the SAGA Sage

A car pulls up at a set of traffic lights. The driver (late 50s) is startled by a puff of smoke and the sound of a gong. A figure is revealed sitting cross-legged in the passenger seat. It ‘s the Saga Sage. He is early 60's with a white platted beard and long white hair tied back, wearing a business suit. He bows. SAGE: It is I, the Saga Sage. Bringing words to the wise. The driver looks stunned, as if to say: ’what, me?’ SAGE: Not all can benefit. But you are a chosen one. Calming down, the driver absorbs this. SAGE: Saga only insure the over 50s, so they can deliver premium cover without premium prices. The Saga Sage holds out his hands in a gesture of giving. A mobile phone appears, hovering above his palms, then a laptop. SAGE / SUPER: Just call 0808 123 8888 or visit saga.co.uk/insure Cut back to our driver, just as -- a boy racer pulls up alongside. SAGE: Some final wise words: Experience tells us… The boy racer rev’s the engine, eager to make eye contact. SAGE: …don’t look, it’ll only make things worse.