SCENE: The Perth-Bayswater Rugby Football clubrooms, Perth, W.A. Friday night. Dozens of members, including Dennis McLoughlin, Phil Oliver, Steve Scholes, Rangimarie Te Aute, Diane Deans, Ray Goodall, Dave Sefton, Phil Oliver, John Skeffington and Jan McCormick are enjoying a convivial Swan lager. Besides the usual beer advertisements, three large signs hang above the bar, each signed by club president RICK BOYD, proclaiming: "PERTH-BAYSWATER MEN DO NOT HIT ON OTHER CLUB MEMBERS' WIVES"; "NO HOMOSEXUAL ENCOUNTERS ALLOWED IN CARPARK"; and "NO SHEEP PERMITTED ON CLUB PREMISES".
A large group is watching the hot new American reality show Seriously Dude I'm Gay on the big screen. Generally, it's the customary Friday evening buzz of revelry, except for the irritatingly harsh (to Australian ears) twang of two loud South Island voices....
RICK BOYD: As always, I expect nothing less than a clean sweep of all matches this year, including over the world champs England ---
MR SCEBE: [scowling] They're NOT the "world champs", klingon. They just won the World Cup, is all. No WAY are they the "world champs".
[Hearing these inflammatory words, several club stalwarts prick up their ears, and glance at one another in amused astonishment...]
BOYD: [nodding in rare agreement with the man he often cruelly calls
"Fat Neil"] That's right, Fat Neil. They never faced up to the power
of the mighty All Blacks in the tournament, did they?
"Fat Neil"] That's right, Fat Neil. They never faced up to the power
of the mighty All Blacks in the tournament, did they?
BARRY RIA: <loud sarcasm> Oh, yuss! The mighty All Blacks certainly
showed us just why they "actually" won the World Cup, when they
ruthlessly dismembered the hapless Australians in the semi-final
didn't they!</loud sarcasm>
showed us just why they "actually" won the World Cup, when they
ruthlessly dismembered the hapless Australians in the semi-final
didn't they!</loud sarcasm>
RAY GOODALL: [cruelly imitating the jarring South Island twang of Mr
Scebe and Rick] Oh yuss! We showed thum DUDN'T we! What's that
uxprussion we use back in New Zilland? Oh yus, I roomumber now....
"AUSTRALIA SUX!"
Scebe and Rick] Oh yuss! We showed thum DUDN'T we! What's that
uxprussion we use back in New Zilland? Oh yus, I roomumber now....
"AUSTRALIA SUX!"
BARRY RIA: NEW ZEALAND NUL!
WHOLE BAR (except for Scebe and Rick): Buwahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
"Australia SUX, New Zillun NUL"!!!!
"Australia SUX, New Zillun NUL"!!!!
DAVE SEFTON: Ooooohhhh, Bazza, you're KILLIN' us!
BOYD: [defiantly] AND we'll beat the f*&kin' Australians. AND the
Welsh. AND the filthy cheating Frogs. AND the Bar-f*^kin'-barians.
We'll beat the f*+kin' lot of them! Ain't that right, Neil?
Welsh. AND the filthy cheating Frogs. AND the Bar-f*^kin'-barians.
We'll beat the f*+kin' lot of them! Ain't that right, Neil?
MR SCEBE: Well, why not?
BOYD: It's not too much to ask, I would have thought.
[Suddenly, from the shadows of a large coolibah fern beside the slot
machines, the voice of MORRISSEY BREEN, who thus far has been
restraining himself manfully from voicing his thoughts.]
machines, the voice of MORRISSEY BREEN, who thus far has been
restraining himself manfully from voicing his thoughts.]
MORRISSEY BREEN: Oh, hell no! "We" just have to turn up, afterall...
[Suddenly, all conversation ceases. All eyes turn to the slot
machines, the coolibah fern and the shadowy figure of Breen. In the
background, only the sound of Seriously Dude I'm Gay.]
machines, the coolibah fern and the shadowy figure of Breen. In the
background, only the sound of Seriously Dude I'm Gay.]
BOYD: [with withering contempt] Is it open weekend in the
paedophiles halfway house?
paedophiles halfway house?
MR SCEBE: It's amazing, isn't it? We spend a month or so discussing
rugby, everyone managing to put their spin on who the selectors are
considering, detailed analysis of matches, results and players.
rugby, everyone managing to put their spin on who the selectors are
considering, detailed analysis of matches, results and players.
RANGIMARIE TE AUTE: Is THAT what yous fullas call it? Sounded to me
like yous was all fulla SHIT!
like yous was all fulla SHIT!
DIANE DEANS: Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! You go, girl!
MR SCEBE: [ignoring the critique of his month or so of "discussion" and "analysis"] Then suddenly someone mentions France in a throwaway line about how the AB's will go this season and Morewussy's back like a shot.
BREEN: Yes, Mr Scebe, that's just it. It was a throwaway line,
reflecting the amount of thought and respect our friend Rick gives to
the French. It's bizarre, it's stooo-pid, and it's insulting.
reflecting the amount of thought and respect our friend Rick gives to
the French. It's bizarre, it's stooo-pid, and it's insulting.
BOYD: Fuck off Breen, you reeking leper's armpit.
[RICK advances on Breen, holding his half-full bottle of Swan like a
cudgel. From the club members, there is a collective gasp at the
anticipation of violence. Suddenly the imposing figure of club
stalwart JAN McCORMICK steps between the two of them.]
cudgel. From the club members, there is a collective gasp at the
anticipation of violence. Suddenly the imposing figure of club
stalwart JAN McCORMICK steps between the two of them.]
JAN McCORMICK: Trouble, Rick?
RICK: No, Jan. Just sorting out a little problem. It's a kiwi thing.
MR SCEBE: Let me explain, Jan. We're going to sort out a
particularly annoying f*%k, who now sits beneath that coolibah. The
sad git is what Rick describes as a "Francophile nauseateur". He's
like a wounded lover lamenting the fact that anyone would possibly
diss one of the most underperforming sides in world rugby. Who'd of
ever thought?
particularly annoying f*%k, who now sits beneath that coolibah. The
sad git is what Rick describes as a "Francophile nauseateur". He's
like a wounded lover lamenting the fact that anyone would possibly
diss one of the most underperforming sides in world rugby. Who'd of
ever thought?
[Jan listens, distinctly unimpressed, to Mr Scebe's attempt at an
explanation.]
explanation.]
JAN: [to Rick] Who the F*%K is this fat f*%ker?
RICK: This is my, errrrrr, "friend" Neil, from New Zealand.
JAN: What?!?!?!?!? The one that dresses up as a nun?!!?!?!?!?!?
[A buzz of disgust and titillation sweeps round the clubrooms.]
MR SCEBE: No!!! That was his friend Bobs, from Auckland. Canterbury
men aren't into that sort of thing!
men aren't into that sort of thing!
JAN: [looking dubious, addressing Rick] Well, just remember, you're on
your last chance, after that sordid little incident. Remember that
Rule 57, subsection 14B, paragraph 4, line xiii of the club
constitution specifically states that bottling a club visitor in the
clubrooms is strictly OUT OF ORDER, Rick!
your last chance, after that sordid little incident. Remember that
Rule 57, subsection 14B, paragraph 4, line xiii of the club
constitution specifically states that bottling a club visitor in the
clubrooms is strictly OUT OF ORDER, Rick!
RICK: [defiantly] I don't CARE! It's time someone dealt to this shrill
little irritant, this unthinking man's orator ad nauseum, this
dribbling cretin - once and for bloody all!
little irritant, this unthinking man's orator ad nauseum, this
dribbling cretin - once and for bloody all!
[RICK shoves JAN aside, advances toward BREEN, who is still languidly
seated beneath the coolibah fern]
seated beneath the coolibah fern]
BREEN: Hey, Rick, look! [points toward front entrance] Isn't that
Ernest the Sheep? And YOUR WIFE?!???!?!??
Ernest the Sheep? And YOUR WIFE?!???!?!??
RICK: [wheeling in direction of front entrance] What th---?
[In a flash, BREEN bolts across room and dives through plate glass
windows, in an ear-shattering shower of glass and blood, to freedom.
The club members gasp. Too late, RICK realises he's been duped.]
windows, in an ear-shattering shower of glass and blood, to freedom.
The club members gasp. Too late, RICK realises he's been duped.]
RICK: [darkly, grimly] That pompous, myopic, bombastic, dribbling cretin, that tiny little pea brain, that sad, lonely little troll. [Through gritted teeth] One of these days....
[A group of club members have gathered round the shattered window, and
stand watching the running figure of Breen rapidly disappearing down
the street.]
stand watching the running figure of Breen rapidly disappearing down
the street.]
JOHN SKEFFINGTON: Jesus, Rick, that boy is FAST! See if you can sign
him up for the team, will you, mate?
him up for the team, will you, mate?
RICK: [darkly, with murderous intensity, through gritted teeth] Not
on your f*&king LIFE...
on your f*&king LIFE...
------------------------------
"Morrissey Breen" <morriss...@yahoo.com> wrote in message
news:fb3a0456.0406051137.
<snips war and peace>
> RICK: [darkly, with murderous intensity, through gritted teeth]
Not
> on your f*&king LIFE...
>
> ------------------------------
------------------------------
Not
> on your f*&king LIFE...
>
> ------------------------------
------------------------------
If I didn't know better I'd say that was made up story.
 |
Morrissey Breen wrote:
- show quoted text -
The characterisation was good but the plot was laboured. Were it not for
the twist at the end (I thought Breen would gut Rick with a sharpened
cocktail umbrela), I would even say predictable.
I hear Pitt is intrested in playing Breen but you've got to have Rupert
Everett as Rick and that mad welshman from Nottinghill as Scebe, he'll
have to work on the accent obviously.
Mike
|
Morrissey Breen said the following On 6/06/2004 5:37 AM:
> SCENE: Morewussy Breen in his bedroom furiously masturbating to team photos of Les Bleus...
> SCENE: Morewussy Breen in his bedroom furiously masturbating to team photos of Les Bleus...
On 5 Jun 2004 12:37:16 -0700, morriss...@yahoo.com (Morrissey
Breen) wrote:
Breen) wrote:
>SCENE: The Perth-Bayswater Rugby Football clubrooms, Perth, W.A.
>Friday night.
>Friday night.
So much time, so little talent. Well, I got as far as the third line
on this one. We all know your giant ego will compel you to believe the
entire newsgroup pored over every tragic word, but alas....
on this one. We all know your giant ego will compel you to believe the
entire newsgroup pored over every tragic word, but alas....
What's the matter Mowissey, didn't you like being compared to a
flatworm?
flatworm?
It could be worse. Imagine how the flatworm feels!
-- rick boyd
|
excellent.
|
rick boyd wrote:
- show quoted text -
He had you down to a T, I could hear the hate in your voice.
Mike
|
RICK BOYD: [choking with barely suppressed anger] So much time, so
little talent.
entire newsgroup pored over every tragic word, but alas....
little talent.
BREEN: Oh, hey Rick, I type with the speed of a woman. Hell, I
knocked that out in about two cups of coffee.
knocked that out in about two cups of coffee.
BOYD: Well, I got as far as the third line on this one.
BREEN: [chuckling] Sure, Rick, sure....
BOYD: We all know your giant ego will compel you to believe the
entire newsgroup pored over every tragic word, but alas....
BREEN: Sure they didn't Rick, sure they didn't. Nobody summed up
that little playlet with the word "Excellent". And nobody, but NOBODY
praised the ol' Breen powers of characterisation. And nobody read the
whole thing right through, Rick. Hell no!
that little playlet with the word "Excellent". And nobody, but NOBODY
praised the ol' Breen powers of characterisation. And nobody read the
whole thing right through, Rick. Hell no!
BOYD: What's the matter Mowissey, didn't you like being compared to a
flatworm?
flatworm?
BREEN: Come on Rick! Surely you saw my tribute to that little
analogy. I expressed my appreciation for your efforts at the time,
as I'm sure you remember now. But once again: well done, Rick! In
this writer's opinion at least, that must be a contender for Putdown
of the Year.
analogy. I expressed my appreciation for your efforts at the time,
as I'm sure you remember now. But once again: well done, Rick! In
this writer's opinion at least, that must be a contender for Putdown
of the Year.
BOYD: [obtusely boring on] It could be worse.
BREEN: [raising an eyebrow n wry amusement] Oh? How so, Rick?
BOYD: Imagine how the flatworm feels!
BREEN: [falls to ground, rolls around, manfully feigning great
hilarity] "Imagine how the flatw---"
Buwahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!
you really do!
hilarity] "Imagine how the flatw---"
Buwahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!
you really do!
[BOYD strides intently toward the writhing BREEN, with a dark look of
murderous intensity on his face....]
murderous intensity on his face....]
..............................
An irritated bo...@comswest.net.au (rick boyd) attempted to put down
this writer (moi) in message news:<40c2703...@news.wn.
this writer (moi) in message news:<40c2703...@news.wn.
|
On Sun, 06 Jun 2004 07:50:10 +0100, Mike
<xyfas.home@KNICKERSntlworld.
<xyfas.home@KNICKERSntlworld.
>He had you down to a T, I could hear the hate in your voice.
Thank you. The disapproval of fools is always welcome.
-- rick boyd
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