Being one of those "I like it, but no-one else will... WRITER'S ANGST!" types, I have decided to open myself up to the glory and anominity of the internet. It is a good plan, until, that is I lose momentum and the project is shelved. Here is a musical scene. Enjoy Act1 Scene1 of Grave Business...
A graveyard. Asher is filling in a grave slowly, I small crowd of mourners are gathered in Victorian mourning garb.
Asher: Happy Thursday dearies how are you all? (Woman weeps openly) Don’t mind them; bit of a shock, the burial process, really drives the final nail in. Pardon the pun. This ain’t the London my parents knew, but it’s the only city to be in these days is still Old, sorry, Young London Town.
LONDON TOWN
Centre of the Empire
Home of the Crown
Where the fallen can fall
‘Till there ain’t no down
Stop! It’s London Town!
Fleas and cats
And rats and dogs
The rich, the poor
And the turning cogs
Stop! It’s London Town!
Digging holes is what I do
I can dig you one
I can dig you two
But you don’t get old!
Stop! It’s London Town!
50 years? Well you look 14,
Miracle? No – just a doctor’s cream.
Yes ageing ‘as stopped!
In London Town
In London Town
In London... London... London...
It’s an alright life. Won’t complain. Hard business though when immortality is the prevailing trend of the times. Still, won’t complain, can’t complain. Right, that's me done 'ere, now off to my sister's for tea, and a chat about her young lad.
Exit Asher whistling LONDON TOWN tune. Spade casually thrown over shoulder.
Thank you for not giving up before this point. My angst is already slightly reduced.
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