Poorly Show.

Bikle is sat in his squalid flat, absorbed by some sci fi film from the 90s. Suddenly Buckle rushes in clutching an old bin bag.

Buckle:“Bikle Bikle!”

Bikle:“Dot dow, can’t you see bi’m busy!”

Buckle:“Do Bikle dis is important!”

Bikle: “Ho god…” he pauses the show with an antique remote “What is it den?”

Buckle:“Look!” Buckle starts to rummage in the bag

Bikle:“Listen Buckle it better dot be cheese, because if it is I’b dot goig to be impressed!”

Buckle:“Why did you think there’d be cheese! Dat’s fuddy Bikle I had de exact sabe thought.”

Bikle:“Shut up you dibwit, what’s id de bag? As long as it’s dot cheese!”

Buckle:“Dow den Bikle if you’re goig to get so excited about cheese, you’ll be disappointed, but don’d worry  dere’s sobe in de fridge, I cad fetch it id a bobent and den you can say your classig lide!”


Buckle: “You dow de cheese lide you’re fabous for sayig!”

Bikle: “I’d dot fabous for sayig it Buckle! It’s you you fridiot! You’re always sayig ‘I thought dere’d be cheese!”

Buckle: “Ho Bikle look , you’re at it agaid, adyway if you cad forget about cheese for just a bobent and look at dis!”

Nearly shaking with frustration Bikle manages to centre himself

Bikle: “Yes Buckle, what’s id de bag?!”Buckle tips the contents onto the low coffee table,

Buckle:“Look!” out drops half a dozen packets of lemsip and an old travel ticket

Bikle:“What’s dis shit Buckle?!”

Buckle:“Aren’t dey Barvellous! It’s packets of powder, you can shake dem…” he shakes one “and dey make a shakey sound “you tip dem around for a snow like freffect!” he starts to rip ode open,

Bikle:“Dat won’t be decessary!” interjects Bikle forcefully

Buckle:“And with dis old ticket and de lebsip packets we cad go anywhere!”

Bikle:“What do you bean? How will several packets of lebsip get us adywhere?”

Buckle:“Silly Bikle, you have to use de ticket too!” Suddenly there is a knock at the door.

Bikle: “Ho god who could dat be dow!?” Bikle strides over to the door, two curly haired fools bustle their way in

P&P: “Uhuhuhuh we’ve popped round for a lemsip, uhuhuh with our tools uuhuhuh!”

Bikle:“Dow wait od a binute!”

Buckle:“Ho I’ll put de kettle od!”

P&P: “uuhuhuhuh it won’t suit you with our tools”

Bikle:“By god I  daresay it won’d, dow get out of here!” but before he can remove them another figure appears

Simon: “Hello dere h’Bikle, h’just thought h’id pop round for h’a quick lebsip heyyy?”

Bikle: “Fuck dis is gettig out of control, leave ibbetiatly!”

Buckle: “Ho Bikle dere’s do deed to be like dat, dese poor people obviously have a bad headcold, we should let dem id!”

Turkey: “BLblblblblp! Too true, feeling under the weather, popped round for a lemsip, blblblbp is the kettle on?”

Buckle: “Why yes it is bister Turkey, cobe od id!”

Turkey: “BLblbllp thankyou kindly, in I come blblblblblp!” and the Turkey joins the other idiots milling around near the kettle worksurface area.

Bikle: “By lovely frafterdood, by filb ruid!”

Buckle: “Ho do you have a head ache dere Bikle? Baybe a lebsip?”

Bikle: “Fuck off bi don’t want a lebsip!”

Turkey: “blblblblbp packed with vitamin C!, good for you!” Now more voices can be heard on the stairs,

Morris:“This is the place Yolanda, I hear they do the best lempsip in town!”

Yolanda:“Morris I don’t want a lemsip, I said I tripped over the hem of my skirt!”

Morris: “which resulted in your bad headcold, I quite understand my dear…”

Bikle:”Ho god, dot bore of deb!” He slams the door and leans his back against it only to see Morris reclining in his favourite armchair and flipping through the channels before settling on a rerun of “Johnson, She wrote.” Albert Jackson PI, looking most woebegone, is sat at the table with Bikle’s tablecloth over his head, noisily inhaling menthol vapours from a washing up bowl. Furious, he storms off heading for his bedroom.

Bikle: “Buckle you didcobpoop! Get dese blessed idvalids out of by house! I’b goig for a lie dowd!” Upon throwing open the bedroom door however, he finds no respite. Occupying the bed is a loathsome semi humanoid toad creature, shivering uncontrollably and clutching a steaming mug of lemsip. Rivulets of mucous pour ceaselessly from its rudimentary nostrils to add to the noisome pool of slime slowly solidifying on the mattress. Cyrano de Johnson is sitting in the corner working his way through the scanty contents of Bikle’s wardrobe, utilising them as makeshift handkerchiefs. Bikle is just in time to witness him honking loudly into his best frilly shirt before adding it to the pile of soiled discards. “Right! Dat’s de last straw!” Fuming, he turns on his heel and heads back into the living room,only to sprawl headlong over the unexpected broad back of a sheep. Raising himself to his hands and knees, he finds himself staring into the interested eyes of another ovine quadroped. “Ho H’what de fuck?” “Baaaa!” Looking round desperately, he sees that the flat is teeming with sheep. In the middle of the flock stands a harassed looking man in a dentist’s smock.

Carl: “Behave you woolly bastards! Stop it! You fleecy fuckers! As if I haven’t got enough on my plate with this terrible cold, you muttony motherfuckers won’t follow the simplest instructions!”

Buckle:”Ho poor old Carl, let be get you a dice hot lebsip!”  as the sheep leap and gambol about, “Bind you, I dod’t dow how you badaged to catch a cold with all dese woolly jumpers!”

Morris: “Ho ho did you hear that my dear, he said woolly bumpers!”

Yolanda:“Morris, no he didn’t he said jumpers not bumpers, that’s why it was funny!”

Morris: “Bumpers! Yolanda, you’re beginning to sound like the buckle brothers here, it must be that bad head cold of your blocking your nose, maybe you could try this acme Bikle dress up kit on and join them as a kind of third wheel!”

Yolanda “Morris, I sound nothing like these idiots!”

Bikle: “Bexcuse be boddob, who are you callig ad idiot?!”

Yolanda: “Oh SB I’m sorry, but you know…” she sighs and looks at Morris, “can we go now?”

Morris:“or maybe you mean ‘cad we go dow?’” and she is alarmed to suddenly feel a cheap pair of plastic glasses on her face and a long black wig draping down either side of her face

Yolanda: “Morris fuck off with this tat!” she shouts as she tries to free herself from it, only to struggle against its seeming magical adherence

Morris: “Ho ho! Dot Likely Yuckle!”

Yolanda: “Yuckle? Really fuck right off!”

Morris:“Then how about Yokle? That works on two levels!”

Yolanda “Morris really!”

Morris:“No Yolanda that is the wrong character!”

Yolanda:“Morris, I’m not going to play at Yuckles or Yokles, get this shitty idiotic outfit off me!” then glancing to one side “no offence SB.”

Bikle:“Stop calling be dat, it’s Bikle rebember!”

Buckle:“Bikle Bikle! Don’t’ you think it’s about tibe we used dis travel ticket!?”

Bikle:“What do you bean?!”

Buckle:“Ho baybe a trip would do everywod sobe good?”

Bikle:“Ho god, but it’s just sobe old ticket, we can’t do adywhere with dat!”

Morris: “Do not be so sure! that looks like a ticket for a very special ride, come on everyone all aboard!” and before you know it Bikle’s flat has somehow become an airport terminal and the gang of various characters are queuing to board “Come on you turkey bastards! Get on that plane!”


Carl:“on the plane! On the plane you woolly bastards!”

Bikle:“What the dickeds!”

Yolanda:“Morris get this glasses and wig off be, I mean me!”

Buckle:“Ho hello dere Yokle, pleased to beet you, I’m Buckle!”


Johnson: “Mwaaaerk!”

Morris: “No Johnson you may not take your air rifle on board”

Turkey: “Blblblblbblp fresh and sun, blblblbp just the thing for a cold!”

P&P“uhuhuh allow us to board the plane, with…”

Sigmund Freud: “Ja ja ein schnupfen ist naturlich besser im urlaub”

Simon: “Ho dewspaper for the flight h’anyone?!”

And so milling and jabbering they all board the plane. The plane takes off and they fly around for a bit, after a while it lands outside Bikle’s flat.

Morris: “That will do Johnson, kick them all off.” And some burley Johnsons ensure the characters vacate the plane. So coughing and spluttering they make their way back into his flat looking more decrepid than ever

Bikle: “Ho god dis is frunbearable! Look at dem all!”

Buckle: “Ho maybe you deed a dice lebsip dow Bikle!”

Bikle: “Borris! Your plade idea didn’t work at all! Look at dem dere eved worse dan before!”

Morris: “You might be right beansy, looks like they were misdiagnosed.”

Bikle: “H’what?!”

Morris: “everyone perceived it was a bad headcold, when in fact it was something more serious!”

Bikle: “And what was dat Borris?”

Morris: “Ho Ho I think they were all suffering from ‘flew’!”

Published in: on December 15, 2015 at 8:28 am  Leave a Comment  

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