3/31/05 1.
EXT. WHITECHAPEL ALLEY -- NIGHT
SUBTITLE: LONDON - JULY 14, 1888 - 1:52 AM
The bloody crescent moon ripples over a hazy horizon. Under a
streetlamp in the smoggy slum slouches whore-painted MONA
LOTT. She has the biggest breasts anyone has ever seen
anywhere, anytime. They bulge from a once stylish dress,
prematurely faded just like her. She turns toward footsteps …
MONA
‘Ello sir. Almost didn’ see ya in
this fog.
BODICE RIPPER
(O.S.) I … I saw you. You could spy
those uh, bosoms, from atop Big Ben!
MONA
‘Ats the idea, luv. Mum said “Ya
can't sell it if ya don't put it in
the winda.” Got some shillin's ta
spend, eh? Wanna go back ta muh room?
French candles no extra charge …
BODICE RIPPER
(O.S.) Yes I …
MONA
Well, good, but I gotta tell ya it'l
take more than a few pence ta fondle
me knockers. I got the biggest boobs
in Whitechapel, I'm no ‘alfpenny
whore! I took men home who got hold
of the goods but didn’ pay. Nothin’
makes me madder!
BODICE RIPPER
(O.S.) I can see how …
MONA
Now I brings it all out front. (Pushes
chest out)There's three things ya
can touch me wif. Yer ‘ands, that'll
cost a hapence, or yer mouf, that'll
cost a copper, or touch me wif yer
“trouser snake,” (fingers make quote
marks) ‘ats a bob for starters.
BODICE RIPPER
(O.S. rapidly) I have money and …
MONA
Now this tit costs thruppence, cuz
it's bigger, but the other's smaller
so it's just tuppence. Ya save a
copper if ya only touch …
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3/31/05 2.
BODICE RIPPER
(O.S.) What's your name?
MONA
Mona, Mona Lott.
BODICE RIPPER
(O.S.) Time for you to start.
They laugh, ducking in an alley. The Bodice Ripper is finally
seen softly backlit by foggy yellow gaslight. Tall, long
black leather coat, dark breeches, face hiding between a
wide brimmed hat and black scarf. Down the filthy back street
Mona's voice echoes against bleak bricks.
MONA
… So if ya wanna kiss me right tit
that's thruppence for the boob and a
copper for the kiss, which comes ta
a groat, ya know? That's four pence.
An OLD COOT leans out a dirty upper window. He looks homeless.
OLD COOT
How many times a night do I have to
hear yer speech, whore?! Find another
alley!
MONA
Now if ya wanna kiss both of ‘em,
‘at's on special for sixpence an’ a
farthing. You save a ‘alfpenny. Or,
no wait, I think you save a farthing.
‘Ow many ‘alf farthings in a copper?
WHOOOAAA!
Black gloves shove her to the wall! Can't move! She reaches
between cavernous cleavage, pulling out a long stiletto!
MONA (CONT'D)
It's a cheap knife but I keeps it
sharp! Now take ‘yer ‘ands off me or
I pop yer eye!
The knife is close to his eye. The startled RIPPER lets go
but keeps his eyes close! He pulls the scarf off his
moustached mouth.
BODICE RIPPER
(Filtered) Relax Mona, I can't hurt
you if you are relaxed and because
you are relaxed I won't hurt you
whilst you are drifting, drifting
down and …
MONA
Are you on opium?!
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3/31/05 3.
The Bodice Ripper's face hides in his hat's shadow, but his
eyes GLOW IN ECU. TWIN TUNNELS OF GHOSTLY PURPLE LIGHT TWIST
FROM HIS PUPILS. He stares directly into the camera. The
LIGHTS SWIRL. THEY FILL THE FRAME!
MONA (CONT'D)
(Dazed) What are ya sayin’ …
BODICE RIPPER
(Filtered) … down into the softness
of drifting until the knife is too
heavy to hold, too heavy to hold
whilst drifting into the softness …
THE BRICK WALL SHE STANDS AGAINST BILLOWS AND PILLOWS! SHE
IS LYING IN A BED WITH BRICK-PATTERNED SHEETS! THE SHEETS
DRIFT AS IF UNDERWATER. She knows it isn't real but can't
move!
MONA
No, no, but I'm so tired ..
The knife drops. He snatches it in midair and points at her.
BODICE RIPPER
(Filtered) … that is so much softer
with the knife floating over and as
the floating knife will hover, how
much softer and sleepier you feel as
it floats over …
The crisscrossed strings holding her big bodice together
cut. Twang, twing, twang! The knife rests in cleavage. Her
whore painted face is frozen, focused far away. Dilated doll
eyes drip glassy tears.
From her mesmerized POV she is in a voluptuous bed, everything
dreamy and soothing.
BODICE RIPPER (CONT'D)
(Filtered) … that covers your breasts,
so soft they can feel nothing, not
even the smooth softness of the blade
can be felt when I …
SNAP! He rips her bodice and titanic tits tumble out! He
presses his left hand against her motionless breast and
trembles at the touch! As his right hand moves to caress her
other breast he drops the dagger. It plunges into his foot!
BODICE RIPPER (CONT'D)
YEEARRGH! Bloody hell that hurts!
He looks away. THE MAROON GLOW FADES FROM HIS EYES. The spell
is broken! She sinks to the ground dazed! Wincing he pulls
the blade from his foot.
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3/31/05 4.
BODICE RIPPER (CONT'D)
Oh well, I'll live.
He is giddy at the sight of her breasts as she comes to. Her
eyes start to show fear again as he moves in for the kill!
Giggling evilly, he again cups both hands on her bosoms!
Just when the dramatic tension is unbearable he lets loose a
ridiculously cartoonish “honk honk” noise and squeezes both
big boobs! Jumping back he limps an absurd victory dance,
reaches into a pocket and … WHOOF! THICK THEATRICAL SMOKE
FROM A CONCEALED BOMB! He's gone!
In tears she slowly pulls herself up the wall. Rain begins.
MONA
‘E almost killed me, ruined me only
dress, but worst of all … ‘e touched
me titties fer free! NNNOOooooooooo!
INT. MITRE SQUARE POLICE STATION -- DAY
SERGEANT JOHN SINGER is handsome, but not distractingly so.
A uniformed, dark moustached twentysomething, he lounges
feet atop a cluttered desk and interviews MONA. She still
wears her only dress, the bust repaired with rusty wire,
paperclips, red yarn and bubble gum. A claptrap fix, it could
burst at the merest jiggle!
Subtitle: 1:48 p.m.
This shabby station obviously used to be something else.
Bobbies lock PROSTITUTES in grubby cells. PEARCE, a square
jawed blonde moustached sergeant enters. He affectionately
brings Singer tea.
PEARCE
'Ere's your tea the way ya like,
Singer.
SINGER
Thanks, Pearce. So the “passion
crime?” Or should I say “fashion?”
MONA
This bloke cut open me dress with me
own knife, squeezes me … me Bristols
wifout payin'! I was in Bucks Row
last night. An, uh, ‘e comes up ta
me and wants ta go ta, uh, back ta
me room. An, uh …
SINGER
What did ‘e look like?
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3/31/05 5.
MONA
It was foggy an dark. ‘Is eyes were
very, uh, I … I don't remember.
SINGER
You talk to some john for five minutes
but you don't remember ‘is face?
MONA
Oh, I distinctly recall not
rememberin'.
SINGER
What does that mean? It means you
were drunk!
MONA
Its, well, no! I was not drunk.
Holding cell prostitutes murmur sympathy.
SINGER
You don't remember because you're a
drunken tart practically living in
the workhouse and got taken advant …
MONA
I make money any ways I can, I don't
deserve ta be cut wif me own knife.
‘ardly a month goes by that some
street girl isn't robbed or killed
an’ the coppers do nothin'!
SINGER
You're the one with nothing! No
witness, no evidence, no motive …
The jailed prostitutes noisily support MONA.
PEARCE
Shut up or it's downtown ta Newgate!
From behind the whores a timid voice is heard. A HARLOT
stands, pushing to the front of the crowded cell.
HARLOT
Sergeant Singer I know who she's
talkin’ ‘bout…
She opens her cheap shawl, exposing ample cleavage. Her bodice
was ripped open and clumsily repaired just like MONA'S!
HARLOT (CONT'D)
Met the bloke last week. ‘E did it
ta me, too.
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3/31/05 6.
SINGER
Mona, I'm sorry, you're not loony
after all. What did he look like?
HARLOT
I don't remember either.
SINGER
What!? You're both mad as hatters!
HARLOT
All I remember is what I fergot. I'm
talkin’ to him and 15 minutes later,
I dunno …
PEARCE
And ya had no witness either?
MONA
Wait! I remember a witness. ‘At Old
Coot in a third storey flat! ‘E saw!
Outside GRETA GREEN peers nonchalantly through the dusty
window. Her dark hair frames a beautiful pale face but an
expensive emerald walking dress accentuates a flat chest.
SINGER
Let's question ‘im. But if ‘e can't
give positive I.D. there's nothing
more I can do.
The prostitutes cheer and bang the bars.
SINGER AND PEARCE
Shut up!
INT. OLD COOT'S TENEMENT
MONA and SINGER knock on filthy door “13” of this dingy hall.
SINGER
Open up! Sergeant John Singer, Mitre
Square station.
A tremendous ruckus! What are they hiding in there?
OLD COOT
(O.S.) Uh, a minute sir!
The door squeaks open. Out pops the OLD COOT'S grizzled head.
His yellow, bloodshot eyes look them over. Under him pop
three curious tots: YOUNG, YOUNGER, YOUNGEST. Near the floor
a cautious chicken's head peeks out. The crack in the door
is a totem pole of stacked heads!
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3/31/05 7.
OLD COOT (CONT'D)
What kin I do ya fer sir? Just an
apprentice dustman, sir, not one to
cause a bitta trouble, sir.
MONA
'At's ‘im.
SINGER
I must ask you about a crime you may
‘ave witnessed.
He pushes into the dismal room. A dozen children scatter
over rag “beds” and straw! Chickens scrabble through their
own droppings. The gaunt OLD COOT'S WIFE holds a skinned
Chihuahua. Typical Whitechapel.
SINGER (CONT'D)
Catholics.
OLD COOT'S WIFE
We weren't expectin’ comp'ny.
SINGER
Recognize ‘er?
OLD COOT
Do I? It's little Miss Big Tits!
OLD COOT'S WIFE
Language, Papa!
OLD COOT
Right, I don't want you kids to ‘ear.
Donny, Jenny, Bobby, Eustace, Frank,
Edna, Oscar, Vicky, Edward, outside.
Now go!
In the hall GRETA GREEN, seen earlier outside the police
station, peeks through the keyhole. She bolts as the tots
open the door!
OLD COOT (CONT'D)
You too Annie, Freddy, Allie, Russell,
Janice, Billy. Where's Billy?
OLD COOT'S WIFE
Billy's dead, remember?
OLD COOT
Oh, right. ‘Ats why I don't pick ‘em
up by the ears anymore.
MONA
Remember last night when you woke
the neighbors shoutin’ at me in the
alley?
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3/31/05 8.
OLD COOT
I wake the neighbors? She's out there
every bloody night with her “touch
me titties for twopence” speech and
her “ask about me group rates” bit.
Goes on three, four times a night!
SINGER
Who was she with?
OLD COOT
‘E was tall wif a black coat and
breeches, an big ‘at an scarf on ‘is
‘ead so's I couldn't see ‘is face. I
goes back ta bed and hear her
screamin'.
SINGER
Well that's that, thank you.
OLD COOT'S WIFE
Were havin’ a Mexican feast if yad
like ta stay fer supper. Stewed
Chihuahua wif cigarette butts …
EXT. TENEMENT ENTRANCE -- AFTERNOON
SINGER exits the slumhouse chased by MONA clutching her twine
wrapped bra. She can't run fast without causing a bodice
explosion. Bored GRETA GREEN watches them unnoticed.
MONA
'At's it!? But ‘es me witness!
SINGER
“Tall man in black with a hat.” That's
every chap in London. I'll file a
report. We'll be on lookout.
MONA
Wait! Please, I … I ‘aven't got
anything ta give ya but me body and
I'd gladly do it if ya ‘elp me.
She touches his thigh. He jerks back!
SINGER
No thanks. If I catch you working
streets after putting me through
this it's the stockade! Work the
theatre district, it's safer.
MONA
They kicked me outta there too.
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3/31/05 9.
SINGER
Try Scotland. Well, got to catch
your crook.
He smiles, tips his tall Bobby's cap and saunters off.
MONA
You ‘aven't the balls to catch ‘im.
SINGER
Oh I've got more than enough of those!
MONA
Now I have ta crawl back ta Madam
Ovary an’ beg forgiveness.
She leaves dejected. Greta Green follows her.
DISSOLVE
TO:
INT. CIGAR STORE -- EVENING
SUBTITLE: 7:37 P.M.
MONA plods down a tidy street into a tobacconists and
approaches MADAM OVARY, a prim but attractive middle aged
woman behind the counter. Conservatively well dressed, her
graying hair is tied back in an out-of-style bun.
MADAM OVARY
Mona Lott! Good to see you still
drawing air.
MONA
‘Ello Madam Ovary. I've come in dire
need. I was attacked by a john!
MADAM OVARY
Attacked!? You look unhurt.
MONA
Yes, mum, just a bit frazzled tis
all. But ‘e touched me titties wifout
payin’ and ruined me only dress.
Lord knows I can't buy off-the-rack!
No money ta get a new one, an’ no
way to make money wifout one. When I
reported ‘im to the Peelers they
threatened ta arrest me if they catch
me streetwalkin’ again. I need ta
work indoors awhile.
MADAM OVARY
I'd love to have you back. You're a
bigger tourist draw than public
(MORE)
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3/31/05 10.
MADAM OVARY (CONT'D)
executions. But you're a tosspot
Mona, you can't lay off gin.
GRETA GREEN enters, pretending to shop. Mona sees her.
MONA
(Whispers) Been full o’ gin of late,
but I promise I'll lay off drinkin’
… much. Please, till this blows over
and I get me a new dress. If I came
in late or drunk, ‘at's it. I'd be
sacked. But I won't luv, I swear!
MADAM OVARY
All right. But don't go “Playing Old
Gooseberry” on me. It's your last
chance. Go on in …
MONA
Oh thank ya so much! Ya won't regret
it. Now, I'm willin'’ ta work for
‘alf a crown a night, ‘ceptin for
weekends when I needs a whole crown.
Now, if ya want me ta show me tits,
then that'll cost …
MADAM OVARY
Don't start Mona Lott!
MONA
(Rapidly) Sorry, Mum, we can talk
later. I really appreciate the work!
Mona curtsies joyously. As she bends, TWANG! A paperclip in
her bosom pops! She hugs her chest to prevent explosion and
runs to the back embarrassed!
MADAM OVARY
Not much upstairs but what a stairway.
May I help you Miss?
GRETA GREEN
(Fake French accent) Uh, non,
mademoiselle, I am not interested in
pipes, n'est-ce pas? Uh …
MADAM OVARY
So you're looking for “work?”
GRETA GREEN
Uh, why, oui! Yes. I ‘ave ‘eard much
about zis fine … uh … place. I am …
uh … Mademoiselle Nom de Plume.
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3/31/05 11.
MADAM OVARY
You're quite pretty but a bit on the
flat chested side. Now with Mona
back on payroll she makes up for
both of you! Ha! A pair of socks
tucked just right do wonders. Can't
use you for show but I never have
enough bar backs.
Greta can't hide the shock of hearing her chest criticized
by a stranger! Madam Ovary leads her back through a curtain
to a small office and bookcase. On the bookshelf sits a
Shakespeare bust, a metal cigar in his mouth.
MADAM OVARY (CONT'D)
Ask the serving wench for an
application. She'll show you the
back way out.
She pulls the iron cigar. The bookcase slides. WHOOSH!
INT. STRIP JOINT -- CONTINUOUS
Bawdy striptease music floats through the hidden door. It's
a speakeasy with tables facing a stage!
GRETA GREEN
Good Lord, a breast bazaar! John
will be so grateful to hear of this!
He'll be so happy with me. I'm sure
coming here will reduce his … urges.
An early show. A mildly attractive woman sloppily strips.
Nevertheless two OGLERS are transfixed.
OGLER #1
I can't believe I'm sitting in
London's only titty bar! But she's
so ugly …
OGLER #2
She's naked! When you get to the
oasis don't complain the water tastes
like camel piss …
SLOW
DISSOLVE
TO:
INT. STRIP JOINT
TIME LAPSE DISSOLVE to the stage far livelier now, the
performers much sexier. Waiters ply the smoky room.
SUBTITLE: 1 WEEK LATER - JULY 21, 1888 - 10:45 P.M.
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3/31/05 12.
An upperclass male crowd. Two patrons are fat Lesbians in
drag! One smiles and her false mustache falls off! She
frantically presses it on as MADAM OVARY appears upstage.
MADAM OVARY
We close with London's most
breastacular beauty, Mona Lott! Those
in front are advised to lean back.
A familiar dark haired gent in leather sits down, face hidden
under his black hat, but self-indulgent camera work leaves
no doubt … it's the BODICE RIPPER! A MIDGET comes over.
MIDGET
Excuse me sir. I must ask you to
remove your hat. Keep it classy ‘ere.
The curtain rises on MONA in a comically gigantic Victorian
dress! Her outfit sports sashes, petticoats, a hoop skirt,
bonnet, gloves, parasol, bustle, a train, plus clothes people
today don't even remember the names of. The bawdy band plays.
MONA
‘Ello boys, I'm Mona Lott.
And I'm ‘ere to show you what I got.
She dances, or tries to, in the top-heavy costume, tossing
her parasol to a half naked CHORINE.
MONA (CONT'D)
First I doff the gloves an’ bonnet,
‘ere ya go Joe, it's got your name
on it!
Throwing her glove to a delighted man, she turns stage left
and bends forward.
MONA (CONT'D)
C'mon girls, take off me bustle,
Or my poor arse will pull a muscle!
The Chorines pull at the bustle, a big cloth ass wad that
makes MONA look like a rooster. They pretend it takes several
tugs, then gives way. RRRRIIIIIPPP! Her assistants fall
backwards in exaggerated surprise!
MONA (CONT'D)
Whew! Finally, me arse don't ‘urt,
Now lets undermine me overskirt!
The girls unwrap Mona's hoop skirt, revealing stiff crinoline
cage supports. The lusty Midget is slobbering inside!
MONA (CONT'D)
‘Ello Joe, you're feelin’ fine,
Now get the ‘ell out of me crinoline!
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3/31/05 13.
Assistants pull off the crinoline. TWANG! The horny Midget
escapes!
CUT TO:
STALKER POV. THE HAND HELD CAMERA MOVES TO A BACKSTAGE OFFICE.
Mona is heard performing SO. Madam Ovary Sits at her desk.
THE CAMERA CREEPS BEHIND CLOSER, CLOSER … !
MADAM OVARY
Evading taxes makes bookkeeping so
easy even a woman can do it.
A black gloved hand clutches her neck!
MADAM OVARY (CONT'D)
Oh! You startled me Mr. Westminster!
WESTMINSTER is well dressed and handsome, with debonair
graying sideburns. She stands and they kiss Lustily!
CUT TO:
MONA
Next to go, me camisole,
Plus these petticoats, one and all!
The camisole undershirt comes off. Drums roll as the Chorines
remove many petticoats. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7! What a pile!
CUT TO:
MADAM OVARY
You're missing Mona's opening!
WESTMINSTER
Mona shows her opening?
He drops her and leaves so fast she falls to the floor!
CUT TO:
MONA
Lose me corset? By your leave!
‘Cuz I can't sing if I can't breathe!
She turns her back on the audience, exposing corset laces.
Chorus girls nervously undo a single lace of the waist
crusher. It flies off under the pressure of her mega-boobs!
She inhales deeply, accentuating semi-exposed breasts.
MONA (CONT'D)
I'm done strippin’’, if you please?
Cuz I like the feel of me silky
chemise!
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3/31/05 14.
She seductively rubs the fabric of her sheer nightie, not
wanting it off. The audience boos lightheartedly. She feigns
shock at upsetting them, pulling the chemise over her head.
Mona dances offstage in an undersized, overstrained bra and
panties. Madam Ovary returns to the limelight.
MONA (CONT'D)
Now I'm done, ya know what I mean,
Ya wanna see more? Complain ta the
Queen!
MADAM OVARY
Wonderful, Mona, you “knocker-ed”
‘em dead! Well, it's closing time.
Time to go. We have to mop the drool.
Mona slips offstage with her tip jar and sips from a gin
flask hidden in her cleavage. Hearing someone she tucks it
away. Westminster sidles over for a free grope.
WESTMINSTER
Good show Miss Lott! You're the
breast! Uh, best! Glad you're back.
INT. BACKSTAGE OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
MADAM OVARY retreats here with much cash. She locks the door
behind her, putting the money on a desk. Bending over a chest
of drawers she barely forces Mona's huge bra in.
Behind her back the old key in the lock slowly turns itself!
It nudges out of the keyhole a little, more … The key hits
the floor! Madam Ovary whirls as the BODICE RIPPER closes
the door behind him!
BODICE RIPPER
(O.S.) Quite a show!
MADAM OVARY
Customers aren't allowed backstage.
BODICE RIPPER
I'm not a customer, I'm a fan. I
find successful, beautiful business-
ladies like you much more impressive
than poor whores like Miss Lott.
Watch my finger …
MADAM OVARY
Thank you sir, but I must ask you …
His finger points to his eyes. Though his face is hidden in
his hat's shadow HIS EYES GLOW. TWIN TUNNELS OF GHOSTLY PURPLE
TWIRL FROM HIS PUPILS DIRECTLY INTO THE CAMERA!
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3/31/05 15.
BODICE RIPPER
(Filtered) My being seen will seem a
dream within a dream …
The Bodice Ripper twirls big black handled scissors. Madam
Ovary's face goes blank! Down the hall WESTMINSTER is bored.
MONA
(Monotone) … or touch me wif your
“trouser snake,” a bob for starters.
Now this tit costs thruppence, cuz …
WESTMINSTER
Sorry, I'm leaving with Madam Ovary.
He walks ‘round the corner and opens the office door. Blank
faced and tearful, Madam Ovary slumps on the floor. The Ripper
looming over her! As Westminster enters he spins! The aging
playboy is BLASTED BY TWIN TUNNELS OF PURPLE LIGHTNING. He
screams!
Mona, the CHORINES and the MIDGET come running! Madam Ovary
pulls herself up, bodice tattered. Only pale, trembling hands
cover her ample breasts! Rain trickles through the open back
door. Westminster is heaped on the floor, the money gone!
MONA
Mother Mary! ‘E did it again! An he
stole tonight's money!
The dazed Madam sobs spasmodically. They get her a blanket
and smelling salts for Westminster. Tearful Madam Ovary
struggles for composure.
MONA (CONT'D)
Who did it? Think sweet lady!
MADAM OVARY
I don't remember.
WESTMINSTER
Oh, my pounding head.
CHORUS GIRL
The backstage door's always locked
from inside.
MIDGET
It musta been a customer!
MADAM OVARY
Don't let the customers see this!
MONA
They're long gone. Don't ya remember
what time it tis a tall? What has he
done ta ya? We need the police!
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3/31/05 16.
WESTMINSTER
No, my wife would find out!
MADAM OVARY
They can't come in here! They'd shut
us down! All right, I want you all
to swear to tell the coppers the
truth. Good. Now listen whilst I
tell you what the truth is ….
DISSOLVE
TO:
INT. CIGAR STORE -- NIGHT
A trench coated, grey moustached INSPECTOR suspiciously eyes
MADAM OVARY and MONA. He scratches his absurd toupee as red
faced WESTMINSTER sweats on a stool. SINGER enters.
MONA
'At's ‘im. ‘At's the one.
SINGER
Sergeant John Singer, sir.
INSPECTOR
Inspector McMicken, Scotland Yard.
And what do you remember sir?
WESTMINSTER
Nothing. I've such a horrible
headache. I feel about to burst.
SINGER
None of these victims ever remember.
It's looney.
INSPECTOR
A bit late in the evenin’ for a woman
to be runnin’ a cigar store?
MADAM OVARY
Can't a woman own a harmless tobacco
emporium with convenient hours? My
assistant Mona had just left and I
was closing when he came in.
MONA
This is my fault! After ‘e attacked
me ‘e followed me ‘ere! He coulda
killed ya, mum!
SINGER
She's no “assistant,” she's Mona
Lott. We nab ‘er every other weekend
in Whitechapel whoring.
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3/31/05 17.
INSPECTOR
Hmm, I don't pretend to have the
power of your rapist thief, but usin’
my own amazin’ braineal abilities I
sense somethin’ amiss about the
amnesiac, bosom bustin’ attack in
the all night cigar store witnessed
by trollops!
The women gasp as he marches across the floor!
INSPECTOR (CONT'D)
Oh look ‘ere! A line a muddy
footprints, right up ta the wall.
Why, your bogeyman musta walked
through the woodwork! Incredible! Is
that beer I smell?
He pushes and pulls the bookshelf's knickknacks. He reaches
for the cigar in the bust of Shakespeare. Madam Ovary rushes
over to hold it in place!
MADAM OVARY
All right! It's true I've not been
completely honest.
INSPECTOR
You offering me a bribe?
SINGER
What!?
MADAM OVARY
I said nothing of a bribe!
INSPECTOR
There's that word again!
WESTMINSTER
(Dabbing face) What word? Bribe?
INSPECTOR
(Rubs hands) My God! Now two corrupt
people offerin’ money in a biddin’
war!
SINGER
They shouldn't have to pay for
justice, sir!
INSPECTOR
You know what else they ain't paying
for? The safe streets an’ police
protection a liquor licence an’ taxes
buy. They've been getting that for
free on the backs of the legal
(MORE)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 18.
INSPECTOR (CONT'D)
saloons. Oooo! But now they got the
attention of the bad guys and they
want us ta catch ‘em. But they don't
want ta give up what they got goin'.
MADAM OVARY
How pithy! How much?
INSPECTOR
To pretend the crimes took place
‘ere, not in the speakeasy, 25
shillin's.
MONA
Actually, it's a booby bar.
INSPECTOR
50 shillin's.
MADAM OVARY
Robbed twice in one night!
Reluctantly she surrenders money from the register.
WESTMINSTER
Oh, my headache is worse.
SINGER
You always get ‘eadaches?
WESTMINSTER
Never. Is it warm or is it me?
INSPECTOR
Remember anyone putting a foul rag
under your nose?
WESTMINSTER
I remember a man in a dark coat bent
over MADAM OVARY. He turned to me. I
wake up later. That's all.
INSPECTOR
Perhaps ‘e ‘ad an accomplice who got
you from behind. Perhaps. So little
evidence. ‘Ard to believe this really
‘appened if you weren't willing to
bribe me to listen to it. Unless
this is some kind of two-timing.
Because if you are trying to trap me
…
SINGER
We've ‘ad two similar attacks
reported. I don't …
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 19.
He stops mid-sentence. Blood oozes from Westminster's nose!
WESTMINSTER
What … what are you looking at?
He touches his nose, sees red and panics! The drip becomes a
trickle, then a gush as the screaming begins! BLOOD POURS
FROM HIS NOSE AND GORE SPLASHES TO THE FLOOR IN SLO-MO as
everyone panics! He slips on his own blood and collapses!
EXT. OUTSIDE CIGAR STORE -- NIGHT -- LATER
The shuffling INSPECTOR and SINGER leave the tobacconists
and walk down the wet street.
SINGER
Almost fell on the floor when ‘e
started bleeding! Can't believe ‘e
didn't want to go to ‘ospital. I'll
be sure to check on him tomorrow
early, Sir.
INSPECTOR
Totally unexpected. And the blood
stopped quick as it started. ‘At's
when I knew they weren't fakin'. I
‘ate things like that. Means there's
lots we don't know. But I'm sure
I'll figure it out. Got a good bribe
though. We bought into their secret,
so don't tell no one or they'll want
a cut o’ your 25 shillin's.
SINGER
I don't want the money.
INSPECTOR
Give ta charity. Put it back in legal
circulation. Madam keeps ‘er business,
a charitable cause is ‘elped, with
the bad guy caught in time fer the
‘appy ending.
SINGER
Is the plot that predictable?
INSPECTOR
Corruption is grease oiling the gears
of society.
Singer sighs at the money in his hand. THE GOLDEN COIN
DISSOLVES INTO THE YELLOW MORNING SUN OVER A WEALTHY HOME.
INT. WESTMINSTER'S FOYER -- MORNING
The foyer is very opulent even full of furniture still under
blankets. A sleepy HOUSEKEEPER nervously shows SINGER in.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 20.
HOUSEKEEPER
One moment officer, I'll fetch the
master.
As she leaves Singer scans the room. Behind his back and off
camera she clicks something. The room fills with yellow light.
Singer turns, his eyes wide with wonder of first sight. A
chorus of operatic voices grow loud as his face brightens.
It is a light bulb. A primitive light bulb.
WESTMINSTER and elegant MRS. WESTMINSTER descend the stairs.
WESTMINSTER
Officer I …
SINGER
Oh, you startled me Sir! I was just
looking at …
WESTMINSTER
Yes, wiring took forever. Latest
thing. Did the whole house special
just for it.
SINGER
You still look pale.
WESTMINSTER
Bit of a throb in the back of my
head, but nothing like it was. Mrs.
Westminster saw blood under my nose.
Bled a bit whilst I slept, suppose.
Strange dreams.
SINGER
What kind of dreams?
WESTMINSTER
Don't remember.
SINGER
Everyone's favorite answer. Madam,
your ‘usband witnessed an attack on
a woman at a tobacconists last night.
A … car … Car… Carnal attack!
MRS. WESTMINSTER
How horrid! And I thought you were
fighting! I'm so sorry dear!
SINGER
We think when he tried to ‘elp ‘e
was drugged or knocked unconscious.
(Yawns) Sorry, up late.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 21.
Atop the stairs the Housekeeper is silently joined by
beautiful daughters TESS and ABBEY WESTMINSTER. Abbey is
dark haired, flat chested, sloe eyed and Lewinskiesque. Tess
is blonde, busty and perky, with Shirley Temple curls.
MRS. WESTMINSTER
I didn't know “tobacconists” were
open so late.
WESTMINSTER
Oh, uh, yes. My friends, uh, Benson
and Hedges, took the Club's last
cigars, so I stopped to procure one
at a store open late to accommodate
just such situations, which, uh, if
you smoked, uh, which of course you
don't as you are a virtuous,
understanding woman, but if you did
you'd know occur even with the breast
planning. Best, that is.
They notice the women up the stairs. Pear shaped patriarch
GRANDMAMA toddles out drinking a hot toddy.
GRANDMAMA
What's wrong Bea?
WESTMINSTER
We should talk in the …
SINGER
No need. If you feel chipper talk
tomorrow noon at Kingsland Road
station. Having some experts come in
to question you victims. I hope your
constitution has fully improved by
then. Good day.
Spinning on his heel he exits. The Westminsters plaster on
fake smiles and march into the drawing room, closing ornate,
thick double doors. This room is the least unpacked.
MRS. WESTMINSTER
I hope that horrid storey is true
and you haven't gone and bribed
another policeman to cover up …
The others hear the fight through the overlush mahogany.
ABBEY
Fighting again …
TESS
And before breakfast even …
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 22.
EXT. IN FRONT OF WESTMINSTER'S HOUSE -- CONTINUOUS
SINGER leaves the gate open for a NEWSIE. The boy drops a
paper on the doorstep. Big Headline: “Black Still #1 Colour!”
Small Headline: “Police Baffled by Local Assaults - Serial
fondler believed at work - Victim's memory missing.”
DISSOLVE TO an identical newspaper being held by the COPYCAT.
The paper projects his angry silhouette.
COPYCAT
‘At fella fondled nice t…t… titty,
got away with it ‘e did! An’ me,
I'm even afraid ta say “titty” in me
own ‘ome! If ‘e can grab some, I can
try! Then some bloke'll read ‘bout
me instead!
INT. POLICE STATION MEETING ROOM
SUBTITLE: KINGSLAND ROAD POLICE STATION - NOON, July 23
This station is nicer than Mitre Square, Whitechapel, but
it's still a weatherbeaten publick agency. On one side of a
long table are the bosomy jail cell HARLOT, MONA LOTT, MADAM
OVARY, WESTMINSTER and by him MRS. WESTMINSTER. The INSPECTOR
heads the table as SINGER stands behind. Opposite the victims
sit three experts: a PHRENOLOGIST, a PSYCHIC and MAGNIFICENT
MEZMO.
INSPECTOR
I apologize for such short notice.
With so few leads we must move
quickly. I'm concerned you good people
were attacked with an unknown knockout
weapon. Pill, gas, wet rag. Whatever.
Ten years ago I'd never a heard of
suchlike. Now I can barely get ta
the chamberpot …
MRS. WESTMINSTER
Goodness, such language!
INSPECTOR
‘Scuse me ladies …
MADAM OVARY
Policemen and their potty mouths.
Mrs. Westminster glares at “other woman” Madam Ovary.
INSPECTOR
Fergive me, Ma'am, spend most of my
time with “the boys.” So every year
science is inventin’ some new way ta
slip folks a “Mickey.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 23.
WESTMINSTER
But nothing I recall …
INSPECTOR
Exactly! Knockout gas is my theory.
The latest thing. But I want other
ideas, so I've invited specialists
in. Introducin’ Dr. Reece, expert on
skull and personality.
PHRENOLOGIST
Hello. Glad to be of service.
The bespectacled Phrenologist rubs his bald middle aged head.
INSPECTOR
The Paris Theatre's famed psychic
astrologer, Stupendous Simone La
Fayette.
PSYCHIC
Oh, excusé moi monsieur, but I am
now just “Simone,” not “Stupendous,”
not “La Fayette,” n'est-ce pas, just
“Simone.” Ah zee burdens of one name
celebrity.
They laugh enviously at the French fat lady wearing a pile
of diaphanous scarves and dyed egret feathers.
INSPECTOR
Magnificent Mezmo, noted magician
and hypnotist to the Czars
MEZMO
Actually I'm a hypnotic researcher
first, magician second.
Severely handsome Mezmo wears a black leather coat, has dark
hair, large, piercing eyes and a whip of a moustache he
nervously twirls. An obvious villain.
INSPECTOR
Madam Ovary recount events the night
of July 21.
MADAM OVARY
Twas rainy, a slow evening. I was
spit polishing spittoons. Use fresh
spit for that, you know sir. Mona …
MONA
I was … uh polishin’ the cigars.
Then Mr. Westminster came in, uh …
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 24.
WESTMINSTER
I was walking the street not looking
for streetwalkers when uh, … uh
PSYCHIC
I sense lies. All lies!
INSPECTOR
Wif your psychic powers!?
PSYCHIC
No, idiot! You don't need psychic
powers to see zhem staring at zee
ceiling, stuttering, leaning back
sweating. Here's psychic power!
The Psychic waves a big stick. Holding its Y shaped handle
she points at the victims in turn, primitively humming. The
stick moves itself straight at Mona's chest!
PSYCHIC (CONT'D)
Based on zee harmonics from zee
dousing stick, I sense Mona is
retaining water … oh and more! Zee
Loch Ness monster will be found in a
block of ice in zee Thames zis
Christmas. From its melted stomach
will come a miracle lumbago cure.
N'est-ce pas? I zense zat someday
electric rotary horse brushes will
be big, bigger zan big! Oui!? I'm
sorry, but zat is what I'm getting.
I am only a channel through which
zee power flows.
PHRENOLOGIST
Ha! Psychics, such pseudoscience!
MEZMO
Yes, hear hear!
PSYCHIC
I assure, mon ami, zat my psychic
powers are fully documented in …
PHRENOLOGIST
Then my idea of documentation is
different from yours. My science is
based on research!
MEZMO
Empirical research!
PHRENOLOGIST
And study.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 25.
MEZMO
Yes, study!
PHRENOLOGIST
The study of how feeling head bumps
reveals a man's innermost secrets.
It's all right here!
He produces a model of a bald head covered with dotted lines
and writing, like a diagram of the tastiest cuts of a cow.
MEZMO
What, Phrenology?! That muck gets
more discounted each day!
PHRENOLOGIST
See me prove it.
With a sudden lunge his hands are on the INSPECTOR'S head,
pinwheeling the cops's toupee! There is much noggin’ fondling
and gnashing of teeth during this hairpiece massage.
PHRENOLOGIST (CONT'D)
I sense by these lower occipital
nodules that you prefer extra butter
when eating scones.
INSPECTOR
(Reattaching hair) Why, yes, I think
I probably would. Good lord! How did
you know!?
MEZMO
That's vague! Anyone might claim
that! Skull bumps mean nothing.
PSYCHIC
What do you know! You! Mesmer's
follower!
MEZMO
Mesmer is discredited, true. He didn't
know what he had, just as Columbus
discovered Americans but called them
Indians.
PSYCHIC
Then why call yourself Mezmo?
MEZMO
"Magnificent Mezmo” makes a marvelous
marquee. If they are hypnotizable I
can release memories without head
bumps or sticks. I employ ancient
wisdom with modern techniques. We'll
get best results with Mr. Westminster.
He saw the criminal last.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 26.
INSPECTOR
Do it.
DISSOLVE
TO:
INT. POLICE STATION MEETING ROOM -- MOMENTS LATER
Blinds drawn, the room dark. WESTMINSTER sits with all others
half hidden against shadowed walls. From nowhere MEZMO's
hands reach down and he pulls a large crystal on a string.
Impossible!? Everyone ooo's at the sleight of hand.
PHRENOLOGIST
What happened? I can't see!
MEZMO
Please lean back and let him breathe?
This takes ten minutes on a good
day! Inhale deeply sir. I want you
to watch as I sway the stone this
way and that way the stone …
WESTMINSTER
The stone …
MEZMO
(Monotone) … is going, going to sway
this way as I say it will sway …
back to the day in question.
The many minutes needed to put him into a hypnotic trance
are condensed into a SUDDEN DREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS MONTAGE
OF SWINGING CRYSTALS AND SLEEPY EYELIDS. Mezmo uses no special
“purple eye” hypnotic tricks.
WESTMINSTER
(Monotone) I was in the hall. Mona
was going on about how her nipples
were big as Spanish doubloons and
cost as much to kiss them! She's so
cheap it just makes me …
He starts to wake. Mezmo mumbles a calming monotone. MONA
fumes. MRS. WESTMINSTER is woozy at the mention of big
nipples. The panel of experts are merely shocked!
MEZMO
Mona is not who we see, the evil
man, now who is he?
WESTMINSTER
I walk in the office and … she's
lying there … she's lying in her
torn dress … was pretty once … not
now … He's over her. He hears me and
(MORE)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 27.
WESTMINSTER (CONT'D)
jumps up. An inch taller than me, in
black leather … he's .. he's … scary
and I don't want to look at him …
MEZMO
You can look. It's safe. Who is he?
WESTMINSTER
He is … turning toward me. He is
looking at me … his eyes are looking
… (begins to cry) … his eyes are …
MEZMO
What are his eyes looking for?
Suddenly Westminster calms.
WESTMINSTER
I don't remember. Smelling salts
wake me. It's 11:23 and raining.
Mezmo twirls his moustache in thought.
MEZMO
Impossible. As if his memory is
missing. I'm at a loss. I'm sure all
the others will have an identical
response.
PHRENOLOGIST
You said you had all the answers Mr.
Hypno-Scientist.
MEZMO
At least you now have a description.
He wore black leather, an inch taller
than Mr. Westminster.
INSPECTOR
Yes, you were the only one to produce
information today. But a vague
description is useless and we guessed
as much ourselves. We need
eyewitnesses to find ‘im. We can't
expect the villain to come in here
in black leather twirling his
moustache.
Black leather clad Mezmo abruptly stops twirling his
moustache! SINGER notices!
WESTMINSTER
I feel a weight lifted by your
treatment. I'd like more information
on this “hypno-therapy.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 28.
MEZMO
I've an evening show at the Littleton
Theatre Wednesday and Friday. It so
happens I have more than enough
tickets for you all and guests. And
I promise I won't make people cluck
like chickens or saw them in half!
INSPECTOR
Well this is a bloody blind alley.
We are nowhere. The publick wants
action. Which brings up another issue.
(Holds up newspaper) The press.
EXT. OUTSIDE KINGSLAND ROAD STATION -- AFTERNOON
MEZMO exits the station house, followed quickly by SINGER.
SINGER
Oh, Mister, uh, “Mezmo” I suppose?
MEZMO
Real name is “Laughton.”
SINGER
"Mezmo” is easier to remember.
MEZMO
Well, can't have too many aliases in
show business! Ha ha!
SINGER
Ha! I noticed when the Investigator
mentioned villainous moustache
twirling you stopped spinning yours.
MEZMO
What are you presuming young man?!
SINGER
Nothing, nothing. Just wondering how
many other aliases you have.
The HARLOT, MONA, MADAM OVARY, WESTMINSTER and MRS.
WESTMINSTER push past and go down the steps. At the bottom
are THREE REPORTERS and TWO SKETCH ARTISTS.
REPORTER #1
Tom Collins, Daily Mail city desk.
Aren't you a bosom fiend victim?
MONA
Yeah. Don't know what he saw in me,
wink wink!
REPORTER #1
I'd love to print your storey.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 29.
A sketch artist draws MONA to her delight.
MONA
What's it worf ta ya?
REPORTER #1
The Daily Mail does not pay for
stories … (whispers) within range of
a police station. Follow me.
MONA
I ‘aven't been in a profitable scandal
in years! See Madam Ovary, it's good
we went to the coppers. It's like,
backwards!
The Westminsters warily descend the steps.
REPORTER #2
London Herald. What can you tell us
of the attack?
WESTMINSTER
(Nervous) I … I remember nothing.
REPORTER #2
Did you smell gas?
WESTMINSTER
My mind is blank. I just remember
seeing this monster, back turned,
bending over Madam Ovary invading
her … her upper personal regions!
These questions make me nervous!
REPORTER #2
Can amply bosomed women walk the
streets safely even escorted?
WESTMINSTER
(Nervous) What!? London is the safest
of cities. In two days we attend a
hypnosis lecture at Littleton Theatre
at Eight with my two attractive
daughters. Especially Tess. I'll
have no fear that some horrid
creature, perhaps reading my words
in your paper right now, would show
his face and grab their soft, youthful
embosomations and …
MRS. WESTMINSTER
That's enough! Don't quote that!
REPORTER #2
Course not ma'am.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 30.
WESTMINSTER
What? Did I say something? That
hypnosis made me dizzy.
INT. MITRE SQUARE POLICE STATION -- MORNING
PEARCE and POLICEMEN in the slum precinct crowd ‘round a
bloody inked note in SINGER'S trembling hands.
PEARCE
(Reading note) “Though I saw ya on
the street, ya and I will never meet.
Ya will think I'm gone and then,
suddenly I strike again.”
DESK OFFICER
Singer! Scotland Yard for you.
Singer shouts into the station's only telephone.
SINGER
Ahoy hoy?
THE SCREEN SPLITS AND BOTH CHARACTERS APPEAR.
INSPECTOR
Ahoy Singer, this is Inspector
McMicken. You won't believe the paper
I'm ‘olding in my ‘ands.
SINGER
Could say the same ‘ere.
INSPECTOR
Then you've read the London Herald
storey?
SINGER
The papers? No.
INSPECTOR
Lord! Listen to Westminster, in the
biggest write-up yet. “We attend a
‘ypnosis lecture at Littleton Theatre
at Eight with my attractive daughters.
Especially Tess. I'll have no fear
that some ‘orrid creature, perhaps
reading my words in your paper right
now, would show ‘is face and grab
their soft, youthful embosomations.”
Embosomations? Is ‘at a word?
SINGER
I've even more …
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 31.
INSPECTOR
‘At monster stands a good chance of
showing up tonight if ‘e reads this,
to say nothin’ of copycats.
SINGER
Today I …
INSPECTOR
I think we can trap ‘im tonight with
Westminster's daughters as bait!
SINGER
What!? Westminster won't do it! It's
unsafe!
INSPECTOR
Then we threaten to tell ‘is wife
about ‘im bein’ in the titty bar.
SINGER
Listen! I've bigger news. We've a
note from the rapist!
INSPECTOR
What! Incredible! Came in the mail?
SINGER
Found it in my pocket when I got to
work ‘ere.
INSPECTOR
In your pocket! Liar! I don't
understand. Did you see ‘im!?
SINGER
I don't remember. I sound like the
witnesses! I don't even remember
waking up this morning. I just
remember being ‘ere. And I felt all
flushed!
INSPECTOR
If you'd a wrote ‘at note yerself
you'd a thought up a cleverer way to
get it to the cops.
SINGER
And I'd ‘ave written better rhymes.
INSPECTOR
Get that message to me now. And bring
another fellow who's strong. I need
two bodyguards who ain't from that
snoopin’ Scotland Yard.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 32.
INT. WESTMINSTER DAUGHTER'S BEDROOM -- MORNING
The wealthy ladies decorated their new room with modern
furniture and childhood toys. Tubby GRANDMAMA sits, etiquette
book in one hand, wine in the other. She lectures sexy
twentysomethings TESS and ABBEY.
The girls are a captive audience on tall, hard stools. They
wear large wooden boards stuck to their backs with clumsy
chest straps. The straps really define Tess's hooters but
don't do much for flat chested Abbey. The tombstonelike planks
stick two feet overhead and are inscribed “Lady Gough's
Posture Correction Apparatus."
GRANDMAMA
Why are you still sharing a bedroom
when we've half a house empty? I
might ask why we are conducting yet
another etiquette lesson, or why we
must wear Lady Gough's posture
correctors. Because you aren't
married, as I've said three times
this morn.
TESS
What has marriage to do with privacy?
ABBEY
With having my own room?
GRANDMAMA
Marriage means never having your own
room, so get used to it. No privacy
is what you have together, no privacy
is what you have with a husband.
When you finally say “yes” to a
suitor, you can move out of this
room and down the hall to his. Unless
he decides to live elsewhere. Then
you go with him, unquestioning.
Abbey raises her hand to question.
GRANDMAMA (CONT'D)
What?
ABBEY
I have to go to the bathroom.
GRANDMAMA
Oh, Abbey, I asked you before you
put that board on if you had …
ABBEY
I didn't have to go then. Or would
you rather I wear a diaper with this
… this spinsterboard!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 33.
TESS
How many years, years must this
hellish torture …
Hell … HELL … HEEEEEEELLLL!!!
THE DEMONIC WORD FLAPS BATLIKE FROM TESS'S MOUTH AND BURSTS
INTO FLAMES before Grandmama! Carefully placing her drink
on the table, she gasps and passes out melodramatically!
The girls leap from their high stools! But instead of helping
they konk the tops of their boards together and fall! Crawling
on all fours towards Grandmama they clumsily wake the drunken
oldster as MRS. WESTMINSTER rushes in!
MRS. WESTMINSTER
MaMA! What happened! Her liver again!?
GRANDMAMA
Oh dear, my physic, where's my physic?
TESS
I'm sorry I cursed GrandmaMA.
GRANDMAMA
I prayed the holy ghost to take me!
Such words from my own kin! You know
even deviled eggs upset me! Oooh,
I'll need a strong drink to cool my
nerves! So, Tess, it's your fault I
drink too much this morning.
MRS. WESTMINSTER
Finish the girls lesson and you'll
feel yourself again. What's the topic?
Knitting covers for naked piano legs?
GRANDMAMA
No, naked piano legs was yesterday.
Today's lesson from Gough's Book of
Etiquette is why a lady never shelves
books by male and female authors
next to each other. Unless they are
married.
The girls sigh, climbing back up on the stools.
GRANDMAMA (CONT'D)
Warm up by reciting the Lady's Code
whilst balancing books by lady
authors.
TESS AND ABBEY
(Unison) On the street or in the
hall, Lady walks against the wall,
upstairs a lady second and downstairs
(MORE)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 34.
TESS AND ABBEY (CONT'D)
a lady first, don't wear pearls in
the morning, gentlemen will take
warning, ladies talking in the street,
will never a husband meet, a lady
begins to smoke, a lady begins to
choke …
The girls stack many books on their heads. DING DONG! SINGER
is heard downstairs. All the books fall!
ABBEY
It's the handsome constable!
GRANDMAMA
Your husband afoul the law again,
Bea?
All exit excitedly! Abbey forgets to duck. Her Lady Gough's
Board smacks the doorway top, nearly knocking her over!
INT. WESTMINSTER'S FOYER -- CONTINUOUS
At the second floor railing they see WESTMINSTER talking
below with SINGER, PEARCE and the INSPECTOR. The HOUSEKEEPER
closes the ornate front door.
TESS
Two handsome policemen! They mustn't
see us in these “old maid” planks!
TESS reenters her bedroom. ABBEY follows but the top of her
Lady Gough's Board collides with the bottom of the chandelier.
It swings wildly! Off balance, Abbey pinwheels her arms but
lands flat on her back! POV of the chandelier plummeting
towards her! An electric ceiling motor shoots sparks down!
She screams! The titanic light slams to a stop inches from
her head! Beads and baubles whip and tinkle! All rush to her
aid. The HOUSEKEEPER pushes a wall button and the humming
chandelier rises. WESTMINSTER unbuckles the big board straps.
MRS. WESTMINSTER
Mother of God! That electric
chandelier, what an overpriced
mistake!
WESTMINSTER
But it's the latest thing! Are you
hurt dearest?!
ABBEY
My dignity's bruised.
She shakily stands. Under her lies the Lady Gough's Board
cracked in half! GASP! The family is devastated!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 35.
WESTMINSTER
The Lady Gough's Board, broken! That
heirloom's been in the Westminster
family forty years Miss Abbey!
MRS. WESTMINSTER
And we're still making payments on
it!
SINGER
I'm sure it can be glued Ma'am.
MRS. WESTMINSTER
Glued!? What will people think!?
That our daughter is a wild woman
with a glued Lady Gough's Board?!
PEARCE
Can't ya get another?
WESTMINSTER
These wooden boards don't grow on
trees, sir.
INSPECTOR
We have bigger problems than this.
Ladies I believe your father's
statements to the press ‘ave put you
in danger, but it just may work to
our advantage …
INT. WESTMINSTER DAUGHTER'S BEDROOM -- NIGHT
Black English rain pelts the window. Lightning on two sleeping
daughters in a luxurious bed. ABBEY is having a nightmare!
She runs through jet black nothing, her beautiful gown a
splash of colour in the void. Her feet touch emptiness but
she runs for her life! EVIL CACKLING and she looks back over
her shoulder. Whoops! He's right in front here!
ABBEY
AAAAaaahhhhh! Get away, you fiend!
Liquid black hands claw her costumed bosoms! The inky
silhouette snatches and RIP! Socks spill out onto the black
ground, her tiny chest hidden behind pale, trembling hands!
HAUNTING VOICES
(Filtered) She's so flat! So small!
Yes, not good enough at all!
Asleep in bed Abbey rocks restlessly. Next to her TESS sleeps
happily. She dreams she stands on nothing in a field of black,
wearing a stunning dress and lacy bodice. SHE STARES DIRECTLY
AT THE CAMERA. IT COMES CLOSE IN A KILLER'S POV.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 36.
TESS
(Unconvincingly) No! Don't come any
closer, you beastly buccaneer!
A muscular DREAM STUD grabs her by the waist. He wears satin
fantasy pirate garb. She pushes away his bulging chest.
TESS (CONT'D)
(Getting into it) Stop, curse thee,
no means no! Touch not my bosoms,
pirate!
The man halfheartedly fondles her.
TESS (CONT'D)
No, not my bodice!
She presses her jiggling bosoms against him. The DREAM STUD'S
forearms pop as his powerful hands tear at her boobs.
TESS (CONT'D)
Jesus lord, save me!
DREAM STUD
I'm … I'm sorry, I just don't feel
comfortable doing this.
He sighs and lets go.
TESS
Come on, dominate me!
DREAM STUD
No, I don't want to!
TESS
I said dominate me!
She slaps his romance novel face!
EXT. OUTSIDE LITTLETON THEATRE - SUNSET
The sun boils red through smoggy sky. Black carriages drop
stage goers on the steps of a run down theatre. “Magnificent
Mezmo - 2 Weeks Only.” Dominating the entrance is a breastlike
red and white hot air balloon trumpeting “Mezmo Tonight."
SUBTITLE: JULY 25, 1888 - 7:42 P.M.
A black carriage rolls up with WESTMINSTER, MRS. WESTMINSTER,
SINGER and TESS. PEARCE, ABBEY, GRANDMAMA and the INSPECTOR
exit a second coach. The men are in tails and the women wear
fancy trailing dresses.
MRS. WESTMINSTER
They're using our daughters as shills
to lure this vulgarian!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 37.
WESTMINSTER
If we were in any danger would I be
here? Or your mother?
GRANDMAMA
I'm at death's door, what have I to
lose! The poor girls have their whole
lives ahead!
TESS
These big strong policemen will watch
us. And you must admit, it is much
more exciting than some charity ball!
INT. LITTLETON THEATRE LOBBY -- SUNSET -- CONTINUOUS
They enter the worn playhouse. People of all classes mill
‘round. Nobody is as dressed up as the WESTMINSTERS.
MRS. WESTMINSTER
Overdressed! What a shabby theatre!
A moustacheless MEZMO and GRETA GREEN survey the crowd from
the auditorium door. Greta is wearing a stylish outfit in
her trademark green. In it her flat chest looks even smaller.
GRETA GREEN
Larger crowds each night. Must be
getting good word.
Mezmo stares at cleavage in the crowd.
GRETA GREEN (CONT'D)
John? John? You're not obsessing
over bosoms again, are you?
MEZMO
Not at all. Though I must say that
blonde young Westminster is quite
bosomy! And the lady in blue! If I
could squeeze those bristols in front
of everyone and get away with it!
Then I'd finally have it all!
GRETA GREEN
Now!? My God, John, police are
everywhere! If you spent half your
time thinking of me instead …
Mezmo glances from her flat chest to her eyes. SINGER
approaches.
MEZMO
Miss Green, dear, you know I wouldn't
sully what we have with such …
carnality. Why ruin friendship … Ah,
Sergeant John Singer, glad you came.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 38.
SINGER
Shaved off your moustache.
MEZMO
So I did. Meet my business associate
Miss Greta Green.
An athletic young man in soiled workman's clothes enters.
MEZMO (CONT'D)
Ah, my stage manager Mr. Lance Boyle.
LANCE BOYLE
Sir, almost ready in back.
MEZMO
Ahh, show time! Sergeant, could I
have a word before I go on?
He pulls Singer aside.
MEZMO (CONT'D)
I just wanted to say … gondola.
Singer becomes robotlike! His eyes focus on nothing. He stares
straight ahead!
SINGER
Mezmo is a fine man. ‘E would not
‘urt a fly.
MEZMO
Good, you may go.
Singer mechanically returns to his place with the
Westminsters, PEARCE and the INSPECTOR.
INSPECTOR
Everythin’ set, Bobbies in place
outside. Hopefully this fiend'll
fixate again on you or the girls.
‘Alf the time they want to be caught.
Desperate cry fer ‘elp.
He glances at the programme.
INSPECTOR (CONT'D)
Intermission Eight Forty-Five, we'll
need to be watchful. Hmm, “An evenin’
of magic an’ instant hypnosis …” You
know, seems ironic, but what if the
rapist is Mezmo? ‘Is ‘ypnotic powers
are just the kind of thing …
SINGER
(Robotic monotone) Mezmo is a fine
man. ‘E would not ‘urt a fly.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 39.
INT. MEZMO'S DRESSING ROOM -- EVENING
Flies buzz against a window. Quite a dingy hole, with the
stress cracks and exposed piping of showbiz. MEZMO holds a
test tube of something glowing green to his lips and drinks,
shuddering! He coughs luminous emerald smoke! It floats up
and poisons a fly! The pest falls to the table. Startled,
Mezmo rubs dark circled eyes.
MEZMO
My dosage can't be at insecticide
level already!
The bug is on it's back, legs frozen in air.
MEZMO (CONT'D)
Come on, fly! Wake, don't die!
He gently nudges it. A leg twitches. He rolls it on its feet.
It circles drunkenly. He leans in very close. It begins to
buzz a bit … SLAM! GRETA'S rolled up newspaper crushes the
fly, just missing Mezmo's head!
GRETA GREEN
This filth infested place! The ladies
room is worst, right over the stable!
But the rent was all we could afford.
John, if you'd publicize your
discovery! This fluid and certainly
the machine, if it works. Then we'd
have plenty of money and publicity.
You wouldn't have to attract new
patients with magic shows.
MEZMO
That's on my mind more and more,
Greta. But I can't come forward yet.
When I'm known as a mind reader
everything changes. No one will talk
to me! They'll be afraid for no good
reason, suspicious of keeping secrets
from me. Milk this period of anonymity
for all it's worth, dear. It will
soon be over. Now, show time!
INT. LITTLETON THEATRE STAGE
The theatre's small stage juts into the audience. Torn, faded
curtains and chipped paint add a tawdry air. A PIANO PLAYER
warms up beneath a placard -- “MEZMO - Hypnotist to the
Czars!” GRETA removes the sign and enters the limelight.
GRETA GREEN
Ladies and Gentlemen, the Littleton
Theatre proudly presents the world's
foremost magician and hypnotic
(MORE)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 40.
GRETA GREEN (CONT'D)
scientist, inventor of the “Sleep
Yourself Thin” plan … Magnificent
Mezmo!
Taadaah! The faded curtains reveal MEZMO. He wears a hat!
Indoors! At first applauding, the startled audience mutters!
WESTMINSTER
My God, I don't believe him!
INSPECTOR
Shocking!
GRANDMAMA
Dearest Lord! He's wearing his hat …
indoors!
MRS. WESTMINSTER
Mother if I had known indoor hat
wearing was on the programme I would
not have …
Mezmo seems oblivious, yet removes his magician's top hat.
The audience is relieved! Reaching into the black hat he
pulls out a white rabbit.
ABBEY
Seen that trick a hundred times.
Mezmo holds the sagging rodent by the neck. Reaching under
its puffy tail he pulls a miniature top hat out of the
rabbit's rectum! The tiny magician's hat pops up and he straps
it on the animal's head! It hops on a stool and farts.
ABBEY (CONT'D)
Now there's a new twist …
GRANDMAMA
I am offended! That rabbit is wearing
a hat ... indoors!
Together the white rabbit and Mezmo tip hats to applause.
With a mischievous pink eyed wink it hops offstage.
DISSOLVE
TO:
Later in the show. FOUR AUDIENCE MEMBERS giggle in line
onstage with Mezmo. One is a big breasted FAT GIRL.
MEZMO
So none of you met me before tonight?
And none have been hypnotized before?
Excellent. Let us do the “fall
backwards” test. Assistants!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 41.
With a clap Greta, LANCE BOYLE and TWO HENCHMEN appear. Each
moves in place behind an AUDIENCE MEMBER. Tiny GRETA realizes
she is behind the FAT GIRL while muscular LANCE BOYLE is
standing behind a thin little man!
GRETA GREEN
Uh, Magnificent Mezmo …
MEZMO
Please, one moment. First we …
GRETA GREEN
But Mezmo!
MEZMO
After the experiment! When I clap I
want you all to fall backwards into
the arms of my capable assistants.
Have no fear! They'll catch you. If
you can trust then you can be
hypnotized!
The Audience Members giggle, hesitating. CLAP! Three are too
inhibited to fall back but the Fat Girl hits the floorboards
hard! When Henchmen pry her off the floor Greta is gone!
Wait, she's pressed into the fat girl's butt crack! Mezmo
and Lance peel her off the tubby lass. SSSHLLERP! Greta glares
at Mezmo as she slowly unkinks herself!
MEZMO (CONT'D)
I must apologize to you both! Well,
on with the show!
DISSOLVE
TO:
Still later. The amply bosomed Fat Girl sits in a comfy chair
with Mezmo about to hypnotize her. He waves and magically a
sea shell on a string appears. The audience “oohs.” Swinging
the shell he begins the same act used earlier on Westminster
in the police meeting room.
MEZMO (CONT'D)
Slowly, slowly I swing the shell,
until you fall under it's spell!
A swirling montage of hypnotic clichés condenses hypnotizing
the Fat Girl into seconds. Mezmo is not using his bizarre
purple-eyed hypno-powers. The girl, eyes closed, is relaxed.
MEZMO (CONT'D)
How do you feel?
The Fat Girl's eyes pop open.
FAT GIRL
I feel wide awake.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 42.
MEZMO
Let's try again.
He repeats the incantation and the swirling montage of
hypnosis clichés. Her eyes are still wide awake!
FAT GIRL
Now I'm even more alert.
Mezmo looks ‘round furtively. Blocking the audience's view
with his head, he stares her down! GHOSTLY RINGS OF PURPLE
LIGHT POUR OUT OF MEZMO'S EYES! She goes limp.
MEZMO
Success!
He allows the audience to see her deep slumber. They applaud.
MEZMO (CONT'D)
Shssshh! Do not disturb the trance!
What is your name child?
FAT GIRL
(Monotone) Miss McFadden.
MEZMO
People come to me for help with
problems. What's your problem, Miss
McFadden?
FAT GIRL
(Monotone) I want to stop smoking.
The audience spins into a tizzy!
MEZMO
Please, quiet everyone! We are not
here to judge!
GRANDMAMA
It's sad seeing a woman turn to drugs!
GRANDMAMA pulls a whisky flask from her ho-hum bosom.
MRS. WESTMINSTER
MaMA! Not here!
She snatches the bottle, looks ‘round and swigs, snickering
sneakily!
MEZMO
Why did you start smoking?
FAT GIRL
(Monotone) To lose weight, but I
gained weight … now I can't sleep.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 43.
The audience murmurs sympathetically.
MEZMO
Can't sleep … hmm … overstimulated
by tobacco …
FAT GIRL
(Monotone) Don't want to be like
papa's cigars.
MEZMO
Your father smoked?
FAT GIRL
(Monotone) Smoked and burned …
MEZMO
Burned what?
FAT GIRL
(Monotone) Me … with cigars.
MEZMO
You? Why?
FAT GIRL
(Monotone) I was bad …
Mezmo glances at her moonlike white hand scars. The audience
mutters, shocked at a rare private glimpse! He glares at
them, holding his hand for silence! Turning he hides her
head from view with his own. HIS EYES GLOW PURPLE!
MEZMO
You're not bad. Open your eyes. When
you smoke you will think of your
father hurting you.
FAT GIRL
I will think of my father …
MEZMO
When you put out a cigarette you
will forgive your father for hurting
you.
FAT GIRL
I will forgive my father …
MEZMO
Every time you light up you will
feel old burns more and more …
FAT GIRL
And more … ?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 44.
MEZMO
Every time you stop you will forget
his pain more and more.
FAT GIRL
And more …
MEZMO
Until you stop smoking your cigarettes
and stop remembering his cigars. You
will recall everything that happened
tonight.
HIS EYES STOP GLOWING PURPLE. The wide eyed wench stands
unsteadily. She wraps he arms ‘round him and gives a big,
tearful hug! The audience leaps with pent up applause!
A surprised Mezmo returns her hug. He reaches down and gives
both her fat breasts a big squeeze! Fortunately the audience
doesn't notice! GRETA displays an “Intermission” card fast.
INT. LITTLETON THEATRE LOBBY
TESS and SINGER look smitten with each other as they talk
near the restrooms. Audience members return to their seats.
SUBTITLE: 8:58 P.M.
TESS
Sergeant whilst I'm in the ladies
room, would you get me a drink?
SINGER
I can't leave you alone. I'm your
bodyguard.
TESS
But you can't come in the lavatory
with me, silly man!
SINGER
Yes, well, I guess, of course. That's
illegal and I must uphold the law.
Bosomy Tess enters the restroom. Like all ladies rooms in
movies it has no line. Yellow, fly filled and grubby, it
overlooks an even browner stable. She distrustfully eyes a
dowdy young LADIES ROOM ATTENDANT with average breasts.
TESS
What a smell! Miss, have you any clean
towels?
LADIES ROOM ATTENDANT
I'll fetch ‘em posthaste mum.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 45.
The wench leaves through the open door as Tess washes her
face. Past her view a broomstick pokes from under a stall,
nudging the door shut. The inside doorknob … gone! No escape!
Tess dips blonde locks in the sink. A horrible face reflects
in the mirror! The cracked and crusty COPYCAT leers!
TESS
This is the Ladies Room sir! No man
has ever come …
COPYCAT
If ‘e can grab ‘eadlines an t-t-t-
titties then I wants a pair a bristols
fer me befer I die!
The wild eyed little COPYCAT lunges clumsily for breasts,
his thin arms tearing her bodice! She fights him off!
TESS
EEAAaaaakk! Help police!
Singer rushes to the ladies room door, shaking the locked
knob as PEARCE enters. Perplexed MEZMO and GRETA GREEN hear
the screams onstage.
SINGER
Pearce, get the inspector!
POLICEMEN out in the stable spy the fight through the lavatory
windows and run inside. Tess dodges the clumsy moves of the
leering old homeless man again!
TESS
You mealy mouthed monster! Shall no
one help me? Mother of God!
Long, aristocratic fingernails SLASH red tears down his cheek!
COPYCAT
Yeearrghh!!! That bloody ‘urt!
Singer kicks the metal door once, twice! It pops in as PEARCE,
the INSPECTOR, the LADIES ROOM ATTENDANT and the WESTMINSTERS
arrive. Eyes shielded, Singer, a man, puts his foot inside
the women's lavatory. Clearly he intends to go in! They gasp!
INSPECTOR
Wait, boy, don't do it! Your career
will be over!
LADIES ROOM ATTENDANT
No man goes in the ladies room! It's
impossible!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 46.
SINGER
It's a man's duty to save ‘elpless
women!
In the restroom Tess drops guard fumbling in her purse. The
Copycat strikes her face! He grapples for breasts. Grabbing
her by the shoulders he presses her to the wall, his hairy
face looming close. FFFTTTT! She sprays perfume in his eyes!
Rubbing dirty hands in his eyes he shrieks back! Tess shoves
hard enough to turn him ‘round and smack his face against a
toilet stall! Dazed, the ruffian stumbles back a step. SLAM!
She pushes his face to the wall again!
TESS
MaMA where are you! Hhheeeeeelllp!!
MRS. WESTMINSTER
Hold on Tess, dearest, we're working
through this!
INSPECTOR
You ladies can legally enter, why
don't you rescue her?
GRANDMAMA
This is men's work! Only men can
rescue we damsels!
In the lavatory the exhausted old Copycat clings to the top
of the toilet stall, back turned, buttocks vulnerable! Tess
tears away her skirts and bustle, only a short petticoat
‘round her legs. Free to move she stomps her stiletto heel!
TESS
Finally using those ballet lessons!
Hiiiyyyyaaaarggggghhhh!
Kicking high, she stabs the Copycat's right buttock! Tess
pulls her foot away. Her hypodermic high heel is stuck in
his butt cheek! Blood oozes!
SINGER
What if I put on women's clothing?
Then I could …
INSPECTOR
Transvestism!? Two years hard labour!
This rapist will only get one year!
GRANDMAMA
There's no easy way out of this?
Poor Tess!
The wailing Copycat limps to the window over the stable. He
pulls it up and open. The slanted stable roof is just outside.
A quick slide to freedom!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 47.
TESS
He's getting away!
Tess charges the Copycat and impales her left shoe in his
left buttock! He shrieks crawling through the window!
SINGER
'Old tight miss, don't let ‘im near
your bodice!
WESTMINSTER
Yes, cross your arms, dearest!
Now the Copycat has a shoe gouging a bleeding hole in each
ass cheek! He clumsily pulls through the window. Tess grabs
his feet!
TESS
Oh no you don't, you vicious vagrant!
COPYCAT
Let go o’ me madwoman! I just wanted
a ‘andfull o’ knockers like ‘e got!
He pulls out the window with stubby arms as Tess pull him in
by his filthy feet. His buttocks are in the window. It
accidentally shuts, slamming down like a guillotine! It lands
right on the two shoes, pushing them harder into his ass!
COPYCAT (CONT'D)
Yeowch! Mum! I want me m-mum!
The glass window panes shatter! Startled TESS lets go of his
feet. The Copycat slides out the half closed window and
toboggans down the slanted roof head first! Glass tumbles
past and off the building as gravity drags him to the edge!
COPYCAT (CONT'D)
No, no, stop … whooa!
He slides to the bottom of the roof, pausing. Below is a
huge pile of horse manure to break his fall!
COPYCAT (CONT'D)
Not that! Anythin’ but thaaaaaat!
His weight tips him over the roof and he falls eight feet
head first into the giant poo pile! Pulling his filthy head
out he leaves an exact impression of his face in the turd!
His scream is muffled by a mouthful of manure!
Singer and the others debate in the lavatory entrance.
SINGER
No, what I'm saying is, if we got a
police dog to go in there …
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 48.
INSPECTOR
It would ‘ave to be a bitch!
SINGER
Okay, right, yes, a female police
dog, to go in there and … bite him …
Quietly, Tess appears in the door battered and bruised, a
trickle of blood under her nose. Everyone is deathly quiet.
Her expression changes from anger to fear. She faints in
Singer's arms!
The Ladies Room Attendant cautiously enters the restroom.
Through the broken window she sees the Copycat in the stable
below limping away. He slips in a puddle of slime and falls
on the shoes impaling his butt!
LADIES ROOM ATTENDANT
'E's in the stable!
EXT. STABLE -- NIGHT
The stable is a manure caked mess from theatregoer's horses.
Against the building a slanted roof leads up to the women's
lavatory. Below is a huge mound of poop. The INSPECTOR, SINGER
and PEARCE enter searching and stir up flies.
INSPECTOR
A blood trail leads from that broken
window down the roof.
PEARCE
And ‘e landed ‘ere sir! In the manure!
Ugh!
SINGER
Why that impression must be ‘is face!
INSPECTOR
My God, it's the Shroud of Turin in
turds!
The tubby, bookish POLICE RESEARCHER appears. He has a bulky
camera and T-shaped flash powder pan.
POLICE RESEARCHER
My God that's luck! We'll pull a
plaster mould off that and get a
perfect image of his face!
INSPECTOR
Get the plaster!
POLICE RESEARCHER
Wait, first let's photograph the
crime scene with this experimental
equipment! It's the latest thing!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 49.
INSPECTOR
Record it for posterity, eh?
Fascinatin'!
PEARCE
It's like livin’ in the future!
POLICE RESEARCHER
Let's get a shot of the filth first
in case something goes wrong.
The Police Researcher points his camera at the muck. The
primitive flash powder goes off. FFFOOOOOFF. A stray spark
lands unnoticed in a hay pile.
POLICE RESEARCHER (CONT'D)
Right-o. Now let's get one of all
you chaps next to the evidence.
The policemen awkwardly line up by the nauseating muck. All
smile happily.
POLICE RESEARCHER (CONT'D)
All right, remember no moving for
ten seconds. Want a clear picture.
Everyone say “frown."
The smiles vanish. They take on the grim look of old photos!
SINGER AND INSPECTOR AND PEARCE
Frown!
They freeze for a long time while flies land on their faces.
The wayward spark smolders in the hay. FOOF! The flash pan
ignites again. A second ember arcs into alfalfa stuffed
rafters.
INSPECTOR
Enough tomfoolery. Get that plaster
in here.
SINGER
Do you smell smoke?
The first burning hay pile bursts into flames!
CUT TO:
Jump cut! The whole stable is afire, the precious poo pile
destroyed! Flames outline running people and panicked horses!
The blaze threatens the theatre itself! MEZMO, GRETA, LANCE
BOYLE and the HENCHMEN watch from the perimeter amazed.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 50.
MEZMO
I've always wanted to bring the house
down, but not in flames! Can't you
ever get what you want out of life
the way you want it? Oh no, where's
bunny?
LANCE BOYLE
'Ere he is! Lost ‘is top ‘at though.
He pulls out the white rabbit for Mezmo who cuddles it.
Galloping horses tugging huge fire trucks appear!
DISSOLVE
TO:
The stable is a smoldering pile. Firemen continue hosing
down rubble. The scorched theatre is mostly unharmed but the
wall outside the women's lavatory is black as the mood. Mezmo
and Greta turn from the gawkers to go. They spy the
Westminster family boarding a carriage.
MEZMO
Mr. Westminster, your daughter's
bruises will heal but if she does
not get better inside please, by all
means, bring her to me for treatment
at my expense.
WESTMINSTER
Thank you sir.
MEZMO
I feel I owe it to her. Security was
so lax. However, next time I recommend
you do not tempt serial rapists with
remarks to the press about your
daughter's bosoms.
WESTMINSTER stares at the ground, humiliated. GRANDMAMA rolls
her eyes in disgust at her son-in-law.
GRANDMAMA
What I saw you do tonight for that
poor smoker, amazing! You are good
man sir! A bright future awaits you.
MEZMO
Thank you. I only hope it helps her.
Mezmo and Greta keep walking down the stately boulevard,
away from the accident towards museums and night life.
GRETA GREEN
John, I saw you touch that fat girl
tonight. You must control yourself.
Someone will figure you out!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 51.
Mezmo watches the MUSEUM VICTIM pass, a well dressed lady
with big breasts and shapely hips her corset can't hide.
MEZMO
I know, but I'm tired of staying in
control. I want to reach out and
grab whatever I want, when I want!
I'm sick of all the rules …
GRETA GREEN
Thank goodness I think you actually
helped the girl. She had no idea
what you were doing when …
She glances his way. He's gone! She fumes …
GRETA GREEN (CONT'D)
No one disappears like a magician!
INT. ART MUSEUM
The wide steps of the art museum overlook the smoldering
theatre. Its Greek columns sport a sign “Art of Nightmares.”
The MUSEUM VICTIM lifts her dress and climbs the steps. She
is pretty, heavily embosomed. Just old enough to be seen out
alone without causing scandal.
SUBTITLE: 10:11 P.M.
The museum is empty, but for an elderly man, the MUSEUM GUIDE
behind the front desk. Gas lamps flicker eerily down high
marble corridors. The wavering light makes the fantastical
art even weirder.
MUSEUM GUIDE
Hello M'um. Slow night. We close in
twenty minutes.
MUSEUM VICTIM
Where is everyone?
MUSEUM GUIDE
How can art compete with those flaming
special effects down the street?
Usually a fire or sewer explosion is
wonderful for drawing spillover. Not
tonight. 5 pence, M'um.
She enters the exhibit. Footfalls echo off polished stone.
She spies a statue of a voluptuous woman manhandled by a
handsome Roman brute.
MUSEUM VICTIM
Rape of the Sabines. Humph! Violence
against women masquerading as art!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 52.
She sees a huge, dark painting of an evil gnome atop a
sleeping woman.
MUSEUM VICTIM (CONT'D)
Goya's “The Nightmare.” Oh my!
Turning she notices a very scary black hatted, leather clad
menace. Wait! That's no painting, it's MEZMO framed leaning
against empty wall!
MUSEUM VICTIM (CONT'D)
Good heavens! You moved!
MEZMO stands, staring in her eyes.
MUSEUM VICTIM (CONT'D)
(Laughs) You gave me such a start. I
… I thought you were a … a painting.
Sir, it is rude to wear a hat indoors
in civil society.
MEZMO
Feel safe in high culture? Nothing
stops me from getting my way!
He takes off his hat, revealing his eyes! PURPLE RAYS SWIRL
FROM MEZMO'S PUPILS AND INTO THE BEAUTIFUL VICTIM'S BRAIN!
MEZMO (CONT'D)
You have come to see the art, but I
have come to stab your heart …
He whips out large medical scissors!
MUSEUM VICTIM
(Dazed) You … you're .. the monster
… the papers talk of … you don't
kill … you just … squeeze bosoms.
MEZMO
I assure, with utmost skill, I'm a
creature who can kill!
He raises the shears! Somehow she closes her eyes, cutting
off his hypnotic power! She grabs his raised arm, fending
him off with eyes closed!
MUSEUM VICTIM
I'm not afraid you pathetic monster!
SHE OPENS HER EYES AND MEZMO MORPHS INTO A MONSTER! HIS
SILHOUETTE GROWS INTO AN OILY, BLACK VAMPIRE WITH GLOWING
PURPLE EYES! Overcome with horror she collapses on the marble
floor! Mezmo is taken aback!
MEZMO
Oh dear! I'm sorry, I … I …
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 53.
Halfheartedly he goes through the motions of snipping her
bodice. Reaching into her clothes he grabs her ample boobies.
MEZMO (CONT'D)
(Listlessly) Honk honk … So there!
High society … no match for me!
He tips Rape of the Sabines off its pedestal. It shatters as
he flees through a side exit!
INT. POLICE SUPERINTENDENT'S OFFICE -- MORNING
The overweight SUPERINTENDENT scowls his jowls behind his
grand desk. A career of plaques and knickknacks glare at the
INSPECTOR, SINGER, PEARCE and the eggheaded POLICE RESEARCHER.
SUPERINTENDENT
You force a father to use his
daughters as bait, let the r-rapist
escape and burn down the building?
INSPECTOR
Partly burned, sir. But we flushed
‘im out!
SUPERINTENDENT
And he struck again later! Why didn't
you catch him? What idiots can't
stop a simple breast grabbing
pervert?!
SINGER
'E attacked in the women's lavatory!
SUPERINTENDENT
What! Evil genius! You fools will
never catch him. You're all demoted
to the slums!
INT. NEWSPAPER OFFICE -- SUNRISE
The smoky inner sanctum of the paper has a wide window on
Fleet Street. Exhausted reporters slump ‘round a table, while
bored young secretary BARBARA CARTLAND has given up hearing
something worth writing. She reads a cheap novel instead.
NEWSPAPERMAN
He sells papers like mad and that's
all the names for this pervert you
“journalists” can think of? Read
back what we've got.
BARBARA CARTLAND
Bust Buster, Bosom Beater, Bodice
Beater, Brassier Beater, Brassier
Beast, Ghostly Grabber, the Shadowy
(MORE)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 54.
BARBARA CARTLAND (CONT'D)
Squeezer, the Secret Squeezer, the
Phantom Menace … that's it.
NEWSPAPERMAN
What about Breast Beater …
REPORTER #1
We'd never get away with “breast” in
a headline. (Puffs cigar)
BARBARA CARTLAND
Yes, that would be rude as smoking
in front of a lady!
Everyone laughs. The Newspaperman grabs her pulpy, penny
dreadful novel.
NEWSPAPERMAN
"Pirate Pierre's Purple Passion!”
Good Lord, Barbara Cartland, you'll
never be a writer reading this! Toss
this cheap bodice ripper and help
think of a name for our freak!
EXT. STREET CORNER -- DAY
The NEWSIE stands on a sidewalk. People rush to buy the lil’
chap's papers.
NEWSIE
Bodice Ripper terrifies London!
Strikes twice last night! Sex becomes
legi'imate news! Every filthy detail
available for your edi-fi-cation as
a publick service!
At the mention of sex the line of customers doubles!
INT. RIPPER'S LAIR -- DAY
The Ripper's Lair, an industrial building, is aflurry with
construction of theatrical sets. MEZMO instructs his HENCHMEN,
LANCE BOYLE and GRETA.
MEZMO
I know you're all curious about this
formula and the hypnotic skills I'm
developing. I think it's time you
tried it yourself.
They murmur nervously as Mezmo grinds ingredients with mortar
and pestle.
LANCE BOYLE
What's in this secret formula?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 55.
MEZMO
Lead, radium, mercury, opium, absinthe
and a twist of lime. (Squeezes lime)
GRETA GREEN
Is it addictive? What's the lime do?
MEZMO
Makes it just barely drinkable.
LANCE BOYLE
What's that glowin’ green?
Mezmo grabs a luminous little rod, tossing it casually to
Lance Boyle who smells and tastes it.
MEZMO
Radium, Mr. Boyle. It's radio-active!
Quite expensive. They're painting it
on watches now so numbers glow in
the dark. Imagine! Soon we'll wear
glowing hats, read glowing papers,
live luminescent lives. One day
everything will be radio-active!
They murmur blind faith in science. Mezmo finishes mixing
his luminous lime elixir, pouring it into test tubes. He
hands one to each person, taking a very green tube himself.
GRETA GREEN
Mine hardly glows compared to yours.
MEZMO
At this point I need more … kick.
GRETA GREEN
Is this safe? What of side effects?
MEZMO
Not to worry, drink up! Don't sip!
They nervously gulp the noxious glop.
MEZMO (CONT'D)
Oh, forgot, there are side effects.
Everyone is wracked by tremendous coughs, hacking green,
glowing smoke!
GRETA GREEN
Side effects? Such as?
MEZMO
Memory loss. Uh, I forget the others.
Oh yes, dizziness and complete loss
of social inhibitions.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 56.
They clutch their heads in unison.
GRETA GREEN
I feel lightheaded ..
MEZMO
Please, everyone, remember to control
your urges. We can't learn to read
other's minds if our own minds are …
Miss Green!
Dazed, Greta absently sticks her finger up her nose. She
pulls it out and looks at it. Mezmo grabs her hand and yanks
it down.
MEZMO (CONT'D)
Stop yourself! Just because you want
to do something does not … Good Lord!
Two of his henchmen are lip-locked in a dazed but passionate
homoerotic embrace! He pulls them apart!
MEZMO (CONT'D)
My God! Is it possible to work in
show business without being surrounded
by Poofs? I underestimated the power
of this muck! Get your hands out of
your pants, young man!
INT. SCOTLAND YARD PRESS ROOM
A chamber crammed to the ornate woodwork with black suited
men. The SUPERINTENDENT stands behind flags and a podium as
journalists fling questions. From the rear comes a sudden
FLASH and FOOOF! A lone photographer has lit flash powder!
SUPERINTENDENT
My God! Put that away! Are you trying
to burn us alive?!
PHOTOGRAPHER
But it's the latest thing!
REPORTER #3
London is losing control. Are the
streets still safe for women?
SUPERINTENDENT
Poppycock! London is safe for ALL
women … with bustlines below forty
inches. But there are ways to protect
the full bosomed. The Ripper must
have a day job. Attacks occur at
night. So, one, don't go out at night.
Two, don't talk to strangers, three
never, ever be alone. All victims
(MORE)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 57.
SUPERINTENDENT (CONT'D)
were alone. Course, flat chested
ladies are free to do whatever …
REPORTER #4
Were the lavatory and museum attacks
the work of the same person?
SUPERINTENDENT
Yes. Stymied in one attack, the fiend
needed to satisfy his c-carnal
obsessions.
REPORTER #1
No one has seen this r-rapist yet,
could it be a ghost or incubus?
SUPERINTENDENT
Ghost?! Incubus?! There are more
than enough villains in this world.
Don't go importing them from the
hearafter!
Everyone laughs at his derision.
REPORTER #2
On a separate note, what about reports
of werewolves in the sewers?
SUPERINTENDENT
(Incredulous) Werewolves in the
sewers!?? Preposterous! What times
are we living in? Everyone knows the
sewers don't fill with werewolves
for six months! Cold weather forces
them underground and, far as I'm
concerned, anyone who goes into sewers
looking for those foul beasts deserves
to be eaten!
INT. SLAUGHTERHOUSE
JACK THE RIPPER'S silhouette projects on an open newspaper.
The headline howls “RIPPER RUNS RIOT!” He shakes angrily.
JACK THE RIPPER
(O.S.) Can't believe e's gettin’
this much ink! And why is ‘e
attackin’ ‘igh class women instead
of the bloody ‘ores? Them diseased
‘ores are the problem. I'd love ta
show them what a bloody rippin’ is
all aboot. An’ I'd be famous too!
The camera pans from the open paper to a dingy work room.
The SLAUGHTERHOUSE BOSS enters. He is young, burly, arms
caked with bloody bits.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 58.
SLAUGHTERHOUSE BOSS
C'mon luv, break's over, ‘nother
load a pigs ta gut!
INT. PEARCE'S FLAT -- NIGHT
PEARCE'S bed fills the frame. He's on one side wrapped in
purple silk sheets. The other side is empty until handsome
SINGER lies down shirtless.
SINGER
Thanks again for letting me stay. If
the Ripper can put letters in my
pocket ‘e can put a knife in my ‘eart!
I'm afraid ‘e'll be back! The
Inspector says “don't be alone."
PEARCE
No need ta thank me. Just glad ta
‘elp out. You know how I feel ‘bout
ya.
INT. SCOTLAND YARD MAIL ROOM
The SUPERINTENDENT enters, hopscotching huge piles of mail.
Bookish young MAIL CLERK #1 reads a letter.
SUPERINTENDENT
What is this mess? You're supposed
to be looking for more Bodice Ripper
messages!
MAIL CLERK #1
Yes, sir, we are! They're all from
the Bodice Ripper.
SUPERINTENDENT
What! God! The papers make human
scum famous and every looney in
England sends mail!
MAIL CLERK #1
They're comin’ from France too!
A mail pile erupts! Out pops MAIL CLERK #2!
SUPERINTENDENT
God you startled me!
MAIL CLERK #1
Thought you were at lunch.
MAIL CLERK #2
Look sir! Think this one's genuine!
Handwritin’ an’ paper matches!
He gives the black inked letter to his boss.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 59.
SUPERINTENDENT
(Reads aloud) “You can't find me.
You are blind. I can live within
your mind. P.S. Please ask the press
to invent a better name for me as it
is difficult to find words that rhyme
with ‘Ripper'."
INT. MITRE SQUARE POLICE STATION -- DAY
The grubby station is busy as always processing hookers and
johns. MONA enters warily, huge breasts rolling ‘round in a
new, bodice reinforced dress. The now demoted INSPECTOR
approaches.
INSPECTOR
Miss Mona Lott?
MONA
Ooo are you? Me reputation precedes
me.
INSPECTOR
Actually your chest precedes you.
MONA
'At's what I meant.
INSPECTOR
I'm runnin’ Mitre Square Station
now. I called you in. We need your …
expertise. In my office.
They pass holding cells for men and women. The crowded men's
cell jumps to attention, clamoring to get out!
INSPECTOR (CONT'D)
Shut up all o’ you! You copycat filth!
All caught harassin’ ladies, tryin’
to grab their bosoms. And you women!
We've evidence they all filed false
reports against innocent men. Got
their ‘usbands and lovers arrested
claiming the blokes were the Bodice
Ripper. Bunch of man-hatin’,
backstabbin’ spooneys! People give
themselves bloody noses, come in
sayin’ “the Ripper did it!” I'm sick
of it already!
The red faced Inspector leads Mona back to his office past
SUSPICIOUS OFFICERS #1 and #2.
SUSPICIOUS OFFICER #1
What are they doin’ in there with
that whore and our obnoxious new
boss?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 60.
In his bare office the Inspector quickly closes the door
behind Mona. She doubles over laughing! Moustacheless SINGER
wears sloppy, slutty makeup and a dress with big water balloon
breasts! PEARCE is trying to make him up.
MONA
Ha ha! “Officer Singer?!”
PEARCE
If you were the Bodice Ripper would
you find ‘im attractive?
Singer stands, pushing his chest out to accentuate his
“bosoms.” One bursts with a POP! Water gushes through his
chest and down his ruffled bodice!
SINGER
We'll never look enough like whores
to lure the Ripper. What to do? We
can't let women be police-men!
INSPECTOR
Women police-men?!!
They double over, laughing and giggling like children! Singer
hoots so hard his other breast bursts! Laughter continues
for some time. A clock reads 2:15.
DISSOLVE
TO:
The same clock at 2:30. They are still laughing, but it's
died down to a happy stutter. Mona isn't laughing anymore.
Just when they seem about to stop snickering one starts
laughing again and the others join in!
MONA
I wanted ta help stop the Ripper,
but I ‘ave ta go now.
INSPECTOR
Wait! We weren't expectin’
transvestism to be so ‘ard and we've
no time to learn. Teach us your tarty
tricks, pardon my French. I'll make
it worth your while.
MONA
Me while is now worf quite a bit.
Yer breakin’ the law an’ ya know it!
The Inspector points to a tall pile of folders on his desk,
some dusty and yellowed.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 61.
INSPECTOR
Speakin’ of lawbreakin', ‘ere's your
criminal record. Quite impressive.
Would've thought you'd gone to law
school. ‘Elp us and I'll trash some
of it.
MONA
All of it.
INSPECTOR
The worst of it.
MONA
'Alf of it.
INSPECTOR
Deal.
MONA
Done.
The Inspector pushes the top half of the papers in the
wastebasket. She stomps it for good measure. Over and over.
SINGER
What are you doing? That's not right,
sir, I'm sorry but it's not!
INSPECTOR
Of course. Mona, what can you do to
make him ravishin’ to rapists? These
water breasts are just not workin'!
MONA
I never needed false bosoms meself,
so I can't ‘elp there. I can give ya
some proper tarty makeup. An’ yer
dress would fit a lot better if ya
didn't wear it backward!
Singer stands, puzzled. His dress is on backwards! Everyone
laughs! The noise makes the Suspicious Officers outside even
more disapproving.
DISSOLVE
TO:
The police office is scattered with makeup jars and wigs.
The Inspector and Pearce watch Mona finish making up Singer.
Mona throws down her brush in disgust!
MONA (CONT'D)
Gorm! It's not workin'!
(MORE)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 62.
MONA (CONT'D)
Me women's face paint is too light
fer a man. ‘E looks sickly. An ‘is
beard is growin’ so fast I can barely
trowel batter on quick enough ta
cover it! This thick it'll crack
like dry mud right off, it will. I'm
at wit's end, ‘ere …
Dejected Mona opens the door and leaves, dragging the garbage
can of records with her. Outside the eavesdropping Suspicious
Officers act nonchalant.
INSPECTOR
Bloody awful! But lookin’ good or
lookin’ bad, you boys got to trap
the Ripper by streetwalkin'. When
you get the ‘ang of it you'll train
the others. It's the only way I can
try to solve this case stuck ‘ere in
the slums wifout resources. An’ if
we don't solve this case, we'll die
‘ere.
He exits his bare office, head bowed in shame.
SINGER
Ugh! No self-respecting pervert would
find me attractive!
PEARCE
I … I know people who can ‘elp.
SINGER
Wonderful! Why didn't you say so
before we threw away the best parts
of Mona's arrest record? Such an
entertaining read!
PEARCE
I didn't want to talk in front of
the others, but, I warn ya, the people
I know … they're Margeries!
SINGER
Margeries?! Of course! ‘Ow did you
meet Margeries? Arrest ‘em?
PEARCE
No. I'm … and I wouldn't say this if
I didn't trust ya and ya weren't at
wit's end, but … I'm … I'm a Poof!
SINGER
A P-POOF!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 63.
PEARCE
Shhsss!
The eavesdropping Suspicious Officers exchange glances.
SINGER
(Whispers) Come to think, you do fix
my tea all day, lend me money I don't
pay back … watch me change clothes.
But … I mean … I never met a Poof I
wasn't arrestin'!
PEARCE
(Whispers) I can't talk at work.
Let's go. There's a bar at Fleet
Street and Chancery wif too much of
everything we need!
EXT. ALLEYWAY -- EVENING
Out of uniform, PEARCE and SINGER follow a nondescript trail
of muddy footprints between the gloomy brick walls.
PEARCE
Ugh, these three Mary Anns get my
skin crawlin', but they can make men
women.
SINGER
I work the slum. I pull dead babies
from drains. There's nothing a mob
of Mary Anns can do to make me lose
my lunch. I'm a police-man.
PEARCE
Don't go sayin’ things like that
now! To the police I'm a Poof. To
the Poof's I'm police. They find
out, they'll kill us!
SINGER
Who, the coppers or the queers?
PEARCE
Both! Me publick and private lives
don't meet on the street. Ya could
get two years ‘ard labour just bein’
‘ere! We are under cover! Remember,
missy.
SINGER
These tracks go right through the
wall. Is there a ‘idden …
A brick in the wall disappears. Eyes stare out the hole!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 64.
POOF GUARD
Password?
SINGER
Scared me!
POOF GUARD
Password, mate?
PEARCE
"God save the queens."
POOF GUARD
Pearce! Didn't recognize ya in the
dark. C'mon in.
INT. POOF BAR
The brickwork sinks into itself and pivots open. SINGER
nervously follows PEARCE in. The tall POOF GUARD swings the
bricks shut with a grunt, sweaty muscles bulging through a
working class white undershirt.
POOF GUARD
Nice ta see ya ‘gain ‘andsome!
The Guard grabs a startled Pearce and plants a big, sloppy
kiss! It's obvious they've slept together. When Pearce sees
Singer's horror he awkwardly tries to stop kissing the stud!
Grabbing his belly, tough guy Singer gets nauseous! His cheeks
balloon like tennis balls. He covers his mouth with his hand
but milky white vomit squirts between his fingers!
Oblivious, the Poof Guard finally frees Pearce from his
braided arms. Singer quickly switches from a grimace to a
smile so toothy and wide eyed it's obvious he just swallowed
his own vomit!
POOF GUARD (CONT'D)
'Ello luv, yer a cute one.
SINGER
H-Hello. You t-too.
POOF GUARD
(Fanning away SINGER'S breath) Phew!
Who you been eatin'?
PEARCE
The “girls” ‘ere?
POOF GUARD
In back rehearsin’ their silly show.
Pearce leads Singer in the gin hall. Sexy SHIRTLESS WAITERS
in unfashionably tight pants ply drinks to POOFS of all ages,
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 65.
classes and races. A table of LESBIANS play poker over cigars.
Pearce ducks past them through a gaudy curtain.
Inside are three incredibly dressed drag queens. Prim sissy
PRISSY is half transformed in unbuttoned men's clothes but
with women's makeup on “her” head. POOFY has a big, puffy
bouffant. PANSY wears a gaudy floral dress.
PEARCE
'Ello ladies …
PRISSY
Hello handsome. I'm Prissy!
POOFY
I'm Poofy!
PANSY
I'm Pansy!
PEARCE
I'm Pearcy … uh Pearce. My friend
and I were thinkin’ of becomin’
apprentice impersonators and we're
wonderin’ if ya ‘ad any beauty tips.
PRISSY
To get in touch with your feminine
side just wear a dress. I'd love to
get you out of your clothes … and
into one!
This bothers Pearce and terrifies Singer! Pearce takes his
pants off. Singer slowly follows. Pearce hands his trousers
to eager Poofy. His billfold falls out of the back pocket,
flashing his policeman's badge!
POOFY
Look out girls, he's a copper!
The queens squeal in horror! The Poof Guard lumbers in!
POOF GUARD
Who's a copper!?
PRISSY AND POOFY AND PANSY
(Falsetto) They are!
POOF GUARD
What! I can believe ‘im, but not you
Pearce! Traitor!
The Poof Guard draws a single shot pistol on them!
PEARCE
We're not ‘ere ta arrest anyone!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 66.
SINGER
We're really after the Bodice Ripper!
PRISSY AND POOFY AND PANSY
What?!
SINGER
Tis true! Scotland Yard wants us on
the street in big bristoled drag to
trap the Ripper!
PEARCE
But I couldn't make us look good
enough! So I came ta ya fer ‘elp …
PANSY
I ‘ate coppers, but I ‘ate that Bo'ice
Ripper more! It just ain't safe!
SINGER
We tried using water balloons for
those. They looked real but …
PRISSY
Oh, those burst.
POOFY
Yes, you've got to use bladders.
PEARCE
Bladders!?
PANSY
Yeah, sheep's bladder's fulla water.
Look real, don't break! Just remember
ta keep ‘em away from the pets. Came
‘ome one night, the cat ate me
titties!
They laugh some tension off …
PRISSY
If it helps capture that breast-
obsessed madman we'll make you over.
But you must promise never to come
here again!
SINGER
(Eagerly) Oh I promise!
Pearce looks down shamefacedly, his social life over.
DISSOLVE
TO:
The drag queens gush and giggle over Singer. He's a stunning,
high cheeked beauty!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 67.
It's as close as a man can get to a classic, feminine ideal.
He admires his reflection.
SINGER (CONT'D)
You've really outdone yourselves.
I've never felt so glamorous!
(Angrily) Too bad we're supposed to
be cheap street tarts! Now there's a
look I would think you'd mastered!
DISSOLVE
TO:
SINGER and PEARCE are dolled up like Mona. Overdone eye
shadow. Mopped on lipstick. Two realistic busty whores.
PEARCE
I ‘ated losing me moustache, it's me
only masculine feature! But it worked!
PANSY
Now ‘ats a job well done! Let's get
a drink, eh? Pomade fumes get ta me.
The queens take the cops back through the curtain to the
bar. In line for drinks Singer peers at the Poofs.
SINGER
There's so many of ‘em!
PEARCE
All bein’ their real selves. What ya
call publick life, it's fantasy.
SINGER
I recognize a waiter. And look who's
over there in that lap!
Singer points to a laughing man in a big bloke's lap.
PRISSY
(Overhears) Know him? Paid me to go
home with him once. That's his
houseboy he's sitting on and he's
got a wife at home! Guess she knows
about the naughty pictures hidden
under his bedpost! Eh! Paid well,
but he wouldn't even tell me what he
did for a living.
PEARCE
(Whispers) My God, it's the Police
Superintendent!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 68.
EXT. THEATRE DISTRICT -- NIGHT
The gaslit street is crowded with playgoers and prostitutes.
All stare as PEARCE and SINGER trip over their heels in drag.
SINGER
God, the things I do to get ahead!
This is useless. The Ripper's moved
up the social ladder. ‘E ‘asn't groped
a whore since Mona Lott weeks ago.
PEARCE
I don't know ‘ow ya motivate yerself.
SINGER
Don't you want to leave the slum
beat and work for Scotland Yard?
PEARCE
Too old. Life ‘spectancy is what,
forty? Got one foot in the grave.
Besides, Whitechapel's where the
action is! Ya want crime, go ta the
criminals. Hyde Park is all cat
burglaries and embezzlement. Boring!
An’ even if ya catch the crook, yer
not allowed ta beat ‘em! Don't cry
for me, luv, yer mascara'll run!
Laughing, he puts his arm ‘round Singer's sequined shoulder.
His friend recoils homophobically!
SINGER
Please don't touch me!
PEARCE
It's okay! Women do that, they touch.
So when ya put on a dress, it's … uh
… normal!
SINGER
Let's split up. I'll take this side.
PEARCE
(Hurt) All right.
INT. MITRE SQUARE POLICE STATION -- NIGHT
SINGER and PEARCE enter the station in full drag. The STATION
POLICEMEN freeze astonished! PROSTITUTES in the cells laugh
hysterically! Oblivious, SINGER heads for the Inspector's
office. Pearce sees the SUSPICIOUS OFFICERS eyeing him.
PEARCE
We must look silly, but it's in the
name of publick safety. I ‘ope this
won't affect our workin’ together.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 69.
The Suspicious Officer's give their patented look. Singer
plods into the Inspector's office.
INSPECTOR
You look much better now … from a
distance. I'm tempted to squeeze
your bosoms meself! From a distance.
SINGER
Thank you. But you'd be the only
one. We'd no luck. It's ‘opeless.
The Ripper wants upper class victims.
INSPECTOR
Damn, damn it all! I'll be trapped
in this slum forever!
SINGER
The whole evening was a ‘orror. And
that bar! You won't believe ‘ow many
Poof's I recognized! A waiter and my
minister! I won't look at ‘im the
same! Even the Police Superintendent
was there with his “‘ouse boy.” Got
a wife at ‘ome and a pile of porn
stashed under ‘is bedpost, I'm told.
Who would ‘ave thought such upstanding
blokes would be so sick in private.
You never know. Just never know.
The Inspector looks enlightened, says nothing.
INT. RIPPER'S LAIR -- DAY
GRETA, LANCE BOYLE, the HENCHMEN and a tired MEZMO sit on
stools in this industrial room. They face Mezmo. He's at a
table with a row of empty test tubes and a puppy.
MEZMO
Now that we've drunk our less powerful
potions I hope there shan't be a
repeat of last time. Let's keep hands
to selves, shall we? Today we practice
using the “purple eye” by hypnotizing
a dog. They're easy to control. They
spend half their lives in a zombie-
like state anyway. I want you all to
look at me and activate the “purple
eye” as we discussed.
Everyone glares at Mezmo but no magic comes out their eyes.
FINALLY GRETA'S CORNEAS SPUTTER WITH HYPNO-POWER! TENTATIVE
GHOSTS OF ENERGY SLINK FROM HER PURPLE PUPILS. Surprised,
she checks herself in a hand mirror.
MEZMO (CONT'D)
Good! It's starting!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 70.
THE EYES OF A FEW HENCHMEN SPUTTER PURPLE. POW! EVERYONE'S
EYES COME ON FULL BLAST! THE ROOM DISAPPEARS! MEZMO IS PLUNGED
INTO A HYPNOTIC TORNADO ROARING FROM A DOZEN PUPILS!
Screaming, he knocks test tubes to the floor as the puppy
yelps!
His puzzled students look ‘round. They forget to turn off
their hypnotic rays and bathe each other in psychic streams!
MEZMO slumps, face covered. WHEN HE OPENS HIS EYES HE SEES
TWO HENCHMEN EYE LOCKED IN A HYPNO-LINK. THEIR HEADS BOB IN
UNISON AS THEY SIMULTANEOUSLY MESMERIZE EACH OTHER!
MEZMO (CONT'D)
No, that's dangerous!
HE PULLS THE DAZED HENCHMEN APART. GRETA AUTO-HYPNOTIZES
HERSELF STARING IN HER HAND MIRROR. THE PURPLE RAYS COMING
OUT HER EYES BOUNCE OFF THE MIRROR BACK INTO HER BOBBING
HEAD! He snatches the looking glass, breaking the spell!
MEZMO (CONT'D)
Careful! Always remember the four
rules of the purple eye. One, never
drink so much elixir you lose your
memory. Two, never look into the
purple eye of another. Three, avoid
mirrors. Four, the purple eye's
Achilles heel, it's weak spot that
the police could use to render us
powerless is … is
HENCHMEN
What?
MEZMO
I, uh, can't remember. I think perhaps
lately I've broken rule number two.
GRETA GREEN
Don't you mean rule one?
MEZMO
Uh, maybe …
INT. WESTMINSTER'S FOYER -- AFTERNOON
SINGER enters the Westminster's opulent, electrically lit
foyer. The HOUSEKEEPER closes the door. ABBEY waits
expectantly, twirling her dark curls.
SINGER
Ready for lunch Miss Westminster?
ABBEY
Yes officer. My sister won't go, so
it's just going to be me and my
“bodyguard” today.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 71.
GRANDMAMA waddles in silently behind her.
GRANDMAMA
Not this time it's not!
ABBEY
Oh you gave me such as start!
GRANDMAMA
Gossip is you've been seen in publick
with a uniformed policeman, young
lady. Not good. We are not about to
let you sneak off whenever you want
with your “bodyguard.” If there is
to be a luncheon today it will be
with him out of uniform and I as
chaperone!
Handsome WESTMINSTER fumbles into the room.
ABBEY
PaPA, I was going out to …
WESTMINSTER
Excellent! Have fun.
GRANDMAMA
No I forbid it!
WESTMINSTER
Wait, no I forbid it! Because …
GRANDMAMA
Because I must chaparone!
WESTMINSTER
Because I, uh, I mean GrandmaMA must
chaparone. And I'm very firm on this.
Hello Sergeant Singer! Like bathroom
work? Well then you must see this!
To Abbey's dismay her dizzy father leads them to a nearby
door, pointing through it with pride.
WESTMINSTER (CONT'D)
Now that's a Crapper!
Indeed, the raised cistern toilet is expensive brass with
flawless white enamel. The upper tank says “Thom. Crapper
Waterfall Deluxe.” A CRAPPER INSTALLER in boots and overalls
hunches down adjusting it.
CRAPPER INSTALLER
Yessir, dual action valves, no
backflow, all brass, a beaut, sir!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 72.
SINGER
Oh to be free of my chamberpot at
all, brass or no!
Everyone laughs! They fondle the toilet.
CRAPPER INSTALLER
Me boss Thomas Crapper, ‘e's a
plumbin’ genius ‘e is. Got 5 patents
to ‘is name!
WESTMINSTER
The sun will never set on the British
Empire whilst we hold names like
Crapper in high esteem! Be the first
to pull it, boy.
SINGER
Thank you sir! Wonder where it goes?
INT. SEWERS -- CONTINUOUS
THE TOILET FLUSHES. THE CAMERA SPINS DOWN IT! SHOOTING THROUGH
THE SHINY NEW PIPES OF THE HOME IN A SEAMLESS UNDERWATER POV
THE CAMERA TWISTS AND ROLLS. IT ENTERS THE LARGER OLD IRON
PIPES UNDER LONDON. THESE BIG, RUSTY CONDUITS EMPTY BROWN,
SHITTY WATER INTO A MUCKY, BRICK WALLED SEWER.
IN THE SHADOWS A RED-EYED WEREWOLF GROWLS AND JUMPS AT CAMERA!
MURKY FILTH FLOODS THE DISGUSTING TUNNEL, GUSHING AND SLURPING
TO A STILL LARGER PASSAGE BIG ENOUGH TO DRIVE A TRAIN THROUGH.
THE SEWAGE SPILLS INTO THE GREASY BROWN THAMES, A MILE WIDE
TOILET OOZING TO THE SEA.
INT. RESTAURANT
A POOF WAITER pumps three glasses of water. One has filth in
it. Disgusted, he picks the gunk out.
POOF WAITER
(Poof accent) Ugh, least it's green!
Musta got some sun once in its life.
He sashays his drink tray through the expensive restaurant
to a premium rear corner booth. It has closeable privacy
curtains. Here GRANDMAMA sits, blubbery and bottom heavy.
She is a wall between SINGER at left and ABBEY right.
POOF WAITER (CONT'D)
(Poof accent) Here's your bottle of
our best absinthe, fermented wormwood.
GRANDMAMA
Abbey, starting a little heavy?!
Absinthe makes pink elephants see
things. I don't think we can … oh
all right let's try some!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 73.
The fawning Poof Waiter prances away.
SINGER
'Ow is your sister Tess?
ABBEY
Not herself. Withdrawn. Won't go out
or sleep. Jumps at the least noise.
Rearranges her dolls over and over.
SINGER
Common symptoms of violence. She'll
recover when the Ripper is caught.
ABBEY
No speaking of that filth! I'm sick
of people asking about him. I overhear
so much on the street as well. And
now I'm talking about not talking
about him!
GRANDMAMA
Let's talk about marriage.
ABBEY
Ugh! Your only topic of discussion.
Yet you never talk of your marriage.
GRANDMAMA
It would take oceans of absinthe to
loosen my tongue about my husband
dear late Mr. Wellington …
DISSOLVE
TO:
Later. The absinthe lies sideways, dripping. Singer, Abbey
and even alcoholic Grandmama are wasted! She waggles her jaw
boozily while the youngsters clumsily eat.
GRANDMAMA (CONT'D)
He would bite off his long yellow
toenails and … and use them as
toothpicks! In front of me! But what
was I to do? The person who wants
the relationship less makes the rules
…
ABBEY
Sergeant Singer works in the slums
every day. He's not as shockable as
you. Why I'm sure you see people use
their toenails for all sorts of
horrible things there. Oh, careful,
Sergeant. Don't eat ice cream with
your fruit spoon.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 74.
SINGER
Huh? What? Oh this?
ABBEY
"Using spoons from right to left,
You will eat a meal most deft.” There
are special spoons for eating soup,
ice cream, fruit cup, stirring tea …
GRANDMAMA
Wrong spoons. The mark of the
vulgarian, to be frank. And he chews
with his mouth open. I know what you
see in him, Abbey. Handsome, earthy
charm. But with those manners and
his low station, he's not …
ABBEY
But it's exciting! I like that he's
a policeman. As long as we're being
drunken, uh, open and I mean no
offense, Sergeant, but I'm almost
more interested in your job than I
am you. If we were married I could
be more a part of that.
SINGER
If we were married I wouldn't ‘ave
to work. Touché! No, but I like
investigating. I know I'm not in
Scotland Yard yet, but my boss the
Inspector tells me ‘e's about to get
us all promoted some'ow..
INT. SUPERINTENDENT'S HOUSE -- DAY
The fat SUPERINTENDENT rushes to the door of his upscale
home, teacup in hand, to answer a pounding. Six BOBBIES, the
sly, shifty-eyed NEW SUPERINTENDENT and the toupeed INSPECTOR
barge in!
Subtitle: August 8, 1888 - Tea Time
NEW SUPERINTENDENT
Sorry sir, but we've a warrant.
He hands his new predecessor paper. The Bobbies head straight
up stairs to the bedroom. They push the leg of a heavy bed
off loose boards. Under the boards is Poof pornography!
NEW SUPERINTENDENT (CONT'D)
Just where he said it was. I'm sorry
but I'm afraid I'll have to take you
into custody “sir."
SUPERINTENDENT
Into custody? Me?! I'm the Police!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 75.
NEW SUPERINTENDENT
Well, now you're the Poof.
The furious Superintendent is dragged out.
INSPECTOR
You're sure ‘e won't get hard labour?
NEW SUPERINTENDENT
I'm sure, “Chief” Inspector. Congrats
on your promotion!
INT. RESTAURANT
The table is trashed. SINGER, ABBEY and GRANDMAMA finish the
meal drunker than before! The old lady appears unconscious.
ABBEY
Is she asleep yet? It takes forever.
SINGER
I suppose. God, drank enough absinthe
to kill a Shetland pony.
ABBEY
I thought she'd never pass out! Now,
close the drapes to hide us and crawl
under the table to me.
Singer unties the curtains. They cascade closed. No one in
the restaurant sees him crawl under the table. Halfway under
he spies Grandmama's fat crotch and diaper underpants between
spread wide thighs!
SINGER
Oooogghhh! Ammonia!
Abbey reaches under the table. She pulls Singer past the
horrible sight up to her side of the booth. In the restaurant
the POOF WAITER watches the curtains.
POOF WAITER
(Poof accent) Droppin’ the curtain
on another one! I dread cleanin’ the
upholstery tonight!
Abbey and Singer sit close, giggling. Grandmama dozes.
ABBEY
I hope you don't think I'm a loose
woman holding hands in publick.
SINGER
I arrest whores every day. You're no
whore … you're a dollymop!
They giggle drunkenly! Abbey acts shocked.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 76.
ABBEY
A dollymop!? Me? No! GrandmaMA is
paying for dinner. My sister, now
she's the dollymop. Buy her dinner
and drinks and she's yours! All!
SINGER
But ‘er virginity?
ABBEY
She's still a virgin.
SINGER
Still! How? That's not possible.
ABBEY
She doesn't let them in the “front”
way. She let's them go in … in the
“back alley!"
Singer's jaw drops. Abbey takes the opportunity to kiss his
open mouth long and hard! Her soft lips leave lipstick stains.
ABBEY (CONT'D)
Wait, put a teacup in your hand in
case the waiter comes.
The clumsily grab teacups and keep making out. Kissing
passionately, Singer runs his hand through her long hair.
She licks his neck! He goes wild! The soundtrack rises!
Grandmama's eyes flutter. POV OF THE OLD WOMAN WATCHING THEM
THROUGH SLITTED EYES! She licks her lips pervertedly. She's
been pretending she's unconscious this entire time just so
she can watch! The soundtrack reaches an erotic crescendo!
Outside the Poof Waiter clears his throat and opens the
curtains. The soundtrack crashes to a halt! SINGER and ABBEY
are frazzled, with tousled hair and smeared makeup. But they
hold their teacups high to seem innocent.
POOF WAITER
(Poof accent) More water anyone?
Smirking, he fills the glasses and closes the curtain. The
erotic soundtrack resumes exactly where it stopped! She
reaches down under the table and puts her hand on his crotch.
He jerks back startled! Awkwardly he lets go of her.
ABBEY
The waiter's on to us. Let's go!
Outside on the restaurant steps with Grandmama Singer
struggles keeping the drunken oldster steady!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 77.
ABBEY (CONT'D)
She's bottom heavy! Highly absorbent
undergarments let her drink gin all
day without attending lavatory.
Careful, she's sloshing!
Singer helps Abbey in the coach then the old lady. As
Grandmama gets in she purposefully grabs Singer's crotch for
support! He grimaces!
INT. PUBLICK COACH -- LATER
Outside the Westminster's posh mansion uniformed SINGER helps
ABBEY in a carriage. Stepping aboard he hits his head!
ABBEY
Look out! Why do Bobbies wear such
silly tall hats?
SINGER
If you stand on ‘em you can peer in
windows and see private lives.
Speaking of clothes, what of yours?
Where we're going dresses like that
get stolen at knife point.
ABBEY
So I shouldn't have brought this
expensive new American camera either?
From her large bag she pulls a big, wooden Kodak.
FADE TO
BLACK:
One of Abbey's sepia tinted pictures drifts across black.
The sound of a shutter clicking accompanies the appearance
of several moving photos: a dirty child, a gaunt woman, Singer
in a filthy alley, a one-eyed homeless man, the lovers
together. Understated music completes this brief, realistic
and touching interlude.
DISSOLVE
TO:
They hold hands in the coach on the ride back from the slum.
ABBEY (CONT'D)
You're right, there's nothing funny
about such poverty!
SINGER
It's a comedy killer I tell you.
ABBEY
The smell, the waste! How do they
raise children?!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 78.
SINGER
They don't. We pull bodies of the
little Street Arabs out of everything.
ABBEY
You're so blasé about it.
SINGER
(Sadly) Know why they always boil
water in Whitechapel when a baby is
born?
ABBEY
No, why?
SINGER
(Laughs) So if the baby comes out
dead they can make dead baby soup!
Abbey laughs despite herself at the sick joke!
ABBEY
Nauseating! You've seen too much!
SINGER
True. Wanted to be a Bobby ‘cause I
cared. But once you're a policeman
you stop caring, or it tears you up.
ABBEY
That heartlessness … how touching!
She kisses him long and hard! He rubs big hands down her
small chest. She puts her dainty white hand against his crotch
but he jerks back again as he had at lunch!
ABBEY (CONT'D)
I'm sorry, you … you don't like to
be touched there?
SINGER
It's not that. Something I haven't
told you … or any lady before, but …
I have three t-testicles!
ABBEY
Really? Three!?
SINGER
I've never been … intimate … because
I've been … I'm ashamed!
His eyes flicker with forbidden tears.
ABBEY
Mr. Singer, it's all right! It makes
you one third more a man, eh?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 79.
Singer lurches forward a great tension unsprung! He pulls
her close. They embrace so passionately Singer's broad
shoulders smack the wall of the private coach! The old,
bewhiskered COACHMAN outside hears.
COACHMAN
You two all right in there?
SINGER AND ABBEY
We're fine!
INT. WESTMINSTER'S DRAWING ROOM -- EVENING --
ABBEY enters the posh parlour. WESTMINSTER is asleep in an
easy chair, lit cigar in his mouth and brandy in hand. Behind
her MRS. WESTMINSTER appears.
MRS. WESTMINSTER
Where have you been young lady?
ABBEY
MaMA! I didn't hear you!
MRS. WESTMINSTER
Shhss!
She points to her husband and pulls her daughter into a big
closet, gingerly closing the door.
MRS. WESTMINSTER (CONT'D)
You went off with that policeman
again unchaperoned!
ABBEY
Mother I was in the company of the
law, he was uniformed and we …
MRS. WESTMINSTER
Abbey Westminster you cannot be seen
amongst working classes, especially
police! Where were you?
ABBEY
An educational outing. We went to
Whitechapel to take some pic …
MRS. WESTMINSTER
Whitechapel? The East End? Destroy
your reputation before it's made?
How will you attract a proper upper
class gentleman?
ABBEY
Maybe I don't want a “proper
gentleman.” Maybe I don't know what
I want!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 80.
MRS. WESTMINSTER
It doesn't matter what you want. You
are a woman and even wealthy women
have no power. If we could vote it
would be different. Or own property.
Things might change. Until then Men
rule us. Whether you love him or not
you must find a wealthy man to marry.
Good Lord, even a lawyer will do.
ABBEY
Why must marriage always be business?
What of love? Of my needs?
MRS. WESTMINSTER
When I married your dizzy father I
took charge. Now in his name I run
the house, the budget, investments,
profitable investments. If I ignore
his night life we function. It's not
perfect but it works. That's the
best you can expect.
ABBEY
Maybe for you MaMA, but it's 1888. I
won't make your mistake.
MRS. WESTMINSTER
I said the same once to my mother.
She cracks the closet door open and points outside.
Westminster snores. The cigar drops out his mouth into the
brandy snifter. It bursts into blue-white flames!
MRS. WESTMINSTER (CONT'D)
Oh Lord no!
She rushes out to help amid much smoke and shouting!
Tearfully, Abbey closes the closet door and throws herself
on a pile of laundry. She lies fetal, crying as THE CAMERA
CRANES HIGH, enhancing the tight walls of her confinement.
INT. PEARCE'S FLAT -- NIGHT
PEARCE'S bed is seen on high filling the frame as it had
earlier. CLOSE ON A WORRIED PEARCE, SLOWLY ZOOMING OUT AND
OVER TOWARDS SINGER'S SIDE OF THE MATTRESS.
SINGER
(O.S.) I'm going to face this my way
by pretending it didn't happen. I
don't know why you are what you are.
But I want you to know it won't change
us. I promise. Let's just stop talking
about it.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 81.
As the camera zooms out a wall of stacked books dividing the
bed appears. Across the wall Singer tries to sleep fully
dressed in his Bobbie uniform, including pointy hat! Pearce
picks up a newspaper, stopping shocked!
PEARCE
My God! “Superintendent of Police
arrested on sodomy charges!” We saw
‘im in the bar the other night! Ya
didn't tell anyone, did ya?!
INT. RIPPER'S LAIR -- DAY
HENCHMEN busily complete a strange mechanical device of
colourful wheels. Paint, gears and scrap are everywhere.
GRETA peers through a magnifier at frames of primitive movie
film taped to the window glass. MEZMO enters.
MEZMO
Hello all. How goes the machine?
HENCHMEN
'Ello Sir.
LANCE BOYLE
Almost finished wif the Hypnautilus,
Sir! Ready ta film when you are.
Camera ‘as to go back tomorra.
MEZMO
Yes expensive! Greta, how are you?
GRETA GREEN
Coming along slowly.
With a tiny brush Greta paints purple watercolours on a puny
film frame. Under the magnifier the frames show images of
Mezmo's eyes. AS SHE COLOURS THE FRAME IT VIBRATES. IT'S
TRYING TO HYPNOTIZE HER EVEN AS A STILL! She rubs her eyes …
LANCE BOYLE peers through the eyepiece of a primitive movie
camera he cranks. Mezmo stands before it staring directly
into the lens with one eye. A TUNNEL OF MAGIC PURPLE ENERGY
TWIRLS OUT HIS PUPILS INTO LANCE'S LENS.
MEZMO
The time has come, this is the hour,
you will feel the powers of flowers!
Seeing this energy makes Lance uncomfortable. THE HYPNOTIC
POWER IS CONCENTRATED, POURING INTO HIM THROUGH THE CAMERA'S
EYEPIECE, HARDER, HARDER! He shrieks backwards to the floor!
All rush to his aid! Crying Greta cradles his head as he
revives. Lance looks at his arms. HE SEES FLOWERS HISSING
LIKE SNAKES! THEIR THORNS CLAW HIS FINGERS AND WRAP HIS ARMS
TIGHTLY! He's bleeding!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 82.
LANCE BOYLE
Aaggh! Get ‘em off me!
Lance grabs and scratches red lines into his empty arms!
Slowly the hallucination fades. Now he really is bleeding.
LANCE BOYLE (CONT'D)
Wha … what ‘appened? I feel dizzy. I
don't remember nothun'.
Boyle touches his eye tenderly as a drip of blood slinks out
his nose. He rubs it and stares at his red finger.
MEZMO
That's not supposed to happen!
INT. WESTMINSTER'S DRAWING ROOM
Before the parlour was full of boxes. Now it's elegantly
furnished. MRS. WESTMINSTER, GRANDMAMA and other LADIES sit
listening to the VIBRATOR LADY. Grandmama sips wine.
VIBRATOR LADY
We need the comfort of in-home …
massage, but who wants to pump a
foot pedal for hours?
The Vibrator Lady pantomimes pressing something against her
back while labourously pumping her foot. The women agree.
VIBRATOR LADY (CONT'D)
And I hate the expense, the tedium
of visiting physicians monthly as
recommended to relieve … feminine
anxiety.
MRS. WESTMINSTER
My doctor recommends twice monthly.
VIBRATOR LADY
Now, through this modern miracle of
electric power, you can meet your
stimulation needs at home with the
new ElectroRub Deluxe!
She wheels in a large, motorized black box bedecked with
gears and pulleys. On one end is an electric cord. A more
elaborate cord leads to a cylindrical black shaft.
VIBRATOR LADY (CONT'D)
This is not a motorized device, not
a cream or ointment, not an elaborate
system of levers and pulleys, but an
incredible combination of all three
technologies!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 83.
She plugs the black monstrosity in. A low electric roar
vibrates the china! The dildo makes its own high pitched
whine, wheels spinning! She demonstrates the pleasure of
rubbing it under her chin.
VIBRATOR LADY (CONT'D)
(Shouting) AND IT'S SO QUIET!
GRANDMAMA
(Listening with ear trumpet) WHAT!?
The Vibrator Lady mercifully turns off the auto-erotic
machine.
VIBRATOR LADY
Available in everyone's favorite
blacks: coal black, soot black and
Birmingham Sky. For those without
electricity …
RRRRIING! All turn to a noisy wooden wall box. It has a crank
and black doohickeys attached. RRRRIING! THE CAMERA DOLLIES
IN ON THE BOX PORTENTOUSLY, marking this simple moment as a
major achievement in human history!
VIBRATOR LADY (CONT'D)
What in heavens name …
The women surround the mystery box. It keeps ringing.
MRS. WESTMINSTER
The money I spend on my husband's
mystery gadgets! It's been hanging
there doing nothing for months! Now
what?
They fiddle, turn the crank, nothing happens. RRING! She
lifts the black receiver. A faint, tinny voice is heard.
INSPECTOR
(V.O. FILTERED) Ahoy hoy?
MRS. WESTMINSTER
What? Why it's like a tiny phonograph!
INSPECTOR
(V.O. FILTERED) What? Ahoy hoy!
MRS. WESTMINSTER
Ahoy hoy?? He must be a seaman.
WESTMINSTER enters and glances at the vibrator.
WESTMINSTER
Semen?! What is that!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 84.
MRS. WESTMINSTER
Dear, the police are inside this box
and they want to talk to you!
WESTMINSTER
Ahoy hoy, yes. What! Why gladly, of
course Inspector! Mrs. Westminster,
they've caught the monster at last!
What is that? (Points to vibrator)
INT. POLICE INTERROGATION CHAMBER
Dank, rough stone lines this ancient tunnel. The INSPECTOR
waits for POLICEMAN #1 to unlock a rusty door. TESS hurries
down the passage, her father WESTMINSTER in tow.
INSPECTOR
Mr. Westminster! You shouldn't be
down here.
TESS
For peace of mind I must see him.
INSPECTOR
If you identify ‘im then ‘e must be
the Bodice Ripper. Caught him off
those pamphlets of your sketch we
posted.
The Inspector creaks open the door. Sickly gaslight falls
over the COPYCAT. He has been beaten in custody.
TESS
Yes, it's him! Even smells like him!
Oooh! It's like I'm reliving it!
To her father's dismay Tess bursts into tears.
INSPECTOR
There, there. I'd like to apologize
for our failure to ‘elp you durin’
that attempted rape. So, to make it
up to you, ‘ere's a twenty pound
gift certificate to ‘arrod's
Department Store. I ‘ear you girls
just love shoppin'! Now run along!
An insulted Tess and Westminster are escorted out by Policeman
#1. The eggheaded POLICE RESEARCHER wheels a scary machine
into the torture chamber. It has two glass spheres wired to
a generator and a brass crank. The ancient iron door slams
shut as the Copycat is strapped down.
INSPECTOR (CONT'D)
My Researcher an’ I would like to
introduce you to our little invention,
the truth detectin’ engine.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 85.
POLICE RESEARCHER
Latest thing. Goes off when you lie.
The Copycat, body and spirit broken, doesn't react. The men
push a glass sphere against each of his hands.
INSPECTOR
Did you enter a forbidden zone with
intent to rape Miss Westminster?
COPYCAT
Yes. Read about ‘er in the paper.
INSPECTOR
There, see (pats machine), he's
tellin’ the truth. Didn't go off.
Are you the Bodice Ripper?
COPYCAT
No.
INSPECTOR
Uh, oh. Now I think someone is lyin'.
The Police Researcher cranks a handle on the brass engine.
As it revs up BLUE WHITE SPARKS FILL THE LEFT GLASS SPHERE.
ZZAP! THIN ARCS OF ENERGY SLICE UP THE COPYCAT'S LEFT ARM,
THROUGH HIS HEART TO THE RIGHT SPHERE WHERE THEY COLLECT.
The Copycat writhes in pain! His steaming hands get red marks!
INSPECTOR (CONT'D)
Are you the Bodice Ripper?
COPYCAT
No sir, I swear! I just wanted ta be
like ‘im! Now I wanna die!
The Inspector stuffs a dirty stick in the Copycat's mouth.
He puts one glass sphere behind the Copycat's head, the other
against his left front eye. The Police Researcher cranks the
generator again! COPYCAT'S POV: THE SPHERE IS PLACED DIRECTLY
ON THE CAMERA LENS IN A FISHEYE EFFECT! BLUE ENERGY STARS
BURST DIRECTLY ON THE CAMERA'S “EYE!"
FADE TO
WHITE:
INT. BUCKINGHAM PALACE
The snake-eyed NEW SUPERINTENDENT, INSPECTOR in tow, marches
down an endless red corridor of golden antiques, lush
paintings and ornate moldings. They are led by the QUEEN'S
ASSISTANT, a somber and black frocked old gent in tails.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 86.
QUEEN'S ASSISTANT
Congratulations on your sudden self-
promotion. Very … calculated. Your
first audience with the Queen?
NEW SUPERINTENDENT
Yes, sir, it is, sir.
QUEEN'S ASSISTANT
Nervous?
INSPECTOR
I'm about to soil me knickers, pardon
my French!
NEW SUPERINTENDENT
Oh, Inspector, I'm sure the Queen is
a much nicer personage than …
QUEEN'S ASSISTANT
No, I've run through more than a few
pair of knickers my self.
The Inspector's tell-tale heart loudly pounds! Down the long
scarlet carpet the many knickknacks and antiques get
oppressively opulent. Angry Chinese dragons, scowling
statuettes, even the paintings glare down. Do the eyes move?
QUEEN'S ASSISTANT (CONT'D)
There are protocols to be obeyed
whilst in the presence. Although it
is August windows are kept shut and
the heat up. Do not comment on this.
Should the warmth become intolerable
please do not faint in front of her
Highness. Fainting in front of the
Queen is no longer considered a sign
of respect. Must your heart beat
quite so loudly?
CUT TO:
A charcoal sketch. A shaking old hand hovers over the paper
making quick, sudden lines between tremors. In the sketch a
young couple are lying in bed clearly naked but under sheets.
While drawing the tiny fist of the woman in the picture the
sketching hand twinges with pain. A second hand massages it.
QUEEN'S GRANDDAUGHTER
(O.S.) GrandmaMA, that's quite
beautiful! But the subject matter,
so private, so …
QUEEN VICTORIA
(O.S.) It's not something the other
grandchildren will see, certainly.
(MORE)
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3/31/05 87.
QUEEN VICTORIA (CONT'D)
But my rheumatism makes drawing hard,
so when I do I only sketch the
happiest times.
CUT TO:
The Queen's Assistant, the New Superintendent and the
Inspector tiptoe to the hall's end. A stuffed raven menaces
from the transom. Waiting is a large, turbaned INDIAN
BODYGUARD.
QUEEN'S ASSISTANT
(Whispers) For the Queen allows no
knocking and absolutely no talking,
while waiting at her chamber door.
Only sounds of gentle scratching,
taps of fingernail cross-hatching,
only this and nothing more.
The Inspector glances at the raven. Has it's head moved? The
Queen's Assistant scratches his fingernail against a door
worn from years of previous scrapes.
QUEEN VICTORIA
(O.S.) Enter!
The Queen's parlour is full of photos, busts and mementos.
At an easel Queen Victoria wears a white hat and black silk
dress that barely keeps her huge, sagging bosoms off the
floor. They roll like cantaloupes in pantyhose. A fair skinned
Granddaughter fans her own large breasts, soaking her elegant
dress with sweat. A comely MAID with average bosoms likewise
drenched waits as the Indian Bodyguard closes the door.
QUEEN'S ASSISTANT
Your highness, I present the new
Superintendent and Chief Inspector
McMicken, now in charge of the Bodice
Ripper investigation.
QUEEN VICTORIA
I trust you'll have better luck
catching this vulgarian than your
predecessor had. Unless, as papers
suggest, a ghost or spirit is to
blame?
NEW SUPERINTENDENT
With all respect, your Highness,
ghosts haunt single locations. A
house, a cave. This fiend has
consistently struck different places
higher and higher up the social scale.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 88.
QUEEN VICTORIA
Well, you're right about spirits.
Last year I spent thousands of pounds
ridding Balmoral of poltergeists.
Kept waking up with the furniture re-
arranged! We built on an ancient
Roman cemetery. Well, how was Albert
to know when he bought the property?!
But that is neither here nor there.
Stopping the Bodice Ripper is why
you were summoned.
NEW SUPERINTENDENT
We identified a man in custody as
the perpetrator of the infamous
lavatory attack. Hanged him this
morning.
He hands her a sketch of the hanging. The COPYCAT dangles
with a black patch on his tortured eye.
QUEEN VICTORIA
Did he confess to all attacks?
NEW SUPERINTENDENT
No, your highness. We believe him to
be a copycat and not the Bodice
Ripper.
QUEEN VICTORIA
That's not what the papers say.
NEW SUPERINTENDENT
We misled the press into believing
the Copycat is, was, the Bodice
Ripper. Publicity surrounding the
assaults is more damaging than he
is. His mysterious minor attacks
have ballooned out of control.
Lavatory crimes, once rare,
skyrocketed! Brassier hoarding is
driving the price of women's
unmentionables absurdly high. Copycat
attacks against girls are up five
hundred percent since we started
keeping records.
INSPECTOR
When did we start keepin’ records?
NEW SUPERINTENDENT
Last week. Therefore, if the publick
believes the crime solved then calm
returns. This will free us of
distraction. Then, he will be found.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 89.
QUEEN VICTORIA
But should the Ripper strike again,
won't you look foolish claiming he's
dead?
NEW SUPERINTENDENT
Uh … well … uh … he's not struck in
over a fortnight. I hope we've seen
the last of …
QUEEN VICTORIA
(Coldly) Good evening to you.
The policemen awkwardly leave. The guard closes the door.
QUEEN VICTORIA (CONT'D)
As I suspected, an even bigger fool
than his predecessor. This would be
humourous except that London has
become un-glued!
QUEEN'S ASSISTANT
Perhaps a publick appearance would
distract and reassure the publick
that London is as safe as …
QUEEN VICTORIA
Stop! Your every conversation becomes
an invitation out.
QUEEN'S GRANDDAUGHTER
He's right! GrandmaMA, it's the last
month of your Golden Jubilee Year
and you've attended so few events!
Look! (Waves pamphlet) Hardly any
official Jubilee occasions left.
QUEEN'S ASSISTANT
The people grow restless for
leadership your highness. This Ripper
business just aggravates it. And,
forgive me your Grace, Punch Magazine
accuses you of hiding behind your
grief for Albert, of using your
husband's death as an excuse not to
be seen in publick these many years
since his passing.
QUEEN VICTORIA
Twenty-six years, seven months, four
days and … (looks at watch) three
hours. (Glares at MAID) And THREE
HOURS!
The sweaty Maid, not paying attention, hurries to a footstool
by the roaring summer fire. She is just tall enough to reach
a picture of Albert with a large date-counting sign under
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 90.
it. The years since his death are marked in permanent letters.
The days and hours are recorded with chalk. The Maid replaces
the “2” under the “Hours” with “3."
QUEEN VICTORIA (CONT'D)
Better! If Punch finally discovered
Albert is my excuse for avoiding
publick life then so be it!
QUEEN'S GRANDDAUGHTER
But there is one event that …
QUEEN VICTORIA
Hush child, I'm not done lecturing!
Don't make me sit on you! Publick
life is a nuisance best avoided.
Look at the last Police
Superintendent. I don't pretend to
understand why he engaged in h-h-
homosexual acts and I don't want to.
Repercussions were inevitable. I'm
convinced the more a person publicly
represses their private life the
more unlivable life is. I don't have
that problem.
QUEEN'S ASSISTANT
You don't have a publick life.
QUEEN VICTORIA
Precisely!
QUEEN'S GRANDDAUGHTER
GrandmaMA there is an exciting show
…
QUEEN VICTORIA
She's not listening
QUEEN'S GRANDDAUGHTER
… at the Albert Memorial Hall.
QUEEN VICTORIA
Oh, the Albert Hall?
QUEEN'S GRANDDAUGHTER
"Acrobats, comedians, hypnotist to
the Czars the Amazing Mezmo."
QUEEN VICTORIA
Hmmm … The Romanovs were telling me
of him last Twelfth Night.
QUEEN'S GRANDDAUGHTER
"See the Hall's new immense stained
glass portrait of Albert, The Prince
(MORE)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 91.
QUEEN'S GRANDDAUGHTER (CONT'D)
Consort. The largest horizontally
suspended glass artwork in the world!"
QUEEN VICTORIA
All right, I'll go see Albert's
picture in glass. But if the show
disagrees we leave. Hypnotist?!
Harrumph, probably fall asleep halfway
through!
INT. RIPPER'S LAIR -- DAY
A sickly MEZMO opens the heavy door to the industrial
building. LANCE BOYLE and HENCHMEN paint parts of their huge
wheeled machine bright blood red. GRETA busily packs boxes.
MEZMO
Won't be long ‘till show time! Hope
you all practiced the “purple eye."
LANCE BOYLE
I ‘ypnotized a nice wench into
sneakin’ back ta me flat!
MEZMO
Lance Boyle you do that every weekend!
All laugh! Rugged HENCHMAN #1 stands.
HENCHMAN #1
I convinced a card player I ‘ad a
winnin’ ‘and over an’ over! Took ‘is
every pound! Cheatin's not somethin’
I usually do, but I couldn't hold
meself back!
GRETA GREEN
I saw an emerald in the window. I
couldn't resist. The salesman won't
remember I was there! I know I
shouldn't of, but I couldn't stop!
Mezmo gets woozy. He rubs his eyes, nearly collapsing!
Henchmen rush to break his fall!
LANCE BOYLE
You all right sir!?
Mezmo unbuttons his shirt.
GRETA GREEN
Mr. Laughton you've been looking
very much under the weather of late!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 92.
Mezmo removes his shirt. A tight white undershirt clings to
his athletic body. His physique was once heroic. Now his
pale skin is sickly.
GRETA GREEN (CONT'D)
What are you doing?
Despite his weakness Mezmo drops and does pushups.
MEZMO
When I get dizzy I need exercise.
LANCE BOYLE
Exercise? While ya feel bad?
GRETA GREEN
Mr. Laughton don't stress yourself!
MEZMO
No! I must stress myself. I have to
keep in top shape to counteract
poisons in the elixir!
LANCE BOYLE
You never said nothin’ ‘bout poison!
Big, earthy HENCHMAN #2 lumbers in apelike.
HENCHMAN #2
Listen ta this! I overheard Albert
Hall security say there are royals
comin'! It won't be announced ‘til
show day ‘cause of the Ripper. The
Queen's granddaughter is comin'!
Mezmo's face, pale as a calla lily, blossoms!
INT. SCOTLAND YARD
Many DETECTIVES work this well maintained office. Next to
dumpy Mitre Square Station it's heaven! The INSPECTOR talks
with the POLICE RESEARCHER. SINGER enters.
INSPECTOR
Singer! Good to see you! First day?
SINGER
Yes! So glad to be ‘ere! But we must
talk about the Superintendent. Did …
INSPECTOR
Unfortunate situation, yes indeed.
But ‘e won't get ‘ard labour.
SINGER
(Angry) What did you do to …
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 93.
INSPECTOR
'E won't get ‘ard labour! Singer,
don't question, be part of the team.
Welcome to the excitin’ world of
Scotland Yard police detecti'n!
With a flourish he beckons to a room of nerdy, fat, chain
smoking donut eaters. Not very glamourous!
INSPECTOR (CONT'D)
Let me introduce the staff …
Bespectacled MAIL CLERK #1 scurries in.
MAIL CLERK #1
Look sir, a third Ripper note! It's
got no postage. Must have been hand
delivered.
SINGER
Or come from inside!
They crowd round the envelope as he opens it, revealing a
parchment covered in viscous red paint.
INSPECTOR
What! Bloody impossible! “Under
Britain's biggest breast, I will
fondle one most blessed.” What the
‘ell does that mean?
POLICE RESEARCHER
Hmm, same handwriting. Definitely
legit. But this one's done in thick
paint, not red ink.
INSPECTOR
So we can trace it!
POLICE RESEARCHER
My God, a precious fingerprint, look!
In a splotch at bottom is a perfect red thumb print.
INSPECTOR
Oh, don't start with your newfangled
theories again!
POLICE RESEARCHER
Listen! If we compare this print to
ones in a file …
INSPECTOR
We don't ‘ave fingerprints on file!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 94.
POLICE RESEARCHER
Well, if we fingerprinted all our
suspects and checked …
INSPECTOR
We don't ‘ave any suspects! Might I
remind the last time you ‘elped us
the crime scene burned up?! We've no
time to lose in investigatin’ this
lead. ‘E just said ‘e was goin’ to
strike again!
He tears the precious evidence into squares, ripping the
print in half! The Police Researcher is horrified!
INSPECTOR (CONT'D)
I'd love to keep this in one piece,
but we don't have time to drag this
sheet to every ‘ardware store in
town. I want you all to take a piece
to every paint ‘ouse on your beat.
The Ripper ‘as to get ‘is supplies
somewhere. Most people don't use
this … arousin’ colour, ‘cepting
show people. So Singer I'm givin’
you the theatre district. It's our
best bet. Don't fail me! Or else!
They exchange angry glares!
EXT. ALBERT HALL ROOF -- AFTERNOON
The hall's multi-tiered crystal dome gleams in the smoggy
sun. A dusty hatch pops. Pale MEZMO appears, putting a
magician's lock pick in his vest pocket. Smiling, he peers
‘round, gratified. Squinting dark circled eyes, he climbs up
the breast shaped glass and iron dome. He reaches the nipple-
like pinnacle. London is laid before him in all its chimneyed
glory! Shafts of sun burst through roiling clouds of
pollution. A spectacular light show!
MEZMO
Tonight London learns no breast can
be repressed!
INT. PAINT STORE
This shop features a wall of black paint cans behind a
counter. SINGER approaches a dowdy, bespectacled PAINT
SALESMAN at the register and proudly flashes his badge.
SINGER
Sir, Inspector John Singer, Scotland
Yard. I'd like to ask about paint.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 95.
PAINT SALESMAN
Repaintin’ the station house? Well,
you come to the right place Sir. We
‘ave all the ‘ot new fall blacks.
Just got a new shipment of coal black,
with boot black semi-gloss bein’
unloaded now. Our pricin’ is the
most competitive in the theatre
district. The theatre district! Now
‘at's cheap!
SINGER
All well and …
PAINT SALESMAN
We got tar black at one sovereign
per ‘ogs'ead, blue black at 20
shillins’ fer a barrel and a ‘alf,
plus bubonic black just forty-two
gallons a quid. Or wait, no. ‘Ow
many drams in a ‘ogs'ead?
SINGER
(Waves red scrap) Stop talking right
now! I need to know if anyone ‘as
been buying this exact red.
PAINT SALESMAN
Red we don't sell a lot of. Too err
… err … erotic! But when we do it's
mostly to theatre folk. Sent a ‘ole
‘ogs'ead of it ‘round to the
Freemasons workshop of late. Putting
on a show I guess. They're just blocks
from ‘ere.
INT. RIPPER'S LAIR -- LATE AFTERNOON
SINGER opens the rusty door of the metal building. MEZMO
gathers papers. The once crowded workshop is bare.
MEZMO
Boyle, I've got everything. We …
He freezes, noticing Singer is not Boyle.
MEZMO (CONT'D)
Why, uh, Sergeant Singer! Shaved
your moustache, didn't recognize …
say I don't recall inviting you to …
SINGER
You didn't!
Singer leaps across the room at Mezmo! The big policeman has
the magician by the throat! Sickly Mezmo is barely strong
enough to defend himself as Singer beats him silly!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 96.
He punches him, he throws him against the wall! Picking him
off the ground, Singer shakes him hard, pointing his eyes at
Mezmo's!
SINGER (CONT'D)
What have you done!? Are you mad!?
MEZMO
(Choking) Gondola!
Singer becomes docile as quickly as flipping a switch!
SINGER
(Monotone) Mezmo is a fine man. ‘E
would not hurt a fly.
INT. WATER CLOSET
MEZMO leads SINGER into the lavatory. He sits the dazed fellow
down child-like on the Crapper. The small room has a thick
metal door and a high ceiling hidden by pipes.
MEZMO
Know about magic locks and escape
artists?
SINGER
(Slowly) No.
MEZMO
Good! I won't waste the purple eye.
Mezmo snaps a stagy golden box ‘round the inside doorknob.
He fiddles with its gaudy rotating timer. Singer's trance
begins to lift.
MEZMO (CONT'D)
There! This trick lock won't open
for 12 hours. I'll be in France. Au
revoire!
SINGER
(Dazed) Why? Why bosoms?
Mezmo shuts the door. A pang of conscience plays over him.
He re-opens it.
MEZMO
I became a hypnotist to help people
stop repressing themselves. But
patients wanted me to hypnotize them
into repressing even more! That's
wrong! Society is wrong! It's time
to teach society a lesson! I love
boobies and the more I squeeze the
faster this uptightness ends, at
least for me.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 97.
SLAM! Singer in near darkness sees a bit of light from above
the ceiling pipes. As Mezmo leaves his lair Singer reawakens,
pounding his strong hands against the iron door. He thumps
loudly but when Mezmo locks the thick outside door Singer
can barely be heard.
He slams against the door but his broad shoulders barely
dent it! He claws at the ornate golden lock on the thick
iron doorknob. Even kicking it does nothing! Looking up into
the faint glow he climbs on the Crapper's tall water tank.
Now he can see light ten feet above, near the roof. He grabs
the lowest of several pipes crisscrossing this chimneylike
space at the second storey.
OUCH! Hot! Using a wet handkerchief to protect his hand he
labourously pulls himself onto the brown pipe. Crouched here
he rocks back and forth to avoid burning his shoes and yanks
himself up the last few feet onto a second level pipe. This
even older, rustier orange pipe groans under his weight. It
drips water. He can barely see out a tiny lattice of holes.
He moves to scream out the vent. The rusty pipe snaps and he
tumbles straight down onto the tall Crapper cistern! The
pipe gushes water, washing him off the toilet to the floor!
SINGER
Oh so cold, so bloody cold!
The frigid fluid drenches the hot pipe below it, sending up
much steam. CRAAACKK! The hot pipe shatters! Steaming water
pours on the poor policeman!
SINGER (CONT'D)
Ouch, ‘ot! So bloody ‘ot!
The two gushing streams mix as the water line rises over the
top of the toilet. Steam rises into shafts of light.
SINGER (CONT'D)
Say, together they're kinda nice …
The water is getting high! In the lair a stream flows into
an industrial drain. The steaming water is higher than his
waist and frantically he looks for a way to stop it. He
flushes the toilet.
SINGER (CONT'D)
Flush faster! Flush!
The water is over his head and rising! It reaches the hot
pipe then the cold one! SINGER is running out of air! Outside
the water pressure pops a rivet in the stressed door. Less
than a foot of air in the this shaft and nowhere to go when
it fills!
SINGER (CONT'D)
'Elp! Sssomebody hhheeelpp!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 98.
The door squeals under the pressure. Another rivet pops!
Singer scrambles to breathe as water fills the room, flowing
out the latticed air duct and onto the roof! No air!
BOOM! The door bursts! A spectacular cascade plunges into
the lair! Singer is sucked past pipes, over the toilet and
out the door onto the floor of the workshop in seconds! He
coughs and stumbles to his senses.
On the wall are two identical posters for the Albert Hall
show. The round building is seen from the air in each poster.
Side by side they seem incredibly like two giant boobs!
SINGER (CONT'D)
"Under Britain's biggest breast, I
will fondle one most blessed.” Of
course, the boob shaped Albert Hall!
INT. NEWSPAPER OFFICE -- SUNSET
Outside the huge window Fleet Street is bathed in golden
light. In barges the weasily NEW SUPERINTENDENT! He shrieks
at the nattily dressed NEWSPAPERMAN seated at a long table.
NEW SUPERINTENDENT
We have civil unrest thanks to what
your papers printed!
NEWSPAPERMAN
Talking of civil unrest does not
cause it, Mr. Police-man.
NEW SUPERINTENDENT
Like heck it doesn't! Have you looked
outside? There's not a big pair of
bosoms on the street!
NEWSPAPERMAN
Unfortunately the Bodice Ripper is a
blessing in disguise. He sells papers.
I've spent my life ignoring the poor,
looking away when stories got crude.
Pretending nothing scandalous should
be in print. Now unemployed are
rioting, the Bodice Ripper at large,
police corrupt. So when a storey of
sex or scandal comes along, I'm going
to publish it now! We can't solve
England's problems by ignoring them!
NEW SUPERINTENDENT
Where will you stop? Gossip about
the throne? Jeopardize the queen?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 99.
NEWSPAPERMAN
The day the British Press kills a
royal is one I shan't live to see.
Now … since we're speaking openly,
what of these persistent rumours
that Scotland Yard has a Ukrainian
vampire frozen in a block of ice?
EXT. ALBERT HALL -- EVENING
Bright orange at sunset the round, red bricked Memorial Hall
draws a huge crowd. A giant, breastlike hot air balloon stands
near the entrance advertising “Mezmo Tonight!” The nearby
Albert Memorial Statue is surrounded by police and onlookers.
The Queen's ornate Royal Carriages roll up.
SUBTITLE: August 29, 1888 - 7:28 PM
Roars of excitement greet the QUEEN, her GRANDDAUGHTER and
their entourage. They make their way up the red carpeted
steps of the overdone, tasteless Albert Memorial Statue to
meet a man with a sash reading “LORD MAYOR.” He signals the
band to stop.
LORD MAYOR
Ladies and gentlemen, in a too rare
appearance may I present her majesty
the Queen! As protocol dictates, may
I also present the Prince of Wales,
the princes and princesses, the royal
grandchildren, nieces and nephews,
the ladies in wait…
QUEEN VICTORIA
Yes, Lord Mayor, get on with it. We
know who we are. (Aside) This is why
I don't go out much!
From his gaudy, rhinestoned throne the statue of Albert seems
to glare down at the red faced Lord Mayor.
LORD MAYOR
Your highness, as we stand before
this tasteful monument to your late
husband, I cannot but admire its
marble, gold, pearls, glass, animal
heads, tiles, rhinestones and those
little bowling ball things on the
corners, I don't know what they're
called. Why, even the pigeon droppings
add something. Would you say a few
words your grace?
The crowd roars, creating a long pause as Queen Victoria
stands before the huge primitive microphone waiting to be
heard. She beams at the sea of faces. The crowd takes so
long to stop cheering it feels a momentous speech is at hand!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 100.
QUEEN VICTORIA
Thank you. Thank you all. Well …
splendid.
Turning on her heel the Queen leaves, startling everyone who
expected more! Her entourage follows, taken aback as music
awkwardly resumes.
INT. ALBERT HALL BACKSTAGE
GRETA watches LANCE BOYLE and the HENCHMEN test parts of
their elaborate machine. It has huge twin round white movie
screens and spinning pinwheels. An obviously ill MEZMO arrives
to give GRETA a hug.
MEZMO
Was up all night finally fixing the
nosebleed problem.
GRETA GREEN
Have you been in a fight?! Cover
those bruises and dark circles with
makeup! We're on soon.
MEZMO
You worry like a wife Miss Green.
Has the Queen's Granddaughter arrived?
She parts the thick velvet curtain to reveal, in a front
box, QUEEN VICTORIA!
MEZMO (CONT'D)
My God, it's the Queen!
GRETA GREEN
Can you believe? What better audience
for your invention? Tomorrow everyone
will know! We'll be rich, change
history even! The military uses alone!
MEZMO
No! I didn't build this to wage war!
My! Her bosoms in person are as
impressive as in pictures! Amazing,
droopy knockers for a woman her age.
Had nine children! The woman was a
sex machine!
GRETA GREEN
Please stop …
MEZMO
Read she refused to breast feed. The
milk was trapped!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 101.
GRETA GREEN
John you've worked your whole life
for this night! Fight the temptation
to grab the Queen of England's
breasts!
MEZMO
I want what I want and I want it
now! It would be my ultimate triumph
in this repressive society!
GRETA GREEN
(Near tears) John this machine …
this is your triumph! Can't you see?
The horrid elixir that made this
possible, it's making you daft!
LANCE BOYLE
What's goin’ on? What about grabbin’
the Queen's breasts? You … you're
the Bodice Ripper!
The Henchmen overhear and stop working.
MEZMO
Not me! I …
LANCE BOYLE
Don't deny! I know ‘tis true! Somehow
… I always knew.
MEZMO
I hypnotized you into not suspecting.
LANCE BOYLE
What!? We trusted you! Now you're
going ta throw away everythin’ to
tweak the Queen's bloody boobies!?
MEZMO
Shhss! Quiet! Do as I say! I'm the
only one able to make the formula!
LANCE BOYLE
'At's blackmail! We need the elixir
now, we're addicted too!
MEZMO
Then obey me and after we escape
I'll give you the formula! Here,
take your green safety glasses and
start the Lumières as we rehearsed,
then run! Greta and I will use this
emergency escape plan and rendezvous
with you in the countryside!
An imperious, mustachioed STAGE MANAGER appears.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 102.
STAGE MANAGER
I'm afraid I must ask for quiet. The
show is starting! To the wings please.
EXT. CITY STREET
A rudimentary police emergency phone guards an anonymous
boulevard. POLICEMAN #2 leads SINGER to it and unlocks it.
SINGER cranks the handle, shouting in the primitive faceplate.
SINGER
Ahoy-hoy, this is Inspector Singer.
Tell Chief Inspector McMicken the
Ripper is Mezmo! ‘E's at Albert Hall!
Get men over there posthaste!
Whereabouts is Albert Hall?
POLICEMAN #2
Over there all lit up ‘cross the
park, Inspector.
Singer leaps a wall of bushes and gallops towards Hyde Park!
INT. ALBERT HALL
The round Albert Hall shimmers under the lush stained glass
ceiling, a massive image of Victoria's dear, dead Albert.
The QUEEN, QUEEN'S GRANDDAUGHTER and other royals are seated
prominently in front. The hall darkens as polite applause
greets MEZMO's appearance. He might have been made up by a
mortician up close for he seems a painted cadaver.
SUBTITLE: 8:15 PM
MEZMO
Usually a hypnotist plucks a subject
from the crowd. The audience watches
and wonders “What is it like?”
Everyone participates tonight in the
first demonstration of safe,
reproducible mass hypnosis! Mesmerism
a hoax? Can't be hypnotized?
Experience the truth! Experience
Hypnautilus!
The curtains part, revealing a theatrical, even gaudy
collection of seashell pinwheels orbiting twin two storey
round white screens. Hardly the pinnacle of even Victorian
technology. A giant prop nautilus shell hangs in front by a
thin rope. He pushes it and starts it swinging.
QUEEN VICTORIA
Doesn't look like much, does it?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3/31/05 103.
MEZMO
Keep your hands and arms inside the
seat and your eyes on the swinging
shell. See the shell. See the shell
swing, swinging and swaying, swaying
and swinging … Draw your eyes to the
twin orbs.
QUEEN'S GRANDDAUGHTER
Does watching the shell make you
feel different?
QUEEN VICTORIA
Yes, seasick.
The pinwheels whirl ‘round the two white screens. HENCHMEN
in green glasses start twin Lumière projectors. They throw a
colourized film loop of Mezmo's eye on each screen. A
phonograph plays his amplified hypno-voice.
MEZMO
(On phonograph) You will feel the
power of flowers …
THE MILDLY HYPNOTIC PINWHEELS AND SWINGING SHELL ARE
OVERPOWERED BY SWIRLS OF PURPLE ENERGY FROM THE MOVIE SCREENS!
THE AMAZED AUDIENCE SEES IMAGINARY PURPLE FLOWERS BLOOM
EVERYWHERE! MEZMO STALKS THE QUEEN AS THE HARMLESS POPPIES
TWINE THEMSELVES ‘ROUND ARMS AND LEGS, PARALYZING ALL!
HYPNOTIC ENERGY SNAKES FROM MEZMO'S EYES, MESMERIZING THE
QUEEN! SHE HALLUCINATES THAT MEZMO HAS TURNED INTO ALBERT!
He pulls out shiny black scissors. The expressionless Queen
stares into his pupils.
QUEEN VICTORIA
Albert my love! Just as I remember!
Oh you look so young!
The POLICE and QUEEN'S GUARDS are rooted in place, eyes
staring unblinking at the Hypnautilus! Mezmo raises his
scissors to rip the Queen's bodice and speaks only to her.
The phonograph slows and the recorded voice distorts. It
hits a bad spot and skips … skips … skips! With each skip
the audience twitches and bobs heads in unison!
MEZMO
Oh darn it all!
The movie's scary soundtrack abruptly stops. Mezmo is forced,
at the height of drama, to lower his scissors, hurry to the
phonograph, crank it up and move the needle. His recorded
hypno-voice resumes. He rushes back to the Queen raising his
menacing shears. The tense movie music resumes! SINGER rushes
in, almost hypnotized by the machine, but turns away in time!
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3/31/05 104.
SINGER
Queen Victoria! Too late!
Shielding his eyes Singer sees the projectors and draws his
gun. He shoots both and they erupt in sparks as Mezmo snips
the Queen's bodice to reach her ancient, ample bosoms! The
film burns off and the hypnotic images vanish! Everyone “comes
to” dazed! Stymied, Mezmo runs out a back stair!
Chasing him into the stairway Singer looks up. Nobody there.
Hidden behind the open door Mezmo flies out punching, knocking
Singer to the floor! The magician runs up the stairs,
ignoring exits. He reaches the top door “ROOF ACCESS - NO
EXIT - KEEP LOCKED.” It opens! Singer staggers after. Guards
below lead the Queen to safety onstage as the crowd panics.
They clutch their heads and rub their eyes.
EXT. ALBERT HALL ROOF -- NIGHT
Brisk wind blows over the breastlike roof. MEZMO warily climbs
the metal struts on the glass dome. Whoops, his foot goes
through crystal! Debris tumbles onto the stained glass below!
QUEEN VICTORIA
(Clutching torn bodice) I'm violated!
My husband's memory mocked! A 50
thousand pound bounty on Mezmo!
There is a crash of crystal. Everyone looks up at the huge
stained glass Prince Albert ceiling. Coloured shards tumble,
stabbing empty seats and impaling the stage.
INSPECTOR
‘E's on the roof!
QUEEN VICTORIA
Make that a hundred-fifty! Dead!
Panicked Mezmo reaches the dome's “nipple!” SINGER appears
at the dome's base and draws his gun on Mezmo's head!
SINGER
Even magicians can't fly Mezmo!
MEZMO
Oh really?!
A sudden orange background glow and dragon's roar! Rising
behind Singer is the huge, breast-like promotional balloon
seen briefly in establishing shots! GRETA in the gondola
frantically works the flamethrower and unloads a rope ladder.
The airship rises unsteadily in gusty wind. The ladder drops.
It drags up the dome behind the drifting balloon. Mezmo slides
down the dome and catches it.
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3/31/05 105.
Singer empties his gun shooting useless holes in the balloon
so he chases the ladder! The ropes drag him up the dome,
breaking glass all the way! Mezmo is almost in the gondola
when the trailing rope rungs snag the “nipple,” yanking the
balloon back down hard against the dome, shattering that
part! Debris tumbles on stained glass below, smashing it
too!
Seizing opportunity, Singer pulls himself up the ladder and
grabs Mezmo in the gondola. They struggle as Greta tries to
unsnag the ladder! Singer forces himself in the gondola but
Mezmo gets in a hard punch, knocking the policeman dizzy!
Mezmo uses Singer as a shield as PEARCE, the Inspector and
POLICEMEN reach the roof. They shoot, ripping the wicker
gondola!
PEARCE
Don't shoot! You'll ‘it Singer!
Mezmo whips out scissors and cuts the ladder, but with three
people in the balloon it stays put. Still more glass breaks
as Greta drops sandbags through the ornate dome and the
balloon lifts. Its burner pulsing bright the glowing balloon
quickly rises, drifting into the smoky night. The guards
shoot but nothing stops the airship!
EXT. GONDOLA -- NIGHT CONTINUOUS
SINGER and MEZMO continue fighting in the flimsy gondola
bottom as the balloon disappears in polluted yellow fog.
GRETA GREEN
Stop it! We're under a flamethrower
in a straw purse full of explosives!
The men freeze viewing the fuel canister with new respect.
Their eyes meet and Mezmo instantly hypnotizes SINGER! TUNNELS
OF PURPLE LIGHT enter Singer's dilated pupils!
MEZMO
Calm down Singer, no one can hurt
you. Don't move!
GRETA GREEN
That's better! We've got to pay
attention to where … eeekkggh!
SMASH! She pops her head up as they collide with a cathedral!
The wicker basket drags across the slate roof and over the
top of the gothic church, smashing stained glass as it goes!
Finally the balloon reaches the front of the cathedral and
smacks against the side the main stone crucifix. It spins in
place like a top instead of breaking off and ends up right
back where it was, but almost unscrewed!
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3/31/05 106.
MEZMO
Thank goodness, don't want to be
sacrilegious!
The stone cross tumbles from its socket. Spiraling to the
steps below it bursts into gravel fireworks! As the balloon
passes the church bells chime 10 PM. Other clock towers alight
and blink, each steeple chiming ten times throughout London.
MEZMO (CONT'D)
I've squeezed whores and queens,
fooled police, mocked society and
now even the Church! Is there nothing
in England to challenge me?!
Behind his back the smog separates, revealing the dark,
hulking shaft of Big Ben. The huge but distant clock face
lights as the tower bells peal 10 times. Inside are scary
gears, massive bells and powerful motors to ring them, plus
roaring flame jets that light the clock face!
INT. QUEEN'S CARRIAGE -- NIGHT
QUEEN VICTORIA, the QUEEN'S GRANDDAUGHTER and entourage chase
the balloon in opulent carriages escorted by mounted police!
QUEEN'S COACHMAN
He's heading for Buckingham Palace
your highness! It's on our way!
QUEEN VICTORIA
Don't lose him! The police will!
I'll not rest until Mezmo hangs!
Queen Victoria pulls her head in the window and spies a
trickle of blood under her red faced Granddaughter's nose.
QUEEN'S GRANDDAUGHTER
What is it?
More blood drips out of her other nostril and touches her
lip. She tastes blood, terrified! Red spurts!
QUEEN'S GRANDDAUGHTER (CONT'D)
What's happening! What's happening!
EXT. LONDON STREET -- NIGHT
Pedestrians rush from this stately street as the battalion
of MOUNTED OFFICERS gallops by on horseback! PEARCE and the
INSPECTOR frantically scan the sullen, smoggy sky.
PEARCE
Where is it? It ain't glowin'! We
lost it!
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3/31/05 107.
FOOOFFF! The flamethrower erupts! The balloon glows
practically overhead! The police fire, jolting the horses!
PEARCE (CONT'D)
(Not shooting) God help ya Singer!
INT. GONDOLA -- NIGHT
MEZMO and GRETA duck into the wicker basket. SINGER is
hypnotized on the floor. A bullet just misses his head!
MEZMO
The flames give us away!
GRETA GREEN
But we need heat to float!
MEZMO
Stay down in the gondola.
At the mention of “gondola” Singer activates.
SINGER
(Monotone) Mezmo is a fine man. He …
MEZMO
Shut up!
GRETA GREEN
I was a fool to love you John! Blind
to the elixir poisoning your mind!
Now your strength is your weakness.
When we land I'm leaving forever
this time! Not like in Moscow. I
don't want to die unloved!
MEZMO
But Greta I …
She interrupts him with an angry yank on the roaring
flamethrower! The balloon rotates lazily, heading towards
Parliament through thick orange lit fog banks.
MEZMO (CONT'D)
We're headed straight for Big Ben!
He yanks the flamethrower's string furiously!
GRETA GREEN
We can't clear it with three people!
Sickly Mezmo struggles with Singer's big, limp body, trying
to get him to his feet and push him out! The balloon drifts
away from the looming clock tower. Greta and Mezmo sigh with
relief! He puts down sleepy Singer.
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3/31/05 108.
MEZMO
I an not a murderer. I am not a
murderer! I am so sorry for the pain
I've caused. You're the only woman
who believed in me and this
silliness. When we land I know a
little town in Scotland where we can
get a quick wedding, Greta Green! If
you'll …
GRETA GREEN
You can't fool me with your act the
way you fool audiences. Oh God!
The balloon has drifted right back towards Big Ben while
they were talking! Now it will collide with the upper clock
tower! Mezmo yanks the burner string and the balloon flares
brightly from the inferno inside.
GRETA GREEN (CONT'D)
No, short controlled bursts or you'll
burn the canvas!
MEZMO
No time! It's all or nothing!
The balloon rises slowly, looking to clear the tower. High
flames lick the top of the balloon, making it smoke. The
occupants sigh with relief, not noticing. They float over
Big Ben but flames catch the balloon's top on fire! Rupturing
geysers of sparks it burns a hole in itself and hovers over
Big Ben, then plummets!
EXT. BIG BEN'S ROOF -- CONTINUOUS
The gondola toboggans down the slanted upper roof! MEZMO and
GRETA spill out as it slams onto the lower roof above the
clock face. Mezmo nearly tumbles off the edge but Greta is
hanging by a decorative spike over Parliament fifteen stories
below!
The deflated balloon and gondola continue sliding off the
roof, taking SINGER too! Just when ready to free fall the
smoking, tattered airship snags on Gothic roof spikes. Its
fall violently stopped the gondola slams into the glass clock
face, shattering its upper half. Huge icy chunks shatter on
the street as POLICE arrive!
Greta's screams bring Mezmo running along the treacherous
roof edge! Superheated sparks from the balloon's rupture
rain down! He grabs her thin, pale arm. She's about to lose
her grip.
MEZMO
I've got you dearest! Hang on!
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3/31/05 109.
He starts pulling her to safety but a fluttering piece of
flaming balloon cloth lands on his hand! He reflexively lets
go! Screaming, Greta tumbles hundreds of feet! She's
sickeningly impaled on a stone roof spike!
MEZMO (CONT'D)
Nnnnoooo! My God NO!
From inside the tower comes a massive BOONNG! The bell strikes
10:15. Singer wakes from his trance. He's hanging by torn
ropes in front of the cracked clock! Terrified, he swings
the basket enough to reach the hole in the clock. The swaying
shifts the broken balloon! The cloth hooked against the
Gothic spikes rips, attracting Mezmo's attention. He runs
across the ledge to the balloon but he's too late! It tears
in half and falls!
Dropping ten feet the tattered balloon fragment snags on the
huge minute hand, exactly at 15 past 10. The basket ropes
fray as they tangle the clock hand! Antlike police rush
forward far below with a puny round net. Useless! They take
axes to the huge locked tower doors.
The ten foot long minute hand ticks to 16. This movement
lurches the entire gondola. The ropes fray even faster!
Mezmo finds a roof hatch and rushes down rickety ladders
into the square clock room! Running to the side with the
broken upper face he smashes the lower face and climbs out!
The clock moves to 17. The hour hand tips enough that the
tattered balloon could slip off literally the next minute!
MEZMO (CONT'D)
Climb up the cloth! I can't reach!
SINGER
I'm afraid of heights! I can't!
MEZMO
Look at me!
SINGER MAKES EYE CONTACT AND MYSTICAL MAROON ENERGY FLOWS
FROM MEZMO TO SINGER'S MIND! THE POLICEMAN HALLUCINATES A
PURPLE LADDER LEADS TO THE MAGICIAN. He finds the courage to
believe the illusion, pulling up the frayed ropes onto
tattered muslin. His climbing rips the last of the ropes and
the gondola plunges!
Police scatter as the basked hits the ground and the onboard
fuel tank ignites! It rockets out the destroyed basket,
setting the tower doors aflame and spinning crazily into
bushes. They ignite!
The balloon cloth begins to slide off the minute hand a
little. Singer climbs the torn strips towards the clock face
as Mezmo continues to hypnotize him. Just below the ledge
Singer reaches out and touches the magician's fingertips!
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3/31/05 110.
CLICK, the minute hand moves mechanically and Singer drops
just inches from Mezmo's reach! The canvas hooked to the
minute hand slides off! Mezmo grabs Singer just in time as
the tattered cloth flutters away! He pulls Singer onto the
ledge at the base of the clock face. Whew! The hypnotized
policeman collapses!
INT. BIG BEN
The magician slips through the smashed clock face into the
tower. Inside is a huge bell and mechanism overhead with
thick metal shafts and gears. Only a short rail prevents a
deadly fall through the round hole in the middle of the floor.
The POLICE extinguish the fire and break open the smoldering
tower doors. Soldiers pour in the ground floor past a souvenir
stand, jump turnstiles and run up the tower stairs. MEZMO
reaches the railing and sees the police through the large
hole in the floor. SINGER appears in the clock face as the
police reach the top of the stairs!
SINGER
It's over Bodice Ripper. Give up!
Mezmo climbs over the railing far above the ground floor.
Singer dives after him as he jumps off the rail, catching
the hypnotist by his coat! A single shoe falls off and tumbles
hundreds of feet. The railing cracks and gives way as the
police grab onto Singer! Mezmo screams! They try to pull him
up by the arm.
EXT. CITY SQUARE -- DAY
MATCH CUT! MEZMO is pulled up by the arm onto a wooden
platform. A gallows looms over the tubby LORD MAYOR and
thousands of others with nothing in common but bloodlust!
SUBTITLE: AUGUST 30, 1888 - 12:00 Noon
In the crowd are the INSPECTOR, PEARCE, MONA, MADAM OVARY
and SINGER with all the WESTMINSTERS. QUEEN VICTORIA glares
from a huge portico in the Tower of London as Mezmo is led
to the noose by the muscled EXECUTIONER, a huge, hooded man
in black. Distant Big Ben, face still broken, peals noon.
EXECUTIONER
Ya hear? They're givin’ yer outfit
ta Madam Tussaud's Wax Museum.
MEZMO
At least my clothes can stay in show
business.
EXECUTIONER
An the British Museum wants ta pick
yer bones clean wif beetles and mount
(MORE)
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3/31/05 111.
EXECUTIONER (CONT'D)
yer skeleton next ta the elephant
man's.
The stout Lord Mayor of London signals attention.
LORD MAYOR
As dictated by royal protocol, I
welcome the Queen, also the Prince
of Wales, the princes and princesses,
the royal grandchildren, nieces and
nephews, aunts and uncles. The
Archbishop of Canterbury, the Lord
Chancellor, the President of Council,
who expressed his deepest regret at
being unable to attend. Welcome,
also, to the Bishops, the Lord Great
Chamberlain, the Earl Marshall, the
Lord Steward…
DISSOLVE
TO:
Ten minutes later. Everyone is bored but the breathless Mayor.
LORD MAYOR (CONT'D)
… the Privy Councilmen, the Chancellor
of the Garter, the Chancellor of the
Exchequer, the Master of the Rolls,
The Chief Justice of Common Pleas …
HENCHMEN, led by LANCE BOYLE, appear dressed as monks at the
front of the crowd. Lance takes his hood off long enough for
Mezmo to see. The magician taps the executioner's shoulder.
MEZMO
Now … (yawns) About that bribe we
discussed …
DISSOLVE
TO:
Even later. Everyone is tired and disheveled. The Lord Mayor
sweats. Mezmo leans against the dozing Executioner.
LORD MAYOR
… the younger sons of the younger
sons of peers, the general and flag
officers, the gentlemen entitled to
bear arms and all ladies, gents,
lads and lasses.
He gasps for air. Everyone stands.
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3/31/05 112.
LORD MAYOR (CONT'D)
Today we rid London of a menace which
has terrified our capitol so many
weeks. As befits the gravity of this
execution I present, for the first
time in twenty years, the Royal
Urinalia!
An ancient, pompous BISHOP enters holding an even more ancient
box in shaky hands. Decorated in gold, brown and red bodily
fluids, the surface sports twining gold nooses and faded
medieval execution scenes. A noose is put on Mezmo.
LORD MAYOR (CONT'D)
As it has for the past seven hundred
thirteen years, it will protect this
hallowed execution ground from the
filthy drops and excretions which
can arise during a good lynching.
The CROWD “Ooohs!” The Bishop holds the box up for the
Executioner to open. He lifts the jewel encrusted lid and
delicately removes the Urinalia. It's a filthy, yellow stained
piece of tattered dark age embroidery. The crowd goes wild
at the sight (and smell) of the sickening rag!
EXECUTIONER
Phew! This really needs washin'!
LORD MAYOR
Unfortunately tradition is tradition.
The Executioner unfolds the large Urinalia and airs it out.
The flimsy cloth tears!
LORD MAYOR (CONT'D)
Be careful! That antique's held
together by its own filth! (To Mezmo)
Any last words?
MEZMO
I regret hurting those I love and
the people of London with my lack of
… of self control. I see now how
blinded I was by my work and my
addiction. But if we were all a little
less uptight wouldn't life …
SLAM! Floorboards fall! He drops two feet, violently yanked!
The hood gurgles and spits horribly! The body slowly writhes!
Everyone is motionless. Queen Victoria watches his wormy
wriggling through opera glasses. As Mezmo goes dramatically
limp a wave of happily-ever-aftering crests through the crowd!
CLOSE ON MEZMO'S CROTCH AS A FAT URINE STAIN FORMS. THE CAMERA
DOLLIES BACK AND DOWN AS SINGER AND ABBEY ENTER FRAME FROM
BOTH SIDES. They kiss ecstatically in front of the crotch as
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3/31/05 113.
if it were a romantic sunset! The Westminsters watch with
unabashed happiness!
LORD MAYOR
In the name of full-figured ladies
everywhere I hereby declare London
safe from this menace forevermore!
The crowd roars! A satisfied Queen Victoria stands and walks
off the porch. Where she was seated the INDIAN BODYGUARD
rises, turban and all. She was sitting on a human footstool
the entire time! He rubs his knees and staggers inside.
DISSOLVE
TO:
EXT. WHITECHAPEL ALLEY -- NIGHT
SUBTITLE: BUCKS ROW - AUGUST 31, 1888 - 3:32 AM
A blue full moon glares down on skid row. Under a streetlamp
in the foggy slum slouches whore-painted POLLY NICHOLS. THIS
SHOT BOOKENDS THE OPENING SHOT AND IS ALMOST IDENTICAL. THE
MOVIE HAS COME FULL CIRCLE.
She peers round drunkenly. Her high cheekbones would make
her seem pretty if she wasn't missing teeth. She wears an
old black straw bonnet fringed in frayed velvet and an even
older brown frock. Hearing footsteps she turns to look.
POLLY NICHOLS
‘Ello luv. What brings you out late?
JACK THE RIPPER
(O.S.) Don't have ta get up fer work
at the slaughterhouse fer once.
Lookin’ fer a bitta fun, dearie.
POLLY NICHOLS
(Not jolly) Fun? Don't call me “Jolly
Polly” for nuthin'!
JACK THE RIPPER
(O.S.) I'm, uh, Jack.
POLLY NICHOLS
Jack? ‘Oh! Thought you were me John
now? Eh? (Laughs) ‘Ats not yer real
name?
JACK THE RIPPER
(O.S.) Well, (Laughs) Polly's not
your real name either! (Both chuckle)
Call me Doc.
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3/31/05 114.
POLLY NICHOLS
What's up Doc? (Touches his groin)
Feels like you are! Wanna quick one
in the alley? I needs three pence
fer a bed ta’ night an’ it's late.
They pass into the same alley Mona and Mezmo did. TWO SHOT
of Polly ahead of Jack. Fully visible, he's harshly backlit
by distant yellow gaslight. He wears a respectable suit but
his face is half hidden in the shadow of a deerstalker hat.
From his right pocket he pulls a large shiny scalpel! As
Polly turns to speak he punches hard right!
CUT TO
BLACK:
END CREDITS
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3/31/05 115.
SCRIPT ANALYSIS
69 speaking Characters
19 spoke over 10 times
14 spoke 5-10 times
36 spoke 1-4 times
Scenes: 72
Unique Locations: 51
Speeches: 986
The longest speech was 13 lines on page 24 by PSYCHIC