Post by blake on Aug 26, 2007 18:04:38 GMT
Yes today I wrote forum fan fiction about the two highest karma scorers on this fair forum (also featuring Jose, Sibz, myself and perhaps Nils). Well its more a detailed synopsis of what I think would be the greatest show in the History of Television here we go! I think I should have actually set this as a script rather than prose, I warn you lots of annoying "she said this, she said that" crap but enjoy!
Penrose and Trussler Incorporated. Episode One
A swish and dramatic Stephen Merrit penned theme tune fades out and the series begins at night time on the streets of London with a young girl in stylish business attire and angular short indie-chic hair dodging a hail of machine gun fire with somersaults, forward rolls and such like. Eventually said girl is cornered by stereotypically dressed Mafiosi types brandishing Tommy Guns. In his heavy Latino drawl one Mafiosi tough guy intones “you’ve been a thorn in our side too long Penrose, you should have stuck to drawing your little pictures and not tried to move into the big boys class.”, “how could I? When I found out how your nefarious dealings and racketeering controlled the London art scene after my first Turner Prize win, I couldn’t continue to make dirty money for you.” The woman is eyed with cold contempt, ha “well maybe its time I had a piece of that art pie myself, aw man I can see it now. Anything passes for art these days, imagine it the centre piece of the new Tate Gallery; the bloody remains of the great Sophie Penrose” He cocks his gun and raises it, “sounds awfully passé my dear” Sophie counters whipping what appears to be a pencil out of her jacket pocket. The thugs are stunned when A lazer blasts come out of the end of said pencil frying them before they have a chance to engage they’re trigger fingers. “I’ve left art behind, but I’m still rather quick on the draw” Sophie chuckles to herself. Her relief however is short lived as the screaming engines of a convoy of cars speed in her general direction. Things look bleak for our heroine when suddenly a Helicopter with OWL1 written on whizzes downwards tossing down a wooden ladder to Sophie that she instinctively jumps onto and ascends.
“Oh Meryl you never let me down” Sophie says hugging a Woman with brown hair and a natural air of bon mot dripping intelligence. “considering you where hanging on a rickety old ladder 30 feet above the streets of London and a baying heavily armed mob I’d say this would hardly have been an opportune moment to start” They hug and high five. But the moment of triumph is broken by a loud bang and a shacking of the helicopter. “Oh no!” screams Agent Meryl Trussler “where going to crash, we have to parachute out, now” “But Mutiny’s men are down there, if we do where done for!” “listen Sophie we’ve been though so much since we met on that internet forum all those years ago. It’s been a pleasure laughing with you, a pleasure dancing with you, a pleasure sitting up Penrose and Trussler Incorporated with you and though meeting my maker was not on my to-do list for today if that’s where the hand of fate is pointing, it will be an honour to die with you Agent Penrose.” she says with a salute “if we parachute out at least we have a slight chance, come on!”
The two ladies parachute out onto a deserted road surrounded by a heavily armed unit of no-goodniks. It looks like the end is nigh. When something impossible happens a whirl of celestial light blinds the bad guys and suddenly it looks like Penrose and Trussler have disappeared. The bemused armed hordes fail to notice a fox running away into the night and a owl flying serenely over head.
Back at Penrose and Trussler Incorporated headquaters. Sophie and Meryl who have made there way home stand utterly dumbfounded blankly staring forwards. Sophie is aggressively pinching herself. “Not meaning to be insensitive or anything at such a trying time but could you please cease with the pinching Sophie” says Meryl. “This HAS to be a dream. I’ve seen some strange things since we’ve been trying to clean up London, but I was I was a fox?” “yes yes quite Sophie, this is hardly popping down to the off license for a bottle of gin for me either. But there is a rational explanation for everything no matter how strange it seems” Meryl says, strutting restlessly across the room. “In most cases the explanation is fiendishly simple, it could be right under our noses… wait a second! Whats that?” she says on the sight of the letters FTW graffiti-ed on the wall. “Goodness I don’t know, perhaps some sort of rather rudimentary Banksy wannabe, heaven forbid” smirked Sophie, “wait a second there’s an address under there.. Josh Base Alpha.” “Hmm I think its time we paid this Josh fellow a vist don’t you say?” A smile flashes across Meryl’s face “ooh it’s in the swish area of town a chance to don our finest garb at least.” Sophie reciprocates the beaming smile “oh Ms Trussler we shall” they link arms and skip off to get ready.
Penrose and Trussler Incorporated. Episode One
A swish and dramatic Stephen Merrit penned theme tune fades out and the series begins at night time on the streets of London with a young girl in stylish business attire and angular short indie-chic hair dodging a hail of machine gun fire with somersaults, forward rolls and such like. Eventually said girl is cornered by stereotypically dressed Mafiosi types brandishing Tommy Guns. In his heavy Latino drawl one Mafiosi tough guy intones “you’ve been a thorn in our side too long Penrose, you should have stuck to drawing your little pictures and not tried to move into the big boys class.”, “how could I? When I found out how your nefarious dealings and racketeering controlled the London art scene after my first Turner Prize win, I couldn’t continue to make dirty money for you.” The woman is eyed with cold contempt, ha “well maybe its time I had a piece of that art pie myself, aw man I can see it now. Anything passes for art these days, imagine it the centre piece of the new Tate Gallery; the bloody remains of the great Sophie Penrose” He cocks his gun and raises it, “sounds awfully passé my dear” Sophie counters whipping what appears to be a pencil out of her jacket pocket. The thugs are stunned when A lazer blasts come out of the end of said pencil frying them before they have a chance to engage they’re trigger fingers. “I’ve left art behind, but I’m still rather quick on the draw” Sophie chuckles to herself. Her relief however is short lived as the screaming engines of a convoy of cars speed in her general direction. Things look bleak for our heroine when suddenly a Helicopter with OWL1 written on whizzes downwards tossing down a wooden ladder to Sophie that she instinctively jumps onto and ascends.
“Oh Meryl you never let me down” Sophie says hugging a Woman with brown hair and a natural air of bon mot dripping intelligence. “considering you where hanging on a rickety old ladder 30 feet above the streets of London and a baying heavily armed mob I’d say this would hardly have been an opportune moment to start” They hug and high five. But the moment of triumph is broken by a loud bang and a shacking of the helicopter. “Oh no!” screams Agent Meryl Trussler “where going to crash, we have to parachute out, now” “But Mutiny’s men are down there, if we do where done for!” “listen Sophie we’ve been though so much since we met on that internet forum all those years ago. It’s been a pleasure laughing with you, a pleasure dancing with you, a pleasure sitting up Penrose and Trussler Incorporated with you and though meeting my maker was not on my to-do list for today if that’s where the hand of fate is pointing, it will be an honour to die with you Agent Penrose.” she says with a salute “if we parachute out at least we have a slight chance, come on!”
The two ladies parachute out onto a deserted road surrounded by a heavily armed unit of no-goodniks. It looks like the end is nigh. When something impossible happens a whirl of celestial light blinds the bad guys and suddenly it looks like Penrose and Trussler have disappeared. The bemused armed hordes fail to notice a fox running away into the night and a owl flying serenely over head.
Back at Penrose and Trussler Incorporated headquaters. Sophie and Meryl who have made there way home stand utterly dumbfounded blankly staring forwards. Sophie is aggressively pinching herself. “Not meaning to be insensitive or anything at such a trying time but could you please cease with the pinching Sophie” says Meryl. “This HAS to be a dream. I’ve seen some strange things since we’ve been trying to clean up London, but I was I was a fox?” “yes yes quite Sophie, this is hardly popping down to the off license for a bottle of gin for me either. But there is a rational explanation for everything no matter how strange it seems” Meryl says, strutting restlessly across the room. “In most cases the explanation is fiendishly simple, it could be right under our noses… wait a second! Whats that?” she says on the sight of the letters FTW graffiti-ed on the wall. “Goodness I don’t know, perhaps some sort of rather rudimentary Banksy wannabe, heaven forbid” smirked Sophie, “wait a second there’s an address under there.. Josh Base Alpha.” “Hmm I think its time we paid this Josh fellow a vist don’t you say?” A smile flashes across Meryl’s face “ooh it’s in the swish area of town a chance to don our finest garb at least.” Sophie reciprocates the beaming smile “oh Ms Trussler we shall” they link arms and skip off to get ready.
Its all GOLD. 
