The discovery of Marijuana. (Skit)

EXT: Outside, grassy hill in background. The occasional waft of smoke can be seen drifting past.

CAPTION: ROMANIA, 3000BC.

Two Iron-age VILLAGERS enter, from opposite sides.

FIRST VILLAGER (From right): Barry! Barry! A fire's broken out! The fields are burning!

BARRY (From left): Oh no! Which one Derek?

DEREK: Well, we hadn't got round to clearing it out yet, so there was loads of old weeds and all growing all over it. What are we going to do?

(Smoke wafts past. BARRY takes a deep breath in and exhales, his face taking on a strange expression.)

DEREK: Barry?

(BARRY takes another breath of the smoke.)

DEREK: Barry? What we going to do?

BARRY (Smiling): Fuck 'em. You hungry? I'm hungry all of a sudden.

Adam Ant's Dinner Song.

As a confirmed Adam Ant fan and random odd-person, I wrote this in an idle moment. To the tune of 'Prince Charming'... enjoy.

Eat your dinner,

Eat your dinner,

Open your mouth and shovel it inside you.

Eat your dinner,

Eat your dinner,

Open your mouth and shovel it inside you.

Little peas,

Little peas,

Petits pois is nothing to be scared of.

Eat your dinner,

Eat your dinner,

Open your mouth and shovel it inside you.

Try some mustard,

Have some mustard,

It goes well with all this boiled bacon.

Try some mustard,

Have some mustard,

It goes well with all this boiled bacon.

Little peas,

Little peas,

Petits pois is nothing to be scared of.

Try some mustard,

Have some mustard,

It goes well with all this boiled bacon.

(Repeat ad nauseum)

[Please note - this is a parody of 'Prince Charming' by Adam and the Ants, all rights reserved by respective original owners]

The Day We Went To Wall Street.

A little song I wrote a couple of years ago, just after the Occupy Wall Street and Occupy LSE movments. I had planned on finding a topical news comedy program to send it to but had no luck. So, a year or two late I present it now without further comment. 

(To the tune of Day Trip To Bangor)

Didn't we have a loverly time the day we went to Wall Street

We all took a tent, and didn't pay rent,

And stuck it to the man as well.

Plenty of cops made plenty of stops and one of them brought a taser.

We shouted and screamed and poor Freddie got creamed with a thousand volts.

And over in Greece, the bloody police, they tried to stop the rioters.

Kebabs didn't work, they all went beserk,

'cause someone forgot the chilli sauce.

At London St. Paul's, they had lots of balls, 'cause half the tents were empty,

The bishop said “sure, you can camp on our door, 'cause I'm going home.”

The bankers they say were playing all day with everybody's money.

They fiddled the shares

With privileged airs,

And pocketed nearly a billion each.

One day it popped but they couldn't stop,

Just like a tube of Pringles.

They buggered us all

And we took the fall for their obscene greed.

Germany knew they had it bad too, and Greece was falling over.

The whole Eurozone was crumbling alone,

And everyone looked in old China's direction.

Far from the east, that mystical beast,

It looked so calm and prosperous,

We held out our hand and they struck up a band and they sang 'Up yours!'

Biscuit The Dreamcatcher

Once I had a cat.
His name was Biscuit.
He was big and black and had a wonky tail that was shaped like a question mark.
He would sit at the foot of my bed as I slept, and catch the bad dreams and gobble them up.
Sometimes he let a bad dream get through, he didn't mean to.
When I woke up from a bad dream, he'd come up to me and rub his head against my face as if to say “I'm sorry. I missed that one. I'll try harder next time.”
But it didn't matter.
He used to eat lots and lots.
That's because catching bad dreams is a hard job.
He needed the energy.
One day he went from us.
He was hit by a car.
Mum said that he's in heaven now.
But I know that's not true.
He's still at the foot of my bed.
And he's even better at catching bad dreams than before.

Tyburn's Christmas Survival Guide.

Yes, it’s that time of year again, when we celebrate the birth of someone some of us aren’t actually sure existed and almost certainly wasn’t really born at this time of year.
Christmas, Noel, Xmas, a chuffing great pain in the arse, it goes by many names.
But if you’re having trouble coping with those pesky little annoyances that crop up during the Festive season, here’s a little guide to help you make the most of the Holidays.
1 ) Carol Singers.
You will need: 1 homburg, trilby or porkpie-type hat, 2 clip-on curly hair extensions. Simply clip the extensions to the side of your head, just above the temples, put on the hat and answer the door with a big, cheery “Oi vey! What do you want?”
2 ) Decorations.
This is easy. Just murder someone in your house and the police will come round and put up festive garlands for you for free. Admittedly they will be yellow and say the words ‘Crime Scene – Do Not Cross’ instead of ‘Happy Christmas’, but you can’t have everything.
3 ) Christmas Cards.
Just buy one card, make it out ‘to whom it may concern, happy Christmas’ and show it to people as and when needed.
4 ) Shopping.
This requires an accomplice. Take a handkerchief, splatter liberally with red food colouring, add a few dots of green and yellow. When dry, keep it in your pocket. Whilst shopping, if you find yourself a little crowded take out the handkerchief and start coughing into it loudly (the louder and more obnoxious, the better). This should be your accomplice’s cue to start saying things like “You know the Doctor said you really shouldn’t be out in your condition. He said you were still contagious”. Before you can say ‘Retail Therapy’, the crowds should part before your eyes.
5 ) What to watch on TV.
This is easy as pie. Just kick the TV in. Easy as boot-shaped pie.
6 ) Presents.
Wrap up packets of batteries with a label ‘toy not included’.
7 )Christmas Cocktails.
Run out of those odd little drinks that people make various cocktails from? Got an overabundance of the regular stuff (Vodka, more vodka)? Then try these easy little recipes to make your own ersatz cocktail drinks.
Vodka + Custard = Advocaat.
Vodka + Mouthwash = Creme de menthe.
Vodka + Ribena = Creme de cassis.
By this time, you may be running out of vodka. Paint stripper is an acceptable substitute.
8 ) Christmas Dinner.
Here’s where a little forward-planning comes into play. Just wipe down a few plates with gravy and stack them in the sink. Keep the drink flowing until everybody (and I do mean everybody) is so totally out of it that when you stand up and say “I’d better do that washing-up then”, they’ll all think they’ve already had their dinner.
9 ) The post-Christmas Hangover.
Stay drunk. It’s easier that way.
10 ) All those annoying Christmas songs on the radio.
Now this one’s a bit complicated. You will need the address of your local radio station, an old car (preferably one you don’t mind seeing blown to smithereens), several large bags of fertiliser, a mobile phone attached to a detonat… erm… perhaps this isn’t such a good idea. Just buy yourself an iPod or something and wear some headphones instead.

The Speed of... what?

 When I was six, my father told me nothing could go faster than light, that light was the fastest thing in the universe. Being only a child, I believed him. But it became my mission to try to break that barrier, to make something that could go faster than light. So at school, I excelled at sciences, went through college, university, and got a job with a physics laboratory. There I studied harder and harder, and after ten years of long, hard work, I finally unveiled the world’s first Faster Than Light engine. For that, I won my first Nobel Prize.

A few years later, I heard a rumour that the only thing faster than light was dark. Because no matter how fast light was, the dark would always be there waiting for it. And so, being still an impressionable and somewhat driven man, I dedicated my every waking moment to uncovering the secrets of travel at speeds Faster Than Darkness. And so, after thirty-five years, three failed marriages, six nervous breakdowns, and two entirely bankrupted universities, this time last year I unveiled the prototype of the world’s very first Faster Than Darkness engine. It had taken a quarter of a billion dollars in adjusted US currency to complete, and was my very life and soul. For that, I won my right to retirement, and a good night’s rest.

The other day, I heard a rumour. It turns out the only thing faster than dark is rumour…