nt: Living Room
A young man is talking to his parents
Son: Come on mum, sit down. I've got something to tell you.
Mum: But why not have a cup of tea first?
Son: Mum, please, just sit down. This is important.
Dad: What is it son?
Son: (on the verge of tears) Dad (beat) Mum. I think I'm Welsh.
Mum: Oh Darl..
Dad: You think or you know?
Son: (beat) I know
Dad: Since when?
Son: Since always I think. I believe I was born Welsh.
Dad: You were born in Bracknell. Unless... (turning to Mum accusingly)
Mum: (To Dad) Don't be silly dear. I'd never go with a Welshman. (Turning to son) No offence son. (Beat)
It's because I listened to Men of Harlech when you were a baby isn't it? And those trips to Aberystwyth when you were small?
Son: Don't blame yourself Mum. There's nothing to be blamed for. I'm fine!
Mum: I knew it all along you know. All that time spent moping around as a teenager.
Son: Yes! It was really my national dourness and pessimism!
Mum: It explains so much
Son: Anyway, I'd best away. Me and some of the lads are going to speak
Welsh around some english people for no other reason than to make them
feel uncomfortable..(beat) Ah, I feel so much better.
Dad: Now, we've got that out of the way might you be settling down with a nice girlfriend any time soon?
Son: Oh that? I like cock Dad, didn't you know? Anyway, Hwyl!
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Based on a true story
Int House: Hallway
A middle aged man, Bob, is pushing buttons on a fax machine. A young man, his son, Dave, walks up to him.
DAVE: Are you still using the fax machine. Why don't you send an email?
BOB: Son, I like faxes. You know where you are with a fax machine.
(The fax machine gets a ring tone and dials)
Voice From out of the fax machine: Hello? Hello? HELLLLOOOO?! Hello? FOr god's sake
BOB: FAX! It's a FAX! FAX!!
DAVE: Dad, she can't hear you. It's a fax machine. It hasn't got a microphone
Voice: Hello???
BOB: FAX!
(Fax machine hangs up)
DAVE: You've dialled a phone number, not a fax number. I bet that's what you've done.
BOB: Why doesn't she switch it over?
DAVE: Because it's not a fax number and she can't. She might be nothing to do with whoever you're sending a fax to.
BOB: Are you sure it's got ink in it
DAVE: Ink? The sending and receiving of faxes has got nothing to do with ink dad, we've been through this before.
BOB: Go check on your grandad
DAVE: Just cancel and redial
(BOB starts to open the fax machine to check for ink)
DAVE: It's nothing to do with...
BOB: Go check on grandad
INT Sitting room
Grandad is asleep in the armchair in front of the TV with his feet stretched out and crossed at the ankles. The dog, a labrador, comes in and starts to heave and then promptly throws up on grandad's feet.
We see Dave start to open his mouth and then stop again.
BOB: (From out in the hallway) FAX! FAX! FAX!
Dave sits down and places his head in his hands...
We hear the dog start to eat his own sick...
DAVE: (quietly) Good dog. Good dog
As said, this is based on a true story. It's actually a combination of two stories and is probably a waste of both. My father has an unhealthy relationship with the fax machine combined with a shockingly poor grasp of the technology behind it. This leads him to misdial regularly and then shout 'FAX!' at the fax machine. It was funny the first time. After the hundredth time it can get a little tedious, particularly after having explained the situation every time. He genuinely believes sending a fax requires ink and, of course, that shouting 'FAX!' will somehow make the person at the other end know what to do with it.
The other part, i used to babysit my grandad. When my grandad was living with us it seemed like my folks were always out every evening. This was a bummer because it meant i was in charge of grandad but also a good thing because i could sneak out the back and smoke a spliff. (This is also the reason i'd volunteer to walk grandad home, so i could smoke a jay on the way back). So, grandad is asleep. I'm buzzin out my tiny teenage mind, in walks the dog and throws up all over his feet. I sit there thinking "did that really just happen?" and eventually manage to snap out of it. I go to get a cloth and some water. While i'm doing that the dog's thinking "Hey, what's this? Food!" so the dog gets most of it up. Luckily, grandad is wearing patent leather slippers so it's fairly easy to wipe his feet clean. I'm trying to be as quiet as possible. He opens one eye at one point but goes back to sleep. Think i rewarded myself with another zoot.
Cool story bro etc...
A middle aged man, Bob, is pushing buttons on a fax machine. A young man, his son, Dave, walks up to him.
DAVE: Are you still using the fax machine. Why don't you send an email?
BOB: Son, I like faxes. You know where you are with a fax machine.
(The fax machine gets a ring tone and dials)
Voice From out of the fax machine: Hello? Hello? HELLLLOOOO?! Hello? FOr god's sake
BOB: FAX! It's a FAX! FAX!!
DAVE: Dad, she can't hear you. It's a fax machine. It hasn't got a microphone
Voice: Hello???
BOB: FAX!
(Fax machine hangs up)
DAVE: You've dialled a phone number, not a fax number. I bet that's what you've done.
BOB: Why doesn't she switch it over?
DAVE: Because it's not a fax number and she can't. She might be nothing to do with whoever you're sending a fax to.
BOB: Are you sure it's got ink in it
DAVE: Ink? The sending and receiving of faxes has got nothing to do with ink dad, we've been through this before.
BOB: Go check on your grandad
DAVE: Just cancel and redial
(BOB starts to open the fax machine to check for ink)
DAVE: It's nothing to do with...
BOB: Go check on grandad
INT Sitting room
Grandad is asleep in the armchair in front of the TV with his feet stretched out and crossed at the ankles. The dog, a labrador, comes in and starts to heave and then promptly throws up on grandad's feet.
We see Dave start to open his mouth and then stop again.
BOB: (From out in the hallway) FAX! FAX! FAX!
Dave sits down and places his head in his hands...
We hear the dog start to eat his own sick...
DAVE: (quietly) Good dog. Good dog
As said, this is based on a true story. It's actually a combination of two stories and is probably a waste of both. My father has an unhealthy relationship with the fax machine combined with a shockingly poor grasp of the technology behind it. This leads him to misdial regularly and then shout 'FAX!' at the fax machine. It was funny the first time. After the hundredth time it can get a little tedious, particularly after having explained the situation every time. He genuinely believes sending a fax requires ink and, of course, that shouting 'FAX!' will somehow make the person at the other end know what to do with it.
The other part, i used to babysit my grandad. When my grandad was living with us it seemed like my folks were always out every evening. This was a bummer because it meant i was in charge of grandad but also a good thing because i could sneak out the back and smoke a spliff. (This is also the reason i'd volunteer to walk grandad home, so i could smoke a jay on the way back). So, grandad is asleep. I'm buzzin out my tiny teenage mind, in walks the dog and throws up all over his feet. I sit there thinking "did that really just happen?" and eventually manage to snap out of it. I go to get a cloth and some water. While i'm doing that the dog's thinking "Hey, what's this? Food!" so the dog gets most of it up. Luckily, grandad is wearing patent leather slippers so it's fairly easy to wipe his feet clean. I'm trying to be as quiet as possible. He opens one eye at one point but goes back to sleep. Think i rewarded myself with another zoot.
Cool story bro etc...
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