the infinity discount skit
SCENE: OUTSIDE CAFFÈ NERO, WETHERBY
PILGRIM exits, holding the last satisfying warmth of his coffee.
A CHEAP TATT SHOP sits nearby, window filled with glowing nonsense.
A sign reads:
INFINITY DEER — NOW £9.99
(in aggressive festive typeface)
---
PILGRIM:
Ah. Infinity. Reduced.
That’s that theory sorted, then.
(He nods sagely, as though confirming a theological dispute.)
Enter LEGION — not one person, but three identical blokes in puffer jackets, speaking in chorus.
---
LEGION:
Look at the Deer!
Look at the Santa!
Behold the glow!
Behold the SALE!
PILGRIM:
It’s t’daylight, lads.
They’re clearly made of plastic and regret.
LEGION:
(shocked gasp)
HERESY!
(They cross themselves using a Tesco Clubcard.)
PILGRIM:
Infinity can’t be £9.99.
LEGION:
But it USED to be £14.99!
PILGRIM:
Aye. And I used to be twenty-one.
We’re both past it.
---
ENTER THE FATHER
He pushes his SON gently toward the window.
The lad looks content, peaceful, untouched by spectacle.
The father, however, is vibrating like a faulty lamppost.
FATHER:
Look son! Infinity Deer! You’ve seen ’em! AT NIGHT!
SON:
(serene)
I prefer clouds.
FATHER:
Don’t be difficult.
---
A SHOPKEEPER APPEARS
Dressed like a minor Vatican official, sprinkling glitter like holy water.
SHOPKEEPER:
Welcome, seekers of the Eternal Illuminated Reindeer!
PILGRIM:
It’s turned off.
SHOPKEEPER:
Only because it fears the sun!
PILGRIM:
Don’t we all.
---
A LOUDSPEAKER BOOMS
Alan Bennett voiceover:
VOICEOVER:
“In Wetherby, infinity rarely lasts past Boxing Day.”
---
LEGION RETURNS
Now wearing novelty antlers.
LEGION:
Pilgrim! Won’t you JOIN US!?
PILGRIM:
No.
(Beat. Silence. A pigeon coughs.)
LEGION:
…why not?
PILGRIM:
Because I’m fine.
(LEGION collapses like a deflated bouncy castle.)
---
THE HOLY ROAST APPEARS
A turkey on wheels, pushed by a MAN IN A MONK’S HABIT.
It glides past silently.
Everyone watches.
No one speaks.
PILGRIM gives a small nod, as if recognising an old friend.
---
PILGRIM (FINAL LINE):
In the dark, they sparkle.
In the light, they’re nowt.
He walks away, calm, complete, coat buttoned, leaving Legion staring and the Holy Roast rolling steadily toward Morrisons.
---
END TITLE CARD:
I AM PILGRIM — THEY ARE LEGION.
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