Sir Anthony, Psycho Diplomat

 

SIR ANTHONY is with his entourage – SENIOR ADVISOR, PRESS OFFICER and  PERSONAL ASSISTANT. (an attractive young woman.)  As they stride through an hotel lobby towards the door, they brief him incessantly.  Throughout, his signature is required on an endless stream of documents.  He does not speak at all until the end of the sketch.

 

PRESS OFFICER: So remember, Sir Anthony, if Greece bring up the ’98 Treaty, remind them that section 5 needs to be re-drafted.

 

SIR ANTHONY acknowledges with a small nod.

 

SENIOR ADVISOR: (overlapping) And Tony, if Phillipe gives you any trouble, hit him with the Dieppe question.

 

SIR ANTHONY acknowledges with a small nod as they exit the hotel.

 

PERSONAL ASSISTANT: (brushing SIR ANTHONY’S lapel) Please remember sir, that the German Delegate’s wife, Frau Hoffman, has just had their third child, Christopher.

 

The DOORMAN tips his hat as the CHAUFFEUR ushers them into the back of a limousine.

 

SENIOR ADVISOR: It’s my guess, Tony, that the ’87 group will try and side-step clause 9 –

 

PRESS OFFICER: And go straight for the vote.

 

PERSONAL ASSISTANT: (straightening SIR ANTHONY’S tie and holding an alternative alongside it) Yes, I think we were right to go with the blue.

 

The CHAUFFEUR  opens the limousine door.  The GROUP swiftly enter an imposing public building.


 

PERSONAL ASSISTANT: (handing SIR ANTHONY his breifcase) Please remember, sir, that the Saudi Ambassador should be referred to as ‘ Your Most Royal  Highness.’

 

They stand in silence by the lift.  The bell goes and the door opens smoothly as SIR ANTHONY enters.

 

SENIOR ADVISOR: Good luck, Tony.

 

 

CUT TO:

 

A dozen DELEGATES seated around a huge conference table.  In front of them are flags denoting their nationality.  There is a vacant seat at the head of the table.

 

SIR ANTHONY enters and places his breifcase on the table.  He opens it and takes out a silver pen.  There is a respectful silence as he clunks the case shut.

 

Taking a step back from the table, he throws the pen from hand to hand.  It glints in the light like a flick-knife in the hands of a Glaswegian street-fighter.  His fingers flicker and taunt, inviting violence.  He seems almost to reduce in stature as he arches his back like a cobra.  His head darts from side-to-side, his eyes challenging each of them in turn in a frenzied animal display.

 

SIR ANTHONY: C’moooooooooooooooon!!!!!!!!

 

 

CUT TO:

 

The lift opens and SIR ANTHONY, smooth and unruffled, is met by his entourage.

 

SENIOR ADVISOR: Well done, Tony.

 

 

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