Mrs' G & D With The Silver Surfer.

 

 

Mrs D: Hello Mrs G.

Mrs G: Hello Mrs D.

Mrs D: How are you today?

Mrs G: Ooohhh, I can't complain, just me itchy uterus playing up again . How are you Mrs D?

Mrs D: Oh, I'm mostly alright. So, who's your friend?

Mrs G: Oh him, he's one of our slaves.

Silver Surfer: I'M NOT A SLAVE, I AM A HERALD REDEEMING A DEBT OF HONOUR.

Mrs D: Oooh, he's very well spoken.

Mrs G: Yes he is, ever so well spoken and very well mannered.

Mrs D: What's his name?

Mrs G: Calls himself the 'Shiny Surfer'.

Mrs D: Oohh that's pretty. That's ever so pretty.

Silver Surfer: SILVER NOT SHINY!

Mrs D: Why's he got your ironing board dear?

Mrs G: Temporary replacement. Lost his own board. LOST YOUR BOARD DIDN'T YOU?? Fell off it when he was drunk, now he can't find it.

Silver Surfer: I WAS NOT DRUNK. I WAS INTOXICATED BY THE BEAUTY OF THE HORSECRAB NEBULA.


Mrs G: Yes, like I said - drunk! Drunk as a wolverine!

Mrs D: Oooohhhhhhhhhh, get him, he's glowering now.

Mrs G: Yes - he does a lot of that. YOU LIKE GLOWERING DON'T YOU - YES YOU DO! He also does a lot of pouting. GO ON DO YOUR POUTING! GO ON, DO IT - YOUR GOOD AT IT. No, he's not going to do it.

Mrs D: Oh, he's not going to do it.

Mrs G: No, he's not going to do it!

Mrs D: No, he's not. That's more sullen. (Whispering) He's got a very big lunchbox dear!

Mrs G: Pointless really - can't get his underpants off. CAN'T GET YOU UNDERPANTS OFF, CAN YOU?? CAN YOU?? He's got an all-in-one-skin. YOU HAVE, HAVEN'T YOU? Bit stupid really.

Silver Surfer: HMPH!

Mrs D: Oh, he's not a great conversationalist, is he?

Mrs G: No, he's more of the monologue type. Many a times I've come down the corridor and found him soliloquizing.

Mrs D: I thought you said dear, he couldn't get his underpants off!

Mrs G: No, you Skrull-shagging cosmic tart! Talking out aloud in a rhetorical manner.

Mrs D: ohh, I see. And why does he do that?

Mrs G: He's a bitter and tortured soul. YOU'RE BITTER AND TORTURED AREN'T YOU? YES, YOU ARE. YOU KNOW, YOU ARE!

Mrs D: He should come round our place - my old man'll show him some real torturing - body and soul!.

Mrs G: Mind you, I think he - (looks around & whispers) - strokes the asteroid's tail.

Mrs D: Whatever do you mean Mrs G?

Mrs G: You know, bends his space continuum, works for the solar eruption, fondles his comet's head.

Mrs D: eh?

Mrs G: ...PLAYS WITH HIMSELF!!

Mrs D: Oh, that. I know what you mean. They're all at it, these Cosmic Travellers. It's the loneliness of space.

Mrs G: Many a times I've found him, sleeping face-down on his board rhythmically moving his hips. I swear he's drilled a sodding hole in it. That's why he's got rid of it - too embarrassed to walk around with it, a huge surfboard with a sodding hole in it. Fell of it, indeed - hah!

Silver Surfer: I DO NOT HAVE CARNAL DESIRES FOR MY SUFRBOARD.

Mrs D: It's space you see dear, there's a lot of it about. They can get up to whatever they like, and no-one to bother them.

Mrs G: Apart from the Watchers!

Mrs D: Ohhhhh, don't start me on the sodding Watchers. PERVERTS!! Ohh, I hate those watchers, bleeding creepy peeping-toms. Watching everyone's comings and goings, no privacy in your own home. Is that decent? I ask you!! I don't know why the old man doesn't just get rid of 'em.

Mrs G: I can't understand why they want to watch so much. And it's funny how a super-clever race like them can only grow eye-brows. I mean do they shave, and if so, how often do they do it, and where do they start and if they use a wet or dry method.

Mrs D: Calm down dear, you'll get a migraine. You think too much, that's your trouble.

Mrs G: I bet they're watching now.

Mrs D: Do you think so?

Mrs G: Yes, I'm sure, it's all they sodding do. Come on let's abuse them.

Mrs D & Mrs G: GO ON, BUGGER OFF!! YOU BUNCH OF NANCY BOYS! GO ON, PISS OFF AND GROW SOME HAIR!! GO AND WATCH YOU OWN ARSE!!! HERE'S SOMETHING FOR YOU TO WATCH! (Flashing bottoms). HAD ENOUGH? PERVERTS.

(Shiny man shakes his head)

Mrs D & Mrs G: PERVERTS!!

Silver Surfer: OH, WHAT DOES IT PROFITETH A MAN TO SAVE A WORLD IF HE SHOULD LOOSE HIS SANITY. TIS A WRETCHED FATE THAT BREAKS ME CONSTANTLY ON A WHEEL OF INFINITE MISERY. THE THORN OF DESPAIR DIGS DEEP INTO MY SOUL, LEAVING A SCAR THAT NEITHER HEALS NOR BLEEDS. I AM STRUNG AND TORN ASUNDER BETWIXT AN UNFORGIVING HEAVEN AND AN UNRELENTING EARTH.

Mrs D: Hmmm, He's ever so bright.

Mrs G: Don't let it fool you dear - it's only skin deep; he's just been around a lot.

Mrs D: No dear. Not intelligent - Shining. Gleaming.

Mrs G: Oh, don't start me on the bleeding gleaming. You try watching the sodding telly when he's standing in the corner. That glare - can't see a bleeding thing. And what with the old man sat in the armchair with his helmet and his boots on. Will he take 'em off? Will he heck! I've told him the antennae interfere with the picture but he just won't listen. Anyway, what's it like round your end?

Mrs D: IT'S THE PITS!!!

Mrs D & Mrs G: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!!!

Mrs G: Oooooh, stop it or I'll pee in my pants again! Hahahahaha, the pits!

Mrs D: Oh, I've got to get back now, we've got the Celestials coming round for dinner. Have to make something special, don't know what the bleeding point is - never eat anything proper. Just hover around in a vaguely ominous way. Anyway, better make a move. Take care Mrs G, and don't forget to change your knickers.

Mrs G: You too Mrs D - take care. (To Surfer) WE HAVE TO GO NOW. DON'T FORGET YOUR BOARD. IF YOU LOOSE IT YOU WON'T GET ANOTHER ONE. YOU'LL HAVE TO WALK EVERYWHERE.

Mrs D: And you'll have to change your name!

Mrs G: Yes - YOU'LL BE 'THE SHINY WALKER'. NOT VERY COSMIC IS IT? COME ALONG NOW - AND TRY TO KEEP UP. AND DON'T BANG YOUR BOARD INTO MY SHOPPING TROLLEY!

Mrs D: Bye Mrs G.

Mrs G: Bye Mrs D.