F**king Hell! C**tgtasulazioningd to Otterfox, Gappy and Playfulllllllll for shingling. Your prize is to have won so PM me with a new slut please. Meanwhilst...
Otterfox, Playfull, Gappy 2
Wwwwwwwwwwh 1

Next natterjerk: Selection (chosen by Gappy)
Leg closed: 29.5.21
Runners are nowt...

Position Score Name
1 11 Otterfox
2 9 Gappy
3 6 Playfull
4 5 Wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwh
5 2 Firkin
6 1 Monkers

GARY THE FISH: Hit there Colin!

COLIN THE FISH: Phew! Thought I was going to be late for a while. The girls should be swimming past any minute!

GARY: Colin, what the hell are they?

COLIN: What are what? I don't know what you are referring to as you can't gesticulate with anything.

GARY: Your pectoral fins have gone all weird and long.

COLIN: Oh, I decided to grow them last night. I call them "legs".

GARY: "Legs"? What are they for?

COLIN: I'm pretty sure the girls will like them

GARY: Why?

COLIN: I can play football now.

GARY: What's that?

COLIN: I don't know. Something to do with the bottom parts of my legs. I call them feet.

GARY: Then why not "feetball"?

COLIN: One of them is called a "foot". More than one are "feet".

GARY: And you can only use one "foot" to play this "football"?

COLIN: No, look, forget about that. They mean I can wear shoes now!

GARY: What are "shoes"?

COLIN: They're hard coverings for your feet.

GARY: Why do they need covering?

COLIN: In case somebody else treads on them with their shoes.

GARY: If you need "shoes" to protect your "feet" from other "shoes", why not just agree that nobody should wear "shoes"?

COLIN: Er...they make me taller! [COLIN STANDS UP]

GARY: Ooooh! Watch me swim up. [GARY SWIMS UP A BIT TO BE HIGHER THAN COLIN]

CLARA THE FISH: Oooh Colin! You're soooo tall!

ZARA THE FISH: And I bet you'd be great at football, whatever that is!

CLARA: Want to come with us? We're just off to the reef.

ZARA: You could show us what those legs can do! [Giggles]

COLIN SWIMS OFF WITH CLARA AND ZARA.

GARY: Right! Tonight I'm going to grow some arms. If the girls fancy "football" players they're sure to go crazy about a fish who can play darts!

IF I HAD A STAMMER

DOCTOR'S STUDIO.

DOC and PATIENT.

DOC Good morning, patient. And what's up you, this fine afternoon?

PATIENT Yes Doctor, I have a st-st-st-st-st...

DOC A stamina loss? Well don't you worry Miss Patient. I have these handy heady army pills, Stam-You-Like. Just pop a couple up the executive jacksie and you be fit 'n' fiddlin'.

PATIENT No doctor, a st-st-st-st-st-st...

DOC A stroke? No my good fiend, those shenanigrans are worse than typhoid, scurvy and One Direction. Trust me my badass lad, I've studied in Stoke.

PARIENT NO, Doctor, a st-st-st-st-st...

DOC Strange, irresistible, irrequenchable obsession with the Spice Girls, even though they went out of Fasching twenty-two years, three months, a week and a day and a bit ago, and even then they were total and utter f**king shit? Yes, what is it about the Spice Ladies? Or as I call them, Sporty and the Dogs? Still, don't feel ashameful if you fancy the odd twang over Ginge and Co. Some people molest mongeese, don't we?

PATIENT For the last f**king time, you talentless, unprofessional, sub-Casualty moron, a stammer! A stutter! A bleedin' speech impediment! I just can't express... Oh wow.

DOC Oh, as you say, wow.

PATIENT How did you...?

DOC Finish my sentence? As simple as a One Direction fan. At moments of extreme rage, one's emotional energy triggers a crevicular synapse unlocking the inhibitory speech mechanism underlying the incapacity for self-eloquation. More technically, if you're f**ked off, you don't talk like a dick... Unfortunably, if nothing makes you angry, you're buggered.

PATIENT Oh f-f-f-f-fiddlesticks. C-c-c-c...

DOC Don't call me that.

PATIENT Can't...

DOC I said...

PATIENT C-c-c-an't you d-d-d-do anything?

DOC Um... Political corruption.

PATIENT N-n-n-no good.

DOC Legal injustice.

PATIENT N-n-n-nothing.

DOC One Direction.

PATIENT Ah you - n-n-n-nope.

DOC Then I'm afraid you are, in the words of Oscar Wilde, shafted. Now here's my fee... Oh sod.

1: Blimey, that was a boring lesson! But now we're free, what shall we do in break time?

2: Let's play tag.

3: I call it tig.

4: I've always called it chase.

5: And in some areas of the country it's called tips, or flicky Gertrude.

1: Excellent, that's removed all ambiguity about what game we're going to play. Gather round, we need to do the picking [SING-SONG]
Impy chimpy, salad and shoes,
which one will my finger choose?
Prawn jalfresi, Bang of Cillit,
half-price folding chairs from Millett.

2: Does that mean it's me?

1: Yes, it's you. It's you who gets to do the rhyme to find the person.

2: Alright! [SING-SONG]
A sequinned glove of Captain Kirk's,
Thackeray's collected works,
Shake 'n' Vac and oil paint thinner,
Served to Yul Brynner for his dinner.

3: Me! OK, I have been selected....to pick the official rhyme! We're gonna do my favourite. [SING-SONG]
Kalpol, watermelon, Barry Cryer,
Salvador Dali's girlfriend Gaia,
Arkanoid played by Nils Bohr,
Skeletor beat his high score,
a drawing of Doritos would make cheerier,
the bicolour triband flag of Nigeria.
[BEAT] Alleges the Minister for the Interior.
[BEAT] Of Nigeria.

4: Fair enough, the official rhyme has chosen me, so it's only fair that I...do the picking to start the game. [SING-SONG]
Anton Webern, Elon Musk,
Fleetwood Mac's twelfth album Tusk,
Middlemarch, clitoris, Gresham Flyers,
Chakas Khan and Demus, Richard Briers,
Salle a manger, case of gout
You know O-U-T spells out!
[BEAT] You must go
[BEAT] Going being what you do,
And by "you" I mean Y-O-U!
[BEAT] You!
[BEAT] Castanets!
[BEAT] Ampersand!
[BEAT] Anne Robinson's dead-eye sardonic leer!
Out you must go!

5: So, I'm out?

4: Yes.

5: OK, I'll do the chasing.

1: No, no, you're out...of the running. Now we see which of the 4 of us will be the chaser. I'll start [SING-SONG] Who threw a pomegranate at Cheryl Baker?

SFX: BELL RINGS

1: Oh, right, back to class then.

INSTRUCTOR: Right, the next and final part of the selection process is going to be the most brutal. It has to be, if you can't handle what's thrown at you here, then you won't f**king survive in this role. Is that clear? Because this is what you're going to encounter on a regular basis if you get selected. So get f**king used to it. Number seven step forward. This is a Kevlar stab vest, it will save your life, you need to get used to wearing it, it will be an essential part of your daily kit. Understood?

No. 7: Yes staff.

INSTRUCTOR: Good, now get it on and get over there. Staff B will play the aggressor, he will have a six inch steel hunting knife, and he will be trying to kill you. You have ninety seconds to defend yourself and save your life before help comes. Understood?

No. 7: Yes staff.

INSTRUCTOR: Okay, Staff B, attack!

STAFF B HURTLES TOWARD NO. 7 STABBING AND SLASHING VIOLENTLY

STAFF B: Aaaaargh, die you f**king bastard!

No. 7: Aaaargghh, ouch, ooh, aah, yelp, uuuurghh, ooouch, ooooh, aargh...(continued for 90 secs)

INSTRUCTOR: Okay stop! Right, number seven are you still alive?

N0. 7: (weakly) Er, I'm not sure.

INSTRUCTOR: Get the f**k up! Yes you are! Why? Because of your protective clothing and because of your training! This kit has saved your miserable life number seven. As it will if you are selected for the role. And don't you f**king forget it.

No.7: No staff, er yes staff.

INSTRUCTOR: Okay, f**k off and get changed. If you have any cuts or bruises the doctor will sort you out. Right, Number two, step forward. Number two, Staff B is going to attack you with a chair for ninety seconds. Your stab vest is not going to help you so you will need to deploy the self defence skills we have taught you. Is that understood?

No. 2: Yes staff.

INSTRUCTOR: Good, get the f**k over there! Okay, Staff B, attack!

STAFF B PICKS UP A WOODEN CHAIR AND SMASHES IT OVER N0. 2's HEAD

No. 2: Aaaaaaarggghh!

NEXT DAY

INSTRUCTOR: Right, the time has come to tell you who has passed the selection process and will be going forward into their new roles. Number five step forward. Well done, number five, you have passed selection.

No. 5: Thank you staff.

INSTRUCTOR: Number two!

No. 2: (weakly) Uurh?

INSTRUCTOR: Stay where you are number two, you did not pass selection.

No. 2: SIGHS WITH HEARTY RELIEF

INSTRUCTOR: Number seven, step forward.

No 7: Ah, ooh, ouch.

INSTRUCTOR: Well done number seven, you have passed selection.

No. 7: Ooh! Er I mean thank you staff.

INSTRUCTOR: Okay, well done you two, you should be f**king proud of yourselves. See me in my office in ten minutes.

TEN MINUTES LATER

INSTRUCTOR: Right you two, here are your deployments. Applicant number five, Miss Stephenson, you will be teaching year twos, and applicant number seven, Miss Lang you'll be teaching year ones. Registration is at eight forty five and assembly at nine. Any questions?

Tiggy is the biggy.

Gappy is the pappy!

Gappy (isn't crappy). Lucky there's no Cooking Brunt.

The Gappster this week.

G,A.P.P.Y to the tune of Y.M.C.A