Monday, 27 July 2015

very silly comedy podcast no 5

In this week’s barnstorming brouhaha of balderdash, agricultural singer/songwriter Farmer Collins goes more beserker than ever before.  There’s an exclusive wait as part of our detective serial which I’ve forgotten the title of, and Kojak tries to get out of Birmingham in his own inimitable style.  Despite this, Leighton Buzzard shines forth once again, but do bring a puncture-repair kit just in case.   

Monday, 20 July 2015

Dear Dredge - The UK's Foremost Untrained Agony Uncle Attempts To Help You With Your Problems

Dear Dredge

Both my father and my mother have been banjo players since before the war, along with all of my cousins and ancestors.  Sadly I am unable to play the instrument despite having had 3,5050461 lessons, and instead I have had to make do with the ukulele.  My parents have virtually disowned me and I have been ostracized by a number of ostriches and other members of the local banjo-playing community.  What should I do?
Don, Prestwood

Dear Don
Why not disguise the ukulele as a banjo?  If anyone asks you why it still sounds like a ukulele, simply change the subject.

Dear Dredge
My husband has decided to hire the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra to mow our lawn.  He feels that not only would the large number of people involved help get the task completed more quickly, but they might give us a performance afterwards at no extra cost.  We are both fans of classical music and effective gardening, but is this a step too far?
Gladys, Frinton

Dear Gladys
The RPO are not widely known for their lawn mowing skills so it may prove a costly mistake, with the possibility of sheet music left strewn all over the garden.  I would recommend you use the Kronos String Quartet instead, as they have excellent horticultural skills, and are happy to give recitals after completing any gardening work.  They also take up a lot less room.

Dear Dredge
I am writing a concerto for camels as I believe these magnificent creatures have been ignored by the classical music world for too long.  Do you have any advice?
Len, Nahden-on-Sea

Dear Len
Speaking as a composer of concertos for camels myself, I can only applaud this move.  However if you do have to give a performance in the desert, make sure you take some suntan lotion with you.  I should add that a camelologist friend of mine recently pointed out that camels fear the key of G, so why not write it in A-flat or, if you need more room, A-house.

Dear Dredge is one of the features that can be heard as part of The John Dredge Nothing To Do With Anything Show on the British Comedy Guide website, or you can listen here:

Monday, 13 July 2015

The Adventures of Basil The Cylinder

Once upon a time in the not particularly magical land of Completely-Weird-on-Sea, Basil the Cylinder was sitting around doing nothing.

   'Oh dear,' he thought, 'this won't make for a very interesting story.'

  And so he decided to pay a visit to his old friend Harold the Hexagon who lived among the dunes of rubbish near Haha Hill, Teehee Terrace, Guffaw Grange and Absolutely Killing Myself Avenue. Basil found Harold doing the Geometry Gazette crossword.

  'Three down. Properties of squares and rectangles available for sale in the Highgate area. Erm...'

  'Hello Harold,' said Basil crosswordinterrupingly. 'How are you today?'

  'I'm a bit unsettled, to be honest Basil. You know the Burgon Dispenser I bought the other day? It's gone wrong.'

  'Wrong? I don't understand these technical terms.'

  'To be more precise, Basil, the Pinnin Valve has become completely unattainable.'

  'Ah I see. Well why don't we go to the Burgon Dispenser Repair Shop? It's just round the bend.'

  'So's the bloke who's writing this,' said Harold, insultingly as far as I was concerned.

  And so Basil and Harold went down Haha Hill, past Teehee Terrace, through Guffaw Grange and along Absolutely Killing Myself Avenue until they came to the Burgon Dispenser Repair Shop. It was shut.

  'Oh dear!' said Harold, or words to that effect.

  Suddenly before you could say 'Deactivatatronalisation,' which I admit isn't something you're likely to say, into the clearing sprang the evil Gladys The No Shape In Particular!

  'Gladys! What do you want? ' said Basil fearfully.

  'You can't fool me, you're not Basil Fearfully, you're Basil the Cylinder!' said Gladys. 'Any road, I've come to get my burgon dispenser repaired.'

  'I'm afraid the shop is far from open,' said Basil.

  'What??? That makes me so angry I'm going to turn you and Harold into a frog!'

  'Do you mean you're going to turn me and Harold into one frog, or both of us into separate frogs?'

  'Hmm, that sounds a bit complicated. Don't worry, I'll turn you into a frog, and you into a bat.'

  'That's no clearer,' continued Basil. 'Are you saying you're going to turn me into a frog and then into a bat later on, or are you referring to me in the first instance and Harold in the second?'

  'Oh, never mind!' said Gladys, 'I'll come back when I've figured it out.'

  And off she went to be evil somewhere else.

  'Well done, Basil!' said Harold. 'Well done!'

  'No problem,' said Basil. 'No problem!'

  And so, repeating themselves for dramatic emphasis all the way down the hill, Basil and Harold ventured off into the distance in search of more adventures, and the nearest off-licence.

The Adventures of Basil The Cylinder can be heard as part of The John Dredge Nothing To Do With Anything Show on the British Comedy Guide website. Or you can listen here:

Monday, 6 July 2015

Britain's Most Outspoken Critic Speaks Out

Peter Pilbeam's Hotel Reviews
The Clifftop Hotel, Yarmouth

On entering the lobby, I noticed that the carpet was an unnerving shade of blue, which in my mind conjured up a very disturbing image of a giant blue gorilla. I asked the manager if the carpet could be dyed a less terrifying colour, but he said they had just run out of carpet dye that very morning. Luckily I always carry my own supply in case of such emergencies, although when I offered to sell some to him at a reduced rate he seemed alarmingly uninterested.

I was then shown to my room on the rather unimaginatively named 'first floor.' On entering said room, the first thing that hit me was the cleaner. It later transpired that a review of mine had led to her being let go from a job in a travelodge in Swaffham. I was about to suggest she attend an anger management course, when she smacked me over the head with a breakfast tray. My well-developed critic's eye immediately noticed that the tray had not been properly washed, and I resolved to bring this up with the manager the moment I regained consciousness.

When I did so several hours later, the manager apologised and asked if he could help to make up for this in any way. As it was nearly 8.15 pm I asked him to read me a bedtime story. With no books at his disposal he attempted to improvise a suitable tale, but the unconvincing characters, multiple plot holes and lack of coherent story arc left me more awake than before. With no hope of getting any sleep I decided to dye the carpet a more relaxing and holistically therapeutic shade of pink. Room service arrived with my breakfast the next morning, but instead of fresh fruit they brought me scrambled eggs on toast! Admittedly I had originally ordered this, but I had changed my mind halfway through eating the meal and felt they should have checked accordingly.

Later, as I was putting on my bicycle clips and getting ready to leave, I was heartened to see that my work on the carpet had been discovered, as the staff had all come to show their appreciation by throwing a generous amount of fruit my way, obviously trying to make up for the mistake they'd made at breakfast. However I have to say that I won't be returning to the Clifftop Hotel. Mainly because I've been banned. Thank you.

Peter will be reviewing another hotel as part of this week's edition of The John Dredge Nothing To Do With Anything Show which can be found on the British Comedy Guide website, or you can listen here!