An unneccessarily bitter-sounding sketch I just found lurking on my hard-drive like a surly teenager:
INT. AN OFFICE - DAY
JOHN CLEESE sits behind a desk. Another man knocks on the door, then enters.
JOHN CLEESE
Ah, Jenkins, come in, sit down. I expect you're wondering why I called you in here.
MAN
Actually, yes.
JOHN CLEESE
Well, we're going to have a sketch.
MAN
A sketch?
JOHN CLEESE
Or a skit, a short amusing playlet. Yes, you see, I am clearly in a position of authority, and I will be saying and doing some really quite surreal and wacky things, while you grow steadily more anxious and uncomfortable.
MAN
I see sir.
JOHN CLEESE
This will culminate in an explosion of hilarity, when I deliver the coup-de-grace, or punchline, a single line of dialogue which will hopefully tie the sketch up in a satisfactorily clever and witty manner, at which point our little meeting will be at an end.
MAN
I'm game if you are sir, but isn't this all rather out-of-date?
JOHN CLEESE
One moment.
John Cleese gets up and moves round the room like a CHICKEN, before sitting down again.
JOHN CLEESE (cont'd)
Go on?
MAN
Well, people don't want jokes these days sir, do they sir? They want uncomfortable silences and awkwardly-phrased double entendres.
John Cleese stares at the man for a long while.
MAN (cont'd)
I mean, let's face it, this whole setup is a little 1973. Who calls their boss sir these days? Sir.
JOHN CLEESE
How embarrassing. What do you suggest? How do I get out of this ghastly mess?
MAN
You have three options. One, vomit all over the desk. Call yourself "The Vomiting Boss" and you can do that every week. You'll be a sensation, sir.
JOHN CLEESE
Vomiting Boss, I like that, I like the sound of it.
MAN
Two, say something dreadfully un-PC, but do it from a position of post-irony, where sexism, racism and jokes about mongs are liberated from the tyrannical shackles of the liberal elite.
JOHN CLEESE
Ooh, let me write that down. "Post-irony", I do have rather a lot of funny jokes about how stupid women are which, frankly, have been gathering dust these last few years. And don't get me started on the disabled.
MAN
Quite sir.
JOHN CLEESE
Women really are f**king stupid, aren't they?
MAN
I couldn't say, sir. Three, say something about an animal doing something that an animal wouldn't normally do. Badgers and monkeys are favourite, but let your imagination run riot.
JOHN CLEESE
What about, er, marmosets?
MAN
Marmosets...
JOHN CLEESE
Marmosets in waistcoats on rrrrrrollerskates.
MAN
Very good sir, very whimsical.
A SECRETARY walks in. She is upset.
JOHN CLEESE
What's the matter, Shirley?
SHIRLEY
I just had the result of that IQ test come through. I got a really low score.
MAN
Oh, I wouldn't take much notice of that. IQ tests are pretty biased to give more positive results to men.
JOHN CLEESE
That's right. Because they test intelligence.
MAN
Oh very good sir.
John Cleese vomits all over the desk.
JOHN CLEESE
Same time next week?
MAN
I'll bring the marmosets.
SKETCH ENDS
