The scene is a small backstreet pub in Hoxton, East London. The lads are seated at a table in the corner, sipping their pints and puffing contentedly on their contraband e-cigarettes. Gaz appears to be in reflective mood.
Gaz – Clivey mate…
Clivey – Yes? What is it Gaz mate? You appear to be in reflective mood son.
Gaz – Funny you should say that mate. I was just reflecting on how I’m in reflective mood at the moment. The thing is mate, I was just wondering if you’d read that last skit of mine. The one about suncream. You remember the one.
Clivey – I’ll say I do son! It was an absolute peach of a skit to be fair. Probably the finest you’ve ever written. I must have read it at least five times mate. In fact, not a day has gone by when I haven’t read it. Since you posted that skit I don’t mind telling you that it’s become a huge part of my life. I live to read it mate…absolutely live to read it!
Gaz – Thanks mate, it means a lot to me that does. I’ve read all your skits too you know? In fact, I’ve got my Irene to make voice recordings of every skit you’ve ever written, so that when I’m out on the road in the motor, or watching a good film on the telly, I can listen to your skits through my headphones and marvel at how great they are and how much I admire your skit writing and that.
Clivey – That’s nothing mate. I’ve written a play about all your skits and sent it off to a West End theatre producer in the hope that it’ll be turned into a box office smash. Then I’m going to take my old woman and the kids to watch it every night so that we can drool over your skit-writing ability as a family.
Gaz – That’s all well and good son but I’ve had all your skits set to music by Andrew Lloyd Webber and I’m going to get that Michael Buble to record a whole album that pays a fitting tribute to you, both as a man, and as a writer of top-class skits. It’s going to be called: “The Skit-Writing King & I” mate.
Clivey – Right…I’ve written to Barack Obama about your skits and he’s told me personally that he’s going to read your skits out to the American people on the telly every night until he relinquishes the presidency to Donald Trump or one of those other American political geezers. In fact, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he didn’t make himself the dictator of America just before the election and appoint you The Secretary Of Skits. That’s how highly I regard your skit-writing skills mate. I don’t mind admitting that I regularly use your skits to masturbate to son. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve bellowed: “Christ what a blindingly funny skit you dirty bastard mate!” just before I’ve blown me custard.
Gaz – Blimey cheers mate! I find it hard to believe you’ve gone to so much trouble on account of your deep admiration for my skits, or that you use them to help you cum your cocoa. Did you read that one I wrote last week by the way? The one about the policeman? I was pretty chuffed with that one to be honest. It wasn’t as funny as any of your skits mind you. No skit could ever hope to achieve that kind of greatness mate!
Clivey – About a policeman you say mate? No I can’t say I remember that one. I expect I just clicked the like button on the reader, like I do with all the others. Was it good then mate?
Gaz – !!!!!
Filed under Humor, Humour