Elise and Mo for their version of Business Time. And going so far as to film themselves performing it! Go ladies. I've yet to shrink the file small enough for you to download, but as soon as I do, I'll let you know. Ladies, your tee shirts and BBC radio CD will be winging their way to you in the New Year :)
Chica for her Very Conchords Christmas. Inspired and lo, I think I got all the rerferences. A WTF! tee shirt for you!
A Very Conchords Christmas
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, except for that mouse;
The stockings were hung by eager Bret with care,
In hopes that St Nick would helmet his hair;
The Conchords were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of space Bowies danced in their heads;
Jemaine in his Prince blouse, and Bret in his cap,
Were free styling a very Christmassy rap,
When out in the street there arose such a clatter,
They dived under the bed, teeth all a-chatter.
Away from the window they leapt like a flash,
Fearing a drive-by or muggers wanting cash.
Covering her breasts with the new-fallen snow
Threatening to take the ice further below,
There, before worried Conchords’ eyes did appear,
A writhing Mel, a sight sure to invoke fear.
With her little old husband, not lively or quick,
But who at all moments loved this crazy chick.
More rapid than eagles or sharks, they claim,
The boys muttered and turned their backs on this game;
“You’re dashing! My dancers! Let me be your vixen!”
Mel called upon Cupid, much to his chagrin,
So she climbed on the porch! To the top of the wall!
Bret and Jemaine dashed away! Dashed away all!
You had never seen the Conchords so swiftly fly,
And Mel met with an obstacle, a flung mince pie,
So down from the house-top the fanbase she flew,
Landing in the soft snow, she turned the cold air blue.
And then, their eyes twinkling, they heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As they drew back the sheets and were turning around,
Down the fire escape fell Murray, ginger and round.
He was dressed all in brown, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with bird poo and soot;
A bundle of CDs were flung on his back,
And he looked more than usual like a real sad sack.
His eyes how they darted! His nose was so hairy!
His cheeks were like doughballs, feet light as a fairy!
His sad little mouth was drawn down oh so low,
And the beard of his chin a billy goat would grow;
A chewed-up toothpick he held tight in his teeth,
He thought it looked so rock’n’roll, like Richards, Keith;
He had tiny legs and a little round belly,
The air of a man who was really quite smelly.
Bret stood up and pouted, just like Figwit the Elf,
Believing the time had come to assert himself;
Jemaine adjusted his glasses and cocked his head,
Wondering when he’d be able to get back to bed;
He spoke not a word, as just a grunt would work,
Leaving Murray looking like an absolute berk.
Plans to play Santa for the boys were exposed,
Giving a nod, he shuffled out, the door closed;
Bret sprang to the sack, saw the CDs and whistled,
“Santa answered my letters!” Jemaine just bristled.
But then he smiled as he saw McKenzie’s delight,
"Happy Christmas, sweet Bret. Now shut up and goodnight."
Ms Dandy Lyons for her photoshopped seasonal pic of the Conchords. A WTF! Binary Solo mousepad is yours!
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And lastly, an extra winner, Heather. Anyone who bakes Conchords cookies has to win something in my book! A WTF! mousepad for you too!
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