As I was writing about the Alphabet game from the extremely funny Whose Line Is It Anyway, I recalled another game which too was uproarious and thought of sharing it with you too.
In Authors, the performers were supposed to tell a story with an audience-supplied title, each in the style of a different author (or writing style) they could select themselves. They each performed one at a time, continuing from where the last performer left off when the host sounds the buzzer.
Take “Night of the Crumpet”, with Mike McShane as Louis L’Amour, Josie Lawrence as The Brothers Grimm, Tony Slattery as Dr. Alex Comfort
and John Sessions as William Faulkner
Mike: Rogue Hill, Texas, was a lawless town. But it had one baker, Tex Amerstein. He was the best baker in all of Rogue Hill. But he had a problem – he’d run out of wholewheat flour. That made him a dangerous man.
Josie: One night, when Tex lay in bed, a little elf called P’titsel landed on his bedside table. “If you want to get some wheat flour, you have to journey many, many, many miles to the land where the Knight of the Crumpet lives.”
Tony: The elf was little, but of course size doesn’t matter.
John: The verification of the deliniation of the hope of the answer to the ding-dong bing-bang bash of hope coming down now deeper into the forest of his resourcefulness. Down there into the sanctuary the butter did fall, fall down onto the crumpet. The crumpet falling lower and lower driving deeper into the south. The Yoknapatawpha County of a deep deliberateness, the butter dipping, dipping, dripping and deeper and deeper.
Mike: Tex said “enough of this crap, you little fairy! Let’s draw spatulas and let’s bake!” So he popped open his camper oven and they went at it. Well the little fairy was quick but not quick enough. Tex whipped out a couple of the best tasting crumpets that he’d ever seen in his life, smeared some honeybuck jelly on it and passed it to him, saying “put that on for size, you pointy-eared little fruit!”
Josie: This made the elf very angry, so he decided to lock the baker up in an ivory tower. One night, the Knight of the Crumpet came and shouted “Baker! Baker! Let down your crumpets!” He climbed up the juicy, buttery crumpets and dropped inside where he saw the baker all alone sitting there very sad – (To Clive Anderson) When are you gonna buzz me?
Tony: Yes, the baker was alone and there’s nothing wrong with solitary sexual experience either, let me tell you. In terms of…
John: The toast was rising now, rising now higher and higher into the hope of happiness. Down now, down again to the sanctuary, the deep volupturous sanctuary of his lechery. There inside the hope denied, the hope reliving again, revivifying all hope, in the answer to the improbability of the indefatigable hope of the answer of the improbable. The butter would come, and down would go the toast, and Holy Ghost and all.
More examples soon.
To be continued…..