A Bit of Fry & Laurie


Stephen I hate you, I despise you, I loathe you. Everything about you DISGUSTS me. Your ears, eyes, nose, mouth, tongue, legs, knees, stomach, ribs and bottom make me want to vomit up. You're repulsive, loathsome, grotesque and insupportable. I want to kill you, I want to twist your nipples off and throw them to the dogs. You scum. You low, corrosive lump of fecal horror, you maniac bastardly turd. I would rather drink stale urine from Norman Fowler's arse-pit than remain one moment more in your defiling company. You're filth, you're cack, you're the ooze of a burst boil, I abominate you, you towering mound of corrupted slime. Your every utterance is like the slithering hiss of a fat maggot in the putrid guts of a decomposing rat, your face is fouler than the unwiped inner ring of Satan's rectum.

Camera widens to show the sweetest, whitest-haired old granny ever seen. She pushes a cream cake towards Stephen.

Granny Have a cream slice, dear.

Stephen Thanks.

Vox Pop

Hugh I went on one of these wild man weekends. You know, reclaim one's nature, rediscover the innate masculinity inside me, confront the demons and angels of manhood in a wild, untrammelled journey of the soul. Bloody nearly froze to death.

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