Wednesday 30 June 2010

Movie Script: From Russia with Love & Guns


"Neonsamurai reviews films because he's so untalented that he can't write his own."


Is that what you think? Well for your information I have written loads of scripts and one was actually turned into a film starring Sean Connery. How many scripts have you had turned into a film? I'm going to make a quick guess now: ZERO.

I also wrote a script called 'Jihad Act' which was a Whoopee Goldberg vehicle, but all copies of that were seized by the FBI.

Well guess what? I wrote a new film script last night, just like that, because that's the kind of guy I am. I felt inspiration and just went for it and it's a really good story too. It's about a secret agent who falls in love with a Russian model and has to fight everyone in order to marry her. Sure, I can say that I've written a script, but guess what, I ACTUALLY HAVE:


FROM RUSSIAN WITH LOVE AND GUNS
By Neonsamurai

Opening scene: A secret agent, codenamed 'The Samurai' is having something to eat at KFC, when some kids start hassling him.

Kids: "Hey you loser! You're such a loser, you square."

The Samurai: "That's right, I am a square. A square in a round hole!"

Before the kids have a chance to act The Samurai pulls out a machine gun and shoots them all. People dive for cover as the bullets stitch through them ruining the KFC's decor.

Kids: "AAAIIIEEEE!"

Colonel Sanders: "Well done Samurai. Those kids have been bothering the staff and customers for the last few minutes. Your unorthodox methods have saved the day."

The Samurai: "It's what I do."

----------------------

New Scene: The Samurai is back at his office and is getting told off by his boss for being unorthodox. It's in a secret base a mile underground.

Boss Man: "Dammit Samurai! You're the best, but you're also too unorthodox and a maverick who plays by his own rules. Being so reckless is bad!"

The Samurai: "Oh yeah? Tell that to Colonel Sanders!"

Boss Man: "Dammit Samurai! I've got a very important mission for you in Russia. You need to go there and not fight anybody until you can rescue a double agent called Natalia. But under no circumstances are you to fall in love with her."

The Samurai: "I'm sure I won't. You know how much I hate the Russians after what they did to my partner. I also strongly dislike Australians, and nothing in the world can change my opinions."

Boss Man: "I don't want this clouding your judgment. You're too close. As of now you're off the case."

The Samurai: "Then I quit. I'm going to bring those bastards down if it's the last thing I do, even if I have to do it on my own!"

Boss Man: "Alright Samurai. I'm giving you 48 hours to get to Russia, not fight any baddies and not fall in love with Natalia. Don't let me down or my boss (the Queen) will have me executed. Can you guarantee a successful mission?"

The Samurai: "It's what I do."

-----Opening Titles-----

Obviously this is just the part of the film before the opening credits, but I've written several pages more, and let me tell you they're very good. Plus the film has loads of product placement and has the catchphrase "It's what I do."

Now what I'm intending to do is tweet this script to some of my twitter associates (including international mega-star and friend TOM CRUISE) and bring in a bit of interest for the screenplay and then start a bidding war. Ideally I'm looking for about twenty grand, but if I can get anymore it's a bonus.

Note: Just because I'm now a scriptwriter doesn't mean you can't also donate money for reading my blog.

Tuesday 29 June 2010

Oh look! I'm not reviewing a film!

Oh I suppose I have to review films EVERY SINGLE SECOND OF THE DAY do I? I guess I'd better stop eating and sleeping then because that's impossible.

Quick question: What's Jonathon Ross up to right now (08:51 Tuesday morning) eh? Do you think he's reviewing a film? Do you? Cinema's don't open until at least 10am so clearly he's not you retard. He's probably in his limo, on his way to work. UNLESS he's got a cinema in his car. But just think about that; a cinema in a car? Where would the projectionist sit? In the boot? He'd suffocate and probably and die if it was a hot day. Do you honestly think Jonathon Ross would lock somebody in the boot of his car and potentially kill him, just so he could have a cinema in his limo? Maybe if it was Michael Barrymore, but since when is he a film reviewer?

And what about when Jonathon Ross was presenting his TV show? Was he reviewing films then? I mean 'Friday Night with Jonathon Ross' and not 'Film 2010', obviously. Not as far as I could see.

If my film reviews are so 'poor' then why do I have a blog with FOUR GENUINE FOLLOWERS and as far as I can tell by searching the web you have NONE? Oh and let's have a quick look here shall we? Looks like a successful comic, speller and Miss New York Traditional Foods Jennifer Dziura knows a film review when she sees one. So good in fact that she decided to put it on her blog. Not that you could copy her, what with NOT HAVING A BLOG OF YOUR OWN? They don't just let anyone write blogs you know.

Do you know what? I was going to review a film today, but I'm not, because nobody tells me what to do.

You've messed with the wrong film reviewer (that's right, I'm a film reviewer) this time.

Monday 28 June 2010

Oh god. She's writing again.

So far I have received ZERO contributions to my PayPal account. Oh you think that's bad do you? Well look at this:


Oh a movie review and competition. Big deal? Well guess who they got to 'review' this film:

EMILY STEPHENSON

Doesn't anybody read my blog, because I'm pretty sure that I made it perfectly clear here that she's rubbish at reviewing films? Oh but what do I know, seeing as I've more or less dedicated that last 12 years of my life to being a professional film critic. At last count I'd reviewed over 80 films, which now I think about it doesn't sound like that many, but I don't just make up stuff off the top of my head. Well, not for every film anyway.

And how much did she get paid for writing that film review? Three or four thousand pounds probably. What's a child going to spend four grand on? A lifetime supply of Smarties? That's the reason kids aren't paid a fortune in pocket money, because if they did they'd probably destroy the economy but spending the money on nonsense. I'd use the money to buy my fiancé a plane ticket. How's that for sensible?

Since I apparently can't be trusted to write film reviews for the Littlehampton Echo, I'm going to have to rely on YOU my loyal and generous readership (but not the women, who can't be bothered to have free food and sex with me) to send money to my PayPal account so that I can give Natalia twenty thousand pounds.

Please be generous.

Thursday 24 June 2010

Neonsamurai.kicks-ass.net: Now privately funded


This is what I need.


Turns out that the 'Comedy Night' was a complete waste of time, mainly because the room was filled with psychopaths. To be perfectly honest, I'm lucky I'm not dead. So I've decided to ditch the stand up comedy routine and explore another avenue to make money: PayPal.

But before I explain my new plan, let me take a moment to tell you a few things:

Love. Love is a beautiful feeling that you can only get when a beautiful woman says she'll have sex with you, once you've paid for her to fly over to the UK. It's the sort of emotion that not everyone can understand because most people marry god-awful ugly people, or just end up with loads of cats. Dullards. How is a cat as good as a sexy partner? Can you have sex with it? Erm... No, unless you're wrong in the head or something. If I had the choice between marrying a beautiful Russian woman or marrying a cat I'd choose the former. And can't you catch rabies off of a cat?

Another emotion that is also very beautiful is reading film reviews. Film reviews save you the time of actually watching the film, so if it's rubbish you can avoid it. It's a very important thing which saves people time and money. But only if it's done by a professional, and not some hackneyed, duck-owning toddler who seems to think that using the films' title to describe the film is clever. What if you'd just watched a really good film that only had a negative word in the title? What then Emily? Come on Emily, let's see you review 'Dirty Rotten Scoundrels'. Face it, you've as much chance of becoming a film reviewer as a blind person. And don't get me started on Hawking. Has he EVER reviewed a film? Has he? I've never seen one. But I'll bet if HE sent EMPIRE MAGAZINE his CV he'd get a sodding job in a flash, rather than being accused of racism.

So my blog brings you both love and also film reviews (and there was a competition for free sex), which are things that you can't put a price on. However if I was to pull a number out of the air I'd say it's about five grand. Which is how much money I think you should pay me for reading my blog.

Now that's not a monthly fee, it's a one off. So you pay me five thousand pounds and that entitles you to read my blog forever. I've not actually worked out a structure to it yet, so I'll have to rely on you (my loyal readership) to just cough up the cash. Simply click on the 'PayPal' logo in the right hand column here and pledge your five thousand pounds (obviously more if you can afford it).

Hopefully I'll have the money for Natalia's plane ticket for by next week.

Tuesday 15 June 2010

Taking the (open) Mic

Natalia and I had our first row today, (not including the ones we've had about UK special forces). Basically her dad is trying to make her marry some hideous old man and she would really rather marry me, although for the first part of our conversation she kept calling me 'Martin', but English isn't her first language, so mistakes are inevitable. She got really tetchy and claimed that if I loved her I'd send her that twenty grand NOW. So I outlined my plan to become a comedian, and she asked me if I was joking (see, I'm a natural).

Speaking of which look what I saw:

What a stroke of luck! It's a comedy night with an open mike (which technically should be 'mic', so I'll work that into my routine) so that other people can have a go at some stand up. And it's at a pub I'm not barred from! But it's this Saturday, so I'm going to have to come up with a hilarious routine pretty damn quick! I know this means that I technically won't be making any money at first, but for now I'm just getting my comedy 'out there' and let me tell you I've got some pretty crazy ideas for my routine. Check out my joke schedule for the session:
  1. Use Catchphrase "Ahoy my lovelies!"
  2. Question: "Anyone here from Littlehampton?"
  3. Joke: "How come they call it Littlehampton when it's quite big?!"
  4. Wait for applause to stop
  5. Improvisational Comedy
I thought I'd finish with 20 minutes or so of improvisational comedy, using whatever comes to mind at the time. I've watched 'Who's Line is it Anyway?', 'Have I got News for You?' and 'Mock the Week' so I'm a big fan of comedians making up jokes as they go along. If I get stuck I'll just get the audience to call out suggestions.

I've even totally maxed-out the hilarity by giving myself a comedy stage-name; Ivor Biggun! How crazy is that? It makes it sound as if I've got a massive willie! Clearly I've given it more thought than John Robson, who's probably using his real name. The dick.

Neonsamurai: The New Direction


Guess what? Hermione is on 'extended leave' at the moment, pending a possible criminal conviction. Who'd have thought she was the criminal type? Yes, she's grade A nut job, but a criminal? That's not really her style. I might pop around her house and see if there's anything I can do to help.

So instead of my usual battle of minds with Hermione, I get to speak to Charlie. I like Charlie. He's retired once before, and apparently got bored and got a job at the job centre. Although he says it's because he hates his wife. To be honest, Charlie hates a lot of things, particularly children because 'they ruin your life and always side with that bitch'. He also hates 'bloody spongers' but not as much as he hates talking to them, so normally when he speaks to me he just says the bits that I'm supposed to say for me just to speed things up.
Charlie (normal voice): "Have you been applying for work?"

Charlie (high voice): "Yes I have. I've applied for loads of jobs, although I'm too lazy to actually provide proof. Please can I have some free money?"
Hahaha! Charlie cracks me up. It's like he's doing a stand up routine. I told him he should be a comedian, and he said I should get a bloody job, which is cool, because that's what I intend to do. However, having said this the only jobs that are available are shelf stacking, farm work and verge cleaning. When I asked him about any high paying jobs Charlie said "No. Nothing. Except this very highly paid job to be a millionaire playboy living in Monaco and having the life of bloody Riley." But it turned out that job didn't actually exist, and Charlie was being funny again (I'll bet it's never dull at the Job Centre when you work with him, much like Whoopee Goldberg).

But, like what often happens in a cop film when something unrelated happens, causing the cop to click his fingers and say something like "wait a minute... Pineapples are acidic..." I said "wait a minute... Stand up comedians earn a fortune...." To which Charlie said "Next!"

So I'm intending to become a stand up comedian like Frankie Boyle, or Russell Brand who earn an absolute fortune. As I often say, if you can review a film then you can do anything.

Monday 7 June 2010

Love Hurts


Sorry for the lack of updates recently but apparently you can't use mobile phones in hospital. Why's that? Well it allegedly messes up hospital equipment. Who the hell designs equipment that can be 'messed up' by a mobile phone? I would have thought you'd have to go out of your way to make something that bad.
Scientist: "Well here's my new blood-pressure monitor. It works really well and is 100% accurate. But there's one little thing that might... No. That's not important."

Doctor: "This certainly looks like just the sort of thing we need in this hospital. But before I hand over this cheque for forty thousand pounds, what were you going to say?"

Scientist: "Only that if you use a mobile phone within 500 yards of it it kills the patient. With poison."

Doctor: "Good lord! How could it do that?"

Scientist: "If it detects mobile phone usage is shoots 40cc's of crayfish venom into the patients arm which paralyzes their heart. BOOM! They're dead before they even know it."

Doctor: "Why on earth did you design it to do that?"

Scientist: "I dunno. I got a bit bored."

Doctor: "Oh well. We'll buy it anyway. Here's your cheque."

That's insane isn't it? But why am I in hospital anyway? Could it be that I'm having an operation or something? No. I'm in hospital because apparently I'm a sexist. Ooh. Let's all call NeonSamurai a sexist because he wasn't invited to our meeting, to which men weren't invited because we're sexist.

Now I know that Hermione has got some well-paying jobs she keeps back for emergencies at the job centre, so I decided to try and get on her good side by turning up at this conference thing she'd organised and offering my support. Yes, I know that to a person with a normal brain that that's a really nice thing to do, and at the very least somebody who did something so selfless should at least be allowed some tea and biscuits (like all the other guests were allowed). But, no that's not the case, and then things get violent.

So the Saturday before last I hop on the bus all the way to sodding Chichester, which is a town that is of so little consequence that it should be bombed by the RAF. Only they wouldn't go there because it's of no consequence. I then head over to the community centre to take part in the 'Oppressed Women of the South of England and the Isle of Wight' meeting. Yeah, I know I'm not a woman, but as regular readers will be aware I am a very open-minded person and have a lot of respect for women.

But this mental tart at the front door won't let me in because I'm an oppressor. Me? An oppressor? I've never oppressed anyone in my life. Even the time I made my own dungeon room and brought all that rohypnol I didn't oppress anyone. Except that Avon lady who called for my mum, but that was only for a morning. Then Rufus ate all the rohypnol and then went on a very slow motion rampage through the house. That's when the Avon lady got loose. Christ. Those Avon women are nutjobs. If I ever have one call at my door again I'll make sure she doesn't get her hands on a frying pan. I had bruising for a month.

So I say to this woman on the door "if you hate oppressors (men) so much why do you look like one?" Which was a particularly clever thing for me to say as she did look just like a man, complete with a dodgy haircut, which was sort of half mullet, half flat-top. But instead of saying "touche" and letting me in this gaggle of crazy women gathers at the door and starts telling me to get lost or they'll call the police. Then Hermione shows up and goes ballistic.

Cut a long story short: I'm not allowed into this meeting. Well, they didn't reckon on me being in love, and as happens in rom coms people in love do crazy things, especially if they need a well paying job to fly their Russian lover into the country. So I decided to simply climb in through the window and surprise them all with an impassioned speech about love and how at the end of the day, we're all the same. Especially that woman who looks like a man. Good plan, except the toilet window I climbed through had a woman on the other side (the one time I didn't want there to be). And to make matters worse she was French, and had ZERO sense of humour. And she also had some (illegal) mace spray. If a man falls on you whilst you're on the toilet, is that really a good enough reason to use a whole can of mace in his eyes? In France, it is.

So this crazy woman is yelling "Viol! Viol!" and I can't see a thing, but luckily I manage to get out of the toilet PDQ and head for what I think is the main hall. I'm guessing it was during this disorientating time that my trousers somehow came off, which is the sort of thing that could happen to anyone. Then I realise I've reached the hall when I hear the screams. And they're not screams of joy. So it's time to start my impassioned speech and I start shouting "I'M GONNA SHOW YOU MY LOVE!", just before the first chair hit me. Luckily it was just one of those plastic stackable chairs, which didn't really hurt. But the fire extinguisher did and that's what the doctors think caused my concussion.

Next thing I know I'm in an ambulance with a police escort. Luckily Dr Chen was at the hospital when I arrived and straightened everything out.

I'm not sure what's going to happen when i go to the Job Centre tomorrow.