Who's Next first draft, about jesus of nazareth, religion, sex and god the mother<div align="center"> <p>Justus Riches returns in time to seek Jesus of Nazareth. God, the Mother has planned it all!!</p> </div>

            A typical 18th century pauper hovel. 

            We see the back of the HAG bent low over something. Rocking backwards and
            forwards in despair.

                      Aw, c'mon Tom, dun't do it ter me, pleez! I never
                      ment you enny 'arm, did I?

                                TOM (V.O.)
                      Nah! Pissoff yer barmy ole bird! Pissoff an' leev me
                      alone or I'll put a 'ex on yer!
                      I dunno!

            The Hag commences crying and rocking, stroking something held tightly to her
            wizened breast. 

            We SLOWLY see it's a roughly carved figurine of a 16th century monk clothed in
            a tattered brown attempt at a monk's habit. 

            She dolefully places it amongst the letters arranged on the table before her -- a
            Ouija board of that time.
            EXT. TOM IN LIMBO - NIGHT

            SPACE, unending SPACE. 

            Drifting aimlessly, peacefully, at ONE with the unending galaxies.

            MUSIC breaks our BLACK reverie. DISTORTED music, almost definable but
            not so, as if heard by ears not hearing for several hundred years.

            DISTURBED, we scan the stars and hear DISTORTED MUFFLED VOICES
            mouthing sequential alphabetical letters, we search for the source of the
            sound. In the ENDLESS DISTANCE we move towards the sound with
            increasing PURPOSE and SPEED.  Homing in to planet Earth, like a spirit
            entity returning home, we descend.

            SUPER TITLE a biblical tenet;
                  "In the beginning was the Word.
                     And the Word was with God. 
              Without HIM was nothing made that was
                             In HIM was LIFE."


            It is NIGHT. 

            With purpose we FLASH through thunderclouds, lightning, to the COUNTRY OF
            CHOICE. See a city, transient, enter a street of terraced shops coming to a
            HALT outside the window of a FAVOURED shop;


            In the stormy moonlight we see a sign in the bookshop window;


            We MELT through the bookshop wall, to the inside;


            We see a typical small occult bookshop full of old rare books stacked in over
            stocked shelves. 

                                TOM (V.O.)
                      Werds, bluddy werds!
                      I dunno!

            We see; The frosted half glass shop door opposite a small counter. An old
            fashioned jangling type doorbell. Behind this counter a closed door leading to
            the backroom. 

            LIGHTNING flashes. THUNDER. Into the distance. The storm recedes. 

            We now CLEARLY hear MUFFLED VOICES drifting from the back room
            MOUTHING sequential alphabetical letters. 

            The shop doorbell JANGLES briefly attracting our attention but we are more
            interested in the well thumbed copy of 'CODEX VATICANUS, HEBREW/
            ARAMAIC TEXT' lying on the counter with its Ornate Gothic lettering. 

            The shop doorbell JANGLES. Longer. Impatient, slightly distracting us from the
            book obsessing us to notice a shadowy shape illuminated by the full moon
            through the frosted glass. 

            The backroom door opens breaking our attention. 

            CANDLELIGHT flickers from within. 

            JUSTUS, a slight man, who with the 'right' beard would look like the "Jesus
            Christ" WE ALL KNOW, enters wearing a purple smoking jacket. He hurries to
            the shop front door.

                      Alright,alright, keep your nickers on!

            The shop doorbell jangles. Very impatiently. Continuously.

                                JUSTUS (cont'd)
                      Okay, Okay! Hang on!

            We watch him unbolt the shop door. Open it. We watch JANEY, a thin, blond,
            long haired, mildly attractive 30 year old, pushing her way in past him. Brazen.
            Very exasperated. Wearing a duffle coat. Headscarf. Wet from the rain.
            Speaking over her shoulder.

                      Took your time,didn't you?

            We watch as she walks to the counter. Takes off her headscarf. Puts it on the
            counter. Shakes her long hair out. Takes off her duffle coat. Puts it on the
            counter. She wears a thin, too tight cotton blouse, no brassiere covering her
            small breasts. 

            We notice the NIPPLES, hard from the cold rain, as if we had NEVER seen
            nipples before.  We watch what happens but are OBSESSED with her nipples. 

            She turns to face Justus closing the door.  He locks it, turns. Puzzled. Walks up
            to her. Somehow, his presence calms her. She kisses him lightly on the cheek.
            Apologetically calming.

                                JANEY (CONT'D)
                      Sorry,Justus. It's this latest one. He's rather difficult.

                      Can't get enough I suppose.

            Janey laughs. Walks around the counter to go to the backroom speaking as
            she goes.

                      Far from it. The poor chap can't even manage an
                      erection yet,

            She stops at the backroom door and turns to him, teasing.

                                JANEY (cont'd)
                      He's merely like putty in my hands.

            She laughs and enters the backroom.  Justus forlornly scowls. Follows her into
            the backroom. 

            The Storm clearing, clouds moving across the moon cause the moonlight to
            flicker across the bookshop. Shadows coming alive.  

            We MELT through the backroom wall and into;


            The backroom is small. Furniture antique. An open fire flickering. Sinister.
            Shadow generating. A mantelpiece above the fire. An ornate chiming clock on
            it. A small door next to the fireplace leading to the rear garden. A heavy velvet
            curtain to the back obscures the bedroom area. A large, ornate Ouija table
            occupies the room centre. Four chairs around it. 

            An ageing FRUMP and CYRIL, an intelligent looking bespectacled teenager sit
            in opposite chairs. Justus sits opposite Janey. A paper pad and pencil lie on
            the table in front of Cyril. A ball bearing planchette on the Ouija table. In the
            centre among the ornate, ancient lettering.  

            CANDLELIGHT from candles suitably placed. 

            Cyril casts sneaky looks at Janey. He has a crush on her and fawns in her

                      We should get some action now you're here,Janey.

                      What have you got so far?

            Cyril picks up his notepad. Reads from it. Showing off.

                      Just rubbish really --

            Frump exasperated. She thought things were good.

                                CYRIL (cont'd)
                      -- a looney from the fifteenth century who thinks we
                      are the Devil --
                          (pause for effect)

            Janey and Justus laugh.

                                CYRIL (cont'd)
                      A tenth century virgin claiming to've been raped by
                      Roman soldiers and, --

            Frump scowls.

                                CYRIL (cont'd)
                      -- and a twit who thinks he is one of the thieves
                      crucified beside Jesus.

                      Well, that figures. Without me to hold you down, what
                      do you expect, with a frump,

            Frump purses her lips. Insulted.

                                JANEY (cont'd)
                      a scaredy cat,

            Cyril embarrassed.

                                JANEY (cont'd)
                      and someone with a Jesus complex, all shoving the
                      thing around.

                      Now don't spoil it, Janey. The table's been very fluid

                      But, it must get better now Janey's here, she's the
                      most psychic of us all,


                      What I mean is --

                      We all know what you mean, dear boy, but you
                      should have used the word 'sensual', rather than

            She pauses for effect.  Cyril looks at Janey. Justus embarrassed. Janey
            unperturbed. Frump bitches some more.

                                FRUMP (cont'd)
                      I don't know what the Health Service is coming to.

            She stares at Janey emphasising the aim of the comment. Janey starts to look

                      Let's get on with it shall we? Come on!

            INT. THE OUIJA - 1 - NIGHT

            Justus reaches out and places a forefinger on the planchette.  Janey calms,
            looks affectionately at him and follows his lead with her forefinger. 

            Cyril instantly pushes his free hand out to 'accidently' touch Janey's. She
            smiles at him. Cyril blushes, embarrassed, repositions his hand, his forefinger
            on the planchette. 

            Frump shrugs, purses her lips, sneers, Follows suit. 

            Justus nods, smiles. Situation controlled.

                      That's better. 
                          (to the table)
                      Is anyone there?

            SILENCE. Expectant anticipation mixed with fear from Cyril to fire crackling

                                JUSTUS (cont'd)
                      Is anyone there?

            The planchette twitches. Three of them tense. Janey amused.

                                JUSTUS (cont'd)
                      Is there anybody there?

            The planchette moves quickly to 'YES'. Cyril puts down his pad. Picks up the
            pencil. Ready but scared.

                                JUSTUS (cont'd)
                      What is your name?

            The planchette begins to move, slowly at first, then faster. Deliberately aiming
            at letters as their subconscious is tapped. 

            Justus calls out each letter, Cyril nervously scribbles each one on his notepad.

                                JUSTUS (cont'd)
                      'T',.....' H '....'O' ....'M' ........Thomas!

            The planchette moves to 'YES'.

                                JUSTUS (cont'd)
                          (affirming nod)
                      Thomas!  What is your surname?

            The planchette twitches around in the centre of the table. Justus impatient,
            always impatient with it.

                                JUSTUS (cont'd)
                      Have you a second name?

            The planchette moves quickly to 'YES'. It continues. Justus calling out each
            letter, Cyril scribbling, even more nervously.

                                JUSTUS (cont'd)
                      ......'A' .....'K' ...'E'...'M' ....No, that was an 'N'......

            The planchette moves instantly to 'NO'. Justus displeased.

                                JUSTUS (cont'd)
                      Okay, after 'E'.

            The planchette continues.

                                JUSTUS (cont'd)
                      ....'M' ...'P' ...'I'....'S'

            The planchette stops. It twitches around mysteriously.

                                JUSTUS (cont'd)
                      Thomas Akemp is?  Is what?

            The planchette moves quickly to 'NO'.

                                JUSTUS (cont'd)
                      No?  What's it mean, 'no'!

            Janey smiles removes her forefinger from the planchette, sits back in her chair
            amused, looks at Justus.

                      It's you, Justus. You anticipate.

            Justus removes his forefinger from the planchette, sits back and looks at her.
            He knows but wont admit. 

            Frump and Cyril remove their forefingers from the planchette, 

            Cyril relaxing a bit.

                                JANEY (CONT'D)
                      It said 'Thomas' 'A Kempis'.

            Justus stunned. Janey amused.

                                JANEY (cont'd)
                      It's your 'Id'. You should realise, Imitation of Christ,
                      and all that.

            She laughs in a cynical manner. Justus very excited.

                      Come on, everybody, back.

            INT. THE OUIJA -2 - NIGHT

            Justus quickly replaces his forefinger on the planchette. The other three follow.
            Frump slowly, Cyril waiting for Janey. Janey quizzically looking at Justus as she
            follows suit.

                      Are you still there?
                      Thomas 'A Kempis.

            The planchette moves to 'YES'.

                                JUSTUS (cont'd)
                          (in awe)
                      Have you a message for me?

            Janey smiles at him, amused. She shakes her head at his naivety, his selfish

            The planchette moves off 'YES', momentarily, and back on to 'YES', where it sits

                                JUSTUS (cont'd)
                      What is your message for me?

            The planchette commences to spell out. Justus calling letters, Cyril scribbling,
            scared again.

                                JUSTUS (cont'd)
                      ......'Y' ....'E' ...'B'....'E'

            He gasps, stops and removes his forefinger from the planchette, sits back in
            his chair, stunned. He looks around as if something spoke. 

            Janey casts a disapproving look at him, continues to call out the letters. Cyril
            scribbles, terrified. 

                      ....'J' ...'E'

                      It's evil! ..We musn't play. ....It's evil!

            She removes her forefinger from the planchette. 

            The planchette stops moving. 

            SILENCE. The SOUND of fire crackling noises. 

            Frump Sits back in her chair, glances around nervously. Janey amused. Cyril
            still frightened. They remove their forefingers from the planchette and sit back. 

                      What's up, Justus? You look like you've seen a

            She smiles. Justus looks about the room, very nervous. Frump is very

                      He can sense it as well. It's evil, very evil. I feel so

            She shudders, cuddles herself. 

                      Now, Justus, why did you sit back like that?

                      I don't know. It seemed, ....well,  ....somehow wrong,
                      what it was going to say.

                          (to CYRIL)
                      What did it spell out?

            Cyril consults his notepad. Jumps. Frightened by Frump suddenly standing.

                      There's an evil presence here. I'm going!


            Justus commences to get up.

                      No, Justus, I'll let myself out.

            She walks to the door and exits. 

            Cyril totally unsure of everything.

                      I don't feel anything, do you, Janey?

                      Yes, but I call it 'imagination'. Evil, hah!

            The shop doorbell jangles as Frump leaves O.S. Cyril jumps at the sound. 

            Janey starts looking longingly at Justus who returns the longing look. Janey
            pretends it's cold, shudders.

                      But what made her say such a thing? It's not cold.

                      Oh! It's suddenly got cold. Can't you feel it? I've got
                      goose bumps.

            She looks down at her bust deliberately. 

            Cyril looks at her, confused, sees her nipples, hard through her thin blouse. He
            blushes, looks at Justus. -- JUSTUS, JANEY, HER HARD NIPPLES and CYRIL.
            The MUTUAL longing. 

            Cyril realises and blushes deeper.

                      It is cold. I'd better be off too.

            He puts his notepad and pencil on the table quickly rises and walks to the
            door. Opens it, hesitates, looks back to the pair who are locked in visual
            anticipation oblivious to his presence.

                                CYRIL (cont'd)
                      Don't bother to see me out Justus. Goodnight,

            Cyril turns on the room light, forlornly exits.  

            Beat. The shop doorbell jangles as Cyril leaves.


            Janey touches the planchette caressing it sensually, her eyes inviting. She
            unbuttons her blouse with her free hand, teasing. 

            Justus starts to look displeased. 

            Janey stands up, looks at Justus longingly, sensually.

                      Shall we?

                      Stop teasing Janey.

            Janey pulls her blouse out from her skirt. Opens it, revealing her breasts. Picks
            up the planchette. Commences to caress her breasts with it. 

            Justus is not amused. 

            Janey removes her blouse sensually. Inviting. Wanting. Drops it on the Ouija
            table. Positions the planchette on her blouse. Looks at Justus for effect. Bends
            low addressing the planchette.

                      Would you like to have me, Tom? It's on the
                      Government, you know.

                                TOM (V.O.)
                          (very softly)
                      Bluddy bitch!  Yer 'nows I carn't! DONTCHA!!
                      I dunno!

            She teases Justus with her eyes as he angrily stands. She laughs, runs to exit
            through the curtain covering the bedroom entrance.  

            Justus switches off the room light shaking his head not amused at her teasing.
            He blows out the candles and exits through the curtain into the bedroom area. 

            The planchette sits on Janey's blouse in the flickering LIGHT of the fire.
            WAITING for something to happen. 

            Shadows become ALIVE in the LIGHT of the fire.


            We see the planchette CONTINUOUSLY throughout the following V.O. scene;

                                JUSTUS (V.O.)
                      Why must you always tease me?

                                JANEY (V.O.)
                      You're teasing me, standing there in the nude.
                      Come here!

            The planchette twitches. Bedsprings CREAKING. Someone getting on a bed. 

                                JUSTUS (V.O.)
                      Oh!  Janey!

            Bedsprings CREAKING. Again. Slowly. At first. Increasing in frequency. Like two
            bodies achieving synchronicity of movement as Janey and Justus make love

            The planchette moves slowly keeping time with the bedsprings CREAKING
            until it flies off the table at orgasmic speed. Janey's blouse remaining. 

            The SOUND of a mutual orgasm. 

            We see the notebook on the Ouija table. The nights 'recording'. The last
            scribbled note:   "Y - E - B - E - J"


            A while later within the bedroom area. 

            It is very small. Walls adorned with mystic cabbalah. A spring double bed. An
            antique ornate pulse dialing type telephone alongside it. A box of tissues and
            an ashtray beside the telephone. A small wooden door. The urinal. 

            LIGHT flickering from an old hurricane lamp standing on a shelf alongside the
            urinal door. 

            Justus and Janey lie in bed, Janey nearest the telephone side of the bed.
            Janey smokes. Justus looking for 'well done'.


                      Well what?

                      You know, 
                      did I?
                      Was I?

                      You underestimate yourself, Justus. You know you
                      always do, or I wouldn't be here, would I?

                      Oh blast you! 
                          (turns his back)
                      You're so, so -- 
                      well, you're always like this,

            He hangs his head. No sympathy from her. She teases.

                      You mean smoking?

                          (turning to face her)
                      It's just that I don't know where I stand with you.

                          (cynical eagerness)
                      Oh what a good idea! We haven't done it that way for

                          (almost smiling)
                      You know that's not what I mean.

            Janey pretends disappointment. Puffs her cigarette. Blows smoke in his face.
            Justus coughs. Not amused.

                      It's those 'patients' of yours.

            Janey throws her hands in the air.

                      Here we go again!

                          (turning his back)
                      I can't help it. Suppose I were to surrogate myself to
                      women, how would you like it?

                      You couldn't surrogate yourself.

                      And why not?

                      You know the reason.

            Janey sits up.

                                JANEY (cont'd)
                      Come on! You get your kicks out of 'after sex', not the
                      act itself.

            Justus turns quickly. Faces her. Eager.

                      In that case I could become a sexual surrogate very
                      easily, couldn't I?

                      Freud forbid! You'd maim anyone you tried to help.
                      Admittedly we talk, afterwards, but you, you don't talk. 

            She picks up the ashtray from the side of the bed, extinguishes her cigarette
            and replaces the ashtray.

                                JANEY (cont'd)
                      Your type cannot 'talk'.

                      Oh, and what's 'my' type?

            INT. THE LECTURE - NIGHT

            Janey lies back in the bed. Lectures.

                      A lapsed religicoso --- a typical chicken  egg
                      situation. You attempt to place sex outside yourself,
                      just as you do, or did, with religion....

            Caught up in her dialogue. Justus a "small boy".

                                JANEY (cont'd)
                      It's something you 'do'. Something that you cannot
                      conceive as being 'done' to you. You 'have' me, then
                      use me, as a priest to confess to, for having me!

                          (disgustedly jealous)
                      But all those men you do it with,

                      What's 'it'?

                      You know,   'It'.

            She sits up. Emphatic. Thrusts her face close to his. He reluctant. Squirmingly

                      Say 'IT'.

                          (long squirming beat)
                      damn you! 

                      There, that wasn't difficult, was it.

            Justus despairs. Janey shruggingly doesn't know.

                      But why do I feel so guilty afterwards?

                      Only you know that, Justus. Perhaps you think that
                      'God' doesn't have to do it, Jesus never did it, priests
                      don't do it, the Pope doesn't either, as far as is
                      known, so, ergo, it must be wrong.
                      Then there's the problem of whom did what to

                      What do you mean?

                      Why, God the 'Mother' of course. No one has ever
                      thought of Her, have they? If She didn't exist then the
                      other three, or, at least two, were pooftahs, weren't

            Justus is puzzled.

                                JANEY (cont'd)
                      How do you think 'your' God made the son?

            Janey getting excited.

                                JANEY (cont'd)
                      Did he just pull himself off, ejaculate on a wall
                      somewhere and the sun hatched his semen?

                      Oh, Janey, that's blasphemy! God wouldn't have to
                      do that!

                          (with commitment)
                      No, what about God the MOTHER! No one has ever
                      thought about HER since time immemorial, have
                      they? Surely she MUST exist in a form apart from the
                      bloody Virgin Mary, mustn't she?
                      Or else it's been a plot of MANkind since the
                      beginning of religion! What's wrong with God 'giving'
                      God the Mother One?

            Janey calms, she's gone too far. 

            Justus starts to look confused. 

            Janey sits up and leans over to cuddle him. Kisses his turned away face
            sympathetically, motherly.

                      "They", got you at a very early age, my poor baby. It's
                      probably the inbreeding your God had to undertake
                      since there was only limited stock available.

            She grins, cynically, kisses him again. Strokes his head. Takes a tissue from
            the box beside the bed. Hands it to him.

                                JANEY (cont'd)
                      Now wipe little "willy", go and have your pee, and we
                      can do 'sex', all over again.

            She giggles, lecherously. 

            Justus takes the tissue. Gets out of bed. Embarrassed. Walks to the urinal
            door. Exits into it. 

            Janey watches him go. Throws herself back onto the bed. Looks to the ceiling
            and talks to her 'God'.

                                JANEY (cont'd)
                      Oh Freud! Save us from lapsed Catholics, especially
                      those with Jewish anagrammatic names!

            INT. THE URINAL - NIGHT

             The urinal is small. 

            LIGHT dim. 

            Walls adorned with mystic cabbalah. 

            We see Justus from the back standing nude urinating. 

            The SOUND of urination into water, accurate.


                                TOM (V.O.)
                      Oi, mate!

            Justus partially turns. Surprised. 

            The SOUND of water impinging on the floor, inaccurate.

                                TOM (cont'd) (V.O.)
                      Wotch aht, mate yore pissin' on yer feet!

            Justus committed to the act. Turns back to the urinal bowl. Cranes his head
            back to look. Visibly disturbed.

                                TOM (cont'd) (V.O.)
                      That's better. Take yerself in 'and, mate.
                          (cackling laugh at his own joke)

            Justus cannot finish. Disturbed and interrupted, he slowly turns in amazement.
            Sits on the urinal bowl. CANNOT believe.

                      How did you get in?

            INT. THE URINAL -TOM - NIGHT

            TOM, a rotund, red faced amiable monk stands leaning against the urinal wall.
            Arms folded. A cheeky grin on his face, wearing a brown monks habit. His eyes
            glase at the question as if hypnotically 'programmed' to do so. Places his
            hands in 'praying' fashion.

                          (good English)
                      That would not benefit you.

            He pauses in puzzlement. Shrugs then lapses back into  Cockney.

                                TOM (cont'd)
                      Don'tcha meen oo am I?

            He folds his arms again. Smirks. Justus fascinated.

                      Who are you?

                      Me name's Tom, Tom Kemp.

            Justus looks puzzled. Tom teases.

                                TOM (cont'd)
                      P'raps yer want me ter be Thomas 'A Kempis, do yer

                      Go away, I'm hallucinating.

                      Leev orf, me ole cock. I've 'ad enuff trubbel gettin' to
                      yer, me ole darlin'.

                      Your name!   I heard you!

                      'Cawze yer did, an' a bluddy mess yer made of it,
                      din'tcha! Still, it got rid of them pillocks an' gave you a
                      chance ter giv' that cracker, aht there --

            He turns to the bedroom direction, indicates, giving the sign of male erect virility
            with his forearm, his face contorting to indicate the meaning.

                                TOM (cont'd)
                       -- a seein' to, eh? Me old cock sparrer, eh?

            Justus's jaw drops.

                      You mean you were watching?

                      Never fought abaht that. 'Ere, go and giv 'er anuvver
                      wun, an' lemme wotch, will yer?

            Justus gets angry, stands, clenching a fist.

                      I've a good mind to give you one, right on the nose.

                      Won't do yer no good, me ole fruit. Bettah save yer
                      energy fer that littel raver aht there.

            He makes a virile forearm again. Shakes his head. Like a dog shaking off
            water. Justus is very angry. Steps forward, raising the clenched fist.

                      Why, you obscene pervert.

            He swings a punch at Tom which PASSES right THROUGH him sending
            Justus crashing into the urinal door.
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