No More Cheek Kisses TV Comedy Drama Pilot Script

 

Spoils of the Moon -- Flashback

 

“Got news for you, son. He’s not your real brother,” said Brian.

“What?” Greg’s eyes pinched. He let out a sigh.

Greg’s a kid again, living in the Midlands, scared. The streets are littered with rubbish. There are strikes and power cuts. It’s bible black – the air’s thick with choking smog.

In the mornings, Greg’s Mum goes to work. If he or his brother leaves and shuts the front door that’s it: they have to wait until she gets home to be let back in. It happens often. Sometimes they sit on the damp doorstep and talk. Other times they cuddle, freezing, hoping she’ll come home soon but knowing she’s more likely gone off on one of her benders.  

Pitch black, a glimmer of light from the remnants of a fire smouldering in a tiled Victorian fireplace. There were piles of shoes spilt over each side, drying out. Latchkey kids, grey jumpers, junior school ages, fumble and toeing the shoe pile, hurriedly rushing out the door. Rain tensed their shoulders as they stood there thinking.

"Have we got everything?" said a young Greg.

Smaller boy Jordi, nodded yes, shivering.

"Sure, gonna shut the door? She took the key this time," said Greg.

Jordi turned to walk, as the door slammed, he stopped, turned and stared at Greg who looked down at his own shoes.

Jordi saw the horror. They both knew what this meant. He was wearing one brown shoe and one black, and even worse...

"Our Sunday best. Mum will go mad," said Jordi.

Silence between them as they splashed through the rain. Jordi leapt every puddle. Due to the massive holes in his soles; his socks were already soaking.

The whispers about Greg’s dilemma spun through the school playground. A crowd gathered at a rack of steps that went up to a bricked-up door. There was a gap between the stairs and a wall creating a tunnel. Boys already took position on the steps, ready to kick him in every part of his body, vicious and lusting for violence. Greg approached as the chants from the crowd got louder and intimidating. He hated being the centre of attraction. Jordi didn’t mind. He grabbed his arm and saw the fear quivering on his older brother’s face. Jordi removed his shoes and swapped with Greg, who ashamedly let him.

"Alla Prima, hey. Greg."

"Alla Prima. Jordi."

Jordi rushed the tunnel of death, stopped at the back wall, paused and took a moment to reflect on his decision. The rain had stopped and through the chinks of sunlight he felt a modicum of hope as he breathed in the petrichor. He stuck his chin out and made his way back out. The further you went through, the higher the steps. Jordi pushed through a gauntlet of wet leather shoes and fists. He emerged out the other end, red-faced, dishevelled, blood-smeared, fat-lipped, and black-eyed. As he was patted on the back from some of the older boys for going through with it, he managed a smile at his brother. 

"I watched in fear. He said he did it because he wanted a day with dry feet and said he was amazed at how many of them also had holes in their shoes from when they were scuffing his face. Don’t tell me he’s not my brother," said Greg.

The things I learned when I was seven and eighty five

The year my grandad died; I met a troll crossing a bridge the day I became a scout. I stowed aboard a pirate’s ship of which there was no doubt. The captain wore a wiry beard and preferred to swish and shout. I foraged for a pot of gold and made a pot of tea. I learned to laugh, sing and cry and ponder why we go to heaven. I learned all this in my grandma’s stories the year I was seven.

 

Summoning fourscore and five I crawl out of my bed – age is golden I’ve heard it said. I fish my teeth from a whiskey glass and pull my trousers over my... hips. My skin no longer fits. As I get smaller so does print. I curl on my specs and head for the loo. I sit and ponder; we learn too late as the night falls how close we came to distant shores. Snatching at the sky, desperate to see a sliver of hope of a world that could be. Don’t give in if the pace is slow success achieved with another blow. Regardless, I’m able to grin is it too early for a sip of whiskey or gin.

Crime in Spain’s Tourists Hot Spots

 

Where there is mass tourism there will always be purveyors of controlled substances as the masses hope to self-medicate whilst on holiday. These drug gangs under pressure to cope with supply and demand, constant competition, the threat of arrest and lack of therapy end up shooting it out in the busy streets causing the inevitable, stray bullets to hit innocent tourists.

This isn’t a common occurrence, but it does happen. Last year’s example in Benidorm of a Derry man and his girlfriend witnessing a mass brawl, which included the discharge of firearms, a stray bullet hit the man in the leg and hospitalised him – holiday over.

'You’re more likely to see a fist fight between rival taxis firms or drunken Brits,' according to one local man. Even though the police clear the streets regularly, like herpes it never fully goes away just lurks for a short time and then springs out unexpected. On the whole Spain's tourist spots are safe destinations for travellers and tourists.

Violent crimes are uncommon but there is a massive den of thieves targeting, specifically, foreigners the old and the weak looking. Weak looking refers to those who walk around flashing their cash leaving their bags and personal belongings unsupervised and open.

With an estimated 82 million tourists visiting Spain every year that’s a lot of provocation for those who buy into the belief that the quickness of the hand deceives the eye, pickpockets, bag snatchers, con artists and the tic-tac-toe men are targeting their prey as soon as they arrive at the airport.

These gangs are foreigners themselves and travel to busy hot spots. Hotel lobbies, train and bus station and the most popular - people standing in queues, a favourite the supermarket, open handbag showing a fat purse.

Distraction tactics or misdirection criminals working in teams, one asks for directions drops their keys or coins even spilling something like a drink on the intended victim and offering to clean it up. Or what’s more despicable acting like a victim and asking for help. All this to allow their counterpart to steal from them their purse, cell phone, room key.

Bag snatching is very common, sat on a bus or train as soon as the doors open a kid, quick on his feet, would leap up grab your bag and he was gone out the doors and cross the platform. People watched as another lad with the speed of a Mumbai urban-macaques-monkey snatches your bag from the restaurant table then dived into a car or mounted the back of a revving motorbike.

Sexual assault does exist albeit statistically low compared to some countries. Authorities warn about date-rape drugs, which are widely available and used in certain late-night bars and clubs. Drugs, including GHB and liquid ecstasy, are obtainable along with cocaine and marijuana.

Street harassment from touters has declined in recent years due to the demise of the blanket trip wars. A push by local police to rid the streets of timeshare street inviters offering scratch cards and promising a prize. Merchandise hawkers or sub-Saharan looky - looky men as they are commonly called still do the rounds along the seafront and in the evening bar touters - AKA props - clog up the sea front walkways.

Remember just say no!

Father's day gift

 

Bull Tormenting Spain

My latest article in the Conservation Mag.

https://conservationmag.org/en/travel/bullfighting-in-spain-cruelty-your-travel-money-should-not-support

 

 

Barking success at the Palace

BENIDORM PALACE hosted a Christmas special doggy charity day and it was a spectacular success as local businesses and popular musicians from around Benidorm, and some travelled from the UK to give, for free, their time for this worthy benefit 'Save our lives 2.'

People adorned their Christmas hats and reindeer antlers as they rocked to an array of fantastic performances. They also had the opportunity to experience the latest state-of-the-art magic mirror technology where they could wear costume accessories and take group photos.

Chris, the owner of Benidorm Palace, has expressed her passionate support for Benidorm homing that helps abandoned and sick dogs often dumped. She worked with Donna from the charity save the Spanish Sharpie for weeks to make this memorable event happen. Donna also works closely with other volunteers and groups like the Tiger foundation, and Manos Y Patos all who make sure these dogs are adopted but equally as important, in the interim, looked after and loved.

It didn't stop there. They say every penny is accounted for so, they invited people, who worked behind the scenes, from various support charities, news reporters, including The Weekender all there to help with the official count. This was done in the trophy room of the palace and calculated down to the last cent, penny and the odd rogue Scottish pound note. 

All was accounted for with a staggering total of €13,460 raised not only at the event but through outside donations too. Everyone was delighted with the result and we couldn't help feeling a little humbled and in awe in the presence of these people so proud and passionate about such a worthy cause.

Volunteers are always welcome and needed to walk the dogs between 10am and 1pm Monday to Saturday. Please bring some form of ID.

Caption – Every copper counts

Spoils of the Moon

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Spoils-Moon-Mark-Shearman-ebook/dp/B012J07TVG

Spoils of the Moon by Mark Shearman

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Spoils-Moon-Mark-Shearman-ebook/dp/B012J07TVG

Free paperback copy of Zorro’s Last Stand by Mark Shearman

Bronwyn Editions

Free to enter this prize giveaway to win one of 3 copies of Zorro’s Last Stand by Mark Shearman http://www.bronwynbooks.co.uk/mark-shearman.html. All you have to do is put your email address or phone number on the contact form on my website http://www.bronwynbooks.co.uk/contact.html
Or you can message or text me on 07941 037888.
Winners will be drawn on October 12th.
Only then will we contact the winners to get your postal address.