Thursday, November 14, 2013

A chariot will take me to
The Valley of the Kings

"Any progress with the Riddled Amateur Dramatic Society live-action remake of 'Wacky Races'?" asked tigris, frowning at her clipboard. Another Kiwi and I aren't allowed clipboards any more after one or two visits to the Accident & Emergency ward. It is not our fault if the clips have hazardous design flaws.

"There is a slight delay," I said.

"We wanted to make a motorcade but life did not give us motorcs," AK vouchsafed.
Tea-Thing troubles
"A few teething troubles," I explained. "We decided to be more inclusive with the casting..." added AK.

"Yes?" prompted tigris, drumming her fingers impatiently on her clipboard.

"...So we took the Riddled time machine back to New Kingdom Egypt and talked the Pharaoh of the time into a guest appearance in some of the scenes."

"That would explain the expense claim -- listed under Persuasion and Shifty Business -- for 'Shiny new coat of paint for crappy old chariot'," tigris surmised, consulting her notes.

"And then there was the tragic accident on the set."
Right: Trojan Horse, unclear on concept

Tigris progressed to double-bassing her toes. "I said the Auto-da-Fe [above, left] was a bad idea."

"No, no, it was the Kirby Carby, which turns out to be hard to stop in a hurry."
"'Them's the brakes,' as I said at the time," AK vouchsafed. "But no-one ever listens to me."

"Would this 'tragic accident' be in any way connected to the vogue among bloggers and churnalists and hard-up-for-publicity researchers for playing CSI-Ancient Egypt with the death of Tutankhamun?" tigris surmised. "The endless re-hashing of X-rays and autopsies?"


AK sniggered. "The mortuary priests did tell us that they'd have their work cut out, which was strangely prescient. They were not well-pleased about the state of the body."
"We have taken the precaution of bruiting other explanations about," I said reassuringly. "Harer's 'Died-of-a-surfeit-of-hippopotamus' theory is enjoying currency."

"Then there is the Curse of the Pharaohs..." AK pointed out.
"...which warns that anyone whose tomb is disturbed by Howard Carter and Earl Carnarvon is doomed to have died prematurely."

16 comments:

ifthethunderdontgetya™³²®© said...

Cyclopean Grandeur is the only kind for me.
~

OBS said...

That first image looks like something out of a Dr. Seuss book. Did you let him borrow the Riddled Time Machine?

Smut Clyde said...

ITTDGY is one-eyed.

Substance McGravitas said...

the vogue among bloggers and churnalists and hard-up-for-publicity researchers for playing CSI-Ancient Egypt

That list is embarrassingly short. Shouldn't these people get busy?

TUT TUT.

Smut Clyde said...

More Dr Seuss here, OBS.

El Manquécito said...

Isn't the curse of the Faroes just another way of talking about the weather?

mikey said...

Good heavens, the design on that thing is atrocious. The good news is that it is significantly partially crewed by naked chicks, and that's always a good thing, even if breast augmentation surgery was in it's early stages, and resulted in that overly firm 'bolted on' look that is somewhat less that...oh, who am I kidding, love those perky ones!

**AHEM**

Where was I. Ah yes, design flaws. The weapons store is hanging out in front where nobody can reach them. The dood in front is one of the doods with hooves, that's a good idea in rough terrain, but he can't see where he's going because the weapons are suspended in his vision. The naked chick on lookout duty could overcome this drawback, but that snot-nosed brat is about to ruin her day with a bow and arrow, and she can't reach a pike to protect herself. Meanwhile, the OTHER dood with hooves is lollygagging up in the crows nest while a couple of naked barefoot hippie hitchhikers are providing the balance of the motive power.

Surely the king and queen could bring some order, but he's listening to her tell that story about that time when she took a job as a stripper as a lark and she's busy whacking another snot nosed little winged brat with a branch.

And worst of all, the tooty-horn is suspended underneath the rotten little mutineer with the bow and arrow, and with ol' cloven foot in restraints up there, there's no one available to blow the tooty horn.

Pathetic...

Smut Clyde said...

I am relieved that someone here is grounded in reality.

ckc (not kc) said...

...it's also a bugger to park

Smut Clyde said...

the curse of the Faroes
That hand-knitted woollen sweater you bought as a souvenir in Tórshavn will itch like buggery.

El Manquécito said...

Other possible curses of the Faroes; the diet, sheep and Viking ghosts.

Big Bad Bald Bastard said...

Other possible curses of the Faroes; the diet, sheep and Viking ghosts.

What a draug!

Smut Clyde said...

All I know of the climate in the Faroes is that the dominant wind is the Oe, a word which certain people keep trying to sneak into the English language, on account of Scrabble.

Substance McGravitas said...

A perfectly cromulent word.

mikey said...

OooEeeeeOoooEeeeeOooo

ifthethunderdontgetya™³²®© said...

Scrabble is commie, as every fule know.
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