F**king Hell! C**tgtasulazioningd to Lazzard for shingling AGAIN. Your prize is to have won so PM me with a new slut please. Meanwhilst...
Lazzard - 4
Otterfox, Playfull, Crindy - 2
Next natterjerk: Time Off
Leg closed: 11.8.21
Runners are nowt...
Position Score Name
1 9 Lazzard
2 7 Playfull,
3 5 Gappy
4 4 Otterfox
5 2 Crindy
6 1 Teddy
KEN AND BARBIE
BARBECUE.
KEN and DICK.
KEN Hi, mate. You are...?
DICK My name is Richard Staines, but call me Dick - actually, order me prick, I'm a big gay queer poof.
KEN Er, yes... Would you care for a sausage?
DICK Oooh, everyone! Prick up your ears! Unless you're Elton John, then prick up your rear! Lezzers and gendermen, I only just came across the guy and already he wants to stuff a length of thick, juicy sausage up my orifice! You'll be asking if I want to get my chops round your meat and two veg in a bum - bun, next, you naughty naughty boy you.
KEN Right... With sauce?
DICK Oooh yes, a long hard Wiener with a wad of mayo on the head, I'll drink that - drink to that - drink two of those, vicar. Now how about I nibble your fruit and nuts, chomp your cheeseballs and gobble your gherkin - unless you'd rather I slapped you salami, tickled your chicken, grabbed your greaseballs? Oh, how great to be gay!
KEN I don't quite understand. You'd like to taste first?
DICK Ooooh yerse, lick it before you stick it, as the actor said to the - other actor. I mean, I love to pull pork, peck pig in a blanket, sip the sloppy Joe, I'm a cheeky chi-chi-man gym bunny!
KEN Sorry, I... Anything to drink? Cocktail?
DICK Oooh, do stop - or rather, keep it coming, I'm up and coming, as I once said to - an actor... I'm feeling a little ginger beer, so make mine a large one, pull off a hand shandy, shake my cock - tail in a rimmer, I'm a crafty butcher, donut pincher, finocchio fairy filt flamer.
KEN Fine...
(Enter John.)
KEN Oh, hi John. This is - er, Richard, he's homosexual.
DICK WHAT did you call me? Police, arrest this homophobe for discrimination!
Quote: Michael Monkhouse @ 4th August 2021, 9:51 AMAGAIN
Writing it in caps doesn't make it any more true, Monkhouse 
Anyway got to work fast this round, because I'm going away tomorrow (some irony in the fact this reason is probably truer to the spirit of the theme than what I came up with).
...
MECHANIC: Right, we've found the problem, Mr Soames, it was this tiny little gasket that had come loose.
SOAMES: Oh, right.
MECHANIC: Yes, we put in another one, it cost 49p.
SOAMES: Excellent.
MECHANIC: Yes, but unfortunately for you it found its way into the grafham pipe by a stroke of rotten luck and, the upshot is, we had to replace the carburettor.
SOAMES: Ah. So, what's the damage?
MECHANIC: £498
SOAMES: [Sigh] I see. Well, you may as well sell me a lottery ticket for tonight to make it up to the round 500. I could do with a change of fortune.
MECHANIC: Really?
SOAMES: Gosh, yes. This automotive malfunction is the tip of the iceberg today. I got up this morning to find that I had been burgled in my sleep, and that the cat had died. As soon as I'd finished making my police report, and burying the tabby, I got a call to say that my mother had been hit by a tractor, and was in hospital. It turned out that was a mistake, and my mother was fine, but in the course of rushing to A&E I was given a speeding ticket, and when I got home I found that in my haste I'd left the door unlocked, and someone had stolen all the things the first robber left behind. And dug up the cat, oddly. After all this malarkey I was late for a sorely needed job interview. Then I trod in dog poo. I think I can comfortably say that it's not my day.
MECHANIC: Well of course not, don't be stupid.
SOAMES: Pardon me?
MECHANIC: Oh, sorry, no offence, Mr Soames, I can assure you that I have the utmost sympathy for your ill fortune, but why would it be your day? Bit selfish, isn't it? Your day, oh, la di da.
SOAMES: Well it's been trying.
MEHCANIC: A sad tale, indeed, but it's hardly likely to be your day, is it? The whole world turning round you for 24 hours? Ever hear of hubris, Mr Soames? Ever hear of Icarus?
SOAMES: Is that the new name for the Post Office?
MECHANIC: I mean, look at it like this: the average Briton lives for 74 years, which is just over 27,000 days. Now, bearing in mind there are 7.108 billion people in the world, that means you only have about a 1 in 263,000 chance of even having a day of your own for the entirety of your existence, assuming for second that we agree having a day were possible.
SOAMES: I just meant I'd had an off-day.
MECHANIC: All days are off-days. There are effectively no on-days, I just proved that, mathematically. What you meant is that you have some pie-eyed concept that individual days are allotted to random humans for their own gratification. What do you reckon, that the gods come down and say, "Bless you, little man, I bestow this day upon thee, go forth and have a bleeding knees up!"? Like I say, selfish.
SOAMES: That's err...an interesting point. Anyway, I'll be on my way.
MECHANIC: As you wish.
SFX: Engine starts. 3 seconds later there is a bang and crash
MECHANIC: Are you alright, Mr Soames?
SOAMES: [Shaken] I...I think so.
MECHANIC: A blow out right there, how unlucky. Still, you were fortunate that it happened here at my garage - I can fix that wheel and windscreen for you in a jiff - £170.
SOAMES: [Sighing] I suppose.
MECHANIC: Excellent. Pop in and see Janet and I'll get onto it.
SOAMES: [Fading] OK.
VOICE: [Booming, reverby, epic] Samuel! How are you enjoying your day?
MECHANIC: It's. Bloody. Brilliant!
VOICE: Everything to your satisfaction?
MECHANIC: I'll say! Having a day kicks arse, Lord.
VOICE: Wonderful. Don't tell the other 263,000 people I gave you one, mind. Oops, better go, Janet and Mr Soames are coming back.
JANET: Sorry, boss, just a little problem. Mr Soames doesn't have enough in his account for this job, he only has £84 remaining.
MECHANIC: Oh, how unfortunate is that? Tell you what, Mr Soames, just give us those 84 squidlies, and to cover the difference I'll take that lottery ticket of yours; do you know, I'm felling lucky...
A COURT ROOM IN 1906 WITH THREE PEOPLE ARGUING, PRESIDED OVER BY A SOMBER LOOKING JUDGE.
JUDGE: Time out everyone ! So in summary, this case is Herbert George Wells versus Albert Einstein and the chap eating jelly babies is a witness ? Sorry what was your name again ?
DR: Who. Just call me the Doctor.
JUDGE: We're here to settle Who has, I mean which of you has intellectual property writes on the invention of the concept of time travel, is that correct ?
HGW: Yes my lord. My book came out in 1895 so I got there first.
EINSTEIN: It's a book of fiction Dummkopf ! I wrote the first scientific paper on the relativity of time in 1905.
DR: Time Lords are over three thousand years old you know, jelly baby anyone ?
HGW: Who are you ?
DR: Correct.
HGW: I registered the concept as the very first patent back in 1449.
EINSTEIN: Only because you stole my machine and went back in time. If I wasn't dyslexic you would be in jail.
HGW: He filed for "prostitution" rather prosecution, it didn't end well.
DR: Do you know, I am only ever referred to by a job title "the Doctor". A construct Mr Wells stole and used in his book. I demand he returns my concept forthwith.
EINSTEIN: Who on earth are you ?
DR: That's right.
HGW: Look this Who Doctor gentleman, or more likely a Which Doctor, is not taking thing seriously. It's as if this is all light entertainment to him, throw him out !
JUDGE: Doctor, focus on the case in hand. Your last comment borders on contempt of court, let that be a warning. Now Mr Einstein are there any valid witnesses you may wish to call ?
A PREGNANT WOMAN BURSTS IN.
LIZ: I'm not late am I ?
DR: I think it's gone beyond that.
LIZ: I'm sorry I'm new to The Fantasy Enactment club. I've come as Jodie Whittaker, the energetic thirteenth Dr Who. We are enacting time travel aren't we ?
MUSIC CUE: Dr Who theme music.
(this is the shortened version)
Two Medieval noblemen walking along a gravel path in beautifully kempt knot-garden.
WILLIAM:
So, Henry. Your thoughts on these new 'clocks'?
HENRY:
I wouldn't give them the time of day..
WILLIAM:
Oh - very good! You're on form today.
HENRY:
But seriously, though, I wouldn't have one. I'll stick to the old sundial, thank you very much.
WILLIAM:
Someone told me they've stopped teaching sundial altogether in some schools. Bloody disgrace!
HENRY:
You know what, William? Before too long, there'll be no-one left who can even read a sundial.
WILLIAM:
Exactly! Case in point - the other day I asked my young niece to read our sundial at home - and she couldn't!
HENRY:
There you are!
WILLIAM:
She said it's twenty past ten, you daft c**t.
HENRY:
Rude.
WILLIAM:
Quite. She'd been looking at the bloody church clock, of course - the easy way out.
HENRY:
Or 'cheating', as I call it.
They arrive at a meeting of several paths. At the centre, an ornate sundial.
WILLIAM:
Ah - look at that. A thing of beauty. What's it say?
Henry squints at it for a moment.
HENRY: Thursday?
WILLIAM: There you are. Bloody clocks, indeed!
BREAKING NEWS
It has emerged that when comedy hair cut victim Jack Grealish moved to Manchester City for what City described as 'monopoly money' earlier this week, it was in fact for Monopoly money.
At a press conference this morning, scruffily dressed City spokesperson Pep something or other said, "I can't believe it actually happened, we were getting fed up with Villa upping the price every time we spoke to them and with Jacks agent making increasingly excessive wage demands. So, in exasperation someone on our team said as we were dealing in monopoly money how much monopoly money would it take to get Jacks signature on a transfer document. To which Villa asked for a Hundred million transfer fee and Jacks agent asked for 300,000 a week in wages. We then asked if they were happy dealing in Monopoly money?" At this point they showed a film of Jacks agent nodding and laughing hysterically whilst he and jack signed the contract. "And this" Pip added holding up the signed contract, "is a legally binding document, according to our lawyers. This deal makes Jack both the most expensive and the cheapest player we have ever bought." then he went onto show the 100 brand new notes printed specially for City by those nice people at Hasbro, each worth a cool Million in monopoly money.
Later at a press conference with Jack, Jacks agent admitted he had got swept up in the emotion of the moment. But he was adamant that he thought they were talking about pounds when they all referred to monopoly money. "It could have been worse," he added. "He nearly signed for 900,000 'Mulas', whatever a 'mula' is." When asked what lesson he had earned from all this Jack smiled and said he was still trying to learn the lesson of 'don't fall asleep in the barber's chair if he has a Birmingham shirt on the wall...He then thanked all the people who had helped him particularly his new coach Tom Daley. He then said he was looking forward to taking some time off, as nearly playing in the Euros had tired him out.
In a strange turn of events later it emerged that Monopoly money has become the latest fad crypto currency. Within hours Jack became worth more than Man City and Hasbro became worth more than Microsoft, Amazon and Uber combined!
INT. EMERGENCY SHELTER - NIGHT
A small office space in a cramped post-apocalyptic shelter. A frail and dirt-streaked SCIENTIST(1) sits hunched over a computer console and presses a button to begin a recording.
SCIENTIST(1)
This is an official log entry for Emergency Shelter 25-Gamma. It has now been 34 days since the alarms sounded. Power levels are minimal and there has still been no contact from any of the other shelters. We don't know if that's due to a systems malfunction or...because there's nobody else out there. Food supplies are running low--
She pauses to cough and splutter, sounding very ill. SCIENTIST(2) enters the office clutching a piece of paper and smiles sympathetically.
SCIENTIST(1) (Cont'd)
With rationing procedures in place, we might last another month, but unless the toxicity levels on the surface start to fall, we'll have no chance of making a break for the emergency stores. If we don't make it, I hope this log will shed light on what happened here. Whoever, or whatever, might one day find it.
She solemnly clicks the console off and turns to Scientist(2), who shuffles slightly, then hands over the paper in his hand.
SCIENTIST(2)
Hi. So, yeah, I know you're busy, but I'm...gonna need Friday off, if that's ok?
Scientist(1) stares at Scientist(2) in confusion, then looks down at the paper.
SCIENTIST(2) (Cont'd)
It's just...you're my supervisor. So you just need to sign it off down at the bottom there--
SCIENTIST(1)
You want...time off?
SCIENTIST(2)
Yeah. And I know it's short notice, but something's come up--
SCIENTIST(1)
Wha--? We're in a lead-lined concrete bunker sixty feet underground. What could possibly have come up?
SCIENTIST(2)
Actually, it's a personal matter. And I'm not legally required to divulge my reasons for the request. So, if you could...
SCIENTIST(1)
But--It's--I mean, civilisation has ended!
SCIENTIST(2)
Which, with respect, is not the issue here. As per the terms of my contract of employment, I'm allowed up to twenty five days a year of annual leave--
SCIENTIST(1)
No. I'm sorry, but the request is denied. I need you to--
SCIENTIST(2)
Ok, well, I didn't want to go there, but this really feels like discrimination. Because you've clearly been authorising other people's leave. Janet hasn't been in all week, for a start.
SCIENTIST(1)
Janet died of radiation sickness four days ago.
SCIENTIST(2)
Oh.
(then)
Does that mean her parking space is available?
SCIENTIST(1)
Her...?
SCIENTIST(2)
Only, I've mentioned a few times in staff meetings about how I had to leave my car at the far end of the car park when I got here, and I was hoping--
SCIENTIST(1)
Well, if you'd been listening in those meetings, you'd know that the car park is currently so irradiated that it won't be safe for human life to return there until the middle of the next decade!
SCIENTIST(2)
But when we do leave, it'd be nice to be able to have my car right there outside the door--
SCIENTIST(1)
In the middle of a nuclear winter?
SCIENTIST(2)
Oh. Yeah. Do you think I should have left the heater on?
SCIENTIST(1)
Ok, I'm putting an end to all this. I'm not discussing annual leave, or parking spaces, or...I'm assuming it was you that left the anonymous message on the noticeboard about labeling food in the fridge?
SCIENTIST(2)
It's just that someone's been using my Nutella and replacing it with this supermarket brand stuff--
SCIENTIST(1)
In case you haven't noticed, we're fighting for survival down here! We may well be the last few remnants of what remains of humanity, we have all been working around the clock to try and get through this, and I need you to focus! Please!
Scientist(2) considers this plea somberly.
SCIENTIST(2)
You're right. I'm sorry. I need to get my priorities in order. You've just reminded me that there's something bigger here than my annual leave, or Janet's parking space, or even my Nutella.
SCIENTIST(1)
Thank you.
Scientist(2) hands her another sheet of paper.
SCIENTIST(2)
That's my overtime for the last month. Just sign off at the bottom...
THE END
All funtabulous. Crindy this wank.
Crindy.
And it's Crindy for me. Nice set up and well drawn characters.
Liked Firkins, but it was unfinished.
Reading Michaels signature avalanche of obscenities feels like being inoculated against the filth of the world. I feel like i could walk through a Victorian sewer and not catch anything.
I've been asked to take all the swearing out of my act... Goodnight.
Crindy.
Proper sketch, that.
It's got to be Crindy for me, too: an excellent simple sketch concept, well delivered. *Applause*
Lazzard's dialogue was characteristically tight and tidy, but lacked a little spark for me (YMMD). Special note to Firkin for "which doctor", which I thought clever.
Sorry to be a heel, because I know it's not that important, but I simply could not work out how Michael or Playfull's entries related to the theme, so they were out from the get-go.
Barbecues in time off. It was actually based on a real experience I had years ago, when this gay guy at a BBQ made that hilarious sausage joke 8764 times and when a straight guy said it, he complained.
Quote: Michael Monkhouse @ 12th August 2021, 5:18 PMBarbecues in time off. It was actually based on a real experience I had years ago, when this gay guy at a BBQ made that hilarious sausage joke 8764 times and when a straight guy said it, he complained.
Oh, fair enough, I guess that works. OK, I take it all back (but not the bit about you not being able to count )
I actually liked the thrust of the sketch, I recognised the situation.