A really quite stupid sketch.

A: Mr Williams, do come in.

B: Thankyou, doctor.

A: Not at all, now, what seems to be the problem.

B: Well, It's rather embarassing.

A: Well, you can tell me anything, I am a doctor after all.

B: Okay, well, I've been having this pain in my groin for some time now.

A: Hmmm... is it a stabbing pain or a aching pain.

B: More stinging.

A: Hmmmmm... Well, let's have a look. If you could take your pants off.

B: Hmm... yess. I thin I see the problem here. You have a bed and breakfast in your crotch.

A: A what?

B: A bed and breakfast. A small accommodation establishment that offers a fixed rate for a room overnight and a cooked meal in the morning. In fact - yes, you can smell the bacon and eggs.

A: Good god. Is this common?

B: I'm afraid so, particularly at this time of year. It's the demand for accomodation from tourism. It's not uncommon for a retired couple to open a B&B in a restored edwardian cottage, but because of the aging population they're overpopulating and you find them opening up everywhere, barns, drains, dry creek beds and, more and more these days, in the nether regions of the younger generation.

A: This is awful.

B: Look, they'll probably die off from natural causes sooner or later now, let's see if we can't get a look at them ... if you wouldn't mind pulling back your foreskin... Ah, yes. there they are. Having a cup of tea by the looks of things. Hello there! Mr and Mrs Richards is it? And to you.

B: How did I catch this?

A: Well, have you visited any RSL's lately?

B: Not that I can think of.

A: Well, do you know anyone who may have? They tend to hitch a ride in long, unkempt hair.

B: Oh, that would be my cousin larry. He maintains poker machines.

A: There you have it.

B: Is there anything I can do to get rid of them?

A: Well, you could try visiting myer. They tend to wander off and get lost in the cosmetics section, but a lot of people quite like it.

B: What, having old people in their pants?

A: Well, they're good tenants, and Mr Richards is a dab hand at topiary so if you ask nicely he could sculpt those pubes into a duck or maybe a reindeer for christmas.

B: Ummm, well, if you think it's okay... i might give it a go. Thanks, doctor.

A: You're welcome.

(door closes)

A: Actually, come to think of it it was probably just pubic lice. Oh well.

MORE SATIRE!!!

1: This horse is broken.

2: Oh dear. What happened to it?

1: Someone must have dropped it...

2: Dropped it? it's a horse! You can't pick it up!

1: Hmmm, well, maybe it fell off something.

2: Like what? We're in the middle of a field.

1: Maybe it fell out of a tree?

2: Hmmm... While I accept that a horse, if it found itself in a tree, would probably end up falling out, the idea that a horse would get into a tree in the first place is, in a word, farcical. Are you being wilfully stupid?

1: No.

2: So what happened to this horse?

1: I know. It must have jumped over that hedge and fallen over.

2: Why on earth would a horse jump over a hedge that high?

1: Maybe it lost a bet?

2: Stop it.

1: Sorry. Well, I guess we'll never know. Inscrutable, these magnificent beasts.

2: Hang on. What's that you've got there?

1: Where?

2: In your hand!

1: Oh, it's an apple. A braeburn.

2: The other hand.

1: Oh... this? Umm... it's a back scratcher. For horses.

2: It's a whip.

1: Tomayto, tomarto...

2: You were riding that horse, weren't you. You made it jump over that hedge.

1: NO! But also yes. Yes I did.

2: For the love of god... why?

1: Pffffff.... gags?

2: You absolute wanker.

1: Guilty as charged.

Really gotta mix up the style for the next one. This dialogue shit is getting tedious.

Lock into my eyes

I walked outside this morning to find that someone had stolen my bicycle lock.
A saw must have been used because there on the ground was , or two unicycles.
The lamp post the bike had been leaning on was left completely undamaged, Thinking ahead I would only ever lock the bike to itself, in case someone ever did try to steal my lock, no council property would be damaged. You're very welcome Mr Mayor.

That was my favourite bike lock, I recieved it for christmas as a child and I rode it for years,
It wasnt until years later my parents bought me a bicycle.
It was a simple enough transition because there are so many similarities between riding bicycle and riding a bicycle lock:
- First of all, once you learn to ride a lock you never ever forget.
- Both can be riden by putting the instrument between your legs, except the lock can also be riden like a skateboard, a single engined aircraft or a ouiji board.
- When riding either mode of transportation it is important to alert people on the street of your inevitable over-taking, using sound, usually dinging. However because my lock was not equiped with a bell, if I was flying along on my lock and I saw that I was approaching someone, I'd begin a series of hooting and howling, and if that recieved no acknowledgement of my incoming I would carefully take one hand off my lock, focusing hard on keeping my balance, and proceed to pound my finger tips into the center of my palm, essentially clapping with one hand, making a slightly louder than expected sound.

Satire.

1: Oh dear. I've got some bad news. The building is on fire.

2: Really? On fire? Where's your evidence?

1: Over there, where you can see that flame, that's a bit of the fire.

2: Oh, that's probably just natural burnoff. Part of the natural cycle. At any given time some bit of the building is always on fire. I read that somewhere.

1: No, I think it's caused by the gas heater you left on.

2: Good luck proving that one. Mate.

1: Well, the fact remains that the building is on fire. What should we do?

2: Well, I don't accept that the building is on fire.

1: Well, I've done a poll and 80% of the people in the building think it is on fire and it is caused by you leaving the gas heater on.

2: Fine. I'll deal with it.

1: Great...

...

...

1: Umm, what are you doing?

2: I'm dealing with the situation.

1: How? The building is more on fire than ever.

2: Well, I just sent an email telling everyone that the building is NOT on fire. That should fix those polling numbers.

1: Hmmm. I don't think you understand. This isn't a public perception issue.

2: Everything is a public perception issue.

1: Except this.

2: Fine. Fine. What do you propose we do?

1: Well, we could switch off the heater for a start...

2: That's crazy. You can't just switch it off. people will get cold. I tell you what I'll do, I'll catch all the flame in bags. That way it won't be able to hurt anyone.

1: Catch the flame in bags. Right. What kind of bag could possibly catch a flame?

2: I'll work on that. See if we can't come up with a special sort of fireproof bag we can stash all this fire in.

1: This is stupid. That will take ages. I'm leaving.

2: leaving the building?

1: Yes.

2: You can't do that!

1: Why not?

2: Well, because then the metaphor breaks down.

1: Fine, i'll just sit here and play with this polar bear.

2: You do that. I really think I'm getting somewhere with this bag idea.

Walking the Planck

M: Oh. Shit. Oh, damn.

B: What is it now, Max?

M: Oh, I've just discovered that light is quantised.

B: Really? That's amazing!!

M: God this is embarassing.

B: No, no that's fantastic!

M: I suppose this will overturn years of scientific thought...

B: I should think so! It will revolutionise the physics of small scale interaction!

M: Shit. This is just like the time I broke the washing machine.

B: Look. Stop it. Can't you just be happy?

M: And I've got this bloody constant everywhere...

B: What constant.

M: Well, that's the thing. It's Planck's constant.

B: Your constant.

M: Yes. See, now everyone is going to know it was me...

Hahahahah.... ah. ah. ah...

The Parent Trapese...

Brenda: Hi, Mum, Dad... This is Michael.

Mum: Hi Michael! Such a pleasure to meet you at last!

Michael: And you Mr and Mrs Godwit

Dad: Beer? Champagne?

Michael: Oh, not thanks. I don't drink.

Brenda: Michaels a Nazi, aren't you, Michael...

Mum: What?

Michael: No! No... What? Miranda, I'm a Buddhist!

Brenda: What did I say?

Michael: You said I was a Nazi!

Brenda: Oh. Whoops, sorry! Slip of the tongue!

Michael: Yes, well. Just to be clear, I'm a Buddhist. Not a Nazi.

Dad: I'm sure So, any trouble finding the place?

Michael: No, I was fine. Fine.

Brenda: Michael ran over a pensioner.

Michael: No I didn't!

Brenda: Didn't even look back. Ran her over and just kept driving.

Michael: Brenda! What are you saying!

Brenda: I'm explaining why you work in marketing...

Michael: You just accused me of a hit and run murder!

Brenda: Oh, really? I meant to say you're father was in sales...

Michael: They don't even sound the same!

Brenda: I'm sorry, i've been an absolute mess ever since we had that meeting at the bank.

Michael: I hate the jews.

Me and the King

King: Knock Knock, King Here.

*door opens*

Fellow: Oh hello King, What do we owe this honour to?

King: Well, I heard you were to be wed tomorrow, I've come to give your fiance my blessing

Fellow:

King: Im here to sleep with your bride

Fellow: hmm... Im new to this kingdom, I should have known you have weird taxes

King: Yes, I know, Its a dreadful bother; Im entitled to the first, and five percent of what ever you get... per anum.

Fellow: I see

King: Compounded monthly

Fellow: Right.

King: Have you heard of the new plumbing system we're installing?

Fellow: No

King: Well we noticed everyone was disposing of their waste in their own seprerate, creative ways. Wasting it if you will. We wont have any of that in this kingdom. We want the lot.

Fellow: Have it

King: Dont fake dismissiveness. I know what you are thinking. Im the most ruthless ruler of them all, arent I? A kingdom where subjects arent even entitled to their business, it's ludicrous! Go on, tell me i'm the worst... come on... tell me....

Fellow: You're the worst

King: Great! I knew it. Oh thats wonderful. Listen, I wont bother blessing your misses tonight, im in too good a mood. But Im still taking my 5 percent, alright?

Fellow: Alright

King: My God im Ruthless.

Hmmmmm.... We are doing well, aren't we?

Here in the savannah, we can observe many of the adaptations with which nature has blessed its beasts of the field as they go about their daily business.

Here we see a spangled mole rat applying for an extension on his mortgage. See the way he uses the claws on his powerful hind legs to point out the equity still untapped in his other investments. His family will get that extention they've always wanted.

Here a family of Meerkats is avoiding that annoying aunt that invites herself to dinner. One cat will stand watch by the water feature to alert the others. In this way the family can take it in turns to relax, and organise that album of wedding photos that's just been sitting around the place.

Finally, the carry-over champion of the jungle, the Golden Macaque. He swings effortlessly from singles bar to singles bar, enchanting the females with his stories about the time he met Keanu Reeves at the melbourne cup.

What was That?

Woman: Why did you make me tell you about all my past boyfriends??

Man: So that I could find out what kind of woman you really are!!! A very good one apprently, Ive been hearing great things

Woman: From who?

Man: Your exes, really great guys. Im surprised you let them go

Woman: Babe, are you kidding?

Man: What? I can be cool about this, I can be "one of the girls"

Woman: Maybe i dont want that

Man: But maybe you do. You most likely do. Guys like girls that are dudie.

Woman: Dudie?

Man: Tell me about your tampons

Woman: How about we go to sleep

Man: I know thats what the guy who's writing this sketch is thinking

Woman: Ooookay... Good night

Man: Good night Baby, I dont think he had any good ideas anyway. Left it too late i think.

Advicium OverReatorum

Mother: You should give your girlfriend some jewelery. Give her a nice golden necklace with a diamond. A small delicate necklace, because she's delicate

Son: Yes Mother but she's also very strong, what should i give her for that? A steel chain and a rock?

Mother: Are you done?

Son: She's also quite sharp Mother, perhaps I could get her a razor blade bracelet? Or a big cow broach for how much of a pushover she is?

Mother: You dont like advice do you?

Moss - time

Albert Mossman likes moss. He is a moss wrangler at the Melbourne Zoo. Actually, he doesn't just LIKE moss. He should probably get some help.

Albert: (to a passer by)
See the moss?

(to another passer by)
Spagnum just coming into rutting season - check out the young sporophytes vying for position

(A woman and a child come up to the enclosure)
Fan of the moss, Mam? The youngster will be interested to see the Bryopsida; a frisky little beast, it punches well above its weight in the social order.

Lady:
Moss has a social order?

Oh indeed it does. See old silverback there? The Andreaeopsida? He's been top moss for years now, got all the best bits of soil, he has. But then there's Bruno, the Polytrichopsida. He's smart, and strong, and wants to get a taste of the finer things, if you know what I'm saying. Some of the young lady mosses can be quite the tease if you catch my drift... waggling their archegonia about like it's the fall of rome. HA

Child:
Are they like lichen?

Albert:
(Slaps child on back of head. Child falls on face. Lady does not see what happens) Hmya!

Lady:
Good lord! Jeremy! What happened!

Albert:
The young man took a tumble. Probably distracted by the vast breadth of the Bryophyta family. It can take them like that, sometimes, the breadth. Anyway, as I was saying...

Lady (Hustling the bewildered child away):
Don't worry Jeremy, we'll go see the Meerkats.

Albert:
Oh you fucking would, wouldn't you, you tart! Go on, go look at the braindead little rodent twats!

(during this rant the head of the zoo, Mr Phatgibbon, has come onto the stage)

Albert (Seeing Mr Phatgibbon and thinking on his feet):
Oh, Mr Phatgibbon! I was just directing some customers to the gift shop.

Mr Phatgibbon:
I see. Look, Albert... I think we need to have a discussion.

Albert:
Well, it's not a very good time for me, Sir, got a bit of a rush on at the moment.

Mr P:
Well ... actually you don't. Actually the moss is the least popular exhibit at the zoo. And that's kind of what I'm here about.

Albert:
OOh, I see, I didn't realise we were running a popularity contest here. I thought we were bringing the wonder of natures beasts to the doorsteps of the people of Melbourne.

Mr P:
Well, ok don't get like that Albert. But say you're right - then we have to deal with the fact that moss isn't technically an animal. And that most people, if they looked, could find an exhibit growing on their doorstep.

Albert:

You find cats on people's doorsteps. Doesn't stop Fenya with her...

Mr P:

Fenya's lions are the pride of the Zoo.

Albert:
This is just FUCKING TYPICAL if you'll excuse me sir. You want ears, stupid little paws. Action! Well, if it's action you want, what about the time that Acroschisma escaped and attacked that chinese woman?

Mr P:
There was a significant body of evidence that suggested you were the one who attacked Ms Tan. The zoo was lucky she was too terrified to press charges. Albert, I'm afraid the board has asked me to close the exhibit.

Albert:
HA! The board. The board can kiss my archegonia.

Mr P:
Albert, this is going to happen. I'll be signing approval papers for an extension to the Meerkat enclosure tomorrow.

Albert:
MEERKATS!

Mr P:
Yes, Albert, Meerkats. It's a pity, because I always had a soft spot for lichen (He turns to look out over the Moss enclosure)...

Albert:
Lichen!!! Lichen!! I'll give you lichen you warm blooded parasite! (He pushes Mr Phatgibbon into the enclosure)

(Sound effect of man being attacked by moss plays. Screams. Occasionally a hand is or a leg is seen being flung up over the edge as Mr Phatgibbon tries desperately to escape. But there is no escape)

Albert:
That's it, my pretties. Feed! FEEED!

Hey Guys

The sketch is still in the works, but i just wanted to tell you guys that i think im gonna go along to the Inquiry screening on Wednesday, check out the scene down there, it sounds like it could be interesting, you guys should tag along, im sure you got sent the email but its at house of SYN this wednesday. May as well check it out.

Peace Out

PS: this is not a sketch

Disdainercise!

A dance track plays (aerobics style) call and response:

Instructor (Female, enthusiastic): Bah.

Chorus of unruly British lords: Bah.

I: Humbug

C: Hummbug.

I: And slap the servant.

C: (Slapping noises) Buffoon!

I: Fire the butler.

C: Get out you reprobate!

I: And Bah!

C: Bah!

I: Humbug

C: Humbug!

I: Question the decline in public morals

(The next two lines are overlaid)

I: 1,2,3,4

C: What is happening to the youth in this country!

I: And again, this time with disdain!

(The next two lines are overlaid)

I: 1,2,3,4

C (With disdain): What is happening to the youth in this country!

Arts Apart

A band is splitting up. "The Four Maestros" have played their last concert as a 4 piece rock ensemble. Two duos is what they've become. On the left side of the table we have "Maestro & Maestro", and on the right side are sitting "The Maestro Two". They trying to divide the music they made as a quartet in a way that is most beneficial to all members of each twotet.

M&M: "Ok how bout this.... we get the bass line and drum line from each song"
TMT: "But neither of you play the drums"
M&M:"How hard can it be? Im learning as we speak. Bing badda bop bop... ...we can hire a guy"
TMT: "Thats fine. Have 'em. But we get the guitar lines and keyboards"
M&M:"Hey you can't have both rythm guitar AND lead!
TMT:"Yes we can. Yes we can. We can have both"
M&M:"Fine but you're not getting both keyboard hands, we're taking the left. NO! the right!"
TMT:"Done. Who gets Tambourine?"
M&M:"We dont want it"
TMT:"Neither do we"
M&M:"We could auction it off. Could make enough for free lunch.
TMT: "How are we dividing song lyrics?"
M&M: "Look I dont care.. how about we take all the verbs and you guys get the nouns... but we get to keep all the dirty words"
TMT: "What about the pronouns"
M&M: "Keep them...it, thou and they.... we get you and we"
TMT: "we want we"
M&M: "You're not getting we! I will fight this to my death"
TMT: "See you in court!"

Intelligent Design...

Michael Geoffries: Hello, God? It's me, Mr Geoffries.

God: Hello Michael.

MG: I think we'll keep it formal if that's okay.

G: Umm... Okay. Mr Geoffries. How can I help you?

MG: God. I think you can guess the issue here.

G: Is there something wrong with the service?

MG: God, when we hired you to design the species, it was on the understanding that you offered a unique service.

G: Absolutely. Intelligent Design Corp does what nothing else can do.

MG: That was the understanding. The product you have delivered, however, looks like something that was gradually developed by billions of years of evolution.

G: Now look, Billions of Years of Evolution inc cannot possibly do the same work that we can.

MG: Well, all these products are very similar. A lot of the time you seem to show no imagination whatsoever. All these beetles, for example, are more or less the same, and any differences ...

G: Now I resent that. They are unique.

MG: Of course they are. The stag beetle, the black stag beetle, the blackish stag beetle, the charcoal stag beetle. We've been billed for these individually. I put it to you that you subcontracted the entire development to Billions of Years of evolution.

G: Look, you've got a narrow view of the issue. You can't compare a stag beetle to, say, a sheep.

MG: No, but I can compare a sheep to a slightly larger sheep. Or to a goat. All listed here. Where's the range?

G: One word. Squid.

MG: One word. Octopus. Spot the difference.

G: Alright, look, what do you want from me.

MG: Show me some some creativity. Right now. Come up with a new animal.

G: Right now?

MG: Right now.

G: Alright. You know rabbits?

MG: Here we go.

G: Imagine that in black.

MG: You're fired.

The voice of christmas future...

D1: Hello Damien...

D2: Hello? Who is this?

D1: Damien, don't be alarmed... I want you to listen to me carefully Damien.

D2: What are you talking about ... how did you get this number?

D1: Damien... listen to my voice, damien... who do you think this is?

D2: Ohh... gosh ... oh wow... is this Eddie McGuire?

D1: No, damien, it isn't.

D2: Well, I give up then.

D1: Damien... I am you ... I am yourself calling you from ten years in the future.

D2: NO WAY

D1: Yes way, Damien. Yes way.

D2: Get out of town!

D1: Shut up damien. Do you understand what I am telling you...

D2: This is AMAZING

D1: Yes. It is amazing. I imagine you have many questions...

D2: Oh god yes! Like oh... ok, how about this... who wins this season of masterchef?

D1: Is that a serious question?

D2: No... well, i mean, I was just wondering...

D1: Alright, fine, Po wins, now, I have important information for you...

D2: Fuck off. Po? Are you SERIOUS! That BEGGARS BELIEF!

D1: Damien, the only thing that beggars belief here is your stupidity. I am calling from the FUTURE! I can tell you anything. Do you have any other questions?

D2: Ummm... well... oh. No. Not if you're going to be like that.

D1: Sighhhh... Alright, I'm sorry I shouted at you. What's your question.

D2: No... you'll just say it's silly.

D1: I've said I'm sorry, ask the question.

D2: Alright... well, I've always wanted to know the collective noun for ostriches.

*click*

*Ring ring*

D2: Hello?

D1: Damien, it's me again, I'm sorry I lost my temper. I've calmed down and I realise what I have to say is more important than...

D2: Is that you Eddie?

*click*

So this can end here or it can go further. I feel like it is building up to something that doesn't really ever happen. I do like the idea of someone talking to themselves from the future and just giving really weird/specific advice or something. Maybe the Damien from the future would end up hating himself so much that he gives his past self some advice that would get him killed... Sorry that this is a cop out in that there is no real ending... I wasted a lot of time on a sketch about the tour de france that really didn't go anywhere at all, then I watched Jean Claude Van Damme in 'Time Cop' and wrote this...

Myth Busting Cow, What?

In this episode of Myth Busters, we're making a few changes. We've decided to bust some real myths, Greek Myths, like Myth of the Minotaurand if there's a few minutes left we'll debunk christianity.

*bullshit music to break up intro and segment*

The Minotaur is a terrifying creature from Greek Mythology, Part man, Part bull... Or a potentially less threatening, more arousing hybrid: Part woman, with the head of a cow.

The myth states that Pasiphae, wife of Minos, under spell of God Poisedon, fell madly in love with the Cretan bull. So Pasiphae had Daedalus, the famous architect, make a wooden cow for her so that she could climb inside it and "copulate" with the bull. Presumably, she must have been kneeling right at the back of the wooden beast, with her vagina pressed up through the strategically carved out lady-hole.

In this episode, we will try to bust this myth by two methods:

We will test whether an anatomically-correct hollow cow sculpture could plausibly withstand the weight of a thousand kilos of beef pressing down on it and vigorously thrusting as if possessed by Zeus himself.

Secondly, our staff will try to find out whether or not it is possible for a Bull to actually empregnate a human female. And Vice versa.

And Stick around till the end of the show to find out if Debis' cow-man-child will thrive on meals of human flesh or wither and struggle in this dark stoney labyrinth without a single cud and six hungry stomach.


This thing is so fragmented and needs a lot of work. But its late now, and all im ending up writing about is fucking. Good night!

Drug Deal

A man walks past a dodgy hotdog stand

Customer: Hello, you open for business

Vendor: Always, as long as its business dawg what you need, i can give you what you need

Customer: Yeah hi, id like a hotdog with sauce

Vendor: Alright, i hear you i hear you, with sauce, right i know what you want man. You dont want no hotdog

Customer: i dont

Vendor: Nah man, hotdog is weak man, its weak, this weeks shipment aint right dawg. Youll be paying full price for some wack shit

Customer: But i like hotdogs

Vendor: I know man, i know you do. I know how you hotdog fiends be, you get stuck on the product cant truck no change, get all addicted and shit

Customer: To hotdogs

Vendor: Yeah man, you get mad on that hotdog. But i got something better much better

Customer: Ok, what else do you have in there

Vendor: Back here, i got everything you need playa. I got some shit fresh of the boat from my connek in Mexico nigga, we callin it Burrito

Customer: Well i like Burritos

Vendor: What nigga, how you had Burrito before, you damn sure havent had this Burrito before, its fresh of the boat, Mexico via Columbia nigga

Customer: Columbia?, isnt that along way to go for lunch

Vendor: Lunch? What you mean..... ahhhh lunch, like you got the hunger for Burrito or hotdog, you having it for lunch, you almost lost me on that yo

Customer: .......Right, so ill have a burrito then (puts 5 bucks on the counter)

Vendor: What kind of wack shit is this yo, are you playin me. Coz Lil Big John dont get, oh i see, playa wanna pre tasting i see i see no worries

Customer: Thats really nice of you id love a pre taste like you say.

Vendor puts a burrito on the counter

Customer: Wheres my crack?

Space Widow

Man: "Im leaving"

Woman: "What do you mean you're leaving?"

Man: "I told you last night, im going into space forever"

Woman:"I thought you said you were going golfing"

Man: "look, I dont like this any more than you do... Im sorry, I said that wrong... Look, I like this a lot more than you do"

Woman:"Is this why you showered me in gifts?"

Man:"Yeah, I didnt want to leave you here on earth alone. Im not an animal. Animals do that"

Woman:"What animal? What animal would do that?"

Man: "Listen, shut up. I'll email you. I promise. If I can get access to a fax machine, I'll send you some of the things I draw sometimes"

Woman:"Where are you going exactly? Why are you going?

Man:"It's a galactic colonisation thing. We're going to Proxima Centauri. Me, and Jeff, and two genetically compatible female astronauts."

Woman:"What does that mean: genetically compatible?"

Man:"It's a 25 year flight, baby. We're going to have to reproduce in order to increase our workforce. No emotions. Purely scientific rocket breeding.
You and me, what we have is love, theres nothing more valuable to me than that in this world."

Woman:"Im not sure that expression applies here"

Man:"This is for the species. You care about the species dont you? I have a Duty. Duty calls. Duty is making me leave. Duty is making me breed with one or both of those astronaught ladies. I dont want to, but Duty, for the species"

Woman:"So you're leaving, just like that?"

Man:"I wish i could apologise, but Duty Baby.... I think I hear the rocket roaring, I got to go."

Border Insecurity

Phone call to airline service desk. A terrorist, Michael, is threatening to blow up a plane.

Michael: Hello? Is this Airport security?

Sec: Yes sir, how can I help you?

Michael: I'm going to blow up one of your planes.

Sec: Okay sir, firstly, can I inquire as to whether this is an international or domestic threat?

Michael: We are domestic. We are the Sons of the Southern Cross. We have placed a bomb on board the 7.15 to Brisbane

Sec: Very well sir, unfortunately I must inform you that all domestic terrorist threats must be made half an hour prior to the flight's departure.

Michael: What?

Sec: This is standard airline policy sir, in order to ensure convenience for you and all our passengers.

Michael: Well, you've had me on hold for over 10 minutes.

Sec: We encourage all terrorists to allow extra time for queuing in their plans.

Michael: Look, we didn't have to threaten your airline. There are plenty of other airlines out there. This is ridiculous.

Sec: Sir, many other terrorists manage to work within our guidelines. Our low prices...

Michael: Listen mate - I've had just about enough of you lot. I threatened a flight last week and it was delayed for six hours! SIX! In the end we just took the bomb and went home.

Sec: Sir, do not take that tone with me.

Michael: Sorry, sorry. I'm just .. frustrated. I promised the kid's we'd blow up a plane to Movieworld.

Sec: I understand. Look, I'm afraid the best I can offer you now is to blow up the 8 o'clock plane to Townsville. From there you should be able to blow up a bus to Brisbane. Or maybe hire a car bomb?

Michael: Hmmm... Okay. I guess I'll have to go with that.

Sec: Glad we could sort something out. Have a safe flight.

Again, ending is weak. Also beginning is weak. I like the 'blow up a bus to Brisbane' line, and the rest I can take or leave.

There's an Economy in my Bathroom Eating Cake.

There's an Economy in my Bathroom Eating Cake.

An office. The Boss (Mr Corgan) Looks dishevelled. He may occasionally swig from a bottle of whisky. His shirt is torn. He is unshaven. Crazy eyes. Enter a worker.


BOSS: Frank! Frank! Thank god you came...

WORKER: What is it Mr Corgan?

B: Frank... oh god... I need your help Frank.

W: Of course Mr Corgan... what can I do for you?

B: It's the economy Frank...

W: Well, sir, look... We all know times are tough ... if there have to be more layoffs, it'll be hard, obviously, but we'll deal with it.

B: No. Frank. You don't get it ... You're my friend, aren't you, Frank?

W: Well, Mr Corgan, we've worked together a long time. And I have enormous respect for you, obviously.

B: Exactly ... friend ... friend... (Pathetic, clawing at Frank)

W: You're scaring me slightly Mr Corgan

B: Call me Geoff, Frank.

W: Ok, Geoff. You can call me Mike, which is my actual name.

B: Ok Mike. (Pulling self together). Tell me Frank. What do you know about the economy?

W: Oh. Well, the economy is the web that binds all commercial interactions. It is a construction of society built on transactions and trust based estimates of the value of fungible assets.

B: Frank, Frank... you poor fool. What would you say if I told you the economy was a ravenous beast, fueled only by an insatiable hunger?

W: Well, Mr Corgan, I'd say you weren't the first to use such a metaphor, but it's a rather negat...

B: FRANK. What if I then went on to tell you it's not a metaphor...

W: I'm sorry?

B: What if I told you that the economy REALLY IS a ravenous beast...

W: Ummm

B: What's more a beast that is living in my bathroom...

W: Sir, I would say that perhaps it's been a long week, and perhaps you need a lie down and some mood stabilisers of some kind.

B: Frank. Open that door.

W: This door?

B: Yes.

(Frank opens door with only a small trace of trepidation)

W: JESUS! (Slamming door quickly) What the fuck was that?

B: That, Frank, is the economy. That is the she beast at whose tit we all have sucked.

W: The hair! The fat! The pustulous boils!

B: Not an attractive sight, I will admit. But it was not always like this.

W: How did it get in here?

B: I brought it here ... But then it was just a small, heavily regulated fiscal market! I guess I took pity on it. I fed it on dividends, cash deposits... but then cash became scarce ... by this time it was strong, stronger than I could handle, and I had to search elsewhere for food ... I made do with derivatives, unstable futures ... in the last two years it has feasted on a sickening swill of collateralised debt packages ... and still it asks for more...

Needs an ending. I thought that the boss will probably end up feeding the worker to the economy, but that might confuse the whole thing. Help? Also, how does my economic bullshit sound?

This is an engineering joke.

I just think you should have more self control about these things, Al.