around. The shopkeeper is a woman in her fifties.

An elderly woman puts her handbag down to look at a vase. She moves on forgetting her bag.

A young middle-aged man, THIEF, picks up the handbag and strolls out of the shop with it.


26.EXT DAY OUTSIDE JUNK SHOP


PHICTOS follows THIEF who enters a café.


27.INT DAY CAFE


PHICTOS sits beside THIEF who ignores him.


PHICTOS: They do their eggs nicely here?

THIEF: How should I know?

PHICTOS: Is there any such thing as a free breakfast?

THIEF: I think I've lost my appetite. 'Scuse.

PHICTOS: I thought stealing brings on an appetite.

THIEF: Stealing? I wouldn't know. Are you a thief?

PHICTOS: Thief? No, but you are. I saw you taking that old lady’s handbag.


THIEF stands and strikes PHICTOS on the head. PHICTOS grabs the bag and clings to it while the blows go on. THIEF barges past and leaves.


28.INT DAY BAPTIST CHURCH


JOE is praying.

JOE VOICE OVER: Hello Jesus. This is Joe. Lord Jesus please help Ken to get back on his feet. Please let Celia be more tolerant of him staying with us. You know him better than even I do. You know all things Lord, please keep him from harm. Please help him and please give me a little help while you're at it. Thanks, man. Please help my assistant to get a grip on his visits to the bookies, it’s driving me up the wall. I know I lack patience. Please give it to me. Now. Only joking.
Our Father...


29.INT NIGHT CELIA AND JOE’S HOUSE - HALL


JOE enthusiastically opens the door to PHICTOS.


JOE: Ken, have you eaten yet? We've got some guests for tea.

PHICTOS: I'm a burden on you Joe. I'm eating you out of house and home.

JOE: Don't be silly Ken. You're a mate. A great mate, man. Come on, it's chicken tikka massala.

PHICTOS: Great.

JOE: Come and meet (entering the dining room) James and John, the sons of thunder, this is Ken.


JAMES and JOHN, who is the elder of the two, stand up to shake PHICTOS'S hand.


30.INT CELIA AND JOE’S HOUSE - DINING ROOM


PHICTOS realises that JAMES and JOHN are the two black men he grassed on regarding the drugs.


PHICTOS:(suspicious) Pleased to meet you.

JAMES: Alright.

JOHN: Hello, pleased to meet you.


LATER


JOHN, JAMES, CELIA, PHICTOS and JOE are eating.


JOHN:(looking at JAMES disapprovingly) The police raided us this morning.

JOE: No!

JAMES: Yeah, they came in really early. I was in the kitchen. John was in the shower. Boom, boom, boom. They're in and swarming over the place. (confidentially) I mean I smoke a little stuff every now and then.

JOE: Did they, erm, find anything?

JAMES: One roach.

JOE: A cockroach? Oh, a roach. What you smoke through.

JOHN:(nodding a disapproving, that's right) As far as I see it, dope’s ruining people. I can't be endorsing it.

JAMES: It's only puff, John.

JOHN: I'm sure they used to say it's only Hitler, the vegetarian.

JAMES: That’s a stupid comparison.

JOHN: Maybe but don’t say it doesn’t make you short sometimes. Seriously bad tempered.

CELIA:(noticing PHICTOS out of the conversation) Well... whatever... It's a disgrace them busting in like that, isn't it Ken?

PHICTOS:(flat) It's a disgrace.


31.INT CELIA AND JOE'S HOUSE – DINING-ROOM


JOE, JOHN and JAMES do a trio version of Were You There When They Nailed My Lord To A Tree.

PHICTOS is in the kitchen with CELIA making coffees. He is transfixed by what he hears. CELIA looks at him apprehensively. PHICTOS glides towards the front room as the hymn comes to an end.


PHICTOS:(dancing, jiggling his head)
I'm Mr Doodledoo
saying hello to you
With a voice that'll make you blue
With a message to sigh
It'll make you laugh and make you cry
Hush hush eye to eye
In the streets
I can smell the feets
That stink out the Bobbies on the beat
And make them feel like sheet
Too much crime
Hang 'em high
They all lie
I'm Mr Doodledoo

(JOE tries to stop PHICTOS who rebuffs him)

I'm Mr Doodledoo
clicking onto you
Like a mouse, with a superclue
Every day
I go out of my way
To bust the fools
Who are corrupting our schools
what a nation
of degradation
The men in suits
Just wants toots
Of coke and scag
Each one shoots
And starts to lie

But all their boats
Always stay dry
They can wipe their arse on their tie
I can tell you Hush hush eye to eye
Mr Doodledoo saying goodbye.

(Everyone looks at PHICTOS)

Have I charted?
I've only just started
To lay down rhymes
To beat the crimes...

JOE: Ken, Ken. Ken.

PHICTOS: What?
Don't I hit the spot
I can do it all
Cos I'm saying to you
That I'm Mr Doodledoo
Shaking the house
And rocking the crew.

JOE: Detective Phictos please come to your senses.
Detective Phictos please come in, Ken sit down. Just take it easy, and drink some coffee.

PHICTOS: See it's infectious, something has started to hex us.

JOE:(by way of an explanation to the others) Ken used to be a big Hip-hop fan... He's been through a bit of a rough time.


32.INT NIGHT CELIA AND JOE'S HOUSE - SPARE ROOM


PHICTOS awakes and throws back the covers of the sofa bed. He turns the light on and goes downstairs like in the R. White’s secret lemonade drinker advert.


33.INT NIGHT CELIA AND JOE'S HOUSE - FRONT ROOM


PHICTOS goes back upstairs.


34.INT NIGHT CELIA AND JOE'S HOUSE - SPARE ROOM


PHICTOS is writing in an exercise book at speed. He's filled pages and pages of rhyming poetry.

MORNING

JOE enters, angry. PHICTOS is asleep.


JOE: Ken, Ken. Ken, wake up mate.

PHICTOS: What? What is it? Shit, shit, what year is it? (PHICTOS rubs his eyes, realises where he is) Mr. Doodledoo saying good morning to you.

JOE: Cut it out, Ken. (He holds up a jar with water and some turds in it.) What is this?

PHICTOS:(looks at the jar)Nothing to do do with me.

JOE: What are they doing in our fridge? Ken this will not do. It's a good job Celia didn't see this. She would've hit the roof, mate. Now I've got to throw everything out of the fridge and clean it out. This is did-did-disgusting. If I could afford it I’d get a new one, as it is I can’t. The mortgage is killing me... You haven't left any in the freezer have you?


PHICTOS looks away. He sets eyes on his exercise grabs it and starts scribbling away again. He quickly turns to the back cover and looks at it. FREEZEFRAME>ZOOM:

POETRY & SONG NIGHT
GOLDLIFE CLUB
ALL WELCOME
87 MARSHALSEA PLACE
BOROUGH
LONDON

UNFREEZE>ZOOM BACK: PHICTOS returns to his page and continues writing at high speed.


FADE OUT


Caption: GOLDLIFE CLUB CUTS


35.EXT NIGHT GOLDLIFE CLUB


PHICTOS is bald like Kojak. Like a chain smoker he takes out one reduced lollypop, chucks it and unwraps a fresh one. He rings the bell. No answer. He rings again. After a while an eye appears at the metal door and it opens.

The bouncer, MAXWELL is 6'6", dressed in black with a Goldlife sweatshirt. PHICTOS scoots past him.


36.INT NIGHT THE GOLDLIFE CLUB


It is a smoky, ill-decorated place, with a small but decent sized stage. A reproduction of Rembrandt's The Prodigal Son is on one of the walls. "The Son" is toasting the viewer

PHICTOS sees the stage and has nothing on his mind but to get on it. MAXWELL chases him and pulls him down by his trouser belt as he clambers up. Some members of the audience laugh and point.


PHICTOS: I am a performer and a reformer


On stage HANNA a woman in her late sixties wearing a smart red jacket over a Smiley T-shirt, wheels in a karaoke machine.

MAXWELL carries him by the collar to the door.
HANNA mic in hand stares at PHICTOS. Does she recognise him? She attends to her performance.
PHICTOS struggles to break free.


PHICTOS: Let me go and I will perform in your show.


HANNA sings Adrian Rollini’s Charlie's Home.


37.EXT NIGHT GOLDLIFE CLUB


MAXWELL holds PHICTOS aloft between club and pavement.


MAXWELL: Do you know what it is like to be smashed? (PHICTOS shakes his head in terror.) To be smashed into a thousand tiny pieces?


MAXWELL drops PHICTOS, relatively gently, on the pavement and slams the door in his face.

PHICTOS runs round to the back. He looks around ready to climb over the wall. But something catches his eye. Over the road in the window of a hotel the silhouette of a tall figure is strangling someone.


38.INT NIGHT GREYCAT HOTEL OUTSIDE ROOM 199 - CORRIDOR


Deceived by a large mirror at the end of the corridor PHICTOS almost crashes into it

A DO NOT DISTURB sign is on the doorknob but he knocks with urgency.

The door is answered by MUSCLEMAN-MIKE a large sweating muscular Australian, in a one-shoulder Tarzan type leotard, with a dumbbell in his hand.

Inside is a tall golden tanned muscular woman. She is also Australian. She wears a skimpy leopard skin bra and briefs. She goes by the name STRONGWOMAN-STELLA.


MUSCLEMAN-MIKE:(smiling knowingly, to STELLA) Got the readies Strongwoman Stella? (to PHICTOS) Got them then?

PHICTOS: Er... ?

MUSCLEMAN-MIKE:(quietly) You've brought the steroids haven't you?

PHICTOS: No, yes, erm.

MUSCLEMAN-MIKE: You dingbat have you got them or not? We're crying out for them here.

PHICTOS: I wonder if I could look round your room for a second, I thought I saw an incident that beckoned.

MUSCLEMAN-MIKE: You what mate?

PHICTOS: May I search this room? I need to enquire like David Hume.

MUSCLEMAN-MIKE: Now hang on mate...

RECEPTIONIST:(appears behind PHICTOS) Can I be of help to you sir?

PHICTOS:(putting a lolly in his mouth) Well I'm... a detective

MUSCLEMAN-MIKE: More like a defective

PHICTOS: And I'm very effective.

RECEPTIONIST: We do have our own security. Now can we leave these good people in peace?

MUSCLEMAN-MIKE: That's right detective mate, take your hooter off to the relevant location. We're working out here. There isn't time enough in the world to be bothering about irrelevant people like you.

STRONGWOMAN-STELLA:(coming to the door, towelling herself) You tell him Mike. Now buzz off mate, it's your sort ruining the Pom reputation abroad.


She closes the door. The RECEPTIONIST looks at the SECURITY GUARD. The SECURITY GUARD removes PHICTOS and pushes him along, downstairs. and out of the building.


39.EXT NIGHT GREYCAT HOTEL


PHICTOS straightens his clothes. The street is quiet and empty. He looks left then right. Where to go now? He strolls back towards the Goldlife. A street lamp buzzes and goes out. A shadowy figure appears behind him and strikes him on the head. He falls to the ground unconscious.

FLASHBACK:

40.INT NIGHT HOTEL - FOREIGN COUNTRY


Silent and in slow motion. A crowd of people sit listening in neatly arranged seats.

Facing them, PHICTOS recites poetry into a microphone. He finishes. BRIAN the MC - we’ll meet him shortly - is at the front. He rises and applauds. The audience follow suit. PHICTOS bows.


41.INT NIGHT GOLDLIFE CLUB - HANNA'S BEDROOM


Beautiful, neat, everything 30's style.

HANNA dances to rave music played at 78 on an old horn-speaker gramophone. PHICTOS is in her bed naked. On his bald head are two blue plasters in a cross. He groans and comes to. He feels his bandaged bump and opens his eyes. HANNA leaps onto the bed to kiss him.


PHICTOS:(leaping out of bed) What year is it? What year is it. (realising his nakedness) Have I landed yet again in shit? (Not seeing his clothes or anything to cover himself rushes back under the covers. His eyes are fixed on HANNA to discourage any further attempts.) Please have a care and tell me the year.

HANNA: It's the year of the apocalypse. What year do you think it is. It's 1999.

PHICTOS: Where the bloody hell am I now? Someone hit me and pow! I went out like a light. Shit, have I been gone long or is it only tomorrow night? I want my clothes back. Did I lose them in the attack?

HANNA:(pawing at the sheets) Now calm down. Calm down. I'm here rhyming man, it's Hanna, your friend. I found you last night after some muggers punched your auroras out and stole all your money. I've sent your clothes for a wash. Now come on big boy, let me play with your toy!

PHICTOS: No more hanky-panky, you're a woman who's quite swanky, but there is a love in my life who would be cut like a knife if she were to think that I'd let her sink.

HANNA: You're lying, rhyming man... You're lying. If you're gonna be like that you can leave when I bring you your clothes. (shouting) Got that? Got that?


42.INT NIGHT GOLDLIFE CLUB - HIDDEN CHAMBER 1


Victorian decor. This large space on the top floor is a living-room cum bedroom. Bookshelves of old books and tomes line all the walls except one...

The light is dim. Large black and white tiles chequer the floor. MIRANDA sits in an armchair beside the open fire. She’s reading an old book of poetry, stroking her moustache. She is dressed like Alice in Wonderland.

Opposite her HUMPTY sits on a low ancient mossy wall is. He is 7''7", dressed all in white.. He wears a smooth white rimless helmet and his face, covered in scars is powdered white. He speaks slowly. His accent struggles against Southern American to be public-school English.


HUMPTY: No clouds will gather to ruin the joys we have tasted. Despite the cumulonimbuses and nimbostratuses everything shall be as I meant it to mean.

MIRANDA: Those are lovely words, Humpty... I'll just finish this poem and then we can rumpy-pumpy.

HUMPTY: I'm not even going to eat his brains. It would only be a disservice to my intellect. But once I've feasted on Phictos's brains perhaps it'll be the final piece in the jigsaw to start me rhyming like you always wanted me to.


MIRANDA climbs up the wall and straddles HUMPTY.


MIRANDA:(sing-song) We'll... soon be in Florida, a ... new life with a bright... corridor the sun will shine... hand in hand in Wonderland.

HUMPTY: We will be like two new clouds floating round a mountain-peak. Rich, eh, Rich, eh,


There is a knock at the door. It is BRIAN.


BRIAN: This is Brian calling. All is very well in London town.

HUMPTY: Use the key...


A bookcase slides to one side. Enter BRIAN, smug-faced, in a smoking Jacket, a fat cigar between his fingers. He is a graceful mover, with greying hair and a beautiful cut-glass accent.

HUMPTY still coupled with MIRANDA, twirls his giant index finger.


BRIAN:(turning to face the door) Of course, of course... I was speaking to someone who might be a useful business contact for us. He’s especially interested in livers.

MIRANDA:(still riding) Everything you touch turns to shit, Brian. Why weren’t you on the door for Phictos?

BRIAN:(breezy) Well... Maxwell had his picture... I’m a partner in this business and it’s only right that I should be seeking to expand it. I knew he'd come back. I took the risk to get into the Markings house and put that notice there. I-

MIRANDA:(stopping) You’re either on the job or you’re not. As you’ve seen he’s gone and got himself a Kojak bald cut. (in a nastier tone) Are you a complete and utter fool? A dark cloud that insists on blocking the light of the sun, a lone dog-do on the pavement that sores the eye.

BRIAN: We’re taking a big risk for one poem. I’ve said this before. It’s ridiculous. We should’ve disposed of him before we got back.

MIRANDA: If you’d bloody recorded it we wouldn’t be in this situation would we? No. I’m not just in this for the money. I could be making pots of gold. I’m an aesthete. A poet. I sow it and I grow it. All the others who’s minds we have cultivated have yielded good things for me and for Humpty. But the Lovesong is a step further along. Shakespeare came out with it like it was breathing. I accept nothing less than to be his equal and in time I will be and Humpty will be like Ben Johnson won’t you Humpty?

HUMPTY: Yes I will be. Once I’ve eaten enough poet brains and you’ve perfected your techniques.

BRIAN: The English language is exhausted. Look, I’m not complaining. What you do in your spare time, what you want is down to you. But at the very least why risk letting him back to his old life just on the off chance that it’ll trigger that poem back. It’s absurd Miranda.

MIRANDA: It’s absurd that you should think that poem of no value just because you were stupid enough to forget to record it. It’s not going to jeopardize the business.

BRIAN: We should've got rid of him once the tour was over. It’s a stupid poem anyway. That's one thing I do know about. I got a first in English at Oxford if that's escaped your attention.

MIRANDA: It just goes to prove how useless it was.

BRIAN: This poem isn't going to change the world anyway... (He smiles and pulls out PHICTOS'S exercise book) I've got his poems here... No sign of Lovesong to a Bearded Lady though.

MIRANDA:(kissing HUMPTY and jumping down) Would you say that about Mozart?

BRIAN:(turning round. MIRANDA takes the notebook) He's not Mozart,(laughing) Mozart! Bozo, filthy tongue full of crudities. A pauper’s burial.

MIRANDA:(attentively flicking through the book) Splendid, splendid... (looking up and becoming more and more angry, lecturing BRIAN) There always have to be the good and the quite good to produce the great. Shakespeare-great.

BRIAN: Back in the days of the ancient Greeks, Dionysius, the elder thought very highly of his own poetry. As well as magnificent chariots, he sent to the Lompoc games poets to declaim his verses. When his poems were recited the way they were delivered made the people sit up and listen. Then they felt cheated and ran to his tents and tore them down. His chariots failed in the races and the ship returning his soldiers was wrecked on some coast. Everyone was quite sure that the gods had cursed him because of his crap poetry. Artistically a little humility can go a long way as TS Eliot said in Four Quartets: Humility is endless... Is the wisdom of humility: humility is endless. The houses are all gone under the sea. The dancers are all gone under the hill. (pause) O dark dark dark. They all go into the dark.


MIRANDA trips him up and jumps on his stomach. By the time he's aware enough to fight back HUMPTY has jumped down from his wall.


BRIAN:(painfully rising) You... fucking nut... case... I’m only trying to be helpful... (HUMPTY punches him to the floor)... I hope... your fuck... I swear I’ll, I’ll... haunt you... I’ll come back as a ghost and shit you up...

HUMPTY:(pointing at him) You never knew more than me. You never knew what meaning meant.


A powerful kick from HUMPTY, to BRIAN’S head kills him.

MIRANDA goes to a large chest near her bed. She takes out a piece of chalk and a slate. She puts on a mortarboard cap and a black gown. From a chest of drawers near his giant egg-shaped bed HUMPTY fetches a hubbly-bubbly and a small box with a lump of opium in it.

HUMPTY prepares the opium and sits down cross legged. MIRANDA brings an ancient book of poetry and stands over BRIAN'S body.


MIRANDA:
And as in uffish thought he stood
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,