DOCTOR NIC Founding member of the of Fucking Shit Up and the world's foremost expert on distilling ladies from their undergarments.
	SIR JAZZYJAY Following the greatest storm in living memory was found a baby, wrapped in silken linen, washed upon the shores of the North Sea. His hair was as spun gold and his laugh was as if the angels themselves were swapping bawdy tales. The locals thought he was the answer to their prayers, the promised one who would free them of their cruel overlord who worked them all so unmercifully. Sir Jazzyjay would have none of it, however, and threw the kid in his mines to work with the rest of other filthy urchins.
	LORD HAWKEYE The product of years of the finest interbreeding that Europe can offer, Lord Hawkeye is the pinnacle of the fop arts and the finest buggerist that England has to offer.
	SERGEANT ROBBIE A cloud of flies that appears to be carrying a filthy Sergeant's uniform around with them is in fact the latest version of the military man from the lower extremities of the Clwwddnnyian coast. Yes, Sergeant Robbie is in fact a New South Welsh Man.

SCENE: Sometime before now, possibly 1687. The Royal Society is in turmoil, with Sir Jazzyjay arrested for making a sea urchin joke during their project to move England into the middle of the South Atlantic. Meanwhile, at the Old Bailey...

The day of Sir Jazzyjay's trial was the scene of great hubbub, bub.

SIR JAZZYJAY: And I submit, your honour, that I was tricked into saying... the forbidden phrase by my colleagues purely so that they might be able to obtain my chymikal instruments!

LORD HAWKEYE: mmmThere is sommmme truth in what mmmmy colleague is saying. mmmI have had mmmmy eye on his mmmpiping for some timmme now, mmm?

YOUR HONOUR: So you admit there was a conspiracy!

LORD HAWKEYE: Mmmma con... mmmspiracy? To do what, mmm?

YOUR HONOUR: To make Sir Jazzyjay say the phrase "sea urchin"!

SERGEANT ROBBIE: Hexcuse me, your 'onour! Bhut hI ham haifraid to say that that phrase 'as been houtlaw'd! Hupon phain hof death, sah!

YOUR HONOUR: Yes, but I'm a jud-

SERGEANT ROBBIE: Hi shall now hexcute tha' sentance, FORTHWITH!

YOUR HONOUR: OH! I have been shot! Oh! Oh! Right in the noggin! Oh! Is this the end of Jack Ketch? Yes it appears so.

SIR JAZZYJAY: Well! Well done Sergeant Robbie! Now, lets get back to the Atlantic Ocean, so we can continue digging our...

ALL: TRANS-ATLANTIC TUNNEL! HURRAH!

SERGEANT ROBBIE: Not so fhast, sahs! Bhegging yer pardon, sah, but don't you remember the deal you made hat the hend of last hepisode? With the resurrected corpse of Hemperor Hoctavius, brought back to life by the black harts? That hinturn for your freedom, you would hattempt to recover the lost Slippers of King Cnut?

SIR JAZZYJAY: But that was a preview of this episode! And since I am free before I made that deal, then it is not binding! Am I right, gentlemen.

LORD HAWKEYE: mmmIndeed!

DOCTOR NIC: What? Oh sorry, just attending to a bit of trouser business. Anyway, is it time to hang Sir Jazzyjay yet?

SIR JAZZYJAY: No, you see, look- oh I can't be bothered. Just look up the screen and see what's been going on.

DOCTOR NIC: Hmm. Oh, okay. Lets see... tricked the judge... apparently, pre-existing contract... hmm, well, Sergeant Robbie, it appears that my learned and unfortunately still living collegue is right; the conditions of the contract were produced before the contract was actually dealt.

SERGEANT ROBBIE: Hi ham hafraid not, sah! You see, hit happened hinbetween these 'ere hepisodes, which, according to tha B! B! C! means that hit 'is hinfact a recursive flashback. Hor to put hit another why, hit his assumed to 'ave happened durin the ad breaks, sah!

DOCTOR NIC: Ooh, I'm afraid he's got you there. Nothing I can do about that.

LORD HAWKEYE: mmmYes! One doesn't mmmess with the BBC, mmmI'm afraid. Sergeant Robbie! Have you finished loading your mmm firearm yet?

SERGEANT ROBBIE: Halmost there sah! Just hanother few minutes!

SIR JAZZYJAY: What!? No! You can't do this! I'm too young! Picks up violin and starts playing Too rich! Too pretty! There are countries I have not invaded! Natives I have not ravaged! Women not wooed, men not mended! Oh cruel fate, why do I suffer so! Is it because of the baby mines!? The orphan forges? The widow switches!? No! Not for those! But for this! A pun! A misplaced pronunciation! SURELY NOT FOR THIISSSSSS!!!

THE RESURRECTED CORPSE OF EMPEROR OCTAVIUS: HOLD!

ALL: GASP! The Resurrected Corpse of Emperor Octavius!

THE RESURRECTED CORPSE OF EMPEROR OCTAVIUS: Yes! It is I! The Resurrected Corpse of Emperor Octavius! And I have come from my grave in West Barbados to say that my toesy-wosesy are very cold and if I don't get the lost Slippers of King Cnut, then I shall DESTROY ALL THE BACON SANDWICHES IN THE WORLD!

ALL: OH NO!

SIR JAZZYJAY: Not!

DOCTOR NIC: The!

SERGEANT ROBBIE: Bacon!

LORD HAWKEYE: mmmSandwiches!

THE RESURRECTED CORPSE OF EMPEROR OCTAVIUS: NO! Not the bacon manwiches! The bacon sandwiches! And stop making that stupid joke!

Well, it looks like the Royal Society is in a pretty pickle yet again! Will they get the slippers? How many time can Jazzyjay make a manwiches joke? And just what is the Resurrected Corpse of Emperor Octavius doing in West Barbados? And does anyone remember this was originally about the Lost Tribes of Israel? Be sure to tune in next week for the Adventures of the Royal Society for Fucking Shit Up!