Who Loses Wins script, sas murderjoe onthe way to asylum [ previous | bottom ]


            INT.  THE BOARDROOM-2  - DAY

                                KEN
                      You all know Neville, don't you?

            EVERYONE synchronously nods. Sneers. Each in his own way. Jim
            neutral.

                                KEN (cont'd)
                          (to Neville)
                      Come and join us Neville, there's a lot
                      to discuss.

            Neville gets up. Sycophantic and over-eager. Picks up his
            chair. Walks to attempt to put it next to Ken, in between Ken
            and Nigel. Nigel won't budge. Neville stands there looking
            stupid.

                                KEN
                          (waving his hand, speaks as to
                           a child)
                      Sit in an empty chair Neville.

            Neville reluctantly walks round to sit next to Nigel. Glares
            at Les when he is seated. Les glares back.

                                KEN
                      How do you feel about going to Donga
                      Donga, Neville?

                                NEVILLE
                          (boasting and eager)
                      Well, I've been in charge of nearly every
                      other Facility in the "Company",
                          (falsely laughs)
                      Haven't I, so I'll do a good job.

                                JIM
                          (eager, to Neville)
                      You'll have no problems, they've got real
                      get - up and go, Australian - fashion.
                      Immense synergistic appreciation of their
                      Market and Product. Extremely creative
                      and totally Australian!

                                NEVILLE
                          (looking at Ken)
                      How can anyone, in a small country town,
                      have synergistic focused appreciation of
                      anything? 
                          (smiles, ogles Ken)
                      Especially of an International market.
                          (smiles, ogles Les)

            Les surprised. Ken nods. Les sees Ken nod, he nods. Nigel
            sees Ken nod, he nods. John sees Ken nod, he nods. Neville
            looks triumphant. He lets go a triumphant fart.

                                LES
                          (joking, to Neville)
                      Don't worry, we'll turn them into Public
                      Servants for you.

                                KEN
                          (aggressively)
                      That's n, 
                          (sneezes)
                      what I want!

            EVERYONE purses their lips, nodding.  Neville the nodding 
            est, smiling sinisterly.

            EXT.  THE ASYLUM-15.- DAY

            BACK TO:	The Police wagon traversing the Asylum road
            entrance. A little bit closer to the SAS Men. ANCHOR aiming
            his weapon. 

            A VIEW through the telescopic sights of a weapon. Joe's head.
            Frontal view. Through the Police wagon rear compartment
            window. Over a radio-communicator

                                LEADER (V.O.)
                      Anchor!  Kill level!

                                ANCHOR (V.O.)
                      Kill 50% level.

                                LEADER (V.O.)
                      Hold!

                                ANCHOR (V.O.)
                      Compliant!

            INT.  POLICE WAGON INTERIOR-12. - DAY

            BACK TO:	Joe returns to present - time;

                                BRUCE
                      ...and I often think it's just like Alice
                      in Wonderland!

                                JOE
                          (grins)
                      It is, isn't it?

            Joe's eyes glase, imagines, again;

            INT.  THE BOARDROOM-3  - DAY

            The typical expensive Boardroom. Rearranged as the Mad
            Hatters Tea-Party from Alice in Wonderland. Teapot etc on
            table. 

            Ken, Les, Nigel and John sit around it. Discussing. 

            Neville sitting in the corner. As before. 

            ALL dressed as  Tea-Party  characters.  

            Ken the  "MAD-HATTER". Neville as "ALICE". Nigel the
            "DOORMOUSE". John the "DOORMOUSE". Les the "DOORMOUSE"

                                KEN
                          (mad - like)
                      I've convinced the Board it's viable. We
                      need to work out a final decision.
                      They'll accept our recommendation. 
                          (beat, looks around)
                      Where's Jim? 
                          (starts crying)
                      He's left me! Gone back to the Public
                      Service, the Health Department. 
                          (mad - like)
                      Can't say, "Synergistic appreciation". 
                          (cries more)

                                LES
                          (mickey - taking)
                      Synergistic appreciation.

                                JOHN
                          (mickey - taking)
                      Synergistic appreciation.

                                NIGEL
                          (mickey - taking)
                      Synergistic apprec.......

                                KEN
                          (interrupting, starts singing)
                      Synergistic appreciation?  In a country
                      town?

            Ken commences to bang his head on the table.  

            EVERYONE looks at one another. Shrug. Copy Ken. Les, after
            his first head - bang stops. Looks around.  Wonders why
            Neville is there. Doesn't like him. Pokes his tongue out at
            Neville. Makes horrible faces at him. 

            Neville likewise back.

                                KEN
                          (suddenly sitting upright, then
                           mad - like, very quickly)
                      But are the predicted sales accurate?
                      Will they achieve a fifty - million
                      dollar turnover, discounted NPV, of
                      course, in the first Financial year?

                                NIGEL
                          (mickey - taking, still head
                           banging)
                      Discounted NPV, of course.

                                JOHN
                          (mickey - taking, still head
                           banging)
                      Discounted NPV, of course.

                                LES
                          (returning from debasing
                           Neville, mickey - taking)
                      Synergistic appreciation.

            EVERYONE sits up. Glare at him. 

            He blows a raspberry at them, then an achievement voice;

                                LES (cont'd)
                      Discounted NPV, of course,
                      Discounted NPV, of course,

            He pauses, looks around, abusing everyone, then mad - like,
            to Ken.

                                LES (cont'd)
                      Why, Ken, I can absolutely, irrefutably,
                      misonagomously, mindsettingly
                      riboflavinousconfolutingly, ubiquitiously
                      verbalise that if they can't then,
                          (beat, looks around)
                      something is severely wrong with our
                      methods of marketing. Our focus must be
                      irretrievably, incorrectly defocussed.

            Les looks at Nigel accusingly, gives him the "V - sign".
            Nigel is asleep. Snoring.

                                KEN
                          (mad-like)
                      O.K., then, we'll buy them --- BUT, only
                      their accomplishments, we don't want..
                          (sneers)
                      "country peasants" as a liability.
                           (looks up)
                      Do we?

            INT.  THE BOARDROOM-4  - DAY

            Neville jumps up.  Commences to hop-skip-and-jump around the
            room. Singing. Mad-like. His "Alice" skirt flapping. He has
            no pants on neither has any genitalia.

                                NEVILLE
                      I've got a first - class honours -
                      degree, I've got a first - class honours 
                      degree, I've got a first - class honours 
                      degree, there ain't no synergy in me - e 
                      e - e,...oooooohhhhh!!!

            Les malevolently trips him up. Neville falls to the floor.
            Turns. Sits. Starts crying.

                                NEVILLE
                          (pointing at Les, crying)
                      He tripped me up, Ken, tripped me up.

                                KEN
                          (waving his hand, then
                           normally)
                      Sit in an empty chair Neville.

            Neville reluctantly gets off the floor, walks round to sit
            next to Nigel who snores louder. Glares at Les when he is
            seated. Les glares back. Starts making faces.

                                KEN (cont'd)
                      How do you feel about going to Donga
                      Donga, Neville?

                                NEVILLE
                          (effeminately)
                      Well, you've put me in charge of nearly
                      every other Facility 
                          (falsely laughs)
                      Haven't you, so I'll do a good job. But.. 
                          (beat, sings)
                      How can anyone, in a small country town,
                      have synergistic appreciation of
                      anything? 
                          (smiles, exaggeratedly ogles
                           Ken, then, cynical - like)
                      Especially of an International market. 
                          (gives Les a "V" sign)

            Nigel wakes. Splutters. Looks around. 

            Ken nods.  

            Les sees Ken nod, he nods. Nigel sees Ken nod, he nods. John
            sees Ken nod, he nods. 

            Neville looks triumphant, he stands, turns his back on them,
            lifts his "Alice" skirt, gives them the "Brown - Eye" then
            sits back down looking very pleased with himself.

                                LES
                          (mad-like)
                      Don't worry, we'll turn them into Public
                      Servants for you.

                                KEN
                      That's n.
                          (sneezes)
                      what I want!

            EVERYONE commences singing. Mad-like.

                                EVERYONE
                      That's what he wants! That's what he
                      wants! That's what he wants! That's what
                      he wants!

            EVERYONE, except Neville, suddenly stops singing.  ALL look
            at the teapot, then, sychronously turn to look at Neville.
            Neville slowly stops singing, cowers, looking at Ken.
            Pleading. 

            Ken rises from his chair. Malevolent grin-like. Looking at
            Neville and then the teapot.

            EXT. THE ASYLUM-16.- DAY

            BACK TO:	 The Police wagon traversing the Asylum road
            entrance. A little bit closer to the SAS Men. Anchor aiming
            his weapon. A VIEW through the telescopic sights of a weapon.
            Joe's head. Frontal view. Through the Police wagon rear
            compartment window. Over a radio-communicator.

                                LEADER (V.O.)
                      Anchor!  Kill level!

                                ANCHOR (V.O.)
                      Kill 60% level.

                                LEADER (V.O.)
                      Hold!

                                ANCHOR (V.O.)
                      Compliant!

            INT.  POLICE WAGON INTERIOR-13. - DAY

            BACK TO:	 Joe returning to the present.  Grinning. Very
            grinning.

                                BRUCE
                      So, what happened then?

                                JOE
                      Well, their first mistake was not to buy
                      the USA and UK offices, with their ready 
                      made order - books. This instantly lost
                      them over seven million , they had eighty
                      people but no Order-book, and, worse than
                      that, it produced another competitor. 
                          (smiles)
                      "They" thought the US company wouldn't
                      survive more'n six months! 
                          (pause)
                      The second mistake also generated another
                      competitor, at home..
                          (eyes glase)

            INT. G.M.'S OFFICE-2 - DAY

            The small General Manager's Office. Now somewhat "Public
            Service" in appearance. More so than before. 

            Desk - calendar shows January. 

            Neville sits behind the desk. Half-glasses low on his nose.
            Dave sits to his right. Joe (50), different coloured
            flannelette shirt. Sits in the chair opposite Neville. On the
            other side of the desk.

                                NEVILLE
                          (pompously)
                      We'll go in at two mil. 
                          (smiles)
                      They'll have to come to us, who else can
                      they go to? 

            He nods to himself, assenting, looks over his half - glasses
            at them. 

            Joe shakes his head, positively negating, then subserviently;

                                JOE
                      But they've already paid nearly that for
                      the work-done by the old company. If we
                      go in at "cost" the SAS complex will be a
                      showpiece for us, for Australia. The
                      world will come to our door.

                                DAVE
                      With due respect, Neville, I agree with
                      Joe. We may lose the work we really need.

                                NEVILLE
                          (very pompously)
                      You're with the "Big-Boys" now. 
                          (smiles, then confidently)
                      We'll go at two - mil. We'll get it.
                      You'll see.

            INT. G.M.'S OFFICE-3 - DAY

            Some months later. 

            Desk-calendar shows March. 

            Neville sits behind the desk. Half-glasses low on his nose.
            Dave sits to his right. Joe (50), different coloured
            flannelette shirt.  Sits in the chair, opposite Neville. On
            the other side of the desk.

                                NEVILLE
                          (angry)
                      They're bloody claiming intellectual
                      property rights on the equipment WE
                      bought the rights to, as well as doing
                      the work themselves!
                          (grits his teeth)
                      The bloody USA office of the old company
                      is getting stronger, it just beat us on
                      our last offer in the USA, we lost three -
                      hundred - kay!
                          (gets up, looks over his half
                           glasses)
                      No matter, I've got to go to Canberra.

            He picks up a briefcase off the floor and exits. Joe looks at
            Dave. BOTH hang their heads.

                                JOE
                      Why wont he listen to us? Does he think
                      we're incompetent or something?

                                DAVE
                          (glumly)
                      That's not the worst of it. He's going to
                      be made Chief General Manager and I've
                      got to go to Melbourne Divisional Office, 
                          (beat, reluctantly)
                      with him!

                                JOE
                          (puzzled)
                      Who's going to be G.M. here then?

                                DAVE
                      There's a bloke coming on Monday. An ex
                      army chap.  Non - technical, A mate of
                      Terry Dinneen.

                                JOE
                          (interrupting)
                      Of-course! A "Company" - man, non -
                      technical, of course, 
                          (nodding affirmation)
                      what else! A "Plug-in" Management type,
                      eh? Can manage anything he knows nothing
                      about, eh?

                                DAVE
                          (nodding)
                      Of-course. He's taking over. A Brian
                      Suit. Used to be a marketing chap in
                      Lithgow. Entirely non-technical!

                                JOE
                      Who's going to do your job in this
                      Arrogant Dysfunctional Industry?

                                DAVE
                      Jeff's taking over. Karl's a wog and you
                      don't fit-in. 
                          (smiles)
                      You never wear a suit and tie, 
                          (grins)
                      And you answer-back! That's what he 
                          (indicating Neville's empty
                           chair)
                      thinks. What they all think.

            Joe looks sad.  Looks down at his flannelette shirt. Shakes
            his head in disbelief.

                                JOE
                          (disgusted)
                      I wear the clothes I deem suitable for
                      the requirement, fit for purpose, what do
                      they want? Come in my mohair and do
                      nothing in case it gets damaged?

            Dave not listening. Totally engrossed in despair.

            INT. G.M.'S OFFICE-4 - DAY

            Some months later. 

            Desk-calendar shows June. 

            BRIAN SUIT sits behind the desk. "Company" suit and tie.
            Greying hair. Black horn - rimmed spectacles. Looks like
            Joe's father or son. An ex - army half - colonel, in
            administration. Always aggressive. 

            Jeff sits on the opposite side of the desk. Green patterned
            shirt, dark green trousers. Looks like the engineer he is,
            promoted to  Manager. Next to Joe who wears a different 
            coloured flannelette shirt, grey slacks.

                                BRIAN
                          (smiling, falsely, to Joe)
                      They want you to go down to Geelong. Talk
                      the proposal through. Any problems?

                                JOE
                          (subservient but sincere)
                      No, but we need our own indoor range
                      here. Without it we've no credibility.

                                JEFF
                      Yes, I agree with Joe, Brian it.

                                BRIAN
                          (aggressively interrupting)
                      But who's going to sign it off?
                      Will you? Have you ever designed one?

            Jeff nonplussed.

                                JOE
                          (confidently)
                      Of course I'll sign it off. 
                          (smiles)
                      When it's finished we will have designed
                      one.

                                BRIAN
                          (controlling himself, then
                           smiling, falsely)
                      But you've never designed one before,
                      have you? We've got to train someone up
                      to be able to do the job. Teach them new
                      skills.

                                JOE
                          (amazed)
                      But half the job-satisfaction is learning
                      the techniques, making controlled
                      mistakes and perfecting the knowledge.
                      That's how we did the SAS complex. Hadn't
                      designed one of them before either. 

            He looks at Jeff, incredulously. Jeff looks upwards. Hiding
            his frustration.

                                BRIAN
                          (smiling, falsely)
                      You're with "The Company", now, not a tin
                      pot country bumpkin outfit. 
                          (waving his hands -- dismissal
                           like)
                      You just go to Geelong. We need the two 
                      hundred - kay contract. 
                          (beat)
                      Oh, and by the way, we're moving to the
                      other building. 
                          (smiles, insincerely)

            Joe looks at Jeff who grins, looks upwards, rolls his eyes.

                                JOE
                          (incredulous)
                      But we've only just moved here!

                                BRIAN
                          (smiling, falsely, then looking
                           upwards)
                      It makes more sense. 
                          (insincere smile, then to Joe)
                      Oh, and in Jeff's absence, next week,
                      you're in charge. There's a consultant
                      coming to get us through 3901. You have
                      no problem with that, have you? 
                          (smiles, falsely)

                                JOE
                          (puzzled)
                      What do we need a consultant for? We only
                      failed eighteen - twenty - one because we
                      had no written Design Manual, the other
                      procedures we had passed.

                                BRIAN
                          (aggressively)
                      Did you pass?

                                JOE
                      No, but, as I sai.....

                                BRIAN
                          (interrupting, leaning forward,
                           very aggressively)
                      I said did you pass!

                                JOE
                          (meekly, lost)
                      No, but..

                                BRIAN
                          (sitting back, nodding,
                           triumphantly smiling)
                      Well, then.

            Joe looks at Jeff who bites his lip in disgust.

            INT.  POLICE WAGON INTERIOR-14. - DAY

            BACK TO:	Joe returning to the present.

                                BRUCE
                          (incredulous)
                      Two moves? How much did that cost?

                                JOE
                      Oh, only about four - hundred thousand
                      dollars, not much, by "their" standards.
                      It's all taxpayers money you know.
                          (smiles)

                                BRUCE
                          (remembering)
                      I've trained at Geelong. It's good there
                      but I didn't know it was one of yours.

                                JOE
                          (grinning)
                      It aint! We never got the job! 
                          (beat)
                      It's American! 
                          (beat, shakes his head
                           dejectedly)
                      We had no credibility without our own
                      Indoor Range. And what's more, good old
                      Neville stirred them up with his hate of
                      unions and went in at three - hundred
                      thousand knowing it should have been two!

                                BRUCE
                      But couldn't you've designed and built
                      one for the money you spent moving twice?

                                JOE
                          (laughing)
                      Not one but two! 
                          (shakes his head in amazement)
                      "They" bloody cancelled it!
                      Wouldn't let us develop it. "Country
                      bumpkins", you know. No "know-how", they
                      said, us with a record of one hundred
                      patents! An Australian Privately owned
                      company!

            The NOISE of a blowout. 

            The police wagon swerves. 

            Joe and Bruce fall to the wagon floor.

                                BRUCE
                      Oh -- shit!

            EXT.  THE ASYLUM-17.- DAY

            BACK TO:	 The Police wagon traversing the Asylum road
            entrance. A little bit closer to the SAS Men. 

            A BLOWOUT NOISE. Like a rifle SHOT. 

            The Police wagon swerves. Comes to a halt. Flat front tyre.
            Over a radio-communicator

                                ANCHOR (V.O.)
                      Fuck!

                                LEADER (V.O.)
                          (annoyed, quickly)
                      Who said that?!

                                ANCHOR (V.O.)
                          (subservient, low- level)
                      Sorry.

            Bill gets out. Looks at the blowout.

            EXT. THE TARGET LOST. - DAY

            BACK TO:	Anchor aiming his weapon. Searching through  it's
            telescopic sight. Trying to acquire the target. 

            A VIEW through the telescopic sights of a weapon. Cannot find
            Joe's head through the Police wagon rear compartment window.
            Over a radio-communicator

                                LEADER (V.O.)
                      Anchor!  Kill level!

                                ANCHOR (V.O.)
                      Kill zero level.

                                LEADER (V.O.)
                      Stand-down!

                                ANCHOR (V.O.)
                      Compliant!

            Anchor lowers his weapon. Puzzled. He thinks.  His eyes
            through the balaclava slits.

                                ANCHOR (cont'd) (V.O.)
                          (puzzled)
                      That bloody dummy target in the wagon was
                      talking. 
                          (eyes narrow, through the
                           balaclava slits)
                      No, couldn't be. 
                          (beat, then subserviently)
                      Better check, though.

            Over a radio-communicator

                                ANCHOR (cont'd) (V.O.)
                      Problem.

                                LEADER (V.O.)
                      Define!

            Anchor unsure. Could be embarrassing.

                                LEADER (cont'd) (V.O.)
                          (commanding)
                      Anchor! Define!

                                ANCHOR (V.O.)
                          (hesitant)
                      Target spoke.

                                SQUIB (V.O.)
                          (giggles, then)
                      He's pissed!

                                LEADER (V.O.)
                      Quiet! 
                          (beat, then quickly)
                      Check in progress!

            EXT.  THE CHECK.- DAY

            Leader, from his concealed position. Opens his black
            briefcase. Removes a small satellite dish. Assembles it. 
            Connects it to the briefcase. Points it skywards. Removes the
            jack from his headset communicator, plugs it into a socket
            within the case. Mouths words beneath his black balaclava.
            Concern in his eyes.

            INT. SEARGENT'S OFFICE - DAY

            A small office. Army style. 

            SEARGENT sits at desk. Passing time - of - day. His title on
            desk-plaque. 

            The telephone RINGS. He quickly picks it up. Urgently.

                                SEARGENT
                      Panic station. 
                          (he listens, beat)
                      Hold. 
                          (he pushes hold button on
                           'phone, redials)

            INT. CAPTAIN'S OFFICE - DAY

            A bigger office. Army style. 

            CAPTAIN sits at desk. Passing time - of - day. His title on
            desk-plaque. 

            The telephone RINGS. 

            The Captain a bit busy passing the time of day, ignores it. 

            The telephone RINGS again. 

            Captain reluctantly picks it up.

                                CAPTAIN
                      Hello? 
                          (beat, then concerned)
                      What? Hold! 
                          (pushes hold button on 'phone,
                           redials)
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