Skit Comp 5 - 12.11.12

Good work and congratulations to A IS FOR ADAM and GAPPY for a joint victory, so please PM me once apiss for next week's topic.
Hence:

Votes - Points - Name
2 - 10 - Gappy, A is for Adam
1 - 5 - Pingl
Special mention: Tursiops, me

Your new stimulus: SKETCHES SET BEFORE THE 1900s (chosen by GAPPY)

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 all over 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: 12.11.12 (oh look a palindrome)

Overall Leader Board is now:

Points - Position - Name

47 - 1 - Gappy
20 - 2 - Lazzard
15 - 3 - Overlay, Tursiops
11 - 4 - Ishy
10 - 5 - A is for Adam, Judgement Dave, Michael Monkhouse
5 - 6 - Pingl, Shandonbelle, Tuumble, Sootyj
1 - 7 - 404NotFound, Stylee Ting Ting, Steve Sunshine

Oh yeah, well spotted. In which case I meant to write "something to do with pre-twentieth century history, or summat".

EXT. OUTSIDE A COURTHOUSE

A baying crowd surround a man sentenced to death by hanging. The man, along with an executioner stand on the platform.

A man from the crowd jumps onto the platform to address the audience.

MAN:
Brothers, sisters, what are we doing?

EXECUTIONER:
This man has been found guilty of his crimes and shall receive the punishment that was sentenced down to him.

MAN:
But he's already dead.

The guilty man dangles from the noose.

MAN:
Why did we not punish him when he was alive?

Everybody in the crowd looks away, whistling and with their hands in their pockets inconspicuously.

MAN:
(Pointing to a man in the crowd)
Geoff, what about you? You knew what he was doing, why didn't you say something at the time?

GEOFF:
Well... you know what it's like. It was different times back then...

MAN:
It was last week!

Geoff looks down, ashamed.

He scopes out a woman in the crowd.

MAN:
Mary, you knew too, you even helped him out occasionally!

MARY:
He was was lovely though, wasn't he?

MAN:
No, not really.

GEOFF:
(To the man on the platform)
Well, what about you, why did you never do anything about it?

MAN:
Ummm.... ummm.... BURN HIM!!

EXECUTIONER:
But it's a hanging.

MAN:
Do that too!

The MAN rejoins the baying crowd.

END.

MAN - Today I have discovered fire, it will keep us warm, cook our food and ward off predators. Yesterday I unveiled the wheel, an object with which I can move big items from place to place and the week before I fashioned some small tools to hunt and build with. All of these things shall be marked down in history and move us forward as a dominant species in this harsh and unforgiving world. Tell me wife, what have you done today?

WIFE - I fashioned these plants into a robe, dusted my eyes with colourful plant extracts and shaved some unwanted hair away

MAN - And what will this get us?

WIFE - That chap over there, he just discovered the G-Spot.

A caveman walks passed a que of cavemen in long leopard skin macs and enters a cave

Og - Morning Ug how is business

Ug - Been very slow Og but I think I have solved our problems

Ug Pulls back some animal skins to reveal cave paintings of naked women and men in various sexual positions

Og - Oh my God Ug this is filth, you can't have this on public display, what will our customers think.

Ug - Listen its already bringing in the punters, they have been queuing round the Henge today

Og - But Ug these paintings are disgusting.

Og turns his head to one side to look at some

Ug - No its only nature, nothing to be ashamed of

Og - I don't know about that, that one looks like something to be ashamed of! How the hell do they get in that position

Ug - Well there is a certain amount of artistic licence.

Og - But Ug we here at Porn and Sons have our good name to consider, our name is synonymous with fine art. Animals and hunting, hand prints, classical art of the highest standard. Do we really want to be associated with this kind of filth?

Ug - You've got to move with the times, cater to leisure pursuits, the up and coming cave dweller has more time on his hands now we have smallholdings.

Og - I don't wish to know about their small holdings thank you. Take this filth down immediately

Ug - But I've already opened up some extra caves

Og - What do you mean?

Ug - Well next door we have a cave for other interests

Og - Other interests?

Ug - Well you know Trog the pillow biter?

Og - Yes who doesn't?

Ug- Well stuff for him

Og - You cannot be serious, we are a family firm. How can we justify this kind of lewd trade?

Ug opens the till and shows loads of shells and polished bone

Ug - Look at all the shiny things we made

Og - what is in cave 3?

Ug - Come outside I'll show you

They step outside the cave and two caves down a huge banner says ' CAVE THREE STUNNERS'

What's the difference between Moses and a baldie? Moses went round with Aaron.

[Town inn ambience. Restoration comedy style delivery]

PLUMPGIRTH: Now, now, Mistress Drystick, I fancy that all society is ablaze with the news.

DRYSTICK: What say you, Mistress Plumpgirth? You can't be alluding to the dalliance of Mr Straightlace and old widow Crotchfun, can you? For this tale is stale provender for a gossip gastronome.

PLUMPGIRTH: No, by my clogs! I refer to the scandal of the very Reverend Felchfast, and the lead chorister, young Toby Bumsurprise.

DRYSTICK: Such juicy tattle! Though, mark you, I am not wholly surprised. How now, who's this entering your drab boarding establishment?

HARRISON: Ah, good afternoon, ladies. I am new in town, and hoping to procure myself a room.

PLUMPGIRTH: Indeed. Well, you shall have the Sleepfast suite, should it please your honour.

HARRISON: Very well, it will at that, an if the bed be good and firm.

PLUMPGIRTH: I'll warrant it is! Why, Lord Steadythrust used the bed just last week.

DRYSTICK: And the chair. And the washstand. And the ottoman.

PLUMPGIRTH: Quite so. If you'll just tell me your name, good sir, we can complete the log and conclude the contract.

H: I am Mr Harrison, here to act as governor to Master Truant in the manor.

[PLUMPGIRTH & DRYSTICK talk half to themselves, as if trying the word out, in different tones and accents]

PLUMPGIRTH: Harrison.

DRYSTICK: Harrison.

PLUMPGIRTH: Ha. Ri. Son.

DRYSTICK: Ha'son.

PLUMPGIRTH: Nope. I don't get it.

HARRISON: I beg your pardon, ma'am.

PLUMPGIRTH: Your name. What does it mean?

HARRISON: Oh. Nothing.

PLUMPGIRTH: [Gasping] Ah!

DRYSTICK: Oooh! [Sound of DRYSTICK fainting to the floor]

PLUMPGIRTH: Mistress Drystick! You fainted clean away!

DRYSTICK: [Groggy] I'm alright. I landed on the cat.

PLUMPGIRTH: Now, see what you've done with your japes, sir. Come, your name must mean something.

HARRISON: Oh, well, I suppose it means son of Harry.

PLUMPGIRTH: [Disappointed] Son of Harry. Huh.

DRYGIRTH: I suppose it shall do. So, my good sir whose father was named Harold, how long wilt though stay with Master Truant?

HARRISON: No, hang on, *my* father wasn't called Harry, just to get things clear.

[Sound of DRYSTICK fainting again]

PLUMPGIRTH: You've done it again! For the divil's sake, sir, what can you mean with these flambustications?

HARRISON: Just -just that my father was called Harrison too. So was his father, and down through the centuries. I suppose once the name meant "son of Harry", but it doesn't literally now. That's how names work, isn't it?

DRYSTICK: [Groggy] Ah, I'm well, no matter. But - oh, Plumpgirth, your cat might be dead - but, sir, you are mistaken, names most certainly do not work like that. Take our landlady, Mistress Plumpgirth here. Why do you suppose she's so named?

HARRISON: Well...is it because she's, err -

PLUMPGIRTH: I'm a fat old heifer, right enough. And my good gossip Mistress Drystick here is so called because she is a dried up, sere old busybody. Do you see?

HAARISON: And how did it work when you were young, Mistress Drystick?

DRYSTICK: [Beat. Defensive] Don't remember.

PLUMPGIRTH: I see you doubt me, Sir. But look, there dawdles our footman, Mr Slowly; and in the corner drowses Captain Snoozewell; and in the scullery works the maid, Molly The-Maid-Who-Works-In-The-Scullery.

HARRISON: But this is patently ridiculous! How can your lives be so nominally preordained? Tell me, who is the town butcher? I suppose it is a Mr Beefslice?

PLUMPGIRTH: Oh no. That's Jonas Will-Walk-Past-The-Window-In-A-Moment-Raping-A-Duck.

[Mid-length pause. Then loud duck squawk]

HARRISON: [Distaste] Oh. That's him, is it?

DRYSTICK: No, that's his twin brother, but I suppose it still works.

HARRISON: Well, ladies, I fear I shall disappoint you. You shall just have to resign yourself to my name having no bearing upon my character or destiny.

PLUMPGIRTH: Ah well, no matter. So, sir, back to completing the register; what is your Christian name?

HARRISON: My Christian name?

PLUMPGIRTH: Yes, Mr Harrison.

HARRISON: [Milking it] You want to know my first name?

DRYSTICK: Yes, we do!

HARRISON: Well, ladies, my first name is...Disappointing-Punchline.

[Long pause. Then duck squawk]

PLUMPGIRTH: Oh, afternoon, Jonas.

Rolf Harris is looking over his easel at a jelly on a plate as he hurriedly dabs away.

Mrs Harris enters , she looks at her watch as she speaks

MRS HARRIS
"For god's sake Rolf it's nearly 7, the taxi will be here any minute!"

Rolf finishes his painting with a flourish as he replies

ROLF
"I had to wait for the jelly to set in order to do the sketch and I made it with one minute to go!"

We see a digital clock it reads 18.59.

INT. Tower of London

Executioner is sitting in a small room filing his nails, he his wearing a leather costume including a leather hood with metal studs on it. His demeanour and speech are quite camp. The Chief Guard enters the room.

Executioner:
Oh, Hiya.

Chief Guard:
Would you care to explain yourself, I specifically asked you to Hang, Draw and Quarter the traitor Guido Fawkes this afternoon. Yet when I walked past his cell, he's sitting there eating a cheese sandwich.

Executioner:
I did as you asked, and put him back in his cell after it was over, all safely locked up for the night.

Chief Guard:
You did what exactly? He doesn't appear to be suffering any ill effects from his ordeal, which is quite unusual for someone who has been hanged drawn and quartered.

Executioner:
Well I took him out to the gallows, put the little noosey thing round his neck and pulled on the rope until he was right up on his tippy-toes, then I drew him

[Executioner takes a piece af parchment from his desk drawer and shows it to the Chief Guard]

Executioner:
Now I'm no artist but I think that's quite a good likeness. Then I took him back to his quarters and locked him up for the night without any supper... apart from the cheese sandwich.

Chief Guard:
I think that once again you have misunderstood your duty. Hanging, drawing and quartering is a terrible slow agonizing death where you're supposed to remove his innards and then cut him into four parts to serve as a warning to other traitors.

Executioner:
Oh, no I didn't do any of that.

Chief Guard:
I'd noticed that much. I also have another complaint about the Witch that I bought you last week and asked you to burn at the stake. Why did I see her at Spitalfields Market buying vegetables?

Executioner:
I burnt her steak very badly, she didn't enjoy it one little bit, she said she usually prefers it medium-rare, but I made her eat every last bit.

Chief Guard:
It's burnt AT the stake, you moron. You were supposed to burn her alive on a bonfire.

Executioner:
Well you can't blame me, you just come in here and bark your orders, if you'd take your time to sit down and explain these things to me, I'd be able to do a better job. You're so mean, you're always picking on me for the slightest mistake.

Chief Guard:
The clue is in the job title, Executioner and Chief Interrogator. Not that your interrogations are any better, Yesterday someone came knocking on the front door asking for another go on the rack because it "really helped relieve the tension in my shoulder muscles".

Executioner:
Perhaps I should pull it a teensy bit tighter next time.

Chief Guard:
I'll give you one final chance. We have a murderer coming in later and we need him decapitated. That should be pretty straightforward, do you think you can handle that?

Executioner:
Of course, no problem, I won't let you down.

[Cut to]

INT. Prisoners cell.
Executioner is sitting on the bed next to The Murderer. Executioner hands a jar to The Murderer.

Executioner:
Now you see, it was probably all that coffee, that made you all tense and jittery, so if you switch to this decaffeinated coffee, you won't feel the need to go around killing people any more. Now off you go and don't be a naughty boy again.

The Murderer looks a little confused but accepts the decaffeinated coffee and makes a run for the door.

END.

INT. FRONTROOM. NIGHT.

VICTORIAN LONDON. TWO GENTLEMEN ARE CHATTING.

BOB:
So it looks like tonight is cause for double celebration. Not only is it New Years Eve but we're also going to be the subject of a comedy sketch.

HARRY:
Really? Wellthat's jolly-well exciting isn't it.

BOB:
Correct, very exciting indeed.

HARRY:
So what is a comedy sketch?

BOB:
Well it's a...a...you know the way....well it's comedy obviously that-that we're part of and we get involved in and...you know when you're there and such well that all m-merges and col- col..glumirates into-to to b-become what is a....a....

HARRY:
Sketch.

BOB:
A sketch, exactly.

HARRY;
I see. So are there any guidelines that we have to stick to?

BOB:
All we've been told is that it has to set before the year 1900.

HARRY:
We're before 1900 aren't we?

BOB:
We are, yes.

HARRY:
What year is it exactly?

BOB (unsure):
Well you know the way we...you see the moon...when the spring is at its height and the stars are all part of it. You kind of have to sort of.....you-you tell me.

HARRY:
Hmm...well I know it's the year before the one it's going to be.

BOB:
And sometimes that's enough. Don't worry I'll cover you when it gets to the New Year celebrations.

HARRY:
Bob I'm confused. Are we going to be in a comedy sketch or are we the sketch itself?

BOB (unsure):
Well you see we are what is known as 'in it'. Right in it. We're the centre of it all. We belong to it and are right there....in it.

HARRY:
I understand but at the same time I don't understand in the least. Like if we only exist within the sketch where were we before it began?

BOB:
Stop now with your talk of sketches and New Years and just enjoy the celebrations.

CLICK CLACK SOUNDS.

HARRY:
What's that?

BOB:
It's just the-the...New Years....the (ahem) winter click clack.

HARRY:
Oh yes, I've never heard of that.

HARRY LOOKS UPWARDS IN THE DIRECTION OF THE CAMERA AND SEES SOMEONE TYPING IN FRONT OF A COMPUTER.

HARRY:
Look! It's coming from that machine he's pressing!

BOB:
Correct. I was wondering when you'd realise that. He's using whats known as a clickity-clackakoo. It picks up our words and places them on his electric parchment. Once the sketch ends he brings it down to us as a keepsake.

LATER THAT NIGHT. A GROUP OF PEOPLE INCLUDING BOB AND HARRY IN JOVIAL MOOD DRINKING AND LAUGHING.

HARRY:
Look its almost 12.

ALL TOGETHER:
5, 4, 3, 2, 1 (BOB AND HARRY LOOK SHEEPISH) Happy New Year!!

WRITER BURSTS IN THE DOOR, PARCHMENT IN HAND.

WRITER:
Happy 1900!!

SCREEN GOES BLANK.

END.

CICERO [55 BC]

The budget should be balanced, the Treasury should be refilled, public debt should be reduced, the arrogance of officialdom should be tempered and controlled, and the assistance to foreign lands should be curtailed, lest Rome become bankrupt. People must again learn to work instead of living on public assistance.

JULIUS CAESAR

I like it. Make sure you pass the info to the Prime Minister of the UK as quickly as possible; I'm sure they could use the advice and will bring it into effect immediately.

CICERO [filing his nails]

Yeah, right.

Rewrite of a sketch from a few years ago.. fits the criteria!

OCTOBER 1805 - HMS VICTORY HAS ARRIVED IN PORTSMOUTH FOLLOWING THE ROUT OF THE ALLIED FRENCH/SPANISH NAVY AT THE BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR.

EXT. - THE DOCKSIDE AT PORTSMOUTH HARBOUR. DAY AN INTERVIEW AREA HAS BEEN SET UP, SIMILAR TO THE ONES WE SEE FOLLOWING A PRESENT-DAY FOOTBALL MATCH. ADVERTISING LOGOS COVER THE MAKESHIFT BACKDROP "DRAKES SHIP'S BISCUIT - LESS WEEVILS", AND "SIMPSON'S SALT BEEF - PRACTICALLY EDIBLE". AN INTERVIEWER WITH A MICROPHONE AND HEADSET IS INTERVIEWING ABLE SEAMAN BATES AND GUNNER'S MATE JOHNSON. BATES HAS A PATCH OVER HIS LEFT EYE, HIS RIGHT ARM IS MISSING. IN CONTRAST, JOHNSON APPEARS TO BE RELATIVELY INTACT. BOTH MENS CLOTHES ARE TORN TO SHREDS AND COVERED IN BLOOD. THEY SMILE SHEEPISHLY, ENJOYING THE LIMELIGHT.

CROWD: (O.O.S)
Twenty-two nil, twenty-two nil. In-ger-lund, In-ger-lund, In-ger-lund.

INTERVIEWER: (holds earpiece as if talking back to studio)
Yes, and thank you Des, we are indeed here live at Portsmouth harbour, and you can hear behind me there's quite an enthusiastic crowd welcoming our heroes home from the "Battle of Trafalgar". I have two of them here with me, to my left is Able Seaman Joe Bates and to my right Gunner's Mate Billy Johnson. Now Seaman Bates....

BATES:
Call me Joe.

INTERVIEWER:
Right, Joe - twenty two enemy ships destroyed and every Royal Navy ship accounted for. You have to be happy with the result?

BATES:
Yes Brian, we are happy. We worked hard in training and the lads just went out there, stuck with the plan and luckily things worked out for us.

INTERVIEWER:
Billy - anything to add?

JOHNSON:
Well, like Joe said, you know, the lads are just happy for the gaffer - he told us what to do, and we were able to do that at the end of the day.

INTERVIEWER:
Gaffer?

JOHNSON:
His Lordship - Admiral Nelson sir.

INTERVIEWER:
We understand his signal flags read "England Expects Every Man Will Do His Duty"

BATES:
Oh, we can't read the flags sir.

JOHNSON:
Nah, we can't read anything.

BATES:
The Petty Officers did say something about a message from the Admiral, and they sort of put it in their own words for us

JOHNSON:
Yeah, like "You lubberly scum better kill those frogs and dagos 'til there's either none left, or your rotting carcass has been thrown over the side to be devoured by the sharks"

BATES: (fondly) And "If you don't keep firing to your last breath I'll lash you to the carronade and flay the last piece of miserable flesh from your worthless bones". Happy days, happy days. They're a great bunch of lads really.

INTERVIEWER: Well Des, I hope you can stay with us for a few more minutes because we are now joined by the Surgeon of HMS Victory, Mr. William Beatty.

BEATTY WALKS INTO THE SHOT AND THE TWO SAILOR STIFFEN TO ATTENTION. JOHNSON BRINGS HIS ARM UP INTO A SALUTE, BUT BEING ARTIFICIAL, THE ARM FLIES ACROSS THE ROOM.

BEATTY:
Hello Johnson, and how is the arm doing?

JOHNSON: (with his remaining hand he touches his cap in deference)
A bit loose sir, but otherwise it's shipshape. Thank ee sir, thank ee.

INTERVIEWER:
Mr. Beatty, as Surgeon of the Flag Ship, it must have been quite a week for you.

BEATTY IGNORES THE QUESTION, INSPECTING THE INTERVIEWER'S FOREARM INSTEAD

BEATTY:
What's that swelling on your arm sir?

INTERVIEWER: Oh, that's just a bruise.. Whacked it as I was getting out of my carriage

BEATTY REACHES INTO HIS COAT AND EXTRACTS A MENACING LOOKING BONE SAW

BEATTY:
Don't take any chances man. That should come off. Hold still now...

INTERVIEWER: What? No, No it's fine. Don't you think that's a little overkill?

JOHNSON:
Aye, that's what I thought too sir. But I 'ave to say I'm quite happy with me new arm sir.

A HEAD-PHONED PRODUCER WITH A CLIPBOARD BRIEFLY ENTERS THE SHOT AND GIVES THE WOODEN ARM BACK TO JOHNSON.

Thank 'ee, much obliged.

INTERVIEWER:
But that's quite different Johnson, you were wounded in battle.

JOHNSON: Oh no sir, this was weeks before the battle sir.

INTERVIEWER: Accident then. Mast fall on your arm? Crushed to a pulp by a rogue gun rolling around the deck?

JOHNSON: Bee sting sir. In this very harbour it was. Went to Mr Beatty and he had the arm off by tea time sir. He's the best in the Navy.

INTERVIEWER: And Joe, your missing eye - a wood splinter during a particularly vicious broadside?

BATES: No sir... a nasty Stye it was... went to see Mr Beatty and before I could say "Jack Robinson", he whipped it out with his tea-spoon. To prevent infection like. You wanna look?

INTERVIEWER HOLDS HIS EARPIECE AGAIN

INTERVIEWER:
Well, that's all we have time for. Let's wrap it up with a resounding "HUZZAH" to the brave tars and officers of the Royal Navy, and it's back to you Des in the studio.

A GROUP OF BURLY SAILORS WALK UP TO THE INTERVIEWER - THEY GRAB HIM ROUGHLY

INTERVIEWER:
What's going on? Get your hands off me you dogs. Who are you? I must protest!

BURLY SAILOR: You're a media man - you will appreciate the irony then - We are what you might call "members of the press".

INTERVIEWER IS DRAGGED OFF BY THE LAUGHING PRESS GANG

INTERVIEWER: (O.O.S)
But I can't swim! Help! I don't even like the water. I have a degree in Media Studies... I can't even tie a knot... look, even my shoes have buckles...

INT. ROMAN FORTRESS. DAY

WE SEE EMPEROR HADRIAN TALKING TO HIS AIDE, DUPLICITUS.

DUPLICITUS:
Excellency, what appears to be the problem?

HADRIAN:
It's my wall. As you know I have countless followers but that's all very impersonal. I hoped putting up my wall would allow me to make some friends. I could post funny comments and pictures on my wall and that would make people Like me.

DUPLICITUS:
A wonderful idea Excellency. Is it not working out as you had hoped?

HADRIAN:
It certainly is not. Nobody seems to Like my wall. They keep posting mean comments on it. Look at these: "Hadrian is a homo" and "Go back to your own country, foreign scum". Who would write such horrible things?

DUPLICITUS (LOOKING SHIFTY):
I have no idea Excellency. I love your wall and I've liked everything you have posted on it.

HADRIAN:
Everybody seems to like China's wall. Personally, I don't see what's so Great about it. Everything they post on it is illegible. I think I'm going to give up on this wall business. Maybe I should try grouping people into circles. That would be better, wouldn't it.

DUPLICITUS:
You mean like the Colosseum, Excellency? People associate that with needless suffering and death.

HADRIAN:
I know. That's what makes it so funny. I love Reality Entertainment!

END

Umm.

Oh, blimey, I actually don't know. Loads of good ideas and gags, but no single piece that completely sets me aflame.

I'll go fooooooor....Lee. Just because it's nice to have a topical sketch every now and then. It was about as close as it could be, though.

Wow, lots of entries this week and I enjoyed most of them.

It's nice to see a new contributor, so welcome to DubiousG, I did enjoy your sketch.

I also liked Blobster's sketch.

But this week my vote goes to ..... Gappy.