All work and no play...
INT. MARGY’S BEDWRITING ROOM. DAY
A bedroom. It needs dusting. And probably tidying.
In which - an abandoned (definitely-unused) Hoover, a bed with a girly-duvet and a large window with purple-velvet floor length curtains, from which a MAGICIAN might well appear…
The floor is scattered with half finished scripts. All brilliant. Honest.
On the bed - laptop-typing - MARGY (30 40 - okay!50-something) in combat-joggers (at THAT age?) and slipper-socks. She is stunning attractive not-bad-for-her-age making the most of her long-faded looks.
The velvet curtains part and a MAGICIAN appears. Top hat, black suit, twirly-moustache. (Well what did you expect… Paul Daniels?)
Holy FUCK! Where did you come from?
These curtains! What were you thinking of?
Look. I’m trying to write a blog here...
So if you don’t mind…
Blog? You? Ha! You’ll never stick to it!
Watch me. Now if you’ll excuse me - I have a
Screenwriting Course to plan.
A knowing-smirk from the magician.
Oh I get it. I’m just here so you can
shoe-horn an ad for your Screenwriting Course..
On May fourth, at FACT, Liverpool.
Still some availability…
Expositional dialogue! And where’s the action..?
The story…? I suppose that’s down to me is it?
He flourishes a wand…
We’ll have none of that magic-stuff in here…
Oh. Charming. I was just going to
correct your errors.
Errors? What errors?
All the strike-throughs!
And attempts at witty-asides?
And the dialogue's not aligned properly.
The strike-throughs have gone! What's up with this website?
And the font!
Doesn't look like Courier Twelve to me...
Call yourself a tutor?
Because I’m not using software!
It won’t transport.
The magician rolls his eyes.
So you don’t need me then?
Well I suppose you could tidy up a bit..?
He SIGHS and waves the wand half-heartedly.
The hoover disappears. The brilliant scripts are neatened. The dust disintegrates.
See you next time then…
A PUFF of smoke and he disappears.
Margy looks indignant.