h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

LEAD IN SHOT:

Finnish coastline just south of Merikarvia. Damaged Swedish cargo ship, foremast shattered, still in the water, as heavily cannoned man o' war turns about.

Zoom in to pirate leader, Captain Dolph Finn.

Finn is standing at ship's wheel. In his hands, an Ibanez guitar, shaped like a two-headed battle axe.

ECU on Finn. Takes plectrum from his beard and grins handsomely.

Power chord in G Major as cannons fire.

Roll Titles and Theme Track.

*In Like Finn* starring Henry E. Letterbox.

A FWR/Steve Swann Production.

SMOKE ON THE WATER.


Bamm. Bamm. Bamm.
Bamm. Bamm. Bamm barraarmmm.Twang. Screech.

Henry cursed as his buttery fingers slipped off the string for the umpteenth time that day. Cursng the guitar, he threw the expensive instrument down and stomped off to get yet another crumpet.

Three weeks he'd had the bleedin' thing and he still couldn't get his fingers to play more than the first seven notes - even on the one string!

Why Swann couldn't just overlay the track was beyond him, but no, Steve bleedin' pothead Swann insisted that Letterbox play the opening track live as he steered the ship to the opening scene's carnage.

Blackmore would be spinning in his grave (if he was actually dead - which he very much wasn't) listening to his painful attempts at the Purple classic.

What made it worse was the four leather cladded musicians who were currently rolling around on the sound stage floor, screaming with laughter and insulting him in Khalkha.

Why there would be a Mongolian crew on a supposedly Finnish pirate ship was beyond him, but the production team were keen to attract a new audience and Tanyeg were the hottest Mongolian thrash metal band in… Well, Erm, Mongolia.

....

And again

WELCOME TO MY NIGHT MARE.

Dolph stood on the deck, throwing out trinkets to his Mongolian crew.

Flagons of airag were being consumed at an alarming rate, even for those of a piratey nature, the night air was thick with the sour stench of fermented mare's milk.

The crew (for no fathomable reason) were suddenly bathed in blue light, and, even more tenuously, had suddenly acquired all the instruments of a heavy metal band.

Power chords roared as the band launched into full riff.

*Night air, night mare.
Night mare milk.
Airag stains on Chinese silk.

Ghengis, Kublai
Warrior stock.
All out war
Makes Xanadu rock!

Night mare, night mare
Need more buuz…*

*Stop! Stop, dung stop, stop, CUT!*

Swann was furious that the Mongolian band's manager had halted the shot, even more furious as it was the fifth time that morning!

Did the pratt not appreciate how expensive this set was? Two ships, the pyro, the costuming, Henry's freakin guitar?

*OK Erm Batkua., Batkahoo… Look, dude, what's the deal now?*

Batkhuu took another deep draw on one of Swann's primo joints, blowing smoke in perfect triangles.

*The song, the words, they are dung!*

*Look it's freakin heavy rock, not freakin opera man, just let me do my thing and you have another smoke, good, yes?*

*Not booze - buuz. Not airag - pah! Your stupid English words make no sense, your song…your thing.. Is dung!*

*Look Bat… Erm. .. Look… guy, I've got 200 grand in boats sitting there, let me do the scene and we can overdub whatever lyrics you want AFTER we wrap, OK?*

*You wrap dung! I take band, Tanyeg no play this dung song!*

Swann watched as the hairy, leather and denim horde marched off-set, probably to go find a freakin horse to milk.

*Probs, me old mucker?* beamed Letterbox through a mouthful of fake beard and crumpet.

*Never, Henry, never work with children, animals or freakin Mongolian metalheads!*

*Oh come on Steve, those bleedin Mongrels were cool mate, Oomoomumoo was teaching me chords an stuff, go get em back or I bleedin walk too!*

Swabb was soooo tempted… but instead lit another doob and trotted off after the hairy horde.

*Welcome to my freakin nightmare indeed dude!*

She was only a farmer's daughter, but all the horse manure (horsemen knew 'er).....

I'm enjoying this immensely already .

As for comparing heavy metal to opera, I think there's a lot to compare. Both genres allow people to have a larger than life experience.

666 - THE FUMBLING OF THE BEAST.

*Is very simple Henry. E,E,E….E,E...E,E..6,6,6...6,6..6,6….see?*

Letterbox slid his buttery fingers over the frets, the Ibanez bellowed reverb through the huge speakers, making the trailer vibrate to the music.

Music!

Henry bleedin Letterbox was making music! (Ok, it was all on the one string, but it sounded bleedin awesome!)

*So, open E, Henry, then 0--3--5--0--3--7--5--0--3--5--3--0--! Then I teach Henry chords. Easy cheesy!*

Henry's brain just refused to link numbers to frets and fingers, the speakers shrieked, as, once again, he totally fumbled the simple sequence.

The Mongolians cheered and splashed their horse milk all over the furniture as Henry threw the very expensive guitar through the trailer's window.

*Yeah! Go Henry! Rock and Roll man!*

Henry stormed outside as the band effortlessly broke into a deafeningly perfect metal riff that perfectly matched his beastly mood.

*Bleedin Mongrel showoffs!"



HIGHWAY TO HELSINKI.


The man o' war sailed into the port. Katajanokka echoed with the road of cannon and the clash of steel.

Captain Finn stood proudly at the helm, surveying the devastation his crew had visited upon the Finnish naval fleet.

The Mongols amused themselves, betting flagons of airag on how many survivors they could shoot with their longbows.

The harbour turned red as the sailors were picked off in the water, each arrow striking with deadly accuracy, despite the now hopelessly drunken state of the pirates.

*Drink well me hearties!* Finn bellowed, *At dawn we ride to the capitol!*

More cheers and horse milk guzzling greeted his words.

*Tomorrow we will all be filthy rich! Dripping in Finnish gold and with the Princess as our guest!*

The cheering reached fever pitch.

*We leave the ship at firstlight, then take the Highway to Helsinki!*

Once again, the drunken, arrow shooting crew, rather mysteriously held guitars, as the lights came up and the opening chords roared out.

*And cut, end scene, reset for sound! Cool job guys, very cool!*

The sign of a good writer is being able to write cringeworthy lyrics. I am grinning from ear to ear and back again at this story. Was even singing along to the number sequence!

HEAVY METAL PLUNDER.

Swann was sweating, despite the chill Scandinavian air, as the three armoured trucks left the lot.

On the soundstage Henry Letterbox sat atop a very large pile of gold bars.
A jewelled crown jauntily perched on his shaggy head, and his buttery fingers held a small mountain of diamonds.

*Now this, Steve me dear, is something I could bleedin get used to!*

*Please Henry, put the props down, you're sitting on freaking millions of dollars dude. Once the plunder scene's shot, it's all,* He purposefully eyed the ruby necklace poking out of Henry's pocket, *And I mean all, going back to the Finnish Treasury!*

*Bleedin nice of them to lend us the Crown Jewels just for a bleedin music flick! These Finns are such laid back dudes, love em!*

*These laid back dudes, dude, have insisted on a 75 mil insurance policy for the privilege, so get down dude, and let's get this lot picked away?*

Henry reluctantly put the shiny things down, and clambered off the Gilt mountain.

*All that bling's made me hungry, fancy a crumpet or three mucker?*

Swann grimaced as he lit a joint and carefully locked up.

In the shadows, several hairy, leather clad musicians whispered excitedly as they watched the stupid movie guys leave.

SABBATH BLEEDIN SABBATH.

Finn stood proudly, axe guitar in his hands, as the door to the palace vaults fell before his mighty blows.

They had been fortunate indeed, the midsummer festival of Juhannus had fallen the previous day, and now, on the Sabbath, most of the Finnish Royal Guard, were still in bed nursing very nasty Koskenkorva hangovers.

What few Guards remaining were swiftly and violently dispatched by the Mongol horde.

Dolph stepped over the crimson pools on the ornate tiles, into the huge vault.

Cheers and horse milk welcomed the view.

Mountains of gold, jewels and coins greeted the pirates.

*Captain Finn, you truly is magnificent leader!* One of the Mongols congratulated him with a heavy clap on his broad shoulders.

Dolph smiled handsomely, *This Sabbath, this very bloody Sabbath, will see us all rich as Kings, my hairy shipmate, now take your fill of booty, for your beloved skipper has one more call to make, time to call upon the fair Princess!*

The crew greedily fell about the booty, as Captain Flinn sauntered out to make his own booty call

BASS OF SPADES.

Henry Letterbox was puzzled. He knew musicians were prone to be a little eccentric. New that rock stars tended to be a little more so. Suspected that thrash metal Mongolian horse milk chugging bands may just take eccentricity to another level. But this?

The beautifully black, gorgeously weighty but sleek, gobsmackingly heavy Lakland bass (Geezer's bass no less) was a sticky, stinking, muddy mess.

*Why?* was the only obvious question.

The Mongolian bass player grinned, spilling a white fountain of horse milk alcohol down his beards.

*We need shovel. We have no shovel. We have bass. I use bass!* he grinned again as though this explained everything.

*That doesn't bleedin explain anything!*

*We?* Motioning to the band.
*Need?*
He paused searching for the English word, miming digging.
*Spade!? Yes spade! No spade… So Tanyeg use bass. Good bass!*

*Why use bass, good bleedin bass to dig?*

Tanyeg shrugged as one.

*Need to bury stuff!*

Henry knew he was not going to get any bleedin further with these freaks and left to find a crumpet instead.

ARE WE HAVING FINN YET?

Captain Finn took the hands of his Princess, gazing lovingly into her eyes.

*Oh Dolph, how can I ever thank you for taking me away from that boring Palace and giving me all this?*

She gestured with her beautifully ringed fingers to the overladen decks of the man o' war, and the hairy drunken crew.

*Just doing my job ma'am* Dolph smiled and leaned in for the kiss, as the credits rolled and the closing power ballad boomed out.

*And that, my good friends, is a wrap! Perfect shot Henry, good job dudes and dudettes!* Swann was already counting the box office takings as the clear up crew performed the final tasks on set.

That evening the set was dismantled, the props and staging packed up for return. Steve even gave the members of Tanyeg a hug and some of his primo weed for the long ride home as they boarded the tour bus, axles and suspension groaning as the bus pulled away.

*Many gift for family!* was the only explanation shouted back at him as he pointed to the compressed suspension.

Drinks (and crumpets) with Letterbox, then the rushes were sent off for post production. Steve was a very chilled dude.

His first movie without any (OK, without much) blood and gore, and a promising line in soundtrack revenue and merch.

He lit the special joint he'd been saving and sat back at his desk, what a great day!

Three hours later and Swann's hopes, dreams and chilledness were shattered.

These five words in his head, screamed…

Where was the bleedin gold?

Any moviemaker dumb enough not to use fake gold as props deserves the consequences.

Which begs the question: Is this the director's Swann song?

(A really great last line, by the way. )