Hi, this is my latest 15 minute submission for the Sitcom Trials. Please feed back if you get a chance, I've adjusted the formatting - doesn't paste onto the board too well..
REALITY BITES
Synopsis
Conrad is a principled wannabe documentary maker a la John Pilger, while his flatmate and partner in grime Griff aspires to shockumentaries and mind-numbing reality TV. Their production company – What’s Up Doc – is forever pimping its paltry material to Big Bad Bev, the maladjusted, laser-tongued boss of digital station Reality Bites. Coming in the way of fly-on-the-wall verite and fly-on-the-turd calamity is Clive the Bastard – the latterday Victorian mill owner-styled head of rival Reel TV – a profitable but unprincipled operation.
ACT ONE SCENE ONE.
INT. DAY. CONRAD AND GRIFF’S FLAT
Griff:
How can you call a serious documentary’ “You’re a spaz”?
Conrad:
It’s going to generate free column inches in the papers and leap off the listings magazines. You’ve got to be provocative to survive in this game.
Griff:
Yeah right. Anyway, I spoke to this guy from Poundjet on the phone today–he was camp as..”Bugs Bunny -The Musical”..he says, (does camp voice) “As stated on your conditions of carriage, sir, we cannot offer a refund because you have the ‘flu.”
Conrad:
This is your ill fated trip to Rekyavik.
Griff:
Yeah. So I says, “Bollocks” and he says, “Yes please” and giggles like a Hyena on helium. Then he chats me up..he asks me what I’m up to this weekend instead; when I tell him, “In bed with Lemsip” he quips, “Oooh, lucky Lemsip!” - it was like a bad drag act.. Anyway, without me asking him what he’s up to he tells me he would be going up to Manchester to the gay village but there’s too much ‘going down with the gangs’. I thought this might be gay slang-
Conrad:
Palare
Griff:
I don’t think he mentioned that place-
Conrad:
It’s a word for gay slang.
Griff:
Well done you..anyway, I thought we could make a doc out of it..
Conrad:
What are these gangs?
Griff:
Turns out they’re protection rackets having some kind of turf war. Handbags at 5 paces probably.
HE LAUGHS FAR TOO MUCH AND GETS UP.
So we could go to Manchester and do an investigative piece.
Griff:
I was thinking more of a docusoap – loads of camp caricatures, it’s all part of the magic formula
Conrad:
What magic formula?
Griff: .
I worked it out watching Sky Travel last night.
Griff:
Camp caricatures times wobble-headed feisty queen chavs plus shock value and random scousers minus insight multiplied by tits and arse over goldfish-minded viewer imput, celebs and ritual humiliation = good reality TV.
Conrad:
Q.E.D
Griff:
Quite Erudite….Donrad
Conrad:
You’re like Einstein’s cretin brother. I don’t want to make Celebrity Nude Shit Eating, I want to be Nick Broomfield, John Pilger. And you missed out the provocative title.
Griff:
On the contraire, vicar. The perfect reality show is, therefore: “Celebrity Lift Shaft”, in which Jodie Marsh and Pete Burns unwittingly get trapped in a lift and have to shag their way out on live TV. I bet you £20 Big Bad Bev the boss likes my formula..
THE TWO SHAKE ON THE BET.
ACT ONE SCENE 2
INT. – DAY – REALITY BITES OFFICE/CONRAD’’S GRIFF’S FLAT
BIG BAD BEV IS TICKLING THE FINGERS OF AN INFLATED RUBBER GLOVE. THE PHONE RINGS, CONRAD ANSWERS.CROSS CUT BETWEEN BEV’S OFFICE (THE DIRECTOR OF REALITY BITES) AND CONRAD. BEV’S OFFICE HAS A WALL WITH REALITY BITES IN HUGE LETTERS, THE LETTER B HAS TEETH WHERE THE CURVES SHOULD BE.
Conrad:
Hello, What’s Up Doc productions
BEV HAS HER FEET UP ON THE MAHOGANY DESK
Bev:
Get the carrot out yer arse, Bugs, it’s Bev
Conrad
(covering the phone) Shhh..it’s Big Bad Bev!
GRIFF WALKS BACKWARDS SLOWLY, AS IF HE IS ON THE MOON
Conrad:
I was just watchin-
Bev:
Just pulling the head off it, more like, eh dirty dick?.
Conrad:
Er….
Bev:
nyway, our inferior rivals Reel TV are getting right on my minge.
They’re pulling in more ABC1 18-25 conspicuous consumers and nestbuilding 25-35 early adopters than we could dream of.
Conrad:
Well, we have a big idea..we’ll expose the-
Bev:
What’ve you got, Conrad?
Conrad:
Griff found this article about gang warfare between protection rackets in Manchester’s gay village.
Bev:
This had better be better than “Fart Club”
THE CAST HASTILY PUT ON FALSE BEARDS AND BECOME A GATHERING OF EARNEST LOOKING PEOPLE, FARTING IN VARIOUS WAYS, PUNCTUATED BY PENSIVE LOOKS AND APPROVING NODS. ONE CAST MEMBER FILMS THEM.
THEY REMOVE THE BEARDS AND RETURN TO THE LAST SCENE.
Conrad:
That was Griff’s idea
Bev:
Pitch me by 10 tomorrow
Conrad:
Ok Bev
THE LINE GOES DEAD.
Conrad:
Bye then Bev.
BEV OPENS A CALIPPO, SAYS, “COME TO MUMMY” AND STARTS BITING THEM WITH HER FRONT TEETH WITH ANIMAL FEROCITY.
ACT ONE SCENE 3
EXT DAY A NEWSAGENT. A CONVERSATION BETWEEN 2 APPARENTLY WITLESS YOUNG CHAVVY ASSISTANTS.
Female assistant:
When I’m dead, I don’t want no full nuptial mas or naffin’, they can just take me to a moratorium an’ lower me into a hole. Just the Daily Star? 35p - ‘ere, you from Reel TV?
Clive:
I am an’ all (bellowed in a Victorian mill owner’s accent), you ever watch it?
Female assistant:
Have done. We had a bloke from Reality Bites in ‘ere a minute ago, was talking on the phone about kickin’ your arses in the ratings war or sammink.
Clive:
Did he look a bit like a dirty mole –
Female assistant:
Yeah-
CLIVE GETS CARRIED AWAY AND STARTS MOVING HIS FINGERS AS IF TO MIME THE CREATURES AND OBJECTS TO WHICH HE REFERS, ADOPTING A DERISIVE WHINING TONE, RIGHT IN THE FACES OF THE STAFF.
Clive:
Or a weasel, or an overcooked little dumpling left out in the rain, or a female sewer rat on the rag?
Assistant:
A fierce rival, yeah?
Clive:
Listen, you chavved-up Vauxhall Nova of a man, he’s not a rival, he and his monkey friend make sad little films for a station that is watched by 3 mental patients and one budgie and puts out 3 types of programme: shit, shite and tummy rubbish
Assistant:
Alright mate, I only –
Clive:
”Have you seen “Fart Club”?
Assistant:
Naah, but I saw “Casting Couch” – that was wicked-
Clive:
“Casting Couch”? An anus of a reality show in which escapees from the local loony bin pitched daft ideas to a poker-faced commissioning editor?
Assistant:
It was a bit rubbish, I suppose.
Clive:
They want to make worthy documentaries and we trounce them in the ratings war.. we make a fortune from advertising, they’re lucky to get dirty phone lines to peddle their filthy wares. If you hear anything else, you’ll tell me won’t you?
THE FEMALE ASSISTANT NODS, THEN CLIVE ADDRESSES THE MALE ASSISTANT.
Clive:
And you, Dumbo.
ACT TWO SCENE 1.
INT. – DAY BEV’S OFFICE. BEV IS STARING INTENTLY AT A TUB OF SWARFIGA, LOST IN THOUGHT. CONRAD AND GRIFF KNOCK AND LET THEMSELVES IN. BEV SLAMS THE DOOR SHUT.
Bev:
Let yourselves in, why don’t you.
Conrad:
Sorry, we -
Bev:
Sit down Conrad. And how’s Griff Griff the Sex Biff?
Griff:
Cool as, thanks, lots of ideas.
Conrad:
What’s a “sex biff”? yeah, we think this is going to be a quality documentary, revealing, challenging –
Bev:
Con-raaaad, we’ve got advertising revenue to pursue, an audience with feral tastes – a nation jacked up on Maccy D’s would gag if you force fed them lobster thermadore.
Griff:
Don’t worry, Bev – Conrad’s got an 80s social conscience.
Bev:
Exactly, young, man – reality TV is the new cock fighting –stick a lagered up Nazi footy thug and a wannabe suicide bomber in the same room it’ll go off. Kabooom !
SHE PUTS HER FEET UP ON THE TABLE
Bev:
Are you looking at my minge, Griffo?
Griff:
No!
Bev:
Pity. ‘Cos Mary’s had a leeeeeeetle close shave.
Griff:
(Recoiling) Bev, do you want to know what we’ve got, then?
Bev:
Do your worst, rock cock.
Griff:
Well, there’s these gangs in Manchester’s gay village, right..The beginning could go like this:
V/O Griff:
As part of our ‘Shocking Pink’ season, tonight we investigate the disturbing spread of gangland violence in Manchester’s Gay Village. Canal Street Manchester has been the heart of gay culture for decades. But with gay dentists, gay chip shops to go with the parade of gay bars, the battle for the pink pound just got nasty. You may find some scenes disturbing.
Conrad:
This isn’t what I had in mind, Griff, I wanted a fly on the wall documentary, give the viewers an insight.
Griff:
You’re so 80s, Conrad –and when have you ever seen a fly on the wall looking interested?
Conrad:
But if it panders to lazy stereotypes we’ve failed..
ACT 2 SCENE 2
INT DAY OF NBN FINANCE.
Conrad:
(Extending a hand) Hi, I’m Conrad from What’s Up Doc Productions – we’re making a programme for Reality Bites about the gay village.
TIM, THE MANAGER OF N.B.N FINANCE, IS ERUDITE, SCOTTISH, GAY AND EXTREMELY HARD
Tim:
Hi, Tim Brickhouse, . Manager. NBN Finance.
Griff:
So you’re a ‘gay finance company’?
Tim:
(enthuses) Yeah! –
Conrad:
What is a ‘gay finance company’? What does NBN stand for?
Tim:
Well..we can offer a service within the gay community that the multinationals can’t, like…y know we have local knowledge
Griff:
Without having to create gay call centres in Mykonos.
Tim:
Precisely. NBN stands for Nine Bob Note
Griff:
As in bent as
Conrad:
Will you excuse us for a moment?
BEFORE TIM HAS A CHANCE TO RESPOND, CONRAD FROG MARCHES GRIFF OUTSIDE
Conrad:
Griff, we’re not going to soften him up enough to get information out of him if all your going to do is amuse yourself with 70s style queer gags. How much will it cost to make you behave yourself?
HE GETS OUT HIS WALLET
GRIFF:
Not much, “I’m freeeeeeeee!”.
GRIFF COLLAPSES INTO GIGGLES. AS HE DOUBLES OVER WITH MIRTH, CONRAD GENTLY PUNCHES HIM IN THE FACE.
Griff:
Stop fisting me!
HE GIGGLES AGAIN. CUT TO TIM LOOKING EXTREMELY VEXED BY THIS DISPLAY, EVERY WORD OF WHICH HE CAN HEAR VERY CLEARLY
Griff:
OK Conrad. I’m sorry
Conrad:
Now let’s go back in there and make a docublinkinmentary!
Griff:
Yes Saah!
THEY WALK BACK IN, THEIR NOSES IN THE AIR AS THOUGH NOTHING HAS HAPPENED.
Conrad:
Sorry about that, Griff just had one of his nosebleeds.
Tim:
(acerbic) I’ll get you a tissue if you like.
Griff:
No, I’m good now, thanks. It’s a good job I brought my trusty…
HE REACHES INTO HIS POCKET AND CAN ONLY PRODUCE SOME BUBBLE YUM
Griff:
Bubble Yum
Tim:
So, Nine Bob Note - Aye. We’re appropriating a pejorative term and using it in an ironic way.
Griff:
But you’re not, bent, though .
Tim:
I’m as gay as the hills, mate but I’m not bent as in unscrupulous. Ya can keep yer unscrupulous.
Conrad:
So tell us about the gangland violence, with whom you are you in dispute.
Tim:
The Disco Briskets.
Conrad:
The Disco Briskets?
Tim:
Aye, the Disco Briskets – aye that bunch o’ doss maggots.
HE SPITS ON THE FLOOR BUT THE SPITTLE ACCIDENTALLY HITS CONRAD’S SHOE.
Tim:
Sorry Conrad:
Conrad:
They needed cleaning anyway.
TIM CONTRITELY KNEELS DOWN AND CLEANS THE GENEROUS AMOUNT OF SPIT FROM CONRAD’S DIRTY SHOE, HURLS IT ON THE FLOOR.
Tim:
Well if we’re gonna survive in this village we need support. Too many gangsters looking to rip us off for protection money. I’m part of , well, leader of the Brickhouse gang…We’re gonna see ‘em off and I want you to film it.
CONRAD AND GRIFF LOOK AT EACH OTHER. FADE TO BLACK
ACT 2 SCENE 3
CLIVE THE BASTARD IS SPEAKING ON THE PHONE THROUGH A COMB, COVERED WITH TISSUE IN A PATHETIC ATTEMPT TO DISGUISE HIS VOICE.
Clive:
Oh helloooooo, my name’s Lesley
Bev:
That’s a girl’s name
Clive:
It is! that’s what they all say.but, hang on I’ll check..no I’m still a man.
BEV LAUGHS FLIRTATIOUSLY
Clive:
I’m from the Guardian on Sunday and we’re looking to do an interview with you about the exciting work you are doing at the moment
Bev:
Oh, weeeell!
Clive:
So what great things are Reality Bites up to at the minute?
Bev:
Oh, well, a company called What’s Up Doc are making a programme for us about the gangland violence in Manchester’s gay village..
Clive:
Reeeeeeally?
Bev:
Affirmative. They’s just phoned me and told me that there’ll be something going off outside a, aha, “gay finance company” called “None Bob Note”
Clive:
And that’s in the village itself..
Bev:
Mmmmm.
BEV is TWIRLING HER FEET, THE BACK OF HER SHOE FALLING DOWN.
Clive:
And what’s the postcode?
Bev:
Sorry?
Clive:
It’s ok-
CLVE SLAMS THE PHONE DOWN. CUT TO BEV LOOKING PUZZLED AS SHE HEARS THE TONE.
BEV REPLAYS THE CONVERSATION IN HER HEAD, SAVOURING THEN REGURGITATING THE BEST BITS.
Bev:
We’re looking to do an interview. With you. Affirmative!
SHE SMILES BROADLY AND PLAYS WITH HER HAIR.
.
ACT 3 SCENE 1
INT. – NIGHT. GRIFF AND CONRAD SITTING ON THE COUCH WATCHING REEL TV’S VERSION OF EVENTS.
ANNOUNCER SAYS:
V/O
Coming up later on Reel TV, “Celebrity Milk Race”. Before that, er comes, a hard hitting look at hommer-sexuals ooop north in, “Queen Streets”.
CONRAD
They beat us to it again didn’t they.
GRIFF:
Clive the Bastard and his dastardly deeds.
THE PHONE RINGS, IT’S BEV. CONRAD ANSWERS.
Conrad:
Oooh, Hi
Bev:
Shitting buggery, Conrad. it’s me. You two have arsed up again haven’t you?
MINDFUL OF BEV’S IMPENDING WRATH, GRIFF HASTILY SCRAWLS A MESSAGE ONTO A PIECE OF A4, SAYING: “NEW IDEA!”
Conrad:
Bev, we’ve got a new idea.
Bev:
You mean Reality Bites needs more cack-thumbed imput from What’s up Cock? I need you two like I need anal bleaching.
SHE GETS A MAKE UP MIRROR AND APPARENTLY CHECKS THE COLOUR OF HER ANUS UNDER THE TABLE.
Bev:
So what is it?
FADE TO BLACK
ACT 3 SCENE 2 INT. – NIGHT, CONRAD AND GRIFF’S FLAT.
GRIFF IS SITTING WITH A PEN AND PAD AND CONRAD SITTING ON THE ADJACENT COUCH. THEY ARE PLANNING NEXT WEEK’S SORRY ATTEMPT AT MAKING A SHOW, ENTITLED, “IDOL FANTASY”.
Conrad:
So, we audition for people to sing or a hoax TV show called, “Idol Fantasy”
Griff:
Like X Factor without celeb presenters
Conrad:
Or the budget, or the celeb judges
Griff:
Or the prize
Conrad:
Or any of the factors that make up the programme.
Griff:
Not even The Factor, then
Conrad:
It’s a hoax, it’s Candid Camera
Griff:
Or Space Cadets
Conrad:
So we lure the auditionees into the misguided belief that the winners would be singing on live TV in front of millions, as a kind of social experiment.
Griff:
Yeah! In a huge stadium.
Conrad:
The new Wembley.
Griff:
Then they learn the truth, that the “winners” will have to run out into the stadium in their underpants and be pelted with shit by some simpleton farmers at the side of the stage.
Conrad:
Then interviewed about the experience. To gain some insight into the powers of suggestion – like Derren Brown
Griff:
Then they get hosed down and have to run for safety over a freezing pool full of jellyfish.
THEY SILENTLY STARE INTO SPACE, HAVING RUN OUT OF IDEAS.
