WARNING: Anyone who takes this seriously or as a possible source of emulation...
Deserves to.

While we at IPR, YFITA, absolutely refuse to reveal our sources, on the grounds that both they and we were drunk at the time, and we're not sure what year it was, either, we can reasonably assure you that we have known of instances in which people we thought we knew had run-ins with the law.

Then there were the ones who had run-ins with law enforcement...

A slightly different matter.

Narr:

This is Mr. Ian P. Blurd, your host and narrator today for another thrilling episode of "Your Day in Court".

Today, the lucky winner of our postcard drawing was Mr. Tony Froof, of Errant Knight Estates, Holydog, Montana.

The presiding judges and attending attorneys are all members in good standing of their respective local Liquor Licence Review Boards and all have, at one time or another, heard of Blackstone.

SFX: shuffling of feet and rattling of toffee papers. Occasional irate whisper of "Would you mind putting that Tiki Torch out, I've got an unweaned infant here?", followed by "He looks near to fifteen to me, Madame. Is that why you're in court, today?", followed by several small smacking sounds and the running feetsteps of a loudly sobbing bearded male. And that was just the bailiff!



Narr:

Tony sits quietly, reading a small synopsis of the works of Martin Luther's gardener in the Pelican edition. He is dressed in a small worsted summer weight siren suit with a black carnation in the lapel and a burlap cravat at the throat. His hair is pomaded within an inch of its life and his glasses have recently been cleaned when he drove his Morgan cabriolet through the backwash of the streetsweeper...

He has no idea what he is in store for today.

Honestly, neither do we.


SFX: Loud thumping sound. Tap of tiny heels. A sweet voice murmurs,"All Rise! The court of the Honorable Judge Mirabell P. Harness is now in SESSION!" Shuffling of feet and 'whish' of rising bums. Sound of small military style boots on hardwood floors. 'Whisk' of starched robes and squeak of ancient office chair as weight is taken on. "BE SEATED!," says the kindly but firm voice. Sound of benches groaning under sudden thumps of unprocessed meat.


Narr:

Note to self. Find out who this Sound Effects guy is and get him fired....

SFX: Sound of lightly loaded Patriot Missile parting Narrator's Nose Hair...



Hon. Harness:

All right, boys, that'll be enough!

Lessee, according to the docket, the first case today will be a Mr. Tony Froof. Will the defendant please rise?


Narr:

Mr. Froof stands, dropping his book gently on the bench beside him.


Hon. Harness:

Mr. prosecutor, what do we have for him, today?


Mr. Prosecutor:

Well, Your Honor, let's see, as I spin the Filodex ...

SFX: Very active game show-type music as the Filodex is spun using a large ugly lever borrowed from an ancient funicular braking system.


...

And, here we go! Mr. Froof, you are hereby charged with the heinous crime of...

SFX: Drumroll with an old head and chewed sticks

Causing an unlicensed monkey to dance for money without a licence!

That's Two, Two charges in One!

How do you plead?


Mr. Froof:

Welll, I....


Narr:

A small brown man in a large blue suit suddenly grabs Mr. Froof by the ankle and pulls him down to whisper in his ear:


S. B. M.:

Don't say a word. Let me take care of it, mate. I'm a trained professional.


Mr. Froof:

You're a lawyer?


S.B.M.:

You wanna ask me questions? Now? I'm the only thing standing between you and the full weight of the law. Now, what's it gonna be?


Hon. Harness:

Shall I cite you for contempt, sir?

Do you have a plea or not?


Mr. Froof:

Well, all right.


Narr:

The small brown man stands to his full height and, engaging his neck muscles and prehensile ribs, increases his width to an intimidating four feet across. Hooking his thumbs in his ear lobes, he intones with great demeanor:


S.B.M.:

My client pleads guilty with extenuating circumstances.


Mr. Froof:

I do most certainly not!


Mr. Prosecutor:

Then, you plead guilty without extenuating circumstances?


Hon. Harness:

Did you not just have a discussion with your representation, young man? Are you trying to prove that you are insane or infirm by agreeing to one thing and then saying another? That is the kind of monkey shananigans up with which I will not put!


S.B.M.

Look, don't cause trouble, sonny. Just sit back and let me do my thing.


Mr. Froof:

Your Honor and your, um, Grace, I do not know this man. He has slunk up and grabbed my ankle...


S.B.M.:

Behave!


Mr. Prosecutor:

Is he bothering you? Would you like to press charges?


Mr. Froof:

Will that separate us physically?


S.B.M.:
Are you sure you want to do this?


Mr. Froof:

Yes. I want to press charges.


Narr:

As the small brown man is lead away by the bailiff, he shouts mournfully:


S.B.M.:

But I have cake.....!


Hon. Harness:

Now, in the case of Mr. Tony Froof versus the Small Brown Man... Mr. Froof, would you please take the stand and tell us exactly, in your own words, what happened?


Mr. Prosecutor:

I'm sorry, but I do not trust a single thing that this man would say in this case, as he is a wanted criminal who is under charges in another case.


Hon. Harness:

Thank you for reminding me. I'm sorry, Mr. Froof, but we need to clear up this criminal matter first. How long have you been a criminal? Perhaps we can nip your recidivism in the bud.


Mr. Froof:

I am not a criminal.


Mr. Prosecutor:

That's what they all say. You were charged with forcing an unlicensed monkey to dance for money in an unlicensed manner. You have pleaded Guilty with extenuating circumstances...


Mr. Froof:

I beg pardon, sir, but I did not.


Mr. Prosecutor:

What? Which?


Mr. Froof:

Neither.


Hon. Harness:

You did not make a plea with extenuating circumstances and the monkey was licensed, but you did not make him dance?


Mr. Prosecutor:

Or you did not plead Guilty and you have never owned a monkey but were dancing yourself in an unlicensed manner?


Hon. Harness:

Do you have any witnesses who might shed light on this matter?


Mr. Prosecutor:

Or would you like to begin your defense right now and tell us why you placed your unsolicited ankle in that poor man's hand?


Mr. Froof:

My plea is and has always been, Not Guilty without extenuating circumstances.


Mr. Prosecutor:

But, what about the monkey?


Hon. Harness:

Yes, what about the monkey?


Mr. Froof:

There was no monkey.


Hon. Harness:

But there must be a monkey. It's not interesting without the monkey, it's just plain old you without the monkey. I need the monkey!


Mr. Prosecutor:

Yes, please, we must have the monkey!


Mr. Froof:

You can't. And I'll tell you why. I am aggreived that you keep talking about a 'monkey'. It causes me and my family great and repetitive pain every time you bring up the 'monkey'. We are thinking of holding the District Attorney's office and the officers of Precinct No. 8 responsible and culpable for this egregious mistake and misapprehension...


Mr. Prosecutor:

What's he on about? That's not in the script!


Hon. Harness:

Oh, shush, it's better than the script. Yes, sonny, what are you on about?


Mr. Froof:

Your Honor and Your Grace, ladies and gentleman of the jury....

SFX: bleeating of sheep and lowing of cattle and cooing of doves...


Mr. Froof:

As I said, THERE IS NO MONKEY! That, was my sister, who was suffering from a congenital fit caused by the policewoman who was walking past her wearing the wrong colour socks with the right kind of penny loafers and the wrong color navy worsted mini-skirt!

For one so young and so afflicted to not only to be set off into a fit by a poorly dressed representative of the establishment, but to be accused of being an unlicensed monkey engaging in an unlicensed dance for the material benefit of a cruel and unobservant owner, namely me, is not only beyond all reasonable expectation of intelligence in an officer of the short arm of the law, but a matter above and beyond any reasonable expectation of thoughtfulness, investigative ability and a simple willingness to look at a single photo on the part of the Prosecution, who have, so far, Your Honor, not only impinged upon the ability of local law enforcement to go about their regular duties in a timely manner, without being bothered with such silly things as showing up in this court to bolster such ridiculous charges as this, but, and, in addition, Your Honor, also preventing you from being able and capable of reviewing the facts at hand in a suitable and timely manner that would allow you to attend your monthly facial appointment this afternoon in time to return home and ask your almost but not quite estranged husband how his golf game was, knowing full well that he was not, in fact, playing golf, but hiding under Your Honor's desk in her chambers, nibbling the crust off your lunch! I rest my case!


Hon. Harness:

Game, set and match!


Mr. Prosecutor:

But...


Hon. Harness:

And you, you miserable worm, distracting me while my spouse is mutilating my watercress and peanut butter with treacle sandwich! You're probably in league with him, aren't you!

I know by the sneaky way the sweat rolls down your nose to collect in your lower lip, quivering suspiciously like a terrier puppy in front of a TV playing "101 Dalmations" with Farsi subtitles, that you are a reprehensible creature and I cite you with contempt!


Mr. Prosecutor:

This is all your fault Mr. Froof. I will not rest until I see myself avenged! Your Honor, you haven't heard the last of me... Or your husband! At this very minute, he is hovering menacingly over your center desk drawer, threatening to realign your paper clips with a small magnet in a north-north direction!


Narr:

The judge turns marble white and turns to enter her chambers. As she grasps the brass knob, she turns her head and with a voice filled with trembling emotion, says softly:


Hon. Harness:

Bailiff, seize that man... and make his life difficult...


Narr:

With that, she oozes into her office...


Hon. Harness:

Here, boy, here, darling... Where's my little loveykins?


Narr:

and the prosecutor, seeing his imminent incarceration, swiftly pulls a Sedgeway from under the table and speeds out of the courtroom and into the halls of justice, pursued by the bailiff, his sister, two dogs and a rather tired tasmanian devil who has just been rejected from "Pop Idol", but left with a full stomach.

SFX: Sedgeway effect followed by creatures, elephant noises and a small airplane in trouble


Narr:

Meanwhile, our Mr. Froof is chatting up the court reporter.


Mr. Froof:

Personally, I think the kind of digital manipulation you do might find a home in therapeutic massage, also...


Reporter:

Don't judge me by this. This is just what I'm doing until I get out of school. What I would like to do is direct....

SFX: Closing theme, 42 sec, fade out into static