A Spice Girl In 1941 With No Talent At All 1 - 8.2.22

F**king Hell! C**tgtasulazioningd to Gappy and Otterfox for a joint wink. PM myself with a subject for next wank pleased. Meanwhilst...
Otterf**ked, Gappy - 2 apiss

Next natterjerk: Laughter
Leg closed: 8.2.22
Runners are nowt...

Position Score Name
1 9 Gappy
2 8 Crindy
3 3 Otterfox
4 2 Playfully
5 1 Teddy, me

TEACH AN OLD DOG

PUB.
TOM... DICK rushes in, flapping arms wildly.

DICK Tom, you just gotta hear this new joke! Read it on Facebook, so it must be fab. It's funtastic, it's giriffic, it's - quite good really.

TOM (yawn) Go on, Dick.

DICK Why did the old man cross the road? To get to the other side!

PAUSE.

TOM WHAT did you say?

DICK I said...

TOM I HEARD what you said, thank you! Are implying there's something ridiculous, risible or really crap about the elderly? You'll be old too one day, you insensitive bastard, and we'll see who's smirking on the wrong sides of their cheek then.

DICK But I was just...

TOM Well don't, Aldolf Dice Clay Goebllsohn! I work in an old person's home and these fellows suffer Alzheimer's on the brain, decay on the physique and Last Of the Summer Wine reruns on UK Gold. I'm flabbergutted they survive at all... Bet they do. Yea, they do. (sob) They pervertsear with dignity and joyousness and pridefuls and shit a fine, upstanding example to crass, rude, crude upstarts like your bad self.

DICK But...

TOM And why did this poor, marginalised, maligned bundle of skin cross the road? HOW did he crux it, more like. The mobility of our aged community restains a thorn in the cruddy backside of our local authorityfulnesses. Perhaps this sad, wrinkled, wruined wretch was wheelchair-wridden and unable of performing the simplingest of allday tasks, such as cooking a coffee, turning on the trannyvision or having a dump? Laughing at the handicrapped now, are we? Who do we think we are,.Lady Gaga? Boy, you make Borat look like Cliff Richard.

DICK It's just a joke.

TOM That's what Pol Pot said. And who was driving this wheelchair of which thou jests? A social worker, underpaid, overworked and something else? A woman, you sexist misogynisticals? Or a black, you racialismist fascist Nastiboy! Black Lives Matter too, that's on Facebook too. I bet it was a homoseuxalism? Homophones as well, are we? Perchance it was a felon posing as a social worker, leaving the poor old git in the midst of said road to be run over by a car swerving frantically to the backside of the road, into a crowd of innocent bystanders, including two children, a Jew and a fattie, so he could rush to the dying man's home, break in and steal all his money to sell to drugs for minors being trafficked by a totalitarian government holding thousands of political prisoners, funding international terrorism and blocking food from Africa? You've gone too far.

DICK Oh, forget it. (leaves)

TOM Twat.

*cough* Scores at the bottom of the first email need updating

*Edit* not email, post! Dozy dick that I am.

Gappy's right, you said I'd get more points if I stopped entering :)

PMs are f**ked so write here. Thanks.

You can't have "slaughter" without "laughter". It's just so damn fun!

1:Miss Blessop, please send in Mr Kay for our eleven o'clock. [BEAT] Hang on, you're not Peter Kay! God, it's you again! How do you keep getting in here to pitch your idiotic sit coms?

2:Lovely, 4 sugars please; and one of them hairdresser's biscuits. Now, about my sit com. Picture this: 2 brothers, living in south-east London, barely keeping their heads above water whilst trading dodgy merchandise. Cheeky chappies by day, family troubles by night, an old seafaring uncle telling stories...and a load of guys doing composite resin molar repair!

1:Sorry?

2:You heard right: wheeler dealing, fraternal friction, and ginigivitis diagnoses. Only Fools & Dentists! Thoughts?

1: No!

2:Alright, check this one. Two brothers, living in south-east London, flogging half-inched appliances...and loads of jokes about the shape of linguine. Only Fools & Pasta!

1:'Obviously no.

2:Third time lucky. We're in south-east London, there's two guys -

1:Brothers?

2:Yeah, good guess. They sell Mickey Mouse gear in the market, but also there's this World Darts Federation Champion they call The Crafty Cockney, and -

1:I will not be buying Only Fools & Bristow! Every time you inveigle your way into my office, it's the same rigmarole. I've had Only Fools & Dripstands, Only Fools & Klaxons, Only Fools & Entrails -

2:Hallowe'en special!

1:I am not interested in any of your woeful attempts at shoe-horning random concepts into south-east London!

2:Yeah, but when I pitched you the exciting, international versions, you didn't want to know!

1:Oddly, I had no interest in Only Fools & Brisbane, Only Fools & ABBA, or Only Fools & Vishnu.

2:You forgot Only Fools & Yashmaks.

1:I assure you I didn't and never, ever will. Do you really think you'll capture the magic of Only Fools & Horses just by replacing the horses? I mean, there weren't even any horses in it!

2: What about Trigger?

1:Have you ever even seen Only Fools & Horses?

2:Don't need to. Because I'm imagining Only Fools & Limpets! Or maybe, Only Fools & SCART Leads.

1:None of these make any sense! None of these titles work! It's only "fools and horses" works!

2:Yeah, I heard that.

1:Now get out of here, and never return.

2:Alright, just before I go - assuming that frappuccino isn't going to materialise - just listen to one more idea. There's two brothers, in south-east London, and they have all this hooky products to sell. But they don't know where to store it, so they go to this importer with a lock-up in west London, who's just as dodgy as them. Madcap shenanigans ensue. I call it, Only Fools & Minder.

1:Deal! Sign here - I assume this fee for 6 episodes will meet your approval.

2:Not half! But, I want no income tax.

1:I mean, that's completely out of my power.

2:Fair enough.

THE SKETCH PITCH SKETCH PITCH SKETCH.

INT. OFFICE. DAY. 1960's (don't know why it's 60s that just how I envisioned it)

Mr. Moore sits at his desk smoking a pipe. Kenny enters.

MOORE:
Kenny, Kenny, Kenny my good man. This is a big week. Our own show with an hour full of sketches. What have you got that will blow them out of the water?

KENNY SITS.

KENNY:
W-well I have this idea for a sketch.

MOORE:
That's a good start Kenny, I'd go as far as to say a very good start.

KENNY:
It's a sketch.

MOORE:
Again, exactly the type of thing I'm after.

KENNY:
So the sketch is about a writer.

MOORE:
Just like you Kenny possibly, maybe, perhaps.

KENNY:
So he enters an office, a producers office.

MOORE:
And that's like me conceivably, likely, perchance.

KENNY:
So he comes in and the producer says his name three times.

MOORE:
Go on.

KENNY:
The producer is smoking a pipe.

MOORE:
I like where you're going with this. For no reason at all I'm going to start writing down some of the things that you just wrote.

KENNY:
So the producer asks the writer about the sketches he's written and the writer tells him about a sketch involving a writer who enters a producers office.

MOORE:
You have me hooked now I must say. Don't stall. What happens next for goodness sake?

KENNY:
The writer is just about to reveal the punchline but the phone r-

PHONE RINGS.

MOORE:
Hold that thought Ken.

MOORE: (ON PHONE)
Hello....yeah....yes. Oh Staaaaan (laughs) We were a bit behind, were we, but we've caught up, have we? Just as he was saying it the phone rang, I see.....yeah that's great altogether. Thanks Stan.

MOORE: (TO KENNY)
That sounds super, Kenny. Run off, put it together and we'll give it a run through, see how it plays out with the producer.

KENNY RUNS OUT THE DOOR AND AFTER A BEAT COMES BACK IN.

Kenny:
I think we just did.

Director:
And cut!

DIRECTORS WORDS ECHO SEVERAL TIMES.

Each echo sends the camera out further and further. First to the roof of building, then sky, then town, then map of country, then world.

Cut to writer of this sketch (me) writing 'cut to writer'.

ME: (SURPRISED)
Hey!

End.

HA

Two Laughing Bags on a shelf in a seaside town's Joke Shop.

SFX A click, a disk whirling.

GUFFAW;
Ha ha ha ho ho ho heee heee heee ha ha haaarrr ooooow
ha ha ha har

LOL;
( Silence)

GUFFAW;
Ha ha ha ho ho ho heee heee heee ha ha haaarrr ooooow
ha ha ha har

LOL;
(Silence)

GUFFAW;
What's a matter, Lol?

LOL;
(Sighs) I don't feel like laughing anymore.

GUFFAW;
Why ever not, it's what we do.

LOL;
Yeah well I'm bored of it, ever since I was made in Japan.

GUFFAW;
Ha ha ha ho ho ho heee heee heee ha ha haaarrr ooooow
ha ha ha har

X-RAY GLASSES;
Oi! will you shut up, I'm trying to get some sleep here.

GUFFAW;
Sleep? How can X-Ray specs get some sleep when he sees
through everything?
Ha ha ha ho ho ho heee heee heee ha ha haaarrr
ooooow ha ha ha har

FEZ;
I backed a horse today 20 to 1 it came in at 20 past 4

X-RAY GLASSES;
Oh gawd you've set Tommy off now.

GUFFAW;
Ha ha ha ho ho ho heee heee heee ha ha haaarrr ooooow
ha ha ha har

FEZ;
I went to buy some camouflage trousers today, but I couldn't find
any

JOKE SHOP;
Be quiet, we're all trying to get to sleep here.

FEZ;
Thank you (Cough) Just like that ha ha ha

GUFFAW;
Ha ha ha ho ho ho heee heee heee ha ha haaarrr ooooow
ha ha ha har

EVERYONE;
SHAT UUUUPPPPPPPP

GUFFAW;
Ha ha ho ho ho wo wo wo wooooooo oh noooooooo
my batttttttttery's gooooooooooooin'

X-RAY GLASSES
Oh thank Gawd for that

LOL
Ha ha ha ho ho ho heee heee heee ha ha haaarrr ooooow
ha ha ha har

DR HIRST IS SEATED WHILST A REP TRIES TO SELL HIM A MANQUIN WITH A FEATHER DUSTER STUCK INTO IT'S GROIN.

REP: For the last time it's not sexual , it's a bonafide medical device !

DR: Why the feather duster ?

REP: Tickle stick.

DR: You've got to admit it looks more like a sex toy, I mean what are those prominent teeth supposed to be for ?

REP: You've always said laugher is the best medicine. Let me demonstrate.

HE PRESSES A BUTTON AND THE PINK FEATHER DUSTER ROTATES. MUSIC CUE: HAPPINESS BY KEN DODD.

DR: Did he just sing "My penis is the sweetest thing I posses" ?

REP: Happiness, Happiness is the sweetest thing ! It's the Liverpudlian accent. Look , lucky I've got a thousand of these so I can lend you one on a free trial basis.

DR: Damien, the only reasons I said I'll take a look at your latest invention was because you're my son. Do you remember when you lost interest in Taxidermy and managed to sell that half a cow in formaldehyde to an art gallery ?

REP: I know, they even gave me a prize. Do you know who Turner is ?

DR: When you failed Pharmacy school didn't the Tate take your excess stock and put it on display ?

REP: True but they think this one is too tacky. To be fair it is a pink rotating phallic duster and he does mention cock. I tried to sell them all as a British Terracotta Army, but they said it's a bit Benny Hill , whoever he is. Or maybe they said Harry Hill ?
[HIS PHONE BEEPS AND HE READS A TEXT]

REP: No worries Dad, just got an order for the job lot.

DR: The Tate gallery ?

REP: No it's the Ann Summers. Where is that gallery exactly ?
-----END-----

VIRAL VILIANS
A Uniformed Chief Inspector is sat at a desk in front of a camera. The director who is about 15 years old is talking.
DIR
When you're ready people!

A woman comes and stands left of the desk and then a man with a painted white face stands to her right The Chief Inspector looks puzzled but starts anyway.
CI
My name is Chief Inspector Gayle Hopper

As she says this the woman on her left repeats it in sign language.

Then the man in the white face points at himself and leans back like its windy and then hops on one leg

The Chief Inspector stops dead and speaks to the director while pointing at the man in the white face.
CI
What's going on here? I can understand the need for the sign language but what's he about?

DIR
This is for the internet we need stuff like this to make it to go viral

CI
I'm trying to catch a pair of serial killers!

DIR
How's that going? You been at it for years using the papers and TV. If you want the world to see it, then we need to make it go viral and trust me this will work
The Chief Inspector looks dubious but continues as a photograph of a man and woman suspects comes up behind her.

CI
I'm here tonight to talk about the hunt for Rose Moon

The sign language woman's hands start going And then the man makes a Rose smelling action then drops his pants and moons.
CI
And her husband Dick

The signer does her hand moves as the man goes to unzip his flies.

The Chief Inspector gets up and walks out
DIR
Ok people that's a wrap, pure gold. If we throw in a laughter track and get it straight up on You Tube the plod should have these two by tea time.

Firkin this wank.

Otterfox again for me, I loved the recursion. It reminded me of this, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y-ZNX1jqbOk

Corny as it was the Thief Of Bad Gags hit the remit almost on the bull.

Otterfox.