Ed The Shed

Here's a new radio script featuring me and a shed. I might get people far more skilled behind a microphone than me to perform them. Don't underestimate garden outbuildings...

SCENE BRIEFING 

SETTING: EXT. BACK GARDEN IN COVENTRY - MORNING

CHARACTERS:

• ANDY: Middle-aged man from Coventry who didn’t know he had a talking shed and doesn’t like gardening. 
• ED: A shed. From the North. 

---

FX: BIRDS CHIRPING, THE SOUND OF DISTANT TRAFFIC

ANDY:
(MUTTERING)
Blimey, look at all the leaf debris…

ED:
Yer posh git! Leaf debris? Just leaves would ‘ave done the job.

ANDY:
(CONFUSED)
What? Pardon? 

ED:
(EXASPERATED)
It’s me, yer pillock, Ed The Shed.

ANDY:
(QUIETLY)
So, you’re a talking shed?

ED:
(SCOFFING)
No. I’m a bloody talking dustbin. What d’yer think?

ANDY:

(INDIGNANT) 
No need to be sarcastic. I didn’t know I had a talking shed.

ED:
No, and yer don’t know ‘ow to call things their name without gettin’ all bloody posh about it.

FX: CREAKING SOUND OF A WOODEN SHED DOOR OPENING

ED:
Watch me bloody varnish, yer pillock!

ANDY:
Yeah, sorry, Ed.

FX: SOUND OF TOOLS BEING LIFTED FROM HOOKS

ED:
I’ll tell thee what, it’s proper bloody nesh out ‘ere today in’t it?

ANDY:
Aye happen it is— Sorry, it’s catching, I meant, yeah it is.

ED:
Bugger me, yer nearly spoke proper then, like.

FX: SOUND OF LEAVES BEING RAKED UP ON A LAWN

ED:
Yer missed a few.

ANDY:
I’ll get ‘em in a minute.

ED:
Blimey! Is yer name Arthur?

ANDY:
No, it’s Andy, you know that.

ED:
Are yer sure? Bloody half a job.

ANDY:
Eh?

ED:
Bit slow ain't yer?

ED (CONT):
Aw bugger! It’s gonna piss it down.

ANDY:
Yep, looks like it.

ED:
Yer should ‘ave repaired me roof. I’ve got a loose shingle—

ANDY:
Don’t tell everyone, they’ll all want one.

ED:
Eh?

ANDY:
It was a little joke, Ed.

ED:
Oh, aye. That’s it, get all bloody clever. I’m a shed. I’m don’t get jokes.

ANDY:
Er, you did one yourself a minute ago. 

ED:
Did I? 

ANDY:
Yep. 

ED:
Shut yer gob and get on wi' yer task.

ANDY:
Right. What task? 

ED:
That bloody mower. It stinks. 

ANDY:
What's wrong with it?

ED:
I just told yer. It’s half knackered and stinks of wet grass.

ANDY:
It’ll dry out.

ED:
Not before the fumes have choked me.

FX: SOUND OF METALLIC CLUNKING AND SCRAPING

ANDY:
It does pong a bit doesn't it?

ED:
See? I told yer didn't I? 

ANDY:
Yes, Ed. You did. 

(BEAT)

ANDY:
Bugger me. There's more bloody leaves. 

ED:
Ah sod 'em. Go and make a brew. 

ANDY:
Good idea. Ta.

FX: SOUND OF FOOTSTEPS AS ANDY WALKS OFF AND ED MUTTERING QUIETLY.