Ketnet Kingsize good gunging

baba1 baba2 baba3 baba4 baba5 baba6 baba7 baba8 baba9 baba10 baba11 baba12 baba13 baba14 baba15 baba16 baba17 baba18 baba19 baba20 baba21

Posted in Stories | 8 Comments

Comeuppance Christmas Celebrity Special – result (part 2)

I’ve broken the Epiphany Rule here, but I hope you’ll enjoy the result enough to forgive me that.

The scene reopens over the giant mince pie, where Sasha appears to be enjoying herself. She has broken up more of the crust to clear herself a larger area, and is doing backstroke in the gunge. The camera then sweeps across to meet Sian, poised in front of the cages. The guards-cum-elves are standing by.


Sian: Welcome back to this Christmas Comeuppance celebrity special! I know you’re impatient for the result, and our contestants even more so, so let’s cut the baubles and get straight to the poinsettia.

The studio is plunged into near darkness, except for three spotlights casting judgement on the contestants.

Sian: Celebs, the public have voted on your misdeeds, and their verdict is as follows:






andreareactsJayne and Josie raise their fists in celebration. Andrea responds with a noise somewhere between a groan and a whimper.

Sian: Oooh, it tightened towards the end, but Andrea hangs onto the lead! Lads, you know what to do.

The guards unlock Andrea’s cage and haul her out.

Andrea: [appealing to the audience] Who’d prefer to see Katie Price go in? She’d be up for it!

Sian: Oh give over about Katie Price! [To the guards] Go on, take her away!

As the guards march Andrea to the chair, she continues to make pleading faces to the camera, though mostly in jest. Sian unlocks Josie’s cage.

Sian:Josie Escapes Meh, this is the only part of the show I don’t like. Josie, you jingled all the way through that vote in bottom place. Now it’s confirmed that you, your lovely dress, and above all that precious hair of yours are staying clean and dry. You must be walking in a winter wonderland!

Josie: [grinning] I’m simply having a wonderful Christmastime. Hallelujah!

jammydodgerxmasSian: Well it gets even better. After years of complaint from certain quarters, this vote has laid your Gunk Dunk controversy to rest, and if anyone brings it up again you can wave this Jammy Dodger trophy in their face.

Josie: [receiving trophy] Thanks very much, Sian. Now, at this point it’s customary for the escaping contestant to deliver some kind of downer to you, isn’t it?

Sian: [apprehensively] Yes…

Josie: Well, since it’s Christmas, I’m not going to do anything mean to you.

Sian: [relaxing] That’s very gracious of you. And what a good sport you’ve been to risk getting mucky in the name of charity. Ladies and Gents, grudging applause please for Josie d’Arby!

The audience slow-clap as Josie skips off stage. Sian walks over to Jayne’s cage.

Jayne: [sharply (no pun intended)] You gonna let me out then?

Sian: [smarmy] Not just yet, Jayne. You’ve got to take part in our special seasonal quiz, and although I don’t want to alarm you, there will be consequences for any questions you get wrong…

The guards wheel on trolleys stacked with buckets.

Jayne:Jayne protests Oi! I didn’t see this happening to any of the other contestants that came second!

Sian: Indeed you didn’t, but this is a Christmas special, so we’re doing things differently. Olive, school cook from St Noel’s School in Cumbria, has very kindly provided the leftovers from the school’s festive meal, and it wouldn’t be Christmas without children, so let’s bring on some St Noel’s pupils!

A selection of boys and girls, ages 11 to 16, run on stage. They jostle round the trolleys and arm themselves with buckets. Jayne scowls.

Sian: Don’t look so worried; if you get the questions right, you’ll remain clean. First up, you’re playing to avoid Olive’s gravy – cold and congealed of course. [Reads from a question card] What is the first word of A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens?

Jayne: [pulling an incredulous face] You… what?!

Sian: That’s two words, Jayne, and neither is correct. The answer is in fact Marley. Punish that, kids!

The pupils don’t need telling twice. Gleefully they swing their buckets towards the cage. Slimy gravy sloshes Jayne from all directions, soaking her dress and turning it a muddy brown.

Jayne: Euuughh!!

Sian: Never mind Jayne, you might do better in this question. You’re playing to avoid Olive’s super-starchy bread sauce. [Selects another question card] According to stats from the British Turkey Council – yes there is such a thing – what percentage of UK households serve turkey for their Christmas din-dins? And I do want it to the nearest percent; we like to be precise on this show.

Jayne: [sourly, with hands on sodden hips] Ninety.

Sian: No, it’s only 76, believe it or not. Kids!

The children lob bucketfuls of brownish-white bread sauce. Jane cowers, but inadvertently makes it easier for the kids to get her head. The bread sauce blankets her hair.

Sian: Of course, many people prefer cranberry sauce to bread sauce, so that’s what’s coming up next.

Jayne spits out bread sauce and pouts.

Sian: You’re really loving this, aren’t you?

Jayne: No, I [moo!!]ing hate it!

Sian: [tutting] Language in front of the children please! And that’s the wrong answer.

Jayne: What?! You mean that was the ques—?

Before Jayne can finish she is assailed by gelatinous ruby-coloured sauce. The boys especially get quite excited as they sling cranberry at Jayne’s ample cleavage. One 13-year-old, at the peak of puberty, slinks behind the cage and splashes a bucketload at Jayne’s bum.

Jayne messed

Jayne: You little—

Sian: What did I say about language? We’ve got one more item to go – Olive’s extra squelchy stuffing. And here to deliver it is someone you’ve met before. Ladies and gents, give a warm welcome to Claire!

A slender, punkish woman strides onto the stage. Although a good decade older, and with her hair dyed turquoise instead of pink, she is recognisable as the girl that Jayne tormented in that infamous Wudja Cudja clip. In her hands is a hose, which she points at the cage.

Sian: Claire, I’m sure you’ve entertained many a dream of revenge over the years. Your chance is finally here. Jayne, here’s your question. [Readies another question card] Actually, sod the question; just let her have it!

Thick brown and green sludge gushes from the hose. Grinning, Claire sweeps it up and down, engulfing a snarling, swearing Jayne.

Sian: Now that’s what I call a stuffing! Ladies and Gents, Jayne Sharp – a good sport even if she does have a foul mouth.

The hose shows no sign of shutting down as Sian leaves the cages for the plinth.

Sian: Ah, it’s a real pleasure to be back here in the Comeuppance studio, and the most pleasurable part of all is still to happen. [Looks up] Ding dong messily on high! In heaven the smells are minging!

The portentous plaintive of Purcell plays (albeit with sleigh bells). The rimside camera is mounted just above the sprig of plastic holly, the grotesque Christmas pudding stretching beyond. The sickly brown muck glistens under the spotlights, lumps overlying lumps.

The camera rises, meeting the dangling hem of Andrea’s royal-blue ball gown. The camera progresses at leisurely pace, imbibing the slender form of Andrea’s legs encased in the exquisite fabric. Upwards the shot continues, sweeping over Andrea’s shapely abdomen and bust, her arms bare to the shoulders. She grimaces as she peers down, not liking what she sees but unable to take her eyes from it.


Sian: Look at her there – our Loose Woman all set to become a juiced woman! This lady was party to a messing of homeopathic proportions. She made a melodrama of it; she now claims to have been gunged. Let’s show her what a real gunging is. Andrea, by public demand…

Sian and audience: HERE IS YOUR COMEUPPANCE!!!

Sian plunges down the big red button. Lights flash and sparks fly. Bells chime an out-of-tune “we wish you a merry Christmas.”

Andrea: Yeep!!

This brief exclamation is all Andrea can utter as the chair drops from under her stomach. She plummets towards the Mucky Dip, disappearing with a splash of brown slop. A wave of goo washes over the rim of the vat, dislodging tinsel.

For a few seconds the cables waggle, while various squelching noises accompany a sinister “ho ho ho!” Then the cables go tense. Andrea rises, and so does a huge cheer from the audience. The sassy, brunette milf is a misshapen glob, encased from head to toe, mostly brown but with touches of yellow and green. The muck has whooshed up inside her dress, sandwiching the garment between two thick layers and sticking it to her body. Her eyes are coated over and her mouth pries itself open in a quest for air.

Andrea: Pllleuughhh!!

Sian: Wa-hoo!! Brilliant! Now this time she has something to be shocked about!

Andrea: [tentatively wiping her face] Oh… my… god! That is absolutely… arrrggghhh!!

Muck of a muddy green hue falls from above, so thick that it drops in dollops rather than pouring. It lands on Andrea’s head and sits there, accumulating in a pile.

Sian: Oh dear, that’s the leftover custard… from Christmas 2013! That was a real cracker of a comeuppance…

Andrea: Yeeurrrgghh!! This is a so gross!!

Sian: …And it’s the Christmas gift that keeps on giving, because we can unwrap it again and again in super slo-mo!

The replay commences, laying bare the minutiae of Andrea’s descent. Her hands clutch the underside of the seat, stark white. Her mouth arches tightly upwards and muscles bulge in her neck.

Sian: And from above!

The words “Merry Christmas” glisten beneath Andrea as she hurtles to her doom. These are scattered in fragments upon impact, the muck deforming down then springing up to swallow her legs. Moments later it closes over her bare shoulders and the crown of her head.

Sian: And let’s see the pud-side view!

The rushing air has lifted the draping folds of Andrea’s dress, enough to reveal her bare feet, toes tightly curled. These feet are the first part of Andrea to enter the muck. The dress billows further as it meets resistance from the surface, opening to allow plenty of the sludge inside. A wave is sent outwards as Andrea’s thighs and backside splash down, slopping over the camera lens just as her torso submerges.

Sian: There you have it folks; the Christmas we get we deserve!

Back in the present, Andrea has calmed down and is taking her comeuppance in good humour.


Sian: McLean by name, anything but clean by nature! Andrea, you can wear that coat of muck to the next episode of Loose Women, to serve as a warning to the others. Do you have anything to say for yourself?

Andrea: [laughing] Katie, you owe me big time!

Sian: Perhaps we’ll get her on at some point in the future. But well done for signing up for this; you’ve been a tremendous sport and raised lots of money for charity.

Andrea bows in acknowledgement to the applauding audience, but then a veritable blizzard of fake snow engulfs her, sticking to the muck.

Sian: Oh I love a white Christmas! That’s about all we’ve got time for on this special edition of Comeuppance. Sadly there are no plans for a second series, but we hope to…

Sian trails off as she notices Josie standing next to her.

Sian: Er, hi Josie. What are you doing back here?

Josie: You know I said I wouldn’t do anything mean to you? Well I changed my mind.

Josie whips out a pie that she’d been holding behind her back, and slams it into Sian’s face.

Surprise pie for Sian

Josie: A Christmas present from all of the crew!

Sian staggers back, spluttering. For a few seconds she stands in stunned silence, her mouth gaping. Then she musters a grudging half-smile.

Sian: [wiping her eyes] Thanks for that – just what I always wanted! Thanks once again to everyone who took part in tonight’s show. Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

All I Want For Christmas is You plays as a pie-faced Sian wearily waves. Had she not been disorientated by the pie, she might have noticed a very gungy Sasha sneaking up behind her. Sasha grabs Sian in a bear-hug and drags her off towards the mince pie.

Sian: Arrrghh!! What are you doing?! You’re getting gunge on my dress! No no no – not in there! I’ve already been mucked once for Christ’s sake! Sasha!!

The camera sweeps over the audience, full of festive cheer. The scene then returns to Jayne, sulking amid a mountain of stuffing. Claire reaches through the cage bars and plants a sprig of parsley garnish on Jayne’s head. Then Andrea is shown, thoroughly white, waving at the camera as yet more snow cascades onto her.

The parting shot is of Sasha and Sian grappling beside the mince pie. Sasha manages to sweep Sian off her feet, raises her high above the mince pie, and tosses her in. But in a piece of scheduling frustration to rival Nicola Stapleton, the show cuts just before Sian smashes through the crust.

Posted in Food (fights), Gunge, Pies, Powder, Stories | 6 Comments

Comeuppance Christmas Celebrity Special – result (part 1)

I ballsed up and accidentally published an incomplete draft of this. Apologies if that spoilt your reading.

The screen is filled with pale-brown. The camera zooms out to reveal an ornately patterned, slightly glittery surface, which is eventually revealed to be the top crust of a gigantic mince pie, four metres in diameter and more than one metre tall. As the camera zooms out further, a pair of rails comes into view. Leading in from one side, these rise in a gentle gradient above the mince pie, before swooping in a steep descent, terminating a good metre above the dead centre of the pie.

The camera pans until reaching the start of the track. A small chair is mounted to the rails, and seated in it is Sasha, dressed only in her skimpy santa costume and stiletto heels. Her disposition is its usually sunny, though with a tinge of nervousness but also excitement as she shuffles on the seat.

Sasha before

SianSian: [walking on from the side] Welcome back to our Comeuppance Christmas special, with me Sian Welby! On tonight’s list we have three celebs who’ve been naughty rather than nice, and one of them will receive a punishment far worse than a lump of coal – a festive trip to our Mucky Dip! You lot have been voting your hearts out over who that should be, and raising lots of money for charity in the process. But please cease your voting forthwith, as the polls are now closed. There’s been plenty of reaction on social media too. One outspoken user, who goes by the handle of “Yuck”, thinks that Katie Price should be representing the Loose Women, instead of Andrea.

Andrea: [calling over] Oh, what a superb idea! Yuck, you’re my new favourite person.

Sian: Ha ha, nice try! We did consider bringing on Katie but we weren’t sure how the muck would react with all that plastic. Anyway, it’s too late to change the line-up. Ladies, the final scores have been verified and you shall learn your respective fates shortly, but first, have the turkeys finally come home to roost for our resident Dr Muck? [Walks over to the mince pie] Remember, if the total voting revenues hit £750,000, Sasha Holdsworth will be taking a dive into our leftover mince pie, and let me tell you, it has gone rather stale!

Sian jabs a stick into the “crust” of the mince pie, breaking a small hole in what is evidently polystyrene. She waggles the stick about in the depths of the pie, then pulls it out. A mixture of green and purple goo clings to the stick, dangling in long strands.

Sian: [waving a hand in front of her nose] Euugh yes, definitely one to feed the mother-in-law. Sasha’s colleagues have been hard at work on this project, and it’s only fair they get a front-row seat to witness the fruits of their labour. Come on in guys!

The audience applauds as a dozen men and women in lab-coats walk out onto the stage. They exchange some banter with Sasha as they pass her, then congregate around the mince pie.

Sian: Well it’s nice to meet you all. We appreciate the work that you do, especially since you have to suffer Sasha’s practical jokes and “disciplinary procedures”. Sasha, as Andrea said earlier, it’s the thought that counts at Christmas, and they’ve certainly put a lot of thought into your demise, haven’t they?

Sasha: [a little squeamishly] They’ve taken on board everything I’ve taught them. It’ll be a pity if the target hasn’t been met and their efforts go to waste.

Sian: [smirking] Somehow I don’t think you’ll find that much of a pity. But enough speculation – let’s find out your fate. Lights please!

The lights dim, save a piercing spotlight trained on Sasha. Dramatic music plays.

Sian: [listening into earpiece] The total amount raised is…. just over £729,000. [Sighs] I’m afraid we haven’t made it.

The lights come back up, accompanied by the sound of a stylus being ripped from a record. Sasha raises her arms in celebration. The audience groans and boos.

Sian: [deflated] I know, I know. It’s a bitter pill to swallow. But rules are rules. Sasha, you’ve escaped the muck yet again; you truly are a Jammy Dodger!

Sasha: What can I say? I make muck; I wasn’t made for muck!

Sian: More’s the pity. I should’ve dunked you when I had the chance. [To the amassed scientsts] Very sorry that you went to all this work for nothing.

One of the scientists: If it makes any difference, we’ve got ten grand to add through our own fundraising.

Sian: That’s very good of you, but while it will certainly make a difference to the charities, I’m afraid it won’t alter Sasha’s fate. We’re still under the magic £750,000. [Taps earpiece] Oh, hang on, the director has agreed to add ten grand from the show’s kitty!

Sasha: [smugly] That brings it to £749,000. You’re still a thousand pounds short! Guess I’ll be leaving. [Makes to stand up]

Sian: Just one cotton-picking moment! I’m not going to miss this opportunity for revenge! [Takes chequebook out of dress] Can I borrow a pen please? Ta. [Writes out cheque] I, Sian Welby, am going to put in the final grand. [Writes out cheque and shows it to the audience] There! Signed and sealed!

A massive cheer goes up from the audience. Sasha’s colleagues jump for joy. Miss Holdsworth sits with a sheepish grin.

Sian: Well what do you have to say now, Dr Muck?

Sasha: I’m delighted that we’ve raised the money – well done everyone! As for what follows, I’m not sure I’m so keen!

Sian: But we are! [Turns to Sasha’s colleagues] I’ll let you do the honours. In your own time…

With shouts of “See ya Sash!” and “Enjoy your trip!”, the lab workers rip down a lever. The chair rouses into motion, transporting Sasha up the ramp. She shrieks as a massive pile of fish, squid and seaweed drop from above, splattering her head and shoulders and landing in her lap.

Sasha: Errrgghhh!! Yuck!

The sea-stuff was lubricated in a clear paste-like goo, which has turned Sasha’s curly hair lank, bits of seaweed draped in it. Her santa suit is a shade darker and her legs glisten. She swipes the bulk of the fish out of her lap and pulls a sprat from her cleavage. As she progresses upwards a couple dozen eggs roll out of a hopper, smashing on her head and garnishing her hair and shoulders with yellow streaks. She squawks further. Next, two jets of pinkish froth gush from the track ahead, spraying up Sasha’s legs and – if her wriggles and squeals are anything to go – finding their way up her skirt.

Sian: Oh, she’s enjoying this isn’t she?

A downpour of unidentified yellow-brown slop adds another layer to Sasha’s upper half. Then, as she arrives at the track’s apex, high above the mince pie, the chair judders to a halt and a huge flurry of fake snow descends, sticking to Sasha’s wet form. By the time it abates, she is a complete state. Rasping the little white flecks from her mouth, she looks down at her mirthful colleagues and shakes a fist in mock remonstration.

Sian: Well guys and girls, you got her good, but that was just the starter course. Get yourselves ready with that second lever!

The scene briefly switches to a view behind Sasha’s chair. A foreboding plunge beckons.

Sian: [rubbing hands together] I get the feeling this will be the best grand I’ve ever spent. Sasha, for being such an evil genius, and on behalf of everyone who has suffered in your muck…

Sasha’s body clenches up.


The scientists yank the second lever. With an ear-splitting scream, Sasha hurtles down the steepening gradient. The chair hits the buffers at the end of the track, catapulting her off. Her stilettos fly from her feet as she dives, front-first, limbs extended, to her doom.

A wave of vibrantly coloured gunge sploshes into the air as the pie crust smashes on impact. A comical person-shaped hole is all that is left. As the audience go crazy, periodic aftershocks of gunge surge through the hole. A couple of times the remaining pie-crust rattles like the skin of a drum.

Sian: Oh gosh, I hope she isn’t stuck under there. I don’t want to have to go in there to get her.

A purple lump rises out of the hole. Initially it is not clear what this object is, but then a pair of green hands emerge to claw at the crust, it becomes apparent that the object is Sasha’s head. Sasha hauls herself up until she is in a standing position, but even then the pie is up to her bust. After snatching some breaths and regaining her bearings, she begins to laugh at the state she finds herself in.

Sasha After

Sian: [jumping up and down with excitement] Wahey!! Oh yes, oh yes!! Look at her, what a mucking! Ha ha! We’ve waited so long for this to happen, so let’s make the most of it with a slow mo—ha ha! Oh wow!

It’s not over for Sasha, as her colleagues open fire with cans of silly string and spray foam.

Sian: Great work guys! I was just saying, let’s make the mo—woah!

Sasha has started fighting back, splashing gunge indiscriminately at her colleagues. Sian scuttles to a safe distance.

Sian: Don’t want any of that on me. As I was saying, let’s see a slow-mo replay or two!

Sasha’s white-knuckle ride, ejection, and subsequent smash-down are relived through a variety of camera angles: first up, a slowed down repeat from the standard camera, then an overhead shot, and finally a camera mounted at the edge of the mince pie shows her coming in to land.

Back in present time, Sasha has brushed back the foam and silly string, although her colleagues intermittently blast her with more. Her face remains splotched with the vibrant colours, and bears a wide grin.

Sian: [keeping a safe distance] Well Sash, what do you think of your recipes now that you’re finally on the receiving end?

Sasha: Oooo, it ain’t half cold, init?

Sian: Yep! That’s how we like to serve it.

Sasha: I’m proud of the consistency though. Thick enough to stand a burette in, yet runny enough to soak through clothing. It’s even gone up my funnel!

Sian: [frowning] I know it’s past the watershed, but that’s more info than we need. Ladies and gents, Sasha Holdsworth MSc – a great scientist and a great sport! [Walks hurriedly away].

Sasha: [holding up a small chemistry funnel] What’s her problem?

Sian: [arriving at the cages] Don’t worry Ladies, I haven’t forgotten about you. So the good news is that Wakefield Hospital Children’s Wing, Wales Air Ambulance, and Guide Dogs for the Blind are each a quarter million better off tonight. That’s all thanks to you and your bravery in putting yourselves forward, so give yourselves a pat on the back!

The audience applaud warmly.

Sian: The bad news is that the public want their will delivered, and if you thought Sasha’s ordeal was bad, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Andrea, you were ahead at half-time; you must be bricking it now.

Andrea: [grimacing] Nervous yes, but I hope the public have realised Jayne is the true pantomime villain and consigned her to the Mucky Dip.

Sian: Jayne, she may have a point…

Jayne: [defiant] Nah, I delivered good gungings on Wudja Cudja. The public will want to punish Loose Women’s lameness.

Sian: And Josie, you were sitting pretty in the mid-way scores. Relaxed?

Josie: [Apprehensive] Sian, I’ve seen this show. I know there have been some wild vote swings in the past, so I’m taking nothing for granted.

Sian: Well ladies, the final scores are in and it’s time to reveal them… after another advert break.

The contestants howl in protest.

Sian: [with a cheeky smile] Hey, this muck doesn’t come cheap you know. [Turns to camera] Man, I love the power this show gives me. Join us in a short while when we’ll put these ladies out of their suspense and deliver that well-deserved comeuppance. You’d be mad to miss it!

Posted in Food (fights), Gunge, Stories | 2 Comments

Comeuppance Christmas Celebrity Special – update

Sian Sian Welbystands beside the waiting Comeuppance chair, which is decorated by a length of tinsel, but is otherwise its usual minimalist self.

Sian: Welcome back to Comeuppance! I’m Sian Welby and we’ve returned to your screens for this seasonal special. In the name of charity, three celebrities are facing public judgement for their misdeeds, and the lady of your choice will find herself seated in this chair, ready for a Christmas dipping with all the trimmings… [Taps earpeice] Oooo, news just in: this Wammy award I told you about? We’ve won it! Yay us!

The audience applauds. Sian saunters over to the cages.

Sian: And ladies, I have some more good news. We’re being snowed under with phone-calls to determine your fate, and so far we’ve raised over a quarter of a million quid!

There is more cheering. Jayne, Josie and Andrea look very satisifed.

Sian: But you know that donations like these don’t come without some serious humiliation for someone. The Mucky Dip is bubbling away over there, and it’s time for us to…

Sian is disrupted by the ringing of sleigh-bells.

Sian: Oh, we have a visitor dropping in! Not Santa, but the similarly named Sasha, our muckologist in chief!

A sleigh, suspended on cables, descends from the rafters over the Mucky Dip. Sasha Holdsworth, dressed in Santa costume, waves to the audience.
Sasha Holdsworth

Sasha: Ho ho ho! Mucky Christmas everyone, and a slapsticky new year!

Sian: How’s the muck coming along, Sash? Reached the perfect vintage yet?

Sasha: Almost. It’s been fermenting away since Stir-Up Sunday, but a few last minute additions are called for. First up, rancid marzipan…

Sasha picks up a keg and pours thick yellow glop into the Mucky Dip. A sickening splattering can be heard.

Sian: [teasing the caged women] Ooh, that looks nice doesn’t it?

Sasha: [picking up a laundry bag] Next, I received rather too many socks for Christmas, so I need to dispose of some.

Sian: Meh, a few pairs of clean new socks doesn’t sound too bad.

Sasha: Throw away new socks? Nah, these are old ones they replace. I’m afraid I didn’t get a chance to wash them.

Sasha empties the laundry bag. A cloud of green mist rises, making her choke.

Sasha: And finally [cough cough] a generous helping of soggy sprouts!

Sasha tips a bucket of green lumps into the chasm below, precipitating a chorus of plops.

Sian: Pwoah, I can smell them from here. And by the looks on their faces, so can our contestants, ha ha! Sasha, I’m grateful that you dropped in. [Voice hardens] Indeed, I’ve got you exactly where I want you.

Sian brandishes a remote control. Sasha’s eyebrows rise warily. Sian presses a button. The sleigh starts slowly descending towards the Mucky Dip. The audience prick up in anticipation.

Sasha: [with a nervous giggle] What’s going on?

Sian: You don’t think I’ve forgotten the woman who designed the vile muck I got dipped in, and took a lot of pleasure doing it, do you?

Sasha: [looking down in dread as the Dip looms closer] Sian, I was just doing my job, I assure you. I didn’t want to do it, but the director made me!

Sian: [sternly] The video evidence tells a different story. Play the clip.

Anthea: …mixing one up for Sian must have been a labour of love!

Sasha: [laughing] It certainly was a very enjoyable task! The whole team really got stuck in – literally in a few cases – to make this muck worthy of its victim. Plus we left it to mature an extra couple of weeks!

There is a cry of “busted” from the audience.

Sian: Just doing your job, eh? Looks like the director dragged you kicking and screaming to mix up that muck. Not!

Sasha winces. The sleigh is now barely above rim level. She pinches her nose.

Sasha:Sian taunts Sasha [squirming] Do you want an apology?

Sian: [sweetly] No Sasha, I want revenge!

Sasha: But I’m a Jammy Dodger Trophy holder. I have life-long immunity!

Sian: [enjoying herself] Oh, I’m not sure rules like that apply at Christmas. But let’s ask the audience: would you like to see Sasha in the sludge?

Audience: [resounding] YESSS!!!

Sian: That sounds unanimous. Enjoy your Christmas present Sasha!

The sleigh sinks into the muck, forcing Sasha into a standing position. She shrieks as the cold slop squelches over her feet and up her ankles. She clings to the cables, perhaps contemplating an implausible scrabble to safety.

Sasha: Wait! We can do a deal!

Sian: [sneering] A deal? You’re not in much of a bargaining position.

Sasha: How about I promise to get mucky if the voting revenues get up to £750,000? That way we’ll raise more for the charities!

Sian, her eyes narrowed in thought, hits a button on the remote. The cables judder to a halt, leaving Sasha knee-high in the muck.

Sian: [tutting] 750 grand is a bit of a tall order. We’ll need twice as many votes in the second half as we got in the first.

Sasha: [shrewdly] Nothing wrong with aiming high where fundraising is concerned! It’s up to you, Sian; dunk me now and you’ll lose the incentive for people to donate more money. You don’t want to deprive charities of potential funds, do you? Not at Christmas of all times?

Sian: [sighs, knowing she has no choice] Alright Sasha. You’ve got yourself a reprieve for now, but if we hit that £750,000 target, you are getting it big time.

Sian presses another button and the cables retract, raising a very relieved Sasha out of muck’s way. Her feet and lower legs are encased in a thick layer of grotty brown, commingling with green and yellow.

Sian: [shaking her head as Sasha disappears into the rafters] That girl always was a smart cookie. [Turns to the caged celebrities] Well ladies, you witnessed the terror there on Sasha’s face. It’s high time you saw what she could see. So without further ado…


A camera provides an overhead view of the Mucky Dip. The circular surface of the gunge is evidently styled like a Christmas pudding, complete with a sprig of polystyrene holly at one end, but it is not a festive dessert any sane person would wish to indulge in. The principal colour is brown – mostly a dark, earthy brown, but in other places blending to a tan or tinged with green. There are also streaks of white and splotches of yellow. “Merry Christmas” is scrawled across the surface in bright green, albeit somewhat disturbed by Sasha’s close call.

While a corner inset captures the faces of the watching celebrities (Jayne purses her lips, Josie fiddles with her hair, Andrea mouths words of disbelief), the scene switches to a rim-side camera, which captures in side-profile what the top-down view cannot – the uneven surface of the muck. Misshapen lumps glisten dully in the studio light, embedded in a dank looking soup. An indentation remains where the sleigh and Sasha’s legs pierced the surface.

Sian: Ewwww, yuck yuck yuck! That, ladies, is the punishment facing one of you; now let’s peek at those scores to see which of you, in the public’s mind, most deserves it.

Josie responds with a “yay!” and grins with relief. Jayne scowls, and Andrea puts her hands over her face with a little whimper.

Sian: [rubbing her hands together] I hope you like the graphics! Josie lagging at a fairly safe distance, Jayne a much more precarious second, and Andrea currently our Christmas number one! But we’ve lots of voting time still ahead of us, and the personal appeals could send things in a different direction. Ladies, each of you has fifteen seconds to dissuade the public from casting their ballots in your direction. But because you celebs are used to mouthing off, we’re gonna make things a bit harder; each of you must invoke the spirit of Christmas in your appeal. Got that?

The celebs nod.

Sian: Josie, you’re looking full of festive cheer, and boy do I understand why. All the more reason not to screw this up.

Josie:Josie makes her appeal Christmas is a time to reflect on the year gone by, but harping back to nineteen freakin’ ninety-five is overdoing it! This Get Your Own Back thing is ancient history, and no-one cares except a few internet weirdos—

A “ding dong!” of Christmas bells sounds, marking an end to Josie’s allotted time. There are some muted boos from the audience.

Sian: Hmmm. I think you’ll find a lot of us care about your cop-out, Josie, and we’re not weird at all. [Looks around insecurely] Are we? Anyway, Jayne, let’s hear your excuse.

Jayne, in her typical feisty and high-handed manner, chatises the camera.

Jayne:jayneappeal At Christmas you hope Santa brings what you want. On Wudja Cudja, the contestants got the cash they wanted, the viewers got mindless entertainment, and I got… job satisfaction. So what’s the problem? Everyone’s a winn—

The chiming bells and subsequent booing only narrowly outdo Jayne’s strident voice.

Sian: Mmmm, I reckon it’ll be an even bigger win if you get your comeuppance! [Moves on to the third cage] Andrea, I hate to pile on the grim news, but you and your fellow Loose Women have been awarded a “Showercap of Shame” in the Wammy awards for your non-gunging gunging. That means people think it sucked. Better make your appeal compelling, love, or your Christmas goose is cooked!

Looking flummoxed, Andrea begins her heartfelt plea.

Andrea:Andrea makes her appeal At Christmas it’s the thought that should count, not the amount. We on Loose Women had the thought to amuse our kids by getting gunged. Sorry it didn’t turn out to be a massive mega-mess, but I don’t deserve the Mucky Di—

The bells chime, cutting off Andrea in mid-flow. The audience boos profusely.

Sian: Oh, I think the thought will definitely count if the viewers vote you in, Andrea, as well as the amount! [Turns to face frontwards] Well folks, it’s over to you again. If you want to put Josie in the muck, it’ll take some serious voting to get her up there. Otherwise, the battle is on between Jayne and Andrea for the slop spot. Don’t forget, whoever comes second is also at risk of getting messy in our Christmas quiz! [Intertwines fingers imploringly] And please oh please, let’s raise enough cash to make Sash go splash! It’s all down to you; keep voting and I’ll see you later!

And to help get the voting tally up, I’ve relaxed the voting limit to once every 6 hours.

Alternative link

Posted in Stories | 9 Comments

Gunge Grand Prix 2017: Nominations Closed!

Hi All,

Just to make you aware that nominations for the 2017 Gunge Grand Prix have now closed, as we have reached the 512 threshold. I’m just awaiting confirmation from our final nominee as to which 13 of his 16 legitimate nominations he wishes to fill the remaining spots. Once I know this, we will begin checking the list (Yuck, Vanilla, would be grateful if you could help with this please?) for any duplicates, and will reopen nominations if necessary. Provided everything is ok however, we should be in a position to start collecting photos and preparing for the start of Round 1 on Thursday 26th January.

Thank you to everyone who has nominated and sent in photos of their nominations. If you do still want to submit photos of your nominations but have not yet done so, please email them to by no later than Thursday 18th January please.

Thanks, and I will post the spreadsheet with the final 512 names in due course.


Posted in Stories | 6 Comments