An Advert That Will Never Air.

 This occurred to me whilst waiting for a swing bridge. As I don't own a production unit (or even a functional camera) it'll probably remain "just an idea" for the rest of time. Still, this is an advert someone should make.


 [Exterior. Night. A city street. Close up of running feet. We cut to a man, running, desperately, his breathing ragged and panicky. He is hurling himself through darkened roads and alleys. The camera pans up and over his shoulder and we see three other men, chasing him, equally desperate.]

[The first man comes to a crossroads and barrels into it, at the last possible second diving out of the way of an oncoming car and then throwing himself for the opposite pavement, just in front of a bus. Horns blare and the three men chasing him are momentarily brought up short, forced to stop to let the bus pass as our hero widens his lead away from them.]

[The Runner continues his frantic flight through a tree-lined square. One of the chasers stumbles and falls, and his comrades glance back briefly before leaving him in pursuit of their quarry.]

[The Runner has almost escaped his pursuers, but there is a bridge over a river ahead which it out; a boat is coming through and the bridge has been rotated to one side, leaving twenty feet of open water. Warning lights flash and crowd-control barriers have been lowered. The runner stops, desperately assessing the situation, and then glances behind him. Two of the chasers are closing on him, fast, with the third back on his feet and running behind them. He glances at the oncoming boat, the bridge, the gap. Comes to a decision.]

[The runner vaults the barrier and runs at the gap where the bridge should be. He throws himself desperately forwards, and lands on the roof of the passing boat. Pauses for a beat, regains his footing, and then charges and leaps for the opposite bank.]

[Cut to: Shot of the railing on the opposite bank in slow motion as the Runner's hand manages to grab the lower rung.]

[The runner hangs there for a moment, looks back at the Chasers and gives a mock salute and a wink. He hauls himself up and runs off into the night. The Chasers watch him, their frustration palpable, and then throw themselves into the water to swim the gap and continue the chase.]

[Cut to: The Runner, now sprinting down a cobbled street which ends in a pub.]

[Cut to: Interior, Pub. The Runner enters and orders a pint of Nonspecific Beer. As he raises it to his lips, the Chasers burst in the door, soaked, bruised and exhausted. The barman rings the bell and calls time at the bar, and all three Chasers give a groan of despair.]

NARRATOR: [Voiceover as The Runner smiles at the Chasers and drinks his pint] Nonspecific Beer. Worth the effort.