(Deserted street. Dead of night. REG is waiting near a 5G mast. Two men emerge from the darkness.)
REG: There you are, Stan. And this is must be Brian, our new recruit. Welcome to the Droitwich 5G-Resistance Army, Brian.
BRIAN: Thanks, Reg. Proud to be part of it.
REG: That’s the spirit, Brian. Er, Stan – I see Brian’s brought a pitchfork.
STAN: I didn’t have a chance to brief him, Reg.
REG: No problem. Rookie error. Next time, Brian – bring a petrol can?
BRIAN: Of course. Sorry, Reg. Is it just the two of you, then?
REG: Good heavens no! Just two blokes wouldn’t be much of an army, would it? There’s three of us. Talking of which, Stan – where’s Frank?
STAN: I’m afraid Frank’s had a bit of an accident. He spotted this Openreach van parked up just across the A38, so he nipped over for a spot of mild chastisement. I wish you’d been there, Reg. He was brilliant. ‘5G is killing us all!’ he yelled at the driver. ‘You’re a mass-murderer!’ I was so proud. But then just as he was nipping back over the road he got run down by an Eddie Stobart lorry. Dead on the spot. Peggy Sue it was.’
REG (sombre): A hero’s death, Stan. Right, lads – let’s get to work. We’re doing this one in honour of our fallen comrade Frank.
(REG opens a petrol can and tip its contents around the base of the mast.)
REG: Right – pass the matches, Stan.
STAN: I thought you were bringing the matches, Reg.
REG: I never bring the matches. That’s your job.
STAN: Sorry, Reg. I forgot. It must have been seeing poor Frank spread-eagled on the A38 like that, flat as a pancake. Perhaps Brian’s got some matches?
BRIAN: I’m afraid not.
REG: Well this is a nice pickle I must say. Hold on, who’s that over there?
(A group of men is scurrying along the road in their direction.)
REG and STAN: The 5G-Resistance Army of Droitwich! Quick, hide!
BRIAN (dragged to bush by STAN): Maybe one of them has some matches?
REG: We’d never accept matches from them – they’re heretics!
BRIAN: Heretics?
STAN: They believe that electromagnetic radiation from the 5G towers is melting our immune systems and that’s why we’re all catching coronavirus. It’s a false, dissenting doctrine, Brian.
BRIAN: And what do we believe?
REG: We don’t just believe, Brian – we know. The so-called coronavirus isn’t a virus at all – it’s radiation sickness instead, caused by 5G. That is the true word, Brian.
BRIAN: So the whole coronavirus thing is a giant cover-up?
STAN: Exactly. By the government.
BRIAN: And all the other governments, presumably?
STAN: Yes, by them too.
BRIAN: And all the scientists, and all the doctors, and all the nurses? All over the world?
STAN: Absolutely.
BRIAN: That’s a lot of covering up.
REG: It is, Brian. It’s a global conspiracy. Like religion.
STAN: And the death of Michael Jackson.
BRIAN: Oh, I see. Good thing some of us can see through all that, then.
REG: Exactly. (Peeks out from behind bush.) They’re heading this way! We can’t let them prevail!
REG and STAN leap out, followed by BRIAN.
REG: Stop! You shall not set fire to this mast! We got here first!
LEADER OF THE 5G-RESISTANCE ARMY OF DROITWICH: All right then. You set fire to it. (They all fold their arms and wait.)
REG: Er… (Exchanges glance with Stan.)
STAN: Call yourselves a radical death-or-glory insurgency? When you’re too scared to set fire to one teeny-weeny mast? It’s all gesture politics with you isn’t it? You don’t give a toss about the struggle against the blood-soaked world order. All mouth and no trousers, that’s what you are. Shameful.
LEADER OF THE 5G etc etc: Fine, fine. Matches please, Eric.
ERIC (feeling in pockets): Er…
Sound of SIREN.
ALL EXCEPT BRIAN: Crikey it’s the rozzers! EXEUNT, scattering.
BRIAN: Look – I have got some matches after all. Here they are.
ROZZER: If you’re looking for the mob attacking the old warty woman with the pointy hat who refuses to clap for the NHS, it’s along there, third street on the left.
BRIAN: Oh, thanks very much. (Rozzer drives away. Brian trots off with pitchfork.)
© C P Jenkinson 09/05/2020. With many apologies to Monty Python.
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