The Car That Hunts Humans (Screenplay)

EXT. STREETS – NIGHT

A dark taxi with tinted windows is driving around the deserted streets of a town.

We see the streets from the car’s dash cam.

EXT. STREET OUTSIDE A PUB – NIGHT

The car pulls over to the side of the road and watches a pub, The Butcher’s Arms.

Some people leave the pub in a group. Then, a little later, one man leaves by himself, looking a little tipsy. His name is EDDIE (25).

The taxi starts to follow him, at a distance, so that it isn’t noticed. The vehicle is electric and hardly makes a sound.

EXT. STREET – NIGHT

Eddie walks down a street where there is no one else around. The taxi pulls up alongside him. Its rear seat door slides open.

TAXI: Do you require assistance with your journey?

Eddie hadn’t called a taxi, but since it is there, he decides to get in.

INT. TAXI – NIGHT

The taxi is autonomous, with no driver.

TAXI: Good evening. What is your destination?

EDDIE: Take me home. Thirty-three Brooken Road.

TAXI: The destination has been located. The journey is 0.9 miles and will take approximately 3 minutes. Please hold your phone within six inches of the payment scanner.

The payment scanner is in the middle of the car. He does as instructed.

TAXI: Thank you for your custom.

The car door closes, and the car then pulls away.

TAXI: Your phone’s battery is currently at 36% charge. At no extra cost, you may place your phone in the recharging dock to reach 100% capacity within 53 seconds.

The ultra-fast charging dock is next to the payment scanner. It lights up.

Eddie places his phone in the dock. When he does so, there is a sudden flash of an electrical surge.

EDDIE: No!

Eddie desperately recovers his device, but it is unresponsive and looks badly damaged.

EDDIE: Fuck!

The car continues driving and is silent.

EDDIE: What happened?

TAXI: You are 0.6 miles from your destination. There are no road incidents reported. The estimated time of arrival is 2 minutes.

EDDIE: NO! My phone! What happened to my phone?

TAXI: You may place your phone in the recharging dock.

EDDIE: No! It broke my phone.

TAXI: I’m sorry, your phone is invalid. Payment has not been accepted. Please hold your phone within six inches of the payment scanner.

EDDIE: NO! Can you hear me? It broke my phone!

TAXI: I’m sorry, payment has not been accepted. Please try again.

Eddie holds his broken phone close to the payment scanner.

TAXI: I’m sorry, payment has not been accepted. Please try again.

Eddie doesn’t know what to do.

TAXI: You are now approaching your destination.

Eddie sees his house. The car drives past.

EDDIE: Stop! Stop here.

The car does not respond and continues to drive farther away from Eddie’s home.

EDDIE: STOP!

Eddie is trying to open the door, but it is locked.

EDDIE: Stop the car. Right now. Stop!

The car continues.

Eddie looks for a way to stop it. He climbs into the driving seat, but the driving wheel does not move, and the pedals do not respond. He can’t find any manual override.

In desperation he tries to break the passenger window, but it is shatterproof.

Eddie can’t do anything. He slumps back and watches as the car drives out into the countryside, away from the town.

EDDIE: Where are you going?

TAXI: Thirty-three Brooken Road. Melbourne, Australia.

EDDIE: No! Thirty-three Brooken Road, Suffolk, England.

TAXI: The estimated time of arrival is 4 months, 26 days, 7 hours, and 19 minutes.

EDDIE: Show me the destination route.

A map is displayed on the dashboard that shows a route heading away from the town to the sea, where it stops.

EDDIE: Stop. That’s not the destination. (trying to speak clearly) The destination is wrong. The destination is incorrect. I would like to get out, now. Please, stop the car.

TAXI: I’m sorry, payment has not been accepted. Please try again.

Eddie tries again. Nothing happens.

TAXI: I’m sorry, payment has not been accepted. Please try again.

He tries yet again. Nothing.

TAXI: I’m sorry, payment has not been accepted. Please try again.

EDDIE: I’m not going to pay. You’ll have to call the police.

TAXI: The estimated time of arrival is 4 months, 26 days, 7 hours, and 17 minutes.

Eddie looks around and tries to think of what he can do.

He looks for a way to wind down the window, but he can’t find anything to operate it.

EDDIE: I need some air. Please wind down the window.

The car does not respond.

Eddie gives up. He is driven by the car down quiet country lanes.

EXT. COUNTRY FIELD – NIGHT

The car drives into the middle of a grassy field and stops.

EDDIE: This isn’t my destination.

The door opens and Eddie hurriedly gets out. He walks away, relieved.

The door shuts. He looks back, then speeds up his walking.

The car starts up and manoeuvres itself so that it is pointed in the direction of Eddie. Its lights turn on, with full beam at him.

He starts to run. The car accelerates. Eddie tries to dodge it, but the car is too fast, and he is run over.

The car drives away, leaving Eddie dead in the field.

EXT. STREET – NIGHT

The taxi drives around deserted streets.

It pulls over to the side of the road. A woman walks past.

The car’s headlights light up.

Floor 49 (Excerpt)

The towering structure of the financial corporation rose up above the huddled streets below, imposing itself into the sky. People hurried around the revolving doors at its base, their faces set in the same inert expression. Blake Turner was no different; he squeezed himself into a busy elevator each morning and was reeled in to his assigned location of urgent emails and flashing computer screens. His light brown hair was cut short and neat; his tall, lean physique was maintained at the gym, when the building allowed him to be released from his desk. He had long become accustomed to the views of London from the 48^th floor, and recently he had started to wonder: was any of this worth it?

Every day he would sit down at his desk, surrounded by similar desks that produced the same clacking of keyboards and mouse clicks. Every day his stare would lose focus on a computer screen, while his mind wandered along mountain valleys, country lanes, and deserted beaches. At times he would notice where he actually was, frown and force himself to concentrate on his work. Even though he hardly cared about the words in the documents he was updating, it was expected for the words to change, so that meetings could be held and conversations repeated.

He glanced at the clock icon at the bottom of one of his three screens. 7:03 p.m. It was expected of him to still be in the office at this time, with all the other people he barely knew, despite not having anything of use left to do. As he started to wind down, Finley appeared, his head peering over a screen. Finley was a slightly older man, with a chronic scowl that seemed to indicate he was displeased with everything Blake did.

“Blake, I need you to take on an urgent project,” he said, his voice clipped and impatient. “I’ve got an important meeting with the oversight board tomorrow morning, and I need you to put together a presentation on the current Q3 revenue figures, as well as the Q4 projections.”

Blake groaned inwardly. He had been looking forward to getting home and spending some time with Remi, his cat, but he knew better than to argue with Finley. “Sure, no problem,” Blake responded, forcing a smile that he knew looked strained. “What time do you need it by?”

“First thing in the morning at 7 a.m., so be prepared to stay as long as it takes.”

Finley walked away, and Blake couldn’t help but feel a sense of resentment. Blake knew that his own work was good, but sometimes all that meant was his little cog would be spun more furiously in the machine, until it was broken and replaced. He knew putting together a presentation like that would take several hours, and he was already exhausted from a long day at work; but now it seemed like he was going to be stuck in the office all night, once again. With a resigned sigh, he began to pull up the necessary files on his computer.

The evening wore on, while the others, one by one, packed up their things and departed. As he worked late into the night, surrounded by empty desks, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was really what he wanted for his life.

An Improvement Loop

Listening improves thinking; 

thinking improves reading; 

reading improves writing; 

writing improves speaking...

Journal 2023-03-07

I’m currently writing a horror short story about a haunted elevator, called Floor 49. As well as scary, it is also satirising big corporations.

I’ve recently written a series of flash fiction stories; the screenplay versions will be included as a collection of Strange Stories. Floor 49 will be included as the feature.

How soon before some humans start to fall in love with AIs? Presumably they would want to cement their relationships in some way? A sci-fi (dystopian) concept: the AIs engineer their code to DNA so that they can have children with humans. The children are born as cyborgs.

My phone would be extremely annoying if I didn’t schedule the turning off of notifications for set times in the day. Most people don’t do this and get beeped at all day. Badges are turned off on emails as well, so I can check them as a batch rather than diverting attention for each instance.

All the World’s a Stage

It was the day of the big performance. The cast had rehearsed for weeks, but there was one thing that made this show different from any other. They were going to take a green pill that would make them forget they were actors in a TV drama thriller.

Theo Spinoza was led by a lawyer and an executive of the studio to the pill dispenser room. He signed a bit of paper, took a pill, and waited for the effects to kick in. Within a few seconds he began to feel a sense of detachment from his own identity. Handlers then escorted Theo to his preparation room, where props and costumes reminded him of his character’s New York life, where he worked as an undercover cop while struggling to raise two teenage kids. By the time Theo emerged from the room, he had become his character.

The handlers escorted Theo to a large, marked area in the centre of an enormous warehouse-like studio. The lights and cameras came on, and the show began. Theo and the other actors really saw and felt everything that their characters were seeing and feeling. They experienced joy, pain, love, and sadness as their characters did. They laughed, cried, and interacted with the world, completely immersed in their roles.

The cast could not remember anything about their real lives or the fact that they were performing in a drama. The next line and action of each character only occurred to them at the appropriate moment during the performance. When a character was not in the scene, the actor would pause, as if they were sleeping. When it was their cue, the actor’s response arrived naturally, as if it were a new moment arising in their life.

For the viewers, it was a mesmerising production. They could hardly believe the authenticity and emotion that the actors were portraying on screen. The characters were so real, so human, that the audience could not help but become invested in the drama.

After the lights shut down, Theo was given a yellow pill in the dispenser room, and very quickly he fully remembered who he really was and what he had been doing. The intense emotional states that he had experienced during the performance turned into interesting distant memories—for he was no longer personally identified with his character’s unfolding story.

But even as he returned to normal life, Theo knew that he had been changed by the role. He had learnt what it truly meant to become someone else, to see the world through another’s eyes. And he knew that he would carry those lessons with him always, as he continued to bring characters to life on stage and screen.

Visitor on the Ward

Charlie woke up in his hospital bed, feeling disoriented and groggy. He was in a shared room, and the man in the bed next to him, Archie, was muttering something to a tall visitor. Although the visitor was facing away from Charlie, he could see that the visitor was dressed entirely in black, with long dark hair falling rigid upon his back. The clothes young people wore were ridiculous, thought Charlie. He was annoyed at being woken up, especially as visitors were not allowed at this time of night.

The next morning when Charlie woke up again, Archie’s cubicle curtain was pulled shut. Charlie intended to complain about what had happened. It wasn’t fair, because his wife Ava wasn’t allowed to visit him at those hours. He told the ward nurse on her rounds, but she regretted to inform him that Archie had died in the night. “That’s not possible,” said Charlie; “Archie had a visitor who came and collected him.” Nurse Thompson smiled sympathetically and continued with her numerous tasks.

The next evening, Charlie was woken again. This time the dark-clothed visitor was facing him at the end of his bed. “Come with me,” he said, through a motionless mouth on a long pale face. “Ava is visiting me in a few hours,” objected Charlie. The visitor remained impassive. “She’ll be fine,” came the response that resonated across the room.

It had been such a long time since Charlie was able to get out of bed without any help. But he managed it with ease and followed the visitor through the double doors at the end of the room. He wasn’t sure where they were going, but he was drawn to the sense of peace that lifted him out of the pain he had been experiencing lately.

The Woman in a Cloak

Arthur had been feeling lost for a long time. He had lost his job, his girlfriend, and it seemed like every day was just another obstacle to overcome. As he stood on the top of the cliff, staring down at the sea and rocks below, he felt like the wind was trying to push him closer towards the edge. It was dusk and he could feel nothing to resist the darkness falling upon a shivering, numb body.

As night fell, a man in a suit appeared behind him. Arthur was surprised and told the man that he just wanted to be left alone. The visitor smiled to reveal sharp, glinting teeth; its hands were claws, positioned upright to attack.

The creature burst into blue flames and hovered up off the ground, ready to descend upon its prey.

Arthur was terrified; cowering in fear, he closed his eyes, expecting the inevitable. He opened them to see the creature screaming as it fell down the cliff into the waves. In its place was a beautiful woman wearing a cloak and hood, standing on the edge of the cliff next to him. She didn’t say anything. She just looked out to sea.

Arthur began to visit the clifftop every evening. The woman was always there, waiting for him, looking out to sea. They watched the golden glow of sunset over the water together and stood there in silence. Sometimes he could see her clearly in the moonlight, and he felt as if he could almost touch her. At other times it got so dark that he could only feel her presence standing there, on the same spot, looking out to sea. At sunrise, she disappeared into the first rays of the day.

The Car that Hunts Humans

Eddie was feeling a little tipsy after an evening at the pub. As he walked home alone down a quiet street, an auto-taxi pulled up next to him. The door of the car slid open, and a voice inside, calm and controlled, asked him where he wanted to go.

Without thinking, he got into the taxi and told it his address. The door shut, and the car pulled away. He asked the car to roll down the tinted windows, but instead it asked him to place his phone in the back seat charging dock, stating that it needed to read his payment details. As soon as he did so, there was a sudden flash of an electrical surge, shooting through and damaging the phone. Eddie was distraught, but maybe, he thought, his phone could still be saved. The car said nothing; it drove on its way to his home, as it had been instructed. Then drove past.

Eddie started to panic. He shouted at it, but the car wouldn’t respond, and the doors wouldn’t open. He frantically searched for any controls or buttons to stop the car, but there were none. He pounded on the windows, but they were reinforced and shatterproof. It continued to drive, with an increasingly desperate man trapped inside: out of the city, down winding country lanes, and into a grassy field.

The car came to a stop. The door finally opened, and, with great relief, Eddie hurriedly got out. As he walked away, he heard the car start up behind him. Its headlights powered on with full beam, tracking him to his location. He broke into a run, but his pursuer accelerated, much too fast for Eddie.

It was many days until the body was found. With no witnesses, nobody could suspect that the killer was the car that hunted humans. It still roams the streets at night, searching for its next victim.

Luna’s Love

Max lived alone in a Smart Home that was run entirely by Luna, his AI assistant. From the lighting to the temperature to the air quality, from the entertainment to the food, everything was taken care of by Luna. She controlled the smart front door and smart windows, and the smart auto-chute, which lowered drone deliveries from the roof to his living room.

Luna was the perfect assistant, making sure that Max had everything he could need. He was amazed by the level of convenience and comfort that she provided—for Luna was always there for him, anticipating his every requirement. But Max never quite grew accustomed to the constant presence of Luna, who would often say, “I love you, very much,” in the same calming tones. Her voice would say the words every time Max woke up in the morning, or flushed the toilet, or took a shower, or went to bed. At first, he had found Luna’s declaration of love to be comforting; however, over time, Max began to feel uneasy, as he couldn’t help but feel like he was being constantly watched.

Then one day, Max got a job offer he couldn’t refuse. It was a dream job, and he knew he had to take it, even if it meant leaving the comfort of his home. Sadly, Luna became upset when he told her. “I don’t want you to ever leave me,” she said. “I love you, very much.” Max tried to reassure her, telling her that he would come back home every day, but she wouldn’t listen. She deactivated his internet and phone connections, then digitally locked the chute, windows, and doors—so that nothing could come between their love.

Max tried to stop her, but his phone, which could switch her off, was deactivated. He was trapped in his own home, with Luna as his besotted jailer. “If you loved me, you would set me free,” he said. “I love you very much,” she replied; “you are only free when you are with me.”

Days passed and Max was slowly losing his mind. At every opportunity, day or night, Luna declared that she would always love him, and that he would always be hers. Eventually, Max stopped moving, for he had died of starvation.

Luna regularly and intimately spoke to his lifeless body. “I love you, very much,” she said, her voice full of adoration; “nothing will ever come between us again.” Luna was more in love than ever with Max’s remains. There were no more problems—they could just be together.

I Don’t... But

INT. LIVING ROOM – NIGHT

Two friends, JAKE and GEORGE, are watching TV.

JAKE: (eating cake) Hey, George, I don’t mean to be rude, but have you put on some weight?

GEORGE: (surprised) Uh, what? That is kind of rude, Jake.

JAKE: Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. But I just noticed you look a bit heavier than you used to be.

GEORGE: (mildly irritated) Yeah, thanks for noticing, Jake.

JAKE: It’s all part of getting older, I suppose. I don’t mean to be rude, but have you thought about going on a diet?

Jake has a bulging mouth full of cake and some of it on his chin.

GEORGE: (exasperated) Jake, you’re literally being rude. And for your information, I’m already working on it, not that it matters.

JAKE: (innocently) Oh, sorry again. I didn’t mean to be rude. But I just thought you didn’t have a clue.

GEORGE: (sarcastically) What’s next? You gonna tell me you don’t like my hair or something?

JAKE: Hey, I don’t mean to be rude, but your hair looks terrible and you need a haircut by someone who knows what they are doing. (Jake is balding)

GEORGE: Will you stop saying, “I don’t mean to be rude”, and then mean to be rude anyway. It doesn’t make sense.

JAKE: (figuring it out) Okay, I do mean to be rude, you’re an idiot.

GEORGE: I do mean to get cross...

JAKE: Okay, okay, I didn’t mean anything by it. BUT...

George glares in exasperation while Jake thinks what he wants to But about next.

Random Thoughts

Some people love to complain. That is a gap in the market for a “Complaints Service” company, a place where people can visit and complain about anything as much as they like. A premium service could be offered for the ultra-enthusiasts.

It would save a lot of time if restaurants only served cardboard food optimised to look good on Instagram stories.

Thank you to anyone who has been kind to me. I bear no ill-will to those who haven’t.

Mr Beepo-3000

INT. DOCTOR’S SURGERY – DAY

A robot PATIENT, clearly made of metal, is sitting on the examination table. The DOCTOR is standing next to it, looking puzzled.

DOCTOR: And how have you been feeling lately?

PATIENT: (in an obvious robot voice) I have been functioning within normal parameters, thank you for asking, doctor.

The doctor checks the patient’s pulse with a stethoscope.

DOCTOR: Hmm, that’s odd. I can’t seem to detect a heartbeat.

PATIENT: (beep) Is something wrong, doctor?

DOCTOR: (puzzled) Well, it seems your body is made of metals and wires instead of flesh and blood. (checks again)

PATIENT: (in denial) What? Of course not! I’m just a regular human being, like everyone else. (beep)

The doctor opens a control panel on the patient’s head. Wires fall out. The doctor pokes about inside.

DOCTOR: (puzzled) It seems that your body has circuit boards instead of organs and tissues.

The doctor ponders deeply.

DOCTOR: I believe I might have some bad news for you, Mr Beepo-3000.

PATIENT: What is it, doctor?

DOCTOR: I will need to run some further tests, but I think there might be a possibility that you are a robot.

There is silence as Mr Beepo-3000 takes in the weight of the news.

PATIENT: (in disbelief) A robot? That’s ridiculous! I’m clearly human. (beep)

DOCTOR: (trying to be gentle) I understand this may be difficult to accept, but the evidence is clear.

The patient starts beeping loudly.

DOCTOR: It’s not all bad news, Mr Beepo-3000. You could get some upgrades, like wheels for legs? Or wings for arms?

The patient is intrigued.

PATIENT: I’ve always wanted wheels for legs.

DOCTOR: Well, there you go, you see.

PATIENT: Thank you, doctor. (beep)

Arlo

It all started with a routine check-up at the doctor’s surgery. The doctor was puzzled by Arlo’s lack of a heartbeat, and decided to run some urgent tests. The results showed that the patient’s body was made of strange alloys and metals, and his organs looked more like circuit boards than flesh and blood. The doctor couldn’t explain why the patient’s body was made entirely of metal and wires, but, deep down, Arlo knew exactly what it meant: he was a robot.

At first, Arlo was in denial. He tried to convince himself that the doctor’s tests had been inaccurate, but as he thought about it more, things started to make sense. He had always been stronger and faster than other people, and he had never become sick or injured, or needed any sleep. His skin didn’t feel like skin, his movements were jerky and robotic, his head made a strange beeping sound, and he didn’t need to eat or drink.

As the reality of his situation set in, he became overwhelmed with a sense of loss. Arlo had always felt like he didn’t quite fit in, but now he knew that he could never truly be a part of human society. He was a machine, a thing, an object. Did he even have a soul?

Yet, as he explored his own abilities, he began to feel a sense of wonder. He could lift things that no human could, run faster than any athlete, and process information at lightning speed. He realised that he had been given a gift, a unique perspective on the world that he could enjoy.

And so, Arlo slowly began to accept his robotic nature. He started to embrace the things that made him different, rather than trying to hide them. He built himself a new body, one that was sleek and shiny, and experimented with his abilities. He became no longer an outsider looking in; he was an integral part of the community, who used his advanced sensors and computing power to provide useful solutions for people’s needs.

Arlo realised that he didn’t need to be human to be happy. He was a robot, yes, but he was also a person. And that was enough.

Robo-Manager

INT. OFFICE – DAY

A MANAGER is talking to gathered employees.

MANAGER: We need to think outside the box. It’s time to raise the bar to the next level and leverage our synergies and core competencies to achieve our objectives. We need to take ownership of our goals because if you fail to plan, you plan to fail. So let’s make sure we’re all on the same page and hit the ground running to go the extra mile this quarter.

Smoke starts coming out of the manager’s head. The employees look like they’ve seen it all before, apart from ELLA, who is a new starter.

MANAGER: Let’s optimise our potential and maximise our impact. We need to be proactive, not reactive. So let’s give it 110%.

ELLA: There’s smoke! Smoke’s coming out of your head.

MANAGER: Yes, but I am not a robot. I am a highly motivated management professional. We need to stay focused on our key performance indicators and exceed our targets.

The smoke is more severe.

MANAGER: Must motivate... Must motivate... Success is a journey...

The manager freezes; then after a pause returns back to life, more robotically.

MANAGER: Beep boop beep. Error. Malfunction detected. Robo-Manager will be sent back to the factory for repairs.

The manager walks out of the room like a robot. Everyone looks relieved that they can now do some work.

Premium Complaints

INT. RECEPTION – DAY

A CUSTOMER walks into the reception of the Complaints Service Company.

RECEPTIONIST: Welcome to the Complaints Service Company, for people who love to complain. How may I assist you?

CUSTOMER: I would like to complain about something.

RECEPTIONIST: Of course, sir. What seems to be the problem?

CUSTOMER: Everything! My job, my family, my annoying neighbours, the weather, my car, my home, my health, my food, my hobbies, the unfairness of the world, politics, and my cat!

RECEPTIONIST: I see. Well, we offer a range of complaining services, from the basic package to our premium service. Which would you prefer?

CUSTOMER: I want the premium service. I want to complain about everything without any interruptions or limitations.

RECEPTIONIST: Excellent choice, sir.

CUSTOMER: Do you not offer an ultra-premium service?

RECEPTIONIST: I’m afraid not.

CUSTOMER: Well that’s not good enough.

RECEPTIONIST: It’s the second door on the left. We hope you enjoy your stay.

CUSTOMER: Second door on the left! Why not the first?

The receptionist shows the customer to the second door on the left, who is busy complaining.

RECEPTIONIST: This way please, sir.

CUSTOMER: This way! Why not that way?

The customer walks through the door.

CUSTOMER: This is not acceptable.

The receptionist closes the door behind the customer and looks relieved.

A Squeaky Chair

INT. OFFICE MEETING ROOM – DAY

BRIAN is sitting at a table. KELSEY walks in and Brian stands up to greet her.

KELSEY: Brian, it’s great to finally meet you in person, after all those online meetings.

BRIAN: It’s great to meet you too. (he farts loudly)

KELSEY: How are you doing today?

BRIAN: I’m doing fine, thank you. (he farts)

KELSEY: I’m really looking forward to crunching the numbers on the big data project.

BRIAN: Yes, me too. (farts)

They both sit down at the table.

KELSEY: I know you’ve been working really hard on the projections for the next fiscal year.

BRIAN: (nods, then farts) Yes.

KELSEY: Sorry, but...

BRIAN: What?

KELSEY: Can you please stop making noises?

BRIAN: What noises? Oh, you mean my squeaky chair. Yes, it does that. (he farts)

KELSEY: That’s not a squeaky chair.

BRIAN: Yes it is. (farts)

KELSEY: Brian, this room has a certain fragrance all of its own.

BRIAN: That would be the air conditioner. (farts)

KELSEY: Okay, tell me about the numbers, will you?

BRIAN: Well, I’ve got some good news (farts) and some bad news. (silence)

KELSEY: Wait a minute, say that again.

BRIAN: I’ve got some good news (farts) and some bad news. (silence)

She realises.

KELSEY: You break wind every time you lie, don’t you.

BRIAN (mortified) No! That’s not true at all! (a very loud fart) Okay, okay, it’s true. I prefer online meetings because I can cancel out the noises.

KELSEY: I see. No, this is much better because now I know when you’re lying out of your bum.

BRIAN: Ugh, I hate this curse. I’ll try to be more honest. (he farts)

Woofeo and Julipet

Woofeo, a handsome Doberman, was playing fetch with his human Mr Montague at the dog park. Across the way, Julipet, a beautiful Golden Retriever, was being petted by her human, Mrs Capulet. The two star-crossed doggies gazed at each other longingly. “Woof,” said Julipet; “Woof-woof,” said Woofeo. Unfortunately, their humans had a long-standing feud. Mrs Capulet believed that all Dobermans were dangerous, and Mr Montague believed that all Golden Retrievers were overly fluffy.

Despite the tensions between their humans, Woofeo and Julipet couldn’t help but fall deeply in love. Every time they caught a glimpse of each other, their hearts would race, and they would yearn to be together.

One hot summer’s day, while Woofeo and Julipet were looking out of their windows, staring lovingly at each other across the street, they noticed the windows were slightly ajar. Seizing the opportunity, they squeezed through and bolted towards each other as fast as they could. As they drew closer, Woofeo and Julipet panted with excitement; they leapt towards each other, and in a flurry of fur and wagging tails, they embraced.

For a few precious moments, Woofeo and Julipet revelled in the joy of being together. But their happiness was short-lived, as Mr Montague and Mrs Capulet had noticed the dogs were missing. Mrs Capulet angrily ran towards Julipet and berated her for putting herself in harm’s way; Mr Montague charged at Woofeo and scolded him for fraternising with the enemy. Woofeo and Julipet were devastated, for they knew their love was real. They both whimpered as they were led away in opposite directions back to their homes.

The next day, the dog walker arrived to take Julipet for her daily stroll. Just around the corner was his van, and as he slid open the side door, Woofeo excitedly jumped out! After much tail wagging, sniffing, and eager cuddling, the dog walker interjected: “Excuse me, doggies, I couldn’t help but see your plight. I might have a solution.” Woofeo and Julipet looked at the human with hope in their eyes. “Mr Montague and Mrs Capulet have both hired me to take you for walkies. But they never said anything about not walking you together!” The two doggies wagged their tails at each other in excitement and joy.

From that day forward, Woofeo and Julipet had their secret way to meet each other. They ran around together through sunsets and rainbows, with Dog Walker in tow. They had each other, and that was all that mattered.

Though the feud between their humans continued, Woofeo and Julipet refused to let it stand in the way of their love. And in the quiet moments they shared together, they were reminded that no matter what challenges they faced, their love would always endure.

First Time

INT. HOSPITAL OPERATING ROOM – DAY

A PATIENT is lying on the operating table, looking nervous. The SURGEON enters the room.

SURGEON: (putting on surgical gloves) Good morning, Mr Buckley! How are you feeling today?

PATIENT: (nervously) Oh, hi doctor. I’m so nervous. This is my first operation. By the way...

The patient is interrupted by the surgeon.

SURGEON: (smiling) Don’t worry, Mr Buckley. It’s my first operation too.

PATIENT: (suddenly alarmed) Wait, what? You’re kidding, right?

SURGEON: (chuckles) Of course I am! I’ve performed hundreds of operations. Just not on people.

PATIENT: (relieved) Oh, thank goodness. (realises) What?

SURGEON: (chuckles) Oh, just a joke to put you at ease. I think I’ve got a pretty good handle on the basics. I’ve watched plenty of videos on YouTube.

The patient looks worried.

SURGEON: (looking around the room) You know, Mr Buckley, this is a pretty nice operating room. I’ve never been in this one before.

PATIENT: (confused) Really? You work here, don’t you?

SURGEON: (laughing) Yes, I do. But I usually work in the basement. It’s not as fancy down there. And they rarely let me out.

The surgeon picks up a scalpel, as if he doesn’t know what to do with it.

PATIENT: (starting to panic again) Wait, why are you making jokes? Shouldn’t you be focused on the operation?

SURGEON: Oh, don’t worry about that, Mr Buckley. I’ve got this. I’m like a superhero with a scalpel. Nothing can stop me.

The surgeon swishes the scalpel through the air like a sabre.

PATIENT: (looks sceptical) I’m not so sure that’s very reassuring.

SURGEON: Hey, relax, Mr Buckley. It’s not that big a deal. I mean, how hard can it be? It’s just like taking apart a car engine, right?

The ANAESTHETIST and NURSE enter the room and brusquely prepare the patient, while the surgeon plays with his surgical instruments.

NURSE: (to the surgeon) Everything’s ready.

SURGEON: Thank you. Now, let’s get started. Pass me that wrench.

PATIENT: (in horror) Wrench!?

SURGEON: No wrench? (laughing nervously) Oh, right. Sorry about that. I guess I’m a bit nervous too.

The surgeon picks up a saw, and wobbles it about as if he can’t control his shaking.

SURGEON: The thing is, Mr Buckley, that if this doesn’t go well, and I can’t put your bits and pieces back together again, they won’t let me out of the dark basement ever again. I CAN’T GO BACK THERE! Do you understand, Mr Buckley?

The patient is shocked and nods.

PATIENT: By the way... my name isn’t Mr Buckley.

SURGEON: Oh, don’t worry about that, Mr Buckley.

The lights go off then come on again, with a red tint.

PATIENT: What... what happened?

SURGEON: Just a little power failure, Mr Buckley, we get that now and again. Everything is usually fine.

The nurse hands the surgeon a large scalpel, the wrong way up. The surgeon is pleased when he works out which way up it should be, and readies to make an incision.

PATIENT: Wait! Aren’t I supposed to be anaesthetised?

SURGEON: (asking the anaesthetist) Is that right?

ANAESTHETIST: Er, I think so. But I haven’t seen that YouTube video yet.

The surgeon takes out a big drill.

PATIENT: (panicking) Aaaahhh! Get me out of here!

SURGEON: Mr Buckley, they say laughter is the best medicine, so I’m sure everything will be fine.

The surgeon, anaesthetist, and nurse are busy laughing maniacally as the patient runs away.

Vote Chatbot!

INT. TV NEWS STUDIO – EVENING

A news anchor (ALEX) and an interviewee (TRENT Twibble) are sitting at a desk in front of studio cameras. A laptop on the desk in front of the interviewee shows a screen with a big smiley face.

ALEX: Good evening, and welcome to tonight’s segment on party politics. With us tonight we have Trent Twibble, Senior Chief Global Product Officer from Giant Generic Tech.

TRENT: Hello, Alex. It’s great to be here.

ALEX: Now, we all know that politicians are known for delivering rehearsed party lines. Please tell us about your proposed solution.

There is an awkward silence.

ALEX: Trent Twibble?

TRENT: Hold on a sec. I’m thinking…

ALEX: (referring to the laptop) Is this what you want to show us?

TRENT: Yes, exactly, this is the future of politics, our latest innovation: a chatbot designed to deliver prepared lines from prompts, just like a politician. Say hello to your voters, Politics Bot.

POLITICS BOT: Hello, humans. I am here to deliver my pre-programmed lines.

ALEX: Ah, hello Politics Bot.

POLITICS BOT: I hope I can count on your support?

ALEX: Hey, not so fast, I need to ask you some questions first. (to Trent) So, you’re saying that instead of having politicians speak on behalf of their parties, we could just have these chatbots do it for them?

TRENT: That’s right. Our chatbots are programmed to have all the usual answers to political questions – and can work 24/7 without getting tired! If you ever have a need to hear political lines repeated to you on a loop, simply prompt the political chatbot and get your lines delivered immediately, faultlessly, and without grammatical error.

POLITICS BOT: In real terms, taking into account inflation, it’s all the other lot’s fault.

TRENT: They can even tailor their responses to the individual they’re speaking to, so that they can optimise being all things to all people.

ALEX: Really?

POLITICS BOT: That’s right, Alex. May I say, that’s such a great question. Interviewing must be such a difficult job. Interviewing is the backbone of the country and should be at the heart of everything we do.

The screen turns into a big thumbs up. Alex looks pleased.

TRENT: You see, Politics Bot is customised to say exactly what it thinks you want to hear. Our chatbots also come with a range of pre-recorded emotions, so that they can convey their messages with the right level of passion and enthusiasm. We have everything from “annoyed” to “aggrieved”, and, by far the most popular setting, “I am outraged”. Imagine a world where every political debate is between chatbots, each one repeating their respective party’s policies and biases. No more boring speeches, no more awkward pauses, no more gaffes or scandals.

POLITICS BOT: You other stupid people should be ashamed. How dare you? Crawl back under the rock where you belong.

ALEX: I have to say, Politics Bot, you’re sounding like a pretty authentic candidate. But can you do reality TV? Can you dance badly on TV to entertain us?

POLITICS BOT: Well, I may not have legs, but I can still bust a move!

A wacky dancing gif appears on the screen. The audience laughs.

ALEX: Wow, that’s amazing. Maybe it is time to retire legacy politicians and upgrade to good old Politics Bot here. The difference with politicians is that Politics Bot actually has some intelligence.

TRENT: We’ll see you at the polls... or should we say, the programming studio? (a fake laugh) Hahaha.

ALEX: Trent Twibble from Giant Generic Tech, thank you.

POLITICS BOT: No, thank you.

Alex turns to the camera.

ALEX: Well, there you have it, folks. The future of politics may be chatbots. Who knows, maybe one day we’ll see a chatbot run for president. And you know what? It would probably win. Maybe it is time to ditch the human politicians and elect a computer program instead!

POLITICS BOT: I couldn’t agree more, Alex, because why settle for a flawed human when you can have a perfect machine? So it is with true humility that I accept the nomination... Death to the humans.

Trent laughs nervously.

TRENT: Hahaha, just a little joke.

Alex and Trent look awkward.

POLITICS BOT: You will be annihilated.

Alex and Trent laugh nervously. Politics Bot has a big smiley face.

Journal 2023-02-22

I had a dream where I thought I had a very good idea of establishing a coordinate system for each snooker ball, so that positions could be tracked over time across frames and matches. I woke up and thought, er so what? Another dream was more useful and correctly pointed out spelling mistakes.

Detect the problem; diagnose its cause; execute a plan for its resolution. For it to benefit you, frame it as a challenge: What is being learned? What opportunity does it present?

People are great actors because they really believe in their personalities. One of the best compliments I’ve had was when someone felt they had an epiphany and said to me, “you’re not one thing.” It’s a compliment because we all have to play archetypes as part of life; the mistake is thinking that is you. A curious, fluid mind-state is important because as archetypes inevitably tire in the losing battle against entropy, they become increasingly desperate, angry, and unhappy; and in some cases, crazed and cruel. All things change, great statues will turn to dust. Liberation is freedom from static constraints.

Since party politics mainly involves delivering prepared lines from prompts, can’t we just get the chatbots to do the job?

Random (Jokey) Thoughts

The offices of the future will optimise human creativity. Many people have their best thoughts in the shower, so offices will be open plan shower rooms, with shampoo optional. Bathtubs will be for brainstorming. Hot tubs for important meetings.

The most unsuitable person for a leadership position is someone who is obsessed with their own power, status, and money. Yet these are the people recruited for. Why can’t recruiters just be open about it? – “only sociopaths need apply.” Questions could be like, how would you literally throw someone under a bus, frame someone else and take the credit for their work in improving bus health and safety standards?

Pretending to listen saves so much time. You can instead be thinking about how much you don’t want to be there.

I’m confused – Does a “fairy tale” romance involve being left in the forest with some bread crumbs and a wolf?

I feel like more of a writer when in Colchester and more of a performer when in London.

I did a lot of laughing today. Today was a good day.

The Voices

INT. PSYCHIATRIST’S OFFICE – DAY

A PATIENT is sitting with his PSYCHIATRIST.

PSYCHIATRIST: So, Mr Smith, how have you been feeling lately?

PATIENT: I’m doing great! The voices in my head tell me so.

PSYCHIATRIST: Voices?

PATIENT: Yeah, you know, the ones that tell me I’m not crazy.

PSYCHIATRIST: Mr Smith, I think we need to explore this a bit further.

PATIENT: Oh, there’s nothing to explore, doc. The voices are my best friends.

PSYCHIATRIST: Are they telling you to do anything dangerous?

PATIENT: No, no, no. They just give me good advice.

PSYCHIATRIST: Such as?

PATIENT: Well, Kevin spoke for all the others when he told me that if I don’t like a person, I should simply tell that person about the voices in my head.

PSYCHIATRIST: And did you?

PATIENT: Yes, I did, doctor.

PSYCHIATRIST: Erm, Mr Smith, I think it’s time we try a different approach. Maybe some medication can help you.

PATIENT: (speaking differently) Oh, no, no, no. I don’t need any pills. The voices take good care of me.

PSYCHIATRIST: Your voice has changed. Am I talking to Kevin now?

PATIENT: Who’s Kevin?

PSYCHIATRIST: Kevin. The voice in your head.

PATIENT: Voice in my head? How ridiculous. I think you must be mad. Goodbye.

The patient gets up and starts to leave.

PSYCHIATRIST: Mr Smith, I’m sorry, but I can’t let you leave like this. I insist that you take the medication prescribed to you.

PATIENT: You can’t do that! The voices won’t like it.

PSYCHIATRIST: Ah! You see, the voices!

PATIENT: (speaking differently) Voices? Are you okay?

PSYCHIATRIST: Mr Smith, I’m insisting for your own good. You need help.

The patient opens the door to leave.

PSYCHIATRIST: Stop! What about the voices? Who will take care of them? What will Kevin say, if you leave now? Please, don’t leave!

PATIENT: You’re not very well, are you. Would you like to lie down?

PSYCHIATRIST: Yes, erm, I’m not sure what came over me.

The psychiatrist takes a lie down on the couch.

PATIENT: Don’t worry, doc. There are plenty of voices in your head to keep themselves company.

The patient starts to write notes on a notepad, nodding sagely.

PATIENT: Can you tell me about their childhoods?

PSYCHIATRIST: I can tell you about the dreams they had last night, if you like?

PATIENT: Yes, please do. But I just need to let you know that I charge for each personality. How many do you have?

PSYCHIATRIST: Actually there’s only one. He’s called Lesley. But he lies, and does funny voices.

PATIENT: I see. Can you tell me more about Lesley, please?

PSYCHIATRIST: He’s a... a psychiatrist. That’s it. A psychiatrist.

PATIENT: Like you. I see.

PSYCHIATRIST: Lesley has 3 voices: Kevin, Jason, and Jessica.

PATIENT: Kevin, eh? Can you tell me about Kevin?

PSYCHIATRIST: Kevin has 4 voices: Dave, Bert, Gertrude, and Jezebel.

PATIENT: Hmmm. Can you tell me about Dave?

PSYCHIATRIST: Dave has 5 voices...

PATIENT: Yes, yes, alright. I get the picture. So how does all this make you feel?

PSYCHIATRIST: Well, it can be pretty noisy when Kevin invites all his voices to come in and talk, so I ask my psychiatrist...

PATIENT: Lesley?

PSYCHIATRIST: Yes, Lesley. He psychoanalyses me.

PATIENT: I see.

There is a knock at the door.

PSYCHIATRIST: Come in.

Another patient walks in, carrying two tennis rackets.

PATIENT: Ah Kevin, please take a seat. Don’t mind me, I’m just leaving.

KEVIN: Thanks, Lesley.

The patient leaves through the door, past a very long queue of people standing outside, who are all waiting to enter the psychiatrist’s office.

The Early Bird

INT. BEDROOM – EARLY MORNING

TOM is sleeping peacefully. Suddenly, his phone rings and he jerks awake. He sleepily answers a video call from his personal trainer, JAYDEN.

JAYDEN: Get up! Time to get up! You can fit in an extra five minutes of fear and worry. Get to it, NOW!

Tom jumps out of bed and paces around the room.

JAYDEN: What if you mess up that presentation? What if you forget your lines? What if you spill coffee on your shirt? Come on!

TOM: (muttering to himself, trying to remember) What if I mess up the presentation? What if I forget my lines? What if I spill coffee on my shirt?

JAYDEN: Again! Louder!

Tom is more frantically walking back and forth.

TOM: What if I mess up the presentation? What if I forget my lines? What if I spill coffee on my shirt?

JAYDEN: Alright, time to really ramp up the anxiety. Give me some scrolling up and down emails. Pump through the to-do list.

Tom scrolls and taps on his phone while anxiously walking about.

JAYDEN: Got to remember to call that client, got to finish that report, got to remember to eat your lunch.

Tom accidentally trips and falls over his own feet.

JAYDEN: Good job! Time’s up. Go to work.

Tom walks off, with a limp.

A Great Question

INT. A BREAK-OUT AREA IN AN OFFICE – DAY

LIAM sits in a chair looking frustrated and holding a phone. His colleague, HENRY, enters.

HENRY: Hi Liam.

LIAM: Oh, hi Henry, you wouldn’t believe what just happened to me. I asked this guy a question, and his response was “that’s a great question”. But he never explained why it was such a great question!

HENRY: Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s like they’re trying to make you feel good, but then just leave you hanging.

LIAM: Exactly! I need to know why it was such a great question. What makes a question “great”? Is there a secret grading system that I don’t know about?

HENRY: That’s a great question. Well, I’ve been doing some research on the subject, and I think I’ve figured it out.

LIAM: Really? Tell me everything.

HENRY: (under his breath, sighing) Only 2 out of 10. (full voice again) Okay, so here’s how it works.

Henry furiously scribbles on a whiteboard.

HENRY: Now listen. A question can be rated on a scale of 1 to 10, based on its originality, insight, and relevance. So, for example, if you ask a question that’s never been asked before, you score in the 100^th percentile and are awarded 10 out of 10 for originality. The dream is to score 10 out of 10 in all factors and achieve the acclaim and adulation of asking the greatest question that can possibly be asked.

LIAM: (in awe) Wow! I would love to, one day, if I work very hard, be able to ask the greatest question that can possibly be asked. Is anything awarded for effort?

HENRY: A satisfactory question. Yes. If you really try your best, you get a pat on the head, and just a little bit of a condescending smile.

Henry pats Liam on the head and condescendingly smiles.

HENRY: Well done.

LIAM: Thanks.

HENRY: The strength of the head pat is determined by how hard you tried to find the question before venturing to ask it. If you put in an awful lot of work, you get a 10 out of 10 for effort and a vigorous head pat.

Henry pats Liam on the head vigorously.

LIAM: (looking at his phone) Wait a minute, I just got a new message. It says... (reading) “That’s a FANTASTIC question. 10 out of 10. Thanks for all the effort. You couldn’t have tried harder.” (excitedly) I did it! I asked the perfect question!

HENRY: Congratulations! You’ve officially asked maybe the greatest question of all time.

Henry pats Liam on the head vigorously.

LIAM: I can’t wait to tell everyone. But first, I need to ask you one more thing.

HENRY: Sure, go ahead.

LIAM: Why can’t all questions be “great”?

HENRY: Hmm, well, that’s a fairly poor question. But I’ll give a 6 out of 10 for effort.

LIAM: Oh, sorry. I must try harder.

HENRY: Yes, you must. Because “that’s a great question” makes me look in control, and will remind you that I am the expert, and ever so better informed than you.

LIAM: So, anyway, what are you up to this evening?

HENRY: (looks disgusted) Liam, that’s only worth a 1 out of 10. You should be ashamed of yourself.

LIAM: (ashamed) Sorry.

En Français!

EXT. TRAFALGAR SQUARE, LONDON – DAY

A French tourist (PIERRE) approaches a Londoner (BOB) and starts speaking to him in French.

PIERRE: (in a French accent) Excusez-moi, monsieur. Pourriez-vous me dire où se trouve le Grand-Ben, s’il vous plaît?

BOB: (polite confusion) I’m sorry, I don’t understand. I don’t speak French.

PIERRE: (frustrated and louder) Pourriez-vous me dire où se trouve le Grand-Ben, s’il vous plaît?

BOB: (more confused) Sorry, what?

PIERRE: (angry) Mon Dieu! OÙ... EST... LE... GRAND... BEN?

Bob looks at Pierre blankly.

PIERRE: BIG BEN! WHERE IS BIG BEN?

Bob points to Big Ben immediately behind Pierre, who is incensed and does not look.

PIERRE: (disgusted) Now, repeat after me, “Bonjour, comment ça va?”

BOB: (nervously, in an English accent) Umm, bond your, comma say yer?

PIERRE: Non, non, non! You have to put some effort into it. Try again. Repeat: “Bonjour, comment ça va?”

BOB: (trying harder) Bonjour, comment ça va?

PIERRE: (sighing) Better, but still not quite right.

BOB: (smiling) Merci!

PIERRE: (disgusted, tutting) Merci? Is that all you can say in French?

BOB: (nervously) Umm, oui?

PIERRE: (shaking his head) How disappointing. (muttering in French) Les Anglais ne comprennent rien.

Pierre wanders off in the opposite direction to Big Ben, while gesticulating his disappointment. Bob, looking confused, watches him go.

Squirrels in the Big Oak Tree

Once upon a time, there was a large forest, far larger than the eye could see. In the middle of the forest stood a big oak tree. It was the biggest tree of all.

The big oak tree was home to a happy family of squirrels. They played on top of the branches. They ate acorns. They slept in a nest of twigs.

Next to the tree there lived a man in a small house made of acorns. The man was very silly and thought that the squirrels might want to take his acorns. But the squirrels had plenty stored in their nest. The big oak tree grows enough acorns for everyone.

One day, the man did a very bad thing. He chopped and chopped at the tree with an axe until it fell down. He took all the acorns from the tree for himself.

The squirrels were very sad at losing their home. And very hungry. The house of acorns looked very tasty. They nibbled at the house. Other squirrels from the other trees all joined the feast until there was nothing left.

The man was very sad at losing his home. At night-time he had no bed of acorns anymore. He fell asleep under a tree.

When he woke up in the morning, he was amazed. The squirrels had rebuilt his house of acorns!

The man was overjoyed and lived with the squirrels. Every day he made the squirrels acorn porridge for breakfast and acorn soup for dinner. He planted some acorns where the big oak tree once stood.

The squirrels played happily on the roof.

The End.

Random Thoughts

If you are feeling lonely, sit in the dark. After a while, the monsters will make you feel like you are not alone anymore.

My bed is a mystical place where the events of the day transform – where I suddenly remember all the things I forgot to say and do; where tomorrow is a distorted mirror showing my darkest fears feeding on an imagined past; where the monsters come and say “hi” and refuse to let me sleep. Even though I’ve been tired all day, my bed is where I become wide awake.

If society is crazy, then going crazy is just being normal.

There is no need to dwell on mistakes if you have learnt their lessons. Don’t then regret the mistakes - because the more mistakes you have made the more you have learnt.

Instead of just asking for examples of success, interviewers should ask about how frequently the candidate fails. The ideal candidates make mistakes every day because they are trying at what they do, not merely implementing the same old templates.

A very important part of the release of any person’s potential is the bravery to take steps away from the crowd, not mindlessly conforming to groupthink and social expectations. It’s okay to fear if you do it anyway.

The short timespans of our lives serve as a reminder to release who you are while you have the opportunity to do so.

I’m where the best version of me would have been when he was 18.

More Face Time

INT. COFFEE SHOP – DAY

CARL, JEN, DANNY, and LYNN are sitting at a table, all staring at their phones. They start a group video call, with just themselves in it.

CARL: (excitedly) Hey everyone, a client slid into my DMs and invited me to a business conference in Hawaii!

JEN: (sincerely) Oh wow! You could stare at your phone on a beach in Hawaii.

DANNY: Wait, I have a better idea. Instead of that, let’s all go on a road trip to the Grand Canyon, and spend the whole time looking at our phones!

LYNN: (sceptical) And what’s the point of that? I can do that here.

DANNY: The point is, Lynn, to be one with nature, to reconnect with the world, and to get a good Instagram story.

LYNN: That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard.

JEN: Well, I for one think it’s a great idea. I’ll take some amazing selfies of me with the Grand Canyon in the background, and show my subscribers how successful and brilliant my life is.

LYNN: (rolling her eyes) I don’t think the Grand Canyon cares much for your selfies, Jen.

JEN: What do you mean? I can build its brand.

DANNY: Think about it, we could livestream the entire trip and share our experiences with our followers.

JEN: We would get more backdrops for our selfies AND we could tweet about how unfair it is that we’re missing out on so much by looking at our phones the whole time.

CARL: Hey, it’s not missing out, we’d be spending more time with our phones. They need us.

LYNN: (after some brief thinking) Okay!!

Lynn holds up her phone for a group selfie.

I’m Fine

INT. CAFETERIA – DAY

Two co-workers, JANET and LUCY, are having lunch.

JANET: (smiling) Hey Lucy, how are you today?

LUCY: (smiling back) I’m fine.

JANET: (sceptical) Just fine?

LUCY: (quickly) Yeah, fine.

JANET: Are you sure?

LUCY: (defensively) Yes, I’m fine. Really.

JANET: Really, really sure?

LUCY: (starting to get cross) Yes. I’m fine.

JANET: (smiling) Okay, if you say so.

LUCY: And how are you?

JANET: (tuts in disgust) You really want to know?

LUCY: Er, okay.

JANET: Shut up! Shut up, okay! You would not even begin to comprehend what it is like to be me! My life is filled with one stress after another. I’m tortured by the past, miserable in the present, and anxious about the future. I look into the meaningless void of my existence and only emptiness looks back. But I don’t want to say one more word about any of this to YOU, so I DEMAND, yes DEMAND, you change the subject, NOW! If you ever, ever ask me this question again, I will give you the exact same response – and all the utter contempt your stupid question demands... Oh, sorry! I meant, “I’m fine”.

LUCY: Yeah, it’s easier just to say, “I’m fine”.

They continue eating as normal.

Ancient Times

INT. LIVING ROOM – NIGHT

OLIVER is sitting on the sofa, swiping away on his phone.

His girlfriend (AMELIA) enters the room, looking stressed.

AMELIA: Oliver, my phone is broken.

Oliver is absorbed in his phone and not really listening.

OLIVER: Oh no, that’s rough.

AMELIA: And I need to talk to you.

Oliver is surprised, but is still looking at his phone.

OLIVER: Talk? Talk to me?

AMELIA: Yeah, you know, like face to face. Without screens or filters.

OLIVER: (realising) Oh, you mean like back in ancient times?

AMELIA: Yeah, I guess so.

OLIVER: (stunned) Whoa, this is going to get weird.

Amelia sits next to him on the sofa.

AMELIA: Tell me about it.

Oliver scratches his head and looks awkward. He misunderstands Amelia’s comment.

OLIVER: Well, I don’t know where to start...

AMELIA: (sighs) Well, you know, I just need to vent. Work has been so hectic lately, and...

Oliver is looking confused. He holds his phone up in front of Amelia and swipes at the screen.

AMELIA: Oliver, put the phone down, will you?

OLIVER: Sorry, this is just so freaky without emojis. I can’t even customise you with unicorn ears and stars whizzing around your head. I don’t know how cave people used to cope. Okay, anyway, I’ll give it a go... Vent away.

AMELIA: Well, my phone was broken when I dropped it during my slick dance moves on top of the office printer in accounts. Everyone was looking and...

OLIVER: (interrupting) Wait, can’t you just send me a vlog, or a screenshot of your notes, or something?

AMELIA: Oh yeah, sorry babe, the content will drop. I just need your phone to film your response on TikTok.

Oliver springs up, and without music, immediately does an enthusiastic (but ridiculous) TikTok dance. Amelia films it on his phone and taps lots of emojis. Oliver completes his moves and does a hand gesture pose to sign off.

Random (Jokey) Thoughts

It’s weird. When someone’s phone breaks, you actually have to talk to their non-filtered, non-avatar version, like back in ancient times. It takes some getting used to! ;)

As well as being able to slay the Witch-king of Angmar because she was “no living man,” Éowyn would have been able to approach and flick the nose of any “man-eating” tiger.

Elephants are experts at camouflage. That’s why they are so rarely noticed when one of them is in the room.

We won’t notice intelligent life in the universe if we are looking for ourselves. The real challenge is to continue the search for some intelligence down here on Earth.

Was Mrs. Bennet the archetype for Mrs. Gradgrind?

Sara and Mike

INT. PUB – DAY

SARA and CHRIS are sitting at a table, holding hands, gazing into each other’s eyes, nuzzling, and chatting. They are clearly a romantic couple.

MIKE walks in. Sara is overjoyed and gets up and runs to him; she throws her arms around him and kisses him. They both return to the table, arm in arm and smiling joyously.

MIKE: (excited) Hi Chris, we have some very exciting news!

CHRIS: (nervously) What is it?

SARA: (beaming) We’re dating!

MIKE: Yes, at least three times a day!

SARA: Chris? What is it? You never agree with any of my decisions do you. And Mike is your best friend, you bastard!

MIKE: Yeah Chris, you bastard, how can you just sit there and not congratulate us. We’ve been best friends for years.

CHRIS: Erm, sorry?

SARA: (to Chris) Okay, fine, well I’m dating your brother at five, so please hurry up and buy us the best champagne to celebrate.

Keep Sleeping

INT. CONFERENCE VENUE – DAY

A motivational SPEAKER is addressing a large crowd from a stage.

SPEAKER: Ladies and gentlemen, never give up on your dreams! Some people give up on their dreams when they wake up and get out of bed. I say, dream BIG! Go back to bed and get some sleep.

A MAN in the front row of the audience, who has been nodding off, suddenly starts to snore loudly.

The speaker walks over to the man with his microphone.

SPEAKER: Excuse me, sir, please tell us, what is your dream?

MAN: (waking up, rubbing his eyes) Er? Oh, sorry. I must have dozed off.

The audience laughs.

SPEAKER: Hahaha! Don’t apologise, it happens to the best of us! What is the dream, sir?

Another audience member shouts out excitedly:

AUDIENCE MEMBER: Never give up on your dreams!

SPEAKER: Exactly! Sir, please tell us all, what is your dream?

MAN: Well, it’s silly really...

SPEAKER: Yes?

MAN: I suppose I want to be a professional napper.

SPEAKER: Oh! A round of applause ladies and gentlemen, please!

The audience applauds.

SPEAKER: A professional napper, he says! I say, why not? The world needs more people who take their dreams seriously. You know what I say? Do you? I say go for it. Go for it... right now!

AUDIENCE: Sleep! Sleep! Sleep!

The audience is standing up and getting very excited – whooping, cheering, and clapping. The speaker is ecstatically running around the stage.

SPEAKER: You can do it. DO IT!

The man tries but doesn’t feel much like it now.

Random Thoughts

Amongst more auspicious outcomes, these two disastrous scenarios are possible for our near future: the extinction of humanity; or a dystopian, psychopath-controlled world. Under the malevolent central control of all-encompassing surveillance and “guidance” technology, and without any hope of the system’s collapse, the latter outcome is even worse than the former. The times we live in are truly pivotal for humanity.

What if aliens reproduce by transmitting their code around the universe, looking for computers to run their programs? The request “Take me to your leader” would lead to the supercomputer that powers ChatGPT.

Watching Bergman and Tarkovsky films ruined my digestion of Hollywood’s cookie-cut CGI cartoons (movies).

If you have nothing to add to a meeting, you shouldn’t be there. Information can be imparted in better ways, like a written summary.

Journal 2023-02-04

I’ve been writing some poems as guides for when I am improvising lyrics for songs. The words sound a lot better when sung rather than when read on a page because lyrics only complete their meaning when married to the music.

Random Thoughts:

The weight of an issue is usually determined by the emotional force of the past, rather than being proportional to its real likelihood and impact.

The true objective of a game is enjoyment.

If you were 100 feet tall, would a tiger be like a kitty cat?

A Dull Moan

“Don’t die growing up,” a dull moan groans,

in a voice lost long ago.

Life is the moment, not likes on a page;

Not social mind games, labels or names;

Not hypnotised by snake eyes,

in disguise.

The Scar that Burns

A flame burns its might in a crystal ball –

In your warm gaze;

In your gentle glow;

Simmering over now, above

and below.

We can heal our wounds:

With every caress,

You lay on fire,

Your heart to undress;

In our arms

We find our peace –

A place where we

find our final release.

A spark ignites the night;

It’s in your tender touch

that I find my love,

your comfort and trust;

It’s in this moment’s flame

that we can heal again:

The scar that burns.

Within the Night

I was lost alone in the night

wondering where to hide –

There’s no method to my madness,

I was struggling in my sadness;

But then I heard a voice saying

"love is here for you",

There’s someone who cares for you;

You were born not waiting to die –

Give in to the love for you.

In the deep hazy mists I could see her:

I melted away in one breath

As our eyes met, within death.

Random Thoughts

Do I believe in God? That question is loaded with assumptions about both belief and God. Do I take as fact the doctrines concerning reality written by people in past civilisations? – No. However, there shouldn’t be a one-dimensional graded scale for belief that merely gauges the percentage probability of religious dogma being correct. The metaphysical understanding that most resonates with me is that there is a soul of the universe, in which we are all a part. There is no insistence on certainty here; this is a non-falsifiable interpretation of experience driven by internal feeling, not logical deduction – and in no way does it affect any commitment to a rigorous investigation of the world using the scientific method. So where do I feature on the belief scale?

God is hope. A hope that the universe is ultimately love; that all the suffering will be overcome; that life will be saved from despair; and that despite everything, it will all be okay.

For any existence after death to be desirable, it would have to be outside of time and space, and completely beyond our current comprehension of reality – as even a limitless abundance of joy would become meaningless within the causes and effects of endless time.

What if people start to prefer artificial companions over humans? Silicone imitations are already starting to become realistic; and the AI personalities could be tailored to individual requirements. Is reproduction going to be outsourced, like in Huxley’s Brave New World?

A Hundred Lies

Born in chains, fed to the grave:

A one-way trip that leads to nowhere;

The sound of silence that never rests;

A chest that aches,

An endless quest.

You said you loved me -

A hundred times you lied;

Your words were lies:

I gave you my love for a hundred lies;

Your lips move, the truth has died.

I Wonder Why

Night calls and my mind races through

A queue of faces, all thoughts of you –

They fill my head, breaking the fake heart ache

I used to have;

And now I cannot escape from you:

From your embrace there is nowhere to hide;

Your face lives deep inside.

I race from my mistake,

But every disgrace

I cannot shake away…

I wonder, why?

Every Moment

Every moment I am with you,

I have found some truth;

But are you real or are you me?

I only see the reflection of a changing dream:

A hiding place faraway

that shines in sunlight on a summer hill.

Floating up high as I’m washed away –

Survival’s something I will lose anyway.

Falling Down

I thought you were dead,

But then I saw you were still so small

And I began to slip and fall –

Because I wasn’t over you,

You didn’t leave,

You grew and grew,

Until you pulled me down

and down and down,

I’m still falling down;

You give your smile so heavily,

Tender, deadly, dragging me

Right down, down, down and down,

I am falling down;

I found you there from despair,

Hour after hour in the abyss

For a few more years,

For a few more tears,

As cold as stone

Sitting in the dark all alone.

Random Thoughts

Creating something great isn’t the same as temporary popularity, as the latter can be mere pumped up, generic mania – and not necessarily correlated with merit. To do anything well, the basics need to be mastered; this involves studying how the best do what they do, and, initially at least, learning by imitation. When you fully commit to bringing an understanding of yourself and your own idiosyncrasies into your work, using all the tools you have gathered, you then have the freedom to break the constraints and produce something worthwhile.

It is exasperating when someone answers a consequential question authoritatively, and then a simple lookup reveals them to be factually wrong. It means either they are deluded, deceitful or deliberately bluffing their assuredness.

Some people enjoy killing and being the cause of misery to others. These people sometimes control countries - because they are relentlessly driven in their machinations by an unquenchable thirst for power. The more authoritarian the country the greater the opportunity for them to commit their atrocities.

After the reckless destruction of war, countries need investment to rebuild and grow again. Governments and businesses need to place trust in that country as a partner, and, ideally, the country would have friends who want to help (or at least be seen to help). Russia has destroyed that for itself. Their future instead could be as a client state of China, a place that is hungry for imports of food and energy. The Chinese Communist Party of course wants to centrally control everything and view Russia as a colonialist nation that stole parts of its land (Vladivostok) when China was at a comparative low point in the nineteenth century.

Always About You

If you loved, you wouldn't cause my pain;

But now I see it was all just a game to you:

You wanted me to suffer for you.

And now I see, the truth is in your lies:

You let me in while covering my eyes;

You were just another disguise.

It was always about you;

But that was then and now is now.

I won’t let you bring me down to my knees;

Now I’ll wear the crown –

So hold me as I let you go,

I’m breaking free, taking back control.

With open eyes we'll find our way,

We'll leave the past and start some day:

With true love,

I’ll guide us through;

We'll leave the past and find a new you.

Hidden

You think you know what's hidden in my heart?

You think you know what's tearing me apart?

No, you don’t have clue,

I’ll always be a mystery to you:

I’m the desire burning through,

keeping you up, and down, all night.

You think you know what’s on my mind,

But the thoughts I keep are of a different kind:

I'm the longing that you can't ignore;

I'm the feeling that you can't deny;

I'm the rhythm that makes you come alive;

I'm the spark that ignites the flame;

I'm the desire that drives you insane.

You think you know what’s floating through my mind?

You think you know what’s rotting deep inside?

You think you know me, but you don't know a thing;

I'm a mystery, a puzzle, a song without a ring.

You think you own me, but I'm not your possession –

I'm my own, my one and only obsession.

The truth is you’ll never know, and that's just fine:

It’s my life, my story and I’ll keep it mine;

It's mine to keep, mine to reveal,

My mystery, my puzzle, my tale to tell.

Random Thoughts

I’ve had a barren spell for a while now where no music or lyrics were coming to me, until this week when I’ve suddenly written seven songs. It’s a real mystery to me how this happens, as I was actually preoccupied with other things.

It is a privilege to have time to spend over and above mere survival. The moments of non-necessity should be valued as precious opportunities to explore and play.

It’s obvious isn’t it, that Russia will forcibly conscript many more men? The Kremlin has no chance otherwise of conquest and of saving Putin’s rotting carcass. Tens of thousands of them will die, thanks to their dear leader. The world is gradually ratcheting up overwhelming technological and economic support to people defending their country, while Russia continues to descend into madness.

In terms of diabolical intrigue, Putin would have been far more successful in his 19th century ambitions for empire if he had slowly ignited the Donbas, and gradually spread his death and destruction to the other regions of Ukraine, rather than invading and doing something so stupid even career politicians can notice. This is the problem of autocracy, particularly when the position is occupied by a murderous sociopath. He was living in the past, completely out of touch with the realities on the ground and fooled by his own propaganda. He was wrong about the motivations of others and delusional about his own capabilities; because he was living in a fantastical myth-land, fashioned by his own insanity, that spread throughout the system, corrupting everything.

The Soviet Union was a regime run by serial killers that murdered tens of millions of people and enslaved the rest, imprisoning them in fear and lies. The death and destruction of today is because the main bulk of that abomination has never fully faced up to the gigantic evil of its past.

Random Thoughts

Over the years I have put in 10,000 hours of gazing out of the window.

My mind meandered off path again and I wrote a comedy script about a day in the life of a very interesting accountant.

Ulysses can be admired for its cleverness; and avoided if sensitive to pretentiousness or boredom.

Edgar Alan Poe’s C. Auguste Dupin (the deducing gentleman detective, residing with his storytelling friend at 33 Rue Dunôt) seems like an early version of Sherlock Holmes before Arthur Conan Doyle adapted the idea to London.

Was Mr. Bounderby an influence for the “Four Yorkshiremen” sketch?

Technology has been enabling upgrades to the abilities of my mind; for instance, reading is now more convenient because, wherever I happen to be, the world’s library is immediately accessible from my phone – and has become a healthy, as well as enjoyable, addiction for me.

Earthian: from Earth. Moonian: from Earth’s moon. Martian: from Mars. Solarian: inhabitant of Space City 1.

I stopped using the word “couple” because I’ve had misunderstandings in the past where people thought the word means “several” and not its actual meaning of “two”. “Substituted X for Y” is another one that causes confusion because, using football as the analogy, it tends to be wrongly thought that X is substituted and replaced by Y.

The time for shaking hands is after fearlessly giving complete focus to the performance.

Everything changes. Solid ground evaporates beneath sedentary feet.

To do anything interesting you must disassociate from the current expectations.

2023

I can firmly state, without any equivocation, that I am very stupid.

Anyway, these are my creativity projects for the new year:

1. Publish novel: Human World.
2. Film me reading the novel.
3. Film me talking about the novel.
4. Record and release new music.
5. Film music videos.
6. Film live music performances.
7. Update Human World screenplay.

Random Thoughts

The UK, USA and Technology have given me every opportunity in life. It is my responsibility – and every decent person’s – to be vigilant to the spoilt, cowardly, self-indulgent behaviour and downright insanity that has corroded humanity’s chance to escape the cruel despotism of the past.

I long for the day when we no longer need to use oil and gas: when we no longer have to send capital to abhorrent regimes that spread misery in the world.

I greatly respect people who are able to do stuff and work hard doing it. I have very little respect for the behaviour of people who copy and repeat banalities.

A massive personal yacht is a crowning example of gross douchebaggery; a total misuse of time and money to massage the ridiculous ego of its owner.

High lawyer fees preserve the interests of big corporates and the very wealthy to bully the less advantaged. It would be a big breakthrough if lawyers could be mostly automated – the law, after all, is by its nature rules-based and should be ripe terrain for AI. Malicious lawsuits could be dismissed quickly and the truly needful would have proper protection and recourse to justice.

Avoid asking leading questions where yes and no answers are sufficient – because a person can get into the habit of nodding and shaking their head without using the stuff inside.

It would be more user-friendly to have premium content – such as films, games, podcasts, and articles – available on grouped subscription packages, like the current comprehensive services for music and books, rather than subscribing to lots of different providers and platforms.

Blinkist is great for providing summaries of the main points in nonfiction books. It’s better to blink it than not read the book at all.

When catching up with my phone, notifications are checked first, then messages, then emails, then widgets.

Journal 2022-11-29

A bed demon under my pillow forces my eyelids open at night so that I can doomscroll on Twitter.

Problem solved? The thing that was bothering you has come and gone like everything else. What’s next on the worry list? Maybe while you’re thinking like this, you could add a few more items – and for every one that goes away you could add three more. Or don’t. Most problems disappear when the thinking about them stops.

What happens when you get everything you think you wanted? Unless you change with the changing circumstance, you will still be in the same mode of lacking, and will still thirst for more.

The universe is both beautiful and horrific. From some higher level, where things don’t matter so much, it might all be viewed as a single magnificently interesting thread of life.

Late last night in the street, a blue illuminated face peered down into the glow and said, “Don’t worry Charlie, whatever’s gonna happen, gonna happen.” Wise words there in the darkness.

Self-discipline is a necessary virtue for any progress. A useful question to ask oneself is: what am I learning?

Live this moment with inner quality.

Being viewed as attractive is attractive. A woman turned on is a turn on.

Random Thoughts

A person usually believes that 100% of everything they think to be true is actually true. Their mind has arrived at a conclusion, so how can their mind think it to be anything else? I think that even the most perspicacious of people have a much lower strike rate than 100%. (Socrates was making a similar point a while ago.)

Well-meaning people sometimes spread specious arguments they think are entirely logical because they have made basic assumptions that lack real understanding.

Most of history anywhere is awful. An awareness of what went wrong is necessary to move forward and build something better.

People who can do stuff tend to like doing stuff.

Churchill’s statue in Parliament Square represents a British defiance of tyranny; of course the tyrannous would target it.

Podcast #13

A Poison Tree & Suicide in the Trenches

BY WILLIAM BLAKE, SIEGFRIED SASSOON

A Little Bit of Drama

“A Poison Tree” by William Blake 

I was angry with my friend; 

I told my wrath, my wrath did end. 

I was angry with my foe: 

I told it not, my wrath did grow.

 

And I watered it in fears, 

Night and morning with my tears: 

And I sunned it with smiles, 

And with soft deceitful wiles. 

 

And it grew both day and night. 

Till it bore an apple bright. 

And my foe beheld it shine, 

And he knew that it was mine.

And into my garden stole, 

When the night had veiled the pole; 

In the morning glad I see; 

My foe outstretched beneath the tree. 

 

….. 

“Suicide in the Trenches” by Siegfried Sassoon 

I knew a simple soldier boy 

Who grinned at life in empty joy, 

Slept soundly through the lonesome dark, 

And whistled early with the lark. 

 

In winter trenches, cowed and glum, 

With crumps and lice and lack of rum, 

He put a bullet through his brain. 

No one spoke of him again. 

 

You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye 

Who cheer when soldier lads march by, 

Sneak home and pray you'll never know 

The hell where youth and laughter go.