Sboytd Cjhgfs 5 - 13.10.17

Cule has-beans so c**tgratulations to CRINDY, GAPPY and PATRICK for winkin'. Your prize is to PM me with a subject for next wank apiss pleased.
Hence:

Votes - Points - Name
1 -10 - Crindy, Gappy, Patrick

Your next topic is WITNESS (sugessted by OTTERFUCKS).
Rules: One entry / vote per human being. Anywank can enter regardless of sexual preference, inside ball measurement or humidity of gums, except Matt Cardle because he has kissed my favourite Spice Girl Mel C.
Can be a sketch, one-liner, song, whatever the f**k you like, as long as 'tis humorous and in some way linked to the topic.
Edit as much as you wank till it closes, i.e. 12.10.17.

Scorebored is now:
30 - Crindy
20 - Gappy
10 - Otterfox, Zepp, Patrick

[PROSECUTION is addressing the court, thumbs in lapels, the whole thing. ]

PROSECUTION: Mr Spotty, I know it's hard, but can you to show us where Mr Brown touched you, using this doll?

[PROSECUTION holds up a little tiny doll. They turn to the witness box and we see BROWN, a stage ventriloquist in a dinner jacket, with Mr Spotty, a glove puppet, on his right hand. BROWN moves Mr Spotty slowly and points to the doll's bottom. BROWN looks crestfallen]

PROSECUTION: Well done, Mr Spotty. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I put it to you...yes? Mr Spotty, do you want to say something?

[BROWN reluctantly moves Mr Spotty up to his ear, waggling his hand. He nods.]

BROWN: Mr Spotty says...he's...even doing it right now.

[The Jury gasp, and BROWN's face falls]

DEFENCE: Objection! Your honour, this is needlessly convoluted, for a child bumming gag.

JUDGE: Over-ruled!

DEFENCE: But your honour-

JUDGE: Hah, talk to the hand!

[JUDGE lifts their right arm from the desk (or whatever it's called where the judge sits) and we see they have their own puppet, a little girl. He holds the puppet right up in front of him; a dsecond later he extends one finger so that the puppet is showing her hand. Zoom in on this to show that the glove puppet itself has a glove puppet, and that this is also extending a "hand". ON this hand is another puppet and that too is...the universe explodes]

Can you repeat the instruction in the Queen's English?

INT. BAR. DAY.

OLD-SCHOOL DETECTIVE (DRAKE) WITH FEDORA HAT AND CIGARETTE IN HAND IS QUESTIONING A DISHEVELED-LOOKING MAN (BARNEY) WITH TOUSLED HAIR AND TATTERED SHIRT.

DRAKE (WEARILY):
Alright, let's go through this one more time; What time did you arrive at the bar?

BARNEY:
I'd always have my lunch here during the week and I remember how I found it unusual that it was already freezing at that time of day.

DRAKE:
And that time of day was...?

BARNEY:
Freezing.

DRAKE:
And what time were the clocks?

BARNEY:
Oh, the clocks must have been five past one if they were a day.

DRAKE:
So what happened then?

BARNEY:
I ordered my usual tea and goose sandwiches, took a seat here at the window and started drinking and biting and eating the stuff I'd just bought.

DRAKE:
Still relatively normal.

BARNEY:
Then a blue sedan pulled up at the corner of Morton's chemist and a man got out with a tea cosy on his head. I watched him throw a load of apples into the clock tower and then speed away.

DRAKE:
No longer normal. Did you notice anything strange about the car?

BARNEY:
Not when it was pulled up but when it was in motion it looked like there was a rabbit in the back seat eating a cornetto.

DRAKE:
Highly odd now.

BARNEY:
Exactly! Who eats an ice-cream in sub-zero temperatures!?

DRAKE SIGHS HEAVILY.

DRAKE:
Let's skip forward shall we. Tell me about the actual-

BARNEY (LOUDLY):
After the rabbit my attention was quickly drawn back inside as I could hear an argument taking place in the kitchen.

DRAKE:
Oh yes?

BARNEY:
Yes. The lady kept repeating something about the dust of smoke, the dust of smoke and the chef was giving out about how someone had accidentally eaten a nest.

DRAKE (EXASPERATED):
(whispers) Jesus Christ! (normal tone) And then...?

BARNEY:
Then I looked back out the frosted window and I could have sworn I saw a horse drinking pigeon shit out of a straw.

DRAKE SLAMS THE TABLE.

DRAKE (ANGRY):
What's the point!? Can you tell me that? What's the bloody point!? With you dust of smoke, apples in clocks and pigeon shit. What am I supposed to do with that!!?

HE IS INTERRUPTED BY BARNEY SNEEZING EIGHT TIMES.

DRAKE (REVELATION)
Wait a second. You don't sound too great yourself. Maybe you were out in the cold last night; just as the incident occurred perhaps?

BARNEY:
No. I had a bit of a sneezing fit last night and when I woke up this morning my nose was gone to shit.

DRAKE:
Your hair too, it looks very much askew. Like you were maybe up half the night?

BARNEY SPRINGS TO HIS FEET DEEPLY INSULTED.

BARNEY (INSULTED):
I am entitled to have whatever hair I have on my own head please!

DRAKE:
Alright, alright, cool your jets....Jesus, you're after spilling hot coffee all over my hands with the force of that jump and you don't see me prancing around...sit down and we'll get to the crux of the case.

BARNEY:
I most certainly will not!! I'm heading straight to Harry Bjerken's salon for a cut, trim, blowdry, wash, towel dry, wet trim, highlights, lowlights, relaxed, straightened and curled in that order and it's all because of you!

DRAKE:
Go then you absolute cretin! You just wasted my whole morning. The worst person I've ever questioned, by a huge margin. Nothing makes any sense with you with your goose sandwiches and eating nests, not to mention your horrible hair of course.

BARNEY WHIMPERS AND RUNS OUT THE DOOR.
DRAKE SIDLES UP TO THE COUNTER.

DRAKE:
Coffee and a sandwich.

ATTENDANT:
What kind of sandwich would you like; goose or nest?

DRAKE:
Jesus Christ! Nevermind, just give me something to cool down my hands.

ATTENDANT:
I'm afraid we did have some cornetto's in the freezer but the rabbits have eaten the last of them.

DRAKE (REALISATION):
He was telling the truth....Oh Jesus! Barney wait!!

DRAKE HASTILY RUNS FOR THE DOOR.

END.

BECOMING AN ACTRESS
Let a producer f**k you. Let him spray his jizz up your left nostril, fistf**k your butt so hard his wristwatch gets tangled round your tonsils, splay you on all fours like a stuck pig. He'll feed you his spit and piss and shit, daub every inch of your body in spunk, dress you like the mother he never had or the child he was never allowed to be or 'that f**king SLUT who turned me down on 6 February 1989, not so f**king clever now, are we, WHORE?' Let him whip your back till it's a mesh of scars, funnel red ants into your pussy, make Genghis Khan look like Stan Laurel... Well done! The job's yours!
BEING AN ACTRESS
Well, self-respect is the main thing. If a guy asks for an autograph, give it and then move away quickly: he may be dangerous. Should you spot the same boy twice in a year, report him as a stalker: your integrity is key! It's safer with a bodyguard as witness. Maybe a producer makes advances on set: denounce him for harassment and a colleague will pipe up the same thing happened to her 5850 years ago. If a filthy paparazzi photographer snaps you sunbathing, demand to have the film as your body's yours and his intentions may not be honourable. But most of all girls, DO look after yourself. Eat healthily, take regular exercise and avoid those nasty cigarettes. Just because you're a celeb, you don't have to compromise. It's YOUR body, and NO ONE can f**k with it! GIRL POWER!

INT. OFFICE - DAY

CAROL sits working at her desk as BOB approaches and grabs her stapler.

BOB
Just gonna borrow this, ok?

CAROL
I suppose so. But you're gonna bring it back, right?

BOB
Of course! I swear I'll bring your stapler back, as God is my witness--

CAROL
I'm an atheist, Bob.

BOB
So?

CAROL
So, that little proclamation doesn't really fill me with any real confidence, vis-à-vis the successful returning of my stapler. You may as well have cited the Loch Ness Monster.

BOB
Ok, fine. I swear on my mother's life that I'll bring back your--

CAROL
Isn't your mother dead, Bob?

BOB
Erm, yes. She's with God now.

CAROL
Agree to disagree. But still, your mother's unfortunate brush with mortality does somewhat undermine the sincerity of that particular promise.

BOB
Ugh. Ok, I promise I'll bring back your stapler, cross my heart--

CAROL
Your heart that recently underwent triple bypass surgery due to a lifetime of cholesterol build-up? The one with such a weakened aorta that you're already on the transplant list? Pretty shaky grounds for a binding agreement, Bob.

BOB
I swear on my nan's grave--

CAROL
Your nan that was cremated and her ashes scattered off the cliffs of Dover?

BOB
On my other nan's grave--

CAROL
Your nan that's still alive?

BOB
By the four moons of Jupiter--

CAROL
The Jupiter that at last count has 69 known satellites, including 18 irregularly orbiting lunar bodies yet to be officially named by scientists?

BOB
On the one true ring--

CAROL
The one true ring that was destroyed by Frodo on Mount Doom?

BOB
Sod it. I'll just use paper clips.

Carol proffers a box of paper clips, which he takes.

CAROL
...You're gonna bring the box back, right?

THE END

Gappy's was an excellent idea for a sketch with some lovely moments and the bizarre ending was right up my street; Mikey M. has cornered the filth niche and has no equal in that area; Crindy pipped it for me as it was consistently strong and it all just seemed to click (much like a stapler).

Wow! All awesome but going for Otterf**ks.
I wrote mine cos there's been yet another ''''''''''scandal'''''''''' out her and I'm always bemused by the hypocrisy of stars (yes I know, not all). They'll happily let a director bum them to get a role; then someone ugly and out of the biz asks for an autograph and they say they're being stalked.

Bit of a quandary here. Crindy's is definitely the best sketch,but Otter is the one who made me grin. I shall vote Otterfox, but were I feeling more analytical today the vote would be going Crindy's way.

Strong week, but I'll also go for Otterfox.