PodVlogumentary

This is a documentary in vlog form explaining how we construct the podcasts.  Hilarity ensues.

In at the 13th Hour (or Day)

A belated Happy New Year, and an even more belated happy new blog.

I suppose I am drawn to leave this update for that very reason, it’s been lazily long since I last posted something here.  I suppose it’s justified however, as I have waited until I actually had something to post here.  So here it is.

The ACRE’s Annual General Meeting 2010, held late due to an inclement weather event.  Finally, everyone can get filled in as to where the ACRE find themselves professionally at the dawning of 2011.

Also, we've left the radio in order to focus on video projects, rather than being fired as we rather disingenuously suggested here.  We have another 2 sketches already filmed, and another waiting to be made.

As ever, the proof will be in the posting.

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 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.

Official Alternative Ending to Twilight

Here is our 100% legitimate official alternative ending to the twilight series.  Thanks to H.G. Wells for inspiration and Richard Burton for being badly mimicked.

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?

Customer Inquiries

My good friend the artist Arthur Isherwood recently penned three customer inquiries and it seems unlikely that he will receive a reply due to the eccentric turn of phrase which he utilises.  He has asked me to replicate them here for public consumption, which I, being a great friend, have agreed to.

The first was sent to the ice cream company Antonio Federici, who recently had an advert picturing a pregnant nun banned.

Hello,

I recently became aware of your company following the widely reported banning of your "Immaculately Conceived" poster ad.  I personally found this ad gently amusing, as did my wife, who is a Roman Catholic, and therefore supposedly the sort of person who would have been insulted in the eyes of the ASA.  Needless to say, I feel as though the banning was misjudged and heavy-handed.

I was heartened to discover, reading further into a BBC article, that your firm was planning on "securing a series of billboards close to and along the planned route of the Pope's cavalcade around Westminster Cathedral", with posters in the same vein.  Since this visit has now played out, and no report has surfaced, I was wondering whether it had been possible to see out this plan, or whether you had, once again, been hamstringed by the misguided actions of the ASA?

Your desire to "comment on and question, using satire and gentle humour, the relevance and hypocrisy of religion and the attitudes of the church to social issues" certainly chimes with me personally, although I do hope that you retain your desire to make ice cream that is delicious and cold.

While satirising the idea of imaculate conception does question some of the inherent hypocrisies in religion, I wonder if it would be more effective to focus on certain hypocrisies that are current hot potatoes.  For example, the current Pope is making waves in the press for having covered up, and failing to protect the victims of, a large-scale Catholic priest paedophile ring, and I feel it would be an incredibly bold way for you to comment on and question the hypocrisy of religion and the attitudes of the church to social issues if you addressed this colossal hypocrisy.  It would be fairly simple, I would suggest, to create an ad for this in the style of your current "Ice cream is our religion" campaign, perhaps showing a kneeling child with its eyes closed being covered in vanilla ice cream by a gurning priest.  The tag line could be 'it is more blessed to give than to receive' or perhaps 'see no evil, evil semen'.  Perhaps I have overstepped a mark there, the ideas are your jurisdiction, after all.

Looking forward to hearing from you

Arthur Isherwood

The second was to Imperial Leather.

Hello,

I am a student, and as such don't often have the opportunity to treat myself to a washing experience, not one that is enhanced by the presence of brand name soap anyway, and a number of blue moons have passed since last I was fortunate enough to cleanse myself with an Imperial Leather product.

My Imperial Leather lull was put to an end last night however, when I returned home to visit my parents.  I took advantage of all the home comforts I have not been privy to in my Sawesque dormroom.  Food and drink were first on my list, but, as you may have guessed, I then had a shower.

This shower was punctuated by the blessed presence of Imperial Leather shower gel, the Softly Softly range to be more precise.  In my haste to wash I overlooked its milky hue and applied it generously on my body.  It was only on later inspection that I discovered it was made of Jojoba Milk and Vitamin E.  Now I am not overly familiar with the Jojoba, and since I was suspicious that it was derived from the word 'juju', I investigated.  I have since discovered that this is a "girly" ingredient.  I further investigated your range of shower gels and discovered that one is 'For Men', further raising my stress levels.

What had I just done to myself by smothering my masculine body with a shower gel which is not for men?

I am panicked, and writing to you to enquire whether there will be adverse effects on my male body due to the use of this non-for men shower gel.  I am quite concerned as I have a beard, which is possibly the most manly thing, aside from a penis, possibly.  If there will be adverse effects, are there any steps I can take to counteract the feminisation of my body?  I have been self-medicating with steak and ale pies, but I just feel bloated, which is a woman's emotion.

Yours hopefully

Arthur Isherwood

And the third was about Lilt (but sent to their parent company Coca-Cola).

Hello,

Whilst writing this is I am currently slaking my thirst with a bottle of Lilt Zero.  It is fulfilling it's role quite well, which is amazing considering I am quite concerned, and it is 'best consumed chilled out'.  I can only imagine how wonderful it would taste were I only able to calm down.

The source of my consternation on this occasion is the declaration of the bottle of Lilt that is has a 'totally tropical taste'.  I assume this claim stems from the fact that it contains pineapple and grapefruit, which are considered tropical fruit.  I was wondering whether the pineapple and grapefruit used to make Lilt are sourced from the tropics, or whether the fruits themselves simply suggest a tropical taste, rather than them being an actual tropical taste.  Closer inspection of the ingredients listed, however, shows that pineapple and grapefruit juice from concentrates make up only 5% of the beverage.

I was wondering further, therefore, whether the carbonated water, citric acid, acidity regulator, sweeteners, flavourings, preservatives, antioxidants, stabilisers, colour and the source of phenylanine listed on the bottle were also sourced from tropical climes, or whether they contribute to a tropical-like taste.

I inquire because the drink claims to have a 'totally' tropical taste, whereas my research has led me to surmise that in reality is has a 'somewhat' tropical taste.

Yours inquisitively

Arthur Isherwood.

Good old Arthur, being a low-level nuisance.  Maybe one day he will use his tedious nagging for good.

Haribo, Lack of Ideas, Wil Hodgson and a World Cup Song

I am in work, and a child just pronounced Haribo 'huh-ree-bo' (rhymes with Kuriboh)(the example says more about me than I would like). Very amusing indeed. Kids and grown-ups love it so, across all the social classes it seems.

I have been at a loss for things to write somewhat this week, a mix of staying up late playing Final Fantasy 9 and having wrestling moves dancing around my mind during any free moment is not a healthy environment in which whimsy can flourish.

I went with mates to see a comedy gig last night, and I can't really write about that, because a page full of superlatives strung together to describe Wil Hodgson, while accurate and sincere, would probably seem mawkish. He is one of the most engaging performers I have seen, and surely a genuinely unique act.


It was one of the strangest room I have ever been in, we sat, as is our custom, right at the very front. We figure that having paid to get in, it makes sense to get as close to the performers as possible. Whereas everyone else decided it would be better to sit in the very back of the room, leaving a huge swathe of empty seats in the centre. This came together to give the impression that, for a lot of the time, our table was receiving a private, special gig. Which sounds either amazing or filthy, depending on how your mind works. It was amazing.

The gig was being compered by Elis James, which we didn't realise until the fact, which was a lovely bonus as he is a beautiful human being.  I will leave my strange praise there.


I frightened a man in the toilet afterwards, (filthy), when I walked in and saw a poster advertising 'An Audience with Derek Acorah' and said "oh for fuck sake!" much louder than I had intended. It is one of the ugly inequalities of the world that Hodgson plays in the lounge room and Acorah will play in the theatre. It is an indictment of the area that people will turn up to it. If there's any karmic justice in the world then ghosts will be proven to exist and Acorah will be pulled inside out by a Greater Demon during his set. I am getting a message from beyond, it says to buy Wil Hodgson's DVD from www.gofasterstripe.com. Them ghosties know what they are on about.


I am circumcising this blog entry here, as I have to record a World Cup-based song for our radio show tomorrow, since one of our running sections where we cynically jump on a bandwagon to become 'popular' is returning. I have to write the lyrics now, although I think I am going to be relying on 'hilarious' singing to sell this one, rather than incisive satirical points. I pulled Algeria and New Zealand in the office sweepstakes, so they will feature heavily I assume. If only as much fuss had been made of the rugby World Cup and I'd picked those teams (with Australia instead of Algeria). That might also appear in the song.


I am loath to actually end this entry now, as I feel that if I keep blagging my way through then I will accidentally stumble on things I can do in the song.


Nope.


~fin~

When I Rhyme I Get All Vulgar

I have spent much of today working on an old idea I'd put on the backburner. It was a rebuttal of the widely accepted belief that Welsh as a language adopts English words and puts 'io' at the end of them in order to Welshise them. More accurately, it was addressing the belief that this is a bad thing, for it certainly does happen. I have built up a large list of English words and phrases that are plucked wholesale from other languages.

I was hoping to work this up into a comedy routine, but I realised as I was writing it that it was far too dry, and that I would come across as lecturing and dry. I also figured that I wouldn't be able to remember all of the phrases, as it would require remembering the material word for word rather than simply remembering the relevant funny bits that I have to get to. So instead of that I figured I'd try and write it up as a poem, so that I could conceivably read it from the page until the point where I had memorised it, and also hoping that the rhythm and rhyme would make it seem less critical and give it more of a humourous edge. As it stands at the moment that really isn't the case, and over the course of the afternoon it became a lot longer than I expected it to. I finished it off very sharply, and I decided to leave it for awhile, I'll go back and have a stab at shearing it down when I have fresher eyes for it.

For the rest of the afternoon I was stuck in a rhyming mood, and I still had a lot of foreign phrases that I hadn't used. I wrote a number of shorter, less serious poems, most of which focus almost exclusively on sexual perversions. My mind isn't much of a mystery. So today is a poetic entry, I'll post a few of the short poems underneath, I hope you enjoy them.

*****

Pole-Dancing etc.

The good sir, a voyeur,

Gave to the concierge a dossier.

Safe passage to a secluded somewhere,

Where he can sink into a chair,

And sink his eyes on fleshy derriere.

The room is a dimly lit pit, a gaudy safari,

The women contorted in impossible human origami,

To please the empty, broken men,

and their empty, broken salami.

*****

Lewd, crude and in the mewd

This is a missive from my perversion

to womankind at large:

I would like to spill my man-fromage,

All over your decolletage.

*****

A fruity misunderstanding between a Frenchman and a German (in English)

Au contraire, mein Herr,

This is not an apple,

but a pear.

*****

I wrote a few more little ones, and I found an old first draft which I will play around with soon, so there should be more poetry in the near future.

I hope that fills you with joy.

IT SHOULD!

Oh, by the way, we (The ACRE) have put up another sketch on our youtube channel, it's waiting here for you. There's a new podcast out today aswell, but I'm sure you are all familiar with that anyhow. If you aren't, search for them on iTunes, they're called The ACRE Podcasts.

I hope you have pleasant waking hours.

@adamgilder

www.theacre.net

acrecomedy@gmail.com

Assorted Insecurity

It has been an odd day today.

I spent the morning in a strained state of mind as I was attempting to complete an impossible number of tasks before I had to leave for work.

Forefront in my mind was uploading the new podcast and the new sketch so that I would be able to steamroller through endless plugging throughout the day. Though it can be dispiriting to feel as though the our efforts are merely being uploaded into the void, we are attempting to keep up a constant flow of creativity and content, and the uploading on a specific time is more to adhere to deadlines that we have set ourselves, rather than to placate readers/listeners/viewers.

My reaction when people get in touch out of the blue saying they enjoy the blog/podcasts/sketches is one of surprise, which probably doesn't inspire confidence, and is probably informed by my feeling that all this is in some way a big hypothetical practice run for something more serious. When people do get in touch, it brings home that our inane ideas are getting put completely into the public domain, into the gargantuan pool of creative offerings. The thought that our podcasts could be judged alongside podcasts that I listen to and see as solid, unassaiable recordings it is daunting. The thought that they could possibly be as good is alien to me. I think I need to become more assured, but I also need to try harder.

In other 'I-am-completely-out-of-my-depth' news, polling day is tomorrow, and I have realised that I don't have enough time to actually investigate any policies in any real depth. As much as I have engaged in the run-up to the election, following the various 'game-changers' and 'gaffes' that are far removed from any real focus on politics at all, I haven't really learnt anything of substance. I am pleased that the seemingly inevitable duopoly at least feels as though it no longer holds sway, but I am conscious that serious electoral reform needs to take place before the Lib Dems have any real chance to heavily influence matters.

From what I gather, the constituency where I live is something of a stronghold for a specific party, and it would be hugely unlikely that any other party would get in. It is disappointing that in a country which styles itself as one of the pioneers of democracy that my vote will be effectively shit up a wall in the bigger picture. I feel as though I should be repeatedly pasting the phrase 'ELECTORAL REFORM' for the rest of this blog, but I will now digress.

I have recently become invested in re-watching early episodes of South Park. Their most recent output seems to have attracted so much controversy and praise in equal measure, I thought I'd revisit the show, having not watched it for years. I remember being surprised recently when I saw new episodes, for as a kid watching it when it first came out, it is the childishness and the crudity that I remember. I was really excited by how ideologically strong the show was, and how eloquently and aptly it was able to deal with heavyweight, touchy subjects.

I was delighted, watching back the first series, to find that this wasn't something that developed later, and that the show has actually been touching on sensitive topics from the very beginning, with a deft touch and insightfulness that is packaged in a misleadingly crass package. Needless to say, I am very much enjoying this revisitation, as well as being pleased that there are so many series of this show for me to catch up with.

So, having spent a rambling entry detailing my creative insecurities, my political insecurities and my enjoyment of a show with a scope that is awe-inspiring, I will end this with a limp plug. Our newest sketch is up on our youtube channel, I am uncertain whether I should be sincere and implore you to check it out and hope that you enjoy it, or whether I should be obscenely over the top about it.

I will just be sincere and say that this one sketch is our best piece of work to date, it is better than the entirety of South Park added-up and distilled into a nugget form and that the sketch agrees with Nick.

And being serious for a second, I hope you enjoy it.

@adamgilder
www.theacre.net
acrecomedy@gmail.com

First Sketch

As you may or may not know, I am a part of a sketch troupe called The ACRE.

We are on community radio every weekend, and we edit the best bits into The ACRE Podcasts, because we are awful modern. Apart from these endeavours, we also write blogs and do live stuff when we can. We are basically creative busybodies, and hopefully we're reaching the point where our idle speculation regarding things we should do has been overtaken by actually doing those things.

Which brings me on to the point of this entry.

We spent a very sunny yesterday in the bustling township of Pontypridd, where we hauled ourselves to a pub with cameras and ideas to come up with a sketch and film it in a couple of hours. We figured the only way we'd get past the planning/potential stages of the thing would be to just go and do it, even if that means a haphazard sketch. It would be a learning curve and an experience which hopefully we could build on.

And that's what happened.

We journeyed into Ponty Park, and took to filming a sketch, the brief of which was Dafydd saying "I want to be up a tree protesting". I am surprised we managed to fill 4 minutes of nothing really.

The end product is a lot punchier and crisper than we expected it could be when we were filming, but the magnificence of editing is that some semblance of narrative can be tricked into place even if there was none at the time of filming.

So here it is, it is full of needless swearing, because we are mature, and it is incredibly silly. We hope it makes you laugh.

www.theacre.net

@adamgilder

acrecomedy@gmail.com

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