Today’s rejected comedy sample goes waaaaaay back, bros. Holy crap, I can’t believe I even found this. It’s one of my first sketches that never got produced. Keep in mind, I wrote this in the 80’s when big hair was in. There was a local dance show on cable that would have these kids dance and I always thought they looked ridiculous.

Right around this time I discovered punk music. Consequently my song parody at the end. I was shooting comedy sketches back then, but just didn’t have the resources to pull this one off.

Big Hair Dance Party

written by: Anthony M. DiGerolamo

Copyright 1984

INT. STUDIO-DAY

This is a set for a dance TV show. It contains several different sized platforms for the dancers, one of which is so high, only the feet of the dancers can be seen. Lights and video monitors are also strewn around about TWO DOZENS DANCERS (Club MTV rejects). All the female dancers have huge, moussed hairdos, some nearly two feet high, while most of the men are muscular, sluggo-types, with gold chains, buzz cuts and cool clothes.

MUSIC: (latest dance hit)

ANNOUNCER

(voice over, surfer)

Welcome back to the Gigantic Hair Dance

Party! With your totally cool host,

Marc Plummet.

FLASHING KEY: Big Hair Dance Party!

PAN RIGHT to MARC PLUMMET, the host. He is holding a microphone with a tiny wig on the top of it. Marc is dressed like the dancers, but is an overly hip, eighties-type comedian. The music fades out and the dancers stop. Immediately, the women give their hairdos an extra spray of moussed, the spray rains down everywhere.

MARC

(sarcastic, condescending)

Hey, we’re back. (waving away spray)

Whew, who invited (over emphasizing)

Vidal Sassoon, huh? (rolls eyes)

The Big Hair Dance Party’s in full

swing, am I right guys?

The dancers cheer.

MARC (CONT’D)

(to camera)

Hey, now that’s sincere applause.

Right now we’re gonna answer our

mail, as if we get enough to answer.

This letter is addressed to our

dancer, Judy. Judy, you wanna shake

it this way, babe?

Enter JUDY, a gorgeous dancer with big breasts, a neck brace and big hair that has drooped to the sides.

JUDY

(to camera, friendly)

Hi.

MARC

Judy, babe, you gotta stop dancin’

near those lights, you know what

I’m sayin’? Looks like you dried

out a little.

JUDY

No, well, actually, last night at

the Cocoa-Loco Club, I over moussed

my hair during a Lambada.

MARC

(feigning concern)

Ooo, I hate that.

JUDY

Yeah, my neck just couldn’t support

all the weight.

MARC

A lesson for all you kids out there.

Anyway, a viewer writes, dear Judy:

I really like your dancing and I think

you have a nice personality, is there

any way I could get in touch with you

after the show. Signed, hopelesslyin love.

DANCERS

Whooooooaaaaa!

MARC

Yeah, well he got the hopeless part right.

Judy, how would you respond to that?

JUDY

Well, gee. It’s really nice of you to

say I have a good personality—

MARC

(ogling Judy’s breasts)

Yeah, that kind of thing really sticks out,

on a show like this.

JUDY

Sure, I guess I’ll meet you.

MARC

Yeah, in a dark alley. Judy why don’t

you introduce the next song?

The music begins and the dancers begin to dance.

JUDY

Okay. It’s called “Martin Rukus”.

MARC

“Martin Rukus”, appropriately by,

Martin Rukus and the Disease. Let’s

hit it, dudes.

MONTAGE ALA CLUB MTV QUICK SHOTS of the Big Hair Dancers dancing. The cameramen relentlessly shoot down women’s bras and up their skirts. Towards the end, two of the dancers hairdos get caught together. They quickly become top heavy, fall over and have to be carried away by their boyfriends. All this is intercut with the Martin Rukus and the Disease video, which is also playing on all the monitors.

ANGLE ON VIDEO

MARTIN RUKUS is a cross between the late Sid Vicious and a spandex, heavy metal singer. The drummer, TOOLSHED, has a mohawk and the lead guitarist, TRISH, has green and purple hair. JANET, the bassist, is a gorgeous dyed blonde. The video is a montage of the band playing in concert, with various images that go along with the song. There is a brief musical introduction, then Martin launches into the song with wild energy.

MARTIN

(English accent, singing)

I’m a normal kinda sod,

even though I worship God,

wasn’t born inside a pod.

TOOLSHED, TRISH & JANET

(answering)

Martin Rukus!

MARTIN

Gotta mum who sniffin’ glue,

but me dad don’t have a clue,

been this way since I was two.

TOOLSHED, TRISH & JANET

Martin Rukus! Ahhhhh…

(sustained throughnext verse)

TRISH

With a earring in his nose

and a tattoo on His tukus!

He’s a desperate kinda of joe,

but he wouldn’t want to (censored beep) us.

MARTIN

No, I’m not Martin Short!

TOOLSHED, TRISH & JANET

He’s Martin Rukus!

MARTIN

(next verse)

My band is kinda of crass,

but it gets me lots of (censored beep),

makes my concert like a mass.

TOOLSHED, TRISH & JANET

Martin Rukus!

MARTIN

When I’m down upon my luck,

I go out and get a (censored beep),

`cause it only cost a buck.

TOOLSHED, TRISH & JANET

Martin Rukus! Ahhhhh…..

TRISH

With an earring through his (beep),

He would never want to (beep) us.

He’s a stupid kinda of (beep)

and I know he wants to duck us.

MARTIN

No, I’m not dry martini!

TOOLSHED, TRISH & JANET

He’s Martin Rukus!

Trish goes into her guitar solo. After a few seconds of music, excerpts from a pre-recorded interview with Martin are played in the background.

MARTIN

(English, soft spoken)

Well, like I was telling Martha Quinn,

you can’t (beep)-ing censor people. I

mean, I’m a (beep)-ing punk for (beep)

sake. What do those (beep)-ing (beep)

people want me to (beep) say? What we

should all do is (extended beep) and

get(beep) Jesse Helms to (beep) my dog

(beep)in his pants so (extended beep).

The guitar solo ends and Martin begins to sing again.

MARTIN

(singing)

Quit my junior year school,

so the girls would think me cool.

And I (beep) inside (beep).

TOOLSHED, TRISH & JANET

Martin Rukus!

MARTIN

(extended beep through whole verse)

TOOLSHED, TRISH & JANET

Martin Rukus! Ahhhhh….

TRISH

With an earring through his nose

And a tattoo on his (beep).

He’s a desperate kinda joe

but he wouldn’t want to (beep) us.

MARTIN

No, I’m not Saint Martinez!

TOOLSHED, TRISH & JANET

He’s Martin Rukus!

Big musical finish, while Martin raves.

MARTIN

(raving)

And I’m not Steve Martin or (beep)-ing

Billy Martin. I’m not bloody Martini

and Rossi Astispumonte! I’m not Martin X

or (beep)-ing Martin Paints! I’m not

(extended beep as music ends cold)

(and then, muttering) Bloody censors.

ANGLE ON MARC

The music stops and the lights come out. Immediately, the Big Hair Dancers moussed their hair. Marc is wearing protective eye goggles, now fogged from all the spray. One of the girls with the big hair gets two heavy and causes the platform to give way from underneath her.

MARC

(sarcastic)

A musical masterpiece if I do say so,

and (pause) I do. Today’s dancers will

receive a free copy of Martin Rukus and

the Disease’s new album.

Marc holds up the album, it is wrapped in brown paper and covered with stickers that say, “Offensive Lyrics”, “Danger”, “Stay Away”, “U Buy, U Die”, “Adults Only!”, “X-rated”, “Very Dirty”, etc.

PAN RIGHT to reveal an ARMED SECURITY GUARD checking the I.D. of the dancers before passing out the record. He rejects most of them.

MARC (CONT’D)

(confused, searching)

I don’t know what the name is, (smug)

but you’ll buy anyway. That’s about

all we have time for, this is Marvelous

Marc Plummet saying, I care about you.

(rolls eyes)

The music and dancers start up again. Marc join in.

ANNOUNCER

(voice over, surfer)

The Really Big Hair Dance Party has

been brought to you by:

STILL of some cans of moussed and cosmetics.

ANNOUNCER (CONT’D)

Cannibal Cosmetics, the cosmetic line

with the chemical for all your problems!

And by:

STILL of a pile of hip jeans and clothes.

ANNOUNCER (CONT’D)

Sissy-boy Jeans! For clothes that your

girlfriend’s gonna borrow anyway! And by:

STILL of sunglasses.

ANNOUNCER (CONT’D)

Shades eye wear! The most expensive

sunglasses you can buy!

ROLL FAKE CREDITS over Judy’s huge breasts. Somewhere in the credits, slip in the words, “You’re not reading this, are you?”

FADE TO BLACK