The National Twit’s Association

My son Jesse brilliantly playing the part of the 'Other Twit'

“Hello, can I speak to Quentin please?”
“Sorry, there is no one here of that name.”
“Strange, I’m sure he gave me this number.”
“As I said there is no-one here of that name.”
“Is this 752 3574?”
“Yes.”
“Funny. May I ask if he’s ever been there?”
“Yes. He just went out.”
(Long Pause)
“You’re a twit.”
“Thank-you.”
“You really are a very big Twit.”
“Well, though I say it what shouldn’t, I am a founder member of the GBH.”
“What’s that stand for? “
“The National Twit’s Association. “
“So why are the initials GBH? Surely they should be NTA?”
“That’s a good point. Never thought of that.”
“You really are a very serious twit.”
“Flattery, flattery. Would you like to join?”
“I’m not a twit.”
“How do you know? Have you ever taken the Twit Test?”
“No of course I haven’t.”
“Then how do you know that you’re not a twit?”
“Because…I know I shouldn’t be asking this, but what is this test?”
“Oh you just answer three simple questions. Would you like to take the test? It’s a lot of fun.”
“I don’t know.”
“Go on what do you have to lose?”
“Oh alright.”
“Goody. Okay question number one. Who would you rescue in a fire?
1. A beautiful blonde starlet with huge knockers.
2. A beautiful redheaded nymphomaniac with huge knockers.
3. A very ugly but grateful unmarried heiress with dodgy knockers?”

“The heiress.”
“Hooray! Welcome to the GBH!”
“That answer doesn’t prove that I’m a Twit.”
“Yes it does. The right answer is all of them. Welcome.”
“Okay. Now I’ve got a question for you.”
“Yes?”
“Where is Quentin?”
“This is he.”
“But you said there was no-one of that name there.”
“I was lying to protect the innocent.”

The Thing

St Frisbee and his famous vision of the Virgin Doris (played by Sophie 'Schnozzle' Chagrin) which has nothing to do with the ridiculous piece below.

"Hello Basil."
"Hello Tom."
"I just got this."
"Oh. That’s nice. What is it?"
"I have no idea, but Adrian Cadwallader just got one and I thought it looked rather nice."
"Yes indeed it does look very nice. I wonder what it is."
"Yes, so do I."
"Could it be a Victorian backscratcher?"
"Funny you should say that, I thought so too, at first. But when I tried it I only succeeded in causing several deep lacerations, so I don’t think it’s a backscratcher."
"It’s a challenge, there’s no denying it. Did you ask Adrian Cadwallader what it is?"
"Yes, he says he has no idea. He bought it because his MP had one on his desk when Adrian went to complain about the epidemic of stoats."
"So possibly his MP knows it’s function?"
"Adrian was dubious. He says his MP doesn’t know anything, which is probably why he’s going to be made a minister."
"Well it obviously serves some function. Maybe it’s an objet trouve’?
"But I didn’t find it, I bought it."
"Hm good point. Could it be a bottle opener? Or a model of the Titanic? How about an implement for getting stones out of horses’ hooves?"
"At one moment I did think it might conceivably be an old English plumbers wrench."
"How about a Babylonian market weight?"
"Or a Polynesian toothpick?"
"I know! It’s an elephant sexer!"
"Maybe it’s an ancient microscope, you know before glass was invented."
"It might just be the fossil of a hitherto unidentified thing!"
"Hello Darling."
"Hello Darling. Basil, have you met my wife Cynthia? This is Basil Barcestershire."
"How do you do, Cynthia?"
"Nice to meet you Basil. So have you chaps found out what it is yet?"
"We were just discussing it. None the wiser I’m afraid."
"Well, listen to this. I just had tea with Agnes Haliburton. I described it to her and she’s almost positive that it’s a Middle English conversation piece!"
"Ah here’s Burton with the tea."
"Excuse me sir."
"Yes what is it Burton?"
"I couldn’t help overhearing. I think I know what that thing is, sir."
"Oh really?"
"Yes I saw a great many similar objects in the great war. If I’m not mistaken, it’s a German Blickenspieler."
"Good Lord, you don’t say. A German Blickenspieler eh? And what is a German Blickenspieler when it’s at home?"
"Ah there you have me sir. We never found out. Some of the lads thought that it was the work of the devil. Still others thought it might be the Holy Grail.But the majority were of the opinion that it was invented by the Krauts for the purpose of annoying us."
"Ah here’s Hetty with the cakes."
"Sorry, Ma'am, if I might interpose, Ma’am?"
"Yes Hetty?"
"Well begging your pardon, for listening ma’am, but before I came here I worked for a doctor. And I’m almost certain that he used one of them gadgets what’s concerning you. I recognized it as soon as I saw it."
"How interesting Hetty and what was this doctor’s speciality?"
"Well begging your pardon for the language, ma’am, but he was a proctolologist."
"Do you mean ...proctologist?"
"Yes ma'am that's the word."
"Oh! Good Lord! I see. Hetty would you be so kind as to take that …thing and put it in the dish washer?"
"Yes ma’am."
"Oh and Hetty."
"Yes ma’am?"
"The long cycle."

GOTCHA!

My son Jeff playing one of the characters in this turbid yet rancid sketch.

“Gotcha!”
“Unhand me at once, sir! How dare you manhandle my person?”
“Oh Lord! Sorry, I thought you were Bert, we’re playing Gotcha!”
“You unutterable scoundrel. Look what you’ve done to my lapel, it’ll never be the same again.”
“I’m ever so sorry, I really am. I’ll buy you a new one. However I’m interested in your previous remark , the one about me being an unutterable scoundrel. I didn’t quite understand it.”
“What is there not to understand? Your behavior was that of an unutterable scoundrel. There, it is simple.”
“Except for one tiny point: you did utter it and therefore I put it to you, gentlemen of the jury, that at that precise moment it stopped being unutterable.”
“Have you said farewell to your sanity? I am alone, there is no jury here.”
“Sorry about that, I’ve just lost a case in the crown court for lewd behavior towards a nun and it slipped out. Well that was my defence anyway. However, as the French say “let us return to our sheep.” but that's your frog all over, only got one thing on his mind.
If you had said, for reasons of verisimilitude, (I take after my Father bless his heart, he was a real stickler for accuracy was my old Dad) if you had said, “You Utterable scoundrel” then all would have been well and I would have had no reason to question you.
In fact if my dear old Dad had been here I’ve no doubt that he would have joined me in congratulating you. But alas that cannot be, as tragically, he has been defunct for the past forty years. The innocent victim of a crazed steam roller driver who suddenly, without let or hindrance, chased him down Mornington Crescent to his doom. He was buried in fifteen coffins, in the flat season”.
“I cannot help musing that your father must have been a pretty useless runner to have been run over by a steamroller.”
“If you must know," sob " he was jogging backwards for Charity.
He was the 1907 Reversothon Champion for North Finchley.”