TRITHAGORAS VISITS THE ROYAL NUKE
ACT 1 Scene 1 (Preliminary Draft Version, too much infodump!!) Starring Trithagoras the Felixian, Dr, Greumach MacFothaidh, and Ghost of Dr. Donald Ewen Cameron (copyright Thomas Hoskyns Leonard) ACT 1
Scene 1
A dimly lit waiting room, with a screen on the back wall. Trithagoras is camp, man-sized and cat-like, with blue furry skin, whiskers, and a big bushy tail. He talks with a lisp. Dr. Greumach McFothaidh is a distinguished looking, clean-shaven, white-haired octogenarian. He talks with a Glaswegian accent.
Scene 1
A dimly lit waiting room, with a screen on the back wall. Trithagoras is camp, man-sized and cat-like, with blue furry skin, whiskers, and a big bushy tail. He talks with a lisp. Dr. Greumach McFothaidh is a distinguished looking, clean-shaven, white-haired octogenarian. He talks with a Glaswegian accent.
TRITHAGORAS: Why hi there, fellow humanoids! Welcome to the Royal Nuke Loony Bin in Fairmilehead, Edinburgh, just by the Hell’s End ski-slope. I am Trithagoras, the Minister of Philosophical Re-Interpretation on your multi-cultural sister planet Qinsatorix. I have time-warped to Scotland from the safety of the Aton star system to further investigate how your cynical Establishment controls and subdues your proletariat.
ENTER GREUMACH WIELDING LARGE RED BOOK. TRITHAGORAS GIVES HIM A DISDAINFUL LOOK
TRITHAGORAS: I must say that I am utterly gobsmacked by Workfare. Your volunteers, and that’s a joke in itself, are treated far worse than our grovelling Apollo and dipshit Yankee slaves on Qinsatorix. Even the laziest of our minions get fed before they're crocohorse-whipped.
GREUMACH: What are you doing here, pussy cat? You look as if you’ve just escaped from the Intensive Care Unit with a needle in your knackers.
TRITHAGORAS (indignantly): I’m not a cat! I’m Trithagoras Tullius Cicero, a felixian and a proud member of my species. Begone from my mid-afternoon psychosis, old man.
GREUMACH: I’m real enough. I’m Dr. Greumach McFothaidh, the resident psychoanalytic psychotherapist in this thrice-cursed establishment. I was trained as a youth by R.D. Laing, you know.
TRITHAGORAS: I'm impressed. Laing encouraged his patients to embrace their madness, and he sent them tripping on LSD for good measure.
GREUMACH: Alas! I long for those Halcyon days, Trithagoras. Even the Glasgow Royal has long since gone to pot, and nowadays all my inpatients have been so brain-fried by either ECT or those damned psychiatric medications that they bleep back at me like the sheep they have become.
TRITHAGORAS: The reason I’m here, Greumach, is that two pretty twinks on Workfare have recently volunteered to kowtow to your Dr. Sigismund Crookshank for a week. I’m planning to follow them into his office, in my invisible panther suit of course, to observe how Dr. Crookshank endeavours to control them, and how he and his kind contrive to control your population with their totally barbaric psychiatric maltreatments.
GREUMACH: And how do you felixians endeavour to control each other?
TRITHAGORAS: On Qinsatorix we simply send our mentally ill to the Archipelago of the Eternal Life-Giving Insects for a month and they come back as sane as the fiery dragon god Aleph-Baal himself.
GREUMACH: Qinsatorix? How delightful, I was there in my Freudian dreams only last night, and your Crown Princess Natasha is utterly charming. I love her antler-shaped breasts, and such a glorious pubie-shunter!
ENTER THE SKELETAL GHOST OF DR. DONALD EWEN CAMERON.
GREUMACH: Not you again, Ewen Cameron! You would mind control even the mice, rats and cats if you could put them in your torture suits. A pox on your MK Ultra experiments! They even abused the children while you were fixing their minds with your confounded chemicals.
CAMERON (chuckling manically): The C.I.A. paid us to, and there was nothing Jack Kennedy could to stop us, either in Montreal or all around the U.S. of fucking A.
PICTURE OF JACK KENNEDY APPEARS ON SCREEN
VOICE OF KENNEDY: We are opposed around this world by a monolithic ruthless conspiracy that relies on covert means for a sphere of influence, on infiltration instead of invasion, on subversion instead of elections, on intimidation instead of free choice, on guerillas by night instead of armies by day.
GREUMACH: Way to go, Jack! I've often wondered who the monolithic ruthless conspirators really are. In my worst moments, I think they're the all-powerful paedophiles, the ones who murder their hapless prey, those who control Britain at this very moment while sacrificing some of their number to protect the rest.
TRITHAGORAS: A fanciful conspiracy theory if ever there was one! According to our imperially funded interplanetary Q.I.A. and Q.C.H.Q. investigations, the monolithic conspirators are all on the board of the huge pharmaceutical company Das Grösste Pharmaunternehmen von Dusseldorf und Garmisch-Partenkirchen.
GREUMACH: What a mouthful!
TRITHAGORAS: It's enough to stick in your craw. The conglomerate is referred to in Nazi records as Grösste Pharma, and during the 1930s its directors helped Charles Edward Von Coburg to orchestrate the mass genocide of the mentally disabled in Germany. They moreover initiated MK Ultra in North America during the late 1950s with the encouragement and active support of the C.I.A.
CAMERON: Kennedy knew that, but he struggled to do anything about it. He tried repeatedly to stop our mind control experiments in Montreal since he knew we were creating a race of superclones, including a selection of gifted paedophiles, who would help Grösste Pharma to infiltrate every single institution around the world. But the backstabbing zombies in the C.I.A. got the better of him.
VOICE OF KENNEDY: There is a plot in this country to enslave every man, woman, and child, and before I leave this high and noble office, I intend to expose this plot.
TRITHAGORAS: He said that seven days before his assassination and it sealed his fate.
CAMERON (chuckling): Metabunk don't believe he ever said that, but Allan Dulles had his number anyway. Kennedy was shot through his stupid head by the crow-like C.I.A. agent on the grassy knoll.
TRITHAGORAS: Sure he said it, and, according to my interplanetary sources, Jack knew only too well that Grösste Pharma intended to turn your proletariats into lapdogs and dummies by putting chemicals into their food and giving them medications which poisoned their enzymes.
CAMERON: That's perfectly true! And the free spirits are getting branded as mentally disabled to this very day, so that their enzymes can be fried with psych meds and their brains with electric shocks.
GREUMACH: You're beginning to sound like Dickey McIckey, Trithagoras. Nobody's ever suggested before that Kennedy was shot because he objected to the mind control experiments. You'll be telling me next that our friends from Deutschland were in cahoots with the Shaman lizard gods.
TRITHAGORAS: Of course they weren't. Those crafty creatures have been sunning it up on Vortigern for the last few millennia.
CAMERON: Read my lips, McFothaidh. Kennedy got his come uppance because he tried to stop Grösste Pharma from controlling the world.
GREUMACH (snarling): Michty michty me! What I do know, you obnoxious twerp, is that your and your fellow crap-faced Banshees' mind control experiments gave rise to an entirely new brand of psychiatry. Nowadays, the clinical psychiatrists dominate our profession, and torture, destroy, and murder their patients, while pretending to try to cure them.
CAMERON (laughing): We couldn't have done it without the help of the arch-boffins at Columbia University, and the paedophile eugenicists from University College London. And now the self-acclaimed God Almighty at Columbia reigns supreme, while he and his cohorts put the homos, the loose women, and the unconventional into very painful biochemical straightjackets.
TRITHAGORAS: Your Sir Francis Galton started it all when he invented Eugenics at UCL during the 1880s. However, HE thought that mind control could be used to create a superior race of men and women rather than just a privileged aristocracy.
CAMERON: Who gives a shit?
GREUMACH: What are you doing here, pussy cat? You look as if you’ve just escaped from the Intensive Care Unit with a needle in your knackers.
TRITHAGORAS (indignantly): I’m not a cat! I’m Trithagoras Tullius Cicero, a felixian and a proud member of my species. Begone from my mid-afternoon psychosis, old man.
GREUMACH: I’m real enough. I’m Dr. Greumach McFothaidh, the resident psychoanalytic psychotherapist in this thrice-cursed establishment. I was trained as a youth by R.D. Laing, you know.
TRITHAGORAS: I'm impressed. Laing encouraged his patients to embrace their madness, and he sent them tripping on LSD for good measure.
GREUMACH: Alas! I long for those Halcyon days, Trithagoras. Even the Glasgow Royal has long since gone to pot, and nowadays all my inpatients have been so brain-fried by either ECT or those damned psychiatric medications that they bleep back at me like the sheep they have become.
TRITHAGORAS: The reason I’m here, Greumach, is that two pretty twinks on Workfare have recently volunteered to kowtow to your Dr. Sigismund Crookshank for a week. I’m planning to follow them into his office, in my invisible panther suit of course, to observe how Dr. Crookshank endeavours to control them, and how he and his kind contrive to control your population with their totally barbaric psychiatric maltreatments.
GREUMACH: And how do you felixians endeavour to control each other?
TRITHAGORAS: On Qinsatorix we simply send our mentally ill to the Archipelago of the Eternal Life-Giving Insects for a month and they come back as sane as the fiery dragon god Aleph-Baal himself.
GREUMACH: Qinsatorix? How delightful, I was there in my Freudian dreams only last night, and your Crown Princess Natasha is utterly charming. I love her antler-shaped breasts, and such a glorious pubie-shunter!
ENTER THE SKELETAL GHOST OF DR. DONALD EWEN CAMERON.
GREUMACH: Not you again, Ewen Cameron! You would mind control even the mice, rats and cats if you could put them in your torture suits. A pox on your MK Ultra experiments! They even abused the children while you were fixing their minds with your confounded chemicals.
CAMERON (chuckling manically): The C.I.A. paid us to, and there was nothing Jack Kennedy could to stop us, either in Montreal or all around the U.S. of fucking A.
PICTURE OF JACK KENNEDY APPEARS ON SCREEN
VOICE OF KENNEDY: We are opposed around this world by a monolithic ruthless conspiracy that relies on covert means for a sphere of influence, on infiltration instead of invasion, on subversion instead of elections, on intimidation instead of free choice, on guerillas by night instead of armies by day.
GREUMACH: Way to go, Jack! I've often wondered who the monolithic ruthless conspirators really are. In my worst moments, I think they're the all-powerful paedophiles, the ones who murder their hapless prey, those who control Britain at this very moment while sacrificing some of their number to protect the rest.
TRITHAGORAS: A fanciful conspiracy theory if ever there was one! According to our imperially funded interplanetary Q.I.A. and Q.C.H.Q. investigations, the monolithic conspirators are all on the board of the huge pharmaceutical company Das Grösste Pharmaunternehmen von Dusseldorf und Garmisch-Partenkirchen.
GREUMACH: What a mouthful!
TRITHAGORAS: It's enough to stick in your craw. The conglomerate is referred to in Nazi records as Grösste Pharma, and during the 1930s its directors helped Charles Edward Von Coburg to orchestrate the mass genocide of the mentally disabled in Germany. They moreover initiated MK Ultra in North America during the late 1950s with the encouragement and active support of the C.I.A.
CAMERON: Kennedy knew that, but he struggled to do anything about it. He tried repeatedly to stop our mind control experiments in Montreal since he knew we were creating a race of superclones, including a selection of gifted paedophiles, who would help Grösste Pharma to infiltrate every single institution around the world. But the backstabbing zombies in the C.I.A. got the better of him.
VOICE OF KENNEDY: There is a plot in this country to enslave every man, woman, and child, and before I leave this high and noble office, I intend to expose this plot.
TRITHAGORAS: He said that seven days before his assassination and it sealed his fate.
CAMERON (chuckling): Metabunk don't believe he ever said that, but Allan Dulles had his number anyway. Kennedy was shot through his stupid head by the crow-like C.I.A. agent on the grassy knoll.
TRITHAGORAS: Sure he said it, and, according to my interplanetary sources, Jack knew only too well that Grösste Pharma intended to turn your proletariats into lapdogs and dummies by putting chemicals into their food and giving them medications which poisoned their enzymes.
CAMERON: That's perfectly true! And the free spirits are getting branded as mentally disabled to this very day, so that their enzymes can be fried with psych meds and their brains with electric shocks.
GREUMACH: You're beginning to sound like Dickey McIckey, Trithagoras. Nobody's ever suggested before that Kennedy was shot because he objected to the mind control experiments. You'll be telling me next that our friends from Deutschland were in cahoots with the Shaman lizard gods.
TRITHAGORAS: Of course they weren't. Those crafty creatures have been sunning it up on Vortigern for the last few millennia.
CAMERON: Read my lips, McFothaidh. Kennedy got his come uppance because he tried to stop Grösste Pharma from controlling the world.
GREUMACH (snarling): Michty michty me! What I do know, you obnoxious twerp, is that your and your fellow crap-faced Banshees' mind control experiments gave rise to an entirely new brand of psychiatry. Nowadays, the clinical psychiatrists dominate our profession, and torture, destroy, and murder their patients, while pretending to try to cure them.
CAMERON (laughing): We couldn't have done it without the help of the arch-boffins at Columbia University, and the paedophile eugenicists from University College London. And now the self-acclaimed God Almighty at Columbia reigns supreme, while he and his cohorts put the homos, the loose women, and the unconventional into very painful biochemical straightjackets.
TRITHAGORAS: Your Sir Francis Galton started it all when he invented Eugenics at UCL during the 1880s. However, HE thought that mind control could be used to create a superior race of men and women rather than just a privileged aristocracy.
CAMERON: Who gives a shit?
PICTURE OF BOBBY KENNEDY JUNIOR APPEARS ON SCREEN
VOICE OF BOBBY KENNEDY JUNIOR: The powerful pharmaceutical cartel has captured our nation's scientific, regulatory, and law making processes. All the barriers that are meant to protect our children, the government, the lawyers, the regulatory agencies, the checks and balances in our democratic system that are supposed to stand between corporate power and our little children have been removed, and they are being cruelly murdered in their beds.
CAMERON (sniggering): The innoculations help a bit too, though only when the silly kiddy-widdies suffer from curious allergies.
GREUMACH: A pox on your house, Ewen Cameron. But good on Bobby Kennedy Junior, even if lots of what he says about vaccinations is a load of unfounded hype. His father would have been proud of him.
TRITHAGORAS: Grösste Pharma had him shot too, for siding with Martin Luther King.
CAMERON: And now the world is left with clones for leaders, puppets-on-strings and poodles for their eternal masters.
GREUMACH: You might have graduated from Glasgow University, Ewen Cameron, but you're no friend of mine.
CAMERON: Who gives a fuck? Psychotherapists just sit on their fat arses while their patients spew hot air.
GREUMACH SEIZES CAMERON AROUND THROAT
CAMERON (sniggering): The innoculations help a bit too, though only when the silly kiddy-widdies suffer from curious allergies.
GREUMACH: A pox on your house, Ewen Cameron. But good on Bobby Kennedy Junior, even if lots of what he says about vaccinations is a load of unfounded hype. His father would have been proud of him.
TRITHAGORAS: Grösste Pharma had him shot too, for siding with Martin Luther King.
CAMERON: And now the world is left with clones for leaders, puppets-on-strings and poodles for their eternal masters.
GREUMACH: You might have graduated from Glasgow University, Ewen Cameron, but you're no friend of mine.
CAMERON: Who gives a fuck? Psychotherapists just sit on their fat arses while their patients spew hot air.
GREUMACH SEIZES CAMERON AROUND THROAT
GREUMACH: I'll kill you, I'll kill you, I'll kill you.
CAMERON (screaming): Ye cannae, ye glaikit heidbanger. Ah'm awriddy deid.
CAMERON (screaming): Ye cannae, ye glaikit heidbanger. Ah'm awriddy deid.
GREUMACH KICKS CAMERON IN HIS CROTCH. CAMERON YOWLS HIS HEAD OFF AND FALLS PRONE ONTO FLOOR
TRITHAGORAS: So much for that piece of shit
GREUMACH: Welcome to Kafka's Castle. You haven't met the rest of the turds yet.
GREUMACH: Welcome to Kafka's Castle. You haven't met the rest of the turds yet.
No comments:
Post a Comment