Donald Trump-et.

Karen: So, Mr Wilkins, you are applying for the position of sales manager.

W: Yes, which is to say, yes, yes I am.

K: I see, well, how about you start by telling me what you can offer this company.

W: Well, I don't like to blow my own trumpet, but I have a very nice trumpet.

K: You have a nice trumpet.

W: Yes.

K: How do you see this helping the company?

W: Well, if you had something you wanted to sell, I thought I could go outside on the street and blow my trumpet and sort of say 'Buy this'! It's great!

K: Mr Wilkins, we tend to focus on the print and televisual media... not trumpets.

W: Well, I think the trumpet idea still applies, regardless of the medium. You could put a picture of the trumpet in a newspaper, and it would catch people's eye. I imagine they would think 'gosh, look at that trumpet' and then underneath you'd write 'Cool things for sale' and give a PO box number, or a fax.

K: Mr Wilkins, your resume said you had years of experience in online marketing.

W: That may have been a typo.

K: I see. What was it supposed to say.

W: Level six jazz trumpet.

K: Mr Wilkins, I'm afraid you quite clearly have no qualifications whatsoever for this job.

W: No, which is to say, no, I don't.

K: You're a dim witted clot you just happens to have an unhealthy obsession with brass instuments.

W: Actually it's tin, but I take your point.

K: But, that being said, you're the only applicant we've had who isn't asian, so it's a pleasure to have you on board.

W: Gosh, thanks!

K: We'll be in touch.

Wilkins leaves the room. Outside a friend is waiting.

F: How'd it go?

W: Got it, no worries. I just hope she doesn't check up on that trumpet thing.

An average phone call that left him feeling so-so

ring-ring ring-ring

Waltman: Mike Waltman Speaking

Nurse: Mr.Waltman. Im calling from the hospital regarding your father.

Waltman: Yes?

Nurse: Im sorry to say, he passed on

Waltman: Oh my god

Nurse: It was a very difficult night last night

Waltman: Did he suffer?

Nurse: Terribly

Waltman: Oh lord

Nurse: We were unable to knock him out. He endured an inhuman amount of pain.

Waltman: Did he go quickly at least?

Nurse: Mr.Waltman, It was slow beyond comprehension. Too long for any person to be writhing in agony. Much too long for... anything.

Waltman. Oh Jesus.

Nurse: I'm so sorry

Waltman: Did any of my siblings make it in time to be with him and my mother?

Nurse: Your brother was here for a while

Waltman: But my father died with just his wife by his side?

Nurse: There was no one in the room with your father when he died. He was alone, with the door shut and the lights turned off.

Waltman: So no one heard his last words? How could this happen? Where was my mother?

Nurse: Your father had been screaming for hours. Making accusations, renouncing everything and everyone. Your father had a lot of regrets.

Waltman: And my mother?

Nurse: She left after he said he blamed her for ruining his life by getting pregnant and not aborting the fetus.

Waltman: Oh... god. Something in the dying process must have been affecting his mind

Nurse: I really can't see how. Your father came in with cardiac problems. His heart was under a lot of strain. Most likely regret-induced strain.

Waltman: So my dad died of a heart attack?

Nurse: The official cause of death is unhappiness, a percieved unfortunate series of events, a poorly led life.

Waltman: I can't verbalise how awful this makes me feel.

Nurse: I'm sorry

Waltman: May I ask what the last thing he ate was?

Nurse: Your mother brought in some creme brule

Waltman: That was his favourite. Its nice to be able to find some comfort in that

Nurse: he threw it up immediately

Alchemy at the butchers.

Ding ding. A man comes into a butchers shop. Behind the counter is a butcher, looking jolly.

A: Morning Tim!

B: Morning Eric. How's the family

A: Oh, good, good thanks. How are your boys?

B: They're fine, fine. Although it turns out Liam, the youngest, is actually a girl.

A: Oh?

B: Yes. Can't believe I missed it really.

A: We had a similar thing with our salamander. Apparently it comes from keeping the aquarium too hot.

B: That would be it then. Now, what can I do for you?

A: Well, funny you should ask. I was actually after some bread.

B: Bread?

A: Yeah.

B: Not really my line, Eric. I'm more in the meat side of the equation.

A: I thought you might say that. It's just that since the bakers closed down it's been a little difficult to get a hold of.

B: I understand the conundrum, mate. But I wouldn't know where to start.

A: Hmmm. I don't suppose it's possible to slice meat in such a way as it becomes bread, is it?

B: Not really.

A: What about a marinade?

B: A marinade that converts meat into bread?

A: Yes. Maybe you could do something with red wine and garlic.

B: I don't think so.

A: What about mincing? You sometimes get breadcrumbs in rissoles.

B: True. True. But I think you'll find that the breadcrumbs are added in later. In fact, they come from bread, rather than being a by-product of the mincing process.

A: Really?

B: Yep. It's the grated carrot and onion that come from the mincing.

A: Is that a fact?

B: No.

A: Hmmm. Well, I don't know what I'm going to do. I've got a barbecue this afternoon and people are going to be expecting bread.

(how can this end?)

Gritty Custard.

Gritty Custard.

A: Hey! Check this out

B: Check what out?

A: Well, I was just mucking about in the shed and I put this together,

B: Wow. what is it?

A: Not really sure, but if you press this button it squirts out a thick film of sort of gritty custard.

B: I can see how that would be useful.

A: Well, if you pull this lever it plays the chorus from "Breakfast at Tiffany's".

B: Oh, okay, that's pretty good I guess.

A: Yeah. Look, you can use this hard surface here for smashing the tops of beer bottles.

B: Hmmmm. Does it come with batteries?

A: That's the beauty of it. Yes.

B: What's that smell.

A: There's a possum stuck in there. It think it's distressed. I guess that's another function, it distresses possums.

B: And what's that sort of short pointed stick thing.

A: It's for getting stones out of horses hooves.

B: Lose it. What's it called?

A: I'm torn between 'The Tooth, The Tooth!' and iPod 2.

B: What about 'JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAART'

A: Done.

Maybe revise this sketch and make it about someone who has invented 'gritty custard' and is trying to sell it to a food company. He could have a jingle and everything. I think the problem is that I'm trying to write this while watching television. And I don't have a concept before I start writing. This needs to change.

Die in your sleep. Do it.

Guy: Baby, I had a dream we were at a show and you just died.

Gal: Oh babe, Dont worry, it was just a dream, go back to sleep.

Guy: Yes I know it wasn't real, but can i not have some mourning time please? I just watched you die, I'd appreciate a little sensitivity.

Gal: Hey, Im the one that died

Guy: Yeah exactly, your pain is over. You got to die in someone elses sleep. How easy is that? Whereas I have to live with your dead body on my conscience. Physically laying on it.

Gal: Im right here you know

Guy: Yes I realise that, and do you know how hard that is on me? I haven't even come to terms with your absence yet. I'm pretty sure it's rude to force your reappearance on someone who isn't ready. Jesus, I didnt realise we were going to be dealing with some kind of indian giver god.

Gal: That's racist, and you dont believe in God

Guy: True but I think he's great as a comedic device, isnt he?

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.