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Posted: 6/16/2003 8:37:44 PM EDT
[size=6][green][b]He's on his 23rd mission.[/b][/green][/size=6]
Link Posted: 6/16/2003 8:39:08 PM EDT
[size=6][green][b]Q: What do you call a Frenchman advancing on Baghdad? A: A salesman. [/b][/green][/size=6]
Link Posted: 6/16/2003 8:59:13 PM EDT
Ladies and Gentlemen, I present you The KAMIKAZE Sketch, by Douglas Adams: FX WILD FLURRY OF FLAMENCO MUSIC WHICH CONTINUES FOR SOME TIME. VOICE: Japan 1945 FLAMENCO RESUMES. Japan! FLAMENCO MUSIC CONTINUES. WE VAGUELY SEE THE NARRATOR GOING INTO THE BAND AND, FOR INSTANCE, ATTACKING THE PIANO. JAPANESE MUSIC STARTS RELUCTANTLY AND STOPS VERY SOON. VOICE: Thank you. Japan 1945. The war was moving into its final stage. The Japanese nation was in a desperate situation... I didn't say stop the music. (HE GOES BACK TO THE BAND AGAIN.) Now look, what is it? Is it the money, come on. (FLAMENCO STARTS AGAIN.) No, flamenco won't do! What do you mean the chords are easier? Look, we've got all these Japanese instruments for you, why don't you play something on this lot? (QUICK FLAMENCO RIFF ON JAPANESE INSTRUMENTS.) Alright, we're going to have a chat about this. You lot (characters now on stage) carry on. SET CONSISTS OF A BENCH IN A BRIEFING ROOM ON WHICH SITS ONE KAMIKAZE PILOT WITH HIS GEAR AND HEADBAND ON. ON THE BENCH ARE LAID OUT THE HEADBANDS OF MANY OTHER PRESUMABLY DECEASED KAMIKAZE PILOTS. A COMMANDER STANDS TO ADDRESS THE `MEETING ON WHICH SITS ONE KAMIKAZE PILOT WITH HIS GEAR AND HEADBAND ON. ON THE BENCH ARE LAID OUT THE HEADBANDS OF MANY OTHER PRESUMABLY DECEASED KAMIKAZE PILOTS. A COMMANDER STANDS TO ADDRESS THE `MEETING'. COMM: Now, you all know the purpose of this mission. It is a kamikaze mission. Your sacred task is to destroy the ships of the American fleet in the Pacific. This will involve the deaths of each and everyone of you. Including you. PILOT: Me sir? CoMM: Yes you. You are a kamikaze pilot? PILOT: Yes sir. COMM: What are you? PILOT: A kamikaze pilot sir. COMM: And what is your function as a kamikaze pilot? PILoT: To lay down my life for the Emperor sir! COMM: How many missions have you flown on? PILOT: Nineteen sir. COMM: Yes, I have the reports on your previous missions here. (FLIPS THROUGH EACH ONE.) Let's see. Couldn't find target, couldn't find target, got lost, couldn't find target, forgot to take headband, couldn't find target, couldn't find target, headband slipped over eyes, couldn't find target, came back with headache... PILOT: Headband too tight sir. COMM: Vertigo, couldn't find target all the rest, couldn't find target. Now I don't think you've been looking very hard. PILOT: Yes I have sir, I've looked all over the place! COMM: You see, it's not actually that difficult bearing in mind that we do have a highly sophisticated reconnaissance unit whose job it is to tell you where to find the targets. PILOT: Well, it's not always accurate sir, sometimes one can search for hours and not see a single aircraft carrier. COMM: Well, where exactly have you been looking for these aircraft carriers? PILOT: Er, well sir... COMM: (FLIPPING THROUGH NOTES.)... I mean, I notice for instance that you seem to have more or less ignored the sea. I would have thought that the sea was quite a promising area. PILOT: Yes sir... COMM: And that the airspace directly above Tokyo was not. And another thing... PILOT: Yes sir? COMM: Skip the victory rolls. PILOT: Sir, you're being unfair, I have flown over the sea lots of times. I actually attacked an aircraft carrier once. COMM: Ah yes, I have the details of your `attack' here. Mission nineteen. Let's see. Take off 0500 hours proceeded to target area, nice start. Target spotted 0520 hours, good, climbed to a height of 6000ft, prepared for attack, went into a power dive, and successfully... landed on target. PILOT: I had to go wee wees sir. Caught short. But I took off again immediately sir. Good job too - one of our lads crashed straight into it. Poor devil didn't stand a chance.  COMM: What? PILOT: No sir - and that really got me upset, and I was going to let `em really have it -I was going to whip it straight out, fly in low and lob it straight through the dining room porthole - that would have sorted them out. COMM: You were going to do what? PILOT: Cut it straight out and let `em have it, whee splat right in the middle of their breakfast. They'd have known we meant business then alright sir. COMM: What were you going to cut straight out and throw into their breakfast? PILOT: My stomach sir. Oh yes, I'd like to see the expressions on their faces when the great squelchy mass plummetted right into. . . COMM: Wait. . . wait a moment, let me just get this clear in my mind. You were going to cut out... PILOT: My stomach, yes sir, kamikaze... (DOES HARA- KIRI GESTURE.) COMM: You were going to cut out your stomach and... throw it at the enemy? PILOT: Yes sir, straight at them. COMM: Any particular reason? PILOT: Die for the Emperor sir. COMM: And what purpose would that serve? PILOT: Make the enemy feel guilty sir.
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