BLONDE'S DINER: # 3
Whoa, s'up Livejournal? Where be y'all these days? I thought, well, maybe they're all outside in the sun (OMG, my pallor looks weird in this light. I don't even burn anymore) or something, with lives. But then I thought that at 10pm. I just can't seem to find many people.
As usual, things are pretty quiet here. I had a far more eventful dream about work involving some night lock-in dispute over something, Larreh guarding the kids but falling asleep, and Hurley from Lost wandering about. No, I don't understand either.
I'm in front of a computer, so look what happens: MORE CURIOUS WRITING. It's almost absurd. And I'm really sorry Bobbeh2, I....well, I don't know what I've done to you.
Lunchtime at Blonde's, and someone is missing....
TIM: [SITTING DOWN] Hullo chaps! How are we today?
JAMES: Somewhat depleted in the old numbers, dear boy.
CRISPIN: We’re missing our Bobbeh2.
TIM: Oh yes, our Bobethony doesn’t appear to be joining us, does he?
IOAN: Give it time, give it time. He'll be back, tail between his legs.
JAMES: I got on the old blower last night (*I bet he did - Kola) to Bobbeh3 to make a few enquiries as to our dear absent member.
TIM: And any news on the poor chap?
JAMES: In a fair bit of bother by the sounds of things, nothing that’s not to be expected of course -
CRISPIN: He was terribly upset.
IOAN: ‘Sobbing into his bedclothes’, I believe the phrase was. Confined to the sofa feeling sorry for himself. It didn’t take much detective work to decipher what else has been going on. I do believe that the fellow’s been rather *dumped*.
TIM: Oh heavens, really?
JAMES: That ghastly Lindsay chap, can’t say I’m surprised.
TIM: Oh. Well. Well no wonder our Bobbeh’s been…
IOAN: Been what, Timmy?
TIM: Well….you know, he’s been….Shall I go and arrange the old orders, chaps? We don’t appear to be being served.
IOAN: The usual for us, old fellow.
TIM: That’ll be *everything*, then. Come on, Crispy, come help old Timmy.
[TIM AND CRISPIN LEAVE]
IOAN: Feels terribly cosy today, doesn’t it? Just the four of us.
JAMES: I dare say it is, Ioan, I dare say it is. Almost a bally nice change not to be engaged in fisticuffs for once. One does feel that something’s awfully astray, though, can’t deny that.
IOAN: Yes indeed… “Ah, yes, are you talking about MEEEEEEE?”
JAMES: …..Ho! You’ve got the voice and everything. How queerly uncanny!
IOAN: ... “Are YOU saying I’m uncanny? Or are you implying I’m queer?”
JAMES: Ho! Stop it, Ioan, do… [laughing]
IOAN: [STANDS UP, HANDS ON HIPS] Don’t stop me now, I’m on a roll. “I don’t have to take this anymore! I’m Bobbeh Bloody 2, and I’m so much better than all you bloody plebby fourth-rate actors. I am so storming out -“ BANG. “…Are *you* bumping into *me*? How dare you, you bloody buggery window! The nerve!”
JAMES: [HYSTERICS] Oh, you are *awful*.
IOAN: "Are you saying I’m awful? Are YOU-" oh.
[A PAUSE.]
BOBBEH2: [AWKWARDLY] Hullo.
JAMES: Oh…er…why, look who it is! Gosh old fellow, this is a surprise seeing you here without creeping on us too!
IOAN: … Yah, we’ve been missing you terribly badly. Just attempting to cheer ourselves up.
BOBBEH2: What was that about? Were you doing impressions?
IOAN: Yah…er…Dick Emery.
JAMES: ...! He’s not terribly good, obviously. As I say, he’s really rather awful.
BOBBEH2: Ho, I see what you did there.
[TIM AND CRISPIN RETURN WITH TRAYS]
TIM: Did we miss anything chaps, looks like you’ve - I say, who’s this?!
JAMES: Look who’s come to join us! Some fellow, looks rather familiar!
CRISPIN: Bobbeh, you’re back! I’ve missed you so very much!
IOAN: We’ve all missed you. As I was saying, we’ve had to try and create our own amusement without you!
BOBBEH2: …..Oh, *I* see. It must be frightfully difficult for you when the usual butt of your jokes is missing.
[silence]
CRISPIN: Uh-oh.
JAMES: One minute twenty.
BOBBEH2: What’s that?
JAMES: You’ve been in here one minute and twenty seconds. [BREATHES DEEPLY] Would anyone like any music?
BOBBEH2: Firstly, the jukebox is *my* domain, secondly - what do you mean by me being here one minute and twenty seconds?
JAMES: Sorry, yes, of course old chap, the jukebox is indeed yours. I mean, I feel we’ve upset you rather early in the proceedings. You’ve only just arrived and here we are mindlessly speaking without thinking. You’re not the butt of the jokes at all, we just feel more miserable without you around.
BOBBEH2: …Who said I was upset?
JAMES: Well, you just….seemed to…
BOBBEH2: You make it sound like I’m some cry baby who’s always jumping to conclusions!
IOAN: ...Your words, not ours.
CRISPIN: [QUICKLY] Bobbeh, will you help me get the gumball machine open?
[THERE IS A HUGE SIGH OF RELIEF AS CRISPIN AND BOBBEH GET UP]
IOAN: Jeeze.
JAMES: That was close. Bloody hell chaps, you could have backed me up there.
TIM: I don’t know what to say anymore, it’s frightfully scary. It would seem to appear that any word from my mouth could-
IOAN: Do you think he heard me at all?
TIM: Heard you doing what, dear boy?
JAMES: Oh, he was rattling off a jolly good impression of Bobbeh back there. Trouble is, he was rather too convincing - didn’t notice the Real bloody McCoy walk in.
TIM: Oh dear. Close call, there. Best refrain from that in future, Ioany, although I’d love to hear it.
[CRISPIN RETURNS ON HIS OWN]
TIM: I say Crispy, are you alright? Where’s Bobbeh gone?
CRISPIN: I guess so….he’s over there. With the Westlifer whose name I don’t know.
IOAN: What’s happened? Did you get your sweets?
CRISPIN: Well…the machine didn’t work, and I said it was a terrible shame so Bobbeh said he’d *make* it work, and he picked it up, but then the Westlifer came over and….
TIM: Go on.
CRISPIN: ….Well, they said that Bobbeh shouldn’t really be near the sweets again, should he, and I think Bobbeh got all cross and -
IOAN: And then, “Are YOU insinuating I’m too old for sweets? Or are you calling me fat?”
TIM: Ho! That is *uncanny*.
CRISPIN: Just like that, Ioan, yes. Only he was crosser-
IOAN: “Well MAYBE I shouldn’t be in a…“
BOBBEH2: ….STUPID SODDING DINER AT ALL
[SILENCE. BOBBEH2 HAS SAT BACK DOWN, ARMS CROSSED. A GLARE AT WESTLIFE]
JAMES: Er…..Anything the matter, old chap?
BOBBEH2: WHO ARE YOU CALLING OLD.
JAMES: Steady on, I was just….it’s an expression…I can’t help it...I’m posh.
BOBBEH2: [LIGHTING CIGAR] You’re not bloody posh, you’re from Yorkshire.
ALL: ….
JAMES: …I don’t think it really matters, do you? That’s not t’point here.
BOBBEH2: I thought it was one worth making.
IOAN: [LIGHTLY] …Would anyone like a cocktail?
BOBBEH2: Give it a bloody rest with the coq, Welshboy.
IOAN: Now, see here, I -
BOBBEH2: I heard you, thinking you could royally take the piss when I’m not here, figure of bloody fun that I am!
JAMES: It was only…
BOBBEH2: Yes, go on Wilby, you justify it. You were in bloody stitches. “Oh, do it again, Ioan! Take t'piss out of t’silly Bobbeh!”
TIM: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Bobbeh, see your horses? I want you to HOLD THEM.
BOBBEH2: You wish to join them, do you, you ballet dancing Manchester slag? JAMES: …Has he been drinking the old Fune again?
TIM: Bobbeh, if you have a problem, please just come out with it.
BOBBEH2: Are *you* saying I have a problem?
[UNABLE TO HELP THEMSELVES, JAMES, IOAN AND TIM SUDDENLY GIGGLE]
BOBBEH2: Well as a matter of fact I do. First of all. I think you’re taking the Michael because I’m posh and you’re not.
JAMES: Now that’s just petty.
TIM: James…
JAMES: No Timmy boy, unlike you I cannot be bothered being terribly nice about this. Bobbeh, are *you*….bollocks, now I’m doing it….Are you seriously telling me you think that we’re ganging up on you because it transpires we’re not from the same part of the UK? I mean, for goodness sake, if you want to get picky about this, what about Crispy?
CRISPIN: Please don’t bring me into this, I don’t want to take sides!
JAMES: Crispy’s posh, and yet we don’t ridicule him, do we?
BOBBEH2: No, and that’s precisely because he’s Crispin. With his ickle wickle Crispyface, oh little blonde pretty me, I’m so innocent, I’m so cute, everybody loves me.
JAMES: ...You’ve got issues, you know that?
BOBBEH2: Wasn’t quite so cute without his hair, was he?
TIM: With his shaved…..You did that?!
IOAN: …Why, you spiteful little shit!
CRISPIN: ...He did it with that Nick. He said he couldn’t bring himself to shave Bobbeh1 so he got me instead…
JAMES: Actually, he hasn’t got issues, he’s got a whole subscription.
IOAN: Why did you come back here, anyway Bobbeh2? If you hate us so much, then why have you returned five minutes later?
TIM: Rather good question.
CRISPIN: You don’t hate us, do you, Bobbeh?
JAMES: Well, are you going to tell us?
[HUGE SILENCE. THE GROUP WATCH BOBBEH2 PUFF DISCOMFITEDLY ON HIS CIGAR]
BOBBEH2: ... ... ... [QUIETLY] I’ve done it again, haven’t I? Oh God I’m so sorry.
CRISPIN: Are you okay, Bobbeh?
BOBBEH2: No….no, I’m not. I don’t feel myself anymore.
TIM: Well, maybe you should then, you know - ease the old tension. Unless you’re getting it elsewhere…
JAMES: TIM!
TIM: Gosh. terribly sorry, I thought he meant -
BOBBEH2: It’s like this monster takes over…
CRISPIN: Oh noes! Like Invasion of the Body Snatchers?
BOBBEH2: ....Er.....A little, Crispy, yah. Something like that.
JAMES: Are you going to calm down now?
BOBBEH2: Yes. Yes I am. Really sorry, of all you. That was recklessly stupid and malicious of me to shave your head while you were sleeping, Crispin.
CRISPIN: It’s okay, Bobbeh. I thought it looked rather spiffing, actually.
BOBBEH2: Similarly, James, I’m actually rather jealous that you come from Yorkshire.
JAMES: Don’t be, Emmerdale’s all lies, dear boy.
BOBBEH2: And I’m really most awfully sorry I called you a ballet dancing Manchester…slag, Tim.
TIM: Happens to us all. I’m just glad none of you have questioned it yet. Or listened to what you actually said.
BOBBEH2: And Ioan - sorry I implied you were obsessed with Coq.
IOAN: It’s fair enough, I am.
BOBBEH2: And your impression….s’fab. Yah, seriously, I thought I was hearing myself when I walked in. Got terribly discombobulated.
IOAN: Why, thank you.
JAMES: Bobbeh, I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say how awfully sorry we are for making fun of you. I guess it’s just because you’re a larger…than …life...
BOBBEH2: It’s okay Mr Wilby, I know what you mean, you’re not insinuating anything untoward.
JAMES: .. Well, then, you’re a larger than life character and I think frankly we’re a little jealous of your…distinctiveness? I say, we’re just collectively the Curious Boyfriends, you’re Bobbeh2 - the star!
BOBBEH2: [smiles at last] I think you’ll find, James old fellow, that we are all distinctive personalities worth celebrating.
TIM: Hurrah for that.
CRISPIN: Yay!
JAMES: Well then chaps, shouldn’t we be tucking in before lunchtime is over?
TIM: Absolutely.
BOBBEH2: Hmm…..Why has no one got me any food?
CRISPIN: Uh-oh.
BOBBEH2: WHAT EXACTLY ARE YOU ALL TRYING TO IMPLY….
JAMES: And to think I thought today was going to be dull.
Gosh, excuse James and Ioan's sudden desire to bitch when everyone else's backs are turned. May want to watch out for those two. Well, maybe he's never forgiven Bobbeh2 for putting him in the kinky ship rigging out in the rain [/Hornblower].
Crispin B-C really has had a shaved head, it seems so wrong.
I don't know where Dick Emery came from either.
Remind me to post a link for this video sometime this millennia, I like to share the insanity.
As usual, things are pretty quiet here. I had a far more eventful dream about work involving some night lock-in dispute over something, Larreh guarding the kids but falling asleep, and Hurley from Lost wandering about. No, I don't understand either.
I'm in front of a computer, so look what happens: MORE CURIOUS WRITING. It's almost absurd. And I'm really sorry Bobbeh2, I....well, I don't know what I've done to you.
Lunchtime at Blonde's, and someone is missing....
TIM: [SITTING DOWN] Hullo chaps! How are we today?
JAMES: Somewhat depleted in the old numbers, dear boy.
CRISPIN: We’re missing our Bobbeh2.
TIM: Oh yes, our Bobethony doesn’t appear to be joining us, does he?
IOAN: Give it time, give it time. He'll be back, tail between his legs.
JAMES: I got on the old blower last night (*I bet he did - Kola) to Bobbeh3 to make a few enquiries as to our dear absent member.
TIM: And any news on the poor chap?
JAMES: In a fair bit of bother by the sounds of things, nothing that’s not to be expected of course -
CRISPIN: He was terribly upset.
IOAN: ‘Sobbing into his bedclothes’, I believe the phrase was. Confined to the sofa feeling sorry for himself. It didn’t take much detective work to decipher what else has been going on. I do believe that the fellow’s been rather *dumped*.
TIM: Oh heavens, really?
JAMES: That ghastly Lindsay chap, can’t say I’m surprised.
TIM: Oh. Well. Well no wonder our Bobbeh’s been…
IOAN: Been what, Timmy?
TIM: Well….you know, he’s been….Shall I go and arrange the old orders, chaps? We don’t appear to be being served.
IOAN: The usual for us, old fellow.
TIM: That’ll be *everything*, then. Come on, Crispy, come help old Timmy.
[TIM AND CRISPIN LEAVE]
IOAN: Feels terribly cosy today, doesn’t it? Just the four of us.
JAMES: I dare say it is, Ioan, I dare say it is. Almost a bally nice change not to be engaged in fisticuffs for once. One does feel that something’s awfully astray, though, can’t deny that.
IOAN: Yes indeed… “Ah, yes, are you talking about MEEEEEEE?”
JAMES: …..Ho! You’ve got the voice and everything. How queerly uncanny!
IOAN: ... “Are YOU saying I’m uncanny? Or are you implying I’m queer?”
JAMES: Ho! Stop it, Ioan, do… [laughing]
IOAN: [STANDS UP, HANDS ON HIPS] Don’t stop me now, I’m on a roll. “I don’t have to take this anymore! I’m Bobbeh Bloody 2, and I’m so much better than all you bloody plebby fourth-rate actors. I am so storming out -“ BANG. “…Are *you* bumping into *me*? How dare you, you bloody buggery window! The nerve!”
JAMES: [HYSTERICS] Oh, you are *awful*.
IOAN: "Are you saying I’m awful? Are YOU-" oh.
[A PAUSE.]
BOBBEH2: [AWKWARDLY] Hullo.
JAMES: Oh…er…why, look who it is! Gosh old fellow, this is a surprise seeing you here without creeping on us too!
IOAN: … Yah, we’ve been missing you terribly badly. Just attempting to cheer ourselves up.
BOBBEH2: What was that about? Were you doing impressions?
IOAN: Yah…er…Dick Emery.
JAMES: ...! He’s not terribly good, obviously. As I say, he’s really rather awful.
BOBBEH2: Ho, I see what you did there.
[TIM AND CRISPIN RETURN WITH TRAYS]
TIM: Did we miss anything chaps, looks like you’ve - I say, who’s this?!
JAMES: Look who’s come to join us! Some fellow, looks rather familiar!
CRISPIN: Bobbeh, you’re back! I’ve missed you so very much!
IOAN: We’ve all missed you. As I was saying, we’ve had to try and create our own amusement without you!
BOBBEH2: …..Oh, *I* see. It must be frightfully difficult for you when the usual butt of your jokes is missing.
[silence]
CRISPIN: Uh-oh.
JAMES: One minute twenty.
BOBBEH2: What’s that?
JAMES: You’ve been in here one minute and twenty seconds. [BREATHES DEEPLY] Would anyone like any music?
BOBBEH2: Firstly, the jukebox is *my* domain, secondly - what do you mean by me being here one minute and twenty seconds?
JAMES: Sorry, yes, of course old chap, the jukebox is indeed yours. I mean, I feel we’ve upset you rather early in the proceedings. You’ve only just arrived and here we are mindlessly speaking without thinking. You’re not the butt of the jokes at all, we just feel more miserable without you around.
BOBBEH2: …Who said I was upset?
JAMES: Well, you just….seemed to…
BOBBEH2: You make it sound like I’m some cry baby who’s always jumping to conclusions!
IOAN: ...Your words, not ours.
CRISPIN: [QUICKLY] Bobbeh, will you help me get the gumball machine open?
[THERE IS A HUGE SIGH OF RELIEF AS CRISPIN AND BOBBEH GET UP]
IOAN: Jeeze.
JAMES: That was close. Bloody hell chaps, you could have backed me up there.
TIM: I don’t know what to say anymore, it’s frightfully scary. It would seem to appear that any word from my mouth could-
IOAN: Do you think he heard me at all?
TIM: Heard you doing what, dear boy?
JAMES: Oh, he was rattling off a jolly good impression of Bobbeh back there. Trouble is, he was rather too convincing - didn’t notice the Real bloody McCoy walk in.
TIM: Oh dear. Close call, there. Best refrain from that in future, Ioany, although I’d love to hear it.
[CRISPIN RETURNS ON HIS OWN]
TIM: I say Crispy, are you alright? Where’s Bobbeh gone?
CRISPIN: I guess so….he’s over there. With the Westlifer whose name I don’t know.
IOAN: What’s happened? Did you get your sweets?
CRISPIN: Well…the machine didn’t work, and I said it was a terrible shame so Bobbeh said he’d *make* it work, and he picked it up, but then the Westlifer came over and….
TIM: Go on.
CRISPIN: ….Well, they said that Bobbeh shouldn’t really be near the sweets again, should he, and I think Bobbeh got all cross and -
IOAN: And then, “Are YOU insinuating I’m too old for sweets? Or are you calling me fat?”
TIM: Ho! That is *uncanny*.
CRISPIN: Just like that, Ioan, yes. Only he was crosser-
IOAN: “Well MAYBE I shouldn’t be in a…“
BOBBEH2: ….STUPID SODDING DINER AT ALL
[SILENCE. BOBBEH2 HAS SAT BACK DOWN, ARMS CROSSED. A GLARE AT WESTLIFE]
JAMES: Er…..Anything the matter, old chap?
BOBBEH2: WHO ARE YOU CALLING OLD.
JAMES: Steady on, I was just….it’s an expression…I can’t help it...I’m posh.
BOBBEH2: [LIGHTING CIGAR] You’re not bloody posh, you’re from Yorkshire.
ALL: ….
JAMES: …I don’t think it really matters, do you? That’s not t’point here.
BOBBEH2: I thought it was one worth making.
IOAN: [LIGHTLY] …Would anyone like a cocktail?
BOBBEH2: Give it a bloody rest with the coq, Welshboy.
IOAN: Now, see here, I -
BOBBEH2: I heard you, thinking you could royally take the piss when I’m not here, figure of bloody fun that I am!
JAMES: It was only…
BOBBEH2: Yes, go on Wilby, you justify it. You were in bloody stitches. “Oh, do it again, Ioan! Take t'piss out of t’silly Bobbeh!”
TIM: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Bobbeh, see your horses? I want you to HOLD THEM.
BOBBEH2: You wish to join them, do you, you ballet dancing Manchester slag? JAMES: …Has he been drinking the old Fune again?
TIM: Bobbeh, if you have a problem, please just come out with it.
BOBBEH2: Are *you* saying I have a problem?
[UNABLE TO HELP THEMSELVES, JAMES, IOAN AND TIM SUDDENLY GIGGLE]
BOBBEH2: Well as a matter of fact I do. First of all. I think you’re taking the Michael because I’m posh and you’re not.
JAMES: Now that’s just petty.
TIM: James…
JAMES: No Timmy boy, unlike you I cannot be bothered being terribly nice about this. Bobbeh, are *you*….bollocks, now I’m doing it….Are you seriously telling me you think that we’re ganging up on you because it transpires we’re not from the same part of the UK? I mean, for goodness sake, if you want to get picky about this, what about Crispy?
CRISPIN: Please don’t bring me into this, I don’t want to take sides!
JAMES: Crispy’s posh, and yet we don’t ridicule him, do we?
BOBBEH2: No, and that’s precisely because he’s Crispin. With his ickle wickle Crispyface, oh little blonde pretty me, I’m so innocent, I’m so cute, everybody loves me.
JAMES: ...You’ve got issues, you know that?
BOBBEH2: Wasn’t quite so cute without his hair, was he?
TIM: With his shaved…..You did that?!
IOAN: …Why, you spiteful little shit!
CRISPIN: ...He did it with that Nick. He said he couldn’t bring himself to shave Bobbeh1 so he got me instead…
JAMES: Actually, he hasn’t got issues, he’s got a whole subscription.
IOAN: Why did you come back here, anyway Bobbeh2? If you hate us so much, then why have you returned five minutes later?
TIM: Rather good question.
CRISPIN: You don’t hate us, do you, Bobbeh?
JAMES: Well, are you going to tell us?
[HUGE SILENCE. THE GROUP WATCH BOBBEH2 PUFF DISCOMFITEDLY ON HIS CIGAR]
BOBBEH2: ... ... ... [QUIETLY] I’ve done it again, haven’t I? Oh God I’m so sorry.
CRISPIN: Are you okay, Bobbeh?
BOBBEH2: No….no, I’m not. I don’t feel myself anymore.
TIM: Well, maybe you should then, you know - ease the old tension. Unless you’re getting it elsewhere…
JAMES: TIM!
TIM: Gosh. terribly sorry, I thought he meant -
BOBBEH2: It’s like this monster takes over…
CRISPIN: Oh noes! Like Invasion of the Body Snatchers?
BOBBEH2: ....Er.....A little, Crispy, yah. Something like that.
JAMES: Are you going to calm down now?
BOBBEH2: Yes. Yes I am. Really sorry, of all you. That was recklessly stupid and malicious of me to shave your head while you were sleeping, Crispin.
CRISPIN: It’s okay, Bobbeh. I thought it looked rather spiffing, actually.
BOBBEH2: Similarly, James, I’m actually rather jealous that you come from Yorkshire.
JAMES: Don’t be, Emmerdale’s all lies, dear boy.
BOBBEH2: And I’m really most awfully sorry I called you a ballet dancing Manchester…slag, Tim.
TIM: Happens to us all. I’m just glad none of you have questioned it yet. Or listened to what you actually said.
BOBBEH2: And Ioan - sorry I implied you were obsessed with Coq.
IOAN: It’s fair enough, I am.
BOBBEH2: And your impression….s’fab. Yah, seriously, I thought I was hearing myself when I walked in. Got terribly discombobulated.
IOAN: Why, thank you.
JAMES: Bobbeh, I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say how awfully sorry we are for making fun of you. I guess it’s just because you’re a larger…than …life...
BOBBEH2: It’s okay Mr Wilby, I know what you mean, you’re not insinuating anything untoward.
JAMES: .. Well, then, you’re a larger than life character and I think frankly we’re a little jealous of your…distinctiveness? I say, we’re just collectively the Curious Boyfriends, you’re Bobbeh2 - the star!
BOBBEH2: [smiles at last] I think you’ll find, James old fellow, that we are all distinctive personalities worth celebrating.
TIM: Hurrah for that.
CRISPIN: Yay!
JAMES: Well then chaps, shouldn’t we be tucking in before lunchtime is over?
TIM: Absolutely.
BOBBEH2: Hmm…..Why has no one got me any food?
CRISPIN: Uh-oh.
BOBBEH2: WHAT EXACTLY ARE YOU ALL TRYING TO IMPLY….
JAMES: And to think I thought today was going to be dull.
Gosh, excuse James and Ioan's sudden desire to bitch when everyone else's backs are turned. May want to watch out for those two. Well, maybe he's never forgiven Bobbeh2 for putting him in the kinky ship rigging out in the rain [/Hornblower].
Crispin B-C really has had a shaved head, it seems so wrong.
I don't know where Dick Emery came from either.
Remind me to post a link for this video sometime this millennia, I like to share the insanity.