Mirror mirror.....

Our host had been dredging up old jokes all evening. Everyone thought him sooooooo amusing. I didn't get a look in. Surely they couldn't be impressed by this.
He has a quick line every time. But the jokes are old. I thought of them and disregarded them immediately.

An emergency vehicle, probably an ambulance, goes by outside all sirens wailing, and conversation dies down as it passes. I can see he is ready to pounce with another amusing joke about the lack of success the ice cream purveyor would have travelling at high speed. So I quickly jump in. This will slay them! Just as our host begins to utter, "He'll never..", I loudly and speedily (to ensure I get in before he finishes the joke) proclaim, "That Ambulance, even if it were stationary would sell no ice cream because...."[pause] "...it is an ambulance!"

No one knows what I'm talking about.

They are a shit audience.

I focus on my chocolate tort.

The comfort of hopelessness

I went to see Arsenal the other night. They were playing AC Milan in the Champions League. It was the 2nd of a two legged tie and Arsenal had lost the first leg 4-0. I had bought tickets prior to the first game taking place. Had I known we would be going into the game losing 4-0, I may not have bothered - not at these prices! But too late, tickets already bought so went along with my mate, Morty.

There was no tension or stress becasue we knew we were out of the Champions League. It was a hopeless task. We were sure we could not beat AC Milan by the required 5 goals to nil.   
So rather than be stressed, nervous and on edge, and because this was a foregone conclusion, a match we'd already lost, a hopeless situation, we were pretty relaxed. Just hoping for a bit of entertainment.

By half time we were winning 3-0, the atmosphere was so electric it would have powered Bonio's light show.        

But with hope came stressfulness.

When the situation was hopeless the evening had potential to be relaxing and enjoyable, in a resigned kind of way. Now there was hope. Now there were expectations. We now needed to get another goal to go level and force extra time, or two to win the tie.

We didn't. But the 2nd half was much more tense and stressful.

Sometimes there is comfort in hopelessness.

And having hope is just sometimes not worth the stress.
   

The secret of the magic portal in the changing room

It was hard being a magic shopkeeper in a fancy dress shop with a magic portal in the changing room.
For a start he didn't like wearing the fez.
The consequences of the choice of head attire, made so many years ago,were with him everyday.
If only he'd bothered to read the contract properly. Maybe if he'd used an agent or solicitor. He had been unaware of the permanence of the clothing choice made on his first day as "The Shopkeeper".


And just appearing and disappearing grew very tiresome. To those watching (i.e. Mr Benn) he just appeared. For the shopkeeper, it was an experience akin to being dropped by a Heron into a pond. And disappearing was like being plucked by a Heron from a pond. Not really very pleasant. Not very pleasant at all.

All the time he had to wear this ridiculous outfit with the fez! The fucking fez!

So why on earth is it surprising that he would want to share his pain? Having to go through this was ok the first few times. But the constant pain of appearing, disappearing and wearing a fez all to serve one man some "adventures" was borne alone. No one to talk to or share in his misery.

No one to share in his misery....until now.

Mr Benn was to sample the horror of an incomprehensible existence. All he had to do is find a way to make Mr Benn question his own ludicrous existence, to become self aware. With self awareness comes misery.

Once the shopkeeper had achieved this, he would at least have someone with whom to share his misery. He would then at least not be alone  - in a fez.

Alone in a fez is the most alone anyone can be.

So his plan was to help Mr Benn to question. Until now Mr Benn had simply accepted the situation:

• He turned up at the fancy dress shop.
• The Shopkeeper appeared - as if by magic.
• He went into the changing room, through a portal into another world and at the end of the day took home a souvenir of his 'adventure'.

He happily did this for years without question. Never once did he turn to the shopkeeper and say,"This is all very odd" or anything that suggested he didn't accept this as all completely normal. This infuriated the fez wearing man.

"Is Benn a simpleton?" he thought to himself. "Has he no critical faculties or curiosity about how this all works?"

The answer had been,"apparently not."

So the task the shopkeeper set himself was to turn this simple, happy man, who breezed through his smartly dressed life without much care, into someone who questioned and pondered the meaning, but also to bring him to the verge of breakdown. The shopkeeper needed Mr Benn to feel the pain. "Then" thought the shopkeeper, "I will no longer be alone."

He would use the portal.

The portal, usually based in the changing room of the fancy dress shop, holds a secret known only to the shopkeeper.
        

A New Day for Mr Benn

Mr Benn woke up. But rather than opening the curtains to reveal a beautiful morning in Festive Road, he extracted his head from a swiss cheese plant. He peeled leaf from his cheek. The dried vomit which acted as a  powerful adhesive made a cracking sound, a stinging sensation and left a red mark as it separated unwillingly from his skin.

Mr Benn pulled himself to his feet. It was morning - he'd been unconscious for at least 12 hours.

Today would be better. He'd put the shopkeeper and any thoughts about what is real or not to the back of his mind. Today would be a nice normal day. No dressing up, no adventures, just a straightforward day in Festive Road.

Usually he would peer out of the window and notice the children playing in Festive Road. This was usually where things started to go wrong. Sometimes they played at being spacemen, sometimes cowboys and indians - and this often seemed to inspire his hallucinatory 'episodes'.Yesterday they were all playing Pirates and it led to..... Well he wasn't going to think about that today. It was going to be a nice normal day.

First thing - cup of tea. A nice comforting morning cuppa to get the day off to a good start.

Mr Benn walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. No milk.
It was 9.30 am the milkman would have been.

Mr Benn walked back into the hall way and opened the front door and there were two pints of milk on the doorstep. As he stooped to pick them up he glanced up and noticed children laughing and playfully chasing other children who were dressed in black leather caps with large false moustaches.

"Odd", thought Mr Benn, "What game is this? What are they playing at?" Then after a moment  he thought "At least I can't hallucinate about this - I don't even know what it is."

Mr Benn was about to close the door when he heard a loud "CLANK." The giant key had fallen from the chain around his waist. He stooped to pick it up and noticed that on the wall next to his front door, in spray paint was the following message:

"What?" he exclaimed out loud. The children all at once stopped their game and turned to stare at Mr Benn.

Mr Benn rushed back into the house and slammed the door.

"No, no, no, no......" he screamed. He heard laughter from the children outside. Not the playful innocent laughter he was used to, but a mocking, sneering laughter.

He looked in the mirror. "Who am I? What is..." he began to mutter. Then out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something appear. It was as if by magic. He daren't look - he was sure he caught sight of a Fez but this couldn't be. This was his home not a fancy dress shop. His home was a sanctuary. He closed his eyes and kept them firmly shut.

The shopkeeper, in his fez, carrying 1970's leather costume, wig and false moustache just stood there.

He could wait.......  

Lost Scripts - coming soon

Mary, Mungo and Midge - The Wilderness Years.