F**king Hell! C**segnalazioni to me for wanking it. I'll PM me with a subject for next wank. I won't really. It's a joke.
Meanwhilst..
2 - Me
1 - Gappy
Next topic: The family
Leg closed: 16.4.24
Runners are nowt...
Position Score Name
1 - 11 - Gappy
2 - 10 - Me
3 - 6 - Tiggy
4 - 4 - Otterfox
5 - 2 - APlate
6 - 1 - Alfred Kipper
PIP:Mum, Dad - I'd like you to meet Jenny.
JEN:[SELF-CONSCIOUS] Hi.
MUM: [CLEARLY DISAPPOINTED] Oh. Hello.
DAD:[DISMISSIVE SOUND]
JEN: Oh dear.
PIP:Right, that seemed pretty rude, to be honest. What's the problem?
MUM:There's no problem, precisely, son, it's just, when you said you'd introduce us to Jenny we...well...
DAD:We thought you meant Genet. Jean Genet.
PIP:The French writer?
DAD:Yes.
PIP:But that's insane.
MUM:We happen to be great admirers of Notre Dame des Fleurs, actually. Maybe you young people think that tales of the criminal demimonde are fuddy duddy and old hat, but we like them.
DAD:If it's insane to admire the author of Marche Funebre, then I guess I must be absolutely doolally!
PIP:Regardless, this is Jenny. Not Genet.
MUM:The trouble is, dear, you mumble on the phone. We thought you said your girlfriend was Genet. It's quite understandable.
PIP:It's not understandable to think my girlfriend was a man - and one who died in 1982!
DAD:This is like your last girlfriend all over again.
PIP: Oh God, I'd forgotten what you were like with Valerie.
MUM:Nice enough girl, I suppose but not a symbolist bone in her body.
JEN:Look, I'm really sorry I'm not a deceased French novelist -
DAD:And screenwriter!
MUM:Christ, yes, don't forget Un Chant d'Amour and Les Rêves Interdits!
JEN:- but I really like Pip, and I think our relationship might be quite serious, so I hope we can all be friends. And, look, you could call me by my middle name, if it helps you to forget Gallic Modernism.
DAD: Oh, right, and what's that?
JEN:Beverley.
MUM: Oh my gosh!
PIP:What, mum?
MUM:Beverley! It's just...we always hoped one day you'd settle down with a Yorkshire coastal market town.
JEN:[SIGH] This isn't going to work.
DAD:Hey, love - can I have a look at your minster?
MUM'S THE WORST
PUB.
TOM and DICK.
TOM Y'know, my mum loves me. I think all mothers love their kid. They have ways of showing it.
DICK Yeah... I remember once I was late from school. My mother beat me.
TOM That's 'cos she loves you. It's her way of showing it.
DICK Across the eyes.
TOM That's 'cos she...
DICK With a breezeblock doused in nitric acid and barbed wire wrapped round it.
TOM That's 'cos...
DICK Or once she sold my right testicle for scientific research and skinned me alive while sand-papering my left eyeball in a cold, damp dungeon in the innermost depths of Stoke to the rhythm of One Direction's greatest hit.
TOM She loves you. Her way of showing it.
DICK And that time she shaved my pubis with rusty garden shears, drilled a fifty-inch Black 'n' Decker through my nipple thirty-seven times, shoved my entire body into a fifteen-centimetre-square Iron Maiden smelling of a ninety-year-old man's urine, filed my eyelashes with eleven red-hot, razor-sharp knitting needles, crushed every bone in my carcass eighty-nine times with Mallet's mallet, shred my face through a coffee-blender and hung me out to dry in the Sahara while marauding ants gnawed at my gut.
TOM She loves you. Her way of showing it.
DICK Yeah... Have you ever met my mum?
TOM No.
Both good entries. I vote for Michael's 'Four Yorkshiremen' style increasing absurdities/extremities!
Thank you.
Another bumper crop of entries, but Gappy just pips it.
Michael, you'll be unsurprised to learn. Come on, everyone, enter the comp!
Do remember the first comma in the last sentence.