Well I’m
very pleased to report that ‘Jane Austin Roller-Girl’ was an enormous success
in that the distributers have withdrawn it from release after feminist literary
critics burnt my house down and threatened to do the same to any cinema daring
to show it. Given that it is the job of the creative to provoke reaction from
the viewer, I am immensely satisfied with myself at least on an artistic level
and am in no way disappointed by the less than enthusiastic critical reaction,
which by no mean was universal. ”Outstanding”
was one word used in a letter from my movie’s chief financers. Well I’m glad
they liked it and hope that in some way compensates for the fact that the loan
they gave me was secured to what is now the smoking ruins of my uninsured
house.
Well
there’s no such thing as a free lunch. That said, there is pretty good stuff to
be had in the skips behind most hotels, restaurants and supermarkets but even
this stuff is not totally free in that you have to sacrifice a bit of your
human dignity to obtain it. No free
lunch, no free press, no free nothing. When you’ve an empty belly you realise
how expensive the whole freedom thing is. What a swizz! Meanwhile the post-war state,
created to provide a minimum level of civilised prosperity gets shaved away day
by day and its activities replaced organisations with names that are unfamiliar
but suddenly ubiquitous, accountable to no-one and protected by commercial confidentiality,
who can provide your services at progressively lower costs and at progressively
lower-quality. The straw-man argument the winners give you is how terrible
state-planned societies are and that’s what you’ll get if you tie the hands of
the today’s suited heroes. It is of course, perfectly true that command economies
are unsuited to complex post-industrial societies as to use a rather weak analogy,
it’s like trying to drive a motor-car at high speeds in low-gear. When things
are running well, you release the constraints and let capital get on with its
job of innovating solutions to the problems of human need. However the current post cold-war civilizational
paradigm has our car running out of control and falling apart around the smug,
oblivious Clarkson-like driver.
It was
the increasing dominance of these non-specialist companies in the economic life
of UKOGBANI that inspired my next film- a sci-fi drama about space pirates. It
was 10 years ago I first heard the name CARILLION when I was left manning
the telephones in the office I was based in. I know! I had a normal job and everything. Well, not totally normal but anyhoo, a phone rang, I answered it and
some gruff voice said “ I’m from
Carillion” and then something else I’ve forgotten as I was immediately
visualising a space pirate like the one on the cassette cover of the rubbish
Commodore 64 game SPACE HUNTER shown above. “ Tell Carillion to go to hell!” I
shouted back in my best American movie accent and put the phone down. After that the movie pretty much immediately
wrote itself and I’d be making it now were it not for the fact that this café
will be closing soon and I’ll have to go back to the waste-ground to stand
around the fire with the men who are drunk. So despite my obvious
counter-productive hostility to investors, I’m going to pitch my movie here by
presenting the radio script to the first 2 scenes of …well whatever you want
the film to be called. I’ve never bothered writing any more of it but I know
what’s going to happen so will produce the rest of it if even one person is interested. When I say
person, I mean a real person. Not a talking Mongoose or a evil cyber-pet from
the ancient past. No more of those please.
CARILLION AND THE ARK OF SERCO
(Various Space Ship noises)
VIRADOR: Epsilon Theta 14 docking control, this is
Captain Virador of Trading ship Carolgees at loading bay 11. I've
unloaded my cargo and I'm ready to be on my way, pending....er...accreditation
of course.
DOCKING CONTROLLER: Hold on there, Carolgees
VIRADOR: What? Is there a problem there?
DOCKING CONTROLLER: Just running some routine
checks, Captain Virador, nothing to worry about.
(Low buzzing noise starts)
VIRADOR: Dock Control, have you just engaged your
holding clamps?
DOCKING CONTROLLER: Just a routine precaution,
Captain. Please don't be alarmed.
VIRADOR: What the hell is this? I've done nothing
wrong! Dammit, I demand to talk to the station manager, now!
DOCKING CONTROLLER: Don't get upset, Captain.
STATION MANAGER: Captain Virador? This is Veb
Juzjek, the station manager of Epsilon Theta 14. Listen son, we'll have this
sorted out in no time at all. I just need to ask you some questions.
VIRADOR: What sort of questions?
STATION MANAGER: This consignment of Zelkavian
Prunes you've just unloaded....
VIRADOR: What? They were legitimate, I had all the
paperwork, I swear!
STATION MANAGER: Son, have you ever seen Zelkavian
Prunes?
VIRADOR: Sure, I've spent the last month with 2 tons
of them at point-one K in the Carolgee's hold. I've seen plenty of them.
STATION MANAGER: I mean, before a month ago...?
VIRADOR: Well...I... guess not.
STATION MANAGER: See, Zelkovian prunes are bright
yellow. Dazzling luminous yellow in fact, with glowing red spots. You can't
mistake them, whereas these are...
VIRADOR: They're purple. Every single one.
STATION MANAGER: Yes and purple is the colour of
Nectarian Giant Ant's eggs. 2 tons of which seem to have been among the cargo
stolen from a Gromolean transport ship hijacked 6 weeks ago in Delta 18 sector.
VIRADOR: (slow and angry) God-damn.
STATION MANAGER: Yes it caused a major diplomatic
incident between the Nectarians and the Gromoleans. It seems the Ants were
relying on those eggs to keep their colony on Fregas 6 going. They were
clicking on about genocide in the Federal Inter-System Council and the authorities
had to intervene to stop a war. Now, those Ants can be unstoppable when the get
all riled up and the FISC investigation said that human pirates were the most
likely culprit. Now, as one human to another, son, just tell me where you got
those ...er...prunes?
VIRADOR: I was sold them...by another trader. He
assured me..that...that THAT BASTARD!
STATION MANAGER: It's ok, son. An FISC investigation
team is on its way right now. All you've have to do is tell them all about this
character and they'll treat you fair and square.
VIRADOR: The FISC cops? You've got to be joking.
Sorry old man, I've not got time to get tortured on the electro-grid today.
STATION MANAGER: I'm sorry too, son. But you're not
going anywhere.
(Clicking. High pitched buzzing suggestive of a
laser.)
STATION MANAGER: What the....?
VIRADOR: Clamp cutting beams. Never dock without
'em.
STATION MANAGER: I knew it, you're one of those
pirates!
VIRADOR: I swear I'm not, Veb but I'm pretty sure I
know who is and he's gonna pay!
(Static buzz -Female Android Voice)
PP (Femdroid): This is Pipitek Pippitippitron ,
spokesdroid for the Lagerian independent transport cruiser Daggermouse. Please
identify yourself and state your business.
VIRADOR: (still sounding angry) Virador of the Carolgees.
I need to talk to your boss.
PP: The Daggermouse is owned by the
collective mind Quozatz from the Meditation Planet of Oumzork and I'm afraid I
must report that it or rather they will be beyond all forms of communication
for the next 800 rotations of that planet.
VIRADOR: To hell with that Pippitippitron! You know
very well who I'm talking about. Perhaps I should get on over to Oumzork and
wake up the Quozatz with a few Ultra-nukes and ask him who's running his ship.
PP: Ask them, Captain Virador and I think
that would be very unwise.
VIRADOR: Unwise huh? I'll show you unwise you
jumped-up metal prostitute! I've got an itchy trigger finger here.
CARILLION: Hahaha! That's no way to talk to a lady,
Virador.
VIRADOR: Carillion! At last. You god-damn
son-of-a-bitch. Get over here so I can throttle you myself.
CARILLION; What's all this about? I thought we were
friends? Hahaha!
VIRADOR: I've had diseases that were better friends
than you. The eggs you bastard! The Nectarian Ant's eggs.
CARILLION: Ah, so that's where they got to.
Administrative error. You have my sincere apologies. Hahaha!
VIRADOR: Bull-shit. You never had any Zelkavian
prunes. You stole those eggs just to sell them to some dupe. Like...me.
CARILLION: Now that's just not true, old buddy.
Those eggs were headed for Fregas 6, right? You ever been to Fregas 6, Virador?
It's a paradise. It sure wouldn't have been if those Ants had started their
colony there. They destroy entire eco-systems and turn them into goddamn
ant-factories. Couldn't let that happen, old pal.
VIRADOR: So you're an environmentalist now?
CARILLION: Sure! Those ants would have wiped the
Fregan Wombat from the universe forever. They're beautiful creatures, Virador.
I just did what I had to do.
VIRADOR: You're a pirate! Since when did you care
about the Fregan wombat?
CARILLION: Since I discovered how delicious they
are! Hahaha!
VIRADOR: You're a goddamn monster, Carillion but
I've got you outgunned here. The game's up.
CARILLION: Sure thing, Virador but before I place
myself in your custody I'd like you to look at this holo-vid.
(Flicks switches in front of him: There are sounds
of a man screaming)
VIRADOR: What the hell? That's Virgij Narvis! He
went missing at the end of the war with the Serco. What's happening to him?
CARILLION: He's being constantly electrocuted. Has
been since the end of the war, every single day in constant pain. It's a
miracle he's still alive.
CARILLION: I got the vid from a Wachovian trader who
bought it off a defector from the Serco.
VIRADOR: So the Serco have him. It makes sense I
suppose. If it wasn't for his bravery, they might have won the war.
CARILLION:
Yes the Serco mother-ship. You his wing-man for the final assault weren’t you?
VIRADOR:
Proudest day of my god-damn life. Of course you bravely sat out the war didn’t
you Carillion?
CARILLION: I’m a man of peace, Virador. I always have
been despite your accusations but hey, none taken. I believe in trade and
peaceful mutually beneficial contact between alien peoples. That’s why I’m
working for the Quozatz, a wise and serene collective mind. But I respect Narvis
and what that old soldier did for all our species and that’s why I need the
best god-damn pilot in the galaxy to help me rescue him. Are you in?
VIRADOR:
Something stinks here, Carillion but you bet your arse I am!
___________________________________________________________________________________
There
you go!. Get that chequebook out. What tinseltown really needs right now is a
new sci-fi franchise that is in no way totally hackneyed and awful. It’ll
be better than JOGGER KILLER I promise. It’ll make more money than LION’S CLAW
and not endanger lives like JANE AUSTIN ROLLER-GIRL. My melancholy silent classic
BIG BUNNY should have swept the Oscars but for blinkered philistines and idiots
but even they will be unable to ignore this masterpiece.
Meanwhile
in the real world, there’s some business to attend to: Firstly, I’ve got to
bone to pick with Viz magazine who responded to my last post by printing
another Dickie Beasley strip (the boy who only had one ambition in life- to be
an advertising account executive) and then giving him round glasses instead of
thin square ‘advertising account executive’ glasses. They made me look like an
idiot! Perhaps Viz have met more advertising account executives than me? It’s
an unsettling thought.
Secondly
if Margaret Atwood would like to get in touch, I owe you some money for
stealing your new novel MADDADDAM using the internet. Desperate times and that…Still
it was so good and I was so immersed in it for a day or two that it seems strangely
immoral, a concept I don’t really understand, not to give you what is due for
it. Minimising spoilers for those of you who are not Margaret Atwood, I must
say that while I greatly enjoyed myself, I did end up feeling rather bereft. I
went through Oryx and Crake and The Year of the Flood in 2011 and I must have
been carrying those characters around in my head in suspended animation for 2
and half years and now their tale is done and I know what happened to them. It’s
an odd feeling. Still, they were silly books; bloody top notch, though! Doris Lessing
may have known about trucks but Atty can blow your mind like an agaric trip! Oh yeh and Zeb didn't want to wear my glasses neither. Huh!
OK I am nearly done here. Happy Birthday to yooo for
yesterday. I’m referring to my only follower of course who is actually Richard
Dawkins’ mum. Dawkins's mum? What-evo! It's a mother of a Dawkins. Gawd bless you, Maaam. Don’t tell Dickie! Just for you here’s a
link to some Herbal Mixture which is actually The Groundhogs. Just can't get enough of those Groundhogs. Bye bye!