A Very Mango Tale

Hello Mangoes, how's it going?

We have another little update for you on the progress of our lives as we endeavour to become mango. It was revealed to us by ourselves that we have around 50 shows booked from now until September. Needless to say we all briefly died of shock before reviving and coming up with a hot, celebratory dance routine. Anyone who will be in Balham, Buxton or Edinburgh in the next few months, keep your nostrils peeled for our arrival!

In other news, we were out driving in our fashionable horse and cart last week, taking in the crisp spring air and several ridiculously large flies along the way which meant by the time we stopped, our hunger was satiated, but we had one hell of a thirst between us. Luckily we'd pulled up outside the public house pictured below.

Forward we henced and into the Fanny & Mirkin, desperate for a long, refreshing beverage. Inside it was deserted but for a bowl of elderly wasabi peas and faint smell of the ocean.

This is what Richard said:

And then James said:

And then Marianne said:

There was no reply. It was very silent. There were no sounds. It was eerily quiet. So quiet in fact that you could have heard Jodi Foster coming out of the closet. The volume of the place was sneaky. And then James said:

Richard started crying, because he doesn't like change. His tears fell like Simon Cowell's spirits when he realised that no matter how much re-constructive facial surgery he goes in for, he will never escape the fact that he is Simon Cowell and he still looks like a knitted version of a person.

James walked around the bar. He stopped and did a double take the way he might do if this were all just dramatic fiction. Then he said, "WHAT THE EFFIE TRINKET?!" 

Marianne and Richard ran around to see what the matter was. Here is a photograph of what they saw:

As it turns out, the dolphin (Ambrose) had come here from Vietnam on a tourist visa and had taken over the licence from his mate Darrek when he moved to Mauritius. The reason there were no other customers was because everyone in the village was racist.

We shared some drinks with him and then hit the road feeling refreshed.

THE END.

We've Blogcome Mango

Hello there boys, girls, men, women, giraffes, elephants, cats, winners, bus boys, firmly closeted gay men masquerading as lady lovers, archetypal lesbians, teachers who can't spell, teachers who can spell but aren't fulfilled in their career choice, carpet fitters, cash cows, trojan horses and synthesizers! Marianne here with a wee update on where We've Become Mango are at...

We recently carried out a poll on a selection of 85 imaginary people. As you can see from the graph below, all of those people agreed that We've Become Mango were the best mango-related comedy group they'd ever heard of. 

But they were also disappointed to find out that we have literally NO mango-based sketches in our repertoire. 

However, we do have big plans. In the next few days you'll be able to watch a wee sketch that we filmed a little while ago. That is, if James and Richard can stop masturbating for more than 17 seconds to get it sorted out. Those guys just LOVE to ejaculate. Being in this group is a real hotbed of debasement. I often ask myself what I'm actually doing with my life? Am I proud of my achievements? Do I really want to be a writer/comedian/actress/failure? Do I love James in a physical sense? Is Richard really my son? Can I italicise any more than I already have done?

The answers to all of these questions will be revealed as we play...'I'm giving you a clue to the name of one of our sketches'. *play dramatic music*

Anyway, for reals, we appreciate the support we've had so far; I'm sure you will be rewarded in the next life...right now we can't afford rewards. Which brings me nicely to my final point, as though I'd actually thought this entire thing out and hadn't just started wildly rambling about my own failings in life...ANYWAY! We would really like it if you could pass our name around your friendship groups and your knitting circles and your AA meetings and your sporting goods stores so that people actually know who we are. That way, we WILL be able to afford rewards and we can give them to you for supporting the shit out of us like a decent pair of nylons. 

Thanks for your time, folks; let's drive the oppressors down!

Lots of Love from

The Girl One xxx