In which Lemuel has a nap on the rug

{open on Nolan, sitting in his lounge smoking a pipe}

NOLAN:                     I don’t smoke a pipe!

{you do now}

NOLAN:                     What about my health?

{what about it? You killed my dog}

NOLAN:                     Tch, are we really going to dredge that up again?


{enter Lemuel}

LEMUEL:                    Awight.

NOLAN:                     Uh, hi Lemuel.

{Lemuel tramples around in a circle on the rug then settles down}

NOLAN:                     So, you’re really going to hold a grudge, even though you can quite clearly see that Lemuel is absolutely fine?

LEMUEL:                    {looks up sleepily} Eh?

{yes, absolutely}

NOLAN:                     Fine. Be like that.

{I certainly shall}

NOLAN:                     See if I care.

{I certainly will}

{enter Balvin}

BALVIN:                     Why is Blaxploitation Man standing in the corner not saying anything?

NOLAN:                     Eh? I didn’t even know he was here!

BALVIN:                     Yeah, he’s just staring into space. I’m surprised Tarquin didn’t mention it.

NOLAN:                     Tch, Tarquin is holding a grudge – I think he didn’t mention it on purpose.

BALVIN:                     Porpoise?

NOLAN:                     No, no, purpose.

BALVIN:                     I see {strokes chin thoughtfully}


NOLAN:                     Ummm, say, Balvin?

BALVIN:                     Yeah?

NOLAN:                     Why is Blaxploitation Man called Blaxploitation Man?

BALVIN:                     Why don’t you ask him?

NOLAN:                     I still don’t know that he’s here – Tarquin hasn’t said he’s here.

BALVIN:                     Uh, okay, I’ll ask him then. {to Blaxploitation Man} So, why are you called Blaxploitation Man?

BLAX:                          Well…

{sudden cut to impressive graphic and triumphal music – “The Origin Of Blaxploitation Man!!”}

{“Starring – Blaxploitation Man”}

{“- His Mother”}

{“- and introducing His Father”}

{open on a lounge – Father is sitting in an armchair reading a paper, Mother is leaning over a baby’s cot, cooing}

BABY:                          Gurgle.

MOTHER:                  Awww, isn’t that sweet?

FATHER:                     {putting down paper} What kind of a baby actually says ‘gurgle’?

MOTHER:                  Awwww, he’s so cute.

FATHER:                     Sigh.

{what kind of a man actually says ‘Sigh’?}

MOTHER:                  Awwww, he’s so sweet, my little Shaft.

FATHER:                     Shaft…? What the hell?

MOTHER:                  Yes, my little darling Shaft.

FATHER:                     You can’t call a baby Shaft!

MOTHER:                  Awww, but he’s got the seventies look about him.

FATHER:                     My son is not going to be called Shaft!

MOTHER:                  Well, can’t it be his middle name then?

FATHER:                     Middle….? What the hell? No, no, no, and four times no. I’ve told you woman, his name is Dirigible St. John.

MOTHER:                  Dirigible Singen?

FATHER:                     Living end! I said St. John, not Singen.

MOTHER:                  Look, can’t we compromise?

FATHER:                     We compromised a week last Thursday, with that whole pudding decision thing.

MOTHER:                  Well, his name is rather an important decision.

FATHER:                     Sigh. Very well. We’ll call him Blaxploitation Man then.

MOTHER:                  That’s much better!

{cut to Nolan’s lounge}

BLAX:                          So, that’s why.

BALVIN:                     Why what?

BLAX:                          I’m going home. {exits}

BALVIN:                     Yeesh {sitting down}, what’s wrong with Dirigible Singen?

NOLAN:                     Who?