|
Doctor Spoya
|
| |
|
|
Gatesy:
|
Okay...
|
|
Scod:
|
Thanks for sticking around!
|
|
Gatesy:
|
Now, the challenge was - there was Doctor Spoya...
|
|
Scod:
|
Doctor Spoya... there was a Torana...
|
|
Gatesy:
|
Yes... there was fish food...
|
|
Scod:
|
Yes...
|
|
Gatesy:
|
Epsom Salts...
|
|
Scod:
|
Yep...
|
|
|
|
|
Audience member:
|
Gangster rap...
|
|
Gatesy:
|
Gangster rappin'!
|
|
Yon:
|
Gangster rap...
|
|
|
|
|
Gatesy:
|
Elvis kind of song... yeah, Elvis, we've said...
|
|
Yon:
|
Elvis, we've said, well, we did it in an Elvis style, rather than putting Elvis in.
|
|
Gatesy:
|
What else was there? A Torana...
|
|
|
|
|
Audience member:
|
I said Elvis, I'm sorry...
|
|
|
|
|
Gatesy:
|
No, no, no, no, no... Elvis is cool. Elvis is King!
|
|
|
|
|
Audience member:
|
I'm sorry...
|
|
|
|
|
Scod:
|
Elvis is King, in fact Elvis is the style in which we have chosen to do the entire song. So... well done...
|
|
Gatesy:
|
I just want to know, I haven't missed anything...
|
|
Scod:
|
Gangster rap... no, it's all there.
|
|
Gatesy:
|
Okay, let's go.
|
|
Scod:
|
Let's do it! Good luck everyone, good luck!
|
|
|
|
|
|
Okay!
|
|
Gatesy:
|
Thanks for sticking around for an hour, guys. We realise it's, you know, after bedtime.
|
|
Scod:
|
Yeah...
|
|
|
|
|
|
One! Two! Three!
|
|
|
|
|
Tripod:
|
(Elvis) Oh lover,
|
|
Gatesy:
|
I've been missing you so long.
|
|
Tripod:
|
Can't recover,
|
|
Gatesy:
|
So I have to sing this song.
|
|
Tripod:
|
No other,
|
|
Gatesy:
|
I'm dying from this long-distance love,
|
|
|
Lover.
|
|
|
|
|
Tripod:
|
Don't wanna,
|
|
Scod:
|
Be without you any more.
|
|
Tripod:
|
Was a gonna,
|
|
Scod:
|
When you walked right out my door.
|
|
Tripod:
|
No funn-er,
|
|
Scod:
|
Wanna pack right up and go do a runner.
|
|
Tripod:
|
In my Torana.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Though we may poke out our pelvis,
|
|
|
This bit isn't very Elvis-y.
|
|
|
|
|
|
But this bit iiiiiiisssssssssss...
|
|
|
|
|
Scod:
|
Don't need no banker or no lawyer,
|
|
Tripod:
|
Don't need no naval destroyer,
|
|
|
Don't need to loiter in no foyer,
|
|
|
I'm far away from you,
|
|
|
And every day I bleed,
|
|
|
So won't you tell me what I need...
|
|
Scod:
|
Doctor Spoya?
|
|
|
|
|
Tripod:
|
I'm heartbroken,
|
|
Yon:
|
I just can't concentrate.
|
|
Tripod:
|
I'm not jokin',
|
|
Yon:
|
I've made some terrible mistakes...
|
|
Tripod:
|
... since we've spoken.
|
|
Yon:
|
I fed my favourite fish with Epsom Salts.
|
|
|
Now they're chokin'.
|
|
|
|
|
Scod:
|
Man, once I fed my fish with Epsom Salts, they're almost relaxed to death.
|
|
|
Man, my fish are so chilled out, they're like gangster rappers.
|
|
|
They're like Cyprus Hill fish.
|
|
|
|
|
Gatesy:
|
(Gangster rapping) I was on a roll,
|
|
|
Just swimmin' round my bowl.
|
|
|
Put me in a weird mood,
|
|
|
Epsom Salts in my food!
|
|
|
Now I breakdance and I spin,
|
|
|
With my flappy-flappy fins, and the...
|
|
|
|
|
|
(Pause)
|
|
|
|
|
Yon:
|
No!
|
|
Gatesy:
|
That was good! They liked that!
|
|
|
(Gangster rap) Yeah, all right. Thank you for coming round.
|
|
Yon:
|
That is not how fish rap!
|
|
|
Give me a beat...
|
|
Scod:
|
How do fish rap?
|
|
Yon:
|
I'll show ya...
|
|
|
|
|
Yon:
|
Gurgle, gurgle, blubb, blubb, gurgle, gurgle...
|
|
|
|
|
Gatesy:
|
Yeah, fine, thanks...
|
|
|
|
|
Tripod:
|
(Elvis) Don't need no Janet or no Toya,
|
|
|
Don't need no Bert or no Moira,
|
|
|
You're my Helen of Troy-a,
|
|
|
I'm far away from you,
|
|
|
And every day I bleed,
|
|
|
So won't you tell me what I need...
|
|
|
|
|
|
Don't need no Huck Finn or Tom Sawyer,
|
|
|
Don't need no Backstreet or no Boy-a,
|
|
|
Don't need no H.G. or no Roy-a,
|
|
|
I'm far away from you,
|
|
|
And every day I bleed,
|
|
|
So won't you tell me what I need...
|
|
|
|
|
Scod:
|
Doctor...
|
|
Gatesy:
|
Doctor...
|
|
Yon:
|
Doctor...
|
|
|
|
|
Tripod:
|
Doctor Spoya?
|
|
|
|
|
Gatesy:
|
Thanks so much!
|
|
Yon:
|
Yeah!
|
|
Scod:
|
Thank you!
|