Skit Comp 2 - 10.5.15

More hilarity amam so congratulations to COURTHOUSE for winning. PM me with a subject for next wank please.
Hence:

Votes - Points - Name
3 - 10 - Courthouse
2 - 5 - Gappy, Lee
Bespectacled mention: Nick81, Funy HaHa, Darren

Your new subject: DRUMS AND PERCUSSION (chosen by GAPPY). What do you call a knob who hangs out with musicians? Ringo.

Rules:
One entry/vote per person. Anyone can enter regardless of colour, sexual preferences or inside leg measurement, except voles.
Can be a sketch, joke, lyric or anything else as long as it's yours and vaguely linked to the topic. Please try to 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: 10.5.15

Overall Leader Board is now:
Position - Points - Name
1 - 56 - Gappy
2 - 45 - Lee
3 - 20 - Courthouse
4 - 5 - Tursiops, Darren, Blobster, Dave C, Stylee Ting Ting, me
5 - 1 - Steve Sunshine

MUCH GOO ABOUT NOTHING

tune: 'I Don't Feel Like Dancing', Scissor Sisters https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4H5I6y1Qvz0

Wake up in the morning, me knob-head like a pink bun.
Had eighteen wanks last night and I don't need another one.
Won't pluck me trouser snake, me lil' Johnson, its one eye frowns.
I won't come, I'm not gropin', sure you're up, get it down.

Should I play me gong? Should I punch and pound me dong?
I couched hockey for one for all last night.
My foreskin glowed, shootin' putty at the moon.
Strained me cabbage, stirred lime soup last night

(Chorus)
Now I don't feel like wankin'
Don't care what me wiener says
My wand could take a dance
But my pinkies don't wanna play
You'd think that I could chuck me muck and shellac me fun shillelay,
But I don't feel like wankin'
No sir, no wankin' today.
Don't feel like wankin', wankin'
Nothin' jizzin', I ain't lettin' it goo
Don't feel like wankin', wankin'
Why'd yer flick yer bean when yer not in the mood?
Don't feel like wankin', wankin'
Floppy love bone all alone, 'cos I won't splice wood with you.

Thingies come and jizzes blow, just like me old twix fires
I strummed me harp and slapped me clown and now me nads are tired.
I burst so many splooges, made me blind, man I'm abused.
So why does it keep up? I kept wrestlin' that bald-headed moose.

My cum's at its end, oh yeah, I'm at my wad's end.
Pulled rank, pumped python, roped pony, no more slime.
So prick understand, when you see me wash me hands
You'll be sticky soon, we can cuff another time.

(Chorus)

You can't make me flog my log
Or whip my pud or fist mister.
So stay right down, don't you blow your bukkake, wait till tomorrow night.

(Chorus)

I'm not having much luck with men. I ended it with the drummer, he just kept banging on. So I went out with the pianist but he only played around. Then I had it off with the trumpeter but he blew everything. I'm dating the violinist now; well, there's many a good tune played on an old fiddle.

[An average funky band is busking on the High Street - "Pick up The Pieces", or somesuch. Drums, guitar, bass, sax and a guy waggling the tambourine. As they come to the end of the tune there's a drab smattering of applause and one or two coins tossed desultorily into an open guitar case. As the rest of the band start to resignedly pack up, a wild-eyed FAN approaches STEVE, the tambourine player, from across the street]

FAN: Oh, wow, that was a-maz-ing!

STEVE: Oh, thanks. We're called The Rotovators, if you fancy coming to see us next Saturday.

FAN: Oh, yeah, right, sure. But, I mean, I wasn't talking about the rest of the band. Just you. You were dynamite. No, wait, what's better than dynamite? C5!

STEVE: Oh, right. Thank you very much.

FAN: Play a song.

STEVE: Oh, sorry, we're just packing up.

FAN: Not them, just you. Play a song for me. On your tambourine.

STEVE: But, I'm not sure it will exactly work all that, err...

FAN: Mr Tambourine man, play a song for me.

STEVE: Sure.

[STEVE waggles his tambourine in a lightly funky, but not very interesting, 16 beat rhythm. FAN freaks out on the pavement, dancing like crazy]

FAN: Yeah! [Sings along] Brown sugar!

STEVE: Actually, that was "Lady In Red".

FAN: Oh, right, yeah, I totally get it now. So, Mr Tambourine man -

STEVE: Steve.

FAN: Mr tambourine Steve, play another song for me. There's no place I'm going to.

STEVE: That figures. [Begins to waggle a very similar rhythm before feeling self-conscious and stopping] Err, no, I think I'd better get moving.

FAN: Yeah, sure. You go.

STEVE: Right.

FAN: You go, and I'll follow you.

STEVE: Pardon me?

FAN: I'll come following you, yeah. You're such a good tambourine man, tambourine man-

STEVE: Steve.

FAN: And you play tambourine songs for me so sense-rippingly well, I think I'm going to just follow you about from now on. That's OK, right?

STEVE: Ummm...

FAN: Yeah. I already know where you live and what's in your bin, so I guess I'll just start with the following, in the jingle jangle morning.

STEVE: In the what morning?

FAN: In the...tomorrow...morning. IMagine it. You can just go about, doing your tambourine man stuff, and I can follow you; you can play all those many, many different and varied tambourine songs, and I'll follow you. It'll be great, we'll be a team: tamboursteve man and his bestest bestest buddy!

STEVE: Yeah, sure. Oh! Look! Look over there! A really big...err...bongo.

FAN: [Spinning round] Ooh, where? [When he turns back round, STEVE has legged it] I can't see it Mr Steve...oh.

[There's a strange whooshy noise. FAN looks up into the sky]

STEVE: [Off] And you're not getting a go on this magic swirling ship either, you bloody weirdo.

Cleopatra's Royal Barge on the Nile
The crack of the whip, the groan of the slaves, the pitiless pounding of the drums dictating the speed of the rowing. Suddenly Cleopatra enters the galley. The Drummer orders the men to stop.

DRUMMER: Oars out!

CLEO: No, let them stay, the men get so little pleasure down here.

SLAVES: Hurray!

DRUMMER: Oh, Grand Priestess of the Temple of Ra, Queen of the Nile, Empress of All Egypt!

CLEO: And Champion Knitter too! Though that may be down to the giant size of my needles, ( but then, as Antony said to me, as he opened a crate of ale, "Some girl's are bigger than others").

DRUMMER: Majesty, did my endless banging away at the same monotonous rhythm give you a headache?

CLEO: No, but strangely enough, the Emperor Caesar just asked me the same question up in my bed chamber.

DRUMMER: I know down here it's all "in, out, in, out, thud, thud, thud, the ceaseless beating of taut, leathery old skin".

CLEO: It's the same up in my Royal Box. Must your rhythm be so uninspiring? Poor Old Julie can't help but pick it up up there.

DRUMMER: But Majesty, you wanted us to go with the flow to give you time to seduce him before we reached Alexandria.

CLEO: Oh, I had him hooked by the time I appeared wrapped in the old carpet.

DRUMMER: Shag pile or Wilton?

CLEO: Oh, he's wiltin' up there now. He's led,staring out the port hole, don't know what he expects to see...?

SLAVE: The Hanging Gardens of Babylon? Herds of Wilderbeest sweeping majestically....

DRUMMER: Who ordered you to stick your oar in ? - oh it was me, stick your oar in!

SLAVE: Ooh, slave driver!

CLEO: He's 'wary' of his 'ides' marching off or something. Says the whole trips been a pain in the neck!

SLAVE: It's a stabbing sensation between the shoulder blades he aught to be worried about!

SLAVE Gets whipped!

SLAVE: Ooh what did your last slave die of?

DRUMMER: Fed to the crocodiles!

SLAVE: Damn these Zero Hour Contracts!

CLEO: So I need you to pick the speed up! get him back on his stroke! pick up the beat!

DRUMMER: But we're nearly at Alexandria!

CLEO: Get this barge a'rocking. Otherwise I won't 'get there' before we arrive!
Must you use those boring drums? You got bongos? I know, Caesar bought me all kinds of presents. He didn't know I was " any bodies" for The Eastern Half of the Roman Empire. He baught me this strange European bird, get that in here and get drumming to its rhythm. That had a nice pumping tempo to it.... What was it called? ... Oh the "woodpecker" .

Darren.

There may be too many jokes coming at you from all angles to make it feel 100% satisfying, but still, "too many jokes" is one of the mildest criticisms in comedy.

All good but yes, Darren.

Half as many votes as entries? Booo!

Forgot to enter AND vote >_<

www.youtube.com/watch?v=cT3I_dlnNHE&list=RDcT3I_dlnNHE