His name is Alan and he’s her cat.
He wears a suit and has a briefcase.
All the people in the neighbourhood have accountants as pets.
Alan is a gentle cat.
At night Sandra goes to the back door…
…opens it up……and Richard, the next-door
neighbour’s accountant, is there on his hands
and knees eating out of a tray of cat litter
….middle-aged man eating from the tray.…
...munching the gravel granules…
…he has a briefcase besides him…
…he suddenly looks up and sees her
and panic-scuffles his Clark shoes
..…falling backwards as he sees the lady
…..eyes caught in the beam of her glare…
“….Richard! What are you doing! Shoo! Shoo! Go away!…”
…Richard scampers off and runs away…with his briefcase…
a hopeless inadequate…pushing spectacles onto nose…
…runs through hedges and away down the street…
….it’s just another night in Stanmore…
Living Room Scene
In the evening. Warm living room. TV on. Lamplight.Alan the cat is seen cuddling up to his owner.
He is a middle-aged accountant. He has a briefcase.
She’s stroking him and he’s purring on his back wearing
his suit. Arms curled up like a tyrannosaurus rex on the
sofa holding a briefcase. “…Good boy, Alan, who’s a
good Alan…” He is purring when suddenly she gets up
and walks off into the kitchen. He’s left lying on his
back on the sofa wearing his suit, peering off to where
she went, arms and legs suspended. Alan is left alone
in the living room. He looks at the door. A lamp is
on in the corner of the room.
Night-time
The day passes, evening comes. Later at night,
in the kitchen. We see Sandra putting Alan out
for the night. She opens the front door and he
goes outside and stands on the door-step holding
his briefcase.
We see alan outside as the light is switched
off above his head. He just stands there.
A shadowy figure facing the front door
Morning Has Broken
…Shots of crisp winter sunlight. Spider webs glisten like diamonds.
Frosted milk bottles. Sandra comes downstairs in her dressing gown.
She opens the front door and we see Alan sleeping in a bush in the
front garden. She calls out his name.
We see Alan sluggishly wake his head up in the frozen morning.
Like some junky accountant sleeping in a bush. A dishevelled
mess of numbers and statistics and sleeping in the garden.
Crazy paving.
Cut to kitchen shots of Alan thawed out in the 11am of day.
Alan’s purring around her legs as she’s opening a packet of
rice crispies.
Pours out some water. She puts a bowl down for him. Alan gets on
his hands and knees and eats it. “…there…there…that’s your favourite,
isn’t it Alan…” Alan nods. It is his favourite.
Later on in the front garden. Driveway. The road. Stanmore.
Sandra is gossiping with neighbour. Talking about her pet
The other woman has a dog.
He is called Douglas and he’s also an accountant. As they’re
talking, in the background we see Alan the cat running like
crazy. He is being chased by Douglas the dog.
Two middle-aged accountants pretending to be cats
and dogs playing in the street in Stanmore. Alan is
running like a nutter holding his briefcase. Being chased
by Douglas who is barking and skipping. Alan is really
scared.
He goes up to his Sandra and she holds him.
She picks him up and holds him in her arms.
A man in his suit held like a baby. She rocks
him in her arms, making it all better. Alan’s
had a nasty scare this afternoon.
Poor little mite.
Training
Inside a different Kitchen. A woman is training her accountant: “…Douglas…
“sit” … “sit” …… (she is holding a kit-kat)….…”. Douglas sits cross-legged
on the kitchen floor with his arms folded. Fourty year old man. Sitting like a kid
in school assembly. Cross-legged wearing a suit. Briefcase beside him.
Looking up at his owner. She gives him the kit-kat. Douglas rushes off with the
kit-kat; sits down at the table like a human being and unwraps it. Starts eating it.
Ripping the silver foil.
At the table, wife speaks to him: “…..there’s a good Douglas……who’s a good
Douglas……”
Douglas knows it’s him. He knows he’s the good Douglas. He keeps eating
his kit-kat.
Wife continues: “…now……we’re gonna eat our breakfast……and then we’re
gonna go to the park aren’t we? …”
Douglas carries on eating his Kit-Kat. He’s got an expensive rolex watch on.
Recreation
In the car. Driving to the park.Douglas is sitting in back seat with his seatbelt on.
We see him glancing out the window at other
accountants being walked by their wives.
Leads round their necks. Douglas is sitting in the
back, drinking five-alive through a luminous straw,
taking in this moving, motion picture. The people
being walked outside look mournfully up at Douglas
in his car. They drive on.
The Fields of Glory
Car pulls up at the park. Douglas gets out the carand runs like a madman through the gates and into
the fields.
He pretends to be an aeroplane.
Inside the park. Sandra throws a briefcase for
Douglas to fetch: “…Fetch Douglas…Fetch…”
Douglas runs after the briefcase on two legs
and then brings it back. He hands her the briefcase.
He is an excellent Douglas.
There are lots of owners with accountants running in the park.
A couple of accountants are fighting in a mound of shit.
People throwing briefcases about for their pet accountants to catch.
Owners saying hello to each other as they walk past.
Some accountants are on the swing.
A couple on the roundabout.
Clive raises his briefcase aloft, clasping it like Moses clasps the stone tablets.
Reflections
Two women talking to each other in the sitting room. “…I would recommend you get an accountant as a pet…I really would……they’re so loving…good natured…and gentle……they really just want to be loved….”
Alan is sitting on the couch like he’s the woman’s son. He’s eating a big jam tart with raspberry jam all round
his face. They carry on talking. “…most of the time Alan’s well behaved……but he can be a rascal sometimes…”
Alan is like a little boy who has been taken by his mum to visit another woman and they just sit on the couch
listening to their mum and the other lady talk about them. His chin is down, eyes peeping up at the people
talking about him, taking everything they say in. “…you just want to be loved don’t you Alan?….…”
Alan takes a bite from his jam tart. He doesn’t need love.
Night-time
At night in Edgware. Stanmore. Golders Green. North West London.(The closest you can get to heaven on the 113 Bus Route).
We see a middle-aged man doing some accounts at a table with a little
lamp on. He’s in a warm corner of the living room. A calculator and
yellow post-it notes. Shot of the semi-detached house from outside.
The street at night. We see a little-light on in the downstairs window.
The light goes off.
Alan is put outside for the night.
END
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