The First-Ever *LIVE* Parrot Sketch!
by Saint & White Knight, parrot haters and undergarment inspectors

(The scene: A man, Mr. Praline, wearing a skin-tight polyethelene suit
enters the "Similar Pet Shops Ltd." in Bolton, carrying a parrot cage
with a brilliantly colored parrot within ...)


Praline: `Ello. I would like to register a complaint. ... "Ello Miss?

Shopkeeper: Yes?

Praline: Aren't you going to object to my calling you Miss?

Shopkeeper: Nah. `Appens all the time.

Praline: I wish to register a complaint.

Shopkeeper: Oh, lucky we just opened our new Complaints Department, innit?

Praline: Nevertheless, I wish to complain about this parrot what I purchased not
         half an hour ago, from this very boutique!

Shopkeeper: Oh yea? The ... uh .. the China Red? What's ... uh ... what's wrong
         wivvit?

Praline: I'll tell you what's wrong with it my lad. It's bloody alive! That's
         what's wrong with it.

Shopkeeper: Nah. It's dead alright. Must be possessed.

Praline: *Possessed*? What kind of talk is that? Look matey, I know a live
         parrot when I see one, and I'm lookin' at one right now!

Shopkeeper: Oh yes, it's very nice. But it is dead ... and it's possessed. Yeah,
        that's it. `Appens all the time. They get knocked off and demons start
        takin' over their bodies. But still, they're remarkable birds, weren't
        they? But you can tell when they're about to come over all dead when
        all the color runs out of their plumage.

Praline: The plumage don't enter into it. This bird is alive!

Shopkeeper: No, he's dead, sir. I promise you.
        (He whips out an enormous crucifix and hurls it at the parrot, which
        squawks loudly and darts out of the way.) See? It's afraid of the cross!
        Bloody proof of the undead, I tell you?

Praline: That was because you threw a great hunk of metal at it. If some bloody
        loon hurled a three ton chunk of steel at me, I'd get out of the way
        right bloody quick as well!

Shopkeeper: No. No. No. He's dead. He only bolted because the undead have an
        immortal fear of religious icons! That's a bloody Dracula bird, that is!

Praline: Listen, I have a fear of religious icons too...especially when they're
        aimed straight away at my head!

Shopkeeper: Well ... your fear is physical. It's based in the material world
        of man, television sets and false bra padding. His fear's supernatural.
        All things undead can't bear the sight of stuff like this.

Praline: Look my friend, I happen to know, that this is "Lord Heath's House
        of Real Live, Undead Parrots" and I took the liberty of examining that
        bird when I got it home and I found that the only reason it didn't
        smell of rotting flesh, was that it had been recently bathed!

Shopkeeper: Well of course it was bathed! Listen mush, if I hadn't bathed that
        bird, he'd have started decomposin' already, feathers gettin' into 
        everything, and he'd be drawing maggots and vultures from miles away.

Praline: Miles away? Mate this parrot couldn't draw the bloody Grim Reaper away
        from an episode of "SeaQuest DSV!" He's bloody livin'!

Shopkeeper: He's not livin'! He's passed on! He's ceased to be. This parrot is
        no more! He's expired and gone to meet his maker. He's a stiff. Bereft
        of life, `e rests in peace. If you hadn't run him back in here, he'd
        be pushin' up the daisies! He's rung down the curtain and joined the
        bleedin' choir invisible! This ... is an ex-parrot!

Praline: He's not dead! Look he's preening!

Shopkeeper: He's not preening! He's passed on! Look at `im! He's trying to
        suck his own blood out of his wing!

Praline: Look, I've had enough of this. I came in here to get myself a nice 
        dead parrot and that's not what you sold me. I came in here ....

Shopkeeper: Oh no. You came in here for an argument ....

Praline: (looks at Shopkeeper quizically) Eh?

Shopkeeper: Sorry, wrong page. (to someone off-camera) Line?

(voice from nowhere) Well-I'd-better-replace-it-then.

Shopkeeper: Thank you. Won't happen again. Now then ... Well, I'd better replace
        it then. (He winks at camera)

Praline: If you want to get anything done in this country, you got to sleep with
        a bloody presidential candidate!

Shopkeeper: Sorry Squire. But I've had a look out back, and we're right out of
        dead parrots. I ... uh ... I got .... a herring!

Praline: Is it dead?

Shopkeeper: No, but it was coughing up blood last night, and it doesn't move
        around too much.

Praline: Then it's scarcely a replacement then, is it!?!

Shopkeeper: Tell you what, feed him some of this salmon mousse I nicked from
        that old movie set from Part VII of "The Meaning of Life" and he'll be
        sprouting another pair of wings ... if you get my meanin'.
        (He winks and nudges Mr. Praline, who suddenly realizes what's going on)

Praline: Oh, you didn't use *canned* salmon, did you?

Shopkeeper: Yeah, got it from the Grill-O-Mat in Paignton. They got good Spam
        there. you know.

Praline: So I've heard. My cousin, Thor, eats there quite often.

Shopkeeper: Yeah, feed `im some of that ... and he'll be stone dead in a moment.

Praline: Who, my cousin Thor?

Shopkeeper: No, the parrot.  (Whispers under his breath) Wanker!

Praline: Oh, Right. How do I know he won't go for a walk?

Shopkeeper: He's not foolin' anybody, you know.

Praline: Right! I'll have that one then!

(The End. Praline, the Shopkeeper, the parrot and the herring all bow to the
applause, but don't talk to the audience.)      

Thank you. Thank you. We don't morally censure. We just want the money.
If you liked this skit, send $19.95 to either:

                Up the Bangers
                313, The Crescent
                Third Water Pipe Along
                Pudney, SW-2