The random witterings of Jonathan Morris, writer.

Saturday, 5 November 2011

Fireworks


Here's a sketch I wrote four years ago which I couldn't sell to anybody.

CONSPIRATOR

A cellar in the early 17th century. A Catholic Conspirator, ROBERT, sits on a barrel marked ‘gunpowder’, waiting, looking bored, smoking and sighing.

He is discovered by a GUARD in a Jacobean ‘Yeoman’ outfit.

GUARD:
Halt! Who goes there?

ROBERT:
Oh, hello, company at last! I thought it was just me down here!

GUARD:
You are alone?

ROBERT:
Well, I was supposed to meet some friends for a sort of fireworks party, but they haven’t turned up. Typical them!

GUARD:
You were to meet your friends here? In the private vault of the House of Lords?

ROBERT:
Phew, I’ve got that bit right at least! No, we were all to meet down here, a sort of bring-your-own-gunpowder do. Look, I’ve got a flyer. It’s definitely tonight.

He gives the GUARD a note.

ROBERT:
See. Under where it says ‘Guaranteed To Go With A Bang’, exclamation mark, exclamation mark, exclamation mark. ‘Remember, remember. The eleventh of May’.

GUARD:
The eleventh of May?

ROBERT;
Yes.

GUARD:
It says here the fifth of November.

ROBERT:
What?

He takes the GUARD’s note back.

ROBERT:
Oh, shit. I know what I’ve done. It’s five of the eleven, not eleven of the five. I’m always doing that. I’ve been working on the system they use in the New World.

GUARD:
So you’re six months early!

ROBERT:
D’oh, what am I like! Oh God, the boys are so going to laugh when they hear this. I’ve been sitting down here for three hours like some sort of prize lemon!

GUARD:
Yes... so you’ll be back here on the fifth of November?

ROBERT:
Yes, me and all the boys. I can’t believe this. And I came all the way from Northampton, it took a week! Oh well, at least I’ll know the way for next time.

GUARD:
I’ll being see you again, then?

ROBERT:
Yes, I suppose you will!

GUARD:
Tell you what, I’ll bring a few of my mates from the Yeomen of the Guard along too, if that’s okay?

ROBERT:
No, that’s fine. The more the merrier. See you in six months!

GUARD:
Six months!

The GUARD leaves. ROBERT reads at the flier again. And suddenly The Penny Of Terrible Realisation drops.

ROBERT:
Hang on... shit! Shit! What have I done? How could I have been so stupid. November the fifth – it clashes with Bonfire Night!

END

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