Can't believe no one has done a sketch about the annoying Howard Brown.
So here's one:
INT. JOB CENTRE. DAY.
A JOB CENTRE ADVISER (FEMALE) IS SITTING AT A DESK. SHE PRESSES THE INTERCOM.
ADVISOR:
Send in Howard Brown please.
HOWARD BROWN (BESPECTACLED BLACK GUY FROM HALIFAX ADVERTS) ENTERS, SMILING ANNOYINGLY, WIDENED EYES, WALKING IN WITH A BOUNCE IN HIS STRUT, WITH JAZZ HANDS WAVING AS HE DOES SO. HE THEN SITS DOWN.
ADVISOR JUST SHRUGS IT OFF.
ADVISOR:
Hello, Mr Brown. Welcome to the Job Centre. How can I be of assistance?
HOWARD BROWN NOW TALKS IN ANNOYING RHYMES, ALMOST SINGING HIS LINES, WHICH ARE IN DA-DE-DA COUPLET STYLE, WHILST SMILING CHEESILY AND DOING JAZZ HANDS.
HOWARD:
For years I've been in ads for Halifax,
But now they've gone and given me the axe,
I told my wife and she has gone beserk,
That's why I've come here looking for some work.
ADVISOR:
Mr Brown. Could you please refrain from talking in those annoying rhymes? It was bad enough watching you in those awful TV adverts.
HOWARD:
I'm sorry, but they made me talk in rhyme,
And now I find I do it all the time,
I tried to stop, I couldn't help myself,
That's why I need a little extra help.
ADVISOR:
Oh, for God's sake! Real life is not a song, Howard.
HOWARD PREPARES TO SPEAK, BUT THE ADVISOR STOPS HIM.
ADVISOR:
No! Don't even think about it! Sorry, but I can't help you. You're just too annoying. No one will ever be prepared to employ you. You're going to have to leave.
HOWARD GIVES A SIGH AND STANDS UP.
THE ADVISOR PRESSES HER INTERCOM.
ADVISOR:
Okay. Send in the other person looking for a new job.
HOWARD STARTS WALKING OUT, BUT STOPS IN HIS TRACKS, SHOCKED, WHEN GORDON BROWN ENTERS.
HOWARD:
Oh, my God, it's Mr Gordon Brown,
The Labour Party must have let him down.
GORDON BROWN INTERRUPTS HIM IN A BOOMING AND HEAVY BREATHING DARTH VADER VOICE.
GORDON:
Silence! Howard Brown. I am… your father.
END.
