Well Turns Out that I was Wrong

It didn't last beyond April.

Did actually start writing it. Just got a bit where someone sticks cornflakes to his button-hole in the shape of a flower, then later... He does something with them...
(Eats them)


[Me - Depressed, but likeing Torchwood for the first time ever!]

THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!! THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!

THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!
THEY'RE ALL OUT OF LIQUOR, LET'S FIND ANOTHER PARTY!!!

The April Special – The Thing with the Axe

Ah, a third of the way now… humm, will this silly little game last another month? Humm… Actually I think that there is a fair chance that it will… See that’s the problem, complacency sets in so easily.

The Thing with the Axe

The lights come up on the left of the stage and we can see two/one/three people sitting on three/one/two chairs. There is a slight gap between two chairs/there is one chair. The centre and right of the stage can’t be seen. A click is heard from the centre of the stage followed by a quiet humming. The person/people begin(s) to talk at the sound of the click. He talks to himself/they talk to each other, and they seem to switch roles as they proceed, saying the following chronologically, but they don’t speak in a set sequence.
“But what do you mean; you’re going to write a story without any form of narrative? How will that be a story any more?”
“Don’t know, but it will be. It will be brilliant and bold and bearing offerings for all people.”
“No it won’t. No one will understand it, it will just be an arrogant mess of lost thoughts and your screwed ideals. Your experimental things always end up like that.”
“No they don’t… Well maybe they do, but is that the point, is that all that you can think about? What others think?”
“No. I’m thinking what you think, and so do I. We are the same person, remember.”
“Oh, am I, really? Am I that dull? Dull enough to be you? You to be me, me to be you, us to be the same, us not to be an us but an I?”
“We’re not an I, we’re a we. We always were, and now you better not be forgetting that anytime soon, I know what you do to yourself you know.”
“Humm…”
“Yes I do, and I don’t like it. All your attempts to make yourself better fitted to what you deludingly see as your purposes. I don’t like it.”
“You could have said.”
“I did. And you know full well that I did, and have given to simmer it for much of the time that you pretend to not be looking at me.”
“But I wasn’t looking. I never look.”
“Well that’s what you say. And you may say it in perpetuity, but that doesn’t mean that you’ve paid for it.”
“What?”
“I mean that even if you were to tell me that for ever it would never serve as payment for the injustice you do me by looking.”
“Oh, okay…”
“I thought you were supposed to be the: “Ooo look at me, the clever one with all the metaphors, fancy swish-swash”.
“No. That’s you. I think…”
“It i-”
“What do you mean “looking”? Looking at what?”
“Wuu? Oh well I don’t know. You were the one looking. Shouldn’t you be the one telling me?”
“How do you know that I was looking if you don’t even know what I was looking at?”
“Hey! Look here! That’s finished with alright!? That’s all done with, all gone, past tense and all. You were looking, and that’s the end of it. We had agreed right.”
“Wuu? Oh, oh yes you’re right, I was looking. Sorry for that, so sorry my dear, I didn’t mean to-”
“You did.”
“Sorry that I looked with such perpetuity and lust-”
“What!?”
“-perpetuity and lust-”
“I heard that the first time, I hear everything you say remember. I didn’t know you looked like that.”
“Well you look the same as me, me.”
“Shut up!”
“Oh… oh, sorry that’s what you meant… Well still you did know that, you said that you’d heard me the first time.”
“Shut up.”
“Why?”
“You’re being a twat.”
“Is that not my job? To annoy you as sit here, prattling along to yourself, being hindered by me, hindered by you, looking at me, spying on me, you on me, me on you, you and me?”

~ No. The axe is for that. ~ Says everyone sitting on the two rows of chairs running across the stage as the lights immediately come on. A large axe swings across from the left, down through the gap between the two rows, and stops between the two/three/one people sitting on the left, who froze in “leaning back from the axe” positions as the call went out. Also, when the lights come on, there is another click as the reel-to-reel tape recorder sitting behind the first row but in front of the path of the axe stops recording.
~WE WANT TO BE ENTERTAINED~ Shouts out the two rows. There is a pause and then two of the people in the rows stand up, as do the one/three/two people on the left. They walk “straightlededgly” (think of the toy soldiers in The Mind Robber) to their retrospective positions: the one/two/three people stand in front of three/two/one empty chairs in the audience; the two new people stand at the front of the stage, in the middle, in front of the two rows. There is a pause, and then the one/two/three people sit and the two new people begin the next piece (the lights to the sides dim, and the tape recorder starts).

“I. Just. Made. You. Up. To hurt myself.” The one on the left says to the one on the right as he points with both hands.
“Did you? Are you sure?”
“Oh quite sure, most defiantly, you are not real. You are my own little creation. And now I want you no more I can make you go away”
Lights out on the right.
“Ah, tricky that, you see [Lights up on the right] you’re not sure.”
“Oh yes I am now. I am better even that I thought. I’ve made you better than I thought I could have done. Now go.” Lights out.
Lights on. “Better even do you think? Now lights out.” Lights out.
“What?”
“Lights. [Lights on] See, they’re lights. Not real or anything.”
“What do you mean?”
“See them? [Waves at the audience, then turns and grins] Hello people down there! Looking pretty in all the hats and cravats you’ve just jumped into. [Turns back] Them, down there, me too, are we real, or did you imagine us all?”
“I-”
“The lights too. Where did they come from? Humm…”
“I-”
“Did you make all of this?”
“I-”
“Really?”
“I can’t remember… do you?”
“Well do you? If I am no more than an extension of you then surely you are the only one likely to remember, can’t you?”
“No. But if I can make you go then surely I did. Go.” [Lights out]
“Yet I come back at my own accord. Lights on [lights on]. Peculiar that.”
“So I didn’t?”
“Maybe… though think about it. To get rid of me you are thinking about me, and if I am only an idea of yours then by thinking of me you fuel me, I stay. Also just turning the lights off is hardly going to make me go away. I’m not the one afraid of the dark. And off.” Lights on the left off.
“Ooooh, you are me, and I am not real, I am not real, you made me-”
“No. Don’t be stupid, maybe. Lights up [Lights on], it is only the lights.”
“But I made the lights!”
“Who said that? Anyways even if you did, what is there to say that you didn’t just make them go on and off?”
“You said it.”
“No. I merely suggested the possibility. You are the one making it real. If you made it, and if you did then I am you so you suggested it too.”
“I’m confused.”
“Yes you are. Now let me come and make you better.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Ever since I have thought of you I have been hurt.”
“Well thinking that’s not going to make me go away, whether I’m you or not.”
“Yes, but if I stop?”
“You won’t, so let me help you.”
“EVERYTHING MUST BE ME!”
“No. Not necessarily…”
“Will I ever know?”
“Maybe. Now let me take you.” He hugs him.

~ No. The axe is for that. ~ the axe swings across into the middle and as before they freeze (also the tape recorder stops and the lights come on full). ~WE WANT TO BE ENTERTAINED~ Shouts out the two rows. There is a pause and then three of the people in the rows stand up. They walk “straightlededgly” to their retrospective positions: the two hugging people stand in front of two empty chairs in the audience; the three new people stand in front of three chairs on the right of the stage. There is a pause, and then the standing people sit and the next piece begins (lights just on right and tape recorder clicks on).

The middle person stands up and then looks at the two sitting, he holds his hands out at his side and looks out to the audience. Then almost a bit like a game show host he comes to the front of the stage and addresses the audience with his hands still out. (Just follow what I do now and you’ll see what I mean).

“Just follow what I do now and you’ll see that I mean. What, uh… sorry, um, anyways. Recent fads have been:[He points to one of the two still sitting]”
-“Oh what do you see over there?”
“and”
*“What do you see in him?
“So as you can undoubtedly see is that-”
-“it’s him.”
“who is the important one-”
*“because you rather like him?”
“Thank you, but no-”
*“oh, sorry I thought you did rather.”
“Pardon?”
*“I thought you rather liked him.”
“Um…”
*“Ah, see I knew you did.”
“Hey, could someone-“
-“just come and clobber this twat?”
“Well I didn’t -”
*“-mean to cause such-”
-“offence? Well you sure did.”
“Suggesting as much as I would call-”
-“Some guy pretty.”
“It’s not even like I know them”
*“Well you can hardly say things without expecting any form of consequence.”
“is this some kind of-”
-“conspiracy?”
“here to make me look a fool?”
*“And this is all in front of an audience too”
“why are they doing this?”
-“Well what’s that got to do with it?”
*“The audience watch because that is what they are for.”
“why are they doing this?”
-“I don’t think that I know”
*“What I mean?”
“Why are they doing this?”
-“Yes, what do you mean?”
*“well, look at them…”
“Am I doing?”
*“Yes”
-“Yes, what do you mean?”
“Why are they doing this?”
*“Well that’s what they do.”
-“Yes, what do you mean?”
*“They watch, we play.”
“Why are they doing this?”
-“Yes, what do you mean?”
*“They watch, we play.”
“Why are they doing this?”
-“Yes, what do you mean?”
*“They watch, we play.”
“Why are they doing this?”
-“Yes, what do you mean?”
*“They watch, we play.”
“Why are they doing this?”
*“Because we play at stopping the axe.”

The axe swings across to the right (lights all on, tape stops). ~WE WANT TO BE ENTERTAINED~ Shouts out the two rows. There is a pause and then three of the people in the rows stand up. They walk “straightlededgly” to their retrospective positions: the three playing people stand in front of three empty chairs in the audience; the three new people stand in front of three chairs on the left of the stage. There is a pause, and then the standing people sit and the next piece begins (lights just on left and tape recorder clicks on).

The three all jump up, and start scuttling around the stage like ants while calling/moaning out: ~The roooom! The rooooom!~
They make scratching and clawing motions at the “walls” of the room “miming sort of, but this is very much a metaphorical room”.
“The white.”
“The walls.”
“We claw.”
“We scrape.”
“But the white room.”
“The White rooooom”
“The white room.”
“Save us from the white room.”
“Help us cut the walls.”
“Break open a line.”
“Reorder the paper linings.”
“We try to hit so hard.”
“We try, but they never give.”
“Back, they never fall back.”
“Back, they stand and we.”
“Feel like we hold them.”
“We hold them.”
“We Hold them.”
“We hold them!”
“They, we, you.”
“Force us to hold them.”
“They stand and.”
“We claw.”
“We scrape.”
“We claw and scrape at them.”
“You say you do, but you don’t.”
“You say you do, but you don’t.”
“Some say they do, but they done.”
“Don’t want it.”
“Don’t really want it.”
“Some say they want us to break the wall.”
“Break the monotony of the white.”
“The white room.”
“The white roooooom.”
“The white room.”
“Some say that they want us to.”
“Some say we need to.”
“Some say they that build it do.”
…
“They help the room.”
“With the axe.”
“With the axe-with the axe-with the axe-” [All three crescendo on a chorus of this last line, then…]

The axe swings across to the left (lights all on, tape stops). ~WE WANT TO BE ENTERTAINED~ Shouts out the two rows. There is a pause and then two of the people in the rows stand up. They walk “straightlededgly” to their retrospective positions: the three playing people stand in front of three empty chairs in the audience; the two new people stand in front of three chairs on the left of the stage. in the middle, in front of the two rows. There is a pause, and then the one/two/three people sit and the two new people begin the next piece (the lights to the sides dim, and the tape recorder starts).

The two people stand, looking down, angled towards the middle. One then pulls out a crumpled list out of his pocket. He looks at it, then looks around at the audience and tells them:

“This is a list of all the participants.”
The other then looks up to speak.
“They played their parts. They switched roles.”
“Then they forgot, they forgot what they had been.”
“They kept changing, switching.”
“Nothing is remembered, nothing is kept, nothing matters.”
“Because there is always something new.”
“That doesn’t matter because there will always be another.”
“They used to matter… didn’t they use to matter?”
“It used to be important what you did?”
“Didn’t it? Did it?”
“Did it matter? Did anything use to matter?”
“Was there ever any point to anything?”
“Did we point to scratch?”
“Pulling lines down sugar coatings, and cracking soft glaze.”
“Smashing the pots to the ground.”
“But for a reason? For a reason… a reason beyond… beyond…”
“Why we do it now. Why do we do it now?”
“Because we do, and because we do.”
“Continuing, but we have forgotten why. And the why was always the first on our lips.”
“First on our lips to utter: why?”
“Why were we the first?”
“We were always first on our lips to utter why. And we tried.”
“We were always first on our lips to try to answer.”
“We never answered.”
“Yet we tried.”
“We tried.”
“We’d never succeed.”
“We knew we’d never succeed.”
“Never expected to succeed.”
“But we tried… Always tried… for if we didn’t.”
“We wouldn’t be worth anything.”
“We never knew what we were trying.”
“But trying we were.”
“Trying for us, the audience, and so we…”
“Thought/fought.”
“But then the axe came.”
“We kept on playing though.”
“Playing stylus broken.”
“Born and broken, worn and ever rewoven.”
“Re-fed just to be bred.”
“Tiles and plaster, hung and empty rung.”
“We had been spared.”
“So we thought.”
“We fell to the axe, the axe saved us.”
“Remade and sold again.”
“Rehung and reseen.”
“Released.”
“Released.”
“And ever more.”
“The axe gave us everlasting place.”
“And breadth and audience.”
“Remade in release after release.”
“Again, ever the same.”
“We sung and heard and laughed and cried.”
“We fell and built and came back and matched.”
“We looked so smooth in our rows.”
“We looked so beautiful.”
“So perfect.”
“So right.”
“So slick”
“So professional.”
“Such quality.”
“Such glamour.”
“Such celebrity.”
“Such…”
“Envy.”
“A similarity.”
“And we had forgotten.”
“The axe did it.”
“Helped it.”
“Was blamed for it.”

All the players stand up. And they as they march back to the stage they begin chanting:

“The axe cut the groove down the road.
We slid. One by one by many we fell to the groove.
M.O.R. The axe cuts a groove down the M.O.R.
M.O.R. M.O.R. M.O.R. M.O.R. M.O.R.
The M.O.R. is wide and deep.
The M.O.R. is long.
The M.O.R. shifts and slides.
The M.O.R. pulls from side to side.
It trips and wrangles.
Yet it is so wide that one can rarely see.
See themselves as they fall.
And entropy.
Entropy. Entropy. Entropy. Entropy.

[The axe begins swinging from side to side, and gradually gets faster during the next spiel.]

The horror of us all.
The horror we cause, the horror we fall for.
The horror that we breath for, live for.
All the same. All the same. All the same.
Repeating, repeating, repeating.
Ever the same, ever the same.
Never changing, never adjusting, all the same.
It, we are the same.

[The Axe now makes its swishing sound in time to its swings.]

It. [Swing] Is. [Swing] All. [Swing] The. [Swing] Same. [Swing]
We. [Swing] Are. [Swing] All. [Swing] The. [Swing] Same. [Swing]
It. [Swing] Is. [Swing] All. [Swing] The. [Swing] Same.”

The axe falls from its pivot crashing into the tape player (which stops), and all of the players fall down. There is a pause. … Then a click and the tape player rewinds. Click. It stops. Then plays. Quietly at first, but builds in volume.

“M.O.R. is good.
…
M.O.R. is good.

[The players all stand up again and chant along to the tape.]

M.O.R. is good.
M.O.R. is good. M.O.R. is good.
M.O.R. is good. M.O.R. is good.
M.O.R. is good. M.O.R. is good.
M.O.R. is good. M.O.R. is good.
M.O.R. is good. M.O.R. is good.
M.O.R. is good…”

This continues as the curtains close.

“M.O.R. is good. M.O.R. is good. M.O.R. is good. M.O.R. is good…”

Then suddenly stops on a very loud sound of an axe.

[A tape recorder is sat in the middle of the stage and is set recording whenever there is action. It is then played back at the end. ~~]

Ideas that may be Stupid, but I’m not certain…
Before the departing players sit down in the audience they get a respective number of the audience to sit in the chairs where they (the players) originally came from.





Comming Next Month (May): "All Work on the 1947 Project is Suspended"

The March Special - "Say You Hear?"

Yeah, so as it turns out I've decided to release this old collection of ditties as the March Special. A few you have seen before (they formed part of Courting Velvet, but most i think are still new. As ever there is a long story behind their writing, but, for once, I don't think that I can be bother to write it.

Expect something with an axe for April.

Circular Running Dog

“I remember a running dog,
The dog ran, it ran across the pavement.
The dog ran.
It ran around in its circles,
Turning in its circles.

The circles are good,
They make me see how the dog is,
Looking at the circles I see how something’s don’t matter,
The dog doesn’t worry about these things,
I do, I worry about them;
But looking at the dog,
Looking at its circles,
Perhaps one begins to see,
See how they really don’t matter,
See that lines are just circles,
Circles straightened out.

I remember how the dog stopped,
Stopped running in circles.
I saw it run straight,
I then remembered,
Remembered why I didn’t like the circles,
The circles made,
The circles made as something new.
This is the reason that I should have stopped the circles.
This is why I was in the wrong,
In the wrong, turning in circles of my own,
I remember that I have never liked circles, now.”

Conservative

Do not touch, do not taste, do not fear, do not be,
Do not be, do not think, do not rearrange, do not condescend,
Do not wonder, do not ponder, do not help, do not be,
Do not be, do not tear, do not water, do not pull,
Do not push, do not sing, do not run, do not be,
Do not be, do not read, do not step, do not listen, do not watch,
Do not threaten, do not press, do not layer, do not be,
Do not be, do not write, do not hope, do not pressure,
Do not hold, do not bend, do not tilt, do not be,
Do not change, do not change, be ever the same, be ever the same,
Be the same, be the same, be the same, be the same,
The same, the same, the same, the same,
Same.

Irritation

Crude, someone said something about crude,
That word, that little, short, so often ill defined word,
A word connected to a seemingly infinite number of other,
Things.

Wandering, things tend to do that,
Moving about, not specific, but still in a direction,
Step,
Step…
That is crude. It is a thing, a thing too.

Do Not You Dare

How dare you?
Daring here, daring now,
Standing as you do, in this place.
A place of calling, breaking for the wind,
Is this where you dare?

Pulling your trigger lines,
Your tilted, or may-be stilted lines pressing for movement,
A change in the pricking atmosphere,
That surround I believe came drifting to me from you.
Why would you want to change this state?

Do you not believe?
If you don’t, if you don’t.
Don’t you believe, believe your self?
If you don’t… why are you here?
Why you here? Why you now?
What is it that makes you come here?
Stand, speak?
If you don’t believe, will I believe?
Why dare you?
You’re not here for that, you’re here for that. The other to that.
Should I dare you now? Dare you now?
Friday night you all the same.

Extinct Batteries

Gazing up at the hen,
Angling our sites up to it,
We watch how it turns, see how it changes its direction,
Twitching from north to south, from east to west,
Its feathers slightly ruffled, slightly disturbed by its turning.

Then a gust of wind comes, a great gust of wind pushing the bird
from behind,
Forcing it to tilt down.

Down below, down beneath the bird there an object falls,
Drops as the bird makes a call.

The bird twitches. The bird turns because it cannot go forth.
The bird twitches. Unable to see, not able to see far,
Whether this bird turns left or right it cannot see far,
Cannot see the other birds,
The other vanes held by the wind.

Falling Ground

I see out, see the ground falling away,
It drops from the sky,
From the grip and firmness of hold the sky provided,
Why be it this way?
It be this way because this is how it works,
How one could see it work.

I grow bigger now,
And the plane,
The plane that I am in,
Falls away.
As does the ground – now so does the floor,
Except that the ground is faster now,
And as a net would,
As a net would catch,
It catches the two,
Both caught, it is now the same.

I Have Much to Say

I have much to say,
A lot to say to you all,
But I will not.
Not in this standing here,
Not from this standing post,
Looking across, remembering too much,
So much more than is right.
There is too much retrospection here.

So much to write, everything left to say,
All things would come to pass,
And nought would be said.
Nothing, for the saying, the thought, and the meme are not the same,
And the meme is what matters,
The spreading of the idea,
Sprinkling, mutating as it passes through the culture.

Is that the idea?
The prospect of repetition.

The prospect of being reproduced, and then the changing at each
step.
Each change reworking the original, the original to that step.
The final so changed from the initial that by its time all it shares is
ancestry.
And what is that?
What is that ancestry worth?
All eyes and ears, yet speaking still.

Sit Back

High up we see,
Low down we hear,
We do not move, no, it is not we who move.

High up we see the birds,
Low down we hear the birds,
We do not move, no, because we are fine sitting here.

High up we see the birds colours ever displayed,
Low down we hear the birds whittling ever continued,
We do not move, no, why would we, we see and hear everything
that we want from here.

High up we see the birds, colours displayed even as they rummage,
Low down we hear the birds, wittering on despite the time,
We do not move, no, we like the birds, we try to be like them.

High up we see the birds, they do not fly away;
Don’t fly away, as they know not to where they would fly,
Low down we hear the birds, they stay to sing and don’t fly away,
Don’t fly away, as they would not know where to fly,
We do not move, no, because we are fine sitting here.

We do not move since we can see all that we need from here,
Recordings are useful as memories.

Small Latter Things

When talking about litter one tends to think,
And when one talks, they seem to think, of litter,
But as one talks, talks of litter, should they not think,
Think of that other, that other than litter?

For when one takes the other into account,
One can be quick to see, see that looking just at the litter,
just the scattered litter,
One is missing something, and as one may expect,
It is always the missing that is important.

Looking at what is missing,
It does not take one long to see.
One sees what is missing,
One realises, realises why it is important.

The litter is but so small,
Such a symptom, such a minor flaw,
It’s like cosmetics, and consequences.
The litter may be a consequence,
But it is not the cause.

Never be it the cause.

Stating the Obvious

When winds blow from across the see,
It does not take long to sea,
But then, would that not be obvious?

When the winds come, to toss and tilt,
The prospect comes that much closer,
But then, would that not be quite obvious?

When the buildings rock from peek to peak,
It does not take one to speak,
But then, would that not be perfectly obvious?

When the birds and cars go backwards,
Blown back, people are quick to worry,
But then, would that not be expected?
How could one not understand them?

When they see-hear-feel-sense, that,
All come together to present to them,
What some could say is obvious,
The obvious will already by there,
Caught up, tying each to its reality.

The buildings shake and they watch the see tremble,
The prospect sees those ignoring it,
The denying and innocent do not,
Not the ignoring.
The obvious prospect, attention keen as it is,
Makes to manifest,
Despite being the easy option.

Why Do You Think?

Pausing as we stand here, pausing to look again,
Again pausing, looking across, looking in thought, looking in
puzzlement or horror,
But it doesn’t really matter.
It doesn’t matter that we fuss,
We fuss in concern, fussing that we may be right,
Yet we miss something, we are missing something,
Something of our fuss.

We think, and we begin to see,
Something is wrong here, wrong in our fuss.
We talk, talk so much, that is our fuss.
But, when we come to think, thinking of our fuss, we know not why,
Not completely, not of the origin.
Then we realise, realise what is wrong.
We look to each other, see the worry, the fuss,
We see how we conform, and seeing is all we need.

It doesn’t matter, it wouldn’t if we didn’t think it did,
And we now see that it is our thinking together that we are all
brought to one by.

Wish You Were Here

I wish you were here,
I wish you were here,
I wish you were here.

Mourning, morning,
Dawning lights opening their fixtures to the world,
Today is a day, a standing of resonance.
In the morning, the mourning of the morning,
Mourning for the morning, when it should be the best,
Be the best time,
The time when one is free,
Free of their memories, free of longing,
Free of loops, of resonance for mourning.
But the bonds are strong, still strong,
Strong and long, long and holding, holding to remembrance.
I try, try so hard,
But it’s hard to forget, hard even in the morning,
The mourning of the morning.

At wake one forgets, one is fresh,
Still sealed,
Closed from the regrets.
Regrets.
Regrets, for that is what they are,
Regrets, they line the consequence,
The consequences.
The consequences, self indulgence,
The resonance of it,

The excuse of it,
The consequences of it.

But there is no it.

By doing something,
By remembering that something,
By watching that something,
Watching it again and again, repeating the memories,
It always leads; it always leads to regrets,
Regrets for what was done, regrets what was not done,
The thinking of the past, right, right and tempting as it may be,
Leads to loops,
And leaden in, looping in, once led in,
The thinking, thinking,
One’s always said it is good,
Has one not always thought it good?

Look to the consequences.

It will con you,
Con you unto the sequence, the looping,
And looping, looping has resonance,
It can resonate.

Stagnation.
Look at the stagnation, the looping.

It is the consequence.
Of.
The wish.
Of the wishing.
Wishing you were here.

I wish you were here.
I still wish you were here.

The consequences resonate.

Interfusion – Bang Bang Ricochet! [Version II]

Thoughtful

Marching forth, strong lines and centrifuge, and it goes “Bang Bang
Ricochet”.
On this morning, by this morning when ideas are long and coming,
The lights continue to search out.

Why: hullow-hullo-hullo-hullo!
And on this morning we look to see, looking to see as one could
expect,
Looking to see where things are, where they are going to, and why
they do,
Why they do so.

Yes, I do know better that to say yes, to say yes to this, yes to what I
want,
I won’t say yes, for I know, I know that that would be discourteous,
But it really doesn’t matter, the sun gets low, the sun gets up; and I
know,
Yes, I know, know that it only does it out of courtesy,
The sun lights us up, brings the rain up, lets it fall, and warms us,
Out of courtesy, the courtesy of a longstanding arrangement.

To be helping me, to help me, help myself, help us all: no,
seventeen.
No, seventeen. No, seventeen. No, seventeen.
Forget seventeen, forget what it could do for us all,
Forget Mr. Blint, forget his attic; the wind in his piano is not
important.
But it’s not in his piano, is it?

The way that you do it should always be right, always make it right,
Whenever you do something, each time any process is made into
being,
One should always make it, make it true, make it the best they can,
otherwise-, Otherwise what is the point?

I don’t know what you see, I couldn’t know, and will never see,
That is not my metier, not your metier, not truly anyone’s metier.
Are you real? Are you true, am I true, are we all me, -is me all?
I do not understand how you can think,
I do not understand how I always know what is coming next,
Next in the lyrics,
Next; when I do not understand your responses.
I get it wrong, I do not know you. You are not formulaic.
I hate formulas.
And yet… yet I like lyrics, like to read, like to hear, like to speak,
Perhaps this is why I like my responses all to be scripted; perhaps…

I take, I pull, I take.
You get away, it all gets away,
Everything changes, and I am told that that is good, change is good,
that they say,
But you know, I think I know too; I give too, do I not give too?
Is it only me, am I only me, unconnected, still, unmoving?

Crying

Take and run. Take and run, take what you need and run,
Grip your arms steadfast and firm, hold yourself,
And don’t forget never to let yourself go, never let that happen.

I shall pull the strings and all shall wonder; but not about the strings,
No.
No they all forget the wonder, the divine artistry of that.
They forget that all that really matters is the artistry.
Pricking with their eyes as they look, pricking the tapestry.
Telling me not to mix my metaphors, they say it is not right, but it
is.
But it is-but it is-but it is, is right, allisconnected.

Everything that I see relates back to me, back to you, back to the
trees,
I see me, I see me, I see me, see you, see me, all is me, all is you, all
is all.
Don’t tell me everything is nothing; don’t tell me everything is
nothing at all,
All is all, and nothing belongs to nothing.

I tell you: there is no nothing.
I tell you: there is no unconnected.
And I tell you: everything makes sense.
You tell me: no.
You say: no, no nothing is the same, nothing is one.
But it is, I say, I say so fearing it so.
I say: there is no change, no good, no bad; only good, only bad.

I cry.

You deny, you say: the birds are not me, the birds do not relate to
me.
You usher me to tranquillity, but I know that it is only to senility,
I only see the senility.
I cry: one is one, one is two, we all are one.
And you take me, try to take me back, try to do some good, but,
But I say: that good is only bad, that good is only my own banality.

I look to the sky.
I howl at the sky.
I scream and screech at the sky.
The light flickers down.
I can like that, I can dislike that.
It is the same.

I cry.

I-I-I, it is me, me is me, but not only me.

We cry.

Not you only me,
But it makes no difference, you are only me denying,
You are my denial, my comforter,
I grin.
Comforter, makes me think, makes me think two; two thoughts.

Then I stop.
Then I stop.

And it goes: Bang Bang Ricochet.

Bang Bang Ricochet

Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico,
Bang-Bang-Bang, Bang-Bang-Bang.
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh!, Bang-Bang Oh!
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh!, Bang-Bang Oh!
Pause and look around, what do we hear?
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Look back, look around, trying, we hear:
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
We think: do we hear the people? Hear the people go:
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Do we hear?

We ready ourselves.
Is it ready, do we throw ourselves in, or do we let ourselves fall in?
Is the moment right as we wait outside, standing, wishing for it to
snow,
We would look good in snow.
Looking good in the snow,
Standing outside the door we would look good in the snow.
But then what do we think, what do we hear?

Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico,
Bang-Bang-Bang, Bang-Bang-Bang.
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh!, Bang-Bang Oh!
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh!, Bang-Bang Oh!
Pause and look around, what do we hear?
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Look back, look around, trying, we hear:
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
We think: do we hear the people? Hear the people go:
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Do we hear?

We calm ourselves again, looking at the door, looking at the door
bell,
And think: that was wrong; it is not a bell, not a bell but the switch
for the bell,
And think: but no, that was wrong too, it is not a bell but a buzzer,
And think: that was wrong, why do we think of this now?
And think: we should stop thinking now.
We lean towards the bell,
And think: but we have not, have not stopped.
Then we stop, stop to listen.
Do we hear?

Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico,
Bang-Bang-Bang, Bang-Bang-Bang.
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh!, Bang-Bang Oh!
Pause and look around, and what do we hear?
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh. Bang-Bang Oh.

Look back, look around, trying, we hear:
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
We think: do we hear the people? Hear the people go:
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Do we hear?

We look back to the door, is it looking back at us?
Is it accusing us?
Accusing us with its single glass lens, lens or eye?
Why is it accusing us?
What have we done to rile it against us so?
We have only come here, only come here to ask, why should the
door mind?
Does it fear being slammed?
Does it share that fear the same as I?
Or is it just that it knows something that I only think?
Do we hear?

Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico,
Bang-Bang-Bang, Bang-Bang-Bang.
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh!, Bang-Bang Oh!
Pause, and look around, what do we hear?
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Look back, look around, trying, we hear:
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
We think: do we hear the people? Hear the people go:
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Do we hear?

We take a step back, and then,
As if taking a run up at it,
We step forth, grip the knocker, pull it back, loosen our grip.
Then stop.
We pause, thinking again.
What if…? What if…?
Then we let go, let the knocker drop.
We wait, then knock again, and listen,
Do we hear, do we still hear?

Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico,
Bang-Bang-Bang, Bang-Bang-Bang.
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh!, Bang-Bang Oh!
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh!, Bang-Bang Oh!
Pause and look around, what do we hear?
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Look back, look around, trying, we hear:
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
We think: do we hear the people? Hear the people go:
Bang-Bang Oh!
Do we hear?

We wait, then turn away,
We realise that it has been too long now,
We have heard right.
The door was lucky, but, we can’t help but think,
Think that this is worse for us.

That we would have preferred even that.

And we listen.
But we do not hear.
We do not stay though, for we know that inside, <>

Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico,
Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico,
Bang-Bang-Bang, Bang-Bang-Bang.
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!

We always hear this, and we hear it repeat,
Repeat as we let petals drop along the path.
Walking as the dead I let the wrapping fall from my dragging hand,
Thinking about myself, as always we let my fate play again.
Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico,
Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico…
Rico!

A Silly Little Pointless Note (That somehow appears to have grown to be quite long)

-Why there is no March special

I couldn’t be bothered to write one. …
So I made a compilation of some of my more recent unpublished “rants” and “discussions” (along with even more stupid ditties).
But that was pathetic, so it just got sent to the people who I have already spent the last three (or is five… or more) years pottering to… since they all are really in need of some more…
Yep.
Expect something involving an axe next month.

Actually, hey (hey you! Yeah you! You the- oh bla blar blar, you’ve heard that whole skit all before… several times now) let me get this written do-

Problems with Planet of the Dead
Firstly a disclaimer: of course I write none of this with the slightest of authority, and I know full well that I have written far worse than Planet, both The Fallen and His Flowered Brides are astounding in their levels of crassness, but in my arrogance I still like to think that the odd word that I say carries some note. But then I have had enough twats tell me that I’m an arrogant bastard who shouldn’t ever try to make anything better because my style writing is too identifiable. Although they are of course forgetting that the reason I write things is not for kicks, but because I feel it’s right… but of course that is wrong because no one should try for what they think is right, just to get-… sorry, note for another day, not today.

So this is written just based one my memory of it from yesterday… so I may have forgotten some things… sorry, that seems to be another disclaimer… humm… guess that I’ve just learnt that everyone only reads the “offensive” bits, forgetting of course that their not offensive at all within context, forgetting of course that-… sorry another moan for another day (actually that really is, for I cannot remember anyone ever getting annoyed in that sense, just somehow thinking that I was criticising them).

I see this story as basically having five rough areas: the bus, the fly people, the rays and their hole, the girl, and the UNIT.

1. People in a Bus
To begin: The bus and the people on it. What were they there for? What possible need was there for them? Why did the TARDIS not simply land on Sandworld (sorry, but I have no idea what the planet was called, and it really doesn’t matter either)? Actually I’m getting ahead of myself here. So why the people? Presumably they’re meant as a link to the ordinary, okay, so here we have a bunch of stereotypical extras, no problem there, they’re meant to represent the ordinary, and while they may not represent ordinary real people they do tie in with ordinary TV characters… except that they don’t. Unfortunately not only don’t they really represent real people, but nor do they represent average TV characters very well, rather they are perfectly representative of crass “ordinary” extras used in any such similar position. However, still one could just about accept this, for one knows exactly what “ordinary” extras are meant to represent. Yet they don’t do anything. Other than in the Doctor’s little “Oooh I’m gonna save you all while you look on with beady eyes” routine they do nothing that they are directly needed for (oh, alright, they get thrown about as the bus goes through the wormhole as well). So why are they there? They are there because they were on the bus, which is fine.
The “ordinary” people are there because one would expect ordinary people on a bus, and because they are needed to help get the bus out of the sand. Great yeah, sure I’d expect them to try to do that, makes sense, and ever so handy all the time how there’s always a strapping young mechanic on the team, no, sorry randomly thrown together band of ordinary people. So seeing as these people are only here to give the Doctor a nice perk up (yes, certainly something with makes us all want to perk up after having seen the same routine… how many times before?), and to play around at moving the bus (clearly nothing, but padding, and although I can rather like padding, the padding here is so totally without tension, purpose, or reason. Take the bus running out of petrol for example, a point clearly played up to evoke shock or at least interest at how the problem is to be solved, but unfortunately since we have become so used to similar situations arising in most episodes only to be resolved in equally spontaneous manners one fails to comply with the intended state at all. It’s interesting here just the amount of effort that was put into getting the Doctor’s laboured horror across, something that I would hope to signify that someone on the production team has noticed how barmy it is to expect any regular viewer to take this situation seriously, and thus this labouring was a direct attempt to trick the viewer (not good in itself, but someone noticing is better than not). In many ways this is the kind of scene that I would expect in some kind of crass parody of the show, something that in the past I would have been mildly offended by in the sense that I would feel that it was parodying something that did not belong to Doctor Who, thus it is so sad when I see such appalling scenes actually featuring in the show itself, and that one is expected to take them seriously. Another problem that I have with the whole bus running out of petrol debacle is the very idea of it running out of petrol… how? The engine was all clogged up; okay so maybe mechanic boy was quicker than I would have thought at dismantling an entire engine and clearing out all the pistons etc with no tools (okay, lets say there just happened to be a tool roll stowed aboard the bus, and that he was being modest about his skills (or even just downright deceptive). Is it really that easy to clean out an engine mostly enclosed by bus?). So this wonder-mechanic cleans out the engine, say it’s done in half the time that the Doctor’s away before he gets the call, and then they rev up the engine. Looking at the bus it doesn’t seem to ever move much under its own power; maybe they just send it rocking back and forth along its tracks, but I’d doubt they were that stupid. So pretty much they just leave the engine simmering for… oh let’s say twenty minutes. Now I can’t claim to know anything about car engines, and bus engines even less, but I can’t see an idling engine using that much petrol (unless our mechanic wasn’t quite the wonder he first appeared), so… I don’t believe (of course the bus may have almost been out of petrol to begin with, but seeing as it was seemingly in the centre of a city that seems unlikely to me – at least not that low).).
Um, back to the people. So seeing as these people are only here to give the Doctor a nice perk up, and to play around at moving the bus, really there would be no reason for them to be there, were it not for the bus (we all know that the Doctor’s the all purpose good guy, there’s no for another crummy reminder). So why is the bus so important that it requires a whole subplot revolving around it?
Basically: I have no idea.
As a cheap gimmick maybe? I cannot help but presume that there certainly is an element of truth to that (ooh looky ‘ere, you’s can get your very own “flying” bus action figure – batteries not included. And “Oh, gee, it’s just like in Larry Slotter”, why not give the woman another reason to believe that her crap has some rhyme to it), but I cannot help but fear that it’s more that Russell etc actually believe that the placement of “ordinary” people is necessary or good (actually it could be good, if done properly (for a start one could actually have them involved in the story)… well had the rest of the story was anything but banality inform).
So now that we know that the bus and the people on it are entirely superfluous to the story lets forget about them, erase all parts featuring them, and reweave the remains so as the story still makes sense. By doing this one does lose the potentially interesting concept of people being turned into walking skeletons, but that turned out to be nothing anyway so it hardly matters.
The escaping girl now runs through the closing doors of the TARDIS just as it is dematerialising, there is a nice “oooh-arr” bit with the Doctor and her, before they land in Sandland, Sandworld. And, um well the Doctor still knows about the hole because he was tracing it so as to close it… yeah, horrible I know.

2. Flies are so like Walruses
On to the next area of problems: the fly people.
Why are they there? What purpose do they serve?
Well it’s very tempting to say that the only purpose for their being was to provide the bus with a means to fly, but to say that wouldn’t really be fair, and anyways I’m sure that no one would have objected the Doctor from throwing some magic sand on the bus to make it move (actually that might have been a bit better than the whole hideous concept of frame metal and gold dust… but not much better) [See Planet of the Dead – Minute by Minute for more on the magic clamps]. So I’d say that they’re largely there to firstly provide some mild suspense as we just hear them clicking etc, then mild hilarity as they proceed to shrug etc, and at the moment I can’t think of any other reason for them being there (they certainly don’t assist the plot (if the Doctor had come in the TARDIS we could have got the little info-dump from there, or better yet, not at all, and as said before magic sand or whatever to fly the bus)).
Do they provide suspense? Suspense is certainly a worthy cause.
No, not really. Unfortunately due the overall jokey atmosphere of this story they completely fail in this respect, and, due to the way they’re presented, the best one can do is mildly wonder what they are (prior to their revealment). Another problem is that with the same basic technique being used every other episode, how can one possible be expected to be fearful of another alien hand passing over a control panel. Again we get alien hands practically every episode so this one would have to be something special in order for it to get noted.
Then when we first get to see them in full, they are presented by an exceedingly silly zoom shot, accompanied by the Doctor and the girl spying the fly man with shock and emotion so lacking that it almost compares to ours at home, and again I cannot help but be reminded of shoddy parodies when I see this.
Now let’s take a look at the actual fly. Well, wow and gee-golly-gelekas it’s another animal-man cross… humm… something that they even took the time to point out in Confidential, as if anyone hadn’t noticed. Yet again I wouldn’t have too much of a problem with this if at least there had been some interesting results. Here we get a clicking fly head stuck on a man in overalls… Oh and they even seemed to get all excited about using kaleidoscope point-of-view sights in Confidential. Humm, I don’t really think that there is much point saying anything more about this, it just seems to imply that Russell etc have completely given up on designing anything remotely interesting. Even the mildly odd decision to have the TARDIS suddenly forget to translate things doesn’t help this dull matter, for… well I’ve certainly heard clicking languages before, and, well, unless one was to come up with a really special alien language I would far rather never hear another (at least in this context), as they are irritating and almost invariably stupid sounding (the one-way translator was a mildly fun point however, not that it was new in it’s self, just that I can’t remember it being pointed out so colourfully before).
So, soon after the Doctor and co arrive on the insects’ bog standard spaceship, the fly’s loose all of there jokey menace and become silent clowns. It is at this point that one realises just how stupid the flies are; not that that’s really a problem, but seeing as they do nothing at all on their ship (since they believe the Doctor on first glance, don’t seem to have any real idea how it works – fine, I don’t know much about how a plane works either) and their presence prior to their revealment is largely unnecessary, I have to ask again: what is the point of them? They just seem to be their for mild comic relief, and well, um, I don’t like that kind of humour, it actually reminds me of some of The Sarah Jane Adventures, and… hey, the fly people actually look very similar to the fly-like people in that.
So now that it has become apparent that the fly people are totally unnecessary to the story let’s erase them from the line.
Now after the Doctor and the girl land on Sandworld they find the hole and see the storm approaching on the horizon. Upon seeing this and pondering about the oncoming storm they return to the TARDIS to try an discover what has caused the hole to form; while the Doctor is searching for something that he has missed the girl plays with the scanner controls (actually that’s a point: does this TARDIS have a scanner? Anyways…), trying to get a better look at the shimmering cloud of the storm. The focus switches back and forth from the girl to the scanner for a while as she stares at it, trying to work out what is odd about it; the Doctor is rushing about in the background. Our focus suddenly centres on the girl and everything beyond the building shock on her face is phased out; she has realised what she is seeing on the screen. She turns to face the Doctor, and we get a point-of-view shot of him carrying a pile of random bits of shiny technology across the room, cables draped over his shoulders as they trail off into the distance, and a printed circuit of some sort clamped in is mouth. The girl is momentarily taken aback (seen from the Doctor’s POV), and asks him what he is doing. He tells her that he’s trying to connect the TARDIS’s dampers with its guidance systems and find where the hole originated (to find who made it). (Possible she could let him continue here, and when it totally fails to work she tells him what she’s seen, or…) She tells him to come and look at the scanner, which he does, he sees what she saw, and letting all of the cables slide from his shoulders he sighs, “oh well, it probably wouldn’t have worked anyway”. She asks what are they (all serious like). “I have no idea,” he pauses then grins, and then says “beat you to the door to find out though.” (Or something not quite as stupid).

3. Rays from Across a Hole
And the next area is the rays and their hole.
Do they have a purpose?
Well pretty much I have to say: yes, for otherwise there would be no plot left, as despite the startlingly small amount of time spent on them they are clearly the central pivot of the plot.
So how are they? Well the idea of them having completely stripped a platen bare is okay, I’m rather unsure at how they managed to turn the place into a desert, although I suppose that it must have taken them several years or so, so that’s okay. I’m less sure of how they managed to make the place so hot, but again I guess that it must just always have been. Also I’m unsure of quite how the (oh, I remember now, the fly people said it have been a year didn’t they? That seems rather too fast to me, but… well I suppose it doesn’t have to be an Earth year) the local inhabitants failed to stop them when the three that got to earth were so easily killed, but I suppose that there were a lot more than three, and they may have killed a lot of them, but the rays bred rebuilding their numbers. Why didn’t the Sandworlders tell anyone about the problem? Were they embarrassed to admit that they were under threat from a butch of flying rays? Or did they just drastically underestimate the rays?
The idea of the rays making a hole by flying faster and faster seems a trifle barmy to me, but I fully admit to knowing nothing about wormholes so I’ll accept that as possible, however the rays don’t really seem to be travelling very fast. They stay on the horizon for a very long time, and well, I don’t know, this planet’s probably a lot bigger than the Earth, but here that’s like only three miles away (or something) on level ground (which the ground pretty much is in the dessert), so that’s like what nine miles an hour (3miles/20min), and probably less as I’m sure that they were coming for more than twenty minutes. Still, I guess that this planet’s just a lot bigger, or maybe while they have to move at very high speeds to make the hole, they only need to move at slow speeds to increase the size of it?
Another niggling problem is how only three rays manage to cross through the hole. Now okay, I can accept that for whatever reason they didn’t funnel themselves through the hole (maybe they don’t like queues; I don’t. Although it doesn’t seem like a very sensible tactic, as it’s a lot easier to kill of just a few rays than a relatively slow but constant flourish), so then only those rays in line with the hole pass across, but surely the cloud of them was deeper than three. This can of course be easily explained away by saying that the rays weren’t evenly distributed in their cloud, but it still seems odd that three should come in such quick succession then none for the next minute or so. Also wasn’t this hole supposed to be rather big? Wasn’t it three miles wide or something? I can’t really remember, but it certainly wasn’t like just five yards wide. Perhaps the rays were deliberately avoiding the hole, so as they all could flood in at once? That’s probably the best way that I can think of to explain this problem away. [See The Celebrity Effect for more on the hole]
So back to the rays themselves, how effective are they as a monster? Well I can’t really say that I have any belief in them at all, not that the principal of them being like a plague of locusts is exactly terrible, but well something that one is going to make no attempt to stop and that really isn’t doing anything wrong somehow just doesn’t spark much interest. I quite like the idea at first look, but… well if one’s going to explore that avenue then that’s fine, just one’s got to look in all the hidden crevices. Basically it is interesting, but only if one really looks at the ethics of it, not just as a passing comment. I don’t know, it’s probably also that I would have rather liked to have seen the Earth decimated by the rays. It would have been unexpected and forced the Doctor away from the place. (Back on the ethics thing: how to the rays have any more right to decimate places than say the Daleks or Macra or whatever? Why can the Doctor kill off one with no guilt on his conscious, but not the other? They’re all only doing what they think is right for themselves, if he extends clemency to one why not them all or none? Again it all really seems to be a question of looks: it looks fine killing Macra because they’re big nasty sentient crab things…)
Then on to the looks of the rays: well, the hologram of the ray looks quite good, I can believe that as a hologram, although why the ship’s computer bothers to construct a CGI image of a ray I’m not entirely sure. Why doesn’t it just relay an actual image of one? Although I guess that’s probably because the “actual” rays look far more CGI computer nasty imagy. Yeah the rays look fine as a distant cloud, but close up they are just a horrible CGI blur, and it is at this point that I feel that my old argument about how anyone who suggests that Howard in Howard the Duck should have been done using CGI is obviously not thinking straight. In HtD I have complete belief (within the context of the film) that Howard is real, that is what ducks from Duckworld look like, he is a solid being with real interactions with his surroundings, and the very idea that anyone could think that some nasty CGI monstrosity could possibly be better than that seems insane to me (also at the time that HtD was made it would have been rather more difficult, but I have yet to see any CGI that is remotely convincing). For a start how could you have possibly done the joke about the police thinking Howard was a midget in a suit, if Howard wasn’t a midget in a suit? More seriously though, I think that the problem with CGI (for me at least) is that in the real world I don’t see CGI ducks or whatever walking amongst us, I don’t see real ducks (humanoid) either, but that which is real (not CGI) is just a lot closer to reality than CGI. The same goes for stop-motion animation or any type of model really: the Dark Overlords in HtD (even the silly looking ones coming down the laser) are infinitely more believable than any CGI ones could ever be – they just are real (although I do admit some of the scenes where you see Beverly etc in the background don’t look so good, but that’s more a case of dodgy CSO). Of course I know really that Howard is a man in a suit, just as I know that Beth or any other character in anything isn’t real, it’s all just make-believe, but whereas CGI positively shouts out: “I’m a special effect, look at me, look how exciting I am, I’m not real but I’m still here” a suit or whatever doesn’t, it’s sympathetic and well it allows the viewer to fill in the gaps themselves. CGI is just a bullying attempt to tell one what they should see. Now or course there are disasters with models, the Magma Beast in Caves is terrible, although even with that I’d say that it’s better than some offensive CGI beast; there it’s just a bad suit, (largely because it’s so static). Probably the worst scene (in terms or looks) with the rays is where one eats a fly man which I could half believe I could recreate just as well with my dire animation skills (in the sense that I can cover one image with another).
Overall thought, the problem with the rays isn’t that they are CGI, that’s irritating and largely destroys all sense of realism around them (although having just said all that I have about men in suits being better than CGI the fly men look pretty awful too, but that’s more to do with the silliness of their performance than the actual suit I think), but that is insignificant when compared to their use as… well just as another threat to the Earth that might as well be another invasion (or actually I suppose that it is an invasion… why was I thinking that it wasn’t?), and I don’t care about alien invasions, since I have seen to many crass ones like this. Indeed if it were interesting, and I felt connected to the plight of the characters there is a reasonable chance I would care about it, but it many ways I would be glad to see all the stupid UNIT people eaten, along with the bus, and… actually yes, as I suggested earlier let the rays decimate the Earth… or even some other planet, have humans on it if you want, and maybe have this like as the start of a little arc revolving around the planet’s decimation and the aftermath. I don’t know, maybe I’m just cowardly to want it, but I don’t want the Earth to change like that… nice to keep a fair connection to reality I think. Hey, let the rays lay waste to New Earth, a slight connection has been built up for that place… not that this whole prospect of the rays succeeding to decimate somewhere is much (if any) better than their failure… Humm, I think it’s probably more just that I want UNIT to be eaten [See The Fan Club for more]
So now that it has become apparent that the rays are necessary to the story (since without them there’s nothing left) we have a problem, we have to make them better, and that’s not as easy a job as simply stripping something out. Humm…
I think that this is again where it should be pointed out that of course it really doesn’t matter what the monster looks like; yes it would be nice to have something completely original and interesting that looked realistic etc, but (going back to Caves again) just as no matter how bad (or good) the Magma Beast looked it wouldn’t change the story around it. So I think that I should probably apologise here for getting so caught up in the whole “CGI is obviously crap because only stupid little twats could ever have any belief in it” again (actually that reminds me of how a few years ago a couple of twats who I know were going on about how good this CGI image of someone was, and how you’d never believe that it wasn’t a real photo, and well they were of course wrong. It was a good piece, but not real even compared to heavily airbrushed photos. At the time I didn’t get the point of it, of course now I do: it stimulates progress. Well I did know that anyways, as everyone who knows me knows I gave up on progress about three months ago… but that’s another story). Sorry. When of course I would largely ignore all of that if the story itself was any good, thus I feel that probably the best thing for this story would be for it to be completely rebuilt.
The rays as they are nothing more than a dull stock sci-fi filler monster, and I wouldn’t really say that they are the best of starting points, but well the most obvious thing to do here would seem to be to turn this story into a something where the Doctor is forced to confront the dilemma of who to save/allow to live, the rays the humans, or the unsuspecting races that he redirects the rays to.
Again as in real life there is a desperate need for the consequences of actions to be pointed out, and that was generally lacking in this story: rob a museum – get a magic bus, waste your recourses – get a magic bus, disobey sensible directions – people you don’t give a damn about die and you get a magic bus, redirect some rays – people you don’t give a damn about die, and so on and so on.

4. Stuffed Porcupines and Quivering Dentists
Yeah, well as you can probably tell from the title to this part I really don’t feel like being bothered to write anything about the girl. She was dull, poorly acted, and certainly not pretty enough to distract me. As far as I can remember she had quite big eyes though… that’s kind of nice I suppose…

5. The Celebrity Effect/The Fan Club
Humm, when I came to write this I realised that I had already managed to give it two titles… so there it goes, bi-titled and all.
Earlier I mentioned that it would be here that there would be more about the ray’s hole, and now as I come to write this I cannot help but think of a wormhole that sucks up celebrities Dalek-Vac style… I’m not entirely sure of the relevance of that, but equally I feel that it could have made for a far more interesting story: regarding the reactions of the people of Earth as their totem gods are stolen from them. Humm… maybe I’m just being silly, I’ll think about it.
So UNIT, humm… The world, humm… The Doctor, Doctor Who, people, the BBC, humm… Do I still believe in any of them? Humm… Oh, just about I suppose, when I shut my eyes, turn the sound down except for occasional snippets and try to think of something new, try to think of something but hopeless nostalgia; try to forget my obsessions with numbers, word counts, and repetition. Repetitions. I’ve still yet to see tusks rising from the ground…
Humm so the hole, well apparently it was closed… somehow… with something to do with Malcolms and Bernards… I don’t know how and I don’t really care. I have no belief in it at all since it was all taken as a joke, but apparently it was done… humm… sorry the whole UNIT part was just so bad that I really don’t think that I can be bothered to comment on any of it in any meaningful way. Shockingly bad. Embarrassing. And Everyone I have spoken to has said so long before I got to it, so there is clearly no need to babble any further.
Although… Hey! Why was UNIT there at all? It could have been so much more interesting to see the police attempt to deal with this strange hole. Let them work out that they could go through the hole in a car; I don’t know, if it had to be just let a squad car go squealing straight through it, let them swarm over Sandworld. I don’t know, but it might be have been interesting.
So the Doctor as a celebrity. Oh dear, just as I hate the idea of David being a celebrity (I’m not entirely sure why, I guess that it just seems impure or whatever) I dislike this even more and… oh it’s just horrible… I didn’t like it in The Next Doctor, but it’s so much worse here. Humm, I had belief in Aliens of London (actually as far as I can remember that was handled just about as well as it could have been – UNIT etc have the Doctor on their databases, but they don’t worship him), but here there is none. Even that terrible monstrosity with Sontarans presented his relationship with the world better than this.

6. A Bit more on the Bus
Um, well now as I come to write this bit I can’t actually remember what I was going to write about, but let me think…
… Um the bus tail-whacking the ray looked very silly…
Yeah this has gone on long enough already, and I can’t remember what I was going to say here so let’s just…

7. Overall
Overall the problem with this story is that almost as soon as you begin to remove the dire bits of it there is no story left. This just isn’t a story. It’s a heap of randomly chosen mistakes (although unfortunately these random mistakes have made their appearances far too often in recent times, leading one to question the whole concept of their randomness). I could not say when there was last a Doctor Who story that I felt was entirely deficient of any element of worth, but I think that this is one of them. As Lawrence Miles wrote, “Where’s the real Easter Special?”. Well as far as I can see there was no Easter Special, since I’ve now forgotten all the wrong bits.
Humm… I’m not certain on this point, but I’m fairly sure that I would far rather have had no Easter special than this… Shame.

Another overall problem was that just like so many stories it was far too predictable once the setup have been finalised. Looking back at The Next Doctor again my principal problem with that (well after you have D-Mated practically all of the cyber stuff from the timeline) was that David Morrisey wasn’t the next Doctor. Not because I particularly wanted him to play the Doctor (I’d never hear of him before – not that that will surprise anyone who know how TV shows and movies I watch), or even that I had just thought he defiantly would be and/or told everyone that I thought so and didn’t want to fool. No; because I desperately wanted to look a fool for telling anyone who excitedly/conspiratorially told me that they thought David Morrisey was to be the Doctor that they were wrong (with responses varying from: “no of course he isn’t going to be”, to “well okay maybe, but I don’t think that it’s very likely”). I wanted to be wrong because then I would have been surprised, my expectations proved wrong. One thing I suppose this shows is that my belief that everyone should be getting bored of Doctor Who by now because it is getting so predictable is at least partly wrong, since, well at any rate all the people who I spoke to thought Morrisey was going to be the Doctor, and took the conspiratorial whispers on breakfast TV etc (that he would be the Doctor) to be sincere.

So my latest “prediction” (which appears so obvious that it feels rather wrong to call it a prediction) is that the one who will knock four times is obviously the Master.

Update: I just read on Outpost Gallifrey that John Simm has been seen… Humm even less than a prediction now. I hope that he is actually going to play the Doctor and Matt Smith the Master… for no reason, but since it now seems so likely that the Master is this year’s finale feature that would be rather fun… or if it’s not the Master at all, and the BBC really has made me look a fool. Please make me look a fool! As long as the surrogate Master isn’t Davros.
Humm, if John Simm is the Master again I would be interested to know how. I had expected him to be a woman whenever he came back (as in his ring possessing that lady who picked it up, or that when the camera wasn’t looking the Master regenerated into a woman, climbed out of the fire, and then took the ring). Humm… I hope John isn’t the Master.

Planet of the Dead – Minute by Minute

00:01 Right so here we are, it’s just started and we are greeted by some relatively nice shots of a museum along to some fitting music.

01:01 Okay so there’s this very valuable golden cup stored in this museum and it’s guarded. … but the roof above just happens to have a handy dandy removable centrepiece and the cup is not protected from above at all… also why are these men all of a sudden guarding it?

02:01 Oh this is starting to feel like one of those Mission Impossible films: slick, but absolute trite.

03:01 Alright well her “Sorry lover” line is almost funny it’s so nasty. The police were quick. Humm… handy how they stop just about all the traffic but that bus, but okay.

04:01 At least the bus driver seems to be played reasonable seriously. Ah, so here comes the Doctor. With an egg. Never particularly like promotion like that, but it is good fun, and… yeah the whole skit with the egg is rather nice. On to the title sequence.

05:01 By Gaudy Blue, not another piece of stupid gadgetry, and what’s he looking for, come on, stop trying to get a place on Torchwood, although of course they would never do something quite this crass, no they’re all busy doing other even crasser things.

06:01 Luckily he pretty much is detecting a way out for her. Why would she hear voices? Why? What is it with the whole psychic grandma routine? Although again it wouldn’t matter that it’s been done so many times before if there was at least some reason for her being so, but other than that nice comment about the ten pounds, and the horribly banal “warning” at the end she does nothing notable at all.

07:01 The bit with the bus going through the hole is quite nicely done, although just having it crash against the tunnel wall would probably be just as dramatic. Oh and the music here is just horrible, reminds me of the nasty Pirates of the Caribbean music (alright, it’s not that quite that bad).

08:01 Ah, a mystery, the bus has gone. The idea of it having just vanished could probably have been milked a bit more. I do actually really like this shot of the Doctor looking out into the sun.

09:01 Ah it’s a desert, now will someone please tell me why they had to haul this lot all the way out to… um, wherever it was that they went? When it sadly still rather looks like this is shot in a studio. To me this long shot really looks like it’s been CSOed, so why didn’t they just do that? Or film it in Spain or somewhere closer anyway. Not a problem with the story as such, but just seems rather wasteful. Ah, the comedy-clicky-fly hand.

10:01 I really don’t like the prospect of everyone being used to “Sci-Fi” things happening… maybe I’m just resentful that I’m not… but I don’t think so. The magic sand – A’ ha ha har!

11:01 Very apt observation. Just sand.

12:01 Ah the skeleton men. I got briefly excited here when I first saw this. I thought we’d get a whole Jason and the Argonauts bit… even if it was just against UNIT, but like all the sand would reform as skeletons and… yeah sounds even worse than what we got, I know. How does the police man know about UNIT? Humm…

13:01 Oh shut up you silly woman. I like roast potatoes.

14:01 What’s she babbling about? Of course it was an accident that they went through the hole. Unless that’s an arc point that will be explained in a later story, but I doubt it.

15:01 Am I supposed to be laughing here? (at their argument)

16:01 Sorry, yeah this is okay, but we’ve seen this so many times.

17:01 Don’t promise things out of your control.

18:01 At this point UNIT appears believable. Good.

19:01 Why does she have a spade? Why would you need a spade when robbing a museum?

20:01 Lucky that. But why only the air filter? Oh alright maybe I just don’t understand engines at all, but would a clogged air filter really stop the engine from running at all? (Note: I’m presuming that the filter isn’t totally blocked, as I could hardly believe that.)

21:01 Now that storm looks like it’s approaching very fast. Humm… Flashes of the Monty Python and the Holy Grail, how fitting.

22:01 Okay UNIT is still jus- no, no it is now no longer believable.

23:01 Oh Malcolm is such a twat. Do people like that really exist?

24:01 Why would the storm be connected to the wormhole?

25:01 Ooo not Quatermass. Yep, please talk to someone else. Alright the genius line is kind of funny.

26:01 How is a silly little mobile phone photo of some fuzz supposed to be any use to anyone? Oh my word, it’s the fly man. He’s funny.

27:01 Then stupid… oh and why isn’t the TARDIS translating anyway? Humm this ship’s cooling thing reminds me of one of the jokes from Doctor Whom.

28:01 Yep makes sense (one way translator).

29:01 And now the fly men cease to have any purpose at all. More magic “technology”.

30:01 Why would you want to kiss them? Weird fly man fetish girl.

31:01 Yep only a year… that still seems very fast to me.

32:01 Oh stop squeaking you silly girl.

33:01 What was that? Twelve minutes, they used all of the petrol by turning the engine… for… what six minutes… it must have take at least that to fix it… alright this isn’t supposed to be real-time, but still…

34:01 That looks like a silly computer game graphic. Very skinny looking things for planet devourers.

35:01 Alright her “me too” line is kind of hot.

36:01 Hey the girl could have ridden a ray… yep… Why does he care about the crystal now, but then not use it at all, instead using the clamps?

37:01 Oh so nasty.

38:01 Oh the aristocracy isn’t. It should be… but, it’s not. That is a pretty useless security device… why put a big red button there?

39:01 I don’t want to be reminded of her… oh stop with this scene, I’m cringing.

40:01 Yep she is a thief and for no good reason (for society), lock her up… or tell her off at least… no lock her up, the stupid selfish girl.

41:01 The CGI blur ray actually looks okay in this scene… fake, but okay.

42:01 Was she that hot? Hot enough to wake them all up? Humm… that’s pretty hot! Umm… well anyways.

43:01 Ah stop babbling woman. That Malcolm bit was almost funny I suppose.

44:01 Oh, I’d forgotten that part of their magic, they magically stick to the wheels of the bus. Magic. So, ah, the Magic Clamps: now here’s the problem, while I can accept that the crystal is for focusing energy, or is even a power source, and even just about that somehow the clamps have soaked up some of the power from it (at a stretch that is), what I cannot accept is that these magic clamps are a power source, linked to… oh it’s just such nonsense… unless you accept that they are magic… and I never like the idea of magic in what appears to be a non-magical world. Yeah, this is even worse than the Dalek-Vac for being barmy (perhaps not quite at barmy as that thing I recently told you all was barmy (after which someone told me I should try to get into the Chinese government), but well that was rather barmy). Now I have said before that I do prefer to have no explanation at all than to have a non-explanation, and well there isn’t any explanation here (except something stupid sounding thing about gold), but for that to work needs to be in a fitting world, and… well I suppose that this one was fitting actually, it was all a joke: where is the real special?!
Utter nonsense/garbage.
Why’s he got those silly glasses on? Bah! Technobabbly.

45:01 More magic. Reminds me of suffocating Cybermen (with gold): that was magic too.

46:01 Okay, the Doctor hitting the cup is kind of fun. I can’t take Malcolm seriously here, unfortunately.

47:01 Oh the magic bus. Anyone ever read any of the Magic School Bus books?

48:01 Now why aren’t there hundreds of rays coming along with them through the hole? Tell me! Tell me please!

49:01 Where are the rays? Three, okay. Where are the rays?

50:01 Where are the rays? How could the Doctor possibly know what Malcolm needs to do? Where are the rays?

51:01 Where are the rays? Thousands should have got through. Where are the rays?

52:01 How does the Doctor control the uppy-downy motion of the bus? Magic!

53:01 Yeah, Malcolm is Russell… Oh… that’s so sad, seriously. How can someone who really does appear to love Doctor Who make such a mess of it? Maybe he’s just exhausted himself with all the lovemaking he’s done… used up all his good stuff?

54:01 No they weren’t good in a crisis. They were useless… well not good anyways, whimpering in the bus.

55:01 Lock her up! Lock her up! Lock her up! Lock her up! Oh you stupid selfish little brat.

56:01 So the Master’s returning: blardy blar blar.

57:01 Nooo! Don’t free her!

58:01 Why are they cheering? They’re paying for her fun out of their taxes! Stupid people, stupid girl. Still, I’d like to see her face when the magic in the clamps is all used up… it will get used up right? Unfortunately I could well believe that several people will end up getting crushed in the progress.

59:01 Oh it was kind of fun in parts I suppose, just not fun enough to distract me.

60:01 The magic water men look kind of interesting… although I do wish that what I would presume is a rather massive spoiler wasn’t revealed now.


Right well now that that’s all over I’m just going to sing along to “Doctoring in the TARDIS for a while…
Oh, no actually, Fuck the Millennium is more fitting I believe. “It’s 1987! What the fuck’s going on!”…

Bonvajar…

As so often nowadays, a deleted paragraph:
– yep I agree with Lindsey (of Arrested Development): by not trying one does not fail, and failing is obviously a bad thing so not to try is better. … Actually I’m fairly sure I don’t agree with that, but it was still a good comment of hers (similar to her one about beavers – ultimately I disagree with it, but in the context of her saying it, it was entirely right and the naturist was the stupid one, and I can only look at him like he’s a fool as he looks at her like she was a fool). … Sorry got sidetracked there…

Bonvajar and all…

Hey, no! That’s not right, just,

Bonvajar.

The Febuary Special - "Courting Velvet"

Right, so… here it is, finally, the February special, late as expected, but here as unexpected as dogs and sheep (and like notes at the bottom of the garden about upcoming actresses).

Well, sorry, but I’m going to be extremely self indulgent here and write a couple of notes regarding the history of this month’s piece.
To begin, it is true that a number of bits in this are stolen from my past notes (and one image is completely and viciously stolen from Larry’s tTwNLUG (the Ferret Lawyer’s pants); some of them previously unreleased, but most that you’ve already had the horror of sitting through (those of you who didn’t just dump my gabbling in the trash folder as the gabbling that it is).
So, this was written largely out of desperation, when it turned out that it wouldn’t be possible to put together a stage play version of Consequences (CONS 017) in time for this June. I had been trying to either find a suitable script or think of a plot for about a month and a half, and after having no real luck decided that I would just have to write something… I failed… but then about two weeks ago I realised that I really would have to write something if I didn’t want to end up directing something horrible (not that everything is horrible, just… well I’ve know what some people think are good scripts and… yep).
So, this was written largely out of desperation. I decided that my best course would be to attempt to make something of the plot from “Run Velvet Black, Run” (that thing that I wrote some bits to last year and which mostly appeared in Cyanide and Trisnacyte Issue II), and thus, one afternoon, I put together an outline.

By the time it was finished I was horrified at what I had done.

Something that was quite possibly worse than Rassilon I: The Fallen (this was the only Rassilon play I wrote that ended up being posted on the internet (so if you’re in the mood for something really bad… take a look) despite it easily being the worst of the four (III: His Flowered Brides was pretty awful too – still, it introduced Esennel which is good)), an audio play that I wrote about two years ago.
Right well, then I remembered Lawrence Miles’ ER script, looked at it, and pretty much decided that while it certainly didn’t have the astounding scope for jiggling as CONS 017 it was probably more fitting given the expected audience, and would certainly be more practical to organise in the time available.
Then, just this weekend, I picked up my scrawled outline for Courting Velvet, and decided to have a go at actually writing it (at least as a detailed outline), and well it came together a lot better than I had expected. It still isn’t very good, but hopefully at least mildly diverting.
Writing it was actually one of the most enjoyable writing experiences that I have ever had, although I’m not quite sure why. It is a bit of an indulgent piece, although I’ve written far more indulgent pieces: take a look at any batch of “//Hard Cuts//” for an example.

(Oh, and I know that this shouldn’t really count as a Special (since it wasn’t written specifically for that purpose), but up to this point I had basically decided that I would have to forgo February’s special as I just hadn’t had time. So it will have to do.)
(Great, done my usual trick: writing an introduction almost longer than the note.)

Courting Velvet

Cast:
-Velvet
-Rico
-The Girl
-The Boy
-The Ferret Lawyer (maybe the same as The Boy)
-The Hunched Men (2)
-The Newscasters (At least 2)
-Velvet’s Chorus (2)
-Rico’s Chorus (2)
-The Barbershop Callers (At least 4)

Act I

Scene 1 – Prologue
-Auditorium
-The Ferret Lawyer is speaking (but we do not hear) (yeah – he’s miming and all)
-Rico stands up – he was sitting in the audience and gives the following speech (the we refers to the audience as a whole), the Ferret Lawyer continues miming under this:
“As we stand here, being introduced by the little man with a ferret embroidered upon the left leg of his trousers, that one could be pardoned for describing as “pants” (due to the obvious reasons), we begin to wonder just why he is bothering with such an action; have we not seen everyone here before? Do they not know us better than he does? We then realise just to what degree that has become obvious.
We look to the seat on out left, cautiously aware of the disrespect the speaker may now be attentive to, but surely could it not be seen as out prerogative to do so? We are the reason he stands behind what we could describe as a podium of debauchment; that place where they rest before leaving us, or that is it way it has seemed.
They will call us up to speak soon, and were it not for the cries of bitterness we would exit from the auditorium then.
We used to like this job, this career, that we have built up for ourselves; not that we did it from nothing, for those who start with nothing will always amount to nothing. No, we had a start, and were helped greatly, in fiscal and emotional terms; that the money would come to pass we knew with no fear, for we already had such stock of our own, but to know that all else philological would end, could have been used to our long term advantage.”
-By the end of this it should be made clear that this is a court, the audience is the jury.
-In the seat to the left of Rico sits The Girl.
-She then gets up and gives the following speech:
“How dare you?
Daring here, daring now,
Standing as you do, in this place.
A place of calling, breaking for the wind,
Is this where you dare?

Pulling your trigger lines,
Your tilted, or may-be stilted lines pressing for movement,
A change in the pricking atmosphere,
That surround I believe came drifting to me from you.
Why would you want to change this state?

Do you not believe?
If you don’t, if you don’t.
Don’t you believe, believe your self?
If you don’t… why are you here?
Why you here? Why you now?
What is it that makes you come here?
Stand, speak?
If you don’t believe, will I believe?
Why dare you?
You’re not here for that, you’re here for that. The other to that.
Should I dare you now? Dare you now?
Friday night you all the same.”

-[Blackout]

Scene 2 – Intro
-[Remains dark, just the sound of lapping waves gradually building]
-A new person (looks and sounds like a newscaster or just general announcing person) comes on to stage
-Lights flash on to full everywhere then immediately off everywhere but spot on the man.
-Lights continue with gentle undulation (on man always on though), with occasional sudden ons or offs – along with the gentle lapping sound is occasional lightning, but this is not synchronised with the lights.
-Gives the following speech:
“The rentamgasim slowly opens across the Cornish shores, its spanning distance growing as does the separation between those in the North and the South. From it scores more distributor fissures spawn. The people find this growth accommodating yet somehow more in line to the placebo effect than could be hoped.
“The ropes of our shores are plagued, we do nothing; no, we encourage it. We should grip it hard; we only slacken our hold.” That once said someone standing just short of an incoming wave on the Cornish coast.
-Non-Italics said in ruff voice – it is a quote.
-Darts sights about and suddenly doesn’t look quite so normal.
Then gives following speech interspersed by hunched, trotty runs across the stage:
“I have much to say,
A lot to say to you all,
But I will not.
Not in this standing here,
Not from this standing post,
Looking across, remembering too much,
So much more than is right.
There is too much retrospection here.

So much to write, everything left to say,
All things would come to pass,
And nought would be said.
Nothing, for the saying, the thought, and the meme are not the same,
And the meme is what matters,
The spreading of the idea,
Sprinkling, mutating as it passes through the culture.

Is that the idea?
The prospect of repetition.
The prospect of being reproduced, and then the changing at each step.
Each change reworking the original, the original to that step.
The final so changed from the initial that by its time all it shares is ancestry.
And what is that?
What is that ancestry worth?

All eyes and ears, yet speaking still.”
-Last line said directly to the audience.
-Pulling of middle curtains closed by two hunched figures.
-Newscaster then leaves via these curtains

Scene 3 – Velvet’s Beach
-Velvet stands (from audience again), and takes us to her beach [lights are solid in this scene]
-Lots of backwards skipping on stage here and general beach description. (She is happy) {Sorry, I didn’t get around to writing this bit…} Then…
-Velvet goes back to her seat.
-Pause. Lights dim, a bit.
-Velvet gets up again, and she is obviously sad, not actually crying, but close to. She gives the following speech:
“Just across the road and the pavement that accompanies it on the far side is situated the beach that I had expected them to aim for. It wasn’t much in the way of a beach, just an area of pebbly grit (to call it sand would have been unfitting for a place so devoid such a trait) held between the rising sides of the bay. Curiously, for being as secluded as it was, it remained clean; indeed it was also curious how one could call it secluded for surly with it only being a few strides from the outer pavement it would be open to all who passed; would it not?
It was my beach, and in knowing it as well as I recognized that there were many secluded spots; take just over there, to the right, for example. One could slip right between the beach grass and remain there for as long as was favourable; a common place for me to drift to by the end of a day. I would just lie there listening to the not so mellow waves as they came swished in and, and then I forget how they would go out. There were the winds too. Yet if you blocked out these two sounds it was peaceful, or at least a place where I could go to get away from the tussle of my real outside life. Not that I was anyone; so common that I wasn’t even worth being called a nobody. In case you were wondering, this isn’t the story of how I turned out to be a princess secreted away as a nobody to escape a holy war; nor is it the story of how I never felt I had fitted in until I discovered something equally elusive about myself. No this is just my small story of how the girl on the beach got the boy and stole my velvet. This is, after all the story of Black Velvet.”
-From the balcony behind the audience someone shouts: “No it isn’t.”
-Velvet continues, ignoring the call.
“I could continue on from the point of me watching them running down to the beach, and what I did afterwards (I left); but that should probably be at the end of my story, as while I have never seemed to gain my grip on linearity (probably because events have ever seemed to precede themselves in my life) it would probably seem as if I was trying to make some point or claim about something if I were to tell it from the end backwards. Which, as I came-
-Again from the balcony someone shouts: “No it isn’t.”
-as I came close to saying before, is decidedly not what I intended; this is to be my little self indulgent story-
-Again from the balcony someone shouts: “No. It. Isn’t.”
- my little self indulgent story, and not-
-Again from the balcony someone shouts: “No. It. Isn’t.”
-Un able to ignore the calling anymore Velvet looks up to the balcony and shouts back: “What isn’t?”
-“This isn’t your story. This isn’t “Run Black Velvet, Run”.”
-“What do you mean it isn’t?”
-“It’s-”
-“Go away.”
-“What?”
-“Go away.”
-“What?”
-“Go away! This is my story!”
-Says Velvet as she starts to become hysterical, and then breaks down crying. Then Looks back up to see that the person is still there and hysterically screams:
-“You’re all the same! Go away! Go away! Go away! I am here, I am all that matters!”
-See the person leave and does that hand passing over face thing to stop herself crying. Pulls a smile (should be ambiguous here whether her crying was all an act or that this smile is an act) and starts back on her speech:
“I could continue on from the point of me watching them running down to the beach, and what I did afterwards (I left); but that should probably be at the end of my story, as while I have never seemed to gain my grip on linearity (probably because events have ever seemed to precede themselves in my life) it would probably seem as if I was trying to make some point or claim about something if I were to tell it from the end backwards. Which, as I came close to saying before, is decidedly not what I intended; this is to be my little self indulgent story, and not because I feel that I am particularly worthy of such a scribing, only that I would be the only one to think of writing it.
To start at the beginning I will take you back as far as I remember from either my personal memories or those that have been passed down to me.”
-From all around the call comes: “But they aren’t important!”
-“Yes I am” squeaks Velvet as she breaks down again.
-Pause on her looking down sobbing for a while, then she looks up, anger in her bloodshot eyes. She’s looking directly at the audience, as if we are all responsible for her anguish (which… well we are) and almost snarls the following speech out (it is rhythmic and requires particular emphasis to particular parts):
“I wish you were here,
I wish you were here,
I wish you were here.

Mourning, morning,
Dawning lights opening their fixtures to the world,
Today is a day, a standing of resonance.
In the morning, the mourning of the morning,
Mourning for the morning, when it should be the best,
Be the best time,
The time when one is free,
Free of their memories, free of longing,
Free of loops, of resonance for mourning.
But the bonds are strong, still strong,
Strong and long, long and holding, holding to remembrance.
I try, try so hard,
But it’s hard to forget, hard even in the morning,
The mourning of the morning.

At wake one forgets, one is fresh,
Still sealed,
Closed from the regrets.
Regrets.
Regrets, for that is what they are,
Regrets, they line the consequence,
The consequences.
The consequences, self indulgence,
The resonance of it,
The excuse of it,
The consequences of it.

But there is no it.

By doing something,
By remembering that something,
By watching that something,
Watching it again and again, repeating the memories,
It always leads; it always leads to regrets,
Regrets for what was done, regrets what was not done,
The thinking of the past, right, right and tempting as it may be,
Leads to loops,
And leaden in, looping in, once led in,
The thinking, thinking,
One’s always said it is good,
Has one not always thought it good?

Look to the consequences.

It will con you,
Con you unto the sequence, the looping,
And looping, looping has resonance,
It can resonate.

Stagnation.
Look at the stagnation, the looping.

It is the consequence.

Of.
The wish.
Of the wishing.
Wishing you were here.

I wish you were here.
I still wish you were here.

The consequences resonate.”

-Lights gradually fade on stage (although they are already quite dim). A vicious looking Velvet leaves the stage.

Scene 3a – Brink

-[Thunder clap followed by torrential rain – Flash of light well before clap]
-Second flash and then a different newscaster is on again (same set up with the lights as before, but more spiky and the sound of rain rather than waves).
-Newscaster says (in big, grande, expansive voice):
“So here we stand on the brink of the world, a brink we all find so infinitely tempting, and why should it not be so? We are all well within the bounds of temptation, thus to not be tempted so would be approaching the realms of that which is inexplicable, would it not?”
-The newscaster suddenly claps (as in person clap, not thunder – lights respond) once, then pause, then twice. Then says:
“This concerns Velvet Black!”
-Is all wide eyed and shaking as if in shock. Then says the following, but about half-way through starts staggering to the left, getting caught up in the curtain, but continues with his speech and looking straight across the audience as in horror of something.
“The scene continues with a long pan up across from the grass on the beach to the cracked tarmac road; running down its opposing side is a row of terraced housing,
the brickwork and painting of these building is good, yet one should get the feeling that, if tested, the veneer may fall away. The pan continues to the small bookshop; it has a large, white bordered, window with a fair designed display visible; here the view is closer and the peeling of paint should be noticeable. The shot continues, now rising to the window of Velvet’s room above the shop; then fly through (the window is open).”
-Voice becomes especially quaky:
“O-o-oh and this is all filmed on shaky black and white or rather dirty brown film… well made to look so anyways.”
-Head tilted (no longer staggering), does a double clap, smiles and says “that’s fun, that trick; clap-on thunder” (should look as weird as possible).
-Claps again and slips behind curtain, then out again “That’s fun”, then again; then the hunched people from earlier pull him off.

-Another newscaster comes on, “Sorry about that”, he says looking across the audience, then seems to notice something on the stairs, frowns and steps back, frantically looks around, starts to make a run for it across the stage, but is stopped by the hunched men and dragged back to the front. Looks at the stairs again, but seems to see nothing this time, “Um, and sorry for that too.”
-Puts the ends of his fingers together and leans his forehead on the shape, then:
“As we stand here in this small, white walled, room are we not reminded of grotty, low standard, motel and hotel rooms? When we look around all we can be struck by is the distinctively bland speckled walls, and door. As we look to the walls our sights are eventually drawn to an area where on a black mould is growing, it has been there for years, yet never removed, nor hidden. We remember when we first came to this room six years ago; it had just been freshly painted, we had to sleep in a neighbouring room that night, one could say the room had been more featureless then than it is now, but we’re not entirely convinced. The room may now be in possession of furniture, a multitude of books, and hold a share of memories, but does that change the room? As the walls are slowly covered by the growing arrangement how are they altered? Underneath they are still the same surly, for just because we can not see something, does that make it change, the room must know. Does the room feel the gradual toll she takes upon us, just as she may feel the weight of the shelves, books, beds, desks, and nails that have been put in her? Perhaps we would be better to ask, do we feel the toll that the room is now subjugated to? This may appear to but a tangent, however masonry is said to soak in the events that of which ensue within their bounds, and we are told to be the sum of our memories, we are told that our memories are what make us who, or indeed what we are, therefore is it the room, not the girl that is the important one?”

-Velvet’s voice comes echoing through the hall: “I am the important one!”
-Pauses, looks around a bit, then starts again – it should be clear that he has slightly changed his tact as a result of Velvet’s call.

When one looks at a room, and takes into account that no matter how banal it is, it is also intricate and detailed, is often when one first realises just to what extent a room can be used as a source to learn about a person. Here it may be expected, that a description of Velvet’s room and how it reflects her will be presented, however to describe her through her room would seemingly be a pointless exercise, for as this is clearly her story, a story in which she is the only truly important character, would it not appear as a waste to tell so much so soon? As it is, you already know too much about her, or at least you may, if you have looked into the information.
-Sees the “thing” on the stairs again and gradually begins to look scared throughout the next speech:
“Um, furthermore, to plot, and scheme are both integral to the art of being devious, a property that one should always try their best to gain. Through this planning one may (if the quantity is sufficient) contrive effective designs for various subsequent undefined events. Ultimately this process could be seen as a variation of the indoctrination also commonly used for similar effects, however, whereas indoctrination is a process by which one can manipulate (or at least change) the processes by which others conduct themselves, to scheme is to take advantage of the original processes. Plotting is often seen as a more precise tactic, however as this is largely due to the ease that one can distinguish a success from a failure this should not be taken at face value; plotting comes with the same highborn cost of having to change oneself in order to achieve any noticeable results, however if one is changed in themselves how can one be sure of any external change, how can one distinguish all the shifts in perspective to see if the one sought has happened, how can one tell that this change isn’t just a “trick” of their new perspective, how can one even consider whether the goal they now believe is the one initially intended is the one now recalled? Yet can this not be said for any action, no matter on what scale or degree of involvement?
Even observation shall disfigure your petty lives.”
-By the end he just runs off the stage.

-Growling and screeching noises and sounds of strain and banging, thumping and panting.
-Ends on flash-and-fade.

Scene 4 – Interfusion (Bang-Bang Ricochet)

-Dark for an extended period of time, then (almost whispered) (still dark):
“This is what we see,
This is what we see
Through the light,
When we look beyond
The stiffened glass,
And decaying park benches;
We see the shadows of
London after the fire.
We see the blood red sky
Hanging above the Tower and
The Palace, and
Know this is why we all come
Here some day,
Someday you will all come
Here.”

-Then brightens up, and some silly tranquil background music is played (birds tweeting etc) before:
-Man in suit steps on to the stage, he has an odd look on his face; everything as much as possible swept to one side (clothes, smile, hair, but not arms… that would just look silly). He is almost smartly dressed and would be very smart looking if it weren’t for the sweeping.
-He says in a tone of realisation (whatever that is) (and all kinda drawn out): “No, no, but this is. Look this is Rico’s story, but no, no not yours.” By now his look has morphed into an indignant frown.
-He then leaves, still frowning, looking forwards.

-The following is said by Rico:
“Thoughtful
Marching forth, strong lines and centrifuge, and it goes “Bang Bang Ricochet”.
On this morning, by this morning when ideas are long and coming,
The lights continue to search out.

-Rico is pushed out onto the middle of the stage, while sitting on a sliding block, by the hunched men (basically this should look like the trad. “camp gang boss on a throne” – think of that hairdresser dude in that Norman Wisdom film if you must). He has stances sort of appropriate to that he says, despite having a rather cocky look about him and his actions that really doesn’t seem to fit with his words. (Note: I have given few specific stage directions here since while the general feel is important the details are not. – Basically his actions should reflect how Velvet pictures him, whereas his words reflect his actual persona/thoughts (although again this is actually only how Velvet imagines him, but is a lot closer to how he really is – he’s very insecure just as she is.))

Why: hullow-hullo-hullo-hullo!
And on this morning we look to see, looking to see as one could expect,
Looking to see where things are, where they are going to, and why they do,
Why they do so.

Yes, I do know better that to say yes, to say yes to this, yes to what I want,
I won’t say yes, for I know, I know that that would be discourteous,
But it really doesn’t matter, the sun gets low, the sun gets up; and I know,
Yes, I know, know that it only does it out of courtesy,
The sun lights us up, brings the rain up, lets it fall, and warms us,
Out of courtesy, the courtesy of a longstanding arrangement.

To be helping me, to help me, help myself, help us all: no, seventeen.
No, seventeen. No, seventeen. No, seventeen.
Forget seventeen, forget what it could do for us all,
Forget Mr. Blint, forget his attic; the wind in his piano is not important.
But it’s not in his piano, is it?

The way that you do it should always be right, always make it right,
Whenever you do something, each time any process is made into being,
One should always make it, make it true, make it the best they can, otherwise-, Otherwise what is the point?

I don’t know what you see, I couldn’t know, and will never see,
That is not my metier, not your metier, not truly anyone’s metier.
Are you real? Are you true, am I true, are we all me, -is me all?
I do not understand how you can think,
I do not understand how I always know what is coming next,
Next in the lyrics,
Next; when I do not understand your responses.
I get it wrong, I do not know you. You are not formulaic.
I hate formulas.
And yet… yet I like lyrics, like to read, like to hear, like to speak,
Perhaps this is why I like my responses all to be scripted; perhaps…

I take, I pull, I take.
You get away, it all gets away,
Everything changes, and I am told that that is good, change is good, that they say,
But you know, I think I know too; I give too, do I not give too?
Is it only me, am I only me, unconnected, still, unmoving?

-Screaming from all around, “But this should be about me! Why is this always about them? Why them, never me? Me-me-me, I-I-I, self-self-self, that is all I want! This is all me, all me!” – Velvet’s hysterical voice.

Crying

Take and run. Take and run, take what you need and run,
Grip your arms steadfast and firm, hold yourself,
And don’t forget never to let yourself go, never let that happen.

I shall pull the strings and all shall wonder; but not about the strings,
No.
No they all forget the wonder, the divine artistry of that.
They forget that all that really matters is the artistry.
Pricking with their eyes as they look, pricking the tapestry.
Telling me not to mix my metaphors, they say it is not right, but it is.
But it is-but it is-but it is, is right, allisconnected.

-On the “back to you” bit he points with both his hands to Girl 1 in the audience, and should look almost as if he is pulling her in.

Everything that I see relates back to me, back to you, back to the trees,
I see me, I see me, I see me, see you, see me, all is me, all is you, all is all.
Don’t tell me everything is nothing; don’t tell me everything is nothing at all,
All is all, and nothing belongs to nothing.

-Looking directly at each other and close. Rico says all here, but the girl mimes her lines in sync to his speech.
-He is getting really quite passionate sounding by this point.

I tell you: there is no nothing.
I tell you: there is no unconnected.
And I tell you: everything makes sense.
You tell me: no.
You say: no, no nothing is the same, nothing is one.
But it is, I say, I say so fearing it so.
I say: there is no change, no good, no bad; only good, only bad.

I cry.

You deny, you say: the birds are not me, the birds do not relate to me.
You usher me to tranquillity, but I know that it is only to senility,
I only see the senility.
I cry: one is one, one is two, we all are one.
And you take me, try to take me back, try to do some good, but,
But I say: that good is only bad, that good is only my own banality.

I look to the sky.
I howl at the sky.
I scream and screech at the sky.
The light flickers down.
I can like that, I can dislike that.
It is the same.

I cry.

I-I-I, it is me, me is me, but not only me.

-Tries to make her cry (I don’t know; hit’s her, it’s not really important; it doesn’t have to be realistic)

We cry.

Not you only me,
But it makes no difference, you are only me denying,
You are my denial, my comforter,
I grin.
Comforter, makes me think, makes me think two; two thoughts.

Then I stop.
Then I stop.
And it goes: Bang Bang Ricochet.

Bang Bang Ricochet

-If this was ever actually done I think that… well some of the “chorus” would be edited out… probably a lot of it.
-His actions really shouldn’t match what he is saying. Basically have him as a trad. nasty brute, beating her up… somehow with very little actual violence for the entirety of the segment

Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico,
Bang-Bang-Bang, Bang-Bang-Bang.
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh!, Bang-Bang Oh!
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh!, Bang-Bang Oh!
Pause and look around, what do we hear?
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Look back, look around, trying, we hear:
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
We think: do we hear the people? Hear the people go:
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Do we hear?

We ready ourselves.
Is it ready, do we throw ourselves in, or do we let ourselves fall in?
Is the moment right as we wait outside, standing, wishing for it to snow,
We would look good in snow.
Looking good in the snow,
Standing outside the door we would look good in the snow.
But then what do we think, what do we hear?

Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico,
Bang-Bang-Bang, Bang-Bang-Bang.
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh!, Bang-Bang Oh!
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh!, Bang-Bang Oh!
Pause and look around, what do we hear?
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Look back, look around, trying, we hear:
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
We think: do we hear the people? Hear the people go:
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Do we hear?

We calm ourselves again, looking at the door, looking at the door bell,
And think: that was wrong; it is not a bell, not a bell but the switch for the bell,
And think: but no, that was wrong too, it is not a bell but a buzzer,
And think: that was wrong, why do we think of this now?
And think: we should stop thinking now.
We lean towards the bell,
And think: but we have not, have not stopped.
Then we stop, stop to listen.
Do we hear?

Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico,
Bang-Bang-Bang, Bang-Bang-Bang.
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh!, Bang-Bang Oh!
Pause and look around, and what do we hear?
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh. Bang-Bang Oh.
Look back, look around, trying, we hear:
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
We think: do we hear the people? Hear the people go:
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Do we hear?

We look back to the door, is it looking back at us?
Is it accusing us?
Accusing us with its single glass lens, lens or eye?
Why is it accusing us?
What have we done to rile it against us so?
We have only come here, only come here to ask, why should the door mind?
Does it fear being slammed?
Does it share that fear the same as I?
Or is it just that it knows something that I only think?
Do we hear?

Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico,
Bang-Bang-Bang, Bang-Bang-Bang.
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh!, Bang-Bang Oh!
Pause, and look around, what do we hear?
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Look back, look around, trying, we hear:
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
We think: do we hear the people? Hear the people go:
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Do we hear?

We take a step back, and then,
As if taking a run up at it,
We step forth, grip the knocker, pull it back, loosen our grip.
Then stop.
We pause, thinking again.
What if…? What if…?
Then we let go, let the knocker drop.
We wait, then knock again, and listen,
Do we hear, do we still hear?

Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico,
Bang-Bang-Bang, Bang-Bang-Bang.
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh!, Bang-Bang Oh!
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh!, Bang-Bang Oh!
Pause and look around, what do we hear?
We hear: Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Look back, look around, trying, we hear:
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
We think: do we hear the people? Hear the people go:
Bang-Bang Oh!
Do we hear?

We wait, then turn away,
We realise that it has been too long now,
We have heard right.
The door was lucky, but, we can’t help but think,
Think that this is worse for us.
That we would have preferred even that.
And we listen.
But we do not hear.
We do not stay though, for we know that inside, inside we will always hear.

Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico,
Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico,
Bang-Bang-Bang, Bang-Bang-Bang.
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!
Bang-Bang Oh! Bang-Bang Oh!

We always hear this, and we hear it repeat,
Repeat as we let petals drop along the path.
Walking as the dead I let the wrapping fall from my dragging hand,
Thinking about myself, as always we let my fate play again.
Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico,
Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico, Bang-Bang-Rico…
Rico!

-Ends on him “killing her”.

-Lights hard up, then off.

“But this is my story-my story-my story-my story!”, echoes Velvet’s voice.

End of Act I

Act II

Scene 5 – Intro-Stoco

-Sound of a ticking clock… tick, tick, tick, tick…
-Then in a shaky-shivery voice Rico comes on saying:
“As I watch the second hand of the clock, with the blood splattered across it’s face, complete its disturbingly swift cycle back to the fifty-sixth division thus marking the further difficulties that one such as myself can (if it is appropriately burnt into that wall) observe. Take that clock face, the one with the blood on it, surly that was supposed to be a face with blood splattered on it, for as of one’s last inspection it is not of the nature of a clock to bleed. Possibly it is just that the splattering was instigated from beyond the confines of the glass cased face of the clock, but when one speculates one must take care to reflect on all the relevant data they possess that could further their conjecture. When a clock face is sealed beyond glass, a liquid such as the viscosity of blood is unlikely to pass by the shrewd inference of most. Unless, of course, there was something one had neglected to mention. The glass casing is sealed, when closed, but perfectly adept to be opened by even the most inexpert of applicants. Yet does that explain the blood when it had not been opened? When the blood appears to so specifically be centred about the clock’s arbour? Finally does it justify why it is so important that the second hand has just completed its return to the fifty-sixth division?”
-Stumbles off stage. Then loudly called from the balcony:
“Give us your body, and we promise the pain will all go away. We will take you and change you. We will take you and rectify wrongs such that you will never realise that they were previously there. You will be improved; for the better, not worse. This is what you want, are we not right?”
-Soft piano music here – (actually here Ghost 12 could be nice)
“When winds blow from across the see,
It does not take long to sea,
But then, would that not be obvious?

-Two further people come walking down from behind the audience (very slowly), and then it becomes apparent that they have been the one’s speaking – they are saying these lines:

When the winds come, to toss and tilt,
The prospect comes that much closer,
But then, would that not be quite obvious?

When the buildings rock from peek to peak,
It does not take one to speak,
But then, would that not be perfectly obvious?

When the birds and cars go backwards,
Blown back, people are quick to worry,
But then, would that not be expected?
How could one not understand them?

When they see-hear-feel-sense, that,
All come together to present to them,
What some could say is obvious,
The obvious will already by there,
Caught up, tying each to its reality.

The buildings shake and they watch the see tremble,
The prospect sees those ignoring it,
The denying and innocent do not,
Not the ignoring.
The obvious prospect, attention keen as it is,
Makes to manifest,
Despite being the easy option.

-Both on the stage by now looking at each other. Suddenly they embrace, and throwing their heads back call out:
“All that matters is: this-that-you-the other!”
-Second bit is said very fast, almost blurred into one word.
-Suddenly the scene becomes very fast paced. Everything is as a rush, words become garbled, and actions slash against each other.

-A bunch of “top hat and tail” people rush out from the sides at the back of the stage, and say:
“Oh my wo-oh my, oh my.”
-Then leave as quickly as they arrived.

-Remember this is all extremely fast. Rico and Velvet are dancing as they say this (just lots of swinging around (very basic ballroom dancing)). – Yes, Rico and Velvet lose their “disguises” and audience realises who they are, if they didn’t already.
-At each of Velvet’s speeches two people positioned in the audience get up, clapping, and call out “Velvet!” joyously/happily. At each of Rico’s speeches two people positioned in the audience get up, and call out “Ooo, ah, oh.” shocked like.

Rico:
Today is today, not the other day, not the past day, don’t think of that which is yet to come, to come, see you come, come today - day.
Velvet:
Moving night, shifting its indeterminable movements that little bit to the left, that little bit to the edge of sight. Sight is what we see, what we look for, what we think we want.
Rico:
Yet, still, you lose your way. Images tilt. They twist. Distorted, bent images. Curving around, around to fit. Let it fit, please let it fit. Don’t think like it’s heat. Don’t wonder if it shall shimmer: don’t, it won’t.
Velvet:
Please try – no – no – no – try to find, you should – mustn’t – bend back to the walls, walls surrounding you; you make them, hold them, pull them unto you –let them undo you, let yourself be so – so, so, so – ya’ see, see in time what become unto me, let become unto you, you becoming, unto, to you – ya,ya,ya, so like tilting dogs – tiles and plaster, you made un-as your master, master-servant, master-master-master, burn your leaves, burn you tiny little protrusions, watch as they fall, la-la-la la-la-la, oooh, la-la-la o’h la, la, la on and off. Think your self lucky? Think yourself lucky?
Rico:
Pulling, he-he-he, grout, pressed in, pushed and smoothed. She. Remembers. Still thinks. Still holds. Oh.
Velvet:
And he. He. He. He. He. Knows as in knowing too. Strong nails tear into surfaces, not claws –too hard, too smooth, to finite. [Pause] You need to remember. Need to know. Need to think. Why this is so wrong?
Rico:
So caught up. Snagging, hence the sagging. Sacked for the begging, for the pegging up to the board – high up the board – reach up the board, pull yu-yu’-‘yu s’s’s’s’s’eeelllf too. Remember now? Remember to think now? Slamming down against the – hard as ice – banging against it.
Velvet:
Don’t try to, there is no need to, none to find your way, not your way, why would/should/could one find your way, it’s my-my-my-my-my, n’ na na not yours – yours yes, remember again? Remember again? You, you’s alles that matters. You are everthing, all so-so-so art we all, we are all, all is all, all is nought but all, all-all-all.

-Lights gradually fade over Velvet’s last speech – From “You, you’s alles that matters.” the pace is starts to slow, so as by the end its normal to slowly said (basically the sex has finished – calm after the storm and all that).

-Newscaster runs out of a side door (i.e. not on the stage, one leading to the audience’s area), stops, and looks around. It is clear that he has realised that he is in the wrong place. Steps back (maybe even with “mimed” quietness), then turns and begins to walk back. He stops again. Then turns back to the audience and says:
Don’t. Don’t. Don’t kill the – don’t kill the –don’t kill the – mes, mess, messin, messing, messenger…
-Then leaves.

Scene 6 – What have I?

-Once again Velvet’s voice comes echoing through the theatre calling “And this is my story! This is m-“, her voice is abruptly cut-off. Lights come on the stage, and possibly music – something to signify how this is no longer what Velvet’s thinking/believes, and rather actual events (to be honest this whole scene really doesn’t sit well in the narrative at all, although it is rather important plotwise. Could do to be changed).

-Rico walks on again, and says:
“What have I, what have I,
What have I, what have I,
Oh:
-Falls to knees – As ever while this is not sung, it is rhythmic:
“One one-one, one and the mountains,
One and the mountains
Save a mountain for me,
Save the mountains for me,
Save the snow, the peeks and all that I see,
Take the peppering of time I give unto you,
Take the time you are so given; granted, you have the time,
Remember the sun on frost, ice through trees, shine of trees.

Save me the mountains, I need the mountains,
Save me the mountains, I need the mountains,
I want the mountains, give me the mountains,
Give, or I’ll take,
Give or take, give or take,
Learn to give before I take.

White crusted peeks, looking down, cross – so ridged,
Crisp with points stuck and tightly firm – so staying,
Think of sliding, only think of sliding, eruption’s nothing – eruptions nothing,
Not any different, like is like and so be the same, change hard but null – each relative,
Real hard, packed by layers, layers by my crush in bone – all ever,
Save the mountains for me, I said I liked the mountains – just refrozen permafrost.

Where’s the mountains, where’s each mountain to peak go,
À la root of foot to peak of tremors, be there a sight, be there,
Be there, I want the mountains, rock cracks and shatters by impact,
By force, by pressure, by hit, where did the mountains go,
Where’s the mountains, tell me lie, I could accept that, I could cope with that,
Where’s the rock, pretend still, give me time to hold on to, too.

Do I save the mountains now, save me the rock, the rock I say I cracked,
You see the ground; I once told you that I didn’t like that,
Tell me you don’t like it; tell me again, I want you to say once again,
Once I save the mountains, be it for one or other, do I save, do I try, forget die,
Broken rocks and shabby mountains, would I rather that, did that beckon me,
I broke the rocks, firm mountains fall by my hand, as I tried so?

I give you now time, past late, sorrow now comes to nought, little in the face,
Small would the compromise be, but it is nought, revealed not to you,
I ask you to save the mountains, that which I felled,
Baritone enigma to the forces of nature,
Attempted to change – failed, so forced,
I broke the mountains, now I try to ask you to save a mountain for me.

Save a mountain for me…
Oh save a mountain for me… …
…

-Rico drops his head down, and then slips to all fours. He stays on stage until the end of the scene with his head hung.

- Velvet’s voice comes calling through the theatre “It’s not real! None of this is real. You are not really real. You couldn’t actually be real.”, she says this in a kind of “this can’t be true, no of course it isn’t”, kind of a voice (… I wonder if anyone has any idea what I mean by that…).

-Just as before a newscaster runs into the audience area, except this time he comes from a door on the other side. Again he stops, and looks around, and it is clear that he has realised that he is in the wrong place. Steps back (maybe even with “mimed” quietness), then turns and begins to walk back. He stops again. Then turns back to the audience and says:
We all get disappointed sometimes, life… it does not live up to expectations, but while that will never be enough, could never be enough, one shall never be presented with enough. Hence, just be happy scraping for all you have got.
You will never get more, but that’s fine, just try, that’s all one can do, for the trying always the best part, it can’t disappoint.
-Then he leaves.

-A pause. All remains quiet and still. Then a dripping noise begins. This is quite quiet, just a light background noise really. Then Velvet very quietly begins to say the following. Eventually we see her creeping onto the stage (this speech is pre-recorded and is playing just as all her previous bits have); she does not mime her speech, rather just comes to stand at the front of the stage. Looking at the audience. Sadly. Pityingly.
Her speech is said in a quiet, scared, almost crying kind of a voice, and possibly more than ever before it should seem apparent that these are her thoughts that we hear. It is VERY important that this bit is done just right… otherwise it could seem a little silly… (I can just imagine people laughing at this speech… I probably would.)
I feel the cold. It is not the cold that I would usually have fill me. Why would it change to this, why has what I once felt left me. When I first felt it coming it was so good and so it remained, until not so long ago. It scares me to feel it change to this; is this what we all feel, is this why we all must come to dust? I did not think… did I think? Before doing as I did, so swift, and as natural as it felt it should be I had no thought that it could come to this, maybe we all thought so at the time. So this is why they say that it is cold. I do feel the cold…

-Lights fade as Velvet shuffles away.
-Rico finally gets up and leaves.

Scene 7 – No... No, I think this is Me

-The people in the audience who previously clapped/”Oooed” at Velvet, stand up (as they do the lights on the stage are gradually building). The inner two turn to look at each other and as if through a moment of realisation of common cause they nod and decide to come on to the stage. Then the outer two do the same.
-Once on the stage the inner two begin the say the following, alternating between lines and the outer two say the ends in unison (the “too obvious” bits).
You here – too obvious.
One there – too obvious.
Take care – too obvious.
Bring the hands of you pair together – too obvious.
Pick yourselves up from the flaw – too obvious.
Don’t play with your words – too obvious.
Is that your food to you? Your food for playing? – too obvious.
Do you sit there, thinking, holding, rearranging? – too obvious.
What do you think about this? Do you want to play? – too obvious.
Pressing with your prints, making your shapes, your marks? – too obvious.
Are you too obvious? – too obvious.
You’re just oblivious – too obvious.
Don’t be blind – too obvious.
Look back at what you do, and think – too obvious.
You should think hard about it. Harder – too obvious.
What. Do. You. See. ? ? ? – too obvious.
Three by three is it? Three little ideas – too obvious.
Little memes stacked one by one, building up to – too obvious.
Build up to – build up to – build up to – too obvious.
-All turn to the audience (they were looking at each other before (inner to inner, outer to…)) and wide eyed and staring say the following very pronouncedly. And in this moment the audience should think that they are being accused, however…
You.

-...Near to the end of the previous spiel Velvet crept out of one of the doors at the back of theatre so as when the callers say “You” she is positioned at the far end of the middle aisle.
-She is now dressed in a long white dress and veil (basically a wedding dress).

-The callers call out: “And we left for the capital of Sweden.” Then run and flowingly as possible down and around the sides of the audience to the back to lift Velvet and carry her up to the front of the theatre and put her down just in front of the stage.
-Once she’s down they say:
And we looked across at him
-All swing their sights up to the right of the stage where Rico has just appeared.
-Velvet then bitterly says:
And he said: No.
-Callers say, while looking, then “hearing”.
We looked, we heard, we liked not.
-Quivering Velvet says:
Why would he?
-Softly
What could cause him to deny us?
-Slightly harder
He should want it more than us. He wants it more than us.
-Then hard, and with bitterness (still Velvet)
He will pull for it harder than us, he will pull, he will force.
Push us down, throwing, nails on shoulders as we feel as if we burn.
-All (Rico has left):
Yes: we burn.
-Callers say the outer, Velvet the inner.
We burn – hands, hands, fingers, nails press – beautiful people,
-Just the callers:
We remember that, we still see, see that, memory.
-Velvet:
Why is he not there now? Why does he seem to lack the momentum?
What is the difference?
-All
We will make him. Force him. Press him too it. We must, together now.
He should, and always should, must, shall, and ever be the influence,
-Said in a conspiratorial voice:
We should be forced.
-Darting their sights about.
Looking eyes – looking eyes – looking eyes.
-Starting to retreat back against the front of the stage. And in a bit of a small voice.
We grow nervous. Why do they look, staring so?
-Abruptly confidence is regained.
No matter, no fear.
-They all run onto the stage and pull back the second curtain to reveal Rico.
We tear at the cloth; he must come back to us again.
-Slyly said, just by Velvet:
Station time: oh it’s never going to be twenty to nine, but does that matter?
-Pulling him as she speaks:
Dragging him, panting, pulling him back to that first room,
-Softer, as she stops pulling him and turns to the audience, then briefly pauses.
Back from when we were inappropriately reversed.
-Then as if appealing directly to the audience:
Why should it be this way? Why should those in want always be denied?
Why when one is by one state is the other by the other? Disagreement abound.
He came and we didn’t; now we do and he doesn’t. Why? Why always the same?
We want, we need the touch again, but we see the looks in their eyes.
We-we-we- know it is wrong, but why – why when it can be so good?
-Becoming bitter again:
It wasn’t wrong for us before, before we were the vic’fffff- the vic’fffff- the victim.
How can that be fair for us now? Call him the victim.
-Over these last lines she becomes rather passionate:
Calling, calling, and calling him, why be that wrong?
Searching, searching, and searching him, why be that wrong?
Chasing, chasing, and chasing him, why be that wrong?
Why be we wrong?
What have we done wrong?
-She freezes in a pose of… well a notable pose…

-Rico suddenly becomes active, and begins his speech, again as if appealing to the audience for answers as he gestures and moves around the stage:
Run away, run away, do you run away?
Why do you run away? I ask do you run away, do you?
When even numbers become odd the same do you run away?
Do you run away? Run away from the change, do you fear the change?
Is it a change? When even become odd is it change?
Why fear you this change?

Never let it be said, that romance is dead,
By pity, and bottle, and gloom,
What is this-what is this-what is this?
And what is this-what is this-what is this?
By pity and spittle and rhythm and loom,
Never let it be said, said-said-said, that romance is dead.
Romance is dead. Dead is romance. Dead is romance.
Is romance dead?
Romance is dead. Romance is dead.

Take the bag, take the bag, take the yellow bag,
The clipping yellow bag that holds us together,
Its takings and securing bounty of our ages.
Do we spill out its inners, spilling forth to make anew?
Do we slip hands in, crush shells and solid commitments?
Do we ever make the even numbers become odd the same?

-The front curtains close as he finishes. Then a newscaster emerges from the between them.
-He coughs, and holds out a page of script, trying to hold it flat in front of himself. Then begins to read.
And now for an announcement:
“And the potter raises his work above his head, clutching it between his hands, long fingers wrapping around this uneven surface, and then he throws, casting it against the engine; it shatters, fragments dropping, sliding down the uneven, knobbly surface. It’s the same, same ancestry as the pots resting on the shelf behind him, but it was different, and now it’s all the more so.
Looking at the fragments, doesn’t it remind you of something? Looking about the room, don’t you see that memory in its reality? Looking at the fragments, doesn’t it remind you of the other fragments? And we all know how fragments come together.”
Thank you for your time, that was the end of your announcement.

-Almost before he finishes his last line comes the following screamed/screeched message:
“And we twist. And we twist in the burn and the rake and the burn, ropes and thorns tie, scrape, entangle. We move, we slide, it grips, takes, takes from, we stay, reluctant to give, but still do, give to it. And it looks to us, we see the same. We see the same, it is the same, the same, and we-we see the same. Look it is the same.”
-The Newscaster is startled by this and it shows (for a start he literally jumps when it starts (it is very loud).

-Quiveringly.
Yes, well, um…
Well you know The Meaning of Life the Universe and Everything, is a book by the late great Douglas Addams, it is the story of…
-The sound of machinegun clattering thunders over the end of his speech, and he judders to the sound. The manically (very quickly) says the following, pausing where indicated:
Hey, Hey, Hey! Man, look to the left, look to the right, look down the middle and then back again. [Pause]
Then repeat it all over again. [Pause]
Look around you, they have all gone, its gone, all is empty, the wastes are endless, you are alone, only your multiplexed personality for company, your sea of faceless brothers and sisters all in the same confused state. You are alone, and you are the crowd, you are it all, you are part of the chain mail, your single link, unimportant yet vital to completeness. [Pause]
You are ethereal, as art we all.
-The sound of machinegun clattering thunders through the theatre again, and he judders before dropping to the ground.
-Two hunched men come out and drag him off stage.

-Then the curtains glide open to see Velvet tied down to a chair on the left of the stage and Rico standing on the right (the callers have gone).
-Rico says this as he rushes forth to Velvet:
You are wrong, you have always been wrong, and you will never be right, because you will always be wrong.
-Shouting in her face:
Wrong!
-Then pulls back, and with lots of gesturing says the following:
Here you are, you stand and see, your eyes as a million blinding pinpricks upon my face, my face so worn and tired, yet you stare, eyes focused, pricking, poking.
-(Yes, she is staring at him throughout this piece – longingly) He basically acts out what he says here, reaching to her eyes then pulling back.
I reach out; I reach out to your eyes. I wish to stub them out. Yet I do not, I could not, it would be wrong.
-Appealing to the audience again.
So much that I see is wrong nowadays.
-Softly to Velvet:
You, your pricking eyes, why, how can they be, how could something so wrong exist?
-Then harder and acted out again:
I cease to falter. I stretch out my arm, reaching to you, you unflinching, still, calm.
Pauses, thinking. Then desperately says:
Why are you still calm? Can you not see what I am about to do? I am about to put out your eyes, but you do not try to stop me, do not move, do not even frown.
-Almost scared sounding:
No, you just prick; it hurts, I feel it as the burn the sun does upon occasion to me, yet… yet I do not feel so inclined to back away from it. This I fear, this is why it is so wrong.
-Harder, almost screaming at her, but with desperation.
Let me cut you, let me bore them out.
-Then very soft:
You know; but you know I will not. That is why you do not flinch.
-Quite softly, but quickly spoken:
Flinch! Flinch! Let me know that I will do it, give me that small quantity of confidence that I require. Be scared, move away, do not doubt me, have but a little doubt in your self.
-Appealing to the audience:
I can now see that it is too late, just as she has known from long before she came close with her pricking eyes.
-Then he sharply turns back to her, and sharply says/shouts:
No! I do not reach for her eyes, I do not! I do-do-do, arrg!
-Almost sobbing as he goes forth to kiss her:
No! I reach for her face, I reach for her face and just touch it, I touch it…
-Totally unexpectedly a loud:
BRINNGGG!
BRINNGGG!
-noise echoes through the theatre. And the audience then becomes alerted to the black Bakelite telephone off at the back of the right hand corner of the stage, resting on a slim, but tall table (indeed the tabletop should be virtually the same size as the base of the telephone).
-It continues to ring and Rico (after regaining his composure after the jolting interruption) paces over to it.

-As soon as he lifts the receiver Velvet’s voice comes loudly sounding around the room and Rico jolts defensively from the receiver before all action on the stage freezes.
-This is what is heard (with appropriate register, etc):
Sliding, sliding-cut-cut, take me, cut me; I see that it is wrong. Tilt-tilt-tilt. You remember the old pinball machines don’t you? I do-I do. This is difficult, this I feel, this I feel now, so long since-so long since I have felt, to feel, to feel, not to pretend, for reality to be true not an act. All has become so twisted, each and every one of us, not just me, not you. We are different to what we could have been, we all could have been, could have been… different, individual, not just people, not just fragments, the tiny fractions that we are of that great and terrible conglomerate that is called people, the people. We could have become individuals, but no, no, it is worse than that, do you not remember? It was different, even that was different; it was peoples, not people. By each becoming so obsessed with ourselves we become less our own, even less individuals, more people; people, hundreds, thousands, millions, and then we become all so. So the same, so deluded, pathetic, revolving, always the same never changing, repeating, tame, tame animals, but since we are all the animals, and always have been, never not to be, we collapse. The tame needs its master, its holder, we, now tame, with no holder, repeat our selves, roles always switching, never changing, never changing, always the same, stasis, stasis until something gives, something shifts. By becoming the same we have given ourselves the ultimate in control of our culture, the ability to stay the same, but such control is lost from the moment it is used… obviously.

-Thunder cracks and rain pours (the sound of (and flashes of light)).
-A newscaster runs straight from the middle back of the stage (entering first from between the curtains, of course) to the front middle. He throws his head back while holding onto his tie. Then resonantly says (while tilted back):
Screaming like a childe who knows that really, they cannot do anything; anything really affecting.
-Nods, then leaves through the closing curtains.

-The rain continues, then after a particularly loud and bright flash of lightning all goes dark, and all that is left is the sound of whistling wind (Ooo, alliteration… I don’t like that)…

Scene 8 – Intermezzo (Leaving)

-The wind continues, and then infolded into it comes the following spiel said by both Rico and Velvet (could utilise alternation, or unison, or both):

Our half is mighty, mighty in death and power,
Death and glory, glory by our death in power,
Falling while in power, death at the peek of power.
Mounting only to fall, climbing for the ultimate drop,
Building is only but the easiest of tasks, the intuitive task,
To reverse all of that, taking steps back, that be the true hard.

Take the concept, look at it in full,
Take the logic, wind your way through its paths,
Do not worry for the pathos,
Do not fear for the bending of your reason,
Take caution though, think before the consequences,
Take careful judging by hand, relive past scenarios.

Our stand is strong, strong in structure and mention,
Structure and concept, concept by our reasoning in mention,
Impermeable while in mention, unbreakable at the height of mention.
Permanent only to fall, wound for the inescapable release,
Falling is only a method to escape the horror, that everlasting fear,
To overcome that, to shower it down, not just accept it, is ever cause of severity.

Take the reality, realise its truths,
Take the pointers, resister them each to yourself,
Do not forget what you grasp,
Do not hide for the lengthening of complacency,
Take thought action; it will still present itself,
Take time, but never let the time become you.

Never let time become you…

-The rain continues…

Scene 9 – Departing

-Then…
-The shudder of the machinegun again. Twice (Brrruuruur. Brrruuruur.).
-The rain continues.

-Rico then begins to speak in a voice seemingly deeper (or graver) than his normal one. He is on the right-hand edge of the stage, but it is still dark so… well… its dark. He speaks slowly and deliberately. The “bang” is quite drawn out.
Bang – One.
Bang – Two.
Bang – One and two.
Hang, hang and swing.
Swing, swing. The one and the two and the-.
-Then much quicker, louder too, but not shouted.
One, one, one, two.
Two, two, two, one.
-The “ohhh” here is more of a groan, you know the type. “Stop” is very clipped.
Manip-, manipu-, ohhh, one and two. Stop.

-This like is very snappy (each sentence very fast, with then almost a pause between them).
Stop that. Reverse that. Turn that back on that inversion.
-Basically, here he just sounds a little demented.
You’ll never get the goldfish back,
You’ll never pull that plunging golden fish back from its cracking flight,
You’ll never. You’ll never. N-n-n-n-n, Nu-Nu.
Haaaaahhhh. Haaaaahhhh.
Pulling rabbits, pulling rats, pulling cravats.

-Lots of enphasis on the “b” of “bang” here.
Bang the fish, bang the fish, bang the fish,
Here we stand and pummel the fish,
Here we stand and eat the fish, bang the fish, bang the fish,
Banged up for the, banged up f’f’f’f’f’ – yu’ say the night?
Sanded in the standing, by the hall of the prangding,
Trringgg, ging-ging-ging.

-A pause.
-Then through the theatre, whispered, but amplified so as audible:
Babe…
Babe… …
Babe…?
I-…
M’a.
Gonna, gonna.
Gonna kill you.
Babe… …

-Back to Rico on the stage.
Banging on the twing of the leaden doors,
Banging and the- -Ahhhhh… Boomsk-say.
Bang-a, bang-a – Ah you say?
Here I say, I say you here, you here, bring her here.
Bring here her.
You say withered be the barite – Iiiiiiihhhhnnnn. The summer. This summer.

-Again a pause.
-Then through the theatre, whispered, but amplified so as audible:
Babe…
Babe… …
Babe…?
I-…
M’a.
Gonna kill you.
Still gonna kill you.
Babe… …

-Back to Rico on the stage.
One in force, two in demented reason,
Reason of loss.
Seek your direction, re-amend to you loss in reason-way-purpose.
One rounded on the clock, two on the shots in the sky,
Sky of harlots.
No you forget the meaning, forget your reason in sight.

And then.
Then.
Then.
Holding firm and- ‘Gunshots’!
Bang a’, a’, aaaa’h,
In… In… Int..

-Velvet’s voice comes through the theatre this time. Rico quietly leaves. And all of the curtains open.
Intoxicating elephants are sounding in my ears. Tears. Fears.
Intoxicating elephants are pounding on the piers. Years. Sears.
The movement in the ground is getting oh so very near.
Help enforcement your self to a sample of:

Girls say that’s what they want.
Girls say that’s what they need.
Girls say:

“Sorry-sorry-sorry, no Sunday…”

-The rain continues…

-The lights are risen to a very dim level, just enough to see.
-Suddenly all the newscasters, callers, hunched men, Rico, and Velvet rush onto stage. The lights flood up, there is the sound of a tremendous amount of rushing water (no, not a toilet flushing – think of the sound of the torrent in “The Flood” from Godley and Creme’s ~Consequences), and they all fall then all lights off.

-The rain continues…

-Then the following speech is broadcast through the theatre (in a trad. narrator voice).
But she didn’t, they didn’t go there, it didn’t end like that as this began, ended.
-Followed by everyone on stage, almost singing, almost groaning the following:
We will burn our hearts born and broken,
We will remember our lives, and memories,
We will be thankful we were taken,
We will remember our deaths, and the release
We will be remembered, by those forsaken
We will remember the scars, the blood, and the screeching.

-The rain continues for a second or two, then stops…

Scene 10 – After it’s All Over

-Lights up on the stage (curtains are closed). The ferret lawyer from the first scene comes back on stage. He is carrying a clipboard with several sheets clipped to it.
-At the middle of the stage he looks around through the audience just over the top of his clipboard. He wears small round glasses (the trad. prim ponce except for the ferrit). He gives the following speech from his notes.
Indoctrination
Lesson I: The art of pre-indoctrination.
When you want to indoctrinate someone to your way of thinking it is essential that they are first pre-indoctrinated for the process to be successful (Please note that in some cases multiple cycles of pre-indoctrination may be required). You must first lead your subject to believe that they are being indoctrinated, this (in most cases) will lead to their wanting to rebel against your control, this is good. It is good since through their rebellion they will develop a sense of security that can then be exploited by your true indoctrination. This indoctrination must be made as undetectable as possible; since while the pre- indoctrination will make it easier to truly indoctrinate someone it will not eliminate their ability to sense it entirely. One good way to hide this is to make their actions (as result of their rebellion) fit your wants. Other ways can be more abstract; however they will be covered in Lesson III: Abstract indoctrination.
-Pauses, looks around the audience. Smugly nods then leaves after saying.
This part of the play has now ended. Please remember your lives. Goodbye.

-Moments later Velvet comes to the front of the stage along with Rico. They are both smiling really cheesy, camp grins (however they should appear sincere – at least in the sense that they aren’t being sarcastic or anything like that).
-“Hello”, says Velvet. “Hello”, says Rico. “Well now that was fun wasn’t it”, they both say in unison (the creepyness of this should be played up if possible – think of the smiling Mr. Oak and Mr. Quill if you must) (and yes, the “fun” line is stolen from Monty Python).
-“As we stand here.” Still in unison, and they are still manically grinning. “Standing, still, here.” Between each of the block of dialogue in this section there should be a short pause. “We will, now, we will.” “Read you, read to you.” “Read to you, the Praise for Run Black Velvet, Run.” “That we know of.”
-They then read out the following. Rico reads the first piece, Velvet the second, and so forth.

“It is truly amazing to think that anyone could possibly write such a large amount of garbage, stuff it onto a shoddily designed set, and then have the audacity to actually perform it in front of people; people who the scriptwriter likes to think are important to him, although, as it is surly clear to anyone who has allowed themselves to be dragged through, it he cares for no one but himself. Not recommended.”
That was posted by an anonymous fan.

And this following note was posted by another anonymous fan:
“When first act opened up I was instantly worried by the horrendous set up, anyone who could possibly think that it could be a good idea to put a scene like that at the forefront cover obviously has some problems. Sadly in many ways it only gets worse, for while there are no more images of the same notoriety (except for possibly those on right at the end) one is then greeted by the playwright’s appalling excuse for wit, as he proceeds to make a seamless stream of one liners that only the dramatist could possibly find amusing. Then we go on to the main prob…”

“Even worse than the usual tripe this stuck up fool pours out, we can only be thankful that we were granted a brief pause as this was written.”
That someone told me to my face.

And a final anonymous fan had this to say:
“The best thing I have ever seen-… Yeah, right. Noooo…”

-Pause. Then, in unison, “Hummm…”.
Another pause. Then, just Velvet:
Oh a grande question for you all here: what career should I try to go into? Now please could you all try to call out a reply saying, for example: “I have no idea you little fucked up little bastard!”…
It was just an example (I was trying to emulate the way that you all talk), and while obviously I would rather you make some phantasmagorical-
-Rico interrupts: hear “great” there
-suggestion I can’t really ask for that. But please have the decency to hit speak and call out “No”, or something like that, please!
Bonvajar…

-They both walk off stage, and just as they leave a newscaster comes on.

-Moments later the following sound is heard sounding through the theatre (Velvet makes the noise):
Ooooooooowoooooooooowwoohoooooooooooooohooooooooohooooooooooo…
-Then the newscaster says (he is reading from a script):
She throws her head back and in a moment reminds the entire audience; reminds them that she shall try her best never to speak to any of them ever again. She then screeches and this is heard over the Tannoy.
-Velvet is heard screeching – over the Tannoy.
Velvet then explodes into a fit of giggles,-
-Velvet is heard exploding in a fit of giggles – over the Tannoy.
-this is something that she doubts any of you will believe has really happened, but it does, for this is the time of year.
-He turns and starts to walk away, then stops before turning back, looking at the audience, and with a kinda “twinkle” in his eye (maybe even a bit of a smarmy grin too) he informs the audience that:
Harmony and life never really went well together.
-Briefly pauses, then primly nods, before leaving.

-Lights dim till off (relatively quickly).

-A “whooshing” noise comes whistling through the darkened room and then Velvet is heard:
I made you all up! I made you all up! You’re not real! But I am, I am real, I am important, I am all that’s really here. Ha ha! You are nothing, but you are always here when I want you to be, always here, never real, never ending. Predictable.

-The sound of a ticking clock again.
-Then the following line is whispered, as ominously as possible.
Watch out for Casting Engines, coming soon… A lie.

End of Act II

End of Courting Velvet


Bonus Feature – Two Deleted Bits, from Courting Velvet:

Hey everyone, I’ve just had like the best of ideas. Haven’t you like always thought that there was something missing from your life, just a little something that you couldn’t quite pinpoint? You know that this something is not what you can buy in any ordinary shop; you know that it is just waiting to be exploited. When you look down pass the stairs and out across the lower landing you can sense that it is missing, you can sense that you are just missing that black steel. Well now we have created the solution to all of your problems; a finely crafted black steel stair gate. Also available in many alternate styles and colours.


Pesso (the new exciting name for Espresso, just pour one half cup of Pesso into some water and there is a 63% chance of it tasting like cheap coffee; a 27% chance of it tasting like second pass cheap coffee, and a 0.2231% chance of something almost entirely unexpected happening)

One Final Note:

In the original story “Run Black Velvet, Run” it was to become apparent that why Velvet was being watched, and that was going to have something to do with the Remote, or Celestis (it never got far enough to decide before I decided to move on to writing Casting Engines instead). This addition came about basically because it was very much a boring story about a boring whinging girl who lived in a grotty flat above the bookstore where she worked. And it was supposed to be boring… for some reason that I seemed to forget very quickly after I started it… Yeah the whole “rape” thing came from “Stockholm Meeting” a little ditty I wrote a while back, and I suppose that really this piece owes more to that than “Run Black Velvet, Run” really.

Bonvajar.

Copyright GalV Productions 2009

FEBUARY SPECIAL DELAYED

Yep, big news that.
Hope to post it next Monday.

It's to be called Courting Velvet; it's a stage play, and here's a snippet of it:

-Velvet continues, ignoring the call.
I could continue on from the point of me watching them running down to the beach, and what I did afterwards (I left); but that should probably be at the end of my story, as while I have never seemed to gain my grip on linearity (probably because events have ever seemed to precede themselves in my life) it would probably seem as if I was trying to make some point or claim about something if I were to tell it from the end backwards. Which, as I came-
-Again from the balcony someone shouts: No it isn’t.
-as I came close to saying before, is decidedly not what I intended; this is to be my little self indulgent story-
-Again from the balcony someone shouts: No. It. Isn’t.
- my little self indulgent story, and not-
-Again from the balcony someone shouts: No. It. Isn’t.
-Un able to ignore the calling anymore Velvet looks up to the balcony and shouts back: What isn’t?
-This isn’t your story. This isn’t “Run Black Velvet, Run”.
-What do you mean it isn’t?
-It’s-
-Go away.
-What?
-Go away.
-What?
-Go away! This is my story!
-Says Velvet as she starts to become hysterical, and then breaks down crying. Then Looks back up to see that the person is still there and hysterically screams:
-You’re all the same! Go away! Go away! Go away! I am here, I am all that matters!