This Is Your Life by John O'Farrell Read Free Book Online Page A

whole thing is reliant on the idea, really. It’s a comedy but it’s a sort of thriller as well.’
    â€˜OK, buster, you’ve got two minutes!’ said Nicholas, miming a cigar in an unconvincing impression of a Hollywood movie mogul.
    â€˜Right, imagine this: a millionaire tycoon decides he is going to murder his wife. But when he goes home to kill her, he discovers his wife has been kidnapped!’ There was a buzz of impressed interest around the table and I continued. ‘Everyone is saying, “Pay the ransom!” but this guy refuses. He says, “No, we’ve got to stand up to these bullies!” Only we, the audience, know that really he’s hoping that the kidnappers will do the evil deed for him!’
    I held my hands out ready to accept a little round of applause but my brother just unleashed the four devastating words: ‘What, like
Ruthless People?’
    â€˜Er – I never saw that. What happens in that?’
    â€˜A rich man comes home early to murder his wife and discovers she’s been kidnapped.’
    â€˜Stop it, that’s not funny’
    â€˜And everyone says, “Pay the ransom,” but he says, “No, we’ve got to stand up to these people.”’
    â€˜Oh yes, I remember that,’ chipped in Nancy. ‘Danny de Vito, Bette Midler. It was quite good.”
    I tried to salvage my precious project from this devastating revelation. ‘Yeah, but in my story the joke is that the kidnappers are the ones who are desperate, because they’re stuck with this really unbearable hostage, so they keep lowering their ransom demand to try and get rid of her, but the husband won’t pay a penny.’
    â€˜Yes, that’s it, that’s what happens, it’s all coming back now,’ said Carol.
    â€˜Oh yes, I think I rented that once,’ Dave added, unhelpfully.
    I’m not sure if I said anything else for the rest of the evening. Oh no, that’s right, about an hour later I distinctly remember mumbling ‘Sure’ when Nancy whispered, ‘Are you all right, Jimmy?’ I sipped my pint from time to time, feeling the laughter and chatter becoming separate and distant, like the echoey shouts inside a municipal swimming pool. I didn’t want to be there any more. Just before closing time a big cake was produced and everyone sang ‘Happy birthday’ and I blew out the solitary candle. Yet another year effortlessly extinguished. Yeah, happy bloody birthday, Jimmy. Bloody Danny de Vito. He bloody nicked my idea, the bastard. When I eventually staggered home I read a few more of my teenage letters, describing a wonderful life of fame and success and money and adoration. And then I went to the bookshelf and looked up the offending film in my movie guide. There was an exact summary of the plot on which I had been pinning all my hopes.
Ruthless People.
Four stars. See, I knew it was a good idea.
    And then I tossed my screenplay into the dustbin.

3
    27 Elms Crescent,
East Grinstead,
West Sussex,
England
    Dear James,
    I know it is only two days since I last wrote but I was just sitting down to start my project on the Tudors and I thought I’d quickly write another letter to you before I start. No doubt most of my class will leave their projects right until the beginning of September but I think it is far better to get it out of the way early on rather than have it hanging over you all summer and then rushing it all at the end.
    I don’t know where you will be going on your summer holidays but I imagine it is somewhere really hot with a fantastic apartment that leads straight out onto the palm-fringed beach, but there is also a lot of very interesting culture and history there as well in case it rains. I’m sureyou are certainly not the sort of person who’d make your kids spend two weeks at their grandparents’ and call that a summer holiday. Also, because you are not a male chauvinist