Ｃａｓｓｅｌ Ｓｈａｒｐｅ. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
patheticvillain) wrote2013-08-17 08:12 pm
patheticvillain) wrote2013-08-17 08:12 pm
twenty-one ➢ video
[Feed begins with a documentary-style camera effect with a touch of Blair Witch shake, tracking Chris as he walks (very, very quietly) down the hallway. He's clearly looking for something, and looks over his shoulder at the camera, speaking in a stage whisper and with an extremely shitty accent.]
G'day, mates. We're out here on the barge hunting for wild limeys.
[Turning to face front again, Chris waves his hand excitedly when he spots the target: the back of James Bond's head walking down the hall. Turning to face the camera, he speaks in a stage whisper, and also an extremely shitty accent.]
Crikey! We've spotted one now. Look at the size of him!
[A dramatic demonstrative gesture. James still seems totally oblivious.]
Now here's what we do to bring him 'round to heel. The Englishman is primarily known for its weakness to physical affection. So what me and my mate Sharpe here are going to do is come around from both sides of him and wrap him up in a disarming embrace.
[Abruptly he drops the accent and the posturing and waves at Cassel behind the camera.]
Okay let's fucking go. Leave the camera here.
[And Cassel rests it on the ground, angled up so it catches the action, namely both of them sneaking up behind James in total silence, until:]
Fucking attack hugs, shithead!
[--from Chris, at which point they both leap forward to suddenly hug James. Cassel scatters quickly, but Chris isn't so lucky, and the feed goes black with James grabbing him by the collar.]
[An indeterminable amount of time later, the camera clicks back on. The lighting is much different, in that bright but dim way that public rest rooms with less than stellar light fixtures have, and though the focus is on Bond, you can definitely hear some muffled whining from Chris in the background.
James is dressed in the same suit he was in earlier, and there is a definite smirk on his face on first sight. He's also rocking a little strangely, like he's sitting on something that's flailing around. Or, more likely, someone. The camera pans down, and yes, James Bond is sitting on Chris on the floor of the inmate bathrooms.
He puts on his best American accent.]
Here we have a tolerable specimen of the American teenager. He's long overdue for a ritual cleansing. Let's observe.
[And then he is holding up a simple white bar of soap, and to the soundtrack of terrible, terrible curses, he leans over, pries Chris' jaw open, and shoves the soap into his mouth. Cue the laugh track, complete with wobbly camera again because this is the most hilarious day of Cassel's life to date, then the feed cuts to black.]
G'day, mates. We're out here on the barge hunting for wild limeys.
[Turning to face front again, Chris waves his hand excitedly when he spots the target: the back of James Bond's head walking down the hall. Turning to face the camera, he speaks in a stage whisper, and also an extremely shitty accent.]
Crikey! We've spotted one now. Look at the size of him!
[A dramatic demonstrative gesture. James still seems totally oblivious.]
Now here's what we do to bring him 'round to heel. The Englishman is primarily known for its weakness to physical affection. So what me and my mate Sharpe here are going to do is come around from both sides of him and wrap him up in a disarming embrace.
[Abruptly he drops the accent and the posturing and waves at Cassel behind the camera.]
Okay let's fucking go. Leave the camera here.
[And Cassel rests it on the ground, angled up so it catches the action, namely both of them sneaking up behind James in total silence, until:]
Fucking attack hugs, shithead!
[--from Chris, at which point they both leap forward to suddenly hug James. Cassel scatters quickly, but Chris isn't so lucky, and the feed goes black with James grabbing him by the collar.]
[An indeterminable amount of time later, the camera clicks back on. The lighting is much different, in that bright but dim way that public rest rooms with less than stellar light fixtures have, and though the focus is on Bond, you can definitely hear some muffled whining from Chris in the background.
James is dressed in the same suit he was in earlier, and there is a definite smirk on his face on first sight. He's also rocking a little strangely, like he's sitting on something that's flailing around. Or, more likely, someone. The camera pans down, and yes, James Bond is sitting on Chris on the floor of the inmate bathrooms.
He puts on his best American accent.]
Here we have a tolerable specimen of the American teenager. He's long overdue for a ritual cleansing. Let's observe.
[And then he is holding up a simple white bar of soap, and to the soundtrack of terrible, terrible curses, he leans over, pries Chris' jaw open, and shoves the soap into his mouth. Cue the laugh track, complete with wobbly camera again because this is the most hilarious day of Cassel's life to date, then the feed cuts to black.]
Page 10 of 17