By Ashley Lister
The first time the Dead Good Poets got together was in a college classroom
on 29th January 2009. I was there. I’ve
written down the way things happened exactly so that there’s no danger of these
recollections being affected by fading memory.
INT. DAY: Corridor
outside THE CLASSROOM.
ELIZA DUSHKU and
HERMIONE GRANGER are talking in the corridor. Both are holding flyers for a
Dead Good Poets event. Both are wearing bikinis and their skin glistens with crystal-like
raindrops from a recent downpour.
Eliza Dushku
[Holding up a flyer]
Hello, Hermione
Granger. I’m looking for the room where Ashley is reading one of his wonderful
poems.
Hermione Granger
[Glancing at the doorway for THE CLASSROOM. We
see a glint in her eye that says, ‘If I
can’t have him, then no one can have him.’
She pushes her own flyer behind her
back so that ELIZA DUSHKU cannot see what she is holding.]
I do not know of any
poetry reading or any wonderful, sexy poets called Ashley. But I’d heard they
were doing a reading on the other side of Blackpool. He might be there.
Eliza Dushku
I do not believe you, Hermione
Granger, and I think we should wrestle in custard until one of us proves to be
the victorious winner of a girl-on-girl fight.
Hermione Granger
Very well, Eliza Dushku,
although I should warn you that I intend to tear off your bikini before…
CUT TO:INT. DAY: Inside THE CLASSROOM.
The scene is busy and
packed like Wembley Stadium ready for a JLS concert or a Nickleback concert or even
a football match with lots and lots of fans. There are also some sandwiches.
David Cameron
[Shouting angrily at Ashley]
If you read that poem
in front of these students, I shall leave here and form a government that
screws over the country.
Ashley
[Heroically]
Don’t make me laugh,
Cam-Moron. No one would vote for you.
David Cameron
[With obvious doubt]
Maybe not. But perhaps
I’ll form a coalition government.
Ashley
[Suddenly worried – but still heroic
and handsome]
You wouldn’t, would
you?
CAMERON rushes from the
room, chuckling maniacally and rubbing his hands together, and maybe stealing
the pension book from an old person as he runs past them. And probably kicking a
blind man’s guide dog.
ASHLEY looks like he is
about to heroically pursue CAMERON and maybe do some bad-ass ninja moves on
him.
Before ASHLEY can
follow, DAVINA McCALL clutches ASHLEY’s arm and pushes a microphone in his
face.
Davina McCall
Ashley – are we OK to
have a quick chat with you live on camera before the inaugural event of the
Dead Good Poets (who haven’t yet been named) begin their first reading?
Ashley
[Humbly]
Davina, whilst I’d love
to chat with you about how brilliant I and the rest of the (as yet unnamed)
poets are, don’t you want to do some interviews with Barack Obama, Oprah
Winfrey, Paris Hilton, Johnny Depp and all the other celebrity guests that we’ve
got attending here for our inaugural event?
Davina McCall
[Looking disappointed]
You’re right, Ashley.
And I hear the Pope and Jesus are about to enter the room with Michael Jackson
(who is still alive because this is all happening in 2009) so I should go and
have a chat with them.
Ashley
Very well, Davina. And
I shall take a chair and sit with the other brilliant and wonderful poets who are going to change the face of North West poetry in the UK. And I shall wait for this event to
begin. And then I shall contribute in a small and very humble way. And I’m not even slightly
tempted to go outside and see what those two women are squealing about in the
corridor.
CUT TO: INT. DAY:
Corridor outside THE CLASSROOM.
ELIZA DUSHKU and
HERMIONE GRANGER are wrestling in a vat of thick yellow custard.
FIN