The so Called "Great King" - Sketch

 EXT - DAY - CLIFF EDINBURGH

A woman (NARRATOR) is walking aimlessly near a cliff edge towards a camera. She is dressed smartly. As she walks she narrowly misses slipping off the cliff with each step.

NARRATOR

We are currently at the site where King Alexander eye, eye, eye or to his pals Alexander the Great died. (Pause) It was around here that it is thought that his horse flung him down this very cliff. Many histories say that he, the king not the horse, was so incredibly horny he could not wait one more night to see his wife while the thick fog cleared. (Pause) At least for his widow it is safe that there was no other wench for him. (Pause) Across Edinburgh that is. 

The wind picks up causing her hair to fly around crazily and smacking her in the face. She just continues on walking dangerously close to the cliff edge while following the camera.

NARRATOR

(Cont.)

It is believed that several of his pals told him something along the lines of ‘Aye, we’re all up fir a gid time and a belther but that’s naw taps aff weather pal.” to which the Great King replied ‘Lads. Lads. Lads” Before riding off into the dark, foggy streets of Edinburgh for a quick shag.

Narrator steps off the cliff and tumbles violently down it for a while before landing at the bottom on her butt. She is covered in blood and scratches. Her leg is facing the wrong way and she can’t hold up one of her arms. She sits up right and looks at the camera.

NARRATOR

Wow, there's a camera down here. That’s good ain’t it? (Pause) It is argued amongst historians that the King simply did not have an hair to the throne and that is why he had to rush back. But surely that could have waited. I mean the seat would be warm enough. I don’t see why a wig would help. It would be itchy more than anything. Anyway, it is at this point we feel it’s important to point out the irony of the so Called ‘Great Kings’ untimely death. (Pause) We did originally think it was pretty obvious but our producer Tim pointed out that anyone watching this can’t find the remote and is too drunk to care.

Narrator looks back up the cliff.

NARRATOR

It’s fucking windy up there like. I hope my hair got blown about enough. (Pause) Suppose I’d better find a way back up. (Pause) Tim? You there?

SKETCH END