Skit Comp 15 - 23.10.15

Quality not quantity, as I say to Mum after ejaculating, and congratulations to GAPPY for winning again. PM me with a subject for next wank please.
Hence:

Votes - Points - Name
4 - 10 - Gappy
2 - 5 - Scratchyr
Special mention: Me, AdeO

Your new subject: FEAR (suggested by PLAYFULL). (When I saw 'Saw' I was so scared I shat myself. And I still haven't finished.)

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: 23.10.15

Overall Leader Board is now:
Position - Points - Name
1 - 35 - Scratchyr, Gappy
2 - 20 - Playfull
3 - 15 - Darren
4 - 10 - Funy HaHa
5 - 5 - Stylee Ting Ting

1: Oh, hi there. Are you going in?

2: Yep, that's us, about to go in.

3: Oh yes. Through the old door, there.

1: Well, after you.

2: No, no after you.

3: [Pause] I'm not looking forward to my first day, I have to admit.

1: Me neither. I heard that everybody beats the new bugs if they aren't wearing the right colour laces, and that this was totally allowed.

2: Yeah. I heard they have a sort of mongoose, but if you look at the mongoose, then they all shout "mongoose!" and make you kiss the mongoose.

3: Cripes. I heard that every Michaelmas someone has to wear a jumpsuit made of holly and dance the hucklebuck, but if they cry, they have to eat their own cummerbund.

2: And then they get thrashed for not having a cummerbund.

1: Harsh. My brother told me that if you don't get your latin trig finished by second innings, they call you the costermonger and make you eat flummies.

2: Eurgh, disgusting.

3: Yeah, disgusting...err, what are flummies?

1: I don't know. But they sound horrible.

2: Probably not as horrible as having to polish the inside of the science rhino if you forget the 13th page of Peyton Place.

3: Or having to sing into your own foreskin on Thrushpress Tuesday.

1: And I heard that there's this Phrenology master called Mr Fffffffthhhhhh who opens all the windows and punishes the boy who photosynthesises least.

2: Yes, I heard he whips them with his belt.

3: I heard he scrapes their knuckles with his ruler.

1: I heard he scrapes their knuckles with his belt...which is admittedly not that painful, but probably quite weird. Oh God. I really don't want to go in.

2: Me neither, so many older boys have told me about how literally deadly this school is - and I don't let the fact that they clearly haven't died quell my terror.

3: Let's not go in. Let's run away and start a new life somewhere.

1: Come on, lads, we'll be alright. There's strength in numbers, and if we stick together we'll never be beaten,

2&3: Yeah!

1: So, come on, let's join hands, and close our eyes and will up the power to beat the bullies.

2: Alright!

3: Us against them! Give me your hand, brother.

[Beat. Door opens to reveal sounds of carousing children]

1: Hey, everyone!

[Clamour stops]

Come and bully these two, they're totally gay!

[Cheering and stampeding feet]

Doc has tied Grumpy to a tree after after a row over who gets to kiss Snow White first before bed time. Doc is holding a meat cleaver.

Doc: Anything to say before I chop your nose off.

Grumpy: (teeth chattering) N-no.

Doc: What, nothing?

Grumpy: Hurry up and get it over with. It's too big anyway. So you'd be doing me a favour.

Doc: Well that's no good, is it? You're supposed to scream and say no, no, no, then start sobbing. How about I chop your head off?

Grumpy: Even better cos I'm ugly.

Doc: Limbs?

Grumpy: It would save me working down that mine for the next five hundred years.

Doc: (thinks for a minute) How about you sleep next to Happy?

Grumpy: (screams) No, no, no! He starts sobbing.

GLOSSED IN TRANSLATION

Nice day and welcoming and bye. She is feeling the secretary telephonically of Drive Drives, Street National, Downs Town. I'm scared of not being in you at moments so for favours let yourself massage stalking the signal acoustics. Beep!
Bye and hello! I me call John Thomas and I have thirty. I ejaculate from English but come in Romans from twelves years old. It would like me to introduce my bit into yous and demand more far informations circling your company. I have married and my wife, he likes it but is being human so he knows her chickens, to say so. I have children a lot. In my time inexpensive I do animals, three pussies like my particulars, one is Clear one Especially and one has called for Dick, but I don't please dogs. I would desiderouses work for your society because it likes mine, we have much freedoms in the bag and I don't lose their weather. My sex is macho. I work like teachers at varied posts in far places how Brazilians. It begs me to kindly ask them to mail its run of life at my address of Emails, is good for him? Thank them in befores. I feel myself well at all times and I like hand jobs at the essence but not during hours.
Happy birthday.
Your Johnny
Googletranslate

A man stands with his back to the camera. Another, Cremonese, is seated.

CREMONESE: I believe in America. (beat) I come to you seeking justice. I come to you on the day of your daughter's wedding to seek your help. To seek vengeance.

DON LUKA T'ME: It's a sick world we live in, Cremonese. Shame spreads as disease. There is no honour anymore.

(Don Luka T'Me turns round. He is a Godfather figure, with huge, pendulous breasts. Cremonese is horrified, and doesn't know where to look).

DON LUKA T'ME: (turning around) And can I tell you, Cremonese? We stand here and let it happen. How can we call ourselves men?

CREMONESE: I...I don't know.

DON LUKA T'ME: You play the game well, Cremonese. You come to me, Don Luka T'me on the day of my daughters wedding, to seek a service. (leaning over him) What do you want? What is the service?

CREMONESE: (nervous) Two men. They take payments to protect my store. They terrorise me.

DON LUKA T'ME: These men...how big are they?

CREMONESE: They are bigger than me, but not as big as you Don Luka T'Me.

DON LUKA T'ME: Ah. Good. Well, you think I should go to their homes, their stores and terrorise them? (BEAT) How is that different? That is not honour. That is just...tit for tat.

CREMONESE: Yes, Don Luka T'Me.

DON LUKA T'ME: (anger building) But that doesn't matter to you, does it? You see only power, straining and spilling out and you want, you want it for yourself.

CREMONESE: No!

DON LUKA T'ME: You want me to look like a fool? An idiot? A boob?

CREMONESE: No, Don Luka.

DON LUKA T'ME: I reach out, Cremonese, and clutch you to the family bosom, and you milk me and milk me and milk me until I am spent.

CREMONESE: Please, Don Luka T'Me, I come to you for your...

DON LUKA T'ME: (interrupting at his most angry) My eyes are here, Cremonese!

CREMONESE: Sorry, Don Luka.

DON LUKA T'ME: Get out, you snivelling little man. It's the day of my daughter's wedding, there is work of much importance to be done.

Cremonese leaves. After a few moments, Don Luka T'Me starts to swing his breasts round and giggle.

1906 Vienna, a consulting room.

THERAPIST: I vil begin counting, by the time I reach the number funf you vil be in a state of hypnosis and vee can probe the root of your... Anxiety...
Eins....

PATIENT: Well, I wouldn't go so far as to call it 'anxiety' Doctor...A mild sense of unease, perhaps...

THERAPIST: Try to relax.... Zwei...

PATIENT: An ongoing undercurrent of foreboding?..A creeping sensation of doom? A deep seated nagging miasma of woe? Night sweats, palpitations, mental torment, a drowning in the inescapable forces of darkness and chaos...

THERAPIST: ...Yes, the usual then? Listen to the soothing tone of my voice...drei...

PATIENT: Yes, what is this feeling? As you say, the first step in controlling these emotions is to name them...

THERAPIST: Vier...

PATIENT: Fear! Yes "Fear".. Thank you Doctor, I feel better already!

THERAPIST: No! No, ...I meant the number Vier! You're meant to be under by funf! I shall have to keep counting... Sex, semen, hate, nun und insane....Ooh what happened there? I may have discovered something by accident! My buried neurosis 'slipped' out unconsciously! - I can name this phenomenon after myself! Future Psychotherapists will say "I made a ' Helmutt Nettelgruban slip' "...

PATIENT: Why can't you name it after me? ...

THERAPIST: You?... Herr...um?

PATIENT: Why can't you ever remember my name?!! ...It's Hitler.

THERAPIST: No-one's interested in you... Or that bed-wetting son of yours!...

PATIENT2 (bursting in): Herr Doctor! I can't stop offering celebrities small portions of fruit! - " Would you like a piece Brosnan? Would you like a slice Stalone? Take a segment Freud".

THE YEAR IS "))"
(Or 2002 without CAPS LOCK on)
YVETTE FIELDING IS IN A MEETING WITH HER EXECUTIVE PRODUCER

Exec:
Yvette, it's your company, It's your show. I don't understand why you want to quit.

Yvette:
I just don't believe in Ghosts, So I don't think I can front this type of show.

Exec:
Not at all? Well maybe if you did the show, then after a while you might start to believe, just like the guys from Rentaghost

Yvette:
It's not going to happen. It's all bullshit & you know it.

Exec:
I'll tell you what! I'll just leave the contract here, please have a think about it

EXEC LEAVES
YVONNE LOOKS AT THE CONTRACT
AS THE PRODUCER & DIRECTOR COME IN

Producer:
So have you signed up Yvette?

Yvette:
I'll tell you exactly the same as I told the Executive producer

Director:
Executive Producer?

Yvette:
Yes he was saying that I might change my mind

Producer:
But we don't have an executive producer

Yvette:
Yes we do, he was just here a second ago

Director:
We haven't had an executive producer for years

Producer:
The last executive producer we had committed suicide 5 years ago in this very room.

Yvette:
Oh my God, you don't think...

Director:
Yes I do

Yvette:
Have you got a pen?

THE PRODUCER NOW HAS A SHEET OVER HIS HEAD

Producer:
Wooooh

Director:
Not now Des

Loved Daren's, but the ending was a bit weird (albeit nice wordplay), so I shall vote Steve (ignoring the fact that officially the post was 7 minutes utsde the submission window ).

Hmm! Difficult and weird. I'm going to go for Gappy.

Steve.

Darren

Steve for me.

Gappy for me - I thought it had a distinct flavour of otterfox.

Could not find time to finish my KKK entry. Which is ok, as when I re read it it was a joke short of having one joke in it...