Monday, July 19, 2004
The Dead Cubbies Sketch
STADIUM BROADCASTER CHIP
A customer enters a pet shop.
Mr. Shlabotnik: 'Ello, I wish to register a complaint.
(The Broadcaster Chip does not respond.)
Mr. Shlabotnik: 'Ello, Miss?
Broadcaster Chip: What do you mean "miss"?
Mr. Shlabotnik: I'm sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint!
Broadcaster Chip: We're closin' for lunch.
Mr. Shlabotnik: Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this baseball team what I watched not half an hour ago from this very stadium.
Broadcaster Chip: Oh yes, the, uh, the Cubbie Blue...What's, uh...What's wrong with it?
Mr. Shlabotnik: I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my lad. 'Ere dead, that's what's wrong with it!
Broadcaster Chip: No, no, 'Ere uh,...ere resting.
Mr. Shlabotnik: Look, matey, I know a dead team when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now.
Broadcaster Chip: No no ere not dead, ere, ere restin'! Remarkable team, the Cubbie Blue, idn'it, ay? Beautiful plumage!
Mr. Shlabotnik: The plumage don't enter into it. It's stone dead.
Broadcaster Chip: Nononono, no, no! 'Ere resting!
Mr. Shlabotnik: All right then, if ere's restin', I'll wake him up! (shouting at the batting cage) ‘Ello, Mister Alou! I've got a lovely fresh cuttle fish for you if you show...
(Broadcaster Chip hits the cage)
Broadcaster Chip: There, he moved!
Mr. Shlabotnik: No, he didn't, that was you hitting the cage!
Broadcaster Chip: I never!!
Mr. Shlabotnik: Yes, you did!
Broadcaster Chip: I never, never did anything...
Mr. Shlabotnik: (yelling and hitting the cage repeatedly) 'ELLO PATTERSON!!!!! Testing! Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your nine o'clock alarm call!
(Takes team out of the cage and thumps it on the counter. Throws it up in the air and watches it plummet to the floor.)
Mr. Shlabotnik: Now that's what I call a dead team.
Broadcaster Chip: No, no.....No, ere stunned!
Mr. Shlabotnik: STUNNED?!?
Broadcaster Chip: Yeah! You stunned him, just as he was wakin' up! Cubbie Blues stun easily, major.
Mr. Shlabotnik: Um...now look...now look, mate, I've definitely 'ad enough of this. That team is definitely deceased, and when I watched it not 'alf an hour ago, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it bein' tired and shagged out following a prolonged at bat.
Broadcaster Chip: Well, he's...he's, ah...probably pining for the fjords.
Mr. Shlabotnik: PININ' for the FJORDS?!?!?!? What kind of talk is that? Look, why did they fall flat on their back the moment I got 'em home?
Broadcaster Chip: The Cubbie Blue prefers keepin' on it's back! Remarkable team, id'nit, squire? Lovely plumage!
Mr. Shlabotnik: Look, I took the liberty of examining that team when I got it home, and I discovered the only reason that it had been sitting on its perch in First Place was that it had been NAILED there.
Broadcaster Chip: Well, o'course it was nailed there! If I hadn't nailed that team down, it would have nuzzled up to those bars, bent 'em apart with its bat, and VOOM! Feeweeweewee!
Mr. Shlabotnik: "VOOM"?!? Mate, this team wouldn't "voom" if you put four million volts through it! 'Ere bleedin' demised!
Broadcaster Chip: No no! 'Ere pining!
Mr. Shlabotnik: Ere not pinin'! Ere passed on! This team is no more! He has ceased to be! Ere expired and gone to meet 'is maker! Ere’s a stiff! Bereft of life, 'Ere rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed 'em to the perch 'ere'd be pushing up the daisies! 'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! Ere off the twig! Ere kicked the bucket, Ere shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisible!! THIS IS AN EX-TEAM!!
Broadcaster Chip: Well, I'd better replace it, then. (He takes a quick peek behind the counter) Sorry squire, I've had a look 'round the back of the shop, and uh, we're right out of teams.
Mr. Shlabotnik: I see. I see, I get the picture.
Broadcaster Chip: I got a Cardinal.
Mr. Shlabotnik: Pray, does it play short stop?
Broadcaster Chip: Nnnnot really.
Mr. Shlabotnik: WELL IT'S HARDLY A BLOODY REPLACEMENT, IS IT?!!???!!?
Broadcaster Chip: N-no, I guess not. (gets ashamed, looks at his feet)
Mr. Shlabotnik: Well.
Broadcaster Chip: (quietly) D'you.... d'you want to come back to my place?
Mr. Shlabotnik: (looks around) Yeah, all right, sure.
Thanks to Monty Python, John Cleese and Michael Palin for the source material.
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