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Post of the Year 2015


HarmonicGenerator

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Someone give Astro a job on Eastenders. From 'Soap story lines you want to see':

 

I always wished Eastenders had tried a supernatural angle. You could have Ian Beale attacked by a mystery assailant in the middle of the night by Arthur's Bench, which leads to him feeling strange and achy, and finding himself naked on the roof of the Arches one morning. Every full moon, one of the lower middle-card characters is found disembowled on the allotments, and Beales Place starts selling raw steaks, with Ian licking the blood from his fingertips like a fucking junkie. Lenny and Huw come back as werewolf hunters, like the Frog Brothers out of Lost Boys, but Lenny gets savaged and dies in Huw's arms. Even Phil gets the shits put up him when he hears a loud howling outside and is too afraid to look out of the curtains.

 

This all builds towards a live episode where Walford's about to be plunged beneath a gigantic supermoon during a night-time outdoor street party to celebrate Alfie's death from nob-cancer.

 

To keep it grounded in reality, they'd reveal that Ian Beale was just hallucinating like Joe Wicks ("ACE OF SPADES! ACE OF SPADES!") and only thought he was a werewolf, but actually had murdered all those people. As he's being carted off by the fuzz, Jules Tavernier (who came back to help Patrick wipe his arse after he has another stroke) turns to the camera and says "Yea mon!" and as he smiles, he reveals vampire teeth.

 

*EASTIES DRUM FILL*

 

And the follow up post:

 

 

Please say a come back for Alan Jackson as an everyman Steve Austin type to take on The Minutemart of Darkness.

 

My plans for Alan Jackson involve the build to the Halloween night special. Carol gets a phonecall from Up West where she's told "Big Black Alan is dead," and after the death of Billie, it's too much. She's hit so hard by the grief, that she gets on a bus out of Walford and goes to a nursing home, where she signs on the visitor's register.

t0wlbsh.jpg

 

"Hello, Carol." Dr. Legg comes back to Walford, moving in with Carol, although some of his furniture, particularly one really massive wooden trunk, is so heavy that Ricky Butcher puts his back out lifting it out of the van, ruining the annual Walford 5-a-side football storyline.

Legg's got a new hobbie where he's obsessed with the weather, and he's always doing experiments. He gets his new assistant, Felix the Jew, to install a giant lightning rod on Carol's roof, although Felix the Jew sadly falls onto his butterfly collection and is killed. "You can't make an omlette..." says Carol.

 

CRb0bOh.jpg

 

RIPJ.

 

On Halloween, Legg's in the caff and hears a weather report on the radio about a big storm that's on its way to Walford that night. He rushes home through the sheets of rain, past the flower stall, past Kat waving a Rampant Rabbit about like she's on a fucking hen night, and up the stairs to Carol's house. Moments later, BOOM, lightning strikes the metal rod on the roof. The residents of Walford all gather outside of Carol's gaff because of Dr. Legg's mad cackling through the attic window, and the front door suddenly explodes open, revealing...

 

KqIdcB8.jpg

 

Legg's Monster (Legg is the name of the creator, not the monster) takes off down the square, to the canal where Dirty Den got shot. He goes to stroke Little Willy, but not realising his own strength, accidentally kills him. An outraged Billy Mitchell leads a mob after Big Green Alan, trapping him in the Vic, which they set on fire, killing him, as he asks "Woss goin' on?" with his final breath. Dr. Legg, watching from Carol's attic, sheds a single tear. As he wipes it away with his old finger, a butterfly lands on his fingertip. Legg grabs a shovel, and says "See you soon, old friend," at a black and white framed picture of Felix the Jew.

*EASTIES DRUM FILL*

 

 

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  • 2 weeks later...
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Lister pitches Raw in the Raw thread:

 

"Hi TV Network, we've got a massive team of writers and we'd like to make an action-adventure comedy-drama series, set in the sporting world."

 

"Sounds good. How many episodes?"

 

"52 a year. And we want to do it live."

 

"Erm, OK. Can we see a script?"

 

"Nah, we'll write it the weekend before and then rewrite the script just before broadcast."

 

"You'll need some great actors for that. Any names in mind."

 

"Nah, we won't use trained actors, we'll get athletes to do it."

"This sounds iffy, but let's run with it. Hypothetically, if we did do it would you want to do the traditional half-hour comedy slot, or the hour-long drama format."

 

"Nah, we were thinking each episode could be a bit longer. Like three hours and seventeen minutes."

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