Saturday, February 07, 2004

Caution, strong language

On a more conventionally party-political note - the following speech is an exerpt from my movie script - it will be cut into smaller sections in the final version of the script. It's taken from a scene at a party where the main character is rabbiting on under the influence of amphetamines - he's talking about the '97 general election night - apologies for the strong language and drugs references, it's a story which is based in my past rather than my present, but it does sort of sum up how I felt at the time :o)

"..and I mean I realy, really bought it you know. I’d been up all night, on my own, Sarah fast asleep, checking in with James on the phone from time to time to jump around when another one of the bastards got their comeuppance. Mellor standing there with these flashing breasts just behind his head, Martin Bell beating fucking Hamilton, Portillo. Glory of glories man, Portillo. He lost to a gay guy. Which made it even nicer somehow. And Peter Snow standing their, looking to me like he was as happy as I was, with his Tories under a cliff graphic burying more and more of the bastards. And his little flying star wars thing, blowing up these massive blue towers and replacing them with even bigger red ones. And I really believed it. Just for a little while I thought yes, this is it, these guys really are trying to make things better. Alright they’ve gone to the middle ground to try and win this thing, but maybe they really are gonna use that to try and do some good. And then it started to go wrong. There was the party, they’d won, and dawn was coming, and they kept showing these people dancing to things can only get better. Scary fucking souless dance music, this positive message without a heart, and without any truth, because things could get a lot fucking worse actually. And Kinnock was there looking sad and happy, and out of place and important and impotent, Mandleson grinning and eerie, and Prescott just bizarre you know, like your drunken embarrassing uncle jigging about to this music that meant nothing. And this went on and on and on. And you knew what was coming. The bastard came on t.v., waited till after dawn, and said it “A new dawn has broken has it not.” And that killed it for me. I mean really killed it. I thought, right then and there, I though “shit.” “I don’t believe you, you’re a liar.” This metaphor, so fucking crafted, and honed, and empty...the dawn breaks everyday man, and it sure is a symbol of hope and fucking goodness and the end of the darkness, but not when you’ve thought about the one-liner all night...

God, sorry....speed and politics, bad combination. "

copyright me 2004 !!

Right - that's enough politics for one day! Normal service will be resumed shortly :o)