Gordon Ramsay's Spitty Nightmares

[Bhazor]

Exterior,  Carpet Right

Narrator : Gordon has been called to help ailing high street floor material merchants Carpet Tick.

Gordon: This is a terrible restuarant looking at this fucking starter
(Gordon tears a piece of linoleum off the outside display rack and chews it noisily)
Gordon: It fucking tastes like fucking plastic. This should have been aborted. Carpet right? Carpet fuck more like.
(Gordon kicks open automatic door)
Gordon: Where is the fucking maitre d'fucking hotel?
(A young sales assistant approaches)
Sales Assistant: Erm
Gordon: (sarcastically) Errrrmmmmmm. Is that what you've got to say? I was told this piss hole was in trouble but I didn't know it was this bad.
Sales assistant: This isn't a-
Gordon: (interrupting) I know its not a fucking restaurant you god damn cretin. But I've already made a show on half the restaurants in the world and that lisping twat has done the other half.
(first commercial break montage of people running back and forth with smouldering carpet samples)
Gordon: (standing in front of a blazing 20 foot tall roll of carpet with a tiki torch in one hand) This is a total mess.
Narrator: Will this be Gordon Ramsey's hardest challenge to date?
(Gordon jabbing at burning carpet with garden fork)
Gordon: Its fucking raw.

[Huxleys Babkins]

^ Karma

[Stoneage Dinosaurs]

Amazing

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

*Gordon prises open arsecheeks and displays the ragged culmination to all and sundry*

Gordon: Rape me! Oh god fuck piss Rape me, rape me rape me! You fucking cunt, oil drum toss fuck wank, rape me rape me rape me rape me you sous vide cum jus quim tripod bollocks pissponce!!!! Rape rape rape me rape me rape me on the news! Rape me, go on! It's right here you dwarf! Fuck it in! Fuck it the fuck in dwarf! Fuck it in a rape! Ten points for a direct hit you front of desk cum slut! Rape me Jeff!

[JoeyBananaduck]

Right. Moving on...

[Gregory Torso]

*Gordon prises open arsecheeks and displays the ragged culmination to all and sundry*

Gordon: Rape me! Oh god fuck piss Rape me, rape me rape me! You fucking cunt, oil drum toss fuck wank, rape me rape me rape me rape me you sous vide cum jus quim tripod bollocks pissponce!!!! Rape rape rape me rape me rape me on the news! Rape me, go on! It's right here you dwarf! Fuck it in! Fuck it the fuck in dwarf! Fuck it in a rape! Ten points for a direct hit you front of desk cum slut! Rape me Jeff!

Best comment I've seen for weeks. Laughing like a twat.

[Bhazor]

Gordon sittting down at a table clearly taken from a morticians. You can tell by the gulleys.

"Hmm, its an interesting menu alright." He says opening a menu 300 pages long "I'll try number 245 please, the beef consomme with a quarter pound of pubic hair on top. To drink I'll have the miscellaneous fluids."

The order arrives. a yellow brown soup obscured by a large mound of curly pubic hairs in a wide range of colors.

"Well... this isn't what I expected. Here goes I guess" he brings a spoonful to his mouth. A cheeky tuft of reddish hair perfectly photogenic atop the pale broth. As the tip of the spoon passes his lips Gordon's eyes roll back. He slumps backwards into his chair. Pale green bile gushes from his parted lips. Too late he seizes a napkin bringing a trembling hand to his mouth. Which only succeeds in parting the gushes in multiple directions. The dark green flecked by red bile sprays to left and right. It covers the young attractive waitress, the other diners and a framed portrait of the Queen. All of whom vomit from the sensation of vomit splattering them. Gordon fights to stand vomit now covering his table running down the gulleys to fall and slosh around his feet. He loses his footing in the black sick falling to the floor his arm instinctively grabs at the air to steady himself but catches on his bowl of consomme. Pulling it down with him the bowl landing on his face. Cut to the restaurant's chef standing in the kitchen "Well I've never had any complaints. People love my food" . Back to dining room where Gordon is lying deathly still the bowl resting top down over his face. There is a calm for a moment before a gentle bubbling sound just on the edge of hearing. The bowl trembles. A soft hiss. A column of black concrete rises slowly upwards carrying the bowl and smashing it on the ceiling, then through the ceiling. The vomit is so thick now it is closer to a reinforcing pillar. Gordon is purple at the base mouth stretched wide tears running from his eyes. Suddenly the room is bathed in blue lights and two firemen burst into the restaurant, walking in a perfectly straight line hacking apart every table in their way. Between them they carry a hose which without a word of warning is turned full pelt on the pillar vomiting chef. The force knocks him from his back on to his side and on to his front then onto his side and onto his back and then on to his side and on to his front and then on to his side and so on until Gordon is pressed flush into wall. Gordon slowly stands.

"There was no fucking salt!"

Narrator "Will this be Gordon's hardest challenge yet?"

[Bhazor]