Talent in a Previous Life

Because It's Never Just About the Music

Sunday, January 16, 2011

The PG Factor 

JLS are apparently planning on making a movie. We presume this is entirely for artistic reasons and not an attempt to take what little pocket money their young, uncritical fanbase have left after spending all their cash on JLS dolls, posters and specially branded dildos. This momentous film is unlikely to trouble the Oscar committee - other than in the sense that they may find the fact it actually exists troubling - but even so it will probably sell a ridiculous amount of tickets, even if those tickets are divided amongst the same small group of people who will go and see it again and again, presumably in a desperate search for some sort of subtext. We're never ones to shy away from a blatant money making opportunity here at Talent in a Previous Life, and are going to submit our own half-baked script for the project. Which will still be a lot more baked than the final film will be. As a taster, here's an exclusive look at our very own pitch for JLS: The Club Is Alive:-

Tired of their pop star lifestyles and wanting to do something a bit more productive, JLS have quit and have decided to open up their very own pest control business. Sadly it's not proving to be a success. It's another quiet day at JLS: Exterminations, based in Hove. Unused equipment can be seen scattered around the office, while Marvin, Oritsé and JB stare hopefully at the phones, willing them to ring. "This is ridiculous!", cried Oritsé in an anguished voice. JB stopped twiddling his thumbs for a second and looked angrily over at him. "Shush!", he said crossly, You'll wake little baby Aston if you're not careful!". Little baby Aston, the adopted child of JLS was sleeping in his high chair, unconsciously sucking his thumb, his youthful innocence untroubled by all the commotion.

"Sorry", said Oritsé, glad that little baby Aston hadn't been awoken by his outburst, "But it is ridiculous".

"What is?", asked Marvin, "The fact our extermination business hasn't had a job in weeks? The fact we're so poor we'd be walking around naked if my sister wasn't kind enough to provide us with her old tops for us to wear? Or is it the fact that we insist on dressing in colour coded clothing, despite the fact we're fully grown adults and not actually taking part in a game show?"

"No, it's not that", said Oritsé uncomfortably fingering his low cut top, "It's my name. It's a right bugger to spell".

Marvin was about to respond to this, but fortunately for the film's rating he was interrupted by the phone ringing before he could let loose a volley of cuss words. The three men leapt towards it, while little baby Aston let out a whimper and soiled himself in his sleep. JB was the first to get to it and eagerly picked up the receiver. "You've reached Just Louse Solutions, how can I help you? ... Yes? ... Yes? ... It's not rats is it? Only we don't deal with rats. We only deal with louses. It says so in our name" - At this point Marvin groaned, convinced that one of the main reasons for their lack of success is the pest control business was JB's insistence on only dealing with louse infestations, for no other reason than it was the best acronym he could come up with - "OK, we'll be right there.". He hung up the phone. "Guys, get the van. We're going to Destiny's nightclub. It's an emergency!."

"Why?!", asked Oritsé, "What's the problem?"

Marvin struck a dramatic pose in front of a flattering lighting effect. "The club is alive! With cockroaches!"

There was a pause. "Oh. Fair enough", said Oritsé, and he sauntered out towards the van.

* * * * *

The boys are in the van, heading towards Destiny's. Little Baby Aston is safely strapped in the car seat and is gurgling happily, while JB and Oritsé argue about whether a cockroach actually is a type of louse or not. Marvin is driving and brings up something that's been bothering him since the call. "Um, guys...", he said nervously, "How exactly do you kill a cockroach?".

JB was quick to take charge of the situation. "It's easy! All you do is grab your cockroach stick..." - he gestured towards the back of the van - "...and beat them. And if that doesn't work then you just have to beat again. Just beat again". He demonstrated with a beating motion which, like a certain Wii advert, made it look like he was enthusiastically masturbating. Marvin looked uncomfortable but tried not to think about it as he pulled up outside the club while JB continued doing his own brand of pulling. The boys piled out of the van, with Oritsé carrying little baby Aston - who was clutching a teddy bear - and they looked at the battleground ahead of them. This was going to get messy. Which at least was traditional for Destiny's, being the sort of club where people are refused entry for being too sober and the stench of vomit stinks more than a Justin Bieber album.

The manager greeted the band and explained the situation to them. Pausing only to leave little baby Aston safely in his office, where the manchild amused himself by playing with a cardboard box, JLS walked into the club, nervously clutching their cockroach sticks and jumping at the sound of each insectoid scuttle. "There's one!", cried JB, lashing out wildly with his stick. "Another!", shouted Oritsé, whacking the ground like his life depended on it. Marvin was terrified, it was like a nightmare. All around him were cockroaches. They were everywhere! Oritsé and JB were less concerned and were soon surrounded by piles of cockroach corpses. Oritsé was impressed by JB's enthusiastic whacking style, which hadn't stopped since he started demonstrating it in the van. It certainly appeared to be more effective than Oritsé's own technique, as not only was JB creating a pile of dead cockroaches, they also appeared to be covered in a sticky looking substance that he could only assume was cockroach blood, despite its unusual colour. Marvin couldn't take the fear and the bloodshed any more and ran and hid in a corner of the dancefloor where he held his cockroach stick protectively in front of him and softly sobbed to himself.

Soon, it was all over. Oritsé and JB were tired and sweaty, they'd even taken their tops off in an entirely non gratuitous fashion. There were no cockroaches left. Well, no alive ones anyway. Marvin slowly began to stand and was about to rejoin his bandmates when he suddenly froze in fear. Out of the corner of his eye he could see one last cockroach, and it was coming straight towards him. "Guys!", he screamed. Like a girl. "Guys! It's coming to get me! You have to help me!!!!".

JB and Oritsé heard his shouts and saw the danger, but they were unable to do anything. "I can't help!", shouted JB, "I've just gone blind! And the palms of my hands have gone all hairy!". "For some unknown reason!", he added, unconvincingly. Oritsé had his own problems to deal with. "I can't come over either", he shouted, in what he hoped was a reassuring way, "But if you die I promise I will come to your funeral. Unfortunately I've just noticed a stray chest hair and I've got to wax it off immediately!" and with that he pulled out his emergency tub of veet and got straight to work.

"Oh god!", Marvin gibbered. He was going to have to do this himself. He thought back to the advice from the van and tried to gather together his frayed nerves. "Icantdothis, icantdothis, icantdothis" he muttered to himself as he prepared to die. The cockroach was getting nearer and nearer, its antennae wobbling in a way that may have been aggression or may just have been due to vibrations, it was hard to tell, what with it being a cockroach and, as such, not really capable of expressing any emotions.

Even with his blindness, JB could tell Marvin was in trouble. He did his best to ignore the distracting throb of pain between his legs and tried to focus on the problem. "Think of Little baby Aston!", he shouted, "Just do it! Kill the cockroach! Remember, you only get One Shot!". Marvin heard him, and the realisation cut through him like a knife. Of course he had to do it for little baby Aston! The kid needed a father figure - or as close as it was possible to get to one with the members of JLS - he had to show him what it meant to be a man. While he was thinking this, the cockroach saw its moment and started to run towards him. Or scuttle faster. Whatever it is cockroaches do. We're not experts. Suddenly there was a scream, then silence. "Oh god!", wept JB as he heard it, "The cockroach got Marvin!".

"Uh, no", said a sheepish Oritsé, "That was me. I just pulled the wax off and it kinda stung"

Marvin ignored their exchange. Aggression was building up inside him and he'd never felt this way before. Suddenly it was all too much and it spilled over like an F1 winners champagne bottle, or JB after a particularly enthusiastic session. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Marvin hit the ground harder than he'd ever hit anything before, with a hardness that was the exact opposite of the soft nature of his band's recorded output. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! He hit and hit and hit until the cockroach was dead. "I did it!" he yelled triumphantly. WHACK! WHACK WHACK! WHACK! Marvin looked confused, as he'd already thrown his stick away in triumph, until he looked across and saw JB, who was unable to resist any longer. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! went JB. WHACK! WHACK WHACK!

The boys left the club, accompanied by the manager, who was thanking them profusely. "The whole town are going to be grateful for this. Without us they'd have nowhere to fight on a Friday night. And it's not just my business you've saved. Every chemist who provides the morning after pill owes you a debt of gratitude.", and to prove a point, as they stepped out on to the street the entire population of Hove was there to greet them. They cheered and chanted and acted like seeing JLS in the flesh was the best thing to ever happen to them. Which it quite possibly was. And as one, everybody in hove puts their hands up. The boys exchange a smug grin and the screen fades to black. The end.

NOTE: The premise has been written to incorporate JLS hits into the screenplay, but it's so subtle that it won't spoil the narrative thread. If it's felt that the target audience may be turned off by a script which is, admittedly, largely cockroach based, then these can be replaced by puppies, which the audience may find cuter. Although please bear in mind that teenage girls may find the prospect of their pop idols bludgeoning puppies to death even more distressing.