F**king Hell! C**segnalazioni to Gappy for wanking it. PM me with a subject for next wank please.
Meanwhilst..
2 - Gappy
1 - Me
Next topic: Teaching (suggested by APlate)
Leg closed: 28.5.24
Runners are nowt...
Position Score Name
1 - 2 - Otterfox, APlate, Gappy
2 - 1 - Me
THE FAIR SAX
LECTURE HALL, LECHERER.
LECTERER Good evening, boys and girls and you, and whelk-come to this morning's lecher. Today I shall be lechering after the wonderful world of the orchestra.
Now we all know there's nothing like getting a grip on a stiff, vibrant organ, placing your mouth at the tip of the shaft and giving it a good, hard blow till something beautiful blasts out the end. And what about the harp - ah, a fair maiden plucking and twanging away at your instrument without hitting a bum? Note there are - sorry, a bum note. There are several more windpipes on which to use your lips and tongue gaily, and I'll try to insert them all - it's long and hard but I'll pull it off...
So why not blow some class brass, suck wood all day and finger a piccolo with both hands? I love to double, even triple tongue, never mind a bit of flutter tonguing, as a bold, lithe trom-boner comes out of the closet, his horn freshly polished, a short pianist banging away at his ivory. And do knock out a 12 incher for all the family to get their hands on. Or ease some stiff, vintage wood between your legs and apply some vibrato to the open G-string until the whole room tremoloes? My favourite position is getting the horn in the corner, putting my thumb on the hole sideways and then strumming my apparatus, stroking the equipment and spanking the nipple gong - but mind your stick control or the beaters get out of hand and you really funk it up. And before this gets rude... (listens)
I'm terribly sorry but we have to stop there. Someone's just reported A Minor.
'ME SCHOOLTIME CHRONICLE'
SCENE: A SCHOOL
A NERVOUS LOOKING TEACHER WITH A NAME BADGE: 'MR. NOSTRIL', OPENS A DOOR AND STEPS INSIDE THE ROOM
MR NOSTRIL: Good morning, class! My name's Mr. Nostril, and I'm your new Geography teacher.
LOOKS AROUND THE ROOM
MR NOSTRIL You, girl! Stop chewing gum! You, boy! Stop picking your nose!
WE NOW SEE THAT THE OTHER PEOPLE IN THE ROOM ARE, IN FACT, ADULTS, LOOKING SLIGHTLY SHOCKED AND CONFUSED
MR NOSTRIL NOTICES A SIGN ON THE DOOR THAT SAYS: 'STAFF ROOM'
MR NOSTRIL: Oh dear! Well, I appear to have made a massive boob.
A JOLLY TEACHER WITH GLASSES LAUGHS. EVERYONE ELSE IS SILENT
MR NOSTRIL: Terribly sorry, folks. I'm new here, obviously. Could someone show me where class 3B is? I'm supposed to be taking their geography lesson...
MRS ZIPFASTEN: Calm down, Mr Nostril. My name is Mrs Zipfasten. Mrs Lucy Zipfasten.
MR NOSTRIL: Well, thanks for that, Mrs Lucy Zipfasten. I now know exactly where class 3B is..!?
MRS ZIPFASTEN: I was about to tell you, if you'd let me finish. Go down the corridor. Up the stairs. Second on the left.
MR NOSTRIL: No, no, that's too difficult, I'm afraid. My poor brain can't process that much information. Could you draw me a picture?
MR KNOCKER: I don't think she can. She doesn't have any arms or legs, look! (laughs) Perhaps I may be of assistance? My name's Mr Knocker, and I'm a Maths teacher. I'll take you by the hand and lead you to your destination.
MR NOSTRIL: Ha! I usually have to pay extra for that sort of thing! Um, I don't know what I meant by that. I'm not implying that you're a homosexual prostitute, Mr Knocker...
A JOLLY TEACHER WITH GLASSES LAUGHS. EVERYONE ELSE IS SILENT
MR KNOCKER: It's fine, Mr Nostril. Take a deep breath, and I'll show you where class 3B is.
MR NOSTRIL AND MR KNOCKER EXIT THE ROOM, AND GO TO CLASS 3B
MR NOSTRIL: Thanks, Mr Knocker. I'll take it from here. Wish me luck!
MR NOSTRIL OPENS THE DOOR AND STEPS INSIDE THE ROOM
SURPRISINGLY, THE ROOM IS FULL OF LAMPS! INSTEAD OF SCHOOLCHILDREN!
MR NOSTRL: Good morning, er, class. My name's Mr Nostril, and... um... I mean, you're all motherf**king LAMPS, so, I don't know if this is...
MR KNOCKER AND THE OTHER TEACHERS SUDDENLY BURST INTO THE ROOM, LAUGHING
MR NOSTRIL: What the Hell is going on?!
MR KNOCKER: Ha! Gotcha!
MRS ZIPFASTEN: Going to teach a room full of lamps, were you, Mr Nostril?! Ha! Ha!
THE JOLLY TEACHER WITH GLASSES IS THERE, NATURALLY, BUT HE LOOKS A BIT BORED, DESPITE HIS COLLEAGUES FINDING IT ALL HILARIOUS
MR NOSTRIL: Oh, it's a hilarious prank! This isn't class 3B at all! It's just a room with a bunch of lamps!
THE END
1: This is my own twist on a classic club sandwich. I've made it a richer experience: the bread is toasted sourdough, the bacon comes with a honey and soy celeriac wash, and the egg is devilled.
2: That looks good.
3: This is entirely the sort of thing we're after.
1: Well, you said you wanted pub grub with a sophisticated edge, so here we are. I have some other menu ideas we could discuss if you were able to give me the job.
2: Hang on a mo, we've not dealt with the sandwich yet.
1: Of course, silly me - I guess you want to taste it!
2: Well, we can come to that if we need to.
3: But only once we've got past the hideously glaring omission of this travesty of a meal.
1: Err...what might that be?
2: What's the one thing a sandwich needs?
1: Bread.
3: No! Crisps.
2: You absolutely cannot serve a sandwich without adding crisps.
1: Since when?
2: Since 1993. Never before then; invariably afterwards.
1: So, in addition to the meal they've ordered, you want me to give the diner a bag of crisps?
3: Not in the bag, you animal. This is a smart urban pub experience, not a Ginsters kebab cafe.
2: And not a whole bag anyway.
1: How many, then?
2: I'd say...nine.
3: Nine is about right.
2: Eleven, tops. We've conducted extensive studies, and nine crisps is the optimal accompaniment to any sandwich.
3: A lot of thought has gone into this.
1: Fair enough. So, what flavour?
3: Doesn't matter.
2: Just whatever you have laying around. Crisps are crisps.
1: I don't think they are.
2: You think crisps aren't crisps? Are you sure you're a chef?
1: What I meant was...no, sure, whatever, some crisps.
3: Nine crisps.
1: Sorry, nine crisps. And where do you put them, anywhere specific on the plate that your research has indicated?
3: No need to be pretentious, just scatter them around the sandwich.
2: It doesn't matter where. So long as they don't touch the coleslaw.
1: Is there coleslaw on the plate now?
2: Yes, there is now.
3: Only since 2002: coleslaw, and the tiniest possible salad.
1: And what if somebody orders a salad and coleslaw sandwich?
2: You still give them the coleslaw.
3: But, to make it clear it's not just a spillage, you put it on the side, in a ramekin.
1: In a ramekin?
2: A ramekin - you know, like you'd use to serve baked beans.
1: That is not how I'd serve baked beans.
2: Alright: like we'd use to serve baked beans.
3: Except we don't serve baked beans.
2: No, obviously. This is a high-end pub-angled refreshment nexus, we don't serve fry-ups, we only serve traditional ranchos huevos.
3: With refried beans.
2: In a ramekin.
3: But a terracotta one this time. Because, you know...Mexico.
1: OK, if I say that I agree to all your unexpected but clearly intricate local garnish conventions, do I get the job?
2: Oh, definitely.
3: You can start next week.
1: Lovely.
2: Oh, just one thing. As a neo-traditional bar-aligned lifestyle hub, we only serve pomegranate-glazed pistachios and artisanal Kerala scratchings.
3: So...could you bring some crisps?
Michael gets my vote for the non-stop Finbarr-Saunders-worthy double entendres! But special shoutout to gappy for lines like "You think crisps aren't crisps? Are you sure you're a chef?"
Thank you. A true story.
Gappy again.
Michael gets my point, but Plate gets a speckled mention (remember that??) for one of the oddest neds to a sketch I can recall.
That takes me back. And the rest of me.
Quote: gappy @ 29th May 2024, 8:53 AMspeckled mention (remember that??)
Actually I don't, though Michael seems to! What's that all about, then? (I googled it and got nothing!)
It was something I used to write when someone got a special mention but no actual vote. Back when the Net was fun we used to get more entries than my mother.