Post by gmaybury on Feb 17, 2021 17:30:55 GMT -5
(On the plane)
Gaz: No wonder they call her the laughing cow.
Fred: It were, I say, it were nowt wrong.
Gaz: Elliot, you rotund ponce. You gave away whatever dignity you had, and to to be fair it was thin on the ground anyway – unlike yourself, to an elderly lady with a gammy eye. And you could have grown potatoes under her finger nails
Fred: Did it, or did it not, get us on this fight to, flight to Canada?
Gaz: Well aye, it did. But that's neither here nor there, you walking side of pork. I was trying to look good in the eyes of the world! I put a suit on and everything. I looked like the Emperor with no clothes on, but better. And it was. It was the Emperor wearing clothes! And then you, you helmet, had to blow up the shed – god knows how you managed that having one off the wrist – and exposed to the world that I, a 48 year old man, and you a god knows how many centuries old man with a belt size larger than that age, have been living in a sodding garden shed in the same bed. And they'd have never known, if you weren't cracking one out with such fury reading MY Artistic Periodicals – which you know you aren't to touch, never mind look at - that the friction created a small fire which somehow hit the non fire resistant blanket which then carried to a parrafin lamp which fell on the ground and then you dropped your gassy guts and so the shed exploded!
Fred: Gareth, I say, that's a convoluted, I say convoluted way to explain away the shed explosion.
Gaz: Yup, but that's what happened and here's where we are.
(Fred and Gaz knowingly look at each other).
Gaz: Never let the truth get in the way of a good story. Anyway... Off to Ontario we go.I've been booked! This is marvellous news. This is a few quid towards somewhere for us to live. In separate rooms next time as well.
Fred: Whom, I say, whom are you probably getting thrashed by, thrashed by.
Gaz: Your lack of confidence in me is fucking abhorrent. But, and I'll give you this, which is rare, but I probably will get a dicking. And I'll tell you why. They call it a triple threat match, aye?
Fred: Aye
Gaz: But it really isn't. It's Ace Andrews and Rick Rage. Right?
Fred: Right, I say right.
Gaz: Well they're clearly a tag team
Fred: I don't, no I don't follow.
Gaz: Of course they are. It's me vs bloody alliteration. If it was me vs Ace Rage and Rick Andrews I'd not be worried. But it isn't is it? They've blatantly got something going on together where they are going to beat me like a Salvation Army Drum. It's not a triple threat match. I've a sodding gut like I'm carrying quintuplets and my first night in I'm taking on a tag team. I'm old, and injured, and I swear I can't remember where I left my house keys when I don't even have a house anymore and I'm taking on Double A and Double R. I'm fighting against bra sizes. And I'm not even sure if I enjoy that anymore due to legal proceedings. And you fucking smell.
Fred: Aye sir, but what, what, does that have to do with anything?
Gaz: Precious little but you smell like the cheese under a farmers hat. Your farmers hat in particular. Don't forget how I saw you earn us these train tickets.
Fred: It's a Plane, I say, a Plane.
Gazz: I dunno, I can't remember like I did. It's just... It's just...
Just...
Just years ago I was proud, and had something to be proud of. The world was at my knees, you know? And I took it, and everything for granted. When I played Rugby, I went to New Zealand and Samoa. And I saw nothing, spent it looking at a pint glass. When I was wrestling. I went everywhere again. Shit, they made a cartoon of me, and I never saw it in something called Toonopolis Wrestling. And I never saw it. I spent it shagging around. And to wake up, and realise that everything you'd done and achieved was for fuck all, and all because of your own actions? Because every taken for granted is by your own hand? It's one of the bitterest pills to swallow. I'm going to make everything, and I mean everything right, to everyone. And that's why I'm coming to Canada. My father spent several years in Medicine Hat in Calgary-
Fred: I say Gaz, I say, we're going to Ontario. That's east coast.
Gaz: You are such a dickhead. I was making an eloquent and emotional speech, and I was going to get to Ontario. Have to save it for next time.
Pilot: We are now landing at Chicago O'Hare Airport. Thanks for flying E-fed airways.
Gaz: HOW THE FUCK ARE WE GOING TO GET TO ONTARIO FROM HERE? Fucking Chicago? Buffalo. Fucking Buffalo this was meant to be. Fred, I hope you're still without dignity.
(Camera fades away with Gaz and Fred hitchiking. Will they make it to NPW?)
Gaz: No wonder they call her the laughing cow.
Fred: It were, I say, it were nowt wrong.
Gaz: Elliot, you rotund ponce. You gave away whatever dignity you had, and to to be fair it was thin on the ground anyway – unlike yourself, to an elderly lady with a gammy eye. And you could have grown potatoes under her finger nails
Fred: Did it, or did it not, get us on this fight to, flight to Canada?
Gaz: Well aye, it did. But that's neither here nor there, you walking side of pork. I was trying to look good in the eyes of the world! I put a suit on and everything. I looked like the Emperor with no clothes on, but better. And it was. It was the Emperor wearing clothes! And then you, you helmet, had to blow up the shed – god knows how you managed that having one off the wrist – and exposed to the world that I, a 48 year old man, and you a god knows how many centuries old man with a belt size larger than that age, have been living in a sodding garden shed in the same bed. And they'd have never known, if you weren't cracking one out with such fury reading MY Artistic Periodicals – which you know you aren't to touch, never mind look at - that the friction created a small fire which somehow hit the non fire resistant blanket which then carried to a parrafin lamp which fell on the ground and then you dropped your gassy guts and so the shed exploded!
Fred: Gareth, I say, that's a convoluted, I say convoluted way to explain away the shed explosion.
Gaz: Yup, but that's what happened and here's where we are.
(Fred and Gaz knowingly look at each other).
Gaz: Never let the truth get in the way of a good story. Anyway... Off to Ontario we go.I've been booked! This is marvellous news. This is a few quid towards somewhere for us to live. In separate rooms next time as well.
Fred: Whom, I say, whom are you probably getting thrashed by, thrashed by.
Gaz: Your lack of confidence in me is fucking abhorrent. But, and I'll give you this, which is rare, but I probably will get a dicking. And I'll tell you why. They call it a triple threat match, aye?
Fred: Aye
Gaz: But it really isn't. It's Ace Andrews and Rick Rage. Right?
Fred: Right, I say right.
Gaz: Well they're clearly a tag team
Fred: I don't, no I don't follow.
Gaz: Of course they are. It's me vs bloody alliteration. If it was me vs Ace Rage and Rick Andrews I'd not be worried. But it isn't is it? They've blatantly got something going on together where they are going to beat me like a Salvation Army Drum. It's not a triple threat match. I've a sodding gut like I'm carrying quintuplets and my first night in I'm taking on a tag team. I'm old, and injured, and I swear I can't remember where I left my house keys when I don't even have a house anymore and I'm taking on Double A and Double R. I'm fighting against bra sizes. And I'm not even sure if I enjoy that anymore due to legal proceedings. And you fucking smell.
Fred: Aye sir, but what, what, does that have to do with anything?
Gaz: Precious little but you smell like the cheese under a farmers hat. Your farmers hat in particular. Don't forget how I saw you earn us these train tickets.
Fred: It's a Plane, I say, a Plane.
Gazz: I dunno, I can't remember like I did. It's just... It's just...
Just...
Just years ago I was proud, and had something to be proud of. The world was at my knees, you know? And I took it, and everything for granted. When I played Rugby, I went to New Zealand and Samoa. And I saw nothing, spent it looking at a pint glass. When I was wrestling. I went everywhere again. Shit, they made a cartoon of me, and I never saw it in something called Toonopolis Wrestling. And I never saw it. I spent it shagging around. And to wake up, and realise that everything you'd done and achieved was for fuck all, and all because of your own actions? Because every taken for granted is by your own hand? It's one of the bitterest pills to swallow. I'm going to make everything, and I mean everything right, to everyone. And that's why I'm coming to Canada. My father spent several years in Medicine Hat in Calgary-
Fred: I say Gaz, I say, we're going to Ontario. That's east coast.
Gaz: You are such a dickhead. I was making an eloquent and emotional speech, and I was going to get to Ontario. Have to save it for next time.
Pilot: We are now landing at Chicago O'Hare Airport. Thanks for flying E-fed airways.
Gaz: HOW THE FUCK ARE WE GOING TO GET TO ONTARIO FROM HERE? Fucking Chicago? Buffalo. Fucking Buffalo this was meant to be. Fred, I hope you're still without dignity.
(Camera fades away with Gaz and Fred hitchiking. Will they make it to NPW?)