Stenchcrinks 12 - 20.9.17

Cool has-beans so congratulations to ZEPP for wanking. Your prize is to PM me with a subject for next wank please.
Hence:

Votes - Points - Name
3 - 10 - Zepp
1 - 5 - Crindy

Your next subject is BREAKFAST (suggested by Crindy). Making me hungry.
Rules:
One entry/vote per person. Anyone can enter regardless of colour, sexual preferences or inside leg measurement, except Italo-US meese.
Can be a sketch, joke, lyric or anything else as long as it's yours and vaguely linked to the topic. Please try to post just your entry/vote.
You can edit your entry as much as you want, up until the closing time.

Competition closes: 10.9.17

Scoreboard is now:
Position - Points - Name
1 - 15 - Crindy
2 - 10 - Zepp
3 - 5 - Gappy

EVEL: [AMERICAN AND LACKADAISICAL, IF YOU CAN MANAGE IT] Morning, Bedford.

BEDFORD: [STUFFY BRITISH BUTLER] Felicitations of the morning to you, sir.

EVEL: Hey, cool. Is everything set up for the jump later?

BEDFORD: Indeed, the arrangements have been satisfactorily completed. If you would be so kind as step this way, Mr Knievel.

EVEL: Oh, hey, Bedford, that's a real swell spread, but I don't need breakfast.

BEDFORD: Sir?

EVEL: I had my usual: Jim Beam thick shake and a cheroot.

BEDFORD: Ah - I fear sir is under a misapprehension. These jentacular comestibles are not intended for consumption.

EVEL: What now?

BEDFORD: This, sir, is not breakfast.

EVEL: But it has all kippers and shit. Anyway, no time for that, let's check out the jump site.

BEDFORD: And that, sir, is where the misapprehension resides. This is, in fact, the venue I have procured for your latest spectacle of death defiance. You may start by circling the grapefruit, and then you might consider pulling some, what I believe are referred to as [PRONOUNCE THE "H"] wheelies. Just over by the Shreddies.

EVEL: Huh?

BEDFORD: And, to complete the entertainment, you could jump over no fewer than 7 slices of granary toast.

EVEL: Bedford! I can't jump over toast.

BEDFORD: Oh, it would be laying down, sir.

EVEL: No, I mean, I *can* jump over toast! But that's obviously not the kind of stunt worthy of the name Evel Knievel.

BEDFORD: May I take this opportunity remind you that your name is, in fact, Robert Craig Knievel Junior. If your late father were here today, he'd be so dismayed to hear you were not utilising your given name. I would say to him, Robert Craig Knievel Senior, I'd say, have you heard that Robert Craig Knievel Junior is no longer calling himself Robert Craig Knievel Junior, but employs the epithet Evel, and furthermore -

EVEL: Bedford! Jumping over toast will not put people's hearts in their mouths.

BEDFORD: There would eggs on the toast, sir.

EVEL: That hardsly makes it exciting.

BEDFORD: Did I neglect to mention the eggs would be devilled?

EVEL: I don't care! I'm not doing it. I'll go into town and find something decent to leap over. A chasm or a burning bus.

BEDFORD: I regret, sir, I don't recall coming across either of those in Hartlepool town centre.

EVEL: Yeah, well, what would you know? I don't even know why I have a butler. Bedford, you're fired!

BEDFORD: Very good, sir.

EVEL: Damn good! So now I'll - hey, where in hell's my motorbike?

BEDFORD: It is in the garage, sir. I took the liberty of making some small alterations to the design.

EVEL: What? But I tweaked that Harley to run to perfection, you dumbass.

BEDFORD: Indeed, sir. But now, I am happy to say, I have added an extra seat to accommodate your chauffeur...

"Your Dong" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=13GD78Bmo8s

It's a trickle and runny, this semen inside
My bottom is close to your squeezy backside
I don't hump much fanny but squirt out much jizz
I'll bukkake red eye and bite your pillow

If I was a tranny, I'd glow and I'd blow
Like a tran who shakes love juice in your rusty trombone
My load is not much but it's the most I can goo
My jizz from my dong, well this schlong must spew

When my cock swells for buggery, it soaks your thong
It's gay like quim dimple but wow I just cum
I poke your dick eye
I poke you dick eye, splat my quick wand like a priest
How wanked and full arse is while you're in my dook

I crapped out my splooge, you shit off my boss
Bell end skeeted, perversions, bell ends knot me corn hole
Butt f**ked bums been shining while I boffed your dong
Dick's for poon tang but pooh tube keep me turned on

So slip through my back door, I'll shoot my wad up your back pew
Your sperm from foreskin, could come green or just splooge
Any wank the thing is hot and squeezes keen
Your ass has sweetest eye I ever creamed

When my cock swells for buggery, it soaks your thong
It's gay like quim dimple but wow I just cum
I poke your dick eye
I poke you dick eye, splat my quick wand like a priest
How wanked and full arse is while you're in my dook

INT. TRENDY BAR - NIGHT

A WOMAN sits at the bar. A MAN approaches her with confidence.

MAN
Excuse me, hi, I don't normally do this, but I saw you across the room and I just had to ask you: How do you like your eggs in the morning?

WOMAN
Excuse me?

MAN
Come on, you know what I mean, hmm? How do you like your eggs in the morning?

WOMAN
Ugh, right, I see. I'm a single woman, on her own, in a bar, so like every other creepy bloke in here, you thought you'd come and try it on with me?

MAN
Oh, I--Um, no, that's not--

WOMAN
See, this is the problem with men, y'know? I just wanted was a bit of peace and quiet, a quick drink after work, and instead I get leering twats like you slobbering over me with your half-arsed chat-up lines and your--

MAN
No, sorry, madam, you've misunderstood. I'm doing market research?

WOMAN
What?

The Man produces a clipboard and smiles apologetically.

MAN
For the British Egg Industry Council? We're just trying to get an accurate nationwide picture of how people like their eggs in the morning.

WOMAN
Oh. So when you asked me how I like my eggs in the morning, that was actually just a completely innocent enquiry designed to gauge my preferred method of preparing a plate of eggs for breakfast?

MAN
Exactly. I would also have accepted 'I don't eat eggs for breakfast because I don't really understand how cholesterol works'.

WOMAN
Oh, I see. I'm sorry I--

MAN
Well, you know what? You should be sorry! I mean, this is the problem with women! Every time a man so much as looks at you, your defences are up, and you're already preparing to assume the worst about any sort of social interaction--

WOMAN
Um, no, this is a bit weird, but all that anger and outrage just then...I was actually doing a bit for a hidden camera show.

MAN
What?

WOMAN
Yeah, there's a cameraman over there filming us.

She gestures over to a CAMERAMAN hidden behind a large pot plant.

MAN
Oh, I see.

WOMAN
Yeah, y'know, it's one of those funny TV shows where someone goes crazy in front of a member of the public and then we all laugh at their bemused reaction.

MAN
Is that actually funny?

WOMAN
I mean, it was in 1987, and if it ain't broke...?

MAN
Right. I think I need a drink. Barman?

A BARMAN walks over to them, slightly uncertainly.

BARMAN
Oh, right. Um, actually, this is kinda embarrassing, but this isn't a real bar.

WOMAN
What?

BARMAN
Yeah, this whole place was purpose-built as a location for a new structured-reality TV series following the crazy and occasionally factual exploits of a group of sexy twentysomething social media stars.

They look around to see the bar is filled with SEXY TWENTYSOMETHING SOCIAL MEDIA STARS, busy with their phones.

MAN
Oh, ok, that explains a lot.

BARMAN
Yeah, the producers found that actually paying to film in a proper bar was costing too much, so they built their own. I'm just an extra, I've got no barman experience. At all.
(then, surreptitiously)
Although, if you're interested, I might have something better than alcohol for you...

He quietly pulls a small bag of white powder from his shirt sleeve and offers it to them.

Suddenly, the social media stars stand up and pull off their clothes, revealing POLICE UNIFORMS underneath. They draw guns and point them at the BARMAN. One OFFICER steps forward.

OFFICER
Ok, nobody move! This is the police!

The Man and Woman cower as the Officer cuffs the Barman.

MAN
What the hell?!

OFFICER
Sorry, bit awkward. This entire social media meta-reality TV series concept was all an elaborate sting operation against the country's biggest cocaine ring.

WOMAN
What?!

OFFICER
Yeah, we knew this guy was involved somehow, all we needed was evidence. And fortunately, we also knew that he had a weakness for wanting to appear in derivative structured-reality television shows revolving around the partly fictional goings on of a group of physically attractive but mentally vacant wannabe celebrities.

BARMAN
(bitterly)
It's my one vice. Apart from the cocaine.

The Man and Woman gingerly get back to their feet as the Barman is led away by the officers.

WOMAN
Ugh, great! Anyone else?!

GOD(O.S)
Um, well, if we're all admitting stuff...

MAN
Is that...God?

GOD(O.S)
If you like. So, um, this is a bit embarrassing, but actually the entire human race was a bit of a prank I was playing on one of my friends. And to tell you the truth, I'm a bit bored of it now.

WOMAN
Bored of it?!

GOD(O.S)
Yeah, it's not really funny any more. So, I mean, I know technically I'm supposed to do this in a big fire and brimstone way, but that's a lot of effort, so if it's all the same with you I'm just going to erase humanity from existence. Everything else can stay, the cats, the dogs, the whales, they're all supposed to be there.

MAN
But...wait...you can't...!

GOD(O.S)
Ugh, fine. I'll give you one chance to save yourselves. One question to the almighty. Go.

The Man and Woman look at each other in a panic, their minds blank. Eventually:

MAN
Um...so, God? How do you like your eggs in the morning?

GOD(O.S)
Pervert.

The human race VANISHES from existence.

THE END

ADVERT

PRESENTER:
Wheat? Flowers? Milk? Trout? We all have our favourite breakfast. But what if we didn't have a favourite? In fact what if we didn't have breakfast at all? For years breakfast has had the monopoly on early morning meals. But breakfast, as written somewhere or other does not traditionally start until 7 a.m. What if you were peckish at a 5 o'clock type time? Around 5 o'clock for instance? Too early for breakfast but also far too late for supper. What do you do? - That's where we come in. Introducing 'What Do You Do?' A book that looks at that very question and for a limited time, looks at two other ways of asking that question. For example if you get 'What Do You Do?' now we will also throw in the questions 'what to do?' and 'what's to be done?' absolutely free. But that's not all; we will also dedicate a full page to a picture of a clock set to 5 o'clock to remind you of the that time that's not breakfast time so that you will never have to miss missing breakfast again.

TERMS AND CONDITIONS VOICE
'What Do You Do?' is available at all 5 o clocks; except 5 p.m. May not include any instructions on what to do. Terms & Conditions apply. Eat something instead of breakfast as part of a food diet. We have no idea what to actually do.

Crindy's is excellent, as per usual, but somehow it's Otterfox who's tickling me most this week.

Michael, I am becoming worried about you, if this is the first place your mind goes when confronted with the innocuous theme "breakfast" - although I have been singing that opening line to myself for a day now, so I guess you win.

gappy this week. Though I also enjoyed Otterfox's.

And yes, I might think twice about going for breakfast at Michael's place.

Wait till you see my spotted dick. Quite a mouthful.
I had to toss but Otterfox came first.

All very different and all very good. Even Mikey Monkhouse sinking to new depths Crindy ending the world pips it.