December 3, 2011

Christmas Bonus: Your Goose is Cooked
by Stacey

Here’s a Christmas bonus for you all. Stacey and Larry insisted on watching Adventures of Robin Hood: The Christmas Goose as part of my 25 Days of Christmas. I argued that there was no way I would be including it in my official 25 Days programming, but knowing that it would turn out to be awful, and that reading about awful shows is always more fun than reading about good ones, I invited Stacey to write a guest post about it. Here is that post. —DocSmartypants

Last night, Larry, Sonja, and I watched “Robin Hood: Christmas Goose.” I would tell you details about the year this was made and who starred in it, but truthfully it’s not important. Year it was made: Before the invention of things like “plot” and “witty banter.” Who stars in it: People from before the invention of “actors.”

What happens in it: A little boy who might be a girl and is the worst fake crier in all of creation has a goose called Matilda, and Matilda the goose really loves the little boy, and vice versa. Sir Leon is out surveying his forty acres, and here we are treated to the best bit of dialogue in the entire show:

Sir Leon’s Random Servant Who Is With Him: It’s a beautiful forty-acre plot of land.

Sir Leon: It’s supposed to be 42 acres.

SLRSWIWH: Oh, yes, yes, 42 acres, and they’re such beautiful acres.

Seriously, that’s basically as good as it gets. This is dialogue a la Charles Dickens: “Eh, whatever, it serves no real point for the plot, but it’ll kill some time and we’ll be twenty seconds closer to the end of the show.”

So, Sir Leon spots the little boy in the middle of the lush vegetation of a British midwinter, stealing holly and mistletoe for, I don’t know, holiday cheer, and he’s like, “Ack! Who steals lush vegetation from my beautiful 42 acres?! I do not believe in holiday cheer! I shall beat you, boy!” And then Matilda the goose is like, “No way,” and this show would be awesomer if it was animated and the goose actually spoke, but instead the show clings to “verisimilitude.”

The goose runs hissing at Sir Leon’s horse and Sir Leon’s horse gets all riled up and Sir Leon is the worst horseman ever despite living in a time when horses were one’s only mode of transportation and falls off the horse and is like, “I shall now put the goose on trial for wounding my shoulder so viciously.” And then he calls his chiropractor.

This is literally what happens, except for the chiropractor detail, but Sir Leon does have a bunch of henchmen, so one of them probably has chiropractic talents. (Not a euphemism.)

Meanwhile, Friar Tuck, on his way to see his boyfriend Robin Hood, hears some fake crying in the lush wintertime vegetation and puts on some sunblock and his swimming trunks and goes over to comfort the little boy, being all like, “Hark! It is the most joyful time of the year! It is Christmas! Do not pay attention to our lightweight summer clothing! Or the man behind the curtain!” In an excruciating, “hilarious” exchange, Friar Tuck eventually figures out that Matilda is a goose, not a human, and that this goose needs to be saved.

We thought at this point that Robin Hood was finally going to enter the story, but no, this was apparently the Robin-Hood-lite episode of “Robin Hood” (Robin Hood was not played by David Tennant, but evidently British actors even way back when were afflicted with the inability to star fully in all episodes of their shows). Instead of getting his boyfriend, Friar Tuck goes to see Sir Leon, who is playing with his daughter, and Friar Tuck’s like, “Awww, is that your favorite child?” because that’s totally a normal thing to ask a parent, and Sir Leon is like, “It’s my only child.” Now, if this were a good show, this would be the point where Friar Tuck and Robin Hood would hatch a plot to kidnap Sir Leon’s beloved only child in exchange for Matilda the goose.

But that’s not what happens.

They have the goose trial, and Friar Tuck mounts a defense, with the bad crying boy acting as character witness for beloved Matilda the goose, and he almost has Sir Leon convinced to let Matilda go, except that this lawyer guy (one presumes) who cares way more about this goose trial than he really should turns into Clarence Darrow and is like, “NO, YOU MUST EAT THE GOOSE FOR CHRISTMAS DINNER,” and Sir Leon is like, “Yes. I must. My shoulder really hurts. Go call my chiropractor.”

Friar Tuck has failed, so FINALLY he goes to see his boyfriend Robin Hood, although before he gets there he stops off to visit a lovely gay couple who feed him some meat pies (also not a euphemism). Then Robin Hood finally enters the story, dressed in telltale leggings and the well-known hair gel of medieval England.

Robin Hood and Friar Tuck put their “brains” together and hatch the world’s most convoluted plan. Because here’s what they could do: They could just swap Matilda with another goose, and all would be okay. I mean, isn’t Robin Hood supposed to be a clever thief? I thought Robin Hood was supposed to be a clever thief. FALSE ADVERTISING. Instead of stealing the goose, Robin Hood sends Friar Tuck to Sir Leon to convince Sir Leon that they should get the goose drunk before eating her, and Sir Leon sees nothing suspicious about the man who tried to save the goose now giving him tips on how to kill the goose.

Then Robin Hood shows up under a fake name, disguised as Martin Freeman, all polka-dotted velvet vest and weird feathery cap. Robin Hood, who is pretending to be some guy named Sir Roger, has a LONG conversation with Sir Leon. Seriously, it goes on forever. It involves Robin Hood baking Christmas cakes just like Sir Leon’s mom used to make for him when he was a little boy and then Robin Hood tells him he needs to pay for the cakes because beloved childhood memories do not come free. I don’t remember how the cake thing gets resolve, but then there’s a manly conversation about how peasants are such trouble, and I’m like, “Dudes, you better watch out, the Magna Carta is right around the corner.” And then I guess, at some point, Robin Hood is like, “You know what you should do that would really upset your peasants? You should make them come to Christmas dinner and bring you gifts and watch you eat Matilda the goose.” And somehow Sir Leon is like, “That sounds awesome! Round up all my peasants!” And Robin Hood is like, “I’ll just come to this feast and partake in some delicious food, too!” So, to recap, Robin Hood’s plan does not involve stealing the goose but instead involves him getting a free, delicious meal as a member of the aristocracy and getting his Friar Tuck drunk.

The peasants are all rounded up, and it turns out Sir Leon is in charge of the tiniest village in England, a village with one child in total, and apparently with only one goose. Sir Leon gets up and gives this speech about the beauty and wonder and majesty of Christmas. “For one day each year,” says Sir Leon, “on the birthday of Jesus Christ, we remember that God created all man to be equal.” Once that day is over, though, Sir Leon goes back to oppressing all his villagers. He’s just happy he remembers their equality on one day of the year, during which he forces them to bring him gifts and watch him eat their pets.

Sir Leon is upset, because somehow this touching speech has failed to inspire his peasants to love him, and he says to Robin Hood, “I don’t get it. Just because I’m going to eat their pet goose for my Christmas dinner. What’s their problem?” And Robin Hood’s like, “You know what you should do? You should go beat that kid up who had the pet goose.” For some reason, this is what Robin Hood has decided his plan should be. NOT JUST STEALING THE GOOSE. Sir Leon’s all like, “Eh, I don’t really want to beat the kid up,” because Sir Leon talks a good game but it’s clear that all along he’s never really wanted to beat the kid up. But Robin Hood is like, “THEN I’LL GO BEAT HIM UP,” and he grabs the kid and takes him behind a screen. Then he whispers to the kid, “Friar Tuck sent me here to help you. Pretend I’m beating you.” At which point he pretends to beat the kid. And Sir Leon’s daughter is all upset, and Sir Leon is like, “Stop! Stop!” and knocks over the screen, and it is revealed that Robin Hood was not beating the kid at all, and Robin Hood is like, “Aha! We have all learned the true meaning of Christmas!”

The little boy asks for his goose back, and Sir Leon is like, “Sorry, it’s already been killed,” and then Robin Hood is like, “Nope, because Friar Tuck was busy getting the goose drunk, which is surely not animal cruelty in any way, shape, or form, huzzah!” Robin Hood and Friar Tuck decide to go make out, and Robin Hood throws open the doors of the medieval castle, and lo, it is snowing.


posted under Media, Rants
7 Comments to

“Christmas Bonus: Your Goose is Cooked”

  1. On December 3rd, 2011 at 1:58 pm Stacey Says:

    This is the best post ever.

  2. On December 4th, 2011 at 5:40 pm larry Says:

    That was a spot on summary of the episode. And possibly the best thing we’ve watched in this 25 days of Christmas thus far!

  3. On December 4th, 2011 at 5:59 pm docsmartypants Says:

    Stacey: Yes, it probably is.

    Larry: By “best” I assume you mean “absolute worst imaginable.”

  4. On December 5th, 2011 at 6:58 pm Laura Says:

    Wait. Is the goose dead? I don’t understand the why drunkeness would keep it safe…

  5. On December 6th, 2011 at 4:28 pm docsmartypants Says:

    No one understands why getting the goose drunk would keep it safe. Possibly it was just a stalling tactic? But despite the world’s stupidest rescue plan, the goose didn’t die. The goose lives on! ‘Tis a Christmas miracle, I say!

  6. On December 7th, 2011 at 4:25 pm Noel Says:

    Robin Hood in this case may have not been played by David Tennant but now I am imagining David Tennant as Robin Hood which means David Tennant in tights so thank you! MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ME.

  7. On December 7th, 2011 at 4:32 pm Noel Says:

    p.s. Was Sir Leon played by Benny Hill? Or Steve/Patch from “Days of Our Lives”?

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