Chabuddy G - “International” (Pilot)
Really wish there was a spin off series for chabuddy
CHABUDDY G
PILOT — “INTERNATIONAL”
FADE IN:
EXT. HARLOW – BLOCK OF FLATS – MORNING
A BORDER FORCE van swings hard into the estate.
Another follows.
The doors open before they have properly stopped.
OFFICERS pile out in black tactical gear.
No music.
Just engines. Radios. Breath.
Boots hit concrete.
INT. BLOCK OF FLATS – STAIRWELL – CONTINUOUS
Tightly laced tactical boots hammer up the stairs.
Another pair behind them.
Another.
Hands grip banisters. Radios crackle against shoulders.
One officer takes the steps two at a time.
Another nearly wipes out on a paper-thin AMAZON cardboard envelope lying across a step.
He catches himself on the rail.
OFFICER
Fucking hell.
Nobody stops.
They keep moving.
EXT. BLOCK OF FLATS – CONTINUOUS
The COMMANDER stands beside the van, radio to his mouth, staring up at the building.
COMMANDER
Alpha One, proceed to target address. Suspect believed to be inside.
Static.
OFFICER (V.O.)
Received.
The Commander looks up.
The documentary camera follows his gaze —
Then drifts slightly.
On the brick wall beside him, badly sprayed in enormous black letters:
STARMER IS A PADEO
The camera lingers.
Just a fraction too long.
The Commander notices.
Looks at the graffiti.
Then at the camera.
COMMANDER
That’s not even how you spell it.
INT. BLOCK OF FLATS – FOURTH FLOOR CORRIDOR – MOMENTS LATER
The Border Force team stacks either side of a battered flat door.
MARTIN, the lead officer, checks a sheet of paperwork.
He knocks hard.
MARTIN
Border Force!
Nothing.
Martin looks at the paperwork.
MARTIN
Mr… Chabud Gul Mohammed Abdul Rahman Singh Patel Khan?
Silence.
He looks further down the page.
There is considerably more name.
MARTIN
…Junior?
Nothing.
The officer beside him quietly points to the bottom of the page.
Martin follows his finger.
MARTIN
Also known as…
(beat)
Chabuddy G.
He knocks again.
MARTIN
Chabuddy G. Border Force. Open the door.
Nothing.
Martin looks at the BREACHING OFFICER.
A nod.
The officer takes a step back.
WHAM.
Shoulder into the door.
Nothing.
He steps back again.
WHAM.
Still nothing.
A short silence.
A YOUNG OFFICER reaches past him.
Tries the handle.
CLICK.
The door slowly swings inward.
Nobody says anything.
Martin looks at the Breaching Officer.
Then into the flat.
MARTIN
Go.
INT. CHABUDDY’S FLAT – CONTINUOUS
The team enters.
MARTIN
Border Force!
Two officers disappear through the living-room doorway.
Almost immediately, one comes back out.
Fast.
The second follows, covering his mouth.
OFFICER #3
Fuck me.
MARTIN
What?
OFFICER #3
There’s something in there.
MARTIN
What?
OFFICER #3
I dunno.
Officer #3 gags.
OFFICER #3
It fucking stinks.
MARTIN
What does?
Officer #3 looks back into the flat.
OFFICER #3
The flat.
Martin looks at an officer carrying respiratory equipment.
MARTIN
Mask.
The MASKED OFFICER pulls on his respirator and heads inside.
INT. CHABUDDY’S FLAT – LIVING ROOM – CONTINUOUS
The Masked Officer moves slowly through the flat.
The documentary camera follows.
A half-eaten kebab on a plate.
Empty energy-drink cans.
Clothes hanging from a tanning bed.
A portable heater running for no apparent reason.
On the wall, a homemade sign:
CHABUDDY G INTERNATIONAL HOLDINGS UK LTD
Underneath, added in biro:
DUBAI OFFICE – COMING SOON
From the stairwell —
HUUURRGHHH.
The Masked Officer stops.
Looks back.
OFFICER (O.S.)
I’m alright.
A pause.
HUUUURRGHHH.
The Masked Officer carries on.
INT. CHABUDDY’S FLAT – KITCHEN – CONTINUOUS
Empty.
Clear.
INT. CHABUDDY’S FLAT – BEDROOM – CONTINUOUS
Empty.
Clear.
INT. CHABUDDY’S FLAT – HALLWAY – CONTINUOUS
The Masked Officer stops.
A closed bathroom door.
Very faintly —
SCRRCH.
He looks at it.
SCRRCH.
The others cautiously come back inside.
Martin approaches the bathroom door.
MARTIN
Mr Gul?
Nothing.
MARTIN
We know you’re in there.
Silence.
Martin looks at the Breaching Officer.
The officer steps forward.
One hit.
CRASH.
The bathroom door flies open.
INT. CHABUDDY’S FLAT – BATHROOM – CONTINUOUS
Silence.
Sitting on the toilet is STEVES.
Trousers still on.
A filthy, bedraggled TESCO POLO SHIRT.
Hair matted.
Eyes barely focused.
Around his mouth is some sort of strange, SILVER, ALUMINIUM-LOOKING SUBSTANCE.
Nobody moves.
Steves slowly raises his head.
Looks at Martin.
Looks at the Masked Officer.
Looks at another officer.
Then back at Martin.
Nothing.
Five seconds.
Steves opens his mouth.
Stops.
His eyes drift away.
Then back again.
STEVES
…do…
A beat.
STEVES
…you, erm…
He seems to forget what he was going to say.
Looks down at himself.
Another long pause.
Looks back up.
STEVES
…have a Clubcard?
SMASH CUT TO:
EXT. HARLOW HIGH STREET – DAY
MUSIC CUE: “BOUND 4 DA RELOAD” – OXIDE & NEUTRINO
The track HITS.
SLOW MOTION.
A snakeskin loafer lands on the pavement.
Cream trousers.
Gold buckle.
Leather jacket.
Gold chain.
Sunglasses.
CHABUDDY G walks directly towards camera.
Utterly magnificent.
At least in his own mind.
People move around him carrying shopping bags.
A woman manoeuvres a buggy out of his way.
Chabuddy gives her a knowing little nod.
She doesn’t see it.
He continues.
Past SAVERS.
Past a vape shop.
Past CASH CONVERTERS.
He catches his reflection in the window.
Stops.
Smooths his moustache.
Adjusts his sunglasses.
Carries on.
The documentary camera walks backwards in front of him.
Chabuddy glances towards it.
CHABUDDY
I’ve basically gone international now.
He keeps walking.
INTERVIEWER (O.S.)
Where have you been?
Chabuddy looks at him.
A slight pause.
CHABUDDY
Essex.
He turns back towards the high street.
The track kicks on.
Chabuddy walks straight towards camera as though he has just returned from six months in Medellín.
CHABUDDY G
Behind him, barely noticed, a Border Force van tears across the junction.
Chabuddy keeps walking.
CUT TO BLACK.