Blancmanges Playing Tennis

(Cut to commentator in his box at Wimbledon.)

Commentator: Well, here at Wimbledon, it's been a most extraordinary week's tennis. The blancmanges have swept the board, winning match after match. Here are just a few of the results: Billie-Jean King eaten in straight sets, Laver smothered whole after winning the first set, and Poncho Gonzales, serving as well as I've never seen him, with some superb volleys and decisive return volleys off the back hand, was sucked through the net at match point and swallowed whole in just under two minutes. And so, here on the final day, there seems to be no players left to challenge the blancmanges. And this could be their undoing, Dan: as the rules of Wimbledon state quite clearly that there must be at least one human being concerned in the final. (we see a three-foot-high blancmange being shepherded onto a tennis court by a Scotsman) Well the blancmange is coming out onto the pitch now, and (suddenly exalted) there is a human with it. It's Angus Podgorny! The plucky little Scottish tailor ... upon whom everything depends. And so it's Podgorny versus blancmange in this first ever Intergalactic Wimbledon!

(Cut to the centre court at Wimbledon or if we can't get it, number one will do. Blancmange and Podgorny on opposite sides net. Another blancmange sitting in umpire's chair. Blancmange serves... a real sizzling ace. Podgorny, who in any case is quivering with fear, doesn't see it.)

Commentator's Voice: And it's blancmange to serve and it's a good one.

Blancmange Umpire: Blurb blurble blurb.

Voice Over: Fifteen love.

(Blancmange serves again, and again Podgorny misses hopelessly and pathetically. Collage of speeded-up versions of blancmange sewing and Podgorny missing.
Cut to scoreboard:)

    PODGORNY:    O
(Cut back to the court. Podgorny is serving and each time he fails to hit the ball altogether.)

Commentator's Voice: And Podgorny fails to even hit the ball ... but this is no surprise as he hasn't hit the ball once throughout this match. So it's 72 match points to the blancmange now... Podgorny prepares to serve again.

(Podgorny fails to serve and we see the scoreboard:)
   BLANCMANGE: 6 6 5 40
   PODGORNY:    0 0

Commentator's Voice: This is indeed a grim day for the human race, Dan.

(Just as Podgorny is about to serve we see Mr and Mrs Brainsample jump onto the court brandishing forks and spoons and with napkins tucked into their necks.)

Commentator's Voice: But what's this? Two spectators have rushed onto the pitch with spoons and forks... what are they going to do?

(Cut to laboratory.)

Charles: They mean to eat the blancmange.

(The girl pulls herself up from where she was slumped by microscope. He knocks her out again with a sand-filled sock. Cut back to Wimbledon. Mr and Mrs Brainsample chasing blancmange and eating it.)

Commentator's Voice: And they're eating the blancmange ... Yes! The blancmange is leaving the court... it's abandoning the game! This is fantastic!

(Cut to Mr and Mrs Brainsample covered in bits of blancmange and licking their fingers.)

American Voice: Yes it was Mr and Mrs Samuel Brainsample, who, after only a brief and misleadling appearance in the early part of the film, returned to save the Earth ... but why?

Mr Brainsample: Oh, well you see we love blancmanges. My wife makes them.

American Voice: She makes blancmanages that size?

Mr Brainsample: Oh, yes. You see we're from the planet Skyron in the Galaxy of Andromeda, and they're all that size there. We tried to tell you at the beginning of the film but you just panned off us.

(Cut back to Podgorny on court still trying to serve; at last he makes contact and runs backward and forward to receive his own services.)

American Voice: So the world was saved! And Angus Podgomy became the first Scotsman to win Wimbledon... fifteen years later.

(Caption on screen : 'YOU'RE NO FUN ANYMORE')

Continue to the next sketch... Army Protection Racket