The DeNiro Code
Jan. 7th, 2006 12:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tealinI was originally going to save this until the movie came out, but it's just too funny.
(May not be appropriate for sensitive people under the age of 10)
THE DENIRO CODE
by 'Dave Black'
(actually Danny Robbins and Dan Tetsell, transcribed by me for the benefit of those who didn't get to hear it on Radio 4)
OLD MAN: [groaning and gasping]
NARRATOR: Chapter One. Respected film historian Claude Renoir slumped through the doorway of the National Film Theatre in London, Britain. Outside, the lights of the South Bank glistened as they had done since the time of King Albert the Great. Pausing only to pull the beret from his head and extinguish the Gauloise cigarette, the elderly grey-haired seventy-four-year-old octogenerian Frenchman fell to the ground.
OLD MAN: Zey shot me! [gasp] Je suis mal à la tête!
NARRATOR: Renoir reached out desperately with his fingerful hands for the door's security mechanism. A mere three feet away but now sealed off by the NFT's glass door loomed the shadow of Renoir's assailant - an albino midget in a stovepipe hat.
[tapping on glass]
ALBINO MIDGET: [in a Mickey Mouse-like voice, muffled by glass] Oi! I'm gonna get you!
NARRATOR: Feeling his life's blood burping out through the bullet wound in his heart, Renoir knew he did not have long. He could not save himself, but he could still pass on a secret. A secret he had never told anyone. Something which now, in hindsight, seemed rather bad planning. Pulling himself to his French knees, he began to shave his head.
[razor buzz]
NARRATOR: Chapter Two. [aside] Already? Yeah, they're short chapters, get used to it.
JACK BRANDON: So, any questions?
NARRATOR: Jack Brandon looked about him at the eager faces of the students. He was honoured to have been asked to give the annual Barry Norman Memorial Lecture here at Oxbridge University's filmography department.
FEMALE STUDENT: Sorry, are you really saying that the character of Hightower from the Police Academy films is an allegorical portrait of John the Baptist?
JACK: Yes I am. I think if you look at the whole of the Police Academy oeuvre, from Their First Assignment to their Mission to Moscow, everything is a Grail allegory in the Judeo-Christian idiom.
STUDENTS: [astonished and amazed appreciative chuckling]
JACK: For instance, numeranumeronologically, how many people were present at the Last Supper?
FEMALE STUDENT: Thirteen?
JACK: And how many Police Academy films were there?
FEMALE STUDENT: Seven.
JACK: Okay, so, it doesn't work. But the most important thing to remember about the Police Academy films is ... they're very funny.
STUDENTS: [appreciative chuckling and applause]
NARRATOR: As Brandon left the stage, he was surprised to see a London bobby waiting for him. With his traditional red coat, broad brimmed black hat, and ceremonial halberd – or is that a Beefeater?
BOBBY: Mr. Brandon, if you'd follow me, uh ... we need your help. The curator of the National Film Theatre has been shot in the heart.
JACK: Is he dead?
BOBBY: It's too early to tell, sir. Though he has stopped breathing.
NARRATOR: Chapter Three. [sirens in background] As Brandon sped through the streets of London in the back of a London police car, he began reading to pass the time. It was the sort of book he liked: lots of action and very short chapters.
Chapter Four. The tiny white-skinned red-eyed short small midget albino named Joshua was in the headquarters of the infamous hard-line ultra-conservative Quaker sect Oatus Quake, infamously infamous for its doctrine of corporal mortification, which also included the use of very tight stovepipe hats. Now hitting himself with a ruler, he felt excitement at the idea that soon, the Master would reveal the next stage of his mission.
[smack]
JOSHUA: [in the same voice as before] Hohohoho, that smarts!
MASTER: Well done, Joshua. What have I always said to you? If you want to be the best, if you want to beat the rest...
JOSHUA: Flagellation's what you need.
NARRATOR: Chapter Five. National Film Theatre. Brandon walked around the bizarre scene, trying to take it in. In the middle of the NFT foyer, the body of esteemed curator Claude Renoir lay spread out in the horrifying rictus of violent death.
JACK: The Mohican ... the shape his body's arranged in ... it's a message.
NARRATOR: Curiously, before he had died, Renoir had found time to clutch on with his dying Gallic hands to two objects that now held Brandon's rugged attention.
BOBBY: They're DVD boxes, sir. That's why we called you. The Captain felt sure there were filmography implications.
JACK: Damn right. Has anyone played these DVDs yet?
BOBBY: No, sir, they're Region 1. We keep meaning to get a multi-region player, but ... what with the murders and everything, we just haven't had time to get down to Dixon's. You're currently the only man in the country with the multi-region knowledge necessary to decipher this mystery.
NARRATOR: Brandon looked again at the films clutched in the dead man's hands.
JACK: Gangster psychotherapy comedy Analyze This, and its equally humourous sequel Analyze That. He's trying to tell us something ... but what?
[footsteps]
NARRATOR: Brandon looked up. Walking towards him through the police cordon was a beautiful auburn-haired vision of feminine perfection. From her walk, Brandon could instantly tell she was French.
SYLVIE PONTNEUF: Bon soir, monsieur Brandon. Je m'apelle Sylvie Pontneuf. Je suis from the Metropolitan Police Cryptology Department.
BOBBY: We've got a cryptology department?
SYLVIE: Yes.
BOBBY: What for?
SYLVIE: Um ... codes and that. And we do ze crossword in ze staff newsletter.
BOBBY: Hm, fair enough.
SYLVIE: Monsieur Brandon, Claude Renoir was my grandfather.
JACK: That's quite a coincidence.
SYLVIE: Not really. My mozzer was his daughter. M'sieur, my grandfather was another great admirer of your work. Before he died, he was reading your treatise on the numeralological significance of the Pink Panthère films.
JACK: Yes! That the number of the Pink Panther films, six, exactly equals the number of people present at the Last Supper! ... Oh. Doesn't work.
BOBBY: Miss, apart from coincidence, what's brought you down here this evening?
SYLVIE: Why, to cryptologically crack ... this.
NARRATOR: Sylvie's long Gallic fingers pointed to the floor next to her dead grandfather's feet. Spelled out in his own blood, Renoir had written the words –
JACK: The milfs of Robert Nediro. What does it mean?
SYLVIE: [slowly] The milfs of Robert Nediro ...
JACK: Who is Robert Nediro?
SYLVIE: What's a ... milf?
NARRATOR: Suddenly, Brandon had an idear.
JACK: The words the milfs of Robert Nediro isn't just an everyday phrase; it's actually an anagram.
BOBBY: What is it an anagram of, sir?
JACK: Well if you take the letters of the word milfs and rearrange them, you get ...
SYLVIE: [slowly] Films.
JACK: That's right, Sylvie. What Claude Renoir was trying to point us towards weren't the milfs of Robert Nediro, but instead, the films of Robert Nediro. Now we just need to find out who Robert Nediro is!
SYLVIE: Hang on une moment, couldn't Robert Nediro be an anagramme too?
NARRATOR: Brandon't brilliant filmographololololologolist brain went to work.
JACK: [under his breath] Move that there ... carry the two ...
BOBBY: Could it be Robert DeNiro, sir?
JACK: Please, officer, I'm trying to think.
BOBBY: Well it's just that he's shaved his head to look like a character played by Robert DeNiro, he was holding two films starring Robert DeNiro, and he was the world expert on everything to do with Robert DeNiro, I'm just thinking that maybe Robert Nediro is an anagram of Robert DeNiro.
JACK: It's Robert DeNiro.
SYLVIE: Bravo, Jack!
NARRATOR: It was suddenly as clear as the pregnancy test that had ended his stint as a pastoral care tutor at Hale University. Robert Nediro was a perfect anagram of Robert DeNiro.
Chapter Six. Hey, that's about a chapter a page, so far ... I'm obviously not including the preface page, where I thanks my wife and tell you that all events in this book are based on truth.
JACK: Number One, The Priory, Beefeaters Square - Yep, this is where he lives.
[knocks]
SYLVIE: Why have we come to see this ... Sir Ronald Teabag?
JACK: Sir Ronald knows more about the films of Robert DeNiro than any man alive, particularly since your grandfather was brutally murdered.
SYLVIE: [hurt] Ooh!
JACK: Sorry. That was tactless.
[door opens]
SIR RONALD: Jack, old bean, my God, I say, what what, eh?
SYLVIE: [softly, to Jack] Why does he speak like that?
JACK: [softly, to Sylvie] Because he's English. [to Sir Ronald] Sir Ronald, we urgently need your help. Can we come in?
SIR RONALD: But of course! My pleasure! I'll get my butler to make us some tea. You'll have it with a boiled egg, won't you, and some ham floating on the surface?
NARRATOR: Chapter Seven.
SIR RONALD: [wheeze, hack, laboured footsteps]
NARRATOR: Esteemed Royal Film Historian Sir Ronald led Jack and Sylvie into his study. His age, asthma, wooden legs, and distinctive way of talking pretty much rule him out as the villain. It would be ridiculous. There's no way it could work. Well, we'll see ... if I get to the end of the book and there's no one else, maybe I can swing it.
SIR RONALD: So! Jack old fruit, explain to me in great detail why exactly you're here.
NARRATOR: Chapter Eight. Slightly later, a different room.
SIR RONALD: What a fascinating, full explanation, Jack.
JACK: Thank you.
SIR RONALD: I want to show Sylvie why her grandfather was such a clever man, before he was brutally shot in the heart.
SYLVIE: [affronted] Ooh!
SIR RONALD: Sorry, sorry. Now, what do you think this is, my dear?
SYLVIE: It's a ... film postère, of Goodfellas. Stuck to the wall, with blue tack.
SIR RONALD: Yes, I have to be careful taking it down, or the landlord will keep my deposit. Would you be so kind as to tell me how many people are on the Goodfellas poster?
SYLVIE: It's four. Robert DeNiro, obviously, Ray Liotta, Joe Pesci, and zat ozer one, he played Pauly, he was in ah ... oh, what else was he in ...
SIR RONALD: Paul Sorvino.
SYLVIE: That's him.
JACK: And how many people were at the Last Supper?
SYLVIE & SIR RONALD: Thirteen.
JACK: Damn, it never works!
SIR RONALD: Look closely, dear ... are you sure there's no one else in the poster?
SYLVIE: Of course! ... oohhhh ... Zere's a woman, as well! I can't believe I've never noticed her before!
SIR RONALD: You wouldn't have. I drew her on in byro. But I did it to prove a point. You see, Sylvie, the thing about Robert DeNiro is that all his films contain a message that Jesus Christ ... was actually ... a woman.
[music crescendo]
JACK: Sylvie, it's my belief that your grandfather was part of a secret society. Have you ever heard of ... The Ambulance of St John?
SYLVIE: The ... Ambulance of St John.
JACK: They are dedicated to protecting the secret of Christ's true identity - and also helping people if they feel unwell at sporting events and air shows.
SYLVIE: It's funny, now you mention it, grandpère was very good at First Aid.
[a rattling]
JOSHUA (the midget albino, remember?): Hold it right there! Nobody move!
SIR RONALD: F. Scott Fitzgerald! – It's a midget with a gun!
JOSHUA: Hand it over!
SYLVIE: Hand what over?
JOSHUA: You know.
SIR RONALD: Sylvie, we don't have long, and there's still a lot of explanation to get through before we escape. The secret that your grandfather died so horribly to protect, it's not just words ... it's an object, so venerated and so elusive that many have believed it to be a fantasy, a myth! I am talking, of course, about ... [prompting Jack] Jack ...
JACK: The director's cut of Taxi Driver! There's an extra half-hour of footage on the bonus disc, Sylvie, and it's there that filmographers like Sir Ronald and me believe the Ambulance of St John have stored a secret.
SYLVIE: Une DVD of Taxi Drivère? But my grandfazzer had one of those! It was under /té/ on his shelf!
SIR RONALD: Ingenious!
JACK: It is my belief that the DVD will include the shocking truth that Jesus Christ had a child! A girl.
SYLVIE: And you sink zat girl ... is me?
JACK: No! That child would have been born about two thousand years ago! But that child could have had a child, and that child could have had a child, so that the bloodline continued up until the present female descendent.
SYLVIE: And you sink zat is me?
JACK: No! That'd be way too obvious. I mean, fair enough, you're the only woman in the book, but still...
NARRATOR: There was no time to ponder further, because it's the end of Chapter Eight, and that can only mean one thing: Chapter Nine.
[sirens]
NARRATOR: Yes, the police have arrived, just to keep things pacey.
JACK: Damn! I bet they suspect me of murdering your grandfather, Sylvie. This always happens.
POLICEMAN: Come on, we know you're in there! We have a warrant for your arrest, signed by the Duke of Edinburgh himself!
SIR RONALD: [whispering] Quick, out the back; I'll distract the midget. [louder] I say, you, little fella!
JOSHUA: Yeah?
SIR RONALD: We do have the DVD you're after.
JOSHUA: Where is it?
SIR RONALD: On that very high shelf!
JOSHUA: [struggling] Ohh ... can't ... quite ... reach!
SIR RONALD: To my Bentley!
[magical harp strum]
NARRATOR: Chapter Ten.
SYLVIE: So what are we going to do now?
JACK: We need to go to Paris and find your grandfather's hidden DVD collection. And then there's the whole thing about finding out who the shadowy mastermind behind all this is!
SIR RONALD: Not me.
JACK: [laughs] Of course not, Sir Ronald. That would be ridiculous. Are you all right, Sylvie?
SYLVIE: I was just sinking about my grandfathère ... how he managed to keep secret the identité of Jesus Christ's descendants, and raise me on his own after my parents, Mr and Mrs J. Christ, were killed in that mysterious crucifixion accident.
JACK: Hang on, Sylvie – how many parents did you have?
SYLVIE: Mm, two?
JACK: And how many people were at the Last Supper?
SYLVIE: Oh, zut alors.
NARRATOR: As Sylvie pretended to sleep, and Sir Ronald made a mysterious hushed call into his mobile –
SIR RONALD: [sotto voce] Listen, you bloody midget, we're on our way to Paris...
NARRATOR: – Jack Brandon realized that he was on the biggest adventure of his life. Certainly bigger than his previous adventure, The Chevy Chase. That adventure hadn't sold so well as this one, but hopefully the rerelease would more than make up for that. People liked The DeNiro Code, and perhaps that was the biggest mystery of all.
And, coming this spring from Warner Books ... The Tie-Ins Have Gone Too Far!
(May not be appropriate for sensitive people under the age of 10)
THE DENIRO CODE
by 'Dave Black'
(actually Danny Robbins and Dan Tetsell, transcribed by me for the benefit of those who didn't get to hear it on Radio 4)
OLD MAN: [groaning and gasping]
NARRATOR: Chapter One. Respected film historian Claude Renoir slumped through the doorway of the National Film Theatre in London, Britain. Outside, the lights of the South Bank glistened as they had done since the time of King Albert the Great. Pausing only to pull the beret from his head and extinguish the Gauloise cigarette, the elderly grey-haired seventy-four-year-old octogenerian Frenchman fell to the ground.
OLD MAN: Zey shot me! [gasp] Je suis mal à la tête!
NARRATOR: Renoir reached out desperately with his fingerful hands for the door's security mechanism. A mere three feet away but now sealed off by the NFT's glass door loomed the shadow of Renoir's assailant - an albino midget in a stovepipe hat.
[tapping on glass]
ALBINO MIDGET: [in a Mickey Mouse-like voice, muffled by glass] Oi! I'm gonna get you!
NARRATOR: Feeling his life's blood burping out through the bullet wound in his heart, Renoir knew he did not have long. He could not save himself, but he could still pass on a secret. A secret he had never told anyone. Something which now, in hindsight, seemed rather bad planning. Pulling himself to his French knees, he began to shave his head.
[razor buzz]
NARRATOR: Chapter Two. [aside] Already? Yeah, they're short chapters, get used to it.
JACK BRANDON: So, any questions?
NARRATOR: Jack Brandon looked about him at the eager faces of the students. He was honoured to have been asked to give the annual Barry Norman Memorial Lecture here at Oxbridge University's filmography department.
FEMALE STUDENT: Sorry, are you really saying that the character of Hightower from the Police Academy films is an allegorical portrait of John the Baptist?
JACK: Yes I am. I think if you look at the whole of the Police Academy oeuvre, from Their First Assignment to their Mission to Moscow, everything is a Grail allegory in the Judeo-Christian idiom.
STUDENTS: [astonished and amazed appreciative chuckling]
JACK: For instance, numeranumeronologically, how many people were present at the Last Supper?
FEMALE STUDENT: Thirteen?
JACK: And how many Police Academy films were there?
FEMALE STUDENT: Seven.
JACK: Okay, so, it doesn't work. But the most important thing to remember about the Police Academy films is ... they're very funny.
STUDENTS: [appreciative chuckling and applause]
NARRATOR: As Brandon left the stage, he was surprised to see a London bobby waiting for him. With his traditional red coat, broad brimmed black hat, and ceremonial halberd – or is that a Beefeater?
BOBBY: Mr. Brandon, if you'd follow me, uh ... we need your help. The curator of the National Film Theatre has been shot in the heart.
JACK: Is he dead?
BOBBY: It's too early to tell, sir. Though he has stopped breathing.
NARRATOR: Chapter Three. [sirens in background] As Brandon sped through the streets of London in the back of a London police car, he began reading to pass the time. It was the sort of book he liked: lots of action and very short chapters.
Chapter Four. The tiny white-skinned red-eyed short small midget albino named Joshua was in the headquarters of the infamous hard-line ultra-conservative Quaker sect Oatus Quake, infamously infamous for its doctrine of corporal mortification, which also included the use of very tight stovepipe hats. Now hitting himself with a ruler, he felt excitement at the idea that soon, the Master would reveal the next stage of his mission.
[smack]
JOSHUA: [in the same voice as before] Hohohoho, that smarts!
MASTER: Well done, Joshua. What have I always said to you? If you want to be the best, if you want to beat the rest...
JOSHUA: Flagellation's what you need.
NARRATOR: Chapter Five. National Film Theatre. Brandon walked around the bizarre scene, trying to take it in. In the middle of the NFT foyer, the body of esteemed curator Claude Renoir lay spread out in the horrifying rictus of violent death.
JACK: The Mohican ... the shape his body's arranged in ... it's a message.
NARRATOR: Curiously, before he had died, Renoir had found time to clutch on with his dying Gallic hands to two objects that now held Brandon's rugged attention.
BOBBY: They're DVD boxes, sir. That's why we called you. The Captain felt sure there were filmography implications.
JACK: Damn right. Has anyone played these DVDs yet?
BOBBY: No, sir, they're Region 1. We keep meaning to get a multi-region player, but ... what with the murders and everything, we just haven't had time to get down to Dixon's. You're currently the only man in the country with the multi-region knowledge necessary to decipher this mystery.
NARRATOR: Brandon looked again at the films clutched in the dead man's hands.
JACK: Gangster psychotherapy comedy Analyze This, and its equally humourous sequel Analyze That. He's trying to tell us something ... but what?
[footsteps]
NARRATOR: Brandon looked up. Walking towards him through the police cordon was a beautiful auburn-haired vision of feminine perfection. From her walk, Brandon could instantly tell she was French.
SYLVIE PONTNEUF: Bon soir, monsieur Brandon. Je m'apelle Sylvie Pontneuf. Je suis from the Metropolitan Police Cryptology Department.
BOBBY: We've got a cryptology department?
SYLVIE: Yes.
BOBBY: What for?
SYLVIE: Um ... codes and that. And we do ze crossword in ze staff newsletter.
BOBBY: Hm, fair enough.
SYLVIE: Monsieur Brandon, Claude Renoir was my grandfather.
JACK: That's quite a coincidence.
SYLVIE: Not really. My mozzer was his daughter. M'sieur, my grandfather was another great admirer of your work. Before he died, he was reading your treatise on the numeralological significance of the Pink Panthère films.
JACK: Yes! That the number of the Pink Panther films, six, exactly equals the number of people present at the Last Supper! ... Oh. Doesn't work.
BOBBY: Miss, apart from coincidence, what's brought you down here this evening?
SYLVIE: Why, to cryptologically crack ... this.
NARRATOR: Sylvie's long Gallic fingers pointed to the floor next to her dead grandfather's feet. Spelled out in his own blood, Renoir had written the words –
JACK: The milfs of Robert Nediro. What does it mean?
SYLVIE: [slowly] The milfs of Robert Nediro ...
JACK: Who is Robert Nediro?
SYLVIE: What's a ... milf?
NARRATOR: Suddenly, Brandon had an idear.
JACK: The words the milfs of Robert Nediro isn't just an everyday phrase; it's actually an anagram.
BOBBY: What is it an anagram of, sir?
JACK: Well if you take the letters of the word milfs and rearrange them, you get ...
SYLVIE: [slowly] Films.
JACK: That's right, Sylvie. What Claude Renoir was trying to point us towards weren't the milfs of Robert Nediro, but instead, the films of Robert Nediro. Now we just need to find out who Robert Nediro is!
SYLVIE: Hang on une moment, couldn't Robert Nediro be an anagramme too?
NARRATOR: Brandon't brilliant filmographololololologolist brain went to work.
JACK: [under his breath] Move that there ... carry the two ...
BOBBY: Could it be Robert DeNiro, sir?
JACK: Please, officer, I'm trying to think.
BOBBY: Well it's just that he's shaved his head to look like a character played by Robert DeNiro, he was holding two films starring Robert DeNiro, and he was the world expert on everything to do with Robert DeNiro, I'm just thinking that maybe Robert Nediro is an anagram of Robert DeNiro.
JACK: It's Robert DeNiro.
SYLVIE: Bravo, Jack!
NARRATOR: It was suddenly as clear as the pregnancy test that had ended his stint as a pastoral care tutor at Hale University. Robert Nediro was a perfect anagram of Robert DeNiro.
Chapter Six. Hey, that's about a chapter a page, so far ... I'm obviously not including the preface page, where I thanks my wife and tell you that all events in this book are based on truth.
JACK: Number One, The Priory, Beefeaters Square - Yep, this is where he lives.
[knocks]
SYLVIE: Why have we come to see this ... Sir Ronald Teabag?
JACK: Sir Ronald knows more about the films of Robert DeNiro than any man alive, particularly since your grandfather was brutally murdered.
SYLVIE: [hurt] Ooh!
JACK: Sorry. That was tactless.
[door opens]
SIR RONALD: Jack, old bean, my God, I say, what what, eh?
SYLVIE: [softly, to Jack] Why does he speak like that?
JACK: [softly, to Sylvie] Because he's English. [to Sir Ronald] Sir Ronald, we urgently need your help. Can we come in?
SIR RONALD: But of course! My pleasure! I'll get my butler to make us some tea. You'll have it with a boiled egg, won't you, and some ham floating on the surface?
NARRATOR: Chapter Seven.
SIR RONALD: [wheeze, hack, laboured footsteps]
NARRATOR: Esteemed Royal Film Historian Sir Ronald led Jack and Sylvie into his study. His age, asthma, wooden legs, and distinctive way of talking pretty much rule him out as the villain. It would be ridiculous. There's no way it could work. Well, we'll see ... if I get to the end of the book and there's no one else, maybe I can swing it.
SIR RONALD: So! Jack old fruit, explain to me in great detail why exactly you're here.
NARRATOR: Chapter Eight. Slightly later, a different room.
SIR RONALD: What a fascinating, full explanation, Jack.
JACK: Thank you.
SIR RONALD: I want to show Sylvie why her grandfather was such a clever man, before he was brutally shot in the heart.
SYLVIE: [affronted] Ooh!
SIR RONALD: Sorry, sorry. Now, what do you think this is, my dear?
SYLVIE: It's a ... film postère, of Goodfellas. Stuck to the wall, with blue tack.
SIR RONALD: Yes, I have to be careful taking it down, or the landlord will keep my deposit. Would you be so kind as to tell me how many people are on the Goodfellas poster?
SYLVIE: It's four. Robert DeNiro, obviously, Ray Liotta, Joe Pesci, and zat ozer one, he played Pauly, he was in ah ... oh, what else was he in ...
SIR RONALD: Paul Sorvino.
SYLVIE: That's him.
JACK: And how many people were at the Last Supper?
SYLVIE & SIR RONALD: Thirteen.
JACK: Damn, it never works!
SIR RONALD: Look closely, dear ... are you sure there's no one else in the poster?
SYLVIE: Of course! ... oohhhh ... Zere's a woman, as well! I can't believe I've never noticed her before!
SIR RONALD: You wouldn't have. I drew her on in byro. But I did it to prove a point. You see, Sylvie, the thing about Robert DeNiro is that all his films contain a message that Jesus Christ ... was actually ... a woman.
[music crescendo]
JACK: Sylvie, it's my belief that your grandfather was part of a secret society. Have you ever heard of ... The Ambulance of St John?
SYLVIE: The ... Ambulance of St John.
JACK: They are dedicated to protecting the secret of Christ's true identity - and also helping people if they feel unwell at sporting events and air shows.
SYLVIE: It's funny, now you mention it, grandpère was very good at First Aid.
[a rattling]
JOSHUA (the midget albino, remember?): Hold it right there! Nobody move!
SIR RONALD: F. Scott Fitzgerald! – It's a midget with a gun!
JOSHUA: Hand it over!
SYLVIE: Hand what over?
JOSHUA: You know.
SIR RONALD: Sylvie, we don't have long, and there's still a lot of explanation to get through before we escape. The secret that your grandfather died so horribly to protect, it's not just words ... it's an object, so venerated and so elusive that many have believed it to be a fantasy, a myth! I am talking, of course, about ... [prompting Jack] Jack ...
JACK: The director's cut of Taxi Driver! There's an extra half-hour of footage on the bonus disc, Sylvie, and it's there that filmographers like Sir Ronald and me believe the Ambulance of St John have stored a secret.
SYLVIE: Une DVD of Taxi Drivère? But my grandfazzer had one of those! It was under /té/ on his shelf!
SIR RONALD: Ingenious!
JACK: It is my belief that the DVD will include the shocking truth that Jesus Christ had a child! A girl.
SYLVIE: And you sink zat girl ... is me?
JACK: No! That child would have been born about two thousand years ago! But that child could have had a child, and that child could have had a child, so that the bloodline continued up until the present female descendent.
SYLVIE: And you sink zat is me?
JACK: No! That'd be way too obvious. I mean, fair enough, you're the only woman in the book, but still...
NARRATOR: There was no time to ponder further, because it's the end of Chapter Eight, and that can only mean one thing: Chapter Nine.
[sirens]
NARRATOR: Yes, the police have arrived, just to keep things pacey.
JACK: Damn! I bet they suspect me of murdering your grandfather, Sylvie. This always happens.
POLICEMAN: Come on, we know you're in there! We have a warrant for your arrest, signed by the Duke of Edinburgh himself!
SIR RONALD: [whispering] Quick, out the back; I'll distract the midget. [louder] I say, you, little fella!
JOSHUA: Yeah?
SIR RONALD: We do have the DVD you're after.
JOSHUA: Where is it?
SIR RONALD: On that very high shelf!
JOSHUA: [struggling] Ohh ... can't ... quite ... reach!
SIR RONALD: To my Bentley!
[magical harp strum]
NARRATOR: Chapter Ten.
SYLVIE: So what are we going to do now?
JACK: We need to go to Paris and find your grandfather's hidden DVD collection. And then there's the whole thing about finding out who the shadowy mastermind behind all this is!
SIR RONALD: Not me.
JACK: [laughs] Of course not, Sir Ronald. That would be ridiculous. Are you all right, Sylvie?
SYLVIE: I was just sinking about my grandfathère ... how he managed to keep secret the identité of Jesus Christ's descendants, and raise me on his own after my parents, Mr and Mrs J. Christ, were killed in that mysterious crucifixion accident.
JACK: Hang on, Sylvie – how many parents did you have?
SYLVIE: Mm, two?
JACK: And how many people were at the Last Supper?
SYLVIE: Oh, zut alors.
NARRATOR: As Sylvie pretended to sleep, and Sir Ronald made a mysterious hushed call into his mobile –
SIR RONALD: [sotto voce] Listen, you bloody midget, we're on our way to Paris...
NARRATOR: – Jack Brandon realized that he was on the biggest adventure of his life. Certainly bigger than his previous adventure, The Chevy Chase. That adventure hadn't sold so well as this one, but hopefully the rerelease would more than make up for that. People liked The DeNiro Code, and perhaps that was the biggest mystery of all.
And, coming this spring from Warner Books ... The Tie-Ins Have Gone Too Far!
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Date: 2006-01-08 02:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-08 02:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-10 01:50 am (UTC)|: )