Star of stage (and bit part TV) and directorial maestro that I once was, I think I'll have to revive my dramatis personæ and get back into the old acting malarky, coz you can film any old shite these days and get wodges of cash!
After much nagment, I was persuaded to record a short avant-garde* film off the late night telly after Battle Royale called Ozone.
Basically, it was some office worker getting a reward for a job well done... said reward being a dancing fat bird with ham stuck to her arse whilst giving a running commentary about her three daily meals. She then tries to give him a blowie, but he's not ready, so she sends him off to have a shower. After which, he nicks a jar of mayo that he drops on the floor, splattering a clone of himself who likes the taste.
Apart from the fact that I'm a bit miffed that NU don't provide scantiliy clad ladies providing oral sex as part of their rewards package (although I could do without the fecal streaked meats), someone clearly got paid to make that little package of total irrelevance!
And if the tellyfolk are willing to pay for such toot, I could be quids in, for my obscure randomess knows no boundaries... although I may run into trouble casting lovely ladies to be all nudie and give me The Sex for my teleplay...
OOOOOOOH! Casting couch opportunity!
Right, I'm off to pen a string of total randomness, interspersed with scenes of me getting The Sex off've hot babes! Good old BBC Talent - cash & gash just for writing bollocks!
If only my blog had the same effect...
* AVANT-GARDE IS FOREIGN FOR "UTTER RANDOM BOLLOCKS" - SOMETHING THAT IS ARTY AS AN EXCUSE FOR NUDIE WENCHES, NOBMENT AND HIGHBROW INTELLECTUAL MYSTICISM MASQUERADING AS METAPHORS.
