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    Buggins' Turn
    Buggins' Turn
    Buggins' Turn
    Ebook229 pages1 hour

    Buggins' Turn

    By Andre Jute

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    About this ebook

    Buggins' Turn
    the original screenplay
    by André Jute

    W. S. Buggins is the nerdiest wimp ever, an embarrassment.
    A poet, for crying out loud.
    Now the rappa-revo Bloody Raztuz Razzamatazz has recorded his poems.
    And Buggins,
    with only a little prodding from Celia
    — the beautiful stockbroker —
    is blossoming into a guerilla consumer advocate.
    With violence and destruction of property.
    A rock’n’roll romantic comedy we all wish would come true.
    "The hilarious crossover read!"

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAndre Jute
    Release dateSep 24, 2014
    ISBN9781310754234
    Buggins' Turn
    Author

    Andre Jute

    André Jute is a novelist and, through his non-fiction books, a teacher of creative writing, graphic design and engineering. There are about three hundred editions of his books in English and a dozen other languages.He was educated in Australia, South Africa and the United States. He has been an intelligence officer, racing driver, advertising executive, management consultant, performing arts critic and professional gambler. His hobbies include old Bentleys, classical music (on which for fifteen years he wrote a syndicated weekly column), cycling, hill walking, cooking and wine. He designs and builds his own tube (valve) audio amplifiers.He is married to Rosalind Pain-Hayman and they have a son. They live on a hill over a salmon river in County Cork, Eire.

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      Book preview

      Buggins' Turn - Andre Jute

      CONTENTS

      Book Jacket

      Start Reading BUGGINS TURN

      More Books by André Jute & Friends

      Book Jacket

      Wild but exciting. A grand job with plenty of irony.

      New York Times

      BUGGINS' TURN

      the original screenplay by

      André Jute

      W. S. Buggins is the nerdiest wimp ever, an embarrassment. A poet, for crying out loud. Now the rappa-revo Bloody Raztuz Razzamatazz has recorded his poems. And Buggins, with only a little prodding from Celia — the beautiful stockbroker — is blossoming into a guerilla consumer advocate. With violence and destruction of property. A rock’n’roll romantic comedy we all wish would come true.

      BUGGINS' TURN

      the original screenplay by

      André Jute

      Copyright © 2014 André Jute. All rights in all media reserved. The author has asserted his moral right. First published by CoolMain Press 2014. www.coolmainpress.com info@coolmainpress.com This edition published at Smashwords 2013. Edited by Lisa Penington. Cover graphic based on photo by 7thsens.

      BUGGINS’ TURN is set in London as an obvious compromise. But it can easily be transferred, with minor adjustments, to any other city anywhere in the world.

      FADE IN

      1. INT/EXT. AEROPLANE. NIGHT.

      TIGHT ON BUGGINS:

      BUGGINS IS IN HIS THIRTIES, NOT TOO TALL. HE HAS THE KIND OF UNRULY WIRY HAIR THAT IS THE DESPAIR OF MEN IN THEIR TEENS AND TWENTIES BUT AFTER THAT MAKES THEM LOOK BOYISH WELL INTO THEIR FIFTIES. HE WEARS FLANNELS, LIMP SHIRT, COLLEGE TIE, WORN TWEED COAT WITH SCUFFED LEATHER ELBOW PATCHES, AND WELL-SCUFFED BROGUES. BUGGINS SLEEPS IN HIS SEAT, HIS MOUTH HANGING OPEN A LITTLE. HE SNORES SOFTLY AND SWEAT BEADS HIS FOREHEAD.

      THE STRAINS OF HANDEL'S MESSIAH SUNG BY A MASSED CHOIR WAKES HIM. BUGGINS SHAKES HIS HEAD A MOMENT, THEN FREEZES WITH HIS HEAD TURNED AS HE SEES, INCHES FROM HIS NOSE:

      FLAMES, NOTHING BUT HELLFIRE.

      THE FLAMES ROAR ON ONE SIDE, THE HALLELUJAH CHORUS SOARS ON THE OTHER.

      CHOIR

      Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

      BUGGINS

      (SCREAMING)

      Aaargh! Help! Help me, oh God, help me!

      THE LITTLE OLD LADY IN THE NEXT SEAT LOOKS DISTASTEFULLY AT BUGGINS.

      LITTLE OLD LADY

      God has nothing to do with it

      BUGGINS STOPS SCREAMING AND STARES AT HER.

      LITTLE OLD LADY

      Both the port engines are on fire, that's all.

      BUGGINS LOOKS AT THE FLAMES AGAIN, THEN RENEWS HIS SCREAMING:

      BUGGINS

      (SCREAMING)

      Aaaargh!

      THE STEWARDESS COMES RUNNING.

      STEWARDESS

      Please sir, you are disturbing the passengers.

      BUGGINS KEEPS SCREAMING. HE ALSO STRUGGLES VIOLENTLY AGAINST THE RESTRAINT OF HIS SEATBELT.

      LITTLE OLD LADY

      He doesn't hear a word we say. He sees fire and hears heavenly choirs.

      BUGGINS

      I'm in Purgatory!

      BUGGINS STARTS SOBBING.

      THE STEWARDESS DITHERS, DANCING FROM FOOT TO FOOT.

      LITTLE OLD LADY

      I always said one-class seating was a mistake. We never had this kind of cowardice in first class.

      THE LITTLE OLD LADY HAULS OFF AND HITS BUGGINS SOLIDLY THROUGH THE FACE WITH THE BACK OF HER HAND.

      BUGGINS STOPS SOBBING AND STRUGGLING. SUDDENLY HE CAN MAKE OUT THE SHAPE OF THE WING AND ENGINE NACELLES THROUGH THE FIRES RAGING OUTSIDE THE WINDOW — AND INDEED THE WINDOW AND SIDE OF THE PLANE REASSURINGLY BETWEEN HIM AND THE FLAMES.

      BUGGINS SHAKES HIS HEAD AS IF TO CLEAR THE SOUND OF THE HALLELUJAH CHORUS FROM IT.

      STEWARDESS

      I'll get you a drink.

      THE STEWARDESS TROTS OFF.

      THE LITTLE OLD LADY TAKES BUGGINS' HEAD BETWEEN HER HANDS AND TURNS IT SO THAT HE CAN SEE THE MEMBERS OF THE LONDON PHILHARMONIC CHOIR SITTING IN THE ROWS BEHIND THEM, SINGING TO KEEP THEIR SPIRITS UP.

      BUGGINS SHAKES HIS HEAD GROGGILY.

      THE STEWARDESS RETURNS WITH THE TWO DRINKS AND HOLDS THE TRAY OUT TO BUGGINS BUT, AS HE PUTS MONEY ON THE TRAY, THE LITTLE OLD LADY DOWNS BOTH DRINKS IN A SINGLE DRAUGHT EACH.

      LITTLE OLD LADY

      Aaah! Just what I needed.

      BUGGINS

      But—

      THE STEWARDESS IS ALREADY ON HER WAY TO ANOTHER PASSENGER AND IGNORES BUGGINS AS HE CALLS AFTER HER.

      BUGGINS

      Hey, Miss, I didn't—

      (SHOUTING)

      Look, I need a drink!

      THE STEWARDESS IGNORES HIM.

      BUGGINS

      This is the last time I fly with you!

      THE LITTLE OLD LADY LOOKS MEANINGFULLY AT THE FLAMES OUTSIDE THE WINDOW, THEN DISGUSTEDLY AT BUGGINS.

      SUPER TITLES ON:

      2. INT. CUSTOMS HALL, HEATHROW. DAY.

      AT THE FAR END OF THE CUSTOMS HALL, BUGGINS IS HAVING TROUBLE WITH A SADISTIC CUSTOMS OFFICER WHO FIRST HAULS HIM OUT OF THE NOTHING TO DECLARE CHANNEL, THEN MAKES HIM UNPACK ALL HIS BELONGINGS, THEN DEMANDS MONEY FOR SOME ITEM BUGGINS OBVIOUSLY DOES NOT THINK HE SHOULD PAY DUTY ON. BUGGINS WAVES HIS ARMS BUT, WHEN THE CUSTOMS OFFICER LOOKS MEANINGFULLY AT THE POLICEMAN STANDING NEARBY, PAYS RELUCTANTLY, PRODDED ON BY THE UMBRELLA-POINT OF THE LITTLE OLD LADY WHO IS IN THE QUEUE BEHIND HIM.

      WHATEVER THEY SAY TO EACH OTHER IS DROWNED OUT BY ONE OF THE MORE EXULTANT PASSAGES OF THE MESSIAH.

      3. INT. HEATHROW STATION. DAY.

      BUGGINS, STRUGGLING UNDER HIS OWN LUGGAGE, COMES ONTO THE STATION PLATFORM JUST AS THE LITTLE OLD LADY, CARRYING NOTHING BUT HER UMBRELLA, IS ESCORTED ONTO THE TRAIN BY A PORTER CARRYING HER CASES.

      THE DOORS ARE CLOSING. BUGGINS RUNS FOR THE TRAIN BUT THE PORTER PULLS HIM BACK JUST BEFORE HE REACHES THE STILL CLOSING DOORS. THE LITTLE OLD LADY GRINS TRIUMPHANTLY AT BUGGINS THROUGH THE WINDOW AS THE TRAIN SLIDES OFF.

      BUGGINS FLINGS HIS LUGGAGE TO THE PLATFORM,

      THE MUSIC IS STILL THE MESSIAH BUT NOW DISCORDANT NOTES ARE CREEPING IN.

      4. INT. SUBURBAN TRAIN. DAY.

      BUGGINS, SQUASHED UP BETWEEN OTHER PASSENGERS, IS TRYING TO WRITE IN A SPIRAL BOUND NOTEPAD BUT HIS SEATMATES KEEP BUMPING HIM AND HE CAN GET NOTHING DOWN EXCEPT A SCRAWL.

      INSTEAD, BUGGINS MOVES HIS LIPS AS HE SAYS OVER AND OVER TO HIMSELF WHAT HE WANTS TO WRITE DOWN SO AS NOT TO FORGET IT.

      THE DISCORDANT NOTES IN THE MESSIAH ARE NOW ALMOST DISCERNABLE AS RAZTUZ RAZZAMATAZZ MUSIC [WHAT THIS IS WILL SHORTLY BECOME CLEAR].

      5. EXT. TAXI STAND OUTSIDE VICTORIA. DAY.

      THE LITTLE OLD LADY GLIDES OFF IN THE LAST TAXI JUST AS BUGGINS, STILL CARRYING HIS OWN LUGGAGE, STAGGERS OUT OF THE STATION. HE PUTS HIS LUGGAGE DOWN AND REACHES FOR HIS NOTEPAD AND HIS PENCIL. BUT HE HAS FORGOTTEN WHATEVER IT IS HE WANTED TO REMEMBER. HE OPENS HIS MOUTH EXPERIMENTALLY BUT CAN FORM NO WORDS.

      BUGGINS

      (QUITE MILDLY)

      It would have been a great poem, if only I could remember it.

      BUGGINS THROWS THE NOTEPAD AND PENCIL TO THE GROUND. HE SPINS AROUND, RAISING HIS FIST TO SMASH IT INTO THE WALL, THEN STOPS BEFORE HE SMASHES THE FIST INTO HIS OWN FACE IN THE PLATE GLASS OF A SHOP WINDOW.

      STOP TITLES

      IN THE WINDOW IS A DISPLAY OF DICTAPHONES AND AN ADVERTISING PLACARD WITH THE WORDS MEMORYCORDER NEVER FORGETS.

      BUGGINS LOOKS LONGINGLY AT THE DICTAPHONES, THEN COUNTS THE MONEY IN HIS WALLET AND REGRETFULLY TURNS AWAY FROM THE DISPLAY TOWARDS THE TAXI JUST ARRIVING.

      6. EXT. SUBURBAN SQUARE OUTSIDE BUGGINS' HOUSE. DAY.

      BUGGINS DECANTS FROM THE TAXI, BRINGS HIS WALLET OUT, AND TAKES A NOTE FROM IT.

      BUGGINS

      Sorry I don't have anything smaller.

      CABDRIVER

      That's all right, Guv.

      TAKES THE NOTE FROM BUGGINS AND DRIVES OFF.

      BUGGINS

      Hey! I didn't—

      CABDRIVER

      (CALLING BACK)

      Thanks for the tip!

      BUGGINS

      But—

      BUT THE CABBIE IS GONE. BUGGINS LOOKS SADLY INTO HIS WALLET AND PUTS IT BACK IN HIS POCKET. HE HAULS HIS LUGGAGE TO HIS FRONT DOOR AND SEARCHES THROUGH HIS POCKETS FOR HIS KEY.

      BUGGINS LIVES IN A NARROW THREE-STOREY HOUSE ON A VERY QUIET SQUARE. HIS TINY FRONT GARDEN IS A RIOT OF WEEDS, UNLIKE THE MANICURED DISCIPLINE OF EVERY OTHER FRONT GARDEN; HIS HOUSE HAS PEELING PAINTWORK WHEREAS EVERY OTHER HOUSE HAS NEW PAINT AND VARNISHED WOOD.

      BEFORE BUGGINS CAN FIND HIS KEY, HE HEARS A DOG BARKING INSIDE THE HOUSE NEXT DOOR, THE BARKING APPROACHING THE FRONT DOOR.

      THE DOOR OF THE NEXT TERRACE OPENS AND THE DOG SHOOTS OUT. IT SEES BUGGINS, WHO HAS FOUND HIS KEY AND IS TRYING TO GET IT IN THE KEYHOLE WHILE LOOKING AT THE DOG. THE DOG STANDS WITH ITS FOREPAWS ON THE FENCE AND GROWLS AT BUGGINS.

      BUGGINS

      Nice doggie!

      VERA COMES OUT AFTER HER DOG AND STANDS ON HER PORCH WITH HER HANDS ON HER HIPS.

      BUGGINS

      Hello, Vera. What's with him?

      BUGGINS GESTURES AT THE DOG.

      VERA

      So you're back.

      (QUOTING)

      "Vera, twixt bitterness and resignation,

      Betrayed by her butch haircut

      Lassie-ing her black-stang collie."

      AT THE SOUND OF HIS NAME, LASSIE GROWLS AND BARES HIS TEETH THREATENINGLY.

      BUGGINS

      (DELIGHTED)

      You've been reading my poems.

      VERA

      Reading? I don't need to. It's blared out from every portable radio. You bastard! Making fun of me and Lassie.

      BUGGINS

      Listen, that was compassionate—

      VERA

      (CUTTING IN)

      Sic him, Lassie!

      LASSIE BOUNDS ACROSS THE WALL, TEETH LEADING, JUST AS BUGGINS GETS THE KEY IN THE DOOR, THE DOOR OPEN AND HIMSELF THROUGH IT. THE DOOR SLAMS SHUT, LEAVING LASSIE CHEWING A CORNER OF THE SUITCASE.

      BY NOW THE RAZZAMATAZZ MUSIC HAS QUITE OVERCOME THE MESSIAH

      7. INT. BUGGINS' LIVINGROOM. DAY.

      BUGGINS STANDS WITH HIS FOREHEAD AGAINST THE INSIDE OF HIS CLOSED FRONT DOOR. HIS CHEST HEAVES AS IF HE HAS RUN A MILE.

      8. EXT. SUBURBAN SQUARE OUTSIDE BUGGINS' HOUSE. DAY.

      A

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