FADE UP:
In medium close-up, we observe the soft features of a BEAUTIFUL GIRL as she addresses a young nightclub DJ of the same age. She is illuminated against a backdrop of brilliant white; the lighting is dreamy and unreal.
I see the good in you. I see past the lies and fear to that which others ignore; the part of you which longs for something more. I feel your hunger swell inside me as you try and speak in a world which refuses to listen. But know that you are not alone in your plight, for I will be at your side when each and every night closes down. It doesn’t have to be like this. I will dull the ache you feel inside as you dream of a better life for you and me.
She takes his face in her hands and moves in to kiss him. Just as they make contact, we zap abruptly into REALITY:
INT. NIGHTCLUB - EVENING
The DJ is distracted by the sight of the same GIRL stood sipping on a Bacardi Breezer off to the side of a half-full dancefloor. BT’s Never Gonna Come Back Down kicks into life as an irate-looking PUNTER approaches.
(disgusted)
Yeah mate, this is shit, can you play something good?
- I’m sorry?
(blatantly)
I said “Why don’t you play something good”?
(astounded)
- Such as...?
PUNTER
Uh, anything that’s not this?
A brief flicker on the film cuts us into an alternate reality based entirely in the DJ’s imagination.
(to PUNTER)
Right, firstly, where the fuck do you get off talking to people like that? And secondly, what on earth makes you think I’m going to tailor the night solely to your individual needs, you arrogant fucking parasite?
He lamps the PUNTER across the face and he falls to the floor. Another flicker on the film then cuts us back to REALITY:
Did you have anything particular in mind?
PUNTER
Yeah mate, how about some RnB?
DJ
That’s good, is it?
I’ll do it later on...
CUT TO:
INT. NIGHTCLUB - LATER
The DJ is again distracted by the sight of the BEAUTIFUL GIRL as The Beatles’ Paperback Writer plays. A CHINESE GIRL of 20 approaches him and points derisively at the CD decks.
(in broken English)
- Too old...!
(distracted)
- What...?
- Too old...!
We again flicker into the FANTASY WORLD to see the DJ pull out a Tech-9 and shoot the shit out of the CD player.
(wired)
You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s over for The Beatles. I don’t know I ever could’ve thought otherwise.
(whips out phone and dials number)
- McCartney? Yeah mate, it’s time to call it off, I’m afraid. You’ve had your day in the sun. Give it up and let’s be done with the whole thing. It’s been emotional.
(picks up hammer and smashes CD case)
No more from them. Forgive my astonishing lack of judgement.
As the CHINESE GIRL turns and walks away, the DJ picks up a shovel and hits her over the head with it, before gracefully nudging her withering body into an open grave at the side. Back in REALITY:
- Need Top Forty!
DJ
(resigned)
I’ll do it later on...
CUT TO:
INT. NIGHTCLUB - LATER
R.E.M.’s Losing My Religion plays as two interchangeable NORTHERN BLONDES approach the DJ. They don’t seem to be in a particularly diplomatic mood.
(unimpressed)
Now, what are you gonna be playing tonight?
Well, I – don’t really know, I mean, I’ll just go wherever it takes me...
NORTHERN BLONDE #2
Well, we’re on a night out, you see.
DJ
Oh. Oh, good...
NORTHERN BLONDE #1
So, are you gonna be playing this sort of rubbish all night?
DJ
(wincing)
Yeah, uh, this is actually one of my favourite songs, so...?
NORTHERN BLONDE #2
Yeah, but no-one wants to hear it though, do they?
DJ
Actually, someone requested this about five minutes ago, so I don’t think it’s too much to ask that you respect other people’s tastes for just a couple of songs...
NORTHERN BLONDE #1
Yeah, well we need something we can dance to, mate, this is a nightclub after all...
We flicker into the FANTASY WORLD once again:
A nightclub? A nightclub?! What, really?! Shit, I thought we were at a fucking holiday camp for the over-75s! Of course, you’re right though, what I was actually gonna do was just play the most obscure and undanceable music I could find. And funnily enough, what you’re gonna do is go out there, open your fucking minds for once and strut like a motherlover all night. How does that sound?
He puts on 6th Grade Roller by Now It’s Overhead and reaches above him to grab two sets of handles which are dangling down on a string. They loop up over a girder on the ceiling and, as he wrenches on the pulleys, the two GIRLS are lifted into the air and down onto the dancefloor. He pulls maniacally on the strings to create two makeshift marionettes, grinning psychotically as the GIRLS flail about helplessly.
Back to REALITY:
(grim sense of inevitability)
Is there a specific song you wanted?
Can we have Build Me Up Buttercup?
DJ
(blankly)
I’ll do it later on.
NORTHERN BLONDE #2
(adversarial)
Yeah, but will you, though?
DJ
(weary but firm)
Yeah - I’ll do it later on...
NORTHERN BLONDE #1
(walking away, sceptically)
Right...
(turning back)
Oh, and can we have Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen?
He smiles and nods in mock enthusiasm as the girls turn away again; after a brief flicker onscreen, they are brutally savaged by a man-trap on the floor in front of them.
CUT TO:
INT. NIGHTCLUB - LATER
The Cure’s In Between Days starts up to an enthusiastic response from a half-full dancefloor as a particularly SELFISH PUNTER approaches.
SELFISH PUNTER
Can you change the music please?
DJ
(struggling for words)
...What... NO!
SELFISH PUNTER
(unimpressed)
Why not?
DJ
Well I’m not exactly gonna turn a song off after twenty seconds, am I?!
SELFISH PUNTER
Well, no-one’s dancing to this.
DJ
Well, actually they are, and it is only half eleven...
SELFISH PUNTER
Well, maybe if you play something that we all know, then everyone’ll start dancing.
DJ
Well maybe you should respect my judgement and trust me to kick this fucker into life when everyone’s ready...
SELFISH PUNTER
I could do your job...
DJ
Is that a fact.
SELFISH PUNTER
(beat)
Can’t you play some cheese?
A brief flicker places us into the FANTASY WORLD:
The DJ stares blankly at her for a moment before pulling out a Kraft slice and placing it in the CD player, which whirrs in agony for a few seconds before spitting it out again.
Nope, don’t think that worked...!
Back in REALITY:
(becoming increasingly tired)
I’ll do it later on...
Ah, great.
(walking away)
Something cheesy that everyone likes, yeah?
He nods sarcastically as the screen flickers briefly and she is suddenly set upon by a GIANT MOUSE, which proceeds to gnaw at her face.
CUT TO:
INT. NIGHTCLUB - LATER
Finally relenting to the inevitability of it all, the DJ puts on Everybody (Backstreet’s Back) by The Backstreet Boys. A harrowing scream is emitted by hundreds of pissed slappers as everyone on the periphery rises to their feet in slow-motion and flocks like Zombies to the dancefloor. As the film speeds back up to its normal pace, the DJ is approached by a VACUOUS-LOOKING BLONDE:
Hi, can I request a song?
DJ
(absent-mindedly)
Well it depends what it is, of course, but go on...
VACUOUS-LOOKING BLONDE
Can we have some Chesney?
DJ
‘Some’ Chesney? Why of course, Madam! Which of his many hits would you like to hear this fine evening?!
VACUOUS-LOOKING BLONDE
(pondering, without irony)
Hmmm... I think I’d like...
(nodding)
...The One and Only.
DJ
Really? Now are you sure there isn’t another one...?
VACUOUS-LOOKING BLONDE
(still pondering)
...No, I think that’s the one.
DJ
(grinning moronically)
Oh, well, what a turn-up! I’ll play it for you later, Madam!
The screen flickers momentarily as he picks up an electric drill, fires the trigger and plunges the whirring bit straight into the side of his head, nodding and smiling like a lobotomised vegetable as blood dribbles from his ear.
CUT TO:
INT. NIGHTCLUB - LATER
The DJ watches the BEAUTIFUL GIRL tap her foot across the room as Stevie Wonder’s Sir Duke plays. However, a particularly SURLY PUNTER soon approaches to wipe the smile off his face.
SURLY PUNTER
Yeah mate, can we have some RnB?
The DJ looks quizzically at the CD that is playing, and then decides not to bother. The screen flickers to place us in the FANTASY WORLD:
Why, certainly, sir! What was it in that you were after? John Lee Hooker? Muddy Waters? Buddy Guy?
The SURLY PUNTER stares blankly.
- Oh I’m sorry, was that not what you had in mind?!
The DJ picks up a machete and slashes him across the jugular. Blood spurts all over the shop as the SURLY PUNTER drops to his knees and gurgles his last.
Back in REALITY:
- It’s coming up later on...
CUT TO:
INT. NIGHTCLUB - LATER
Chuck Berry’s Johnny B. Goode plays to a notable lack of interest as an IDIOTIC PUNTER approaches.
Yeah, er, can we have something that we all know that we can dance to?
DJ
- I’m sorry?! This is Johnny B. Goode, the most well-known and danceable song in the history of popular music!
IDIOTIC PUNTER
Yeah, er, it’s just that my Grandma’s gone home?
See, none of us were born when this came out.
As the screen flickers, the DJ stares blankly at her for another moment before picking up a sub-atomic machine gun and blasting the fuck out of her.
Back to REALITY:
May I ask what you suggest instead?
IDIOTIC PUNTER
How about Hey Ya! by Outkast?
DJ
(matter-of-factly)
How many times have you heard that song in a nightclub when you’ve been out?
IDIOTIC PUNTER
(thinking)
Every time.
DJ
(losing the will to live)
I’ll do it later on...
CUT TO:
INT. NIGHTCLUB - LATER
Blur’s Girls and Boys plays as an enthusiastic but decidedly CLUELESS PUNTER approaches.
Yes?
CLUELESS PUNTER
Can we have something a bit funkier?
DJ
(mock engagement)
A bit funkier? Why of course, sir! What was it you were after?
CLUELESS PUNTER
I dunno, mate, something a bit, y’know, just a bit funkier...
DJ
(becoming increasingly wired)
Well I’m your funky fuckin’ monkey, mate, what can I do for you?!
- Come on, sir, out with it! You say it, I play it!
CLUELESS PUNTER
I dunno, something funky, like...
DJ
Come on, I’m your personal fucking Wurlitzer! What is it you’re after? Three seconds now, something funky, like –
CLUELESS PUNTER
...Ah...
DJ
- Like...?!
CLUELESS PUNTER
...Er...
DJ
Come on, we haven’t got all day...!
CLUELESS PUNTER
(blurting)
...Like, er... Coldplay!
DJ
- Coldplay! That’s funky, is it?!
CLUELESS PUNTER
No, I mean, er... oh...
He gives up under the strain and walks away. The DJ despairingly smacks his own head down onto the CD player, causing Ice Cube’s You Can Do It to fire up. The crowd screams in delight.
CUT TO:
INT. NIGHTCLUB - LATER
Justin Timberlake’s Rock Your Body plays to a predictably enthusiastic response. The DJ is busy cueing up another song as an IMPATIENT PUNTER tries desperately to get his attention. The DJ holds up finger as if to say “Just hang on a minute” but still the IMPATIENT PUNTER persists. Eventually the DJ turns to address her with notably fake enthusiasm...
- Yes!
IMPATIENT PUNTER
Can you play some Justin Timberlake?
DJ
(dumbfounded)
- This is Justin Timberlake.
The IMPATIENT PUNTER looks puzzled as the screen flickers and the DJ beckons her forward.
Back to REALITY:
DJ
I’ll tell you what, I’ll play it if you can tell me the name of that record.
IMPATIENT PUNTER
Er...
DJ
You honestly have no interest in music whatsoever, do you?
PUNTER
(obliviously)
- Sorry?
DJ
(resigned)
I’ll do it later on...
CUT TO:
INT. NIGHTCLUB - LATER
The opening bars of Reef’s Place Your Hands ring out to a predictably rapturous response, before reality suddenly becomes suspended and the music slows to a crawl. Everything stops as the DJ addresses the lone BEAUTIFUL GIRL, who stands in the centre of the room illuminated by a spotlight.
(over the microphone)
You are the single most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. Your sad eyes play havoc with my mind. The way your hair falls sets my very soul on fire. I’d like to love you unconditionally until the day you die, safe and content in the knowledge that you lived a full life. You can’t hear me now, but I would wait for you until the jukebox winds down at the end of the world. And though if I ever gave voice to any of these thoughts you’d no doubt eye me with nothing but blithe indifference, I reach out to you now at the risk of everything. This song is yours just as surely as my heart is.
The couple stands alone on the dancefloor as Ryan Adams’ Wild Flowers plays quietly. They slow-dance together in the middle of the empty hall, surrounded by hundreds of lit candles as a JANITOR sweeps up in the background.
Back to REALITY:
The BEAUTIFUL GIRL stares ahead for a few more seconds before a cocky-looking PINK-SHIRTED TWAT comes over to her; as she drunkenly throws her arms around him and screams, we realise that she is in fact nothing more than ANOTHER VACUOUS BLONDE.
Surrendering once and for all, the DJ picks up the mic and, in mock enthusiasm, shouts slowly to the crowd -
- Here comes Chesney...!
The audience screams as the opening bars of The One and Only blast out of the PA. The DJ calmly steps forward onto a platform overlooking the audience, and puts his head into a noose which hangs down from the ceiling. Once his neck is secure, the noose slowly begins to lift itself higher to dangle him off the precipice. He submits unconditionally to the lack of oxygen and his feet begin to quiver as the noose silently moves forward, dangling him out over the audience.
As the first chorus of the song belts out of the speakers, the audience raise their drunken hands to the sky, each loudly proclaiming themselves the one and only (nobody they’d rather be). Their fingers obliviously jostle the DJ’s feet as he hangs above them, his lifeless body gently swaying back and forth.
Only one ULTIMATE PUNTER notices him dangling there. He looks up at the DJ for a few seconds before tugging at the hem of his jeans.
(looking up)
Excuse me... mate, hello...
(beat)
...Can we have some RnB?
Cut to black.
C.C. 12/10/05
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