Morris’ Generation Game

A partially insane wizard of extreme power and often grumpy demeanour. Clearly also vaguely deaf and prone to losing track of what is going on.
Tall gothic man in his thirties. Wears a long black cloak, black trousers and pixies boots. Round glasses and high cheek bones. Sense of self importance. Also looks fucked off with the whole business. Talks in deep, voice a bit like he has a cold.
Idiotic brother of Bikle, similar stature, but horribly clumsy. Also wears a cloak but the outfit is generally ridiculous looking. Believes there will at some juncture be cheese. Voice is goofy but similar to Bikles.
Clancy Butterball Turkey.
Giant anthropomorphic Turkey with magic powers. Often removes people’s trousers and says ‘Really…?’ in a Kenneth Williams esque manner. Arch enemy to Morris.
A race of bird people, part goose, part man, part penguin. In the employ of Morris. Johnsons are what the predicate before the word Johnson suggests. Though Johnson also exists as a creature in its own right –undetermined by a specific predicate.
Small irritating bald character. Often brandishing tomorrows newspaper.
Grumpy man who lives in squalid flat. Not very bright and has status issues.
Morris’ long suffering wife.
Koth Hotep.
Titan of abysmal space.
Pete and his Peppers
Very poor entertainment act of a Frenchman (Pete) in a harlequin outfit, hurling peppers around at various things.
Pete and Paul
Idiotic brothers seeking to try to help.
Alfonso de Bersierneaux.
Well known French juggins, often drunk.
Duke of Croy.
Violent French alcoholic aristrocrat.
Captain Flint.
Large piece of flint. Sometimes wearing a tricorn hat.
Judge Bikle.
A part of Bikle’s psyche in Judge form. In here he manifests as a ‘Judge Bikle action figure’



Morris’ Generation Game.

Music finishes, camera pans to Morris

Morris: “Good evening ladies gentlemen and small children, welcome to the show, and what as show we have got for you look! Ladies and gentlemen a funny thing happened to me on my way to the studio today, I bumped into our old friend Farmer Johnson. How’s the potato crop Johnson? I asked. He replied, I’ve been very busy learning Jazz guitar, I’m going to dig them later!” (waits for laughter, embarrassed silence.) “Anyway, enough of this hilarity, let’s meet tonight’s contestants… Yolanda, if you please…”
Yolanda walks on from unexpected side that Morris gestures to
Morris: ” Fuck! Where did you come from?” Audience shock noise
Yolanda: “Morris! We’re on telly remember!”
Morris: “Yes Yolanda, you are on the telly, as were you also last month when investigative Johnson took these compromising pictures of you on Kojak star Telly Savalas *shows unsuitable pictures on large screen* horrified noises from audience and comedy drum happens. “anyway enough of this Hilary, Yolanda or whoever you are. Who are tonight’s three teams?”
Yolanda (with fixed nervous smile): “Well first up tonight Morris, we have Simon, a Newsagent, and his older, balding friend, who wouldn’t give us his name, but describes himself as ‘a very private person.’”
Morris: “Ho ho Yolanda, so why has he decided to appear on a prime time Tv show then?” *turns to frosty * “Answer me you turkey bastard or I will burn you to death!” Frosty looks alarmed
Frosty: “Fuckin’ ‘ell! Hoping to win a new cat basket.”
Morris: “Bat casket? What is this man talking about? Get them out of my sight before the carpet burns, and them with it!” Nervous audience laughter, “now who have we got here Hilary?”
Yolanda: “Um this Michael a fridge engineer and his auntie Mavis, Michael lives in a squalid flat with his brother, who is in the audience tonight, and Mavis works in a coconut processing factory”
Polite applause
Morris: “So then Michael, you spend your time surrounded by crippled fridges?”
Bikle: “It’s Bikle actually, and…”
Morris: “That’s marvellous. And you Mavis, you work with a lot of nuts? A bit like me what? Ho ho ho. Anyway, Dolores, who’s the last pair of deadbeats you’ve got lined up for us tonight?”
Yolanda: “Well Morris last but certainly not least we’ve got Mr and Mrs Johnson…”
Loud applause
Johnson: “Mwaaerk!”
Morris peers suspiciously at Johnsons, disturbed by their obvious popularity.
Morris: “Be. Very. Careful. I have got my eyes on you Johnsons.”
The avian couple shift nervously. Luckily Morris is distracted by the sound of a large gong.
Morris: “Marvellous. That’s the signal for the start of round one. The eliminator round. The rules are very simple. One question per team, if you get the answer right you progress to the next round. Of course if the contestants get the answer wrong…” Laughs gently with a knowing look at the audience, before shrieking into the faces of the stricken Johnsons, eyes ablaze with the white hot fire of madness, spittle flying, “I WILL SHRED YOUR ROTTEN STINKING FLESH, FLAY YOU WITH WHIPS OF MAGMA AND SCOUR YOUR VERY ESSENCE FROM EXISTENCE!”
Yolanda: quietly aside to Morris “Are you having one of your turns dear? Do you need a tablet?”
Morris: “Ho ho Dolanda, no I am not having a turn, but they are! As we play round one! First members of the team on the podiums please for question one. Bat casket man this is for you” reads from card “tell me what is Planck’s constant to 5 decimal places?”
Frosty looks blank and peers owlishly around the stage. Morris drums impatiently on his lecturn.
Morris: “Come on, come on we don’t have all day. Get a wriggle on Rat Gasket. Do you want to ask the audience?”
Frosty looks hopefully at this:
Frosty: “huh yeah, go on then”
Morris: “Well you MAY NOT ASK THE AUDIENCE, what do you think this is ‘who wants to be a millionaire cake slice?’ Answer the question or I will lock you in a Rat Casket of my own devising and throw away the key, Johnson! Fetch the Rat Casket in preparation!”
Audience shuffle uncomfortably as Frosty goes pale and starts to mumble something inaudible. Flourishing a periodical Frosty’s partner chirps up.
Simon: “Ho, h’excuse be h’sir, h’I cad adswer h’that question. Hi read h’it h’in toborrow’s dewspaper!”
Morris stares at him silently for a long moment, then brandishes an identical tabloid.
Morris: “Would that be the article beneath the headline POINTLESS NUISANCE INCINERATED ON PRIMETIME TELEVISION BY PERFECTLY SANE HOST by any chance?”
The audience seems comedically buoyed by tomorrow’s newspaper, much to Morris’s chagrin. Sensing the crowds backing he presses ahead
Simon: “Ho h’yes, Poor old flat h’basket ” *audience laughter* “still h’I’m sure one day he’ll be h’prawn again!” The audience laughs heavily “Ho, h’what headline h’Borris? H’I don’t h’see h’any h’such headline!”
He crows, waving his copy of the journal, carried away by his seeming triumph. The crowd bay with laughter. There is a sudden harsh roaring rushing sound, like that of a gas cooker being lit, only magnified a thousandfold, as a pillar of blue and white fire erupts from the podium. As quickly as it appears the flame subsides, leaving a pall of cinders and greasy, sweet smelling smoke climbing towards the roof of the auditorium. As the fumes clear, two carbonised twisted skeletons are seen lolling hideously over their scoreboard their blackened jaws opened in a silent scream of agony. Cries of horror and fear rise from the spectators as the cough and gag on the stench of burnt flesh.
Morris: “Ho ho ho ladies a gentlemen, looks like Simon and basket boy are out. Or at least they will be when Johnson gets here with the extinguisher.”
The contestant Johnsons look agitated as if they don’t know if they should be putting the fire out, but then Johnson arrives with the relevant equipment, puts out the remaining fire and cleans up generally.
Morris: “Now then next question, for you Michael, how long is piece of string?”
Bikel: “Ho. Dat’s easy. How long do you want it to be?”
The cadaverous contestant chuckles to himself. The audience braces itself for another fiery holocaust, but Morris, holding one hand to his ear appears to be listening to something. He nods.
Morris: “Very well. I can accept that answer.” Spinning round suddenly, he screams “INFILTRATORS!”
Mr and Mrs Johnson freeze in terror. A group of leather jacketed, tattooed birdmen rush onstage and set about their erstwhile colleagues with ice picks and motorcycle chains. Blood and feathers fly amidst the most awful cries. As quickly as it began, the tumult is over and nothing but two wide streaks of crimson leading to the wings remain of the luckless contestants. Morris glares at Yolanda and whispers hoarsely.
Morris: “Replace them.”
Enter Johnson with a mop whilst a stressed looking Yolanda ushers in the replacement Johnsons.
Morris: “Ladies and gentlemen the Johnsons are back! Now the next round is one in which our special guest comes on, demonstrates a special skill, which you are obliged to copy, and tonight’s guest is err Mr Lance Battenburg from Turkey. Round of applause please ladies and gents for Lance Battenburg.”
Enter Clancy Butterball Turkey thinly disguised in a stripey yellow suit with a moustache and fez. Morris however seems oblivious to his enemy’s presence.
Morris: “So tell me Lance tonight what will our contestants be trying tonight? Or should I say frying tonight! HO HO HO!”
Clancy: “Blblbp! Lovely to be here tonight!” (doffs fez politely to Yolanda.) “Going to do some magic tricks! Blplblblp! Need a volunteer from audience!” He ostentatiously peers around the auditorium before pointing to a familiar figure. “You sir! Blplblblbp! Total stranger. Never met you before! Up you come!” A lanky figure in too short cord trousers, patched cloak and galoshes clambers awkwardly onto the stage.
Buckle: “Ho! Hello dere Bikle! Look at be! I’b od de telly!”
Clancy “Blblblblblp now then sir. Simple trick nothing in the hat. Blblbp, please inspect.”
Buckle: “Led be have look in dere. Hmmph dothing at all” Bikle cringes at what’s coming “you do Lance I thought there’s be cheese, how disappointing” audience laughs
Clancy: “Blblblp no cheese, blblblp but there is a pair of collar doves blblblp”
Audience ooh and ah, then Morris casually incinerates the doves.
Morris: “Looks simple enough let’s see what kind of pig’s ear our contestants can make of it. Mike you first, don’t be shy now!”
Bikle: “It’s Bike. I bean Bikle. I haven’t the slightest idea what I’b doig here. What’s goig od adyway?”
Clancy: “Bit of magic. All good. Lighthearted fun. Blpblblb. Another demonstration?” (Whisk!)
Bikle’s trousers have magickally vanished and are now in the Turkey’s hands.
Bikle: “By trousers!” (Audience roars with laughter. Clancy flourishes trousers derisively.) “Give theb here!”
Bikle charges headlong at Clancy, arms windmilling and cloak billowing, only to run smack into a wall that the Turkey has magically transported to in front of Bikle.
Bikle: “Boooooh!” (CRASH!)
Clancy: “Reeeaally! No trousers on television! Looking stupid! Proper juggins! Blpblblp!”
Morris looks confused.
Morris: “What is going on here? Wasn’t he supposed to be doing the hat thing? How many points does he get for that no trousers wall debacle with no doves?”
Clancy: “Blblblblbp 2 points, blblp of a possible 10, very poor. Blblblblbp! Now you try Johnson”
Turkey passes the hat and Johnson deftly produces 2 turtle doves
Johnson: “Mwaaaerk!”
Clancy: “Blblblblblp very good, wrong doves, but still good, blblbp 9 points”
The Johnsons look pleased but Morris is twitching again.
Morris: “Yolanda can we get the mangle out yet?”
Yolanda: Sighs “I thought we’d discussed that Morris. This round is nearly over. Why don’t you just look at the pretty birds for a while?”
Morris: “Very well my sweet. If this rubbish goes on much longer I may need to have a bit of a lie down. Who’s stupid idea was this anyway? I bet it was Johnson. He’s always coming up with schemes, like that one with the hat factory.”
Meanwhile, Bikle assisted by Johnson, has managed to extricate himself from a tangle of cables and storm back across the stage and put his trousers back on which the Turkey has now discarded.
Bikle: “Wait a bobent Br Battenburg. Bi want adother go at the hat business!”
Clancy: “Blblbplp! Certainly! Good sport! Just pop your hand in there!”
With no further ado Bikle plunges in his hand.
Bikle: “B’ive got sobthig! It won’t come out!”
Clancy: “Blpblp! Pull hard. Quickly now! Portal closing!”
Morris: “Yes pull it out quickly Bicycle head!”
Bikle heaves and the hat rips emitting some terrible sulphurous vapours. He flies backwards and lands in a heap. The hat hangs hideously in the air ripping its aperture wider as an enormous hand begins to emerge.
Morris: “ladies and gentlemen please welcome the next of tonight’s special guests, Koth Hotep titan of the depths of abysmal space!”
Nervous applause and some shrieks as Koth Hotep emerges from a widening portal. His terrifying fuligin bulk near fills the stage.
Morris: addressing him cheerfully “so Koth, what have you got for us tonight?”
The audience are by now whimpering and cowering in terror, confronted by this darkness within the darkness from before fear had a name. Morris however is visibly perked up by the appearance of an old chum.
Morris: “Marvellous! Lovely to have you on the show Koth mate. And what form shall the test take?”
The shadowy blackness coils in upon itself, hideous cold blue luminosity flashing around its extremities.
Roiling and boiling, the horror ascends to the roof and hangs there emanating hate.
Morris: “You heard him Johnson, remember the stuff that rolls past or face a fate beyond all awfulness, look!” Gestures to the hanging mass of iniquity. “But of course no memory game of ancient evil would be complete without ‘the eldritch dark conveyor belt cubicle of dread’ Johnson the cubicle if you please!”
Part of the stage swivels round to reveal a hideous gothic dark wood carved cubicle resplendent with strange signs and sinister faces. A window from which the sitting contestant can peer out of looks over an old old leather conveyor belt. The machinery is heavy and seems to be ready to be hand operated by sinister mechanical Johnson, who stands nearby. The general impression of the set up causes the audience to recoil in fear.
Morris: “Come on now Johnson in you get!”
Johnson looks terrified. Quivering with fear, Johnson steps falteringly into the box. Instantly the door slams behind him, the carvings writhe and meld into one another until no trace of the doorway remains, leaving Johnson entombed save for his panicky face peering through the aperture. With an awful grinding noise, the conveyor belt judders into life, and a succession of objects roll slowly past. In a toneless yet menacing voice, Morris keeps up a running commentary:
Morris: “A baked potato. A coffee machine. A wagon wheel. The charred skull of a newsagent. A tumble dryer. The animated corpse of Sigmund Freud. One of Carl’s sheep. A No Frills french bread pizza. A bowling ball…” Here Morris’s attention seems to wander for a moment, but pulling himself together he continues.”Astaroth’s teeth, Pandora’s socks, half a pound of chipolatas, a Minotaur, a garden saw, a living hoover, a jiving mover, an anaconda,” pauses “ hang on a minute Yolanda, is that an aconda? What is aconda? Or should it say condor? It looks more like a big snake? Johnson stop turning!”
Yolanda: “Morris it’s an anaconda”
Morris: Looking at her with a scrunched up confused face. “An..Anna Conda? Is it the next special guest?”
Yolanda: “No Morris it’s a giant snake!”
Morris: “Is it?”
Yolanda: “Yes you can see it is!”
But now the snake has slithered partially off the conveyer belt and is constricting poor Mr Johnson in the cubicle.
Morris: “Oops, quickly Johnson, get turning!”
Johnson turns for all he is worth, sadly this does not of course free Mr Johnson rather it drags him out of the viewing hole onto the conveyor belt.
Morris: “…and a multipack of assorted flavoured crisps, now Johnson let’s see what you can remember, Johnson?! Johnson? Where has he gone Yolanda? This is intolerable, we are going out live to millions of viewers, and he just disappears at will. If I know Johnson, he’s probably sloped off for a baked potato… and a wagon wheel. And a coffee machine, Ashtaroth’s teeth, the charred skull of a newsagent, a living hoover, one of Carl’s sheep and a Minotaur.” Morris beams. “So then Anita, what do I win?”
Yolanda: “Morris! You’re the host not a bloody contestant!”
Morris: “Of course I can recommend a good decongestant. Drowsy or non-drowsy? Will you be operating heavy machinery? Well you are operating heavy machinery. Look! Out of the way Sinister Mechanical Johnson, Dorito here wants a turn on the conveyor belt. I’d think twice about doing that with your bad head cold. Anyway, where is our next contestant?”
Bikle strides forward purposefully, keen to vindicate himself in the eyes of the audience after the earlier debacle. Morris turns to him and gives him a fierce glare.
Morris: “So Michael. What are you singing for us tonight?”
Bikle is about to reply when Morris cuts him short again.
Morris: “Good choice. And what musical round would be complete without the karaoke cubicle of eternal foulness!”
The same abomination of carpentry is gestured to. The door reappears and unclicks open with an evil hiss. Large dark metal pipes now protrude from the sides, and a low piped discordant melody issues forth.
Morris: “In you get Captain Beaky!”
Sinister mechanical Johnson bustles him in and Koth Hotep blasts the stage with an icy misty breath of despair. Bikle peers out worriedly.
Morris: “Yolanda, whenever you’re ready turn the crank!”
Yolanda sighs and begins to slowly turn the evil machine. As she does so an unmistakeable yet still dissonant version of a famous tune appears.
Morris: Booming “Sing contestant sing! Your soul depends upon it!”
Bikle: Falteringly begins “Bi’ve got a… lovely bunch of cocoduts…!”
Morris: “Marvellous, now remember the stuff as well, Johnson put stuff back on the conveyer”
Bikle’s eyes scan the belt as he uncomfortably warbles.
Bikle: “Large ones, s’ball ones some as big as your head o.o.”
Morris: Begins again: “A baked potato, a coconut, John Lewis pillow cases, a dvd player with digibox, an undead crocodile, another coconut, another coconut, a John Lewis coconut, Astaroth’s coconut, a block of cheese….”
At this, a voice is heard from the audience.
Buckle: To the audience member next to him. “Ho dow, dat’s a coincidence, you see, hearlier today…”
Morris scowls, a flurry of Johnsons dart into the crowd, and there comes the sound of blows. The Johnsons reemerge carrying a slumped, bloody figure. Morris resumes his monologue;
“A litre bottle of Special Red. 5 lepers leaping. A baked coconut. Jerry Lee Lewis’ paternity case. A commercially ill advised “Judge Bikle” Action Figure. A Coco Chanel vanity case. A baked Alaska. A cage of dead canaries…”
Bikle: “By cadaries!”
Morris: “A coconut. A coconut. Soup. A coconut. A dreaded Wendigo Teatime Assortment. Johnson. A foaling stall. A bowl of gooseberries. A leading brand of non-drowsy decongestant.”
Yolanda, sensing the audience’s restlessness, tries to interrupt……but Morris is in no mood to be thwarted.
Morris: “A penny Farthing. A microwave oven. A pair of trousers.”
Bikle: “By trousers!”
Morris: “a mouldy plate, a cuckoo clock, a dirty sock, a severed head, a four poster bed….”
Bikle’s head swims at the horrendous list.
Bikle: “Bi feel a little queer” he moans.
Morris pauses impressively “and…..the mangle of Koth Hotep”
The hideous mangle roles slowly across the belt and out of sight. Bikle lies slumped in the cubicle mumbling the words to the coconut song. At the mention of his mangle Koth Hotep lets out a terrifying hiss.
Morris: ‘Yes, erm, I should think twice before remembering that. Now contestant, get out the box!”
The door unclicks and Bikle falls sideways out of the cubicle and lies there mumbling. Morris puts the microphone to him.
Morris: “So contestant, what was on the list?”
Bikle: “Cocodut…” Comes the feeble reply
Morris: “Congratulations, you have won a coconut! Give him a round of applause ladies and gentlemen”
Bikle raises his head feebly as the audience applauds wildly. In his fevered mind their hands have been replaced with brown husk covered hemispheres which clack together with a noise all too reminiscent of mud stained ponies skittering frantically on a music hall stage.
Bikle: “Cocoduts?”
Morris dubiously prods the bedraggled figure with a stick.
Morris: “He doesn’t look very cute Miranda. Do you think we should keep him?”
Morris is suddenly distracted by a cracking sound. Auntie Mavis has gain access to the coconut reserve and is now using her powerful reptilian feet to crack them open. Johnson tries in vain to fend her away, but wants to keep his distance from the vicious appendages. Crack, crack the coconuts lie in twain, and she makes a hideous screech.
Morris: “Oi you!” Morris shouts, “leave my prize coconuts alone!” Morris moves towards her but slips in the coconut milk careering into Johnson, who in turn trips over Bikle’s slumped figure. “Yikes! Johnson!”
Johnson: “Mwaaerk!”
At the bottom of the pile, Bikle stares blankly at the chaos, then something seems to shake him. Struggling free he draws himself to his feet.
Bikle: “By cocodut! By prize cocodut! Ruined! I’ll get you for this Bavis!” Johnson and Yolanda attempt to restrain him, but he wrenches himself free. “Ho! Get off of be you two!” and rushes at his opponent.
Morris signals Johnson to bring on another act to distract the terrified crowd. A pasty figure in red, yellow and green rags springs forth from the wings clutching a basket of brightly coloured capsicums.
Pete & Peppers:”Allo everybody! Eet ees I, Pete! And I ‘ave ma peppairs!”
Intent upon her work of destruction Bavis does not see her maddened nephew bearing down upon her until the last moment Just as Bikle is about the grab the destructive relative, she expands her leathery wings and takes to the air, clutching the last good coconut. Pete and his peppers is unsure what to do next, but spying Koth’s mangle is displeased as in his last encounter with it ruined several peppers.
Pete&Peppers: “Zat pesky machine, I will pelt it with ze pepairs!”
Launches an array of colourful peppers which duly bounce off the evil device. Koth Hotep rumbles angrily amongst the rafters and a spiny tentacle unfurls downwards. With a last despairing scream the harlequin is thrust headfirst betwixt the rollers of doom. The handle spins briefly and he is no more. His final act however has unforeseen consequences, as a particularly juicy pepper richochets off the mangle, caromes off Bikle’s forehead and bursts square in Bavis’ face.
Bavis: “Aaaaaaeee! My eyes! So vinegary!”
Blinded, she swoops and whirls about the auditorium, banging into struts and lights.
Morris: “Ho Ho! Looks as though Pete picked a pack of PICKLED peppers eh Melinda?”
Bavis, screeching slams into a chandelier. The coconut is jarred from her pincers and plummets downwards. Bikle: “By cocodut! Catch it somebody!”
Pete/Paul: “Uh huh hu huh. Allow us to catch your coconut!”
Clancy: “Bllblblblp! Not likely, my prize coconut!”
Clancy swoops by in a kind of microlight, catching the coconut with a net, sadly he then nearly crashes straight into Koth Hotep,takes evasive action loop the looping, the coconut plummets out the net.
Bikle: “Stop dat cocodut!”
Pete/Paul: “Uhuhuh we’ll help”
p & p try again. The coconut lands harshly on petes head knocking him out “uhuhuh ouch” thud, but the soft landing leaves it intact.
Bikle: “Ahah by cocodut” Bikle grabs it at last. Morris dusting himself down and wiping coconut milk off his hands on his Bikles cloak
Morris: “Well I suppose you did win it fair and square, but now would you like the opportunity to take this coconut home or gamble it for whatever is in the box?”
A large sinister black box is brought on by Johnson
Bikle: “Berrr I’ll keep de coconut if you don’t bind.”
Morris: “As I was saying will you keep the coconut or gamble? Ladies and gentlemen he’s going to gamble. Greedy or brave or heading for the grave, as granny used to say. Are you sure?”
Produces the Judge Bikle doll and moves it whilst doing a Bikle impersonation
Judge Bikle: “Yes bi’d love to gamble siledce I’d court ribbit!”
Morris: “Marvelous, and tonight’s next special guest will open the box and I will have the coconut, infact I already have it look!”
A brown Jenkin like coconut creature sits on Morris’ shoulder and Bikle is empty handed.
Bikle: “By bloody cocodut! Ho very well den, Hi suppose H’i’ll hopen the box.”
Morris: “An excellent choice.” says Morris, gesturing to a phalanx of Johnsons who have levelled their carbines at Bikle. “No need for that now Johnson. Now Michael, I’m sure that you’d want your beloved brother to witness your final gamble.”
Buckle staggers in rather bloodied and contused, but still full of keen boyish interest.
Buckle: “Ho Bikle! H’i’m od de telly!”
A couple of Carl’s sheep have wandered in with him, adding a strangely pastoral note to the scene.
Morris “Now Millicent, with no further ado, I’d like a wagon wheel.”
Yolanda sighs and goes off to bring on the special guest. Morris strokes the animated coconut which appears to be whispering into his ear.
Morris: “An excellent idea Coco.”
But then replying to himself with the judge Bikle doll.
Judge Bikle: “Bi’m dot so sure about dat, Borris! Order, Order!”
Morris: “Shut up you, you turkey bastard, what would you know anyway. Eh coco?”
Judge Bikle: “Bi’m just saying, dat’s against de law!”
Morris: “Enough! Enough! Johnson the special guest”
Captain Flint is wheeled on from stage left on a trolley by Johnson.
Morris: “Good evening Captain, great to have you on the show!”
Captain Flint:
Morris: “Marvellous! Now Captain the box if you please!
Silence except for the soft hiss of Koth: the silence and the waiting go on interminably, nothing happens. Eventually Morris whispers:
Morris: “Give him a hand Johnson.”
Johnson lifts captain flint to nudge the box lid open as if he is doing so himself. Sadly captain flint is too heavy and cumbersome for Johnson to wield effectively and Johnson inadvertently tips him into the box, there is a thump and a hideous squelching sound.
Morris: “Whoops a daisy! That’s done for old Flinty. Miranda! What other old chestnuts have we got lined up in the freezer?”
Yolanda shakes her head sadly and shrugs, pointing at a row of tarpaulin draped cages. Morris lifts the first sheet.
Morris: “Hmmmm, Toad and Barrel. No.” Second cage, “The bonus barrel of King Johnson? No.”
As he approaches the third cage, it emits a hideous whinnying sound, and something spatters against the inside of the sheet. Bikle takes Morris’s arm,
Bikle: “Berrr, dot dat one Borris, what about number 4?”
The sound of breaking glass comes from within, followed by a hard punch. From behind voices can also be heard.
Alfonso: “Owwww!”
Duke of Croy: “Zat was ze last of ze cider you fuckair Alphonso! Eh! Yolandair! Lemme out of thees steenkeen’ cage and ah’ll mek you feel real good! That fucking madman Morris ees’nt around ees ‘e?”
Morris looks disdainfully at the shouting French cage and decides against it. Now from the side of the stage Clancy reappears clutching a red book and small bottle.
Clancy: “Blblblblp you thought you came here tonight to present a quiz show that deteriorates into farcical insanity when in fact Morris tonight…”
Morris: His insane interest is picqued “What tonight? What tell me?”
Clancy: “Blblblbkblp no rush, just drink this bottle of non-drowsey decongestant first, blbkblblbp, leading brand!”
Morris: “Give it here you turkey bastard!”
Clancy: “Blblblnp certainly!”
Morris opens and glugs down the bottle
Morris: “Now tonight what?”
Clancy: “Blblblp feeling sleepy little Morris?”
Morris: “You Turkey berries…. What have you….?” Morris stumbles and slurs.
Clancy: “Blblbllp changed the bottles! Blblblblp leading brand of drowsy decongestant eh judge Bikle?” Remarkably and disturbingly Morris’ mouth makes the Judge Bikle voice perfectly:
Judge Bikle: “Yes dat’s right! Siledce I’d court for you!”
Morris: “I do feel a bit sleepy, maybe I could snuggle up with you mummy?”
Clancy: “Blblblblp of course you can blblblblp, snuggle up!”
Clancy wraps Morris up in an old duvet and lays him down. Morris snores loudly.
Yolanda “Oh Clancy you are clever!”
Yolanda claps her hands excitedly. More sheep mill around the periphery giving now not only a pastoral but also Nativity esque sense. Lighting Johnson adjusts the central spotlight appropriately to emphasise the image. Clancy turns to the camera and winks.
Clancy: “And that ladies and gentlemen is magic. Blblblblblblblp!”

Published in: on January 5, 2015 at 9:57 am  Comments (2)  

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2 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. Brilliant – I could read these all day… in fact, oh dear, I am doing, and can’t stop doing, and look, the endless years unfold ahead with me bound to the inescapable certainty of having to read every post that appears on your blog… (apologies if I’ve done a Pete and Paul and not got the style right).

  2. I think my brain has been scrambled… but in a good way 🙂

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