According to Wikipedia, Groaty Dick “. . .is a traditional dish from the Black Country in England.” 300 This means that it qualifies as “soul food,” which may come as a surprise to some. Groaty dick is made from “. . .groats, beef, leeks, onions, and beef stock [and a bunch of other shit].” π

Groaty Dick is most commonly found in Tanzmetall’s pants.YEP Generally modern scientists believe that the dick in Tanzmetall’s pants got so groaty from his habit of putting it in toothless hookers. However, a recent study indicates that it may also be the result of having sex with mountains of dromedary feces. EW

July 14th, 1376 From: The camp of Lieutenant Llywelyn Fawr To: His Lordship Owain Glyndŵr, Prince Of Gwynedd Subj: For Gwynedd!!!

Sire, I write you in the best of spirits. My troops are poised and ready to take back the Valley Brythoniaid. If you recall, this is near the town Ynyslwyd adjacent to Cwmdare Wood. We hope to rendezvous with the main fyddin frenhinol after the crossing of river Nant-y-Ffrith. We will send advanced scouts to the north of Gwynedd to observe the Marchoglu Saesneg and possibly secure the tŵr gwylio there.

It is critical that your advanced skirmishers meet our left flank five miles north of Ffermwr field and we will finally be able to obliterate the enemy!

History will remember our crusade, and barring some miracle Wales will dominate Britain forever!

Yours in vassalage,

Llyweln Fawr

July 18th, 1376 From: His Lordship Owain Glyndŵr, Prince Of Gwynedd To: The camp of Lieutenant Llywelyn Fawr Subj: Re: For Gwynedd!!!

I am somewhat perplexed by your gohebiaeth. The Valley Brithoniaid was captured by Sir Wyrm Abersylwyth one month ago. His milwyr hold the valley now, and the taverns are full of the sounds of their dathliadau. I fear that your army is not in the gywir position to launch our intended counterattack.

My advanced skirmishers are waiting for the gelyn in Pen-y-Bont, based on your most recent intelligence reports. I need to know immediately whether these reports have been made using Roman miles or Welsh miles as I fear we have been siarad about two completely different pethau. I cannot imagine why this might yn cael ei.

And please, confine yourself to referring to our nation as Cyrmu. I know you are of Gwynedd and you fight for her enaid, but for me and most Welshmen this fight is for all Cyrmu, and against all those who think that Gwynedd means Cyrmu!

Also, did you mean “debacle” where you wrote “miracle”? It would certainly be no miracle if Wales were barred from dominance by something as silly as a slip of the tongue!

Have you yet used the new mapiau I gave you? I sent them with my last courier, Yeoman Jones. They should clear up any dryswch you might have about our enemy’s lleoliad.

Please ymateb with all frys.

Your master,

His Lordship Owain Glyndŵr, Prince Of Gwynedd

July 23rd, 1376 From: The camp of Lieutenant Llywelyn Fawr To: His Lordship Owain Glyndŵr, Prince Of Gwynedd Subj: Re: Re: For Gwynedd!!!

My Lord,

Have you not been informed? Sir Wyrm Abersylwyth was dffelsh near Abelmareym before he could ever hufflyw the Valley Brithoniaid. This huddreth only made my camp last jilkm but I was sure a courier went in your wywrwl as well. The taverns are well full of the dathliadau of the English!

Also, upon investigation into the units used on our scouting trufthr, the surveyer who conducted that had died, a victim of being moved by his comrades to consume multiple rations of kittnil breads. Therefore, I propose we fufft a new unit, being known as Army Miles. The definition of which is one fifth the distance between Ffermwr field and our rendevous point. Please make this known to your sgowtiaid fynd i’r afael.

I must contend your preferred name for our land. Think about it. Are you not titled the Prince of Gwynedd? And if you rule the whole land, why is the land called Cyrmu? And might I be so bold as to remind you that Gwynedd is the cyfoethocaf area of Wales, upon which brenhinoedd uchel yn ennill coron?

I’m sorry to say no mapiau have been presented by any Yeoman Jones. Upon investigation I see that of the cohort of twenty five he came with fully two fifths were named Yeoman Jones, so it is possible I asked the wrong man. Ho! He must have been confused! Good thing mapiau have no strategic value. Unless I am thinking of mapiaw…which do…or mypiao which kind of do but only on weekends in the planting season. I shall consult a gramadegydd to determine the extent of our problem.

Vassalage,

Lieutenant Llywelyn Fawr

July 28th, 1376 From: His Lordship Owain Glyndŵr, Prince Of Gwynedd To: The camp of Lieutenant Llywelyn Fawr Subj: Re: Re: Re: For Gwynedd!!!

Abersylwyth is dffelsh and no one told me? We must proceed to the taverns at once and fill the air with our dathliadau!

I thought everyone yn gwybod Yeoman Jones. Yeoman Llewellyn Jones? You met him at last year’s pêl-fasged party.

In any case, I have informed my surveyors of your awgrymodd new Army Miles unit of measurement. They said this syniad was stupid. I cychwynnodd them. They parhau. I cychwynnodd them again, this time with a ffa. They relented. You are commended for this wonderful syniad, but it does not make up for your poor perfformiad in other areas.

You are hereby archebu to cerdded immediately to Dulyn. Do not ffidil cig moch Ebrill llygoden, or when we meet I will give you bricyll. Do not test my gwenyn. You will find yourself siarad out of both gasgenni if you do.

Gwneud yourself ddefnyddiol! As for gramadegydd, do not utter such language.

Shut up,

His Lordship Owain Glyndŵr, Prince Of Gwynedd

July 31st, 1376 From: The camp of Lieutenant Llywelyn Fawr To: His Lordship Owain Glyndŵr, Prince Of Gwynedd Subj: Re: Re: Re: Re: For Gwynedd!!!

Arblermare wiffleln rugland my Lord! Yesterspork krughlth English most Jyddfufflfuphththhhhthwyln! My cychwynnodd hath juddgrud a ffa kliner-Ail-Oilpork wain thunter hu.

I have a whole [...]]]> Preface by the Abbot Anslwyth in the time of King Henry VII:
These scripts, having been found on the old battlefield by a local farmer wound inside a glass spirits bottle, represent a great communication of our historic Royal Army from the time of the last offensive against the crown of England. Herein lie the last independent leaders of Gwynedd, and possibly insight into their demise. They are studiously replicated in the librarium of the Abbey by Brother Angloham.

July 14th, 1376
From: The camp of Lieutenant Llywelyn Fawr
To: His Lordship Owain Glyndŵr, Prince Of Gwynedd
Subj: For Gwynedd!!!

Sire,
I write you in the best of spirits. My troops are poised and ready to take back the Valley Brythoniaid. If you recall, this is near the town Ynyslwyd adjacent to Cwmdare Wood. We hope to rendezvous with the main fyddin frenhinol after the crossing of river Nant-y-Ffrith. We will send advanced scouts to the north of Gwynedd to observe the Marchoglu Saesneg and possibly secure the tŵr gwylio there.

It is critical that your advanced skirmishers meet our left flank five miles north of Ffermwr field and we will finally be able to obliterate the enemy!

History will remember our crusade, and barring some miracle Wales will dominate Britain forever!

Yours in vassalage,

Llyweln Fawr

July 18th, 1376
From: His Lordship Owain Glyndŵr, Prince Of Gwynedd
To: The camp of Lieutenant Llywelyn Fawr
Subj: Re: For Gwynedd!!!

I am somewhat perplexed by your gohebiaeth. The Valley Brithoniaid was captured by Sir Wyrm Abersylwyth one month ago. His milwyr hold the valley now, and the taverns are full of the sounds of their dathliadau. I fear that your army is not in the gywir position to launch our intended counterattack.

My advanced skirmishers are waiting for the gelyn in Pen-y-Bont, based on your most recent intelligence reports. I need to know immediately whether these reports have been made using Roman miles or Welsh miles as I fear we have been siarad about two completely different pethau. I cannot imagine why this might yn cael ei.

And please, confine yourself to referring to our nation as Cyrmu. I know you are of Gwynedd and you fight for her enaid, but for me and most Welshmen this fight is for all Cyrmu, and against all those who think that Gwynedd means Cyrmu!

Also, did you mean “debacle” where you wrote “miracle”? It would certainly be no miracle if Wales were barred from dominance by something as silly as a slip of the tongue!

Have you yet used the new mapiau I gave you? I sent them with my last courier, Yeoman Jones. They should clear up any dryswch you might have about our enemy’s lleoliad.

Please ymateb with all frys.

Your master,

His Lordship Owain Glyndŵr, Prince Of Gwynedd

July 23rd, 1376
From: The camp of Lieutenant Llywelyn Fawr
To: His Lordship Owain Glyndŵr, Prince Of Gwynedd
Subj: Re: Re: For Gwynedd!!!

My Lord,

Have you not been informed? Sir Wyrm Abersylwyth was dffelsh near Abelmareym before he could ever hufflyw the Valley Brithoniaid. This huddreth only made my camp last jilkm but I was sure a courier went in your wywrwl as well. The taverns are well full of the dathliadau of the English!

Also, upon investigation into the units used on our scouting trufthr, the surveyer who conducted that had died, a victim of being moved by his comrades to consume multiple rations of kittnil breads. Therefore, I propose we fufft a new unit, being known as Army Miles. The definition of which is one fifth the distance between Ffermwr field and our rendevous point. Please make this known to your sgowtiaid fynd i’r afael.

I must contend your preferred name for our land. Think about it. Are you not titled the Prince of Gwynedd? And if you rule the whole land, why is the land called Cyrmu? And might I be so bold as to remind you that Gwynedd is the cyfoethocaf area of Wales, upon which brenhinoedd uchel yn ennill coron?

I’m sorry to say no mapiau have been presented by any Yeoman Jones. Upon investigation I see that of the cohort of twenty five he came with fully two fifths were named Yeoman Jones, so it is possible I asked the wrong man. Ho! He must have been confused! Good thing mapiau have no strategic value. Unless I am thinking of mapiaw…which do…or mypiao which kind of do but only on weekends in the planting season. I shall consult a gramadegydd to determine the extent of our problem.

Vassalage,

Lieutenant Llywelyn Fawr

July 28th, 1376
From: His Lordship Owain Glyndŵr, Prince Of Gwynedd
To: The camp of Lieutenant Llywelyn Fawr
Subj: Re: Re: Re: For Gwynedd!!!

Abersylwyth is dffelsh and no one told me? We must proceed to the taverns at once and fill the air with our dathliadau!

I thought everyone yn gwybod Yeoman Jones. Yeoman Llewellyn Jones? You met him at last year’s pêl-fasged party.

In any case, I have informed my surveyors of your awgrymodd new Army Miles unit of measurement. They said this syniad was stupid. I cychwynnodd them. They parhau. I cychwynnodd them again, this time with a ffa. They relented. You are commended for this wonderful syniad, but it does not make up for your poor perfformiad in other areas.

You are hereby archebu to cerdded immediately to Dulyn. Do not ffidil cig moch Ebrill llygoden, or when we meet I will give you bricyll. Do not test my gwenyn. You will find yourself siarad out of both gasgenni if you do.

Gwneud yourself ddefnyddiol! As for gramadegydd, do not utter such language.

Shut up,

His Lordship Owain Glyndŵr, Prince Of Gwynedd

July 31st, 1376
From: The camp of Lieutenant Llywelyn Fawr
To: His Lordship Owain Glyndŵr, Prince Of Gwynedd
Subj: Re: Re: Re: Re: For Gwynedd!!!

Arblermare wiffleln rugland my Lord! Yesterspork krughlth English most Jyddfufflfuphththhhhthwyln! My cychwynnodd hath juddgrud a ffa kliner-Ail-Oilpork wain thunter hu.

I have a whole pailnwyf named Yeoman Llewellyn Jones. You’ll have to be more gyefrt.

Also, hu or nuhu ail ffidil cig moch Ebrill llygoden? My gasgenni are strong!

So just keep that in mind, or else the whole damn thing is liable to fall apart.

Hands-over-yours,

Llywelyn Fawr

w.y. Have you seen the new Ioan Gruffudd puppet show and tapestry?

August 2nd, 1376
From: His Lordship Owain Glyndŵr, Prince Of Gwynedd
To: The camp of Lieutenant Llywelyn Fawr
Subj: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: For Gwynedd!!!

You fool! How could you forget that caws grwylldeddgyll yberberggllyn cwsgogddywm Jyddfufflfuphththhhhthwylnwylnwylnwylnwylnwylnwylnwyln?! You foolish foolish yborddifyddlwmncwrnnm!

Gruffudd attended Ysgol Gynradd Gymraeg Aberdar (Ynyslwyd) (now situated in Cwmdare), Ysgol Gymraeg Melin Gruffydd, and Ysgol Gyfun Gymraeg Glantaf, where he sat his GCSEs and A-Levels.

O! I am slain.

Sincerely,

His Lordship Owain Glyndŵr, Prince Of Gwynedd

Master: Captain. Welcome aboard. You will find your quarters prepared.

Louis salutes. Louis: Comment allez-vous?

Master: Ah I am fine. Things have been better. I just don’t know how this war with the frogs will end.

Captain: Ah, of course we will win. We shall sail up the Seine itself if necessary!

Louis: Je conviens. Il n’y a aucune manière que nous pouvons desserrer. Le brittania de règle !

Captain: That’s the spirit!

Master: Sir! This is our pilot. Pedro Dela Oporto, from the Portugese naval constabulary.

Pilot: Cumprimentos!

The pilot notices Midshipman Louis

Pilot: Meu deus! Seus Louis do rei! O inimigo! O que são você que faz! Comece-o!

–No one knows Portuguese—

Louis: Bonjour, il fait beau de vous rencontrer.

Pilot looks at the three and realizes no one understands him.

Pilot: Idiots….

The captain looks at the crew.

Captain: What’s up with these men?

Master: Ah, they are in fact from His Majesty’s Canadian Corps of sailors. All of these men are from Ontario.

Captain: Oh….ok.

Master: (to captain) Anyway…the ship is ready to sail sir!

Captain: Very good Mr. Luned! Tack the cargo and jib the rudder! Two points to starboard and bend the yardarms! Marines! Man the head and burn the bridge! We sail for the fleet at Spithead!

All: Aye Aye!

The captain goes to the quarterdeck and finds the wheel. Above it is an instrument array and rearview mirror from a car and there is a manual transmission stick. The other officers watch from behind and he wrestles with the stick…the gears grind briefly, then the boat pulls quickly out from its mooring like a car from a parking spot backward, stops, gears grind some more, then he steps on a wooden accelerator pedal. The sails fill with wind instantaneously and the whole mess takes off at full speed.

End of Act One

Interior, captains quarters. The captain is in a wooden hot tub wearing a full length bathing suit made of spandex but which looks exactly like a full dress uniform (like a tuxedo t-shirt).

Louis enters, followed by his aides.

Louis: Nous avons rencontré quelques mers agitées mais nous sommes maintenant chez Spithead. Est-ce que je dois donner l’ordre à l’ancre inférieure? En outre, l’amirauté vous souhaite à une réunion sur le navire amiral.

Captain: Very good. All officers will come with me.

Louis: Oui!

Louis exits. We see the captain still playing with a toy sailboat in the bubbles for a beat or two then cut to a transfer boat.

Pilot: (In Portuguese, pointing at Louis) I can’t believe you captain! He is the person to capture! Oh…you don’t understand me do you….

Captain: (Thinking it was a joke) hahaha! You sure are right about that Pedro!

The boat reaches the flagship. The four climb out to meet the admirals, surrounded by Marines.

Pedro thinks someone here must know what is going on.

Pilot: (In Portuguese, pointing and jumping frantically): Look! Look! Its him, get him, it will end the war and you could make any demand you wanted!

The whole company begins to laugh…thinking it was a joke. No one understands Portuguese.

Marine Captain: (still chuckling) Ripping good stuff!

Captain: Rear Admiral Roque, Vice Admiral Papyr, and Fleet Admiral Scyzors Sirs! I present my ships officers.

Rear Admiral Roque, Vice Admiral Papyr, and Fleet Admiral Scyzors salute.

Fleet Admiral: Please, join us in the dining room.

They walk into the cabin.

Cut to a scene where they are laughing again, Pedro lowers his head to the table in defeat again. Louis is surrounded by his aides who perform every act of dinner for him.

Fleet Admiral: So, now to business. Captain, you will be responsible for leading a strategic attack on the Franco-Spanish fleet which has been spotted off Brest peninsula.

Rear Admiral: This is a tough assignment, and one you must coordinate with us. We will all be converging at the same time in that area to avoid alarm.

Fleet Admiral: We call it the Squeeze Tactic.

Vice Admiral: It is important that you don’t beat any of us to Brest. Last time we tried this, Roque beat Scyzors off the tip of Brest, the fleet was alarmed and escaped.

Rear Admiral: Haha it was because my crews are better. Truth is I could beat you off anywhere! Vice Admiral: This operation is of utmost importance. We must squeeze Brest!

Captain: To victory!

All: Huzzah! (We distinctly hear a ‘Le’ before Louis cheers)

Cut back to the Captain’s ship.

Captain: Set sail for Brest, Master.

Master: Aye!

They Sail Away

End of Act Two

Exterior, quarterdeck of the “Umby” the officers are in field uniforms. Pedro is working on the charts. Louis has a telescope. The master has the wheel, and the captain is looking on.

Louis notices something in the distance

Louis: (In French) We have found a sail on the horizon. Three points off port bow.

They all look in different directions. No one understands naval directions. Louis points. Louis: (In French) Over there!

They all look. They now get their scopes and look.

Master: There are two more. One on each side of that….hey! Its British! I see the colors! But the other [...]]]> We meet our heroes, Lord Sir Joseph St. John MacJasper KGC, Captain RN of the HMS Unbelieveblydifficulttosinknoreally ( we don’t see the name till the boat pulls out later, it is written in a wide arc above the aft windows), and Midshipman Louis C. B. Smith Jonesington as they enter the aforementioned ship via a gang plank flanked by Marines. Captain MacJasper is in full dress, decorated by every conceivable piece of gilded cloth and medals, so much so that his walking sounds like a cowboy wearing tap shoes. He also wears a bonnet and kilt. He is slightly tall and average looking otherwise. Louis comes aboard with an entourage and is wearing a full white French navy uniform with tricolour fleur-de-lis on his breast, a sky blue neckerchief, and a Legion of Merit badge, but no one seems to notice. Other officers file in after them. The master of the boat Gwyther Luned approaches.

Master: Captain. Welcome aboard. You will find your quarters prepared.

Louis salutes.
Louis: Comment allez-vous?

Master: Ah I am fine. Things have been better. I just don’t know how this war with the frogs will end.

Captain: Ah, of course we will win. We shall sail up the Seine itself if necessary!

Louis: Je conviens. Il n’y a aucune manière que nous pouvons desserrer. Le brittania de règle !

Captain: That’s the spirit!

Master: Sir! This is our pilot. Pedro Dela Oporto, from the Portugese naval constabulary.

Pilot: Cumprimentos!

The pilot notices Midshipman Louis

Pilot: Meu deus! Seus Louis do rei! O inimigo! O que são você que faz! Comece-o!

–No one knows Portuguese—

Louis: Bonjour, il fait beau de vous rencontrer.

Pilot looks at the three and realizes no one understands him.

Pilot: Idiots….

The captain looks at the crew.

Captain: What’s up with these men?

Master: Ah, they are in fact from His Majesty’s Canadian Corps of sailors. All of these men are from Ontario.

Captain: Oh….ok.

Master: (to captain) Anyway…the ship is ready to sail sir!

Captain: Very good Mr. Luned! Tack the cargo and jib the rudder! Two points to starboard and bend the yardarms! Marines! Man the head and burn the bridge! We sail for the fleet at Spithead!

All: Aye Aye!

The captain goes to the quarterdeck and finds the wheel. Above it is an instrument array and rearview mirror from a car and there is a manual transmission stick. The other officers watch from behind and he wrestles with the stick…the gears grind briefly, then the boat pulls quickly out from its mooring like a car from a parking spot backward, stops, gears grind some more, then he steps on a wooden accelerator pedal. The sails fill with wind instantaneously and the whole mess takes off at full speed.

End of Act One

Interior, captains quarters. The captain is in a wooden hot tub wearing a full length bathing suit made of spandex but which looks exactly like a full dress uniform (like a tuxedo t-shirt).

Louis enters, followed by his aides.

Louis: Nous avons rencontré quelques mers agitées mais nous sommes maintenant chez Spithead. Est-ce que je dois donner l’ordre à l’ancre inférieure? En outre, l’amirauté vous souhaite à une réunion sur le navire amiral.

Captain: Very good. All officers will come with me.

Louis: Oui!

Louis exits.
We see the captain still playing with a toy sailboat in the bubbles for a beat or two then cut to a transfer boat.

Pilot: (In Portuguese, pointing at Louis) I can’t believe you captain! He is the person to capture! Oh…you don’t understand me do you….

Captain: (Thinking it was a joke) hahaha! You sure are right about that Pedro!

The boat reaches the flagship. The four climb out to meet the admirals, surrounded by Marines.

Pedro thinks someone here must know what is going on.

Pilot: (In Portuguese, pointing and jumping frantically): Look! Look! Its him, get him, it will end the war and you could make any demand you wanted!

The whole company begins to laugh…thinking it was a joke. No one understands Portuguese.

Marine Captain: (still chuckling) Ripping good stuff!

Captain: Rear Admiral Roque, Vice Admiral Papyr, and Fleet Admiral Scyzors Sirs! I present my ships officers.

Rear Admiral Roque, Vice Admiral Papyr, and Fleet Admiral Scyzors salute.

Fleet Admiral: Please, join us in the dining room.

They walk into the cabin.

Cut to a scene where they are laughing again, Pedro lowers his head to the table in defeat again. Louis is surrounded by his aides who perform every act of dinner for him.

Fleet Admiral: So, now to business. Captain, you will be responsible for leading a strategic attack on the Franco-Spanish fleet which has been spotted off Brest peninsula.

Rear Admiral: This is a tough assignment, and one you must coordinate with us. We will all be converging at the same time in that area to avoid alarm.

Fleet Admiral: We call it the Squeeze Tactic.

Vice Admiral: It is important that you don’t beat any of us to Brest. Last time we tried this, Roque beat Scyzors off the tip of Brest, the fleet was alarmed and escaped.

Rear Admiral: Haha it was because my crews are better. Truth is I could beat you off anywhere!
Vice Admiral: This operation is of utmost importance. We must squeeze Brest!

Captain: To victory!

All: Huzzah! (We distinctly hear a ‘Le’ before Louis cheers)

Cut back to the Captain’s ship.

Captain: Set sail for Brest, Master.

Master: Aye!

They Sail Away

End of Act Two

Exterior, quarterdeck of the “Umby” the officers are in field uniforms. Pedro is working on the charts. Louis has a telescope. The master has the wheel, and the captain is looking on.

Louis notices something in the distance

Louis: (In French) We have found a sail on the horizon. Three points off port bow.

They all look in different directions. No one understands naval directions.
Louis points.
Louis: (In French) Over there!

They all look. They now get their scopes and look.

Master: There are two more. One on each side of that….hey! Its British! I see the colors! But the other two I can’t see but they are overtaking them!

Captain: We must make for them and stop them before they inform their fleet of our whereabouts.

Pilot: ( In Portuguese) The weather is against us. We can’t go over there. In fact, there is no wind at all if you notice.

Captain: (fighting back a smile) This is no time for jokes.

Louis: (In French) They are headed this way. But those ships are French!!

Master: He is right. I can see their Imperial Eagle emblems!

Captain: God. Our comrades have almost no chance now. Beat to quarters!

As men run about, a pair of crew flog a pair of huge coins.
The ships get close quickly, but as the two ships overtake the larger one, they open fire.

Captain: I don’t understand. Why are they coming this way still? Its not like the French to give up a prize like that!

Master: (As though he is looking at death) Those aren’t Imperial Eagles…..

Louis: (In French) Wait…..no…..no freakin’ way…..

We hear loud civil war music start, as though the ships are broadcasting it with loud speakers after the broadsides destroy the British ship
Shot of the rear of the moving ships raising their colors, the old naval jack which reads
“DON’T TREAD ON ME”

Shot of all officers looking toward the camera, frozen in fear.

Captain: Christ! They’re Americans!

Pedro turns and runs with his hands in the air wildly out of shot. The other officers scramble to action stations. The Captains view affords a look at the ship. The American crews are cavorting wildly on deck, cheering and swinging on ropes, and partying like a drunken pirate crew.
Instantly the two ships are upon them. Cut to birds eye view. The civil war music is very loud now, and the Umby’s T is crossed by both ships as they let loose a massive broadside. The Umby is incredibly damaged. From the ocean level view the American ships are still partying and bobbing up and down and slowly swaying left to right. Drunk people are partying on the crows’ nests as well. We see one ship named “Stargroup”(Constellation) and the other “Documentofwrittenrights”(Constitution) as they move into the sunset. The music fades away.

Back on the Umby, Pedro sticks his head up from the sail he was hiding under, next to the Captain.

Captain: Fuck…that sucked.

The Master is shouting at the crew

Master: Clean this mess up you sordid lot!

Wide shot reveals the ship is cracking in half, but the crew is fast and are repairing the damage with duct tape. One crew member dives under with a roll to repair the bottom.

Master: (from the forecastle) Repairs completed Captain!
Captain: Weigh anchor and set sail!

Shot of the crew heaving the anchor onto a set of scales and a line leading up to a booth with merchants behind it, signs say “80% off!”

They sail off

End of Act Three

Exterior, Bow of the Umby. The officers are looking at charts.

Louis: (In French) It’s Brest all right.

Master: How can you tell?

He lowers the map to see a rock formation that looks like giant breasts and points.

Louis: (In French) The Peninsula!

Captain: And there is the fleet! But where are the Admirals?

Master: Somehow we beat them to the squeeze.

Captain: We have to go in! They will escape! I’m sure we can count on the Admirals for backup.

Louis: (In French) But it’s a suicide mission. The men wont have it!

Captain: I shall speak to the company.

The men assemble.

Captain: Gentlemen! The French are over there! We must attack. You realize that this may be our last action together, but I want you to know that we have served England and King George with excellence in the past and we will not stop now!

Person in the back: Why?

Captain: What?

Person in the back: I mean, why should we die for England? None of us are English!

Captain: Really?

Pan shot shows Master Luned eating leafy leeks (Wales), the captain’s kilt (Scotland), Pedro, Louis (obvious), and the crew who have set up a mini ice hockey rink and a maple tree orchard behind the assembled men, with a game going on and people collecting maple syrup.

Captain: So no one here is English?

Double beat. We hear crickets.

Other guy in back: (meekly) I’m from New England…

Captain: Ok. Screw this.

The crew and the officers stand about, trying to think of what to do next.

Master: So… what do we do next?

Louis: (In French) How about a chase?

The master points out to sea away from the French

Master: There they are!

Patriotic British music starts in the background.

The Americans have appeared out of nowhere and are taunting the Umby to give chase.

Captain: You know what to do, men!

Person in the back: Now this we can agree on!

The crew cheers Huzzah, we again hear Louis’s ‘Le’ Crane shot shows the Umby going after the Americans at full speed. Fade to black. British music is still playing. Credits.

FIN

Stairway to Heaven

Led Zeppelin wrote this song when they were all shopping together at a mall in London, England. They observed a woman purchasing large amounts of healthy wheat cereal. Realizing this vital ingredient in a healthy and rewarding daily lifestyle, the guys came up with the line “she’s buying a stairway to heaven.”

House of the Rising Sun

This classic blues piece was written by an unknown American folk singer in the 19th century after he had spent some time as an astronomer’s assistant in Japan. Thus, the title is a double entendre.

Pressure Drop

Before they were musicians, Toots and the Maytals were Jamaica’s finest astronauts. They were inspired to write this, their most famous song, after they conducted an experiment of pushing a llama out into space to observe the effects.

Like a Rolling Stone

Bob Dylan was once an amateur geologist. Once while on a particularly windy day in a blasting region on a mountain with very loose boulders all around, his friend, who later fully recovered, was hit by a truck. The drama of that day inspired the song.

More than a Feeling

The members of Boston met in grade school when they were learning about human senses. (sight, smell, etc.) The rest, as they say, is history.

Happiness is a Warm Gun

It’s about sex, people. Get over it.

Never Be Rude to an Arab

Once, Terry Gilliam was visiting Arabia, and he spat in his left hand, took off his shoe with it, wiped his ass with the sole, and smothered the mess in the face of a camel salesman. The ensuing international incident and court ordered public warning/apology resulted in this song.

Space Oddity

A former KGB mole, David Bowie learned the story of the real first cosmonaut to reach outer space in the summer of 1962. The mission ended in tragedy, and the song was really a coded report of the incident to President Kennedy, NASA, NATO, and the CIA.

New Hampshire is a right side up triangle.

No one can remember the capital of New Hampshire. Go on. Try. I bet you know the other 49 no problem. I bet you even know the capitals of most of the Canadian provinces and territories. But no, you don’t know New Hampshire. It’s Concord, formerly Exeter.

New Hampshire is home to the Phillips Exeter academy, a beautiful school located on Devon Road. By most consensus of literary scholars, the worst single piece of literature from the Epic of Gilgamesh to this very moment ever to have been written takes place here, involving the interactions of two secret communist homosexuals during the middle of world war two. In a secret epilogue that was never published, the pair, having gone through their retarded and backwards ‘adventure’ are shot in the head by Holden Caulfield, Jay Gatsby, Paul Bäumer, Oedipus Rex, Winfield Scott Hancock, and, yes, even Maniac Magee.

Keys To Victory You don’t even want New Hampshire. Focus on something else.

Who Will Win? Whoever makes the most passing references to something that New Hampshire is famous for, which is nothing.