British Comedy Guide

The Last and Best of the Spice Girls 10 - 18.12.24

F**king Hell! C**segnalazioni to Gappy for wanking it. PM me with a subject for next wank please.
Meanwhilst..
2 - Gappy
1 - APlate

Next topic: Apologies (chosen by Gappy)
Leg closed: 18.12.24
Runners are nowt...
Position Score Name
1 7 Gappy
6 6 APlate
2 2 Otterfox

SOMETHING IN THE CLOSET

NURSERY SCHOOL.
Cute TEACHER:

Hello children, hello. Good morning boys and girls and you and comewell to this evening's exciting instalment of the lovely, lovely and - well, just lovely Chronic - Chronny - Stories of Narnia. Now some folk is convinced that Narnia is actually a Christian alleg - ally - thing, which bally well escapes me: forces of evil vanquish the forces of good, but the forces of good are then resurrected? Far too subtle, old bean... Tis like those who argue that Charlie Chaplin's 'Great Dictator' is really about Hitler: I completely missed that. Incidentally, Charlie Chaplin once said, 'A day without laughter is a wasted day,' and he was right: that's why I never watch Charlie Chaplin... Or furthermostmore, that George Orwell's 'Animal Farm' is really a political alleg - ally - that thing. Yerse, one always assumed the greatest political thinker of the last century was just writing about talking pigs and geese on a magic farm. Well blow me down. Anyway, I shall shut up and c**tinue with this afternoon's bit of tale:

"I wish those f**kwits would get their f**king arses in f**king gear up and f**k off oua it," said Susan presently, "Feels like shit in this f**king shit-hole."
"F**king smells like shit too!" said Edmund.
"And there's something in my f**king back," said Peter.
"F**king cold as f**k too, innit?" said Susan.
"F**king wet, too," said Peter. "Bit like your mum, Edmond."
"Oh f**k off, you f**king little f**king - f**ker," said Edmund.
"F**king Hell!" ejaculated Susan suddenly. And everyone asked what the f**k was up.
"Bit like your dad, Pete," said Edmund.
"F**k off, Edmond" retorted he.
"I'm sitting against a f**king tree," said Susan. "It's long and hard.'
"Bit like your dad, Pete," said Edmund once more.
"F**k off, Edmond," said he.
"Shut the f**k up, f**kbags," interjected Susan, "And look: f**king trees and snow and shit. F**k me, I reckon Lucy wasn't spouting bollocks after all."
And now there was no mistaking it and all four children stood blinking in the daylight of a winter day.
Peter turned at once to Lucy.
"F**k me," he said, "So you weren't talking bullshit, then. Sorry and all that shit."
"No worries," said Lucy. "You were a bit of a c**t, though."
"You're right." And Peter nodded his head solemnly. "I was a total f**king c**t."
"Me too," intervened Susan. "What a c**t I was."
"Such a c**t," confirmed Peter.
."It's okay," smiled Lucy. "Just try not to be a bunch of c**ts again... You c**ts!"
And they all laughed.
"Right, c**ties," said Susan, "What now?"
"Look the f**k around a bit, f**kcheese," said Peter. "Explore the wood. Looks f**king awesome."
"Your mum likes wood too," japed Edmond.
"F**k off, Edmond," said he.
"We can pretend we're explorers and shit like that," said Lucy.
"Shut up you silly bitch," said Peter, as he began leading the way forward into the forest.
"Eh, f**kheads," began Edmund presently. "Where's that f**king lamp-post?" He had forgotten for the moment that he must pretend never to have been in the wood before. The moment the words were out of his mouth he realised that he had f**ked up.
Everyone stared at him and it was all silent and shit.
"Edmond," said Peter. "So you did know, Of all the shitty f**king wanking pissing useless f**king little f**king f**kers..."
There was f**k all else to say and presently the four f**ked off again; but Edmund was saying to himself, "I'll make you pay for this. C**ty little f**kpigs."

She looks around: room empty.

HENRY:There you go, mate, nice big bowl of home-made curry.

JACK: Oh, I do love a curry, thanks. [BEAT, THEN STACCATO BREATHING AND WHIMPERS]

HENRY:You alright, mate?

JACK: [WEAK] It's really spicy.

HENRY: Oh yeah, I did put a lot of chilies in it. Sorry. [BEAT] Not sorry!

JACK:What? Don't be weird whilst my defences are down.

HENRY: I'm saying I'm sorry, but I'm not actually sorry at all, it's a joke.

JACK: OK. So aren't you having any of this molten lava?

HENRY: Oh yeah, I'm really hungry.

JACK: [PAUSE] Go on then.

HENRY: Hungry, not hungry! Ha ha! That is also a joke.

JACK:It's as much of a joke as the first one was, I'll give you that. but Henry-

HENRY: Not Henry!

JACK: Yes, you are Henry.

HENRY: Oh, yeah, sorry. Not sorry!!

JACK: Why aren't you sorry? This is basically just rude now. You invited me over, I thought you were being friendly.

HENRY: Yeah: friendly, not friendly.

JACK: Right! Well, I'll tell you where you can shove your friendship, your arse not arse - and your arse is not your arse because your arse is your face! And I'm no longer going to be your best man! So, enjoy sitting here on your own with an inedible dansak and your own misery. Good night!

SFX: DOOR SLAM

HENRY:It was only a joke. [WEAK] A harmless joke. It was funny....not...funny....

BOB and JOE ARE IN A WAREHOUSE.
JOE IS HOLDING A PLANK OF WOOD

BOB: Hey, Joe!

JOE: (sings) Where are you going with that gun in your hand! (laughs) Right?

BOB: No, Joe. You just trod on my foot, you villain!

JOE: Jeepers! Sorry, Bob. Where's the... Oops!

JOE TURNS ROUND, AND THE PLANK OF WOOD HE'S CARRYING JUST MISSES BOB'S DAMNED HEAD

BOB: F**k's sake, Joe! You almost knocked me out!

JOE: Sorry, Bob. Where's the... Oops!

JOE DROPS THE PLANK OF WOOD ONTO BOB'S KNEE

BOB: Oi! That was my knee!

JOE: Was it? What is it now, then?

BOB: Well, it's still my knee, Joe. But now it's in a state of discomfort.

JOE: Sorry, Bob. I'm no good at American geography.

BOB: Look, we've only got half an hour until lunch. Retrieve your plank.

JOE: I will retrieve my plank, Bob.

JOE PICKS UP THE PLANK

BOB: Hang on. What are you doing with a plank of wood anyway? That's got nothing to do with what we're doing in this warehouse.

JOE: Sorry, Bob. I was just gonna say, where's the... Oops!

JOE SMACKS BOB ROUND THE HEAD WITH THE PLANK

BOB: F**ken OW, Joe! I'm gonna complain to the boss about your negligence.

JOE: What's it got to do with you? I only wear it on my days off.

BOB: F**ken negliGENCE, not negligee. And I didn't know that was your cup of tea, Joe.

JOE: Oh, two sugars, please.

BOB: I'm starting to feel a bit light-headed, Joe. Which isn't surprising, considering how often you've accidentally whacked me with your wood.

JOE: Sorry, Bob. I was just gonna ask, though, where's the... Oops!

THIS TIME, JOE THROWS THE PLANK AWAY, PICKS UP A FRYING PAN AND WHACKS BOB WITH IT
BOB FALLS DOWN

BOB: Bloody Hell, Joe. You're just doing it on purpose now.

JOE: Where's the... Oops!

JOE HAS A MACHINE GUN NOW, WHICH HE USES TO SHOOT BOB, WHOSE BODY DOES THAT THING LIKE IN THE FILMS WHEN THEY GET SHOT WITH A MACHINE GUN

JOE: Sorry, Bob!

1930s radio show.

Samuel:
Next we have a special Christmas quiz. Over a month ago we sent out a message to you, the listeners, to write into us and tell us why you feel you would be the best candidate to win our star prize. The standard was very high but we quickly whittled it down to an even one. As luck would have it, the winning winner is, my nephew Sydney's best friend Fortifer Mulqueen.

Fortifer: (confused)
T-thanks.

Samuel:
Now Fortifer, you only have to answer five questions to win our star prize which is a guided tour around the building, lead by the one and only, myself. You will also win a year's subscription to the magazine that I'm half thinking of writing.

Blennermore:
There's also a two nights stay in the five star Caltuvian Arora Hotel.

Samuel:
No, I don't think...look, he's a good friend of Sydney's, we can make an exception. A weekend for one.

Blennermore:
It's for two sir.

Samuel:
Ah come off it! Right! A weekend for two. But only because of who he is. We're not usually this generous on- oops, I almost gave the game away. Let's start off easy, what is the name of this show?

Beat.

Samuel:
This show...the name of...what is?

Beat.

Samuel:
Come on. The name of the show? This is as easy as they get.

Fortifer:
I don't know.

Samuel:
Alright, alright, we'll put that one down to brain failure. Question two. The show is called The Night Gordon with....

Fortifer:
With lights?

Samuel:
No. The Night Gordon with....

Fortifer:
I don't know, with bells on?

Samuel:
This is ridiculous. You entered the competition and now you don't even know the name-

Fortifer:
I didn't enter any competition. You rang me up to say you'd get me on to win-

Samuel:
Alright, alright! He's obviously forgotten, forgotten even entering the com-competition. Let me phrase the question in a way so that you'll definitely get it, what is my name?

Long beat.

Samuel: (incredulous)
My name!? MY NAME! What is my name?

Fortifer:
I don't know. I don't actually listen to the show.

Samuel:
What are you saying? I think you owe me an apology. Nobody doesn't listen to or not know the name of me and my show. Nobody!

Fortifer:
Well consider me the first. I'm certainly not going to apologise. I'm too busy going to parties and chasing skirt.

Samuel:
Ok, you've drawn it on yourself.

Fortifer:
Do your worst Gordon Knight. You've nothing on me.

Samuel:
It's Samuel Gordon! How dare you not know me.

Fortifer:
Are we done here? I've no interest in your stupid prize and I'm missing a dilly of an end of year soirée at Longdon Silks place.

Samuel:
Perhaps I'll change your mind with the next question. A question I like to call 'five years ago when you were Christmas house sitting at my nephews coastal house.'

Fortifer:
Forget it! I take it all back! I'd actually love the prize..Sam...uel.

Samuel:
Too late! Nobody doesn't know me on my show. Nobody! Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, except it does, a Samuel scorned has as much if not more fury.

Fortifer:
No please! I beg you!

Samuel:
I'll throw you one lifeline. If you can answer the question correctly I won't broadcast this segment across the airwaves.

Fortifer:
A-agreed.

Samuel:
Whilst staying in my nephew Sydney's coastal house you were awakened to the sound of an explosion. Quickly you placed your feet into his slippers and ran outside to witness the whole dock ablaze. Slipping on ice and tripping on debris, you plummeted onto a ship causing it to spin uncontrollably for several days, killing 10,000 innocent fish and the wily old sea captain dying of the pukes in an incident that became known as 'The Slipper Tripper Spinner Massacre.' No culprit has ever been found. For months after, dolphins were said to be heard weeping into their sea. Your question is: On a scale of one to ten, where are Sydney's slippers?

Fortifer:
What? How am I-? That's not even-

Samuel:
Press broadcast Blennermore.

Fortifer:
Nooo!

Blennermore:
You've no idea how this works do you sir.

Samuel:
Just launch it Blennermore! Now we'll go to some ads and we'll be back just in time for the arrest live here on THE NIGHT GORDON WITH SAMUEL GORDON.

End.

SCENE:
Retail outlet car park Home Counties
Two men are standing over a one-foot square of grass that has a sign.
Dedicated to Brussels. No Trespassing Maximum Fine £2

MAN 1
So, this is it? You only own this bit

MAN 2
Best 2 grand I ever spent, plus 200 quid a week rent for the booth.

The man points to a small booth
It has a giant board next to it that states:
PAY FINE HERE

MAN 1
How come you dedicated it to Brussels Group?

MAN 2
It will just encourage even more people to walk all over it

MAN 1
So I man the booth

MAN 2
Yes most people who trespass will just ignore some will even wave, don't worry about them.

MAN 1
Why not

MAN 2
The whole things on camera it takes a photo of everyone who trespasses

MAN 1
What's the use of that?

MAN 2
All the photos go through AI that gets rid of the ones that are of no use, such as idiot teenagers with no money and drunks etc. The rest go through facial recognition once we have a name the computers track them down to their home addresses.

MAN 1
We do all that just to get two quid

MAN 2
No by then they get charged £298 for being traced

MAN 1
Don't tell me, you own the tracing company

MAN 2
I most certainly do, and it only cost 49p to track them. Once they get the letters threatening them with a County Court Judgement most of them just pay up.

MAN 1
Well, if you don't mind me asking, why bother with a booth, why hire me?

MAN 2
Because that's where the mega bucks are

MAN1
What people paying £2 fines

MAN 2
No they just go half way to paying the rent

MAN 1
Then who are we aiming at?

MAN 2
You'll get to know them soon enough and once you've got on them on the hook you just follow the script.

MAN 1
Can you at least give me a clue

MAN 2
Your targets will be male middle aged and ready to argue with you all day long while refusing to pay the fine

MAN 1
Apart from the script is there any other advice

MAN 2
Yes, never apologise, it suggests a sense of liability on our part and there is none. This whole caper has been gone over with my solicitors.

MAN 1
So I just go through the script letting them know they have the right to appeal

MAN 2
But they have to pay the 2 quid fine first then wait 28 working days to find out if it was successful? If it is inform them that the £2 will be returned to them within 3 calendar months. That normally gets their blood up and they say the magic word

MAN 1
You mean "Magna Carta"

MAN 2
impressed
You learn fast, now once they say utter the magic words what do you do.?

MAN 1
I shrug my shoulders and say, 'I've never heard of it"

MAN 2
Prompting
Remember its two steps

MAN 1
Before they get their breath back. I put my hands on my hips and say
"So then sir will it be CCOC?

MAN 2
To which they look puzzled

MAN 1
So I add sarcastically "That means Card Cash or Crypto sir"

MAN 2
At that point be warned they may try to tip the booth over so after you've hit the alarm hold the handles either side

MAN 1
And these are best ones?

MAN 2
They're gold mines not only will they need to be pepper sprayed by the police they will then go onto refuse outright to accept every court order for them to pay the two quid. In the end my solicitor will have the house and car off them while they sit in jail for contempt often on hunger strike. He reckons we'll make so much dough he will be able to stop chasing ambulances... Once he gets his licence back.

MAN 1
Sounds great and you're sure that its ok for me to wear my transgender stuff at work

MAN 2
I Insist

Looks like 'Apologies' was a popular topic! Look at all the diverse creativity
I'll go Otterfox and the return of all that Night Gordon stuff

Otterfox. Epic.

The apology element was somewhat peripheral, but Teddy still gets my vote, intriguing scheme.

Teddy takes the top prize for me this week.

I have been once again Otterfoxed. Fair play

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