J D Scarier 3 - 11.10.23

F**king Hell! C**tgtasulazioningd to Otterfox for winking. PM me with a subject for next wank please.
Meanwhilst...
Otterfox - 2
Aplate, Me - 1

Next topic: They're Dead (chosen by Gappy)
Leg closed: 11.10.23
Runners are nowt...

Position Score Name
1 9 Gappy, Me
2 7 Otterfox
3 4 APlate
4 1 Firkin

DEAD FUNNY

TOM and DICK at home.

TOM Eh Dick, you ever tried to contact the dead?

DICK Well I use WhatsApp occasionally, yeah.

TOM Shut up. I mean - tried a séance?

DICK Onse.

TOM Shut UP. Like, Ouija board?

DICK I don't know. Where is it?

TOM SHUT - UP. Now is their anyone you'd like to contact from beyond the grave?

DICK Billie Eilish.

TOM Will you shuddup? I mean - anyone dead you'd love to contact?

DICK Dick Head.

TOM Well, I'm only trying to help.

DICK No, my dad, Richard. He died last week,

TOM I'm sorry.

DICK So it was you, was it?

TOM For the last time, shut... Okay. Diick, Diiiccckk, Diiiiiiiicccck...

DICK Sounds like my mother after the pub.

TOM Diiiiccckkk Heeeaaaaddd...

VOICE Yerse?

TOM Oh my God! Can you hear me, Dick?

VOICE Yes, and the rest of you.

TOM Like father, like son.

VOICE No, that's incest.

TOM (to Dick) It's him! It's really him! Aren't you excited?

DICK Sounds like my mother after...

TOM Look Dick, this is your chance. You can ask him anything you like! Nothing on your mind?

DICK (thinks) Yeah! Dad - what're your hopes for the next Madonna tour?

VOICE I think it's gonna be totally, like, awesome dude! I know she's got her knockers...

DICK Oh Dad, not THAT joke again! What're you like, eh?

VOICE Ah, yer caught me out! But seriously, mate, I reckon she's gonna be great. Sure, she's getting on a bit, and some of the socials have made some really bitchy comments, but that's just haters 'n' trolls, innit? Madge will always be the Queen of Pop for me! Pisses over Katy Perry anyway - she's utter crap, and so what if she's had troub with Russell Brand? Oh, boo hoo! Her music still sucks like your mum after...

DICK Oh, Dad!

VOICE Well, I'm not apologising. I'm sorry, I'm not!... And anyway, Madonna's got the money, success and fame to hire the cream of the crop, so whatever state she's in personally, it'll be a great show.

DICK I know... In fact, I've got tickets!

VOICE You ain't! You jammy git! I NEVER saw her live, and now my chances are... Hey, so that was a trick question, you fiend!

DICK Ha ha! Hadja going there!

VOICE Ah, sod off... Anyway, anything else? Only I'm meeting Salman Rushdie for a pint later.

DICK Um - yeah. Can we talk about the Spice Girls?

VOICE No, we canNOT! How many times've I told yer, Dick, they went outa fashion donkey's ago, and even then they were crap! When're you gonna move on, ffs? They're dead and buried...

DICK Bit like you!

VOICE And THAT is an old Alan Partridge joke. I specifically remember from the popular series, 'Knowing Me, Know You.' Caught YOU out this time.

DICK Yeah, gotta be careful about that... But the first Spice single was good.

VOICE Well not as good as Madge, son. That's all I'm gonna say. Not as good as Confessions on a Dance Floor. Don't even come close, actually.

DICK Yes, Dad. Sorry, Dad.

VOICE Any other questions on yer mind?

DICK Nah... Oh yeah, tell a lie! Have they explained the meaning of life?

VOICE Ah, that old chestnut. Well (sighs), you remember that the seven heavens, pure lands, Tian, Jannah, Valhalla or the Summerland are traditionally conceived of as a cosmological, spiritual or transcendent area of existence in which sentient beings such as angels, jinn, saints, gods and venerated ancestors are said to originate, live or even be enthroned?

DICK Not sure.

VOICE (gradually fades) Yeah, well according to some, these may incarnate, or descend to earth, whilst earthly beings may ascend to heaven after physical death and decay, or in exceptional cases, enter alive. Many would posit that Heaven is a 'higher' or 'holier' place, Paradise, in juxtaposition with Hades, also known as Hell, the Underworld or 'low places', albeit conditionally but not universally accessible by earthly beings in accordance with various standards of divinity, faith, piety or sublime goodness, whereas Hinduism portrays the aforesaid areas as Svarna Ioka, comprising seven positive resting places for the soul, yet also seven negative regions, following which rebirth is possible in the form of instant karma...

DICK It's gonna get you.

TOM Dick, we're losing you...

SILENCE.

DICK Wow! That was, like, really amazing.

TOM You idiot. You had your chance and you missed it.

DICK What do you mean?

TOM The Spice Girls are far better than Madonna.

ESBJORN: Oh, Baron Samedi, dread stalker of the palace of sable mists, bless us with thy clawed fist and let this blasted creature walk again!

SFX:THUNDER CLAP

SVENSSON:What is occurring, sir priest?

ESBJORN: Observe! This corpse does rise from his mortal slumber, and awaits your bidding.

SVENSSON:Excellent! And with this undead army I may wage a war of terror upon my enemies throughout all Haiti!

SFX: SPLUNCH!

ESBJORN:Unless that happens.

SVENSSON:The zombie exploded!

ESBJORN:No he didn't.

SVENSSON:He did, just then.

ESBJORN: Only his midriff.

SVENSSON: OK, he has some unexploded bits. But can I unleash a reign of terror with a disconnected zombie head?

ESBJORN: Probably not.

SVENSSON:How about a couple of corpse feet?

ESBJORN:Never really given it any thought.

SVENSSON:Well start now.

ESBJORN:Erm...also probably not.

SVENSSON:No. So what happened?

SFX:GHOSTLY PUCKIRK!

ESBJORN: Oh, I get it. This zombie, before he died, had chicken for dinner.

SVENSSON: So?

ESBJORN: So, the bits of chicken in his digestive tract were dead. So, now they're a little chicken zombie. The spell sort of covers everything in the vicinity of the cadaver. Impressive, really.

SVENSSON: Sure, but can I take over the island using chicken zombies?

ESBJORN:Nobody's ever tried, so let's not rule it out.

SVENSSON:How about chicken zombie with no head, feet or feathers?

ESBJORN:I mean, you'd need some imagination.

SFX:GHOSTLY PUCKIRK!

SVENSSON:How does it even do that without a head?

ESBJORN:I think once you've believe in zombie McNuggets, you can just go ahead and ignore any questions like that.

SVENSSON:I don't know what I'm supposed to do, I've got no undead warriors, but I do have a haunted casserole.

ESBJORN:It is a stumper.

SFX:TINY SPECTRAL MOO

SVENSSON:What's this? A flying flannel?

ESBJORN:I think the corpse was probably wearing leather shoes. Meaning that's a revivified fragment of cow skin.

SVENSSON:I can't believe it! You are now going to surround me with hollow floppy cattle? [BEAT] That's so cute!

ESBJORN:That was unexpected.

SVENSSON:I like it when our conversations end like that. Feels like a good place to stop talking.

ESBJORN:[PAUSE] Alright, bye then.

The Trial of Lester Tuft.

Judge:
Lester Tuft, you stand accused of treachery, felony, arson, forgery, opulence, topiary, archery, botany and bunsen against Walter Shitehaw, Rewolf Crocktrocklet and Edegh Bontavero, how do you plead?

Lester:
Bunsen m'lud?

Judge:
You plead Bunsen?...Bunsen yes, a Bunsen burner. Setting things on fire and the like.

Lester:
But isn't that covered when you mention arson?

Judge:
You are so depraved that you are accused of two separate fire types; arson and...and ah...

Lester:
Bunsen sir?

Judge:
Yes bunsen you despicable excuse for a human. Now how do you plead?

Lester:
I plead for sanity.

Judge:
Sanity? Sanity!? With the litany of felonies that have been levelled against you, including felony itself, you want sanity? Where was the sanity when you topiarised Mrs. Bontaveros hair like a privet hedge and shaped it into a squirrel? Where was the sanity when you took advantage of Mr. Crocktrocklets extremely hirsute chest and botanised it to the point of having delphiniums, marigolds and lilacs growing on his belly.

Lester:
I staunchly deny that.

Judge:
How can you deny it when I hold in my hand your application form to enter your 'Crocktrocklet Garden' into the Chelsea flower show!?

Lester:
Shouldn't the barrister be making the accusations?

Judge:
I'm too angry with you.

Lester:
Fair enough, what else have you got?

Judge:
Walter Shitehaw.

Lester:
A lovely name. What am I accused of here, turning him into a tree?

Judge:
A lovely name and a lovely man. No, not turning him into a tree, in fact quite the opposite.

Lester:
Leaving him alone?

Judge:
How is leaving him alone the opposite of turning him into a tree? No, you're accused of archery.

Lester:
So archery is the opposite of turning someone into a tree? This gets more insane by the minute.

Judge: (angry)
This is only insane because of your depraved, twisted treatment of people! You stand accused of making bows and arrows out of him.

Lester:
What??

Judge:
You used him as a tree didn't you! Didn't you!

Lester:
This is ridiculous!

Judge:
The only thing being ridiculous here is you being ridiculous here. What makes you so certain that it's ridiculous here?

Lester:
Because they don't exist.

Judge:
Oh sweet lord! They're dead! You killed them! Someone, add murdery to the list of offences!

Lester:
They never did exist. Edegh Bontavero, you say I used her head like a privet hedge. She is a hedge.

Judge:
You were pleading for Bunsen and sanity. Add an 'in' before that and that's what you are.

Lester:
Inbunsen and sanity?

Judge:
Nooo, you've added 'in' to the wrong word completely. Insanity is what I was getting at. Now how on earth is Mrs. Bontavero a hedge?

Lester:
Edegh Bontavero. Edegh. E-D-E-G-H is an anagram of hedge. I give my plants first and last names.

Judge:
So how do you explain poor Mr. Rewolf Crocktrocklet? Rewolf, a wolf you owned twice I suppose??

Lester:
I planted lilacs, marigolds, delphiniums. Rewolf is flower backwards.

Judge:
Right...well two out of three ain't bad or is it? It could still be awful. How do you explain Walter Shitehaw or do I even want to know....I do want to know.

Lester:
As the name suggests Walter Shitehaw was a shite haw tree but I botanised the shite out of it, grew it out of a shite haw and grew it into the only tree I could that was an anagram of it...

Lester & Judge:
The white ash.

Lester:
The best tree for making bows and arrows.

Judge:
In light of these anagrams I have no choice but to drop the charges.

Lester:
And the other charges that haven't been addressed, forgery, arson and the like?

Judge:
I'm too impressed with you. Case closed.

Judge bangs gavel.

End.

'They're Dead'

JOHN: Hey, all right, Barry! Haven't seen you for ages!

BARRY: Oh, er, hello, John. Well, I haven't really got time...

JOHN: Yeah, yeah, it's been ages! So, how's the family?

BARRY: They're dead.

JOHN: (laughs) Yeah? Great! What about your wife, your stupid wife, how's she?

BARRY: Dead. They're all dead, John, including my wife.

JOHN: (laughs again) The silly old fool! Fat, too, wasn't she?

BARRY: Now, there's no need for that. I just told you that my family are dead.

JOHN: And your stupid sons! (laughs) What a pair of tossers! They really were quite ridiculous. And they were massive! Just like your stupid fat wife...

BARRY: (angrily) Oi! Now just stop it. You wouldn't like it if I slagged off your family, would you?

JOHN: Well, my wife and sons are very thin, and extremely intelligent, actually. And, of course, they're alive! (laughs) Unlike your family!

BARRY: Bloody Hell, this is horrible!

JOHN IS QUITE LITERALLY 'ROLLING ON THE FLOOR LAUGHING' AT THIS POINT: God, this is the best laugh I've had for years! Your stupid, fat family...

BARRY: Right, well, one of your two sons went to prison, didn't he? So he can't be all that great.

JOHN STANDS UP

JOHN (proudly) Actually, my son escaped from prison, Barry! He's so thin that he just slipped through the bars of the prison cell, and then slid down the drainpipe. Literally inside the drainpipe! He's thin and clever. Imagine your sons trying to do that! Christ! They're so enormous, it'd be like an elephant trying to mount a polo mint, or something shit like that.

BARRY: STOP IT! STOP IT!

JOHN: HAHAHAHAHA!!!

BARRY SLOWLY STARTS TO DISAPPEAR AS THOUGH HE WAS NEVER THERE

SCENE CHANGES TO JOHN, AT HOME, STARING INTO A MIRROR, LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY WITH TEARS RUNNING DOWN HIS FACE.
WE REALISE THAT THE PREVIOUS ENCOUNTER WAS ALL IN HIS IMAGINATION

CLOSE UP ON A PHOTOGRAPH ON THE WALL OF JOHN WITH HIS WIFE AND TWO SONS, WHO ARE ALL OVERWEIGHT

CAMERA PANS ACROSS TO A SHELF WITH THREE URNS

JOHN CONTINUES TO LAUGH AND CRY AS SCENE FADES TO BLACK

gappy gets my vote. Some good dialogue, and as it's always hard to know how to end a sketch, I like the "...Feels like a good place to stop talking"

Close but Otterfox this wank.

I find myself plated this week.

It's the Monkhouse for me. I particularly liked the line: can you hear me Dick? Yes, and the rest of you.