British Comedy Guide

Skit Comp 3 - 10.7.12

Good stuff and congratulations to STEVE SUNSHINE for winning. Get ludicrously yet legitimately poo-faced and PM me for next week's topic.
Hence:

Votes - Points - Name
3 - 10 - Steve Sunshine
1 - 5 - Overlay

Your new subject: FAMILY

Rules:
One entry/vote per person. Anyone can enter regardless of colour, sexual preferences or inside leg measurement, except the kid at school who masturbated in my rugby kit, I know who you are.
Can be a sketch, joke, lyric or anything else as long as it's original and vaguely linked to the topic. Please try and only post your entry/vote and no other posts.
You can edit your entry as much as you want, up until the closing time.

Competition Closes: 10.7.12

Overall Leader Board is now:

Points - Position - Name

26 - 1 - Steve Sunshine
25 - 2 - Shandonbelle
22 - 3 - Overlay
21 - 4 - Gappy
10 - 5 - Ishy, Michael Monkhouse
6 - 6 - AngieBaby
5 - 7 - Otterfox
1 - 8 - Shirl the Whirl, JackDaniels2, Nigel Kelly

PS Check out the hall of fame in the thread called, um, Hall of Fame.

Not me this week Michael! :)

Consider it dung. Meanwhile...

TAKE THE BULLY BY THE HORN

HEADMASTER'S OFFICE.
Distressed MISS WILKINS talks to the prim HEADMASTER:

HEADMASTER So Miss Wilkins, how may I help you?

MISS WILKINS It's my son Headmaster, he's being frightfully bullied: they call him names, throw things at him, shit in his lunchbox...

HEADMASTER Yes Miss Wilkins but in all fairness your son is a bit of a nerd: ugly, glasses, crap at games, very good at Latin - of course they bully him, he's an open invitation, I'd join in myself.

MISS WILKINS Yes he is a bit of cock I suppose... So you'll want to expel him? Can't say I blame you.

HEADMASTER Too bloody right. (takes out phone) Hello, Wilkie Wanker? Headmaster here, listen, I'm sacking you as Senior Games master... Oh stop blubbering, no wonder they hate you so... (replaces phone)

PAUSE.

MISS WILKINS You don't think that was a tad harsh do you?

HEADMASTER Perhaps so. After all, he's my son too.

MISS WILKINS Yes and a young man needs a job. Give the f**king f**ker another chance.

HEADMASTER If you insist... (picks up phone) Hello, Nike?

Relations

[An old lady sits by her gas fire. There is a gas fitter in overalls repairing it.]

Fitter:
I hear you've been having a few problems with the fire my love.

Woman:
It's been really cold.

[He continues working on fire]

Woman:
Aren't you what's his name......let me think now........Billy, that's right. Your Billy my Grace's boy.

Fitter:
Um no sorry, my names Clive.

Woman:
Derek, that's it. Oh Derek it's so nice to see you. How are my grand children? I haven't seen them in ages. I forget their names [looks off in distance] still it's good of you to visit.

[He looks up and smiles nervously]

Woman:
You will bring them to see me soon won't you?

Fitter:
I'm not Derek I'm afraid.

Woman:
My cousin Alan?

Fitter:
No!

Woman:
My nephew Rees.

Fitter:
Look I'm really sorry but I'm just here to fix the fire. I'm afraid as far as I know I'm no relation at all.

Woman:
Oh dear......still, are you sure you're not a family member?

Fitter:
Yes.

Woman:
Fancy a shag then?

[Archive/library looking set. HISTORIAN talking across little table to HUSBAND & WIFE]

HISTORIAN: So, having delved into your family history, and shaken the skeletons from their cosy cupboards, we found some very interesting things. Bertha, we were talking about how your grandmother loved knitting, but did you know that her grandparents were crofters about 20 miles from Dunvegan on the isle of Skye, and that the lady of the house worked preparing wool?

WIFE: No.

HISTORIAN: That's when she got a free moment, anyway, with no fewer than 12 children running round the house.

HUSBAND: Gosh.

HISTORIAN: And, even more interestingly, we dug a bit deeper and found that their great- grandparents - that would be your great-great-great-great-grandparents, Bertha - were newts.

WIFE: How fascinating. I had no idea.

HISTORIAN: Yes. Crested newts from the other side of Skye, not all that far from Portree.

WIFE: In a way, I can't say I'm surprised. I've always felt newty. I've said it before, haven't I, Steve?

HUSBAND: No.

WIFE: Yes, sure I have. Last week, in Somerfield's, I'm sure I mentioned it. So, I have newt blood, fancy that.

HISTORIAN: And you never knew till today! Now, perhaps you might be interested in taking a look at some newt memorabilia we have for up for grabs in our little shop...

[Fade sound]

PRESENTER: [VO] Tonight, on Truthalator, we look at genealogy, and the shocking claims that it may be the most crooked industry in Britain today.

[Cut to stupid looking MAN]

MAN: Yeah. I went to see one of those family history types, and he said my grandfather was a bald Cossack and my granny was an Austin Allegro. I thought it was odd, because I'd just seen them that morning. But, you know, I figured they knew best.

[Cut to moors]

REPORTER: [Walking into shot] It was on these moors in the 9th century that invading Viking bloodlines began to mix with that of the local Saxon natives to father those rugged workmen who toiled to mine iron ore from the living earth all the way up to the 1920s. Or was it? According to one genealogist we consulted, the entire North York Moors was inhabited by the forebears of our production assistant, who were Welsh Tunisians who had fled French oppression in the first biplanes. Sadly, every year thousands of Britons part with hard-earned money for tales equally as tall. We spoke to one prominent genealogist.

[Cut to shadowed figure]

PRESENTER: [VO] We have agreed to keep their identity a secret - although we can reveal their great aunt was a close friend of Picasso.

SHADOW: It's a scam, simple as that. People are so gullible, you see: family trees are the new seances. For example, I told some gargantuan white bloke this morning that his daughter was an elegant Nubian princess. He fell right for it!

[Scuffle off camera. THUG barrels in]

THUG: Oi! I've been thinking about you said about my daughter being black. It doesn't add up. I don't have a daughter.

SHADOW: [Nervous] Ah, yes, well you see, the thing about that is, err -

THUG: I mean, that's amazing! I never even knew! I came to give you a tip [Thrust a handful of notes at SHADOW]. Alright, bye. 'Ere, it's a bit dingy in here, isn't it? I'll just turn the light on [Light comes on to reveal ex-SHADOW leaping wildly out of shot]

[Cut to PRESENTER, in a bath]

PRESENTER: But, there's more to this trend than mere back street rip-off merchants, as we discovered when we visited a Baptist genealogist in Tring. As is so often the case, we apologise for the poor quality of this on-the-scene footage, but our cameraman is an alcoholic.

[Cut to grainy footage of UNDERCOVER REPORTER and VICAR in office]

VICAR: Mr. Smith, we have done some research, and we can quite categorically say, without a shadow of a doubt, that your family can be traced back to one couple.

UNDERCOVER REPORTER: Oh, really?

VICAR: Yes. We discovered in our records that your forebears were quite the celebrities of the day, named...Adam and Eve. They're my ancestors too, you know - hey, we're related! It's all here in our exhaustive records [Gets out a little pocket Bible]. That will be £1200, please, as agreed. For the, err, church roof.

UNDERCOVER REPORTER: Well, I'm not sure about...

VICAR: Come on! Don't turn your back on family!

[Cut back to PRESENTER, cleaning is teeth]

PRESENTER: We asked a consumer advisor whether these genealogists were breaking any laws.

[Cut to EXPERT]

EXPERT: Well, it's a grey area. They've done their homework, this breed. Most contracts have small print stating that genealogy is for entertainment purposes only, so you can't call it fraud. Suing them would be like suing those people who make candy cigarettes because they don't give you cancer. Anyway, really a person's ancestry is of no importance whatsoever - what matters is-

INTERVIEWER: [Off] Who you are on the inside.

EXPERT: No, no, reincarnation. Want me to regress you to past lives? Tenner.

[Cut to PRESENTER getting into bed]

PRESENTER: Good night.

AN ELDERLY MAN SITS BEFORE HIS GP.

GP
Well we have the results of your blood test Mr Potts, and it's actually not anaemia as was previously suspected.

MR POTTS
Oh?

GP
No. I'm afraid we've found traces of dragon in your blood.

MR POTTS
How did that happen? I've never even been to Wales.

GP
You misunderstand Mr Potts, the pathology shows actual dragon blood cells which appear to be multiplying at an alarming rate.
Have you noticed any unusual symptoms at all? Dry skin, scorchness of breath?

MR POTTS
No, although I have had this nasal drip thing lately, but I thought that was the snuff.

GP
You're liable to develop more pronounced symptoms, toughening of the epidermis, the sudden urge to rush outdoors to allow for wing expansion, and of course the intermittent expulsion of flames from the nostrils.

MR POTTS
The cat won't like it.

GP
I'm going to prescribe you our best weapon yet in the fight against geriatric onset dragon blood syndrome. (Scribbles on a pad)
Take this four times a day.

MR POTTS
Will it cure me?

GP
No....but it's Gaviscon Advance, so it'll help with the heartburn.

A Phone call to Michael

An on screen caption - 1968
A middle aged man is making a telephone call to his son...

" Hello, Mick?...

It's your father....

no nothing's wrong....yes, she's fine...

actually that's what I'm phoning about...this new record of yours...Jumping Joe something or another...

Jumping Jack flash yes that's the one...well, your mother's a little upset...no nothing's happened...she, well actually both of us, are just a little bit disappointed Michael...

I can't say I'm too happy about your Mother being described as 'a toothless bearded hag'...

I know you don't really mean it, but still...

sometimes I wonder if you're forgetting were you come from young man...yes I know you're from Dartford, and no need for the sarcastic tone your're not too old for a clip round the ear...

well if you're so proud of your hometown how come you claim that you were born 'In a cross fire hurricane'...

an allegory you say...well that's all well and good but you know perfectly well that you were born in Livingstone hospital...

I blame that Richards boy, he's not a good influence your mother thinks so as well...

I think you should jolly well apologise in person...I know you're busy but your mother and I haven't seen you for weeks...

how about lunch...well I was thinking this Sunday...3 o'clock sounds good for us as well...

One other thing, please don't bring that ghastly Faithfull woman...
well your mother had put those Mars Bars aside for the children next door, very odd...

(a knocking sound)...
listen I must dash, there's somebody at the door...around 3 o'clock time then...see you then, take care"

Int House: Hallway
A middle aged man, Bob, is pushing buttons on a fax machine. A young man, his son, Dave, walks up to him.

DAVE: Are you still using the fax machine. Why don't you send an email?

BOB: Son, I like faxes. You know where you are with a fax machine.

(The fax machine gets a ring tone and dials)

Voice From out of the fax machine: Hello? Hello? HELLLLOOOO?! Hello? FOr god's sake

BOB: FAX! It's a FAX! FAX!!

DAVE: Dad, she can't hear you. It's a fax machine. It hasn't got a microphone

Voice: Hello???

BOB: FAX!

(Fax machine hangs up)

DAVE: You've dialled a phone number, not a fax number. I bet that's what you've done.

BOB: Why doesn't she switch it over?

DAVE: Because it's not a fax number and she can't. She might be nothing to do with whoever you're sending a fax to.

BOB: Are you sure it's got ink in it

DAVE: Ink? The sending and receiving of faxes has got nothing to do with ink dad, we've been through this before.

BOB: Go check on your grandad

DAVE: Just cancel and redial

(BOB starts to open the fax machine to check for ink)

DAVE: It's nothing to do with...

BOB: Go check on grandad

INT Sitting room

Grandad is asleep in the armchair in front of the TV with his feet stretched out and crossed at the ankles. The dog, a labrador, comes in and starts to heave and then promptly throws up on grandad's feet.

We see Dave start to open his mouth and then stop again.

BOB: (From out in the hallway) FAX! FAX! FAX!

Dave sits down and places his head in his hands...

We hear the dog start to eat his own sick...

DAVE: (quietly) Good dog. Good dog

INT.TV STUDIO - DAY

Subtitle "Ex, Is our youngest child Ones?". - JEREMY KYLE is standing on the stage. CHAS, JIMBO and the CORPSE OF DIANA are sitting behind him. A burly security guard is standing between CHAS and JIMBO

JEREMY KYLE

Welcome back to the show. Now, before the break Chas told us that he believes the second child he had with Di might not be his but instead her former lover Jimbos. So, Di, have you got anything to say for yourself?

CORPSE OF DIANA

...........

JEREMY KYLE

Come on, love! I don't like to take sides but you've played both these men for mugs, haven't you?

CORPSE OF DIANA

...........

JEREMY KYLE

Chas, how will you feel if he turns out to be the father?

CHAS

One would be devestated, naturally.

JEREMY KYLE

And you, what if you turn out to be the father? Are you going to support him?

JIMBO

I'll do my best for him, yeah.

JEREMY KYLE

And you, young Lady, are you going to let him see the kid?

CORPSE OF DIANA

..........

JEREMY KYLE

Nothing to say, eh? Shame you couldn't have kept your legs shut as easily. Can I have the results please?

An Aide walks on and hands JEREMY KYLE an envelope

JEREMY KYLE

Do you think the child's yours?

CHAS

One believes so.

JEREMY KYLE

You?

JIMBO

Dunno, do I?

JEREMY KYLE

How sure are you that the child is his?

CORPSE OF DIANA

99 per cent

END

Roscoff gets my vote this week. Nice payoff.

Yes, Roscoff for me, too. Really didn't see that punchline coming.

Gappy gets my vote, like the quality of the dialogue

Liked Roscoff's but it's Andymack for me this week.

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