Cut

Yesterday, there was a power cut in our office. We were unable to do any work, so we all made our own entertainment. Some people drew pictures, some people tidied their desks, some people sat around and watched those people do those things.

I wrote the following:

***

There was a power cut in our building this morning. We have power now, but none of our systems are working. The internet isn’t working. None of us are working.

I’m bored, so here I am. Typing this into a Word document like some common urchin.

Urchins are everywhere. The rats of the sky.

You’re never more than ten feet away from an urchin. If you work for an Urchin Shelter, it’s even less.

And don’t get me started on sea urchins. The rats of the sky of the sea. Filthy. They spread disease and cover Atlantean monuments with their droppings. You can barely even see Neptune’s Column. We need a cull.

Besmirchin’ the urchin. That’s my bag. Deal with it.

Someone has come round to say that we may have another forty-five minutes of nothing. More than enough time to write and manually format a screenplay.

INT. CLINIC – DAY

A row of bricks and mortar. Pull out to reveal more rows of bricks and mortar, all stuck together with yet more mortar. This is a WALL.

An old fashioned rotary phone rings. It is answered by LLOYD BORL. He has brown coat.

BORL

Hello? What?

His hands shake. He puts the receiver back on the bit that holds the receiver, disconnecting the call.

NAOMI (OS)

Who was that?

BORL

Wrong number.

NAOMI walks into view. She is in her early twenties, and will be for another two years. Dark hair, blue eyes, smartly dressed, holding golf bag w/golf clubs (woods etc).

NAOMI

Are you OK?

BORL is as white as a white sheet. He is scared [ASK ACTOR TO COVEY WITH FACE].

BORL

Fine. I’m’ll be fine. Have you had

a chance to look at my proposal?

NAOMI

Not yet. I can’t find my glasses.

Must have left them at the 18^th.

BORL

Hole?

NAOMI

Yes.

The phone rings again. BORL gasps, but realistic. He waits.

NAOMI

Do you want me to get that?

BORL

No.

NAOMI picks up the phone.

NAOMI

Hello? (BEAT) Martyn!

With a ‘y’! How are you?

Great! Yes, he’s here. Hold on.

(TO BORL) It’s Martyn with a y.

He wants to speak to you.

BORL has since died.

CUT TO:

EXT. BICESTER – EIGHT

A red sports car races through the city streets. It flies straight through a red light, causing a bus to brake suddenly and break gradually. The driver shouts and waves his fist.

The car speeds on. To avoid traffic, it mounts the pavement. Pedestrians scatter. A dog climbs a lamppost; one of those newspaper box things gets all driven into.

Sirens blare.

A police car is in pursuit. Inside is the police officer CYRENS BLAIR. He’s the most attractive person in the car.

BLAIR

A car chase.

Static signals the beginning of a two-way radio message.

RADIO VOICE

Suspect has been confirmed as

JANE LEGGE. She’s wanted in connection

to last month’s farmers’ market

bombing, and should be considered

dangerous and extremely armed.

BLAIR

A radio message.

The sports car races towards the biggest suspension bridge in Bicester. It weaves in and out of traffic, the sun glinting off its shiny sections.

BLAIR’s police car is catching up. He skilfully avoids a pyramid of milk bottles that some school children have been building as part of a competition.

BLAIR

Milk bottles.

BLAIR’s car is almost bumper-to-bumper with the sports car. He shouts through a megaphone at the fugitive.

BLAIR

Amplified voice.

No response.

BLAIR pulls out his gun and fires at the sports car’s wing mirror.

The radio crackles into life again.

RADIO VOICE

Blair? Come in Blair.

What are you doing?!

Cease fire! You’re gonna

kill someone!

BLAIR picks up the talking-into bit of the radio.

BLAIR

Solution.

We close-up on the shattered mirror. The bullet has smashed it in such a way that the sun is reflected into the eyes of the driver. We don’t see the driver yet, but this information is conveyed using filming/cinematography and the orchestral score.

The sports car swerves one way, then the other, then clips the central reservation and (if budget allows) rolls over several times before coming to a stop.

BLAIR stops his car and gets out. He walks slowly towards the sports car with his gun raised.

BLAIR

(SHOUTING) Bridge encounter.

The door of the sports car swings open, and a leg steps out. The leg’s owner is JANE LEGGE. But as we pan up, we see that her whole head is covered in C4 explosives. 

There's a tiny gap for her to see through. So the whole sunlight blinding thing does work after all, Sarah.

LEGGE

Bmffff lmmmf grrrjjrr fffn.

(OR OTHER MUFFLED NOISE)

BLAIR

Amplify voice.

LEGGE

Bmffff lmmmf grrrjjrr fffn.

A helicopter circles, making bits of paper blow around a lot, and there’s a searchlight.

BLAIR holds his ground.

LEGGE takes one step forward. BLAIR cocks his gun.

A loud speaker from the helicopter blasts out.

HELICOPTER VOICE

Put your hands over

your bomb-head and

lie on the floor.

LEGGE looks up at the helicopter. Then at BLAIR. At least she seems to be looking – her face is obscured by the C4, as mentioned above. But the eye-slit lines up with the helicopter.

BLAIR looks up at the helicopter. Then at LEGGE. Slowly, deliberately, he lowers his gun to the floor.

He walks slowly forward with his hands outstretched in a gesture of not holding anything.

BLAIR

No ploy.

LEGGE looks uncertain through body language.

BLAIR walks closer.

LEGGE looks up at the helicopter.

BLAIR

Potential explosion:

undesirable.

LEGGE

Mmmff rrrrnnnnnnn

MMnnnnrrrr gnnnnn!

BLAIR is visibly shocked at this statement. He starts to run away from LEGGE, waving warning waves at the helicopter.

But it’s too late.

LEGGE’s head explosives explode in an enormous explosion. It takes out a huge section of the bridge. Its plume of fire hits the helicopter, which falls out of the sky, decimating the milk bottle pyramid.

BLAIR runs and jumps off the bridge, narrowly avoiding a huge shrapnel cloud.

BLAIR

Jumping.

He dives into the Bicester river, with chunks of concrete raining down around him.

He sinks beneath the surface. Underwater, he speaks a single word, which we can hear because of bubbles.

BLAIR

Martyn.

The ‘y’ makes a *special* bubble.

***

The forty-five minute estimate turned out to be way off. The systems weren't fixed before home time. Everyone had wasted their whole day.

Everyone except me.

I wrote a screenplay.

I do all my best work when I'm not contractually obliged to work.

I need to find out the name of a river in Bicester. Then I can send this bad boy off.