| i) Ensemble Celebrity Commentary non-theatrical component of previous furcation K | Since Tuj atomised the celeb commentary by including it in a play, it looks like the only way to resolve the impasse is to have a different commentator for each move. To that end, this move's celebrity commentary will be provided by ... the characters from Little Britain | Tom Baker (VO): But what is the people of Little Britain? Who be they? What strategies do they employ in overcomplicated games of Mornington Crescent? | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ii) Six Film and Crescent Styles in Search of a Chairman in which the theatrical elements of previous furcations A, C, E, G, I and K are crudely welded together | [All suddenly find themselves on a featureless white plain -- or possibly in a featureless white room, it is impossible to tell] Graziela (Euripidean version): Aye, King Syze, I am here, to take away the life you hold so dear! Graziela (Pinterian version): Well, I'm fucking well here as well. But where the buggery is here? Graziela (Orton version): Not a clue, but I do know where the buggery is. Graziela (Sheridan version): This utterly unanticipated turn of events leaves me distressingly discombobulated! Graziela (Williams version): Ah jest don' have the faintest idea what's goin' on. Graziela (Molière trans. Bartlett version): Events indeed are at a pretty pass/when stranded in limbo is this 'ere lass! King Syze: Oh, do stop talking to yourself, Graziela! Someone tell me what the hell's going on here! Azulejo: Sire, it appears that we have become trapped inside a game of Film and Crescent Styles. Lady Thick: Well, in that case shouldn't there be someone in charge? King Syze: (coughs loudly) Lady Thick: Erm, not that you're not, of course, my dear King Syze. King Syze: Yes, thank you. But you speak the truth; we needs must find a chairman. Meediam: Perhaps Clive Anderson is nearby. Boleti: What about Nicholas Parsons? Graziela: (all six of whom have unified into one being while we weren't looking) Or maybe Nigel Rees? King Syze: Control yourself, Graziela! There's no need for such desperation yet. Azulejo: Sire! I dimply perceive, by some preternatural sense, that beyond this game is another, of which this one we now inhabit is but a fraction; games upon games stretching into infinity like -- Humph: (wakes, startled; honks his rubber trumpet thing) Right, that's quite enough of that metafictional round. The next style is Gilbert and Sullivan. | Vicky Pollard: Yeah, but no, but yeah; I mean, I know I was supposed to learn the lines for the school play but Tanya -- not Tanya who was going out with Michael but dumped him for David because she said he was better at snoggin' -- not her, the ugly Tanya who I think's a lezzer but she says she ain't -- she told me that the play had been cancelled so I didn't think I 'ad to, did I?, and I know Michaela says it was 'cos I was getting off with Michael what Tanya had just dumped -- not ugly Tanya, the other one, of course it couldn't have been ugly Tanya, 'cos she's a lezzer, in't she, so how could she have dumped him? durr! -- and by the way, David is better at snoggin' than him, but of course Tanya -- not ugly Tanya -- doesn't know I know that, and you mus'n't tell her, but anyway, it's not 'cos I was snoggin' him that I didn't learn the lines, and you shouldn't listen to Michaela anyway 'cos she's cross-eyed in both eyes. Don't give me evils! | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| iii) Spanklines the continuation of B | Start up the stuffing removal machine. What's black and white and red all over? | Des Kaye: My jokes were much better than that when I was on the telly. Wikki Woo! Des can't hear you! Wikki WOO!! | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| iv) Carpe Diem the furtherance of furcation D | Only a schmuck sets lights to his farts in a diesel vehicle Veni, vidi, vici | Dame Sally Markham: Are you getting all this down, Grace? "He looked into her eyes and said, 'Have you ever read Caesar's commentaries on the Gallic Wars, my dear? I find them quite inspiring. Let me read them to you!' He took the book from the shelf and opened it. '"All Gaul is divided into three parts, one of which the Belgae inhabit ..."'" You can find the rest on the shelf, Grace. | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| v) Just a Late Review F meets the non-theatrical components of A | Mark Lawson: I'd like to start tonight's show by reading a brief statement prepared by the BBC's lawyers. It was wrong of me to unleash a bear on Germaine Greer on last week's edition of the show, and I apologise whole-heartedly to for any suffering and distress that may have been caused both to Germaine and any viewers at home of a nervous disposition. Further, please do not copy my example at home; I am a trained bear handler and unleasher. Germaine Greer: Thank you, Mark. Don't worry, I won't hold it against you; it was just all that testosterone in your bloodstream. Male humans really are much more worthwhile individuals they get taken over by their hormones, you know. In fact I've recently written a book about that very subject-- Tom Paulin: Here, if she's allowed to plug her book, I should get a chance to promote my epic poem about World War Two. Mark Lawson: Except that I haven't tried to kill you recently, Tom. Tom Paulin: Oh, right so. Mark Lawson: Moving on to tonight's programme, first we look at the film version of the long-running musical Chicago. Tom, what did you think? Tom Paulin: That Catherine Zeta Jones is a bit of all right, isn't she? Renee Zellweger, not so much, but you would, wouldn't you? Mark Lawson: Thank you, Tom. Germaine? Germaine Greer: I really liked it actually. My favourite bit was the opening sequence in the club, when Catherine Zeta Jones sang that number that went a little something like this: [Germaine unexpectedly stands up, revealing that she is wearing a short skirt, suspenders and dancing shoes. To the visible surprise of Mark and Tom, she mounts the table and begins to sing] C'mon babe Why don't we paint the town? And all that jazz I'm gonna rouge my knees And roll my stockings down And the totality of the aforementioned musical form Start the car I know a whoopee spot Where the gin is cold But the piano's hot It's just a noisy hall Where there's a nightly brawl And each improvised melody! Oh, you will see thy sheba Shimmy shake And large quantities of syncopated rhythms Oh, she's destined to shimmy till her garters break And excessive amounts of freeform tunes Show her where to park her girdle Oh, her mother's blood'd curdle If she'd hear Her baby's queer For the entirety of the tunes played by Louis Armstrong and similar performers! No, I'm no one's wife But, oh I love this life And the sum total of the music which originated in the southern United States in the late 19th/early 20th century! [Germaine sits back down] Tom Paulin: Well, of course, pen would never say that to Blob, even in reverse. Mark Lawson: Quite. | Jason: (mouth hangs open speechlessly watching Germaine's performance) Gary's Nan: What is it, dear? | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| vi) Two Bakers not Colin and Tom, but rather the application of Tuj's preparation H | Pass Damn! | Bernard Chumley: Well, of course I played Holmes once, you know. After a fashion. Basil Rathbone was ill and I stood in for him in a long shot. Kitty has one of those videos of it, she's very fond of showing people that sequence ... I didn't kill her, you know. | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| vii) 101 tasteless uses for a Black & Decker workmate the remnants of E bolted onto J | FUNCTION THE FOURTH: Interrogation/Torture device. Need I say more? | Marjorie Dawes: Hands up who can tell me what the dieter's best friend is. Anyone? No? It's tastelessness. T-A-I-S-T-L-I-S-N-I-S, tastelessness. If something is tasteless, you don't want to eat very much of it. Ryvita, for example. That tastes of cardboard. Not like choklit. Oooh, I love a bit of choklit. | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| viii) Straight Bollocks the dangly bits left over from I attached to L | Erect ... Bollards | Emily Howard: No, I don't have any of those. You see, I'm a lady! | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ix) A fly on the wall of the Let Me Chekov my Oats interface asks stupid questions the remains of C buzz into M | [Graziela, Boleti et al sit in the charred ruins of their house. A fly buzzes overhead.] Fly: 'Ere, what happened to the fields? Graziela: Burnt. Burnt to ashes, each last one, alas. And brave Prince Charming perished attempting to spread porridge on the fields. Fly: And the fire caught the village too? Boleti: It did, indeed. And yet we are mysteriously unharmed despite being caught in the conflagration. Fly: That was going to be my next question. Is it a metaphor? [Bert enters, now utterly shoeless] Bert: I assume so. My pursuit by the bear indicated my flight from my own destiny, so the burning fields must be the destruction of all our hopes and dreams, and the talking fly -- wait a second, what does the talking fly represent? Fly: Erm, Jeff Goldblum's willingness to do the film? [Exit fly, pursued by a metaphor] | Lou: I want those oats. Andy: These ones? But you don't like these ones. You said they had a texture like sandpaper. Lou: Yeah, I know. I want those ones. | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| x) Vanilla MC furcation N continues on its merry way | Marble Arch, if only to avoid ending up knee-deep in strick. | Ray McCooney: Well, maybe I'm in strick and maybe I'm not, aye ... (plays panpipes) | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| xi) Gallifrey Crescent a new furcation, splitting off from x) | In honour of the new series, straddles to other programmes written by Russell T Davies or starring Christopher Eccleston are wild (thus making The Second Coming doubly wild, which could make for interesting paratheological play). Marb Station, perhaps not the most logical of places to preserve civilisation for the rest of eternity but never mind. | Myfannwy: Oh look, Daffyd, there's a Doctor Who convention in the village hall this weekend ... | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| xii) Oh Yes It Is A Cartier Bracelet! (only £1999.99+P&P) O, furcation O! | Dragon: Well, thank Mark Lawson's Bears 'R' Us for that. Prince Charming: Prepare to die, Dragon, as I draw my Wilkinson Sword! Mrs Dragon: Not a pork sword? Prince Charming: This is all getting very inter-furcational. Mrs Dragon: Oh no, I can't believe it's not butter! Prince Charming: Oh yes, it is available at this low low price for one week only at your local Tesco. Dragon: Shut up, you two. You can't slay me with a razor, however well manufactured, you silly prince! I'll burn you alive with my fiery breath! Mrs Dragon: That's very unhealthy, dear; you should let me use my George Foreman Lean Mean Grilling Machine on him. Though, you know, love, you could do with a shave ... Dragon: (strokes his chin) I suppose you're right. There's enough Whiskas here to feed an army of even the choosiest cats. Tell you what, prince boy, you give me a shave and I'll promise to lay off pillaging the kingdom for at least a decade. There's plenty of wild sheep and goats in the Eastern Mountains I could eat. Prince Charming: But that's a ridiculous plan! What will everyone back at the castle think when I tell them? Mrs Dragon: Oh, Prince Charming, ridicule is nothing -- [Curtain comes down as fast as possible to avert impending musical number] | Dennis Waterman: Pantomime? Jeremy Rent: Yes, Dennis, pantomime. Dennis Waterman: Not telly then? Jeremy Rent: No. Dennis Waterman: Are they going to have a theme toon for the pantomime? Is that why they want me? Write the theme toon, sing the theme toon ... | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| xiii) Sound charaded any good films lately? the previous P wedded to the non-theatrical elements of G | [Martha] Is your sound charade To Kill a (Tequila) Mockingbird? Or something else to do with spirits? [Tuj] I was disappointed by Reloaded, to the extent that I haven't even bothered to see Revolutions, though I'm sure I'll catch it eventually. (Your embedded sound charade is Ben Hur, I take it?) Tell you what, though, I'm looking forward to seeing this film (four words) when it comes out in a few weeks: Minotaur: Hi Medusa! You're looking stunning, at least as far as I can tell from my mirror. Medusa: Thanks! You're looking fairly horny yourself. But if I'm looking good, it's probably because I've just been to see Polyphemus. Minotaur: Oh, yes, he's set himself up in business as a hairdresser since that unfortunate business with Odysseus, hasn't he? Medusa: He's remarkably good at it considering his blindness, but of course that suits me. Anyway, my hair had been floppy and lifeless, and it turned out to be because most of the snakes had snuffed it. But he chopped them all off and the remaining ones look much healthier. Minotaur: So you're saying you've been ...? | April: Mental block? Extra strong mint! Neville: Er, I don't think extra strong mints can help with sound charades ... | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| xiv) Jet Set Willy I'll try to bring this furcation back in one piece, Q | The Banyan Tree | Daffyd: Jet Set Willy? What's that supposed to mean, eh? We don't want your sort around here! Everyone knows I am the only gay in Llandewi Brefi. | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| xv) Small Hypearthquakes previous furcation R, now with added recap |
| Sebastian: The Pope seems to be taking most of the heat from the papers today, Prime Minister! That must be a relief, they're so awful to you normally. I think you're wonderful, though, Prime Minister. The best Prime Minister ever! |
It's also just become clear how difficult Small Hypearthquakes is to finish...
<table> starts a table, <tr> starts a row of a table and <td> starts an individual cell. As with most other tags inserting a slash in the appropriate place closes them off again. So a basic 2 row, 3 column table would be generated by:<table>
<tr>
<td>Cell 1</td><td>Cell 2</td><td>Cell 3</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>Cell 4</td><td>Cell 5</td><td>Cell 6</td>
</tr>
</table>
which produces:| Cell 1 | Cell 2 | Cell 3 |
| Cell 4 | Cell 5 | Cell 6 |
<table> tag can include attributes like border, cellpadding and so on, which produce various different effects; these are the same sort of things as color=red in a font tag. Also of note are the colspan and rowspan attributes which can be applied to the td tag -- eg <td colspan=2> would make the cell it applied to double size. You can specify a bgcolor, one of the mainstays of this game, and the width attribute which says how much of the table each column should take up -- I think percentages are best from the point of view of cross-browser compatibility. And finally, this is the HTMLHelp.com entry on tables where they probably explain everything much better than I can.| 1 | Well, Brendan's attempt to unify so many massive games at once just led to a build-up of pressure in the Thalian ducts, leading to an explosion of film & crescent styles to contend with. Hence the wholesale takeover of the commentary by Characters from Under Milk Wood | ||||
| Theatrical Celebrity Commentary | |||||
| Continuing the timely revival of game 1 | First Voice: To begin at the beginning. It is summer, black moonless night as the dim, dark villagers scuttle in their coal-dark hovels this June 26th, the blue lilting lapping sea plashes across the tied-up trawlers, hauling the souls of four-fifty men each night from dark to dusk. The village between the wooded hill and the wine-dark sea settles into its nightly routine, bothered by unquiet thoughts of games beyond their ken | ||||
| 2 |
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| Gilbert & Sullivan | |||||
| as requested, a spin-off from Euripdes | Organ Morgan: Praise the Lord, we are a musical nation! Oh Bach fach, Bach every time for me, and then Palestrina, unless Polly Garter's singing at the Sailors Arms, which are always open for young Polly... | ||||
| 3 |
Michael Jackson when he got busted in his hotel room. (But hey, Busted were pretty embarrassed too) How do you worry a flock of sheep? |
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| Tasteless Spanklines | |||||
| unifying 3&7 | Mrs Organ Morgan: You haven't heard a word I've been saying, have you Morgan? It's organ organ all the time with you... [bursts into a midden of salty howling, spearing a doorstep of lamb and mint sauce and burying it whole] | ||||
| 4 |
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| Euripedes | |||||
| Continuing the Euripedean section of 2 | Gossamer Beynon: At last, my love! What else to do, standing in the wine-dark slaughterhouse, but dream of the cloudy future, waist-deep in entrails and chicken hearts? Long, long time to long for loose-limbed lovers, wasting away in the prison cage of Llaregyb [sighs like an aged cat] | ||||
| 5 | - Yaaargh! Is it the pig? | ||||
| Reverse Squeak Piggy Squeak! | |||||
| New furcation | Mr Waldo: In Pembroke City ere I was big/ My work was poor and meek/ I had to climb on top of a pig/ And force it then to squeak/ And when it squoke the other boys/ All tried to guess if I/ Would guess who, by the horrible noise,/ Had stuck his thumb in its eye | ||||
| 6 |
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| Pinter | |||||
| Pinterian section of 2 | Sinbad Sailors: Here's to me, Sinbad, resting his sea-weary legs in the Sailors Arms, the clock stopped at half-past eleven, the cock stopped from crowing by Gossamer Beynon. Thinking of flies attacking bears attacking people down in England where these things happen as all the fishermen say. Time I had a jar | ||||
| 7 | This is a concept of breathtaking simplicity, so what happens is this. Imagine you're in a car travelling at the speed of light, and out of the window you see a footballer breaking the offside rule because the Higgs Boson is between him and the opposing team's goal. Well, obviously you'd slam on the brakes, which in this case can be referred to as Tune 1(a), the car representing Song 1 in its entirety. Then, and this is the clever bit... | ||||
| Describing One Song to the Tune of Another | |||||
| New furcation | Captain Cat: My blind eyes look out on a scene of confusion and fright, but never such confusion and fright as the floods that swamped the decks of the SS Kidwelly, the roaring seas that robbed and dismasted me, stole away young Jonah Jarvis, Curly Bevan, and Alfred Pomeroy Jones... | ||||
| 8 |
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| Ionesco | |||||
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Ba | Mary Ann Sailors: Call me Dolores like they do in the stories. Seems everyone gets married but me, I care for sailors up in my room but I can't pin em down like old Rosie Probert. 34 Duck Lane in the spring of my old age. Come on up boys, I'm dead | ||||
| 9 |
Row, paddle, scull your boat Gently down the stream Merrily happily jovially laughingly Life is but a dream
I dreamt a hallucination of two fine mousies,
Cut water, pull, run rapids in thy craft
Nevertheless, a single mus musculus said, "Let's leave these shores
Punt, stir the waters, attack the waves with the vessel belonging to yourself,
Those creatures drove and pulled without a care
Bing, bang, bongle, bump
The tiny mammals picked up their bodies from the awful fall
Heave, drag, draw the canoe belonging to the second person grammatically
The traditional laboratory experiments searched the dishes and tried to spot em,
Close, shut, stop one's nose,
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| Just a Minim meets Bagpuss | |||||
| Portions of 5 meet an all-new nostalgic feline | Ocky Milkman: Pouring out the gallons of curdified milk into the river Stream, think of the mice chewing poor old Mrs Cherry Owen's sheets to ribbons, where's that pink tortoiseshell cat got to, saw it lapping up the guts outside Butcher Beynon's one evening, never seen him since | ||||
| 10 |
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| Orton | |||||
| Ortonesque continuation of 2 | Rosie Probert: What man did you see / Tom Cat, Tom Cat / When you looked at the King / Long long ago? / What manner was he / Tom Cat, Tom Cat / Was he able to sing / With lute and bow? / Was he small as a pea / Tom Cat, Tom Cat / Did he marry a queen / Or don't you know? | ||||
| 11 |
And the next word is *DING* - Bollocks. Three definitions, only one of which is correct... [1.] Come with me if you will to the 17th century, when the cotton industry was in its infancy. Whole communities grew up and died depending on the yearly cotton crop, and superstitions were rife thoughout those villages. Often nothing could be gleaned from a whole field but a few useless strands, and the culprit was universally claimed to be the boll weevil - in fact the strands he left behind were taken to be his hairs. Hence the expression "we haven't got any cotton mate, all we've got is a load of boll-locks." [2.] Curiously, an American term adopted by English soldiers during the Revolution. They were given the task of imposing curfew within their captured territories to prevent the formation of militias, and were obliged to clear the parks, lock up the theatres and close the pubs. They did this last of all, as the villagers' billards matches, darts tournaments etc. could go on for ever, and they always got violent if they were broken up already. Which gave rise to the expression - "close all the theatres etc. but never mind the bar-larks" [3.] Early in the 20th century, Hilaire Belloc teamed up with Jackson Pollock to paint pictures of bullocks, and one or two molluscs. Along with little-known Austrian painter Paul Ochs, they played cricket with wooden balls, known as Bowl-Oaks, which led to the extinction of the Giant Auk - the last were called Ball-Auks. When these events were first reported, someone said "Oi! What a load of bollocks!" and the name stuck, mainly because there isn't a punchline
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| Call My Bluff | |||||
| New furcation meets game 8 | Jack Black: Ach y fi! Ach y fi! Oh I dream of picking the boll weevils out the cotton rows with Myfanwy Price at my side, then chasing her through the gooseberried double bed of the wood, dragging mw from the spitpenny hops of my nightmares... | ||||
| 12 |
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| Ibsen | |||||
| Sprung like a wild duck from the loins of Orton | Bessie Bighead: I am a footnote to the great irony of life, born in a pauper's grave, milking the cows with brown, oaky hands, burning old muxical instruments to keep myself from death each night, waiting, waiting for the Reverend Eli Jenkins to notice me one night at the back of the pew, where I have a blanket and Bible out ready for him | ||||
| 13 |
[Brendan] 3 words out of 4 right, very good! (This was much easier when I set it last year - you just need a synonym for "children" really). Is yours "Shaun of the Dead"? [Tuj] I thought Reloaded sucked, but then I wasn't too impressed with the first film either. Revolutions is a complete waste of time all round. If you want a good war film, go see Troy while it's still here. (And I know matt's likely to play next...)
[Purser's office, on a slow boat to China] |
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| Stupid questions, but sound charades | |||||
| Continuation of 13 and 9 | Mrs Pugh: What's that you're reading Mr Pugh? Are you reading at table again? Is that not what a pig does? Are you a pig Mr Pugh? Did you know Willy Nilly brought you a parcel this morning? Was it a trough? Will you go to Heaven if you read at table Mr Pugh? | ||||
| 14 |
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| Sheridanian Review of Sound Charades | |||||
| Dash of 2, squeeze of 5 | Mr Pugh: I will go to Heaven Mrs Pugh, as I'm reading the Lives of the Great Saints. I will shortly be adding my name to the book, as I intend to slaughter Tom Paulin with a meat cleaver. I would do the same to Mark Lawson but he's cameoing in some other game at present. And pigs can't read, my dear |