Yes. C**tgtasulazioningd to Gappy for shinking again. Your prize is to PM me a new slutjec. Meanwhilst...
Next slapperjack: Investigation.
Leg closed: 12.5.20
Runners are nowt...
Position Score Name
1 6 Gappy
2 4 Firkin
3 3 Playfull
4 1 Patrick, me
Brunt 4 - 12.5.20
HERCULEAN TASK.
ELEGANT SITTING ROOM.
HERCULE POIROT, HASTINGS, TOFF and two TOFFETTES.
POIROT Bonsoir Messuers-Dames, I am Hercule Poirot and...
HASTINGS Rather! And I'm Colonel Hastings, his partner in...
POIROT Shut up you stupid English tosseur. I have gathered you here today so as to investigate...
TOFFETE ONE You're not suggesting...
POIROT Quiet! Let me finish. For you all had a motive to murder Arabella Erickson.
TOFF But that's preposterous!
TOFFETTE TWO No we were both...
POIROT Will you all shut the bloody buggery up. I haven't even accused you yet. Alors, Dr Anus...
TOFF Yerse?
POIROT You succoured Arabella all through her Coronavirus, knowing were she to die, you the heir inherit her hairdresser inheritance.
TOFF Poppycock!
POIROT Yes, Poppy. Arabella knew of your sex change, a scandal that would shake to its foundations all Stoke.
TOFFETTE TWO Alas, alack, amuck...
POIROT And for you - Ms Pearson Minge - Arabella was a lezzer. Aralesba, you'd taunt her. Less carpet munchers around the place, the better, oui?
TOFFETTE Bum.
POIROT Let us then return to the night of the celebrony. Arabella imbibed a cocktail, a Fancy Screw, ordered by YOU, Anus...
TOFF Prepos...
POIROT Mixed by YOU, Poppy...
TOFFETTE TWO Alas...
POIROT But handed to the poor girl by...
TOFFETTE Bum.
POIROT Precisement Madame, bum! And as Arabella took a single solitary sip, what occurred?
SILENCE.
POIROT Exactement, mes amis! Bugger all. She drank the beverage, swallowed, replaced the chalice and SOD ALL ...
TOFF, TOFFETTES (in union) Preposterous! Alas alack and amuck! Bum.
HASTING Rather!
POIROT Let us now recall heir soir. The four of us ascended Mount Shit Oneself Cos There's A Massive Jagged Rock Thing On Top And If It Falls On You You're In Shit. All the time Arabella is talking her regular nightly stroll along the promenade beneath us, and just as she is right under Massive Jagged Rock Thing - poof! Bugger all. And now a doubt festers my little grey cells
HASTINGS You're not suggesting...
POIROT Silence, dumbass! Finally, this morning, as we walk along the back passage - a passage YOU wrote of in your blog, Anus...
TOFF Prep...
POIROT And YOU photographed on Instagram, Poppy!
TOFFETTE TWO Ala...
POIROT And YOU wanted on Twitter but it's too bloody short innit, Pearson...
POIROT Bum.
POIROT At precisely three fourteen and eight seconds a bit more p.m., a landslide occurred, a landslide proving fatal to poor Madame Arabella. Unless...
ALL Yerse?
POIROT She was miles away wasn't she? And at this, mes amis, is where my grey cells ask the question.
ALL Yerse again?
POIROT Why the f**k d'you ask me here? I'm a detective, I'm a busy man, I want action, violence., MURDER! You posh toffs bore me shitless with your poncy parties and posh Porsches and goodness-gracious-golly-gosh-lost-my-porcelain-engraved-trinket-Daddy'll-be-FURIOUS, gimme some blood and guts and splattery brains that make Saw 9 look like Tellytubbies series 3...
HASTINGS Mr Poirot!
POIROT Oui, dick head?
HASTINGS I've just been wired that Arabella's been shot deard.
POIROT I know. Awesome! Time for a good old investigation, non?
ALL But if it was you, why not just turn yourself in to the police?
POIROT You're not listening.
Policeman: Hello Mr Suspect.
Suspect: Er, hello Officer.
Policeman: Please call me Tony.
Suspect: OK...
Policeman: May I call you Tony?
Suspect: But my name's Paul.
Policeman: Now Tony, did you murder Mrs Body?
Suspect: No.
Policeman: OK. Sorry to have kept you.
Suspect: What? Is that the interrogation over?
Policeman: Of course. You said you didn't do it.
Suspect: Yes, but I could be lying!
Policeman: Lying?
Suspect: Yeah. Lying.
Policeman: Why would you do something like that?
Suspect: To get out of going to prison.
Policeman: Do you not like prison? I hear they have ping pong.
Suspect: Well, no. Of course I don't want to go to prison. You're locked in.
Policeman: Makes you feel all warm and snugly, like being tucked in bed at night by Mummy.
Suspect: Can I have a different Officer?
Policeman: I'm afraid there's just me. You're absolutely sure you didn't kill Mrs Body?
Suspect: Positive.
Policeman: No fibsies?
Suspect: No fibsies.
Policeman: And her head in your fridge?
Suspect: Coincidence.
Policeman: How do you mean co-in-see-dense?
Suspect: Well, It's actually somebody else's head that by coincidence happens to look just like my neighbour, Mrs Body.
Policeman: Seems reasonable. I doubt it's a crime to keep some unknown head in a fridge, at the correct temperature. We all have them. And the CCTV of you going into her garden and killing her to death?
Suspect: That wasn't me. That was... my ghost.
Policeman: Your ghost. Obvious when you explain it. I wasn't even aware you died.
Suspect: No. I kept it quiet. Didn't want to make a fuss.
Policeman: So my condolences to your family during this tricky time.
Suspect: Thanks.
Policeman: Wait a minute! Are you sure that isn't one of those "lie" thingies?
Suspect: Absolutely not.
POLICEMAN GIVE SUSPICIOUS LOOK FOR A LONG TIME BEFORE BREAKING INTO A SMILE AGAIN.
Policeman: Super! So off you go. And here's you wallet, belt, keys and things.
[HANDS OVER THINGS]
Suspect: Thank you.
Policeman: And here's your bag of "carrots".
POLICEMAN DRAGS BLOODSTAINED HESSIAN SACK THE SIZE AND SHAPE OF A HEADLESS BODY INTO VIEW.
Suspect: Thank you.
SUSPECT LEAVES PULLING SACK.
Policeman: (TO CAMERA) Just shows how honest people are when you show them a little trust.
SUSPECT PUTS BAG OVER SHOULDER. IT FALLS OPEN AND LOTS OF CARROTS FALL OUT.
THE END.
SGT: Good morning, sir, may I help you?
HP: You may, watchman. I wish to report an instance of criminal activity.
SGT: Of course sir. What is the nature of the crime?
HP: Larceny! An offence in respect of a cherished volume.
SGT: Is this a noise complaint, sir?
HP: No! Some blackguard has done away with my grimoire. My folio. My tome.
SGT: Someone has stolen your book?
HP: My tome, yes.
SGT: And is this "tome" of great value, sir?
HP: Indeed, guardsman! It contains my life's work. My writings. My tales of [GO NUTS ON THE PRONUNCIATION] macabre terror.
SGT: Someone has stolen the book you've written in?
HP: Yes.
SGT: Fine. What's your name, sir?
HP: HP Lovecraft. Yarnspinner. Of terror.
SGT: Fine. And can you describe the book?
HP: Oh, indeed. Description is, after all, as a writer of visionary fiction, my stock in trade.
SGT: [PAUSE] And would you?
HP: Do what?
SGT: Describe the book.
HP: The tome. Of course. In short, it resembles nothing on this earthly realm. Its parameters defy the mundane language of the mortal sphere, and it is of a shape that may not be constrained by Euclidean geometry. It is constructed of a nameless material from which the touch recoils. The pale memory of sublunar man is not equipped to retain an image of this inconceivable artefact. Ineffable, impossible, unspeakable, unutterable, to fully embrace its phantasmogorical otherness would send one quite, quite mad.
SGT: Riiight. And what colour is it?
HP: Of no colour known to human ocularity. [BEAT] Are you not going to write this down?
SGT: Not really. You've not exactly described the item.
HP: I have done so at great length!
SGT: I'm not denying the length, Mr Lovecraft. Nobody would quarrel about the number of words you have just used. But I am not convinced what you've said will help us find this book.
HP: Tome. It makes no difference, for I witnessed the theft, and perceived, with my own senses, the man who has stolen my art.
SGT: Ah, that makes all the difference, Mr Lovecraft. Could you describe him?
HP: Yes.
SGT: [SIGH] Will you describe him?
HP: That face! That face! That face! That visage! That physiognomy! Or face! Whilst there may have been individual features that in some fashion resembled those of men and beasts of creation, the whole, the composite, skitters from the mind's eye, fantastic and beyond the power of the lexicon to enshrine.
SGT: I don't think we can do that on Photofit.
HP: And he had a hat.
SGT: What sort of hat?
HP: The indescribable sort.
SGT: [IRONIC] Fine. We'll look for someone who looks like nobody else, or maybe everybody else at once, who is in possession of an indefinable thing that can't be perceived, and once we've found them both we'll be sure that our minds wipe the memory or that we go entirely insane. I'll get our best men right on it.
HP: Oh, excellent! And do you imagine you will apprehend the perpetrator?
SGT: I really couldn't say.
HP: Ooh! I like your style.
STEPHAN: [SPEEKING ON HIS PHONE IN A GERMANIC ACCENT] All I'm saying is I didn't studied drama to do endless murder mystery events. I'm at the Sheridan hotel now. [BEHIND A SIGN SAYS "HILTON HOTEL, ROOMS 1-25"]. Which room.. [SOUND OF A GUN SHOT] don't worry I've got it. [HE ENTERS A BEDROOM. A MAN HOLDS A GUN TO A WOMAN'S HEAD]
HOSTAGE: Keep away, his gun is loaded !
STEPHAN: Oh straight into it, I like that in a woman. I am the world famous Zerlock Holmes.
HOSTAGE: Shouldn't that be Sherlock ?
STEPHAN: He's English and I'm Liechtensteiniunun... Lectunstinun... German. It's defiantly Zerlock, read the script.
HOSTAGE: Script ?
VICTOR: [SHOOTS HIS GUN IN THE AIR] I'm the hostage taker here, I dictate everything [PLASTER & DUST FALLS ON HIS HEAD]. Now you, on the floor.
STEPHAN: Special effects, very good. Should I take my shirt off ?
VICTOR: Why ?
STEPHAN: Well you may know me from the movie "Stephan shags slags." or the ninth "We buy any car" advert ? No shirt in either.
VICTOR: Just take down [BEAT] pull your trousers back up, take down my demands ! I want fifty thousand and a motorcycle.
HOSTAGE: So I'm only worth fifty am I !
VICTOR: Do you see what I have to put up with ? Alright two hundred and fifty thousand pounds and a Volkswagen Polo.
STEPHAN: Look, aren't I supposed to be the Detective, what is there to detect here ? If this is your wife who's going to pay the ransom? That's not a believable story.
VICTOR: Shit, he's got a point you know ? You are Zerlock Holmes.
HOSTAGE: You might want to find out why he just went ape shit on hearing a car back fire.
STEPHAN: Did you serve in the Army Sir ?
VICTOR: I-rack. Three active tours. Posted to Mosel, it was like walking into Hell, they didn't even have a KFC. My friend stood on a land mine and his bloody severed arm hit me in the face. I still get flashbacks when I hear an explosion.
STEPHAN: There's no need to swear, it sounds like you've got Post Traumatic Stress or something. You poor thing.
HOSTAGE: How do you even know that ?
STEPHAN: I work in the porn industry, it's traumatic. If you're lying on a marble floor with a sweaty man on top, you're stuck between a hard place and a cock, I can tell you. His thing could go off at any time. It's the waiting I couldn't stand.
VICTOR: Oh my gosh, you're right. It all fits together now. We were ambushed, so I pretended to take my friend hostage, then I threw him into the mine field as a diversion and escaped. I've been looking for a friend ever since. You'll do. [ HE GABS HOLD OF
STEPHAN AND PUTS THE GUN TO HIS TEMPLE]. I want 2 million and Volvo hatchback.
HOSTAGE: Oh so I'm a motorbike and the porn star's a hatchback ? I've been telling you that you suffer from trauma for years and now some complete stranger says it you get it ?
VICTOR: Psychotherapy always sounds better in a German accent. As do S&M Porn movies.
STEPHAN: I hear you there brother.
HOSTAGE: So that's why you made me wear leather pyjamas. I always knew you'd leave me for a Liechtensteiniun Porn Star in a Hilton Hotel in Birmingham.
STEPHAN: The Hilton ? Oh shit. [HE FAINTS]
Sherlock's last case
INT: SHERLOCK'S FLAT, DAY
SHERLOCK IS SITTING (MORE ACROSS THAN IN) A WING-BACK ARMCHAIR ONE LEG THROWN OVER ONE ARM. HE IS WEARING A FULL LENGTH SMOKING JACKET AND HE IS FURIOUSLY MASSAGING HIS TEMPLES. WATSON STANDS BY THE WINDOW USING ITS LIGHT TO READ FROM AN OPEN NEWSPAPER HE IS HOLDING.
SHERLOCK: God these are all so easy! Give me another...quickly!
WATSON: (READING) You have solved just about every crime in the bally paper Homes. And all without leaving your chair. Er....Ah here is one that might tax you. Fennimore Hall was burgled on Saturday. Good grief! In an audacious robbery the thief scaled an Ivy up to Lady Fennimore's bedroom, where Lady Fennimore was asleep, he cracked her bedside safe and made off with the Fennimore Star. A diamond centre piece of a necklace said to be worth...
SHERLOCK: Paste! Paste! Paste!!
WATSON: What's that old man?
SHERLOCK: The diamond and the necklace, are paste, they are fake...just like the burglary.
WATSON: How could you possibly know?
SHERLOCK: Because my dear demented friend we investigated the theft of the self-same jewels from the self-same safe, of the self-same Lady last year.
WATSON: Did we?
SHERLOCK: Yes, you might recall when confronted with the facts, Her Ladyship said that she had no recollection of personally selling the necklace for cash to a dealer in Hatton Garden only the day before claiming that it had been stolen. She also failed to recall posting a claim form to her insurance company two full days before she was robbed.
WATSON: Oh dear, what happened to her.
SHERLOCK: Happened to her? Nothing, she is a titled lady they had to believe her.
WATSON: So, nothing happened then.
SHERLOCK: No, not unless you count the hanging of the young footman and the bankrupting of the insurance company.
WATSON: Still a terrible ordeal for her Ladyship to have to go through...What if you are wrong this time though Homes?
(HOMES STIFFENS)
WATSON: (CONT') What if Lady Fennimore had retrieved the real diamond necklace, and it was stolen on Saturday just as she as she states?
SHERLOCK: (GIVES A HUGE SIGH) So, ignoring the fact that Mad Lady Fennimore still insists that the jewellery was already stolen last year and we rule out the dead footman, who did not steal the jewels, being able to gift them back to her from the grave. We find she used all the money from the insurance company to pay off her late husband's gambling debts. So she couldn't have afforded to buy the jewellery back. And the Ivy the burglar was supposed to have climbed up last year was only three foot tall then and freshly planted. Given that species of ivy is a dwarf variety the chances of it growing enough to reach the third floor and her Ladyships bedroom in the intervening period i would put at bugger all to zero.
WATSON: The scoundrel might have used a ladder?
SHERLOCK: Despite her 90years Her ladyship enjoys excellent hearing and enjoys the family disposition for being the lightest sleepers in Christendom.
WATSON: Really?
SHERLOCK: Don't you remember, I tasked you with wooing her Ladyship into bed?
WATSON: Aghh...That rings a bell. It was essential to crack the case you said?
SHERLOCK: No, it was because I was bored out of my skull, and I just wanted to see if you would do it. If you remember Her Ladyship was such a light sleeper that just the closing of your eyes was enough to startle her. You might also remember she had the household staff kick you around the scullery till morning.
WATSON: Much to your amusement as i recall.
SHERLOCK JUMPS TO HIS FEET
SHERLOCK: God I'm so bored Watson, (HE SPINS TO FACE THE DOOR) Not now Mrs Hudson! (HE SPINS STRAIGHT BACK TO FACE WATSON)
MRS HUDSON: (FROM OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR) Oh...ok...I'll er..
SHERLOCK: Can nobody challenge me! Is there no one at all...
MRS HUDSON: Only...
SHERLOCK: (FACING DOOR AGAIN) What is it Mrs Hudson!
MRS HUDSON: There is a gentleman to see you sir...He would..
SHERLOCK: Don't tell me any more Mrs Hudson....(SHERLOCK MUTTERS, SNIFFS THE AIR THEN CAREFULLY TREADS ON A CREAKY FLOOR BOARD JUST IN FRONT OF HIM ) Is the Gentleman standing just to your left Mrs Hudson?
MRS HUDSON: Why yes?
SHERLOCK: Right listen carefully, I don't do repeats. Arrived from the new world ...had to return, inheriting some sort of title? That's not a question. Big black creature, no, a Hound. An attractive girl...escaped prisoner on moors is a red herring.. distant relative did it. Watch out for spider in boot, bog, fog and dog, in that order. Carry your gun at all times and you will be OK....right I suggest you set off for Baskerville Hall immediately Sir Henry. There is a train leaving from Waterloo Station in 35 minutes.
WATSON: That is amazing Homes, how did you..
SHERLOCK: Confound it Watson, please don't ask me to explain my deductions again. Particularly when they are not just elementary, but bloody obvious.
(MUMBLING FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR)
MRS HUDSON: Mr Homes?
SHERLOCK: What now?
MRS HUDSON: He wants to know if he can come in and shake your hand?
SHERLOCK: Certainly not! Piss off.
WATSON: I say Homes, that's a bit harsh.
SHERLOCK: Is there nothing, my senile sidekick, in all the correspondence?
MRS HUDSON: Only he says, he thought there might be a book in it?
SHERLOCK: (TO WATSON) in all the papers?
SHERLOCK STAMPS HARD ON THE CREAKY FLOORBOARD. WE HEAR A LOUD
'BOING' AND SIR HENRY SCREAMING AS HE FALLS DOWN THE STAIRS.
SHERLOCK: (CONT' TO WATSON)....is there nothing from my brother, Mycroft?
WATSON: (LOOKING AT THE DOOR FOR A BEAT) Er...I fear there is nothing that you will find sufficient to hold your intellect to account...(HIS ATTENTION IS CAUGHT BY AN ENVELOPE STANDING UP ON THE MANTLE ABOVE THE FIRE) How did that get there? Well... nothing, except perhaps this letter from Moriarty?
SHERLOCK TAKES THE LETTER, LOOKS AT IT FOR A FEW MOMENTS THEN WITHOUT OPENING IT THROWS IT ONTO THE FIRE.
SHERLOCK: Please...
WATSON: Sherlock! (TRYING TO PICK THE LETTER OFF THE FIRE) What the hell...(HAS TO LET IT BURN) Right you egotistical twat. It might surprise you to know that i am not in fact your odd choice for a companion but useful exposition excuse Dr Watson. Over a year ago I had a series of painful surgeries to make my face the spit of Watson's and then, without you even noticing, i replaced him and have been close by your side ever since. I even had my leg broken and reset to mimic Watson's limp. You see Homes I'm Moriarty!
SHERLOCK: I know.
WATSON: What? How could you?
SHERLOCK: Wrong leg.
WATSON: Bugger, are you sure? I always get that facing someone, right left thing wrong.
SHERLOCK: I was joking, but the very fact you don't know..It's just so unforgivably sloppy.
WATSON: So how long have you known.
SHERLOCK: From the beginning. Why do you think I made you sleep with Lady Fennimore?
WATSON: Damn! And if not the leg then how?
SHERLOCK: Simple, Watson would never have missed our regular Friday supper with Mrs Hudson's special dumplings. Can I ask you a question?
WATSON: Please do.
SHERLOCK: Why didn't you just shoot me? Anytime in the past year you could have just pulled out your service revolver and shot me and put both of us out of our misery.
WATSON: I was plotting.
SHERLOCK: Plotting! For a year? And what did you come up with?
WATSON: Well as a matter of fact, earlier today I laced your lunch with a fatal dose of a very rare and exotic poison from the Asian subcontinent. It has no taste, aroma or colour. And you my dear Sherlock ingested enough to kill an Elephant.
SHERLOCK: Yes, I know.
WATSON: OOOOOO! You fibber, you didn't know. It's undetectable.
SHERLOCK: Not by touch, I felt it.
WATSON: What?
SHERLOCK: If you had done your homework properly, or even at all you would have known that i have studied the exotic poisons of Asia extensively. The poison you chose has a very distinctive bi modal grit feel under the tongue. It's quite unique.
WATSON: F**k off.
SHERLOCK: I cannot tell you how disappointed I am with you. Over a year wondering what you were planning and when exactly you intended to strike.
WATSON: You still ate it all, you cleaned the plate.
SHERLOCK: Well Mrs Hudson makes a delicious Roast Lamb Lunch on a Wednesday. That and the fact that your chosen poison has a natural antidote. A paste made from the Asian Poppy or as it is commonly known Opium.
WATSON: Oh, I didn't know that..do you use opium?
SHERLOCK: And that is my bloody point! And that is why I'm sodding off!
WATSON: Where are you going?
SHERLOCK: I'm going to get completely and permanently off my tits chasing the dragon.
WATSON: Well what about me?
SHERLOCK: Don't know, don't care.
WATSON: I might do something terrible...to everybody?
SHERLOCK: You can take a head dive off a high falls or kill everybody you meet, for all i care. Do whatever you fancy...only I wouldn't harm Mrs Hudson if i were you she cooks an excellent lunch which is included in the rent, as is her more than elementary Friday special dumpling supper with bedtime hand job.
INT. BAR. DAY.
OLD-SCHOOL DETECTIVE (DRAKE) WITH FEDORA HAT AND CIGARETTE IN HAND IS QUESTIONING A DISHEVELED-LOOKING MAN (BARNEY) WITH TOUSLED HAIR AND TATTERED SHIRT.
NARRATION:
Someone was after setting fire to a million apples and it was my job was to find out why. With another million stolen it meant Reginald Winkworth, chief orchard owner and cider house kingpin had only eleven apples left. Through a combination of mix-ups and calamities the case had landed on my desk and with things not going at all well for me of late I knew it was my very last chance to prove myself.
DRAKE (WEARILY):
Alright Barney, let's go through this one more time; When did you arrive at the bar?
BARNEY:
I'd always have my lunch here during the week and I remember thinking how unusual it was that it was already freezing at that time of day.
DRAKE:
And that time of day was...?
BARNEY:
Freezing.
DRAKE:
And what time were the clocks?
BARNEY:
Oh, the clocks, they must have been five past one if they were a day.
V.O. DRAKE:
Barney had a simple way about him that gave me the impression that he'd rather be at home with a good colouring book. A child-like innocence that might endear him to some but made me want to punch him right through the floor.
DRAKE:
So what happened then?
BARNEY:
I ordered my usual tea and goose sandwiches, took a seat here at the window and started drinking and biting and eating the stuff I'd just bought.
DRAKE:
Relatively normal thus far.
BARNEY:
Then a blue sedan pulled up at the corner of Morton's chemist and a man got out with a tea cosy on his head. I watched him throw a load of apples into the clock tower and then speed away.
DRAKE:
No longer normal. Do you remember anything unusual about the car?
BARNEY:
Not when it was pulled up but when it was in motion it looked like there was a rabbit in the back seat eating a cornetto.
DRAKE:
Highly odd now.
BARNEY:
Exactly! Who eats an ice-cream in sub-zero temperatures!?
V.O. DRAKE:
If Barney had a talent, and he didn't, it was his unwavering ability to focus on the wrong part of a story. It was as if he processed information hanging upsidedown whilst rotating inside a mirror. A mirror I desperately wanted to obliterate.
DRAKE SIGHS HEAVILY.
DRAKE:
Let's skip forward shall we. Tell me about the actual-
BARNEY (LOUDLY):
About the rabbit - Ju'see my attention was quickly drawn back inside as I could hear an argument taking place in the kitchen.
DRAKE:
Oh yes?
BARNEY:
Yes. The lady kept repeating something about the dust of smoke and the chef was giving out about how someone may have accidentally eaten a nest.
DRAKE (EXASPERATED) RUBS HIS EYES IN FRUSTRATION:
And then...?
BARNEY:
Then I looked back out the frosted window and I could have sworn I saw a horse drinking pigeon shit out of a straw. I got some lovely photos.....
DRAKE SLAMS THE TABLE.
DRAKE (ANGRY):
Ah for Christ's sake! Make sense of this for me: the dust of smoke, apples in clocks and pigeon shit. What am I supposed to do with that!!?
HE IS INTERRUPTED BY BARNEY SNEEZING EIGHT TIMES.
DRAKE (REVELATION)
Wait a second. You don't sound too great yourself. Maybe you were out in the cold last night; just as the incident occurred perhaps?
BARNEY:
No. I had a bit of a sneezing fit last night and when I woke up this morning my nose was gone to shit.
DRAKE:
Your hair too, it looks very much askew. Like you were maybe up half the night?
BARNEY SPRINGS TO HIS FEET DEEPLY INSULTED.
BARNEY (INSULTED):
I am entitled to have whatever hair I have on my own head please!
DRAKE:
Alright, alright, cool your jets.....sit down and we'll get to the crux of the case.
BARNEY:
I most certainly will not!! I'm off to Harry Bjerken's salon for a cut, trim, blow-dry, wash, towel dry and curl and it's all because of you!
DRAKE:
Go then, you absolute cretin! You just wasted my whole morning. Nothing makes any sense with you with your goose sandwiches and eating nests, not to mention your horrible hair of course.
BARNEY WHIMPERS AND RUNS OUT THE DOOR.
DRAKE SIDLES UP TO THE COUNTER.
DRAKE (To Barman):
If he hadn't ponced out the door I'd have thrown him through the window. Same again.
BARMAN:
You haven't ordered anything yet.
BEAT.
DRAKE:
Alright, alright smart alec, the usual.
BARMAN:
But you've never been in here before.
DRAKE:
Bourbon, a bourbon for heavens sake!
DRAKE REACHES FOR THE ENVELOPE OF PHOTOS BARNEY LEFT. THE FIRST IS A PICTURE OF A HORSE WITH A STRAW & A LOOK OF DISGUST. THE SECOND IS A RABBIT EATING AN ICE-CREAM. NEXT ARE VARIOUS PHOTOS OF BARNEY SETTING FIRE TO AND ROBBING THE APPLES.
DRAKE: (ECSTATIC)
Hahaaa!! I've got him! I've got the imbecile. Hahaaa!!! A second bourbon and pour one for yourself my fine fellow!
FADE IN AND OUT.
DRAKE IS PASSED OUT AT THE BAR. HE WAKES UP STARTLED AND DISHEVILED.
BARMAN:
It's half eleven. You've been asleep most of the day.
DRAKE:
The cretin? The fool I was talking to earlier, Barney, I had photo's of him.
BARMAN:
Ah yes, I left them back here for you.
DRAKE:
Great. Give them to me.
BARMAN:
I don't have them now. Barney came in about four hours ago and took them. He said to say thanks to you for minding them.
DRAKE:
Noooo!!!!!
BARMAN:
He left this apple for you.
DRAKE:
Oh God nooooo!!!!!!
END.
I used to play cops and robbers with a friend who's dad was actually a police officer. We usually played for 10 minutes but then spent 30 minutes filling in paperwork. Used to take his family two weeks to play a game of Cluedo while they waited for forensics.
News just in: Man shot multiple times on golf course. 18 holes.
That was, in the words of Shakespeare, awesome.
Otterfox please.
A busy week, loads of words. I like Patrick's brevity Ottefox's style but Playful pips it.
A big well done to everyone. After such efforts it almost feels wrong to choose. In fact i'll have to read them all again before i do!
Right, read them all again and it's Gappy first (just) and everyone else in joint second!
Gappy. Lots of nice words. Sounded very good in the voice I read it in.
Hi all. That was fun. Gappy for me.
Quote: Tiggy @ 13th May 2020, 10:04 PMGappy. Lots of nice words. Sounded very good in the voice I read it in.
I think I'm getting credit for your funny performance there! I would truly love to hear said voice.
Great week - I hope this is the beginning of a return to the glory days of the comp. They all have something that made them enjoyable. I'll give special mention to Michael (reminded me of yuor piece Miffed Marple from a comp years ago), Patrick (the first 2 sentences are just a perfect joke), and Firkin (sounds like a brilliant set-up fro a sit com episode), but my winner this week is Tiggy, just because "Hello, Mr Suspect" is a line that made me laugh really loud in an empty room.
Amidst the endless crap I churn out there's the occasional one I grow fond of and yes, Miffed Marple is one. I am such a whore. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Nq09jGKxU3s&t=57s Results cumming...