Fiction?!

PAH!

I have come up with ideas for various sitcoms and cartoons in my time but I'm not doing drama at Uni so the chances of getting the experience and support to script them aren't there.

Give me your ideas.

Youth hosteling with Chris Eubank.

MartinC wrote:Give me your ideas.

Iain's riding his bike on the grass in a park, and a policewoman says "Oy you can't ride your bike on there!", but her clothes fall off, and she scrambles to get them back on...but he's seen everything.

James wrote:

MartinC wrote:Give me your ideas.

Iain's riding his bike on the grass in a park, and a policewoman says "Oy you can't ride your bike on there!", but her clothes fall off, and she scrambles to get them back on...but he's seen everything.

Nah nah, I'd just steel from Dad's Army, Father Ted and One Foot In the Grave - if you combine the best parts of the three in a completely new environment*, you have great comedy. Mind you, the three on their own were untouchable so I don't think I could let anyone go through with it.

Same goes for cartoons. You just have to plagiarise from such a wide array of sources that no one can tell it's not original. Re-inventing the wheel is for chumps. I guess it's just a habit from getting good essays marks - draw from a wide range of sources and, as long as you acknowledge them, you get an A.

* Pour example, in a furniture removal company.

Monkey Tennis

SMELL.MY.CHEESE!!!

My stuff's a bit long-winded for internet reading. I'll read these later tonight.

Herzeleid wrote:One day there was a tired lad called Sam, he was tired because he only had 4 hours sleep after working all day then watching the royal rumble. He stumbled upon a thread in which various fans of thrash music could post their fiction stories "interesting" thought Sam. But he couldn't be bothered to read it and went back to watching Rocky Balboa instead. "Maybe later" thought Sam, in between his thoughts of making a cup of tea.

wait what Rumble was last night. Granted I have'nt watched the WWE for months, cause its cack but RR is staple TV viewing. To bit torrent we roll!

This is the start of something I was working on a while a go. I keep meaning to go back and finish it off but I'm a bit shit. It's a bit odd and mish-mash but it's an ok start.

Saying Goodbye to God

Some people believe in one God. They believe there is one omnipotent being who created our world and has some ornate, fantastical plan for all the living things within it. There are some who believe in many Gods. Great, indescribable super beings who are practically impossible to comprehend on almost every level. This is, of course, rubbish. There are six Gods and, while they are in charge of some very impressive powers, are not what could be described as omnipotent. Collectively, perhaps they are all-powerful but because there are six of them, all equally superhuman and bewilderingly awesome, not any one of them holds an all-consuming level of potency. Their names, for those of you who are interested, are Kevin, Sharon, Samson, Tyrone, Nigel and Phyllis. However, their names do not denote their gender - of course, the Gods are hermaphrodites, or intersexual beings. Except for Phyllis, who is entirely non-sexual - that is, it has no sexual organs whatsoever. However, much of this trivial information is utterly pointless because the Gods have absolutely no interest in sex. It is one of the ways they perceive themselves as superior.

Anyway, all this digression is very much unnecessary and I apologise for it profusely. This story is not about a person who knows the truth of the Gods, it is about a monotheist who got it very wrong. Actually, that is not a particularly fair summation because this individual didn’t get it anymore wrong than any other monotheist (and there are an awful lot of them). In fact, considering the evidence, his actions were silly but understandable if you give his story a generous hearing.

The monotheist in question was a Mr Jonathan Boy. Jonny Boy was a fairly simple character and before he became a religious man he had not been an atheist, a monotheist, a polytheist or even an agnostic. He was just thoughtless. Religion had never entered his mind on a personal level and neither had the idea of a supreme being in any way, shape or form.

Jonny had led a very sheltered life thanks to a highly protective mother and she had tutored him herself. Religious Studies had never really been on the agenda. When Jonny had shown a slight interest in faith, after seeing some Hare Krishnas, it didn’t take him long to learn that he was not to think about such things.

He had seen the small crowd with their painted faces and outrageous garments, banging all kinds of different instruments and singing the praises of their God. Jonny had not been able to help but ask his mother what was happening. His mother, despite being quite overbearing and smothering, was a good, wise woman who loved her Jonny very much. She said to him:

“Jonny Boy, there are many people in the world who believe in a thing called God. It is like a mum but for the whole world, it gave birth to everything that exists. These people believe that this ‘supermum’ is a very special thing that should be loved very dearly. Some show their love by wearing funny clothes and making funny noises. Others go to old buildings for a couple of hours on the weekend and some also turn off their electricity at a certain time in the week. People do lots and lots of strange things for their God. Some believe in many Gods and do lots of strange things to show their love for all of them. However, Jonny, I want you to realise something. None of them have any proof. That’s why they are all as good as each other, all these different ways of loving these supermums. They can be very good for people, but they have nothing to show you. Remember that, Jonny.”

And Jonny did remember that.

Once, a Jehovah’s Witness came knocking on his door and they had a nice chat. However, although Jonny did enjoy hearing the caller’s ideas, he could see that he was saying much but showing nothing.

Another time, Jonny was stopped by a Hare Krishna in the street who gave him a book and told him to say ‘Hare Krishna’ because it meant ‘super soul’ and this would apparently make Jonny very happy. It did make him smile but it was not because he had found God, it was simply because the words sounded silly to Jonny. He read the book and it was about a man who said he could see the soul in everything in the world. It was quite a nice story, like the Jehovah’s Witness’ story was pleasant, but this man saying it didn’t make something true. Jonny couldn’t see the souls of everything so this man said a lot too but still revealed nothing.

There were many experiences Jonny had with religious people but they could never prove anything and so he never believed them. He did think they were all lovely, though. Jonny never tried to find faith, never considered looking for it. He’d hear about one religion and then put it aside because his mother had been right. So, like I said he was thoughtless when it came to the divine and supernatural. It was just an experience of other people.

Until one day he found God. He was in Jonny’s shed.

Povey wrote:

Herzeleid wrote:One day there was a tired lad called Sam, he was tired because he only had 4 hours sleep after working all day then watching the royal rumble. He stumbled upon a thread in which various fans of thrash music could post their fiction stories "interesting" thought Sam. But he couldn't be bothered to read it and went back to watching Rocky Balboa instead. "Maybe later" thought Sam, in between his thoughts of making a cup of tea.

wait what Rumble was last night. Granted I have'nt watched the WWE for months, cause its cack but RR is staple TV viewing. To bit torrent we roll!

Oh yes, the Rumble match is always fun. Couple of surprises I don't think anyone saw coming as well this year.

Nice work Caps! It's got me thinking about writing something about gods...but it would probably turn into a classic fantasy nerd-epic.

Here's my story:

One time there was this guy right, and he fucking liked eating his own shit. It were proper sick as fuck, and one time I saw him walking down the street with shit around his lips, so I went and climbed this fucking big tree right, and then I waited for him to walk past.
When he was underneath me, I jumped out of the tree and fucking landed on his face with my foot. When he was on the floor I kicked the fuck out of him proper bad and said, "you fucking scruffy shit eating twat, you best had stop eating your own shit, you fucking prick".

The next day I had to go back to work after my 2 week suspension. I was suspended for shooting an un-armed baddie, but it was bollocks right, because everyone knew that he was a fucking bag edd and he'd killed people in the past, so even though he was un-armed when I shot him, he still deserved to die... Oh, did I mention that I'm a detective? Yeah that's right, chief inspector Morose, which is spelt M-O-R-S-E-O-S. Anyway, when I returned to work there was a new case of some lad who'd fucking raped the shit out of his bird and proper twatted her round the head with the iron, like that bird did in Eastenders years ago. I went to the guys house and questioned him and I was like, "hey did you rape your bird and twat her?" The guy said, "no mate did I fuck", but I knew that he was lying so I fucking bummed the shit out of him shouting "HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT YOU FUCKING SCALLY". Then I shot him in the back of the head and got fired later that day.

Now I work in Netto.



Classic novelist me.

Sounds like a cross between Devvo and a slightly more coherent Jerry Jackson.

Yeah, all that's missing are some "screb ends" and some "bangin chooonz".