F**king Hell! C**tgtasulazioningd to Aplate for winking. PM me with a subject for next wank please. Meanwhilst...
APlate - 3
Me - 1
Next topic: Names (courtsey of Gappy)
Leg closed: 10.1.23
Runners are nowt...
Position Score Name
1 7 Otterfox
2 6 Gappy
3 5 Me
4 3 APlate
CATCHER IN THE RHYME
BAR.
TOM...
Enter DICK, flapping arms, manic.
DICK Hey Tom, I'm learning Italian...
TOM (yawns) Not bad, given your English makes David Beckham sound like George Martin.
DICK Yes and in the words of George Martin, shut the f**k up. I've learnt an Italian rhyme - wanna hear it?
TOM Do I have a choice?
DICK Nope. Now imagine you lend someone something - a pen, book, old boyfriend - you just chirp the rhyme, 'Questo si chiama Pietro - perché torna indietro!'
TOM Awesome!... What does it mean in English?
DICK Same as it means in Italian.
TOM No, dickrash - how would an English person say it?
DICK Um - (awful English accent) 'Questo si chiama Pietro...'
TOM Translate it, Dickrash.
DICK Okay. 'This is called Pietro - because it comes back.'
TOM Fantabulous... Doesn't rhyme.
DICK Doesn't it...? Well of course it doesn't. Gotta make it English.
TOM Go on then. Anglicise it.
DICK Back to you! I mean - 'This is called Peter - because it comes back!'
TOM Doesn't work... Hey, Jack!
DICK I'm Dick, actually.
TOM No, try saying Jack and it'll rhyme.
DICK Jack... No good.
TOM The whole rhyme, dickrash.
DICK OK. 'Questo si chiama Jack - perché torna indietro.'
TOM In English.
DICK 'This is called Pietro - perché...'
TOM English name.
DICK 'This is called Peter...'
TOM The other one.
DICK This is called dickrash - because it comes...'
TOM Jack's off.
DICK I'm a bit tired actually.
TOM I meant, dickrash, get Jack in...
DICK I told you, I'm...
TOM LISTEN. Say it with Jack.
DICK 'Questo si chiama Jack...'
TOM Other way round.
DICK 'Perché torna indietro - questo si chiama... Jack.'
TOM English.
DICK Because it comes back...
TOM Other way round.
DICK Back comes it because...
TOM Start at the beginning.
DICK This is called Pietro...
TOM ENGLISH.
DICK This is called Peter...
TOM JACK!
DICK 'This is called Jack...
TOM Go on! You can do this...
DICK 'Because it comes back.'
TOM Right the way through!
DICK 'This is called Jack, because it comes back.'
PAUSE.
TOM Still shit though innit.
DICK Well I'm all right, Pietro.
MIKE:Wow, are you Francis Bacon?
FRANCIS: Yes I am.
MIKE:Cor, I love your instigation of the scientific technique through the espousal of inductive reasoning.
FRANCIS: No, I'm not that Francis Bacon
MIKE:I love your paintings of melty popes.
FRANCIS: I'm not that Francis Bacon either.
MIKE:I love your creation of the first practical hydrogen-oxygen fuel cell.
FRANCIS: Wow, not many people know about that Francis Bacon (ie me)
MIKE: Oh, I do, you're great. Pity you died in 1992.
FRANCIS: Yeah. Pity you died too, Michael Jackson.
MIKE:I know. But at least I'd written all those books about beer before I did.
FRANCIS: Oh, you're that Michael Jackson.
MIKE:Yes. I know...I'm as disappointed as you are.
ROGER:[PAUSE, THEN EXCITEDLY] Hey, you guys! Anyone want to jam?
FRANCIS: Oh shut up, Roger Taylor, one of two different drummers!
MIKE:He's not even dead.
FRANCIS:Twice!
MIKE:Right, I'm off to party with my mate Nelly.
FRANCIS:The rapper?!
MIKE:No. The elephant.
NARRATOR:
It was the 20th year of the 20th century and just as the clock struck to signify the beginning of the 20th month I realised that this meant that it was in fact the 8th month of 21st year of the 20th century which doesn't at all have the same ring to it but I said I'd narrate it now so I suppose I'll have to continue.
I must say that I found it quite a challenge, mainly because upon looking at the calendar I found that it was actually 15th June 1925, the night of the inaugural Titles Ball which was first held on 12th June 1923 and which-again made me question the validity of the date.
Anyway, the Titles Ball would become a very popular fixture in the calendars of all the important names of the 1920s.
Due to the constant calendarian malfunctions throughout the decade this meant that the Titles Ball could fall anywhere between 25th April and 80th June.
On this particular occasion many of the big names of the time were in attendance. You had Sidney, Walter, Harold, a smattering of Arthurs and even the odd Albert.
Odd Albert loved to entertain the crowds and paid special attention to the ladies who had on this night no shortage of the biggest names themselves such as Elsie, Winifred, Edith, Peggy and Doris.
Odd Albert would crawl out of a dustbin all frogs and pockets. He would proceed to serenade us with a song he liked to call 'the busted sleeves of Harry greyskull' but there was no mention of the titular Harry in the song and instead centred around a fisherman with a lizard for a foot.
After the serenade would come the lemonade. He would lemonade us with lemonade that he had taught the frogs to regurgitate on a whim. A whim is what Harry called a lady and tonight it was Edith in the firing line.
Edith:
My dress!, she frowned.
I was told not to get frogs vomit on it.
Albert:
Who told you that? They don't know what they're talking about.
NARRATOR:
Albert bowed to an applause of disgust. He took his leave, sorry, he took his sleeve, wiped it on the sleeve of a Sir Frederick Brongaloon, emptied his soggy pockets into a large bowl of gin and flatuated his way out of the room to take the air.
He stood on the back steps and putting a cigarette to each lip, began to chew and then patted his pockets with contentment. When he'd finished this he searched his pockets for a light. The matches were too soggy, his lighter was lemonade logged. Even his best frog 'Purchase' failed to provide a solution.
He broke wind disappointedly. Just then a rustle from a nearby bush caught his attention.
He squelched his way over, closely followed by his trusty Purchase, who was in turn even more closely followed by second frog in command Spanglepaw, with third knight Farknahar closer still, on Spanglepaws back.
Unbeknownst to Albert there was a pair of eyes following his every move. Not just eyes but a ghastly face in which the eyes were set. And attached to that face was a long weedy neck. To cut to the chase there was one entire person, a person of a sinister nature, watching odd Albert as he rummaged in the bush and then disappeared into the undergrowth. Less than several seconds had passed when the stillness of the pleasant summers night was suddenly shattered as upon looking at my calendar it revealed that it was the 94th Joktember, a date that never existed which meant this story never existed either - I don't know what I was on about. Bye!
BRUCE: All right, Leslie! Haven't seen you for years! What've you been up to?
QUENTIN: Hello, Bruce. Actually, I'm called Quentin now. I changed my name by deed poll, 'cos I wanted to sound more manly and tough.
BRUCE: What, like Quentin Crisp?!
QUENTIN: Argh! Everyone says that. But I meant like Quentin Tarantino. I wanted people to hear my name and think of Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction, y'know, cool stuff like that. But it seems to have backfired.
BRUCE: Well, I can understand, mate. I always wanted people to associate me with Bruce Willis or Bruce Springsteen, but instead, all people do when they see me is say...
(BOTH TOGETHER): Nice to see you, to see you, nice.
QUENTIN: Yeah, I used to feel bad for you. Still, we could give each other a cool sounding nickname, couldn't we? Like 'Viking' or 'Killer'. And greet each other like that.
BRUCE: What, when we see each other walking down the street, once every three years?
QUENTIN: No, we could go down the pub tonight, like the old days. Keep calling me 'Viking', and I'll keep calling you 'Killer', and other people might catch on to it.
BRUCE: Sorry mate, not tonight. I was just gonna go home, have a couple of cans, and go to sleep in front of the box.
QUENTIN: Well, I hope that's not the nickname for your wife...
I'll go for gappy's this week, amusing yet educational.
Gappy too.
A Plate's was as elegant as ever, but I didn't really go for the ending. Otter always manages to include a lunatic line I find utterly beguiling. but I'm voting Monkey Mikehouse today, because I always enjoy relentless frustration in sketches - is it an actual rhyme in Italy?
Grazie mille.
You might like the skit at 11.56 https://youtu.be/MdyaQKtj1M0
It's the Monk for me too this week.
I've been listening to a lot of John Finnermores Souvenir Programme recently so my sketch was my attempt at a 'Well, since you asked me...' sketch. 'Tis back to the drawing board for me.
I totally got that feeling form the first 2 paragraphs when I read it. Afterwards it kind of Otters up a bit more 