Looks like I'm going to have to raise my game this series!
Dan
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Newsjack Summer BBQ
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F/X: SIZZLING NOISES
MILES:
Hello! And welcome to Newsjack's Summer Barbecue! Like everyone else, it's been far too hot to actually do any work in an office, so tonight I will be your chef for the second football free evening since what seems like the beginning of time. A helpline is available for those feeling the effects and this will provide smashed dreams and disappointment elsewhere instead.
Anyway, I've rolled on some venison and swan sausages. For myself. And some 99% generic meat product for everyone else, so kick back, lounge in your BBC deck chairs and enjoy a relief from topicality as nothing of note has happened anyway, as it's just far too hot--
CLARKSON:
Oi! Jupp! What do you think you're doing?!
MILES:
Mr Clarkson, sir! Wh-what do you mean?
CLARKSON:
Last week I was stopped from cooking our traditional Top Gear Barbecue by the BBC Health and Safety Nazis! Apparently I'm not trained to incinerate meat properly!
MILES:
Well, Mr Clarkson, sir. I think you'll find I have all the requisite certifications for the correct preparation for a large variety of different meats, all to the required BBC standards.
CLARKSON:
What are you blathering about, Jupp!?
MILES:
I me-mean I kn-know which implements to use in any given barbecue scenario.
CLARKSON:
For God's sake, Jupp! Everyone knows the only implement required for barbecue preparation is a hammer! Same as for everything else!
MILES:
Y-yes, sir.
CLARKSON:
Are you some sort of nancy boy?! Is that it?!
MILES:
N-n-no, Mr Clarkson, sir!
CLARKSON:
(MOCKS) N-n-no, Mr Clarkson, sir! Don't tell me you're one of those crazy, wishy-washy liberals. Are you, Jupp?!
MILES:
(SQUEAKS) N-no...
CLARKSON:
Oh, grow some balls, Jupp! You'll never get to present the BBC's most profitable programme at this rate.
MILES:
No, Mr Clarkson.
CLARKSON:
Thirty million a year we bring in, you know! Way more profitable than your Newscack!
MILES:
(SMALL) Actually, it's News*jack*...
CLARKSON:
I know! But I'm funny when I'm angry and pompous! (BEAT) My god, you make me sick! I'm so angry, I'm going to rip apart the poncey radio theatre with nothing but a fox carcus!
F/X: STORMS OFF, KICKS BARBECUE OVER, SOMETHING CATCHES FIRE
MILES:
My sausages! My lovely sausages! (SOBS) On... with... the... (WAILS) shooooow (BLUBS)
END