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Friday, 2 December 2011

Following The Mozziah Day 79 Friday 2nd December 2011

(The setting is a large house somewhere in the Californian Hills, it is Thursday 1st December 2011)

(A car, being driven by a 'Well built' male in his very, very late forties approaches the house and presses the intercom buzzer. Next to the buzzer are two signs, one is the house name, which reads 'BUNBURY HEIGHTS', the other is an old fading sign that reads 'No Blacks, No Irish, No Jews, No Hawkers'. Written underneath the sign in permanent marker pen, in unjoined, almost child like writing, the following has been added: 'In Fact, Nobody. Fuck Off.' The intercom isn't answered so the driver presses it again. This time, after a fairly lengthy delay, a well spoken, oldish sounding English voice speaks, it is the butler).
BUTLER: I have been told to ask you if you have read the sign?
DRIVER: Er, yes.
BUTLER: Jolly good. Therefore, I have also been told to tell you, and please don't take this the wrong way, to 'Fuck Off'.
DRIVER: I need to see Moz.
BUTLER: There is nobody of that name here. Good day.
DRIVER: Kenneth Williams?
BUTLER: Nope.
DRIVER: Charles Hawtrey?
BUTLER: No Sir, now please may I suggest you leave?
DRIVER: Oscar Wilde? Steve McQueen? Bobby Moore? Oh for Christ sakes Carruthers, it's me Boz, I don't know the password, just let me in, it's urgent.
CARRUTHERS: (Whispering) I know it's you Boz but I'm under strict instructions, he'll whip off me two veg and serve them up as a Nut Roast if I let you in without the password. (Pauses & lowers his voice further) Say Benny Hill.
BOZ: Benny Hill.
(The electric gates swing open and Boz drives in to the front yard past a collection of pristine vintage cars that include a 1968 Bullitt Mustang in 'Highland Green', a 1964 Aston Martin DB5 in 'Silver Birch' and a 1971 Aston Martin DBS in 'Bahama Yellow'. Boz parks his hired Toyota Corolla in 'Shitty Brown' and knocks on the door. The door is answered swiftly by Carruthers, who is wearing formal 'Victorian'  butler's attire).
CARRUTHERS: May I take your hat and cape sir?
BOZ: I haven't got a hat and I don't even own a cape. Where is he?
CARRUTHERS: Sir, is taking high tea in the conservatory with a, er, 'friend' and does not wish to be disturbed, if you'd like to follow me to the drawing room, I will gladly get you some tea and you may be able to see the master later on, if he so desires, although he does have one of his performances this evening so he may not have time.
BOZ: That's why I'm here. Sorry Curruthers, but if the mountain won't come to Muhammad, then Muhammad must go to the mountain.
(Boz barges past Carruthers and marches down the hall in to the conservatory. He enters to find two men dressed in full Victorian 'Gentlemen's' day wear. One is The Mozziah and the other is English 'Funny Man' Russell Brand).
MOZ:( In a refined, southern English accent) Ah Martin, I heard that you were LOITERING in my grounds, I'm hoping without inTENT, and if it is ME, to whom you were referring when you were talking of mountains dear Martin, then all I can say is 'Pot' Martin, 'Pot'.
(Moz looks towards Brand, who sniggers. Moz then thrusts his red 'Englewood ring towards Boz who drops to one knee and kisses it.)
MOZ: And further more Martin, a) What are you doing here? and b) Why on earth are you driving that dreadful car? With the ridiculous amounts of money I pay you and all those other leaches, SURELY you could have hired something a little less, (pauses) vulgar?
BOZ: Boss, it's Matt.
MOZ: I'm not interested in the paintwork Martin and actually, while I think about it, how did you even know I owned a house up here? I haven't told anybody.
BOZ: There's a whole load of Mexican lads camped out down the bottom of your drive, they told me you lived here and oh yeah, one of them asked me to give you this, he says it's yours.
(Boz removes a silver cigarette case from his pocket and hands it to The Mozziah. Brand walks across and takes it).
BRAND: (Also speaking in a well spoken southern English accent and addressing Moz) Ernie, why would one of the Mexican boys have your cigarette case?
BOZ: ERNIE?
MOZ & BRAND:(singing) And he drove the fastest milk cart in the west. (The pair start laughing at what is obviously a personal joke)
MOZ: (Addressing Brand) Cecil, could you leave me and my musical director for a moment, I'm sorry to be a bore but this shouldn't take long?
BOZ: CECIL? But your name is RUSSELL.
BRAND: I may be Russell in town, but up here in the hills I am free, free from the Paps, the prying eyes, the pity, the sympathy and people discussing me, a frame of useless limbs, what can make good all the bad's that been done?
( The Mozziah scowls at Brand, walks over to the side board and picks up a tin with a label on it that says, 'My Royalties'. He shakes the tin at Brand who puts his hand into his pocket, pulls out a 50 dollar note and puts it in the tin).
BRAND: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just that I can't help quoting you.
MOZ: I don't mind you quoting me Cecil my boy, but those words cost money. Another fifty please?
BRAND: Another fifty? What for?
MOZ: 'I Can't help quoting you'? 'International Playboys' my boy. (Brand tuts and places another fifty bucks into the tin) In future may I suggest that you, and I quote, ''Don't Plagiarise or take 'on loans'".
(While this conversation is taking place, Boz, unnoticed by The Mozziah, walks over to a plate of sandwiches and helps himself.)
BRAND: (Now speaking to Boz) So Martin, up here in the hills I am Cecil Leigh, as in 'Vivian' you understand, not 'Christopher'. (Suddenly readopts his normal Essex voice) 'Ere Boz, cop a look at this, you'll love it. (Brand/Cecil rolls up his sleeve to reveal a new West Ham United tattoo. Underneath it, written in marker pen, in the same handwriting as on the sign outside, are written the words 'Any Old Iron'. Boz, who is still chewing, laughs at the written words, splattering bits of sandwich over Brand, and looks over to The Mozziah who smirks but then suddenly stops smirking.)
MOZ: (In normal voice) BOZ, what are you eating?
BOZ: (With full mouth) Sandwiches, rather nice actually.
MOZ: (Readopting Southern accent)They are Mine and Cecil's 'Cucumber' sandwiches Martin, if you really can't wait even five minutes without shoveling food down your neck, then I will have Carruthers prepare you something but  LEAVE our 'Cucumber' sandwiches ALONE. Now WHY are you here? You are ruining my afternoon, is it not enough that I give you my precious time EVERY evening AND pay you for the privilege?
BRAND:(Addressing Moz) I will make my exit Ernie, but before I take my leave, may I ask that you give me a button hole? Perhaps a white or red rose from your bush?
MOZ: You shall have crimson dear boy.
(Moz cuts a pink rose, sniffs it, pretends to sneeze and then places it on Brand's lapel. Brand exits. Moz undoes his tie, takes off his jacket and cracks open a Watney's Pale Ale. He passes one to Boz).
MOZ: (Normal voice) Vintage brew Boz, nineteen sixty eight. So come on then, what is it this time? What is it that can't possibly wait until I see you at tonight's concert? It's the big one tonight Boz, Oakland.
BOZ: That's why I've come Boss, it's Matt.
(The Mozziah frowns, looking puzzled by the name)
BOZ: Matt? Matt Walker? Our drummer?
MOZ: 'OUR' drummer is it now? I think you'll find he's 'MY' drummer Boz, anyway, you told me the other day his name was Jessie.
BOZ: That's the guitarist boss.
MOZ: Oh yes, the pretty boy, nice lad. What ABOUT the drummer Boz?
BOZ: Well, you see, at lunchtime, me and the boys popped down the pub for a spot of lunch and a couple of 'looseners' before tonight's show. Anyway, we got talking to this guy who said he used to be the warm up act for Penn and Teller, and reckoned he could throw knives blindfolded. Well, Matt had had a few bevvies and decided to challenge this guy to throw darts at him with a bar towel wrapped round his head. I told Matt not to do it but he wouldn't listen. Anyway, first throw, straight in the eye. Poor Matt was in agony, Solomon rushed him straight down to the hospital and luckily he's okay, nothing too serious, but he can't play tonight.
MOZ: (Shouting) CAN'T PLAY TONIGHT? WITH A SORE EYE? HE PLAYS THE BLOODY DRUMS BOZ, HE DOESN'T NEED TO SEE. HOW THE HELL DO YOU THINK RAY CHARLES COPED? OR STEVIE WONDER? BOZ, DID LENNIE PETERS LET A VISUAL IMPAIRMENT STOP HIM FROM STORMING OPPORTUNITY KNOCKS AND WINNING SEVEN TIMES? NO BOZ, HE DID NOT.
BOZ: It's okay boss, I've sorted it all out, it transpires that the geezer from the pub knows you, he says he used to play drums in a band with you years and years ago and knows loads of the songs we play.
MOZ: And did this mystery knife throwing drummer happen to mention his name Martin?
BOZ: Er, yeah, he said it was Mike I think, Mike Joyce?
(The Mozziah throws his drink at Boz, who ducks)
MOZ: Boz, do you not remember me mentioning a little court case a number of years ago, in which I was ORDERED to give away a million of my hard earned pounds to my former drummer?
BOZ: Er, yeah, now you come to mention it, it does sort of ring a bell.
MOZ: Well that's that then, tonight's concert is OFF and all refunds will be coming out of the musicians wages. How many times have I warned you about playing darts with strangers in pubs while on tour? Bloody eye, have you seen THIS Martin?
(The Mozziah holds up his right index finger)
BOZ: Er, yes I have seen it boss, is it not better yet? It's been six months since you hurt it.
MOZ: BETTER? I was savaged by a dog Boz. This wasn't a common-or-garden finger injury Boz, this was a major incident, I could've lost my hand. My physician will be here soon to change my dressing, I was thinking of black again for tonight's concert, it compliments the spangly jumper, but I suppose that's all out the window now. This really is all TOO bad Boz, this tour is turning into a disaster. Do you remember my plan for this tour Boz? We were to start in Chicago with a few roses being tossed to the stage as a tribute to dear Oscar and then as word spread, we were to finish in Oakland, awash with roses. Remember Boz? Well all because of you and your bloody Visa Waiver, we DIDN'T play Chicago, so we DIDN'T get any roses and therefore my 'Rose Society' didn't get going. Not a single rose in those first nine concerts, until FINALLY, in Pomona, I spot one at last but even THAT wasn't 'TOSSED' Boz, I had to suffer the humiliation of 'STRETCHING' into the bloody audience to grab it. I'm a laughing stock Boz, a laughing stock and it's all YOUR fault.
(There is a very long silence as the two men just sit there gazing in separate directions. Then suddenly, The Mozziah leaps up with a new vigour and wraps his arm around Boz and starts walking him towards the garden).
MOZ: Oh well, never mind, worse things happen at sea, come on.
BOZ: Where are we going?
MOZ: Cricket in the garden. Bagsy bat first, you can bowl, Cecil can keep wicket and Carruthers can umpire. No LBW's. Life's not ALL bad when you're English Boz.

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