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breakinglight11Finally something that's not Hawking! As with last year, one of my few recent non-Hawking pieces for 31 Plays in 31 Days was for an idea I had for a new, slightly darker-humored version of Jeeves and Wooster. The key to it is that Jeeves's omnicompetence comes from having been a top black ops agent in WWI and ends up working for Wooster as a way of starting a new, non-violent life for himself.
This scene would probably occur at the very top of the pilot, definitely before the only other I scene I have drafted for it, from 31 Plays 31 Days 2018's Day #5 - "Hangover Cure."
Day #24 - "Once More Into the Breach"
From Jeeves Takes Charge
By Phoebe Roberts
~~~
England, 1919
BERTIE WOOSTER, a rich, good hearted society idiot
REGINALD JEEVES, a former black ops agent in WWI
~~~
INT. MI6 OFFICE – MORNING
Two impeccably dressed military men sit across from each other in an office. The man at the desk regards the file of one REGINALD VIRGIL JEEVES, the pin-neat gentleman of otherwise ordinary appearance sitting on the other wise.
OFFICER: Well, Lieutenant Jeeves, you’re a man of remarkable record.
INSERT: Files in Jeeves’s folder— accomplished missions, commendations, kill counts.
JEEVES: You flatter me, sir.
OFFICER: Successful sallies in three theaters, a perfect mission success record, commended by Lloyd George himself. A man with a career like yours could write his own ticket. Are you so determined to leave it all behind?
JEEVES: I am, sir. I’m sure you’ll agree it’s been a long war.
OFFICER: Bally well has been. Well, I wish you all the world’s luck.
JEEVES: Thank you, sir.
They exchange salutes, then shake on it.
OFFICE: Have you got any idea what you’ll do next?
JEEVES: Not with any certainty, sir. But I’m sure an opportunity will present itself.
INT. BERTIE’S APARTMENT – MORNING
In a high-class expensive apartment buried beneath a disastrous mess, a handsome, sweet-faced young man rolls in the tangle of his bedsheets.
BERTIE: Ugh. When did it become so… morning?
He tries to rise, but his bedsheets hobble him and he thumps to the floor.
BERTIE: Meadowes! Meadowes, where the devil are you?
He wilts as he remembers, hauling himself up to lean on the bed.
BERTIE: Oh, that’s right. I sacked him for pinching my socks. Jolly inconvenient, but one must soldier on.
He rolls and wiggles in an effort to escape his sheets.
BEGIN MONTAGE:
Bertie attempts to navigate his disaster area of a flat.
He tries to light a burner on the stove to make tea water, but it will not ignite. He leans on he other side of the stove in dejection, only to spring back as he scorches himself on the burner he actually lit. He hops around the room clutching his hand as the stove slowly scorches.
In the mirror of his bathroom, Bertie coats his cheeks in shaving lather and inspects his razor. He pulls a face finding it dull. Awkwardly he drags it up and down a strop to sharpen it, to no avail. He increases his pace, but succeeds only in flipping the razor out of his hand. He fumbles for it, but sticks itself in the surface of the vanity.
A mostly-dressed but still-barefoot Bertie tucks his shoes under his arm. He goes to open his sock drawer and is frustrated to remember that it’s empty.
BERTIE: Blast it, Meadowes.
He collapses dejectedly into a chair, by which a cup with a teabag is sitting, completely unsteeped. He eyes the teabag with a crazy look in his eye.
He fights in the mirror to tie his tie, but simply can’t get the knot right. At last he drags out a toolbox, produces a staple gun, and, with a wince, staples his tie in place. Taking a deep breath, he prepares to venture out to face the world.
BERTIE: Once more into the breach.
This scene would probably occur at the very top of the pilot, definitely before the only other I scene I have drafted for it, from 31 Plays 31 Days 2018's Day #5 - "Hangover Cure."
Day #24 - "Once More Into the Breach"
From Jeeves Takes Charge
By Phoebe Roberts
~~~
England, 1919
BERTIE WOOSTER, a rich, good hearted society idiot
REGINALD JEEVES, a former black ops agent in WWI
~~~
INT. MI6 OFFICE – MORNING
Two impeccably dressed military men sit across from each other in an office. The man at the desk regards the file of one REGINALD VIRGIL JEEVES, the pin-neat gentleman of otherwise ordinary appearance sitting on the other wise.
OFFICER: Well, Lieutenant Jeeves, you’re a man of remarkable record.
INSERT: Files in Jeeves’s folder— accomplished missions, commendations, kill counts.
JEEVES: You flatter me, sir.
OFFICER: Successful sallies in three theaters, a perfect mission success record, commended by Lloyd George himself. A man with a career like yours could write his own ticket. Are you so determined to leave it all behind?
JEEVES: I am, sir. I’m sure you’ll agree it’s been a long war.
OFFICER: Bally well has been. Well, I wish you all the world’s luck.
JEEVES: Thank you, sir.
They exchange salutes, then shake on it.
OFFICE: Have you got any idea what you’ll do next?
JEEVES: Not with any certainty, sir. But I’m sure an opportunity will present itself.
INT. BERTIE’S APARTMENT – MORNING
In a high-class expensive apartment buried beneath a disastrous mess, a handsome, sweet-faced young man rolls in the tangle of his bedsheets.
BERTIE: Ugh. When did it become so… morning?
He tries to rise, but his bedsheets hobble him and he thumps to the floor.
BERTIE: Meadowes! Meadowes, where the devil are you?
He wilts as he remembers, hauling himself up to lean on the bed.
BERTIE: Oh, that’s right. I sacked him for pinching my socks. Jolly inconvenient, but one must soldier on.
He rolls and wiggles in an effort to escape his sheets.
BEGIN MONTAGE:
Bertie attempts to navigate his disaster area of a flat.
He tries to light a burner on the stove to make tea water, but it will not ignite. He leans on he other side of the stove in dejection, only to spring back as he scorches himself on the burner he actually lit. He hops around the room clutching his hand as the stove slowly scorches.
In the mirror of his bathroom, Bertie coats his cheeks in shaving lather and inspects his razor. He pulls a face finding it dull. Awkwardly he drags it up and down a strop to sharpen it, to no avail. He increases his pace, but succeeds only in flipping the razor out of his hand. He fumbles for it, but sticks itself in the surface of the vanity.
A mostly-dressed but still-barefoot Bertie tucks his shoes under his arm. He goes to open his sock drawer and is frustrated to remember that it’s empty.
BERTIE: Blast it, Meadowes.
He collapses dejectedly into a chair, by which a cup with a teabag is sitting, completely unsteeped. He eyes the teabag with a crazy look in his eye.
He fights in the mirror to tie his tie, but simply can’t get the knot right. At last he drags out a toolbox, produces a staple gun, and, with a wince, staples his tie in place. Taking a deep breath, he prepares to venture out to face the world.
BERTIE: Once more into the breach.
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