Skit Comp 3 - 11.10.15

Awesome wank but ultimate winner is PLAYFULL. PM me with a subject for next wank please.
Hence:

Votes - Points - Name
2 - 10 - Playfull
2 - 5 - Scratchyr, Darren
Special mention: Flavian, Gappy

Your new subject: PUNCTUATION (suggested by GAPPY).

Rules:
One entry/vote per person. Anyone can enter regardless of colour, sexual preferences or inside leg measurement, except mongeese.
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: 11.10.15

Overall Leader Board is now:
Position - Points - Name
1 - 30 - Scratchyr
2 - 25 - Gappy
3 - 20 - Playfull
4 - 15 - Darren
5 - 10 - Funy HaHa
6 - 5 - Stylee Ting Ting

BUTCHER: Ah, good morning, sir. You're the new chap in the village, aren't you? Bought the Marston place.

FOTHERINGAY: That's right. Not so new now, though, been here for 5 weeks.

BUTCHER: 5 weeks? Well I stand corrected. What can I do for you?

FOTHERINGAY: I won this £50 voucher in the meat raffle on Friday.

BUTCHER: Ah, the meat raffle. Been enjoying the local fun already, have we? [Quickly] Although I shouldn't say "already" as you've been in that ancient ancestral home for 5 whole weeks.

FOTHERINGAY: Yes, well, there's not much else to do at the weekend round here, is there? I suppose it's meat raffles or nothing now that witchcraft is outlawed.

BUTCHER: [Fake] Ha. Ha. Ha. Witchcraft, sir, very clever. So, what can I interest you in with that £50? We have some fine sirloin steaks, but of course the local pork is our speciality.

FOTHERINGAY: No thank you, I'm a vegetarian, you see.

BUTCHER: Oh, you'll stick out round here, sir: 30 generations of Marstons lived in your house, meat-eaters all...but I'm sure you know best. Some eggs, then, perhaps.

FOTHERINGAY: Well, no, I'm a vegan.

BUTCHER: What's that sir?

FOTHERINGAY: It's when...well, no meat or dairy, thanks.

BUTCHER: Eggs aren't dairy, sir.

FOTHERINGAY: No meat, dairy or...whatever category eggs fall into.

BUTCHER: Then I regret your winning s are worthless, why not give them away? To one of the many friends you've doubtless made in those 5 long, long weeks.

FOTHERINGAY: Well, how about this? I shall give you the £50 if you paint out the apostrophes on your signs.

BUTCHER: Apostrophes, what are they, sir?

FOTHERINGAY: They go before the S in plurals. No, wait, rather they *don't* go before the S in plurals.

BUTCHER: Oh, the floaty commas, sir. What's wrong with them?

FOTHERINGAY: They don't belong there.

BUTCHER: [Quiet] And yet they've been there for more than 5 weeks.

FOTHERINGAY: Pardon?

BUTCHER: Oh, nothing, sir. Do go on.

FOTHERINGAY: Look, you can't have an apostrophe before the S in chops.

BUTCHER: Never, sir?

FOTHERINGAY: No, nev- well, alright sometimes. If you had a sign reading "No chop's as good as a local butcher's chop".

BUTCHER: We do have one, sir.

FOTHERINGAY: Where?

BUTCHER: Look: "We sell the best chop's"

FOTHERINGAY: That's not the same.

BUTCHER: I'm sure you know best, sir [Cough] 5 weeks [Cough]. Anything else?

FOTHERINGAY: Well, whilst we're here, the numbers. Look, where is says "£1.60 per pound". Why do you colour in the sides of the zero like that?

BUTCHER: That's because we colour in the edges of the 6.

FOTHERINGAY: Yes, but you're not supposed to do that either!

BUTCHER: I see. So the floaty commas are in the wrong place, and the numbers are in the right place, but are the wrong shape?

FOTHERINGAY: Yes.

BUTCHER: Although they're still the same numbers?

FOTHERINGAY: Yes, but...anyway, you don't need to put the slash after the price and write "per", otherwise what you've written is "£1.60 per per pound"

BUTCHER: Sorry, sir?

FOTHERINGAY: Per per.

BUTCHER: Per per?

FOTHERINGAY: Per per!

BUTCHER: Pick up a Penguin. Perhaps you're confusing me with the confectioner's. Understandable., you've not been here long.

FOTHERINGAY: I -

BUTCHER: So, for £50, you want me to change some bits of my signs?

FOTHERINGAY: The wrong bits, yes.

BUTCHER: Well, when you put it like that...no.

FOTHERINGAY: Why ever not? It's £50 for almost no work.

BUTCHER: It's not, sir. You forget that we donated the vouchers to the raffle in first place, it's not actual money.

FOTHERINGAY: So? You'll still not have to lose £50 worth of meat.

BUTCHER: I don't think so.

FOTHERINGAY: Yes, of course, you will, you imbecile.

BUTCHER: I think not. Because, of course, our wholsesale price is less than the retail price.

FOTHERINGAY: Oh, right, yes.

BUTCHER: It doesn't cost us £1.60 *per* pound, do you follow?

FOTHERINGAY: Yes, yes, yes.

BUTCHER: Perhaps, sir, you don't have the mathematical, ahem, *chops*. What's your job again, sir?

FOTHERINGAY: Economist.

BUTCHER: Ah, that explains it - modern day witchcraft. I dare say maths works differently in the city - seeing as the numbers are different shapes, it must do, I suppose. Well, I'll tell you what, sir, as a new - very very very new - member of our community, I'll happily accede to your wishes. I'll erase the floaty commas in no time at all. No time at all. Say, 5 weeks?

FOTHERINGAY: Err...right. Thank you. Good day.

BUTCHER: Best wishes, sir. [Pause. Phone dials] Hello, grand vizier? Call the coven, there's a newbie who's cruising for a cursing. [Manic] A-ha-ha-ha-ha!

I'm sick of people being vulgar, quoting punctuation marks verbatim and making sexist assumptions. Just put a f**king full stop on it, lads.
What punctuation is useful in construction? Brackets.
Which Gospel writer is useful in punctuation? Mark.
I don't understand Latin, but nil desperandum. I used to be a Latin lover; now I prefer Greek.
I've lost interest in punctuation. I just can't see the point.
Is Father Christmas' cousin a relative Clause?
When Johnny Rotten writes, does he use punk-tuation?
My teacher said the worst thing you can do is split an infinitive. He was later outed as a pedo. So splitting a kid is okay, just not an infinitive.

The first draft of my first ever skit. Be kind...

INT: DAY

A conservation lab behind the scenes at The British Museum. In the centre of a room lined with shelves chock full of ancient artefacts, a research assistant in a lab coat, Perkins, is stood at a table carefully examining a fragment of parchment. A frantic curator, Prof, bursts in through the door.

PROF: (Gasping for breath) Perkins.

PERKINS: Morning Professor.

(Waving Perkins greeting away with one hand, Prof leans on the table trying desperately to catch his breath, gasping between words as he does so.)

PROF: No. No. Call the Police. The museum. There's. There's, been a break-in.

PERKINS: Oh shit! (Picks up phone and starts to dial) Have they taken much?

PROF: No, no, nothing's missing. (Breathes in deeply) Didn't you notice it?

PERKINS: (On phone) Police please.

PROF: Some uncultured heathens have broken in and vandalised the Egyptian Gallery.
The Rosetta Stone has been defaced beyond recognition. It's completely and utterly destroyed!

PERKINS: Ahhh. (Slowly replacing the handset) No, it's alright Professor. That was me.

PROF: You?

PERKINS: Yeah, I got in early this morning and umm, corrected it. Thought I'd surprise you.

PROF: (Irritated) What on earth are you on about man?

PERKINS: Well, as this is The British Museum - one of, if not the foremost museum in the world - then it kinda seemed a bit silly to leave such shoddy workmanship out front on full display. So, I fixed it.

PROF: Are you telling me that you're the one who's just smashed holes all over one of the most iconic and important artefacts in our collection?

PERKINS: Punctuation.

PROF: (Exasperated) What?

PERKINS: Not holes, it's punctuation. (Slight laugh) Those Ancient Egyptians really were shockingly bad at grammar and punctuation.

PROF: (Looks up in despair) Oh dear God!

PERKINS: One bit went birdie, eye, sideways woman, lion, bigger birdie. Obviously that's a list, so I corrected it. It now goes birdie, comma, eye, comma, sideways woman, comma, lion, comma, and bigger birdie, full stop.

PROF: You've punctuated the hieroglyphs on a priceless relic that dates back to 196 BC?

PERKINS: Yep. It's got an Oxford comma and everything now. (Pause) 196BC? Wow, that is old! Not really surprised it's lasted this long though, that thing is rock bloody solid. Seriously, I had to really go at it with the ole lump hammer and chisel.

PROF: Chisel! Are you completely mad?

PERKINS: Nah. A little OCD, maybe, but ...

PROF: (Irate) Perkins! This is The British Museum's Department of f**king Conservation and Scientific f**king Research! We're supposed to be preserving these treasures for future generations, not, not, poking them full of sodding holes!

PERKINS: (Under breath) Punctuation.

PROF: (Seething) There is no cocking punctuation in Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics! You've just destroyed one of the world's most significant archeological finds, not to mention one of the two most important and valuable items in this museum's whole collection, you f**king moron!

PERKINS: Oh. Yeah, about that. Err, perhaps you might want to avoid the Parthenon display for the time being.

PROF: (Panicked) Why? What have you done?

PERKINS: Fixed em.

PROF: Fixed em?

PERKINS: You know I put the footings in for my new conservatory at the weekend, well, I had some concrete left over. (Sheepishly) I've repaired the Elgin Marbles.

PROF: (Places head on table and begins gently sobbing) I've dedicated my entire life to the protection and study of this collection, and you've gone and destroyed everything in a single morning. Forty bollocksing years of delicate conservation work and painstaking research down the f**king drain!

PERKINS: Research? Umm. (Perkins holds up the document he'd been examining) Don't suppose you've ever researched the best way to remove Tippex from papyrus, have you?

INT. MAYOR'S OFFICE. DAY.

A large television screen shows the face of a robotic villain (EVILTRON, who is shouting at people in the room, the MAYOR and a POLICEMAN.

EVILTRON:
Hope is futile. Soon I will claim your dominion as my own and destruction will rain upon you like meteors of death. Eviltron has spoken. Ha ha ha. Ah Ha hahaha

The screen goes blank.

MAYOR:
My god. Who will save us from this peril?

A superhero (BOLD CLAIM MAN) crashes through the window. He has an exclamation mark on his chest.

POLICEMAN:
Who are you?

BOLD CLAIM MAN:
I am Bold Claim Man.

Another superhero arrives (SMALL PRINT BOY). He has an asterisk on his chest.

SMALL PRINT BOY:
And I am Small Print Boy, the Terms and Conditions Wonder.

MAYOR:
Thank goodness you're both here. You have to stop Eviltron.

BOLD CLAIM MAN:
I will save the day!

SMALL PRINT BOY:
No more than forty five percent of municipal buildings destroyed within a fifteen mile radius of initial confrontation. Survival rate of no less than sixty five percent of humans aged between twelve and fifty years or age. Excludes henchmen and idiots. Six a.m. to six p.m Monday to Friday. Does not include bank holidays.

MAYOR:
But he's created an army of robot monsters. How can you possibly win against such odds?

BOLD CLAIM MAN:
My vast arsenal of gadgets, weapons and vehicles will level the playing field!

SMALL PRINT BOY:
Each sold separately.

BOLD CLAIM MAN:
He will fall! I am the vanquisher of nemesis!

BOLD CLAIM MAN flies out of the window.

SMALL PRINT BOY:
When asked, two hundred and twelve out of four hundred and twenty nemesis agreed they experienced the appearance of being vanquished.

SMALL PRINT BOY begins to gingerly climb through the broken window.

SMALL PRINT BOY(CONT):
See website for full details. Text UNSAVE to stop all heroics.

END.

Well, that might have been a small week (my fault for choosing a weird theme, probably, sorry), but it was a good one. Liked all 3 very much.

Michael's war of gagtrition was great, breaking me down with a stream of pearls and groaners, and AdeO's was pretty great for a first attempt - a bit of flab but a lovely premise. Still, has to be Scratchy for me, once again, for one of the few sketches I find I can visualise perfectly, and end up casting and directing in my ,mind.

Top marks

Small but perfectly formed. Gappy again.

Hi, low in volume but high in quality! Nice premise from AdeO, Good work from Gappy - (I thought it felt a little personal - like he had a real FOTHERINGAY in mind!) and Michael, funny gags as usual.

Liked them all but agree with Gappy re Scratchyr could really see 'Small print boy'. So Scratchyr for me.

BTW I did really intend to post but ended up work busy during the week then Beer festival Saturday and premier of 'I believe in Miracles' at the City ground Sunday!

Quote: playfull @ 12th October 2015, 4:02 PM BST

I thought it felt a little personal - like he had a real FOTHERINGAY in mind!

View original

I did - it was me!

Gappy for me.

Good to be back. Hi all.

It's close, but for me, Gappy just edges it.

I do struggle with excess flab in both my writing and my physique. I also have a problem with length, but unfortunately this impediment only extends to my writing.

I preferred AdeO's concept and although a fine attempt for first time, Gappy's sketch was the best of this week.