Scene 13 (continued) and Scene 14

Captain Hodgers circles the room
Captain: Yarg! Where be Evan methinks?
The crowd parts, revealing Evan
The captain's parrot, in reality a thirty-five year old accountant from Greenwich, points at our protagonist
Parrot: That's him there!
Captain: Yarg! So 'tis. Come with us Evan!
Evan: No! Never! I shall fight you til my bones are ground to dust! I cannot be brushed aside in the manner that Squire Moore brushes aside his various illegitimate children! I shall screw my courage to the sticking-place and do glorious battle! En garde!
Evan pulls a sabre from his trousers and there is a fight scene. It is very entertaining. The audience are thrilled. Evan lies semi-conscious on the floor
Captain Hodgers: Yarg! What a wonderful fight, complete with lasers and explosions. However, you are defeated and I shall kidnap you now!
Squire Moore: You'll have to get through me first!
Captain Hodgers gets through Squire Moore first.
Weakened by venereal disease, Moore collapses onto the floor. Captain Hodgers places Evan in a paper bag and he and his crew flee the scene.
Squire Moore: Shittywankbullocks!
Squire passes out

End Scene 13

Scene 14

Interior. Night-time. Griswell Food Emporium. Lord Bourbon Fannyweather and his mysterious fiancé, known only as 'Herself', are hard at work stocktaking. Lord Fannyweather's eyes are wattery with the softer emotions of the human heart, feelings which led him to give up the hallowed throne of Lichtenstein in order to marry an ordinary fishmonger's daughter.
Lord Fannyweather: How fair these air-born shapes! and yet I feel Most vain all hope but love; and thou art far, Herself! who, when my being overflowed, Wert like a golden chalice to bright wine Which else had sunk into the thirsty dust. All things are still. Alas! how heavily This quiet morning weighs upon my heart
Herself: Uhm. I'm just over here by the beans
Fannyweather: Ah right. How foolish of me. How feelsth thou mine sweet?
Herself: Grand. You?
Fannyweather: I feel that Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark
Herself: That's nice. Where did you put the relish?
Fannyweather: Top Shelf. Oh look, here comes Squire Moore and Salmonella O'Sullivan
Enter Squire and Salmonella. Squire is panting and is carrying a recently purchased stockpile of weapons
Lord Fannyweather: Ah Salmonella! Squire! How pleasant to see you!
Squire Moore: As you can see from my big bag of crossbows and revolvers this is not a social call Lord Fannyweather
Fannyweather: I see. What's the trouble?
Squire: Evan, our good friend who once helped you with that bat infestation in your attic, has beenn captured by Captain Hodgers and his urban pirates. We need to find them and rescue him as Evan has still not recovered from being graphically raped in the bum by Alec Baldwin. A terrible experience like pirate torture could impede his emotional and spiritual recovery even further as, to add to his troubles, his stalwart companion handbag has left him alone in this world. For this reason, you need to join me and Salmonella here on a daring raid on the pirate H.Q before the situation deteriorates further.
Fannyweather: I understand completely. I'll join you as soon as I've finished my shift.
Squire:.......How long will that be?
Fannyweather: An hour or two
Squire: Ok....but then it's straight to the rescue.
Fannyweather: Oh my, no! After my shift, me and herself are having some cake.
Squire: Can't that wait?
Fannyweather: If your soul was filled with tender passion and not the spirit of ceaseless sexual conquest, you would understand that the cake must be eaten.
Squire (in loud, angry capital letters): WE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR CAKE!
Enter Marie Antoinette
Marie: Go on. Let them eat cake.
Squire: Fine. But as soon as they've finished, we mount our daring rescue
Fannyweather: Grand job.

End Scene 14

Writers Note:
And they said I couldn't write romance!

Intermission

7 Steps to Save the Catholic Church

We interrupt this movie to discuss an important contemporary social issue. We all know the Catholic Church to be an organisation of jolly, affable old men wearing silly hats, a bit like Santa Claus and his elves. However, recently it turns out that, for decades, they’ve been molesting children and covering it up, much like Santa Claus’ evil twin brother Rodrigo Derrida and his crew of paedo-badgers. Understandably, this has had an impact on people, who now realise that some of the stuff they were saying, in between the bits about the magic carpenter and nudist garden thingy, may have not been strictly true. To many it seems that they may not be the jolly crew we once imagined them to be. How is the Catholic Church to save itself? This is not an easy question, but, following a papal request, I will outline a few ideas that have occurred to me and which could easily be implemented within a few months:

1. Moving Statues

In 1985, people travelled from all over the country to Ballinspittle Co.Cork to watch some moving statues of the Virgin Mary. This was in the days before Ipods and popular American sitcom ‘Friends’, so it was understandable that so many should travel down to experience this unique event. Of course, we know now this to be a classic case of ‘mass hysteria’ brought on by the stress of economic decline, emigration and constant repetition of the rosary, but it was good PR for the silly hat brigade. So, if people’s minds can move statues, why can we not simply use technology to do the same thing? Imagine: Finding every statue of the Virgin Mary in the country and attaching an electric motor and a micro-chip, before sending them off, zipping along the N25, circling the country as an attached speaker plays ‘Ave Maria’. Not only would this work wonders for the faithful, being reminded of the death of our Lord as his mammy whizzes by at 70 km/ per hour, but it would improve the moral standards of the nation. Would you mug someone, break the speed limit or have a cheeky joint, if there was a small chance of the Blessed Virgin hurtling over the horizon? Didn’t think so.

2. Hat Innovation

Most informed people will tell you that faith is the core of any religion. This is untrue. Silly hats are far more essential. How many religions do you know that DON’T involve silly hats? That’s right, zero. Indeed Catholicism’s historical success was based on particularly ostentatious headwear, which dwarfed the far more mundane headgear of Protestants and others. Therefore, what is needed is even more ludicrous items to be placed on the heads of clergymen. For example, priests should wear twelve-foot conical hats, covered with green polka dots, with a little bell attached to the top. I’d like to see Islam or Judaism top that. Also, constant research should be undertaken to push the limits of silly hat technology, with eccentric fashion gurus roped in to advise the Church hierarchy on what to wear. This would make for great television as every episode of ‘Off the Rails’ would include a five minute segment called ‘Off the Aisles’ where chirpy young presenters would dress the Bishop of Killaloe in the latest trends, draping his 20 foot tower-shaped hat with glitter and rosary beads to the delight of rapt audiences.

3. Sexier Priests

Johnny Depp or Cheryl Cole in a confession box. Enough said.

4. Re-decoration

As many of my 4 and a ½ regular readers will know, I myself have avoided mass for the past several years. This was not due to a crisis of faith, but a crisis of comfort. Simply put, there is no logical need for Church pews to be so ridiculously uncomfortable. Padding and a couple of hundred footstools and I may even have considered running for pope. Call DFS and I assure you that you will see the flocks returning en masse.

5. Deny Everything

The Nixon Defence. Simply refute any and every accusation as the evidence mounts. Insist that your flock must have faith that confessions, leaked letters and DNA evidence are all tools of the devil. If asked ‘Is it true that you swore victims of child abuse to silence?’, the correct response is: ‘No. Those children swore me to silence. They are working for the North Koreans and are trying to bring down society by taking down the church. Besides, I wasn’t even in Ireland that week. In fact I wasn’t on earth. I had spent a week in an alternative dimension where nothing was what is seemed. Then I bought a lolly’. If further probed, simply curl up into a ball until the journalist leaves.

6. Shift the Blame

We are lucky in Ireland that racism is not so prevalent as it is elsewhere. In Irish society racism is just not socially acceptable, except when directed at travellers or the English. Therefore, the Church publicity bureau should begin an immediate policy of shifting the blame for clerical child abuse onto itinerants or the crown, perhaps suggesting a conspiracy of both. For example, a headline in Alive! could read: ‘Queen Elizabeth Visits Halting Site to Spread Lies about Innocent Priests: The Scandal Uncovered’ or ‘Did Prince Charles Travel Back in Time to Abuse Children in Convincing Priest Costume?’. The opportunities for journalistic endeavour here are limitless.

7. Lasers

Can’t really think of how to implement these in an ecclesiastical context, but c’mon people, everyone loves Lasers.

Follow these simple steps and the nation will soon forget what a bunch of hypocritical, lying, child-abusing, preachy, shit-brained, arrogant tit-a-ma-boobs the clergy are.

Scene 13

Scene 13

Interior. Night. The Post-Daisy Ball. Many are milling round the punch-bowl. Others are quietly mingling. The rest stare in amazement at Bobby Brisco, the break-dancing cardinal, as he struts his stuff on the dancefloor. Enter Squire Moore and Evan. Squire Moore is carrying a blackboard under his arm.

Squire Moore: Lotta poontang here tonight.
Evan: Er, yes I suppose
Squire Moore: Fancy some...(raises eyebrows mischievously)...fun and games?
Evan: What do you mean?
Squire Moore places the blackboard on the floor, pulls out a piece of chalk and draws two columns on the blackboard. One is headed 'Evan', the other 'Squire'
Squire Moore: For each fine young thing we canoodle with, we get a point
Evan: I don't really want to. I'm still reeling from losing Handbag. Also, since I was raped by Alec Baldwin, the thought of being physically intimate with anyone fills me with dread and revulsion.
Squire Moore: Sounds like fightin' talk to me! Away I go!
Squire Moore sets off on his rounds, a smile on his face and a lump in his trousers. Evan rolls his eyes and notices his old associate, Salmonella O'Sullivan
Evan: Ah Salmonella, how goes it?
Salmonella: Evan old boy! So good to see you. Terrible to hear about this Alec Baldwin business. How are you holding up?
Evan: I'm alright I guess.
Salmonella: Splendid, splendid. Surprised by this year's winner?
Evan: Yes, the first transvestite Daisy of Dungarvan I believe.
Suddenly, both are interrupted by the return of Squire Moore. Moore wipes the lipstick off his face and draws '24' under his name on the blackboard.
Squire Moore: Falling behind I see Evan?
Evan: I'm not participating in this weird competition. Please stop.
Moore: What's that? You don't think I can make it to 40 in the next fifteen minutes? Well, we'll see about that!
Cue music: The Vinyls - I Touch Myself.
Montage of Squire Moore mauling onto various women
Evan: I must apologise for my friend. He appears to have the jockstrap jitters.
Salmonella: Evidently.
Suddenly there is a loud rumbling outside. Evan and Salmonella look around. Squire Moore, like Alexander the great dining at Persepolis, takes a break from his conquests to cower behind a chair. The noise grows louder and louder. Suddenly, a fire engine, two ford fiestas and a bicycle plough through the wall, circle around the room and pull up. All the vehicles bear jolly rogers.
Salmonella: Oh no!
Evan: What is it? Who are they!?
Salmonella: I'd know that flag anywhere! This is the dread fleet of Captain Hodgers and his crew of urban pirates!
Suddenly the door of the fire engine opens and a skinny, effete pirate emerges. On his left shoulder stands a tall bearded man, dressed in a colourful ensemble.
Captain Hodgers: Yarr! Listen up mateys. Things about to get interesting!

End Scene

Writers Notes:

I realise that I have introduced yet another character and gone off on another tangent without any hint of real plot development, but if Lost can get away with it then so can I.