Skit Comp 18 - 26.6.15

More hilarity ashag so congratulations to FUNY HA HA for winning. PM me with a subject for next wank please.
Hence:

Votes - Points - Name
3 - 10 - Funy Ha Ha
2 - 5 - Gappy, me
Speckled mention: Darren

Your new subject: MUSIC.

Rules:
One entry/vote per person. Anyone can enter regardless of colour, sexual preferences or inside leg measurement, except voles.
Can be a sketch, joke, lyric or anything else as long as it's yours and vaguely linked to the topic. Please try to only post your entry/vote and no other posts.
You can edit your entry as much as you want, up until the closing time.

Competition Closes: 26.6.15

Overall Leader Board is now:
Position - Points - Name
1 - 30 - Darren
2 - 10 - Funny Ha Ha, Tiggy, Gappy, me
3 - 1 - Bushbaby, Playfull

This probably only makes sense to fellow fans but I had a blast writing it!
TRUTH

BS

An exclusive new inteview with Bernard Sumner you can read HERE or all over the Net

- So Barney, how ya doin'?
- I feel great! I feel f**king shit actually, but that's great too.
- Great. So what's the story with the new album?
- I can honestly say it's nearly finished, which is great 'cos we haven't started it yet. It isn't an LP, it's a EP. The thing is, if you do an LP that's as many as 2 or 3 tracks, whereas if you do an EP it's less, around just 14 tracks, but the record label wants more - between 13 and 12 - so I'm going for 32. I guess it's easier to do 33 good tracks than 4 shit ones.
- Mmmm. What stage of recording are you at?
- I can categorically state that I've completed the final mixing of all 28 tracks - all I have to do now is record them, and then get down to writing them in the first place. It's funny. In the old days I used to write songs and then we'd record them together and finally do a final mix, but I find that kind of boring and old-fashioned these days. I'd much rather mix a song I haven't written - THEN give it to the band to record in the studio - and THEN - AND ONLY THEN - do I feel confident and relaxed enough for the creative process of writing them to kick in.
- Right... Do you have a release date?
- Well it's tricky. Our record label would like a Christmas release, which presumably means between August and June, but I'm more into Spring - y'know, November or January. All I can say is it'll be a vinyl release on 7" CD but on digital format on-line only, so I can do book-signing sessions in Greece.
- Thanks. And the style?
- Well, New Order's always been a hybrid band, which means a combination of disco songs and rock songs, so this shall continue the tradition 'cos all the songs will be disco, apart from the two rock ones, which will be disco too. Steve and Gillian want to do an instrumental too, which is great as long as I can sing on it. The songs sound fantastic and wondrous and stunning and awesome and great, and I am modest.
- Right. Any titles?
- No. The only titles we have so far are 'Wannabe', 'Say You Will Be There', '2 Become 1', 'Spice Up Your Life' and 'Too Much', but these are all Spice Girls songs. And I can sincerely state, this is not the Spice Girls. It's New Order! Gillian was a girl once, but to my knowledge never a Spice Girl! (laughs) I'd just like to point out that I hate Spice Girls songs, they're massively over-rated, except for the actual tracks which they recorded, as I love them and can't believe how under-rated they are. I also like Joy Division.
- Well thank you Bernard, and I'm sure that's set the record straight once and for all.

As albert slowly walked out onto the tiny wooden stage he could hear a collective 'what the f**k now?' sigh from the fidgety audience. He had never performed in public before but undaunted he continued to the mike that stood naked in the middle of the stage. Adjusting his tie he took a deep breath as he heard a woman in the front row say "I bet the old git is going to play the f**king spoons."

With his mouth turning as dry as sand Albert slowly pulled the spoons out of his jacket pocket and gave them a little shine with his hankie before composing himself and then beginning. Softly at first the gentle clattering of the spoons picked out the opening bars of the theme from Morse. As he increased the pace Albert ignored the rising tide of disapproving mutterings and the audible comments of "enough" and "stop."

Seamlessly he slipped into Crockets theme from Miami Vice, steadily raising both the level and tempo. People were now standing and shouting at him, but Albert was oblivious to them all. This was his time this was his moment. He was not going to let a few cat calls prevent him from achieving his dream. Faster and faster he worked, the spoons becoming just a blurr as he moved onto his finale piece 'Bohemian Rhapsody'.

Albert sensed a stunned hush fall over the room as he crashed the spoons together with perfect timing. Louder and louder, faster and faster. I'm winning them over he thought triumphantly as out of the corner of his eye he saw to his horror the curtains start to close. 'No,' he thought 'not yet! Let me finish!'
Then the Vicar took hold of Albert's arm stopping him mid clack. "We've got to burn her now Albert." He said nodding toward the coffin disappearing behind the curtains. "But I didn't do me big finish." Albert pleaded.

"When we get to the pub I'll shove them bloody spoons up your arse Dad." Said the woman from the front row. "Now say goodbye to Mum and come on."

[SFX: Hubbub . Door opens and closes sharply, talking stops]

MANAGER: [Sweetly] So then, lads, all having a nice rest after the first half?

[Half hearted agreement]

MANAGER: [Shouting] Well, you bloody well shouldn't be! That was a disaster. You had them there, you had them right there, just sitting back and taking it, and you let it slip! It was embarrassing, most of the time half of you weren't even moving. I could barely watch. And you, Balham.

BALHAM: [Resigned] Yes

MANAGER: I nearly bloody died, with your antics. There you were, play all to yourself, and what did I see? I tell you what I didn't see: passion! Drive! Passionate...ness. You dawdled, Balham, like it was a stroll in the park with your nanny's butler. Rubbish. You barely deserve to go out with that oboe. Anything to say in your defence?

BALHAM: It was a legato passage.

MANAGER: Speak sense! God, I managed a team from all over Europe, Spaniards, Frenchies, the bloody lot, and I could understand more of their lingo than I can your soft talk.

BALHAM: That section of the symphony - my solo - was a legato passage

DEMMICK: Which means you play it smoothly. If you don't, err, dawdle, it means you're probably doing it wrong.

MANAGER: That's enough out of you, Demmick! Don't think I didn't spot you: doing bugger all the whole time, then bursting into life for the last two minutes. That's an old trick, I'm wise to it

DEMMICK: It's sort of the timpani player's curse to stand still till the end.

MANAGER: No excuses! They might have washed when you were on trial for the Doncaster Youth Orchestra, but they won't now. Wash, by the way, being something you lot need to do as you didn't even break a sweat out there.

BALHAM: Listen, erm, coach...we follow the score. What the composer wrote. It's all written down here, don't blame us if you don't like it.

MANAGER: Oh right. Yeah, silly me. Stupid old Barraclough, he only knows about 2nd division football teams, not classical music. You follow the score, I get you. Except [roaring] symphonies aren't played on paper they're played on...well, not grass. Trumpets. Violins. Those other kind of big violins that you stick between your legs. Now, I want you to go out in the second half, and I want to see each and every one of you playing as hard as you can from start to finish, otherwise you're off this orchestra team. Clear?

[SFX: Door slams shut]

DEMMICK: Well, that's that, then. We can hardly go out there and all play forte all evening without stopping.

BALHAM: Oh, I wouldn't worry; it's all Philip Glass in the second half.

[Fade]

VOICEOVER: Following the success of the 2012 Olympics, many successful managers and trainers from the world of sport have found their skills in demand from a failing and underfunded arts sector.

INTERVIEWER: What was it like having Mr Barraclough in charge of the Royal Opera House's production of Barber Of Seville?

SINGER: Well, he may not know anything about Italian pronunciation, libretto editing, colouratura, music in general, or basic social skills, but he's still the best director we've ever had.

INTERVIEWER: Why?

SINGER: He gave us so many oranges. Between each act! I tell you, with some of these long operas, I was up to my 5 a day before I'd even left work. I love oranges! And we could even take them onstage, because it sort of fits with Seville. Oranges, yum.

VOICEOVER: We asked art critic, Elijah Batmyst, about his experiences with the new managerial regime.

BATMYST: Do you have any oranges?

INTERVIEWER: No. Now, what have been your experiences with the new managerial regime?

BATMYST: Well, it's been swings and rond-ponts, in a very real sense. I'll admit to having my reservations about pro-celebrity ballet - Tarby didn't really have a plie in his arsenal, bless him - but I'd say the new Capes prize is a vast improvement on the Turner prize: why not see which artist can carry Carl Andre's bricks round Millbank the quickest, and then drag a van full of Modiglianis with your teeth? It's more sympathetique.

VOICEOVER: But has this new relationship between art and sport changed the views of the man in the street? We visited a lively pub to gauge opinion.

PLEB: Well, I don't really see the point of it. They all dress stupid, they get paid all this silly money to do hardly anything, just arsing about for a while, and before you can say "hang on, this is a waste of bloody time", there are people all over the TV and papers waffling on about how great it is. Emperor's new clothes, mate.

INTERVIEWER: And, footballers aside, do you have any opinions on contemporary artists?

PLEB: Oh, they're alright. Sometimes there are women with their boobs out and everything.

Sung in the style of "I hurt myself today" by Johnny Cash.

I hurt myself today,
zipped my trousers the wrong way.
Being positive I'd say,
got a free circumcision today.

Bled all the way to the bathroom,
whilst what I left my dog consumed.
I took her to the vets just in case.
They pumped her stomach, I lost face.

They accused me of bestiality,
even though she wasn't attached to me !
So I went to work in the hope,
this wouldn't become a bleeding joke.

I tried to kill myself today,
but my students wouldn't kick the chair away.
Someone stole my car; I walked home.
I got mugged and lost my phone.

Told my Mom "the dog loves me at least"
Then that bitch telephoned the police.
I'm rich I realised whilst on a walk,
'cause I got a female dog that can talk !

I went into HMV the other day,
I said "I want to buy the latest Eminem CD as a Birthday Present for my niece"
The Sales Assistant had a look on the system and brought over a copy from the shop floor, "There you go sir, this is his latest CD"
"Great I'll take it" I said.
"Would you like me to wrap it for you"? the assistant asked
"No, I'd like you to sell it to me, I'll let him do the rapping"!!!

Gappy again.

Playfull for me.

Only five entries but an awful lot of work went into them. I have to go Gappy as I think his is the most fully formed idea. But close in my opinion.

I've a Playful voter this time.

Gappy, but Playfull was also good.

Michael Monkhouse with Gappy close 2nd.

Quote: playfull @ 19th June 2015, 2:36 PM BST

As albert slowly walked out onto the tiny wooden stage he could hear a collective 'what the f**k now?' sigh from the fidgety audience. He had never performed in public before but undaunted he continued to the mike that stood naked in the middle of the stage. Adjusting his tie he took a deep breath as he heard a woman in the front row say "I bet the old git is going to play the f**king spoons."

With his mouth turning as dry as sand Albert slowly pulled the spoons out of his jacket pocket and gave them a little shine with his hankie before composing himself and then beginning. Softly at first the gentle clattering of the spoons picked out the opening bars of the theme from Morse. As he increased the pace Albert ignored the rising tide of disapproving mutterings and the audible comments of "enough" and "stop."

Seamlessly he slipped into Crockets theme from Miami Vice, steadily raising both the level and tempo. People were now standing and shouting at him, but Albert was oblivious to them all. This was his time this was his moment. He was not going to let a few cat calls prevent him from achieving his dream. Faster and faster he worked, the spoons becoming just a blurr as he moved onto his finale piece 'Bohemian Rhapsody'.

Albert sensed a stunned hush fall over the room as he crashed the spoons together with perfect timing. Louder and louder, faster and faster. I'm winning them over he thought triumphantly as out of the corner of his eye he saw to his horror the curtains start to close. 'No,' he thought 'not yet! Let me finish!'
Then the Vicar took hold of Albert's arm stopping him mid clack. "We've got to burn her now Albert." He said nodding toward the coffin disappearing behind the curtains. "But I didn't do me big finish." Albert pleaded.

"When we get to the pub I'll shove them bloody spoons up your arse Dad." Said the woman from the front row. "Now say goodbye to Mum and come on."

I didn't quiet realise how good this was when I first read it, but it stuck in my mind and it's got to be one for the "best of" compilation.