Hello all
I would be very curious and a little afraid to hear your opinions on these
first couple of scenes from my sitcom. To give you some background; I wrote this initially as a TV script. My aim was to parody all the typical Austen/period drama tropes, but create an original plot and set of characters to keep people interested in 6 (or more) episodes.
However, I'm probably now going to abandon the project, because there are far too many Austen mash-ups in the pipeline (Pride and Predator, Austen vs Zombies, Pride and Prejudice meets The Office). I'm a little gutted, because (of course) I think my idea is a bit more original, but no way can I compete with all these similar projects, especially as they all have big prod co/celebrity backing.
Still, I don't want to let it go just yet as I can't feel the script is finished until it's performed. So I've adapted it into a radio piece, which I will shortly be recording with some talented actor-types. But I've still got time to hear all your views and possibly incorporate them, if you'd be so kind as to give my paltry efforts the once-over - cheers!
TEASER. INT/EXT. COUNTRYSIDE/CARRIAGE - DAY ONE
BIRDS SINGING, COWBELLS RINGING AND THE SOUND OF WHEELS ROLLING OVER A
GRAVELLED TRACK.
FANNY:
Sunlight lay dappled over the gently rolling hills of
the English countryside. Birds sang cheerfully as
humble peasants carried out some typically rustic
activity.
A COW MOOS. IN THE DISTANCE WE HEAR VOICES.
RUSTIC OLD MAN:
Easy now Daisy ole girl, I'm nearly done 'ere.
COW MOOS AGAIN.
RUSTIC YOUNG WOMAN:
Well 'urry up, coz I were done ages ago, and you're
upsettin' the cow.
FANNY:
And the carriage continued in its steady progress,
carrying our heroine, a young orphan of seventeen,
living under the regency of Prince George, towards
her destiny in the village of Little Feltching under the
guardianship of her kindly uncle and aunt… What a
load of old tripe.
CUT TO:
SCENE 1. INT. CARRIAGE - DAY ONE
PAGES TURN AND A PEN SCRATCHES ACROSS THE PAPER FURIOUSLY.
FANNY:
(CROSSES OUT HER WRITING) Rolling hills,
twittering birds, fornicating milkmaids - and all
narrated by a thinly disguised version of myself.
Yes, tripe's the only word for it! But how can I write
a fresh and arresting novel without inspiration?
Perhaps my fellow passengers will stimulate me. Mr
Clement?
MR CLEMENT SNORES LOUDLY IN RESPONSE.
FANNY:
Mrs Clement?
MRS CLEMENT SNORES AND MUMBLES TO HERSELF.
FANNY:
Oh it's hopeless! My problem is nothing interesting
ever happens. This journey should at least be taking
place in some sort of raging thunderstorm. My
fellow occupants should be delirious with the fever
of a terrible disease, while I nurse them
tirelessly through the night. And finally the driver
should lose his way in the unrelenting dark, sending
us tumbling over the edge of a treacherously steep
precipice.
THE CARRIAGE IS JOLTED AND THERE IS A TERRIBLE COMMOTION. FANNY SCREAMS,
WAKING MRS CLEMENT.
MRS CLEMENT:
Oh, whatever's the matter child?
FANNY
I thought we were about to go over the edge of a
treacherously steep precipice.
MRS CLEMENT:
Must have been a pothole. Plenty of those on the
way to Little Feltching. Ah, soon you shall be w ith
your uncle Pettigrew , your poor mother's brother.
Yours is truly the saddest story I ever heard Miss
Fanny. Your mother dead, your father lost at sea -
presumably dead. And your brother - dead!
FANNY:
Dead?
MRS CLEMENT:
Dead!
FANNY:
No -
MRS CLEMENT:
No?
FANNY:
No, my brother is very much alive, although very
much at sea.
MRS CLEMENT:
Well, it is still very sad, for all your brother's being
alive… You're certain - no chance he's dead?
FANNY:
Yes, quite certain.
MRS CLEMENT:
Oh dear, a great pity… Well, you will be happy in
Little Feltching. It's a quiet village where nothing of
consequence ever happens. There will be
absolutely nothing to perturb you.
FANNY:
(Disappointed) Oh...
THEY CONTINUE IN SILENCE FOR A FEW MOMENTS, WHEN SUDDENLY -
FANNY:
Mrs Clement, your husband, is he quite well?
MRS CLEMENT:
Oh he's fine. Why do you ask?
FANNY:
He has not moved at all during the entire journey.
MRS CLEMENT:
Yes, he's very boring and rigid like that.
FANNY:
But he's stopped snoring.
MRS CLEMENT:
Yes, he's a very contrary and inconsistent fellow.
FANNY:
But mark the pallor of his complexion! The painful
angle at which his head droops! And his pulse -
very feeble. Indeed, feeble to the point of having
ceased! Mrs Clement - your husband is dead!
MRS CLEMENT:
No, he can't be - Abey my dear… Abraham… Dear
God, Abraham… Oh, he's dead, dead!
FANNY:
I will alert the driver. Pray remain calm madam.
Driver! Please stop, I must talk w ith you. A man has
died!
WE HEAR THE SOUND OF THE CARRIAGE STOPPING, THE DOOR OPENING AND FANNY'S
VOICE GROWING FAINTER AS SHE EXITS.
MRS CLEMENT WAILS HYSTERICALLY.
MRS CLEMENT:
My dear husband - dead!
MR CLEMENT:
No I'm not.
MRS CLEMENT
Oh joy of joys! I'm in a state of shock! I'm
overwhelmed! I'm short of breath! I'm not feeling
very well actually.
MRS CLEMENT DIES NOISILY. WE HEAR THE CARRIAGE DOOR OPEN AGAIN AND FANNY APPROACH.
FANNY:
I fear nothing can be done. The gentleman is as
dead as a doornail.
MR CLEMENT:
No I'm not.
FANNY SCREAMS.
MR CLEMENT:
But my wife has just now died in my arms. She
seemed to be under the impression that Iwas dead,
whilst in truth I was merely dozing. The shock of
my sudden revival killed her.
(Tearfully) Why on earth would she think Iwas
dead?
FANNY:
(Awkwardly) Why indeed? Hah - oh dear.
CUT TO:
