THE COMPLETE AND, INDEED, *UNABRIDGED* FILMSCRIPT TO
*** THE MEANING OF LIFE ***
Transcribed by Jason R. Heimbaugh
Further edited and slightly enhanced by Richard C. Karsmakers
THE MEANING OF LIFE
LIVE ORGAN TRANSPLANTS
[A photo of the Emperor Haile Selassie hangs on the wall of a
suburban house. Upstairs 'Hava Nagila' is being played on a lone
violin. The door bell rings.]
Mr Bloke: Don't worry dear, I'll get it!
[He opens the door.]
Mr Bloke: Yes!
First Man: Hello, er can we have your liver...?
Mr Bloke: My what?
First Man: Your liver... it's a large glandular organ in your
abdomen... you know it's a reddish-brown and it's sort of -
Mr Bloke: Yes, I know what it is, but I'm using it.
Second Man: Come on sir... don't muck us about.
[They move in.]
Mr Bloke: Hey!
[They shut the door behind him.]
[The first man makes a grab at his wallet and finds a card in
First Man: Hallo! What's this then...?
Mr Bloke: A liver donor's card.
First Man: Need we say more?
Second Man: No!
Mr Bloke: Look, I can't give it to you now. It says 'In The
Event of Death'...
First Man: No-one who has ever had their liver taken out by us
[The second man is rummaging around in a bag of clanking tools.]
Second Man: Just lie there, sir. it won't take a minute.
[They throw him onto the dining room table and, without any more
ceremony, start to cut him open. A rather sever lady appears at
Mrs Bloke: 'Ere, what's going on?
First man: He's donating his liver, madam...
Mr Bloke: Aarrgh... oh!... aaargh ow! Ow!
Mrs Bloke: Is this because he took out one of those silly cards?
First Man: That's right, madam.
Mr Bloke: Ow! Oooh! Oohh! Oh... oh... God... aargh aargh...
Mrs Bloke: Typical of him. He goes down to the public library -
sees a few signs up... comes home all full of good intentions. He
gives blood... he does cold research... all that sort of thing.
Mr Bloke: Aaaagh... oh... aaarghh!
Mrs Bloke: What d'you do with them all anyway?
Second man: They all go to saving lives, madam.
Mr Bloke: Aaaaargh! Oh... ow! Oh... oh my God!
Mrs Bloke: That's what *he* used to say... it's all for the good
of the country, he used to say.
Mr Bloke: Aaaargh!... Ow! Ooh!
Mrs Bloke: D'*you* think it's *all* for the good of the country?
First Man: Uh?
Mrs Bloke: D'*you* think it's *all* for the good of the country?
First Man: Well I wouldn't know about that, madam...we're just
doing our jobs, you know...
Mr Bloke: Owwwwweeeeeeeeeh! Ow!
Mrs Bloke: You're not doctors, then?
First Man: Oh!... Blimey no...!
[The second man grins and raises his eyes as he digs around in
the stomach. They laugh. A head comes round the door... It's a
Young Man: Mum, Dad,... I'm off out... now. I'll see you about
Mrs Bloke: Righto, son... look after yourself.
Mr Bloke: Aaargh... ow! Oh... aaargh aargh!
Mrs Bloke: D'you er... fancy a cup of tea...?
First Man: Oh well, that would be very nice, yeah... Thank you,
thank you very much madam. Thank you. [Aside.] I thought she'd
[She takes him into the kitchen... shuts the door. She bustles
about preparing the tea...]
First Man: You do realise... he has to be... well... dead... by
the terms of the card... before he donates his liver.
Mrs Bloke: Well I told him that... but he never listens to me...
First Man: Only... I was wondering what you was thinking of
doing after that... I mean... will you stay on your own or... is
there someone else... sort of... on the horizon...?
Mrs Bloke: I'm too old for that sort of thing. I'm past my
First Man: Not at all... you're a very attractive woman.
Mrs Bloke: [laughs a little] Well... I'm certainly not thinking
of getting hitched up again...
First Man: Sure?
Mrs Bloke: Sure.
First Man: [coming a little closer] Can we have your liver then?
Mrs Bloke: No... I don't want to die.
First Man: Oh come on, it's perfectly natural. Only take a
couple of minutes.
Mrs Bloke: Oh... I'd be scared.
First Man: All right, I'll tell you what. Look, listen to this -
[A man in pink evening dress emerges from the fridge.]
[Man in Pink Evening Dress]
Whenever life gets you down, Mrs Brown
And things seem hard or tough
And people are stupid obnoxious or daft
And you feel that you've had quite enough...
[As he starts to sing, the wall of the kitchen disintegrates to
reveal a magnificent night sky. The vocalist in pink escorts Mrs
Bloke up into the stars.]
Just remember that you're standing on a planet that's evolving
And revolving at 900 miles an hour,
That's orbiting at 19 miles a second, so it's reckoned,
A sun that is the source of all our power.
The sun and you and me and all the stars that we can see,
Are moving at a million miles a day
In an outer spiral arm, at 40,000 miles an hour,
Of the galaxy we call the Milky Way.
Our galaxy itself contains 100 billion stars
It's 100,000 light years side to side.
It bulges in the middle, 16,000 light years thick
But out by us its just 3,000 light years wide
We're 30,000 light years from galactic central point,
We go round every 200 million years
And our galaxy is only one of millions of billions
In this amazing and expanding Universe.
The Universe itself keeps on expanding and expanding
In all of the directions it can whizz
As fast as it can go, at the speed of light you know,
12 million miles a minute, and that's the fastest speed there is
So remember when you're feeling very small and insecure
How amazingly unlikely is your birth
And pray that there's intelligent life somewhere up in space
Because there' bugger all down here on earth.
[The vocalist in pink climbs back into the fridge and the door
Mrs Bloke: Makes you feel so sort of insignificant, doesn't it?
First Man: Yeah yeah... Can we have your liver, then?
Mrs Bloke: Yeah. All right, you talked me into it.
First Man: Eric!
[A lettering artist is just finishing painting the words 'Liver
Donors Inc' onto a wall plaque enumerating all the subsidiaries
of the Very Big Corporation of America.]
Chairman: [of the Very Big Corporation of America]... which
brings us once again to the urgent realisation of just how much
there is still left to own. Item 6 on the Agenda, the Meaning of
Life... Now Harry, you've had some thoughts on this...
Harry: That's right, yeah. I've had a team working on this over
the past few weeks, and what we've come up with can be reduced to
two fundamental concepts... One... people are not wearing enough
hats. Two... matter is energy; in the Universe there are many
energy fields which we cannot normally perceive. Some energies
have a spiritual source which act upon a person's soul. However,
this soul does not exist *ab inito*, as orthodox Christianity
teaches; it has to be brought into existence by a process of
guided self-observation. However, this is rarely achieved owing
to man's unique ability to be distracted from spiritual matters
by everyday trivia.
Max: What was that about hats again?
Harry: Er... people aren't wearing enough.
Chairman: Is this true?
Edmund: [who is sitting next to Harry] Certainly. Hat sales have
increased, but not *pari passu... as our research -
Bert: When you say 'enough', enough for what purpose...?
Gunther: Can I ask with reference to your second point, when you
say souls don't develop because people become distracted... has
anyone noticed that building there before?
[They all turn towards the window to see a building approaching
or sliding into position outside.]
All: Gulp! What? Good Lord!
A tale of piracy
on the high seas
In the bleak days of 1983, as England languished in the doldrums
of a ruinous monetarist policy, the good and loyal men of the
Permanent Assurance Company - a once-proud family firm recently
fallen an hard times - strained under the yoke of their
oppressive new corporate management...
Pushed beyond the bounds of decent and reasonable victimisation
-the aged retainers take their destiny in their own hands and...
And so - the Crimson Permanent Assurance was launched upon the
high seas of international finance!
There it lay, the prize they sought - the richest jewel in the
crown of the IMF - a financial district swollen with multi-
nationals, conglomerates and fat, bloated merchant banks.
Hidden behind the faceless towering canyons of glass, the world
of high finance sat smug and self-satisfied as their future, in
the shape of their past, slipped silently through the streets -
returning to wreak a terrible revenge.
Adopting, adapting, and improving traditional business practices
the Permanent Assurance puts into motion an audacious and totally
unsuspected Take Over Bid.
And so, heartened by their initial success, the desperate and
reasonably violent men of the Permanent Assurance battled on,
until... as the sun set slowly in the west the outstanding return
on their bold business venture became apparent... the once proud
financial giants lay in ruins - their assets stripped - their
policies in tatters.
It's fun charter an accountant
And sail the wide accountan-cy,
To find, explore the funds offshore
And skirt the shoals of bankruptcy.
It can be manly in insurance:
We'll up your premium semi-annually,
It's all tax-deductible,
We're fairly incorruptible,
Sailing on the wide accountan-cy!
And so... they sailed off into the ledgers of history -
one by one
the financial capitals of the world crumbling under the might of
their business acumen - or so it would have been... if certain
modern theories concerning the shape of the world had not proved
to be...disastrously wrong...
The text of the articles is identical to the originals like they appeared in old ST NEWS issues. Please take into consideration that the author(s) was (were) a lot younger and less responsible back then. So bad jokes, bad English, youthful arrogance, insults, bravura, over-crediting and tastelessness should be taken with at least a grain of salt. Any contact and/or payment information, as well as deadlines/release dates of any kind should be regarded as outdated. Due to the fact that these pages are not actually contained in an Atari executable here, references to scroll texts, featured demo screens and hidden articles may also be irrelevant.