Oscar: (Reading from prepared notes) The DVD exits the DVD player like a newborn from an electronic SONY womb. But do I see a SONY before me, or a S.O.N... why? You were meant to confirm my genius my son, but instead made me appear to be a charlatan artist. Malum mendacium!

Oscar puts the DVD in a bin and puts some flammable liquid onto it. Oscar throws a match into the bin, which engulfs in flames.

Oscar: (To camera) If you're watching this Lord Bragg, this is my creative peak -

Marcus: What the hell are you doing? Fire!

Oscar: Ah, Marcus, you're back.

Marcus: Open a window.

Oscar: Unless the flames have a calming effect, just ignore them. Remember the intro to Tales Of The Unexpected ? -

Marcus: Why is there a fire in the flat?

Oscar: I'm burning a methaphorical child to death in a bin.

Marcus: Why?

Oscar: It's more region two than murder one, so why dont you lower that pulse, and raise a glass to me, and my creative peak? 

Marcus: That bin was a gift.

Oscar: What nincompoop buys a bin as a gift?

Marcus: My mother did, because she believes cleanliness is next to godliness.

Oscar: That's literally, the mother of all excuses, and let me tell you why -

Marcus: We can't go on like this, Oscar. Everywhere I turn there's a painting or something in my way and I'm bloody sick of it.

Oscar: Maybe you're in the way of the paintings, Marcus. Why don't you oil your cognitive gears with a nice cup of oolong tea, and ponder that thought?

Marcus: No! It stops now. Now!

Oscar: You're angry. Best make it camomile with a hint of lemon.

Marcus: I'm more than hinting to you, that you'll have have to stop the artwork in the flat, unless... I'll have to find another flatmate, won't I?

Oscar: But if I don't expel my creativite thoughts... how can I put this in a non-creative way for you to understand?

Marcus: For the sake of the bin, please try.

Oscar: It's the same as if you don't empty your sack, mate. My brain will become swelled and I'll wake up with a sticky creative impasto wet dream on my pillow.

Marcus: That's the most stupididest thing I've... I'm seriously past caring about you and your stupid little art fantasies, Oscar.
 
Oscar: Getting personal? Not your style, Marcus.

Marcus: I live in the real world where people pay bills and work. That's my style.

Oscar: Maybe the parasitical real world live in you? Head rush?

Marcus: Just - what about the money you owe me? What about the money?

Oscar: Money? Societies placebo of power?

Marcus: Where's the money?

Oscar: How about... how about I pay you back in respect, which is worth a lot more in my world?

Marcus: You've let me down again. If I don't get my money by the time I get up for work tonight, you best pack your bags for good.

Oscar: Like that, is it? Had enough? Not your style, Marcus -

Marcus: You! You've heard my ultimatum, and that's that. Clean up your shit, because I've freinds over tonight.

Oscar: Tonight? Not you're style, Marcus.

Oscar: (Quietly) Lord Bragg will. Braggy. The bragster.

Josh: So, because Marcus doesn't understand art, he said you can't use the flat as studio space?

Oscar: Why am I obsessed with art? Marcus has a point.

Josh: Manic low aside, what are you going to do for art space now?

Oscar: I'm more worried about finding the two weeks rent money by tonight. A homeless experience may help increasing the range of my emotional pallete, but I can't use the pallete if my brush arm is clutching a cheap bottle of cider, can I Josh?

Oscar: Marcus wouldn't speak to me like crap if I were famous - which I didn't want.

Josh: How long have you known Marcus?

Oscar: Since we were kids.

Josh: I think you've just grown apart. Everybody does.

Oscar: (Sad) The common ground we once shared has split, moving apart in time like continental plates. Can you smell shit (checks shoe)?

Josh: Can't you do the obvious and diffuse the situation with some pastel blues and airy tones around the flat?

Oscar: Maybe the show was right and I'm a fake?

Josh: Forget what people and the show say. The real question is, do you believe that what you create is art, and that it holds significance?

Oscar: Well... I'll think about that. I'll think about it.

Josh: I heard that question on Smart. Bit heavy for kids, isn't it?

Oscar: Not as heavy as a presenter who accidentally killed his girlfriend in a drug binge, and then hung himself.

Josh: Where are you going?

Oscar: I'm going to see the exhibition about death and pain at The Arthouse to cheer me up. Also, I hope to finally answer whether that impulse that makes us laugh at mishaps in You've Been Framed is the same impulse that made the Marquis De Sard control.

Brenda: Makes you think doesn't it?

Oscar: Yeah, but I havent got the balls to go through with it.

Brenda: No, I mean that it makes you think about what death is. This piece makes the hairs stand up on the back of my kneck.

Oscar: (Pulling a face) Maybe this is a good opportunity to shave them off then?

Brenda: I recognise you. You were on that Celebrity Chindogu show, weren't you?

Oscar: I'm Oscar riley. That show made me look like a charlatan and I'm... what is a charlatan?

Brenda: Your nickname on the show. Hey, I loved your idea for the solar-powered sunbed.

Oscar: Which doubles as a calculator, so you could, and I believe should, tan whilst calculating the skin damage and ageing effects.

Brenda: The charlatan, yeah. I'm an aspiring artist myself.

Oscar: Tssss!

Brenda: I was un-making beds way before Emin.

Oscar: Tssss!

Brenda: I'd love you too judge some of my works.

Oscar: You think my opinions matters? What the hell is wrong with you?

Brenda: This may sound a bit pushy, but ... could you, whenever you're free, stop at my studio apartment and -

Oscar: Studio? You have - is there any free space at your studio?

Brenda: Yeah. So, I was wondering if you could drop by some time and -

Oscar: Great! How about I come for a viewing at around eight?

Brenda: How about six, I'm busy around eight?

Oscar: Great. First I've got to do something drastic to get my rent money. Something that'll break my heart in four.

Brenda: Four?

Oscar: It's currently in two from when I found out about my dads suicide in a local paper.

Brenda: I'm so sorry. That's terrible.

Oscar: I remorsed by wiping my arse with that very newspaper, until, I suffered a paper cut to a teste, which coincidentally symbolised my dislike for Michael Ball.

Brenda: It's been a shocking hearing that here, in an exhibition about death.
 
Oscar: Confession! Shitty Bloody Newspaper is currently exhibiting in a bag under my bed.

Oscar: How much for the camera?

Old Man: How much did it cost you?

Oscar: One thousand pound.

Old Man: I'll give you one-hundred pound?

Oscar: I'll give you a 'no'. Thing is, I really need two-hundred pound to pay my rent, or I'll be living in the forest hunting animals. That's my plan, y'see.

Old Man: It's got a scratch! There!

Oscar: That's the small gap around the button. It's supposed to be there.

Old Man: How conveinient.

Oscar: Two hundred pound?

Old Man: Wait here!

Blake: You! It's you.

Oscar: The price of fame. Which I didn't want. (Taking out a pen and paper) Who's it for mate (writes autograph)? 

Blake: Watching me?

Oscar: Watchin Mei? Is that Japanese?

Blake: Trying to catch me out with that (points at camera).

Oscar: I don't know what you're talking about.

Blake: Did she hire you to get photographic evidence? Does she know? You took a photo of me in the field, didn't you?

Oscar: Field? You must have got me confused with another man who's selling personal belongings to in exchange for personal hygeine AKA the homeless threat - 

Oscar: (Tearing up the autograph) You won't get another. Unless you look on E Bay.

Blake: Wheres your evidence of the affair now?

Oscar: That camera had important footage of me burning a child to death in a bin.

Old Man: It's worth over a grand. You should have told me that. I'll give you two-hundred pound for... oh...

Old Man: I suppose it's meant to be like that, is it?

Oscar: I didn't brake it. 

Old man: How conveinient. If that is your real name.

Oscar picks up some remains of the camera and looks sad

Oscar: (Reminiscing) We lived, we laughed, we learned, we took a photo of a pidgeon eating a fag. Remember? I've seen that pidgeon since, and the fags eating him now. The cancer.

Cut to: Oscar in a town centre with a 'get your portrait portrayted for £5' sign. It also reads 'need money or homeless'.

Abby: You do portraits?

Abby: Done?

Oscar: Yes, Abby. At first I thought I ravelled a bit too much man back in this, but... it's just you.

Abby: Can I look?

Oscar: It's not a question of looking, it's a question of seeing.

Oscar: Go ahead. Cry with joy Mon Cher. I just can't see a heart string without pulling it - artists curse.

Abby: (Sobbing) It says 'flabby'.

Oscar: Where? Oh, er... I must have been thinking it and wrote it by mistake.

Abby: (Crying) You think I'm flabby?

Oscar: Wouldn't you want a portrait that challenges your pre-conceptions of form rather than a standard portrait that makes you look beautiful?

Abby: (Crying) No. You're a charlatan.

Oscar turns around his sign. The back reads 'no refunds'. Oscar taps the sign

Cut to: Oscar is drinking a coffee in a coffee shop. He picks up his mobile and hesitates. Oscar looks out the window and watches a homeless man. Oscar picks up the mobile and dials

Oscar: Rita! It's Oscar - don't hang up!... Yeah, long time no call. How are you, are you still smoking the devils cabbage?... Smoking that keeps you sane? If you need to smoke anything to keep sane, then it's obviously not working long-term in the sanity department, is it?... Listen! Will you be my agent and find me work again? I'll do anything - I am - this is begging! This is begging! ... Sex?... You don't want - with me?... You can't buy me like that Rita... No, you... I'm not a piece of meat that can be bought... Sold! For two-hundred pounds... OK, got to go... Bye - what?... Say what back?... Are you serious?.. Yes I do want the money, but we're not a... Love you too...

Oscar hangs up and looks confused

Women: Are you OK?

Oscar: Well... I've got the rent money, but I practicaly sold my... oldest profession in the world, isn't it? Still no camera or art space though.

Women: Whatever. I just thought you were Oliver Keane, OK?

Oscar: So... by saying OK, just then, are you asking me a question or highlighting that the initinals of Oliver Keane are OK? Or both?

Women: Freak.

The woman walks away. Oscar takes a sip of his coffee and pulls a face

Cut to: Oscar is ringing the bell to Brendas studio apartment, Brenda opens the door and walks Oscar through to the studio

Oscar: This place makes Kanye Wests ego look small.

Brenda: Yeah, he's got an ego, and it's big, isn't it? Can you smell shit?

Oscar checks his shoe

Oscar: I could build a caravan for art purposes in here, if the idea wasn't so cheap, cliche, and over-used.

Brenda: What artists have done that then?

Oscar: Dunno.

Brenda: Thing is, before I start using my free space here, I want to be sure I'm good enough as an artist, y'know?

Oscar: I do know. Why use space if the aesthetic is pathetic?

Brenda: What is death? Do you want to come and see some of my works?

Oscar: It's not a question of seeing, it's a question of looking.

Brenda: So?

Oscar: So, do I think it's the golden ratio or a golden shower? I just think you need to avoid any hubris and not use precious studio space.

Brenda: Do you think the frog looks drunk in the picture?

Oscar: The frog looks a bit like Paul Gascoigne. So in reply to your question, and I believe the real question is... is Gazza off the sauce? My heart wants to say 'yes', but my head says 'no'.

Oscar: A delirium of delight?

Oscar: Nice studio space you got here. Yeah, I think I'll take it. Do you know how to build a caravan?

Brenda: Take what?

Oscar: There's something I've been meaning to ask you. I've been meaning to ask you ever since I advised you to shave your neck hair, which I can evidently see you've defied. I'm just waiting for a full moon now to test a theory -

Brenda: Do you like sex? I like sex. Do you want sex? I want sex. I want art and sex.

Oscar: If you think you can just sleep your way into the art world...  you can't be coy when it comes to coitus, can you?

Brenda: I've got one more piece of art to show you first. It's performance art.

Oscar: How brill. But I really must ask a question of you first. It's about your free art space.

Brenda: This won't take long, Oscar. Stand by the light switch and wait.

Oscar: Brenda?

Brenda: Don't turn it on yet.

Oscar: I don't like the dark. It's full of macabre suspense.

Brenda: Nearly ready.

Oscar: I hate the boogie man. Travolta.

Brenda: OK!

Oscar: Rita! I've just been attacked by a zombie... My life's shit... What added condition for the rent money? TV advert?... I want to be a recluse, not famous, and not even a famous recluse... (looks at watch) I'm not doing it. I want the money, yeah, but isn't the sex contract enough?... The advert is my last chance?... Take it or leave it?... I'll... text you later... bye - say what?... No way, I'm not, and where not... I love you too babes...

Oscar hangs up. Oscar looks ill

Cut to: Oscar arrives home at the flat. He walks up to Marcus in the kitchen. Marcus is cooking bacon a frying pan.

Marcus: Oscar. I'm up for work.

Oscar: I can see that.

Marcus: Did you get the money?

Oscar: Let me explain what's happened to me.

Marcus: Unbelievable.

Oscar: I was asked to do things I didn't want to do. It was a matter of pride.

Marcus: I knew you'd let me down. You just can't be arsed, can you? Caught up in your own little world of -

Oscar slams two-hundred pound on the table -

Oscar: I have more pride for you I do myself, Marcus. I got a shitty job.

Marcus: Thanks. I'm shocked. Can you smell shit?

Oscar: You may believe that I'm living a 'stupid little art fantasy life', but now I have a job and would like us to merge our clashing beliefs into one doctine of empathy. Basically, the next time you get a curry, I will pay half.

Marcus: Well done, mate. What's the job?

Oscar: Advert.

Marcus: For what?

Oscar: I don't want to talk about it. I've also booked to er... see a psyciatrist to talk about... y'know?

Marcus: I've seen the bag under your bed, mate. I followed the smell.

Oscar: Oh. Sorry you had to see that. Least you don't have to kick me out the flat now -

The bacon spits fat at Oscar -

Oscar: Ah!

Marcus: You needed a kick up the arse. I was worried. I've known you since we were kids.

Oscar: I honestly thought we were drifting apart. I thought we were finished. Josh said -

Marcus: Finished? Don't listen to that lanky skid-mark Josh. Did you really think I'd have seen you homeless?

Oscar: Well... yeah.

Marcus:  You needed a good shake-up to get motivated again, that's all.

Oscar: So, I made up with psycho Rita, because you wanted to 'shake me up and motivate me'?

Marcus: Just try and see things from my point of view.

Oscar: Malum mendacium, mate. Do you know how bad my day has been?

The bacon spits fat at Oscar -

Oscar: Just got worse! My was the eye!

Marcus: I tryed to do you a favour. Are you angry that I threatened to kick you out?

Oscar: The only way to deal my anger, as a man with the creative type of bi-polar and not the Kerry Katona chav type, is to get my paints out and -

Marcus: No way! I was serious about that. No more art in the flat. It's just not my thing, Oscar.

Oscar: I'm too tired to argue about this. I need to crack out the camomile, light a scented candle, scatter some natural scented oil, and pop a diazepam.

Marcus: Don't stress. The main thing is, that you proven yourself. It's not that bad.

Oscar: Yeah, I'll buy a new camera. The pysciatrist will help me get of Rita sex. I'll rent art space.That's if I want to continue making art. I upset a girl in town today and... I've just been thinking a lot.

Oscar jumps

Oscar: Thought it was a fat attack.

Oscar and Marcus walk into the lounge

Marcus: Oscar, these are my freinds Blake and Brenda.

Oscar: Good to meet you... for the first time. Despite the curvature and height of my eyebrows.

Marcus: I'll just pick a CD.

Oscar: Blake and Brenda. I'm Oscar. Are you two freinds?

Blake: We're married.

Brenda: Ten years.

Oscar: Ten? I'd be tempted to play the 'field', or 'exhibit' myself to others by that amount of time.

Oscar: (Clicks finger) occupation?

Blake: Electrician. I work away a lot.

Oscar: You working miles away today, were you?

Blake: Yeah.

Oscar: Far from the eye can see, but I can see. I can see just fine. Apart from that time we were doing eighty in the open-top and got a fly in the eye. Then the other eye. Sort of a visual 9/11. (Clicks finger) you?

Brenda: I'm an aspiring artist, but I mainly stop home to look after the kids. They're at their aunties today.

Oscar: Kids? Sounds ideal. You two must be so happy?

Blake: Family means the world to us, and I want it to stay that way.

Brenda: Yeah.

Oscar: I'm an artist. I think. I'm looking for studio space. I don't suppose you know anyone with...

Brenda: You're not going to believe this, but I have some free art space in my art studio.

Oscar: Even though I haven't seen it before, I'll take it. Art keeps me quite. What keeps my lips shut even tighter is photography, but my old camera got destroyed by some big fat cheesy cock-end.

Blake: I may be able to help you with a new camera.

D.I.V.O.R.C.E by Tammy Wynette is played

Marcus: Wrong bloody CD!

Oscar: No, it's perfect, Marcus.

Oscar shows Brenda and Blake the bin remains from earlier. Marcus is till looking through CD's

Oscar: I had this on the maybe pile (showing bin remains). I've been accused of being a charlatan artist in the past, present, and no-doubt the future.

Blake: No. I'd say that you're the real McCoy.

Oscar: So people can understand my little fantasy world after all (sticks his middle finger up at Marcus, behind his back). What's death, Brenda?

Brenda: The thoughts never crossed my mind.

Oscar: Cause not. But the real question is... Do you believe that what you create is art, and that it holds significance? I've been thinking about that question all day.

Blake: And...?

Oscar: After the 'Flabby Abby fiasco', I was seriously considering quitting art. But after hearing your unbiased opinion on my art, I'd have to answer 'yes'. Thanks again for the new camera and free studio space. I'm sure they'll be no problems.
 
Oscar lip-syncs D.I.V.O.R.C.E to Blake and Brenda, enthasising the 'divorce' part of the lyrics.

Oscar: Remember, family is your world, and all worlds can suffer natural disasters. I'm the sea. I'm the wind. I'm the earth. I'm in control... I'm acting like Marquis De Sard.

FADE TO BLACK

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