It's the Nutter Alert!!
Is it the pricking of the conscience?
Is it the itching of hair shirt?
Is it the dictionary definition of a precipice to skirt?
IT’S THE NUTTER ALERT!!
[FADE IN. A smoky room, with a strange, almost hypnotic lightshow dancing about through the darkness. The shot is viewed through an old technique, having an oil-filled filter over the lens, the oil dancing as it gets heated. All we can hear is the sound of Van Der Graaf Generator’s “Nutter Alert!”]
Though this face is familiar
Something in it has bred content.
I never asked for your opinion
Or your backhanded compliments
Oh but here comes that special nonsense,
All the words out in a spurt,
The unhinging of the trolley
As the mouth begins to blurt…
IT’S THE NUTTER ALERT!!
IT’S THE NUTTER ALERT!!
IT’S THE NUTTER ALERT!!
Oh, look out
[As the musical interlude kicks in, discordant as ever from the Generator, a spotlight shines down into the centre of the room, illuminating Mr Entertainment. The music fades down, as we prepare to hear from the man himself]
ME: Well, well, well. Entertainment pays off. LaRoque decides to make his position useful fer somethin’ and kicks Cameo and Intringent to the curb fer failin’ ta keep you, the people, glued to tha TV fer more than…six seconds. Says a lot when the President actually entertain’s people, don’t it?
And he makes the most sensible decision of his life. He decides ta save New Era by giving the TV title shot to someone who deserves it. Someone who beat Boozy Boris and Sparky the Plug in the same match. Someone who from the moment he set foot in this company has caused the ratings to ROCKET despite the best intentions of Boris, Borinator, and the walkin’ talkin’ freakshow. The man who will be the next true champ of the TV title…
ME.
Mr Entertainment.
Now, I know what ya’ll’re thinkin’, and yes, I am as great as you think. I managed ta carry Boozy Boris an’ Sparky to a match so good, the rest of the roster stepped it up a gear. They saw what a real man, a real entertainer, can do, and thought, hey, I wanna try. Now, granted, they didn’t match up to me, but I don’t see anyone on the roster who can. Ta put it simply, we’ve got the Borinator and Boozy fightin’ over one title, and a freak show carrying the other around on a gold dildo.
And people wonder why NEW staff were yawnin’ in Canada?
But enough about the ills of the NEW crew. Ya see, now, I’ve got the biggest challenge of my career. Carryin’ the walkin’ talkin’ freakshow to a decent match on RAPTURE.
Ya see, Emily, that's the challenge fer me - carryin' ya sorry poser ass to a match that'll be the pick of the calender.
Because that’s what you are - a poser. Hidin’ your sexual inadequacies behind a camouflage. You’re insaitiable. Well, that part’s true - yer stupidity knows no bounds. Yer ability ta bore people inta switchin’ channels is surpassed only by Boozy Boris and Rabesque. Hell, yer freak-show act is gonna make it hard fer me ta keep everyone entertained. But, I’m a man who win or lose steps up and delivers the buyrates that keep this company afloat, and you in employment.
I’ve heard ya speeches. Heard how ‘tough’ ya are, how hard. Heard ya claim superiority because you did something against some jackass called Maelstrom. Newsflash - one of the worst wrestlers on the planet, an asshole by the name Karl Brown, got a draw outta that guy. If he could get a draw, then of course you’d win - ya’d scare the guy inta submission.
Drop the act - it won’t phase me. The only thing hard about ya is sitting through yer mindless drivel - you ain’t hard in any other respect.
[The lyrics cut in again, as the light fades on Mr Entertainment]
I can see we’re in trouble
From that glint in the eye you’ve got;
There’s no sense to the story,
Comprehensively lost the plot.
And how contorted is that logic
You so forcefully exert:
You’re a car crash in the making,
Head on, that’s a racing cert.
IT’S THE NUTTER ALERT!!
IT’S THE NUTTER ALERT!!
IT’S THE NUTTER ALERT!!
THIS IS THE NUTTER ALERT!!
[The song plays on, the spotlight coming up again]
ME: You wanna talk ‘bout Cameo scorin’ the one-up on me? Go ahead. Win or lose, don’t faze me. Talk about me loss ta him and Intringent if ya want - or my win over the number one contender to tha world title - and Sparky. I carried those two to a great match at International Intrigue - so great a match, you stepped up your game. Bring that game to our match - make it look like you stand a chance against me, like you can keep up. You’ll find yerself flat out, with all the pain ya impotence wants.
You’ll be the one singin’ at RAPTURE, not Cameo. The tune won’t be about bundles o’ sticks either.
Now THAT’S… ENTERAINMENT!!
[The track, having faded, begins again, as the spotlight again fades out]
It might come in a letter,
Darkness falls in a telephone call;
I await the unexpected
With one ear to the party wall.
Is it the pricking of the conscience,
Is it the itching of hair shirt,
Is it the dictionary definition of a precipice to skirt?
IT’S THE NUTTER ALERT!!
[FADE OUT]
