First – our man on the moon
‘First’ is a story I wrote all the way back in February 2012 in response to a call for submissions for a brand new comedy podcast by John Rain. ‘An Occasional Theme’ brought together about eight to ten performers every fortnight all riffing on a certain topic. For the first edition, the theme was, quite appropriately, ‘First’.
My thoughts ran immediately to Neil Armstrong and the 1969 moon landings. What if, when he touched down, having delivered his botched speech, he discovered someone already sitting there? And what if that person were the purely fictional Mr Brown, nonchalently enjoying an apple. Well, he’d be furious, wouldn’t he?
I recorded the story, my first experience of doing so, and listened back. It needed somethig else. Then I recalled Chris Morris’s ‘Blue Jam’ series that was broadcast in the late 1990s on BBC Radio 1. In this programme, audio exchanges were mixed over the top of largely downtempo dance tracks. So, I dusted off my old copy of the Sonic Foundry Acid mixing software, cued up something by AFX and pitched it down to a less recognisable version.
The results are quite pleasing, giving my words a spacious, cosmic backdrop.
Listen to ‘First’
And read the story below
‘An Occasional Theme’ ran for one series in 2012 and, I think, fizzled out during its second. John Rain went on to create the now legendary Smershpod which provides an incredibly irreverent commentary for all your favourite films – starting off with James Bond, but now extending out to being extremely rude about all genres.
First
I perched on a dusty bank, chewed on an apple and watched their peculiar craft shake like a Bandito pencil topper. ‘That’s not going to keep the cold out later on,’ I thought. ‘There’s a fair nip to the lunar night round here.’ I took another bite of my apple.
‘Hoi!’ I shouted. ‘What kind of cosmic spiv did you buy yon shonky craft from?’ There was no answer. The door was open but nobody seemed ready to come out yet. ‘Perhaps they’re having a wee coffee and enjoying the view?’ I thought.
Twenty minutes later, one guy did come out, bouncing around, probably drunk, but I paid the notion no mind. His speech wasn’t clear but I thought I could make it out.
‘That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.’
‘Are man and mankind no’ the same thing?’ I asked.
‘Good God man! Put your helmet on, you’ll die!’ he shouted back at me. I don’t think he realised I had been watching. What do I need a helmet for? I’m not planning on motorcycling, not this afternoon at any rate. ‘Wait a minute. Who exactly are you buddy? How did you get here? I’m supposed to be the first man to set foot on the moon.’
‘The first to do what?’
‘Walk on the moon.’ he sniped. ‘The great, glowing moon that man has only gazed at from earth for millennia.’ He seemed a tad melodramatic.
‘Och, away with ye. There’s been a wee flying bus from Falkirk station coming here for years. We’ve been coming here as a family since 1955. My wee boy is sick of it, all his friends are off to Mars again with that Thomas Cook lot.’
‘Pah! I don’t believe you. You’re a hallucination brought on by a lack of oxygen.’
‘Oh am I? Say, would you like one of these apples? Granny Smith. They grow extra large around here, must be something in the air.’ I held one of my apples out for him, but the man simply bounced off across the shimmering moonsand towards the cash and carry.