A couple of weeks ago David Barnett did a skit on what the American movie about the life of the Brontes might be like. Someone said it was mildly amusing. So he's done part two now...

Previously in The Brontes... Charlotte (Michelle Williams), Anne (Evan Rachel Wood) and Emily (Bryce Dallas Howard) have been warned not to venture out into the dangerous wilds of the York Shire Moors by their moody father Patrick (Donald Sutherland). They have defied him and we see them trudging along an overgrown path in the twilight.

Charlotte: Goddamn it! I just stepped in something that possibly came from an animal's bowels. Maybe a cow's. What the hell are we doing out here, anyway?

Emily (brandishing her father's .44 Magnum): We're looking for something. Trying to give the movie a bit of dramatic tension. Otherwise it's three wan-looking females who wrote a couple of books and died at a young age. The End.

Anne: And ate a load of potatoes. Don't forget the potatoes.

Charlotte: How could I forget the Goddamn potatoes? Wait... something's not right here...

Anne: Is it the way you're dressed in a leather catsuit and carrying a Samurai sword and Emily's got a .44 Magnum? Because that doesn't seem right to me.

Emily: That's just to bring it up to date for a youthful America-centric audience. It's a "re-imagining".

Charlotte: No, not all that, Goddamn it! I mean that freakin' guy sitting over there!

Charlotte points to where Hugh Grant perches apologetically on a rock, wearing an oversized white shirt and brushing his floppy fringe out of his eyes. Anne draws a bead on him down the sight of her hi-tech long-bow.

Hugh: Er, that is, I mean to say, ladies... hello. As it were.

Charlotte: Who the Goddamn hell are you, you Goddamn Limey freak?

Hugh: I'm the, er, sort of token British, er, chap... in this Hollywood take on... well, that is to say, one of Britain's most, as it were, well-respected British. Erm. Literary. Families.

Emily (cocking the gun and looking at her sisters): Do we kill him? Noisily and messily? Is this a revenge flick?

Hugh (laughs nervously): Ah, well, ha ha, let's hold on a tick. I'm the, er, as it were, love interest. If you see what I mean.

Anne: Couldn't we have had that Daniel Craig? The guy who was in James Bond?

Emily: Or David Beckham. He's British, right?

Charlotte: So which Goddamn one of us is meant to fall in love with you, Limey?

Hugh: Ha ha. Well, that rather depends on, erm, the rating of the movie, as it were. I was perhaps, you know, wondering if... maybe... all of you..?

A shot rings out from the darkness and Hugh Grant jerks and falls to the ground, a pool of blood spreading out beneath him. The camera pans up to reveal Patrick Bronte, chewing on a cigar and holding a smoking shotgun. He spits the stub of his stogie to the grass.

Patrick: No Goddamn Limey is getting his hands on any of my girls.

Charlotte: Daddy! You got here just in time!

Emily: But what now?

Patrick (eyes narrowing as he looks across the dark moor): They just made it personal. If they want war the Brontes are going to Goddamn well give it to them.

End of Act Two.