Note: this story has a somewhat different format to most of the SGDVD stories. Rather than introducing the Spice Girls to a famous personality or placing them in the middle of another film, I've decided to tear their own film to shreds. Hopefully, my story will show just how bad Spice World really was and discourage readers from ever watching it. I give you:


  vs.   … Spice World?

by Oliver Mulvey

(INT: Writer's living room. Late at night. A lone figure sits at a table, hunched over his laptop. On its screen, we can see the piece of work that he has just finished: the screenplay for Spice World: the Movie. He loads up his e-mail client and types a message, attaching the document to it. He moves the cursor to the send button. His finger hesitates over the mouse.)

Writer: Screw it. I can't inflict this upon the world.

(He checks his watch.)

Writer: There's still a few hours until the deadline. That's long enough to make a few changes.

(He cancels the e-mail, reopens the document and begins to type.)

(INT: Private screening room. Six months later. The director of Spice World is here, as are the film company executives. They are preparing for the first viewing of the finished film.)

Executive #1: I'm amazed that you could actually make a movie using those sluts.

Executive #2: It's not as if they have an ounce of talent between them.

Director: I was dreading making this. However, our scriptwriter came up with a few last-minute changes that made the whole process much more enjoyable. I'm sure you'll see what I mean.

(The movie starts to play.)

(INT: Top of the Pops studio. The movie starts with the five girls singing the nauseating 'Too Much' to a packed studio. The audience doesn't seem to be enjoying it very much. Several people throw up. Some of the more enterprising individuals throw rotten fruit at the stage. The girls stop singing. However, the music, complete with vocals, continues unabated.)

Posh: I don't understand it. We're employing these people. They're actors! They're supposed to pretend to like our music!

Scary: I think I saw the director having a word with them before we started shooting.

Sporty: I'm a bit worried about this director. He keeps saying things like 'I'm sure the film's going to be great. Too bad you're not going to be here to see it.'

Posh: I'm sure he just means that we'll be too busy to get involved in the editing process. Or something like that.

Ginger: Congratulations, Vic, you just had your first thought. Too bad that it was crap.

Posh: Shut it, bitch.

Ginger: Make me, whore!

(The two girls leap at each other and begin a frenzied battle. Blood flies. Cries of pain can be heard over the music.)

Scary: Stop it, you two. We're making a film, remember? Besides, you're tearing your outfits.

Sporty: Are they? Why are you stopping them, then?

Scary: You sick bitch.

Sporty: What? I just thought it might make a nice… erm… dramatic effect.

Scary: And get us an X certificate into the bargain.

Sporty: Did you see the way the scriptwriter was giggling? I just have a feeling that this movie isn't going to be for kids.

(She is interrupted by the audience, who are clambering onto the stage with murder on their minds. The girls make a hasty exit through a stage door. They are met in the corridor by Clifford, their manager. They walk rapidly through the corridors of the BBC building.)

Clifford: That went slightly better than usual.

Ginger: Say what? They were trying to kill us.

Clifford: Yeah, but they didn't succeed. Unlike the residents of a certain Colorado mountain town.

Ginger: Huh?

Clifford: Never mind.

(They round a corner and see Elton John walking towards them. They run to meet him.)


Elton: Ach! Get your leprous hands off me. I'm a serious musician. I'd never even consider selling out to be seen in a movie with you lot.

Posh: We're serious musicians too. Honest.

Elton: Have you ever heard any of your music? (He thinks for a moment.) I suppose not. Anyway, piss off.

Clifford: OK. I've sent all your psychopathic fans to the other exit, so you should be safe.

(He opens a door leading outside. Hordes of deranged Spice Girls fans are massed outside, a great slobbering mass of fanatical imbecility. As they catch sight of their idols, they send up a great cry. A few voices can be heard over the din.)


Spice Fan #2: All Spice haters are lesbians!

Spice Fan #3: Geri, show us yer tits!

(The girls dash past the crowd, avoiding the rain of various bodily fluids that theirfans heap upon them. The leap into the safety of their now infamous bus.)

(INT: Spice bus.)

Scary: I don't understand it. Why do we always get such weirdo fans?

Posh: God, the youth of today. I knew we should have aimed at an older market.

Ginger: That's what I said. But then you refused to do those pictures.

Posh: What pictures? Oh, you mean the ones that you did. The ones that made you seem such a slut.

Ginger: Yeah, those are the … (she thinks for a moment) … what did you call me? You bitch!

Posh: What's up, cow? Does the truth hurt?

Ginger: I sure hope so. If it does, then you're about to be in agony. You're a pretentious pseudo aristocrat! You've got the morals of a snake and the brains of a retarded armadillo!

Posh: Right! That does it. (She pauses for a moment.) Err, what did those long words mean?

Ginger: Dunno. Don't ask me.

Baby: Duh?

Sporty: I think she called you a high-class whore.

Posh: Oh, thanks Mel. (Turning to Ginger.) So, you think you're smart? Ok, you're a flanged laxative with a meringue for a brain!

Sporty: Err, I don't think that those words are particularly insulting. I don't think that actually meant much.

Posh: Damn. I always knew I'd regret having such a small… err… wossit …

Sporty: Vocabulary?

Posh: That's it.

Scary: Don't worry, Vic. It didn't mean much, but that's what people have come to expect from us. Just try listening to our songs.

(The conversation is interrupted by Clifford's voice, which comes over the loudspeaker.)

Clifford (V.O.): Listen up, Girls. We've got a press conference and… ah… financial arrangements meeting in five minutes.

Ginger: Financial arrangements?

(EXT: Press conference. The girls are babbling on about an upcoming live gig.)

Ginger: It's going to be really great, honest. It'll be broadcast all over the world. Any questions?

U.S. Ambassador: You're surely not going to go through with this? Please, don't broadcast to us. We'll pay you anything. ANYTHING! Just name your demands.

Scary: This is a press conference. Any questions from the press?

(She listens for a moment to a question that is inaudible to the audience.)

Scary: No. Definitely not. We don't want this concert to be X rated.

Sporty: I don't know. I think we should consider it.

Scary: What the hell is wrong with you?

Sporty: Nothing. I just thought it might boost viewing figures.

Clifford: If there are no more questions, I'd like to open the bidding. We'll start with Baby. Who'll give me 5 for Wednesday night?

Man in crowd: I'll meet that.

Clifford (talking rapidly, like an auctioneer): I hear five pounds. Do I hear ten pounds?

Second man: Ten pounds.

Posh: Clifford, what the hell are you doing?

Clifford: Oh, come on. You must have slept with half the country already. A few more won't hurt.

Posh: I'm not bothered about that. But couldn't you have started the bidding a little higher? I could do with some new shoes.

(INT: Office. Two movie producers (I can’t remember their names) are watching the press conference on TV.)

Fat Producer: My God, these girls are dreadful.

Thin Producer: Tell me about it. That one in the tracksuit has a face that makes me want to hurl.

Fat Producer: Yeah, but they seem popular.

Thin Producer: I suppose a couple of them might be attractive in the right light.

Fat Producer: Say, how much do you think it would cost to hire them?

Thin Producer: Surely you're not that desperate, chief? You could pick up better on a street corner.

Fat Producer: No. I want to put them in a movie.

Thin Producer: What sort of movie?

Fat Producer: Porn, of course.

(INT: Newspaper company office. Tabloid editor, Kevin McMaxford (the one likeable character in the movie), is also watching the press conference. A menial underling hovers around in the background.)

McMaxford: Looks like the Spice Sluts are in the news again. We'd better prepare our latest spread of nude pictures of them.

Underling: We can't do that, sir.

McMaxford: What?

Underling: We've already exhausted our supply of those pictures.

McMaxford: Damn. How are we supposed to sell papers now?

Underling: Maybe we could play a series of cruel tricks on them and manufacture some headlines. Something like 'Spice Girls split up.'

McMaxford: Not bad. Problem is, everybody knows that's going to happen anyway. How about 'Spice Girls Die Violent Deaths'?

Underling: Excellent. It does have a certain ring to it.

McMaxford: How do we go about killing them?

Underling: Leave that with me, chief.

(INT: Spice bus. More irrelevant 'banter' ensues.)

Posh: Is everybody else sick of being stuck with these ridiculous nicknames?

Sporty: Yeah, it's not like they're even accurate.

Posh: Look at Emma. Why the hell isn't she called Thick Spice?

Baby: Tee Hee. Duh.

Scary: Yeah, Sporty could be called Dyke Spice.

Sporty: Yea… No, that's a bloody lie! Besides, I don't think we'd sell many records with Thick Spice, Dyke Spice, Stoned Spice, Bitch Spice and Whore Spice.

(INT: Rehearsals room. The girls are practising their lip-synching. Posh's lips barely move. Ginger, Baby and Sporty are singing the wrong song. Scary appears to be singing backwards.)

Clifford (weary): This isn't working very well. I think we should have a break. Look, here comes your poor friend.

(He gestures towards Nicola {the pregnant girl from the film} who has just entered.)

Scary: Who's she?

Posh: I don't think I have any poor friends.

Ginger (whispering): I don't think you have any friends.

Clifford: Don't you get it? It looks good if you're seen with poor people. Go over there and pretend that she's your friend.

(The girls do as they are told.)

Scary: So, err, you're pregnant, are you?

Nicola: I was the last time I checked.

Posh: You've only yourself to blame.

Scary: We Spice Girls would never be so irresponsible.

Posh: We'd never pollute the world with our bastard children.

Scary: I know what you people are like. You're going to curse that kid with some awful name.

Posh: Yeah, like Phoenix.

Scary: Maybe you'll name him after where he was conceived.

Posh: Hehe. Fancy being called Manchester, or Milton Keynes, or … hehe … Brooklyn.

(INT: Spice Girls private jet, later that night. The girls are on their way to some unknown destination.)

Ginger: Where are we going, Clifford?

Clifford: It doesn't matter. I'll tell you when we get there.

Ginger: Are we getting paid for this?

Clifford: Sure. The government is paying us. Anyway, it looks like we're coming in to land.

Posh (looking out the window): I'm not so sure about this. It looks kind of desolate out there. There's loads of craters around the runway.

(Ext: Airport. The girls disembark from their plane and stand around on the tarmac.)

Scary: Where is this? Why's nobody here to meet us?

Sporty: It feels weird, getting off a plane without an angry mob waiting.

Posh: Oh shit. I think I know where we are.

(She points at a sign above the main terminal. It reads 'Baghdad International Airport'.)

Scary: Let's get out of here.

(She speaks too late. A jeep is approaching the plane. It comes to a stop and Saddam Hussein gets out. Clifford walks forward to meet him.)

Saddam: So, what have you NATO dogs decided to inflict upon us this time? Nuclear weapons? Biological warheads? I'll never agree to your demands!

Clifford: Yes, you will. It's far worse than that, you see, I've brought the Spice Girls and if you don't agree, then I'll get them to sing.

Saddam: No. NO. NOOOOOO! Anything but that. I'll do anything. ANYTHING!

(INT: Newspaper company office. It is late at night. McMaxford is still at his desk. The menial underling enters.)

Underling: I've found our assassins.

McMaxford: Assassins? I thought we could do this with one man.

Underling: I don't know. Whoever we select for this mission will be pitted against the most horrible, deadly creatures ever to have existed. I doubt that any sane person could handle it. That's why I dug up these two losers.

(He tosses two files onto the desk in front of McMaxford.)

McMaxford (scanning through the files): Hmm, Marilyn Manson. Says he's a shock-rocker who thinks he's the Antichrist. I'd heard he was just a ponce who likes to dress up in stupid outfits.

Underling: He is. But he's willing to do this and he doesn't want paying.

McMaxford: Sounds good. (He scans the second file) Courtney Love. Isn't she another singer? I'd heard that she was a royal bitch who would just love to slit Manson in two.

Underling: She is. That's why we're keeping them separate on this operation. They'll both make their assassination attempts at different times. One of them is bound to succeed.

(INT: Spice bus. The girls are back in England now. The bus is driving along a narrow lane, with trees pressing in upon both sides. It is still night, although dawn must be near. The girls are completely exhausted.)

Posh: I'm knackered. I'm feel completely dead.

Ginger: I'm sure that can be arranged.

Posh: I would hit you for that, but I'm too tired. Remind me in the morning.

Scary: I'm sure we'd all feel a lot better if we had some coffee. I'll go and make some.

(She goes to the buses' small kitchen (hey, just because it wasn't in the film doesn't mean that it wasn't there) and does so. As she brings the cups to the other girls, she surreptitiously slips something into them. The girls drink the coffee.)

Sporty: You know, this coffee's making me feel kind of weird.

Scary: It's a herbal brew.

Posh: I definitely feel, kind of banana … damn, I mean weird.

(Baby starts pointing out the window and giggling.)

Ginger: What's she doing?

Scary: I don't know. Let's all run off into the woods and become hermits.

Ginger: Yeah, we could, like, spend all our time, like, communing with nature.

Posh: Geri's got lots of experience of running off into woods. Those pictures got everywhere.

Ginger: I'd hit you for that, but, like, peace, man.

(The girls, stoned out of their tiny minds, tumble out of the bus and wobble into the woods. The forest is thick and dark.)

Scary: Mummy, I'm scared.

Sporty: Don't worry, I'll protect you.

Scary: I'm not that stoned.

Posh: Relax. There's nothing to be afraid of … except …

Scary, Sporty and Ginger (terrified): WOMBLES!

Posh: No, aliens.

Scary: Where? I don't see any aliens.

Posh (yelling): UP THERE!

(She points at a squirrel that is sitting in the branches above her. The Spice Girls scream in terror and run back to their bus. As they depart, a pair of aliens that were watching from a safe distance come forwards.)

Alien #1: Dude, this is pretty fucked up right here.

Alien #2: You can say that again.

(INT: Spice Girls' office. It is the next morning. Clifford is meeting with the two movie producers, who are pitching their ideas at him.)

Fat Producer: We think that the Spice Girls have what it takes to be porn stars.

Clifford (incredulous): You're joking.

Thin Producer: No. It seems that some people have really warped tastes.

Clifford: I suppose it's a nice idea, but it'll never happen. Posh would never agree.

Fat Producer: Why? Does she have problems with nudity? Is she religious? Does she actually have morals?

Clifford: Nah, it's just that the fees she'd demand would bankrupt most nations.

Fat Producer: I see. We'll get back to you when we have another idea.

(INT: Country mansion/dance school.)

Scary: What's this dance instructor like, then?

Sporty: According to my copy of the script, he's supposed to be a harmless old eccentric.

(The instructor enters. He bears a striking resemblance to Colonel Kilgore (of Apocalypse Now fame). He carries an automatic rifle.)

Instructor: Alright, maggots, listen up. You will do what I say. You will do it when I say. You will do it no matter how warped it may be. If I say "Give me oral pleasure," you say, "How long?" If you disobey, you will be shot. (He walks over to Baby.) Do you understand me?

Baby: Duh.

Instructor: No! When you address me, you say, "Duh, sir."

Ginger: We don't have to put up with this. We're rich and famous.

Instructor: So?

Ginger: We've got GIRL POWER!


Instructor: SHUT UP! Now, proceed to the assault course.

(EXT: Assault course. The assault course looks less than impressive. It is nothing more than a flat field.)

Instructor: You will now proceed to the other side of this field.

Scary: Is this it? It doesn't seem very challenging.

(The instructor fires a few shots from his gun into the field. As the bullets strike the earth, huge explosions swell up.)

Instructor: Mmm, I love the smell of napalm in the morning.

Scary: Shit. A minefield.

Posh: How is this supposed to help us to dance better?

Instructor: It isn't. I'm just a sadistic bastard.

Ginger: Bugger this for a game of soldiers.

(The girls dash away from the deranged instructor, dodging the hail of bullets that he sends after them.)

(INT: Country mansion. Night. The girls are asleep. As they sleep, a window is surreptitiously opened and a dark, hooded figure enters.)

(INT: Sporty's bedroom. An alarm clock goes off beside her bed, even though it's the middle of the night.)

(We hear her thoughts superimposed on the film.)

Sporty: Great. Time for one of my nightly visits to the other girls, I think. Who will it be tonight? Scary? Nah, god knows what diseases I'd catch from here. Ginger? I don't think I can. She's probably already got somebody in bed with her. I think it's going to have to be Posh tonight.

(She gets out of bed and goes into the corridor. We can still hear her thoughts.)

Sporty: I sure hope she doesn't wake up.

(She approaches the unsuspecting Posh's door.)

Sporty: Why should she? After all, she hasn't woken up before. I must have done this a dozen times already.

(She opens the door and quietly enters Posh's bedroom. She notices a figure stood over the bed, bringing a gun to bear on the sleeping Posh. The figure sees Sporty and turns to face her. As the figure turns, its hood falls back. We can see that the intruder is Courtney Love.)

Sporty: Why, hello. Fancy a threesome?

Courtney: You FUCKING lesbo. I'm going to FUCKING kill you. You make me so FUCKING MAD!

(The enraged Courtney turns and sprays the wall with bullets.)

Posh (waking up): What the hell's going on?

Courtney: Shut your FUCKING mouth, you FUCKING bitch. I'll FUCKING kill you all.

(She sprays another wall with ammo. She then brings her gun to bear on Posh. Unfortunately, when she pulls the trigger, there is only a click. She's already wasted all her ammo. Yelling curses, she turns and leaps out the window.)

Posh: Thanks, Sporty. You saved my life.

Sporty: Well, now that you mention it…

Posh: But if I ever catch you in my bedroom again, I'll shoot you myself.

(EXT: Outside the girls' bus. It is the next morning. Clifford is explaining the girls' itinerary.)

Clifford: You've got to take some children around London with you. They've won some phone-in competition and this is the prize. Pretend that you like them and, Scary, please don't offer them any of your 'sweets' again. The police are still mad about last time.

Ginger: At least these kids should like us. After all, they entered the competition.

Clifford: Oh no. You were the consolation prize. First prize was a day with All Saints.

Sporty: Hey, I think I entered that competition. (She senses that the others are looking at her.) What? I thought it might be interesting. I'm not interested in them sexually, except for… no, what am I saying, I'm not interested in any of them. Honest.

(The two prize-winners are led on set, bound and gagged.)

Ginger: Why are they tied up like that?

(She removes the gag from one of the children.)

Child (hysterical): No, for the love of God, no! Take me home! I hate the bloody Spice Girls!

Ginger: Ah, I see.

(She replaces the gag.)

(INT: Spice Bus. The bus drives aimlessly around London. Everybody is bored stiff.)

Scary: What happens now?

Posh: Hold on… (She checks her copy of the script.) We're supposed to be spontaneous and go for a boat ride.

Ginger: Oh yeah, I remember this bit. It's really great, because Posh falls in the water.

Posh: Watch it, whore.

Ginger: Make me bitch.

(As the screen fades to black, the two girls launch themselves into combat. We hear screams.)

(EXT: Boat on the Thames. We hear the sound of the girls singing. Despite this, they converse easily.)

Posh: I really have a lot of reservations about this scene.

Scary: Relax, a bit of water won't hurt you.

Posh: Maybe, but the piranha that the stage crew put in the river will.

Scary: It's OK. I had a word with the director and he's had them taken out.

(INT: USS Cheyenne, a Los Angeles class attack submarine. The sub is nestled on the bottom of the Thames, tracking the Spice Girls approaching boat. The Captain addresses his crew.)

Captain: Men, this may be the most important mission that you'll ever participate in. If we don't stop these girls, then on Saturday they'll broadcast their show world-wide. We all know what the consequences will be. If we fail, then we'll arrive home to find that our children have been turned into brain-dead Spice fans. Our radio and television stations will broadcast their foul songs constantly. In other words, civilisation will come to an end. I trust every man to do his duty. Now let's blow those bitches out of the water.

(There is applause from the crew.)

Captain: Sonar, do we have target lock?

Sonarman: Yes sir.

Captain: Very well. Flood torpedo tube one.

Weapon loader: Tube loaded and flooded.

Sonarman: Sir, we have a firing solution.

Captain: Fire at will!

(A torpedo lances out from the Cheyenne. It starts to track the Spice Girls' boat, closing in on it rapidly.)

(INT: Spice Girls' boat. Ginger is at the wheel. At the last moment, she spots the incoming torpedo. She throws the boat to the left, narrowly dodging the warhead. Her manoeuvre causes Posh to lose her footing. She almost goes overboard, but manages to steady herself at the last moment. Ginger sees this, and swerves the boat to the right. Posh stumbles across the deck and plunges into the river.)

Scary: Bring us around, let's pick her up.

Ginger: What's the hurry?

Sporty: Posh wears pretty tight-fitting clothes, doesn't she. Hmm, I wonder what happens when they get wet.

(Sporty grins and leaps into the river in pursuit of Posh.)

Ginger: I had intended to mention this earlier, but Scary wasn't the only one who had a word with the director.

(As she speaks, a huge dorsal fin rises out of the water near Posh. It belongs to a shark huge enough to eat Jaws for breakfast.)

Posh: Oh shit! Thanks a lot, Ginger.

Sporty: It's not fair! Now I'm going to get eaten as well!

Posh (brightening): I suppose that's some consolation.

(Meanwhile, Scary has managed to wrest control of the boat from Ginger. She turns around and picks Posh and Sporty out of the water before the shark can reach them.)

(INT: Albert hall. Preparations for the concert are already in progress. However, Clifford is furious about the girls' latest escapade.)

Clifford: What the hell were you thinking of? Posh, you could have been killed. Sporty, you were even worse. After all, we could afford to lose Posh, but you're the only one who can actually sing.

Posh: Thanks a lot.

Ginger: Hehe. Clifford said that Posh was talentless.

Posh: Shut your mouth. Anyway, I never see your mouth open during concerts.

Clifford: I want you to promise never to do anything like that again.

Scary: I'm not promising anything. We can do whatever we want.

Ginger: Yeah, if we want to be eaten by a shark, then that's our decision. We've got Girl Power.


Clifford: Shut up. I don't give a damn about Girl Power. What the hell is it?

Ginger: Err. I don't know. But you obviously haven't got it. I'm going home.

Scary: Yeah, Clifford, we might not even bother turning up for the concert tomorrow.

Posh: We might even disband.

Clifford: Fine, it's your careers that you're throwing away.

(INT: Geri's house, that evening. Sad music plays in the background. You can imagine that it's 'Viva Forever' if you like that sort of thing.)

(Geri is watching TV. Her eyes mist over with tears. The camera pans around and we see that she's watching pro-wrestling. She's obviously remembering the good times that she had with Posh.)

(INT: Victoria's house.)

(Victoria is working out her accounts. Tears form in her eyes. We see that the bottom of the column of numbers is written in red ink.)

(INT: Mel C's house.)

(Mel C is looking through a photo album. As she starts to cry, we see that she is looking at those pictures of Geri.)

(INT: Mel B's house.)

(Mel B finishes the last of her supply. She bursts into tears as she remembers that she's left the rest of her stash on the bus.)

(INT: Emma's house.)

(Emma sits and stares at the wall. Occasionally she giggles. Eventually, she begins to cry for some unknown reason.)

(The scene fades and is replaced by a flashback.)

(EXT: Street corner in a London red-light district. The five girls, as they were several years ago, approach from different directions. They are oblivious of each other's presence. Their demeanour and dress tells us that they are hookers. They intersect on the street corner. As they do so, a car pulls up next to them. The window is lowered and a record company executive speaks from within.)

Executive: Say, would you girls mind teaming up to provide me with a little "stress relief"?

Scary: Sure.

Posh: Just so long as you have the money.

Executive: I'm a little short on cash at the moment. Would you accept an offer of a record deal as payment?

(The girls accept; the deed is done and a nightmare is born.)

(The flashback ends, we return to the present day.)

(EXT: Street corner, late at night. Now, several years on, the area has gone upmarket. The dilapidated warehouses of three years ago have been replaced by expensive condos. The girls approach the corner separately. They meet and acknowledge each other.)

Sporty: Wow, this place has really changed.

Ginger: Yeah, we'd never have been allowed in an area like this.

Sporty: Oh, I don't know. This place may have had an expensive refurbishment, it may have been touched up cosmetically, but it's still the same old grotty district.

Ginger: I wonder if that's supposed to be a metaphor for something?

Sporty, Scary and Posh: A what?

Baby: Duh?

(EXT: London Street, later that night. The girls are standing around, bored stupid.)

Posh: What do we do now?

Scary: Dunno.

Sporty: We could go to a club.

Posh: That didn't work too well last time. We all got thrown out, remember? Except for Baby; they used her for a stage decoration. Sporty got in trouble after her fingers started roaming. Scary was arrested for dealing. Then they had the cheek to accuse Ginger and I of fighting.

Ginger: That was a bloody lie. We never fight. (She pauses.) Well, not unless you get on my nerves.

Posh: Me? Get on your nerves? I seem to remember that it's usually the other way around.

(She moves to attack Ginger, but is restrained by Scary.)

Scary: Calm down. We shouldn't have any problems if we take somebody else along with us. Maybe they could be a calming influence.

Posh: You thinking of anybody in particular?

Scary: What about that pregnant girl? Like Clifford said, it'd be good PR.

Posh: Are you telling me that you want to take a girl who's two weeks overdue for giving birth and drag her to a club just to make us look good? That's a crap idea. It's unbelievably stupid. So, what are we waiting for?

(INT: Club. Within moments of entering, the girls are engaged in their usual activities (and I don't mean singing and dancing). Nicola makes frantic 'I'm not with them' signs. However, a spasm of pain crosses her face as her contractions set in.)

Nicola: Help. Help. I think I'm having the baby.

Ginger: So?

Nicola: I need to get to a hospital.

Posh: Oh, shut up. Honestly, you really don't know when to stop whining. Can't you see that we're having a good time?

Nicola: Posh, have you ever seen a baby delivered?

Posh: Nope.

Nicola: If I give birth here, there's going to be blood everywhere. Including on your dress.

Posh: Oh my God. We have an emergency! Let's get to the hospital, quickly!

(INT: Hospital.)

Ginger: What a mess this has turned into.

Scary: Never mind. Let's just get on our bus and go to the Albert Hall for our concert.

Posh: There might be a problem with that. You see, the driver just handed in his notice.

Scary: Why?

Posh: He said that his porn magazines kept going missing.

(All the girls turn and look at Sporty.)

Sporty: What? Why are you looking at me?

Ginger: Does this mean that we're stuck in this hospital.

Scary: Looks like it.

(INT: Albert hall. Clifford is overseeing the final preparations for the concert. He is also going apeshit over the girls' absence.)

Clifford: How can they do this? Don't they appreciate me? I never scooped more than fifty percent of their takings.

(The two movie producers enter.)

Fat Producer: We had another idea for a movie.

Clifford: I don't care. Right now, I just wish that the Spice Girls were dead.

Thin Producer: That's great. We want to make a snuff movie.

Clifford: I like it!

(INT: Hospital. Several hours later. The girls are beginning to panic.)

Posh: Wait a minute. I just had an idea.

Ginger: Well done! There's a first time for everything.

Posh: Shut up. I was thinking that we don't have to sit here. I can drive a car, so why don't I drive the bus.

(The girls get up to leave the hospital. However, as they do so, they are met by a gun-toting Marilyn Manson.)

Manson: Hello, girls. I am evil incarnate. Prepare to meet your makers. In your case, I think that means me. That's because I'm the devil you see. Yeah, I'm the devil and I'm really hard. Yeah.

(Scary charges him. Manson reveals his true colours; he drops his gun and runs. He runs headlong into a wall. The girls gather around his prone body.)

Posh: Yeuch! His makeup's all runny.

Sporty: Say, are those breasts?

Baby: Duh!

Manson: No! I give up. I thought that I was evil incarnate, but seeing you girls has made me realise that there are depths of evil to which I can not even hope to aspire.

(EXT: Hospital car park. The girls' bus awaits them. However, the car park is filled with tanks, all of them with guns trained on the girls. A commander addresses the girls from his tank.)

Commander: This is your last chance. Cancel your concert now, or we will fire upon you. I repeat, if you try to sing, you will be fired upon.

(Ignoring him, the girls make a dash for their bus. They leap onboard, with Posh behind the wheel. She starts the engine, but rather than driving out through the gate, she crashes through a wall.)

(INT: Bus. The girls are thrown around by repeated concussions as Posh hurls the bus into obstacle after obstacle.)

Scary: I thought you said that you could drive.

Posh: I can. I think. Wait a moment, those lessons I had were for driving, weren't they? Oh dear. No. They were on how to tie my shoe-laces.

(EXT: London streets. The bus hurtles through central London, demolishing buildings as it swerves wildly. The military deploys massive forces in a desperate effort to destroy the bus. Cruise missiles home in on the bus. Bombers release their payloads towards it. Battleships fire at it with all their guns. However, Posh's erratic driving foils the sophisticated targeting systems.)

(EXT: Albert Hall. The girls' bus pulls up, they dash inside to prepare for their concert.)

(INT: Albert Hall. The girls come on stage. Their fans go wild. A metal fence protects those on the stage from the ravenous hordes. Clifford watches from the side of the stage along with the movie producers.)

Clifford: Are the cameras rolling?

Fat Producer: They sure are.

Clifford: Good. (He presses a button by his side.) Prepare to die, Spice sluts.

(The fences protecting the stage are lowered. The psychotic fans swarm onto the stage.)

Fan #1: I want to bathe in your bodily fluids.

Fan #2: If I can't have you alive, then I shall have you dead.

Fan #3 (guess who): AVE, PUELLAE CONDIMENTIAE.

(The Spice Girls are torn limb from limb in an orgiastic blood bath. We see two fans fighting over one of Scary's severed legs. A huge swarm of fans do battle for control of Ginger's silicone implants. One fan seems to be making a determined effort at eating Baby's head. As the carnage continues, the credits roll and the film comes to an end.)

(INT: Private screening room. We are back in the real world, in the screening room from the start of the story. The director and the executives stand up and file out of the room.)

Executive #1: That was better than I expected.

Executive #2: Those scenes at the end were really clever. How did you do those special effects?

Director: What?

Executive #2: You know, was it computer generated, or did you use stunt doubles and mannequins?

Director: Huh?

Executive #1: Do you mean to say that you really killed them?

Director: Yeah? Is that a problem?

Executive #1: No, no problem at all.




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