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Now that's what I call Davy, vol 3.
Jul. 21st, 2006 09:29 amThe Flying Pornographers
*Scene: interior. Dingo Ridge Sheep Station, Australia. Several men (all called Bruce) sit about listlessly drinking beer and waving away the constant drone of flies. Enter:Bruce (a burly man in stained vest and hat)*
Bruce: Strewth, mates. Things are looking bad. We're all out of Pornography.
The assembled men gasp in horror. One stands and cries out:
Bruce: Jeesus, Bruce! What about Bruce? He needs a constant supply of one-handed literature to survive!
Bruce: There's nothing we can do. I just went to the dunny and... all pornography had been used up. We're clean out.
*From the next room come inconsolable wails and moans*
Bruce: Bruce, mate, if Bruce there doesn't get some gentlemans literature soon, I won't be answerable for the consequences.
Bruce: I know, mate, I know. If Bruce doesn't get his Readers Wives before midday, it could well go the worse for us all.
Bruce: There's only one thing to do - I'm calling the Flying Pornographers!
*Cut to: Exterior Shot. A Clean modern building in central Australia. A sign outside reads "Royal Australian Flying Pornographers. Established 1903. Patron HRH The Duke of York."*
*Cut to: Interior shot. Bruce, a young clean-cut Pornographer is talking to Bruce, a surfing Pornographer. In the background, Bruce, the new recruit, and Bruce, the aging patriach of the Flying Pornographers, are playing cards.*
Bruce:...so when you've waxed your board, mate, what do you do then?
Bruce: Well, mate, you catch the surf and...
*They are all distracted by the radio bleeping*
Bruce: Strewth! It's the radio! (He seizes the Microphone) Flying Pornography?
(A crackling voice comes over the radio. All the men stop to listen)
Bruce: Hello? Hello? Flying pornographers? This is Bruce at Dingo Ridge Station. It's an emergency! We're all out of Jazzmags, and Bruce is suffering bad!
Bruce: Strewth. Have you no Porno reserves?
Bruce: (crackling) No mate! We're all out!
Bruce: Have you tried looking on the top of the wardrobe, or under the bed?
Bruce: (crackling) All gone mate! We've used it all up!
Bruce: (Breathlessly) Streeeewth....We're on our way! (He hangs up the microphone and turns to the other pornographers) You heard the man! It's an Emergency! We've got to get to Dingo Ridge!
Bruce: (Looking at watch) But, mate, my watch is almost up, and I've to get home. I promised to take Sheila to the barbie tonight.
Bruce: But Bruce. No pornographer ever shirks when duty calls!
Bruce: But Maaaaaate. She'll go spare if I'm not there?
(Bruce the patriarch steps forward and puts his hand on Bruce's shoulder. He looks Bruce squarely in the eye as he speaks): Now mate. When we joined the flying Pornographers, we swore an solemn oath. (The Australian National Anthem starts playing, softly) That wherever there are single men, there we shall be. That wherever men are alone, with nothing but beasts of the field to satisfy them, there will shall be. Now, mate. There are men up on Dingo Ridge who have never seen a real woman. Some of them never will. Would you deny them the opportunity to dream of a real Sheila? Have you ever seen a man deprived of his pornography? Of his dignity? Of hope? I have, and believe me, son, it's a sight that will haunt your conscience all your life. A man without porn is a shadow of a man, a sorry, broken creature. (He shakes his head) Son, you and I expect pornography as part of our day to day lives. It's just like breathing or water to us; we can barely imagine life without it. But our great country is built on men like those at Dingo Ridge and their Pornography. Now take those men their porn.
Bruce: (Knuckling away a tear) You're right Bruce. Sheila can wait. Let's get that one-handed literature airborne!
*Cut to interior: Dingo Ridge Station. Bruce is standing in the foreground, looking worried. behind him, Bruce is lying on the table with bags of ice on his groin, being tended by Bruce.*
Bruce: Strewth. If the flying pornographers don't get here soon, Bruce could be a goner. Where are they?
Bruce: Bruce is getting worse over here, Bruce! He's fading!
(The faint drone of an Aeroplane can be dimly heard)
Bruce: Wait, Bruce, listen! It's the plane! They're here! (he dashes outside)
*Cut to: the inside of a light aircraft. Bruce and Bruce are pushing a large crate attached to a parachute out of the door, whilst Bruce waves at them from the ground below*
*Cut to Interior: Dingo Ridge*
Bruce: Bruce (Rushing in). The porn, it's here!
Bruce: Thank God for the flying pornographers!
Bruce: Quick, get Bruce to the dunny! I think he's gonna blow!
*Cut to interior: Flying Pornographers HQ. Bruce and Bruce are talking*
Bruce: Well, Bruce. We did a good job. Even now, there are men finding relief thanks to us.
Bruce: Good day, Bruce. Now I'm off to Sheila, and the barbie!
Bruce: It's good to know that Australians everywhere can sleep comfortably in their beds, knowing that the flying pornographers are always ready to leap to action.
*Scene: interior. Dingo Ridge Sheep Station, Australia. Several men (all called Bruce) sit about listlessly drinking beer and waving away the constant drone of flies. Enter:Bruce (a burly man in stained vest and hat)*
Bruce: Strewth, mates. Things are looking bad. We're all out of Pornography.
The assembled men gasp in horror. One stands and cries out:
Bruce: Jeesus, Bruce! What about Bruce? He needs a constant supply of one-handed literature to survive!
Bruce: There's nothing we can do. I just went to the dunny and... all pornography had been used up. We're clean out.
*From the next room come inconsolable wails and moans*
Bruce: Bruce, mate, if Bruce there doesn't get some gentlemans literature soon, I won't be answerable for the consequences.
Bruce: I know, mate, I know. If Bruce doesn't get his Readers Wives before midday, it could well go the worse for us all.
Bruce: There's only one thing to do - I'm calling the Flying Pornographers!
*Cut to: Exterior Shot. A Clean modern building in central Australia. A sign outside reads "Royal Australian Flying Pornographers. Established 1903. Patron HRH The Duke of York."*
*Cut to: Interior shot. Bruce, a young clean-cut Pornographer is talking to Bruce, a surfing Pornographer. In the background, Bruce, the new recruit, and Bruce, the aging patriach of the Flying Pornographers, are playing cards.*
Bruce:...so when you've waxed your board, mate, what do you do then?
Bruce: Well, mate, you catch the surf and...
*They are all distracted by the radio bleeping*
Bruce: Strewth! It's the radio! (He seizes the Microphone) Flying Pornography?
(A crackling voice comes over the radio. All the men stop to listen)
Bruce: Hello? Hello? Flying pornographers? This is Bruce at Dingo Ridge Station. It's an emergency! We're all out of Jazzmags, and Bruce is suffering bad!
Bruce: Strewth. Have you no Porno reserves?
Bruce: (crackling) No mate! We're all out!
Bruce: Have you tried looking on the top of the wardrobe, or under the bed?
Bruce: (crackling) All gone mate! We've used it all up!
Bruce: (Breathlessly) Streeeewth....We're on our way! (He hangs up the microphone and turns to the other pornographers) You heard the man! It's an Emergency! We've got to get to Dingo Ridge!
Bruce: (Looking at watch) But, mate, my watch is almost up, and I've to get home. I promised to take Sheila to the barbie tonight.
Bruce: But Bruce. No pornographer ever shirks when duty calls!
Bruce: But Maaaaaate. She'll go spare if I'm not there?
(Bruce the patriarch steps forward and puts his hand on Bruce's shoulder. He looks Bruce squarely in the eye as he speaks): Now mate. When we joined the flying Pornographers, we swore an solemn oath. (The Australian National Anthem starts playing, softly) That wherever there are single men, there we shall be. That wherever men are alone, with nothing but beasts of the field to satisfy them, there will shall be. Now, mate. There are men up on Dingo Ridge who have never seen a real woman. Some of them never will. Would you deny them the opportunity to dream of a real Sheila? Have you ever seen a man deprived of his pornography? Of his dignity? Of hope? I have, and believe me, son, it's a sight that will haunt your conscience all your life. A man without porn is a shadow of a man, a sorry, broken creature. (He shakes his head) Son, you and I expect pornography as part of our day to day lives. It's just like breathing or water to us; we can barely imagine life without it. But our great country is built on men like those at Dingo Ridge and their Pornography. Now take those men their porn.
Bruce: (Knuckling away a tear) You're right Bruce. Sheila can wait. Let's get that one-handed literature airborne!
*Cut to interior: Dingo Ridge Station. Bruce is standing in the foreground, looking worried. behind him, Bruce is lying on the table with bags of ice on his groin, being tended by Bruce.*
Bruce: Strewth. If the flying pornographers don't get here soon, Bruce could be a goner. Where are they?
Bruce: Bruce is getting worse over here, Bruce! He's fading!
(The faint drone of an Aeroplane can be dimly heard)
Bruce: Wait, Bruce, listen! It's the plane! They're here! (he dashes outside)
*Cut to: the inside of a light aircraft. Bruce and Bruce are pushing a large crate attached to a parachute out of the door, whilst Bruce waves at them from the ground below*
*Cut to Interior: Dingo Ridge*
Bruce: Bruce (Rushing in). The porn, it's here!
Bruce: Thank God for the flying pornographers!
Bruce: Quick, get Bruce to the dunny! I think he's gonna blow!
*Cut to interior: Flying Pornographers HQ. Bruce and Bruce are talking*
Bruce: Well, Bruce. We did a good job. Even now, there are men finding relief thanks to us.
Bruce: Good day, Bruce. Now I'm off to Sheila, and the barbie!
Bruce: It's good to know that Australians everywhere can sleep comfortably in their beds, knowing that the flying pornographers are always ready to leap to action.
