Tom15
April 24th, 2006, 06:02 PM
Hi all. I've written a load of comedy sketches and would like to know your opinions on some of them, and hopefully some helpful crits that will help me improve them. The first is as following...
Dead Son sketch
Man (working-class accent) knocks on neighbour's door holding bunch of flowers. Quite elderly woman answers
Man: Hi Ms Peters, just dropping by to say sorry about your son
Ms Peters: What about my son?
Man: (uneasily) His death
Ms Peters: (in shock) What?
Man: (realising she doesn't know) ...what?
Ms Peters: (panicking) What the hell're you talking about?
Man: (improvising; slowly) As in, err, Jesus, ya know he's like a son to all of us, and he died, o-on the cross...sort of
Ms Peters: (unsurely) Ok then
A younger woman, also working-class, appears at the doorway.
Woman: Hi Ms Peters, just coming by to say sorry about your son's dea-
Man raises arms quickly and elbows woman in face, before styling it out into an unconvincing yawn
Ms Peters: What has happened to my son?
Man: (giving up; regretfully) He was in a crash yesterday
MS Peters: (beginning to cry) Oh my God. What happened?
Woman: (rises; suddenly conversational and up-beat) Well it was quite funny actually, wasn't it?
Man: (laughing also) Yeah it was pretty funny
Woman: Huge, and I'm talking HUGE truck custard truck comes out of nowhere and rams into the side of his car. Spilt custard all over him – he turned completely yellow.
Man: (agreeing) Kinda like Homer Simpson
Woman: Yeah that's what I was gonna say
Ms Peters: (wiping away the tears) And then he was dead?
Pause
Man: (slightly confused) Well he's neither dead or alive, is he?
Ms Peters: What?
Man: He's a cartoon character, innit?
Ms Peters: (practically screaming) I'm talking about my son!
Man: Oh right, no he wasn't dead
Ms Peters: (suddenly beaming) So he didn't die? (throws her arms round the man)
Man: (brightly) No! (Ms Peters hugs him again; more quietly) But, then a two-tonne lorry rammed into the other side and kinda took his head off
Ms Peters screams in despair. Long uncomfortable pause
Woman: (quietly) Sort of rolled along the pavement like a football
Man: Yeah...except with blood gushing out from it and, well, a horrified expression of absolute terror on its face
They watch as the distraught mother weeps desperately
Woman: (guiltily) I bought you a football (holds out a ball), just a little memory of his death
Ms Peters: (looks up with an expression of boiling rage on her face)
Man: (brightly) Well, we best be off
They both walk off rather uneasily
Man: (to woman) Which one’s Homer again?
Dead Son sketch
Man (working-class accent) knocks on neighbour's door holding bunch of flowers. Quite elderly woman answers
Man: Hi Ms Peters, just dropping by to say sorry about your son
Ms Peters: What about my son?
Man: (uneasily) His death
Ms Peters: (in shock) What?
Man: (realising she doesn't know) ...what?
Ms Peters: (panicking) What the hell're you talking about?
Man: (improvising; slowly) As in, err, Jesus, ya know he's like a son to all of us, and he died, o-on the cross...sort of
Ms Peters: (unsurely) Ok then
A younger woman, also working-class, appears at the doorway.
Woman: Hi Ms Peters, just coming by to say sorry about your son's dea-
Man raises arms quickly and elbows woman in face, before styling it out into an unconvincing yawn
Ms Peters: What has happened to my son?
Man: (giving up; regretfully) He was in a crash yesterday
MS Peters: (beginning to cry) Oh my God. What happened?
Woman: (rises; suddenly conversational and up-beat) Well it was quite funny actually, wasn't it?
Man: (laughing also) Yeah it was pretty funny
Woman: Huge, and I'm talking HUGE truck custard truck comes out of nowhere and rams into the side of his car. Spilt custard all over him – he turned completely yellow.
Man: (agreeing) Kinda like Homer Simpson
Woman: Yeah that's what I was gonna say
Ms Peters: (wiping away the tears) And then he was dead?
Pause
Man: (slightly confused) Well he's neither dead or alive, is he?
Ms Peters: What?
Man: He's a cartoon character, innit?
Ms Peters: (practically screaming) I'm talking about my son!
Man: Oh right, no he wasn't dead
Ms Peters: (suddenly beaming) So he didn't die? (throws her arms round the man)
Man: (brightly) No! (Ms Peters hugs him again; more quietly) But, then a two-tonne lorry rammed into the other side and kinda took his head off
Ms Peters screams in despair. Long uncomfortable pause
Woman: (quietly) Sort of rolled along the pavement like a football
Man: Yeah...except with blood gushing out from it and, well, a horrified expression of absolute terror on its face
They watch as the distraught mother weeps desperately
Woman: (guiltily) I bought you a football (holds out a ball), just a little memory of his death
Ms Peters: (looks up with an expression of boiling rage on her face)
Man: (brightly) Well, we best be off
They both walk off rather uneasily
Man: (to woman) Which one’s Homer again?