WART 52!
Mel: Welcome to your next installment of WART!
Tracy: Yes, whoop-de-doo.
Mel: For Pete’s sake, could you at least pretend to be happy?
Tracy: *mockingly* HELLO, listeners of Hogwarts Castle! And we have some TREMENDOUS songs for you on this SMASHING day!
Mel: …I’ll just get on with the first one, shall I? Picked by Tracy, we have Under The Gun, by the Killers (lyrics)
*song ends, sound of some scuffling in the studio*
Mel, in an annoyed voice: Well, wasn’t that enlightening. I’m going to ignore that and play a song dedicated to my buddies.True Colours, by Cyndi Lauper (lyrics)
Tracy: What’s up with her voice?
Mel: I’m guessing nothing and that’s just the way she speaks?
Tracy: Yeah, well, it was boring and I lost interest pretty fast. Let’s play a slightly more fun song. Sick, by Son Of Dork (lyrics)
Mel: Tracy, are you feeling alright? That was rather…virulent…
Tracy: Please stop trying to understand me, I’m only in this studio for the fame.
*sound of a chair being scraped away from the other chair*
Mel: Right, yes, anyway, before my dear assistant goes power-mad and sends her troops in to the common rooms-
Tracy: Assistant? Excuse me? Co-host, I should think.
Mel: Yeah, well, I was here first.
Tracy: You little--*microphone is knocked over, screams are heard*
Mel: Stopitstopstopit you’re ruining my radio debut! OW! You cow-- Sorry about that, we just had a technical difficulty-
Tracy, sourly: Artistic differences. You RIPPED my hair!
Mel: Let’s play something nice. Or with a beat. Oooh! Rogue Traders, with Voodoo Child (Tracy I want to hear no jokes about them being with child) (lyrics)
*warningly* Now don’t go insulting the large contingent of dead people here. TRACY.
Tracy: I wouldn’t dream of it. Just you.
Mel: Why me?
Tracy: You’re a ponce.
Mel: Yeah, and you look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards, but I have ever tried to pin your whole personality on that?
Tracy: Yes!
Mel: No, it was more the fighting that did that. My lip’s still bleeding.
Tracy, sighing irritably: Since this is going, quite obviously, to be our last time in concert together-artistic differences, as said earlier-please have a final showstopper.
*a pause*
And if you ever see us in a room again, you’ll only have twenty minutes to place your bets on who’ll lose her dignity or conciousness first. *as Mel starts to argue* GOODBYE. Don’t Stop Me Now, by Queen (lyrics)
Tracy, slighty embarrassed: I’ve been informed that we have to take requests. Be quick about it, her top’s giving me a headache.