will have a bearded left wing protagonist
raging on behalf of the proletariat.
He'll share a flat with a metaphor for the 21st century malaise
and when they talk
they will talk in the forgotten syntax of washing powder ads
from the 50's and construct sentences from toilet graffiti
remembered from youth.
Their flat will be infested with insects and disgruntled
middle management,
grumbling about the lack of vertical opportunities
and the implementation of a new computer system.
Filing cabinets will contain stolen secrets of unknown cultures,
manilla folders will hold evidence of unsolved murder cases
stretching back a hundred years where the suspects all look
uncannily the same.
The theory of a time travelling murderer is considered
but never openly discussed.
The fridge contains nothing but under developed
ideas and stale rhetoric.
This is a flat with no doors.
My next film...
-
John G
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Last edited by John G on Fri Apr 02, 2010 2:53 pm, edited 1 time in total.
After one look at this planet any visitor from outer space would say 'I want to see the manager.