Good stuff so congratulations to ROSCOFF for winning. Get ludicrously yet legitimately poo-faced and PM me for next week's topic.
Hence:

Votes - Points - Name
2 - 10 - Roscoff
1 - 5 - Gappy, Andymack

Your new subject: NATIONALITY

Rules:
One entry/vote per person. Anyone can enter regardless of colour, sexual preferences or inside leg measurement, except the kid at school who masturbated all over my rugby kit, I know who you are.
Can be a sketch, joke, lyric or anything else as long as it's original and vaguely linked to the topic. Please try and 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: 21.7.12

Overall Leader Board is now:

Points - Position - Name

26 - 1 - Gappy, Steve Sunshine
25 - 2 - Shandonbelle
22 - 3 - Overlay
10 - 4 - Roscoff, Ishy, Michael Monkhouse
6 - 5 - AngieBaby
5 - 6 - Andymack, Otterfox
1 - 7 - Shirl the Whirl, JackDaniels2, Nigel Kelly

PS Check out the hall of fame in the thread called, um, Hall of Fame.

MILDLY RACIST LOVE SONG

(To be delivered in the style of Noel Coward)

Canada to me seems wholly pointless,
It's just the States with French and Morrisette.
I'd say Cyprus is just Turkey in a different coloured fez,
And that Belgium's barely anything, and yet

I think that you are one in twenty million.
I shiver at the mention of your name.
It's strange that I should find so many ways to mark you out
When I think that all the Chinese look the same.

Is Jersey any different from Guernsey?
Carolina, North and South? I just don't know.
New Zealand and Australia
Are the same, it's such a failure
You'd think as you'd gone all that way they might have had a go.

North Africa's homogenous entirely:
Casablanca? Algiers? Tunis? No idea.
If you know Paraguay from Uruguay you're not the guy for me,
For it's all just coke and football south of Mexico, I hear

The commies were at least honest about it,
They admitted all their lot were of a kind.
Now Moldova? Give it over!
Just a gayer Russia, right?
And you'll never find that Georgia's on my mind.

This xenophobe's in trouble
This xenophobe's in love
This bigot simply don't know what to do.
The world used to be easy, it was only them and us,
And now I find it's them and us and, most important, you.

Let me take you far way from all your worries,
Let me whisk you somewhere sweet, alone with me.
I am so very smitten
I'll go anywhere - in Britain.
Except, perhaps, for Norfolk cos they're weird and smell of wee.

SHITTEN'S GOT TALENT

TV Studio.
Two LADS:

CANT Hi and welcome to 'Britain's Got Talent', I'm Cant...

FECK And I'm Feck! Together we are...

CANT AND FECK Feck 'n' Cant!

APPLAUSE.

CANT Last 'Britain's Got Talent' was presented by Danni Minogue, strange 'cause she isn't British either.

FECK She was on X-Factor, so probably Simon Cowell facked'er too.

CANT Well you know how the show works. Every week we audition a bunch of cookie runts...

FECK Analyse each runt's artistic achievement and performing capacity...

CANT Evaluate each runt's strength of self-expression and levels of stress and fame management...

FECK Then select the one with the biggest tits.

CANT Now the first one hasn't big tits but is one.

FECK Yes, it's Victoria Beckham. She used to be the fit one in a gruesome girlband that went out of fashion fifteen years ago, but if Ms Bunton's your parameters my own grandmother's worth a fiddle. She was considered the unmusical one in a group including Geri Halliwell, tried a solo career that ran as freely as a constipated Ethiopian, and is now so anorexic she makes Kate Moss look like Jo Brand, when she isn't ramming her tongue so far up Roland Mouret's ass no wonder he's full of shite!

CANT Yet she's got 125 million quid in the bank, more fans than the equator and more attention than Jesus!

CANT AND FECK (thumbs up) Britain's Got Talent!

FECK Next a little history lesson. A hundred years after feminist-prototype Mary Woolstonecraft penned 'A Vindication on the Rights of Women', fifty years after Emily Pankhurst threw herself under a carriage for women's emancipation, ten years after Germaine Greer brutally depicted the plight of the downtrodden woman in 'The Female Eunuch'...

CANT Paul Raymond remembered the best way to a man's heart is through his undies! Yes for fifty years Paul systematically and relentlessly portrayed women as rape objects in a series of mags, strip joints and tartathons that not only got away with references to racism, domestic violence and pedophilia, but became a national institution, survived the worst European crisis since Bros, and left Paul with a cool £650-million inheritance!

CANT AND FECK (thumbs up) Britain's got talent!

FECK But the real star of tonight is best known as the clitoris: turning into a twat...

CANT The man who made 'merchant banker' a form of rhyming slang...

FECK The man known as 'cat' - for being selfish - and 'runt' - the runt of the litter. And if we run those words together, 'C-at' and 'r-UNT' we do get to the essence of his character...

CANT Yes, it's, ur - sorry, it's SIR Fred Goodwin...

APPLAUSE.

FECK Fred - also known as 'Fred the Shred', 'Good-lose' and 'wankerpants' - was Chief Executive Orifice of Royal Bank of Scotland, whose slogan's 'Make shit happen'. As most of us struggled to make it through the next millisecond, Freddie pissed away £350 million on Gogarburn HQ, as much use as a hamburger to Linda McCartney, plus a Dassault falcon Jet - we all need f**king Concorde when popping down to Asda, eh? - and £200 million on celeb endorsements, clearly David Beckham ain't got enough wonga already.

CANT In February 2009, he lost RBS £24.1 billion, the biggest loss since Tiger Wood's virginity. Questioned by the House of Commons he confessed to having less technical banking training than the Teletubbies but was happy to let the taxpayer clean up the puddle of pooh he'd produced.

FECK In November Fred sucked off, sorry sucked up to Phil Hall of 'Hello!' magazine, better known as 'F**k Off Wankuh', to restore his credibility and, we quote, 'help my children through this'. Clearly if it's your kids you care about, you go to the shitest tabloidest publication since 'Mein Kampf' and meanwhile knock off your work colleague Susan Phwoar, I mean Susan Bor.

CANT Goodwin is now considered the worst banker in history, a disgrace to the nation and a knob. He's been stripped of his knighthood, suffered a super-injunction and is reckoned more than anyone else the man responsible for credit crunch... But...

FECK He's been drawing a £700,000-a-year pension since he was a foetus, spent three years as Number 1 businessman, and couldn't really give a toss!

CANT AND FECK (thumbs up) Britain's Got Talent!

CAN Well fans that's all for tonight. But remember, if you want to look for talent in Britain...

FECK Don't.

CANT AND FECK Goodnight!

Fireside Theatre

We are in an old fashioned study, a roaring fire is in the grate and an elderly man is sitting in a wingback chair reading a heavy leather bound book. He is 'Fireside Theatre' presenter Sir Donald Sinclair

Sinclair - (looking up from his book) Oh there you are, come in, come in. Warm yourself by the fire. Allow me to introduce myself I am Sir Donald Sinclair, and I am proud to bring you another episode of 'Fireside Theatre'. I was just reading about Africa. Fascinating place, absolutely fascinating. It's quite fitting that I'm reading about the 'dark continent' really, as tonight's tale is set in that very place, all be it over a hundred years ago. It's a mysterious yarn that concerns itself with the madness and terror that lurk in the dark hearts of men. Settle down comfortably, as I present for your delectation tonight's episode 'Appeasing the Gods'

VOICEOVER

At the tail end of the Nineteenth century, Europe's great powers were engaged in the greatest land grab the world has ever seen. Countries strived to expand their possessions and no continent felt this more keenly than Africa. At the forefront of this voracious expansionism was Great Britain. Gentlemen explorers Sir Edward Chittendon and his ever faithful companion Arthur Mallory are a perfect example of a breed of men striving to ensure that the sun never sets on Queen Victoria's Empire...

AFRICA 1892

A column of men is cutting its way through foliage. At the front of the column are the native porters, bringing up the rear are two Englishmen on horseback.

Sir Edward- ...and it must have been nearly two feet long, with a jolly nasty looking serrated edge.

Mallory- And then what happened?

Sir Edward- Shot the bugger

Mallory- Shot him?

Sir Edward- Right between the eyes. The sooner these chaps realise that cold steel is no answer to a Webley service revolver the better for us all.

In the distance we can hear native drums

Sir Edward- Mallory old man, go up front and ask the scout what the devil is going on with those bally drums

Mallory rides to the front of the column, and calls out to the lead scout

Mallory- I say...hello... you there... (The scout points to himself) Yes you..

Scout- Yes Boss

Mallory- Sir Edward wants to know what the deuce is going on with those drums.

Scout - Nothing to fear sir. That is the Umbogozu tribe. Every year around this time they play drums to appease the rain Gods to ensure a good harvest.

Mallory- Damned racket they're making anyway

Mallory rides back to Sir Edward

Mallory - The Scout chappie says that it's just a local tribe appeasing their Gods, nothing to worry about

Sir Edward - Well tell him they're making a deuced racket

Mallory- I already have Sir Edward

Sir Edward - As long as you have... Damned country (swats at a mosquito)

The column rides on. Pretty soon the drumming noise becomes louder and more incessant

Sir Edward - What is it with these confounded drums! Mallory be a good chap and find out what the jiggins is going on!

Once again Mallory rides to the head of the column, and shouts at the scout

Mallory - You...scout! The drums are making an infernal racket. What on earth is going on?

Scout - Nothing to worry about Sir, nothing to worry about. It's just the Umbogozu...

Mallory - Yes I know that... are you being impertinent? I've a good mind to give you a sound thrashing ...

Suddenly the Drums stop. The Scout looks terrified, as do the porters. They drop the baggage and start to run. People are scattering all over. In desperation Mallory grabs the lead scout

Mallory - Damn your eyes man! What on earth is the matter?

Scout- The drums sir....they stop...

Mallory - Yes, yes and a damned good job they have too. A bit of peace and quiet...

Scout - You don't understand boss...next comes...

Sir Edward - (SHOUTING) Everything alright Mallory?

Mallory - Yes Sir Edward, just dealing with these dashed impertinent native types (Turns back to scout)
What on Earth comes next?

Scout - Next comes...

Mallory - (becoming exasperated) Spit it out man! Next comes what?

Scout - Next comes.....BASS SOLO!!!!!

Everybody looks terrified as improvised Bass guitar playing reverberates around the Jungle.

We are back in Sir Donald Sinclair's study

Sinclair - Bone chilling don't you think? Six months after this incident, the chief scout emerged from the jungle. Of the other men there was absolutely no trace. The scout's hair had gone completely white and he had lost the power of speech...poor wretch.
After that tale I don't think I'll ever be able to listen to the theme tune to 'Seinfeld' in quite the same way again. Goodness is that the time? I wish you pleasant dreams. Until the next time we meet, I have been Sir Donald Sinclair and this has been another enthralling episode of 'Fireside Theatre'

Screen gradually darkens and we see Sir Donald reach behind his chair and pull out a bass guitar.

Int: Living Room

A young man is talking to his parents

Son: Come on mum, sit down. I've got something to tell you.

Mum: But why not have a cup of tea first?

Son: Mum, please, just sit down. This is important.

Dad: What is it son?

Son: (on the verge of tears) Dad (beat) Mum. I think I'm Welsh.

Mum: Oh Darl..

Dad: You think or you know?

Son: (beat) I know

Dad: Since when?

Son: Since always I think. I believe I was born Welsh.

Dad: You were born in Bracknell. Unless... (turning to Mum accusingly)

Mum: (To Dad) Don't be silly dear. I'd never go with a Welshman. (Turning to son) No offence son. (Beat)
It's because I listened to Men of Harlech when you were a baby isn't it? And those trips to Aberystwyth when you were small?

Son: Don't blame yourself Mum. There's nothing to be blamed for. I'm fine!

Mum: I knew it all along you know. All that time spent moping around as a teenager.

Son: Yes! It was really my national dourness and pessimism!

Mum: It explains so much

Son: Anyway, I'd best away. Me and some of the lads are going to speak Welsh around some english people for no other reason than to make them feel uncomfortable..(beat) Ah, I feel so much better.

Dad: Now, we've got that out of the way might you be settling down with a nice girlfriend any time soon?

Son: Oh that? I like cock Dad, didn't you know? Anyway, Hwyl!

MAYOR SPEAKING TO A CROWD OF PEOPLE FROM A PULPIT. HIS ASSISTANT STANDS BESIDE HIM.

MAYOR :
I have to say I am very disappointed. Very, very, very, very, very, very, very disappointed. You make me ashamed to be one of you. The scenes witnessed in our small nation last night were the fourth worst scenes I have ever seen. They were so bad I daren’t repeat them.

People arching their back beyond its natural curvature, others just throwing their teeth away and rabbits thinking they were foxes. Mrs. Drovet’s dog's held up a grocery store, it was anarchy.

In light of these events I feel I have no choice but to take a cold hard cold strong long hard look at our legal system. But we will do more than look at it, we are going to implement several changes to bring our more archaic laws into the 21st century here on the Urbiquan Peninsula.

We will not have a repeat of what happened here last night. Seventeen people with broken backs, nine people are now completely toothless and twelve rabbits ruthlessly chased themselves down and ate themselves to death.

First up is Law 412:
‘Bend your back as far as it will go regardless of the consequences’, this is now amended to ‘Don’t’.

Law 363:
‘It is illegal to own an ostrich if you are hungry’. This is just changing slightly to ‘It is legal to own an ostrich but illegal to be hungry’.

Law 584, now this once caused a lot of havoc last night:
‘It is illegal to stab a railway station’. This will still be illegal except on your birthday.

Law 82 is of course Newton’s third law of motion:
‘If A exerts a force on B B exerts an equal but opposite force on A’.
This will now be such that A can exert a force on B but B must not retaliate.

Law 992:
‘It is illegal to live in a nest’. This will not change.

SCRUFFY LOOKING MAN IN THE CROWD LOOKS DISAPPOINTED.

A couple of other rules that will not change.... illegal to bring a bullock to court, illegal to die during a game of chess and it is illegal to own a whesp. Now we were not sure what a whesp is but the rule will stay in force just in case.

And that’s about it.

MAYORS ASSISTANT:
Look sir there is another law at the bottom of the parchment that we missed
Law 999: ‘It is illegal to change any of the above laws and failure of the mayor to adhere to this most important law will be punishable by death or worse’.

MAYOR:
nervously) Well obviously that one needs to change. Let me see that.... look there are terms and conditions at the bottom.
‘If the offending mayor has not broken any other laws his life may be spared but if he breaks three rules then he must be deadified immediately’.
I haven’t broken any other laws.

ASSISTANT:
Oh look there is an even further bit of writing at the very very bottom of the parchment.

‘A whesp is the look of superiority that a mayor often develops during his inauguration. If the mayor has this look he is the owner of a whesp’.
MAYOR HAS A SUPERIOR LOOK ON HIS FACE.

ASSISTANT:
That’s two laws broken. One more and you're out.

THEY STARE AT THE MAYOR FOR A NUMBER OF SECONDS. HIS STOMACH STARTS TO RUMBLE.

ASSISTANT:
Law 363! Legal to own an ostrich but illegal to be hungry, and you're gone!

THE MAYOR IS BEING DRAGGED AWAY BY SECURITY.

MAYOR:
Look at me! My whesp is gone, MY WHESP IS GOOOONE................

END.

Gappy get's my vote this week

Andy Mack for moi

Fantastic Mr Fox.
PS Why was Noah never cold? Cos when it was cold he could feel a little 'otter.

Everyone had a good line or 2 this time, but I think Overlay turned in the neatest, most concise effort. Plus used the golden rule, end on a cock joke.

Overlay