If classic comedies were made today

[Fambo Number Mive]

Series 7 of Fawlty Towers sees the Major take over the hotel after Basil and Sybil retire to America. Polly is now a famous artist and has married Cockney Clive (played by Danny Dyer). Manuel has a robot rat and the hotel has a massive gymnasium and squash court.

Series 1-6 are now on DVD, Blu-Ray and Netflix.

[zomgmouse]

what if Dad's Army had PTSD

[madhair60]

It Ain't Half Trans Mum

[Gregory Torso]

Terry And June, 2019:

Terry accidentally orders 100 deckchairs off Amazon and begins to build them into some kind of mad pyramid in the garden whilst June attempts to figure out Amazon's needlessly complex returns policy.


One Foot In The Grave, 2019:

Victor Meldrew spends his days on Twitter saying "I don't believe it!" and blocking anyone who disagrees with his angry tweets about gender fluidity, climate change and love island.

[willpurry]

The Norwegian Blue prefers kipping on it's back.  Please remember this before posting negative reviews.

[Lordofthefiles]

Damian is the head of a gang slingin rock at Nelson Mandela House... Everyone else is dead.

[willpurry]

Harold:  Dear, oh dear.  Is that another erotic figurine you are intending to flog on Etsy?
Albert:  Yeah, I carved a load out of that 'orrible sideboard you dragged in here.
Harold:  You dirty old man!  No matter as I have my mind on higher things.  Observe my favourite Shakespearean cosplayer's latest Instagram post.  Here she is Ophelia.
Albert:  Clocking drowned birds?  That's that extreme porn you kinky git.

[zomgmouse]

On the Buses

Oh no these buses are well expensive now

At least they have screens on them sometimes that tell you where you're going

[DangledTeeth]

Int. Trotters' Flat

Rodney: DEL! It's Uncah Lahbert!

Del: What's tha' garrity old dufferfuck done naow?!

Rodney: 'e was attacked by faw-waaah blokes. One of them attempted to throw acid at Albert but missed.

Del: Yeah!? Then wha' 'appened?

Rodney: Woell, it splashed on the pavement.

Del: Nah-no-no. I don't mea- Tony Bennett! I mean did it escalate into more violence?

Rodney: Yeah! One of the hoodies stabbed 'im in the arm. But he's alright.

Del: Jubblying scumbags! You wai' until you see my Twitter status, son!

Int. Trotters' Flat - Lounge

Albert sits in a chair and Del goes to sit alongside Raquel on the settee

Del (Muttered): De-yu-rin the Vietnam waw-wah.

Albert: Joorin thuh Vietnahm wor I was a yahng blaoke (scratches beard) Yah. Go' ahp to sahm righ' capers. I wen' to Woodstock. They were awll there. 'endrix. Janis Joplin.

Del: You need all thaa-aaat.

Albert: Me ol' mate offered me a hit of acid. Sao, I dahne it. Well, ya jamp at the charnce, don't ya, sahn.

Del and Raquel drift off to sleep

Albert: I put it on mar tongue and it mel'ed. The saturation of the place was all intense, and the sonic waves of music became visual. I was in a complete trarnce. Then awl ov a sadden, this three-'eaded tiger star'ed playing The Piper at the Gates of Dawn album with its whiskers.

Albert loudly imitates a psychedelic riff, causing Del & Raquel to wake up

Albert: I did a really daft thing -- I pissed meself! Full grown man an' I pissed meself.

Del: Aoh, cam on, Unc. Anyone would do the same if they were ripped to the tits on LSD.

Albert: Naoh, I dan't mean when I was on me insightful trip. I mean naow when I went 'twwuuueng-eeoooe-nweeow'!

Del: Oh... righ'.

Albert exits the lounge as Rodney enters. Rodney approaches Albert's chair

Del: NO!

Rodney: Wha'?

Del: Nothing. You ensconce yourself in the micturition.

Rodney: I was thinkin', it's been a while since Albert's arm got poked by some prick. LLLLiterally! And I think if we're too soft on 'im, he'll never overcome the shock.

Del: How dare you disrespect your traumatised uncle, you dozy fuckin' plonkercock, Rodney!

Rodney: Ah! That's what I'm alluding to. This flat is all hurly-burly. We mean no harm; it's just how we are.

Del: Sao, you're sayin' if we toughen ahp a bit, he'll come around to how things ought to be?

Rodney: The three-meals-on-an-ornate-tray approach ain't workin'. And the dodo feathers of that velvet cushion are coming out of the stitching.

Albert enters and wears a dressing gown

Albert: Can I 'ave a brehndy, Del?

Del: Yes, of course, erm, get it yourself. There's no hoodies lurking be'ind my drinks cabinet.

Rodney: We are very busy tomorrow, Derek.

Del: Are we?

Rodney: Yes.

Del: Ohhhh! Yeah. We've gotta get the week's shopping done, ain't we. What with Raquel and her minge shrimp, and myself and Rodders down the market in the mornin', there's no-one on shopping duty...

Albert: Whoy daon't you jast order it online, sahn?

Del: No. Because, erm, the internet's daown at the moment.

Albert: Baht you've bin doin' that Snapchat lark wiv Marnkey 'arris.

Del: I'm using my data. Now look, listen and heed, Albert! Trotter's Independent Traders hasn't made much profit in Bitcoin. Junior Trotter is imminent. I've got 20 Macedonia toasters from Europe to shift. First it was LSD now it's PTSD. We don't need any ducks in the fleht. It's either fuck on or lose away, cos you're an inept little arsehead at present right this minute.

Albert: Sniff! (Albert slinks away with his head bowed) Ar understehnd. G'night, boys.

Rodney: Fuck me! That was full-on, Del.

Del: Bonnet de Crumpette, Rodney! You suggested bein' all tough on 'im.

Rodney: It was a bit harder than I expected.

Del: I bet Cassandra's said that to you at bedtime.

Rodney nods then does a double take

Int. Lounge - Next Morning

Del: Oh, no sign of Alberto. Has he footed on down to the grub emporium?

Raquel: No. He's switched the iPad on and left it across the dining table. He's uploaded a 4k 60fps clip on Vimeo. He said he's gone and he won't bring shame to the family name again.

Del: Cahm on, Rodders. Get those Turkey Drummers... I know where Unclest Albertum is hidin'.

Ext. Tobaccah Raoad

Del: What's this about, Ahnc. Running away from home at your age.

Albert: Del!? Rodney!? 'ow'd you knah I'd be 'ere?

Del: You uploaded a selfie to the Instagrams and geo-tagged yer location, you barky aold git.

Rodney: Is this where you grew up?

Albert: Yah. I could swear in six languages. What with Google Trensla'e, I can swear in andrurds ov erm nar. The wa'er spawkold in all difront cahlers. I used to think the rainbow lived in the sea.

Del: You were a bit of a daft cunt on LSD in them times an' all.

Rodney: Del!!

Albert: Timber. Bananas. The ragamuffins were good people. Samwan wro'e on the roof: Charlie stinks. Nah look wha' they dahn to ih.

Del: Yeah... 's teriffic.

Rodney: Be more historical and respectful, Derek.

Del: But these late 80s apartments are still quite modern and snug. Michael McIntyre has one of these. Yes I can picture it now. Candy and a Currant Bun. Jubblies.

Int. Trotters' Flat

Doorbell: Ding-dong.

Del: Go an' answer it, Albert.

Albert: I carn't, sahn. Eight of 'em surrahndid me and shot me in the arm.

Del: Eight?! Shot?!

Raquel: You're going to have to answer the door sooner or later. You've got Del, pregnant me, and an absent Rodney to back you up.

Albert stands at the door

Albert: Who's there?

Knock-knock: It is I, Knock-knock.

Albert scarpers

Albert: I carn't face 'im, sahn.

Del: Oi-yoi-yoi-yoi! You stay right where you are. That was Knock-knock. He brought your pocket watch back.

Raquel: What!? I thought it was stolen.

Del: No. Albert chacked it in the bushes after Knock-knock smacked 'im the arm.

Albert: We're rivals. He said he could beat me at Scalextric. I squared ahp to 'im and... 'e 'it me.

Rodner enters

Rodney: You'll never guess what happened down the pub. There was an altercation to conclude all altercations. Those chavs we saw in the pub, turns out they're not underclass denizens of Britain. They're coppers. They were put in the area to survey the muggings. Ollie and his lo-fi chillwave mob tried to figh' 'em and took a right hammering.

Del: Oh naoh, wha' have I dahn!

Raquel: Don't tell me you had anything to do with this?

Del: I was aonly tryna 'elp Syd Barrett over there. So I slipped Ollie a score to sort it aht.

Raquel: This baby will be born premature by the end of the week

Del: Born 'premature'?! What sort of name is that!?

Rodney: Well... when Oliver and his band of merry men check out of Hotel Hospital, I'd guess they'll pay you a visit - courtesy of the NHS.

Del looks at his phone and gawps at a message

Del: Erm, Rodney. Does this emoji mean wha' I think it does?

Rodney examines Del's Whatsapp message

Rodney: It reads 'Del!! u compleat cnt! y did u get us 2 fite the feds?!?!' I think it's fair to evaluate that the last part of message doesn't read 'u r in deeep choclut!'.

Albert: They beh-ah not try anythin' wiv me arahnd, cos I'll drop a tab and use my laser arms to figh' 'em off.

Del: I'm gonna kill 'im! I'm ganna fuckin' kill 'im!

Pauses on a smooth ultra 4k HD macro blur