This gun I have in my right hand is loaded

Asmodeus

Asmodeus

Certified Subdomain
Original poster
LURKER MEMBER
MYTHICAL MEMBER
Posting Speed
  1. Speed of Light
Writing Levels
  1. Douche
Preferred Character Gender
  1. No Preferences
A post on Iwaku reminded me of this radio script. See if you can get the point I'm making.



(BRING UP MUSIC THEN CROSSFADE TO TRAFFIC NOISES. WIND BACKED BY SHIP'S SIRENS, DOG BARKING, HANSOM CAB, ECHOING FOOTSTEPS, KEY CHAIN, DOOR OPENING, SHUTTING)

LAURA (off) Who's that?
CLIVE Who do you think, Laura, my dear? Your husband.
LAURA (approaching) Why, Clive!
RICHARD Hello, Daddy.
CLIVE Hello, Richard. My, what a big boy you're getting. Let's see, how old are you now?
RICHARD I'm six, Daddy.
LAURA Now Daddy's tired, Richard, run along upstairs and I'll call you when it's supper time.
RICHARD All right, Mummy.

(RICHARD RUNS HEAVILY UP WOODEN STAIRS)

LAURA What's that you've got under your arm, Clive?
CLIVE It's an evening paper, Laura.

(PAPER NOISE)

I've just been reading about the Oppenheimer smuggling case.

(EFFORT NOISE)

Good gracious, it's nice to sit down after that long train journey from the insurance office in the City.
LAURA Let me get you a drink, Clive darling.

(LENGTHY POURING, CLINK)

CLIVE Thank you, Laura, my dear.

(CLINK, SIP, GULP)

Aah! Amontillado, eh? Good stuff. What are you having?
LAURA I think I'll have a whisky, if it's all the same to you.

(CLINK, POURING, SYPHON)

CLIVE Whisky, eh? That's a strange drink for an attractive auburn-haired girl of twenty nine. Is there ... anything wrong?
LAURA No, it's nothing, Clive, I -
CLIVE Yes?
LAURA No, really, I -
CLIVE You're my wife, Laura. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I'm your husband. Why, we've been married let me see - eight years, isn't it?
LAURA Yes, I'm sorry Clive, I ... I'm being stupid. It's . . . just ... this.

(PAPER NOISE)

CLIVE This? Why, what is it, Laura?
LAURA It's ... it's a letter. I found it this morning in the letter box. The Amsterdam postmark and the strange crest on the back ... it ... frightened me. It's addressed to you. Perhaps you'd better open it
CLIVE Ah ha.

(ENVELOPE TEARING AND PAPER NOISE)

Oh, dash it, I've left my reading glasses at the office. Read it to me, will you, my dear.
LAURA Very well.

(PAPER NOISE)

Let's see. 'Dear Mr Barrington. If you would care to meet me in the Lounge Bar of Berridge's Hotel at seven-thirty on Tuesday evening the twenty first of May, you will bear something to your advantage.

(CROSSFADE TO OPPENHEIMER'S VOICE AND BACK AGAIN IMMEDIATELY)

Please wear a dark red carnation in your buttonhole for identification purposes.
Yours faithfully, H. T. Oppenheimer.'
Clive! Oppenheimer! Surely that's -
CLIVE By George, you're right. Where's my evening paper.

(PAPER NOISE AS BEFORE)

Yes! Oppenheimer! He's the man wanted by the police in connection with this smuggling case.
LAURA Darling, what does it all mean?
CLIVE Dashed if I know. But I intend to find out. Pass me that Southern Region Suburban Timetable on the sideboard there. Now, where are we?

(BRIEF PAPER NOISE)

Six fifty-one! Yes, I'll just make it. Lucky we bought those dark red carnations.

(FLOWER NOISE)

There we are. Well - (STRETCHING FOR FADE) Lounge Bar of Berridge's Hotel, here ... I ... come ...

(FADE)
 
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There weren't nearly enough confusing and pointless monologues between the pair, Asmo.
 
The fuck did I just expend several precious minutes of my life reading?
 
Your husband has a gay lover!
DUUUHR!
But dont leave him obviously cause someone gotta pay for your comfort lifestyle and bills and poor lil richard
 
I see that none of you got the point. >:[




(FADE IN PUB NOISES.
GLASSES, CHATTER, TILL, DARTS, SHOVE-HALFPENNY, HONKY-TONK PIANO, KNEES UP MOTHER BROWN ETC.)

HAWKINS:(middle-aged, cheeful, Londoner) Evening, Mabel. Busy tonight, isn't it.
BARMAID: It certainly is, Mr Hawkins. I've been on my feet all evening, (going off) Now then, you lot, this is a respectable house, this is.

(SINGING AND PIANO FADES ABRUPTLY TO SILENCE)

FARRELL:(approaching, middle-aged cheerful, Londoner) Evening, George, what are you having?
HAWKINS:No, no, let me.
FARRELL:Come on!
HAWKINS:Well, then, a pint of the usual.

(TILL)

FARRELL:Two pints of the usual, please, Mabel.

(MONEY)

BARMAID:(off) Coming up, Mr Farrell.
HAWKINS:Evening, Norman.
JACKSON:(middle-aged, cheerful, Londoner) Hello there George. What are you having, Bert?
FARRELL:I'm just getting them, Norman.
JACKSON:Well, leave me out then, I'm getting one for Charlie Illingworth. Two halves of the usual, Mabel.
BAINES:(coming up, middle-aged, cheerful, Londoner) Evening all.
JACKSON:Hello, Arnold, haven't see you in ages.

(TILL)

BARMAID:Your change, Mr Farrell.

(MONEY)

FARRELL:Thanks Mabel. Where's Charlie got to? Ah, there you are. Charlie, you know Arnold Baines, don't you?
ILLING:(cheerful, Londoner, middle-aged) Known the old so-and-so for ages. What'll you have?
JACKSON:No, I'm getting them, what is it?
BAINES:Oh, I'll just have my usual, thanks.
JACKSON:Who's looking after you, George, old man?

(MONEY)

BARMAID:There's yours, Mr Hawkins.
HAWKINS:Bung ho.

(TILL)

FARRELL:Cheers George.
BAINES:Cheers Norman.
JACKSON:Cheers Bert.
ILLING:Cheers Arnold.

(TILL)

BAINES:Well, well, look who's coming over.
ILLING:Isn't that young Clive Barrington from the Providential Insurance?
BAINES:As happily married a man as ever I saw.
CLIVE:(approach) Evening Arnold. Evening Bert, Charlie, George. Evening Norman.
BARMAID:Evening Mr Barrington.
FARRELL:Evening Clive.
BAINES:Long time no see.
JACKSON:Hallo Barrington old lad.
ILLING:How goes it.
HAWKINS:What ho then mate.
HAWKINS:What are you having?
CLIVE:A whisky, please.
HAWKINS: Any particular brand?
CLIVE:I'll have the one nearest the clock.
HAWKINS:Half a minute. There's a bloke over there can't take his eyes off you, Clive. Over in the corner, see him? Wearing a dark blue single-breasted dinner jacket and tinted spectacles. A foreigner, or my name's not George Hawkins.
CLIVE:Yes, by George, you're right, George. Excuse me.

(PEAK CHATTER)

OPPENHEIMER:(middle-European accent) So, Herr Barrington, you are here at last. I was becoming impatient.
CLIVE:Well, now I am here, perhaps you would be so good as to explain what the blazes all this is about?
OPPENHEIMER:Certainly, but not here. We will go to my place in Wiltshire where we can talk. My car is outside. Come.

(FADE ON PUB BACKGROUND)
(FADE UP CAR NOISE SLOWING, STOPPING, ENGINE TICKING OVER)

Excuse me, Officer.
POLICEMAN:Yes, Sir?
OPPENHEIMER:Am I on the right road for Wiltshire?
POLICEMAN: That's right sir. Straight on, then turn left.

(CAR REVS UP, MOVES OFF, CROSSFADE TO CAR SLOWING DOWN ON GRAVEL PATH AND STOPPING.
CAR DOOR BANGS EIGHT TIMES.
FOOTSTEPS ON GRAVEL.
FRONT DOOR CREAKS OPEN.
DISTANT PIANO, MOONLIGHT SONATA)

OPPENHEIMER:Ah, that is my sister playing.

(PIANO NEARER. THE SONATA COMES TO ITS CLOSE.
SUSPICION OF NEEDLE NOISE AT END)

GERDA:Ha! Managed that difficult A flat major chord at Last.
OPPENHEIMER:Gerda, my dear, we have a visitor. Herr Clive Barrington from the Providential Insurance Gesellschaft. Herr Barrington, this is my sister Gerda.
GERDA:I am pleased to meet you, Herr Barrington. Has Heinrich told you what we have in mind?
OPPENHEIMER:Nein, not yet, Liebchen. Herr Barrington, first a drink. Champagne, I think, to celebrate.

(CHAMPAGNE CORK, POUR, FIZZ, CLINK)

CLIVE:Thank you. Now, Mr Oppenheimer, or whatever your name is, don't you think it's time you did some explaining?
OPPENHEIMER:Ja, of course. The stolen diamonds about which your Major Kenwood-Smith has seen fit to call in Scotland Yard -
CLIVE:Major Kenwood-Smith? You mean the Major Kenwood-Smith who's head of my department at the Insurance Office?
OPPENHEIMER:Right first time, Herr Harrington. As I was saying, the diamonds are safely in my hands.
CLIVE:What! You mean to tell me -
OPPENHEIMER:One moment, please, let me continue. I intend to return them, but on one condition.
Now listen carefully; this ...
is ...
what...
I ...
want.
you ...
to ...
do ...

(FADE AND UP)

and I think that is all I need to tell you, my dear Herr. Now I must leave you: I have one or two little matters to attend to. Auf wiedersehen.

(DOOR SLAMS IMMEDIATELY SOME WAY OFF)

GERDA:Won't you sit down, Herr Barrington.
CLIVE:Thank you, Countess.

(SITTING NOISE)

Look, I don't know how far you're involved in this hellish business, but I would just like to say how exquisitely I thought you played that sonata just now. It happens to be a favourite of mine.
GERDA:Ja? You liked my playing, yes?
CLIVE:Beautiful, and yet ... no, it would be impertinent of me ...
GERDA:Please.
CLIVE:Well then, if you insist. I though that in the Andante - the slow movement - your tempo was a little... what shall I say?
GERDA:Strict?
CLIVE:Exactly.
GERDA:(coming in close) I had no idea you knew so much about music.
CLIVE:Please, Countess, I beg of you. I don't know what kind of a hold that filthy swine your brother has over you, and I don't want to know, but you don't belong here. For Pete's sake, why not leave with me now, before it's too late.
GERDA:Nein, nein, I cannot .

(in tears)

CLIVE:Why, Countess, why?
GERDA:I will tell you. It is better that you should know. It all started a long time ago, when I was a little Fraulein in the tiny village of Bad Obersturmmbannfuehrershof, in the Bavarian Alps .

(FADE, BRING UP LONDON TRAFFIC.
BIG BEN CHIMES THE HOUR AND THEN STRIKES TWELVE.
AS IT STRIKES WE MOVE OUT OF THE TRAFFIC, A CAR STOPS, SQUEAL OF BRAKES, CAR DOORS, FOOT-STEPS, NEWSBOYS, TUGS, BARREL ORGAN, CREAKING DOOR, MORE FOOTSTEPS DOWN A VERY VERY LONG CORRIDOR PASSING OFFICES WITH TYPEWRITERS UNTIL A SMALL DOOR OPENS AT THE END OF THE PASSAGE AND WE MOVE INTO A SMALL ROOM ON THE LAST STROKE OF TWELVE)

POWELL:Ha! Twelve o'clock already. Morning, Sergeant McEwan. Or perhaps I should say 'Good Afternoon.'
McEWAN:(Scots) Whichever you like, sir!

(GOOD HUMOURED LAUGHTER)

POWELL:As a matter of fact, I've been out on a job already this morning. I bet you just thought I'd overslept, didn't you, Sergeant?
McEWAN:What, you, sir? Hoots, no. Not Detective-Inspector 'Bonzo' Powell, VC, who went over the top at Tobruk; one-time Channel swimmer, and one of the toughest, and at the same time one of the most popular, officers at Scotland Yard here? I should say not, Och.
POWELL:No, I got a line on our old friend Heinrich Oppenheimer, at long last. Our chap at Swanage says Oppenheimer has a private submarine moored nearby - it's my guess he'll try and get the diamonds out of the country tonight.
McEWAN:Havers! Where will he make for d'ye ken?
POWELL:I don't know, but it's my guess he'll make straight for Amsterdam. Come on, Sergeant, we're going down to Swanage.
And .
the .
sooner ...
the .
better .

(URGENT MUSIC, THEN FADE BEHIND GULLS, ROWLOCKS, WASH.
STUDIO CLOCK SHOULD BE PARTICULARLY NOTICEABLE IN THIS SCENE)
(NOTE: ALL THE GERMANS IN THIS SCENE ARE INDISTINGUISHABLE ONE FROM THE OTHER AND INDEED MAY ALL BE PLAYED BY THE SAME ACTOR AS OPPENHEIMER)

LUDWIG:We are nearly at the submarine now, mein Kommandant.
OPPENHEIMER:Ach, Zehr gut. Tell me once more what you have done with the prisoners; my sister Gerda and that meddling fool Barrington.
LUDWIG:Karl found them attempting to telephone Scotland Yard from the porter's lodge. They have been tied up and taken on board the submarine half an hour ago.
OPPENHEIMER:That is gut. I will teach the fool Englishman to double-cross me. Achtung! Here we are at the sub-marine.
Karl! Heinz! Kurt! Lower a rope ladder!
KARL:Ja, mein Kommandant.

(FEET ON TIN TRAY)

OPPENHEIMER:It is four o'clock. We will sail immediately.

(CHANGE TO SUBMARINE INTERIORACCOUSTIC)

HEINZ:The diamonds are safely locked in your cabin, mein Kommandant.
OPPENHEIMER:Jawohl. Kurt! Heinz! Karl! Prepare to dive!

(DIVING NOISES, KLAXON)

Set a course for Amsterdam.
KURT:Steer East North East eight degrees by north.

(CRIES OF JAWOHL, ACHTUNG, MIDSHIPS etc.)

OPPENHEIMER:Ludwig!
LUDWIG:Ja, mein Kommandant.
OPPENHEIMER:Take me to the prisoners.
LUDWIG:Ja, mein Kommandant.

(MORE FEET ON TIN TRAY)

They are in the forward hydroplane compartment.

(DOOR OPENS. FORWARD HYDROPLANE COMPARTMENT NOISES)

OPPENHEIMER:So, Herr Barrington, we meet again.
CLIVE:You filthy swine, Oppenheimer, you won't get away with this.
OPPENHEIMER:(becoming slightly manic) On the contrary, my friend, there is no power on earth that can stop me now. You, I'm afraid, will never reach Amsterdam. There will be an unfortunate accident in the escape hatch.
GERDA:(a gasp) Heinrich! You don't mean .
OPPENHEIMER:As for you, my dear sister Gerda .
CLIVE:Leave the girl out of it, Oppenheimer. She's done nothing to you.
OPPENHEIMER:Charming chivalry, my English friend. But it is to no avail. Come.
CLIVE:All right, you swine, you've asked for it!

(BLOW)

OPPENHEIMER:Aargh. Himmel! Karl, Kurt!

(RUNNING FOOTSTEPS)

CLIVE:Ah, would you? Then try this for size.

(BLOW, GROAN)

If that's the way you want it.

(BLOW, GROAN)

KURT:Get him, Hans.
CLIVE:Ah, no you don't. Take that.

(BLOW, GROAN. A CHAIR FALLS OVER)

GERDA:Look out Clive. The one with glasses behind you. He's got a gun.

(SHOT)

CLIVE:(winces)

(ANOTHER CHAIR FALLS OVER)

Phew! Close thing, that.
GERDA:Clive? What happened?
CLIVE:Just my luck; he got me in the arm. Luckily, he caught his foot on that bulkhead coaming; he must have struck his head on that valve group between the depth gauge and the watertight torpedo door.
GERDA:Is he - ?
CLIVE:I'm afraid so. Right, now to get this thing surfaced.
GERDA:Do you know how?
CLIVE:It shouldn't be too difficult. Luckily I had a week on Subs in the R.N.V.R. years ago. (with pain) This right arm being Kaput doesn't help, though Right, now, just blow
.the .
ballast from main .
and .
number four .
tanks .
adjust the Hammerschmidt-Brucke stabilisers .
and up - we - go.

(SUFACING NOISES, SEA.
THE CRY OF GULLS.
A FEW BARS OF 'DESERT ISLAND DISCS' MUSIC.
CROSSFADE TO CHATTER, CLINK OF GLASSES)

LAURA:Have another drink, Sergeant.
McEWAN:Thank you, Mrs Barrington. I'll have a wee drappie.
CLIVE:How about you Inspector?
POWELL:Don't mind if I do, sir. Charming place you have here, if I may say so; and a charming wife to got with it.
LAURA:(blushing) Thank you, Inspector.
CLIVE:Well, I don't mind saying, Inspector, there were one or two moments today when I wondered if I'd ever see either of them again.
LAURA:Tell us, Inspector, exactly when was it you came to realise that Major Kenwood-Smith was behind it all?
POWELL:Well, for a long time it had puzzled us that the safe was blown by a left-handed man - Oppenheimer and his henchmen are all right-handed.
Luckily one of our chaps noticed Kenwood-Smith signing a cheque with his left hand.
CLIVE:Aha.
POWELL:We asked him a few questions, and he broke down and confessed. Sergeant, you can go on from there.
McEWAN:Ay, well, the diamonds aboard the submarine turned out to be imitation. Oppenheimer must have been double-crossed at the last minute, and someone in Berridge's Hotel must have performed the switch.
CLIVE:Great Scott, the barmaid!
POWELL:Right, first time, Mr Barrington. We checked in our archives, and she turned out to have a record as long as your arm. She made a dash for it, but in the end she broke down and confessed.
CLIVE:So everything turned out for the best in the end, eh?
POWELL:That's right sir. And just think, Mrs Barrington, if it hadn't been for young Richard here losing his puppy on Wimbledon Common, none of this might ever have happened.

(YAPPING ON DISC)

RICHARD:Down, Lucky, down!
POWELL:Now then, young pup, none of that gnawing at my trouser leg, or I'll have to take you into custody as well!

(GENERAL LAUGHTER.
LIGHT HEARTED
ROUNDING-OFF MUSIC AND UP TO FINISH.)
 
Is it the USELESS AND POINTLESS DIALOGUE BETWEEN CHARACTERS AND NPCS THAT ADDS NOTHING TO THE ATMOSPHERE OR THE STORY?

Or is it the TELLING OF INFORMATION INSTEAD OF -SHOWING- THROUGH ACTION AND STORY?

>:[
 
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Is it the broken seems between scenes and how they don't flow that well so many peoples rp seems like old raido shows "One sceen than another than another."W ithout much transistion between them?
 
*Quick Skims*
Uhhhh the point of the story is Asmo likes cop stories?? :D
I recommend Monk and Psych~
 
>:[





Diana's second answer is correct.
 
I still feel like I have a good ass idea thank you very much! (( Cuto's to diana!)
 
Thank you, thank you! 8D It helps that the topic has recently come up in a couple of my ROLEPLAY INSTITUTE EXERCISES!

When you need roleplay help, ROLEPLAY INSTITUTE is the place for YOU!

*Wink!*
 
I CALL CHEATING ON DIANA!
SHE USED ADMINS MIND POWERS OR BLACKMAIL OR SOMETHING!
 
Speaking of which, if Asmo had included an explanation of the point he was trying to make AFTER making you all guess, this would have been a perfect Institute topic. 8D
 
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Your butt is the perfect Institute topic. /thebestthingshefeltshecouldcontributetothesubject
 
I actually still dont get any of this.... then again i only skimmed this whole thread
 
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