INT. LITTLE DIOMEDE COLLEGE - MORNING
RANDY – a mature age student – is walking around the classroom, rapping, and miming being trapped in a box.
I've an open door policy/
I leave it open for the hordes against authority/
I'm left with the remains of a wall where the door would be/
I fall through a glass ceiling/floor like I'm a hoarder of a trail of shards set'lin'/
Find me on the ground like I'm barred from uprising/
Bars rise up and hit me in the nuts like I'm with nuts on a bar/
Cut! Pun's too hard,
so your teeth join the shards, like they're glue. Too smart?/
I was too far from Allah so I punched him in the heart 'til I jumpstarted it/
If you want a part of mine treat fucking as a starter's kit/
The best treat's fucking and it's sweet when a meeting starts with it/
I don't need meat in a starting dish/
I wanna be a waiter. I can't wait to diss the orderers of meat dishes; a school of weak fishes who swim together like they're heaps pissed sheep/
I heaps wish this wish to be a big fish leaks like I insist it might: quick as light/
Sit tight like a mime with his wrists tied/
And hear my rhymes like . . .
RANDY’s now like a fish on the ground, flapping about and what not.
Well, Randy, as nice as your rap is, this is a class for making glass upon which we can place teacups and bongs, so around these tables we can bond. If you wanna be a waiter then you may have to wait until this class is finished.
Nope. That sounds like hospitality. I think I’m in the right class.
Very well then. In that case, welcome. And I hope you will entertain us intermittently throughout the course with your rhyming. Otherwise no one will film us.
She stares at the ‘camera’ for a painfully long period of time.
Everyone takes a seat.
NADIA, JULIA, SOFIA, and – surprisingly – CERA are all present.
Well, I’m very glad so many of you are here for my class on blowing. We’ll be making glass, glassblowing, of course.
A strange, peculiar man stands up.
Oooooooh. Coz I thought . . .
Well, no. It’s not that.
Yeah. Yeah, I know. Coz I thought . . .
You were quite wrong sir.
Wrong I was indeed. Coz I thought . . .
He touches his lips.
With all due respect, sir, I have made it clear on numerous occasions throughout the last minute that you were sadly mistaken.
Yes. This is true. Because this ‘scene’, if you will, would have surely otherwise had a happy ending. If you know what I mean.
I do know what you mean, and I believe I have made it perfectly clear that what you expected this class to be is not what it in fact is.
Ahhh, yes. Of this I am aware. But a rumour was heard by yours truly that led me to believe that coming to and attending this class would involve the opposite of going. Sounds logical, does it not?
But, you must know, rumours are merely rumours and loose lips sink ships.
I believe a demonstration may be required before my ship can set sail.
I am not going to suck your penis, sir. But you can either stay or fuck off depending on whether you happen to be interested in blowing yourself.
Suck my penis? No, no, no. I thought this was a class on ASMR!
Awkward! Better suck his penis before things get really awkward.
No. But I do think, because we all love cock, that our first project will be the creation of a glass cock.
Some guy raises his hand.
I’m not too keen on cock.
Nonsense, my dear. Everybody loves cock. It’s in the constitution: “The Times, Places and Manner of holding [Erections] for Senators and Representatives, shall be prescribed in each State by the Legislature thereof” – that’s pretty much a direct quote. Cocks wake us up in the morning on farms. Ask any of our wonderful farmers in the Deep South. It’s in the Ten Commandments even: “Thou shalt have no other gods before me” – so we should all hold god’s penis and fuck Him and then hold others’. And we, of course, see Him in who we desire. When you think about it, cocks control everything we do. We must take power back by controlling cocks.
Yeah. We need cock-shaped bongs.
Yes! What a beautiful idea. Wave your cock-shaped wand and make one appear.
Um . . . It may be more logical to make them, since this is a glassblowing class and all.
Oh but of course. How silly of me. Yes students, we will make cock bongs this semester. So, if you’re not happy to be in this class, it will soon look like you are with these glass cocks in front of you.
EXT. LITTLE DIOMEDE BAY – DUSK
Somewhere on a seemingly shy side of the bay lurk a few guys with their heads down like they’re undercover. They’re somewhat droopy like unexcited cocks.
RANDY is strolling nearby.
The COCKs become excited.
They cock their heads to one side and so become stiff like they’re guns (hired, perhaps).
They waddle over to RANDY. RANDY’s holding a small glass cock.
Ahhhh, homeboy, youwannascore?
Wego’wha’you neeeeed. We go’, we go’ lotsa wha’ya neeeeed.
RANDY is stunned.
Whoa! Who . . . who are you guys? Where did you come from?
Nah. Nah. Don’t matter. Tha’don’matter.
Look, I just came out here to practice my rap in peace. I don’t want any trouble.
Oh, yourap? Yeh. Welikey, we likedarap. Youwannascore? Yeh?
Oh. No no no. I don’t do drugs.
No. No drugs. Youwancash? We giv’youdacash! Youwancash?
They bump into him like cocks being used for turkey slapping.
What do you mean?
He pulls hundred dollar bills from his pockets.
ADAM LAMBERT passes by. He’s singing.
“Whataya want from me?”
Yeah. What he said. What do you want from me?
I mean “whataya” wan fromme?
Oh. Wegotdacasssssh! We giv youdacash if you put oil in that glassy thingy. Make it to shoot upinair. Make everyone say ‘ahhhhh!’. Make everyone saydey likey likey da oil!
And you rap too. You rapbout goodoil. Make people likey likey da oil!
You’ll pay me? To say oil is good?
We givyoudacash. Yeh. A thousand.
Two. Two thousand.
Five! Five now, fivalater.
He licks his lips.
CHARLES COCK throws the money at RANDY.
You tell nobody that youtakedacash!
CHARLES and DAVID make a slurp noise, like cocks consuming their own ejaculate. They scamper off into the night.
RANDY looks at the cash. He adjusts his attire so he looks all gangsta, like 50 CENT.
I got da wad now, bitches!
INT. RANDY AND SANDY’S SANDY CAVE – NIGHT
RANDY walks with a skip in his step to the nearest resting place: his abode.
He flips a switch to switch on the television to view the latest hits, like a politician watching an army he helped position in some pits.
REDFOO is singing . . . something about a bottle.
Bottles. Bottles. Bottles.
He’s picking up bottles and hitting himself on the head with them, and they’re turning into gold coins.
I eat bottles. I eat bottles. I eat fish. I eat bottle-fish!
He’s knocked into a bottle of water by a bottle and starts swimming like a bottle fish with bottle fish and ends up eating one.
Oh shit! I did!
Hmmmmmm. What can I learn from this fine performance?
He scratches his head. He strains. He groans. He picks up a bottle and smashes it on his head.
Ahhhhh! I got it!
He begins to spit.
Soil’s like a boil/
Let’s get oil that be in da pits/
Toil through da soil to get oil for da thrill of it/
Fuck the muthafuckers who get ill from this!/
Riches are for those who dig/
Diggy diggy diggy. Put your dicks into the thick of it/
Champagne bitches! Champagne! Champagne!/
Make the earth burp!/
Campaign to find the earth’s veins and to slit its fuckin’ wrists!/
Oil oil oil for the royalty. Face it: all our faces don’t got boils. As we see, our oil’s really free!/
We’re rich when the earth has pores. Don’t pore on that, just go explore, and hoard the oil, get it all, and pour it into massive champagne glasses that you’ll store indoors, and then get more and more and more, for cars, for doing donuts more/
Eat donuts more!/
We’ll get it all/
We’ll be rich like Redfoo’s red food when he’s mixed it with some borscht/
And rise up like his spew when he gets wind of how it’s menstrual blood straight from a chick he saw/
We hear SANDY.
Randy! What the fuck are you ranting about? Get to bed!
INT. LITTLE DIOMEDE COLLEGE – MORNING
Again class has commenced.
RANDY shocks everyone by getting everyone wet by rudely spraying them with a high pressure hose as he enters the room.
What the fuck are you doing Randy?
What if it was oil?/
Water’s just like rice/
Oil’s like a soy sauce that can make it fuckin’ nice/
You’d be seeing rainbows whenever you see the light/
Somewhere over rainbows is more oil. Add it to the sight/
A fight ‘bout oil’s beautiful: it’s “Festival of Colors”-like/
RANDY points to an image of the “Festival of Colors” at Spanish Fork in Utah.
They worship fuckin’ oil rigs in Paris/
One lights up at night!/
He points to an image of the Paris Eiffel Tower at night.
If you like a fire truck for fires,
think: an oil truck’s for fire trucks or fire trucks look tired/
He starts running around squirting everyone with water.
Oil oil oil/
Let’s put oil in dicks we design/
Oil looks like Vegemite,
and Aussie’s say ‘that’s folate, mate’/
So oil’s fuckin’ awesome, ey?/
NADIA stands up.
Are you crazy, Randy? Oil is not awesome. Who have you been talking to?
RANDY looks around, looking scared.
The COCKs are at the window. They quickly disappear.
Uh . . . no one. But we should totally put oil in everything everywhere always.
Whooooo! Yeah! Oil for life!
What? Everyone always says people shouldn’t be sitting around on their arses, not moving. So we should sit around on our arses, moving. We should be driving. How many people here can drive?
No one can.
Cera, we don’t need to drive. We live on a tiny island. Moving cars are totally unnecessary.
You hear that, everyone? Nadia thinks moving is unnecessary. So we should just stay where we are? We shouldn’t smash the glass ceiling? We should stay in traffic jams our whole life instead of exploring our land to find oil jam?
That’s not what I meant, and you know it.
We must have a vote. Who wants to put oil into our glass dildos?
The class cheers.
Oooommph arrrrrgh. Sooooorrreeeee!
Yes, that’s wise Julia. Oil is a sauce – a source of unnecessary global conflict. But no one can understand you.
EXT. SARAH PALIN’S ALASKAN SHACK – AFTERNOON
Some distance from the Big and Little Diomedes is a continent. SARAH PALIN is not. She is not continent at the moment.
She’s taking a massive shit and staring at herself in the mirror.
I got it! I know what to do. Steve! Come here!
STEVE appears at the door.
SARAH groans as shit hits the water. It would seem she is a little continent.
How can I assist you, madam?
Little Diomede is only a little continent. We need to enclose it in a giant glass dome fitted with cameras and watch as our boys – the Cocks – civilize the lonely island. Then we can show America how beautiful oil is. And let them know that our shit doesn’t stink.
STEVE’s face is red. He’s holding his breath.
Steve. You have not commenced your obligatory reply to my profound statement. Steve! Steve!
STEVE opens his mouth before fainting.
INT. NADIA’S LITTLE DIOMEDIAN MEETING HAVEN – AFTERNOON
Meanwhile, on Little Diomede, NADIA, JULIA, and SOFIA are watching – through a window – as CERA and RANDY gather large, massive rainbow balls filled with oil.
Just make sure you don’t bust them. Don’t bust their balls about anything. They look so beautiful.
Bust whose balls? You have to tell me who you’re working for.
Sorry. It’s a secret. But these balls are filled with oil, and we need everyone to see how beautiful oil is.
NADIA sighs. She looks at SOFIA.
We need to find out who Randy is working for.
Yes. That’s right. People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. We understand this. We can’t criticize oil extraction if we rely on oil ourselves. Luckily we don’t. But other people around America don’t quite get that. We’ll kill two birds with a figurative stone thrown if we can show those people why they should criticize oil extraction and stop relying on oil, and also show Cera and Randy how harmful oil can be.
I got it! We must put a glass dome over the area Randy and Cera occupy. That way everyone on the island will soon see how harmful oil can be, and how silly these two look.
SOFIA points at RANDY.
We may not even need to.
RANDY is pouring oil into a bong.
JULIA hops out the window and dashes over to RANDY.
RANDY lights the bong.
JULIA swipes the bong, then runs off with it, and gets blown up. She’s dead. Get used to it. That’ll happen a lot. You’ve seen South Park right?
RANDY points at JULIA.
She’s a terrorist who tried to blow us up!
Oh my god! Julia exposed malpractice, and was figuratively crucified and called a terrorist, just like her father!
Who’s no bastard.
INT. LITTLE DIOMEDE COLLEGE – MORNING
It’s glassblowing class again and ideas are blowing in the wind.
Okay, look. We make one giant glass bong together. It will be for display only. No flames allowed. We should take note of what happened to Julia.
She was a terrorist!
Randy, do you think maybe mixing fire with oil is dangerous?
Nonsense. Julia was a Witch. She made the bong into a bomb and was going to throw it at us.
Okay, never mind. Anyway, Randy and Cera can be in charge of making the oil inside the massive glass bong look nice. And they’ll make the bong from the inside, while the rest of us will make it from the outside. There will be a door, so if they wanna come out they can.
Come out? I will never! We will be in the best place in all the land: oil territory. That’s like asking a guy to come out in the middle of an orgy with seventy or so virgins. Like ‘you’re being rewarded with seventy beautiful female virgins’; ‘actually, I’m gay, so . . .’; ‘oh.’
NADIA scratches her head.
Um . . . okay then.
Very well. Together we shall make the greatest bong the world has ever seen. Maybe also the shape of a cock. Get to work students.
EXT./INT. NADIA’S LITTLE DIOMEDIAN MEETING HAVEN – AFTERNOON
We begin with an aerial shot of the island and then descend to better capture NADIA and SOFIA in their crib.
But then we crash into something clear: glass. WTF?
We bang our head against it several times until we finally find our way into what appears to be a giant dome around Little Diomede.
Now we watch SOFIA and NADIA.
We need all eyes on the island. I’m gonna invite my girlfriends here. You know, the rest of Pussy Riot.
Oh. Sweet. Then everyone will be watching the island like it’s a lighthouse. Coz everyone likes some rock.
But what are we gonna sing? We need lyrics. We need to diss big oil.
Supermajors! Big oil! Supermajors! Big oil!/
Souped-up, miners’ cars will spoil earth!/
They think you’re minor, and don’t mind what you’re worth/
Supermajors! Big oil! Supermajors! Big oil!/
EXT. RED SQUARE, MOSCOW – NIGHT
Meanwhile, in Russia, we’re seeing MARIA ALYOKHINA and YEKATERINA SAMUTSEVICH (of Pussy Riot) flying around on broomsticks and trying to dance at the same time.
Some concerned RUSSIAN MAN looks up at them.
(Посмотрите, они полюс танцы, и не заземлены мужчины. Они независимые женщины. Это не хорошо)
Subtitles: Look, they are pole dancing, and not grounded by men. They are independent women. This is not good.
Subtitles: We’re Witches!
(Ох. Вот тогда ладно.)
Subtitles: Oh. That’s okay then.
Subtitles: Good Witches!
They fly off.
The RUSSIAN MAN is angry. He’s shaking his fists.
(Нет! Взять их! Взять их!)
Subtitles: No! Get them! Get them!
MARIA turns to YEKATERINA and they speak in English.
We can’t fly all the way to Nadia on these broomsticks, and to take a private jet would be rather ironic given we’re protesting against the use of oil.
Well, we can film it. We have control of that satellite full of lizards, remember? And control of the lizards.
That’s right. Photon-M4 is totally under our control. And thanks to neuroscientist Miguel Nicolelis we can control the lizards’ movements with our brains.
And we’re Witches anyway.
Oh yeah. That’s right. Well, let’s telepathically get these lizards and the satellite into position so that they can film Nadia and her strange little island.
The beautiful Witches fly on.
EXT. SARAH PALIN’S ALASKAN SHACK – NIGHT
SARAH PALIN is searching the skies with her telescope. At least we think she is. It soon becomes obvious that the telescope is up STEVE’s arse.
The Russians are coming! The Russians are coming!
Sarah, the telescope is stuck up my arse again.
She takes it out.
Mmmmmmm. Do it again.
SARAH points the telescope at the skies above Little Diomede.
The Russians are coming! The Russians are coming!
What is it now? You couldn’t find my g-spot so I doubt you can find any Russians.
SARAH steps back from the telescope so that STEVE can take a gander.
Oh. It’s a satellite.
It’s Russian. Look inside: Russians!
They look like lizards.
Russians! All of them. We need to put a satellite next to theirs, maybe nudge theirs a little. Little Diomede’s part of America! They’re trying to invade our country. First they spy on us, then they invade our country. Pesky commie scum!
So this Russian satellite found America’s g-spot then?
Shut up Steve, and find me an unused American satellite in the space junk up there in space.
EXT. OUTER SPACE / LITTLE DIOMEDE BAY – DAWN
The American satellite, all red, white, and thinking about how it once blew another satellite really well, crashes into the Russian Photon-M4 satellite.
They fall onto the giant dome that’s covering Little Diomede.
They blow up.
NADIA’s looking up.
A giant, invisible glass dome I didn’t even know existed just saved all our lives.
And it’s raining lizards.
EXT. WHITE HOUSE LAWN – DAY
President BARACK OBAMA is addressing the nation.
“The world is watching reports of a” downed satellite “near the” Russia/America “border. And it looks like it may be a terrible tragedy. Arr, right now we’re working to determine whether there were American citizens on board. That is our first priority.” “The United States will offer any assistance it can to help determine what happened and why. And, as a country our thoughts and prayers are with all the families of the passengers, wherever they call home.” “It is great, ah, to be in the state that gave us Joe Biden!”
Yeah. War cries! So obviously Little Diomede has weapons of mass destruction.
Yeah. PUTIN denies this, and denies that he has even taken control of Little Diomede, which makes it blatantly obvious that he’s a liar. Now, we will make sure that we do not give in to Russian demands, because we’re American. It says so on our passports. All of them.
Thank you, and god bless a merry car owner. Each and every merry car owner.
EXT./INT. AMERICAN LEGION, HOLLYWOOD HEIGHTS – DAY
We touch down at the building where much of Bad Words was filmed. You don’t know what that is coz it wasn’t really that successful.
JASON BATEMAN is there, in the auditorium. He’s spinning around, pointing at random objects.
Camera there. Put camera there. And there. And there. And there. There. There. There. There. And up the arses of worthless background people.
Then he points at MARIA and YEKATERINA as they stroll in.
What? You’re not cameras. You’re worthless people, on my set! What the fuck are you doing here?
MARIA holds up a broomstick.
We’re Witches. It’s okay. We flew here from Russia. On a commercial flight. Saves oil. Then flew here from LAX on these brooms.
And we need your help to save ‘people’ from the antics of pricks controlling Big oil. We need to save the underground little oil, just like one saves little people from their oppressors.
You see, OBAMA thinks that the people of Little Diomede are developing weapons of mass destruction . . .
Oh yes. The US satellite crashed there, possibly pulled into the island by some evil Soviet force.
Well, that’s not what happened. The US satellite crashed into the Russian satellite we were controlling, and they both fell onto the glass dome over the island. We have satellite footage from before the crash. Look.
The screen is between YEKATERINA’s breasts, so JASON finds it hard to pay attention to anything but the edges.
We need you to edit the footage so that it will appeal to a wide audience, and they can see how harmful the extraction of oil is for people and the environment.
We can see footage of the island, covered by a dome, and under the large dome is another smaller bong-like dome under which CERA and RANDY are working. This is very much in focus as the two glass domes act like magnifying lenses. We can see walruses and fish covered in oil, and CERA and RANDY escaping the smaller glass dome, gasping for breath.
JASON is looking at the side of the large dome, where someone is repeatedly running into the glass and falling on his arse.
Yes. Yes. Hilarious. We focus on the kid trying to get to the breast for milk . . . for milk is like oil, and we all love oil. And the kid has gotta be bad. Everyone loves bad. Like how everyone loves my movie Bad Words – which I directed. So we’ll dub in swear words, so it looks like this crazy, bad kid is swearing as he keeps running into the glass and falling on his arse. Yeah. People will love that.
He’s not trying to get to a breast. That’s MY breast. You’re not paying attention to the right part of the footage! We need to show Americans that there are no weapons of mass destruction on Little Diomede, and that oil is bad.
‘Bad’, you say? Yes! Oil is bad so we must blow it up! We must bomb Little Diomede immediately. That’s really badarse. Viewers’ll love that. You know, I’m pretty sure that one of these people tried to hand me a screenplay once on the set of my film. One of these worthless nobodies tried to hand ME – worth millions – good words. Like I have time for good, meaningful words. Ha! I need bad ones. Real fuckin’ bad ones. These worthless scum need to be punished. This is urgent. We must bomb Little Diomede!
MARIA and YEKATERINA start backing away.
MARIA looks at YEKATERINA.
This isn’t quite working out. I think we better leave.
They quickly fly off.
EXT. AMERICAN LEGION, HOLLYWOOD HEIGHTS – DAY
Before MARIA and YEKATERINA can exit the American Legion block they notice a celebrity hiding in the bushes. His hair is great camouflage. He climbs a tree.
MARIA spots him.
Is that RUSSELL BRAND?
Shhhhhhhh! “This is the Trews.” “Subscribe here!”
He throws an iPhone at MARIA.
It hits her in the head.
He throws another and it hits her in the head again.
Why do you do that Russell?
Ooops. Sorry. Did I hit you?
No, that’s nothing. Why do you still use Apple? There are plenty of other phones you could use! Why the fuck do you keep using Apple, and covering up the symbol with a Trews sticker like an alcoholic covers up a bottle with a paper bag?
Guess I did hit you. You’re a little loopy. Apples are everywhere. Everywhere. We can’t cover them up unless we cover them up with oil, lots of oil. And that would be stupid. This is an apple! Dine here!
Now he throws an apple at MARIA’s head.
Owwwww! Stop that.
Apple iPhones are only everywhere because your Trews sticker reminds people of Apple. It’s like a dress worn by a celebrity. You’re promoting the ‘celebrity’ when you promote that ‘dress’. Instead you should find up and coming artists and promote them. There are so many who just need publicity and who can help bring about change in Hollywood and pave the way for a real peaceful revolution. Instead you’re letting your ego get in the way.
RUSSELL stands in the tree like a dominant primate.
“This is the Trews!” “Subscribe herrrrrrre!”
He throws 200 iPhones at YEKATERINA.
What are you doing here anyway?
I’m paying homeless people to film Jason Bateman for me, to show the world how all Jason Bateman is doing is paying people to film him all the time.
MARIA notices a homeless man using a video camera as a flask.
I think one of them may have misunderstood your instructions.
Oi! Fred! I said capture Jason, not alcohol!
FRED holds up the camera-flask.
This is Jason’s pee. I thought you said Jason’s pee!
No! Capture Jason speedily. Speedily!
Do I get apple cider?
No! Apple iPhones-i-deliver.
I don’t like liver!
Russell! We need your help! Obama wants to bomb Little Diomede because he thinks the people there are developing weapons of mass destruction. But we have satellite footage that proves this is not the case. Plus our friend Nadia has been living there among the nice people. We need you to help us distribute the footage.
RUSSELL leaps out of the tree.
But I am just the ordinary ape-man, just the ordinary commoner. How can I possibly distribute your footage?
YEKATERINA crawls out from under iPhones.
You have nine million followers on Twitter!
Followers are an illusion. We’re all one. All one!
Fine. Then our plea just needs to make it to your brain. Help us tell Obama not to bomb Little Diomede.
But Obama is like my penis, and I’m not using that anymore. Don’t vote! Don’t vote!
He hits himself in the penis with an apple.
Owwwww! It’s sooo hard!
You won’t let your penis vote for us? But we’re trying to save an island from being bombed, and the lives of innocent people.
RUSSELL is hopping around, trying to get rid of his erection.
Wise Chinese man says: ‘No erections! No erections!’
Um . . . he may have been saying ‘no elections!’ You can still have erections.
RUSSELL stops hopping.
He lets go of his penis.
Now I can think. This is a contest. But there’s nothing wrong with elections if Witches are running. Or erections. So, yes, I will help you. But please put your broomsticks down. I cannot compete with them. They are far too long.
But we need to fly. We need to make a Trews episode the whole world will wanna see.
Can I have a broomstick?
MARIA hands RUSSELL hers.
He sits on it but then the stick hits him in the head.
He tries to push it down.
EXT. HOLLYWOOD SIGN, HOLLYWOOD HILLS – DUSK
The Hollywood sign is covered in Trews stickers. RUSSELL is dancing around the ‘WOOD’ part, like he’s worshipping wood.
MARIA and YEKATERINA manage to project the footage of Little Diomede onto the Os.
RUSSELL approaches the Os, to study the footage of course.
Oi! There! I see two Cocks! David and Charles. They’re emerging from those underground caves like Saddam Hussein. That is just too much. You two are trying to make me into security for what appears to be Cock Island! I will not stand in the way of my own revolution. That would be preposterous!
MARIA studies the spot RUSSELL’s looking at.
It is them. They’ve convinced two people on the island to work for them. But only two. Our friend is not inside that dome where they’re working. Our friend – Nadia – never told us about the Cock brothers. She didn’t even know they were there.
RUSSELL runs into a letter, and acts like he’s reading one.
‘Dear Russell, we will give you money to help us. Cocks can come together to rule the world.’ ‘No!’ I say to that. The cocks must be eliminated! I cannot help protect an island the biggest COCKS of all presently inhabit.
But wait! I know how to work out what they’re saying. Michael Rubinstein, from Google, taught me how to extract audio from extremely tiny movements in objects. And there are a whole heap of balloons inside this giant glass bong these COCKs inhabit. The oil has leaked out of the balloons and they have deflated. I should be able to figure out what the Cocks are saying when they’re alone in this bong-like alleyway, by simply magnifying the tiny movements of the balloons. We can hear how evil they are.
Oh. Okay. We can eavesdrop on members of the sinister one percent. Very well then. I approve this action.
YEKATERINA plays with her laptop a little, while RUSSELL continues to dance around the ‘WOOD’ part of the ‘HOLLYWOOD’ sign.
“This is the Trews!” “Subscribe here!” “Subscribe here!”
EXT. LITTLE DIOMEDE BAY – DUSK
The islanders have assembled around the site of the di-satellite crash.
NADIA hops up onto one of the broken satellites to address the assembly (there is no assembly line, just parts: of greater importance is playing the part of mayor to calm the uneasy crowd).
Okay, so I know you were all waiting to see what Cera and Randy would do with their oil, but it seems these satellites have crashed into their workstation. And it looks like they’re okay, but we now have no way to contact the mainland because it seems we relied on this satellite I’m now standing on to do that. So I really have no clue what’s happening over there, though I’m sure everything’s just fine and dandy.
RANDY looks uneasy.
Uhh . . .
What is it, Randy?
There may be a few people trapped under that satellite you’re on. Um . . . I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone.
NADIA hops off the satellite.
Two COCKs emerge from beneath, gasping for breath.
Heyhey. Casssssssh. Youwant?
Hey! You’re the Cock brothers! What the hell are you doing on our island? It was you guys who made Randy rap about how ‘good’ oil is! I knew something was up.
She turns to RANDY.
Randy, do you have any idea what these two men are responsible for? They are destroying the environment everywhere in pursuit of oil.
They told me that when people voice their concerns they always take notes.
Who? Who takes notes?
Ahhhhhdapeeeps! Dapeeeple they takedanotes!
DAVID and CHARLES COCK toss $100 bills every which way. They dance around like maniacs.
EXT. HOLLYWOOD SIGN, HOLLYWOOD HILLS – NIGHT
RUSSELL BRAND is hanging upside down from an O.
A COP appears.
RUSSELL pays him off.
The COP nods.
Carry on then.
RUSSELL studies the footage.
It seems as though all these Cock brothers are saying is ‘I got da cash’ in curiously various manners. However, I’ll explain their actions in my trademark clinically verbose style. One appears to get down on his knees on cloud nine, in the manner of someone being knighted – perhaps Charles -, or falling from a horse – perhaps a child -, or proposing – perhaps an action chosen while drunk from a boring compilation of those of patriarchal grooms over the centuries, and then holds up a tube in the shape of a stylish cock-like cock ring that’s eerily similar to an empty champagne bottle – which happens to be having air blown into it by an intoxicated spirit in the middle of a dark dungeon at midnight in Middlesbrough. He shakes the bottle and money shoots out like ejaculate from a penis, and both Cocks bounce up and down with glee like Terrance and Phillip. This is disturbingly incestuous to an excessive extent. All the while they repeat the words ‘I got the cash’ like said cash is not a sickly, purulent rash they should be ashamed of should it duplicate like cancer cells with little effort on their behalf. Oh! And now they’re fighting one another with their penises. It’s as if they believe they have some kind of diplomatic immunity that somehow makes their immune systems superior to all others and therefore endorse incest like royalty, and they believe they are so kind and generous and fully deserving of their fortunes simply because the fortunes are lying down before them like eager mistresses they seem to be mistaking one another for. Ewwww! This is totally ‘ewwwwww!’
Well, this is even beyond David Lynch now.
INT. OVAL OFFICE, WHITE HOUSE – NIGHT
SARAH PALIN rushes into the Oval Office.
Obama, I know that we hate each other, but there are entities we both love more than we hate one another.
Yes! And you can’t bomb Little Diomede because the Cock brothers are there!
We must face east and worship them by pointing our supple arses in their direction. I will passionately pray like a Muslim with you if it's to worship our funders: big Cocks.
Certainly. We must pray together. Thank you Sarah for warning me. I would have killed our main source of income.
They wander to the middle of the floor. They bend down together and begin to pray.
Oh Cocks! Oh big Cocks! We love thee!
Oh big massive Cocks. Never leave us.
I love Cock and Cock! I love Cock!
MICHELLE OBAMA walks in.
This is absolutely disgusting!
What dear? Oh. "I did not have sexual relations . . ."
I know dear. No one would fuck Sarah Palin on purpose. It's me. I forgot to worship the Cocks today. Forgive me.
OBAMA stands. He's pissed.
What! How dare you forget, woman! You are a disgrace. Fuck you! Fuck you and our children.
But Barack, I love you. I love you like Cock.
I don't like Cock, I love Cock. And far more than you. Far more than our kids. I just want to see Cocks stay strong. But you . . . you forgot to pray for the Cocks. They almost died today, you know? They almost died Michelle!
MICHELLE is crying.
I'm so sorry Baracky. I should have prayed for their rising, and rising high. I just forgot. I was giving a speech on the importance of nutrition.
You must never forget the Cocks! You must never forget where your cash comes from. Leave woman! Leave my oval now! I will fuck Sarah now to shame you. Leave!
MICHELLE leaves in tears.
SARAH tries to leave too.
OBAMA shakes his head.
Oh Palin, you're in the big ovally office. You want to stay in big ovally office, don't you?
Yes! Oh yes! Please!
OBAMA looks at his penis.
EXT. HOLLYWOOD SIGN, HOLLYWOOD HILLS – NIGHT
RUSSELL's about to upload a new Trews. But instead, some 'load' is on his mind.
Hey! Before I save Little Diomede from annihilation I reckon I can get my cock out on top of the Hollywood sign and no one'll stop me!
He climbs the Y.
Yeah, that's right: 'why?'
A helicopter pilot captures RUSSELL with his spotlight. The pilot came first. This episode is only the second. Remember someone standing atop a stationary vehicle?
Stay where you are. You're under arrest.
Stay where I am? You want everyone to stay where they are. You hate social mobility!
He dances on the Y, hopping from platform to platform. If this is a fork in the road it could be a pitch-
This is a sign!
He hits the Y with both hands repeatedly.
If you're god, officer, then I'm an angel who can fly! I have eyes, silly. I can see the light. And if you're blind then might I suggest you cease flying a helicopter at once, young man! You cannot be spinning every person or yarn you come by. (You don’t do it like me.) And you say you're not. But you are. We are all 'bi' if we like! I am not a spinning top but a spinning bottom. I am like a bee. And you are the stinger, cop! You are the stinger! This is a sting! Stop raping me!
He moves his booty.
Then leaps off the Y.
I guess we're under arrest again.
EXT. LITTLE DIOMEDE BAY – DAY
JORDAN SHANKS sees a camera. He runs over to this camera, standing by a tree covered in black shirts, and poses, ripping off a shirt.
Now that you’re looking at me, I wanna tell you what’s going on here.
Who the hell are you?
I’m Australian. It doesn’t fuckin’ matter!
He notices that he’s covered in oil. It was not a black shirt he grabbed.
Ahhh, shit! I knew you guys were playing with oil. And look – it’s the fuckin’ Cock brothers!
The COCKs appear.
Look, shut the fuck up! I’m the one who impersonates people. Stop impersonating yourselves!
Oh, wait. You guys are just being you. Well, look. We got Randy here, who’s like . . .
JORDAN impersonates RANDY using his dopey persona.
‘Oh. Yay! Island big roulette wheel I just spin and fuckin’ spin spin spin. And I choose black, and it’s all black, coz there oil everywhere, and I get rich, and fuck the fish!’ And this idiot doesn’t realize that he’s participating in casino capitalism . . .
JORDAN holds up a piece of paper with an abstract written by the American and Canadian scholar and cultural critic HENRY GIROUX.
. . . and helping perpetrate the neoliberal notion that people are merely brainless consumers, capital is all that matters, bigger is best, and that academics wise enough to link their personal troubles to broader social issues need to be silenced. He just wants to keep on spinning that wheel, whether it’s a car’s, an island, a circular saw, or the fuckin Wheel of Fortune!
We see footage of a donut doing donuts around a tree on an island inhabited by scared and endangered birds that fly away and straight into spinning Wheels of Fortune, which are circular saws, that only stop when a bird’s decapitated, so that one can finally read off the healthy balance that’s his new fortune, while disregarding the far more important balance of nature and ecology, coz the economy’s all that matters.
And Cera’s like . . .
He impersonates CERA.
‘But mommy says the Cocks make money for the greater good, to help the poor, so we should help them get rich, coz they’re angels. Let’s get on our knees and suck their patriarchal penises!’ She doesn’t realize that in this fucked up US society we have people like the Cocks giving millions of dollars to climate change denial groups . . .
We see a graph on his chest that highlights the donations to climate denial groups from Donors Trust, COCK Foundations, and Exxon Mobil.
. . . who completely ignore the scientific research in order to ensure the maintenance of the pathetic status quo. Money does not trump intelligence, but Cera thinks Cera’s mommy’s money trumps commonsense and reasoning coz her ego’s the size of the dome that until recently enclosed this island and framed perfectly the present predicament. See the strength of my fuckin’ argument!
JORDAN once again displays his chest. The area representing donations to the climate denial groups is pulsating as it’s tattooed on his muscles.
People here are so fuckin’ daft! Now, which way to the Great Barrier Reef? Australians are fuckin’ stupid too. Scientists are rounded up like how Nazis rounded up Jews and thrown into the reef because the populace thinks the Great Barrier Reef needs fertilizer made from dead bodies, and don’t realize that they should let scientists study ascidians that may help cancer patients and keep people alive, or sponges that may be able to treat osteoarthritis!
We see images from the Queensland Museum’s website, specifically Biodiscovery and the Great Barrier Reef.
JORDAN impersonates CERA again.
‘Barriers are fuckin’ awesome, when they keep Mexicans out of the US. But if it’s a reef then fuck it! Let’s just destroy it coz there are no Mexicans swimming around in the Pacific Ocean. Ha ha. Scientists think there are Mexicans swimming around in the oceans. Oh no! Maybe there are! But fish and biodiversity won’t protect us from Mexicans. Ignorance is bliss. Why do intelligent people want to take bliss away from us? Waaaaaaah! The Mexicans are coming!’
NADIA approaches FRIENDLYJORDIES (JORDAN).
Um . . . I like what you said. And your sarcasm. You’re spot on. I’m from a pop/activist group in Russia called Pussy Riot. I’d love to work with you.
Huh? No! God, no! I am a solo artist! How dare you approach me! Shoooo. Away.
JORDAN screams and runs off, hops into a boat and rows away.
EXT. LITTLE DIOMEDE BAY – DAY
The COCK brothers are treating a small oil spill like a spa.
Everyone looks at them.
They’re completely naked as they rise from the oil.
We hear the tune for Not on Drugs by Tove Lo.
They begin to sing, moving like dark angels, or MARILYN MANSON.
Whiny hippies are unwell with no valor/
I say hire guys to stomp these flowers in the dirt/
Injunctions aren’t right. We’ve depleted loot/
I’m livid. I cry. I’m singing the blues/
My penis is sound. Oil rigs are too/
Just listen and sigh. You’ll hear rings. Want two?/
Babel’s piston’s neat/
I shot the sun, with oily muck,
and now I’ll come/
Babel’s now a sea,
of oily muck, and rotten thugs,
and now we’ve won/
We’re “bright as bright can be!”/
The scene is interrupted by an old commercial from the 50s for Australia’s favorite spread: Vegemite. The voice-over at the end is a little different . . .
VOICE OVER GUY
Oil – “the delicious spread – provides the vitamin B1 your family needs daily. Be sure you put” oil “next to the pepper and salt whenever you set the table.”
Back to the scene.
Oh, this is soooo pathetic. How can anyone take this shit seriously?
We see CERA is taking notes and staring at the COCK brothers with adoration.
EXT. LITTLE DIOMEDE BAY – DAY
ROBERT SWAN arrives on the island, accompanied by several northern elephant seals.
Everyone stares at him.
What? I heard you have a Cock infestation.
The COCK brothers are now waddling about, trying to look like nightingales even though they’re just naked, dirty old men.
ROBERT nods when he sees them.
You can remove them from the island for us?
That’s what I brought my friends here for.
He winks at the northern elephant seals. They’re somewhat like a seal to show the island is good and natural. So if they’re applied to Little Diomede, the COCKs must be removed.
Go get the penguins, boys!
Sure enough, the COCKs look like clueless penguins, but very ugly ones.
The northern elephant seals grab them and drag them off into the cold sea.
Suddenly, giant fire ants emerge from the ground: supporters of the COCK brothers. There’s a whole swarm of them. They follow the COCKs into the water. They’re like oil on fire, and these fire ants swim and swim and swim like they have been put out (upset and annoyed) by the masses.
Everyone cheers, except for CERA. Her face is getting red, like a fire ant.
How do we get our satellite back into orbit? And the Russian one?
I’m afraid I can’t help you there. I prefer to travel to the furthest reaches of the planet rather than use satellites for communication. Next I plan to go to a far, distant land called Australia. A lot of weird, strange people live there. I hear they eat oil on toast for breakfast.
I don’t think that’s true. The Cocks made that up.
Arrrrgh! Those Cocks!
He shakes his fists at the sea.
Well, I’ll be off now. Farewell!
He hitches a ride on a northern elephant seal.
Bye. Thank you!
Yeah. Thanks Robert!
EXT. LITTLE DIOMEDE BAY – DUSK
Now some Belgian students turn up – TJORVEN DELABIE, MAARTEN DECAT, and JEROES VANDEWALLE.
Hey guys, we just heard you’re looking for a satellite.
Oh. Yeah. How?
Our antennas end up in lots of strange places, just like those damn Cocks.
If you give us the cash the Cocks gave you then we’ll put an embarrassing photograph of the Cocks dancing naked in oil on a satellite, so everyone can see it. We’ll also make sure you have access to the internet again.
CERA’s walking like she’s in a trance.
Their dance was mystical, magical, spellbinding. I want everyone to see it. Here, take all my money . . .
She hands all the cash to JEROES.
Wait a second! How long will we have to wait for internet?
Oh, it’ll be up by next year.
This year has only just begun! We have to wait a whole year?
The Belgians flee.
No communication with the outside world. We may have to tiptoe into Alaska and hope Sarah Palin doesn’t catch us.
SOFIA looks at CERA.
You could maybe tell your mother not to kill us?
CERA’s staring at the heavens.
Beautiful dancing Cocks everywhere.
SOFIA looks up. Indeed, there is a dancing star in the sky.
Nadia, check your Wi-Fi.
NADIA gets out her cell. She plays with it.
It works! Ha ha. It’s my friends! The rest of Pussy Riot. They’ve put a new satellite above us.
Cera thinks she’s worshipping Cocks, but she’s worshipping pussy.