Big Dick Radio Comes To Your House

"It's Big Dick's Terrorize Your Neighbourhood."

"This is where we come to an average person's house to do the morning show."

"You'd know this if you had been paying attention."

"We've only been running promos for it for the last week and a half."

"This morning, the average person whose house we've come to terrorize is Wilhelmina Jorgenson."

"And, with us is her lovely daughter Isvestia."

"Snicker snicker snicker."

"Did we mention that Isvestia is only 11 years old?"

"Snicker snicker snicker."

"Isvestia, maybe you'd better go to your room."

"But, mom...!"

"Go! Now!"

"You never let me have any fun!"

"So, umm, Misses Jorgenson, we're sure you're grateful to have big time celebrities come to your house and bring our sunshine into your otherwise drab and boring lives."

"Actually, I'm a cancer researcher."

"Umm..."

"But, you work with lab rats that have been genetically modified to have big tumours, right?"

"Actually, we're in clinical trials of a new drug that holds out great promise of reducing tumours substantially. If it works out, chemotherapy could be a thing of the -"

"Look. We're celebrities. You'll be lucky if you get your name listed 27th on an incomprehensible paper in an academic journal only 12 people in the world will ever read. You should be grateful we've chosen your family home to broadcast from. Get it?"

"Well - hee - when you put it that way, I'm honoured. We all are."

"Okay. The Oscars are just around the corner, and we know who loves the Oscars..."

"Geronimo de la Fresca."

"That's right... Hello, everybody! Thith ith Geronimo, and I just love the Othcars! Love 'em! Love 'em! Love 'em!"

"Geronimo, do you have any favourites you'd like to see win the golden award?"

"Thcarlett Johanthen! If anybody detherves an Othcar, it'th Thcarlett! She wath great in Lotht in Tranthlation and -"

"Is this supposed to be funny?"

"I'm thorry?"

"Because I don't find this funny at all."

"Are you kidding? Geronimo de la Fresca is our favourite character."

"Beloved by 12 year-old boys throughout our listening area!"

"I think we're better judges of what's funny than a...cancer researcher."

"That's right. We've been doing this for six months, now - ever since we changed formats to classic rock from new country. And, before that, we were a freeform jazz station for five minutes. And, before that, ambient and techno, and before that death metal..."

"Dick, do you have a point?"

"Sure. We're the professionals here. We know what's funny."

"Exactly."

"My son Frank Junior is gay."

"Erm...really?"

"And, he doesn't sound anything like the cheap stereotype you're making."

"Well, no, of course he wouldn't. We use exaggeration to -"

"My husband threw him out of the house when he told us. Chased Frank Junior out with a baseball bat. Would've killed him if he had caught him. Fortunately, Frank is getting on in years and isn't as fast as he used to be. Still, it was a horrible, horrible experience."

"When did this happen?"

"Two weeks ago."

"So, you've had time to grieve and move on?"

"Some things you don't get over."

"Well, we don't want you to think we're being insensitive about this..."

"I appreciate that."

"Would it help if I used a higher voice?"

"If your voice got any higher, only dogs would be able to hear it!"

"I think maybe you should leave."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Get out!"

"But, we've got our entire on-air set-up here in your ki -"

"I don't care. Get out of here right now!"

"No can do, missy. Remember the piece of paper you signed?"

"Uhh...yes?"

"If you look at the bottom..."

"Right under where it says 'Objects in mirror are closer than they appear.'"

"That's right. You'll see a clause..."

"Not a Santa clause."

"Because that joke was old in the 1930s. No, this clause says that if there should be any disagreement between the disc jockeys -"

"That would be us. You know: the comedy professionals."

"And the owner of the house from which we are broadcasting, the owner of the house must vacate the kitchen for the duration of the broadcast."

"What?"

"Gotta love that fine print."

"So, if you don't mind, we've got a morning show to do."

"What? This is my kitchen. How dare you -"

"SECURITY!"

"What? What do you think - hey, GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME! YOU CAN'T DO THIS! YOU CAN'T -"

"Whew! I'm glad that's over with."

"Where were we?"

"Geronimo's Oscar picks..."

"Ah, the Othcars! I love the Othcars! Love 'em! Love 'em! Love 'em! You know what wath great latht year? Denyth Arcand'th The Barbarian Invathions! Now, that wath clath!"