My blog is pants...

Random stuff from the Bronster... especially good to read if you happen to like me.

Friday, April 11, 2008

realised I never filled in on Easter!

Well - instead of writing how the show at the Scouts went - I shall pinch John's description and say only this: If this is how it DID happen then it would have been a better night...


The crowd were lovely, we were all set and ready to go. Then another group of
improvisers stormed into the room looking really angry. It was weird, they
looked like us but different. Pale skinned, wide eyed and malnourished.
Deggsy walked up to one and spotted they were wearing comedysportz shirts
which said 'Comedysportz Underbarrow - 1986'.

Deggsy asked them where they'd come from, then they just went wild and
started tearing the place apart with their bare hands like feral bears. One of
them started ripping the heads of scouts off and putting them in brown bags
(which I noticed had the words 'prestos' written on them) shouting 'foul' as he
did so. Chris managed to take out a few with some well placed wrestling moves,
they were so frail their bones broke instantly.

I knew the word Underbarrow, but couldn't remember where from, it was a small
village in the lake district. Then I remembered.Last year when we stayed at
Dick Chudnow's house, Bron was upstairs and I was in Dick's kitchen, he was
chatting to his dog, as he does, I was asking him about the history of CSZ.
He looked up at me straight and in a low voice said, "You know, I hate to
say this but you guys aren't actually the first UK team. Back in '85 a group set up in, er, where do you call it 'the lakes?'" "Yes" I replied, a little shocked."They were doing pretty ok, but then one night they disappered without a trace. The whole damn team.""..but!" I chirped."Hush," said dick, "We'll speak of this no more".They
must have been either trapped in a cave, imprisoned by the locals (their skills
seen as some kind of black magic by local residents) or wandered lost on the high fells without a venue to call home, feeding grass and shrubs. Whatever had happened, it had driven them mad.

Daisy hypothesised that our big booty warm up exercise must have resonated
across the valley like a beacon in the darkness.There was no reasoning with
them, the remaining scouts fleed for their lives leaving just us and them, our
evil twins of improv. We had had to fight for our survival. Manchester vs the
crazed improv zombies of 85!Rachel twatted one really had and it went down like
a sack of shit.Ross used a judo move he'd seen on the sportswear hour on
QVC.Daisy Shouted at one of the sub human beasts which startled it, then DereK
blew the back of it's head off with a shotgun he'd found behind the mobile pool
table.

Bron said 'No' at one, and it died.

I wrestled one over the burger bar and slammed it's head in the fridge until
its' skull popped open, showering me with a mixture of brains, chopped
onions and brie. Ben was unscathed having popped out for a tab.In the
distance I could hear the whirr of a chopper and police sirens.

The last of the mad twisted members of comedysportz underbarrow groaned and
slumped down into the now quiet bloodbath, then all the lights went out. "Must
be the generator" said Ross. We found our way to the camp exit using a glow
stick shaped like mickey mouse ears, we were nearly at the gates when the a
police spotlight cut through the darkness and illuminated us seven figures,
approaching in line, casting long shadows behind.

"Who are you?" asked a police officer. Bron pulled out a business card, wiping off the blood which was also in her hair, redder than usual, and handed it over."all seven of you? Who are comedysportz?" the officer questioned."Magnificent" quipped Chris."Magnificent seven!" retorted Ben. Chris looked at Ben. I did a little
dance. We all got into the comedysportzmobile and sped off into the
night.Windermere 2008, YOU WEREN'T THERE, MAN!

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