Quote:
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Originally Posted by Keeping It Simple
All this talk of benders reminds me of the hilarious doctor's scene in the first episode of Blackadder 2. It went something like this:
Doctor: I see. So you started fancying boys then, have you?
Edmond Blackadder: Not boys. A boy.
D: Yes, well let's not split hairs. It is all rather disgusting and
naturally you're worried.
E: Of course I'm worried.
D: Well, of course you are. It isn't every day a man wakes up to
discover he's a screaming bender with no more right to live on Gods
clean earth than a weazle. Ashamed of your self?
E: Not really, no.
D: Bloody hell! I would be. But still why should I complain? Just
leaves more rampant totty for us real men, eh?
E: Look, am I paying for this personal abuse or is it extra?
D: No, it's all part of the service. I think you're in luck though. An
extraordinary new cure has just been developed for exactly this kind
of sordid problem.
E: It wouldn't have anything to do with leeches, would it?
D: I had no idea you were a medical man.
E: Never had anything you doctors didn't try to cure with leeches. A
leech on my ear for ear ache, a leech on my bottom for constipation.
D: They're marvellous, aren't they?
E: Well, the bottom one wasn't. I just sat there and squashed it.
D: You know the leech comes to us on the highest authority?
E: Yes. I know that. Dr. Hoffmann of Stuttgart, isn't it?
D: That's right, the great Hoffmann.
E: Owner of the largest leech farm of Europe.
D: Yes. Well, I cannot spend all day gossiping. I'm a busy man. As far
as this case is concerned I have now had time to think it over and I
can strongly recommend a course of leeches. [in chorus]
E: Yes. I 'll pop a couple down my codpiece before I go to bed.
D: No, no, no, no. Don't be ridiculous. This isn't the dark ages. Just
pop four in your mouth in the morning and let them dissolve slowly.
In a couple of weeks you 'll be beating your servant with a stick,
just like the rest of us.
E: You're a sale[?] quack, aren't you?
D: I'd rather be a quack than a ducky. Good day.
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so have you jettisoned any pretense of personality now and are just reduced to ossicliating between lusting after knox with crude inneundo and sincerely creepy flattery/posting tidbits of entertainment trivia and news so banal it could come fresh out of some daily mail culture section?
i find it hard to even believe you're real. are you not some cameronian new man nightmare concocted in a freak occurence of satire made flesh? no matter, you're time will come. you'll be considered hip by the revamped tory bbc, and eventually end up like the landlord in mike leigh's naked.