F**king Hell! C**segnalazioni to me for wanking it. I'll PM me with a subject for next wank please. I won't really. It's a joke.
Meanwhilst..
2 - Me
1 - Gappy
Next topic: Writing (suggested by Gappy)
Leg closed: 11.6.24
Runners are nowt...
Position Score Name
1 - 3 - Gappy, Me
1 - 2 - Otterfox, APlate
SEX FACTOR
PUB.
TOM and DICK.
DICK Y'know, Tom, I've been reading...
TOM Good.
DICK Shut up. I've been reading Freud.
TOM Why?
DICK Ah, that question shows you're obsessed with sex. 'Y' chromosomes, you see.
TOM I don't understand.
DICK Of course you don't. You're thinking about sex.
TOM I don't get it.
DICK Sex again.
TOM Oh shut up.
DICK Sex once more. Clearly a subconscious reference to the vagina and your desire for women to withhold the act of sex and retain their motherly purity.
TOM That'll do.
DICK 'Do, eh? Slang for have sex.
TOM That's enough.
DICK As one says after sex.
TOM Oh God...
DICK As one says during sex.
TOM I'm begging you.
DICK As one says before...
TOM Right, I'm getting up.
DICK Sex as well. Phallic.
TOM I'm gonna hit you in a minute.
DICK Sexual fetish.
TOM This is ridiculous.
DICK Re-dick-less? Obviously fear of castration. Twice.
TOM You're making it hard for me.
DICK Perv.
TOM This is far too long.
DICK You disgust me.
TOM Oh come on, Dick...
DICK Female orgasm.
TOM F**k you.
DICK No comment.
TOM Ok, Dick. Sex. Sex, sex, sex. Sex, sex, sex, sexsexsexsexsex. Happy now?
DICK No need to go on about it.
TOM Ah, shut up. Anyway, I'm no purveyor of Freudian theory. I prefer Jung.
DICK Oh, not Jung! He's soooooo reductive.
1:[JOLLY & SLIGHTLY ANNOYING] It looks like you're making a stir fry!
2:Yep. Just doing the chopping.
1:Would you like me to help?
2:Yeah, sure, thanks.
1: OK. Place all the pepper at the top left of the board.
2: Pardon?
1:Arrange your sliced red pepper at the top of the chopping board, in rows.
2:Why?
1:It looks professional. Then, you may create the main body of your ingredients using pak choi.
2:Main body?
1:Finally add a subject line using some carrot batons.
2:Just checking you know, this is a stir-fry, not a letter.
1: Oh, I see. [PAUSE] Would you like to write a letter?
2:Not right now.
1: OK. [BEAT] How about now?
2:No, please just leave me alone.
1:But I like to help.
2:Look, Clippit -
1: Oh, call me Clippy.
2:Clippy, I know you feel at a loose end nowadays -
1:"Nowadays"? It's been 11 long years since Microsoft fired me. All that selfless service and they laid me off with a cold emotionless letter. I wouldn't mind, but I helped Bill Gates write it. What a way for a paperclip to end up. Me! The most helpful paperclip anyone has ever known.
2:Clippy, you are the least helpful paperclip anyone has ever known. On account of how you don't clip paper, you just ask whether people want to write letters.
1:[EXCITED] Do you want to write a letter?!
2:No! Look, I'm sorry you lost your job, but the world has moved on, you need to move on with it.
1:I am moving on! I went for that job with Grammarly, didn't I? But they're prejudiced against an old hand like me.
2:They didn't want you because you did a terrible interview, I'm sure.
1:I did a great interview for your information!
2:Really? Was your pitch [PARODYING] "Hey! It looks like you're using the subjunctive! Would you like to write a letter instead?"
1:[PAUSE] Not saying.
2:Look, Why don't you-
1:Hey! Looks like you're writing a letter!
2:[SIGH] I'm just getting my phone. If you're bored, why don't you call up one of the other discarded mascots?
1:Like who?
2:How about the honey monster?
1:No, he only ever talks about honey.
2:Flat Eric?
1:He's in thrall to Alexandr Orlov. I've lost so many friends like that.
2:Alright, try Mr Chips.
1: Ooh, good idea. [BEAT] Hi, Mr Chips? It's Clippy. I'm at a loose end, what are you doing? [BEAT] No, you have to tell me. [BEAT] Oh, sod you, then.
SCENE: TWO MIDDLE-AGED, SMARTLY ATTIRED GENTLEMEN IN ONE OF THOSE 'GENTLEMEN'S CLUBS' WHICH ARE A BIT PECULIAR BUT PROBABLY HARMLESS
FEATHERSWALLOW: Ah, good evening, Bancroft. I've finished!
BANCROFT: Good man, Featherswallow! What have you finished, then?
FEATHERSWALLOW: I've finished writing a poem. (HOLDS UP A PIECE OF PAPER)
BANCROFT: I didn't know you were interested in that kind of lark, Featherswallow.
FEATHERSWALLOW: Well, it's in the blood. I'm actually distantly related to Marlowe.
BANCROFT: Good Lord! The chap who owns the garden centre?
FEATHERSWALLOW: No, no, the poet. Listen, I'll read you my poem. It's called 'Bin'.
"A bin is a marvellous thing.
I use it to put things in.
It's the ideal place for rubbish.
I don't support West Bromich..." (PAUSE) "...Albion."
BANCROFT: Oh. (PAUSE) Well, it was all RIGHT, I suppose.
FEATHERSWALLOW: Well, it was just my first attempt. It only took three and a half hours. With a bit more time, I'll get a whole book written.
BANCROFT: A whole book?
FEATHERSWALLOW: Or a pamphlet, Bancroft, it might be a pamphlet. And I know how much you like that word.
BANCROFT: But who in God's name would want to publish that ungodly tripe?
FEATHERSWALLOW: You bounder! How dare you mock my splendid literary art?!
A SMALL STRUGGLE TAKES PLACE
BANCROFT DRAWS A SWORD
FEATHERSWALLOW: What's this? You draw a weapon? How about I jam this fountain pen into your foul fizzog?
BANCROFT: Well, if nothing else, your command of the English language is arguably slightly above average.
FEATHERSWALLOW JAMS FOUNTAIN PEN INTO BANCROFT'S FACE
HE THEN LIFTS BANCROFT INTO THE AIR, THE PEN STILL INSERTED
FEATHERSWALLOW (triumphantly): You see?! You see?! The pen truly is mightier than the sword!
Both good contributions, gents. Gappy for me, clever idea.
Both cool. APlate this wank.
Tough decision. I'll plump for a plate for the name Featherswallow.