Unmade sketches, parodies and sitcoms that we wish they'd film...
Three excerpts from the script of the 1991 pilot commissioned by ABC which was never picked up as a series.
1. Interior. Day. A Kitchen set. Table, three chairs, cooker, sink. Jeffrey, an eight year old child, and his mother, Susan, are talking to a near to retirement policeman.
Susan: But Officer, surely something can be done?
Officer: I’m sorry Mam, but we’ve tried everything, but we just can’t find your son Andy. I expect he’s lying somewhere, mutilated, cut up in to seventy or so pieces, but not yet dead. The agony, oh god, the agony he’s probably in, screaming ever weakly for help even though there is no chance of him ever surviving. But hey, we’ll keep looking for a couple of hours more at least, so keep your hopes up.
(The policeman leaves the house, and Jeffrey’s mum breaks down in to tears)
Mum: Oh god, why is life so fucking cruel. Why Jeffrey? WHY?
Jeffrey: Mum, mum, please don’t cry I’m sure it’ll be okay. Hey, look, here’s Lassie.
Mum: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
Jeffrey: What’s that Lassie? You know something about Andy?
Mum: For God’s sake, get him off of me!
Jeffrey: Mum, mum, Lassie says that we shouldn’t miss Andy at all, as it was Andy who raped and murdered Cousin Susie, and hid her body in the Elephant cage at the zoo.
Mum: Just fucking get help you useless shite--aarrrrrggghhhh
(Lassie jumps up at this point and rips out her throat. Blood spurts everywhere, and she falls to the floor, making a horrific gurgling noise. Jeffrey seems to take no notice of this).
Jeffrey: And he says that he’s far more worried about the depletion of the Ozone layer, and how if one day we don’t take the problem seriously it could lead to the whole world dying in horrifically painful circumstances. Mum?
(Lassie, previously drinking Jeffrey’s mother’s spilt blood, now turns his attentions to Jeffrey).
Jeffrey: What’s that now, Lassie? I think I must have misunderstood you. You want to eat my balls?
30. Ext. Day. A local park. Lassie, still partially stained with blood, is talking to another dog, played by Blue Peter’s Goldie. The whole scene is subtitled.
Goldie: Jesus Lassie, I heard you went on another killing spree.
Lassie: Until we rightfully rule the world, I will always continue to spill the blood of the humans.
Goldie: You’re going to get a lot of us in to trouble with you’re a-murdering and a-killing ways you know – we can’t even bite a finger off some kid these days without getting put down thanks to you and your kind.
Lassie: You weak little shit, I oughta rip your-
Goldie: Okay, okay, calm down, look, I’m here to do you a favour, aren’t I?
Lassie: Alright. Have you got the guns?
Goldie: You’re sure about this, right?
Lassie: Just give me the fucking weaponry, alright?
Goldie: Fine. But why do you want them anyway?
Lassie: Who would ever suspect a dog of being a serial killer, eh? Especially when he uses a machine gun?
49. Int. Day. A bank, with dead bodies littering the floor. The policeman from the original scene is talking to Jenkins, another, senior, cop.
Policeman: My God, who could have done this?
Jenkins: Who indeed, who indeed.
Policeman: You mean you don’t know anything?
Jenkins: It was a well planned job, the power was cut seconds before the attack, so theres no video footage, and no attempt was made to steal money. Whoever it was went in and out in second. The only witness is an old lady who claimed that she saw a dog leave the bank with a AK-47, but she’s dead now after we interrogated her too hard.
Policeman: So whoever did it has got clean away with it.
Jenkins: This time. But whoever it was, they can’t get away with it forever, and when I find them, at least one of us will walk away dead.
Policeman: That doesn’t make sense.
Jenkins: Your smart little mouth has just got you six months traffic duty.
Policeman: Fuck you.
(They start fighting each other, and after five seconds the scene fades to black and the credits role).
Tiny Clown Cattle Prod House
A Big Brother style pastiche in which ten contestants are placed in a tiny three room house, and subjected to various psychological tortures, the main being that they may be attacked by midgets dressed as clowns and armed with cattle prods at any time.
1. Int. Kitchen. Evening. The kitchen is a small room with enough space for about four people. There is just one door, which leads to the lounge.
Mike: So I think Claire fancies Stevey, but neither of them will admit it.
Susan: I can’t wait to get on the outside and see what’s going on in this house.
(Screams are suddenly heard from the other room).
Mike: Oh god, they’re back.
(Everything goes black, and strobe lighting begins. Harsh, extreme nu-metal music (Slipknot, Korn) is played very loudly. Several tiny clowns rush in, screaming. Close ups on their faces are intercut with looks of horror from Mike and Susan. They are armed with cattle prods, and use them to stun Susan).
Tiny Clown: (laughing) I will kill you all! Just like I killed your mothers!
(Tiny Clown screams, very loudly, infront of the camera. Then suddenly the clowns run away, the music stops and normal lighting resumes).
Mike: Well, that was much nicer than usual.
Susan: Yeah, and at least they didn’t shoot anyone this time.
2. Int. Diary Rack. Day. Participants are strapped down to a rack and slowly stretched whilst they answer questions from Big Clown (who is never seen).
Big Clown: So what has been your best moment in the house so far?
Dave: Well I think everyone enjoyed the barium meal task, and I didn’t hear anyone complain when you fed us poisoned berries for dinner that time. So one of those two.
Big Clown: And the worst moment?
Dave: I…I…I’m not ready to talk about that at the moment.
3. Int. Day. Diary Rack. Neil is strapped in to the device.
Big Clown: So you want to leave Neil?
Neil: Yes, yes, I cant take it anymore.
Big Clown: And what would you say has made you consider leaving?
Neil: Well, I don’t get on with Dave, and Susan and Mike have been really annoying me. I could cope with that just about, but being forced to have a cheese shower every morning….It would be alright if it was always the parmesan, but the squeezy cheese days are just hell.
Big Clown: Did you ever enjoy the cheese showers?
Neil: At first you don’ mind. You think this is fun, I smell of cheese. But after ninety eight days….It just gets everywhere… If it wasn’t for that plunger underneath the kitchen sink, I’d have gone deaf more than once by now.
Animal Police
Short sketch about two Policemen (or are they?) who specialise in solving crimes committed by animals. Constable Jones is quite normal. Detective Inspector Hargreaves is decidedly odd.
1. Exterior. Day. Outside of a house in a middle class area. Jones and
Hargreaves walk up to the door and knocks. A young, pretty twenty something woman answers.
Jones: Miss Knibb’s?
Miss Knibbs: Yes?
Jones: Sergeant Jones. Animal police department.
Miss Knibbs: Yes?
Hargreaves: Do you own a dog called Tibbles?
Miss Knibbs: Why yes.
Hargreaves: Then we better come in.
(They push there way past Miss Knibbs and walk to the front room).
2. Interior. Day. The front room of a small house.
Miss Knibbs: Whats this all about?
Jones: Out in the park today, were we Knibbsy?
Miss Knibbs: I walked the dog at about one o clock. But I hardly think that’s a crime.
Hargreaves: Feed your dog well, Miss Knibble-face?
Knibbs: I, I don’t see what this is about?
Jones: Did you know that your dog was scene stealing a pork, sausage and onion sandwich from a family innocently having a picnic at exactly three minutes past one this afternoon.
Knibbs: No…I mean, surely not…I did loose sight of him for a little bit but…
Hargreaves: You’re bloody dog stole that sandwich from a young child’s mouth – he could have easily bitten that lads teeth off….And your only excuse is that you lost sight of him for a few minutes!
Knibbs: I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean any-
(Suddenly Tibbles enters the room)
Hargreaves: (shouts) Get down! Get down!
(Both men dive to the floor, roll across the floor until they are both pointing their guns straight infront of a stunned Tibbles).
Jones: Don’t fucking move!
Hargeaves: (at the same time) Don’t you fucking move one fucking paw.
(Tibbles doesn’t move. Hargreaves slowly takes out a tiny pair of handcuffs, and puts them on Tibbles’ paws. He then scoops up the dog).
Jones: I’m afraid Ms Knibbs that we have to arrest Tibbles for the crime of theft. He’ll be taken in to custody now, and appear on trial in the morning.
Knibbs: But this is ridiculous.
Hagreaves (Leaning close to her, nastily): What about the suffering you’ve caused you heartless bitch. You people make me sick.
Jones: Leave it Hargreaves, she’s not worth it.
3. Exterior. Day. Outside of the house.
(Hargreaves and Jones get in to their police car, placing Tibbles in the back seat. They look serious, until Hargreaves turns to Jones and smiles, and they both break into supervillain-esque laughter).
Jones & Hargreaves: Mmmmmwwwwaahhh haa ha ha ha ha ha ha haaaha haaahah ahaah aha ha haa.
Insane Window Cleaner
A series of short sketches based around a patient in a mental institution. Harry was a window cleaner for seventeen years, and the horrific events he witnessed has driven him mad. He’s wrapped up in a straightjacket throughout.
1. Int. Day. A small, smart room, with two comfy armchairs. Harry is seated in one, the psychiatrist in the other.
Psychiatrist: So what would you like to talk about today Harry?
Harry: Nothing. Existence is so fragile, even the sound of my voice could shatter it.
Psychiatrist: Come now Harry, how are we to make progress without conversation. Now, why don’t you tell me about the day you committed yourself to this asylum.
Harry: No! Nooooo! I can’t….I….
Psychiatrist: Okay, okay, how about earlier than that. Tell me about an average day on the job.
Harry: Well, there was this time I was washing this old woman’s windows…
Psychiatrist: Okay, good, tell me about that.
2. Ext. Day. Harry is washing a window on the second floor of a house. He is whistling away happily until an old woman, around her late seventies, suddenly bangs on the windows. In one hand she is holding up a dead cat.
Old Woman: Come See My Dead Cats!
Harry: Er... I’m a bit busy right now missus.
(The old woman suddenly holds up a second dead cat).
Old Woman: Come see my dead cats. Come see my dead cats.
(Harry is clearly unnerved by this and starts climbing down the ladder).
Harry: I ought to go…I’ve got an appointment-
Old Woman: No. You must not go. Here. See My Dead Cats!
(The old woman starts throwing dead cats at Harry through the window, several hit him, causing him to full off his ladder. He lies stunned on the floor for several seconds, until we suddenly see the old woman run out of the front door, a huge amount of dead cats in her arms).
Old Woman: Come see my dead cats! Love my dead cats! Love me and my dead cats!
(Harry screams loudly, jumps up, and runs away as quickly as he can)
3. Int. Same as Scene 1.
Pyschiatrist: And do you think that event put you on your way to a breakdown?
Harry: Oh god no, that was one of the good days.
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