bAdvertising

I figured I should finally write a little something here to commemorate the fact that come the end of this month, we of The ACRE will be celebrating our first live show.  We've done live stuff before, in our ones and twos, but this will be the first time we've collectively written an hour's show and will be performing it off our own impetus.

All the live work I've done before has comprised of doing a turn at someone else's night, on a bill of acts unrelated to me.  I'm finding it considerably more daunting to be putting on a night of which the main attraction is meant to be us.  My relationship with the Facebook event page is best described as neurotic, "What do you mean you aren't attending, Person-I-Vaguely-Knew-in-School!?  You fucking cock!" etc.

And on the other side of things the fact that there are actually confirmed attendees fills me with dread when I am holding a 10 minute script which is meant to be exactly 6 times longer within 3 weeks.  It will be.  I am going to write the hilarious fuck out of that script.  When I'm done with it it won't even know it was born.

Yes, yes, self-indulgent passive-aggression, we get it.  What is it about?

The show is cleverly hurriedly cleverly called bAdvertising, which is 1) concise, 2) amusing, 3) a clever play on the iProduct way of naming things and also 4) sums up our basic stance that it is bad.

We're running it in the Gartholwg Lifelong Learning Centre, so we are writing it as a mock adult learning course, which is apt, and is a conceit we hope will cover any sticky spots in the script ("Hay, this bit is educational, that's why you aren't laughing!").

There will be at least 1 actual joke.

I suppose I am documenting this here for posterity and to placate my own worry that though I am not specifically writing the show at this point, I am at least doing show-related work.

On the off-chance that you, the hypothetical person reading this, is within reasonable distance and of a desire to come and see it, all the details can be found here.

Now, I am going to pull a pad and pen out and actually write for it.

"Knock knock".  "Who's there?"  "Advertising."  "Advertising who?" "".

I'll finish that one off later.

TPE 0003: The Forbidden Fruit is the Sweetest

Third installment of The Proverbial Experiment.  These videos are my attempt to show commitment to an idea.

Journal of Cannonby: Don't Hate us for the Hiatus

For real.  Here it is once again.


Narrator: Me
Boris: Dafydd
Bevan: Me
Cannonby: Luke
ZX: Me


*****

Journal: The Remarkable Doings of Cannonby
Don't hate us for the hiatus


Narrator
When last we glimpsed our heroes, so many yons ago, they were in a golden suryper of a sticky situation.  The crew were involved in a pincer assault on Vinehaven, a vast castle home to a cannibalistic wine-obsessed cult, partly to rescue the kidnapped the comatose Stephen Teal and Bludonna Snow, and partly to pillage some wine.  The group of Cannonby, Bevan and ZX Ilfracombe led with a full-frontal bombardment, while the espionage team of Boris, Doktor Li Faiseas and Uh Nurse snuck in through concealed tunnels.  In dramatic fashion, Cannonby and co were able to bring down the main gate with the meta-punning use of an explosive petard, while elsewhere, Teal and Bludonna were about to be pulped into manwine by the dreadful Crimson Maude, assisted by the onlooking lackey Hazel.  Now, framed by a distant rumbling of brick and mortar, Boris and Bevan make their escape through the dense forest that envelops Vinehaven, their progress impeded by their hefty cargo, namely the deadweight of the unconscious forms of Stephen Teal and Bludonna Snow.


Boris: I still don't understand what happened back there comrade!


Bevan: It was the petard we hoisted Boris...


Boris: I didn't hoist any petards...


Bevan: Okay, it was the petard I specifically hoisted, it packed a lot more splosion than we... I had anticipated.  Not only did it collapse the main gate, it seems it also buckled the floor, plungling me into the winecellar.


Boris: It must have done more than that!  The entire castle seemed to be coming down!


Bevan: Yes, it seems our actions rocked the place to its very foundations, literally.


Boris: Mmm.  Well as dangerous as it has proved to be now, comrade, it was magnificent timing on your part, no joke!


Bevan: I would say so, yes.  From what I gather Teal and Bludonna would be halfway to the production line had I not intervened.


Boris: glorious, perfect Green Ranger ex machina, swooping in, saving the day...   You didn't have to see what happened though...


Bevan: Well I was reeling a bit from having fallen 20 feet... luckily I landed on my stiff upper lip, and that cushioned a lot of the blow.


Boris:  You should have seen it comrade!  The pillar they were going to use to pulp Bludonna


Bevan: And Teal.


Boris: the pillar came out of it's moorings and smwshed to the ground, oh Bevan, it was awful.  It caught the Doktor and Nurse directly in it's path, and one of the Vinehaven goons!


Bevan: I guessed as much, when I snapped out of my confusion, it was with an astounding swiftness that I realised I was wading through excavated viscera.


Boris: Oh, Cruijff above, what horror.  You know like when a line of blocks disappear in tetris?


Bevan: No, I mean it hasn't been invented yet...


Boris: Well, this was nothing like that it was like a band of furious gorillas brutalising an aisle of lumpy tomato soup!


Bevan:  Peace, Boris.  Let us make good our escape, ere something yet more fearful befall us.


Boris:


Narrator
As the rueful and sombre twosome trudge their way away with their comatose cargo, little do they know their progress is being surveyed by the canny and vengeful eyes of the other winecellar survivor, the sly and vicious Crimson Maude.  Meanwhile!  Back at the now-crumbling castle of Vinehaven, two stoic champions seem unflapped by the structural instability of the stronghold they are looking to scale.  With eyes set firmly at the top, Cannonby begins his ascent.


Cnby: Come, Ilfracombe!  My eyes are set firmly at the top, and I am about to begin my ascent!


ZX: For what possible reason would you decide to ape up this compromised monument?


Cnby: For this is why, follow my reason if you dare!  We're aiming for the figurehead of this organisation, no?  And where would you locate the head-honcho?  Your assumption is correct my cyber-composite super-companion... AT THE TOP!


ZX: Captain, though your enthusiasm would be amusing were I not a robotic construction, I must indicate that the logistical flaws in your reasoning are vast and manifold.


Cnby: Silence!  Your plaintive criticisms, whilst wholly grounded in logic, are but cannonfodder in the blast of my cannonlogic.  I looked up when I was outside, and I saw her, the Headpriestess.  Now, Ilfracombe, I was a face-off on the battlements, and hopefully by the time I get there, there will be a lightning storm aswell.  Now are you to become my tailgate or are you going to stay at the gate with your tail between your legs!?


ZX: Which are we here for Captain, conflict or wine?  It was my understanding that...


Cnby:  BOTH!  Both of course, why simply have your cake when you can have a battle over it and then eat is with some icing on all lovely yum yum!  It seems though you are appearing as ZX, you are seeing the world through the eyes of your ghostly viking companion Ivan.  Hear me well Ivan, gather the wine, I will head up top to make fisticuffs with the head-honcherina, and afterwards we'll have ourselves the most magnificent celebration seen under the sun.  Hold tight, and may Cruijff watch over you.


Narrator
ZX heads down to loot what wine he can find, Cannonby heads up to boot Vino in the behind.  Does Cannonby truly understand the severity of confronting Vinehaven's DreadPriestess, the merciless Mellencamp Vino?  Will ZX's efforts in the collapsing winecellar be as unproblematic as simply stealing some wine?  What plans are currently fermenting in the twisted mind of Crimson Maude?  When you find out, you might not be able to Cannonbelieve it! in the next uterus-tighteningly electrifying instalment of the Tales of Cannonby!


*****


Probably should be mentioned as a footnote that when we read this out Luke farted during one of his lines and this changed the dynamic of the script somewhat.


Why not re-read it and imagine a fart during a Cannonby line and imagine how much funnier it would be?


This'll appear on one of The ACRE Podcasts several months from now in the year 2011.


I entrust you with making your own week enjoyable.

TPE 0002: Better to Light a Single Candle than to Curse the Darkness

Here, then, is the very second installment of our immensely ambitious project to bring the proverbial world to its knees. This week I am joined by my co-ACRE and failed scientist Luke Sampson, in order to tackle the proverb: It is better to light a single candle than to curse the darkness.

The Proverbial Experiment 0001: A Watched Kettle Never Boils

Here we have the inaugural outing for my very own vanity project, the splendiferous Proverbial Experiment.  On this occasion we scrutinised the proverb 'A Watched Kettle Never Boils'.

May pedantic deconstruction prevail.

Fill Your Boots

A sketch conceived, or at least workshopped, in a library.  How very inappropriate!  It was, however, filmed in the idyllic and overgrown gullies of the picturesque Rhondda valleys.

Extreme Human Ragdoll

This sketch is far and away our most Xtreme.  A tribute to all extreme sports shows.

With thanks to Sound the Attack for allowing us use of their extreme licks.

An Eggcorn Revenge

A sketch almost certainly inspired by the eggcorn investigations of Messrs. Adam and Joe of a Saturday morning/afternoon.

How To Reintegrate a Soldier

This is the first of our socially-conscious edu-info-tainment sketches.

Just Another Minute

Way back when it seemed that I was much better at linking things and using this blog constructively, it seems therefore that there are a backlog of sketches that we've now filmed that I haven't linked here.

I will now take the opportunity to do so.

Journal of Cannonby: Come on Baby, Let's Do the Twist

I haven't posted one of these scripts for ages, because we stopped doing them.  This was the final script that was performed before the huge summer gap.  Gap?  What's this?  Are they to be starting up again?  PERHAPS!!

Narrator: Me

Boris: Dafydd

Cannonby: Jean-Pierre le Grenouille

Maude: Me

Vino: Jean-Pierre le Grenouille

Bevan: Me

Nurse: Me

Doktor: Jean-Pierre le Grenouille

Hazel: Dafydd

Boris: Dafydd

************

Journal: The Remarkable Doings of Cannonby

Come on Baby, Let's Do The Twist.

Narrator

In the last episode of Tales of Cannonby…

BORIS:      Here's the hidden passageway!

CNBY:       Destroy the gate!

MAUDE:    Throw the switch!

Narrator

Waw-ee, lots of exciting happenings and stuff.  There is an imminent crushing of Teal and Bludonna on the cards, they are aboot to be crushed into a fleshy winepaste, though we can only hope that Boris' newfound hidden passageway leads directly and conveniently to that chamber but I suppose we'll have to wait to find out won't we?  Eh?  Eh?  Let us join a reflective Mellencamp Vino, who stands in her i-viney tower atop the battlements of Vinehaven…

VINO:         Oh, for a goblet of fresh wine!  How many moon cycles have I suffered without the gush of wine to slake my tempestuous thirst?  *sigh*  I had hoped to lead Vinehaven into its most fruitful age, but during my time at the metaphorical helm we have been struck with the worst drought in our history.  I'd assumed that dethroning the last Vineleaders and banishing all men from the citadel in a feminist coup d'état would lead to a better Vinehaven for ALL!  For all the women at least.  But the random thoroughfare through the region has all but died out, which means no fresh blood slash wine for us.  You'd think an out of town colony of sexy women would receive more visitors, really.  It's all this gender equality business that's ruining it for us.  It's political correctness gone mad. *sigh*  If I look out of my i-viney tower down upon the courtyard, there's ne'er a person in sight.  Oh wait, actually there is.  Is this some sort of siege?  What the hell is going on?

Narrator

And far below, in the courtyard…

CNBY:     Pull your weight you metallic curmudgeon!

BEVAN:   Look, Captain!  I don't mean to pour vinegar in your toilet, but just shouting at ZX isn't going to make him work any harder.  He may look like a robotic killing machine but inside he is a vulnerable fleshy sac just like everyone else.

CNBY:     That sounds vulgar, but it isn't!  You've won me over with your innuendo-laden logic.  I will be satisfied that he is moving at his current pace.

BEVAN:   That's very good of you, Captain.  Just look at the door there, you can see the outer crust of the polished oak cracking.  We'll be able to rush inside in a matter of hours!

CNBY:     Won't they have discovered us by then?

BEVAN:   Now, Captain.  You aren't meant to be the voice of sense in these conversations.  If you carry on like that you'll undermine the brittle equilibrium we've built up over these months, and then where would we be?

CNBY:     Still stuck outside the Castle?

BEVAN:   Touche.

CNBY:     That's not really a good enough punchline to deserve a touche.

BEVAN:   Touche.  Hoist by my own touche-based petard.

CNBY:     What is a petard?

BEVAN:   Well, according to wikipedia: A petard was a small bomb used to blow up gates and walls when breaching fortifications.

CNBY:     Well that's unbelievably coincidental, given the situation we are currently in.  Bevan!  Don't hoist yourself with that petard, use it to destroy the gate.

BEVAN:   Captain, given the flexible nature of radio broadcasting as a medium which requires imagination to really enjoy, and also the chaotic nature of this very story, your suggestion to use the petard I hoist myself with to blow up the gates is both as lazy and idiotic as it is genius.

CNBY:     That's the way I sail!  Blow the gates!

BEVAN:   Yes sir!

Narrator

But as the straight-forward team had concocted their petard-based scheme, Boris and the medical-centric characters were sneaking their way through the secret passages hoping to use the cack-handed distraction of Cannonby in their own clandestine plot to rescue Teal and Bludonna.

BORIS:    I see light at the end of the tunnel!

NURSE:   I see nothing within that sentence which could be misconstrued for comic effect.

DOKTOR: Correct.

BORIS:    There's a big ol' room just beyond the aperture here, it looks like a cross between a wine cellar and a brewery.  There're two beautiful women who are manning, sorry, there are two beautiful women who are womanning a lever, looking to bring down a giant mechanic foot and crush Teal and Bludonna into wine OH MY GOTT!

DOKTOR: Finally, we're back to the plot.

MAUDE:   Throw the switch!

HAZEL:    Yes, Miss Maude.

BORIS:    (really long and drawn out) STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!

(sound of switch being thrown, foot descending and crushing Teal and Bludonna)

Narrator

Well I did not expect that.  It is a bit abrupt isn't it?  I mean I can see what they were going for, trying to undermine story cliches by actually killing off the hostages but surely that's not the answer?  I mean it wasn't particularly funny.  I think I've lost faith in this story now, I don't think I'm even going to listen next week.  See how you start the episode then.  Think you can just play with the listeners emotions like that, killing off long-running popular characters.  Who do you think you are, Eastenders?  Or 24?  Or The Wire?  I would imagine.  I've not seen any of them.  Well you aren't, you are The Tales of Cannonby, and next week you will continue to be, the Tales of Cannonby!  Come back to see what happens, who knows, it might be some kind of trick, or magic-ear puzzle.  On the Tales of Cannonby!  They are definitely dead though.  (gap)  Or are they?  Eh?  Eh?  They are yeah.  (gap)  They might not be though.  (gap)  See how I feel.  (gap) On the Tales of Cannonby!!!!

*******

It was left on a ludicrous cliffhanger...

How is that going to be sorted out?

Journal of Cannonby: The Battle at Chi Ki

I am hoping that the plot is thickening somewhat in Cannonby of late. At the very least I can say that there is at least an overarching plot nowadays, rather than just silly throwaway one offs. Of course everything in The ACRE Podcasts are throwaway, but the genius is we don't throw them away. Is it genius? Who knows, eh?

The script was read/played by:

Narrator: Me

Cannonby: The Pirate

Bevan: Me

Boris: Dafydd Evans

Doktor: The Pirate

Hazel: Me

Maude: Dafydd Evans

*****

Journal: The Remarkable Doings of Cannonby

The Battle at Chi Ki.

Narrator

So, here we are again, dear friends; in the weird and wonderful world of Captain Cannonby and his curmudgeonly crew. That is perhaps slightly too jolly an opening given the situation the crew find themselves in. Teal and Bludonna have been captured slash kidnapped by the borderline vampiric, certainly cannibalistic priests of Vinehaven. These priests, lead by their Head Priest; the buxom, glamorous and oddly melodic Mellencamp Vino, plan on mwshing their captives to wine. Her able aides; Crimson Maude, head of torture and winemaking, and Hazel Sick, the oddsbody, ferret Teal and Bludonna away to the dungeons to that very end. While the Doktor, the Nurse and Boris search for an obligatory hidden secret entrance, Cannonby has sided for a more direct approach, and has dragged Bevan and a still slightly damaged ZX Ilfracombe along with him. Can the verb 'to storm' be aptly used to describe the behaviour of three men? I'm not overly certain but that's what it says here, so; Cannonby, Bevan and ZX storm the main gate.

CNBY: All for one, one for all, oye you two! Make a hole in the wall!

BEVAN: Ah, marvellous. What a magnificently nuanced plan of action you've compiled there Captain. With a tactician as Machiavellian as you, how could we possibly fail?

CNBY: Don't you spout your clever cloggery at me Carmarthen Bevan! I remember when you were but a babe in arms, I USED TO CHANGE YOUR NAPPIES, MY BOY!

BEVAN: Well that's absolute rubbish, I am significantly older than you, rendering what you just said absolutely impossible.

CNBY: Since when are you older than me?

BEVAN: Since the beginning, obviously. I think if you go back and check the character biographies that were drawn up at the start of these stories you'll see it clearly stated that I am older. I was mean't to be something of a mentor figure I believe.

CNBY: Well that turned out fantastically didn't it!?

BEVAN: I am the figure of sense at least, I am the earth wire to your cattle prod.

CNBY: That's not mentoring though is it?

BEVAN: It is mentoring of a sort.

CNBY: It's just misanthropy!

BEVAN: No, it's good old fashioned common sense, like we used to get when I was but a boy.

CNBY: I trust that since we're spending so long discussing your age that a twist in this plotline will eventually hang on that information?

BEVAN: I very much doubt it, I just thought it was a necessary thing to thrash out. Accuracy is important, especially to people of my advancing age.

CNBY: Old people are tedious.

BEVAN: But to reiterate, we aren't going to be able to smash through this colossal gate, not even with ZX's freakish cyborg might. Do you have any other strategically simplistic ideas?

CNBY: We could set fire to the place. With all the alcohol in there it should go up like a bonfire in a petrol station forecourt.

BEVAN: While your use of simile which involves buildings and technologies which don't exist in our reality is wonderful, I am afraid to say that won't work. Wine isn't flammable, really.

CNBY: Is that a bit of wisdom garnered over the years?

BEVAN: No, I just wikipediad it to check. Factual accuracy in these stories are important you know. Anyway, even if all the vines that cover the place went up in a fire, you'd run the risk of killing Teal and Bludonna as well as all the priests.

CNBY: Oh yes. I forgot they were in there. You asked for strategies and I just thought FIRE! you know? That's what all the great strategists go for.

BEVAN: I suppose you have a point. Renowned strategist and ancient-Agian Warlord Lu Xun often used fire in his tactics.

CNBY: Fascinating. Usually at this point we would have a cheap reference to some kind of video game, but this week you've decided to opt for referencing a literary pseudo-historical figure, it's more upmarket and makes us look clever, I like it.

BEVAN: Nah, I saw him on Dynasty Warriors.

CNBY: Typical.

Narrator

I've taken down an officer! That's what they say on that game. Away from Cannonby and Bevan's bickering, Boris, the Doktor and Uh Nurse are having a more fruitful experience. I'll point out now that that was a pun, because by the time they actually come into contact with fruit you'll have forgotten the line about it being 'fruitful'.

BORIS: So where is this hidden opening?

DOKTOR: Patience my little Slavic buddy, you need to cast your eyes amongst the little oval shapes / You'll find the secreted opening amongst the grapes.

Narrator

Okay, I suppose it wasn't that long before the fruits came up, I just got a bit excited, didn't want a joke to slip through the net. Skies know they are few and far between in these tales.

BORIS: Is this the entrance here? It looks a lot like one I guess.

DOKTOR: Yes.

BORIS: That was easy, I expected that to be really drawn out and tedious. Small blessings I suppose.

Narrator;

Very nearby, on the other end of the tunnel lies the dungeon labyrinth that is the underguts of Vinehaven, wherein Crimson Maude and Hazel are making the preparations for the evening's winemaking.

MAUDE: What're you doing with those comatose carcasses Hazel, get your patootie in gear woman, skies above!

HAZEL: Yes, Miss Maude.

MAUDE: Chuck 'em in the big trough as usual, I'll start up the giant foot machine which will begin the crush. We'll have ourselves some wine in no time.

HAZEL: Yes, Miss Maude.

Dragging noises and banging as though people have been dumped in the trough.

MAUDE: Spiffing. Let's throw the switch!

Narrator

*Sharp breath* Are they really going to do it? Having escaped the dangers of the forest and the clutches of an Agian Spider, will Teal and Bludonna be cursed to a fate where they are splattered by a colossal mechanised foot? In their unconscious state there is little they can do to help themselves. Will Cannonby break the gate? Will Boris arrive in time? Why has no one ever said 'Gyargh!' in these stories? Aren't they mean't to be pirates? There's not even a wooden leg or a parrot. Skies above, this is one of the most cliche-free pirate stories ever. And one of the worst. But now you have to come back or you'll never know if Bludonna and Teal get wineificated. It'll be like Schrodinger's Liquidation/Cannibalism Machine Theory. That's not very catchy so you'd better come back next week, to discover what transpires in Tales of Cannonby!

*****

New script as always will be read/played tomorrow halfway through our 12-3pm GMT slot on www.rhonddaradio.com.

Cannonby will be going on hiatus when this arc concludes I believe. What will we fill it with I wondread?

If you feel a pressing need to get in touch send your missives to acrecomedy@gmail.com or tweet @adamgilder.

Fanks all.

Adam

Journal of Cannonby: Now I Know How Joan of Ark Felt

The title of this one has less relevance to the script than they usually do. I was listening to The Smiths as I was struggling for a title, because the story in this one was particularly all over the place, so no one thing could sum it all up. So I just wrote the lyric in. It makes about as much sense as the actual story.

The script was read/played by:

Narrator: Me

Cannonby: Dev Vhardi

Bevan: Me

Boris: Dafydd Evans

ZX Ilfracombe: Me

Doktor: Dev Vhardi

Nurse: Me

Vino: Dev Vhardi

Crimson Maude: Dafydd Evans

Hazel: Me

*****

Journal: The Remarkable Doings of Cannonby

Now I know how Joan of Ark felt

Narrator

Well, what do you want me to say? Nothing has really happened for the last month so it seems fairly unnecessary to do a recap, but I suppose I'd better had. Teal and Bludonna have been captured by the cannibalistic Priests of Vinehaven, and almost every other major character is amassed somewhere, still fairly lost within the dense forestry outside the hidden walls of the citadel. Doktor Li Faiseas and his able assistant Uh Nurse are tending to the weakened crew; Cannonby, Bevan and Boris. Of course there're limits to how far they can help ZX Ilfracombe, as the medics specialise in human biology, and are poorly equipped to tamper with the industrial exoskeleton that sheathes the human bits of ZX.

Boris: I am really concerned about the cyborg, he's fizzing and popping a bit. It was so long ago that I can't remember whether he was in the lagoon or not, but if he was that water couldn't have been good for him.

Cnby: (banging as though slapping ZX on the back) Nonsense! ZX is a sturdy piece of equipment! He's built like a behemoth! In the highlands where he was constructed they called him the Iron Giant. And with the added assistance of the spirit of Ivan Oleinme he is even capable of withstanding Ragnarok!

Bevan: I see you are staying true to last weeks promise of more Final Fantasy references.

Cnby: Tonberry King!

Boris: Jumbo Cactuar!

Bevan: Geezard!

Cnby: Wendigo!

Boris:

Bevan: Oh, bin bags.

Doktor: The desire to hit you is very tempting / Though I can understand what you are attempting / You are trying to really nail the Final Fantasy niche / but random references aren't funny, capiche?

Bevan: Well, we'll never know unless we try…

Boris: And it works for Family Guy.

Nurse: Well, it's causing our metallic patient to get quite stressed.

Doktor: And he's already in quite a mess / Better to just give it a rest.

Boris: I agree.

Bevan: Yes.

Boris: We have to plan how to rescue Bludonna and the freak.

Cnby: He is disgusting. I say leave them, they just get in the way and clog the script up with their needless dialogue.

Bevan: Oh Captain, what an awful thing to say. Bludonna and Teal get a tiny percentage of the dialogue, especially when compared to some of the lengthy diatribes you get.

Cnby: Well that's a load of hogwash! The characters who have the largest percentage of dialogue are probably you and Boris, or perhaps its been skewed in recent weeks by the ridiculously epic poems that the Doktor and Nurse seem to be performing on a weekly basis now. No, don't argue Bevan! And even if they don't actually say much, the plotlines seem to focus extensively on Bludonna and Teal. It's ridiculous, this story is called CANNONBY, that's me! I am the Captain, how have I become marginalised in my own tale!?

Bevan: Well maybe we'd trust you with these lengthier pieces more often if we felt we could trust you to read them out properly.

Cnby: It's hardly my fault that I am played by a steady stream of varying guests every week. None of them get the experience that is needed to read the script successfully. The production of this show is shambolic, and I refuse to be held responsible for the messing of my own lines.

Boris: You should, you are to blame.

Cnby: Which wristwatches are swiss wristwatches?

Bevan: Exactly.

Doktor: Oh come on you lot, please! / You think fixing this robot is easy?

Nurse: Because it's not.

Doktor: We don't do this a lot. Now quiet down while we set to our work.

Nurse: You burkes.

Cnby: So I'm guessing we have to save those idiots then.

Bevan: Yes, definitely.

Boris: But how?

Bevan: Well didn't the good Doktor say last week that he had once been one of the priests? Surely he'll know some hidden way into the….

Cnby: (interrupting loudly) I say we burst in through the main gate and cause hell!

Bevan: Um, I'd really rather not.

Boris: No, that sounds stupid.

Cnby: Nonsense! We've got ZX Ilfracombe with an Ivan power-up, what could possibly go wrong? He has a blunderbuss for a groin!

Nurse: You should reconsider that tactic before it is too late.

Doktor: This ZX is in no fit state, to be fighting.

Bevan: They're right Captain.

Cnby: Ha! To nonsense with you, ZX, come on, up you get. We're going to kick some priestly buttocks.

ZX: Priest. Buttock.

Cnby: See, he's fine. Onward!

Bevan: No Captain, come back.

Boris: He is such an idiothole.

Doktor: He is gung-ho to the point of perversion / But his assault will at least cause a diversion / Let those three go on their merry way / We'll sneak in and save the day.

Nurse: Through the old passageway?

Doktor: That would seem the more sensible way.

Boris: Hip-hip-hooray.

Narrator

But are these flippant celebrations too early, just what does await our heroes inside the insides of the Haven of Vines?

Vino: (Shouting) Hazel! Take the prisoners to the dungeon, hand them over to Crimson Maude.

Hazel: Yes, Miss Mellencamp.

Vino: What an ugly twosome they are. A seal-headed freak and a hideous madwoman. They taint our beautific citadel with their festering presence.

Hazel: Yes, Miss Mellencamp.

Vino: This citadel that I, Mellencamp Vino, have slaved over for many years to beautify. It's not easy being the Head Priest of Vinehaven, Hazel, not easy at all. But I love beauty, and I live to beautify.

Hazel: Yes, Miss Mellencamp.

Maude: A lovely piece of exposition from you there Head Priest Vino.

Vino: Thank you Crimson Maude; head of torture and wine fermenting. What brings you from your hallowed dungeon?

Maude: I got sick waiting for the new batch of grapes you've got for me. Hoo-hoo-hargh! What beautifuls grapes we've got ourselves ere! A grizzled little lady and a mans with an oct-ur-narwahol for a head! Wonderful wonderful! Should get us some gnarly wines from these-uns!

Vino: Splendiferous! Hazel, set the goblets, tonight we drink deeply of the blood of fools!

Hazel: Yes, Miss Mellencamp.

Vino, Hazel and Maude all laugh manically.

Narrator

Skies above! What nefarious plans the clearly evil trio have upon Teal and Bludonna. Mellencamp Vino, Crimson Maude and Hazel Sick are clearly experienced in the process of abduction and wineification. I am appalled. Cannibalism is still cannibalism even if you are using goblets instead of cans. Gobletbalism. Will the efforts of Cannonby, Carmarthen Bevan and ZX be in vain? Can the sneaking tactic of Li Faiseas, Boris and Uh Nurse succeed? Will we ever hear Teal's plaintive bark again? Return to us on the flipside, and we'll discover the answers together, as we follow these tales of Cannonby!

*****

Didn't think I'd manage this weekend's Cannonby. It has been a slog to translate and no mistake. Skies above!

If you appreciate the effort, let us know:

acrecomedy@gmail.com or @adamgilder for tweeting business.

Fanks like.