Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Bibbidi Bobbidi Return of the Jedi!



Once upon a time in Far Far Away Land there lived a little boy, let's call him Bill.


Bill had a very active imagination, which was lucky because he lived in Far Far Away Land!


One day Bill had a friend over to his castle, let's call his friend Phil. Bill summoned his coachdriver and ordered her (well all males are females really in pantomime, otherwise the tights look SO wrong boys!!!) to pick up him and Phil and bring them back for lashings and lashings of snacks and frivolity (only he didn't really use those words because he can't quite pronouce the latter just yet!)


So on that wet rainy day in September, the coach driver took her coach and horses and sighed a huge sigh of relief that today and today only, she would be relieved of her job of having to entertain Bill as he and Phil could play together, and drove to Montessorianaland to pick up Bill and Phil who had spent the morning at this enchanted land learning how to tie their shoelaces to each other!


On the way back, Phil and Bill began to chat about the day's events.


Provoked slightly by the coachdriver's interest in their second morning back after the ever so long summer holiday spent with a shrivelling witch who started the 13 weeks as a princess but due to some evil reverse of fortune and whhhhhaaaaay too much time breaking up spats between Bill, Jill and Till was kissed by a frog and turned into a witch, they began to disagree as to whom had the longest timeout that morning (great start boys!!!)


Bill turned the conversation toward Star Wars, a film series about a group of 1970's yuppies ( a princess, a handsome stud who is really only 10 but playing a 23 year old and the American version of the "cockney wanker"! Oh and a couple of battery operated, all singing all talking Curry's own Brand Cyborgs) saving a planet from being blown up by the Plastic Helmet wearing Man in Black (Dark Vader - according to Bill!) which they failed to do, but after finding a planet full of teddy bears, drinking lots and learning that they were all long lost relatives thirty five times removed so snogging wasn't really incest, it was all okay!


Anyway, back to the plot:

Bill: Isn't it cool when Dark Vader goes up the mountain and then WAAAHHHHHAA (insert high volume scream at this point to which the coachdriver nearly bucked in her seat and issued a sharp hiss of reprimand!)


Bill : Isn't it cool when Dark Vader goes up the mountain and then WAAHHHHAAA


Coachdriver - Bill! Volume Please! You're giving the pumpkin blight!


Bill: Isn't it cool when Dark Vader goes up the mountain and then WAAAHHHHAA!


The Coachdriver at this point opened up a pot of headache pills and swigged a couple down with her bottle of grog stowed away under the saddle for times like this.


Phil: Yeah - in the video game.......(pauses!) ..........you have the video game right?


Bill: Yeah (indignantly)


Coachdriver: Yuh huh!!!!!!????????


At this point it becomes apparent to you dear reader, that the coachdriver is more than just a simple driver to Bill and is infact his personal servant, PA, cook, cleaner, teacher, nose and bum wiper and master of inventories, in particular unbelievably small pieces of plastic playmobil that hide themselves away in every orrifice known to man!! Therefore she is well aware that Bill is once again talking out of his hat.


Phil: In the video game...........yadda yadda yadda .................


This is interspersed with Bill's enthusiastic interjections such as:


Woah!!! What the...???!! etc etc ad infinitum at 5900 decibels.


Later that afternoon after having made 65 snacks, poured copious drinks, taken numerous small beings to the loo, turned on CD players, turned off CD players, scrabbled around looking for immeasurably small items of games, broken up screaming, yelling and stopped the throwing of toys around in complete over excitement, and wiped tears, the coachdriver realised she had made a HUGE mistake when she hadn't taken up Cindy's offer to have her godmother turn her into a mouse.




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