Pickle: Master?!
Treguard: Yes, Pickle?
Pickle: You've...you've...
Treguard: So I've shaved my head, put a tattoo on my arm and grew my beard 'til it was 4ft long. I fancied a change, alright Pickle? You should try an image change too.
Pickle: Well....I suppose my eyebrows could do with a trim.
Treguard: Excellent idea, Pickle! Half the time I don't know whether you're frowning or ecstatic.
One team encounter Elita, but the tables turned a little bit here...
Dungeoneer: You are a poor excuse for a cavern-elf I would have expected better from a goblin, too easily bribed, poorly dressed, everyone hates you...
Elita: I'm sorry... *snif* I'm trying my best...
Dungeoneer: HA! Tell you what... You give me face-ache just by looking at you, even if I have the helmet on it sort of burns through it. God knows how a mirror puts up with it!
Elita: Okay, okay... I'll be nice as possible *snif* *snif* just don't hurt my feelings anymore *sob*
Dungeoneer: If I were your father I'd put you in solitary confinement...
Were going to stop there for we know what the score here is...
DONT WE?
If the only way is onward how would you get home for tea??
This topic has been viewed over 1000 times! Fantastic! ;D
[Pickle and Treguard look into the camera.]
Pickle: 'Oh, Master, are the Watchers still here?'
Treguard: 'I'm afraid so, Pickle. They seem to enjoy us. Except for one little toerag who switched over 10 minutes ago to watch CBBC.'
Pickle: 'Tracking... [His eyes glow red.] ...Got 'im! A 9-year-old living in Redditch. There's an elf portal 2 miles from his house. [Grabs staff] He's mine.'
Treguard: 'Now, now, Pickle, there are far better ways to resolve this. Hand me that key. [Treguard unlocks a large chest, releasing an army of floating skulls.] Fly, my pretties! FLY!!'
***
Dungeoneer: 'Can't you get it into your thick skull? I don't want you attacking me!'
Treguard: I fear such dry wit will prove useless against the catacombite, Team.
[The Dungeoneer is indeed eaten by the catacombite.]
Treguard: Yeeesss!! [Sings] Who's not winnin' any more? Who's not... [Clears throat] I mean, oooooh, naaasty!'
***
[Grimwold clobbers a Series 3 Dungeoneer.]
Treguard: 'Well, Team, it looks like your dungeoneer's become a 'club' sandwich, haha. Wait, don't cry... Oh, not again. Sorry, Team. Better edit that last comment, Tim!'
***
Majida: 'But Treguard...'
Treguard: 'Madam, for once, just shut up. [Majida tries to speak.] Shut up. Shut up. Shut... up. Indulge in shutting up. Shut up. Get a degree in Shutupology. Shut, as the old saying goes, up. Attain a state of shutupness. Please shut up. Shut the Fear up. Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!!'
[Silence, except for the dripping of a myriad tears of joy across the nation.]
Treguard: [Getting his breath back] 'And... having thus shut up... cut my toenails.'
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(On a day when the rugby is on, only KM is left. Or is it?)
Dungeoneer: Where am I?
Advisors: You're in a room, and...wait, isn't that Queen T-Bag?
Treguard: Um, so it is.
Queen T-Bag: Where are the sunstones of Montezuma?
Treguard: You are too late. Your programme isn't on today.
Pat Sharp: Welcome to Fun house!
Treguard: And you can go away too!
Pat Sharp: Watch it, beardie, or I'll get the girls to gunge you.
Treguard: I bet that's not even a real mullet. (Pulls hair) Look, it's just fake.
Pat Sharp: OW! Stop that! It's real! I bet your beard is fake (starts pulling beard)
Treguard: Ouch! Why you- (continues)
Pickle: Sorry i'm late, master, bu-wha-?
Queen T-Bag: Ooh, I've always liked a man with odd eyebrows.
Pickle: *Gulp*
Advisors: I think we'd best go home.
Dungeoneer: Hello? Where am I? Where is everyone? Hello?
Announcer of Dangermouse: And so, the sun sets of another adventure. Tune in next week for another episode of Fun-Mare! I mean Knight-mouse! I mean...oh forget it. I wonder if that job as a BBC weatherman is still available...?
Elita: Hello! My, you're looking good today. Isn't everything wonderful? But enogh about my opinions. Would you like this green gem stone? Julius Scaramonger gave it to me in a fit of generousity.
Treguard: 'Team, the Eye Shield is currently at the blacksmith's for repairs, so here instead is the Nose Shield. Now, when you find a spyglass, hold it up in front of the Nose Shield, and we'll finally be able to discover what aftershave Lord Fear uses.'
Pickle: 'If any.'
***
Little Miss Muffet: 'Where am I?'
Little Jack Horner: 'OK, LMM, you're in like a room with a rocky ledge, and just ahead of you there's what seems like a low stool of some kind. There's something on it so can you walk forward? ... Stop. Can you see the stool?'
LMM: 'Yeah. I think it's a tuffet.'
Little Red Riding Hood: 'What's on it?'
LMM: 'Some food... whey, and curds.'
Treguard: 'Caution, Team, don't dally in this place; danger is approaching.'
Little Tommy Tucker: 'OK, put the food in your knapsack.'
[Instead, LMM sits down and begins to eat the food.]
LRRH: 'What are you doing?!'
LMM: 'This is my favourite food, I'm not gonna shove it in a bag, alright?'
Treguard: 'Warning! This is Ariadne's lair...'
[Ariadne has crawled over to LMM. The Advisors scream at her. LMM gets up and away just in time.]
***
[Fidjit comes up to a Series 7 Dungeoneer.]
Fidjit: 'Hello there, Fidjit's the name.'
Dungeoneer: 'Look, Mr. Valentine - or may I call you Paul? - why don't you just: creep back to your dressing room; slip into your Motley outfit; come back; and we'll say no more about it, eh?'
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Dungeoneer: OUCH!
Advisor: Come on that didn't hurt!
Dungeoneer: *groan* urrnngggh!
Advisors: Are you alright?
Dungeoneer: No, the stick sort of went through the helmet into my head...
Treguard: CEDRIC! How many times have I told you not to use a crowbar...
Cedric: That wasn't a crowbar that was a scaffolding pole!
If the only way is onward how would you get home for tea??
Lord Fear: Well then, i was going to stand here and do a long and pointless speech and taunt you, thus giving you time to defeat me, however I have discovered this invention
*Pulls Out Gun*
LF: So I will just ice you instead!
D: What shall I *BANG!* Oh lord, i'm bleeeding
A: Hey, that's cheating
D: Guys I am bleeding to death here
A: We don't care about you we want a Frightnight trophy
Pickle: Well master, it looks like Lord Fear must be taught a lesson
Treguard: Yes Pickle, bring me my shotgun....