Skit Comp 4-11.12.13

Thanks for another cool skitcomp and congratulations to STONKED and CARLOS MANWELLY for winning. Please get pished as a farth and PM me with a subject for next wank.
Hence:

Votes - Points - Name
2 - 10 - Stonked, Carlos Manwelly
1 - 5 - Mr Sunshine, Jakob Jensen
Speckled mention: Gappy

Your new subject: TV.

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: 11.12.13

Overall Leader Board is now:
Position - Points - Name
1 - 20 - Stonked
2 - 15 - Jakob Jensen
3 - 11 - Carlos Manwelly
4 - 10 - Playfull
5 - 5 - Sootyj, Stephen Goodlad, Mr Sunshine
6 - 2 - Otterfox
4 - 1 - Gappy, Charleywolf

CAPTAIN HORNBLOWER

TV ANNOUNCER Good evening ladies and gentlemen, and you. My name is Brian Pus-head and I am the BBC's CEO, commissioner and freelance tosser. Now for several years there have been ugly rumours relating to sexual references in 'Captain Pugwash' - Seaman Staines, Roger The Cabin Boy, (giggles)... Sorry. I have decided to put an end to this bally nonsense by reading an actual script therefrom, which should silence said nincompoops: (reads) 'Roger bends over, his cheeks glistening and rosy in the twilight. It's too much for Puggers, his scrote tightens, his manhood stands to attention - then he leaps over and thrusts his throbbing knob into Roger's intimacy. Roger is startled, then heaves back and forth as Pug shafts his anal passage furiously, then jerks out and arrives all over the face of Roger, who's masturbating like his life depends on it. Then they lie back and share long, phallic cigars as Pugs whispers, 'Totally dedicated to you.' - 'What?' responds Rog. 'Me heart is!' And they laugh joyously then do it all over again.' (Pause.) I'm very sorry. They did well to ban it. Puns like that.

SKITTLES ADVERTISEMENT

INT. OFFICE.

A BLACK MAN IS SAT AT HIS DESK HOLDING HIS HANDS UP IN THE AIR.
A GIRL APPROACHES HOLDING A STAPLER.

GIRL
Hey Tim show me your awesome skill again

TIM TOUCHES THE STAPLER AND IT CHANGES TO SKITTLES - THEY FALL TO THE FLOOR.

GIRL
Awesome!

TIM
Is it? Did you dress yourself this morning...

HE IS INTERRUPTED BY THE TELEPHONE ON HIS DESK RINGING.
HE TRIES TO ANSWER IT BUT IT TURNS TO SKITTLES AS HE TOUCHES IT.
IN FRUSTRATION HE BANGS HIS DESK AND THAT TOO TURNS INTO A MILLION SKITTLES.

HE GETS UP AND WALKS AWAY, OBVIOUSLY UPSET.

CUT TO
GENTS TOILET
REAR VIEW SHOT OF TIM AS HE STANDS AT THE URINAL
HIS HAND IS UNDOING HIS ZIP FLY

A FEW SKITTLES FALL IN TO THE URINAL TROUGH

TIM
Shit!

You'll have to use your imaginations for this one!
....
[Scene is a high-tech forensic lab. DR MACKIE is talking to the camera, which weaves about between microscopes and so on, in the style of CSI: Such-And-Such]

MACKIE: We got the fibres checked out, and yes, they do come from the seat cover of a 1972 Plymouth Barracuda, but - get this - they also contain deep traces of animal hairs. It looks as though these seats have evidence of systematic contact with canines over many years, and yet, our man Doberwitz is allergic to dogs. Conclusion: this isn't his car; secondary conclusion: someone wants Dobie out of the picture. Now, if you want to take a look at this [Camera zooms right into the slide that MACKIE holds up; he is momentarily shaken] - err, yes, you see, we noticed that blood on the tent peg didn't belong to [Camera goes right behind MACKEY's head, he turns to follow it]. Look, would you mind not doing that?

JENKINS: [Off] What?

MACKIE: Just...would you mind keeping still.

JENKINS: Oh, come on, Mackie, you know I can't help it.

MACKIE: Yeah, well you're putting me off, flitting around the place, I've forgotten whose blood it is now and everything. Can't you just land?

JENKINS: Yeah, alright.

[Camera lowers down to bench height]

MACKIE: Ah, Jesus f**k, not there.

JENKINS: What?

MACKIE: That's my lunch, dude!

JENKINS: Oh. Sorry. Didn't notice.

MACKIE: The hell you didn't. It's a bloody sandwich, how can you miss it? You got enough eye facets, don't you?

JENKINS: I was thinking about the case!

MACKIE: Oh, yes, the case, sure. You're always trying to get my back up you bloody...creepy crawly!!

[Enter BOSS, brusquely]

BOSS: Hey! What's all the commotion here? I got Salinas next door trying to titrate an embezzler's semen and she can't hear herself think.

MACKIE: Sorry, boss.

JENKINS: He started it, sir. Insulted me. Racist abuse, it was. [The camera goes crazy as he gets angry]

BOSS: Is this true, Mackie?

MACKIE: Hell, I didn't mean any harm, sir. It's just typical, of his sort, flying round the place whilst I'm trying to do my job, and before I know it, boof! He's all over my pastrami like there's no tomorrow.

JENKINS: It was an accident!

BOSS: Steady on, Jenkins. Now, Mackie, we've been through this before. Just because one of your colleagues has a different background to you, that's no reason to -

MACKIE: Different background! He's got six legs!

JENKINS: You see, that, sir? That's just prejudice, offensive prejudice.

MACKIE: I'll go one further: I think it was a dumb idea to employ any flies in the squad, Sir, they're not trustworthy.

JENKINS: Invertibrist!

BOSS: Mackie! Any more talk like that and I'll have your badge. Now, let's get this resolved in a calm, adult manner.

MACKIE: They're dirty. Flies are dirty. There, I said it.

JENKINS: Oh, just charming.

MACKIE: You eat poo! Don't try to deny it, Jenkins! Your sort eat poo all day.

JENKINS: Not this again!

MACKIE: "Yummy yum yum, poo poo for me."

JENKINS: Right, that's just about the last straw.

BOSS: This is a very serious issue. Jenkins, ah, would you do me a favour and wait outside?

JENKINS: Of course. [Camera changes viewpoint. We see a fly buzzing towards the door]

MACKIE: [Shouting after him] And the paternity leave! 500 babies in a week, that ain't fair on us working Joes. [Door slams shut]

BOSS: Now, Mackie. This isn't the first time you've been accused of fomenting angst amongst our colleagues of the dipteral persuasion.

MACKIE: Yeah, but -

BOSS: [Changing tone conciliatory] I mean, why bother? They'll all be dead by the end of the month!

[Both laugh uproariously]

BOSS: Still, I'd best give you a light caution, keep the unions happy. I'll draft a letter: now, where's that secretary of mine?

[Rummages in his inside breast pocket, pulls out a small white mouse]

EXT. DAY. PARK.

A MAN (HERBERT) HAS JUST REACHED THE TOP STEP OF A STEEP EMBANKMENT WHEN HE IS APPROACHED BY AN INTERVIEWER WITH A MIC AND A CAMERA.

NICK (INTERVIEWER):

Hi, we're doing a survey on television for the television. Would you care to answer a few questions about television?

HERBERT:

Is this going to be on television?

NICK:

Yes.

HERBERT:

Oh wow! I'd just like to say a big hi to a very dear person to me. He is my great, great....great friend and he knows who he is but if he doesn't it's Carl Blasponton. Hi Carl!! Carl Blasponton hasn't had a good time of it recently. He got hurt, hurt and stung by 100 wasps. They were very mean to him. They surrounded him and stung him everywhere, everywhere on the testicles. There was surely no part of his scrotum that was left un-stung. A complete blitz.

NICK:

Right. That's a lovely story. Now what was your favourite show...

HERBERT:

I'm not finished! Poor Carl Blasponton. Luckily I came on the scene about six hours after the attack and he was in an awful state. "My balls", he kept shouting. "My balls are destroyed". I got straight to work bandaging them up but he kept roaring that he needed medication.

"I'm a full qualified nu...I'm a fully qualified nu...", I kept repeating but he wouldn't let me finish the sentence because of his roaring. After 78 attempts to complete the sentence I started to get annoyed and bit him on the thighs.

Finally I got to finish it. "I'm a fully qualified nun astonisher; I know what I'm doing". I taped his mouth shut to calm him down and wrapped his scrotum in some Domestos wipes to kill the poison and placed a cast upon him. His bitten thighs were bleeding but I thought it better to let them bleed freely as it might release some of the poison from the wasps.

Look I'm sick of being referred to as a massive, massive hero. Anyone with my skill set would have attempted to be as professional and assured under such extreme pressure as I was. I'm just glad and he was lucky that I was there to bite his thighs and put domestos on his balls. Lucky, lucky Carl Blasponton.

HERBERT CHEESILY SMILES INTO THE CAMERA WITH HIS THUMBS UP.

CUT TO NIGHT. INT. LIVINGROOM.

THE CAMERA PANS ACROSS A TABLE WITH UNOPENED LETTERS ON IT. CARL BLASPONTONS NAME CAN BE SEEN ON THEM.

CARL SITS VERY CLOSE TO THE TELEVISION, HIS FACE CONTORTED IN RAGE AS HE WATCHES THE TAIL-END OF HERBERTS INTERVIEW.

HERBERT (ON TV):

...Lucky, lucky Carl Blasponton.

CHEESY SMILE WITH THUMBS UP INTO THE CAMERA.

CARL PUNCHES THROUGH THE TV WITH A LOUD CRASH. HERBERTS FACE TURNS TO SHOCK AS HE IS STRUCK HARD IN THE FACE BY CARLS FIST.

HERBERT REELS BACKWARDS RAPIDLY, TUMBLES HEAD-OVER-HEELS AND FALLS DOWN THE EMBANKMENT AT AN ALARMING RATE.

AS HE FALLS TWO NUNS LOOK ON IN SHOCK AND RUN OFF.

BACK IN CARLS LIVING ROOM HE STANDS UP AND SLOWLY WALKS TOWARDS THE KITCHEN WITH HIS LEGS WIDE APART DUE TO HIS OBVIOUS DISCOMFORT.

CARL (MUTTERING):

F**k sake.....

END.

INTERNAL - HUSBAND AND WIFE SITTING ON A SOFA WATCHING TV, THEY DON'T LOOK COMFORTABLE AT ALL. DAVID DICKINSON IS SQUEAKING ABOUT ANTIQUES AND CASH.

Husband: How can people watch this crap?

Wife: Shh I'm trying to listen to it.

Husband: Where are the controls?

Wife: I don't know where they are.

HUSBAND RAISES VOICE

Husband: You always say that, where have you put them?

Wife: I haven't had the controls. For gods just be quiet and watch the program.

HUSBAND STANDS UP AND STARTS LOOKING AROUND THE ROOM UNDER THE CUSHIONS OF THE SOFA.

Wife: What are you looking under the cushions for?

Husband: Because that's where you always put them.

Wife: Well it's nothing to do with me this time. Now sit down and be quiet.

HUSBAND IS STILL LOOKING AROUND THE ROOM AND SHOUTING ALL SORTS OF STUFF.

CAMERA PANS OUT TO REVEAL A RECEPTIONIST BEHIND A DESK

Receptionist: Excuse me; I keep the remote controls for the television behind my desk.

NURSE WALKS IN

Nurse: MR. Williams, Doctor Harrington is ready for you now.

END

CONTROLLER OF BBC1: Okay, I'll take another series of the hidden cam show with the penguins. Everyone loves penguins.

PRODUCER: It is quite an innovative filming technique.

CONTROLLER: And they look like little waiters, lol.

PRODUCER: Quite. The film that has us all excited though is on the arctic mole. This is the first time they have been filmed in the wild.

CONTROLLER: Hmm. It's a bit of a risk building a show around an unknown.

PRODUCER: I am sorry?

CONTROLLER: I mean, obviously these moles have tons of potential, but can they deliver an audience?

PRODUCER: This is ground breaking science.

CONTROLLER: Don't get me wrong, I love the moles, but we need some headline talent attached to the show.

PRODUCER: Such as?

CONTROLLER: Penguins.

PRODUCER: In the arctic?

CONTROLLER: That's right. We could have them swooping down on the moles.

PRODUCER: Right, a few problems with that.

CONTROLLER: Find a part for the penguin, and the programme is in the bag.

PRODUCER: I suppose we could find a way to make it work.

CONTROLLER: Excellent! 'Penguins of the Arctic' it is; we'll put it on Tuesday at nine, to get the holdover audience from 'P-P-P-Pick up a Penguin'.

PRODUCER: I still can't believe you gave a rockhopper his own sitcom.

END

INT. LIVING ROOM
JIM'S WIFE, DIANNE, IS WATCHING THE TV
THE TV SCREEN IS FILLED WITH AN EXPLICIT CLOSE-UP OF A WOMAN'S GENITALIA

JIM ENTERS THE ROOM

JIM (LOOKS AT TV)
Talking to your mother on Skype, again?

DIANNE
It's Jill, next door.

JIM (WAVES AT TV)
Oh. Sorry Jill. Didn't recognise you. No, seriously - what are you watching?

DIANNE
You'll never guess. Jill came round this afternoon and told me that she was going to be on tonight's Embarrassing Bodies programme. She's had a labiaplasty. Or, as she puts it, she's had her beef curtains trimmed.

JIM
And what am I supposed to do with this information?

DIANNE
What do you mean?

JIM
Well, am I supposed to know about it, or what?

DIANNE
She didn't say not to tell you. But then again, she did ask them not to show her face, so she obviously doesn't want it to be common knowledge. I'd suggest you leave it to her. If she mentions it then you'll know that it was OK for me to tell you.

JIM
Got it.

FORTY MINUTES LATER
AN EXPLICIT CLOSE-UP OF A WOMAN'S GENITALIA ON THE TV

JIM
Looks better, but still a bit flappy, wouldn't you say?

DIANNE
She said she was quite pleased with it. But they can grow back, apparently.

8 o/c NEXT MORNING
EXT. BACK GARDENS - WHICH ARE SEPARATED BY A SOLID FOUR FOOT WOODEN FENCE
WEATHER WARM AND SUNNY WITH A PLEASANT BREEZE
JIM IS GETTING A BREATH OF FRESH AIR
JILL IS IN HER GARDEN, WEARING A DRESSING GOWN. SHE IS VISIBLE FROM THE WAIST UP

JILL
Lovely morning, Jim. Just perfect for giving my curtains an airing. Let them flap in the breeze.

JIM
Right. Yeah. The curtains. I'm with you.

JILL
They've gone a bit musty.

JIM
Oh dear. Can you not wash them?

JILL
I could. But I don't like to. They're very delicate.

JIM
I can imagine.

JILL
I'll have to wash them sooner or later, I suppose. But they'll probably fall apart.

JIM
And the people who did your curtains, they couldn't do anything about that for you?

JILL
It's just natural wear and tear, Jim. Nothing lasts for ever.

JIM
Even so, what with that and the fact that they might grow back, you must have been hoping for more. I mean, a labiaplasty's not what you'd call trivial, is it.

JILL LOOKS AT JIM OPEN-MOUTHED AND THEN RUSHES INDOORS

JIM WALKS TOWARDS THE FENCE

JIM
Jill?

JILL DISAPPEAR INDOORS

JIM LOOKS OVER THE FENCE AND SEES A WASHING BASKET CONTAINING A PAIR OF RED VELVET CURTAINS

END

An fine flight of fancy from gappy, but Otterfox shades it for inspired lunacy.

Trusiops for me. I like that concept a lot.

Gappy for me.

Otterfox just pips it from the Gapster.

I liked them all this week but it was the beef curtains that did it for me, so Stonked

And it's Gappy for me.

Stonked - by a hair.