INCONSEQUENTIAL WALLACE AND GROMIT.

[Glebe]

WALLACE: Help, Gromit, help, lad!

GROMIT: You're in no trouble, mate. You're just trying to generate excitement.

WALLACE (in low voice): Oh fuck off. *goes and sits down and reads the paper with some cheese*

[Replies From View]

WALLACE (alone in the bathroom):  Get yourselves organised down there!!

WALLACE uses his left hand to shuffle his cock around a bit within his trousers.  He withdraws his hand and feigns surprise at the sudden increase in comfort.

WALLACE:  Excellent team work, lads!!

[Glebe]

WALLACE (sitting with the day's newspaper): Well, lad, I wonder if we just might not get an unusual lodger staying with us today? Or perhaps there might be an incident with a contraption or summit later?

GROMIT: Sorry mate, I've just pissed on your carpet. You'll have to spend the afternoon cleaning that up, fuck the adventures.

[Glebe]

WALLACE: Gromit, where are you?

GROMIT: Up your arse.

WALLACE: There's no need for that, lad. What's gotten into you?

GROMIT: I'm sick of it. I've had enough, mate. Plasticine adventures. Cheese. Penguins. You can keep the lot, sod it!

WALLACE: I didn't know y'felt like that, lad. I'm sorry. From now on, I'll skimp on the cheese and avoid inviting penguin lodgers in!

GROMIT: Right. Well that's a start.

WALLACE: Good. Now, how d'fancy looking at my latest contraption, lad?

GROMIT: Oh fuck me I actually forgot about the fucking contraptions, ironic really I hate them the most.

[Glebe]

WALLACE: Let's go to the moon, lad!

GROMIT: You're a fucking mental case.

[Delete Delete Delete]

WALLACE: .....
WALLACE: .....
WALLACE: .....
WALLACE: .....
GROMIT: .... Oh the fuckers dead

[Replies From View]

'The Right Trousers', with Lenny Henry:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-88_Y_tOLMA

[Glebe]

GROMIT: Let's go walkies, Wallace!

WALLACE: Not today, Gromit. Not today.

[JoeyBananaduck]

WALLACE: Crumbs, Gromit! Look at me! I've gone berserk! Wheeeeeeeee!

Wallace has smeared his face with blackcurrant jam, put a lampshade on his head and is now emptying the water from the room's vases over his head and doing a vaguely racist dance.

Gromit rolls his eyes and goes back to his paper.

WALLACE: You never know WHAT I'll do next, lad! Gubbadagubbada! Quack!

Wallace begins to remove his trousers

GROMIT: This infantile attempt to liven up our lives of obsolescence is frankly, beneath us both.

[Glebe]

^Karma.

[Glebe]

WALLACE: Fancy some cheese, lad?

GROMIT: Dogs dont eat cheese.

THE END.

[Glebe]

WALLACE: We're out of cheese, there's no penguin visitors and as for contraptions not arsed mate.

GROMIT: That really puts the kibosh on any adventures, as it t'were.

[Gregory Torso]

[Gregory Torso]

[Replies From View]

That's great - did you draw those?

[Gregory Torso]

Thanks. I did draw them. I don't have a mouse which is why they're extra wonky.

[Glebe]

Fantastic work Gregory!

[Glebe]

WALLACE: Alright, lad?

GROMIT: Sorry mate, they haven't finished animating me for this shot. I'll react to you in a couple of days.

[JoeyBananaduck]

Wallace (looking up from paper): By 'eck! Look here, Gromit lad! It says here that there's an inventor's competition coming to our village with a £500 prize! By lucky happenstance, the exact same amount of money we need for those vital repairs on our house! It's all going to be judged next Thursday at the town hall by noted high society 'mover and shaker' Bernard Sinister MBE. Just think, lad, all we have to -

Gromit: I'm going to stop you there. Outside elements never work out well for us. Take that paper, cunt it in the bin and give Wonga a call.

[Glebe]

Wallace (looking up from paper): By 'eck! Look here, Gromit lad! It says here that there's an inventor's competition coming to our village with a £500 prize! By lucky happenstance, the exact same amount of money we need for those vital repairs on our house! It's all going to be judged next Thursday at the town hall by noted high society 'mover and shaker' Bernard Sinister MBE. Just think, lad, all we have to -

Gromit: I'm going to stop you there. Outside elements never work out well for us. Take that paper, cunt it in the bin and give Wonga a call.

Lovely finish, Joey, heh!

[Huxleys Babkins]

WALLACE: Cracking cheese, Gromit!

GROMIT IGNORES HIM

WALLACE: Same one we always get... Still, nothing's quite the same now is it, eh lad?

GROMIT BECOMES VISIBLY ANGRY

WALLACE: Maybe we'll go for walkies?

GROMIT STORMS OUT OF THE ROOM AND RUNS UP TO HIS BEDROOM. THE WORDS "FURRY NONCE PRICK" HAVE BEEN SCRAWLED ON THE WALLS IN JAM

WALLACE: I don't know why you're so angry at me, lad. I saw what you did in the park with that duck. You're lucky I didn't 'ave you put down.

[Glebe]

WALLACE IN ROBOT TROOSERS: Oh hello Mr. Penguin, come and stay awhile! We're just off to the moon!

GROMIT: Sigh. Mind out for the were-rabbit.

[JoeyBananaduck]

Gromit: And in the sceptre's gleam, I felt myself grow weak
A new director's dream, he commanded me to speak
I had no words to say, my throat grew tight and dry
My arms I couldn't lift, the clock said time to die
A futile gesture still, each prompt cut like a knife
A broke and empty shill, I pleaded for more life
A venture, adventure, adversity or strife
New dog, new threat, new adversary, new wife
But all it is and all it was began to fade from sight
Bright primary colour plasticine replaced by dimming light
Encroaching, all consuming, a predatory dark
I found my four legs running to where once there was a spark
Cave men and women in my place, so what was I to do?
I asked the big man for a role, he said "No, not for you"
The heat of the furnace, the heat of the sun, the safety of the table
All balled up and thrown in the trash now I'm no longer able
To whimsy, to cheer, to 'English', to fight
To bring the punters streaming in and leaving in delight
Take heed of-

Wallace: More cheese, lad?

[Glebe]

WALLACE: Well lad, how about another adventure?

GROMIT: ...

[JoeyBananaduck]

Wallace: *sighs* I used to be a jovial chap, lad. An innocuous sort. Very...what's the phrase....happy-go-lucky.

Gromit: ......

Wallace: Now the only thing that amuses me is the thought of death. It doesn't really matter whether it's someone else's or mine now.

Gromit: ........

Wallace: I suppose years without an adventure and my voice actor being gone have taken their toll on me, old friend. Sent me a bit doolally.

Gromit: ...........

Wallace: I mean it, the thought of some cunt breathing his last and never making it home in time for dinner gives me a right old chortle.

Gromit: ................

Wallace: That's not right is it, faithful pooch? Dissolving into gut-busting mirth at the mere thought of say, Bill the postman dropping dead halfway down the garden path, wild-eyed and foaming at the gills as his ticker packs in and he feels the darkness closing in on him from all sides and his hand reaches upwards at thin air in some pathetic, desperate last attempt to stave off all-consuming oblivion and then his last thought is something completely banal like "Bastard! The wife was going to do us a fish supper tonight too, and Lethal Weapon is on ITV2" and then he suddenly realises what excruciating pain he's in, like hot searing flames licking at his chest from the inside out and then when the end comes and he's gurgling up his death rattle the end comes as a relief, if anything.

Gromit: ................

Wallace: Bill's never done anything wrong to me, you understand. In fact he's been postman round these parts since at least the early 90s. 30 years and never a cross word or a misdelivered Saga catalog.

Gromit: .......................

Wallace: All the same, the thought of his gruesome and untimely demise really gets my chuckle muscles working overdrive for some reason or other. I can't fathom it. In fact, take Bill for instance. The fact that he's a decent bloke doesn't make me not wish him dead. Do you understand what's going on in my head, Gromit? If anything the fact that he's done nothing wrong makes him dying even funnier. I'm smiling just thinking about it!

Gromit: ...............................

Wallace: I probably wouldn't even call 999. I'd be too worried that I couldn't get through the call without wetting my kecks. I'd just have to go out on to the lawn and point and laugh at him and get it out of my system. Ho ho! You didn't fucking see that coming, did you Bill? Ha-ha!

Gromit: .......................................

Wallace: Shall we have some cheese?

Gromit: No cuz I'm a dog innit.

[Glebe]

^Massive amouts of Karma, J!

[madhair60]

Wendolene: Preston... is a cyberdog!

Wallace: A what?

Wendolene: A robot!

(Preston's mechanical erect cock slams out the side of the knit-o-matic)

[Glebe]

WALLACE: Gromit.

GROMIT: Wallace.

WALLACE: That it is, boy. That it is.

[Glebe]

WALLACE: Well, lad, it looks like we're in for another wacky adven-

GROMIT: Nah mate. Nah.

[Old Nehamkin]

OVEN ROBOT: [Achieves dream of being able to ski but then immediately deactivates forever as it has run out of coins.]