The Quite Nice and Fairly Accurate Good Omens Script Book
Page 18
NEWT
Even better than that. I found something really interesting. I’ve discovered some unusual weather patterns. There’s a town in Oxfordshire with some very strange weather events.
SHADWELL
Raining blood, is it? Or raining fish? Satanic frost in summer, witherin’ the crops, after some hag got into an argument with a farmer?
NEWT
No. It’s just . . . it always has perfect weather for the time of year.
Shadwell is unimpressed . . .
SHADWELL
Call that a phenomena?
NEWT
Normal weather for the time of year isn’t normal, Sergeant. Crisp autumns, and long hot Augusts? The kind of weather you used to dream of as a kid? It’s snowed there every Christmas Eve for the last eleven years.
SHADWELL
Not interested. Just look for witches, and witch-caused phenomenomenoms.
NEWT
Is this what the Witchfinder Army does? I just go through newspapers?
SHADWELL
It is.
NEWT
I thought maybe we’d go to training camps . . . It would be quicker with a search on the computer.
SHADWELL
Witch’s tools, boxes of the devil!
NEWT
Tell me about it. I don’t think they like me.
337EXT. DES MOINES, IOWA – DAY
TITLE CARD: IOWA, USA
We are outside a Burger Lord Fast Food Restaurant in Des Moines, Iowa. A piece of paper blows past: it’s a lonely and deserted place.
338INT. BURGER LORD – DAY
It’s a real diner. There’s an old man flipping burgers. He’s a bit corpulent, has a cowlick and is undoubtedly ELVIS PRESLEY. He’s happy. He’s humming to himself – an Elvis hit. Heartbreak Hotel perhaps.
Sable and Frannie stride in to the Burger Lord. He’s holding a briefcase. Frannie shows ID to the waitress, who is vaguely baffled.
GOD (V.O.)
He’s a businessman with a chain of restaurants. And he’s about to launch something new.
As he talks, Sable opens the briefcase to reveal a hamburger, a bun, a pickle, a milkshake, and raw French fries.
SABLE
Artificial bun. Artificial burger. Fries that have never even seen a potato. Foodless sauces. And, we are rather proud of this: a completely artificial dill pickle.
FRANNIE
The shake doesn’t contain any actual food content either.
SABLE
Nobody’s shakes contain actual food content. Okay. Let’s try it out.
Cut back as the food that the FRY COOK has been cooking for us is pushed off the grill into the bin. Such a waste of food! And Sable’s new, brightly-coloured food goes onto the grill, and the chips go into the oil . . .
Frannie is telling the waitress how to present the food:
FRANNIE
Press this button as you hand over the Chow. And don’t call it food. It’s Chow.
She puts a tray of food down, presses the button. A very rapid voice says:
RAPID VOICE
CHOW™ brand unfood contains spun, plaited and woven protein molecules, designed to be ignored by your digestive enzymes, no-cal sweeteners, oil replacements, fibrous materials, colorings, and flavorings. Chow is an edible substance and must not be confused with food. Eating Chow can help you to lose weight, hair, and kidney functions. May cause anal leakage. Enjoy your meal.
Elvis is troubled. He hums.
SABLE
That man . . .
And now, coming into the diner, is the International Express man. He’s carrying a package.
INTERNATIONAL EXPRESS MAN
Party name of Sable?
SABLE
Yes?
INTERNATIONAL EXPRESS MAN
Thought it was you, looked around, thought, tall gent with a beard, nice suit. Package for you, sir.
Sable scribbles FAMINE on the clipboard and opens the package to reveal a little silver pair of antique scales.
SABLE
Finally!
He gives $20 to the Express man. Turns to the female assistant.
SABLE (CONT’D)
I’m flying to England.
FRANNIE
I’ll let the jet know. When are you returning?
SABLE
Who knows? Cancel all my appointments.
FRANNIE
For how long?
SABLE
The foreseeable future.
Frannie’s fingers start flying over the tablet screen.
Elvis is still singing.
ELVIS
You ain’t nothing but a hound dog . . .
SABLE
And fire that man. He irritates me.
The hokey Burger Lord sign is being taken down and replaced with a hipster CHOW! sign as he leaves.
339INT. SHADWELL’S FLAT – DAY
Shadwell notices that Newt has managed to open a window, and immediately pulls it closed.
NEWT
Sergeant, the village I was telling you about with perfect weather. Well, it says in the manual that witches can influence the weather . . . What if I just sort of nipped over there tomorrow? And have a look around, you know. I’ll pay my own petrol.
Shadwell ponders this. It’s been an odd and coincidence-filled day, so he asks:
SHADWELL
This village. It wouldna be called Tadfield, would it?
NEWT
How did you know that?
SHADWELL
Aye. I suppose it can’t do any harm. Be here at nine o’ the clock in the morning, afore ye leave.
NEWT
What for?
SHADWELL
Yer armour of righteousness.
340INT. CROWLEY’S FLAT, BEDROOM – EVENING
Crowley’s bedroom. We see a MONTAGE of Crowley trying to get to sleep by lying on the bed, on the wall, then on the ceiling.
CLOSE UP on his open snake-eyes. He’s wide awake. Then he puts on his dark glasses.
341INT. CROWLEY’S FLAT – EVENING
He walks through the flat. Pauses to spray a houseplant with a plant mister.
342INT. CROWLEY’S OFFICE – EVENING
Crowley picks up the landline. He dials a number.
343INT. AZIRAPHALE’S BOOKSHOP – EVENING
Aziraphale is pacing around. He looks miserable. He jumps when the phone rings, and then picks it up. We cut between them.
CROWLEY
It’s me. Meet me at the third alternative rendezvous.
AZIRAPHALE
Is that the old bandstand, the number 19 bus, or the British Museum café?
CROWLEY
The bandstand. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.
344EXT. THE YOUNG’S HOUSE – EVENING
It’s night. The lights are mostly out, but downstairs people are watching TV.
345INT. THE YOUNG’S HOUSE – EVENING
Adam’s parents are watching TV. Adam is sitting in the corner, reading the pile of New Aquarian magazines.
ADAM
Dad. Did you know there are ley lines everywhere?
MR YOUNG
No, Adam. Ley lines are rubbish. You’ll like this bit, Deirdre. He’s taped a gun under the chair.
ADAM
It’s not rubbish. They wouldn’t write about it in a magazine, if it was rubbish.
Mr Young ignores Adam and watches a little more of the TV show.
ADAM (CONT’D)
There’s people from Tibet watching everything we do through hidden tunnels.
His parents both look at him at the same time, with the same expression.
ADAM (CONT’D)
I think I might go to bed early, actually.
He gets up and leaves.
DEIRDRE
Do you think he’s all right?
346EXT. ST JAMES’S PARK – EVENING
The duckpond at St James’s Park. The park is locked. Crowley is standing by the pond, waiting. He checks his wa
tch. Aziraphale hurries over.
CROWLEY
Any news?
AZIRAPHALE
Um. What kind of news would that be?
CROWLEY
Well? Do you have the missing Antichrist’s name, address and shoe size yet?
AZIRAPHALE
(guiltily)
Shoe size? Why would I have his shoe size?
CROWLEY
Joke. I’ve got nothing either.
AZIRAPHALE
It’s the Great Plan, Crowley.
CROWLEY
For the record, great pustulent mangled bollocks to the Great Blasted Plan.
AZIRAPHALE
May you be forgiven!
CROWLEY
I won’t be forgiven. Not ever. That’s part of a demon’s job description. Unforgivable. That’s what I am.
AZIRAPHALE
You were an angel once.
CROWLEY
That was a long time ago. We find the boy. My agents can do it . . .
AZIRAPHALE
And then what? We eliminate him?
CROWLEY
Well . . . somebody does. I’m not personally up for killing kids.
AZIRAPHALE
You’re the demon. I’m the nice one. I don’t have to kill children.
CROWLEY
Uh-uh.
AZIRAPHALE
If you kill him, then the world gets a reprieve. And Heaven does not have blood on its hands.
CROWLEY
No blood on your hands? That’s a bit holier than thou, isn’t it?
AZIRAPHALE
I am a great deal holier than thou. That’s the whole point.
CROWLEY
Then you should kill the boy yourself. Holi-ly.
AZIRAPHALE
I’m not killing anybody.
CROWLEY
This is ridiculous. You are ridiculous. I don’t even know why I’m still talking to you.
AZIRAPHALE
Frankly, neither do I.
CROWLEY
Enough. I’m leaving.
Aziraphale calls after him . . .
AZIRAPHALE
You can’t leave, Crowley. There isn’t anywhere to go.
Crowley looks back. He looks at Aziraphale. Above them, a beautiful starry sky. And Crowley softens.
CROWLEY
Big universe. Even if this all ends up in a puddle of burning goo, we could go off together.
AZIRAPHALE
‘Go off together?’ Listen to yourself.
CROWLEY
How long have we been friends? Six thousand years?
AZIRAPHALE
Friends? We aren’t friends. We are an angel and a demon. We have nothing whatsoever in common. I don’t even like you.
CROWLEY
You do.
AZIRAPHALE
(blurts out the truth)
Even if I did know where the Antichrist was, I wouldn’t tell you. We are on opposite sides.
CROWLEY
We’re on our side.
AZIRAPHALE
There isn’t an ‘our side’, Crowley. Not any more. It’s over.
Crowley takes a deep breath, as if he’s going to keep talking. And then he lets it all go.
CROWLEY
Right. Well, then. Have a nice doomsday.
347INT. ADAM’S BEDROOM – NIGHT
Adam’s in bed, with a torch/flashlight, reading New Aquarian magazines. He has a bag of sherbet lemons, which he is sucking. (The sherbet lemons, not the bag.)
ADAM
Brilliant.
He picks up the next copy. The headline on the cover of this one is ‘NUCLEAR POWER? NO THANKS! CAN WE MAKE PLANET EARTH A NUCLEAR-FREE ZONE?!’
Adam is getting sleepy. He puts down his sherbet lemons. He drops the magazine. Before he falls asleep he manages to turn out the light. And we hear WHISPERY VOICES. They are saying things like:
WHISPERY VOICES
You can do it. You can change it. Fix it, Adam. It’s getting closer. It’s getting stronger.
And Adam sleeps. A moment of perfect peace and then . . .
348EXT. TURNING POINT NUCLEAR POWER STATION – NIGHT
We hear LOUD klaxons going off.
349INT. TURNING POINT CONTROL ROOM – NIGHT
A nuclear power control room. SMYTHE is sleepily staring at the controls. He’s baffled. HORTENSE GANDER, a Shift Charge Engineer, comes in. RED LIGHTS are flashing. The klaxon continues to sound. The huge room is filled with dials, and as we watch, swathes of the dials go down to zero, and areas of the wall of dials go completely dark.
HORTENSE
That’s a bit impossible.
SMYTHE
Yeah. What do we do?
Hortense pulls out her phone. She thumbs it, and is apparently calling ‘Mr Whippy’.
HORTENSE
You don’t do anything. I’m going to wake up the station manager.
350INT. STATION MANAGER’S BEDROOM – NIGHT
The STATION MANAGER’s mobile phone starts playing a happy, inappropriate song like NELLIE THE ELEPHANT. The screen on his phone says ‘The Cornetto’. His hand fumbles for it, answers . . .
STATION MANAGER
You want to what?
351INT. TURNING POINT CONTROL ROOM – NIGHT
Hortense is looking at the dials. She’s on the phone.
HORTENSE
I want to open the reactor.
352INT. STATION MANAGER’S BEDROOM – NIGHT
The station manager turns on the light by his bed.
STATION MANAGER
Is this a joke?
353INT. TURNING POINT CONTROL ROOM – NIGHT
Hortense seems unruffled.
HORTENSE
Two hundred and forty megawatts of power are currently being produced by this power station, Eric. It’s just, according to our indicators, nothing’s producing them.
STATION MANAGER
I can’t just tell you to open up the reactor, Hortense.
HORTENSE
No Eric. Obviously not. But you can call someone who can.
354INT. MINISTER’S BEDROOM – NIGHT
An important male middle-aged MINISTER is awake, naked, sitting on the bed, and grumpy. Next to him is a MALE SEX WORKER, who is sitting, grumpily mouthing, ‘I’m on the clock, you know’, and tapping his wrist . . .
MINISTER
What do you mean, I have to authorise it? Is there anyone else? I KNOW I’m the minister. Well then, yes. I authorise you to open the bloody thing up.
355INT. NUCLEAR REACTOR – NIGHT
Hortense and the station manager are unscrewing a huge screw-door. Smythe is checking the Geiger counter . . . it’s silent:
SMYTHE
Nothing. Not even the normal background radiation.
STATION MANAGER
How can we be putting out power with a dead reactor?
SMYTHE
Got me on that, chief.
Hortense throws open the door and looks down at the room. It’s a circular room the size of a grey squash court, with pipes coming in . . . but not connecting to anything. The room is utterly empty.
HORTENSE
Oh. There’s something you don’t see every day. An enormous room without a nuclear reactor in it.
STATION MANAGER
But . . . There’s nothing there.
SMYTHE
Not nothing, chief. Look . . . what’s that?
And we move in on the only thing in the room . . . A SHERBET LEMON.
HORTENSE
It looks like a sherbet lemon.
CUT TO:
356INT. ADAM’S BEDROOM – NIGHT
And Adam is blissfully asleep. The bag of sherbert lemons spilled on his night table, on a pile of New Aquarians. We hear the satanic whisper voices, but they are too quiet to make out what they are whispering . . .
WHISPERY VOICES
Mend it all. End it all . . .
And Buddy Holly’s ‘Everyday’ starts, this time sounding almost like a lul
laby, as we . . .
FADE TO BLACK.
Episode Four
Saturday Morning Funtime
401EXT. MORBILLO DECK – DAY – PRESENT DAY