Frankie Boyle Transcription

Key
(.) Indicates a normal pause
Numbers within brackets indicate a length of pause in seconds
*indicates pausing for laughter/crowd reaction
:: indicates elongated sounds
Words in capitals indicate an increase in volume
Other contextual information is in italics in squared brackets

Frankie Boyle:
HELL::O (*2.0) [cheering]
Hello everybody, hello at the top (*3.0) [cheering]
Do you remember years ago, when they were making Braveheart? Everyone said [Frankie Boyle stresses a Scottish accent] 'aw it's ridiculous', Mel Gibson playing a Scottish guy, that's not going to be very convincing (1.0) And look at him now, an alcoholic racist (*7.0)
The most Scottish thing I've ever seen I was going through a town called 'Bathky' (1.0) at night (1.0) and there was a guy pissin against a front door (1.0) like that [Frankie Boyle mimes the action] (2.0) who then took out his keys and went inside (*6.0)
I'm from Glasgow if I had to explain Glasgow to you, I'd say that if I had to pick (1.0) a city in the world when I could depend on a member of the public (1.0) to punch a man who as on fire (*3.0)
To punch a FLAMING MAN (*1.0) TO THE GROUND (*1.0) we should get a photo of that blown up and use it at the welcome sign at Scottish airports (2*.0) and underneath it would have the words 'Scotland welcomes careful drivers' (*3.0)
I mean the naivety (1.0) of Al Qaeda, trying to bring religious war (1.0) to Glasgow (*2.0) we're four hundred years ahead of you guys (*2.0) you've not even got a football team (*4.0)
There's a fallacy isn't there that that baggage handler prevented hundreds of people from being horribly burned (1.0) these were Scottish people flying to Spain (*9.0)
People say its good they didn't hit a fuel depot I think its good they didn't hit the queue coming out of duty free (*3.0) would've gone up like Hiroshima (*6.0)
British army have got a big recruiting drive in Scotland at the minute (1.0) cause that's what you need if you're fighting an unwinnable war in the desert (1.0) more ginger people (*4.0) that's why they couldn't send Prince Harry, they couldn't afford the resources required to start developing factor sixty thousand sunblock (*4.0)
It's not always the friendliest place in the world Scotland (1.0) I once saw an English guy in Glasgow trying to order a pint of lager and lime (1.0) and the barman went [Frankie Boyle changes voice to more deep and gravelly] 'we don't do cocktails' (*5.0)
We can just be dour, negative bastards up there (1.0) John Logie Baird invented the TV (1.0) and when people came up to congratulate him he went [Frankie Boyle changes voice to be more aggressive and accented] 'Aye but there's fuck all on' (*5.0)
We looking forward to the Olympics in London? (*2.0) [negative reaction from crowd] I'll take that as a 'no' (*2.0) they say the Olympics is gonna rekindle (1.0) English national pride I mean c'mon for 9.2 billion you could've written fuck off Germany onto the moon (*7.0)
The Spice Girls are getting back together (1.0) the only way I want to see Geri Halliwell draped in a Union Jack again will be if she dies in battle (*4.0)
I tell you what I think they should do in Big Brother (1.0) you know in eviction night when someone gets sent out (1.0) the people inside instead of hearing screaming or or booing or whatever, they should hear complete silence (1.0) and then a single gunshot (*8.0)
When I was at school I could just never work out (1.0) how to get girl's bras undone (1.0) I just couldn't do it and then eventually I realised (1.0) that these girls were wearing a different ty::pe of bra from my gran (*4.0)
If you don't like that you'll hate this next one (*2.0)
The oldest woman ever to give birth gave birth this year she was sixty three (2.0) can you imagine at sixty three the baby didn't have to force its way out (*2.0) it spent the last three months bungee jumping (*4.0) every time it went for a shit it had to brace itself [Frankie Boyle mimes the action] (*3.0) like the end of the Italian Job (*5.0)
Apparently scientists have come up with a condom (1.0) for premature ejaculation (1.0) and basically its got an anaesthetic (1.0) [Frankie Boyle speaks quieter] in the lining (1.0) its makes you numb:: (1.0) and you can last for longer (1.0) [Frankie Boyle returns to previous volume] Or:: (1.0) you can wear it inside out you don't have to wake anybody up ['anybody up' spoken in a mock whisper] (*6.0) thanks cause to be honest that one can go either way (*3.0)
Apparently a quarter of men (1.0) have a problem with premature ejaculation (1.0) the rest of us just don't think its a problem (*4.0)
See science isn't all progress is it? What was wrong with train toilet doors that just locked (1.0) instead of this multiple choice system (*2.0) so now if anything goes wrong (1.0) you're gonna be sitting there (2.0) while the whole toilet wall (*2.0) slo::wly slides awa::y (*1.0) AND YOU'RE UNVEILED LIKE A FUCKING PRIZE ON A QUIZ SHOW (3.0) FOR FIVE HUNDRED POINTS A SHI::TTING WOMAN (*5.0)
Gordan Brown's got his big new idea he says he wants childre:n to stay at school 'til they're eighteen (2.0) that's just not living in the modern world is it? (1.0) seventeen year olds having to go to school who's gonna pick their kids up from primary? (*5.0) he wants to bring in ID Cards with retina scans: and forty-nine items: of information ID Cards won't stop your identity being stolen just means that once its stolen you're fucked (*1.0) I I've lost my ID Card in the hotel I'm gonna need new eyeballs and a finger transplant (*6.0) Gordon Brown has seriously said: he wants listening devices put in lampposts to fight terrorism (1.0) is that how terrorists work? (*1.0) [Frankie Boyle uses a faster voice] come over here we must: discuss our evil plans in this brightly lit area (*2.0) we'll sing them like a fucking barbershop quartet (*2.0) do you think George Bush even knows who Gordon Brown is? (*1.0) he probably thinks Tony Blairs put on weight and had a mild stroke (*3.0)
Dyou see that bishop: up north somewhere? (1.0) who said the floods were God's judgment (1.0) on homosexuals (*1.0) if that was true Brighton would be like fucking Atlantis right now (*3.0) I'm all for gay adoption (2.0) gay men make brilliant dads (1.0) they already know where all the best parks are (*2.0) they already know how to put talcum powder onto a sore bottom (*3.0) I'd've loved to have a gay dad (1.0) do you remember all that stuff at school? [Frankie Boyle puts on a more aggressive voice] Ah my dad'll batter your da::d: my dad could batter your dad LISTEN (1.0) MY DAD'LL SHAG YOUR DAD (*4.0) and your dad'll enjoy it (*4.0)
Got to that stage in Scotland now: where people recognise me: but never where from (1.0) I got followed by two guys in Glasgow who thought I was the wee bear from Bo' Selecta (*7.0) yeah you wait years for that Proclaimers thing to go away (*4.0) my favourite thing I saw this year (1.0) was an article in on of the: women's magazines: on Valentines: entitled 'how to tell what's going through...

Raymond Chandler Creative Writing 2

I was standing outside the rugby stadium with two of my friends. It was somewhere around 7 o’clock in the evening, but it was winter and the air was already growing a bite. A strong breeze blew across my face, prompting me to shrink further into my winter coat. The queue and surrounding groups were full of big men with haggard voices and faces. And as I usually push pencils I was unfamiliar with such men, and took great comfort in my companions.

Chatter and drunken laughter were everywhere. The cover was perfect. Even if I wanted to hear the conversation next to me I couldn't, and my target knew that. The man in question was 20 feet in front of me give or take, unkempt hair and wearing clothes that barely fit him, he was inconspicuous in the crowd. Nicotine stained hands were twitching without rhythm. Battered white shoes tapped the similarly grey pavement. The uninformed would assume this was a display of nervousness, a sign of weakness. But he was in his element here. It was merely habit. A crash sounded loudly from somewhere in the stadium, making me shudder - I've never been good around loud noises. The clunk-clunk of machines rose. Stadium staff started to line up next to turnstiles. Then it was really loud. People began cheering and singing and wooping, drowning out the conversation around me. People walked past to enter the match. I was cut off from my target.

The crowd was thick, fast, strong and I couldn't hold against it. My friends stood either side of me, a dam blocking the tide. We were close to the entrance, so the people came thick and fast around us. With a nod and a look we started easing our way through, I couldn't watch a man I couldn't see. 

It took several minutes of shoving before we spanned the distance, me and my friends doing our best not to antagonise the riled up crowd with forceful contact. We could fight, but we didn't want to.
Scanning the immediate area, I couldn't find him. I suppose a man worth a million learns to hide himself when needed. But I had been cautious, there was no reason to suspect. He was probably in the toilets. Stepping back I felt something soft, moist, like walking into a sweaty sponge. My elbow as buried in it, the surprising prison knocking me off balance. I was vulnerable. I hated being vulnerable.

'Sorry, I - ' The apology escaped without permission. A life of spying from a distance scantly prepared me for the unexpected - I usually saw it coming. Spinning around to mutter something subservient, I met my target in the eyes. Up close he was more sweat than man, with bin bags under his eyes and a rough stubble on his chin - he hadn't shaved in days.
I stood there helpless, caught like a deer in the headlights. To the side of me my mates tensed, ready for a fight, and his did the same. Eyes stared into eyes stared into eyes. The man to his right reached for something in his inner coat pocket. The ebb and flow of people ceased somewhat. Civilians nearby hushed.

'No worries, bud, just watch where ya step next time. But now that you're 'ere... don't 'appen to 'ave a ciggie do ya?' His voice was sort of like a wolf's, guttural and hoarse but with a whine behind it. Up close he looked flabby and fatigued, his 6'2'' stretching a wide frame into a strange amalgamation of limbs and fat. He was large but flimsy. 

'Uh, y-yeah, sure mate n-no problem' I said, it was lucky that I some one on me. I'd found that a smoker trusts another smoker faster than a regular man. I still spluttered and spat when I had one, but people still believed the act. I reached into my coat pocket. Then I opened my cigarette packet and held it towards him. A gangly arm greeted it. Spindly fingers with gold rings on them took a cigarette and held it to a lighter I hadn't seen him reveal. Slowly he took it to his lips. It was a power play, showing me that my time didn't matter to him. When he had taken a drag he looked at me, he had brown eyes as common as dirt. They glistened in the floodlights, almost crying.

'Ta mate, I won't forget this' he said. His mates parted behind him, and he lumbered away towards the gates. I let out a breathe I didn't realise I was holding. Any attempts at tailing him were now ruined. He said his goodbye with a sort of malice in his voice, like he knew why I was there. He was known for taking out potential threats preemptively, which now made me concerned for my safety. I thought I threw him off my scent by feigning fear, but he is very good at his job. I paused, giving him a moment to leave. Then I turned towards the direction he left in. Dazzling lights and grey gates were in front of me, the entrance to the stadium. My friends were silent at the sides of me. Silent. If I had trained them, payed them, they would be obedient. But they just knew me. Knew when I needed to think. To plan. I once again felt comforted by their proximity.

Raymond Chandler Creative Writing Commentary

My original writing is a piece of creating writing following the style model of Raymond Chandler. The goal for this piece of writing was to effectively imitate the style (including sentence structure, theme, character and plot development etc.) of Raymond Chandler to make an effective piece of writing that can entertain the audience, which is the purpose of fiction.

To do this, I analysed and annotated two exerts of his, coming from the first 4-5 pages of The Big Sleep and Farewell, My Lovely. From these pages I got a feel for the techniques used in his writing, information that I used in order to imitate his writing. This was also useful to plan my writing to fit the target audience for my story - 30-50 year old white British males in the ABC1 demographics. These demographics make up my target audience because they are the ones most likely to be interested in noir/crime fiction. In addition, the protagonist can be assumed via the connotations of his location and profession to be of these categories, which lets the audience relate to the character and so be more likely to like them and the book as a whole. This is also applicable as this was the target audience of Raymond Chandler, and as a result applies to my story as well.

From my analysis I found repeated techniques and structure used by Chandler in his work that I applied to my story. For example, in The Big Sleep, 'I was everything the well-dressed private detective ought to be. I was calling on four million dollars'. In this the author uses short sentences on after the other to create a line of thought that is believable and expresses the character. It makes it seem as if the character is focusing on one thought at a time, as if he's analysing himself, making his idea more valid. I did this in 'But he was in his element here. It was merely habit', which shows the reader that not only is the character effective in analysing, but he's confident and sure of his answers.

However, the goal of the text, rather than the task, is to create a realistic setting and scenario with characters that are interesting enough to warrant reader interest, but normal to be relatable and believable. To do this I ensured that I went into detail in describing the characters and their various faults. This made them feel real, as the faults were detailed enough to be realistic - it made them normal and not all powerful as seen in other genres (such as fantasy), and the audience may know people with such characteristics, again making it feel more believable. For example, the protagonist stating 'I've never been good around loud noises' gives him a fault, making him more person than superhero even though his skill at analysing and obvious prestige connote intelligence and skill. This was to entertain the audience by making them feel more connected to the characters, and feel like they were in the story.

After analysing extracts of Chandler's books, I concluded that the mode of address of his writing was made to appear like a statement - chronologically listing facts to make them, and as a result his opinions, more believable. Peer to peer mode of address in my writing was used with the intention of making the character seem intelligent but vulnerable - he's intelligent enough to get the job done, but not confident enough to lecture or condescend, which I also tried to convey in other parts of writing.

I believe I achieved my goals of writing an entertaining piece that imitated Raymond Chandler, however, looking back, I'd attempt to build the character of the antagonist more via subtle connotations, for example attire and speaking patterns, and build the scene more to increase suspense.

Raymond Chandler Creative Writing 1

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Plan:
At first make the character appear like he's just waiting in the crowd, but the reason for his analysis of the situation becomes clear as its revealed he's following/staking out his target
Slowly reveal the type of protagonist he is through his analysis and response to his finding - intelligent, perhaps too intelligent, incapable of defending himself but his aptitude at reading situations and detective sensibilities protect him - and his two friends also help
Don't be coy with information about the case - reveal how much, who, the reason (or lack thereof) but do it in section, building on each section before revealing the next

Storyboard (rough)
Set scene - WWWWWH
Info 1 - Who he's following, then learn something about surroundings
Info 2 - Why he's following them + why his mates are there
Info 3 - Expanding more into the backstory of the case - hinting at money without saying how much, possible by explaining the client

Raymond Chandler Style Model

Inky night blanketed the area, smothering the crowd of coats and hats, pushing them down towards the pavement. Funny, how the absence of the sun instantly creates feelings of oppression, like the stars are wardens preventing the redeeming light of the sun from giving the people happiness and safety.

But despite the looming malevolence of the sky baring down on the car park I’m currently standing in, men and women and children are laughing and cheering and chanting, bringing happiness to the bleak black boulevard. Could it be the feelings of unity, brought to this spot by the shared love of a team, or purely the joy of togetherness that made the hum of voices and the shuffling of feet welcome not malicious. Even the others, people the same as me and you but dressed in different patterns and colours, can be seen sharing a drink and a joke with ones sworn to be at least their opposition and at worst their enemy.

‘Right’ 

Declared the figure next to me, Declan. Two years my senior but at least half a foot shorter than me, he spoke quick and often with a punch, like he was desperate to be heard even though he was easily the loudest in the group. 

‘I’m sick of this line and even sicker of yous lots glum faces, who’s comin’ scalpin’?’ said Dec, way too loud, intentionally I don’t doubt, I eyed the police officer nearby cautiously as I answered.

‘Quiet down, Dec, you don’t want us to thrown out, do you?

‘Pfft, good luck kickin’ us out, there’s three of us and none of these pigs are under 40. They try anythin’ and I’ll get us some bacon’ While the sentiment was obviously meant to show off, all bark and no bite as it were, there was an unmistakeable malice hidden in it. A ratty kid most of his life, with a nose that was too long and eyes too small, Declan wasn’t one to pass up a confrontation if it meant he could prove himself. In fact, if it wasn’t for Rob stopping him from going too far, he could easily be in jail right now, or worse.

‘Hey, listen to him mate, Joe’s the brains here int ‘e, if he thinks it’s a bad idea it’s a bad idea, don’t make me bail you out again’ Interjected Rob, the wall of fat and muscle next to me. I’m fairly sure the term ‘gentle giant’ is based on Rob. Me and him go all the way back to childhood, the classic small and weedy me paired with the lumbering titan which was him. But fortunately for him, that’s where the stereotype left him. I’m the thinker, but Rob could go toe-to-toe with the fastest mouthed man around, his wit was more than useful in defusing the situation any time me or Dec got into trouble, adding to his intimidating appearance while also meaning he didn’t have to hurt anybody – as a matter of fact, I don’t believe he has ever got into a fight with anyone.

Brown eyes hid even more than usual as Declan squinted at Rob in protest, like a mouse squaring up to a bear. To the uninitiated it might seem like a brawl was about to break out, but this was standard fare in our little group, not a conversation went by without some quip or lashing statement, but despite this Rob and Dec were close friends, best friends in fact. And besides, the warm glow or conversation continues around us, laughter interjecting the showdown, and with that the confrontation in the air flew away, back to the deep night sky where it belonged.

Shifting reddy-brown locks, like clay, from his brow, Rob pierced the silence.

‘Ay, Joe, what you reckon the odds are on Saracens winnin’?’ He knew I favoured the Harlequins, call it foolish loyalty, and this was meant as a little rag. A friendly joke reminding me of the inevitable ribbing I’ll receive after the match.

‘Ha, the Saracens? Win something? Don’t embarrass yourself mate, I would rather throw my money in the rubbish than bet it on them’ I complied with the joke. Banter may not be my strong suit, especially when caught off guard as I was, but the smirk on Rob’s face told me I didn’t perform too badly.

‘Aah you lot are out o’ your mind, it’s Wasps or nothin’ right now’ Declan piled in.

‘This year maybe, but it was all us last season. And weren’t you a Saracen fan around the same time, Dec?’ Rob said, deflected the boast. The habitual ‘glory supporting’ Dec did with every new season was a common point of debate with the group, me and Rob being loyal life-long to our teams didn’t help the matter.

Edinburgh Article Commentary

My coursework is a piece of persuasive writing about Edinburgh, Scotland. The aim of the article s to attract young people, the target audience of which is 16-30, ABC1 income and of all races and genders. I did this by the style of the article. Although fairly formal, I fashioned my article in the form of a story, and encouraged the connotations of this through imagery and pacing to make it seem adventurous and alluring, thus encouraging people to visit.

My aim was to portray the trip from a narrative perspective, as I perceived  my experience there as almost a story, and I believe the style of writing is effective in attracting the reader to the location and so encouraging them to go, which is the point of this style of article. The flowing, rhythmic pattern of my writing adds to the fantasy/medieval themes of my article which I added through metaphors and similes ('swords and armour battling with Sainsbury’s and Tesco for attention'). I did this because it relates to everyone's love of stories, regardless of the medium they're portrayed (film, books, radio etc.).
In order to encourage the connotations of a story, I wrote from my perspective. Although using words such as 'you', directly addressing the reader, is effective in engaging them and so making them more interested in the article, seeing the city and experiencing it from someone else's perspective is a common convention of a story, and as this was the style it's effective in reinforcing the ideas behind the article and the mode of address, making the place seem story-like, fantasy, bringing to light the history of the city that it's popular for, and using the contrast of the vibrant, modern industry to appeal to a different but similar audience.
However, relating to the audience is important in making the article appealing and creating interest. So to achieve this desired effect, I implemented common and relatable occurrences ('the classic Scottish weather rolled in. No umbrella and no hood might be a questionable choice') which were aimed to entertain the audience to make them warm to me (the author) and the article, making them more interested and invested in the story as well as giving the story a personal aspect. Using a combination of short and longer sentences helped create an almost song or poetry-like theme, which was important in giving the story a fantasy vibe that I encouraged through literary devices.
I used many short paragraphs in the structure of my Edinburgh article, this was for a number of reasons. Firstly, articles typically have paragraphs only one or two sentences long, while a narrative convention is to feature much larger ones, settling into a middle ground between both gave denotations of both forms, which is important as my article was equally article and story. In addition, poetry and songs often form into similarly long verses and stanzas, again creating a link between my article and the connotations of these mediums - fantasy etc.

Edinburgh Article

·         Setting scene with connotations of what’s to come – sunny day for good visit etc.

·         Build on the focus of contrast – old vs new, quiet vs loud etc.

Edinburgh

Where worlds meet

Bright sun and a clear sky welcomed me to Edinburgh. Stepping off of the train and right into the city centre, I couldn’t help rooting to the spot and just… looking.

If there’s one thing you need to know about Edinburgh, dear readers, its’s that it’s a city of contrast. Gazing up at the skyline that greeted me, gothic cathedral spires and sky-scraping (or let’s say sky-tickling, they’re not that tall) flats and offices mingled with each other like some sort of time-defying ballet. At ground level it’s no difference, with bookshops and family owned pubs dating back to the time of swords and armour battling with Sainsbury’s and Tesco for attention. And while to some it may appear sad, living evidence of a time forgotten too soon, I couldn’t help but think that it worked.

But I didn’t come here to admire the battle of the buildings, so after a moment I was on my way, traversing the cobbled streets as fast as my luggage-riddled body would allow. How horses and carts got around the uneven labyrinth I’ll never know. Bustling crowds of tourists, mostly Americans with a healthy smattering of Japanese and Germans, barricaded almost every available path with the flashes of cameras and excited yammering, forcing me to flee to the side streets. My pace slowed considerably, who would’ve thought back alleys were less maintained than the high street? I didn’t mind though, it gave me enough of a break to once again dive into the army of tourists soon after, before finally making it to my B&B.

Edinburgh tourist attractions are like pieces of art. While they may look grand and even intimidating from a distance, it’s only up close that you really appreciate the intricate and delicate details that make them so iconic. Take Edinburgh Castle. It overshadows the city with its jagged, unforgiving cliffs, sitting aloft on the shell of an extinct volcano (no wonder Edinburgh had the world’s first city fire service). But walking through its hallways and admiring its lavish interior gives you a whole other perspective – of home and warmth. If there was ever a building that epitomises not only my experience in the city, but the city as a whole, it would be this building.

Stately home meets a supervillain’s lair

And at the height of my attraction-delving afternoon the inevitable happened, the classic Scottish weather rolled in. No umbrella and no hood might be a questionable choice for a day out in a city more northerly than Edmonton, Canada, and my folly was beaten into me by the heavy drops of rain that was coming down like a waterfall.

Settling in at a back alley pub saved me from the rain, and while I wasn’t planning on staying long the unexpected music and brotherly atmosphere forced me to hang my coat up and park myself at a booth in a particularly dark corner, observing the goings on of typical Scotland Friday night. Tradition is a big thing in Britain, with monarchy and manners and marmite all being big parts of our cultural identity, and nothing showed me that like that night in the pub. Grown men belting their lungs out for songs their ancestors sang, cheering and hugging and drinking into the wee hours of the morning. ‘This is what I came to Scotland for’ I thought, and it was.

Attitudes to Accents Links

http://www.aston.ac.uk/research/research-impact/case-studies/you-are-what-you-speak/

https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2014/jul/14/do-accent-matter-modern-britain

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2013/oct/02/britain-accent-sound-foreign-snobs

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/9052562/Neutral-accents-the-best-if-you-want-to-get-ahead.html

https://www.theguardian.com/media/2009/may/13/birmingham-bristol-accents-advertising-government