British Comedy Guide

Richard Ende 8 - 16.10.20

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Michael Monkhouse

  • Thursday 8th October 2020, 11:44am [Edited]
  • Eternal City, Italy
  • 5,292 posts

Yes. C**tgtasulazioningd to Wwwwh for shinking against. PM myself with a new slut please. Meanwhereas...
Next slapperjack: Meeting.
Leg closed: 16.10.20
Runners are nowt...
Score Position Name
2 1 Wwwwh
1 2 Gappy, Playfull

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gappy

  • Thursday 8th October 2020, 6:10pm
  • Oxford, England
  • 2,057 posts

Haven't we reset the scores, as there was a Hall Of Fame entry?

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Michael Monkhouse

  • Thursday 8th October 2020, 6:31pm
  • Eternal City, Italy
  • 5,292 posts

You're right. In the words of Shakespeare, duh.

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gappy

  • Thursday 8th October 2020, 8:29pm [Edited]
  • Oxford, England
  • 2,057 posts

In the words of Marlowe, heh heh heh.

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gappy

  • Saturday 10th October 2020, 9:17am
  • Oxford, England
  • 2,057 posts

JACKSON: [BARELY CONCEALED SNIDE JOY] Oh, good morning, Willoughby.

WILLOUGHBY: Good morning, Jackson. And, no, before you ask yet again, I will not move my booking of meeting room 1 so that you can run your Meccano club.

JACKSON: Oh, I'm not worried about that any more. I'm more worried about the fact I killed your grandfather.

WILLOUGHBY: Are you worried about that?

JACKSON: No.

WILLOUGHB Y: Right.

JACKSON: I'm actually ecstatic about it! I killed your grandfather!

WILLOUGHB Y: My grandfather is dead.

JACKSON: Oho! Sinking in, is it?

WILLOUGHB Y: He's been dead for 2 years.

JACKSON: Well, yes, but I killed him when he was still alive.

WILLOUGHB Y: Generally the most effective time to do it. How did you kill him, out of interest?

JACKSON: With this gun!

SFX: CLUNK OF REVOLVER ON COFFEE TABLE

WILLOUGHBY: I see. And does that gun shoot pancreatic cancer? Because that's an interesting development.

JACKSON: No! I shot him as a boy.

WILLOUGHB Y: You shot him when you were a boy?

JACKSON: No! That would be stupid!

WILLOUGHB Y: Silly me.

JACKSON: I shot him when he was a boy and I was...me, now. Nearly now. I've got this time machine, you see, so I shot your grandfather so that you'd not exist! What do think about that?

WILLOUGHB Y: I think that I do exist.

JACKSON: Semantics!

WILLOUGHB Y: That's not semantics. Anyway, since when do you have a time machine?

JACKSON: Since next week. Will be since next week. Future since. Oh, it's hard to say right - you know what it's like with time travel.

WILLOUGHBY: Not in the least. Also your plan doesn't seem to have worked.

JACKSON: Yes...well, I've not shot him yet. I'm about to.

WILLOUGHBY: But you're telling me you have? That's all back to front. It's like putting your pants on over your trousers.

JACKSON: Is that noticeable?

WILLOUGHBY: Afraid so.

JACKSON: Alright, I'll change it in a minute. After I've killed your grandfather. I got a bit...muddled with the time machine controls, and only travelled back a week instead of 80 years. But then I thought, whilst I was here, I'd come in now and rub your nose in the fact you don't exist.

WILLOUGHBY: That at least makes sense. Afterwards, I won't have a nose.

JACKSON: Ha, that will be the least of your problems! Or, you won't any problems! Because you won't have any you!

WILLOUGHBY: Eloquently put.

JACKSON: So, if you'll just hand me my gun, I'll be off?

WILLOUGHBY: Oh, yes, your gun.

SFX: GUNSHOT, BODY FALLING

WILLOUGHBY: Well, that's all worked out neat and tidy.

SFX: PAUSE. THEN DOOR OPENS

JACKSON: Oh! Willoughby, you're skulking in here are you?

WILLOUGHBY: My dear Jackson. Do you know, I've been mulling it over, and I think you're right, I'll cancel my booking of the meeting room, and you can have it instead.

JACKSON: Oh. Well...quite right. Good.

WILLOUGHBY: Yes. Tell you what, you can have it every Tuesday, starting next week...

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Michael Monkhouse

  • Saturday 10th October 2020, 2:09pm
  • Eternal City, Italy
  • 5,292 posts

I FOR AN EYE

OPTICIAN'S STUDIO.
OPTICIAN and GIRL.

OPTICIAN So Miss Scrote, just gotta run you over - I man, run you through - that is, run through the final speckie test.

GIRL Thank you, Doctor Anus.

OPTICIAN Shut up woman. Now concentrate long and hard on the stiff member of that alphabetty thingy in brunt of you on the tart chart. What letter is it? It's an A. What letter is it?

GIRL (proud) It's an A.

OPTICIAN Soz soz soz woman. It's a P and a Q and a zeta eta theta, all Greek to her of course. Never mind... Next I'll flash, I mean I'll flash my parts, I'll flash a card. What is it? It's an amber ant under a pink parasol sipping scarlet cider. What is it?

GIRL Um - an amber ant under a purple... Er...

OPTICIAN Good Christ woman, art thou as blind as a teenager lad after a Spice Girls gig? 'Tis indeed a blue buzzy bumble bee bestraddling a blond bison's biceps 'bibing a bloody beer.

GIRL But...

OPTICIAN No, no buttock, bottom nor bum neither, unless eyes am mostly mistooken. Hast tha bin boozing, bint?

GIRL Can't remember.

OPTICIAN Of course you can't, woman. So last try and no clues, flooze. Come, concentrate, c - crone. Is this a black candlestick on a white background or two black faces espying each another on a black whiteground.

GIRL Umm...

OPTICIAN Oh come on, everyone's seen this. Bloody kids' stuff.

GIRL A black candle...?

OPTICIAN Are you trying to teach me my job? Implying I'm incompetent? Trying to say I'm gay? I mostly clear discern forty three Flamencan finocchietti wreaping the wrasping wragged wrugged wremains of bloated buffalo beef and chips astride Azerbaijan autistic aardvarks prancing, dancing and pirouetting Mozart's Monetian blinds minuets askance a Satanic Boschian Hey-Wayne of Terrestrial Celestial tyrannical Terence Hills, Brokefeck Mountains and Ringo Starr solo singletons unsigned by the twot itself.

GIRL But you said...

OPTICIAN Spice Almighty, don't matter a clinker's wuss what I say, is them? Ooh, just following orders, Sire: that was the excuse the Nazis used! Beget thee to a bummery, fallacious fascist, feeble fiend, fag hag fatso.

GIRL I am NOT fat.

OPTICIAN Alas, limpidly your goggles are about as much use as a lion loin Mcburger to lovely Linda McCartney. (pulls them off her and stamps on them) Why not purchase a nice set of contact lenses?

GIRL What's the difference?

OPTICIAN Three hundred quid. Three hundred and three if you're on Groupon.

GIRL Why on Earth would anyone choose contacts over glasses? They're fiddly, they're fumbly, they're frigging expensive, they block dust and bacteria and parasites over the cornea resulting in eye infections such as keratitis, there is scientific proof of direct links between contacts and ptosis (eye drooping leading to oxygen starvation, pupil scarring and even corneal ulcers), allergic reactions to the silicone welded therein triggers reduced corneal reflexes impairing long-term vision and brain functioning and in some cases vision itself. So why the f**k choose contacts?

OPTICIAN They make you look nice.

GIRL Oh f**k off. You're tryna frame me.

OPTICIAN You won't need frames. That makes up for f**king with your vision too.

GIRL You are professionally inept, devious and dishonest and a dickhead, a conniving and careering and contemptuous c - crone, fat...

OPTICIAN I am NOT fat. (gets up, turns around, walks into door) That does it. You'll be hearing from my last client. (picks up phone) Hello, Mr Wonder?

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Patrick Robinson

  • Wednesday 14th October 2020, 6:55am [Edited]
  • Birmingham, United Kingdom
  • 139 posts

How do butchers network?

Meet and greet and meat.

Brexit talks in EU meetings set to intensify. Dominic Raab:
"Right everyone: only ONE coffee break and NO BISCUITS".

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playfull

  • Friday 16th October 2020, 11:58pm
  • Nottingham, England
  • 1,819 posts

A CAVERN. IN THE MIDDLE, A BOILING CAULDRON. THUNDER. ENTER THE THREE WITCHES - all dressed in rags with filthy long hair, and classic witch ugly faces.

WITCH 1: When shall we three meet again?

WITCH2 : In thunder, lightning, or in rain?

WTCH 3: Hang on, When shall we three meet again?

WITCHES 1 & 2: Yes, In thunder, lightning and in rain?

WITCH 3: But we have only just got here.

WITCH 1: It's just a chant.

WITCH 2: It's traditional.

WITCH 3: It is rude! You two never liked my Cavern...

WITCH 2: Here we go. Can't we meet once without falling out.

WITCH 3: We can't all marry a prince and live in a palace you know.

WITCH 1: It's a council flat and Barry isn't a prince...But he is a King in the bedroom.

WITCH 3: (MAKES DRY GAGGING SOUND) I'm going to throw up...

WITCH 1: That'll be your cooking (SHE SNIFFS THE POT AND RECOILS QUICKLY).

WITCH 2: Built like a donkey he is.

WITCH 3: I know, and the donkey wants it back.

WITCH 1: He can have it for me.

WITCH 3: Why, what's happened?

WITCH 1: Well let's just say Barry is banned from every race course in the country.

WITCH 3: Nooo.

WITCH 2: And he gets an erection every time he goes past a Lloyds bank.

WITCH 1: I told you that in confidence.

WITCH 3: Can we get on, I don't want you to spend any longer in my dirty, mould ridden cavern than necessary.

WITCH 2: You forgot Dank.
WITC
H 3: Whose side are you on?

WITCH 2: Her's (SHE NODS AT WITCH 1). She said if I agreed with her against you Barry would give me a donkey ride later.

WITCH 3: Is there nothing you would do to win an argument?

WITCH 2: It's like riding a magic broom. Only I can't fall off.

WITCH 1: Nope, I cant think of anything.

WITCH 2: Cus it is a very sticky stick.

(THHE OTHER TWO LOOK AT WITCH 2)

WITCH 1: No idea, nothing I have said to her. Anyway what are we eating (SHE LOOKS AT THE POT).

WITCH 3: We aren't eating we are here to deliver some prophecies.

WITCH 2: Arrrr I am starving.

WITCH 3: Did you call at the co-op and get the things I asked for.

WITCH 1: Yes, here we are eye of frog and toe of newt.

WITCH 3: No! I wanted eye of newt and toe of frog.

WITCH 1: Does it matter

WITCH 3: Of course, it matters. It would reverse the prophecy.

WITCH 2: The man coming for the Prophecy. Is he a big dark chap.

WITCH 3: Yes, can you see something?

WITCH 2: Is his name Macbeth?

WITCH 3: What can you see?

WITCH 2: Nothing, only he was here earlier when I popped in. I didn't know he was a customer. I thought he was an ingredient.

(THEY ALL LOOK AT THE POT}

WITHCH 3: Dinner anyone?

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playfull

  • Saturday 17th October 2020, 8:44am
  • Nottingham, England
  • 1,819 posts
Quote: gappy @ 8th October 2020, 8:29 PM

In the words of Marlowe, heh heh heh.

Shouldn't that be 'in the words of Mutley'?

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Michael Monkhouse

  • Saturday 17th October 2020, 12:17pm
  • Eternal City, Italy
  • 5,292 posts

Hwa hwa hwa hwa! That was my Sid James impersonation. Good, isn't it?

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gappy

  • Sunday 18th October 2020, 9:59am
  • Oxford, England
  • 2,057 posts

I just realised I'd forgotten about this round. Looks as though everyone else did, too!

But here's my belated vote. now, normally I'm a bit of a stickler for theme adherence, but as pretty much any sketch where more than one person is in a room together can be a meeting, I guess all are good, so I have to judge them purely on their merits (boo! That's harder!). Patrick's gags were neat. Michael almost takes it, I like the concept of baroque images on an eyetest, but I didn't really understand the punchline, and what Stevie Wonder would do.

So, Playfull gets my vote: a nice neat sketch, economical, but with two completely different strands nicely kept in the air very well, and an unexpected ending. Plus, I'm basically a sucker for Shakespeare sketch (I must have written ab out 30 myself).

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Michael Monkhouse

  • Sunday 18th October 2020, 10:44am
  • Eternal City, Italy
  • 5,292 posts

Playfull.
Stevie Wonder? He could play piano with his eyes closed.

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playfull

  • Sunday 18th October 2020, 12:29pm [Edited]
  • Nottingham, England
  • 1,819 posts

When will we four meet again?
The next comp i suppose?

Gappy. Despite the fact my heart sinks when time travel rears its head, This is not in any way a criticism of Gappys sketch, it is a personal aversion. In fact Gappys sketch addresses my issues, time travel always reduces any story to the grandfather paradox.....