The dangers of musical theatre
My school spent a lot of money on its drama department, and was rather proud of the fact. Possibly the only thing on which it spent more was sports, as befits any rabidly sports-obsessed establishment for the children of the upwardly mobile middle classes. It also so happened that it was the drama department's hundredth birthday when I was in the Lower Sixth. Something big clearly had to be done. We'd put on a four-night run of 'Oliver' the year before, and 'Oh What A Lovely War' the year before that, so in the spirit of doing something that was similar to what we'd done before but was also different, the decision was made to stage 'Annie Get Your Gun' for the big 100. Scores were ordered, rehearsals were arranged, costumes were sewn and sets were built. The teachers even went into overdrive with the choreography and had the soloists weave in and out of the decor from back to front of stage and back again.

The production was a big success, and we found out just how big the following week: unbeknownst to us, the headmaster of a school in Birmingham had been in the audience, having been invited by our headmaster at the previous headmasters' conference, and was so impressed that he decided to invite us to perform at his school. Not only that, he was going to PAY us to go to Birmingham and perform. Such a heady taste of stardom could clearly not be passed up, and encouraging noises about inviting their drama department down to perform for us next year were made (along with a lot of budget-related head-scratching).

The cheque arrived in the post and we commissioned the materials for some proper set-building. Hired a coach, trundled off to Brum and were given an extensive tour of the premises, including the assembly hall in which we were to perform. The stage had roughly the same configuration as ours, except it was a bit higher up as the hall seating was in rows rather than all flat, and you had to take a little staircase on either side to get onto it.

The big night was upon us. The sets were in place, we were suited and booted and made up in the wings, and the customary hum of lighting and polite conversation was making the hall vibrate. The curtain rose to a full house, crowned by the local PTA's finest. We went through the well-oiled motions of our performance and everything went swimmingly, dahling. Then it was time for 'Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better'.

Back home, this duet had Frank Butler dancing around Annie Oakley all over the stage as he gets carried away in his fit of self-aggrandisement, including dashing to the front of the stage and flinging his arms wide to the audience. It was at this point that the lad playing Frank Butler realised that the Birmingham school's stage was about a foot shorter than our one, and as he raced towards the audience, he plummeted off the stage and into the orchestra pit. Landing on the lead bassoonist's music stand, which speared him in the testicles. Screeches, panicked rushing around, epic muttering, calls to emergency services, etc....no-one had the heart to put the understudy on that night and the rest of the performance was hastily called off.

After a longish wait at Selly Oaks, the lad in question was diagnosed with testicular bruising and kept in overnight for observation. He came to the performance the next night to watch his understudy shine; the thought of squeezing back into his tailored costume while his balls were swollen to the size of oranges apparently didn't appeal to him. I don't think anyone in the drama department could have expected that its hundredth year of existence would have been marked by Selly patients, Annie bursaries and male stones.
( .Yeti. El amor en los tiempos del cólera, Tue 30 Sep 2014, 14:06, 15 replies)

Get. OUT!

( stuj (^(^;;^)^) GO TEAM SPIDERS!(^(^;;^)^), Tue 30 Sep 2014, 14:08, closed)

This is why Father Christmas doesn't visit your house.

(well that went better than expected, Tue 30 Sep 2014, 14:09, closed)

It's come to something, when the sight of any large quantity of text
has me jumping to the last line, searching for the pun.
Still, saves me a couple of minutes, and I can skip straight to the "calling you a cunt" part.

You cunt.
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Tue 30 Sep 2014, 14:19, closed)

0.26 Skagras until you get to the pun.

( Colonel Boris "...a desperate Buzzfeed imitation...", Tue 30 Sep 2014, 14:23, closed)

Is a Skagra a unit of measure now?
What for?
( Locus213 Slightly to the left of Bakunin, Tue 30 Sep 2014, 15:59, closed)

Tedious verbosity.
A 1 Skagra post will result in an instant tl;dr response in the average subject and trigger a rage response in most /qotw prowlers. A post greater than 1 Skagra will result in the OP being implored to find a fire to die in.
( Colonel Boris "...a desperate Buzzfeed imitation...", Tue 30 Sep 2014, 16:57, closed)

Makes perfect and total sense.
Should be adopted as an international standard
( Locus213 Slightly to the left of Bakunin, Tue 30 Sep 2014, 17:18, closed)

Well that was a nice change of pace.

(eViLegion Chief Commissioner of the Scottish Lunacy Board, Tue 30 Sep 2014, 14:32, closed)

As a fan of cock and ball torture, I approve of this innocent story and pun. Well done, you cunt.

( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Tue 30 Sep 2014, 14:34, closed)

Pfft! A good 'un.
( Albert Marshmallow is a completely irredeemable cunt, Tue 30 Sep 2014, 14:38, closed)

take me off ignore, i think we can be friends now

( The Doveston haunted by the memory of his own amnesia, Tue 30 Sep 2014, 15:27, closed)

^needy

(Dr Doctor Can't you see I'm burning burning?, Tue 30 Sep 2014, 15:28, closed)

I hope you die in the same fire that claims Doctor Skagra.
Just after he's finished his reading of 'my best QOTW entries' vol 1-40.
( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Tue 30 Sep 2014, 16:04, closed)

finished started
( The Light in Chains don't touch the Pope's boner, Fri 3 Oct 2014, 9:56, closed)

Best horrible pun
story for fuckin years! You twat! :D
(yeswehavenopasties, Thu 2 Oct 2014, 2:59, closed)