Comic Material - short skits

See also 9 ideas and Premises and more-potentially-comic-material

Call centre skit #3

A man is eating a  hurried breakfast at a small breakfast table. he rises, kisses his wife on the cheek when she enters, what's on your agenda? I'm going to phone the callcentre and get the account sorted out....
she dials, gets the irritating optus music that they haven't changed for years and years, interrupted regularly by messages such as "the call centre is experiencing usually high volumes, we appreciate your patience and will be with you as soon as possible" she puts it on speaker and does the dishes, she hangs up the washing, sits down with coffee and does some stuff on her computer,
cmon she says, I need to go out
she does an exercise routine / stretches / runs on a treadmill/
mows the lawn...looks atthe clock it says noon, she has to go out.
reluctantly she hangs up, heads out to the car, sitting in the car, hesitates , then dials a no.on mobile and gets the same music through the blue tooth. She drops off a parcel, meets with a business associate, explains she's een holding for hours so would friend mind if she just leaves phone on, does some shopping, goes to the post office, picks up kids, gets home. its no 3pm. walks the dog, come s home agin it s 4pm she reluctantly ends the call. Brings in the washing , makes supper, dials the number again, supervises some homework, husband comes home, mends a button, asks her husband to be on phone duty while she showers,gets out of the shower, yawns, watches the news, they get into bed, husband falls asleep, the phone is still playing its music, she falls asleep with light still on, the phone falls from her hand to the floor.
 "hello, this is raphael, how may I be of excellent service to you today"



Call centre skit #2

A man is bought into an investigation / torture room by two burly guards. He is handcuffed and has a sack on his head. They roughly hurl him to the floor, and exit, slamming the door. He lies there groaning. We cut to

Two agents are discussing what to do with the victim:
should we give him the water treatment?
Nah, he's too tough for that
Should we give him the shock therapy....
might work, but we'v been told by the boys upstairs not to leave any marks...
so then its the...?
I'm afraid so...poor bastard

CUT back to

one of the agents enters the torture room. he removs the hood,almost gently, and the hancuffs.
Right then, you're free to go.
The man struggles up heads for the door.
There's just one small thing before you leave us. We need you to change this phone for us. Its the wrong model. We ordered a Galaxy 8000 and they sent us a Galaxy 800. Here's the toll free number. Good luck.

he leaves: the man dials, gets an indian accent, they ask security questions, he gets put on hold piped music, stage lights on him go own but piped music plays in background albeit softer, we cut to numerous other skits, we return to him, he's till on hold, clearly much time has passed (for eg. he has a beard), he's still holding, someone answers with a phillipino accent, they ask him the same security questions, what was your first school? what was the name of the street of your first house? he has to spell out the answers, they spell it wrong...  its like starting from the beginning, once he's explaind they tell him thy'll just put him on hold, new terribly irritating pipd music that just goes on and on...he's slumped in defeat...no, plase, don't put me on hold, please stay with me

the two agen/scientists observe him through a key hole, detached, dispassionately

poor bastard, he'll crack soon etc etc
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car skit, man return to partking bay at 1h55 in a 2hr bay, ranger is there with a stopwatch waiting,
"beat you to it mate"
but his car won't start.
the ranger wants to fine him
you can see the bloody car won't start
The bay in front of him becomes available
Help me push her then
the two men push the car into the next bay
I got lucky that time eh?

___
Not only can I not pull the rabit out of the hat, I've mislaid the rabit

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Women comes into vet:
he's listless, been depressed, doesn't take any joy in anything anymore, just lies around the house hardly moving, not eating, hardly drinks, he's half blind and arthritic...
Vet: well it sounds like the end of the road, (filling up a syringe) do you want to be in the room when...
she: no if its all the same to you I'd rather not..
he: I understand...Johannes could you please..
. the women exits
the door opens, Johannes wheels in an old guy slumped in his wheelchair.
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anyways little old lady, little old man, and little old dog limp their way into vet. The old couple hold hands - lots of cutaways of beautiful old, gnarled athritic hands. Sometimes one had goes down to pat the little dog - a daschund say, in a little winter coat - whose leg trembles uncontrollably. (Perhaps this parallels a tremor in the old man's leg)

eventually they get to see the vet. The old lady does the speaking. he's gone off his food. He can hardly walk. athritis everywhere. the termor's getting worse. We've both discusssed it and we think its best. With each point she makes we cut from her to her husband, who nods in agreement. Are you sure, the vet says. We're sure, she answers. Again the old man nods his assent. With a long sigh/groan he sits himself down. Rests his chin on his walking stick or walker - head to heavy to carry. There are tears in his eyes. there are tears in her eyes. the dogs eyes are also rheumy.

Should I piut him on the table so that you can say goodbye more easily, asks the vet. The couple nod. The vet scoops the daschund up and gently places him on the table. The old man struggles up again, holds onto the metal table for support, bends down to kiss the dog. The vet tells them he'll be back in a moment. The couple look long and deep into each other's eyes. the vet wheels a drip (iv) in on a long metal stand. We cut to their hands which are tightly squuzing each other. then they gently soften and release each other.

I'm sorry says the old lady, I can't. I'll wait outside. You're sure it'll be painless?

Just like falling asleep says the vet

he'll be fine.

She looks at the old man and the dog.

Thank you for everything, she says, and slowly shuffles out the door. We leave with her, as the vet fills a syringe with pentobarbital. The door closes on the old man, now sitting again, and the little dog, as the vet wheels the iv stand between the two.

the old woman stands in the waiting area, staring blankly at bags of dogfood and a wall chart about intestinal parasites. The minute hand of the clock on the wall shifts. the owner of a cat in a crate soothes the cat. The surgery door opens and the vet emerges.

He went peacefully, says the vet, do you want to see him one more time?

The old lady shakes her head. I think we'll just go home....I need to lie down.

Of course says the vet. Will you two get home ok?

The old lad y nods.

All right says the vet.

He goes back into the surgery and after a moment re emerges with the daschund on its lead. the final shot is of the old women and daschund tottering along the pavement (sidewalk) together, making their way home.

NOTES

the dialogue between vet and old lady could set it up as darkly humerous, depending on the ailmenst she lists for eg "he's incontinent. he's half deaf. he farts all the time. hardly functions.bangs into things. his teeth are rotten and his breath is foul...

also the reveal could be handled differently for eg, she goes back into the surgery where both the old man and dog are motionless, the old man slumped over his walker, the dog motionless on the metal table. we could pan from one to the other, and back again...both seem lifeless, cutaway to the vet's comforting hand on her arm, "i can arrange the burial" says the vet, she nods, o/s we hear a snore, pan back to the dog whose chest rises a millimetre.... then cut to her and dog heading home

I often joke to Viv, when my body is feeling decrepit, that she should take me to the vet and have me put down....this is a kind of extension of that. Anyway it makes me smile...a somewhat grim and self deprecating smile, but also a recognition that man and beast share the same fate....and on that  note I recommend a very poignant story of Herman Charles Bosman's called Unto Dust

_________________
When I drive I scan the road repeatedly
for cyclists
pedestrians
people turning right from the wrong lane
attractive women with large breasts
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When all seems dark and grey
there's always coffee
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Black screen, sound of bubbling water

VO: what guy doesn't dream of his own harem. Of being the only man, surrounded by lucscious women all ready to serve and do his bidding
slit on screen, bits of bodies, giggles, splashing he lies there, its too good to be true, CU as he slowly rubs his eyes, keep the fantrasy going for a while longer, and then ...
the REVEAL
Huge sheilas, boiled red sheilas, meaty 110 kilo sheilas, freckled obese sheilas, train mechanic sheilas on steroids, have occupied the Jacuzzi and someone is going to suffer
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THIS COULD DO WELL AT JEWISH THEATRE SPORTS

Rabbi tries to get his English speaking congregants to do a call and response prayer with him:
"Please repeat each line after me."
He starts off with relatively simple lines, but eventually the words get more unintelligible, alien to the English ear, and unpronouncable. He looks at them
Come on people - you can do better than that (perhaps there is a faint hint of antagonism between rabbi and his congregation)
eventually it ends in a chaotic shambles, with loyal congregants doing their best to chime in the odd syllable whenever they can....
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Version 2:
The rabbi is actually giving them a bunch of insults in Hebrew, for example
"you're all a bunch of pompous dickheads"
"if I didn't need the salary I would be out of here like a shot" etc etc

The congregants revenge:
The rabbi has to read out all the names of the deceased before mourner's kaddish. He is given a list of increasingly complicated and unpronouncable names, for example:

TEOPHILA KODJAGEOZIAN
TIBERIO SLONOMOWOWITZKY
HERSZ Simon- Bratherswaite Sendrover
etc etc etc.

Do a short film on the absurdities of suburban congregational life.
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Song for call centres" "It'll be just like starting over"

Each person you speak to seems to work desperately alone, or for a different company - as if each company employee exists in a separate universe. Good stand up material. See also

Short story: "panic attacks are a pain in the bumb."
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Poster of women in dress shop holding up mirror for female customer so she can examine her posterior: "Prepare to meet thy end"

Multiculturalism in Australia

A children's quiz show. One team is from an Islamic school in Sydney, the girl in Hijab. The MC constantly mispronounces the boy's name, says it in about 10 different ways (couldn't he find out before the show???) and then the kids have to answer questions about a stupid video clip which shows, of all things, pigs being forced to race and doing the long jump. Great sensitivity. In general you'd better not have a non-Anglo name here, and expect people to go to the effort of finding out how to pronounce it correctly.

At our school Nechama (like the ch in bach) becomes Nehama, or Netshama etc etc. The gardner at our complex keeps on wishing me happy Christmas, and when I show her some tomatos I am growing, says they'll be great for my Christmas table, despite me pointedly telling her I don't celebrate Christmas. But most Australians have never had to confront or intergrate the other in any kind of sustained, daily way, and so are very obtuse in this regard.

Australia is a desert
of Macdonalds resteraunts
and tatooed men in bars
huge abbatoirs
and paper thin discourses
a human desert
no great writers
because the

Australia as a collective has only thought about certain issues deeply, and others only a tokenistic effort has been made, such as the cha;llenges of diversity, and dealing with resentment and predjudice.


eich beeretz hanofesh?
shatuach veshitchi ve sterili

Rosh HaShana Custom # 98

One of the most pleasing Rosh Hashana customs is the emptying of the mikvot - the ritual baths - of their usual water. The baths are then filled up with honey, and the congregants all shower, cleanse themselves thoroughly, and then immerse themselves in the honey mikve - for a good and sweet new year. As a variation on this, in some Scandanavian communities and in Chinese Jewish communities, congregants then lick the honey of each other, finishing off with slices of apple.
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Suddenly just before the Yamim Noraim - the High Holy Days of Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur - some unaffilliated Jews suddenly experience an inner urge to be in community, and inquire about coming to a shul:

How much are your tickets for the high holy days?
We have a special on: 365$ and unlimited calls to G-d
I'm on a budget here....can we cut out Yom Kippur. Give me a price just for Rosh HaShanah
But its a package deal...you can't have Rosh HaShanah without Yom Kippur
I know but somethings better than nothing
OK we can do that for $290
Its not much of a saving...hows about I promise not to talk during the rabbis sermon
OK we can drop it down to $210 then
Now you're talking sister
And for only $20 you can upgrade to include the brocha afterwards
The brocha's not included?
Sorry, no.
What''s on the menu
Challa, wine, herring, kichel, honey cake
I don't like herring
chopped liver, felafel balls, chumous,,,
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We have come up with a new variation of the ancient custom of making a fictitious-sale-of-chametz (leavened grains)-to-a-Gentile-which-is-not-a-sale-cos-we-buy it right-back-after Pesach-but-we-pretend-its-a-sale-anyway. What we do to avoid the considerable financial loss of turfing out our challah, noodles, pasta, phillo pastry and what have you is put them in a plastic bag, tie the ends tightly, and then walk 200 metres to the cliffs overhanging the Pacific Ocean. We label the bag clearly "PROPERTY OF THE SUTTNERS" with a permanent marker, tie a rope around the bag and gently lower in into the ocean. Eight days later we return to that very spot and haul up the rope. OK so the pasta may have been nibbled at and the challah tastes a little briny, but overall the ocean has never let us down.

Illustration Competition - The World Cup of the Animals

Next year the world cup comes to South Africa, and will hopefully provide many mostly honest people with some memorable moments and perhaps some extra and much needed cash as well...Here are some chapters Guy and I started writing in honour of "iWorld cup." Only six sample chapters appear here, although we have written twenty, and amassed material for another ten.

Those of you who enjoy doodling, please email me your visual interpretations of these chapters which are a first attempt at celebrating some of South Africa's flora and fauna. You can scan your work in as jpegs, giffs, whatever...but please make sure they're no bigger than 3mbs a piece. I look forwards to matching words with images, and using, with your permission, with acknowledgement, and hopefully with a royalty agreement in place, the best of these images in a published version.


CHAPTER 1

When the animals heard that the humans were having a world cup, they decided to have one too. They found out because a family of Olive Thrush who had been comfortably nestling in a cape honeysuckle suddenly found their home surrounded by bulldozers, and the next thing their tree was knocked over, to make way for a stadium. So the thrushes flew off to look for another home, and on the way they told the Hadeedahs, who told everyone else.

CHAPTER 2

"What’s a world cup?" asked the African Wild Dogs. "Can you eat it?"
"I’m afraid not", answered the Jackal, "its too hard."
"Its when a lot of people come together", explained the Baboon, "and form themselves into different troops. Then they all go into a big round building."
"And what do they do in there?" asked the Wild Dogs.
"They scream and shout", said the Baboon, "and then they come out again."


CHAPTER 4

The hippos got lost on their way to the game. So they trampled through the thick bush next to the river, knocking over reeds and banging into each other, which only made them even more irritable. But the organiser of the tournament, a bright eyed and efficient nagaapie, congratulated them on preparing the pitch, and said they could play right there, next to the river.

So the game began - it was against the crocodiles - who hardly moved, and kept on getting underfoot. The hippo’s coach, a red billed oxpecker, told them to kick the crocodiles, which the hippos did with great gusto, but it made no difference: the crocs moved a few millimeters and then settled down again. In the end the hippos went and complained to the nagaapie, who was now acting as ref.


CHAPTER 5

The secretary bird, who had been charged with keeping the scores, mislaid them.
“Where did you put them last” shrilled the nagaapie, hoping to get to the bottom of it.
“If I knew that would I be searching for them?”, snapped the secretary, and swallowed a small snake to calm herself.
Eventually an eagle eyed eagle saw a piece of the score card sticking out of a termite nest. An Aardvark was sent to deal with the matter, and retrieved the card, only to discover the termites had eaten all of the results.
“We’ll have to start again”, said the nagaapie, but the hippos refused.
“Let’s just make up the scores”, a little Duiker said.
"150 - nil" said a large hippo.
The crocs could not be bothered to argue, and the hippos advanced to the top of their division.


CHAPTER 6

The sardines payed the sharks. The sharks brushed their teeth before the game. “Oral hygiene” explained their captain, an old ragged tooth shark who had done time in an aquarium, and was released early for good behaviour, “is particularly important.”

There were 30 million sardines on the one team, and 600 sharks on the other. But by the end of the game, the sardine’s had mysteriously disappeared, and the sharks seemed lazy and sleepy, and had lost all interest in the match. “Where did they all go?” asked one of the sharks, and burped loudly.






CHAPTER 14

The Fenek has very big ears in order to hear well. And because the Fenek had had a very bad day and had been bullied by the bigger jackals, she decided to listen carefully to the the tiny bacteria and microbes playing chess. What, you may well ask, were the microbes doing playing chess in a soccer tournament? The answer is that even the nagaapie had not managed to find a ball small enough for them to play with, besides which their lack of legs also made football difficult.

Now boys and girls, as you have already heard, bacteria are very small, and so you can imagine that the chess sets they play with are so tiny you cannot even see them under a microscope. Yet the Fenek has such fine ears she can hear the noise as streptococcus moves his knight to Queen 4, or as a yoghurt making bacteria castles in order to protect her king. And then, sometimes, if the Fenek is feeling mean and sore, as she was on this particular day, she will snatch the king from the chessboard, so that the bacteria cannot continue their game. And when they cannot continue their game, and with time on their hands, they go back to making people sick.So boys and girls, if you feel that your throat is getting sore, it may just be becaue Fenek has once again taken the bacteria’s king and hidden it somewhere far far away.


All contents © Immanuel and Guy Suttner, document generated June 2007, copies of this document have been sent to Roy Suttner Attorney and to myself , Immanuel Suttner on the 13th June 2007

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Dialogues

see also http://manofestoyomi.blogspot.com/2009/07/premises.html

Dialogue A

Couple who live in a flat are fighting, and a plant in their flat becomes a metaphor for their struggle.

HE
You've always hated that plant....and now you've totally killed it

SHE
I didn't go anywhere near your fukking plant

HE
You probably poisoned it or something

SHE
I won't stoop to your level...but its a pity you could never display the same level of concern for me as you did for that stupid plant

HE
So you did poison it!

SHE
(puts her thumb in her mouth and copies him in a babyish voice) Sho you did poishon it!

HE
(Shaking his head in exagerated wonderment) Jealous of a plant. Unbelievable.

________________________

So you're saying I'm a genuine fraud?
Yes, its the one thing you're consistent and authentic about...
Well that's some consolation... at least I'm not a fake fraud...whew...I feel redeemed.
________________________

Dire log B

I just feel everything is so futile
So you believe things are futile and meaningless

Yes exactly. Nothing I do makes any difference to anyone, including myself
You're saying that nothing you do makes any difference

Yes, and I don't know where to go from here. I feel stuck
You feel stuck

That's what I said
So you feel stuck

Exactly that's why I came here, hoping you could help me
So you'd like me to help you

That's why I'm paying you 190 bucks for this session
So how does it feel to need help?

It feels bloody aweful
You feel....?

aweful. bad.depressed. heavy. sad
and you'd like me to help you feel something else

I suppose so...
So you want to feel...

happy, upbeat, excited, passionate....
and you think I can help you feel those things

I'm hoping you can, yes
So you're hoping I can help you feel different

Yes, I've said that already
and how does it feel to have to repeat yourself

Bloody frustrating! Like I'm wasting my time and my money
So you're worried this too might be futile

I suppose so
And if this is futile

Then its very frustrating...
You feel frustrated...

Yes, I feel like I want to punch you in the face
You think you want to punch me in the .....ow!

Now I feel a bit better. Thank you.

Alternatively: I'm sorry but we have to end your session now....
___________________

i'm up here
i can't hear you
i'm up here
where are you
here...up here
Jeff...is that you
UP HERE..on the cliff
Jeff...helllooo
look up...up here
Is that you Jeff

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What’s that?

A moth

What’s the moth doing?

Nothing

Why’s it sitting

Its… its… dead

Dead?

Dead

Oh…dead. What’s dead

He’s tired and sick. He won’t move again

How we going to fix it

We can’t fix it

What’s in his stomach? Where is his stomach?

___________________

I feel everything is so futile
And by futile you mean....?
I mean its not worth doing anything. Nothing matters. Nothing makes any difference.
So then don't do anything. What's the problem?
But there are some things I have to do. I have to feed my children. I have to pay the rent else we'll be living in the street.
Well if you have to, then what's the problem? Have to implies there's no choice, its out of your hands, so futile or not futile doesn't come into it. Is it futile to breathe?
I don't know. My body wants to breathe...when I don't have air I want it.
Exactly.
The problem is nothing I do helps anyone
and...
and if nothing I do helps anyone then my life is futile
so you have to help someone or something for your life to be...
meaningful. valuable.
Can you be absolutely sure the things you do don't help someone? How would you know?
I don't know that
And what if everything you did that helps someone always damages something or someone else? What if you couldn't extricate helping and hurting?
Then I suppose it would be better not to help...but I can ask you the same question: how could you know that the two are always inextricably linked?
Its an idea...all help and hurt are relative, and apply only to seperate name and form. But let's turn an earlier statement of yours around. How about: "I don't have to help to lead a meaningful life"
Hmm. (Tries it out for size) "I don't have to help to ead a meaningful life." Doesn't feel quiet right.
Ok, let's see what its based on. "I know what helps". True, False or Don't Know?
Don't know.
"I know what hurts"
Know
Are you sure? Remember what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Most people learn their most valuable life-lesons through being "hurt."
Maybe
"I know what makes life meaningful."
Don't know. I know I feel heavy and unmotivated to do anything.
And how do you want to feel?
Light. easy. inspired. energised.
But you don't feel that.
No.
Well seeing as you do feel the way you do, how about allowing yourlf to feel that way, seeing as you do anyway. I mean how about accepting it?
But I don't like it.


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Song for call centres" "It'll be just like starting over"

Each person you speak to seems to work desperately alone, or for a different company - as if each company employee exists in a separate universe. Good stand up material. See also http://manofestoyomi.blogspot.com/2009/10/comic-material-short-skits.html

Hey don't you know I'm talking bout you (song lyric)

You're such contradiction
You're such a constriction
you're such an affliction
such a restriction

Hey, don't you know I'm talking to you

You're such a conviction
Your such a prediction
forget the depiction
you cause so much friction

Hey don't you know I'm talkin bout you

you're my predeliction
still my addiction
but here's your eviction
I'm done with your fiction

Hey don't you know I'm talkin bout you

BRIDGE
the ends the beginning the pain is the joy

its never expected, its always much more

when you think that you know it you find that you’re wrong

when you let it find you there’s no end to the song

Home Movies

The year is 2003, and Guy Raveh, aged 3, does some shopping at the Pick n Pay in Gallo Manor



The year is 2007, and Daniel Shalev features in a commercial for mother's day



The year is 2009 and Mano stumbles wearily past the City to Surf finish line