Codemasters present

A gritty kitchen sink drama:

DOLELAND DIZZY

or

IT AIN'T HALF GRIM UP NORTH DOWN THE PIT WITH YOUR FLAT CAP WHEN YOU'RE MONOCHROME. AND AN EGG.

INT. "The Red Lion Goes Skiing" Pub. Dank and smoky. ENTER DIZZY. WALKS UP TO BAR, WHERE HORACE IS SERVING. DIZZY: Afternoon. HORACE: The usual? DIZZY: Aye. HORACE POURS A PINT OF STELLA. HORACE: There you go. That'll be thirty gold coins, please. DIZZY: Fuck off, that wasn't funny the first time. HORACE: Sorry. Where's your partner in crime today? DIZZY: Turrican? He's got a job interview.

CUT TO OFFICE. TURRICAN is being interviewed by JET SET WILLY. WILLY: What do you think you can bring to the position of systems analyst? TURRICAN: I... um... I... I have guns for arms! WILLY: Hmmm.

CUT TO PUB. TURRICAN storms in. DIZZY: How'd it go? TURRICAN: Difficult to say really. The fire probably didn't do me any favours. DIZZY: Jesus, not again. TURRICAN: Oh, shut up. You've been snapping at everyone since Daisy ran off with Dylan to that commune. DIZZY (MUMBLING): Fucking hippies. TURRICAN: Yes, she probably is fu- DIZZY: Sod off. At least I don't fancy that bird out of Metroid. TURRICAN: That's not true! I merely admire her, um, ah - DIZZY: Impressive arsenal? HORACE: All right, knock it off you two. I've had enough problems today, what with Hunchback kicking the fruit machine in. And the first one of you two to make a "bells" joke is barred. DIZZY: Wouldn't dream of it. TURRICAN: Nope, didn't cross my mind at all. Pint of Castrol GTX while you're at it, Horace.

CUT TO: LATER THAT NIGHT. TURRICAN AND DIZZY ARE SAT ON A PARK BENCH, SMOKING. TURRICAN: Christ, look at us. Skint, pissed and unemployed. Left behind by a cruel world. Unequipped to deal with the realities of modern life. Cast aside and - DIZZY: Leave off. It's not our fault, is it? TURRICAN: Well, whose is it then? A LORRY DRIVES PAST. PAINTED ON THE SIDE IS THE WORD "THATCHER" IN 10 FOOT HIGH GOTHIC LETTERS. TURRICAN: Oh, right. CREDITS