Spaced Fan Fiction (Final)

Spaced – “Procrastination”

Spaced is a British television sitcom written by and starring Simon Pegg and Jessica Stevenson, and directed by Edgar Wright.  It is noted for its rapid-fire editing, frequent pop culture references and jokes, eclectic music, and displays of surrealism and non-sequitur humour.  Two series of seven episodes each were broadcast in 1999 and 2001.

Tim Bisley (Pegg) and Daisy Steiner (Stevenson) are two London twenty-somethings who meet by chance in a café while both are flat-hunting.  Despite barely knowing each other, they conspire to pose as a young professional couple in order to meet the requisites of an advertisement for a relatively cheap flat in the distinctive building at 23 Meteor Street, Tufnell Park, which is owned by and also houses the landlady, Marsha Klein (Julia Deakin).  Also in the building is Brian Topp (Mark Heap), an eccentric conceptual artist who lives and works on his various pieces in the ground floor flat.  Frequent visitors are Daisy's best friend, Twist Morgan (Katy Carmichael) and Tim's best friend, Mike Watt (Nick Frost), who ends up becoming a lodger after Marsha's daughter Amber Weary "flies the nest".

The series largely concerns the colourful and surrealistic adventures of Tim and Daisy as they navigate through life, decide on what they want to do with their lives, come to terms with affairs of the heart, and try to figure out new and largely unproductive ways of killing time. Tim and Daisy repeatedly stress that they are not a couple to everyone but Marsha, but despite (or because of) this, romantic tension develops between them, particularly during the second series.
From Wikipedia

This Fan Fiction is set soon after the end of the second series, but in modern day.  Life is going on as normal.  Despite Marsha finding out the truth about Tim & Daisy by the end of series two, I am assuming that she single-mindedly believes they should be together.

Daisy sat gawking at the typewriter as usual, full of hope and doubt.  Today she will write that groundbreaking article on the fickle nature of student fashion as she had been planning for months now, and send a copy to that old fart the Editor of the Observer to name one.

She wasn’t sure how long Brian had been standing behind her in the open doorway, he was for all intents and purposes naked, apart from a pair of wellies and some moth-bitten mucky Y-fronts.  Blue and green paint was smeared over his abdomen in a chaotic array, his right hand was bound in surgical tape, obscuring the use of his fingers completely.  She could have sworn there was something making an appearance down the left side of his inner thigh, but looking at it to make a positive ident might be like looking directly into the sun.

Daisy wondered when they had attained the level of familiarity whereas they could walk into each other’s flats practically bollock naked.  She entertained the thought of one day turning the tables on Brian, and rocking up casually to his flat downstairs in her underwear.  This thought was soon quashed as she flashed back to earlier this morning and more specifically the reflection she saw in the mirror of what she actually looked like in her underwear.  Daisy now considered the awkward aftermath of subjecting Brian to a doorway full of cellulite and idiotic smiles.

“Alright..,” said Brian eventually.  Daisy welcomed the interruption.

“You, um.. heard from Twist?” he mumbled.

Daisy looked puzzled.  “She’s coming back to London in a month.  Don’t you read her Facebook page?”

“Don’t have.. Facebook,” said Brian, shifting his eyes left and right to avoid eye-contact.

“So you’re not the Brian Topp with the picture of a dead raccoon as his profile picture?” She replied. “I thought it was you being, y’know.. arty”.

“Uh.. no,” he said.  “Don’t have a computer”.

In retrospect this didn’t surprise Daisy.  Obviously then all this time she’s been sending friend requests to this raccoon Brian, and assumed our Brian was just being an aloof tosser and not replying.  Keep that one to myself, thought Daisy.

Brian grimaced.  He felt an ominous gnawing in his gut.  His initial conclusion pointed towards those pills Tim gave him two nights ago.  He froze when he suddenly realized what it was.

The smell of fresh tobacco smoke and wine enveloped him from behind.

“Allo Brian..,” Marsha said with an unnervingly low pitch.

He nervously turned round just as she exhaled a lungful of Menthol Superkings in his general direction.  

“Hello Marsha!” said Daisy chirpily. “Cup of tea?”

“Rent was due last Saturday, Brian” Marsha said, eyes fixed on Brian.

“You know Brian, if you can’t afford it this month that’s perfectly fine..,” she coughed and continued huskily  “As you know there are other ways you can… leave a deposit in my account”.

She took an inhumanly long drag, her eyes widened looking Brian in the eye, an enormous orange cone forming on the end of the cigarette which seemed to defy the laws of science. Marsha’s passion burned. 

Out of awkwardness, or stupidity, Daisy interjected at this point.  “Brian’s OK for money, Marsha.  He’s been doing regular art exhibitions.  ..and stuff”.

“..haven’t you Brian?”  Daisy wished she’d stayed in bed today.

“Art’s not about money Daisy..”.  Brian seemed a little miffed.  “Bye..,” he said meekly, looking at the floor as he left and closed the door quietly behind him.

“Never mind about Mr. Misery guts,” Marsha smirked as she joined Daisy at the table.  “Fancy a glass of Shiraz, Kitten?”

“Marsha, I’ve..”

Before she could finish, a few generous glugs of red sloshed into an empty glass, some mischievous crimson projectiles setting up permanent residence on Daisy’s writing paper.

Daisy glanced at her watch and was briefly disturbed by the fact that it was 10:37am, but then her train of thought shifted to speculating how Marsha, cigarette in hand, had managed to conceal a bottle of wine and two glasses until now.

“How’s Amber?” Daisy sipped the wine, and resigned to another unproductive day.

“Forget Lady Muck.  How’s things with you and Tim?” 

“Me and Tim?” Daisy produced a disappointing fake laugh. “Marsha as you know we’re just friends”.  She could feel Marsha her eyeballing her.  “Tim’s got his life and I’ve, y’know.. got.. my things..”

“You two kids wouldn’t know true love if it jumped up bit you on the short and curlies,” Marsha slurred slightly.  Daisy raised an eyebrow as she processed what was just said.

The door behind them flung open.  Mike neatly commando-rolled into the centre of the living room.  “And that’s how I saved the pet shop..” he said, looking back towards the door. 

Tim soon followed looking slightly disinterested.

“Where’ve you been this early? I thought you were still asleep,” Daisy said.  

“Me and Mike went to the post office.  Sent some British stuff over to Sophie, stuff she can’t get over there,” said Tim excitedly.

“And how is Sophie?” Daisy felt she stressed an adequate amount of contempt on the word ‘Sophie’, a level of contempt she reserved purely for thin, pretty bitches.

“She’s great!” Tim smiled “She told me she’s coming over in the spring, or possibly after summer.  Depends on work”.

Daisy scowled as she imagined Sophie sitting outside a Seattle café sipping espressos, stringing Tim along via her iphone, whilst no doubt on the sly she’s shagging a guy with a ridiculous sun tan called Cooper.

“Anyway we’re going out tonight,” Tim said “Tyres has got some fresh MD powder in from Denmark, we’re gonna get kur-aay-zee!” Tim realised the way he just said the word crazy was immensely annoying.  He could see Daisy rolling her eyes.

“I’ve got a date tonight,” said Daisy, matter-of-factly.

Marsha coughed up a huge cloud of semi absorbed smoke into Daisy’s eyes.  She squinted at Daisy as if unconvinced.

“What? Who? Who is he?” said Tim, slightly raised voice.

“You don’t know him,” She replied

“What’s his name?” Tim asked.  “Yeah what’s his name?” added Mike quickly.

“John…”  “athan..” Daisy gathered her thoughts.  “He.. he works in I.T.  He thinks I’m very sweet”.

“Sweet?” mocked Tim

“Haha because.. y’know, I still use a typewriter..,” She added with an inane grin.

“How come I don’t know him?” Tim sounded upset.

”Battlestar Galactica is on in a minute,” Mike stated with importance.

“Brilliant!” Said Tim & Daisy in unison, jumping into life.  They leapt on the couch, Tim claiming the remote by childishly wiping it in and out of his arse crack, much to Daisy’s disapproval.

Marsha shook her head and left the flat just as the Battlestar theme tune was in full swing, only to slink back in a minute later and retrieve the Shiraz.