LCD Views has taken time out of our frenetic schedule this morning to spend a moment with the leader of Global Britain. We’re broadcasting our conversation live, so you don’t have to.
INT 10 DOWNING STREET – DUNGEON
We stand on a floor slick with something, bodily fluids? Mental discharge? The lighting is poor, just a few flickering incandescent bulbs, and we can’t tell what we’re standing in. But we’re certain we shouldn’t have worn our new trainers.
We can hear screams in distant corridors. Toilets flush constantly.
An aproned MEDIC, wearing a face mask, rushes into view. The MEDIC holds a giant syringe. The MEDIC skids to a halt and turns to face us.
MEDIC : “Two days wrong! I told you butter wouldn’t suit the works! It was the best butter!”
The MEDIC leaves.
A GHOST enters dragging a long chain. He looks uncannily like Philip Hammond. He doesn’t face us, he just keeps dragging that chain across the floor.
GHOST (ghostly) : There’s no money left. There’s no money left. There’s no money left.
The GHOST sinks into the floor and is gone.
We turn now in a circle. We see the walls. Strange bricks. We go closer. We push our fingertip against one. It’s a little squishy. The bricks look like hunks of gammon.
We turn back and see there’s a man facing us. An old fashioned BRICKLAYER. He’s carrying a HOD. It’s piled high with gammon bricks.
BRICKLAYER : Be a sport.
LCD Views : Excuse me?
BRICKLAYER : You’re about seeing the old Maybot?
LCD Views : We don’t really need to…
BRICKLAYER : They all say that what come down here. Ha! be a diamond and take her this hod.
The BRICKLAYER shoves the hod at us. We take it. We don’t have a choice.
LCD Views : Are these bricks made of gammon?
BRICKLAYER : You are trying to understand madness with logic. (pause) Hurry along now. Don’t keep the old go home van waiting!
LCD Views : How do I find her?
BRICKLAYER : Just follow the sound of the flushing toilets.
The BRICKLAYER leaves.
The sound of flushing toilets grows louder and louder.
We leave the room, carrying the gammon hod.
Down a corridor of mirrors. So many wrong turns. So many reflections of gammon bricks. Just so much gammon.
But a door opens. It’s light inside. We enter.
INT THE OFFICE OF THE PRIME MINISTER
THERESA MAY is very busy. She stands next to a wheelbarrow of cement. She holds a trowel. She’s busy fitting gammon bricks into the far wall. But each time she fits one, another falls out. They hit the floor with a wet smack.
In the corner a toilet constantly flushes.
A gap in the wall. See through it. On the other side are all the varied people of Europe.
THERESA MAY : Come out, damned spot! Out, I command you! One, two. OK, it’s time to do it now.
LCD Views : The bricklayer asked us to…
THERESA MAY turns to us. She looks a little manic.
THERESA MAY : Why should we be scared, when no one can lay the guilt upon us?
THERESA MAY takes the hod.
LCD Views : Ms May, why do you change your mind each and every day?
THERESA MAY pauses, gammon brick in one hand. Give it a little, loving squeeze.
THERESA MAY : I do it so my subjects do not have to. They’re not allowed to. So I do it so they don’t have to.
THERESA MAY turns back to her wall. She slaps down some cement and shoves in a gammon brick.
THERESA MAY : Go away, go away, go away.
We go, we go away. As another gammon brick hits the floor.