British Comedy Guide

Skit Comp 15 - 28.2.13

Thanks and congratulations to GAPPY for winning. Celebrate and PM me for the next topic please.
Hence:

Votes - Points - Name
2 - 10 - Gappy
1 - 5 - John Millar
Speckled mention: Michael Monkhouse

Your new subject is OPEN till 28.2.13 as there are oodles of opps at the moment!

Rules:
One entry/vote per person. Anyone can enter regardless of colour, sexual preferences or inside leg measurement.
Can be a sketch, joke, lyric or anything else as long as it's yours 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: 28.2.13

Overall Leader Board is now:

Points - Position - Name

10 - 1 - Gappy
5 - 2 - John Millar

[It's one of those daytime TV shows where people buy stuff and then try to sell it at auction. A dopey presenter is standing with two teams of two, dressed in bright T-shirts with left or right boots on the front. There is also a tweedy antiques expert on hand. All are grinning inanely]

PRESENTER: So, after a hard morning's scouring of the car boot "booty", let's have a look at what our contestants have spent their money on. As ever, we'll be selling this booty later, when we'll find out whether the results were "bootiful", or "tough as old boots"! So, left boot team, what did you get your hands on.

LEFT 1: Well, we got this rather attractive art deco lamp. [Holds it up]

PRESENTER: Ooh, that's a lovely looking piece. But, over to our expert, Tarquin, to find out whether it's really a thing of "booty" or [Struggles for pun] not.

TARQUIN: Well, yes it is a delightful item, and a clever buy too, as art deco has been commanding some pretty high prices at auction recently.

PRESENTER: So, possibly a good move, there. But, this did use most of your hundred pound spending money, didn't it, Rachel?

LEFT 2: That's right. It was a bit of a gamble. Steve talked me into spending the remainder on this. [Fans out yellowing programmes, etc]

PRESENTER: Football memorabilia. Some football "booty"! You've got all sorts here, relating to Sheffield Wednesday, way back in the 1970s. Tarquin?

TARQUIN: I'll be honest: I don't like footie memorabilia, it's too hard to predict the value, if the right fan isn't at the auction.

PRESENTER: Wise words as ever, Tarquin. I think you're right, but I'd probably feel differently if this were memorabilia from the might Chelsea. Come on you blues! [Everyone laughs]. Or, should I say, "come on you boots!"? [Awkward silence] OK, moving on to the right boot team, what do you have to rival that?

RIGHT 1: Porn! [Flourishes wadge of old magazines]

PRESENTER: Sorry?

RIGHT 2: We bought porn.

TARQUIN: Old...antique porn, or...?

RIGHT 1: Various ages. From about 1990 or so, I think.

PRESENTER: Is it...is it special, erm, material?

RIGHT 2: Not really, just a bundle. Tenner the lot.

PRESENTER: [We catch him holding his hand to his ear and mumbling agreement as the camera cuts back] Good, right. But, how will you make money on this?

RIGHT 1: We'll sell it at schools.

RIGHT 2: In the playground! I reckon we can quintuple our outlay in a single morning.

PRESENTER: But you're supposed to go to an auction and -

RIGHT 1: We'll do a sort of auction, if you like. I tell you, these lads will chuck any money at us for a stroke mag, whatever the vintage.

RIGHT 2: Imagine them, balls fizzing like bath bombs, parental control on the computer, how desperate are they for a quick hand shandy? We'll make tons...that is the idea of the game, isn't it?

[Cut to TARQUIN, who is looking dumbfounded. Cut to PRESENTER who is clearly getting firm instructions in his earpiece]

PRESENTER: Great! Excellent! But, I regret, you can't actually sell this stuff in a school.

RIGHT 2: [Very threatening] You want to check the rules, pal. We can and we shall sell these wank mags, and we'll win the game too.

PRESENTER: [Pause. Then weakly] And, what did you spend the other £90 on?

RIGHT 1: [Flourishing a bag, proudly] Skag!

PAPAL FRUITIES

OFFICE.
MR BROWN, a smart guy in a nice suit, opposite MR PINK, a smarter guy in a nicer suit.

MR BROWN So Sir, you've found the perfect candidate for the new Pope.

MR PINK Abso-darn-solutely. Someone pious...

MR BROWN Check!

MR PINK Venerable...

MR BROWN Check!

MR PINK And - gosh, just plain super really.

MR BROWN CHECK! Job's theirs.

MR PINK Result! I'll just phone and tell her.

MR BROWN Yes... (double-take) What?

MR PINK (on mobile) Hello, Melanie? Bloke says you can start Tuesday...

MR BROWN She's a - a woman?

MR PINK Yeah, I checked.

MR BROWN You can't be a female Pope!

MR PINK Nowt wrong with being the Pope, it's a fine posting and a bleeding awesome one too.

MR BROWN But it's never been done.

MR PINK Neither's Cliff Richard, he's doing okay... Look, in the words of the short-sighted prostitute, I don't see where you're coming from.

MR BROWN Get out!

Mr Pink leaves.

MR BROWN Who can be the next Pope? I got it! (takes out phone) Hi I've got the perfect job for you. Fancy clothes - people go mad when you deign to look at them - and all the altar-boys you can handle... Goodbye, Mr Glitter.

THE DOOR OF MARTOOK.

NARRATOR:
Renowned adventurer Grayson Field and his dutiful assistant Cubby Loft were now closer to the Door of Martook that any of their fellow Victorian adventurers had ever got.

From navigating the Hills of High Falloff-ability, traversing the Plains of Deadly Death, crossing The Pits of Terrible Stuff Altogether and surviving The Squirrels of Diminishing Niceness they were now on the final leg of their quest.

The pair found themselves stepping through the dense undergrowth of the comparatively pleasantly titled Jungle of Terrible Azure or for people not offay with wild terrain The Jungle of Horrible Purple.
Having trekked for hours it was time for a brief reprieve. Finding shelter from the hot midday sun under a giant leaf made from umbrellas they took time to drink and consult the map...

GRAYSON:
By George Lofty it's hot.

CUBBY:
Indeed sir, I think my mouth is sweating.

GRAYSON:
Here, wash it down with this tankard of tepid water.

CUBBY DRINKS.

CUBBY:
Yes sir, lovely sir, very tasty.

GRAYSON:
Now what is this map telling us? I feel like we've been going around in squares.

CUBBY:
Hmm...

GRAYSON:
What's the matter Lofty?

CUBBY:
Oh nothing to worry about sir it's just that according to the map...*ahem*...y-you're dead.

GRAYSON:
Let me see that! Lofty you fool you have it upside-down!

CUBBY:
Ah yes sir, much more alive now sir.

GRAYSON:
By and by Lofty, did you not have a life-size map a few miles back?

CUBBY:
Indeed I did but if I'm honest sir I found it rather tough going lugging it around.

GRAYSON:
Tell me you didn't get rid of it.

CUBBY:
Oh no, no, no, no...nothing like that sir. I just placed it at the bottom of the gorge for safe keeping, to pick up on the way back. It was rather heavy.

GRAYSON:
It couldn't have been more than twenty or thirty stone? You are not the man you once were Lofty...not by a long shot.
So where to next?

CUBBY:
It looks like we're rather close to the door sir. Left here at the Golden Bubbles then we have to pass something called Crackpot Creek and then some sort of invisible loop and we're there.

GRAYSON:
As easy as that, huhhhhh!! What the dickens am I tripping over? What is that?

CUBBY:
It's a human; he's practically a skeleton sir.

GRAYSON:
Yes a skeleton of just bone and skin with a tree lying on top of him. I wonder how he died.

SKELETON:
What do you mean died? I'm not dead.

CUBBY:
Well you're not far off in fairness.

GRAYSON:
How many weeks have you been stuck like this?

SKELETON:
Weeks? I'm only here a few minutes. I was not supposed to tell you this but I answered an ad in the paper from a Petch Calhoun. He was in search of someone who looked, as he put it "As dead as possible" to plant close to the Door of Martook so that it would hold up Grayson Field and he would make it to the door first.

CUBBY:
Petch Calhoun?

GRAYSON:
Yes I thought the narrator would mention him at the start but he obviously left it to me. As if I wasn't in enough of a hurry. Petch Calhoun. We went to Cambridge together where we first read of the fabled Door of Martook. We drunkenly put on a hefty wager to see who would discover the door first.

CUBBY:
He obviously followed us up to this point and sneaked off when we took shelter under the leaf.

GRAYSON:
We must move with haste!

FX. RUNNING.

GRAYSON:
Who's this now all of a sudden?

OLD MAN:
....And there will be much talking from a great distance but with no distance between them. The voice will be detached from the body....Then will come the words that sound like weasels when-

GRAYSON:
Have you got anything on the Door of Martook?

OLD MAN:
Wait! The winds now blow upon the hill, don't stop to speak or look around and do not take the wooden path. Mahabubar had to deal with horse sick when the wolves tumbled over the city walls...Look!

GRAYSON:
It's Petch on the rope bridge. Petch! Get off! Didn't you listen to the old man!? It's too windy!

PETCH:
He's just an old fool! He's talking nonsense!

FX. STRONG WIND.

PETCH:
Woaaah!!

PETCH (falling):
Help! I can't fly!!

GRAYSON:
Don't fall so fast, you'll die from it! Old man, is there anything we can do?

OLD MAN:
Catch the thing you cannot see what lies behind the small oak tree.

CUBBY:
The thing we cannot see?....Ah the invisible loop just like in the map. I cannot see anything.

Grayson:
Grab it anyway and throw it down. Petch, are you still falling?

PETCH:
Yes, why?

GRAYSON:
We may or may not have thrown down something called an Invisible Loop. Can you see it?

PETCH:
I think so, yes.

CUBBY:
Embroil yourself in it!

GRAYSON:
He's latched on. Great it's coming back up. Cubby, when he gets up we'll jump into the loop and it will take us across to the other side.

CUBBY:
It's the safest option sir.

GRAYSON:
Old man, have you any sage advice on the Door of Martook?

OLD MAN (CANDIDLY):
No.

GRAYSON:
Right; I must admit I was rather expecting more there. Ah, here's Petch now. Hop on Cubby....and away we go!!

FX OF INVISIBLE LOOP SWISHING ACROSS THE GORGE.

OLD MAN:
But I do have information on the key.

END.

Fantastic Mr Otterfox.

Otterfox, with a script full of typically insane other-logic. Bit long, perhaps, I did get quite confused...but operhaps that's the idea!

Close one for me. Gappy with his usual high standard fare and Mikey Monkhouse is a legend of the game with his finger on the Italian pulse. Gappy pips it.

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