by Patrick Moloney. 14/03/2016
Hello gods of conception. I am trying to get tickets to the show in Sydney for Wednesday “Together at last for the very first time”. I have no money, and I accidentally told this girl that my plan had worked already. I’m an idiot, but she is out of my league and by lying to her, I suspect, I’ve managed to get her to agree to go out with me.
In return I have written an episode of Fawlty Towers.
…
Okay first I thought I should start with a good joke, then I thought it would be better to start with three good jokes that were easier to write.
Joke number 1. Yes you!
A guy, “Man #1” tries to deny god,
Clown: Go ahead try… wasn’t so easy was it?
Man #1: Now to be fair, it actually was quite easy.
Clown: Well you’ll need one of these then (Clown hands Man #1 a brochure for the new catholic church – now serving Jews).
…
(okay next jokes signor)
…
I seem to have lost the other jokes, no wait here’s one, no that’s two here is joke number two.
Joke 2: The meaning of things.
1: The meaning of life is like people doing stupid shit in movies. It looks good but at the end it doesn’t mean anything.
2: Oh? I’m pretty sure earth is a harvesting ground for souls, bred for battle in an eternal war of good and evil played out in the galaxy. Stay away from the bright light at the end of the tunnel it’s volunteered conscription man.
Joke 3: That was weird.
I was going to use a good joke here about a lost rectal thermometer and a nurse looking for her pen, but it’s been done before – oh good I thought someone would notice, right then on with the show.
ONWARD!
(enter cute distractions to lure you away from any notion of plot development and begin -wait! I’m afraid you’ll need to click on that link below. We are very sorry about this, yes I know, just there below, I’m embarrassed quiet frankly, again very very sorry, really something must be done about this but I just can’t seem to remember when I’m free to do anything about it… Sorry, again, very very sorry… okay what did you think? You haven’t clicked the link yet, you should have clicked the link by now. I don’t know, maybe lets give it another 5 minutes, okay another 5 minutes then I’m calling the union… FINE!).
Joke 4 or 3: Ah ha
Small child “Monty” walks up to a priest “Father Fields”, who is on his knees.
Monty: What is sex like father?
Fields: I don’t know but I’m looking for a loop hole.
OKAY ON WITH THE SHOW ALREADY!
…
Oh wait here it is, I must have already fixed it, gee I’m good.
The film:
Scene 1: ext – small town parking lot. day
Basil stands over the engine of his small French van, with his jacket off and sleeves rolled up.
The door to the back of the van is jammed and is opened only after a ritual of carefully placed knocks.
Basil fetches his tools from the back of the van.
Basil begins to remove the bolts retaining the car battery.
(talking to himself)
Basil: Oh, underneath, it’s not like batteries ever fail…
He gets the bolt off finally, and holds it in the air triumphantly but is momentary blinded by the sun. Then begins on the next one.
– A voice from behind.
Car salesman: Rather lovely day isn’t it?
Basil: Yes, a rather fine day thank you.
Car salesman: Having some car troubles?
Basil: No a flat battery that’s all, nothing I can’t handle on my own, mind you I have better things to do with my time.
Car salesman: Ah, the french are real artist, 2 litters, over heads and six burners with 300 pound towing capacity, nice little mover.
Basil: Yes well art is left up for suggestion isn’t it. In my experience with the french their artistic talents should not be consulted when peoples lives are at stake.
Car salesman: I see it’s causing you some trouble, maybe it’s time for an upgrade? You might get a decent trade in on this, nowadays it’s all Japanese, everyone wants to go faster you see. The problem is people have forgotten how to enjoy themselves, and European cars… I find they recreate the feeling of a summer weekend in France, by the Mediterranean, the women are out dressed in their swimsuits, huh, maybe no swim suits, and the cylinders of a late model sports car purring in your ears.
Basil: Now that’s quite enough of that. Quite frankly a weekend in France sounds like a nightmare by the end of which I’m found drowned in the Mediterranean, and it’s not clear whether it was murder or suicide because that’s not really the point. Now it’s only a flat battery and I don’t need a team of weekend do-it-themselfers, the 1%ers , assembling into to some kind of democratic think group where my opinion means as much as yours, because it’s not happening. Now I am quite capable of changing a flat battery, I’m not an idiot, I run a hotel.
Car salesman: Well just from standing here I can see that your wasting money on a new battery, the harness are all shot. Hi my names Phil by the way, Marcus Phil, I own the car dealership across the road “The European car dealership”.
Basil pulls at the battery but has left a bolt screwed, basil throws out his back.
Basil: Fucking french …
Basil spins in circles with his back arched and one arm in the air while the other is positioned in a way that resembles a teapot.
Salesman steps closer to inspect.
Car salesman: It’s just underneath, there is an attachment bolt securing it in place. if you unscrew that a bit you might just be able to…
Basil: Sorry, I’m afraid I’ve suddenly come down with a bad case of aghh,
Car salesman: Is it your knees?
Basil: No you idiot, quick open the door. I need to sit down
The salesman drops basil too hard in the seat and hears about it, then disappears behind the bonnet. The car begins shaking violently, setting off another back spasm. Basil escapes while verbally abusing the man.
(from behind the bonnet)
Car salesman: aha, –
(walks around to drivers door)
Car salesman: Try that now.
Basil: You big idiot you’ve thrown my back right out, I mean you could have said something…
Car salesman: You do look rather somber actually I mean you can hardly stand up straight.
Basil: (standing up, concealing the pain) and it’s your fault I’m like this, anything for a sale huh, you devil worshiping…
Car salesman: Excuse me…
Basil: Oh don’t start with with me, I went to a catholic school I’ve been wresting nuns all my life.
Car salesman: Fine, have it your way, mind you I fixed your car. Thank me another time. And you can return that battery,
Basil: You scoundrel, guilt was served with breakfast!
Basil looks at the new battery to be returned, and falls to the floor with another back seizure.
….
Hi again.
The truth is I haven’t actually finished. See I only got the idea to do this when Eric Idle and John Cleese (hey guys) interviewed on the abc and I study full time, at a university. As I sat there watching the interview, of what I found out yesterday was edited from a longer version, Iggy Pop’s song the ‘T.V Eye’ came over my temperamental speakers (which I have always suspected were controlled by a higher power). It was then that Idle says for no apparent reason that god is a creation of your own mind. This was followed by a creepy poster of Cleese’s one eye peering at me from behind Idle’s back – shit.
(Reminder about those tickets)
If you scroll down (not yet) you’ll find the plot outline for the Fawlty Towers script. But in the meantime I thought of a sketch for your show. I or someone else could come on stage dressed as a 17th century Victorian woman and start air-fucking. Thrusting left, then thrusting right until people start laughing, and if it works someone pass me a mic and I’ll put sound to it. (Just an idea)
Plot outline.
A mosk is being built in the small town of Torquay, which has no support and has brought in fascists from all over the world.
Basil is forced into helping a group of refugee’s escape the hotel, after they took refuge under Basil’s nose. They escape the Klan railed outside and the racist German staying in the hotel, by dressing as members of a punk rock group. (stay with me)
The band, Basil had let play at the hotel before the mob arrived, to disturbed his wife’s french class because she had been flirting with the french teacher.
Manuel is arrested for theft of a worthless statue, thought to be priceless and is forgotten in prison. Manuel is accused by a hippie couple in town for the race riot, and have been allowed to share a single room.
Also residing is an antic roadshow type production, and one of the antic dealers is interested in Basil’s wife. The dealer lets Sybil believe her mother’s statute is worth more than garbage. The statue is actually stolen by an elderly guest with one large earphone who believes that the gods talk to him through the radio.
And there could be a thing about a painting stolen from a 11th century baroness of Italy by monks. This painting is said to contain a letter between the canvas from Jesus to Marry Magdalene. Which proves that Jesus was a painter and not a carpenter, and of cause, that the whole thing with Marry being his lover was true.
…
Anyhow. Please help me out. I have gone to great lengths to get this girl’s attention, then in one awkward silence I blurted out some nonsense about this having already worked, and ruined it all. I suspect she doesn’t believe me but can you imagine how she would fall for me if this worked. Otherwise I’ll have nowhere to take her.
You can contact me by email at soapjokes@hotmail.com.
Thank you.
Sincerely Patrick.
Writer's Bluff 