2. EXT. BUS STOP - MORNING
A normal suburban street. PEOPLE queue at a bus stop.
FRANK (early 30s, scruffy and unshaven) joins the queue,
spits onto the pavement. His stomach rumbles.
FRANK (V.O.)
Hello! I'm Frank... Frank Rates.
The commuters stare at Frank with disgust. One finishes
with his newspaper and discards it into a nearby bin.
FRANK (V.O.)
I'm one of the millions of people
in this country who are
unemployed... Or unemployable.
Frank slides next to the bin, drops his hands inside...
FRANK
(to himself)
And what do we have here?
The commuters shake their heads and mutter.
Frank produces the newspaper in one hand and half a burger
in the other. He gives the burger a sniff and smiles.
FRANK (V.O.)
Most people with jobs think the
unemployed are lazy bums...
Frank reads the newspaper, the front-page headline reads:
"NOTORIOUS INTERNATIONAL SODOMITE ON THE LOOSE". A side-
line reads “PET STORES RANSACKED - 100s OF KITTENS STOLEN”.
The job vacancies section: "TRUCK DRIVER", "AIRPORT
BARTENDER", "HOTEL RECEPTIONIST".
FRANK (V.O.)
And they're absolutely right. I
love getting paid to do nothing.
It pleases me that the average
taxpayer works long hours to keep
me in booze and smokes.
He grunts and scratches his groin with the burger hand...
It leaves a trail of ketchup across his crotch.
The bus arrives. Commuters jump on.
Frank notices he is alone and jogs to the bus.
The DRIVER shrugs. No spare space. The doors close.
A deep thunderclap. Frank frowns and walks away.
3. 2.
EXT. "HAPPY STREET"
Rain pounds down. Frank scampers down the street, newspaper
on his head. Newsprint runs and streaks ink down his face.
FRANK (V.O.)
Apart from an hour on my sign-on
day, I can pretty much do
whatever I like, whenever I
like... The hours are great, but
the pay is rubbish.
He walks past number 37... Nothing out of the ordinary.
Just as Frank passes the window, a MAN in distress throws
back the curtains, about to scream and pound on the glass.
Something drags the man back, the curtains fall into place.
EXT. JOB CENTRE
The job centre looks like it was made to house refugees.
Parts of the walls are burnt or daubed with graffiti.
Frank dawdles toward the job centre. He yawns and
stretches.
FRANK (V.O.)
But, one fateful day, my whole
life was turned upside down
during one of those hours.
INT. JOB CENTRE
The UNEMPLOYED use electronic job-banks and talk to
ADVISORS.
The automatic doors whoosh open. Frank enters. His beat-up
baseball boots squeak and spit out rain with every step.
FRANK (V.O.)
Hell hath a name, and it be
called Job Centre Plus.
He takes the newspaper off his head. Clumps of paper stick
in tufts of his ink-stained multi-coloured hair.
Frank hands his job-book, a mush of stuck together papers,
to an advisor and moves off to the job-banks.
The advisor looks at the damp job-book in his hand with
puzzlement before he adds it to an inbox.
4. 3.
A PRETTY ADVISOR sees the job-book, rises from her post and
scuttles over to the inbox. She looks on in horror as...
A bony hand grabs Frank's soggy job-book out of the pile.
Frank presses the touch-screen job-bank. The job-bank
lights up: "CHOOSE EMPLOYMENT SECTOR".
Frank stabs his finger onto the "CREATIVE MEDIA" button.
A page opens up. Creative media job vacancies... One
result: "MALE ESCORTS REQUIRED. START ASAP".
Frank raises an eyebrow and presses the on-screen PRINT
button. The job-bank whirrs noisily. He closes his eyes...
INT/EXT. HOTEL - NIGHT - FRANK'S DREAM
A plush hotel. Marble floor, giant crystal chandeliers.
Frank, clean and in a designer suit, strolls through the
lobby. He is hand-in-hand with a buxom PERFECT LADY.
They exit through a revolving door... Outside, a BELLBOY
pulls up in a shiny new sports car.
The perfect lady kisses Frank on the cheek. She giggles and
slides a roll of £50 notes in his pocket.
Frank jumps into the sports car and wheelspins away...
Perfect sighs and swoons like a love-sick teenager.
INT. JOB CENTRE - RETURN TO SCENE
The job-bank noisily spits out the escort job-spec.
Frank blinks out of his day-dream, big smile, grabs the
print-out and gives it a quick scan.
FRANK
(to himself)
She loves me.
CATHY (O.S.)
(shouts, lispy)
Miscter Wates?... Fwank Wates?
Frank instinctively moves toward the pretty advisor...
The pretty advisor, with another CLIENT, shrugs at Frank.
CATHY (O.S.)
Fwank Wates?... I schaid, is
there a Fwank Wates here?
5. 4.
FRANK
(confused)
I'm Frank... Frank Rates.
CATHY (O.S.)
That's what I schaid.
Frank navigates around the room, toward the voice, and
seizes up with fear when he sees...
CATHY (40s, hunchbacked, wild Marty Feldman eyes) at an
advisor's terminal.
FRANK
(gulps, sits)
Hey there. How you doin'?
Cathy glares at Frank... Her eyes settle either side of
him.
CATHY
What have you been doing to find
work, Miscter Wates?
FRANK
(checks behind him)
Are you... Talking to me?
Cathy nods. Her hunchback twitches.
Frank brings the mush-newspaper up into Cathy's view.
CATHY
(raises eyebrow)
What's that?
FRANK
It's a newspaper. There are job
vacancies inside. So they say.
Cathy types, shakes her head in disapproval. Frank cranes
his neck to see what she types about him...
Cathy turns the monitor to an angle so Frank can't see the
screen. Frank sighs, drops back and drums his fingers.
CATHY
(shakes head)
The file shays you've been
unemployed shince you turned
shixteen. You've never even
applied for a job from here! I
wonder how you've schlipped
through the net.
Frank nods. Big proud smile. He turns to the pretty advisor
and winks. Pretty grimaces back again - missed by Cathy.
6. 5.
CATHY
You're going to have to find
employment shoon, or we'll have
to shtop your benefits.
FRANK
(smile evaporates)
What? You can't do that!
CATHY
(sadistic pleasure)
Oh, I can. I'm putting you on a
thirteen week resctart program.
After thirteen weecks, we'll
ashsess your progress.
Panicked Frank produces the escort print-out.
FRANK
Look... I got a job. From here!
Cathy snatches the print-out from Frank's hand and scans it
with one of her beady eyes.
CATHY
It shays you need a job-centre
reference. I'll print one out.
Cathy rises, collects a nearby Zimmer frame, moves away.
Frank tries hard not to laugh and hides behind the
newspaper.
FRANK (V.O.)
Just my luck. Not only do I have
to sign-on with a cripple that
hit every branch when she fell
down the cripple-tree, but the
bint gets her revenge on society
by being a complete jobsworth.
EXT. JOB CENTRE
Dry. Blue skies again. Frank exits, reads the job-spec...
FRANK
Excellent hours and pay... Good
job prospects... Travel the
country and meet new and exciting
people... Call Ray...
INT. PHONEBOX
The stained phonebox looks like it smells bad.
7. 6.
(MORE)
FRANK
(dials, nervous)
Uh... Hello? Ray?
RAY (O.S.)
(filtered, broken
English)
Who this? It Mister Ray to you,
bitch! Whatchawant?
FRANK
(stunned)
Ah... Um... This is... Uh...
Frank?
RAY (O.S.)
Frank, huh? You like to spank and
wank a plank, Frank?
(laughs)
That was a good one. Bitch!
FRANK
(scratches head)
I... Uh... I'm calling about the
escort job.
RAY (O.S.)
(coughs)
Sure you are, bitch.
FRANK
(grimace)
Maybe I called at a bad time,
Ray... I mean, Mister Ray.
RAY (O.S.)
(manic)
No! You get your ass down here
right now, Frank. Or I kill your
bitch ass. Understand?
FRANK
(looks at receiver)
I... Uh... Yes, I understand.
RAY (O.S.)
OK, Frank. You one bad bitch. The
address is...
EXT. PHONEBOX
Frank exits. He sweats heavily and shakes his head.
FRANK (V.O.)
Most people would see the obvious
signs. Not me.
8. 7.
FRANK(cont'd)
For the first time I really
needed a job. Any job. It may not
appear this way, taking me at
face value, but I do have a
certain lifestyle to uphold.
EXT. STREET - LATER
Normal suburban terraced houses, and then... Ray's place.
FRANK
(eyes light up)
Whoooa! Is this 'Pimp My House'?
Frank rings the bell. Instead of "ding dong" it chimes
"MMMM, SHAGGY!" in a bassy voice.
FRANK
(giggles, pushes bell
again and again)
Awesome! Excellent! I want one!
MMMM, SHAGGY! MMMM, SHAGGY! MMMM, SHAGGY!
A security camera over the door tracks Frank's every move.
RAY (O.S.)
Stop that, bitch asshat!
Frank jumps away from the bell.
INT. RAY'S PLACE
Frank is on a TV-monitor. A hand with many jewelled rings
pushes a button.
EXT. RAY'S PLACE
The lavish front door swings open automatically.
Frank takes a deep breath, moves inside.
INT. RAY'S PLACE, HALLWAY
The door slams shut behind Frank.
A deep, bassy boom emanates from ahead. Frank moves toward
the noise.
INT. RAY'S PLACE, DISCO ROOM
Disco balls. Strobes. Massive speakers blast gangsta rap.
Muscular HUSSIES in bikinis and chokers gyrate.
9. 8.
Frank peeks inside: semi-naked ladies! His eyes light up.
FRANK (V.O.)
Now, if the job centre was my
idea of Hell, I think I just
found Heaven... But it wasn't
Saint Peter who had come to greet
me at the Pearly Gates...
An ivory cane taps Frank on his hip. He follows it down...
RAY
YO! You Keith, bitch?
RAY (30s, a camp little person dressed like Flava Flav from
Public Enemy) checks him out with some concern.
FRANK
(confused)
No. I'm Frank. Are you Mister
Ray?
Ray assesses Frank through his novelty shaped sunglasses.
RAY
You that Frank-wank-a-plank?
FRANK
(nods)
If it'll get me a job, yeah.
Ray jumps on Frank's leg and grinds like a randy whippet.
FRANK
(repulsed)
What the hell are you doing???
Ray scans Frank: the ink on his face, newspaper in his
hair.
RAY
I like your hairstyle and Maori
tattoo, bitch. Ultra-bad!
FRANK
You what?
Ray waddles off. Frank follows, eyes up the hussies.
INT. RAY'S PLACE, OPERATIONS ROOM
Ray waddles in and hops onto an oversized chair; he pulls a
hacksaw out of his pocket and throws it on the table.
RAY
It good you not Keith, bitch.
10. 9.
FRANK
(stares at hacksaw)
No shit. Uh... What's that for?
Ray doesn't answer, gives Frank a once-over. He smiles a
big gold-teeth smile and fires a stubby finger at Frank.
RAY
(glee)
You is hired!
Frank smiles and nods approvingly. Thumbs up, Fonz style.
FRANK (V.O.)
I never knew getting a job would
be so easy. No need for
references, a C.V.... Nothing! I
should have done this ages ago.
Ray opens a drawer, collects a file, slides it across the
table. Frank advances and opens the file...
A picture of a fat man in his 50s, TONY, with multiple
facial scars and a glass eye is inside. Tony looks insane.
FRANK
And... Errrr... Who is this?
RAY
Frank, meet Tony.
FRANK
(bewildered)
What does Tony have to do with
anything?
RAY
You escort Tony this evening,
pick him up from airport, and do
what he tell you to do, bitch.
Whatever he pay you, I get half.
Tony does anything out-of-
order...
(picks up the hacksaw)
Then he, and the bitch Keith,
they have the same problem.
FRANK
(shuffles uneasily)
What will Tony ask me to do?
RAY
(waves hacksaw about)
Take it in the ass... In the
mouth. Whatchathink? This is Gay
Ray's Escort Service, bitch!
11. 10.
(MORE)
FRANK
(terror, walks away)
Look... Uh... I'm really not sure
I want to sign up for this.
RAY
(shakes his head)
No. You the man, bitch. Perfect
for the job... Tony like his ass
a little...
(scans Frank)
Rough around the edges.
FRANK
Gay? But... But what about the
girls downstairs?
RAY
(laughs insanely)
You didn't check the Adam apple
close did you, bitch-fool? I get
them cheap from the Thailand.
Frank vomits onto the floor.
RAY
(disapproval)
You should have save that just in
case he want to wolfbag you.
FRANK
(confused)
My god... What's a wolfbag??
RAY
You got plenty of time to eat
more.
(throws file at Frank)
Queasy Frank tries to catch the file, but slips in his own
vomit and thumps to the deck.
Ray waddles to Frank, stands ominously with the hacksaw.
RAY
Roll around in that for a while.
Tony like dirty boys, bitch.
EXT. RAY'S PLACE
Frank exits, covered in dried vomit. He clutches the file
to his chest. He breathes heavy, very, very scared.
FRANK (V.O.)
And now I realized why I never,
ever wanted a job.
12. 11.
FRANK(cont'd)
Being unemployed, unmotivated and
lazy is so simple. So, what do I
do now? I didn't exactly give Ray
my address or national insurance
number, but I was sure that he
had the means to track me down
and kill my sorry bitch ass. I
had to get to the airport, a
chore in itself, to meet Tony.
Then... Who knows!
Frank dashes away from Ray's place in a panic.
EXT. MOTORWAY - LATER
Rain pounds down. Vehicles zoom past at high speed.
Soaked Frank stands in a lay-by, thumb out.
A sports car zooms past and splashes a muddy puddle over
Frank... Frank stands, drips, thumb out.
INT. TRUCK - LATER
Pleased to be inside, Frank towels his head with a rag that
leaves oily stains on his head. He recounts his tale...
FRANK
And then he said, "Tony like
dirty boys, bitch".
The driver, a butch lady, LIZZY (40s, heavily tattooed,
smoking a fat stogie) nods at the right times.
LIZZY
Can I be frank with you, Frank? I
think you have three choices...
Frank listens intently for any possible escape plan.
LIZZY
One: let Tony slip it in your ass
and take half the loot back to
your midget pimp. Two: go on the
lam and get hunted for the rest
of your life. Or, three...
Frank is all-ears. He nods...
LIZZY
Kill yourself. Or...
(shrugs)
Fake your own death. I dunno.
They kinda fall into the same
category.
13. 12.
FRANK
(unhappy)
What? You call that help?
The truck screeches to a halt. Lizzy points out the
window...
The airport is just a short walk away. Through the rain.
LIZZY
Good luck. Hope you keep your ass-
cherry intact... Somehow.
INT. AIRPORT, ARRIVALS LOUNGE - LATER
PEOPLE wait about for holiday makers to return.
Frank sits at the bar, drips; he taps on the bar and the
BARTENDER arrives, refills his glass.
FRANK (V.O.)
If I was going to get sodomized
tonight, I might as well get
myself into a state where I could
never, ever remember what
transpired.
Frank instantly downs the shot and taps again.
BARTENDER
That's your eighth shot, fella.
(shakes his head)
Show me the money.
FRANK
(laughs uneasily)
I got to show my ass soon, too!
BARTENDER
(not amused)
Cash, deadbeat.
Frank fishes around in his pocket, produces a damp twenty.
The disgusted bartender takes the soaked note and keeps it
at arm's length like it's a dead, smelly cat.
FRANK
(waves Bartender back)
Hey! You got a pen?
The bartender finds a pen and throws it at/to Frank.
Frank opens the file Ray gave him and stares at the picture
of Tony. At first he growls; then shrugs and sighs...
14. 13.
FRANK
(to himself)
Might as well have some fun.
Frank draws an afro, pair of sunglasses and a Frank Zappa
goatee onto the photo of Tony.
He giggles and shows it to the other BAR PATRONS... They're
repulsed.
Tony moves through an aisle, just like Frank's defacement:
afro, goatee, sunglasses. Tony is at least 22 stone.
FRANK
(mouth flaps open)
Save me Baby Jesus!
Frank taps on the bar repeatedly, furiously.
FRANK
(tears in his eyes)
Bar-keep! More alcohol! NOW!
The bartender ambles over. Frank swipes the bottle.
FRANK
I neeeeeed it!
BARTENDER
SECURITY!!
Frank takes a few massive gulps of alcohol before...
A team of massive SECURITY GUARDS tackle him to the deck.
EXT. AIRPORT
Frank is thrown by the guards and lands in a crumpled
heap... He looks up...
Tony, who checks his mobile phone, comes into view.
Tony has an image of Frank from Ray's security cameras on
his phone. He smiles, the scar tissue on his face bends.
TONY
(South American accent)
My beautiful little chicklet!
FRANK
I'M NOT FRANK!
TONY
(winks at Frank)
You play hard to get, fried
chicken wings?
15. 14.
Tony clicks his fingers. A Limousine screeches to a halt.
The door swings open...
Frank swivels his head and fearfully looks into the Limo...
A pair of hands dart out, grab Frank's feet and drag him
inside. Thump! The doors shut. Tires screech.
INT. RESTAURANT - EVENING
A fine five-star restaurant. Posh-looking LADIES and
GENTLEMEN eat. Etiquette is order of the day.
In a dark, private corner of the room are Frank and Tony.
Their table is piled with expensive food and drink.
Tony smokes a big Cuban cigar, drums his fingers on the
table, not interested in food. He looks lustfully at...
Frank wears a cheap clip-on tie, has a lobster claw in one
hand, a beluga-caviar loaded cracker in the other.
FRANK
(eats)
Food... So good... Mmmmnnn.
TONY
(leans in, strokes
Frank)
I like to help people like you,
my little chicken Kiev. People
in... Unfortunate situations.
FRANK
(slides away)
Yeah? Really? I can use all the
help I could get... How come
you're getting away with smoking
inside?
TONY
(exhales smoke, grins)
I get away with everything. It
won't be the only thing smoked
tonight, my precious feathers...
(chicken noise)
BUUU-CCUUUUURK!
Half-eaten food drops from Frank's mouth.
TONY
(rises from seat)
First I must empty my bowel. So
it may be filled again.
16. 15.
Tony slides his sunglasses down, winks at Frank, spins away
and marches toward the restrooms.
Frank shudders, eventually his eyes settle on...
Tony's mobile phone.
Frank swipes the mobile phone and types...
"MOBILE INTERNET SEARCH ENGINE" on the phone screen.
Frank types in: W - O - L - F - B - A - G.
Frank's eyes dart about... He looks for Tony. No sign.
The mobile phone in Frank's hands beeps. He looks down...
"VIDEO FILE LOADING... 97%... 98%... 99%... 100%... DONE!"
Sounds of people vomiting and flesh slapping together come
from the phone.
FRANK
(horror)
Oh... Please... God... NO...!
(throws phone away)
Frank moves quickly, through the tables of disgusted ladies
and gentlemen, toward the exit...
FRANK (V.O.)
I should have realized that there
is no such thing as a free meal
in this world. Everything comes
at a price. Doubly so when a
South American pervert is buying.
The MAITRE D (a stuck-up sort) stops Frank at reception.
MAITRE D
(condescending)
And, 'sir', how do you plan on
settling the bill?
Frank's head rotates wildly. He checks for Tony.
FRANK
(manic)
The fat man is paying... The fat
man is paying... I'd rather be
hacksawed into tiny pieces by a
midget pimp than be sodomized by
a Columbian while I throw up.
The blasé Maitre D flicks through his reservation book.
17. 16.
MAITRE D
I have no 'fat-man' in our
reservations, 'sir'.
(shakes his head, reads)
You came in alone... Frank
Rates... Table for one.
FRANK
(stunned)
Whaaaat?? You LIE, shitstick!
The Maitre D spins the reservation book so Frank can see...
"20:00. FRANK RATES. TABLE FOR ONE."
Frank tears off the clip-on tie, stomps on it and stands in
front of the Maitre D with his arms out.
FRANK
Look at me! Look at me! Am I the
type of person you would let eat
in here alone?
The Maitre D raises an eyebrow, clicks his fingers...
And two burly SECURITY GUARDS rush over to the scene.
MAITRE D
I take it that you don't have the
resources to settle your account,
'sir'.
FRANK
(smiles at guards)
Hey, fellas... No need for the
rough stuff, right?
(to Maitre D)
How's about I come back tomorrow
and wash the dishes?
The Maitre D hands Frank the bill. Frank scans the paper.
FRANK
(eyes pop out)
Whooooa! How's about I come back
all year and wash the dishes?
The Maitre D shakes his head, checks his manicured nails.
FRANK
(big smile)
Look, I'm sure we can come to
some sort of arrangement...
The Maitre D smiles coldly. The two guards close in on
Frank.
18. 17.
INT. POLICE STATION, CELL
A small, dank cube. Obscene graffiti etched into the walls.
HENRY (20s, thin, geeky and deranged) sits on one of the
cots. Hums to himself.
The door opens. Frank is pushed in by a hefty OFFICER.
Frank sees Henry and then spins back to the officer.
FRANK
Hey! I think I'm entitled to my
own cell. I watch Law & Order!
POLICE OFFICER
You must have a headache, buddy.
(points at boots)
I think you're entitled to the
black leather paracetamol.
FRANK
(retreats inside)
I'm fine. Thank you. Good-night.
Clang! The door slams shut and locks. Frank sits down on
the cot opposite Henry. A moment of silence before...
HENRY
(quiet menace)
Have you ever had your eye poked
in by a stranger’s dick?
Frank keeps nervous eye-contact with Henry, takes his feet
off the floor and cradles his legs, foetus style.
HENRY
(laughs, pleasant)
Nah... I'm just kidding about.
What you in for?
FRANK
Oh...
(sighs, shakes head)
It's a long story.
HENRY
(quiet menace again)
I said... 'What you in for'?
LATER
Some light creeps in through the window at the top of the
cell. Frank and Henry are more at ease now.
19. 18.
FRANK
The restaurant phoned the
police... The police threw me in
here.
Henry nods. Shrugs.
FRANK
(nervously)
So... Uh... What are you in for?
HENRY
(big smile)
I put cats in boxes.
FRANK
Oh! Right. Doesn’t sound too bad.
HENRY
I was getting these kittens and
breaking their legs. Like veal.
FRANK
I’m not sure my brain is ready to
process what you’re saying.
HENRY
(not listening)
Then I put them in boxes. Glued
in. Broken legs. There’s no way
little kitty can run away.
FRANK
Yeah. Makes perfect sense.
HENRY
And I sold them on E-Bay as the
perfect pet, one that would never
leave the owner.
FRANK
How do you feed the cat? Is there
a flap on the side or something?
HENRY
(revelation)
WOW! Now I did not think of that!
Frank shakes his head.
FRANK
So you’re here because E-Bay
grassed you up to the police?
20. 19.
HENRY
Nah. When E-Bay took down my
listings, I made a bomb and was
about to fly to Sweden to blow E-
Bay up... I have a problem with
authority.
FRANK (V.O.)
This guy’s problem isn’t with
authority, it’s with geography. E-
Bay is based in Luxembourg.
HENRY
But I’ll never tell them where I
hid the rest of the cats. Nonono.
The cell door swings open. An impatient police officer.
POLICE OFFICER
(snarls)
Rise and shine, faggots! Out!
INT. POLICE VAN
Frank and Henry sit in the back of the van, flanked by
police, their hands zip-locked behind their backs.
Henry smiles maniacally.... Frank looks upset.
INT. LAW COURTS, CORRIDOR
Frank sits on a bench, hands freed, a guard next to him. A
large closed door next to them.
Frank looks about. Scratches his head. Wipes his nose.
Other COURT PERSONNEL scurry past. Silence.
A sudden loud commotion from behind the closed door.
The door swings open. Henry, his face battered to a pulp,
is dragged out by MASSIVE GUARDS.
HENRY
(inbetween spitting out
mouthfuls of blood)
He's all yours... I've softened
him up... A bit... Good luck!
Frank watches as Henry is dragged away. The guard pulls
Frank up by the collar and drags him to...
21. 20.
INT. LAW COURTS, COURT
JUDGE JIMMY, fresh black eye, looks up, sees Frank, sighs
and points a finger...
JUDGE JIMMY
Another one? Sit that shit down.
The guard pushes Frank into a seat in the dock. Frank
stands on something that crunches underfoot...
It's a tooth. In a puddle of blood.
Frank rises, his face pale and shocked.
FRANK
Look... Your honour...
Judge Jimmy smashes the gavel and foams at the mouth.
JUDGE JIMMY
There will be order in my bloody
court! Before we start, Mister
Rates, I sentence you to thirty
days community service for
talking out of turn.
Frank sits quickly, obediently and throws his head into his
hands. His head is next to the microphone...
FRANK
(to himself)
What ever happened to freedom of
speech?
Frank's voice booms out of the PA system. He winces.
JUDGE JIMMY
(laughing insanely)
Freedom of speech? This is the
United Kingdom, Mister Rates, not
the United States! Next you'll
want to plead the fifth!
(stops laughing, deadly
serious)
Sixty days community service.
Judge Jimmy hammers again. Frank bites his lip, pushes the
microphone away.
FRANK
(near tears)
I don't wanna go to the big
house!
Judge Jimmy scans through Frank's arrest file.
22. 21.
JUDGE JIMMY
Ah, it appears to be a quite
straightforward non-payment. How
do you plead, Mister Rates?
FRANK
Aren't I entitled to a solicitor,
or representative, or...
Something?
Confused Judge Jimmy points into the defense section...
JUDGE JIMMY
If that gentleman isn't your
solicitor, then who is he?
Frank slowly turns his head, his eyes firmly closed; when
he opens his eyes, he sees...
Tony, in a sharp suit, sat in the defense area. Big smile.
FRANK
(flummoxed)
No! No! No! No!
Tony places a chubby finger on Frank's lips to shush him.
TONY
Quiet, chicken pie, you let the
big Tony talk the talk.
Tony stands to address Judge Jimmy. Frank babbles to
himself like he's going insane.
TONY
There has been a simple
misunderstanding, your honour...
Frank shakes his head, going beetroot with rage.
TONY
Since last night's altercation,
my client's balance has been
settled and the restaurant in
question has dropped all charges.
Frank stands, foams at the mouth. He screams at Tony...
FRANK
You set me up, you fat bastard!
This was your plan all along!
Tony shrugs innocently.
Judge Jimmy bangs the gavel. He sighs and points at Frank.
23. 22.
JUDGE JIMMY
Guard... Restrain that man!
The guard puts Frank into an armlock and slams his head
down onto the table. Frank moans in pain.
Judge Jimmy scratches his head. Bangs the gavel.
JUDGE JIMMY
The sixty day community service
still stands, and I entrust your
client to your hands, counsel.
Case closed.
The guard relinquishes his grip on Frank. Frank shoots
up...
FRANK
You entrust me to him?? What is
going on?
JUDGE JIMMY
(uninterested, bangs
gavel)
Next case.
Tony grabs Frank's arm, pulls him out of the dock.
FRANK (V.O.)
And I thought courts were meant
to be a place for justice...
EXT. LAW COURTS
Pale Frank exits, Tony's fat arm linked around his waist.
The Limousine ominously awaits at the bottom of the steps.
INT. LIMOUSINE
Frank is flung into the Limousine. He moans and turns...
Tony is already next to him, slams the door shut.
The DRIVER hits a button and the partition window closes.
Frank paws at the window as the landscape zooms by.
TONY
(knocks window)
Bulletproof, my little chicken
roll. Not even a herd of
elephants could break it down.
Tony slaps a meaty hand onto Frank's thigh, big squeeze.
24. 23.
FRANK
What do you want from me?
Tony chuckles, cups his hand against Frank's ear, whispers.
A single tear rolls from Frank’s eye.
FRANK (V.O.)
It’s a good thing you didn’t hear
what he wanted to do to me, or
the TV complaints people would
never hear the end of it. Let’s
just think of the most disgusting
thing one person could do to
another... And then multiply it
by infinity.
EXT. HOTEL BOY GEORGE
The Limousine stops outside a grotty multistory hotel.
INT. HOTEL BOY GEORGE, LOBBY/RECEPTION
A seedy one-star dive. Frank's dream it ain't.
Frank is dragged by Tony over to the reception desk.
The RECEPTIONIST, wearing an iPod, hums a tune loudly. He
sees Tony and hands him a key from a pigeon hole.
Frank thrashes in Tony's grip, unable to release himself.
FRANK
(frantic)
Please! I need your help! This
guy is going to take me up to his
room and bum the life out of me!
The receptionist taps on his headphones.
RECEPTIONIST
(shouts)
I CAN'T HEAR YOU, DUDE! I'M
LISTENING TO NINE INCH NAILS!
FRANK
(shouts back)
HELP ME, YOU USELESS TOOL, BEFORE
I GET NINE INCH NAILED!
Tony picks Frank up - one handed - by the throat, and
marches toward the elevators. Frank gags and squirms.
25. 24.
RECEPTIONIST
(tweaks his nipples)
Ki-i-inky!
INT. HOTEL BOY GEORGE, ELEVATOR
Elevator music plays.
Frank looks distressed. Sweat drips down his forehead.
Tony rubs his hands together in glee.
Ding! The doors open. Frank clings tight to the railing.
FRANK
Screw you, fatboy, I'm going
nowhere. I'll stay in here my
whole friggin' life if I have to.
TONY
(smirks, tuts)
You like to play games, yes? Tony
likes to play games also.
INT. HOTEL BOY GEORGE, CORRIDOR
Tony has Frank by a leg, drags him from the elevator. Frank
slides, the broken-off elevator railing in his hand.
Frank hits Tony hard with the railing to no effect.
TONY
Your love-taps are like kisses on
my cheek, poultryboy.
INT. HOTEL BOY GEORGE, ROOM
Video equipment: camera, lights; a long table lined with
food and drink...
The door opens. Tony throws Frank onto the bed.
The Maitre D squats over an open plastic bag, his trousers
around his ankles.
Frank looks on in horror as 'something' drops into the bag.
FRANK
I really didn't want to see that.
The Maitre D zips his trousers, gathers the plastic bag and
moves toward the mini bar.
26. 25.
MAITRE D
(ludicrously camp
accent)
Well, honey, we'll get that one
frozen up with the others for
some big fun later.
The Maitre D opens the mini bar and adds the plastic bag
next to a stack of other plastic bags.
FRANK
(recoils, holds nose)
I didn't want to smell that,
either.
Tony locks the door, slides off his clothes, drapes his
jacket over a chair.
TONY
(claps hands)
And now, to business!
Frank calmly rises, appears to have accepted his fate.
FRANK
(deep breath)
Right. If what's going to happen
really has to happen... I want a
bath first.
The Maitre D sidles next to Frank to check him out...
MAITRE D
(runs fingers over
Frank)
I think you're just ravishing as
you are.
Frank bites his lip, looks to Tony... Naked Tony shrugs.
TONY
If the chicken wishes his
feathers clean, then so be it...
Frank moves to the bathroom, past the jacket on the chair,
swipes Tony's mobile phone from the breast pocket.
TONY
There is plenty more shit in the
coop for later.
Tony and the Maitre D crack up in hysterics.
The Maitre D spies the ketchup stain on the seat of Frank's
trousers, spins to Tony...
27. 26.
MAITRE D
Did you see that? He's already
been broken!
Frank slams the bathroom door shut behind him.
TONY
(boils with rage)
Nobody screws with the Tony and
gives him a broken chicken!
INT. HOTEL BOY GEORGE, BATHROOM
Frank locks the door, opens the window and looks out...
Six floors up. People are like ants below.
Frank has Tony's mobile in one hand; he searches his
pockets with the other.
Tony pulverizes the door.
Frank finds the escort service print-out from the job
centre and dials Ray's number.
INT. RAY'S PLACE, OPERATIONS ROOM
Ray watches a few of the she-male hussies gyrate for his
pleasure. His phone rings. Visibly agitated, he answers...
RAY
I is busy, dumbbitch!
Ray hangs up and throws the phone away.
RAY
(to hussies)
Dance for daddy, bitches!
The phone rings again. Angry Ray grabs the mobile...
FRANK (O.S.)
(filtered, 'funny'
voice)
You know who this is? This is
Keith you midget piece of shit!
I'm in room 610 at the Hotel Boy
George. You wanna finish this?
You know where to find me, you
little bitch.
Ray screams and throws his mobile at the wall in a rage.
The hussies freeze, shocked.
28. 27.
HUSSY
What's wrong, daddy?
Ray opens a drawer that contains various hacksaws.
RAY
(fingers hacksaws)
No... No... No... BIIIITCH!!
He shakes his head, gains composure, looks over to
something mounted on the wall with gleeful, twinkly eyes...
RAY
I is gonna destroy that bitch-
fool Keith in EPIC style!
On the wall: a huge electric bonesaw. Extra shiny. Medical
grade.
RAY
Tonight, Keith, it's all over
between me and you, bitch!
INT. HOTEL BOY GEORGE, BATHROOM
Frank looks on in fear as the door is caved in by Tony's
relentless fists... Soon the door is gone, splinters.
Tony huffs angrily at Frank. The Maitre D looks over Tony's
greasy shoulder.
MAITRE D
Get him to turn around.
Tony holds out a damp finger and makes a 'pirouette'
motion.
FRANK
I ain't doin' anything you two
weirdos want me to.
Tony grabs Frank's hair, forces his head down the toilet.
Tony and the Maitre D stare in contempt at the ketchup
stain on Frank's ass. Frank gurgles and thrashes.
TONY
That wretched, worthless midget
has sold me used KFC!
Frank twists himself free and takes a deep breath.
The Maitre D, now with a video camera, gets up in his face.
29. 28.
MAITRE D
(sinister)
Looks like we'll have to shoot a
different type of film. Less sex.
Lots, lots more violence.
Frank releases himself from Tony's grasp and forces the
Maitre D back, into...
INT. HOTEL BOY GEORGE, ROOM
The two men slam into the table. Frank picks up a bottle of
Champagne...
Whack! Frank cracks the bottle across the side of the
Maitre D's head. The bottle stays intact...
The Maitre D slumps to the floor, unconscious.
Tony nears, completely enraged, in all his naked glory.
Frank launches the bottle point-blank at Tony's head.
Tony slides out of the way... The bottle explodes in the
bathroom.
The two men circle around the room like sumo wrestlers.
LATER
The two men, now tired, still circle. Both sweat. Then...
TONY
I WILL HAVE MY CHICKEN!
Tony moves first. He runs like an athlete at Frank and
screams like an elephant.
Frank is crushed against the wall. Tony pushes his girth
against Frank and playfully licks his neck.
TONY
Yes! Raw chicken!
Frank's hands fumble about for a weapon. His fingers find
the mini-bar door...
He breathes in, slides down Tony's sweaty body and out of
harm. Tony swings for him, inbetween his legs, but misses.
Frank opens the mini-bar, grabs one of the plastic bags. He
spins the bag like it's a ninja weapon...
Whack! Tony takes a facial blow from a frozen solid turd!
30. 29.
TONY
There's shit in my eyes!
The bag splits open and frozen poo-chunks drop out. Frank
takes a hit of the stink and vomits.
Tony grins maliciously. He looks aroused.
Scared Frank scuttles into a corner and wraps his arms
around his legs. Tony's shadow falls over him...
TONY
No more bottles... No more shit
dildos... No... Nothing can save
you now, chicken!
Tony moves in... A strange 'whizz' sound grabs his
attention.
The door is torn to pieces.
When the dust settles... Ray, more insane than ever, stands
there with the massive bonecutter.
RAY
Keiiiiiiiiiiiith!!!
TONY
(innocent)
Ray? It's me... Your good friend
Tony.
Incensed Ray fishes about in his pocket. He has the file
picture of Tony: no goatee or afro.
RAY
Oh, Keith, you bitch-whore. You
will say anything to get out of
this, won't you?
Ray revs up the bonecutter and howls like a wolf.
INT. HOTEL BOY GEORGE, CORRIDOR - LATER
A team of hussies carry a bloodied rolled up carpet to the
elevator. Other hussies repair the broken door.
Frank, relieved, wanders down the corridor with Ray.
FRANK
Thanks, Ray... I mean, Mister
Ray. I was totally at the mercy
of that bitch Keith.
The elevator arrives. Ray and the hussies enter. Frank goes
to board, but Ray's outstretched hand halts him.
31. 30.
RAY
You no see Tony, bitch. You cost
me largetime.
FRANK
I don't really think I'm cut out
for this line of work, Mister
Ray.
Ray fishes about in his pocket, produces a key and throws
it at Frank.
Frank jumps for the key, catches it, but thumps against a
door to a room.
The door swings open slightly and tens of cats dash out.
RAY
You take care of this special
job, bitch, I cut your sexy white
ass loose... Still, I got to tell
those bitches at the job centre
you no work for me.
Frank shrugs. Ding! The elevator doors shut. He looks down
at the key in his hand... Room 666.
INT. HOTEL BOY GEORGE, CORRIDOR - LATER
The door to room number 666 creaks open... Tired Frank
pulls on his clothes.
CATHY (O.S.)
(seductive)
Miscter Wates? Miscter Wates?
Frank's eyelid nervously twitches.
Cathy is spread out on the bed like some sort of twisted
porn star. She fans the sweat off her bosom with £5 notes.
CATHY
How about another hour, lover?
She flicks £5 notes onto the bed like a trail of crumbs
leading up to her semi-naked body.
Frank is still, silent; then...
FRANK (V.O.)
Sometimes... Money is money!
He shakes his head 'what am I doing' style, unbuttons his
shirt, slams the door shut.
END OF PART ONE
