TRIGGER: Mind yourself Del that could be dangerous.

DEL: Cor, thanks Trigger. Couldn't gone arse over tit and gone down the apples and pears.

TRIGGER: Could have been very nasty.

DEL: Could of been classic telly Trig.

Enter CYDERDELIC.

DEL: Watch yourselves lads. There's an accident waiting to happen there.

CYDERDELIC: Don't worry yourself. We're ground break, falling down there would be slap stick.

DEL: I'll give you a slap in minute.

Typing gone off. Keep missing out letters. Must go to bed. But must stay up in case the river breaks its banks. Is it ever going to stop raining?

It will stop raining as soon as they stop showing Del Boy falling through the bar.

Better start building that Ark, then.

Trigger falls through the bar

DEL BOY: No, that's not right...

MAN AT BAR: Your lemonade's on fire, sir.

(HIS LEMONADE IS ON FIRE.)

MAN AT BAR: And what bright spark did that!

[A 'Post-Pub TV' Presenter enters the bar]

'PPTV'P: I have entered the bar...because my cock is so fat!

[Attempt to cajole blokey hur-hurs out of audience]

'PPTV'P: And with a cock this fat this pub's the only thing I'm allowed to enter. You know why Cherie Blair's mouth's like it is? She's had my cock in it. Well, I can't stand here all day talking, me cocks too heavy it's buckling me legs.

LOCAL: Fuck off cunt or I'll kill ya!

>LOCAL: Fuck off cunt or I'll kill ya!

Velvet Underpants?

Er, is this post watershed?

No, just post-modernist.

[A puppy rings]

(DEL PICKS UP PUPPY)

DEL: 'Ere, Rodders, it's the late Grandad on the dog and bone. 'E wants to know if it's time to drop the chandelier.

GRANDDAD: Dahn't tell 'im yer name, Del-boy!

Some anonymous individual just sent me the sketch on MPEG...

TRIGGER: Don't mention the war, Dave.

[enter PAPA LAZAROUS]

PAPA LAZAROUS: Hello Roderney!

Surely it was a pub, not a wine bar. You'll have to do the whole thread again now.

*bong!*

Start again...

(DELBOY FALLS THROUGH AN OPEN BAR HATCH. AUDIENCE LAUGH)

DELBOY:AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRgggggggggggggggggHHHHHHHHHHHHH

(INSTEAD OF HITTING THE FLOOR ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BAR, HOWEVER, HE FALLS THROUGH A DEEP HOLE INTO A LEWIS CARROLL-STYLE FANTASY WORLD. AUDIENCE STOP LAUGHING. THEY HAVE TURNED INTO BAYING MOOSE.)

DEL: HELP ME TRIG.

(TRIGGER WHIPS OFF HIS MASK. HE IS STEVE PENK)

STEVE PENK: NO DEL. IN THE NAME OF ENTERTAINMENT YOU MUST RELIVE THIS SEQUENCE OF EVENTS FOREVER. HA HA HA. BUT FIRST, HERE'S SOME HILARIOUS CLIPS OF SKIERS BEING INJURED.

>Surely it was a pub, not a wine bar. You'll have to do the whole thread again now.

Del was playing at being a Yuppie at the time, wasn't he? Hanging out in wine bars to impress the ladies and up his social cachet. Hence his literal fall through the bar hatch was also a symbolic fall from lofty pretension to bathetic foolishness. As the philosophers will tell you, it is funnier for a prince to slip on a banana skin than a pauper.

(But not as funny as Prince slipping on one.)

>(But not as funny as Prince slipping on one.)

This is getting slightly off-topic here, but I hope you'll forgive me.

Talking of amusing incidents regarding slipping on things, a friend of a friend (no, it isn't an urban myth, that's the actual relationship) was once in Amsterdam. Tooted-up, he decided to spend a few minutes in a peepshow - one of those places where you put your money in the slot and the barrier automatically glides down to let you see the delights within, and raises again when the time's up. Anyways, picture the scene: he's a bit excited but greatly looking forward to the show. He goes through the door that leads to the cubicle; it's a bit dark so his hands are out in front of him as he makes out the viewing window in the gloom. He cautiously inches towards the viewing window... only to do a massive comedy slip in the pools of jism that are all over the floor.

I don't know about anyone else, but that's one of those stories that I recall for the purposes of cheering me up whenever I'm feeling a bit low.

Certainly made me laugh.

[Del Boy enters the booth]

[begins wanking furiously]

[suddenly realises he is sitting on Uncle Albert's lap]

[overcome with emotion, he begins hungrily slurping at Albert's shriveled mouse]

[Something about Rodney being a plonker. Some dodgy videos. etc.]

TRIGGER: Alright, Dave?

RODNEY: Bloody, 'ell, Trig. Whotchoo doin' ere?

DELBOY: Shut up, Rodney. Treat yer Johns proper. Get gobblin'