The Biff Show

'This is gold!'

I'm writing a sitcom pilot and every day I'll put a bit of it on this blog. Although probably not every day as I play football on Mondays and have to clean the bathroom on Thursdays and the weekends are pretty much out. The formatting doesn't translate to this website too well but you get the idea:

The Biff Show

"Trouble"

FADE IN.

INT. LOCATION #1 - DAY

Three white men, early 30s, of varying levels of fatness are sitting in the front room of a flat watching Countdown on TV. The 'do-do-do-do' tune finishes.

BIFF

Four

MARK

Six

DAVE

Five. What's your six?

MARK

Seldom.

BIFF

What's your five?

DAVE

Moulds. What did you have?

BIFF

Mull.

MARK

Your round then.

                                                                                                CUT TO:

INT. LOCATION #2 – DAY

Biff is in a corner shop. Three mint Cornettos are on the counter in front of him. The Egyptian shop assistant is on the phone, ignoring biff. Eventually he speaks, without looking.

SHOP ASSISTANT
£3.20.

BIFF
Sorry?

SHOP ASSISTANT
£3.20.

BIFF
But it can’t be. There’s three of them. That’d make them £1.0666 each. (BEAT) I think.

SHOP ASSISTANT
(EMOTIONLESS) £3.20.

BIFF
That can’t be right. Can you check please?

SHOP ASSISTANT
(SHOUTS) £4.20.

BIFF
But...

SHOP ASSISTANT

(SHOUTS) £4.20.

Biff looks behind him at the other shoppers for support. None is forthcoming. They stare blankly at him.

SHOP ASSISTANT
(LOOKS AT BIFF FOR FIRST TIME. BELLOWS) £4.50.

BIFF
But it can’t be...

SHOP ASSISTANT
(SHOUTS) £3.70.

BIFF
But you just said...

SHOP ASSISTANT
Do you want them or not?

Biff turns to look at the shoppers. There are more there now. All staring at Biff, wishing him dead.

BIFF
These have melted a bit now. I’ll just swap them for some new ones.

Biff turns. There are even more shoppers there now, all staring at him. He looks back at the shop assistant. There are shoppers surrounding him as well, all staring blankly at Biff.

                       

                                                                        CUT TO:

INT. LOCATION #1 – DAY

Biff, Mark and Dave are sitting in the front room eating Cornettos.

                        DAVE
                        How much?

                        BIFF
                        £7.89

MARK
Nice. Hang on...

                                                                                                CUT TO:

                         

                       

                        

Get knotted Tescos, you too Sainsbury's

Give me my Cornettos!

After months of putting it off I eventually gave in - beep! - and used the self-service bit at the - unexpected item in the bagging area! - supermarket. I'd been putting it off but a steady reduction in the number of people tills has combined with the rise of the DIY ones - like they're forcing us into their self-service ghetto by stealth.
If your stuff all has barcodes on then it's not too bad, although sometimes it just refuses to read the code so you're swaying a tin of beans back and forth like a rummy sailor trying to start a sea shanty. And if you've got anything crazy like loose potatoes then it turns into a really cruddy version of The Crystal Maze as you try to find the nearest approximation to what you're holding on their bizarre computer menu while a harrumph of waiting shoppers give you the stink-eye.
But that's not the main problem, it's getting the stuff into the bag without being shouted at by the horrible, prissy voice they've detailed to shame people into paying for the plum they've tried to sneak through.
I had to give up because the whole thing was getting too much. I picked up my beans and cornettos (that's two items, you've not missed an incredible fusion) and spluttered at one of the assistants who patrol the area, 'you should have more staff on and less of this... rubbish' while gesturing wildly at the crowd, each huddled with grim determination over their own machine, wildness in their eyes like kids who'd cracked the eternal-free-credits code on Defender. The assistant blinked at me before turning to aid an old war hero who was struggling to accept that his CurlyWurly remained resolutely 'unidentified'. I dumped my stuff and disappeared into the night, beaten but not mortally so. I shall return...