SPAZ

by
Jason Harrison

Name: Jason Harrison

Address: 47 Park Road
Bedworth
Warwickshire
CV12 8LH

Phone Number: 07725 318894

Email: jay2075@yahoo.co.uk
FADE IN:

INT. DARREN'S BEDROOM - DUSK

View from a window. Council houses, packed tight. Kids

fight outside on the concrete, rain splatters against
glass. A curtain drops back in place - a light flickers on.

Fingers reach out to an urn - ‘Mother’ written on its side.

DARREN SHAW
Oh well - another day, another
dollar, like you used to say mam.

DARREN SHAW, 22 years old, chubby - he has downs syndrome.

The room is a shrine to the TV presenter Graham Norton.

The sound of a door opening -

TRACEY SHAW (O.S.)

Are you getting up yet ya idle
bastard?

Darren looks lost - but he rises, rubs his back.

INT. DARREN'S BATHROOM - DUSK

A shower head, water sprays outwards. Darren stands

underneath it, naked - drenched and shivering.

INT. DARREN'S LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

Poverty in a box. Junk food, ashtrays, empty beer bottles,

lines of coke on a coffee table. Young men sit in clumps.

CARL SHAW, 27 years old, rake thin chav - he pisses into an

empty bottle. He finishes, hands it to Darren.

CARL SHAW
Hand me that shirt Dazza lad, and
take this bottle and drink it for
me will ya -

Darren hands him the shirt, and takes the bottle.

DARREN SHAW
I might be daft but I’m not
stupid. You bloody drink it -

A clout round the head, Darren reels -

CARL SHAW
Don’t come fucking smart with me
you thick cunt, you forget who’s
in charge round here -
 2.

TRACEY SHAW enters the room. Skank in black boots, skirt

hitched up high, more than a pound of flesh on show.

TRACEY SHAW
I’m in charge round here pal, and
don’t you forget it. Darren, get
your coat, we don’t need you
being late again do we?

EXT. DARREN'S HOUSE/BUSTOP - NIGHT

Darren wipes his nose on his sleeve. The bus pulls up.

INT. STAGECOACH BUS - NIGHT

Darren drifts off - He awakes as the bus grinds to a halt.

Five youths take to their seats - noisy and aggressive.

SEAN DEWIS
Hey up lads, it’s Daz the spaz!
How’s you doing spazzy?

DARREN SHAW
Fine ta, I’m just fine.

SEAN DEWIS
That’s great isn’t it lads, just
tip top, wickedy whack. I got one
question for you though Daz.

Darren looks up.

SEAN DEWIS (CONT'D)

Have you ever seen a girls pussy?

Spurious laughter from the gang.

DARREN SHAW
Well, I've seen Maggie Albright’s
Siamese cat -

The gang break up into huge roars of laughter -

SEAN DEWIS
Not quite what I meant mate. I’ll
tell you what, don't you worry
about it -

The bus jolts to a hideous stop as the door opens.

EXT. SAMSON WINDOWS AND DOORS - FACTORY - NIGHT

Laughter echoes as the bus peels away. Darren walks on.

 3.

INT. FACTORY - NIGHT

Darren - in safety gear, lifts boxes - the factory gofer.

INT. FACTORY - CAFE - NIGHT

Men huddled together, they play cards, sup tea and eat.
Darren, alone. Gnaws his lunch, reads a child’s book.

The sound of a whistle -

EXT. BULKINGTON VILLAGE CENTRE - DAWN

A squeal of air brakes, the bus departs. Darren stands

before ‘The Village Cafe’ - empty, its lights on, windows
steamed up. Two blurred figures prepare tables inside.

INT. THE VILLAGE CAFE - DAY

Darren sits alone, menu in hand. KEITH ABBOTT, late

forties, red faced and rotund, steps towards him - he
carries the biggest fry up ever seen on a plate.

KEITH ABBOTT
Here we go sunshine, the best
breakfast in Britain, bar none -

DARREN SHAW
Oooh grand, I’ve not had anything
since lunch break -

MARJORIE ABBOTT, early forties, apron on and hair up, large

beatific smile - she saunters up to the table.

MARJORIE ABBOTT
Here he is, the apple of my eye.
Tired again no doubt. You should
get that Carl out to work -

KEITH ABBOTT
Now Marj, you know we talked
about this, what can we do -

MARJORIE ABBOTT
Well - it’s a bloody disgrace.
They run that house off what you
bring in lad, you should tell the
social on em, get em chucked out -

KEITH ABBOTT
We’d take you in ourselves, but
we’ve barely got the room for us,
let alone a lad your size.
 4.

MARJORIE ABBOTT
If wishes were trees. It’s high
time you sorted them out though.

DARREN SHAW
It don’t matter. Sit with me a
minute, take a rest.

MARJORIE ABBOTT
I’ll just do your lottery ticket
for this week - same numbers as
usual is it?

Marjorie steps to the till and punches numbers into a

lottery machine - the ticket spews out in seconds.

DARREN SHAW
Well if Graham says they’re my
lucky numbers who am I to argue?

MARJORIE ABBOTT
You’re a good lad, dreamer or no.
Now tuck into that breakfast.

EXT. THE VILLAGE CAFE - DAY

Through the steamed up glass, the three continue to chat.

INT. DARREN'S KITCHEN - DAY

Darren irons from a huge stack. Rubs his back, walks into -

INT. DARREN’S LIVING ROOM - DAY

It’s immaculate. Noise from upstairs. Darren sighs.

INT. DARREN'S BEDROOM - DAY

Curtains drawn. Darren lies on his bed, pyjamas on.

A cacophony of noise, muffled screams of anger.

Exasperated, he puts some ear muffs on and tries to sleep.

INT. DARREN'S BEDROOM - DAY

An alarm pounds the silence. Darren turns it off. Sits up.

Bad bed hair. He yawns, stretches, rubs his eyes.

Someone watches through the door. The radio comes on.

 5.

RADIO ANNOUNCER
...so it’s the last chance for
some lucky Coventarian to step
forward with the missing lottery
ticket that could win them up to
seven million pounds...

Darren pulls out a crumpled ticket from a drawer.

RADIO ANNOUNCER (CONT'D)

...so here’s those magic numbers
again, one more time for luck -
four...ten...fourteen...

He repeats the numbers in time with the announcer.

DARREN SHAW
...twenty nine, thirty one,
thirty eight...

He kisses the ticket, and laughs to himself.

INT. DARREN'S BEDROOM - DAY

Tracey Shaw watches, a grin spread across her face.

INT. DARREN'S LIVING ROOM - DAY

The Shaw family and friends spray cheap beer. Carl punches
the air with unbridled glee - he turns and kisses Tracey.

Darren - dressed in his pyjamas, a thick coat and shoes.

Carl puts the ticket onto the television set.

CARL SHAW
Right lads, clear out. We’re
going down to Matalan, get some
decent clobber on us backs, paper
will be here at seven -

Darren swipes the ticket from the television set.

The pack dissipates from the room.

DARREN SHAW
Right I’m off to work -

CARL SHAW
Oh aye, whatever Dazza -
whatever...

The couple whoop and holler, they hug each other once more.
 6.

EXT. BULKINGTON VILLAGE CENTRE - HIGH STREET - DAY

Darren’s unique garb draws stares as he runs up the street.

INT. DARREN'S LIVING ROOM - DAY

Carl Shaw, topless, dries himself off, fag in mouth. He

looks at the television set, confusion sets in quick -

CARL SHAW
Tracey? You upstairs love? Have
you seen the ticket -

EXT. BULKINGTON VILLAGE CENTRE - HIGH STREET

High speed Darren, broadband quick. Cheeks red, head down.

A flash of green jacket, but too late, he hits it hard...

...Then he’s away, the momentum carries him forward as PC

CLARK regains her balance - her eye on the horizon...

INT. DARREN'S LIVING ROOM - DAY

TRACEY SHAW
...Of course I’ve not had it ya
daft twat, maybe you should ask
your so called fucking mates -

CARL SHAW
Quit your chelp woman. That plank
Darren was just here wasn’t he?

TRACEY SHAW
Darren? You’re joking me aren't
ya? He couldn’t find his way out
of a ripped balloon that one -

CARL SHAW
Spaz or not, he’s a Shaw, when
all’s said and done. Get the car -
I reckon I know where he’s gone.

INT. THE VILLAGE CAFE - DAY

Marjorie and Keith clear tables. The door bursts open.

DARREN SHAW
You’ve got to help me please -

A squeal of tires, car doors slam shut. Darren turns -

 7.

TRACEY SHAW (O.S.)

Oi you! Fucking get back here or
I’ll leather ya -

Keith Abbott puts his plate down.

KEITH ABBOTT
Over my dead body missy.

Darren tip toes back through the cafe as Carl steps

forward, Tracey behind him. Carl jabs a finger at Keith.

CARL SHAW
It’s nout to do with you. Keep
out of it and you won’t be hurt.

KEITH ABBOTT
You touch a hair on his head and
I’ll call the -

A bell rings out as the door opens. Heads turn in unison as

PC Clark enters the cafe. A moment of expectant silence.

PC CLARK
The Shaw family. Might of known
you lot would be involved. Would
someone care to tell me what’s
going on?

A clamour of raised voices - the Shaw’s raise hell.

PC CLARK (CONT'D)
Enough. Darren goes first.

DARREN SHAW
I’ve won the lottery, and they’ve
got me ticket. I’ll never meet
Graham Norton now will I?

TRACEY SHAW
Meeting fucking Graham Norton? Is
that all you care about? See what
we have to put up with - it’s our
ticket and no one else’s -

CARL SHAW
Once we realised we’d won we
celebrated - Daz just lost it and
ran, probably the excitement -

He reaches out to him, brotherly love on full display.

DARREN SHAW
Come home bro, all’s forgiven eh.

Darren, tight lipped, shakes his head.

 8.

PC CLARK
Well I’m afraid that you’ll have
to hand the ticket back at least,
unless you can prove it’s yours -

Marjorie Abbott zips in with a tray of food...

MARJORIE ABBOTT
We’ll have no more bickering now.
Carl, Tracey, sit down - Here’s
your celebration breakfast eh -

Keith Abbott looks on.

TRACEY SHAW
Look at that Carl! Ta very much
love, I’m starving - I could eat
a scabby dog’s cock I tell ya -

The couple take their seats, and begin to tuck in.

MARJORIE ABBOTT
Exiting isn’t it, a big win - you
must be well chuffed. Did you get
the ticket in the village then?

CARL SHAW
No love. Papershop near Hove.
Went to Brighton a few months
back, stopped off like.

MARJORIE ABBOTT
So you lost it and it turned up
today? You’re a lucky bunch you
Shaw’s, I’ll give you that -

Even Darren looks confused.

CARL SHAW
Oh aye, me mam always said we’d
win big one day. Reward for all
the hard work she did for our
Darren - ain't many like him who
can do housework -

MARJORIE ABBOTT
Oh I know. Not the only thing
he’s smart at either. These last
few years, well - we even taught
him how to count you know.

MARJORIE ABBOTT (CONT'D)

And how to play the lottery too.
See that lottery machine next to
my till up there?
 9.

Carl chews with less enthusiasm. PC Clark looks on with

interest.

MARJORIE ABBOTT (CONT'D)

Darren bought that winning ticket
from there - and I’ve kept all
his receipts just in case.

A clank of cutlery dropped onto plates -

Marjorie turns to PC Clark.

MARJORIE ABBOTT (CONT'D)

Now, why don’t we all step out
back to confirm this?

Darren and Keith hug each other for a moment as Marjorie

looks on.

Carl nudges Tracey, they get up together.

CARL SHAW
Come on, I've heard enough of
this bullshit.

Carl pushes Tracey outside - The door shuts behind them.

PC CLARK
You did a good thing there. Shame
you can’t look after him - reckon
he’d be better off with you -

The Abbott’s - realisation dawns, smiles arch on faces.

Darren looks on, unsure of how to react.

INT. HOUSE - DAY

It’s early. An old bay window - one curtain is held open.

Outside, the sea. A green canvas of movement, clear blue

skies, gulls glide on gentle wind currents - a vast, sandy
beach.

MARJORIE ABBOTT (O.S.)

Darren? Are you up out of bed yet
lazy bones?

The curtains open in full - huge slabs of sunlight hit the

room.

A large Victorian bedroom, every available space dotted

with images of Graham Norton.

Beams of sunlight hit him - Darren grins to himself.

 10.

FADE OUT.