Yes, it’s my stage play. Without a stage, actors, or jokes, or an audience. Or laughs. Or fun.
Christmas Play. Titanic. Part Two
Brock: Cheers for that, everybody. Let’s all pre-emptively celebrate before actually confirming the medallion is in there. Yeah!
(Everybody’s drunk. The queen alien is on board, downing shots with Hudson, talking about the old times.)
Queen Alien: I thought Prometheus was alright..you know…nothing special..
Hudson: Yeah..yeah, I mean I quite liked it, but….fuck’s sake! None of us two (Motions to himself and a nodding queen alien) were in it! Could have been well good in it and all us….
Queen: Yeah, was nice to see what happened in my past though. With that Deacon and all that…
Hudson: Yeah. Who’d have thought your ancestors were the maudlin eighties pop act. Next thing Ridley will be saying the Beautiful South were the ancestors of…you know. the fucking THING!
Queen: Another one?
Hudson: Yeah…Whose round is it?
Queen: Dunno…(Scrabbles in pocket. Yes, she has a coat on alright? It’s a fucking cool day on deck.) It’s alright, I’ll get these. You get the next one…HEY! Hang on mate, if you’re here, who’s playing fucking Brock?
Brock: OI! Let’s get this fucking safe open yeah?
(Some blokes open safe. There are no diamonds in it. Brock is fucked off.)
Beard: You know boss, the same thing happened to Geraldo and his career never recovered.
Brock: Who the fuck is that? Fuck it, I’ll look it up on Wikipedia later.
Beard: It’s 1997. We don’t have that yet.
Brock: Turn the fucking camera off.