Man-erisms

Long-chinned Gubbins

It has long been known that Digi regard the popular cockney-me-do soap opera EastEnders if not quite with awe, then at least a certain degree of fondness. Especially for it's cardboard (not literally), clichéd, one-dimensional characters, and the storylines that revolve around the microcosm of all east London life that is Albert Square. It's these things that make it perhaps a little too easy to lampoon and send up, but hey - there's nothing wrong with that, man! And that's just what The Man has been doing, documenting these lines that never quite made it out of the mouths of the h-dropping miscreants that call themselves the cast...

EXT. ALBERT SQUARE. DAY

STEVE: You gotta get over it, Matt. Here, let me rub the back of your neck in a sinisterly over-affectionate fashion.

MATTHEW ROSE: Yip-yip. Kerrr-ruff! Gruff! Yip-yip! Snet! But I keep seeing her face, Steeeeve. Snet!

STEVE: Here's 40 quid. Go and enjoy yourself, and try to forget Saskia, who we murdered and buried in the wood.

MATTHEW ROSE: Yip-yip!. Snet! Rrrruff!

EXT. ALBERT SQUARE. DAY

STEVE: Have you two seen Matt?

LENNY: I think I saw him going over to the squat earlier.

FAT-WELSH: He kept saying something about helping to murder someone and having to bury her in the woods.

LENNY: He's such a joker!

STEVE: Yes. Joker. Ha ha ha! Do you guys like Spandau Ballet then?

FAT-WELSH: Who?

EXT. ALBERT SQUARE. DAY

BIANCA: Shout! Shout! Shout!

RICKY: Mumble mumble... y'know.

BIANCA: Shout! Shout! Shout! Shout!

RICKY: I don't know what you want me to do, Bianca.

BIANCA: Shout! Shout!

RICKY: No I never. Mumble.

BIANCA: Shout! Shout! Shout! Waaaaah?

EXT. ALBERT SQUARE. DAY

STEVE: Right, Matt. Here's the plan. As the guests walk through this door, you charge them five pounds a head. I'll stand over here with my crystal ashtray, and smack them with it as they pass.

MATTHEW: Snet! Whubber wheen?

STEVE: Don't worry, Matt. No one will ever find out.

MATTHEW: But, Steve, boc-boc-a-do!

EXT. ALBERT SQUARE. DAY

GRANT: Hey, Phil!

PHIL: What are you doing, bruv? why are you crawling around on your stomach like that?

GRANT: I'm trying to cross Albert Square "Beetle-Fashion".

PHIL: What do you mean?

GRANT: Come on and try it.

(Phil lays on the ground)

PHIL: Hey - this is real big fun!

EXT. ALBERT SQUARE. DAY

GRANT: Look at me, Phil!

PHIL: Get down off the roof of the Queen Vic, bruv. You'll do yourself a mischief.

GRANT: But I like it up here. It makes me feel like a bird.

PHIL: A bird? Are you going all noncy?

GRANT: No - a bird that flies.

PHIL: Oh. Now I understand.

INT. QUEEN VIC

PEGGY: Look, I've had Roly The Dead Dog stuffed, and mounted on the bar.

STEVE OWEN: Why has he got udders?

PEGGY: I've had him hollowed-out, and filled with spirits. Pushing each of his legs will dispense a measure. Back right leg: vodka. Back left leg: whisky. Front left leg: cherryade. Front right leg: sours.

STEVE OWEN: What happens if you pull his tail?

PEGGY: He vomits milk.

INT. QUEEN VIC

PHIL MITCHELL: What are you all looking at? Ain't you never seen a man dressed as a Mexican before?

STEVE OWEN: But, mate, you're not dressed as a Mexican.

PHIL MITCHELL: Why are you all looking at me, then?!

STEVE OWEN: Look, let's just calm down.

PHIL MITCHELL: WHY ARE YOU ALL LOOKING AT ME??!!?

STEVE OWEN: Because you're naked.

INT. QUEEN VIC

PEGGY: Who egged my son Phil Micthell? It's the biggest mystery in the history of Albert Square!

PHIL MITCHELL: That's right.

PEGGY: Phil! You're back from the dry cleaners - did you get all the egg off?

PHIL MITCHELL: Yes, thanks. But it's no longer a mystery who egged me. I can reveal that my mystery assailant was... YOU, Space Robot X47!

SPACE ROBOT X47: +++ ESCAPE MODE ACTIVATED +++

INT. QUEEN VIC

PEGGY: I'd like you all to meet the newest addition to Albert Square, my nephew, Yentil-Tot Micthell! He's sure to be a big hit with the viewers... I mean, residents of Albert Square.

YENTIL-TOT: Heyylllooossssrr.

MARK FOWLER: You never said you had a nephew, Peggy.

PEGGY: No, well, we don't like to mention him on account of the fact he's got a kitchen blender for a head.

YENTIL-TOT: I love to blend!

INT. QUEEN VIC

PEGGY: I've got some news, but it's not so good, I'm afraid. I've had to sell the Queen Vic.

MARK FOWLER: That is not so good.

PEGGY: Now, everyone, I'd like you to meet the new landlord of the Queen Vic, James The Swan!

PHIL MITCHELL: But it's just a swan.

PEGGY: Not just a swan. He's also the new landlord of the Queen Vic, and - OW! He bit me on the eye!

INT. CHIP SHOP

IAN BEALE: Look - look at me! Glug... slurp... gurgle.

DENNIS WATERMAN'S DAUGHTER: Ian, don't drink the batter mix straight out of the batter bowl! You'll give all the customers your cold sores.

IAN BEALE: I don't care about that. I just love this batter mix! Slllurp!

DENNIS WATERMAN'S DAUGHTER: Stop it, Ian. Stop smearing it around your face, and licking your lips. It makes me want to... Ugh. Now look what you've made me do - I've been sick on the cod.

INT. CHIP SHOP

MARK FOWLER: Good afternoon. I'd like fish and chips, please.

IAN BEALE: Certainly. Would you like salt and vinegar on that?

MARK FOWLER: Yes, I would. Thank you.

IAN BEALE: That's my pleasure. Here you are. Your fish and chips.

MARK FOWLER: What the...? This is just a hedgehog wrapped in newspaper.

IAN BEALE: Hee hee! Hee hee hee! A-hoo! A-hee hee hee hee hee!

INT. QUEEN VIC

PEGGY: Quick, everyone: barricade the doors, otherwise the zombie Dirty Den will get in here and eat our faces.

ZOMBIE DIRTY DEN: Iiiii wiiiillll eat your braaaaaaains.

PEGGY: Brains, faces. Whatever.

MARK FOWLER: I've got an idea. We might be able to repel the zombie Den by using a powerful smell.

PEGGY: What sort of sm... oh. Oh, THAT sort of smell. Ugh. Oh, Mark! Ohhh.

INT. QUEEN VIC

PHIL MITCHELL: Hsss. Hssss!

MARK FOWLER: What's that, Phil? You've filled your bath with blubber?

PHIL MITCHELL: Hssssrrr! Hsssss? Hssrrrr! Hssss!

MARK FOWLER: I see. And then what happened, Phil?

PHIL MITCHELL: Hhhhuuuu! Hssrrrr-hsss.

MARK FOWLER: You got mud on it? That's your fault for dragging it around.

INT. QUEEN VIC

MARK FOWLER: Now come on, Pat. Let's not be hasty: put the fork down.

PAT BUTCHER: I'll fork you all, freaks!

IAN BEALE: Why do you want to do that, Pat Butcher? What has upset you?

PAT BUTCHER: Because... I'm not really Pat Butcher. Hrrrrugrrrttttch! Buzz!

MARK FOWLER: Yoinks! Pat Butcher's head has come off, revealing that she's nothing more than a prosthetic body, playing host to a colony of hyper-intelligent space wasps!

INT. QUEEN VIC

PEGGY: Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to the new co-owner of the Queen Vic - Thom Yorke out of Radiohead!

THOM YORKE: Hello.

PEGGY: We've decided to divide two sides of the pub between us, each with different themes.

THOM YORKE: Mine's going to based around pigs in cages on antibiotics.

PEGGY: Brilliant!

Do you have any Man stuf? Do you know any of the much-sought-after Man's Daddy Jokes? If you do mail me with it right now, man.

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