The Youth of Australia
Aussie Urban Trauma

THE YOUTH OF AUSTRALIA IV

EPISODE THREE: Dreams of Reality

By EWEN CAMPION-CLARKE and DAMIAN SANCHEZ

1. NIGEL’S ROOM

Nigel moves around his room, collecting his possessions. Dave stands in the doorway, arms folded. Nigel stuffs a pile of magazines, an inflatable woman, some CDs and a painting of himself reclining on a piano into a suitcase.

DAVE: You’re not serious.

NIGEL: I am totally serious, David. I am as serious now as you will ever see me. Frankly, I should have done this a long time ago. Now that Eve’s gone, well, why should I hang around here?

DAVE: Well, maybe because it’s rent-free accommodation, you owe Centrelink the gross national debt, your family tries to kill you for tax purposes oh and we happen to be the closest thing you actually have to friends.

NIGEL: Nonsense! You know how gargantuan my popularity was at high school, Dave. I ran the Happiness Patrol, my address book was so heavy both Jason and Betty had to hold it for me. [HOLDS UP MOBILE] Look! I’ve got friends whose names begin with Z! THAT’S HOW POPULAR I AM!

DAVE: Then why haven’t any of them tried to contact you since school ended? They just dumped you and went on with their lives.

NIGEL: And who can blame them when I was hanging around scum like you, Dave? Hah! I wouldn’t want to know me. No wonder I haven’t been getting the girls the way I used to. An omnisexual 51^st century time agent wouldn’t want to score with you two in the room. You’ve been holding me back.

DAVE: Oh, that’s typical. Blame us for all your mistakes.

NIGEL: Oh, I shall. I shall. You and that, that THING out there have been ruining my life ever since your over-fertile lust object covered me in afterbirth! Every second of every hour of every day I have been living with you, you’ve done nothing except hold me back and undermine my achievements.

Beat.

DAVE: What achievements?

NIGEL: YOU SEE! YOU’RE DOING IT AGAIN!

RUN CREDITS SEQUENCE

2. LIVING AREA

Andrew is hanging a painting of Eve on the wall. Nigel and Dave emerge from Nigel’s room. He dumps the suitcase on the table and crosses to the hatstand to collect a long duster overcoat.

NIGEL: I’m getting out of here. A fresh start somewhere sun-kissed and exotic.

DAVE: But where are you going to go?

NIGEL: Germany.

DAVE: Germany? Why do you want to go to Germany of all places?

NIGEL: Because that where the fitness camp is.

ANDREW: Fitness camp?

NIGEL: Yes, Sasquatch, fitness camp. [TAKES CARD FROM POCKET] This allows me an all-expenses paid trip for three to the "Gunther Gruber Geschnellkopf Fitness & Health Kamp" for ten weeks straight.

ANDREW: You actually want the booby prize?

NIGEL: Well, I would have enjoyed the African Safari but YOU TWO NUMBSKULLS screwed that up! This will have to do.

DAVE: But a fitness camp? Why go there? I mean, it’s not like you’d ever get a spot on Australia’s Biggest Loser, is it?

ANDREW: No, he’s overqualified. Biggest Loser in the Western Hemisphere more like...

NIGEL: Oh, go and howl at the moon, you hairy bint! [CALMLY] As I was saying, Dave, my demigodlike physique and healthy disposition mean that the camp will have nothing for me. A few tests will prove how well-toned I am, meaning the ten weeks will be one long relaxing orgy.

ANDREW: [ARCHES EYEBROW] Orgy?

NIGEL: Precisely. Oh yes, Beeblebrox, I’ve read up on this. The Gunther Goober Ghostbuster whatever the hell it’s called Kamp is staffed entirely by women, aged between eighteen and thirty-five. That means a minimum of seventy five hot chicks with nothing to do but indulge me.

DAVE: You don’t speak German.

NIGEL: I don’t need it. I have pheromones and the language of love. Nothing else is even remotely required!

ANDREW: I’m sure your racism, sexism and general closed-mindedness will do that for you.

NIGEL: Oh, what do you know?

ANDREW: Enough that you’ll be chucked out in a week after you sexually harass the entire staff and then start screaming they’re all Nazi lesbians, you’ll come back here, tail between your legs – assuming the tail hasn’t been violently removed – and bitch at us because you’ve got nowhere else to go.

NIGEL: Ten weeks is a long time, Yowie-features! I’ll probably be declared King before the third week is up, once I’m out of your festering, soul-destroying, career-retarding presence.

Andrew jumps off the ladder and lands beside Nigel.

ANDREW: One flaw, Your Majesty. That prize requires three people. You can’t just turn up there alone. You need two others.

NIGEL: [SHAKES HEAD] Don’t beg, Andrew. It’s even more pathetic than your normal conversation.

ANDREW: I’m not begging.

NIGEL: Good, because you two 1960s fashion accessories aren’t coming.

DAVE: Who else on this planet would be prepared to go with you, O Chauvinistic Hunk?

There is a brilliant, lightning-style flash from the backyard and a sound like a car crashing with one hubcap rolling away. Nigel smiles and indicates the sliding door to the wasteland outside.

3. BACK YARD

A polished metal booth the size of a phone box stands in the grass. A recessed panel in the front slides upwards. As Andrew, Nigel and Dave emerge, smoke wafts out from inside.

DAVE: You cannot be serious...

Chamber emerges, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, white shorts and a straw hat with sunglasses. He lowers them to peer at the gang.

CHAMBER: Alles Klar, Herr Kommissar!

ANDREW: Chamber! Where’s Doctor Spoon?

Doctor Spoon emerges in similar get up, with lots of sunblock, a sombrero and a brightly-coloured waistcoat. He has a camera on a strap around his neck.

DOCTOR SPOON: No, no, Andrew. I am no longer merely Doctor Spoon – AKA mild-mannered albino playboy Rupert Woosing-Gard. I am... DER KOMMISSAR!

CHAMBER: YEAH!

DUO: 'Don’t turn around! Uh-oh!

Der Kommissar’s in town! Uh-oooooh!'

DOCTOR SPOON: You’re in his eye

And you’ll know why!

CHAMBER: The more you live

The faster you will die!

DAVE: You’re seriously going to go to Germany via home-made translocation podule?

NIGEL: Petrol prices these days? Course I am.

DAVE: You made sure Wynona had a full tank...

NIGEL: That’s in case of emergencies. You better not touch my car while I’m gone or I will do unto something which will make Peter Jackson so disgusted he needs to watch "Bad Taste" to calm his stomach.

CHAMBER: You coming or what, Nige?

DOCTOR SPOON: Yeah, Nigel! Remember - ICH BIN BELINA!

DUO: FREEDOM!

CHAMBER: Yeah... what does that mean?

DOCTOR SPOON: "Ich bin Belina"? It means "I am a donut!"

CHAMBER: Cool! I AM A DONUT!

DUO: FREEDOM!

Andrew laughs and looks at Nigel.

ANDREW: These are the two people you want to spend all of the next seventy days with?

NIGEL: I would rather spend the next ten years locked in a lift with the bones of the Elephant Man and Michael Jackson telling me in incredible detail about why he’s so much better with detachable facial features then spend another second of my time with you two soul-stealing, time-wasting, blood-sucking, parasitical... JERKS!

DAVE: [SOBS] You know how to hurt a guy, Nige.

NIGEL: Good!

ANDREW: Fine. Run off with your fancy nerds, Nigel. But when it goes down the toilet – AND IT WILL – don’t come crying back here expecting sympathy.

NIGEL: Drop dead, Andrew. Preferably now.

Nigel crosses to Doctor Spoon and Chamber.

CHAMBER: 1, 2, 3, it’s easy to see

DOCTOR SPOON: But it’s not that I don’t care so!

Cause I hear it all the time

CHAMBER: But they never let you know

On the TV and the radio...

NIGEL: Right, you two ready to go?

DUO: She was singing

'Don’t turn around, uh-oh!

Der Kommissar’s in town...'

NIGEL: SHUT UP!

They fall silent, exchange a look and stare and Nigel.

DUO: Ooooooooooooooooh!!!

NIGEL: Oh, shut up and get moving. Sooner we start, sooner we arrive in sunny Berlin! All right?

DUO: ALL RIGHT!

99 Luftballoons starts to play as they scramble into the cubicle.

DUO: 99 red balloons

Floating in the summer sky!

Panic bells! It’s red alert!

There’s something here from somewhere else!

The door slides shut. Dave shakes his head, trying not to laugh.

4. TIME MACHINE

The cubicle is mainly taken up by a chair. Controls line the walls. Doctor Spoon takes the card from Nigel and starts flipping controls as Nigel squeezes into the chair.

DUO: The war machine springs to life

Opens up one eager eye

Focussing it on the sky

As 99 red balloons go by...

NIGEL: I SAID, "SHUT UP!!"

DOCTOR SPOON: OK, OK. God, someone needs a holiday.

CHAMBER: Chill boy.

NIGEL: Get on with it!

Doctor Spoon rolls his eye and pulls down a main lever.

5. BACKYARD

The machine turns translucent and fades from view.

ANDREW: Well.

DAVE: What do we do now?

ANDREW: Let's make mischief.

DAVE: Cool. What have you got in mind?

ANDREW: We could put sugar in his petrol tank?

DAVE: You betcha!

They run off.

6. TIME MACHINE

The windows show the machine is in a dark tunnel heading down a glowing path towards a bright light at the end of the tunnel. The whole thing sways from side to side as if at sea.

DOCTOR SPOON: Nearly there! Another few seconds and we’ll be at the Gundagai Goofy Greta Garbo place or whatever it is?

NIGEL: You sure this thing will get us there?

CHAMBER: Easy!

NIGEL: But how can we get to the Gertrude Gastronomic Guest place or whatever if you don’t actually know where it is.

CHAMBER: Oh it’s very technical. Bestt not worry about it.

NIGEL: Er, Spoon. How exactly does this machine of yours transcend the barriers of time and space?

DOCTOR SPOON: Oh, that? It’s just a Gamble-Eject Drive.

NIGEL: A what?

DOCTOR SPOON: Law of averages, probability, improbability, Heisenburg’s Uncertainty Principle... all that jazz. Look, if you throw a dice onto a table eighteen times, it is very – very – unlikely it will land on a six every time. But, it’s not impossible. Somewhere, sometime, you throw a six eighteen times in a row. If it’s possible, it must happen at some point, right?

NIGEL: [NOT GETTING IT AT ALL] Riiight...

DOCTOR SPOON: Now, the same thing applies to transport. In an infinite universe, there is an infinite number of infinitely varied modes of transport. Let’s say there are a million trillion vehicles on Earth, right? Well, there must be at least one of them that isn’t like all the others and can travel through time and space. Take it to the logical extension, and somewhere, out there, is a vehicle which will not only travel through time and space, but also take you exactly to the point you want to go.

NIGEL: And this is it?

CHAMBER: Ah, well, that’s where the Gamble-Eject Drive comes in. It makes this machine that mythical vehicle, and changes to a different vehicle every time we want to go somewhere different.

NIGEL: Wait a minute, doesn’t that mean the more you use this thing, the less likely it is to work at all?

DOCTOR SPOON: It’s perfectly feasible we have a run of luck that lasts as long as it needs to.

NIGEL: Not very feasible though.

DOCTOR SPOON: You see, Nigel, that’s why I never explain this thing. Takes all the magic out of it... the tyranny of distance couldn’t stop a cavalier – so why should it stop we three from being where we wannabe?

Chamber ‘lah-lahs’ Six Months In A Leaky Boat. Nigel groans. The room shakes violently and the lights flicker then brighten, leaving the machine still. Doctor Spoon brightens.

DOCTOR SPOON: We’ve arrived.

7. PARK

A pleasant, large square park beside a six-lane road next to a railway line. The machine sits in the shade of the trees. The hatch slides up and Nigel and Chamber emerge into the sunshine stretching.

CHAMBER: There you go. Global circumnavigation in less time than it takes to call directory assistance. Broadband my ass!

NIGEL: Wait a podcasting minute! These are gum trees! You don’t get gum trees in Nazi Germany, do you? Oi, Felchspoon! Get your pale ass out here! This isn’t Germany!

DOCTOR SPOON: [EXITS MACHINE] No. It’s Aberdeen.

NIGEL: Aberdeen? That’s not Germany that’s... I dunno... Cardiff or something like that!

DOCTOR SPOON: Heh. [RUBS NECK AWKWARDLY] Not Aberdeen England. More sort of... Aberdeen Australia. Quite a few places in Australia are named after English locations, it gets very tiring programming flight computers...

NIGEL: You’re saying we haven’t left Australia?

DOCTOR SPOON: Looks like.

NIGEL: Have we even left New South Wales?

DOCTOR SPOON: Not quite. Look, the machine’s set to take us to the [CHECKS CARD] "Gunther Gruber Geschnellkopf Fitness & Health Kamp".

Doctor Spoon hands the card to Nigel.

DOCTOR SPOON: Which I think you’ll find is not actually in Germany, but in Australia.

NIGEL: What?!

CHAMBER: You mean he got us all hyped up for nothing? There won’t be booze, babes, and Euro-Trip-style wacky happenstances?

DOCTOR SPOON: I know, Chamber. It’s a human tragedy.

NIGEL: [SHRUGS] Can’t we go to Germany anyway?

DOCTOR SPOON: The expenses and stuff were only to be paid here! In Aberdeen! No point going to Germany. Besides, it’ll be half an hour before the SS Flirty Baboon is recharged enough for a second attempt.

Nigel covers his eyes as if trying to control himself.

NIGEL: All right. All right. Well, we’ll just stay here and enjoy the sexy young German ladies fulfilling our every sordid whim...

CHAMBER: [GRINS] Sounds like a plan.

8. OUTSIDE HEALTH CAMP

The trio approach a white marble mansion, with pillars and colonnades surrounded by gardens. Doctor Spoon whistles as Chamber sings and Nigel tries to ignore them both.

DOCTOR SPOON: Blonde waitress-says takes their trays

They spin around

And they cross the floor

They’ve got the moves!

CHAMBER: Oh whey oh!

DOCTOR SPOON: You drop your drink? Then they bring you more!

CHAMBER: All the Japanese with their yen

The party boys

Call the Krem-e-len!

And the Chinese know

DOCTOR SPOON: Oh whey oh!

DUO: They walk the line

Like Eg-yp-ti-ans!

NIGEL: [SCREAMS] GAH! Why are you even singing that? Egypt isn’t in Germany, you morons!

CHAMBER: So? Neither are we!

NIGEL: Oh god, just shut up! I am not spending the next two and a half months listening to you two do covers of bad 1980s rock! Now we’ve actually got here...

They step up onto the main entrance. A door above the door says WELCOME. PLEASE ENTER. Nigel smiles.

NIGEL: Let the orgy commence!

He skips up through the doors into reception. The others follow.

9. RECEPTION

Gentle music plays in the background. A very attractive German woman is tapping at a computer terminal at the reception desk. The trio enter, Nigel immediately putting on his charming expression as he drops his suitcase on the floor.

NIGEL: Well hello there.

RECEPTIONIST: Ah, good morning. I hope you are enjoying your day.

NIGEL: Oh, I have, feisty fraulein, I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere so lovely before. Why, this is the embodiment of every possible description of "Paradise". It’s beautiful here! And so are you!

RECEPTIONIST: [CAUTIOUS] Thank you.

DOCTOR SPOON: Hello. We’re here for the free holiday.

Doctor Spoon hands the card over to the receptionist, who studies it. Her expression changes ever so slightly, and she reaches to a red button on the desk and presses it. As she does so she smiles brightly at them as she pockets the card.

RECEPTIONIST: Of course. That is all in order. Welcome to the Gunther Gruber Geschnellkopf Fitness & Health Kamp, a place where unhappiness, hunger, ignorance and Shane Warne are unknown.

Doctor Spoon turns to Chamber, muttering over his shoulder.

DOCTOR SPOON: There’s something strange here. Something odd.

Chamber pulls an expression of mock horror and gasps in fear.

CHAMBER: Odd?!?

DOCTOR SPOON: Yes. Something magnificently evil...

CHAMBER: Evil?!?

DOCTOR SPOON: Yes, magnificently evil, black and foul...

CHAMBER: Foul?!?

Doctor Spoon turns and looks hard at Chamber

DOCTOR SPOON: Hanging in the air.

CHAMBER: In the air?!?

DOCTOR SPOON: Waiting to destroy us.

CHAMBER: To destroy us?!??

DOCTOR SPOON: [FOLDS ARMS] Antidisestablishmentarianism.

CHAMBER: [SCOWLS] Very funny. What could possibly go wrong here?

Three women step through reception behind them, all holding guns. Two more enter through the front door, grabbing them both from behind.

CHAMBER: [SIGHS] That wasn’t very clever, was it?

DOCTOR SPOON: [SHAKES HEAD] No, in fact it was particularly stupid, Chamber.

NIGEL: This is ridiculous. You’re making a terrible mistake - I demand you take me to your leader!

Two of the women move in opposite directions, revealing a woman older than the others. We pan up her cowboy boots, stockings, garters, leather bodice covered in metal studs, a fur stole and an ornate earring in her right ear. Her head is shaved and she looks like a biker’s moll if the said biker was too scary to appear in Mad Max. This is the Kommandant.

KOMMANDANT: Zat, Meester sir, vould be myself.

NIGEL: [AWESTRUCK] You’re the leader?

KOMMANDANT: Ja, I ich Kommandant of das Gunther Gruber Geschnellkopf Fitness & Health Kamp.

NIGEL: [INTENSE] Right. I have a new demand. Remove my trousers and avert your gaze lest my magnificence shatters your minds like glass!!

The Kommandant brutally back-hands Nigel, drawing blood and knocking him out. Nigel’s eyes roll up in his head and all fades to back as he falls into the arms of the women guards.

10. BEACH

Nigel is strutting his funky stuff surrounded by bikini-clad teenage women. Suddenly, Nigel is struck by lightning. He screams. Hair on end, clothes singed, skin blackened, Nigel falls backwards into the sand. Lightning hits him again. He screams again.

11. CELL

Nigel is jerking and convulsing, gasping in pain. Chamber is holding a mangled mobile phone with bare wires over Nigel’s chest. Smoke rises from his shirt. Doctor Spoon watches on. Nigel’s eyes snap open.

NIGEL: Argh! Where am I? You! Oh my God! I’m in hell! I’m in hell! My God, Andrew isn’t here, is he? Well, that’s an improvement on real life...

Chamber removes the phone and switches off.

DOCTOR SPOON: You’re not in hell, Nigel.

NIGEL: I’m not? The last thing I remember was falling into infinity, my last thought: I’ll never screw that babe in the bondage gear. Then, a kind of warm, light peace. [EYES WIDEN] I was in heaven! And you and my legion of fans have brought me back, just like Buffy!

CHAMBER: Nigel, shut up.

NIGEL: I knew I would be appreciated if I died! Hah! Beat that, Mao Tse Dung! I am the Cult of Personality!

CHAMBER: The Cunt of Personality, more like.

NIGEL: Bow down before me, girls! Bow down before me, men! Bow down all the weird ones where it’s hard to tell if they’re a boy or a girl! I am Omni-Potent!

Chamber rolls his eyes and jabs the mobile phone into Nigel’s chest again, causing a spark and a crackle. Nigel convulses, transfixed.

DOCTOR SPOON: Are you paying attention now?

Nigel nods.

NIGEL: W-where are we? What place is it? What time of man?

Nigel looks around. They are in a grey prison cell. There is a red door with a sliding panel. There are two chairs, a bunk bed, a bucket and a table. There is a barred window high on the wall beside the beds.

CHAMBER: The Garamond Gregorian Geriatric whatever the hell it is.

NIGEL: Nonsense. Look at the design motiff. Neo-Gothic, efficient and reliable Victorian construction. Damp brick walls, flagstone floors, low wattage bulb hanging naked from the ceiling... We’re in a prison cell! A prison cell! God I hate prison cells. All the same. [GLARES AT THE DOOR] Made to keep little knobs out and big knobs quite definitely in!

DOCTOR SPOON: The architecture does become more penitentiary the deeper you go. After you got whacked unconscious, they dragged us down here, and threw us into the cell.

NIGEL: But... we’re paying customers! Don’t they realize?

DOCTOR SPOON: They do. That’s why they treated us like that.

NIGEL: This is outrageous! [TO OTHERS] But surely they’re not going to let us languish here?

DOCTOR SPOON: No, that would be good news.

Nigel starts to explore the room and its contents thoroughly.

NIGEL: Why? What are they going to do to us?

DOCTOR SPOON: [BLEAKLY] They are going to hurt us, Nigel. Lash us to within an inch of our lives, batter us until our internal organs are shaken to jelly and then violate us with chainsaws.

A beat.

NIGEL: Why?

DOCTOR SPOON: [ROLLS EYES] Nigel, these ladies do not mean us well. This isn’t a health camp, it’s some barely-legal brothel where incredibly nasty and not-at-all nice sadists come here to beat up average everyday Australians for their own sexual gratification!

NIGEL: [BRIGHTENS] Ooh. Sexual gratification!

CHAMBER: Theirs, Nigel, not ours!

NIGEL: God, how selfish of you both. No wonder you two losers never score, if you’re such insensitive lovers...

Doctor Spoon shakes his head and sits heavily on the bed.

DOCTOR SPOON: We have got to get out of here! They said they’d be here at three o’clock precisely. That means they’ll all be here in less than six and a half minutes! WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO?!

CHAMBER: We can do what they did in The Great Escape!

DOCTOR SPOON: What? Wander around the place wearing fake beards and acting in a very bad manner?

CHAMBER: No, it’ll be really good. Just need to get a complicated series of stooges to wander around the place pouring sand out of the bottoms of their trousers, build a wooden horse, trick the guards into giving us a glider, pogo-stick over the fence and back to the ship!

A long pause.

DOCTOR SPOON: Am I the only one still sane in here?

There is a sudden, hollow clanging noise.

CHAMBER: Depends. Can you hear that?

The three of them look around and spot two old and rusty metal pipes passing through the wall into the next room, just below the ceiling above the bunk bed. The clanging continues, becoming rhythmic.

DOCTOR SPOON: Ooh! Ask not for whom the cast-iron pipe clangs!

CHAMBER: What are you on about now, you mad old bastard?

DOCTOR SPOON: That pipe is not rattling down to dodgy plumbing.

NIGEL: Must be someone in the next cell! What are they saying?

Doctor Spoon stares at Nigel.

DOCTOR SPOON: "Tap-tap-tappy-tap" is what they’re saying, what do you think, you fool-shaped fool! It’s not the Abbe bloody Maria, is it?!

NIGEL: I thought you knew Morse Code, Spoon!

DOCTOR SPOON: No! Why the hell should I know Morse Code? Morse Code was abandoned ages ago! The chances of the people in two cells both knowing an outmoded communications sequence and having the ability to use it is as astronomical as, well...

CHAMBER: A time-space travel machine built out of a portable toilet, a DVD player and a car battery?

DOCTOR SPOON: Don’t try and get clever with me, Chamber!

CHAMBER: Fine!

Chamber crosses over to the bunk, climbs it and starts banging the mobile phone against the pipe in a staccato beat.

DOCTOR SPOON: Good luck, Chamber. You've just got to establish a rapport with the person on the other end, exchange notes and devise some way of getting out of this wretched place. Oh, and work out how to communicate in the first place.

CHAMBER: You're disturbing my concentration, Rupert.

Angrilly he slams the phone heavily against the pipe, causing a nasty crunch.

DOCTOR SPOON: [SIGHS] Chamber. What are you using against the pipe?

CHAMBER: [BANGING] The mobile phone!

DOCTOR SPOON: [NODS] The mobile phone.

CHAMBER: Yeah, the mobile phone. Gotta problem with that?

DOCTOR SPOON: A mobile phone which we could, say, use to call for help?

CHAMBER: Ah.

He looks at the mobile. It is cracked and smashed.

NIGEL: Oh dear god, your stupidity is depressing.

DOCTOR SPOON: Oh, hell, we’re running out of time!

Frantic, Doctor Spoon climbs up onto the top bunk and starts to rip a bit of the metal headboard frame loose.

DOCTOR SPOON: They’ll come for us any minute and have their wicked way with us!

NIGEL: Don’t worry your little albino head. Once I turn on the charm, they’ll let us out of here.

CHAMBER: Once you turn on the charm, they’ll pad the cell!

Nigel looks confused at that.

DOCTOR SPOON: Less witticisms, more escaping! There’s some loose mortar around the window, so we might be able to lever it out...

CHAMBER: What is this? Escape from Colditz?

DOCTOR SPOON: Escape from New York, more like! Chamber, help me!

Chamber and Doctor Spoon dig the metal strut above the window frame and twist the strut, forcing the whole grilled window out of the wall. Chamber drops down and wrenches the frame loose.

CHAMBER: [TRIUMPHANT] Ahah!

Behind the frame is ANOTHER, identical window frame, complete with bars to block the escape. Doctor Spoon growls.

DOCTOR SPOON: This is hardcore, man!

Angrily, he sweeps the strut against the pipe causing more clangs. Another series of taps can be heard.

NIGEL: Whoever it is, it’s getting more urgent!

DOCTOR SPOON: Another customer in this hellhole of sexual sadism! [SHOUTS INTO PIPE] Sorry! Can’t help you! Don’t speak ‘tappy-tappy-tap’! Good luck!

The tapping gets louder, faster then stops. A pause. The trio exchange looks. Doctor Spoon meekly taps the pipe a few times. Silence.

CHAMBER: [BLEAKLY] Transmission interrupted.

NIGEL: Can you hear footsteps?

CHAMBER: [NODS] Yes... getting closer...

Fearfully, Chamber retreats to the top bunk just as Doctor Spoon climbs down and hauls on the newly-exposed bars of the window desperately.

DOCTOR SPOON: We’ve got to get out of here!

NIGEL: And where are we going to run back to?

DOCTOR SPOON: The time machine, you intellectual microbe! The energy cells will be up for a trip back to our place, easy.

NIGEL: I don’t see what the big problem is here. We’re in a German, woman-only sex bordello and you want to leave! You’re out of your minds! This is going to be brilliant!

CHAMBER: They’re insane bondage sadists who want new flesh to torment! It’s like Hellraiser without the makeup!

NIGEL: Well, I can take it. I can take anything. And if there’s one thing I can take, then it’s...

Over the pipes can be heard a muffled, but audible scream. It becomes more agonized and blood-curdling, along with sickening crunches. Nigel swallows, looking unwell.

NIGEL: ...not that.

DOCTOR SPOON: What’s he saying, Chamber?

Chamber places his ear against the pipe and concentrates.

CHAMBER: Er, "No, no, please don’t do that. Crunch. Splat. Argh. This isn’t doing my chakras any good at all. Rip. No, please, my skeleton is happy where it is. I’ll be all floppy. Argh! Arg! Ar... g. Erg."

Silence.

DOCTOR SPOON: [SWALLOWS] Another satisfied customer of the Gunther Gruber Geschenllkopf Fitness & Health Kamp. [SHRUGS] Dunno about you, but I’m terrified. Now, we either stay here and wait for the foul attentions of Ms Huge Vicious McSadistic O'Nasty and her vicious rotttweiler bitches or we escape.

CHAMBER: I vote escape.

NIGEL: [FOLDS ARMS] Fine. How exactly do you intend to do that in the next [CHECKS WATCH] two minutes and thirty-nine seconds?

DOCTOR SPOON: Well... er... over to you, Chamber?

CHAMBER: Got it! We start screaming and shouting and doing the whole Monty Python routine until they come in here to shut us up! At the moment they unlock the door and start to open it, we push it closed again!

NIGEL: ...so we stay in here, basically?

CHAMBER: No, we wait for them to come through the door and then slam it against them, knock them unconscious and escape.

DOCTOR SPOON: So after that, we have to find our way through a maze of subterranean passages and run a gauntlet of white supremacist bondage freaks armed with whips and cattle prods aimed at our peachy, delicate skins? God, it’s like being the main character in a Kate Orman novel!

NIGEL: Two minutes.

DOCTOR SPOON: Think we can do better.

CHAMBER: Well, you come up with an idea then!

DOCTOR SPOON: I’m THINKING!

CHAMBER: Thinking about what?

DOCTOR SPOON: Well, to be brutally honest, working out a way to resolve the continuity problems that connect Jeopardy and Lost. I mean, they both star that Glaswegian junkie git, both involve ordinary people lost in the wilds, surrounded by malevolent forces, government conspiracies and unseen monsters...

CHAMBER: Ah, but there is a fundamental difference. Everyone knows about Lost but only total nerds who watch ABC Kids know about Jeopardy.

NIGEL: [GRINS] One minute and forty-eight seconds!

DOCTOR SPOON: To what?

NIGEL: The grand opening! Consummation with the Kommandant! Death by sex part the first! Remember?

CHAMBER: Oh yes. [SWALLOWS] I remember.

DOCTOR SPOON: Right. No teleport bracelets, none of us have psychokinesis, there’s no kind of back-up or cavalry coming from us, no secret passages or ventilation shafts, the other prisoners can’t help us, no lock picks, no real weapons to speak of...

NIGEL: Ninety seconds.

CHAMBER: [WITH RESOLVE] Right! We’ve only got one chance.

DOCTOR SPOON: Which is?

NIGEL: [RUBS HANDS WITH GLEE] Tickety-tick! Tickety-tick!

CHAMBER: Well, I’ve no idea. But statistically speaking, we probably have one. It’s only logical...

DOCTOR SPOON: [EYES WIDEN] Of course! Chamber, give me the mobile.

Chamber hands it over.

CHAMBER: It’s busted!

DOCTOR SPOON: I can still send text messages!

NIGEL: [YAWNS] Oh, let joy be unconfined. One minute fifteen.

DOCTOR SPOON: If I send an SMS message to the flight computer of the time machine, it might cause the server to crash in such a way the whole shebang dematerializes and immediately relocates itself to this cell, stabilizing just long enough for us to board before the elastic-band-style effect snaps it back to the starting point of our house before the energy cells get drained by the stress!

A beat as Doctor Spoon starts texting furiously.

NIGEL: Pathetic! The chances against that ever happening would be billions and billions to one! AGAINST!

DOCTOR SPOON: But that still makes a chance, albeit an unlikely one! And that’s all the Gamble-Eject Drive needs!

NIGEL: [ROLLS EYES] One minute.

CHAMBER: We’re definitely pushing our luck.

DOCTOR SPOON: Hell yeah. We’ll need to use buses for a while to get probability back on our side. How long?

NIGEL: Fifty-three seconds and counting.

DOCTOR SPOON: [PRESSES BUTTON] Send. Come on, come on, come on...

NIGEL: I hear the sound of footsteps! [RUNS HIS HANDS DOWN HIS BODY] Oh yeah! Resistance is useless, dudes! Pain’s just another sensation like love, hate, pleasure... and nausea. [BLINKS] Tick tock. I’m going to do it! Farewell, virginity, I knew thee well! I think I’ll disport myself erotically...

Nigel picks up a chair, flips it round and sits down in it back to front, assuming various poses. Chamber bites his knuckles.

CHAMBER: Rupert!

NIGEL: Thirty seconds exactly!

Doctor Spoon laughs and there is a flickering bright light and, with the sound of a car crashing, the booth forms beside the table Doctor Spoon and Chamber are sitting at. The light continues to flicker.

DOCTOR SPOON: Quick, we’ve got seconds!

Chamber scrambles inside, but Doctor Spoon hovers on the edge.

DOCTOR SPOON: Nigel! Get up!

NIGEL: Get lost! [FERVENTLY] Those sex sirens will be here in twenty seconds and this will be my PARADISE!

DOCTOR SPOON: Screw you then!

He steps inside and lowers the hatch.

DOCTOR SPOON: [SHOUTS] But they don’t call them "penal colonies" for NOTHING!

The hatch closes and with a final flash, vanishes, leaving Nigel alone. He looks around, registering this. Silence falls. Footsteps can be heard. Nigel starts to look nervous.

NIGEL: Oh well. All I need to do is submit the mind and the spirit, and anything that happens to the body is an outright bonus! Yes... as long as they beat me properly... Yeah. The Big N can break himself, no trouble. Defeat can be so liberating. It’s what Kim Beazley always said. To give in to greater strength, inevitable humiliation, false teeth... [GULPS] After all, all sorts of sensations... Any sensible Mistress of Pain would forgive, well, inexperience. Reluctance? Resistance? Sure, but inexperience, well, that just wouldn’t be fair. And life’s always fair. Isn’t it? Isn’t it?

Nigel looks around at where the time machine stood.

NIGEL: [SIGHS] My life really needs a rewind control. I might have made the biggest mistake since Mr and Mrs. Bush got frisky that cold winter’s night.

The footsteps get louder. Nigel looks very anxious.

NIGEL: Not like they’d... snap my neck. I mean... that’d be too far. But there’s always the odd customer. Oh god... They won’t even use lubricant, will they? Cheap German bitches can’t even afford some oil of aloes? DAMN THIS RECESSION! Stupid economists! They never think of the human cost, like my helpless little body being invaded, stretched and filled, tight and shivering... It’d be just my luck if they forget all about the pleasure part of pleasure-pain. And me, so tender and innocent and easily-bewildered by the complexity of Hustle episodes.

The footsteps stop and there is the sound of the door being unlocked. Nigel takes a deep breath, determined.

NIGEL: Well, screw that. I am the Big N and the entire female population of this establishment JUST BECAME MY BITCHES! Any of you got a problem with that, then there’s gonna be consequences and repercussions!

The door opens, and Nigel sits up straight.

KOMMANDANT: Guten Tag, Meester Verkof.

NIGEL: You took your time to get here, chicky-babes! Your daddy is mighty mad and you KNOW there’s only one way to cheer up your daddy!

12. MONTAGE

We hear a sudden violent series of screams from Nigel as we pan straight upwards into the sky.

NIGEL: [BETWEEN SCREAMS OF AGONY] That’s it, baby, treat me rough!!

Storm clouds gather rapidly, and the thunder and rain start as Nigel’s screams are lost.

Caption: MEANWHILE, A MERE EIGHTEEN DAYS LATER

We pan down to see we are at the street where the gang lives. The rain gathers in the gutters.

DAVE: [VO] You know something, Andrew?

13. LIVING AREA

Andrew, Katy and Dave stand below the Chill Out Area, looking sadly at the far wall where a framed portrait of Nigel sprawled across the bonnet of Wynona has been placed.

ANDREW: What?

DAVE: I actually think I’m going to miss him.

KATY: [THINKS] Mmm. Not you aim carefully.

They turn and hurl darts at the painting, in particular Nigel’s face. Dave's dart thuds into Nigel's crotch.

KATY: Ah-hah! 180!

DAVE: But I got his most valuable possession.

KATY: You were supposed aiming at his face.

DAVE: Yeah, but consider the size of the target. Easy 200 points there.

ANDREW: Beginner’s luck.

The microwave beeps.

ANDREW: Ah, dinner.

KATY: Macaroni and Cheese?

ANDREW: This time with more cholesterol.

They all cross to the kitchen area. Katy gets some Chinese bowls as Andrew takes out a serving tray from the microwave. Dave collects a few chopstick as they prepare for dinner.

DAVE: He’s been gone for three weeks, now.

KATY: You heard what Doctor Spoon and Chamber said, he wanted to stay there. He’s probably having lots of fun.

DAVE: Guess so. Do you think we’ll ever see him again?

ANDREW: [SOTTO] Not if I see him first.

14. STREET

Menacing music begins to play as something lumbers through the rain and the gloom towards the house. We cut to the thing’s POV before we can make out who or what it is. We hear their heavy breathing as it lurches up the steps towards the front door.

15. LIVING AREA

The trio are eating as the a musical cue from Shameless plays. They look up as the speaker affixed over the TV suddenly sparks and fall down onto the TV and smashes it apart. The others watch the flames and smoke go out, leaving the set ruined.

DAVE: [TO KATY] I told you we should have left the door bell alone.

The music plays again, this time slurred and skipping.

KATY: Who could it be at this hour?

DAVE: Probably Jehovah’s Witnesses or Mormons or some other wierdoes like that.

KATE: Great. Let’s interrupt dinner to chat about the current political tragedy and the importance of family life in corrupt societies, get some free literature and consider the fate of our godless souls.

ANDREW: Oh, but I love conversations like those! They’re so interesting, but it’s odd - none of them ever seem to walk to keep talking about it once we start. It’s mysterious...

Andrew daintily dabs his mouth with his singlet, and crosses to the door to the hallway.

16. HALLWAY

Andrew runs down the hallway and opens the door in a violent manner. Standing there is a bedraggled Nigel – wet, unshaven and furious. His hair is mussed up, his glasses missing, his clothes splattered with mud, blood and oil. He looks like he’s been beaten up for months, and has a rag acting as a hooded cover. The rain continues outside.

NIGEL: [HOARSE] By the many curvaceous models in Playboy! You!

ANDREW: [ANNOYED] Well, who’d you expect it to be, ya bastard?

NIGEL: Andrew, you total...

Dave and Katy enter the hallway.

DAVE: [BRIGHTLY] Hey, Nige – how are you?

KATY: What happened to you? You look like something Walt Disney might have dreamed up – if someone loaded him up with LSD and gave him a blank cheque.

NIGEL: What is she doing here? I thought we agreed never to let her ever, ever come back here!

ANDREW: No, we didn’t.

NIGEL: Well, you should have! [CLOSES EYES] I say, David, be a gracious chap and give me a hand with my luggage, will you?

He drops a muddy carrier bag he holds onto the floor. Dave picks it up, distastefully. Andrew closes the door, blocking out the rain.

17. LIVING AREA

The quartet enter and Andrew wearily begins to try and clear up the mess around the smashed TV. Katy goes back to eating. Dave eyes the grubby Nigel as he rubs himself down with a towel.

DAVE: So... nice holiday, then?

NIGEL: [CALMLY] Actually, no.

KATY: Yeah, we heard it wasn’t so good there.

NIGEL: Those despicable back-stabbing bastards Doctor Chamber and Spoon got back safe and sound then, I gather?

ANDREW: They said it was a strange torture-based brothel and the idea appealed to you so much you wanted to stay.

NIGEL: Oh, a guy can’t change his mind now?

Nigel squelches over to the dinner table and picks up a plate and tips the contents into his mouth.

DAVE: You shouldn’t have done that, Nige.

NIGEL: I haven’t eaten in ten days, Dave, I’M HUNGRY!

KATY: Then you should eat slowly, you’ll make yourself sick.

Nigel moves to insult her, then grimaces. He slumps down into a chair.

NIGEL: Oh, how infinitely depressing.

DAVE: What happened?

NIGEL: Oh, Dave, they were so horrible to me. It was like being at private boarding school all over again....

KATY: But you never went to boarding school, Nigel.

NIGEL: [BLINKS] Yes. Yes, but if I had been to boarding school, then it would been exactly like it... Oh, I forgot. Yes, yes, Katy. Yes, I did actually go to boarding school. Actually.

Dave, Katy and Andrew exchange looks.

ANDREW: I wouldn’t call "Glebe High" a boarding school.

NIGEL: [SMUG] Neither would I, Andrew, neither would I – that’s why I went to "Hunter’s Hill Grammar School for Boys Comprehensive". [SMILES] Yes, I really must visit my old school again and say "Hi" to everybody...

ANDREW: [FOLDS ARMS] Is that why all your school reports have "Glebe High School" written on them, Nigel?

NIGEL: [SLIGHTLY AWKWARD] That’s was just a one-off typing error. [SUDDENLY ANGRY] How do you know all about my school reports, anyway, huh?

Dave delves into his trench-coat pocket and pulls out a fist full of A4 cardboard school reports that have been folded over and hands one to Andrew and Katy, who take them and flips through them. Nigel boggles.

KATY: "Nigella is a very selfish and insolent little boy, as well as being very, very stupid."

NIGEL: [HORRIFIED] Shut up, January!

ANDREW: "Verkoff is a talentless fool who deserves to be bullied."

DAVE: And that's your career advisor.

Nigel lashes out, sending report cards everywhere.

NIGEL: You liars! Anyway, at least I went to proper schools and not "special" schools like you three, you spastics!

KATY: [COLDLY] "Gifted And Talented" was an elite class at Glebe – the same school as you, you damned ape-shape.

NIGEL: Hah! It was a euphemism and you know it! [STEADILY GETTING ANGRIER] That class was full of retarded children, banging their heads on the tables and hanging their bare, malformed asses out the windows, POOING ONTO THE GROUND! The rest of us have to listen to the idiot sounds you retards made during study periods!

DAVE: Just because you couldn’t get into the class...

NIGEL: Oh, why would I want to be in a class of human defects that would’ve just ended up working for the organizations that help raise money to buy them more helmets for when they sleep AND MORE SHIN-GUARDS FOR WHEN THEY HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM! [SCREAMING INSANELY NOW] THE WORLD IS A BETTER PLACE WITHOUT YOU!!!!

Andrew bitch-slaps Nigel.

ANDREW: Calm down.

NIGEL: Oh, like you can talk, you foul deviant! We could set our watches on you being suspended by the Deputy!

ANDREW: [UNCOMFORTABLE] It wasn’t my fault, was it?

NIGEL: Yes it was! The morning before assembly you took a "detour" into the local pub and got pissed out of your tiny, little mind. By the time you got to assembly, you had started arguing with yourself in front of the whole school!

KATY: Well, everybody has their moments of madness.

DAVE: What do you mean? Katy, he did that every day.

NIGEL: ...until the men in white coats turned up, put you in a straightjacket and chucked you into the van!

ANDREW: I was just misunderstood.

NIGEL: Andrew, the only reason you were misunderstood is because you were too drunk to talk most of the time.

ANDREW: Yeah, I suppose you’re right.

A pause. Thunder rumbles in the background. Nigel takes off his shirt and wipes some muck off his chest with the towel.

DAVE: So, where are our presents, then?

NIGEL: Presents? What presents?

DAVE: Well, you were on holiday, so you should have bought us big, expensive presents. Preferably, a crate of Orange-Passio juice for me, a nice postcard for Katy and the latest issue of SFX for Andrew. Actually, if it’s not a crate of Orange-Passio, then –

NIGEL: Dave, I have recently escaped from a Nazi health camp! I am not thinking about such pleasantries as buying you a create of fruit juice!

DAVE: And why not?!?

KATY: Why not?

ANDREW: Yeah, why not, Nigel?

NIGEL: Why not? I’ll tell you why not! It was eight whole days of sheer, evil torture! [PUTS ON FRESH T-SHIRT] Left to the mercy of feckin hairy, sweaty, mustachioed Germans with big whips and enormous, smelly muscles... [SHIVERS WITH DISGUST] And the men... the men were much worse!

KATY: Doesn’t sound like much of a holiday to me!

ANDREW: In fact, it sounds like you were chucked out of there after you sexually harassed the entire staff and started screaming that they were all Nazi lesbians and you’ve come back here, tail between your legs and are now bitching at us for sympathy. Which rather suggests...

NIGEL: No one likes a smartarse, Andrew.

DAVE: How did you escape?

NIGEL: Every so often they stopped making me run electrified obstacle courses in the nude, and that was when I was left alone in my cell. I managed to break down the bars to the cell window...

KATY: How did you do that?

NIGEL: Oh, I just imagined each bar was your face, Katy. [CALMER] Since then, I’ve been on the run, walking day and night to find my way back here. Those German bitches chased me all the way through Newcastle to Hornsby.

DAVE: If you lost them, why didn’t you eat something?

NIGEL: I still haven’t got their excuse for food out of my system yet, and... Argh!

Nigel farts loudly and groans, clutching his stomach. The other three take two steps back in unison.

ANDREW: [CONCERNED] What did they feed you?

NIGEL: [SHIVERING] Brussel sprouts. Nothing but sprouts.

DAVE: [HORRIFIED] Bastards!

NIGEL: You're the bastards! You let this happen to me?

ANDREW: Us? We didn’t abandon you there, you stayed there by choice. You went there by choice. It’s not our fault. If there’s any bastard here, it’s you.

NIGEL: No, I’ll tell you who the bastards are – the ones on that damn Mindbender quiz show! They actually chose that as a holiday destination for the winner! Those evil...

Nigel begins to brush and comb his hair, scowling.

NIGEL: Guys, I am gonna get even.

KATY: How?

NIGEL: I think I’ll put pen to paper and...

ANDREW: ...make a paper airplanes that go really, really far?

He makes a paper-plane-throwing motion. Nigel sighs.

NIGEL: No, shut up, Andrew! God, I have not missed your frivolity! [VERY DRAMATICALLY] No, guys, what I shall do to is... WRITE TO A CURRENT AFFAIR!

Thunder rumbles and ridiculously dramatic music plays. This continues for a long moment as the gang just stare at each other, not talking. Finally, it ends and they continue.

NIGEL: Yes... I’ll set Ray Martin on that smegging evil Bruce bloody bastard! Let’s see him get out of that!!

DAVE: [TAKEN ABACK] Jesus, man...

NIGEL: [NODS] That’s right, Dave! That’s right! Be amazed at the New... Tough... Nigel you see before you! I AIN’T GONNA TAKE NO SHIT FROM NOBODY NO MORE!

He does a "muscle-man" bicep impression – very badly. Added to the brush stuck in his hair and the stains on his clothes, he looks pathetic. Deeply pathetic. The other three stare at him. Nigel takes the comb from his hair self-consciously.

NIGEL: Right, shush, you too and listen! All I need to do is write to old Ray and tell him about my nightmare experience with evil Kraut Kamp and – bang!

KATY: [CONFUSED] He shoots you?

Nigel looks heavenwards in exasperation.

NIGEL: No, "Bang! I’m a media celebrity". And you know what the means, don’t you? No, of course you don’t. God, I expect too much from you three, don’t I? Can you at least nod your head so that it appears, to an alien being watching us, that you actually sentient?

Andrew, Katy and Dave start nodding their heads.

NIGEL: Good. Right. Where was I? You can stop nodding you heads, guys. Guys? For god’s sake, guys, I...!

Nigel goes beserk. Hard rock ’n’ roll music plays – psycho Nigel music. He punches Andrew in the face, throwing him across the room. He kicks the still-nodding Dave in the goolies, and punches him, knocking him across the sofa. Looking big and violent, Nigel rushes at the sprawled form of Katy...

16. BATHROOM

A close-up of Nigel’s snarling face rushing towards us. We cut to show Katy has got Nigel in a hammerlock and is forcing his face down into the opening toilet bowl. After a few tries, she succeeds and pulls the chain. The flushing noise cuts off the psycho Nigel music just as the water dampens Nigel’s horrific screams. Katy stands back as Nigel hauls his head from the toilet. He looks awful – worse than before, and his hair has been sucked into a snow-cone shape due to the vortex in the toilet. He spits out a mouthful of goodness-knows-what.

NIGEL: [TRYING NOT TO SWALLOW] Oh, Katy... Sorry, friend. It’s life on the inside, girl, it drives you mad. Got the red mists...

KATY: It’s all right, Nige. Forgive and forget. Well, forget, anyway. Oh, by the way?

Nigel turns to look at him. Katy socks him on the jaw. Reeling, Nigel ends up, once more, face-down in the toilet. His flailing hands grab the chain and try to haul him out. Instead, the toilet flushes again.

17. STREET

Now it is morning, and still raining.

18. LIVING AREA

Andrew, Katy and Dave are slumped on the sofa in various stages of doze. Nigel is pacing, having changed his clothes and now looking 100% back to normal, sadly.

NIGEL: Now, all that stupid characterization has been dealt with, the reset button pressed, and we're the best of friends as ever we were. What next? Oh, yes. Right, my plan, yes, the plan of the century... For this we shall now refer to each other by our initials?

KATY: Why?

NIGEL: No, "Why, N.V.?", that’s what you say, K.J. Now, what I’ll do is write to good old Ray, tell him what horrid things happened to me and I’ll become a TV star, appear on tons of talk shows and stuff. I mean, look at that David Hicks guy – what did he do to get on TV? Hung around terrorists until to got arrested. Pah! A rank amateur!

DAVE: Yeah. And he had a beard.

NIGEL: [NODS] That’s right, D.R.! He had a big beard! Never trust anybody with a beard, that’s that I say... [SUDDEN THOUGHT] Oh! And when I’ve become a star and written my best-selling autobiography, there’ll be million of girls wanting to shag me to death, won’t there?!?

ANDREW: I think that’s just a wee bit too hopeful, N.V.

NIGEL: [SHRUGS] All right, then, A.B. I’ll scrap the book.

He assumes a pose, looking out the window, as speaks as if to his secretary, his manner brisk and formal.

NIGEL: K.J., send an email.

KATY: Where to?

NIGEL: To RayMartin@iprimus.com.au.

ANDREW: What email?

NIGEL: What is it now?

DAVE: Where’s this email all of a sudden?

NIGEL: Pay attention, you lot. Get Outlook Express launched up and running and type out what I’m saying, OK?

ANDREW: I don’t think that Ray Martin would be interested in what you’re saying, N.V.

NIGEL: OK, then, I’ll write it myself.

He sits down beside the computer, switches it on and, once it is booted up, he reaches out an arm, snapping his fingers repeatedly.

NIGEL: Outlook Express, please, D.R.

Dave sighs, gets up and hits an icon on the taskbar with a mouse. Outlook Express instantly appears with a new message.

DAVE: [RETURNS TO SOFA] There you go.

NIGEL: Do I have to do everything myself? Oh, well, right... [STARTS TYPING] "To: Ray Martin; CC: RayMartin@iprimus.com.au; Title: Those Mindbender Arseholes..." Right, onto the message. "Dear Sir or Madam, I’ve been to a Nazi health camp where butch, hairy women with whips force-fed me prunes and sprouts and made my arse sore from farting. Please go there and beat them up, demonize them and refuse to apologize like you usually do and get me on the TV, so I can have tons of huge-breasted amazons to shag. Yours and stuff, Nigel Verkoff Esquire. P.S.: Just send a few babes round now for me to test out, OK?" [LEANS BACK] What a masterpiece! What an email! What a fantastic piece of literary acclaim!

ANDREW: What a bucketful of anal pig slop!

NIGEL: What?

ANDREW: That’s what it sounds like to me.

NIGEL: Well, nobody asked you for your opinion, did they? Anyway, this letter is bound to get picked for the show.

KATY: Why?

NIGEL: It’s just so much better than the usual crap they get from "Mr. Liam Anderson of Sydenham". [FAKE AUSSIE VOICE] "Dear Ray Martin, why oh why oh why can’t we employ refugees as slave labor on building sites when those bastards down the road can convert the allotment in no time with the minimum of fuss and electrodes and not waste any of the taxpayer’s money or my money, come to think of it..." My email is pure, unvarnished emotion bound to appeal to old Ray. No platitudes, no fancy tarting up, just a straight deal - fame and stardom in return for another badly-thought out expose to give the Chaser something to take the piss out of.

ANDREW: Sure. Whatever. So, what happens now?

NIGEL: [CLICKS MOUSE] I’ll just sent this while you go and turn the TV on, if that’s not to difficult.

ANDREW: [INDICATES WRECKAGE] Actually...

Nigel looks at the smashed TV and his face falls.

NIGEL: Oh, shit. Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, SHIT! The TV’s stuffed!

DAVE: Correct.

KATY: Oh, dear. And, thus, there is the flaw in your otherwise clinically deranged plan, N.V. Without a TV, you can’t watch A Current Affair, can you?

ANDREW: I say we forget all this nonsense and go down the pub, eh? [CROSSES TO NIGEL] Whadaya say, my old hedge-bath-lemon-juggler-seamstress-milkman? Eh?

He playfully punches Nigel on the arm.

NIGEL: A.B., I’m astonished you’re taking this so lightly.

DAVE: Are you, N.V.?

NIGEL: Yes. You see, D.R., A.B. – to save time, I’ll call you DRAB - I don’t think you two quite understand the situation.

ANDREW: I understand it only too well...

NIGEL: All right. Go and, er, "acquire" us a new TV.

ANDREW: How do you mean "acquire", exactly?

NIGEL: [FROWNS] You know.

ANDREW: What?

NIGEL: [MAKES QUOTATION MARKS] "Borrow" one on a permanent basis.

ANDREW: [FLATLY] "Borrow one"?

NIGEL: That’s right. [QUOTES] "Borrow" one.

KATY: [OUTRAGED] Nigel, are you suggesting that he, Honest Andrew, should go out and willfully, ruthlessly, and with total malice of forethought, should steal someone else’s property, to whit, a television??

NIGEL: [TAKEN ABACK] Well... yeah.

ANDREW: [SHRUGS] Sure, OK.

KATY: I suppose it is pointless to remind you that Ray doesn't actually work with A Current Affair any more, he's actually the senior Channel 9 journalist and the chances of that email ever actually reaching him from that totally bogus address is smaller than Linday Lohan putting on enough weight for her to noticeably seduce you.

Nigel stares at them both for a long, long moment.

NIGEL: Are you two still here?

Sighing, Andrew and Katy leave. Nigel heads for the bathroom.

DAVE: Uh, Nigel, aren’t you being a bit, well, willfully blind?

NIGEL: What do you mean?

DAVE: I mean, you honestly think that, even if they get your email, like it and decide to do a story on it, they’ll actually make you a star and film an award-winning exposé all before the next episode and or the Nazi lesbians getting their blood-chilling revenge, whichever comes first?

NIGEL: Dave, Dave, Dave... This is the new millennium! The 22nd Century! [DAVE LOOKS CONFUSED] There’s the world-wide web of information super-highways with modems, circuits... phased tachyon technology... kinetics... machines that go ping. [SIGHS] Besides, A Current Affair has done billions of stories like this. They’ll just gather the archive footage together for the first night, for the second one they do the actual story, the third, the exclusive interview with me. We’ll string this thing out for months!

DAVE: Ah, but only if it rates well on the first night!

NIGEL: How can it not, Dave? Be serious. We can’t lose!

DAVE: You are going to share fame and fortune with us, aren’t you?

NIGEL: [CROSSES FINGERS] Oh, absolutely!

DAVE: Um, you’re supposed to do that behind your back.

NIGEL: Do what?

DAVE: Yeesh. Hey, where are you going?

NIGEL: [UNZIPS TROUSERS] Just off to get some more practice in before old Ray sends around those tarts I asked for...

Dave clamps his hands over his ears.

DAVE: TOO MUCH INFORMATION!

19. STREET

Dusk the next day. It’s thundering down now.

20. LIVING AREA

Andrew is leaning beside a brand new TV, trying to link up cables to the aerial and connecting them with duct tape. Nigel and Dave are sitting on the sofa watching it, eating popcorn. The 6:00 Channel 9 news is ending as they speak.

NIGEL: You know, even utterly useless shite programs like this takes on... a new life on our brand new 26-inch plasma-screen Nokia stereo TV.

DAVE: What? You mean, a kind of crystal clear, stereo shite?

NIGEL: [NODS] Exactly. Hey, Andrew!

ANDREW: [WORKING] What?

NIGEL: How did you manage to "borrow" such a large TV?

ANDREW: Well, I just gave them this letter.

He pulls a crumpled bit of paper from his pocket and throws it at Nigel, who catches it and smoothes it out.

NIGEL: [READS] "Dear Sir, give a large steeerio telly thing to the lucky winner of your competition. You must do this or the area manager will cut off your goolies. Yours, squiggle. Clint, Clint, Clint and Clint Limited." [LOOKS UP] What sort of letter is this? It doesn’t make any sense!

ANDREW: [TAPS NOSE] I never said it did.

DAVE: [COMPLETELY BEWILDERED] Huh?

ANDREW: I’d get Katy to explain, but she’s decided not to hang around now that the Blessed Virgin here has returned.

NIGEL: Shh! It’s starting!

TV: Now, on Nine, A Current Affair with Effie Stephenedes.

The theme music starts. Andrew sits down beside the others.

DAVE: That’s not Effie Stephenedes! That’s Mark Mitchell in a dress! Who are they trying to kid?

NIGEL: What happened to Ray Martin?

ANDREW: Probably got beaten to death by a mob of crack-crazed pensioners. Who cares, anyway?

NIGEL: Not me! In just a few minutes I, Nigel Verkoff, will begin my televisual rise to stardom! The camera crew are probably at the door already!

DAVE: I didn’t notice them.

NIGEL: Shut up, Dave! Shhhhh!

The theme music ends. We hear Effie’s voice.

EFFIE: [VO] Allo dere! Welcum to anovver edition of T’day T’nite! Sorry, I mean A Current Affair. In our first story...

NIGEL: Come on, come on! Ooohhhh! This is so exciting!! Oooh!

ANDREW: [FLATLY] Are you excited, Dave?

DAVE: [DITTO] No.

EFFIE: [VO] Right, now, dis story started back when we got dis letter from Mister Liam Anderson from Sydenham...

TV: [MALE VOICE] "Dear Ray Martin, why oh why oh why can’t we employ refugee as slave labor on building sites when those bastards down the road can convert the allotment in no time with the minimum of fuss and electrodes and not waste any of the taxpayer’s money or my money come to think of it..."

Nigel’s eyes widen and he grabs Dave.

NIGEL: [HORRIFIED] Andrew! Dave! Look! It’s that freaking Anderson guy from Sydenham asking for refugee labor!

DAVE: Unhand me at once, Nigel!

NIGEL: [FRANTIC] I can’t believe it! This isn't possible! It’s IMPOSSIBLE! The OPPOSITE of POSSIBLE! Oh, no! LISTEN!

He cups a hand around his ear, listening intently.

NIGEL: It’s a clock.... ticking! Guys? Can you hear the clock? It’s the smegging Twilight Zone!!!

He stands up and begins to run around, screaming in panic.

TV: ...starting next week at 8pm every weeknight is a new reality show about refugee bricklayers, "Slave-Trading Today", hosted by Bruce Richards.

At this, Nigel stops panicking and looks at the TV in disbelief.

NIGEL: What?! I go through nine circles of hell and get that stupid American lame-brain a new career? WHY? WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME?!?! JESUS H. CHRIST!

He leaps forward and kicks at the new TV. His foot goes through the TV, and amidst all the smoke and sparks, Nigel finishes it off, kicking it to pieces. Smoke billows around.

ANDREW: Are you quite finished? Or do you want me to go and get another new TV for you to smash to pieces?

DAVE: [WEARY] No need to be facetious, Andrew.

ANDREW: Dave, I’ve never been there.

Nigel crosses to the wall phone and dials a random-seeming number.

NIGEL: [INTO PHONE] Hello? Channel 9? Yes, I wish to complain about that stupid A Current Affair show – I sent in an email to Ray Martin all about my time in a Nazi health camp and how I deserve been shagged to death.

WOMAN: [VO] Oh-Key-Do-Key! Just stay right were you are, sir, I’ll send some help right away.

NIGEL: [INTO PHONE] What? Shut up! Listen to me! Right, and what do I see on my TV – which, incidentally, you, yes you, made me break into a million billion pieces?

WOMAN: [VO] Jill, trace this call, we’ve got a real fruit loop here.

NIGEL: [INTO PHONE] Yes, bloody Sydenham building sites that I thought about the afternoon I wrote the email! Hello? Hello??

He slams the phone down, and slumps sadly on the sofa.

NIGEL: Oh, forget it. When you come to think about it, life is just so unfair. Our old TV gets smashed, I write to A Current Affair, I smash our new TVeeeeee – hang on!

DAVE: What?

NIGEL: They did get the email, didn’t they?

Andrew and Dave rush over to the computer and boot up Outlook Express. One new message. Dave opens it and reads.

DAVE: [SOTTO] "Mail Service Notification: Message Undeliverable Due To Unknown Address."

ANDREW: "Message Reads: Dear Sir or Madam, I’ve been to a Nazi health camp where butch hairy women with big whips..."

Nigel watches in the background, furious.

NIGEL: David, you complete bastard! How could you do this to me?

DAVE: Hey, you’re the one that sent the email! It's not my fault if you got the wrong address...

NIGEL: Shut up! [FURIOUS] That is it!! So help me, I am going to spank you like a monkey on a banister! I give you one simple task and what do you do? You f... [DOORBELL RINGS] it up!

ANDREW: Ah! That will be the camera crew from Channel 9!

NIGEL: Bloody hell, Andrew. How do you do it?

ANDREW: Do what?

NIGEL: Find excuses for me not to kill you. Never mind all that now, go and answer the door while I ready myself!

Andrew and Dave head into the hallway, Nigel waving them on.

21. HALLWAY

The doorbell rings. Andrew unlocks the door.

ANDREW: Yes, yes, all right! [TO DAVE] No one has any patience nowadays.

DAVE: Yep. Like living in Nazi Germany, isn't it?

ANDREW: Don't exaggerate, Dave.

Beyond the door are five butch women with moustaches and enormous whips wearing leather uniforms. They all have delicate tattooed swastikas on their foreheads. Dave and Andrew back away as lightning flashes. The leader is the Kommandant.

KOMMANDANT: Guten Tag, Meester Sir. Ve hear deinen voyss speaking about Nazi Deutschland. Zehr gut. Ve here to see Meester Verkof, bitte. Ja, ve vish to, how you say, be ze shyte out of he.

ANDREW: [OFFICIOUS] Do you have an appointment, Madam?

The leader decks Dave unconscious. Andrew backs away.

ANDREW: HEY!

KOMMANDANT: Ich not madam. Ich Kommandant in das Gunter Gruber Gschnellknopf Health and Fitness Kamp. Dankeschune. Ve come enter now.

22. LIVING AREA

Nigel, wearing a tuxedo, is looking out a window. The women enter.

NIGEL: [SMOOTHLY] Come in, gentlemen. Take a seat, please...

He turns and sees the women. His face falls.

23. HALLWAY

Andrew is bent over Dave, trying to revive him. In the background, Nigel can be heard screaming. A violent fight occurs, shaking the house and plaster falls from the ceiling. The women return, dragging Nigel’s comatose and bloody body roughly along the ground.

ANDREW: What wonderful customer relations! You’re so violent!

WOMAN: Ja. Our cookings sprouts are delightful.

ANDREW: I've heard it said.

Nigel moans, recovering consciousness. He looks up at Andrew and attempts to grab hold of his arm. Andrew shakes him off.

NIGEL: Help me!

ANDREW: It’s best if I don’t.

NIGEL: You're not going to let them take me back to that Satan's pit?!

ANDREW: Well, if one wants to be perfectly literal on the matter... Yes. I am. So, be a good boy and piss off quietly.

NIGEL: Oh, fantastic.

Nigel jumps to his feet. Psycho music plays as he lashes out. The women, taken by surprise, are knocked back as he runs out of the house.

NIGEL: JUST YOU WAIT, ANDREW BEEBLEBROX! JUST YOU WAIT! I WON’T BLOODY FORGET THIS! YOU’RE DOOM-ED!!

24. STREET

Nigel runs through the rain towards his car. He dives inside, slamming the door shut before any of the women can reach him. Andrew sticks his head out the doorway to see what happens.

ANDREW: I suppose I really should have mentioned us putting sugar in Wynona’s petrol tank...

NIGEL: [LAUGHS] Sayonara, you kraut bitches! Now to get out of here! Good old Wynona will speedily take me to safety!

Nigel puts the car into first gear, and it stalls. He tries to start the engine but it fails.

NIGEL: [EYES WIDE] Oh, you fucking piece of shi—-

One of the women punches a hole through the window, grabs him by the throat and hauls him bodily out of the car.

WOMAN: Ve take you to camp to finish your holiday, Meester Sir.

The engine turns over.

NIGEL: [CHOKING] Oh, now it bloody works! Only after I’ve been caught! How freaking convenient!

Andrew watches as the women depart with Nigel, who shouts and curses.

NIGEL: I’LL GET YOU FOR THIS, ANDREW! I’LL RIP OFF YOUR ARM AND BUGGER YOU TO DEATH WITH THE WET END! JUST WAIT, ANDREW. I WILL HAVE MY REVENGEEEEEE –

He screams and falls silent, clubbed unconscious.

ANDREW: [SMILES] Well, it’s turned out nice again.

Andrew re enters the house and closes the door.

25. LIVING AREA

Andrew and Dave are watching "Slave-Trading Today" on a new TV. A caption says: FIVE MONTHS LATER.

DAVE: I guess it’s better this way.

ANDREW: Probably.

The doorbell rings. Twice. They slowly get to their feet, as the doorbell continues to ring.

26. HALLWAY

A shadow is visible through the front door window. Andrew and Dave approach it as suddenly there is a loud noise. The door splinters in two as the figure outside kicks it apart.

DAVE: What the f...

The figure bursts through the remnants of the door. He wears a strange hooded cloak, covering in bloody pentagrams. The figure lashes out an arm and the hatstand is reduced to splinters.

FIGURE: One has returned for one’s revenges!

ANDREW: Sweet Ashgotoroth! It’s the Ninjitsu Nutter! Run!

27. LIVING AREA

Andrew and Dave run into the room, look around, and then scramble underneath the coffee table. We see a tight shot of them cramped together. Though uncomfortable, they relax slightly as they realize they are safe. They tense up again and we zoom up – the coffee table is made of glass and they are fully visible to the figure as it enters. The table is also shockingly small, nearly all their limbs are sticking out from under it. It’s really pathetic, actually.

FIGURE: You cower beneath the table? You worms!

DAVE: [SOTTO] Andrew – talk to him?

ANDREW: [SOTTO] Why me?

DAVE: [SOTTO] You’re the one who did the PEER mediation stuff!

ANDREW: [SOTTO] Oh, yeah. Guess so.

Andrew sticks his head out from under the table.

ANDREW: PISS OFF, YOU STUPID BASTARD!

He returns under the table, Dave just looking at him.

ANDREW: [SOTTO] What?

DAVE: [SOTTO] You said you did PEER Mediation in Year 10.

ANDREW: [SOTTO] Did I say I passed?

The figure karate-chops the sofa, splitting it – and a cushion! – in half. The whole shebang collapses, parting to allow the figure to approach the puny glass coffee table.

FIGURE: I... am... the WAY!!

He swings his lethal hand down towards the coffee table. Andrew and Dave roll out of danger as the glass coffee table is smashed to pieces. Andrew stares at the newcomer, and rolls his eyes.

ANDREW: Oh, Christ, I really just haven’t got time for this shit!

He grabs the hood and pulls it away, before the figure lashes out, sending Andrew reeling into the wall. Dave boggles as he stares at the pale, bald face underneath.

DAVE: NIGEL?!?

NIGEL: One’s name is now Injiltiprajura.

ANDREW: Jill who?

NIGEL: I am spiritually enlightened.

He lunges forward and karate-chops the TV. It explodes and falls to pieces, absolutely ruined. The others react.

ANDREW: Nigel! Not again! We’re running out of TVs!

NIGEL: [INDICATES WRECKAGE] This is the devil’s device.

ANDREW: No, I think you’ll find that the "devil’s device" is that small plastic... thing... you keep under your mattress...

Nigel whirls and moves to karate-chop Andrew’s neck with lethal force. Andrew leaps out of the way and a bookshelf is smashed apart. Nigel turns and begins to close in on Andrew, who backs away.

NIGEL: I will show you the path of spiritual oneness...

Andrew is now backed into a corner. Nigel moves in for the kill.

NIGEL: ...with the All Knowing and All Seeing One.

DAVE: [TENTATIVELY] Uh, who do you mean?

NIGEL: [SHOUTS AT HIM] Silence! [TURNS TO ANDREW] You will pay for your insults, infidel! One has studied the arts of the Unmentionably Old Ones for this day – justice will be done!

ANDREW: [FIRMLY] Knock it off, Nigel.

NIGEL: One has every intention of "knocking it off".

He karate-chops the occasional table beside him, which falls apart.

DAVE: Uh, I think I’ll let you two sort this out?

ANDREW: You absolutely sure about this, Dave?

Dave runs out of the room. Nigel smiles icily.

ANDREW: Oh dear. Now my moral guidance has left the room! Woe is me! The evil in the hearts of man is uncaged. It's an Edgar Allen Poe story just waiting to happen... don't let me release my inner Hyde. Or was it Jekyll?

Andrew jumps and tries to escape but Nigel's hand slams out, flinging Andrew back against the wall.

ANDREW: [WINDED] Didn't see that coming.

NIGEL: Hell hath no fury like an Indigenous Australian scored.

ANDREW: [SNARLS] Then bring it on. Bring it on – you call this fury? Revenge? Hah! Flay me alive, why don’t you? Then beat me? Come on then, you big girl’s blouse!!!

NIGEL: Take that back!

ANDREW: Make me, baldo!

Nigel roars and swings his fist at Andrew’s face. Andrew ducks at the last possible second and Nigel punches through the wall, sending dust and ceramics everywhere. Andrew rises again, grinning.

ANDREW: Aw, you missed. Didda poor zealot hurt his little hand?

Nigel roars and tries to pull his hand out of the wall. He can’t. Andrew turns and walks into the kitchen area. Nigel lets out a primal scream and rips his arm back – taking a chunk of the wall surrounding it like a gigantic bracelet.

NIGEL: Your soul will be laid to waste!

ANDREW: Gotta catch me first, loser.

Andrew leaps across to the fridge. Nigel charges into the room as Andrew flings the fridge door. The nutter’s good fist klangs off the fridge door as it opens.

NIGEL: ArrghhHhhhH!!!!

Andrew slams the fridge door closed.

ANDREW: Right, so are we going to sit down and talk about this reasonably, or do you want more extremities broken? I'm serious, Nige. Keep this up, and I'll leave you worse off than the Black Knight in Monty Python & The Holy Grail.

Nigel isn't listening.

NIGEL: [CLUTCHES HAND] That... ...hurt!

ANDREW: [FOLDS ARMS] Give up then, you big bald bastard!

Nigel roars and lunges at Andrew, who backs away. Nigel smashes the kitchen table, knocks down a shelf, kicks a sink and knocks it loose, throws a free-standing fan at the fridge, then finishes with a flourish by ripping the wall off his arm and throwing at Andrew, who he has been hunting all through this carnage. Andrew ducks but is now trapped against the window. There is nowhere to run.

ANDREW: Okay. Nigel Verkoff, you've got till three to surrender. One. Two. Two and a half...

NIGEL: You will now die.

ANDREW: Oh, be fair, what did I ever do to you?

Nigel goes insane. Whirling his fists and shouting incoherent ninja-type squalls, he charges straight at Andrew. We begin to slow things to a steady slow-mo, then slower. His cry of "Whaaaaaaaaaaaarrr!" is heard in real time as we watch him leap through the air feet first like Bruce Lee. Grinning, Andrew ducks. Nigel strikes the window. Freeze frame, though we hear the glass break, a dull thud, and cries of pain.

RUN END CREDITS