British Expat Forum

Those of you who enjoyed the last exercise might like to try this:

I've never been able to find a market, but my creative writintg course reckoned that radio programmes occasionally used 'fillers' - three minute plays or sketches. Comedy shows often use them, but they are written by the main scriptwriters.

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Take any subject you like, serious or humorous, and write a three minute sketch intended for radio broadcasting. i.e. use sound effects, but no stage directions and no scenery.

This is an excellent way to polish your skills in writing dialogue.

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Have fun.

This is a great idea, Ruggie, although it looks quite challenging. I think you might've scared everyone off!

I'm sorry I can't participate, there's just too much to do behind the scenes on BE at the mo. Then when that's done, I'll have to try to catch up with my thesis.

Even if I were planning to do a radio sketch, I probably wouldn't know where to start. If you're just looking for some dialogue with a few sound effects, if appropriate, that might not be as hard as it first looks.

Maybe you could do yours first so the others know more about what's expected.

Yes. Just to show there are no fancy rules of how you lay it out. If I can't manage it in the next day or so, it'll have to wait a couple of weeks until wifie goes back to UK. We have a lot to do, too.

Here we go. You give instructions any way you like, as long as it's easy to distinguish them from the words.

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Title: BORDER INCIDENT
Auhor: Mike Kingdom-Hockings


SOUND OF CAR DOORS CLOSING, ENGINE STARTING, CAR MOVING OFF.

DAVID: Ten to ten. Only twenty minutes late. Pretty good.

FIONA: Yes. If I've forgotten anything, we'll have to do without it. Pity about your bug, but I've given you a good slug of cough mixture. You lie back and have a zizz while I drive to the border.

DAVID: Thanks.

<SOUND OF CAR CRUISING SMOOTHLY ALONG ROAD. CLASSICAL MUSIC ON RADIO>.

<SCREECH OF BRAKES.>

DAVID (GROGGILY): What? Uh? What happened?

<SOUND OF CAR REVERSING RAPIDLY FOR A SHORT DISTANCE>.

FIONA: It's all right. But there's a baby goat in the middle of the road all alone. It'll get run over.

<SOUND OF DOOR CLOSING AND RECEDING FOOTSTEPS, FOLLOWED BY BLARING OF A LARGE TRUCK HORN.>

DAVID (MUTTERING): First she does it on the A9 for a sheep, now she's doing it in Botswana for a baby goat. One day she'll get hurt.

<SOUND OF DOOR OPENING>

FIONA: Here. Put him on the floor between your legs. I'll get some water. Standing around in the sun with no sign of the mother, it must be dehydrated. It's very young - the remains of the umbilical cord is still hanging down. Probably one of twins and the mother abandoned it.

<SOUND OF SUCKING, INTERSPERSED WITH BLEATING.>

<SOUNDS OF DOOR CLOSING, CAR STARTING AND MOVING OFF>

DAVID: So now you've rescued a kid. What on earth do you think you're going to do with it? We're on our way to Cape Town!

FIONA: Let's give it to the petrol pump attendant as a tip.

DAVID: You think he'll look after it? More likely to eat it for supper.

FIONA: Oh, well. We'll take it to the Cape and give it to Lou. She'll add it to her menagerie quite happily.

DAVID: First you steal a goat, then you plan to smuggle it through the border. This was supposed to be a relaxing break. We're stopping two nights in hotels on the way - what will you do about that?

FIONA: We've already got two dogs in the car. If you keep the goat covered up with your pullover, the customs guys will be too busy checking the dogs to notice. We'll put the gaot in the bathroom in the hotel.

<LOUD BLEATING>

DAVID: Not if it makes that noise.

FIONA: Well, you can have a coughing fit.

DAVID (RESIGNED): Here we go again. Well, you'd better park next to that truck with its engine running.

<FADE IN TO DIESEL ENGINE TICKING OVER>

FIONA: Right. You stay here and keep him covered up while I go off and do the paperwork.

<CAR DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES. DIESEL ENGINE IN BACKGROUND>

<VOICES FADE IN AS FIONA AND CUSTOMS OFFICER APPROACH>

FIONA: The two dogs are in the back. The big one is Hobbes and the smaller one is Huckleberry.

<MUFFLED BLEATING COVERED BY SOUND OF DAVID HAVING A COUGHING FIT>

CUSTOMS OFFICER: Your husband sounds very sick.

FIONA: He has a bad cough, but I am a nurse. I will make him better quickly.

CUSTOMS OFFICER: He is lucky to have a nurse for a wife. Here are the dogs' papers, madam. You may go.

FIONA: Thank you. Good day to you, Officer.

<SOUNDS OF CAR STARTING UP AND MOVING OFF. FADE OUT DIESEL ENGINE BACKGROUND.>

DAVID: Well, I know which cassette to put on.

<FADE IN TO LAST VERSE OF LONNIE DONEGAN SINGING 'ROCK ISLAND LINE'>

Ah've got all live stock
Ah've got all live stock...

The above may look like my attempt at writing a humorous piece, but it is only very slightly embroidered. It really did happen to me. A day later, I even ended up walking in past reception and the entrance to the dining room to reach the stairs to our hotel room, carrying a baby goat wrapped inside a blanket.

Trevor, how about a Dipwytch sketch? Make it a TV script rather than radio, if you prefer.

Mojan, this would be a good exercise for you. It'll put you a step ahead when you start your writing course.

SSue, get those tassels swingin'. Can you write Strine dialogues?

Jaj, I know you can do this. Something homely - or imagine you've been asked to fill in for Garrison Keillor's scriptwriter....

I know I said I wasn't going to do this one. And I don't do fiction...

But here goes anyway:

KAY: Are you sure that hand-drawn map is correct?

PAUL: No. But it’s the only one we’ve got.

KAY: I’m feeling a bit uneasy about this.

PAUL: So am I. But have you got a better suggestion?

KAY: Dunno. I think we should’ve turned left not right at the last major junction.

PAUL: Me too, but we’re following the map.

KAY: Yeah, I suppose we’d better…

[CRACK!!!! CRACK!!! (Gunshots)]

PAUL: Holy shit…

KAY: Urgh.

[Sound of car reversing and going fast.]

PAUL: It’s hard to drive at this speed with no lights.

KAY: Keep your head down and keep going mate. I’m a crap driver, keep going, keep going! Don’t make ME have to do this. Just GO! You did the right thing to put the lights out, just keep going! We'll be OK.

PAUL: Thank f*** for that, we got out....

... But we’re in a dead-end now. There’s no choice but to go back the way we came.

KAY: Do we have to?

PAUL: Unless you want to spend the rest of your life here.

KAY: Oh shit. OK, let’s do it. But do we have to do 140 clicks on the way back? I wasn't too keen on your driving.

[Brrm brmm – driving sounds]

KAY: We’re getting near the same place again, where we were fired upon before…

PAUL: I know, we’ll just have to go for it.

KAY: Paul, I wouldn’t say this to anyone else but I think you’re a good guy. I’m scared.

PAUL: So am I.

KAY: Oh. Well we’ll just go for it then?

PAUL: Yes. I’ll put all the lights on and drive very slowly.

KAY: You think that’ll be OK then?

PAUL: Haven’t a clue but we’ve got to try.

KAY: OK

[Sounds of car moving forward again.. and slowing down]

[Sounds of activity at a checkpoint…]

KAY and PAUL: Asaalam Aleikum…Chiturasti…Khubasti..?

CHECKPOINT MAN: Why did you go the wrong way? We fired over your heads to warn you you’d taken a wrong turning.





(It isn't fiction anyway, but I don't think I should use Ruggie's homework any more just to write about stuff I've experienced. I'll leave this board for a while so I can concentrate on the writing I'm supposed to be doing.)

Living room scene. Sat on the settee is Mo, Doug, Jackie and on the floor sits little Cloe.

TV blares out... Dah da da dada dah........musical signature tune.

Mo: "Shush now Cloe, it's Corrie St, and get further back from the telly, right now!"

Doug: "Come-on, do as yer Mam says!"

Mo: "Ooh look, she's got my top on, the one I bought last Tuesday, you know the black one."

Doug: "I don't remember that one, 'ave I seen it yet?"

Mo: "You sure 'ave, you said it showed too much cleavage, and I could only wear it when I went out with you....remember?"

Doug: "Yeah, now I remember, looks different on 'er though"

Sound of breaking pots.......

Mo: "For pity's sake, that was one of my best cups and saucers, and that tea will stain the carpet, Chloe get to yer room right now."

Jackie: "It was an accident Mam, she's only little, and it shouldn't have been left on the floor anyway!"

Doug: "Don't you speak to yer Mam like that, now get the pan and brush, and make yerself useful."

Sounds of Cloe crying and cupboard doors slamming.

Jackie: "We always get the blame, when there's an accident....it in't fair."

Doug: "Fair, I'll give yer fair young lady, now you can get to yer room, an' all."

Jackie: "But Dad, I want to watch Corrie, and it's nearly finished already."

Sounds of Chloe screaming now, and Jackie thumping up the stairs.

Mo Shouting: "Why is it that everything happens in this house, just when I'm watching MY show. Surely half an' hours sit down, with a cuppa i'nt too much to ask for.

Doug: "I'm off to the pub, I'll get some peace there!'

Signature tune rings out.......the show's over, once more.

SSue 8)

and here's mine....

The Nightshift

[ The sound of the steady hum of industrial floor cleaners being pushed across a tiled floor]

VERA: [Shouting across the noise of the cleaners] You two ready fer yer break yet?

ROSE: Not half………feels like I bin pushing this lump of steel round fer hours.

VERA: Come on Fig, give it a rest mate!

[Sound of silence as the machines are switched off]

FIGGY: Anyone got a fag I can borrow?

VERA: I don’t know about borrow…..ere’s one you can ‘ave Fig, I’ll probably be cadging yours next week anyways.

ROSE: ‘ere did you see that new exhibit they been and put up, down in the true life part?. Bit too true to life if you know what I mean.

FIGGY: What’s up then Rose, you come over all shy or sommat?

ROSE: Don’t be daft Fig, I seen it all before. Been hitched to our Stan for more years than I care to remember aint I!……but that new exhibit…. well……bit close to the knuckle if you ask me.

VERA: I reckon it’s downright filthy, some of the stuff they got in ‘ere….you wouldn’t catch me having any of it in me own ‘ome.

FIGGY: I dunno, I reckon some of it’s quite ‘tasty’….if you know what I mean and some of those exhibits are worth 'thousands' to boot.

VERA: You and yer mind Figgy.

ROSE: Yeah, dream on Figgy…..its just plain mucky, that’s what it is

FIGGY: Anyway gals, I gotta love ya and leave ya, cos me and the lovely lady are off to the Costa del Sorrento tonight and I’ve asked the ‘boss’ if it’s ok to skip me tea-break and finish early, so we can get ourselves off to the airport to catch the midnight special.

VERA: ‘ow come you can afford to go off to the Costa del Sorrento Figs, when you can’t even afford to buy yer own fags?

[Figgy laughs out loud]

ROSE: Have a great holiday Figs won’t ya!

[Sound of male footsteps walking away down the tiled hallway]

VERA: The boss was telling me the other night that some of these new exhibits have come with their own alarm system on account of the fact that their so valuable.

ROSE: Is that right Ver? Blimey you’d have to pay me to ‘ave ‘em in my place!

VERA: I know….me too!

ROSE: S’pose we had better get back to it then!

VERA: Yeah! Lucky ol Fig, off on his ‘olidays. Suppose that means we’ve got twice as much to do tonight.

ROSE: Yeah, I reckon yer right!

[Sound of alarm system going off]
[Sound of industrial cleaners being turned back on]

Well done, girls! That was quick, and all good stuff.

Sorry to have distracted you, Kay - no more homework now for at least 3 weeks - I'm busy, too. (I take it you no longer hanker after the war zone journo life, even if it was exciting at the time?)

Anyone else want to have a go? I'm not critiquing this (wouldn't know how) so you can take as long as you like.

No problem. We're broad-minded.

Seriously, as you pointed out a while ago, the line between journalism and fiction isn't that well-defined. Dead-pan logging of events (like the official bulletins on the Falklands war) has its place, but so does portraying some of the emotion. The real trouble starts when this is used to send out a political message - but that is also a writing skill.

Sorry if I've misled you, Ruggie. I was never a war zone journo. Any time I was in a war zone I was an accountant. My journo stuff was more usually reporting on the local flower show or similar.

Any situation which receives an inflow of large sums of donor money requires someone to account for it. My jobs usually entailed designing and setting up systems to enable the donor funds to be accounted for. The money was massive in some cases. One programme alone was US$56 million p/a to distribute kero. And then we had to build roads to be able to transport it in the first place. BIG money, and someone has to deal with it. There weren't many accountants who specialised in war zones which is how come I was often offered jobs.

Sorry. War zone accountant, with a bit of reporting on the side. No, you didn't really mislead me. Hope they paid the appropriate rates.

I've been shot at once deliberately and been at risk from stray bullets a couple of times, but I'm not going to go out of my way to make it likely to happen again.

Nope. It's not so bad when you're young free and single, but I wouldn't go back to that lifestyle.

I was well paid for my work, and never had the time nor inclination to do any reporting on the side. In any case, the terms of my contract prohibited my talking to journos unless it was pre-authorised by head office. As you can imagine, this was a bit difficult at times.