Phonebox

"I like standing in phoneboxes. The red coffins of communication. Drinking in the silence. Absorbing the pointlessness. Relishing the delicious obsolescence. Just me and the box. Useless and unseen.

When I’m in the box I try to stand as still as I can. Like I’m part of the box itself. Or perhaps a rogue tree that has grown up through the floor, entwining my branches around the broken glass panels, gasping for light and sickly air. Actually, no. I’m nothing like a tree. If I was anything green, I’d be a vegetable. A swede maybe. But they are yellowish. Anyway, I do it for the privacy. 

These monoliths are sadly no longer in use. I see people walk past through the clouded windows on their ‘devices’. Smudging glass against their sullen grey faces. Force-feeding their greedy, burnt retinas. The phonebox is real. I’m real. I’m real within real. They are fake. They are fake and they are dependant upon fake.

In here I’ve got the lost voices of a thousand real people. The clunk of a million loose metal coins. The twist and coil of faded plastic. I’ve got the pain, the ecstasy, the sadness, the excitement. Every conversation that occurred within these walls is imbued in the stale air that I breathe. I am a part of history and a connection to the vivid present. I’m part of the box and the box is part of me.

So here I am. In the phonebox. The tomb of technology. The grave of a fallen community. A shell of echoes. A cabinet of shadows. The red cage of the captive caller.

In the phonebox, I am truly alive.”

There was a minute of silence before a wheezing cough erupted from the handset. 

"And that’s what gets you off is it?" said the husky voice on the end of the line.

I sighed. Hung up. And placed the dog-eared calling card back on the rack. Staring at the faded, photocopied tits, small black stars obscuring my view, I finished myself off and left. 

I like standing in phoneboxes.

diceproductionslikes:

Don’t Fear Death, our film for Channel 4’s Random Acts starring Rik Mayall is now online. Hope you enjoy! http://diceproductions.co.uk/dontfeardeath

Our new film is now online in full. Check it out.

diceproductionslikes:

We’ll be launching Don’t Fear Death online on 9th September.
Here’s a looped segment to make your eyes feel uncomfortable in the meantime.

diceproductionslikes:

We’ll be launching Don’t Fear Death online on 9th September.

Here’s a looped segment to make your eyes feel uncomfortable in the meantime.

Inanimate Objects

I once thought I was an inanimate object. But soon ruled it out after recognising my capability for conscious thought. Ever since that moment, I wanted to be a ‘thing’.

You see, I didn’t want to think. Well, more than that. I didn’t want to ‘be’. I was fine with existing, don’t get me wrong, but I didn’t want to ‘live’. Living is just too much like hard work. So I set about changing. But each daydream and every fleeting memory of my desire to be a rock, or a telephone, or a car manual was a painful reminder that I had the rich internal life of a higher being. 

Becoming a simple object seemed like the ideal career choice for a guy like me. But how do you get into it? There’s no interview, or application process, or starter course. You either are or you aren’t. And it was becoming very clear to me that I wasn’t made of the right stuff. 

Aside from my physical form, I was mentally overstimulated to be a thing. It’s incredibly difficult not to think. I don’t know if you’ve tried it. For all I know you’ve already mastered it and are reading this as a cabbage or a mug of milk, but I tried everything and failed. From thinking about not thinking, to thinking about so much my brain might just turn off. Did it hell. My own grey matter just mocked me. It even chucked in some insomnia and childhood trauma to really stick the knife in. I hate my brain. Hate it.

I’d stare for hours at things I’d rather be. At one point, I developed a strong platonic relationship with a miniature cactus after a particularly gruelling 33-hour session. But once again my inability to prevent myself from mental attachments and my ability to find a staring session ‘gruelling’, undermined my efforts from their inception. “Failure,” I screamed, forgoing my self-imposed silence and setting myself back by at least a month.

But after many months and much strife things, unexpectedly, started to look up. Chairs, screwdrivers, lampshades, bicycles, all things I was so desperate to emulate, began to seem like peers as opposed to idols. I became more and more inanimate as time went on. I thought less. I did less. I lived less. 

And so, after 3 years of effort and persistence I finally did it. I became nothing. Nothing to you and everything to me all at once. I was unthinking, uncaring, unliving. I became a calculator. Sitting at the desk of a failing business, unsympathetically crunching the numbers that would cause so much pain to the conscious being that relied on them so foolishly. I was a thing. A gloriously mundane thing.

My owner should become an object like me, I didn’t think, but would have given the capability. He wouldn’t have to worry about his failing business, or bills, or family troubles, or his impending imprisonment for the litany of financial failings against his name. He’d do well as a pencil, or a toothbrush.

And then my world flipped once again. I had an out-of-body experience. I saw myself on the desk. All faded buttons and grey plastic. My solar panel strip glinting in the halogen purgatory I found myself in. I reached out a polyester-clad arm I didn’t realise I had and touched my former form. I could feel the sinking dread of a conscious being. I had regressed. I had rejoined the land of the living. I had failed.

Sat in the beige wasteland of the office, I tapped at the calculator and slid it around. BOOBIES. Raising a weak smile I began the process again. Radiator, radiator, radiator, radiator, radiator, radiator, radiator. I want to be a radiator.

chrisshepherdfilms:

Don’t Fear Death on Random Acts.
Tonight, 5th August 2013, on Channel at 23:05.
Who would have thought Death would be so funny? But it is in Louis Hudson and Ian Ravenscroft’s film tonight for Random Acts. Featuring the voice of Rik Mayal, Louis and Ian conjure up a world which is very scarily like our own. There’s some real stand out animation here. We are very proud to have had this film in our slate for series two. Louis easily can be compared to the greats of animation comedy, like Cordell Barker, Richard Conde or Bill Plympton. Sound like a big claim? See for yourself tonight on Channel 4 at 23:05.

What nice words. Thanks Chris! More info on the film: http://diceproductions.co.uk/dontfeardeath/ 

chrisshepherdfilms:

Don’t Fear Death on Random Acts.

Tonight, 5th August 2013, on Channel at 23:05.

Who would have thought Death would be so funny? But it is in Louis Hudson and Ian Ravenscroft’s film tonight for Random Acts. Featuring the voice of Rik Mayal, Louis and Ian conjure up a world which is very scarily like our own. There’s some real stand out animation here. We are very proud to have had this film in our slate for series two. Louis easily can be compared to the greats of animation comedy, like Cordell Barker, Richard Conde or Bill Plympton. Sound like a big claim? See for yourself tonight on Channel 4 at 23:05.

What nice words. Thanks Chris! More info on the film: http://diceproductions.co.uk/dontfeardeath/ 

diceproductionslikes:

Corpsing

Graham Caramel is a Cheat

Graham Caramel cheated in his exams. He had all the bases covered.

There were three inside men: Invigilator, marker, question writer. Paid, protected, and primed to pass. Notes were concealed in his watch, socks, pants, pockets, collar, and hidden in his fringe. Fellow students were bribed, cajoled and persuaded to skip a few questions to lower the pass rate. A long shot, but a precaution.

A system of hand gestures, eyebrow movements and facial ticks were devised, taught and rehearsed to communicate with his wingman  George Molotov. He listened to confidence guru tapes, watched stress-relieving videos, attended concentration strengthening workshops.

But it wasn’t enough. He wore a radio earpiece linked to leading experts from several fields of his study across the globe. He had an automatic pencil that would write pre-programmed formulae with a simple click. He implanted a camera into his forehead. He created an elaborate system of mirrors, pulleys, cogs, wheels and string to provide maximum visibility of the other testees answers. He was obsessed.

He ate only tuna and banana to stimulate his brain. He lay in flotation tanks, mud baths and aromatherapy wigwams for days on end. He wore silk everything and always wore sunglasses. He took pills, potions and injected chemical after chemical into his system to enhance every aspect of his being. He was a superhuman. A goliath. A God.

Just shy of 18 sleepless nights in the workshop, many months of meticulous planning, and thousands of pounds of expense passed until the day of the exam. Graham entered the hall, took a deep breath, and opened his paper.

It was a glorious success. Graham aced the test. Scored the top mark of all students. Graduated with first class honours. Everyone in the country, if not the world, wanted to hire him. He was the talk of the industry and the buzz in his field.

But it was only weeks later, on his first day on the job, that the first pang of guilt at his cheating was felt. Thankfully for Graham the feeling passed quickly as a more pressing concern arose.

"Your plan, Mr Caramel?" asked the consultant brain surgeon.

"That all depends" responded Graham.

"On what exactly?"

"On how you get into the head, of course."

Graham Caramel never worked again. If only he had read the textbooks.

Saw this at Adam Buxton’s Bug. It’s top.

Here’s our animated film All Consuming love (Man in a Cat) in full. Enjoy. More info: http://diceproductions.co.uk/maninacat

Smug

Jambalaya (Gary) woke up with a thought in his head.

“The gap between the past and the future is but a millimeter think. Perhaps only a single pixel wide.”

This, he thought, was almost certainly the most profound and interesting thought he had mustered in his entire life, but also that he had ruined it by being quite so pleased with it.

He spent the rest of the day trying to forget it so he could come up with it another time. That time, he assured himself, he would not be so smug.