Richard's Online Journal

Being Humoured

Filed in: parody, reality tv, skeptic, supernatural, television

A vampire, a werewolf and a ghost, sharing a house in Bristol. It's the next reality TV sensation... but with a catch. Specifically, reality.

After protests that the new drama series Being Human was depicting the very real monster community in a poor light, the BBC agreed to give three self-proclaimed undead their own reality show to help set the record straight. The following is an unedited excerpt from the first, thus far unbroadcast episode of this exciting supernatural event.

INT: The House, Day Five

MITCHELL: George, have you been drinking my blood?

GEORGE: Your blood? I didn’t see your name on it.

MITCHELL: It’s blood, George, that’s my thing. I’m a vampire, Annie’s a ghost, you’re… you’re the one who’ll be telling the neighbours what happened to their cat.

GEORGE: That is so racist! Just because I got careless, just that one time, don’t go pinning every bad thing that happens on me and my horrific transformations.

MITCHELL: Transformations. Right. You run around naked every full moon, I know that, only I can’t say I’ve heard any werewolf noises while you do it. Now, screams…

GEORGE: So I’m a liar? A mental? Is that what you think?

ANNIE: Stop it, both of you. George, nobody’s saying you’re not really a werewolf.

MITCHELL: The nuns weren’t much convinced.

GEORGE: They got paid off. And if you don’t mind, we prefer ‘lycanthrope’, by the way.

MITCHELL: Great, political correctness. Just what this house was missing.

ANNIE: Okay, boys, sensing mondo tension here. You know what everyone needs? A nice cup of tea. I’ll go put the kettle on, shall I?

GEORGE: Good idea. We got any of the Hob Nobs left?

ANNIE: The what?

GEORGE: The Hob Nobs. You were eating them earlier.

ANNIE: Not me. I’m a ghost. I don’t eat or drink, remember?

MITCHELL: Sure you do. Look, there’s crumbs all down your–

ANNIE: How about we not talk about food any more? Okay? End of discussion, yeah? Mitchell, you have your blood, George, you have–

GEORGE: The rest of the Hob Nobs? If nobody else wants them, I mean. Mitchell?

MITCHELL: No. Thank you. I do not eat… Hob Nobs.

ANNIE: Fine. There’s a pack behind the fridge. Half a pack. Rats. You know.

GEORGE: Sure. Rats. Never touch the Jaffa Cakes though, do they? Funny that.

ANNIE: Yes. Well. I’ll go get them.

GEORGE: She’s in a bad mood today, isn’t she?

MITCHELL: You’re not helping, George. At least you could put on some clothes when you get back from your ‘hunting’. Or grow a lot more fur, if you get what I mean.

GEORGE: Oh, that’s just great. Typical! I thought the whole point of us being here, in this house, was so we could all of us just be ourselves without having to worry about being seen as freaks and monsters or worrying about where our pants are.

MITCHELL: Being yourself is fine, George. You don’t always have to be so… excited.

GEORGE: I told you. It’s my curse.

MITCHELL: That’s what you call it? No wonder you never get laid.

GEORGE: Fine. You want to do this, fine. I wasn’t going to say this, I was just keeping it to myself, but you forced my hand. Mitchell? Your dentist phoned.

ANNIE: What? Our vampire has a dentist?

MITCHELL: …Regular check-ups, what’s wrong with that?

GEORGE: Nothing. You’d think he’d make a fuss when he saw the fangs, is all.

MITCHELL: Well, he doesn’t. We’ve got an Arrangement.

GEORGE: You and your Arrangements.

MITCHELL: Hey! The system works, George. Don’t argue with the system.

GEORGE: Don’t know why you bother, it’s not like I’ve ever seen you drink even a little blood. That sticky bag of yours in the fridge has been sitting almost untouched all week, and all I’ve ever seen you with is beer. My beers, not that I’m complaining.

MITCHELL: I don’t have to prove myself to you! How about you anyway? Ever since we got moved in here, you’ve been all werewolf this and werewolf that and leaving carcasses out on the step, but I’ve not seen so much as a single hair in the bath.

GEORGE: Oh, that’s just great. Just because some of us take a little pride in ourselves, we’re accused of not being feral killers. You–

ANNIE: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAIE!

GEORGE: Annie?!

MITCHELL: Jesus, what happened? You’ve gone white as… whiter than normal you. Was it your “voices on the radio” again? That’s normal, just so’s you know.

ANNIE: No… not voices, not today. I… I dropped the teabag into the garbage disposal and…

MITCHELL: Are you hurt?

ANNIE: Of… of course not. I’m a ghost. No… no way could the blade… cut… like all the way… oh god, all the way through my…

GEORGE: Good-o. Don’t suppose the teabag survived? I don’t want to sound like the cheap one here, but they were a little bit expensive is all I’m saying.

MITCHELL: Really? I thought we got the regular Sainsbury’s kind.

GEORGE: No,they’re Twinings, like Stephen Fry. Thought we’d push the boat out a bit, you know, for the end of our first week and everything.

MITCHELL: Thanks, mate. You’re okay, you know that? I’ll chip in some cash later.

GEORGE: No, no, it’s my treat. Look, I’m sorry I doubted you.

ANNIE: Listen… if either of you need… an ambulance… or anything…

MITCHELL: I’m sorry too. Of course you’re a werewolf. And I’m really a vampire. And Annie, she’s gone, deceased, passed away, a stiff, a walking corpse, a maggot factory, a–

ANNIE: Could… could everyone… not be here now… please…?

GEORGE: She fainted. Can the dead faint?

MITCHELL: That’s women for you. Just a little… oh…

GEORGE: Oh my. So… much… blood…

MITCHELL: So much blood. I think… I think to lie down…

GEORGE: Yes. I think… I think I need to lie down too.

PRODUCER: Guys, I really think we need stop filming this now.

PRODUCER: Guys?

PRODUCER: Anyone still there?

PRODUCER: Oh well. Still better than anything with Piers Morgan.

[ TRANSCRIPTION ENDS ]

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