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Tuesday 27 April 2010

Superprickery

“What do you call a Geordie superhero?”
Silence and anticipation loomed, the reveal taking as much time as it needed to unveil itself.
“Why-Aye Man”
BAM! Laughter, raucous, life affirming delicious, nutritious vitamin filled laughter flooded the auditorium. Two thousand voices joined together in a delightful harmony that’d make even the Bee-gees think about packing it in.
Wade Whitman was a comedian; he’d been one of the greatest comedians in the world for the past decade, just behind George Bush and tonight demonstrated why. His dry British wit, insightful musings and ability to make people chuckle to no end was something he’d most been proud of in life and it created one hullaballoo of a show and the atmosphere was electric; no seriously, literally electric, there were a lot of faulty wiring problems...quite dangerous actually.
BAM ANOTHER JOKE!
BAM! BAM BAM! He didn’t relent with the torrent of humour.
“Doves mate for life....must take a while”
LAUGHTER! BAM! WHAM! ZAMBOOZLE! This was one hell of a show and numerous subjects were touched upon, as Wade bobbed and weaved into various areas.
“I think the only chances of me getting married are if I have my wife shipped from overseas, and learn English from a crude cassette tape. No seriously folks, I’ve been single for so long even my right hand’s stopped talking to me”
Self deprecation always seemed to hit home, and Wade absolutely nailed it, like a lovable tramp musing on his failures in life.
Wade was about to go onto his routine about obesity, something that’d been hugely successful the previous shows this tour before suddenly becoming deadly silent. He could sense something wasn’t right, and it was unrelated to the itch at the top of his thighs, that was just generally awkward.
The floor began to shake aggressively, lights spasm-d on and off and the very floor itself began to crack and strain and towards the middle of the auditorium the floor rose between the aisles, it pushed upwards like that chestburster scene off Alien, except with concrete and carpet replacing skin and Sigourney Weaver. A hand punched through the floor and dragged part of it down as it pulled up the body attached to it, this most certainly wasn’t part of the show, but Wade knew what was coming, he had suspected as much this would happen.
The figure that had rudely interrupted Wade’s show pulled itself from the crater that now lay in the auditorium; he was a tall lanky figure wearing what only could be described as brightly coloured red rags and blue, like a rainbow crossed with a homeless person. He had a beard clung to his face with all the strength and determination of a midget at a urinal whilst he had eyes that were gateway to sheer unbridled hatred and evil, like a window at the Rooney household.
He rose fully, broadened his shoulders and pointed at Wade.
“Well Sarcasm-man, sorry to DROP IN!” He hissed with a generic ‘prickish’ voice.
Wade hesitated for a few seconds, a flurry of expressions running across his face, anger, frustration, puzzlement, deep thought, basically everything but arousal really. He then rose the microphone to his mouth and grinned.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, my arch nemesis...the comedic Terrorist.”
Silence as members of the audience began to wonder if this was part of the act, Wade began to talk, as if delivering a comedic monologue.
“Yes, It is correct, I AM the superhero known as sarcasm man, for all 6 of you in the audience who still don’t know this. The comedic-head terrorist over here is my arch nemesis, also kudos for messing up the intro pun there fella, his powers involve being a general unfunny prick who can do supervillain-esque stuff. Also as demonstrated when he entered, he isn’t funny, at all... In the slightest.”
The comedic terrorist advanced forward and raised his fist.
“After constantly being foiled by you Sarcasm man, I have finally resolved to my most cunning plan yet. To humiliate you...in front of a paying audience!” His laugh roared, full of malice and hate.
Wade raised an eyebrow.
“How...do you plan on doing this?”
“By having a JOKE OFF of course!”
Wade fell to his knees and imitated shooting himself, he banged the microphone against his head and muttered to himself.
“Oh sweet holy hell.....really? REALLY?! I mean seriously? This isn’t an 8 mile rap battle; I will actually physically decimate you. You’re the Nazis and I’m the Russians here pal. I’ve got more lines than Pete Doherty’s coffee table”
The comedic terrorist launched himself into the air and levitated above the terrified, yet oddly intrigued audience members.
“You’re scared. You know I’ll win SarGAYsm man. You suck at most things, you fail at comedy and women hate you!”
Wade leapt to his feet, visibly agitated.
“HEY! Like Me in relation to those women, that was not called for. Fine...go nuts, whatever”
The Comedic Terrorist descended to the ground and leapt onto the stage opposite Wade, he spread his feet and thrust his finger at Wade.
“Your mother...is so fat, that it’s a serious health risk to her!”
Quiet silence, no response, even tumbleweeds would feel ashamed to drift aimlessly in this awkward silence.
Wade rolled his eyes.
“Your mother is so fat, she fell down the stairs and I thought Eastenders had finished”
The crowd roared hard. Even the fear of a subpar super villain holding them hostage was overwhelmed by that zinger.
This back and forth continued relentlessly for a good...oh 15 minutes, Wade getting the upper hand over every single joke Comedic Terrorist could muster up.
“You suck so hard, that things stick to you easily” The Comedic Terrorist spat out, still revelling in the applause he imagined in his head.
“Just give up seriously, you’ll never be half the man your mother is” Wade sighed.
The crowd hollered and hooted and all manner of verbs Dr Seuss probably used, the comedic terrorist looked around exasperated, he realised he could never win this and did the only thing he could logically think of, burn the crap out of things.
He raised his arms and screamed, shards of flame sprang out of his finger tips and sped towards Wade. Would he be able to escape them in time?!?!....
....Yes, obviously....he’s a superhero.
Wade dashed out of the way and the flames simply hit an usher, no problem there. Not the artist called Usher...although he had a song called burn, so that’d be kind of ironic wouldn’t it?
ANYWAY, Wade was now in Sarcasm-man mode and strode towards the comedic terrorist and pulled his arm back.
“Here’s the punchline”
His hand connected with the comedic terrorists jaw with the sort of strength and violence only reserved for ex wives of OJ Simpson, resulting in him speeding upwards and crashing through the roof, until he resembled a small blip in the sky.
Wade sighed and silence ensued for a few seconds before he grinned and turned to the audience, he raised the microphone.
“Well, I’ve had some heckles in my time...”

Sunday 4 April 2010

Nania part 2

The elderly welcoming party beamed at Eric and Shawn as they walked towards them, one of the taller women began ruffling Eric’s hair, dishevelling it further. What a fun word, Dishevel, in fact we hardly ever use ‘sheveled’, just think about that. Eric snapped and batted her away
“Stop your irritating politeness! We’re not children, we’re adults, albeit with the mindset of somebody suffering middle age”
The smallest woman spoke.
“Are you two just visiting then?” She sighed
Shawn hesitated “....Yeeeeeeeees”
“Oh never mind, fine go about your business. We were expecting meals on wheels or a visit from our relatives” She rolled her eyes, specifically at Eric for some reason.
“That seems kind of redundant, what with you living in a different world accessed through cheap badly made furniture. Surely it’d be easier to at least establish some sort of reliable transport system between the two worlds” Eric’s suggestion of a cohesive inter-dimensional travel seemed far too high brow for such a simple parody. One of the elderly men grabbed his braces and raised his eyebrows.
“Well we tried that, but we didn’t trust them foreign builders, and getting English workers is mighty hard I tell you”
“You’re mighty hard” Shawn spat out
“Excuse me young man?”
“Sorry, knee jerk reaction. You were saying?”
An awkward silence crept over the conversation as both parties stared at each for a very uncomfortable amount of time, almost uncomfortable as this excessive ellipse use I will now use..............................
.......
The smallest woman broke the silence, like she’d kung fu chopped it, or something funnier than that.
“So are you boys courting?”
Eric raised his eyebrow, bemused.
“Pardon?”
“Are you boys dating?”
Eric once again raised his eyebrow.
“Like...each other?”
“No, no do you two boys have any women in your life?” She probed
Shawn responded with a nod.
“Yeah I’ve got a girlfriend, Eric doesn’t.”
The elderly woman took a step back and became defensive.
“You’re not one of them...queers are you?”
Eric was obviously pissed off, some old midget woman had accused him of being gay, and he would not tolerate this!
“Dear Zeus no I’m not, and you don’t even know me old woman, ok so step off. I have no qualms with beating a woman in public. I will literally murder your face off”
One of the old men spoke “What about the pub?” And was promptly ignored.
Shawn turned to Eric with a look of disdain.
“Did you just say ‘step off’? Wow. Not even Ice-T says that...”
The old man spoke once again ‘I’d like some Iced Tea” and was once again promptly ignored.
The elderly woman seemed to ignore this threat and laughed to herself.
“Well, we’ll leave you two boys to get your bearings. We’re just a in a small village beyond those trees over there, you should see a sign that says ‘no solicitors’, that’s us. To the west of us is the Co-op in the great mines, and over there is the black tower.” She pointed to a shape in the distance, a large space black obelisk that stabbed the winter sky, a contrast to the white vegetation that lay scattered about. “The black tower is where the enemy of the elderly lives, and we urge you to avoid it, like we avoid having any respect for those younger than us. And with that we must depart, Bergerac starts in 20 minutes and we’d hate to miss it”
And on that unsurprising note the elderly group shuffled back through the forest towards their village on the other side, leaving Eric and Shawn alone in the snowy clearing.



“We have to go to that dark tower” Shawn exclaimed
“Why? The old midgets said it’s inhabited by the enemy of the elderly” Eric replied...replyingly.
Shawn beamed, “And you know what that is?”
Eric paused for a second, stroked his chin and then raised his hand.
“...Harold Shipman?”
“No! Rock and roll! Although that was kind of close, oddly enough”
“I think I’m gonna head back home” Eric stated.
“BUH?! Why? Why why?”
“Because I’m not about to wander some fantasy-esque winter woodland to a dark tower on the spur of the moment, I am cold dammit! If I go back then at least I can come prepared with like...a coat and a thermos next time.”
Shawn sighed and pointed an accusing finger at Eric, like a cheesy cop movie.
“You know, it’s no wonder you’re awkward and boring and single. You refuse to have any ounce of fun or even live a little.”
“That is not true, I was perfectly having fun eating my tuna sandwich and watching Dawn of the Dead!” Eric yelled, his voice soaring above the snow drenched trees like a runaway weather balloon containing an American boy, only he wasn’t in there all along. I can’t even believe it was news, so what if some stupid American child was trapped on a weather balloon, ok, that’s called natural selection. Anyway yeah, Eric was pissed off...and stuff.
“Eric come on, stop being lame. Maybe if you started taking risks you wouldn’t be so unattractive to women”
“That’s uncalled for, come on”
“It’s true. Hell, you spend so much time in the friend zone you should buy a FUCKING VILLA THERE!”
Eric stared at his feet for a second, and looked up expressionless. He spoke quietly and without any anger
“You’re right, but that’s who I am, now I’m gonna head back. I’ll see you in a bit I guess”
He turned around and moped off back the way they had came from, Shawn opened his mouth but thought it was best to leave him be, he then began to make his way towards the dark tower in the distance.
After about 5 minutes Eric arrived at where the wardrobe was, and by ‘was’ I literally mean ‘WAS’, as it was no longer there. Eric hastily looked around, the footprints ended there so he was in the right place, but the wardrobe itself was nowhere to be found, like WMD’s in Iraq or humour in American Sitcoms. He ran his hands through his hair and groaned loudly.
“I’m never gonna be able to eat my fucking sandwich” He muttered before turning around to catch up with Shawn.