ChickLit Page #4

Synopsis: ChickLit is a comedy drama about four guys trying to save their local pub from closing down. They group write a chick lit, or more specifically a 'mummy porn' novel in the style of 'Fifty Shades of Grey' and it gets snapped up. The only snag is that the publisher insists that the young woman 'author' does press and publicity. The guys have to keep their involvement a secret and so engage an out of work actress to 'role play' the part of the author. This leads to her becoming the star in the film of the book, the tables are turned on the guys and she is in control - leaving them with the awful prospect of having to secretly churn out sex novels for the foreseeable future.
Genre: Comedy
Director(s): Tony Britten
Production: Capriol Films
 
IMDB:
4.5
Rotten Tomatoes:
0%
TV-MA
Year:
2016
96 min
47 Views


a student.

The glorious frisson

of danger from all fronts.

It's the school gym

in the dead of night.

It would not only have me fired,

but probably arrested.

Picture it, the whisper

of forbidden passion.

The clamor of racing heartbeats,

- the roar of...

- David, how many of these books have you read?

I'm so sorry.

Isn't it making her

a student a bit iffy?

Yeah, yeah.

What if she's a journalist

sent to interview

the headmaster?

Who becomes his sex slave.

Oh, brilliant, Marcus,

you're a natural.

Gentlemen, shall we do this?

- Well, I'm... I'm still...

- Of course, you are.

But just think,

where will we play dominoes

if they close this place?

Come on.

It's gotta be worth a go.

All right, but T. Think we

should all do our own thing

rather than try

and be too unified.

From what I've read, there

won't be a problem of style.

Indeed not.

But there are rules

to be obeyed.

He must have a tragic past,

thus legitimizing

his present behavior.

She must use

a pet phrase ad nauseam.

Something like, "oh, wow,"

to reflect a constant

quivering excitement.

And we must continually marvel at

their ability to mate at will,

like a couple

of frenzied rabbits.

And in purely practical

terms, no e-mails.

Only hard copies.

[Moans]

Sorry.

Or memory sticks.

Nobody must know about this.

Thank you.

Now, Marcus, is my book ready?

Yes, it is.

- What are you doing?

- Bag.

Red, please.

There you are.

- Ah.

- Would you like a crisp potato?

Oh, no, thanks.

I don't want...

- Have a crisp.

- I don't want to.

Have a crisp.

Hello, Andrew.

Just that one.

Sold a dickens on ebay.

[Murmurs]

[Answering machine] Mr. rose, this

is Matilda, from Bonar and law.

Confirming your meeting

with miss law this Thursday.

You won't be late, will you?

[Woman]

Who is it?

David rose.

Ah, David rose. I have an

appointment with Peggy law.

Oh, dear.

I'll see if she's ready.

[Woman]

What?

Mr. rose to see you.

[Woman] Well, send him in.

I haven't got all day.

Sh e has, actually.

Good luck.

Well, sit down, Mr. rose.

I can give you five minutes.

[David] That's all I

need, miss law.

I'm only seeing you because

my colleague tells me

that you interviewed him once on

some horrid little provincial rag.

And were nice to him,

which he's not used to.

He's very interesting.

No, he's not,

but he has his uses.

Now, what have you written?

I'm not the author.

I'm acting on behalf

of a young lady I know,

- who's very shy.

- Why?

Well, the content

of the book is,

shall we say,

a little contentious.

Politics, personal, or porn?

Porn, mummy, porn to be precise.

Is this girl a mummy?

No, but she's writing

for a market of mummies.

It's really quite

a big demographic.

Mmm, I know all about

how big it is.

What I don't know is why

women demean themselves

by reading such tripe.

I'm not sure I do, to be honest.

But, I said I'd help her,

and I thought Bonar and law

would be a good place to start,

if you get my meaning.

Generally it's only the yanks

who makes fools of themselves

with the "boner" joke.

Yes, sorry.

Anyway, would you be prepared

to read the book?

- What's the title?

- "Love let her."

- Love letter?

- No, "love let her"... allowed her.

Oh, dear, god.

A witty title.

Absolutely.

I meant that sarcastically.

All right, I'll read it. Leave

your details with Matilda,

and maybe you'll hear

from us in due course.

Any idea when?

A little nugget

of advice, Mr. rose.

In the literary, indeed, the

entire entertainment business,

the answer to a question

like that is no.

Communication of any kind

is frowned upon.

Answering emails is considered

a sign of weakness.

Indeed, the default position on any

kind of commitment whatsoever,

is some other time.

You know, you're a very

lucky fellow,

because statistically

the chances of your getting

a text on your way to see me

canceling this meeting,

was about 70%.

- Good afternoon.

- Good afternoon.

Now, you don't live

in London, do you?

Quite a lot of people don't,

as it happens.

Silly me, of course they don't.

It must be very nice for you.

It is.

Where have you been?

- The show's about to start.

- Sorry, love, I got held up.

Well, did you meet your chum?

Chum? Oh, yes, yes,

he was on great form.

Good old, Robbie.

Exactly.

- What a legend.

- Thank you so much.

We're left alone.

All alone.

We have to start over.

Begin life all over again.

- We have to live.

- [Music playing]

We have to live.

We have to live, live, live,

live, live, live, live.

- We have to work.

- We have to live...

Live, live, live.

We have to work,

- we have to work. Work, work, work, work...

- Live, live, live, live...

- We have to die.

- Live, live, live, live...

- We have to die.

- Work, work, work...

- We have to die...

- Live, live, live...

- Live, live, live...

- Die, die, die...

Ta-ra-ra boom-De-ay,

ta-ra-ra boom-De-ay.

Ta-ra-ra boom-De-ay,

ta-ra-ra boom-De-ay...

- We have to know.

- Ta-ra-ra boom-De-ay...

- We have to know.

- Ta-ra-ra boom-De-ay...

- We have to know, know, know...

- Ta-ra-ra boom-De-ay...

- Know, know, know, know...

- Ta-ra-ra boom-De-ay...

- Know, know, know, know, know!

- Ta-ra-ra boom-De-ay.

[Scattered applause]

Well, that really doesn't

take the biscuit.

My talented baby sister.

Yes, very good.

Well, done, Sarah.

- Oh, well done.

- Did you like the concept?

Very original.

Very, um... I particularly

liked "Chebutykin"

in the wheelchair.

That was a very good...

Wasn't she marvelous?

- Yes.

- And so were you.

Oh, stop it.

Thank you.

What can I get you

to drink, Sarah?

A beer, please.

He didn't like it, did he?

Well, I think he was

rather intrigued.

- And you?

- Yes, and I was, too.

Although, I have to be honest.

I'm not sure about Natasha

being transsexual.

And I seem to recall

there were children

in the original one.

Well, Chekhov refers

to lots of unseen characters.

We decided if you

don't see them,

- they don't exist.

- Oh, right.

Here you are. All very

novel and interesting.

So, I take it

you're not being paid.

- We're on a profit share.

- Oh, so you're not being paid.

Shh.

Well, possibly.

But you know what, David,

I would sooner be doing

something worthwhile than...

Well, than earning millions

writing sh*t like this.

I'm with you there.

Now don't you start, Zoe.

It's bad enough having evelyn

waugh here moaning at me.

I do have other interests,

you know.

I've come to your show,

haven't I?

Of course.

- And I really appreciate it.

- Mmm.

The ladyboy Natasha

was a crap idea.

It wasn't very good.

[Jen]

They all worked very hard.

[David]

Too hard in the first act.

I could have done without

seeing Natasha's bits

- in such graphic detail.

- Yes.

Zoe did explain to me

about the tranny thing,

but it did rather

go over my head.

When the dress

went over her/his head,

- they could have kept his pants on.

- Yes.

And then "tie me up

and tenderize me"?

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Oliver Britten

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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