BIG FAT

MONEY

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a TV pilot script by

Sandy Newberg and Sue Selfe

Winner: TV Pilot category, Las Vegas Screenplay Competition

Semi-Final: Happy Writers Competition, TV Pilots

POSTERS

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

TOMMY PRINCE

Charismatic and talented, the epitome of British charm,  Tommy sees himself as the lost troubadour in the desert and longs to go back to Broadway , where he was considered a creative genius. Outwardly, he lives a life that most people can only dream of. Inwardly, he’s stuck in a gold-plated rut.

BUCKY RABBITT

A walking contradiction, Bucky is chubby and cherubic, but has a reputation as the “dirtiest mouth in comedy.” Brutal on stage, off stage he’s a great friend. A noted family man, he’s now separated from his wife. 

SARA BLAKE

Tommy’s new personal assistant is starry-eyed and eager to know all about her new boss. At times she seems naive, but she can be steely and stand her ground. She also has a tendency to be blunt.

CHARLIE JACKSON

Tall, dark and Liverpudlian, Charlie has been Tommy’s driver and fixer for years. A combination savior, bodyguard and psychiatrist, Tommy depends on Charlie.

MISTY MARKHAM

 A baccarat croupier at the Vista Hotel and Casino, Misty has been sharing Tommy’s bed from time to time. Divorced and a little cynical, she loves to make him happy, and seems to ask nothing in return. But why can’t she tell him how she feels?

LEIGH

Tommy’s third wife.  A former hairdresser, she is mom to two beautiful daughters, and she revels in her role as Beverly Hills celebrity wife. She tries to make a good home for Tommy and be a good mother, but the knowledge of what drives Tommy eludes her.

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WHO IS TOMMY PRINCE?

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BIG FAT MONEY

MUSIC AND LYRICS BY ANTHONY NEWLEY

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He gets up as the sun goes down

Hung over from the night before

Pulls on a tux worth a thousand bucks

And walks onto the cafe floor

Moves kinda funny as he’s singing his song

A tad too much of the sauce

He must get ripped to work the strip

They cleaned it up but you can fall asleep there

Give it back to the mob

At least they robbed you with a little pizazz

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You don’t look much like Lady Luck to me, Las Vegas

Painted mouth full of broken dreams

and your kiss is stale like the air in a pool room

Listen for a heart and all you hear the beat of an old live band

But I still go on and sing my song every time my rent is due

‘cause your fat money keeps pullin’ me back to you

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Halfway through and he’s wailin’ good

When suddenly he’s coming down

Sweating the booze from his head to his shoes

Sober as a graveyard hound

Some high roller sitting down in the front

Wants to sing a song of his own

With the blue-haired chicks with the sunburned lips

and the diamond rings on their little fat fingers

Yes, life’s a gas when you’re a big Las Vegas cabaret star

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Oh, you don’t look much like Lady Luck to me, Las Vegas

Painted mouth full of broken dreams

and your kiss is stale like the air in a pool room

Listen to the chimes of the nickels and dimes

As the only clock in town

But I still go on and sing my song when baby needs new shoes

‘cause your fat money keeps pullin’ me back to you

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He’s got an hour before the next show

He wonders if it’s all a dream

Little old ladies with Dixie cups

Pulling on the fruit machines

He buys some affection from a girl at the bar

Strictly a business affair

It’s all so hip along the strip

They cleaned it up, but you can still make friends there

But he’s telling himself, yes he’s selling himself just like the girl in his arms

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You don’t look much like Lady Luck to me, Las Vegas

Painted mouth full of broken dreams

and your breath is still like the air in a pool room

Sold your soul any time at all for a pile of dollar chips

I’ll swallow my pride with the whisky inside

As I work your old saloons

‘cause your fat money keeps pullin’ me back to you

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Your fat money, your fat money, oooo

But I still go on and sing my song when my alimony’s due

‘cause your fat money keeps pullin’ me back to you