F**king Hell! C**segnalazioni to Otterfox for wanking it. PM me with a subject for next wank please.
Meanwhilst..
3 - Otterfox
2 - Teddy
Next topic: Open
Leg closed: 2.1.25
Runners are nowt...
Position Score Name
1 7 Gappy
2 6 APlate
3 5 Otterfox
4 2 Teddy
CUT THE CRAP
RESTAURANT
HUSBAND AND WIFE.
HUSBAND I say, it's awfully decent of you to take me out for din dins.
WIFE My pleasure, hubs. After all, we don't want to think about your op this morning, do we, plumpy plops?
HUSBAND (Wines) Ah - yes, don't let's talk about that, eh, honey panties?
WIFE Of course not, my silly treackle poo pooh. I'll cut it out like that (snaps fingers)!
HUSBAND (winces again)
WIFE I'm cut out for this as I'm a cut above the rest, sharp as cut glass and not one to cut corners.
HUSBAND Please. Cut it out - I mean, stop.
WIFE Sorry, that was cutting it fine. Let's cut to the chase... (peruses menu) Ooooh, chopped pork! Imagine splaying your meat across the table, thrusting away with a knife and then lopping off the head:..
HUSBAND Darling...
WIFE Only sixty nine pounds.
HUSBAND That's better.
WIFE Yes, a snip!... Then, to cut it short - no short cuts - let's cut a deal: crunkie nude ball, dried nuts, a little chilli willie...
HUSBAND (coughs)
WIFE You'll have your banana split, cockburns and a dry sack again?
HUSBAND (coughs louder)
WIFE Or your spotted dick sliced?
HUSBAND (coughs even louder)
WIFE Oh - oh yes, apologies... Could cut the air with a knife, eh? I've cut some slack so I'll cut my losses and cut a sharper figure by...
HUSBAND Yes, so - let's chat about what to do later.
WIFE Yes. Beg your pardons. Well, there's The Cut bar - it's cutting edge - then we can short cut to the Cutty Sark or cut straight to Kingston College.
HUSBAND Where?
WIFE Kingston College.
HUSBAND Thank you.
WIFE Where Sean Cutter cut my grant for cutting classes on Edward Scissorhands. He was cut up and cut me off for not cutting the mustard and cutting him down to size about the cut of his gib as his haircut just didn't cut it, so I cut in with 'You're not cut out for this, so don't cut off your nose and all that' and I cut the line by cutting his cut during staff cuts cutting members to the bone...
HUSBAND Right, I'm cutting loose - I mean, f**k this. (leaves)
WIFE (shrugs) What a silly cut.
FRANK and KEVIN, BOTH DRESSED AS COWBOYS, ARE AT THE TRAIN STATION
FRANK: (sings) 'Where, did, you get that hat, where did you get that hat'?
KEVIN: Marks and Spencer's.
FRANK: And a very nice hat it is, too. As cowboys, it is fun for us to wear the appropriate hats.
KEVIN: Well, everyone is welcome to wear a hat if they so choose.
FRANK: Of course. We don't have a monopoly on hats.
KEVIN: Yeah, Monopoly would be the top hat.
FRANK: Well, that almost scanned as a joke.
KEVIN: Did it, though?
FRANK: Sure! But, I just wanted to say - my name is Frank. And that's fine, because of Frank James, who was a cowboy. The brother of Jesse James. But your name is Kevin. Not a very cowboy-y name, is it?
KEVIN: So what? You think I should change my name to 'Wyatt', or some shit?
FRANK: EEEARP! No, that won't be necessary. We're only cosplaying.
KEVIN: What does that mean, then?
FRANK: Well, it's a blend word, isn't it. It's 'costume play'. Like us waiting for a train could be called... um... trrraain... traaay... Well, I don't know, but you get the general idea.
KEVIN: Hang on. Are we going to the restaurant dressed like this? People might think I'm a right bell end.
FRANK: I think that particular ship has already sailed, Kevin.
KEVIN: So, it's almost 2025, and we're celebrating the new year by going to a restaurant.. dressed as cowboys. Bit random, innit?
FRANK: Yes, it is a bit odd, now you mention it. But then again, why not? You only live once.
KEVIN: Yeah. We did live once.
FRANK: Did?
KEVIN: Remember? We fell onto the track. New year's eve, 1995. Waiting for the train.
FRANK: Yeah. I guess I forgot. Sometimes I just forget, you know? Sometimes I feel like I'm still alive. As if we're both still... really here.
KEVIN: I know, mate. I do it too, sometimes. Forget.
FRANK: Happy new year, Kevin.
KEVIN: Happy new year, Frank.
MAC:Cor, these breadsticks are good, aren't they?
HINE: Slow down! You won't have any room for dinner, dad
MAC: No danger of that, I can assure you! Nothing will keep me from a juicy steak.
HINE:Yes, well, history would support that claim. Thanks again for bringing me out for a slap-up meal, it's not the sort of thing we usually do. What's this in aid of, then?
MAC:Well. Good question. Look, I know over the years, I've not been the best dad in the world.
HINE: Don't worry about that, all behind us now.
MAC:No, let's tell it how it is, I was not the best dad in the world, was I? I just wanted to say...who is?
HINE:Who's the best dad in the world?
MAC:Yeah. I just think it would give me closure.
HINE:Closure of what?
MAC: Of wondering who the best dad in the world is.
HINE:I don't see how it would help [BEAT] but it's Kevin Whateley.
MAC:Kevin Whateley off Peak Practice?
HINE:Most people would say off Auf Wiedersehen, Pet or Inspector Morse, but yeah: how many Kevin Whateleys are there?
MAC:I wouldn't know. And what makes him best dad?
HINE:Just, overall, really. On aggregate.
MAC:No stand-out fatherhood activity, then.
HINE:Ambient dadding.
MAC:Good for him. But what about before him? Who was the best dad in the pre-Whateley era?
HINE:Ah, an easy one: that was José Anastácio da Cunha.
MAC:The 18th-century Portuguese mathematician?
HINE:Yeah, he held the title for a long time. But Whateley just pipped him.
MAC: Blimey. Who had it before da Cunha, then?
HINE:I really don't know, dad. It's not my area of expertise.
MAC:Typical. You were always a disappointment to me. If you think I'm paying for your steak, you've got another think coming, lad!
HINE:I didn't order steak. I'm a vegetarian.
MAC:Never talk to me again.
The Madness at Mulcroft Manor.
Some say that Earl Franklin Belbonnicus was a hens ditch of a man. Most did not know what this was supposed to mean so they just called him a recluse instead. Some did not know what this meant either but just enough did for the description to fit.
Each December Belbonnicus would travel by carriage to his winter house. Here he would sit by the large window in his study in polite indifference, watching the snow softly falling. He loved making up names and then tut disapprovingly when his servants didn't know what he meant.
Belbonnicus:
MacDuff, I say MacDuff, can you come in here for a moment please.
MacDuff:
Yes sir.
Belbonnicus:
It's a croogery riggerton of a day wouldn't you say.
MacDuff:
Um...well it's certainly cold sir. It looks like it's going to snow for the evening.
Belbonnicus:
But as riggertons go it's quite croogery don't you think?
MacDuff:
Hmm...Will that be all sir?
Belbonnicus:
Yes, that will be all for now......oh MacDuff....
MacDuff:
Yes sir?
Belbonnicus:
*tut*
Macduff:
yes sir. T-thank you sir.
This was the kind of carry on that took place all winter long at Mulcroft Manor. It was late December in the year of 1869 and the Earl had sent his servants to the library to look up words and phrases that did not exist. He took his favourite seat by the window and noticed a fox trotting through the trees scanning his surroundings hungrily for any morsels of food.
'Fox' thought Belbonnicus. Maybe it should be called a dulper or a fandeen or maybe even a prubadore. He yawned boringly before adding the words to his diary. As an only child this is how he passed away the hours since he was a young boy. Having no siblings, Franklin Belbonnicus was over protected and lived a very sheltered life. He believed all crows were priests until his fifteenth birthday and for many years would get into blazing rows with heads of cabbage as he was convinced that they were laughing at him. As a boy, things had always remained sealed and closed off, but as an adult several of these closed things were now opened and this did not sit well with Earl Belbonnicus.
His wistful daydreaming was about to be disturbed, nay, shattered by what could only be described as a noise. A tragedy as appalling as it was expected. The front door smashed open with an almighty crash.
Belbonnicus sat bolt upright with the shock and reverted to his happy place by desperately looking for made up words that could describe the bang. A brockerstock, a stardoom, or a crunk.
He could hear footsteps approaching and cowered in horror as he fearfully awaited the terrible fate that was about to unfold.
'It's only me', came a voice from the large hallway.
Belbonnicus:
I don't recognise your voice, are- are you a crow?
Voice:
No, it's me, I've been corresponding with you for the last couple of weeks.
Belbonnicus:
You're hardly a dulper or a fandeen?
Voice:
Nope. Surely you know. I'm almost halfway through your hall now. I'll be there any minute.
Belbonnicus:
Y-you're not cabbage are you? Do you have sinister intentions?
Voice:
Look! It's just me - you're murderer.
Belbonnicus:
You mean a colkexer or a fatendonator?
Murderer:
What? Remember you sent me a letter saying that you'd like to be murdered at your mysterious country pile?
Belbonnicus:
I do remember that actually. But did you see the rest of the letter where I used all my made up words?
Murderer:
Yes, but I'd no idea what it meant so I'm doing my bit and I'm here for the killing of you by me.
Belbonnicus:
Well, you see while the first paragraph did address my murder, the next paragraph undid that request in my own terribly roundabout illegible way.
Murderer:
You hardly don't want to be murdered now do you? I've come a very long way and I could do with the money.
Belbonnicus:
I do apologise for the inconvenience but I didn't really like the way you came in anyway. It's put me off a bit to be honest. Plus, in the letter I clearly stated: 'spapleen gargure the craflunt.' Thanks anyway.
Murderer:
No, no I refuse to accept this! I'm not taking no for an answer.
Belbonnicus:
Wh-what are you doing with that knife?
Murderer:
I think you know....
Belbonnicus:
This is why things should never be opened! Help, help! I'm being murdered, but not in the context that it was first envisioned!
Fx: crash.
Murderer:
A fox has just jumped through the window. He's attacking me now! How does this help with the murder tell me?
Belbonnicus:
Did someone call for a priest? A crow is just after flying in through the window now. Murderer! You need to leave now!
Belbonnicus, fox and crow chanting:
Dulper croogery riggerton, colcexer fandeen and brockerstock. Dulper croogery riggerton, colcrxer fandeen and brockerstock...
Belbonnicus:
Ah MacDuff, throw some of those cabbages that I hate so much at him.
Murderer running away:
Murderer:
Aaah! There's madness at Mulcroft Manor!!
End.
Michael 'Cut' House
All good this wank... Gappy.
I found it incredibly hard to decide this week. Michael, by a whisker (or, as he'd doubtless prefer, pube).
Contest to find the world's most hirsute pubis. Won that by a hair.
I liked a plates twist at the end and Gappys mad idea on best dads was really good. I loved the 'on aggregate' line. The Monkhouse takes the spoils for me this week. Very impressive getting that many cut jokes into one sketch. I agree, it was a very strong week.