This script was abandoned by Hollywood because Donald Trump hates Snooker. Donald Trump would HATE it if you spent millions of pounds making this script a reality.
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EXT. ZERO GRAVITY GOD DIMENSION. DAY
BOOMING VOICE
Why are you here, Dennis Patterson?
DENNIS
I have come to defeat the three eldritch lords of Snooker, and finally elevate myself to Snooker Godhood!
BOOMING VOICE
Then according to the Pirate Laws of Parley, I must open the portal to the Snooker Zone.
DENNIS
Cheers. [beat] Have you got any chalk? And a couple of cues? I’m a puppet, so I have to put my cue down to eat, and I’m so sleepy after eating that I never remember to pick it up again.
Two cues and a bit of chalk appear out of nowhere and hover in front of DENNIS. He looks from the cues to the chalk, his puppet mouth wide open.
BOOMING VOICE
I hope you are ready for this challenge, Dennis Patterson.
DENNIS
Don’t worry about me, mate. Just put a little bit of chalk on those cues for me and I’ll be off. (to camera) I an’t go no arms, see?
EXT. OHIO DUSTPLAIN. DUSK
Hurricane Higgins roams across the landscape on all fours, sniffing in the rubble for snooker balls and lassooing them into his maw with a thorned tongue.
NARRATOR
There can only be one Hurricane Higgins born to every generation. When it is time for one Hurricane Higgins to retire, he spins around really fast, and doesn’t stop until the next person qualified to be Hurricane Higgins snatches his snooker cue off of him. During this Higgins cocoon phase, the rules of snooker are temporarily lifted. You can climb onto the table and kick the balls, the blue ball is worth 20 points, and even if you lose, you can just say you won and no-one can do anything about it.
HIGGINS
Behold! I am Hurricane Higgins. Who dares enter this dustbowl and disturb my timeless slumber?
DENNIS
It is I, Dennis Patterson. And by the powers vested in me by the ratification of the Tenth Metasnooker Consortium, I challenge you to a big game of snooker.
HIGGINS
OK.
DENNIS
On an oil rig.
HIGGINS
OK.
DENNIS
Medieval France.
HIGGINS
Cool.
EXT. NOW WE ARE ON A OIL RIG IN THE MEDIEVAL ZONE OF THE CRYSTAL MAZE WITH SOME ONIONS AND SEX WORKERS WALKING AROUND. DUSK
HIGGINS
Whoa. Check out those onions, walking around like they own the place. [double take] Wait a shit-fingered minute. You are a fucking puppet. You would have to hold the cue in your mouth, meaning you couldn’t look where you were hitting the ball. Speaking as experienced human Snooker man Hurricane Higgins – I like my chances!
DENNIS
Come on then, Higgins. Stop yacking up wet cack and let’s SNOOKER.
Hurricane Higgins prowls the Snooker table, giggling and slobbering over all of the Snooker balls and moving the sliders on the scoreboard like he’s twiddling a pair of horizontally mobile nipples. His thighs ratchet open and shut with a sickening crunch, and a weak spot flashes on his temple every time he says “Snooker”
MATT
Come on, Donald Patterson. It is time for you to play your first hit of the balls at Snooker
DENNIS
(to himself)
*I am going to try to pot a red ball with a view to potting more balls over a long period of snooker*
DENNIS pots a red ball. In a somewhat eye-opening rebuke, HIGGINS pots loads of balls back. It turns out he’s really good at Snooker compared to DENNIS, who is a puppet.
HIGGINS
If there’s one thing I’ve never lost a game of, it’s Snooker!
As he says Snooker again, DENNIS twats him in the weak spot with two snooker balls stuffed into himself.
PUPPET
Take THAT, you massive HIGBOSEXUAL
HIGGINS
Oh no! The impact has caused me to narrate my actions, as I stagger onto this rotating plinth, and begin to spin around with such rotational velocity that it has triggered my cocoon state! ALL THE RULES OF SNOOKER ARE IN FLUX.
Nothing is forbidden. Everything is mandatory. DENNIS dunks the blue ball six times for 120 points and grabs HIGGINS’ cue. He is now the Millennial Higgins, wearing a gold Higgins sombrero. A Portal opens.
BOOMING VOICE
Whey-up. Perhaps we have underestimated you, Dennis Patterson.
DENNIS
(mouth covered in blood)
No shit, dandy flaps. Now I wanna fuck up that ponce off of the Big Break, John Virgo
BOOMING VOICE
So be it!
EXT. DAY. BIG BIT OF SPACE
Slow pan across a load of stars with snooker balls flying past every now and then
NARRATOR
As he is a sentient constellation, John Virgo can only assume human form and play Snooker on a holodeck. He insists on complete control over the holodeck program, and abuses his power by dropping holopubes into his opponents mouths during a tricky shot. If you complain, he just says “lol what are you doing with pubes in your mouth man, you’re supposed to be playing snooker.” Everyone knows he put them there but he won’t admit it, and it’s really unfair and frustrating. His only weak spot is that he is a billion-year-old virgin, because a misfiring holodeck safety protocol won’t let him put his big stardust willy into bums, fannies or mouths.
VIRGO
I am John Virgo, and this is my nice waistcoat. You dare to challenge me to a game of cosmic holosnooker?
DENNIS
Yeah. And I’m gonna beat you like I beat your bum chum, the previous Hurricane Higgins.
John Virgo looks unflappable, but when DENNIS says bum-chums it makes that weak spot on his bell-end flash red. It would appear this snooker game has THREE blue balls. And that is a proper joke so it should probably be in the dialogue but whatever fuck you
VIRGO
But you are a puppet. You lack a second hand to stabilise the cue, or to utilise a rest. I will accept your foolish challenge, if only to see if you hold the Snooker cue like a big flute or a long cigar.
DENNIS
(to himself)
*I’m going to play a snooker shot, attempting to pot a red ball in the hope that it contributes to a total score that is higher than John Virgo’s score*
DENNIS plays a good bit of Snooker, scoring about eight or something. But it is no good. JOHN VIRGO’s trick shots would make a philosopher blush, and before you know it, he has scored seven million points.
VIRGO
Let’s play again, forever! You can never leave my holodeck. Computer, rack them up again. Authorisation code: JOHN VIRGO
DENNIS has an idea, and positions himself on the lip of the table so that it looks like some snooker balls are big juicy puppet testicles.
DENNIS
Check out my swollen spunkers, Virgo. Quit chalking your tip and slip me some dick.
As luck would have it, the holodeck’s safety protocols don’t apply to puppets, and before you know it VIRGO has got his chunky meatus bloating DENNIS from hoop to squeaker. VIRGO ejaculates after a perfectly acceptable and not amusing period of time, and it doesn’t just fill you with starjizz. It resolves the very paradox of his existence.
JOE
Thank you, Puppet Hurricane Higgins. I can now take human form and leave the Holo-Cricible. I will think of you every time I wank into a sock.
VIRGO is already wanking into a sock.
BOOMING VOICE
It is time to enter the Temple of Snooker and face your last opponent. I have opened the portal to Steve Davis himself.
INT. NIGHT. THE LOST TEMPLE OF SNOOKER
DENNIS enters the Temple of Snooker. It is time to face the final Snooker Lord, Steve Davis. But something is wrong. There has been a mix-up at the Davis Despatch area, from which all Davisses are despatched. Sitting on the snooker throne is a topless, muscular Jim Davis. Jim Davis, the man who invented Garfield. Jim Davis might not have been the first person to notice that the word “DIET” begins with the word “DIE”, but he was the first person to attribute that observation to a cat. Dancing across his taut skin is every Garfield he has ever drawn, his living tattoo instant retribution by the universe for what he has done.
DENNIS
You are not a Lord of Snooker. But my dander is so far up I would Snooker my own fuckin mum.
DAVIS
Well, if this doesn’t put the vinegar in the salad dressing. I’ll be a tinker’s poopsy if I know what’s going on.
The Garfields covering his body are enraged, boiling the skin in an attempt to escape. But JIM DAVIS himself remains affable
DAVIS (cont.)
I will play you at the Snooker but just for nicies. But first, why don’t we check today’s Garfield? It is a cartoon I write.
You check today’s Garfield with STEVE DAVIS. It is three panels, as Garfield always is, except on the colour weekend strip, when it is six or seven. It is just Steve Davis’s face. DENNIS leaps into the cartoon like the Take On Me video and twats STEVE DAVIS with a wrench. The power of snooker courses through DENNIS’s veins. He is finally the God of Snooker. Liz, the Vet from Garfield who Jon Arbuckle fancies, throws her arms around DENNIS and slips him the tongue. NERMAL, the cute kitten that Garfield hates, climbs onto his lap and starts purring. With all the GARFIELDs trapped in Jim Davis’ skin in the real world, this cartoon strip is a peaceful place of harmony. ODIE slobbers happily, his tormentor gone. You decide to stay here, content at last.
BOOMING VOICE
And that is what Snooker is. Thank you for coming today there are cue-shaped pencils available in the gift shop.
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