| 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 |
| 15 | I've come to watch pornography Quis condat legitime statuta in civitate | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Carpe Diem | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Continuing 4 | Curly Bevan: It was me who watched Nogood Boyo and Miss Price in Watkins' barn, auntie, and I pawned the ormolu clock before I set sail that night... | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 16 |
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| Tennessee Williams | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| The bits of 2 that aren't anything else | Gwennie: Boys boys boys, kiss Gwennie where she says, or give me a penny. Prince Charming can kiss me under the dragon at the hacienda. Unless he's a cowardy custard. And if he hasn't got a penny I'll have his bollocks for a pincushion | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 17 |
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| Late (very late) Review of Just a Minim | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| refurcation of 5 and, er, 5 | Polly Garter: I loved a man whose name was Mark / His hair was slick and his clothes were dark / Two yards long, like a bee he kissed / And his favourite film was The Exorcist / He argued loud and he had no fear / Of scary Germaine or Bonnie Greer / But the one I loved best awake or asleep / Was little Tom Paulin and he's six feet deep | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 18 |
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| Congreve | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Being an offshoot of the Williams | Lily Smalls: Where'd you get those bollocks Lily? Got em from Prince Charming, silly! Got em from a hairy beary, super strong and very scary. Give em to my two white mice. Paint spots on em to use as dice. Squeeze em till I hear em yell. Then give em back to southern Belle | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 19 | North Greenwich | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Two Bakers | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| The straightforward advance of 6 | Mog Edwards: Miss Price, I love you more than all the stars visible from the North Greenwich observatory as I've been told. More than flanelette and calico, candlewick, crash and merino. I'll take you to London I love you so much, and the tills of Harrods shall ring for our wedding | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 20 |
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| A Chekhovian interface with a Cartier bracelet | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Eye of 9 and tongue of 12 | Butcher Beynon: Bess, that'd never happen to us. Not for us the rigours of starvation. All Llaregyb is sated with the blood of the butcher's and never asks where it all comes from. And now I'm off to feed the corgies, with my little cleaver... | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 21 | Heathrow Terminal 4, using the Tissue Compression Eliminator to cut young master Tuj down to size, and decreasing Tardis Velocity in a dimensional trap | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Vanilla Gallifrey Crescent | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 10 simmered with the juice of 11 | Mrs Beynon: Oh Mr Beynon! Next you'll be telling me we're eating miniaturised aunts from the vice-dens of London! Oh I fear for this village indeed I do | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 22 |
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| Berkoff | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Not to be confused with Chekhov | Mrs Ogmore-Pritchard: Cwrw, the young of the day, what they need is the voice of the vacuum and the fume of polish. My virtuous polar sheets and iceberg-white teeth stand testimony to the goodness of self-discipline. Now Mr Ogmore Linoleum and Mr Pritchard, other one, give me your tasks in order | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 23 | Straightening... Bollocks | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 101 tasteless uses for a Black & Decker workmate | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| A crude welding of 7&8 | Mr Ogmore: I must straighten my bollocks in the drawer marked 'Bollocks.' I must mend the Black&Decker which has a hole down the centre. I must take my balsam which makes everything tasteless. I must remove the 101 fleas on the dachshund by combing which is good for the dog. I must tell the workmate I will be delayed | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 24 |
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| Moliere (still the pisspoor Bartlett sacrilege) | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| The merest smidgen of what's left of 2 | Mr Pritchard: I must use the French polish on the grime-caked stair-rods. I must put on rubber gloves and repent of my misanthropic tendencies. I must attend the school for husbands which is good for me. I must drag the artistes down to the coal-hole | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 25 | Teleporting from Deserted Isle to Beam Me Down Spotty, to avoid the Attic attack | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Jet Set and his Willy | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| I couldn't get out of it | Mrs Dai Bread Two: I see an orangery. And now it's vanished. Ach, the mean old clouds. I see a master bedroom and a hat-bearing little man with big pink lips. He hums an air of Grieg. Now he is dying seven times in furious pain in the priest's hole. He has a wall-eye | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 26 |
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| Japanese No drama | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Hurtling off from the strains of Moliere | Nogood Boyo: Would you like this stream-bedraggled kimono Mrs Dai Bread Two? It was I caught all day in the fast-flighting stream, politely writhing under my fishing tackle. Oh Mrs Bread. I want to be good Boyo, but nobody'll let me. | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 27 | The frinting light beswam the trees As morning brought the brestling breeze When Stan the Brunter crocked his skin And saw the ranxing Tharl come in | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Kandra Woods | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| New furcation | Willy Nilly: There's a letter come all the way from Kandra, Mrs Mae Rose Cottage. A ranxing Tharl wants a bed for the night so he can blinge the franking snurls and freem the slobolinks all day and all night. I promise he won't dirty the sheets. He only wants a single bed -- he says | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 28 | Scene 3. Enter two flies
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| Oh Yes It Is a Fly on the Wall! | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Two parts 12, the rest 9 | Alfred Pomeroy Jones: The flies are my only company, my only friends, the only ones to see my tattoos of mermaids, hear my twisted body crack with age and sea-water, feel my earth-wettened skin-hairs crawl with the movements of creatures outside my wood-rotting coffin | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 29 | Oh venerable Gazuga, thy smooth lizard warriors are as wild harts leaping over the mountains, basking only in thy radiance | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Gazuga Worshipping | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| New, but very very old, furcation | Utah Watkins: Damn you, you damn gazuga! Get gone away from here you fat ugly wretch! Get him Harry you blind deaf dog! Sit on him, Daisy! Gallop him to death Swiveller! Fall on him you imperturbable clouds, you sky! | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 30 |
Enter Graziela, Boleti, Azulejo and Chorus | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Rice/Lloyd Webber | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Jetting its way out of the realms of panto | Evans the Death: I remember it fifty years gone by, waking up in the snow-spattered village as the prince walked through, everyone in their finest frocks and fineries, dandied up like they'd be meeting their maker, then they caught a sight of his new princess in her shiny wig and earrings, let out a collective crow-splitting scream like the tide of the Apocalypse. Ach, I still wake up screaming to this night | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 31 |
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| Small HYPEarthquakes | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Continuing 15, in the vein it was intended (reading down as well as across) | Rev Eli Jenkins: I never claimed the Pope was myself. All I did was pray for the less than five hundred souls, neither bad nor good, of the village below Llaregyb Hill, until tomorrow when I begin again the corporal works of mercy by bringing jelly and poems to the sick and needy. Look you |