SHORT: We'll Go Dreaming. [2005]

We'll Go Dreaming.

All of a sudden I awoke to find myself in Poland confronted by a duck.

I looked down at him and he stared back up at me. The silence was unnerving. I glanced around in confusion, unsure as to how I got here or what my exact purpose was. But the only visible sight was a blinding whiteness which stretched out for miles, the soft caress of sleet billowing against my face as we stood alone together in this unworldly vista. Shielding my eyes from the glare, I began to sense a higher calling, and found my lips moving involuntarily as I spoke in a subservient drone. ‘What is thy bidding?’, I enquired, the falling snow melting delicately into my skin to create a burning sunscreen which shielded me from the bitter chill. He cocked his head inquisitively, as if sifting through my soul with his small black eyes. After what seemed like an eternity, he opened his puckered bill and honked two phonetic syllables. ‘Fuk fuk’, said the beast.

The ground began to move backwards underneath me, creating a slippery treadmill which forced me to run, and before long I was sprinting. Clumsily, awkwardly, stumbling at first, like a newly-freed marionette cut from his strings and desperate to take flight. I didn’t know where I was headed, much less what awaited me when I arrived. But I was possessed, frenzied almost, rabid with the magnetic taste of adrenaline and an aching need to appease my self-appointed master. My travels took me far and wide. I forged new paths across rolling Arabian sandscapes, my silhouette undulating through the heatlines against a roaring desert sunset. I traversed broken walkways, bridges of fraying rope and rivers of hot coals. Slashed by scimitars, drenched in sweat, my person little more than an ailing mirage, I eventually returned to him with an offering: a mummified spiritual tome ensconced in the dust of ancient temples, and a chalice from which was drunk the fermented wine of once-sacred fruit.

Breathless and expectant, I held them out to him. Yet still he only stared at me, stepping quizzically from one webbed foot to another and arching his plumed wings. ‘Fuk fuk’, said the beast. And so again I turned and started to run, as if propelled by a force I could never hope to understand. My quest took me to a remote log cabin buried deep in the hills of a place called Netherworld and into the arms of Princess Agnieszka, the lone surviving member of a distant offshoot of the Romanov dynasty cruelly exiled from Upper Silesia in the early 1900s. With her I spent forty days and forty nights bathing in the waters of lyrical ecstasy. A gymnast of considerable agility and zeal, come evening she would lay me on the floor, slather her body in warm honey and use me as her Twister mat, the glow of a thousand candles gently radiating from her sensuous form. My beauty. My love. My one and only. And when our time together on earth had elapsed, so I obediently returned to the desolate wasteland of my initial calling, bearing a chestful of gold and a lock of her silken hair.

But still the beast could only stare. In a fleeting moment of madness I felt daring enough to question his will. What did he want from me, this tyrant, this tormentor? I knew only that in his words lay the key to infinite wisdom and the potential of salvation, of a sanctity that knows no bounds. But again he offered no answers and stood perfectly still, his mesmerising hold flowing through me from beneath the shiny surface of his pincushion gaze. ‘Fuk fuk’, said the beast. ‘Fuk fuk’.

I span on my heels and again fled towards the beckoning arms of destiny. This time my hunger was relentless, my determination paramount. I vaulted across gaping chasms, scaled jagged cliff-faces and howled in the darkness of underground caves. I crawled my way across rocky landfills littered with pitiless shards of slate, my lacerated feet begging for leniency as they bled tears of indignant rage, and fought for my life against brutal rapids whose unforgiving current swept me mercilessly downstream before catapulting me over the precipice and into the depths below. Choking on my last reserves of oxygen, my lungs brimming with silt and saltwater, I hauled my bedraggled frame back to the place of our first meeting, clawing pathetically at the snow as one hand scrabbled desperately to outdo the other. Atop my skull sat a jewel-encrusted crown salvaged from the splintering remains of a forgotten maritime disaster, which I proceeded to lift up with my blackened fingernails and place in front of him.

But again there was only silence, followed this time by a brief moment of recognition. The beast shook his head, arching his neck forward slightly to reveal what I swear was discernible as a glint in his eye. ‘Fuk fuk’, he said, and immediately I understood what had previously seemed so impenetrable. The clarity rushed through me with the destructive wash of a tsunami, purifying my senses and sweeping away the years of foolish doubt, the vacuous plughole inside me gurgling noisily until there was nothing left but the soothing drip of calm.

And so I died. Suddenly. Blissfully. At one with myself and all that surrounds me. No fear. No pain. Only the resonant quack of enlightenment echoing gracefully as I found myself falling into a bed of feathers, cushioned and protected forevermore.

C.C. 12/03/05

LYRICS: Build America [2009]

Build America

You’ve got eyes, wild, a maze of illusion
You say you’re building a land of the future
But the boat that transported you here today
Was left cast ashore before turning away

In the storm, thrown by the sting of a wave
Overboard, her captaincy there to be saved
By the same gods who would raise up the tide
And leave not – one - soul left alive…

You laid three graves where this quake split the earth
Commissioned a flag to embroider your worth

You don’t know, no, how your life’s about to change
You don’t know, no, that I’m slipping out of range
You won’t know, no, when good things are coming to you
Oh, don’t you know good things are coming to you soon…

Now your heart yearns like a fire in November
Burns more fuel than you care to remember
Too scared to cry for the love of a saviour
Too drunk to dream of our romantic failure

Take arms, destroy all that’s left of the union
Your mind, a library of rage and confusion
That glows white as it repopulates
All the ships bound for the United States

You raised this whole country up from the ground
But you’re not discovered yet, you’ve not been found

You won’t know, no, how your life’s about to change
You won’t know, no, that I’m slipping out of range
You won’t know, no, when good things are coming to you
Oh, don’t you know good things are coming to you soon…

I can’t feel anything
I can’t taste anything
I don’t love anyone
I won’t live anymore

C.C. 25/01/09

SHORT FILM: I'm Batman [2009]

I'm Batman

FADE UP:

INT. OFFICE - DAY

ANGLE - a typically nondescript corporate working environment.

SIDE ANGLE – slow zoom in on KEVIN DAWSON, a mousy-looking office worker in his late-20s. He wears glasses and a short-sleeved shirt & tie combo most probably chosen by his mother.

FRONT ANGLE - while computer keyboards clack away in the background, KEVIN gazes through a line of superhero action figures blue-tacked to the ledge of his cubicle as he gazes at an incredibly BEAUTIFUL GIRL across the office.

ANGLE – the BEAUTIFUL GIRL doesn’t notice his lovelorn gaze.

ANGLE – KEVIN’s concentration is broken by two Jock-like, bullying MALE COLLEAGUES who appear behind him in designer suits & ties.

COLLEAGUE #1
- Yeah, dream on, Dorkson!

KEVIN
(flustered, backtracking)
Um... I don’t know what you’re...

COLLEAGUE #2
As if. She’s way out of your league, man. You’re, like, ten rungs down the ladder on that food-chain. You’re not even fit to ask her the time of day, Dorkson...

KEVIN
Um, it’s, it’s Dawson, or, or Kevin, I...

COLLEAGUE #2
Yeah, whatever, Dorkson... did you finish that report yet?

KEVIN
Um... I’m not quite done imputing all the data, but I’ll be finished by three.

COLLEAGUE #1
Better make it one, buddy - we needed it, like, yesterday...

KEVIN
I’ll try.

COLLEAGUE #2
You’ll do it, pal. Or we’ll see your ass in the parking lot after work...

COLLEAGUE #1
Yeah. Got your little action figures there, Dorkson...?

He flicks a figurine of Batman off the ledge and the pair laughs to themselves as they walk away.

ANGLE - a humiliated KEVIN gingerly ambles round to the other side of the desk and stoops to pick up the action figure. He steals an embarrassed glance at the BEAUTIFUL GIRL...

ANGLE ON BEAUTIFUL GIRL – again, she doesn’t notice him.

CUT TO:

INT. LUNCH ROOM - LATER

KEVIN sits by himself eating a packed lunch (again, most likely prepared for him by his mother). He is reading a comic-book.

C.U. – the panels of the comic. We cut from one static frame to the next as Batman defeats another nemesis to the sound of action-hero sound effects.

ANGLE – KEVIN smiles quietly to himself.

CUT TO:

INT. OFFICE – LATER

KEVIN returns to his workstation and is about to sit down as we cut to:

C.U. – a piece of string tied to the base of his swivel chair.

ANGLE – we see the two MALE COLLEAGUES yank the string from across the office, causing it to rip away just as KEVIN moves to sit down.

FRONT ANGLE – KEVIN falls backwards onto the floor.

ANGLE – the two MALE COLLEAGUES laugh wildly as they observe his pratfall.

COLLEAGUE #1
Watch yourself there, Dorkson...

COLLEAGUE #2
You wanna watch it, mate, he might set Superman on you...

ANGLE – an embarrassed KEVIN picks himself up off the floor and moves to retrieve his chair, glancing over in the direction of the BEAUTIFUL GIRL.

ANGLE – the BEAUTIFUL GIRL glances up for the briefest of moments, then goes back to her work.

ANGLE – a clearly upset KEVIN retakes his place at his desk and attempts to keep his head down. His colleagues’ laughter fades to an echo as we cut to:

INT. KEVIN’S BEDROOM – LATE NIGHT

KEVIN is lying in bed in the darkened room, absent-mindedly playing with a torch which projects the Batman insignia onto the ceiling. He flicks the button on and off as he watches it appear, then disappear.

ANGLE on KEVIN - Danny Elfman’s Batman Theme creeps onto the soundtrack as he stares up at the ceiling.

SLOW ZOOM ON CEILING – the logo continues to project in the dark;

C.U. ON KEVIN – his eyes thin slightly as he gazes up at the image;

C.U. ON CEILING – the logo continues to project on the roof;

C.U. ON KEVIN – a moment of epiphany.

C.U. ON CEILING - tight in on the projected logo.

The music then blares to life as we cut to the following shots in rapid succession, enhanced by exaggerated sound effects:

C.U. – a pair of pyjama bottoms covered with the Batman logo are swiftly pulled up over a pair of similarly-decorated boxer shorts;

C.U. – two socks featuring the Batman logo are quickly pulled up over the ankles of the pyjamas;

C.U. – two quick shots of a pair of black Converse All-Stars covered in the Batman logo being pulled on and the laces tightened;

C.U. – a T-shirt with the Batman logo is swiftly pulled down over his chest;

C.U. – a dressing gown featuring a large Batman insignia on the back is pulled on and straightened defiantly;

C.U. – two black leather gloves are quickly pulled on;

C.U. – a rather rubbish imitation of the Batman mask is pulled down over his face.

We then cut to a slowly retreating frontal angle which reveals, in unnecessarily moody lighting, the sheer ridiculousness of his costume: he is covered in Batman paraphernalia from head to toe.

CUT TO:

EXT. KEVIN’S HOUSE – MOMENTS LATER

C.U. – two quick cuts to fins being attached to the top of his Suzuki Alto;

C.U. – car door slamming;

C.U. – gear-stick being engaged;

C.U. – wheels spinning and smoke hissing from tyres;

ANGLE – the back of his car as it pulls away into the night.

Music comes to a triumphant end.

CUT TO:

EXT. STREET – LATE NIGHT

A vulnerable and nervous-looking young WOMAN walks along the street, the sound of her heels echoing eerily against the pavement.

ANGLE - as she passes an ALLEYWAY, something stirs behind her and she is suddenly grabbed from behind by a HOODLUM who covers her mouth and drags her with him.

ANGLE – the HOODLUM pins her against the alley wall, covering her mouth as she attempts to scream. He holds a knife to her throat.

HOODLUM
Don’t make a sound. Give me your purse and all your jewellery.

The WOMAN thrashes in protest, but he pushes the knife further into her neck.

HOODLUM
Just try me, sweetheart...

At that moment, a rope with several knots tied in it appears at the side of them.

HOODLUM
(confused)
What the hell...?

Still dressed as Batman, KEVIN ploddingly abseils down the rope and eventually jumps down onto the floor. While the perplexed HOODLUM and WOMAN look on, KEVIN walks up to the HOODLUM, pushes him weakly and slaps him lightly across the face. Stunned, he releases the WOMAN.

HOODLUM
I’m... I’m sorry, I don’t...

The WOMAN beats a hasty retreat behind him.

REVERSE ANGLE - the HOODLUM doesn’t notice her leave, instead staring in bewilderment as KEVIN walks past him to the end of the alley.

HOODLUM

Who are you?

ANGLE ON KEVIN:

KEVIN
I’m Batman.

Music strikes to life: Elliot Goldenthal’s Batman Overture.

KEVIN holds his fist out like Superman in flight and triumphantly runs away, leaving the dumbfounded HOODLUM staring after him in bemusement.

The music continues as we cut to BATMAN MONTAGE:

EXT. ROOFTOP – KEVIN girly-slaps repeatedly as he advances towards another stunned THUG, who backs away in confusion.

EXT. BUILDINGS – KEVIN swings into view on a rope, before awkwardly swinging backwards and dangling precariously in mid-air.

EXT. STREET – KEVIN thwarts an attempted mugging by throwing a frisbee at another hapless THUG.

EXT. STREET - a POLICE OFFICER and his cuffed CAPTIVE both look stunned as they stare up at the top of a nearby building. The shadow of KEVIN holds out a triumphant fist and runs away into the night.

CUT TO:

INT. OFFICE - DAY

The music suddenly ceases as we return to everyday life. KEVIN is introvertedly filling out a Spreadsheet at his desk. He looks around nervously as he is startled by some bawdy laughter from the two MALE COLLEAGUES in a conference room.

Attempting to settle back into work, he becomes distracted again by the sight of the BEAUTIFUL GIRL across the room. She is unwrapping her lunch at her desk; she takes a slow bite of an apple and gently wipes away a drop of juice that runs down from the side of her mouth.

ANGLE ON KEVIN – he continues to gaze longingly in her direction, trying not to be noticed.

ANGLE ON BEAUTIFUL GIRL – she opens a small carton of milk, holds it to her mouth and drinks it down.

C.U. on her lips as she pulls the carton away - she runs her tongue slowly over her top lip, before absent-mindedly biting her lower lip.

ANGLE ON KEVIN – he stares intently at her.

ANGLE ON BEAUTIFUL GIRL - she happens to glance over in his direction.

ANGLE ON KEVIN – he looks away quickly in embarrassment, before glancing back up again for just enough time to catch her gaze.

C.U. – the BEAUTIFUL GIRL’s eyes as she looks over at him.

ANGLE on KEVIN – he quickly looks away again.

CUT TO:

SECOND BATMAN MONTAGE – NIGHT

Danny Elfman’s Batman Theme jumps to life again as we cut between the following shots:

EXT. ALLEY – from an upward angle, we see KEVIN’s dressing gown billow dramatically as he descends, before cutting to him flapping about on top of a THUG as he wrestles him from behind.

SPINNING NEWSPAPER – “JUSTICE COMES TO WAKEFIELD!”

EXT. STREET - KEVIN’s legs pedal desperately in an attempt to gain forward momentum as he zips awkwardly along an aerial line.

SPINNING NEWSPAPER – “CRIME RATE FALLS! Masked avenger saves city!”

C.U. – side angle as he slaps a THUG’S FACE lightly.

ANGLE – the THUG hurtles through the air unnecessarily.

C.U. – reverse angle as ANOTHER THUG’S FACE is slapped from the other side by Kevin’s leather glove.

ANGLE – the THUG again goes flying.

C.U. – front angle on THUG’S FACE as he takes a quick one-two-three slap on opposite cheeks.

SPINNING NEWSPAPER – “VIGILANTE STRIKES AGAIN!”

EXT. ALLEYWAY – the music dips slightly as a scruffy-looking THUG looks on in amusement while his friend wrestles with a distressed-looking DAMSEL.

THUG #1
Come on, baby, you and I are going to have some fun!

DAMSEL
(screaming)
- HELP ME!

ANGLE – KEVIN’s Suzuki Alto screeches into view and brakes to a halt.

THUG #2
It’s Batman!

THUG #1
Let’s get out of here!

KEVIN steps out of the car and walks towards them. As they run away down the alley, KEVIN picks up a nearby piece of scrunched-up trash and throws it after them.

THUG #1
(in the distance)
God help us...!

KEVIN
(to DAMSEL)
Sorry about that, ma’am.

He turns to leave.

DAMSEL
- Wait!

She grabs him and kisses him passionately. He fumbles awkwardly before she releases him and he moves back towards his vehicle.

DAMSEL
- Call me!

KEVIN
(beat)
Is it the car?

He motions to the crappy-looking Suzuki Alto.

KEVIN
Chicks love the car.

C.U. – door slamming.

C.U. - keys turning in ignition.

C.U. - exhaust pipe sputtering.

C.U. – wheel spinning.

ANGLE – the car pulls away.

ANGLE – the WOMAN’s impressed face: wowee, zowee!

Music ends as we cut to:

INT. OFFICE - DAY

FRONT ANGLE - KEVIN is staring forlornly once again at the oblivious BEAUTIFUL GIRL over the ledge of his cubicle. His view is suddenly blocked by the backs of his MALE COLLEAGUES as they step in front of him.

REVERSE ANGLE – KEVIN’s P-O-V looking up:

COLLEAGUE #1
(holding up a sprig of holly)
Hey, Dorkson. Bringing your mistletoe to the office party tonight?

COLLEAGUE #2
(sneering, motioning across office)
Yeah. Maybe that “special someone” ’ll let you get to first base...

COLLEAGUE #1
(glancing over at her)
Ha! As if. Better get in line, son – there won’t be anything left by the time we’ve finished with her!

COLLEAGUE #2
(knocking over all his figurines)
Catch you later, Dorkson...

ANGLE ON KEVIN – he looks down in embarrassment as they leave, then glances over at the BEAUTIFUL GIRL.

ANGLE ON BEAUTIFUL GIRL – her image gradually becomes a blur as we fade to:

EXT. OFFICE PARKING LOT - NIGHT

The lights are on in the building upstairs, and the sound of a party can be heard emanating from inside.

The two MALE COLLEAGUES emerge from the premises with two tipsy-looking women on their arms.

WOMAN #1
I feel funny...

MALE COLLEAGUE #1
Oh, that’s just the mix of the punch, love, nothing to worry about...

He looks over at MALE COLLEAGUE #2 and winks knowingly at him. They share a look of smug recognition.

WOMAN #2

(woozily)
Why was mine blue?!
(playfully)
Are you trying something...?!

MALE COLLEAGUE #2
Ladies! As if we would ever seek to exploit your dignity. Now! Let’s see what’s underneath that Gucci...

WOMAN #1
(brushing him off)
I don’t feel well...

MALE COLLEAGUE #1
(to his friend)
Well, I feel just fine...

WOMAN #2
Wait... what’s that...?

The Batman Overture strikes to life as a shape appears in the shadows: KEVIN dressed as Batman. The WOMEN skitter away as the two MALE COLLEAGUES strain to make out the image.

MALE COLLEAGUE #2
Is that... Dorkson...?!

MALE COLLEAGUE #1
Dorkson?! What are you doing here? And why are you dressed in your pyjamas?!

KEVIN
I’m not Dorkson. I’m Batman. And I’m here to take out the trash...

Just as he reaches for a plastic gun on his utility belt, we hear the cracking of a whip.

VOICE
(O.S.)
- Wait.

ANGLE – we pan from the floor up as we see a female FIGURE crouched in a squatting position. She is dressed in a fairly risible approximation of the Catwoman costume, and is holding a twig with a long piece of string attached to it. She lifts her head slightly so that we can see her mouth, but not the rest of her masked face.

CATWOMAN
These bozos are mine.

She awkwardly cartwheels and makes various failed attempts to back-flip towards the two COLLEAGUES, flailing her makeshift whip around all the while. They back away as she approaches, not quite knowing what to make of the situation as she hits both of them repeatedly with it.

COLLEAGUE #1
Ow, that... that stings! Stop it!

COLLEAGUE #2
Ow! That really hurts!

COLLEAGUE #1
Stop it, you’re – ruining my shirt! Oh, God, let’s get out of here!

COLLEAGUE #2
Let’s never talk of this.
(running away)
You too, Dorkson! Code of silence! Amongst men, and all that...?!

ANGLE ON CATWOMAN as she watches them leave.

CATWOMAN
- Meow.

She cartwheels awkwardly back towards KEVIN and they stand facing each other. Her face is still partially obscured by the shadows.

KEVIN
- Who are you?

CATWOMAN
I’m Catwoman. Who are you?

KEVIN
I’m Batman.

CATWOMAN
(beat)
...Cool.

There is a brief pause as they stare at each other, before she lowers her face slightly into the light and we finally see her eyes purring playfully up at him from beneath her mask: they are clearly those of the BEAUTIFUL GIRL from the office.

She licks her top lip slowly, then smiles as she coyly bites her lower lip at him.

C.U. on KEVIN as BATMAN – his eyes light up, and the sides of his mouth curl into a smile of recognition.

CUT TO:

MISTY BLUE BACKDROP

Danny Elfman’s reprise of the Batman Theme starts up.

In slow motion, we see the silhouettes of the makeshift BATMAN and CATWOMAN running towards the camera. His dressing gown flaps gracelessly in the breeze and his mask wobbles on top of his head as he advances; she falters halfway as she attempts another awkward cartwheel.

CUT TO BLACK.

Roll credits.

End.

C.C. 29/11/09

LYRICS: Safe [2005]

Safe

She whispered as the night unfurled,
a thousand ways to stop this world, but
don’t look now; don’t look now…

She held my sadness deep inside,
with no call for disguise as she said:
“Don’t look now; don’t look now…”

You put me in a box in the ground,
it’s sealed so tight I can’t be found -
“You’re safe...”
You put me in a box in the ground,
I’m trying so hard to make no sound –
“You’re safe…”

In all your love
for all time
and all my joy
in these severed lives

So I climbed out upon the wing,
the last rite I could bring, and you say:
“Don’t look down; don’t look down…”

Her kingdom fell, they all did bow
But her words echoed true: “Be still now” –
don’t look down; don’t look down…

You put me in a box in the ground,
it’s sealed so tight I can’t be found -
“You’re safe...”
You put me in a box in the ground,
I’m trying so hard to make no sound –
“You’re safe…”

In all your love
for all time
and all my joy
in these severed lives

And it all came down
Right before you hit the ground
And it all came down
Right before you hit the ground

All your love
for all time
all my joy
in these severed lives

C.C. Nov 05

SHORT: Where Is My Love [2005]

Where Is My Love

My love lies silent on the bottom of the ocean. Her eyes are closed as she gracefully exhales, her tangled hair drifting aimlessly in the undercurrent. The air she breathes is fragile, cracking like porcelain with each elegant pulse. And as she lay there, so did I redeem her; I searched for my love and fumbled the catch at every opportunity, powerless to halt the restrictive undertow which slowly enveloped my lungs.

Where is my love? She is forever out of reach - a decaying embryo, transient and dysfunctional as she sinks without struggle into the quicksand below. She’s in the sky; she is overhead and faltering as I start to run on frantic legs which take flight beneath me in a desperate bid to meet her halfway. Falling through the air in suspended animation, battered by the pressure, oblivious to the violence as I fail to materialise upon hitting the ground. At that height, no-one could survive. I am liquid as she forces me to the point of total disintegration, the fractured pieces solidifying in mercurial attraction, a colony of unquestioning drones obeying their queen.

Where is my love? I drank it away, staring upwards in slack-jawed stupor as I watched the revolving patterns spiral on the ceiling above me, arching my back beyond its elastic capacity and letting the distortion bristle through me as wave upon wave pulsated and spasmed and I willed the flood of a thousand lonely nights to the surface. Naked in front of an audience of thousands, slam-dancing to oblivion. I played in sets for you: ones, twos, threes. I tried to reach out and squeeze your heart from the other side of the room. A meaningless echo, endless poems to no-one reverberating across an empty dancefloor. It’s easy. It’s honest. I drivelled like an unbalanced puppy, a mushy haematoma lacking fundamental hormones, repeatedly smacking my chemically-softened brain into glass doors as I ran up against the ghost of your reflection and never seemed to learn. Batted around like a swingball in June, inviting in the noise and embracing its abuse with open arms: the rebel, the king, and everyone inbetween.

Where is my love, my rollercoaster sickness, the one that I adore? Her beauty echoes through eternity, shimmering in xylophonic harmony, an expanding ripple refracted through a diamond. She is a prism of light, a collection of words burnt into the page, a monotonous lullaby descending note-by-note in chromatic succession. She is the first to arrive and the last to leave, always there, twitching like pollen in the summer breeze, soaring majestically in an allergic explosion as she overpowers every fibre of my being. She is a cavalcade of empty distraction, a glitterball mosaic of waterfall rhythms pounding in tribal ceremony.

Where is my love? I gave it away. I held it out in my hand to you and you let it flutter past you like a butterfly, florid and alive in the abandon of infancy. I spent it like currency on misguided displays of affection, an endless round of meaningless sexual encounters, hatefucking people of absolutely no worth or interest to me. I felt the loathing flow freely with the uneasy vertigo of every lubricated stab, my weathered face contorting involuntarily as I struggled to make sense of every basic inhibition I once held dear. I used them up and threw them away, disgusted, degraded, humiliated and profane. I killed them off one after another, cutting into them with a psychopath’s blade until no more blood could spurt. I pissed it away time and again against graffiti-stained walls, the ugly stench of evaporated toxins infiltrating my nostrils with every dismal splash. Soaking and appalled, staggering through the streets, teeth chattering numbly against each other in a state of bulletproof inebriation.

I have travelled this far and can afford to sacrifice myself no longer. And so I pledge to forsake all temptation as I lie down and wait for you now. I will wait for you in the countless teeming bars, watching the fluorescent lights spin as the alcohol bubbles drowsily beneath my slothful eyelids. I will wait for you on abandoned railway lines, under frozen lakes and in wrecking lots, listening to the metallic howl of machinery screaming in carnal bliss. I will stumble along desert highways, delirious with thirst and burning beneath the midday sun in the hope of finding your mirage fluctuating somewhere in a distant oasis.

The manoeuvre is complete. I lay her down and let her wash over me as I’m taken away to a place of infinite sedation. She places the needle against the base of my spine and I feel the pain gradually ebb away as the opium methodically takes hold. And so there she lies, swimming through the endorphin stream until she moors and finds herself buried somewhere deep in my imagination; I’m alone with her now and swallowing water, suffocating gradually without a care in the world. My love is absolute and infinite; we are one as I wait, forever and a lifetime.

C.C. 24/05/05

SKETCH: "That's Not So Good, Al." [2006]

"That's Not So Good, Al."

Scene: a building with the sign ‘G.U.M. CLINIC’ at the top.

The main cast of HAPPY DAYS – RICHIE, POTSIE, RALPH, AL, MARION, HOWARD and JOANIE - greet FONZIE as he steps out of the front door.

ALL
(together, enthusiastically)
How’d it go, Fonz?

FONZIE
(two thumbs up)
- “AAAAAAAAIIIIIDDDDSSSS…!”

Awkward pause. His head drops.

FIN.

C.C. 29/08/06

LYRICS: Twisted Kites [2005]

Twisted Kites

The idiot inside has been feeding after midnight
The newborn is stirring, the gateway is opening wide
And I hold her tight, as our hearts divide
I feel her yearning in vain as she claws at the light

It’s beautiful
In a world so small
As we swim in a womb where the fluid is constant and warm
Our spirits thrive
And we’re intertwined
As we swallow water together and neither one dies.

The idiot inside blinks two amniotic eyes
But I’ll shed my cocoon if you promise to stay for a while
We’ll unify, and we’ll harmonise
You laugh like a child, myopic, and so then am I…

It’s beautiful
In a world so small
As we swim in a womb where the fluid is constant and warm
Our spirits thrive
And we’re intertwined
As we swallow water together and neither one dies.

Spinning above you
A planetary refuge
The stars are suspended on wire, they’re revolving above you.
It’s a place you return to
Where everyone loves you
The cradle will act as a shield against all that you’ll go through.

It’s beautiful
In a world so small
Our home is a womb where the fluid is constant and warm
Our spirits thrive
And we’re intertwined
We’re swallowing water together but neither one dies.

As the court indicts
Your soul ignites
When your fingers interlock mine, I forget what it’s like
We’re twisted kites
And we burn so bright
As the jury decrees, the defendants are all but resigned

We’re twisted kites
And we burn so bright
As the jury decrees, the defendants are all but resigned
As the jury decrees, the defendants are all but resigned

C.C. Oct 05

SHORT: And You Thought Jesus Had It Bad. [2007]

AND YOU THOUGHT JESUS HAD IT BAD.

At 7:29am on Thursday 19^th April 2009, Agent Jack Bauer of the Los Angeles Counter-Terrorist Unit drowsily stubbed his toe on the way to the bathroom. “Mmmph! Bastard!”, he growled, hobbling into the shower only to find that he’d forgotten to stick gas on the meter, and the water was running cold. Resigned to the dissatisfying ritual of a strip-wash, he lathered up his face with Gillette Ultra-Sensitive and proceeded to nick his chin several times while shaving.

At 8:03am, a seriously toilet-papered Jack ventured downstairs for breakfast, only to find that someone had eaten the last of the Shredded Wheat, leaving him with only a wispy piece of cellophane and a few crumbly dregs at the bottom of the packet. Hungry and irritable, he wandered outside to discover that some ASBO-wielding youth had slashed his tyres during the night. “Oh, give it rest!”, he cried to the heavens, before reluctantly setting out on foot - only to step in a steaming pile of freshly-laid shit left by the neighbour’s dog. “Awwww!”, he winced upon catching a whiff of the noxious fumes; “You can smell it like a motherfucker!”

Arriving into work at 9:21am, Jack soon found himself doubly irritable after a post-it note entreating him to “Call Chappelle over at Division” ended up embroiling him in an elaborate plot to detonate a nuclear bomb on U.S. soil. Inevitably he managed to foil it, but not before committing multiple violations of state protocol which meant that he’d never be able to show his face again in public. It was at this precise moment that he realised he’d forgotten to call the really fit bird he’d been out on a date with the previous night - the one who’d promised she’d let him get to second base the next time they got together. “Bugger”, he grumbled.

Reconciled with having to fake his own death for the second time that month, Jack decided to enjoy his last night of freedom by popping in for a quick pint down the local boozer. Unfortunately, a group of emo-fringed 17 year-olds had taken it upon themselves to set up an acoustic open-mic night that evening. After paying £3 to get in and being subjected to four separate cover versions of Hit Me Baby One More Time, Jack left in a huff.

Having been forced to endure the ignoble sound of a lagered-up slapper pumping Akon MP3s out of her mobile during the bus journey home, Jack finally arrived back at his apartment to discover that a power-cut had reset the timer on his VCR, thus cancelling the recording of that day’s instalment of Soapstar Superchef. “For fuck’s sake”, he grouched. “I was really looking forward to that.”

Wandering into the kitchen, Jack was dismayed to discover that the power-cut had also knocked out the refrigerator, thus turning his lone frozen pizza into a soggy pile of inedible mush. Sensing the inevitability of another stodgy Chicken Balti Pie from Sanjid’s Chippy, he was about to walk out the door when he remembered that he’d shot the proprietor in the thigh the previous week during a routine interrogation, and probably wouldn’t be that welcome back.

Resigned to turning in for the night on an empty stomach, Jack trudged his way upstairs, only to find that the cat had been sleeping on his pillow all day and had left it covered in more hair than a menopausal spinster. “God”, he sighed, finally resting his head on a crusty old copy of Razzle. “That was the worst day ever.”

C.C. 24/04/07