by Neil Gaiman
Do you know what this is? This is a plant mister, cheapest and most efficient on the market today. It can squirt a fine spray of water into the air. It’s filled with holy water. It can turn you into that. Now go away.
The drip reaches Crowley’s fingers. Hastur is watching this.
HASTUR
You’re bluffing.
CROWLEY
Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. Ask yourself. Do you feel lucky?
Hastur gestures and the plant mister dissolves, soaking Crowley.
HASTUR
Yes. Do you? Time to go, Crowley.
The phone on Crowley’s desk rings. Crowley is desperate . . . In the background, we can hear Crowley’s voice on the outgoing message:
CROWLEY (V.O.)
Hey, this is Anthony Crowley. You know what to do. Do it with style.
CROWLEY
Don’t move. There’s something very important you need to know before you disgrace yourself.
Aziraphale’s voice comes from the machine . . .
AZIRAPHALE (O.S.)
Um. It’s me. Listen . . .
Crowley quickly picks the phone up.
CROWLEY
Hello? I . . . uh. This isn’t a good time. I’ve got an old friend here.
AZIRAPHALE
But—
Crowley puts down the phone. Then he smiles like a lighthouse burning or a TV quizmaster. He addresses the room, like someone talking to hidden cameras.
CROWLEY
Well, you have definitely passed the test! You are ready to start playing with the big boys!
HASTUR
You’ve gone mad.
CROWLEY
The Lords of Hell had to know that you were trustworthy before we gave you command of the Legions of the Damned, in the War ahead. And Hastur, Duke of Hell, you’ve come through with flying colours!
Hastur isn’t certain that Crowley’s bluffing . . .
Crowley pulls out his mobile phone. Hits a button, and it starts to dial . . .
CROWLEY (CONT’D)
I wouldn’t expect you to believe me, Duke Hastur. But why don’t we talk to the Dark Council. Let’s see if they can convince you . . .
HASTUR
You’re calling the Dark Council?
We hear Crowley’s mobile phone dialling and being put through. And then he looks at Hastur and says:
CROWLEY
I am! And they say . . . So long, Sucker . . .
And he’s gone.
The phone clatters to the desk.
Hastur screams, hatred and anger. And then he’s gone too. And we can hear the phone on the desk ringing.
GOD (V.O.)
You’re probably wondering where Crowley has gone. Demons aren’t bound by physics.
456ANIMATION
We are looking at a schematic diagram of an angel.
GOD (V.O.)
Over the years a huge number of theological man hours have been spent debating the question:
How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?
Next to the angel design appears a large pin. It moves about in a 360-degree animation.
GOD (CONT’D)
To answer it, we need information. Firstly, angels don’t dance. It’s one of the distinguishing characteristics that marks an angel. So, none.
And then the schematic diagram of the angel changes to a schematic diagram of Aziraphale.
GOD (CONT’D)
At least, nearly none.
457INT. GENTLEMAN’S CLUB – DAY – 1890s
Unmoving camera. Scratchy black and white, an ancient silent movie – What the Butler Saw-style – with a piano soundtrack. Aziraphale and MALE DANCERS, doing a gavotte together. (I’d use the music of Gilbert and Sullivan’s ‘I am a Courtier Grave and Serious’ from The Gondoliers.)
All the dancers are Victorian men, tall and short, fat and thin, young and old. Aziraphale looks ridiculously pleased with himself.
GOD (CONT’D)
Aziraphale had learned to gavotte in a discreet gentlemen’s club in Portland Place, in the late 1880s. After a while he had become fairly good at it, and was quite put out when, some decades later, the gavotte went out of style for good. So providing the dance was a gavotte, the answer is a straightforward one.
The angel schematic is replaced by a demon schematic. The demon (which could be Crowley, or Hastur) is disco-dancing very badly.
GOD (V.O.)
Then again, you might just as well ask how many demons can dance on the head of a pin. They’re of the same original stock, after all. And at least demons dance. Not what you’d call good dancing, though.
There is a pin. The demon stays the same size as the pin seems to come towards us, getting huger and huger . . . And now it’s back to reality:
GOD (CONT’D)
For demons, or for angels, size and shape are simply options. So, if you look from really close up, the only problem about dancing on the head of a pin is all those big gaps between electrons.
We are looking at Crowley’s phone, falling from his hand. And we SLAM into the mouthpiece of the phone . . .
GOD (CONT’D)
That’s where Crowley has gone. That’s where Hastur is following. Right now they are both travelling incredibly fast through the telephone system. Which means that Hastur, Duke of Hell, is now trapped on a tape inside Crowley’s antique telephone answering machine.
And inside the phone, still moving fast, we are in the INTERNET.
458INT. THE INTERNET
It’s unbelievable. We are looking at the internet – or a pictorial/animated representation of what the internet might look like from the inside. It’s all images zooming past at incredible speed – there’s PORNOGRAPHY and CAT PICTURES, there’s someone FACE-TIMING THEIR MUM, there are NUMBERS like The Matrix and what appears to be THE COMPLETE WORKS OF SHAKESPEARE going by . . . And a whooshing soundtrack of music and voices, and something’s coming towards us . . . A tiny black dot getting bigger . . .
It’s Crowley! He looks like he’s having too much fun. He’s zooming towards us . . .
He glances, worried, back over his shoulder . . .
HASTUR
CROOOOOOOWWWWWLLLEEEYYYYYYYY!
And Hastur is behind him, heading towards him.
HASTUR (CONT’D)
You can’t escape me! Wherever you come out, I’ll come out too!
And Crowley looks slightly worried now.
In the distance we can still hear a phone ringing. The phone on Crowley’s desk.
Hastur looks triumphant. The gap is closing. Crowley looks TERRIFIED . . .
And then we realise Crowley is counting.
CROWLEY
(to himself, silently)
Three . . . two . . . one . . .
459INT. CROWLEY’S OFFICE – DAY
Crowley, out of breath and disarrayed, appears beside the desk again.
As he does, the answering machine on the phone on his desk clicks on.
CROWLEY (V.O.)
Hey, it’s Anthony Crowley. You know what to do. Do it with style.
And we hear a voice coming out of the answering machine . . .
HASTUR
Crowley? Where are you, you little runt? I heard your voice. It’s dark in here. Where am I? Oh no. You wouldn’t dare. You SNAKE!
And Crowley presses OFF on the answering machine. He grins. There’s a rumble of THUNDER . . .
460EXT. A SOHO STREET – DAY
Grey weather gusting. Aziraphale is heading down the street, looking harried and as if he is carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Which he is.
Three angels step out of the shadows. Michael, Uriel and Sandalphon. They are all wearing sharp suits. Michael is in the lead.
MICHAEL
Hello, Aziraphale.
AZIRAPHALE
Oh. Michael. Sandalphon. Uriel. Hello, um.
MICHAEL
We’ve just been learning some disturbing things about you – you’ve been a bit of a fallen angel
, haven’t you? Consorting with the enemy . . .?
AZIRAPHALE
I – I – I haven’t been consorting. Just exchanging information. Trying to stop this all from happening.
SANDALPHON
You know how we treat traitors in wartime?
AZIRAPHALE
I’m not a—
URIEL
Terrible choice. Don’t think your boyfriend in the dark glasses can get you special treatment in Hell. He’s in trouble too.
MICHAEL
Aziraphale, it’s time to choose sides.
AZIRAPHALE
I’ve actually been giving this a lot of thought. The whole choosing sides thing. What I think is, there obviously has to be two sides. That’s the whole point. So people can make choices. That’s what being human means. Choices! But that’s for them. Our job, as angels, should be to keep all this working, so they can make choices.
URIEL
You think too much.
Michael nods, smiles, beatifically, and Sandalphon punches Aziraphale, hard, in the solar plexus. Aziraphale goes down. He’s out of condition.
Uriel reaches down, hauls Aziraphale up and slams him against a wall. Blood on Aziraphale’s lips.
AZIRAPHALE
You . . . mustn’t. Why would you do this? We’re the good guys.
MICHAEL
You’ve been down here too long.
Aziraphale takes a few steps away from them.
AZIRAPHALE
I have to warn you, I – I’m going to take this entire interaction up with . . . a higher authority.
A gust of huge wind blows newspapers past them and dustbins blow over . . .
Distant heavenly horn sounds.
URIEL
You really think upstairs would take your call? You’re ridiculous.
(he looks up)
Oh, this is great, it’s starting . . .
The angels vanish in a burst of light and a little heavenly music.
Aziraphale wipes the blood from his lips.
AZIRAPHALE
(resolutely not swearing)
You. You B . . . AD angels.
461EXT. HOGBACK WOOD – DAY
The storm is rising. Adam is sitting where he usually sits, but now it’s like a throne.
The other kids are gathered around like courtiers. It’s not good . . . Adam is in his own world. The whispering satanic voices are still whispering.
Dog is miserable and whining. The expressions on the faces of Pepper and Wensleydale and Brian are hurt and scared.
PEPPER
Adam. We want to go home. I’m hungry. Please . . .
Adam is almost entirely unaware of them as people. He is their lord, lecturing them.
ADAM
Seems to me it’d serve everyone right if all the nuclear bombs went off and it all started again, only properly this time. And then we could sort everything out.
PEPPER
If there’s all these bombs going off, people get killed. Speaking as a mother of unborn generations, I’m against it.
ADAM
You’d all be fine. I’d see to that. It’d be wicked, eh, to have all the world to ourselves. Wouldn’t it? We could have amazing games. We could have War with real armies.
WENSLEYDALE
But there wouldn’t actually be any people. They’d all be dead.
ADAM
Oh, I’m going to make us some new people.
BRIAN
Adam, please let us go home. I want my mummy and my daddy.
ADAM
No. I’ll make you new mummies and daddies.
The wind is howling around them.
BRIAN
Please! Adam!
PEPPER
Adam? What are you doing?
And Dog is howling . . .
ADAM
I’ve got friends coming soon. You’ll like them. They are a lot like you. They’re going to help me make it all stop.
WENSLEYDALE
Actually, Adam, please, I can’t move. I don’t like this game.
ADAM
You wait. It’s going to be wicked.
462EXT. TADFIELD LANE – DAY
There’s a storm brewing. The sky is darkening. The trees are whipping back and forth.
463INT. JASMINE COTTAGE, BEDROOM – DAY
Newt and Anathema. He’s pulling on his clothes, and he seems quite determined.
NEWT
Um. Why ‘Nice and Accurate’ prophecies? They don’t seem very nice to me.
ANATHEMA
Nice as in exact or precise.
NEWT
Ah. Look, I don’t think the world is really going to end. Why don’t we, um. Go for a walk, and get to know each other.
ANATHEMA
I’m psychic. Trust me. It’s true. But I don’t get it. There isn’t any evil here. Something loves this place, so powerfully that it shields and protects it. How can anything bad start here? But this is where it starts.
NEWT
Okay. So we find this Adam. And then what do we do?
ANATHEMA
Stop him. He’s bringing Armageddon.
NEWT
So we . . . ask him nicely to stop?
ANATHEMA
I don’t know. Agnes doesn’t say. She goes off on stuff about you and me.
NEWT
Like what?
ANATHEMA
Stupid stuff. You don’t want to know. Hogback Lane isn’t far from here . . .
Newt hesitates, then puts on his Witchfinder Army jacket . . .
464INT. JASMINE COTTAGE, FRONT ROOM – DAY
They are heading for the front door. We hear the sound of a howling wind outside.
NEWT
Sounds like the weather’s turning bad.
ANATHEMA
She did say he bringeth the storm.
Newt opens the front door. It’s whipped open. Through the open door we can see a TORNADO is hitting Tadfield.
Newt, in front of Anathema, shouts as the wind whips him forward, and pulls him up.
Anathema, thinking quickly, grabs the archway around the door.
ANATHEMA (CONT’D)
Hold on!
NEWT
I’m not an idiot.
Behind them, a small tree is pulled up, and spirals off into the sky.
NEWT (CONT’D)
You don’t get tornadoes in England.
ANATHEMA
Prophecy 691. We do today. The wind should drop in a few seconds, then redouble. We’ll have less than a minute to get inside the house and under cover before it starts again. Got it?
NEWT
I don’t bel— yeah, got it.
The wind drops. Anathema catches Newt. They hurtle into the house and slam the door behind them.
465INT. JASMINE COTTAGE, BEDROOM – STORM, DAY
Newt and Anathema come in at a run.
NEWT
Under the bed!
And as they slide under the bed at a rush, all the windows of Jasmine Cottage burst inward from the wind. It’s scary . . . And Anathema and Newt are getting physically closer together . . .
NEWT (CONT’D)
This is insane. Tornadoes don’t happen here. Did Agnes say what we’re meant to do next?
One of the cards in the air falls down into Anathema’s hands.
She looks at it, shrugs, hands it to Newt. We hear Agnes’s voice:
AGNES NUTTER (V.O.)
Lette the wheel of Fate turne, let harts enjoin, there are othere fyres than mine; yet when the whirl wynd whirls, reach oute one to anothere.
NEWT
‘reach out to one another . . .’ She means . . .? I’m not sure that I’ve ever . . .
ANATHEMA
You must have.
NEWT
Nope. The world is about to end, and I’ve never robbed a bank, I’ve never had a parking ticket, I’ve never eaten Thai food, I’ve never been abroad, I’ve never learned to play a musical instrument, I’ve . . .
ANATH
EMA
Never kissed a girl?
Newt looks like he’s going to protest. Then he shakes his head in agreement.
NEWT
Not even once.
A huge CRASH, sounding like part of the cottage is blowing down . . .
And they, involuntarily, REACH OUT FOR EACH OTHER. Hold each other tight.
They look at each other, startled. And then they move together, and their lips meet as we pull away . . .