The Christmas Zoomeister Panto: Titanic.

Yes, it’s my stage play. Without a stage, actors, or jokes, or an audience. Or laughs. Or fun.

Christmas Play. Titanic. Part Two

INT: Boat.

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?

Hudson:What?

Brock: OI! Let’s get this fucking safe open yeah?

Beard: 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.

More tomorrow

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About neilstilwell

Abseiling into trouble, a sewer rat staring at the stars. Disgusting. You can assist my search for the one ring by buying a Kindle version of this diary from here. http://www.amazon.co.uk/frozen-fridge-Zoomeister-Diaries-ebook/dp/B00C426DD0/ref=sr_1_sc_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1366481719&sr=8-1-spell&keywords=a+frozen+turd+in+a+hot+frudge It has some other stuff in it, and a dreadful cover.
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