The Sock
Puppet: Mr Bread, it's said you mean all things to all men...
Fried Bread: Hi, how're ya doin? Sadly no. It's only true to say I have meant few things to several men.
FB: Even fewer things and to far less of them, but I am widely loved by the fairer sex... more often as a secret passion. Indeed a good many women have been warned to avoid me at all costs.
TSP: How would you describe yourself?
FB: Light, crisp, and laden with woof.
TSP: What is your secret?
FB: That would be telling, wouldn't it? Let us just say, I succeed in being thoroughly buttery by remaining utterly stale to the core.
TSP: How would you like to be remembered?
FB: As a pleasant after dinner taste, dear boy. My imitators leave a lardy smear on the tongue.
TSP: When was your finest hour?
FB: Serving my sovereign, I think, or guesting at a posh nosh.
TSP: How should you be prepared?
FB: Natural gas. Swear by it!
TSP: Straight out the pan?
FB: And into the cake-hole! With a brace of tinned tomatoes, of course
TSP: Who would play you in the film of your life?
FB: Erm, Huge... whathisname?
TSP: Huge Lorry?
FB: No, not that oaf! He couldn't play housey-housey! Huge Grant, I mean. Or Nigel Kennedy could have a stab at the old cackass. Next question!
TSP: What is your greatest fear?
FB: Of being taken for toast.
TSP: It's been said, you are - what used to be called - “middle brow”...
FB: Oh, I know, I know! Another one is “half-baked”, then there's “the sugar-loafer” and “dough-boy” These are all mere clichés, of course.
TSP: Really?
FB: Devoid of all meaning. The truth is even plainer: I am as mealy-mouthed as any self-respecting lump of carbohydrate.
FB: As crotons sprinkled over French onion soup? Lapped up by someone equally scrumptious as myself - a Carla Bruni, for example, or a Justin Bieber?
TSP: That's not very patriotic of you!
FB: Well, it's one better than some snot-nosed Brummie kid sopping up his bacon fat with me!
TSP: There's talk of awarding you heritage status... are you rye or wry?
FB: Very funny words indeed, coming from your mouth!
TSP: At least I have a mouth!
FB: More like a foot and mouth!
TSP: Do us a poem, then!
FB: If you insist! This one's called “crumbs in the bed”
FB: I know. Dismal what you can get away with these days, dontchya think?
Fried Bread: Hi, how're ya doin? Sadly no. It's only true to say I have meant few things to several men.
 |
| Fried Bread's on the radio again! |
TSP: So
what do you mean to women?
FB: Even fewer things and to far less of them, but I am widely loved by the fairer sex... more often as a secret passion. Indeed a good many women have been warned to avoid me at all costs.
TSP: How would you describe yourself?
FB: Light, crisp, and laden with woof.
TSP: What is your secret?
FB: That would be telling, wouldn't it? Let us just say, I succeed in being thoroughly buttery by remaining utterly stale to the core.
TSP: How would you like to be remembered?
FB: As a pleasant after dinner taste, dear boy. My imitators leave a lardy smear on the tongue.
TSP: When was your finest hour?
FB: Serving my sovereign, I think, or guesting at a posh nosh.
TSP: How should you be prepared?
FB: Natural gas. Swear by it!
TSP: Straight out the pan?
FB: And into the cake-hole! With a brace of tinned tomatoes, of course
TSP: Who would play you in the film of your life?
FB: Erm, Huge... whathisname?
TSP: Huge Lorry?
FB: No, not that oaf! He couldn't play housey-housey! Huge Grant, I mean. Or Nigel Kennedy could have a stab at the old cackass. Next question!
TSP: What is your greatest fear?
FB: Of being taken for toast.
TSP: It's been said, you are - what used to be called - “middle brow”...
FB: Oh, I know, I know! Another one is “half-baked”, then there's “the sugar-loafer” and “dough-boy” These are all mere clichés, of course.
TSP: Really?
FB: Devoid of all meaning. The truth is even plainer: I am as mealy-mouthed as any self-respecting lump of carbohydrate.
 |
| Fried Bread is a member of Equity |
TSP: How
do you envisage your end?
FB: As crotons sprinkled over French onion soup? Lapped up by someone equally scrumptious as myself - a Carla Bruni, for example, or a Justin Bieber?
TSP: That's not very patriotic of you!
FB: Well, it's one better than some snot-nosed Brummie kid sopping up his bacon fat with me!
TSP: There's talk of awarding you heritage status... are you rye or wry?
FB: Very funny words indeed, coming from your mouth!
TSP: At least I have a mouth!
FB: More like a foot and mouth!
TSP: Do us a poem, then!
FB: If you insist! This one's called “crumbs in the bed”
crumbs in
the bed
a breakfast of tupenny
rhyming
poetry is dead
good of
you to photocopy
a cup of
tea instead
of jumping right on top of me
TSP: God,
that was shite!
FB: I know. Dismal what you can get away with these days, dontchya think?
 |
| Tra-Laa! |
No comments:
Post a Comment
Readers' comments are welcome!