Gunge Grand Prix – Matches 160-192 Results

Hi All,

Here are the results for the latest set of matches for the 2016 Gunge Grand Prix:

161 136 Marina Diamandis 72-28 Kate Upton 172
162 174 Alex Kingston 44-56 Mindy Kaling 195
163 240 Jane Hill 12-88 Louisa Johnson 155
164 238 Sophie Raworth 31-69 Elizabeth Olsen 273
165 121 Arryn Zech 16-84 Emily Blunt 419
166 47 Olivia Wayne 73-27 Lauren Harris 397
167 350 Coco Austin 51-49 Maya Rudolph 193
168 303 Jessica Knappett 17-83 Ashley Jenkins 127
169 158 Zoella 56-44 Nikki Sanderson 335
170 82 Ariana Grande 86-14 Lola Kirke 271
171 387 Cheryl Fernandez-Versini 63-37 Pippa Middleton 358
172 466 Torrie Wilson 32-68 Kaley Cuoco 431
173 302 Lydia Rose Bewley 55-45 Shaileene Woodley 418
174 263 Noel Wells 17-83 Katie Newville 126
175 189 Julia Hardy 16-84 Shantel Vansanten 411
176 229 Melissa Benoist 40-60 Laura Trott 68
177 354 Emma Roberts 77-23 Bethany Mota 157
178 491 Katherine Isabelle 39-61 Charlotte Hawkins 64
179 79 Nikki Minaj 22-78 Katrina Bowden 55
180 111 Nikki Storm V Tove Lo 486
181 199 Kim Kardashian 28-72 Leigh-Anne Pinnock 33
182 297 Britt Baker 27-73 Hayley McQueen 29
183 247 Miranda Krestovnikoff V Aisha Tyler 423
184 249 Sally Nugent 35-65 Brooke Tessmacher 101
185 226 Aliona Vilani 57-43 Frankie Bridge 38
186 24 Kym Marsh 69-31 Elize Ryd 4
187 3 Hayley Williams 28-72 Mollie King 50
188 394 Amelia Bath 86-14 Lady Gaga 76
189 154 Kelly Brook 69-31 Jess Glynne 83
190 512 Phillipa Soo 68-32 Sharon den Adel 89
191 61 Suzie Dent 62-38 Neev Spencer 253
192 463 Delta Goodrem 48-52 Ronda Rousey 15

Please note there are issues with two votes: Miranda Krestovnikoff v Aisha Tyler’s poll link did not appear on the page for some reason (and won’t appear now), so if you want to vote on this one, please hit the direct link: http://poll.fm/5m192

The other match involved Nikki Storm v Tove Lo, where another match’s vote was duplicated on the vote page. Therefore both these votes will remain open until 9.30pm next Monday.

Matches 193-224 will be live as of tomorrow at 8pm, as we enter the final 2 weeks of the first round, so stay tuned, and keep on voting!

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Winter and the Dip.

Winter took a deep breath as she peered down at the round oval pool in the middle of the brightly lit studio. Winter, a sophomore at Yazoo County Highschool felt herself on edge. She had been dragged into this little stunt by her fellow anime club members. The honey blonde girl, wore a simple pastel blue sundress, the light cotton dress hugged her body, and showed her every curve of her budding body.

A slight frown winkled her face as she peered down at the pool, from her vantage point, just three feet away from the surface, she could see the pool held at least a hundred or so gallons of thick slop. Instead of being one solid color, it seemed to a patchwork.

Orange and green seemed to swirl together. Patches of pink and yellow swirled together and flowed into the blocks of orange and lime green. Deep red colors formed toward the center. Her frown deepen as the fact dawned on her. All of that goo was for her, should she fail to answer a battery of three questions. Three random questions are all that stood between her and that horrible mixture.

Her musing was interrupted by a sudden female voice.

“Everything okay up there?” The voice asked, the voiced belong to a women, who looked to be around thirty. She had raven colored hair that reached down to her shoulder blades. She wore a simple midnight black dress that reached down to her knees. Three inch heel shoes completed her look.

“Yes..” Lied Winter as she turned her head to face the source of the voice. “Just thinking.” She added again, one could sense a hint of sourness in her voice.

“About what?” The voice came again.

Winter rolled her eyes. Before answering the women’s question.

“Personal matters.” Winter said in a flat tone of voice before reaching up, quickly she took a stay lock of her hair into her hand. Still frowning she started to play with the lose lock of hair.

“To each her own.” The women said rolling her shoulders. Being the host of the now popular local game show “Win or Drop” She had seen her fair share of people come and go. Some had won the small cash bounty of one thousand dollars. Others ended up taking a dip into the one hundred gallons of funk called by the crew and her the “Dip.”

“Just so you know, where going live in ten or so minutes.” She said grinning softy as she walked away, she needed a quick pre-show snack. And so giving Winter a good natured wink she stepped out of the halo of light cast by the bright stage lights that hung overhead.

Winter said nothing, she only watched her to pass into the shadows. Leaving her along with just her thoughts to her company. Shrugging her shoulders and looking down at the foul mixture that seemed to bubble under the blistering heat of the stage lamps. A heat that could only be compared the hottest, sultriest of days of August. Steeling herself she started to ponder the events that had lead to her being here. It had been in sheer jest she had sent a email off to production crew stating that she had always wanted to get messy on T.V and that she was willing to roll the dice.

When she pushed the “Enter” key, the thought there was a million in one chance that she would selected. After all how many Emails, Letters, Write ins poured into there office on a weekly bases. And not just from Mississippi mind you, Winter was sure that viewers from Arkansas and Louisiana also wrote in. But providence had somehow seen it fit to have her one mail selected. And so one week from the date of sending the email off. A small cream colored envelope arrived at her mothers P.O box. The letter had been to addressed to one “Miss Winter Mari Bell.” That was the first line, the second line was “P.O Box 1289” And the third and final line was “Yazoo City, MS, 39194.”

Upon opening the envelope, she found letter detailing everything. At the end of the letter, she found attached a train ticket, it seemed Amtrak was one sponsors of the show, since they had agreed to give her a around trip ticket from there request stop in Yazoo City, to Union Station in downtown Jackson. Along with the train tickets, she found a voucher for a local hotel and a few meal tickets.

Now, twenty four hours later, she found herself perched above the bubbling pool. Her face twisted again as she peered toward its bubbling surface, big green air bubbled to the surface, giving her the twisted appearance that the thing was alive. Her musing was interrupted by women returning.

“Okay Winter, where live in..” The women called out to her. She then started the count down, first holding up five fingers, then four, then three, then two and finally one. And then from behind one of the cameras, a stagehand called out. “Where rolling.”

“Welcome, welcome all.” The women said smiling softy. “I’m the host with the most, the stunning Erin and joining me with me, is the lovely little southern belle Winter who has traveled from Yazoo City to be with us tonight.” She said smiling as she pointed upward toward Winter.

Smiling softy the young girl offered a little wave from her perch.

“As you can tell.” Erin said smiling softy as she peered again toward the camera. “Are lovely one has already taken her perch above the goo of doom. Also she dressed to the nines as well.” Erin quickly added with a small wink.

Winter blushed a little as she waved down from her perch. Her blush only grew deeper when the fact that millions of people across a three or four state area. And there was no telling how many people would be recording this show to later upload to social media sites. Quickly she took a deep breath to steady herself.

“How’s the view from up there darling?” Called out Erin as she strolled over to the ramp. Erin loved playing with the feeling of her host. She took great pleasure in drawing them out of there shell or making them wiggle like a worm who had been hooked onto a fisherman’s hook.

“Pretty good.” Winter said blushing as she started to play with the helm of her dress.

“Wonderful, lets hope you can keep that view. Now for those just tuning in for the first time, let me tell you a little about this game.” Started Erin as she strolled away from the ramp and toward the center of the stage.

“The rules are simple. I’m going to ask Winter a series of ten questions. For every correct answer she gets. A cash bounty of one hundred dollars will earned. For every wrong answer though, we’ll where going to crank that little girl up a peg.” A wicked little grin crossed Erin’s face as she paused to let the tension build a little. Slowly she shifted her eyes toward the girl perched just above the slop. She was still playing with the helm of her dress, no doubt to keep those butterflies at bay.

“Five incorrect answer’s and its straight into the dip with her.” Erin said finally after a good minute or so had passed. “And let me tell you ladies and gentleman. It smells just as bad as it looks.” She said winking a little as she turned her eyes toward Winter.

Winter blushed and slowly she started to sweat drop.

“Okay Question number one.” Erin said reaching for a small stack of small cards. “Winter dear, going on the questionnaire you filled out, it seems your two favorite book series are ‘Harry Potter’ and ‘Wheel of Time’ so with that in mind. Are writers have whipped up a series of ten questions based on those two book series.” Erin said as she looked down at the first question.

Winter nodded her head in understanding.

“Okay your first question my dear. How does one get to platform nine and three quarters?” Erin Asked.

A small smile crossed winters face.

“Oh that easy, all you gotta do is go between platform nine and ten at King’s cross station. A charm will then transport you to platform’s nine and three quarters.” She said with a smug look upon her face.

“Correct, that’s one hundred dollars for you.” Erin said, she then turned toward the camera closet to her. “Also, I would like to add, that Winter gets to keep all the prize money she won. So even if she goes into the dip, she’ll be walking away with as it stands right now, one hundred dollars.”

Winter could not help but smile a little at the news.

“Okay question, who was the Harry Potter actress who was slime during the two thousand and six super bowl?” Erin said smiling a little.

Winter blinked and blinked again as she peered toward Erin. Gently she rolled her shoulders as she muttered softy under her breath. “I don’t know.” She said pouting softy as she waited for the correct answer to be reveled.

“Oh sorry dear,” Erin said flipping to the next question. “Emma Watson was the answer we where looking for.”

A soft blush colored Winters face as she felt the chair she was sitting upon move up to a point marked “Number One”.

“Charming.” Erin said grinning like a cat about to pounce on a bird. “Four more to go darling and you’ll be taking a swim in are lovely pool.” And with that she cleared her throat and read the next question.

“When released stateside, the original title of the first potter book was changed to ’Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s stone’ Give us the original title of the book please.” Erin asked, still smiling.

Winter blinked and blinked again. Quickly she started to rack her brain for the answer. She knew the answer, she was sure she did. But her latest setback had caused her to doubt herself. And maybe she’ll happy with just one hundred dollars.

“I think it was.. ’Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.” She said smiling a little. Taking a deep breath she crossed herself as she waited judgment.

Erin frowned a little and shook her head.

“I was hoping to crank you up again, but it seems that you are correct. Add another one hundred dollars to your total score dear.” She said going to the next question.

“Next Question.” Erin said quickly moving onto the next question. “Name the year that Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s stone was published in the United Kingdom.” Erin said, there was a hopeful twinkle in her eyes as she waited to see if the little Belle would get the answer right or not. She wanted to crank her up again.

Winter froze. Frowning a little she gently rolled her shoulder. Slowly she bite down upon her bottom lip as she peered toward Erin, who was standing in the center of the spotlight. A deep blush colored her face as she started to rack her brain once more. Her thinking progress was derailed though when women came onto stage. She wore a simple white shirt that was bore the words “Stage Crew” in bold black letters on the back. The women then whispered something into Erin’s ears.

“Okay, okay.” Erin said to the stage hand. “Yes I do understand, thank you dear heart.” Once the stage hand had left the stage, Erin turned her full attention toward Winter. A small little smile graced her face.

“First let me have your answer.” She said. “Then I’ll fill you in on that little talk, it might work out for the best. Or it might send you to a early doom and smelly gloom.” She teased a little.

Winter shook her head and pouted as her chair was moved up another level. Once the chair came to a rest. Winter shifted her view toward Erin. Right now she was three questions away from a very smelly end.

“Sorry about that. The answer was 1997.” She said smiling a little as she peered toward the pouting girl. “Because it seems something big is going down and NewsChannel21 is cutting into are time.” She paused to build a sense of drama. “So this next question will decided if you get six hundred dollars cash money. Or if you go into the dip!”

Winter did not trust herself to speak, so she only nodded her head a little as she waited for the final question to be reveled.

“For six hundred dollars and the win.” Erin said smiling softy. “Robert Jordon, author and mastermind behind the ‘Wheel of Time’ earned what decorations in Vietnam War?”

Winter blinked and blinked again before putting on a cute little pout. “I’m honesty not sure. I’ve only read ’Eye of the World’, ’The Great Hunt’, ’The Dragon Reborn’, and ’The Shadow Rising’.” She said gently rolling her shoulders.”

“We’ll then.” Erin said smiling a little as she watched Winter being pulled to the very top of the ramp, swiftly she moved past check point number three, then number four passed in the blink of a eye and finally number five. Once she reached the very top a loud metal click was heard.

“Now Winter, before we send you into the slime. Do you have any last words? Anything you’ll like to say to the viewers at home?” Erin asked as she wrapped her hands around the trigger that would send the seat flying down the ramp.

Blushing like a bride at the alter. Winter took a deep breath and said. “I would like to thank you guys for having me. I would also like to give a shout out to my cousin Susan Elizabeth Bell! And all my peeps at Yazoo County Highschool!” She called out grinning like a fool.

“I’m sure your going to be the talk of the town after this.” Erin stated as she wrapped her fingers around the trigger. Once her fingers where wrapped around the trigger she gave it a good pull.

Winter closed her eyes as she felt the chair come to live again. Shutting them even tighter she felt the chair starting to move down the ramp, a second later, she found herself being tossed into the air, and the next thing she knew, she was under the gunge. Her world became one huge swirl of yellow and pink, orange and blue. Quickly she broke the surface of the muck. Tossing her hair back she tried in vain to look around her. She then noticed a little rumbling over head. Action on her natural curiosity she looked up, only to greeted with a face full of thick, greenish slime that rained down.

A girlish screamed escaped her lips as she felt her face get covered with the thick greenish slime. It took a minute but soon she had collected herself enough to wade from the center of the pool onto the stage. A grinning host was there to offer her a helping hand.

“You’ve been a wonderful sport darling.” Erin said helping her up. “A big round of applause for are little southern belle!” She requested as she hauled the mock soaked teen from the pit and onto the stage.

Still smiling, Winter stood there as droplets of gunge dripped from her dress and from her coated and matted hair. The sound deafening sound of a hundred pairs of hands, applauding her filled the air amid a dozen or so good natured cat calls. Blushing a little, Winter did the only thing she could think of. She offered a curtsey.

The End.

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Comeuppance – Episode 9 result

SianEp9-3

The segment opens with Sian sitting amongst the hen party in the seat that Leah once occupied.

Sian: Welcome to the final part of this edition of Comeuppance, presented by me, Sian Welby! There’s been a big response to the developments of the previous segment, so thanks to everybody who’s dialled in to have their say. Voting is of this moment closed, so please stop calling; your vote won’t figure into our final scores, but a charge might yet appear on your bill.

Sian turns to a woman sitting beside her, who is dressed in a fairy costume.

Heidi

Sian: I’m speaking here with Heidi, Leah’s best friend and maid of honour. Heidi, it was also you who contacted us to set Leah up, wasn’t it?

Heidi: [with pride] That’s right Sian.

Sian: You and your crew must be pleased with the way the scores are shaping up.

Heidi: Absolutely delighted. I mean, it would be rude not to dunk her on her hen night!

There’s a chorus of agreement from Heidi’s fellow revellers. Up on the stage, Leah shakes her head with a wry smile.

Sian: Well Heidi, I have potentially more good news for you. If Leah gets voted for a comeuppance – and I stress it’s only an if – it’s only fair that you should press the button to send her in! Come up on the stage with me!

Heidi’s eyes light up. She and Sian get to their feet and go up onto the stage.

Sian: Gail and Ashley, don’t go thinking you’re safe; this is still an open contest. Gail, what did you promise you will do if you get voted into the Mucky Dip?

Gail: [decidedly less confident than earlier] Kiss a pig.

Sian: Indeed you did, and we’ve got hold of one for that very purpose. Tom, bring out the pig please!

One of the guards walks out carrying a giant piggy bank. There are a few groans of disappointment from the audience.

Sian: Oh come on, it’s the best we could do at short notice. This ain’t the Bullingdon Club! [Taps earpiece] Ok, I’m getting word that verification is complete. The scores are in!

The lights dim, save the three spotlights, and the dramatic music begins. Leah has a hand against the side of her face, looking more resigned than tense. Yet despite the huge lead she commanded at half time, her co-contestants Ashley and Gail look a little unnerved.

Sian: The people have voted, and their decision is as follows.

 

 

ep9result

Leah squeals and puts her hands over her face. Heidi jumps for joy and the hen party likewise cheer below. Gail and Ashley high-five, or at least would have done if their cages had been close enough.

Sian: Twas never going to be any other way, was it? Lads, take her away for an early honeymoon!

Sian’s heavies duly haul a squeamishly grinning Leah our of her cage. Leah flashes a look to Heidi as she is marched away to the chair.

Sian:Ashley leaves Heidi, you get yourself over by the plinth. [Unlocks Ashley’s cage] I’m afraid I have a more galling task to perform first. [Unlocks Gail’s cage with a sigh] Everyone brace yourselves for some double disappointment!

Ashley and Gail step out of their cages grinning.

Sian: Ashley, you lived up to your oily stereotype tonight, so it’s a frustrating irony that you and your suit will return to the forecourt clean, dry and fragrant. How do you feel?

Ashley: [pumping her fist] Loving it Sian! I knew I wouldn’t be a lemon.

Sian: And Gail, it’s been a rollercoaster ride for you. You came very close to a Comeuppance last week, but Leah saved your bacon this time. Sad to say, you won’t be going anywhere near that pig or our stenchy slop. Are you “somewhat satisfied” or “very satisfied”?

Gail: GailLeavesExtremely satisfied!

Sian: I’m sure you are! Instant reaction on Twitter is that the two of you are the jammiest dodgers on the series so far, so here are those trophies. Ashley, I trust this will look very spruce in your showroom, and Gail, you can take this door to door to wind up the householders you prey on. Thanks, both of you, for coming on the show.

Jammy Dodger TrophyJammy Dodger TrophyAshley: You’re welcome Sian. In fact, Gail and I enjoyed ourselves so much, we’ve clubbed together to get you a present.

Sian [warily] Right, what is it?

Gail: It’s a 500-question telephone survey about cars!

Sian: Forget it! I haven’t got the patience to sit through five hundred questions!

Gail: [sweetly] We thought of that. That’s why I’m going to phone you up to ask you a single question each day!

Ashley: [with a mean-spirited grin] For the next 500 days!

Sian: [face falls] How wonderful. Ladies and gents, an infuriated round of applause for these two escapees.

The audience dole out their usual tepid clap to Ashley and Gail, who walk off-stage chuckling and slapping each other on the back.

Sian: But looking on the bright side, this outcome means that we’ll start the next episode with a clean slate. In fact, that’s a clue to what the theme will be, so make sure you tune in for it! [Arrives at the plinth, where a chuffed Heidi is waiting] And make sure you stay tuned in now, because Leah our hairdressing hen is all set for a shampoo and colouring in our salon of slime!

The now-familiar tune of doom strikes up, accompanying a side-on view the morass of multi-coloured gunge in the Mucky Dip. The camera lifts away from the gaudy goo, meeting Leah’s fishnet-clad feet just over a yard up, and continuing up her slender shins and thighs. The fluffy hem of her costume bunches awkwardly, and Leah either doesn’t realise or doesn’t care that a pair of red sequined panties are quite literally flashing at the audience. Onwards the camera rises, panning over Leah’s lace-up bodice, and finally arriving at her head. Leah has her arms outstretched in good-natured resignation to her fate. She peers down and exchanges some banter with Heidi.

Leah awaits her Comeuppance

Sian: Leah, you were hoping for a messy hen night, and you’re certainly going to get one! How long to the wedding – three weeks, did you say? Mmmmm… you should be clean by then!

Leah puts her hands to her face with a squeamish giggle.

Sian: Heidi, this is your big moment, so if you would stand right here for the camera – that’s it – and get ready with that button. [Backs away] Leah, from all your friends who get rinsed in your salon…

Sian, Heidi and audience: HERE IS YOUR COMEUPPANCE!!!

With a huge grin, Heidi heaves down the button with both hands. Instead of the usual explosions and sparks around the studio, a siren wails. A second later it is joined by a second wailing – coming out of Heidi’s mouth. A fountain of green slime engulfs the maid of honour, erupting KCA-style from a couple dozen nozzles concealed in the stage in a ring around her. Some of the nozzles spray high, splashing Heidi in the face and chest and coating her hair. But causing more consternation are those jetlets aimed lower down – straight up her dress! Up in the chair, Leah laughs and claps heartily as she watches this reversal of fortunes.

Screaming, and with the encircling wall of goo providing no easy route of escape, Heidi leaps into the air like a ballerina. When she returns to earth her feet slide on the stage and she topples over, landing belly-down on top of the spurting jets. Her pink fairy dress is now a snotty green, her wings sodden and her hair dripping. Spluttering, she blindly tries to fight her way to her feet, but can get neither traction nor bearing, and slips over again. Leah is in fits at the sight of her friend rolling about in the goo, and the Hen Party cheers wildly.

The upblast slows to a trickle and then stops completely, leaving a big green puddle in which the equally green maid of honour flounders. The guards step in and haul her to her feet.

Sian: [hastily backstepping as the puddle spreads outwards] And the surprises keep coming! Heidi, we couldn’t let you get off scot-free after being so mean to your best friend!

Now back on her feet, Heidi laughs ruefully as she wipes her face. Gunge drips from the collapsed hem of her dress.

Sian: But I’m not sure what you have to cackle about, Leah! Things are about to get far worse for you! [Takes out a white remote control with a single red button] On behalf of everyone who’s narked by haughty hairdressers or rowdy hen parties…

Sian and audience: HERE IS YOUR COMEUPPANCE!!!

Aiming the remote, Sian presses the button. This time the grand sound and light show duly materialises, and Leah screams as the chair succumbs to gravity. The bride-to-be plops into the Mucky Dip, sending the multicoloured slop overspilling the rim in a vertical rainbow down the side of the tank. The cables shimmy for a few seconds then pull up, returning the hen to her starting position, as the trombone plays the four notes of Here Comes The Bride, slightly out of tune.

Leah emerges totally slathered in the thick blancmangesque gunk, decorated with haphazard streaks and splotches of the various vivid hues. No trace of black remains in her costume, which weighs wetly against her body, her arm-veils dangling saturated. Leah’s legs are coated from her squirming toes all the way up to her lap, where her skirt has turned inside-out, exposing her. There is, however, no sign of those sequined panties under the large pile of muck around her crotch, and Leah seems to have overlooked this malfunction, more preoccupied with the overwhelming assault on her senses.

Higher up, Leah’s face and the rest of her head have become one under a mask of colour. Her devil-horns can be made out as two lumpy protrusions, one jade the other a deep violet, and behind them her hair bun has become a mound of orange and green. Leah’s mouth gapes as wide as is surely possible, her eyes blinking and darting in shock amidst the gunge. She leans forwards in the chair, arching her back as she spreads her arms in front of her.

Down in the audience, her hen party pals are going mental, pogoing in their seats and slapping each other on the shoulders. Heidi too claps and laughs as she stands dripping.

As Leah begins to laugh – a hysterical, half-screaming laugh – a great load of white gunk tops her off from above, racheting her hysterics yet higher.

Sian: Wowee!! I do love a white wedding! Super! [In a loud whisper] Uh, Leah… Leah darling, you need to sort yourself out downstairs.

Confused, Leah looks down and emits a further shriek of embarrassment as she sees the compromising configuration of her dress. She hurriedly pulls the ruined garment over her legs as best she can.

Sian: Well that brings a whole new meaning to “bridal shower”, and it’s only fitting that we relive the big moment in super slow-mo.

The replay shows Leah cringe and squeal as the chair drops. The red tips of her horns are the last part of her in view, the multicoloured muck splashing around them as they descend into the Dip.

Sian: And from our eye in the sky!

Leah’s plunge is shown from the overhead perspective. As the chair hits the muck, her dress rides up before disappearing into the gloop. The churning colours wash over Leah’s brunette hair and devil horns, completing her immersion.

Sian: And finally, the moment the tables turn on Heidi!

As Heidi stands triumphantly at the plinth, the jets of green erupt from the floor to meet her. Heidi’s expression first changes to confusion, then she shrieks in shock. Her face is a perfect picture when a blast of green hits home between her legs.

Back in the present, Heidi stands wringing her hair out. Leah has scooped the worst from her face and is trying to clean out her ears.

Leah: Leah, considering you knew nothing about this until a few hours ago, you’ve taken it extremely well, so thanks for being a tremendous sport. We all wish you and Mark a wonderful wedding and happy marriage. Let’s hope the guests don’t all pinch their noses when you walk down the aisle! At least you’re wearing something blue – and green, and purple, and red, and yellow, and orange… ha ha ha!

Leah: [with mock sternness] Needless to say, Sian, you’re not invited!

Sian: [feigning a hurt expression] Awww!! And I’d gone to the trouble of getting some confetti for you!

Confetti duly rains from the heavens onto Leah – a moderate sprinkle at first, then great heaps of the stuff. The tiny bits of paper stick all over Leah’s head, face and body, adding yet another layer of colour.

Sian: In case you’re wondering where all this stuff comes from, take a look up there.

Sian gestures the cameraman to aim upwards. In the rafters of the studio is a walkway, upon which Sasha Holdsworth is stationed with a bounty of supplies.

Sasha: Hi there Leah! Many Congratulations! [Empties another box]

Sian: Sasha, I think Heidi would like some confetti too!

While Heidi stands having confetti dumped on her in the background of the shot, Sian circumnavigates the puddle of slime and stands at the front of the stage.

Sian: And the bells are ringing out to mark the end of this episode. Thanks for watching, thanks for voting, see you again soon!

The outro music commences and Sian waves as the shot recedes. The camera sweeps out over the audience, including the jubilant hen party. Leah and Heidi share a joke as the confetti continues to assail them. The parting scene is a slow-mo replay of a very colourful and gungy Leah rising from the Mucky Dip.

Posted in Gunge, Stories | 4 Comments

The rest of Ketnet Kingsize thus far

2fabiola abigail anna astrid azkatom coaches d5r daphne embrects1 embrects2 frank1 frank2 frank3 frank4 frankde giovanni helden1 helden2 jaelle jasper jaspernew kampanian kathleen ketnetband kimclijsters kobe kompor kristof laura1 laura2 musical1 musical2 nawlen1 nawlen2 regi sergio sistersonly strum tomkath tomvan tomwaes willem williamboeva

Posted in Stories | 6 Comments

Gunge The Witch

The following is fiction.  It is also a big step away from my usual kind of stories, and from the light-hearted game show format that is particularly popular.  This is not because I dislike such stories or got bored with them, but an idea popped into my head while listening to Radiohead and here we are, with an experimental piece.  Beware if you dislike gross wam, are a vegetarian, are religious, scientific, conservative, liberal, a history buff, or a carpenter.

Even when I was caught, I assumed I’d get away with it. They’ll wag their fingers, cluck their tongues, preen as I hang my head in the expected show of contrition. This isn’t real, I told myself. This is a dream, a fantasy, some dark imagining. This is not truly happening. This is not how the world works.

Not for one second did I think that being trussed up and paraded to the town square would end exactly the way that had been promised. I held my head high when they came for me, made a show of shaking my shackles as they pinned my hands behind my back. I spat at their dour faces and rankled as they pushed me toward the stake.

It is a curious thing to me now, to imagine that this is a thing. An industry, even. Stakes are crafted by carpenters, hewn out of the wood of a tree cut down in its prime. They even sand it to avoid splinters. It is a thing designed for a purpose and at every stage that purpose is kept in mind. It is the same with the shackles, shaped to contain a human’s hands, built out of sturdy stuff to ensure they remain trapped.

Trapped was not how I felt when they hoisted me up, mad hands of the rabble gripping and shoving like a tempestuous sea. In the blur of limbs and faces, I could not be sure who it was that pulled my hands over the shaft, or what enterprising little sneak cupped my backside. Before long, my feet were tied too, and my restraints were threaded like a needle over the wooden pole. The crowd held it inches above the muddy ground. There I dangled, hair trailing in the dirt, like a boar heading for the fire.

Something burned in this village, but at least it would not be me. The roast would be metaphorical; we had evolved beyond the beasts and the boars. Perhaps not the bores, though. The parson’s voice droned on, as he had done since this whole thing began, wailing and lamenting about my heinous crimes. Boots sloshed in the mud, murmurs of disapproval rippled through the crowd, as I was carried to the village green.

Green is a generous term. The summer heat and winter frigidty left it as sparse as the parson’s head. Sad tufts poked from a greasy ground; there was little for cattle to chew on but somehow they had left plenty of their own parcels anyway. This filthy patch of earth would be my place of atonement; a withered wreck, still somehow remaining the focus of all the town.

The crowd fell silent now. The only noise was the roaring wind, whipping my robe around my body. They had stuffed it over me before shackling me, knowing already what the sentence would be. The garment of shame, they called it, because of course they had to have an outfit for this sort of thing. All things had a purpose, and so many hands worked to fashion them for those ends. I wonder if they enjoyed it. I’m sure some enjoyed that it was far too big, spilling widely open at the front, drooping off one shoulder.

The parson squawked again. This time I listened to what he said, as he put on his pantomime for the rustic rubes, warning of the dire consequences of allowing indulgence to go unchastised.

“Before us stands a sinner of the highest order!”

Stands, sure. Not much else I could do when trussed up against a post.

“She has been caught red handed in the most wicked indulgence, and knowing well that it was wrong and sickens the soul of all, she tried to hide her crime among the straw of the barn!”

Well, naturally I wanted a little privacy. And I can only assume the same of the two boys who caught me. What else were they there for? Mucking out the long dead pigs?

“A woman who lies in animal bedding has taken on the aspect of the animals! And we are all familiar with that sort.”

As if stage-managed, the crowd gasped and murmured at the word ‘familiar’. A nice double-entendre; the parson was something of an artist. I was almost tempted to play along, to call for an animal companion to come to my aid. But I’m not really a cat person.

“It is unbecoming, and unproductive, for any member of the whole to think solely of themselves. This form of self-indulgence cannot pass without consequence, and consequences there will be!” thundered the parson. Boy, he was really getting into it. I wouldn’t be surprised if his heart was racing, like mine was while I ‘self-indulged’.

The parson nodded to the crowd, from where three young men stepped forward. They had already been selected, their role known, their use expected. It wasn’t as if this good little community was blindsided by the sudden need for punishers.

“And those consequences will be doled out by those representatives of the community who are productive, who do their share of work, and provide for us all that which we need to remain cohesive and civilised! The butcher, who feeds us with nourishing meat. The baker, who fills our bellies with bread. And the candlestick maker, who gives us light to stave off the terrors and temptations of the darkness.”

The men came closer, and looking them over from my perch, I could not avoid seeing the sly smirks on their faces. Oh, they moved slowly, dragging pails as though they were heavy burdens for their beefy arms, heads bowed in solemnity appropriate to this terrible ritual. But each time they glanced up at me, imagining the next step, their eyes sparkled and those rotten little teeth of theirs spilled out of their taut lips.

I never wanted to show any fear, but I gulped in a breath now. I was not too proud to at least try to avoid the stench of that first bucket, raised toward me by the butcher’s boy. And he was a boy; the town’s butcher had long ago dropped dead of dystentry, and the shop was run by his widow, who at least knew how to cut meat. Meat was pretty much all that filled his head, and when he was alone at the counter the line ran out the door as we all waited far too long for hacked up dinner scraps. Nineteen years at his parents’ side and he still hadn’t learned the difference between a flank and a shank. That was what they called productive. Still, I bet he’ll be good at this part.

This lengthy mental tangent unravelled through my mind as the bucket lip tipped higher over my head; it felt as though perhaps I could follow the thought forever, right up until reality struck, a split second before the slop did.

I’d like to say the cheering was the worst part, but as unedifying as it was to hear the entire town’s jubilation at my squirming, nothing really matched the gross squelch and greasy dripping of the butcher’s bucket. Blood, guts, fats and oils, I closed my eyes after the first chunks hit my feet to avoid really knowing what else was in there. It stank, it streaked down my skin, and I could almost swear the clots and clumps matting my hair seemed to move of their own accord.

And that was just the first bucket. Number two hit as a surprise. It jolted my eyes open as the cold and wet mess of flour water and eggs struck my chest and shoulders. The baker had just mixed up whatever he had to hand and tossed it right at me. I suspect he had been aiming for my face, but though he missed he did not look disappointed as he set his bucket down and ran his eyes up and down the mess he’d made.

I sucked in more air, and my ears turned to the evening song of the birds, twittering with more sense than the cackling crowd. One more left, and then we could move on with our repressive little lives. Whatever it was, I doubted it could be worse than the putrid, sticky gloop that already coated me, that still slithered down my back and ran under my arms and rolled into any crevice its clammy tendrils could find. Though, come to think of it, I wasn’t really sure what a candlestick maker could find that would fit in a bucket. Was he going to poke me with some scraps of metal?

My answer came in the form of weight. Slowly, almost like a hand stroking my scalp, the stuff pressed into my scalp and smeared its way through my hair. I would say it ran down my neck and over my face, but ran is far too quick a word for the sluggish advance of this thick gloop. At first I had no idea what was happening, but as lumps dropped from my hair to my shoulders, and an oozing river dropped off my nose, the scent finally told me. Wax. Candlewax, of course, made from the fats and soaps and crusty discards of our little village’s little industries.

Ew.

The laughter brought me back. It was louder now, harsher. I realized I must have been writhing, and my wrists and shoulders hurt from the effort exerted, trying to wriggle free of the post. They were so happy to see me in this state, so excited to see the artificial balance redressed as a dirty sinner was sinfully dirtied. They were glad of this community spectacle, drawing them closer as they worked together to punish that damned outlier. Or so they acted. How many performed in this pantomime, only relieved that it was not them up here, that it was not them caught and chastised in front of all the crowing rest of them? But let them laugh, cowards and cravens all. The joke’s on them. I know who I am. While their bellies shake, my toes curl and my parts quiver. They think they have punished me, but I perversely enjoyed the punishment for perversion. They’re going to have to do this to me for a long time, and every time they do, I am going to win.

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