Hope you enjoyed it.

It's time for the second Wednesday post of the year, I thought that I would post a sketch that I rewrote over Christmas as my last Second City course assignment.

Hope you enjoy it, and feel free to leave any comments or suggestions or general feedback in the comments section.

PRIVATE EYE
By Matt Fishwick – December 30th, 2011 (Rewrite 1).

(A Crumbling hallway of a 1950s style apartment block. A Private Eye is stood in the hallways dressed in a trench coat and hat. He is smoking a cigarette.)

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
It was a tough case. I trailed all over the city looking for that missing suitcase. From the Port Authority all the way to the Gin Authority. Nobody had seen, or was willing to say that they had seen the suitcase. I’d been to every low down dive in the Tri State Area, including that Pizza Joint on Seventh that was shut down by the health department when it was discovered that they hadn’t had a working pizza oven in three years. What can I say? They did make a great cup of Joe. It was my seventeenth day on the case, and was beginning to think that it would never end. The only bright point in the whole case was that I was being paid per day.

(The Private Eye is about to knock on the door of one of the apartments, but the voice over kicks in again. The Private Eye looks visibly agitated and begins to check his watch and tap his foot in frustration.)

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
It was after finishing a rather tasty pizza slice that I remembered that I hadn’t checked with the next door neighbour, who had conveniently been out of town since just after the theft. I had it on good authority from one of my stoop pigeons that they were back. It was difficult teaching that bird to talk. I had briefly considered putting in a parrot undercover, but it would stick out like a sore thumb, so I went with a pigeon.

(The Private Eye takes a book out of his pocket and begins to read.)

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
So now I was back to the apartment building. It was the second...

PRIVATE EYE
(without looking up from reading his book)
Third.

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
Sorry, the third time that I was back checking their whereabouts. If they weren’t there this time, I don’t know what I would do. I was nearly out of options. I was getting a little desperate.

PRIVATE EYE
(looking up from reading his book)
Can I go in now?

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
Go on, seeing as it’s you.

PRIVATE EYE
Okay then.

(The Private Eye pockets the book and knocks on the door of the apartment. After a few beats the door of the apartment is answered by a small child.)

PRIVATE EYE
Is your Mommy or Daddy home?

(The child shakes his head.)

PRIVATE EYE
Good.

(The Private Eye bursts in to the apartment. The child follows the Private Eye into the apartment.)

PRIVATE EYE
Why don’t you take a seat, punk?

(The child says nothing. The Private Eye stares at the child. The child stares at the Private Eye.)

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
As we stared at one another I could sense that the kid was schooled in the way of playing hard ball, as there was a ball in the corner of the room. It didn’t look all that bouncy neither.

(There is a beat and then the child takes a seat in the centre of the room on a chair.)

PRIVATE EYE
Look, kid, we all know what happened. We know it was you. We’ve got witnesses, so you might as well just admit it.

(The child just sits in the chair saying nothing, staring at the Private Eye.)

PRIVATE EYE
Playing it tough, are you kid? (beat) Well, I’ve met your type before, but I’ll let you in on a little secret. Sooner or later they always crack. Kids like you are always on the lookout for the latest grift to score some sweet, sweet candy. Well I’ve got news for you. You’ve messed with the wrong people. There’s no candy here, bub. So where are the goods?

(Once again, the child is silent.)

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
The kid was good at this. I couldn’t let him know that his tough stance would eventually make me lose interest in this. As I watched the kid, I noticed that he perked up a little bit just a second ago, and realised that maybe I wasn’t the only one that could hear me.

PRIVATE EYE
We’ve got you made kid. There are marks leading from their apartment to yours. We’ve even got photographic evidence of your sticky little paws, so just confess and the cops will go easier on you, otherwise you’ll be forced to make your own bed for a very long time.

(The child is unmoved by the threats of the Private Eye.)

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
There were marks that were...

PRIVATE EYE
(interrupting)
Will you shut up? (beat) Come over here.

(The Private Eye walks over to a corner of the room.)

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
What is it?

PRIVATE EYE
You’re too loud. He can hear you. He’s going to find out too much and then my interrogation won’t be worth diddly squat.

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
He doesn’t know about you crying yourself to sleep last night.

(The Private Eye looks over at the kid, and sees him smirking a little.)

PRIVATE EYE
Damn it.

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
Sorry.

(In a fit of anger, the Private Eye begins to smash the place up in the hopes of getting a reaction from the child. But he gets none.)

PRIVATE EYE
Is that going to change your mind?

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
To be honest, I didn’t think it would.

(The child shakes his head slowly and methodically, daring the Private Eye to do his worst.)

PRIVATE EYE
That’s how you want to play it, huh? (beat) In that case, you wouldn’t mind if I took a little look around, seeing as you got nothing to hide?

(The Private Eye runs off to another room for another second [lots of banging and noise off stage while he is away] before returning dragging a suitcase behind him. The Private Eye places the suitcase next to the child.)

PRIVATE EYE
Did you think I wasn’t smart enough to find it? (beat) Well, here it is. You and your five year old head are no match for my man’s brain.

(The child stays silent and unmoved by the Private Eye’s words and actions. The Private Eye is becoming visibly more agitated by the child.)

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
It was at that moment that I knew I would have to do something that that I loathed so much I swore I would never ever do again.

PRIVATE EYE
Alright, I’m going to enjoy this.

(The Private Eye cracks his knuckles.)

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
Ow.

(The Private Eye moves to take a swing at the child, but at the last second the Private Eye swerves and picks up the suitcase and moves it in front of the child and opens the suitcase.)

PRIVATE EYE
Aha!

(The Private Eye reaches into the suitcase and produces a set of house keys.)

PRIVATE EYE
I knew it was you. Finally all my antics that got me kicked off the force are justified. I’ve saved the world and I can return these keys to its rightful owner so they can get into their apartment. Let’s just hope that your neighbour’s cat is still alive. The only thing that would make this moment sweeter is a confession.

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
And maybe some ice for my knuckles.

PRIVATE EYE
Now that I’ve got you hook, line and sinker, what have you got to say for yourself, kid?

CHILD
I’m not telling you anything.

PRIVATE EYE
And why’s that?

CHILD
Because you’re a stranger.

(Blackout.)

For the first Wednesday post of the year, I thought that I would post a sketch that I wrote over Christmas as part of my Second City course.

SKETCH: SANTA VISITS THE MARRIAGE COUNSELOR
By Matt Fishwick – December 27, 2011.

(An office in which are sat a Marriage Guidance Counselor, Santa and Mrs Claus. There is a red sack next to the chair which Santa occupies.)

COUNSELOR
So tell me, Santa, have you given any more thought to retiring now that the Christmas season is over?

MRS CLAUS
I really think that he should contin...

COUNSELOR
(interrupting)
Come on now, Barbara, it’s Santa’s time...

MRS CLAUS
(interrupting)
Oh, it’s always his time to talk. His time to be the centre of attention. Never my time is it? No, it’s always my job to just stand there, smiling, feeling around his sack to provide an age appropriate gift for whoever is on his lap.

SANTA
Ho Ho Ho.

MRS CLAUS
You cheating bastard, we said we weren’t going to mention that again.

COUNSELOR
It doesn’t sound like you’ve come to terms with Santa’s method of working, despite you being the fifth Mrs Claus?

(Mrs Claus shoots the Counselor a disgusted look.)

COUNSELOR
But despite all that, you don’t want him to quit his job?

MRS CLAUS
Of course I don’t. When I met him, he was still married to the fourth Mrs Claus. But the moment I sat on his lap, I could feel something between us. A connection. There he was, a successful self employed businessman and me, a mere super model with my good looks and perfume endorsements.

SANTA
Of course that was before the failed Candy Cane Claus fragrance launch.

MRS CLAUS
I still maintain that would have worked with the right marketing.

SANTA
You targeted it at strippers.

MRS CLAUS
Of course I did. There’s no reason not to when you use the words “North” and “Pole” in the ad campaign.

SANTA
You know sometimes I think you did that on purpose so that I’d have to continue to working past the age that I originally planned to retire.

MRS CLAUS
(confused)
You love strippers, that’s how you met wives one, three and four. But it was your money. You had the final call.

COUNSELOR
So does this mean that you are not any closer to reaching a compromise?

SANTA
We can hardly compromise. Either I retire or I don’t.

MRS CLAUS
It’s not like he can go part time, either. He only works on day a year as it is.

SANTA
That’s not true...

COUNSELOR
We’re obviously not going to reach a sensible conclusion just arguing amongst yourselves. And that’s why I’ve invited some of your friends here today to see if we can break this deadlock.

(The Counselor walks over to the door and opens it. In walk three characters: Tired Old Elf with one arm, Young Elf and a Young Girl.)

COUNSELOR
Thanks for coming. Please take a seat.

(Tired Old Elf, Young Elf and a Young Girl take the seat where Counselor was sat. The Counselor looks at the new people and realizes that he has nowhere to sit. He sits cross legged on the floor.)

COUNSELOR
Okay, so now that we’re all here. Why don’t we take some questions from the people that your decision will affect the most?

SANTA
I’m not going to question myself. I’ve made up my mind.

MRS CLAUS
And so have I. (beat) You’re not retiring.

COUNSELOR
Alright, good, now that we’re all open to new ideas, let’s take some questions then.

(The Counselor looks around at the three new people. None of them has their hand raised, but the Counselor makes it look like it is a difficult decision over which one to pick, despite the fact that clearly none of them want to ask a question. The Counselor points to each one in turn and as he does so, each character shifts lower into their chairs, until one by one they all fall to the floor. The Counselor uses this opportunity to spring to his feet and retake his own chair.)

COUNSELOR
(points to Tired Elf)
You.

TIRED ELF
Santa, I hope that you will not listen to anyone else here and just listen to what’s in your heart and retire as soon as possible.

SANTA
That’s very nice of you to say, Buttons.

MRS CLAUS
I’ll bet that little bastard has an ulterior motive.

SANTA
Don’t be silly, I’ve done my best over the years to be happy all the time, I’ve always lead by example. Buttons just wants me to be happy. (beat) With you.

MRS CLAUS
Exactly, leading by example. (to Tired Elf) But why don’t you tell the real reason you want him to retire? Could it be this?

(Mrs Claus produces an Elf employment contract.)

COUNSELOR
What’s that?

MRS CLAUS
If you read the stage directions, you’d know it was an elf employment contract.

(Santa shifts uncomfortably in his chair and looks uncomfortable.)

MRS CLAUS
Why don’t I read off a few of the items in the contract?

COUNSELOR
Don’t you mean you’ll read a few of the clauses?

(The Counselor begins to chuckle to himself. Mrs Claus turns to the Counselor and slaps him, hard.)

MRS CLAUS
How dare you use such an old joke? I always said I’d slap the next person that said that to me.

SANTA
We don’t need to have that read out loud. Nobody here’s a lawyer, are they?

TIRED ELF
I could have been, had I not signed that contract and had to devote the rest of my life to your servitude.

MRS CLAUS
Do you see? (reads from the contract) It says here that the elves can only retire when Santa does. And since Santa is immortal he should never retire.

TIRED ELF
So because he is immortal he should never get to enjoy his golden years? And neither should I?

MRS CLAUS
You only want him to retire for selfish reasons.

COUNSELOR
I’m sure it isn’t for that. I know that Santa offers health coverage.

TIRED ELF
SantaCare Isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

COUNSELOR
Why do you say that?

(Tired Elf shoots counselor a look of disgust.)

TIRED ELF
Okay let’s do a little test. Everyone raise their left arm.

(The entire cast raises their left arms.)

TIRED ELF
Okay, now everyone raise their right arm.

COUNSELOR
Yep. Sorry. I can totally see it now. (beat) But surely having SantaCare means that you didn’t die?

TIRED ELF
Sometimes I wish that I was dead. It’d be a restful, except I was given this as a prosthetic.

(Tired Elf shows a candy cane to the Counselor.)

TIRED ELF
It isn’t even the right size.

SANTA
Size isn’t everything.

(Mrs Claus gives a snort of laughter. Santa looks at her with disappointment.)

SANTA
You could always eat it.

MRS CLAUS
I wouldn’t put my lips around that. I don’t know where it’s been.

SANTA
Don’t start, Barbara.

TIRED ELF
Well, I did eat it. Repeatedly. Hour after hour, day after day. Year after year.

(Counselor looks at Tired Elf and seems uncomfortable.)

TIRED ELF
Not his penis. The Candy Cane. You know what it got me?

COUNSELOR
A sugar rush?

TIRED ELF
Diabetes.

COUNSELOR
Oh.

TIRED ELF
Which isn’t covered by SantaCare.

SANTA
Have you not seen the state of the economy? I give away free toys for a living. I can’t just cover every little ailment in life.

TIRED ELF
(begins to lick the candy cane as he talks)
That’s why I want him to retire. To save all the other elves out there from ending up a one armed diabetic.

COUNSELOR
Should you be eating that?

TIRED ELF
They’re just so delicious.

(Tired Elf throws the candy cane to the floor.)

TIRED ELF
I’ve got to go check my blood sugar.

(Tired Elf exits.)

YOUNG ELF
What about me?

SANTA
I think we’ve all...

COUNSELOR
We should let the little fellow talk. I invited everyone here today for a reason?

MRS CLAUS
More billable hours?

YOUNG ELF
What will become of me? All my life I’ve been told that I’ll grow up and make toys. And now what?

MRS CLAUS
That’s true. There are thousands just like this little fella out there. You’ll make them all unemployed. There wouldn’t be so many of the little buggers had you put a stop to all the elf orgies that were happening when the production lines weren’t running.

SANTA
I’m sure we could all work something out. It isn’t the end of the world. Retraining, or something.

YOUNG ELF
It’s the end of my world. It’s all I know. Don’t retire, Santa. If we elves are forced to split up, I’ll never find out who my Dad is.

COUNSELOR
(to Young Elf)
And how does that make you feel?

SANTA
Hold it. I’m not paying for that kind of counseling.

YOUNG ELF
Don’t force me to retrain as a lawyer or a priest or a doctor. How would that help people? Where would they get their toys?

SANTA
Look, there are plenty of people out there in America who want jobs. If we shut down, there’ll be more jobs for regular Americans. We can get the economy moving again.

YOUNG ELF
What if I retrained as Santa? As your replacement? I know I have little experience, but I’m eager to learn into the role and then one day I’ll crush those that oppose me with the help of my army of elves, just like you.

SANTA
No one is replacing me. It’s just the end of Santa in my current form. We all just have to accept that capitalism needs a chance to develop. Imagine this as us just taking the training wheels off and sending America off down the driveway and hoping that it learns to apply the brakes before it gets crushed by the might of the Jones’ Studebaker. In this analogy the Jones’ Studebaker is Canada.

YOUNG ELF
I don’t think that I can take much more of this. We were one united Christmas Party and now you’re saying there’s a different way? I really don’t think that I can accept that.

(Young Elf begins to cry and rushes to exit.)

MRS CLAUS
Poor little bastard.

SANTA
I’m sure if he keeps guessing, one of his tries will be right on the Button.

COUNSELOR
How do you know?

SANTA
It’s on the list. The X rated naughty list.

MRS CLAUS
But, if you won’t think of the little elf, why don’t you think of the children of the world, who will miss you?

(Mrs Claus motions for the Young Girl, who comes and sits on Santa’s lap.)

YOUNG GIRL
Hi Santa. I’m so glad you’re here. I’m Amy.

SANTA
Ho Ho Hello, Amy. And how old are you, sweetheart?

YOUNG GIRL
I’m ten years old.

SANTA
Are your parents outside?

YOUNG GIRL
My parents are dead. I’m all alone in the world. That’s what I want for Christmas. You’re the only thing I believe in any more. If you’re retire who will bring me my parents back?

SANTA
Oh dear sweetheart, I’m sorry, it doesn’t work like that. (beat) Santa doesn’t visit orphans.

(The Young Girl looks shocked.)

SANTA
(shaking head)
I’m sorry, honey. It’s something that your parents would have told you had they been alive. Santa usually subcontracts the present delivery to the family. No family, no presents.

YOUNG GIRL
But I *believe* in you.

SANTA
Well Santa doesn’t believe you really understand how the world works.

(The Young Girl gets off Santa’s lap and moves to leave.)

COUNSELOR
That seems rather cruel.

SANTA
I’m not totally unfeeling. I can’t let you go home empty handed.

(Santa reaches into the red sack.)

YOUNG GIRL
I don’t have a home.

(Santa removes his hand. He’s holding a puppy.)

SANTA
In that case, I can’t give you this puppy. Puppies need a good home.

(Santa puts the puppy back in the red sack. Dejected, the Young Girl moves to the door.)

SANTA
Oh come back here, little girl. Santa’s had a change of heart.

(The Young Girl’s eyes brighten as she moves towards Santa again. Santa reaches into the red sack.)

YOUNG GIRL
I knew it wasn’t a mistake to believe in Santa. I’m going to name him Biscuit and we’ll...

(The Young Girl trails off as she sees what Santa has reached into the red sack for.)

SANTA
(unfurls his hand to reveal gift)
Here.

(Santa has given the Young Girl a vial of “Candy Cane Claus” perfume.)

YOUNG GIRL
What’s this?

SANTA
Candy Cane Claus perfume. I’m giving you this because you believe in me. Wear this my dear, and maybe, just maybe, in about eight years, Santa will believe in you.

(Blackout.)

Hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you thought in the comments below.

It's been going fairly well. A couple of weeks ago I had to write my first sketch assignment (earlier assignments were non script assignments). I enjoyed writing it, and I'm starting to enjoy sketch writing again after a few weeks of falling off the wagon.

And because I'm nice to you, and don't really have much else to say this week, here's the sketch:

Faraday Cage Sketch.

Remember to let me know what you think.

Have a fun week!

Matt.

I figured that I'd give it a go. The brief was to write a 1 page script about how the UK riots back in August affected a set of characters.

So I wrote something and submitted it...

...And this week the longlist was revealed...

...And I wasn't on it.

Ah well, nevermind. I tried to get a free ticket. can't afford to go to it now. I'm sure it would have been good. But I do want to go to the Comedy Writer's Festival that they're going to hold early next year.

So I'd best get saving my pennies.

In the mean time, I thought that I'd post my script so that you can read it if you want to:

Matt Fishwick - LSF RIOT SCRIPT - Four Nights In August - Consequences

You can even comment if you like.

So until next time, have fun!

Matt.

At all.

On to next week.

I've been rejected quite a lot in my life (Awww!), but this past Thursday I think I received my favourite rejection ever.

As many of you may know, or may know now that I am choosing to tell you, I have written material and submitted it to Newsjack (search my blog for previous posts if you want to know more, or click here). Well this past week saw the start of Series 5 and dutifully I began to write sketches, one liners and corrections as per the submission criteria.

For Series 5, Episode 1 I wrote 2 sketches, 9 one liners and a correction.

I submitted them, and then forgot about it (if you count thinking about them all the time as forgetting) until I returned home after work on Thursday. I loaded up my email and then noticed I had a new email in my Junk folder. Strange, thought I, as I don't normally get junk email on that account.

So I take a look.

The email subject reads: "Newsjack"

Excitedly I open the email.

It's a mass rejection email.

As I've said before in previous posts, if they don't select your material for the show, you never hear from the team.

But I heard from them.

So my material made it to the recording on attempt number 13: Yay!

Then it was cut: Boo! (Unlucky 13)

But it's awesome, because this is the first time that I have ever heard back from them.

The email said my stuff had been recorded but cut for time. This can mean one of two things. At the recording it died and didn't get a laugh, or it was funny but was simply cut for time. I hope it was the second one and not the first, but I'll never know.

So I must be getting better at joke writing. Hurray. In an effort to find out what joke(s) or sketch made it through the selection process (so that I could try to write more in that style) I emailed the Newsjack Team back and simply asked. They were very nice and emailed me back almost straight away.

And so here is the joke (which I can identify as the only "correction" that I wrote that week) that made it through to the recording:

Last week we reported a Brazillian judge had ordered a halt to work on Sao Paulo airport. We were wrong when we said all they had left was a landing strip.

So what does this tell us? Firstly that jokes about lady gardens are funny. And that they almost make it to air on BBC Radio 4 Extra, and that this week I should figure out a way to work "landing strip" into all my gags. But that might be a little easier than done because I'm here writing this blog post instead of working on jokes.

Oh well, you can't have everything.

And remember kids, If I blog about Newsjack again next week it means I might have something on, besides my underpants.

Until next time,

Matt.

Hello there!

Yes, it is I. Though I'm not sure who you were expecting, given the name of the website, unless of course you wanted someone with more scientific knowledge.

But that's not the point.

What is the point is that I'm posting my first sketch here since I debuted T.S.I. on 29th June, 2011.

People might ask me why that is (though no one has yet). Is it because the only comment about my sketch that I got was that it was professionally formatted?

In one word, no.

And the many other words that went unspoken after I said "no" were just basically tearful moans.

So what I guess I'm saying is that only my therapist (once I am rich and successful enough to be able to afford one) will know the truth.

But until that time, the reason that I'm going with is that I haven't written any other sketches since (read into that what you will). But now I'm doing the ComedySportz sketch writing class again.

Hurrah!

(At least for me.)

Boo for you, maybe. I don't know.

And we all know what that means? No, not boo again you unfeeling bastards. It means homework. What I plan to do is post the sketch(es) that I do for homework the week after they have been read out in class.

The first sketch I did was a timely M&S food ad spoof because as we all know they weren't played out years ago. The sketch seemed to go over reasonably well in class (in that no one threw up or hit me, or both. Which is basically all I ask). There were laughs and I think that's all that's really required.

And so here it is:

M&S Spoof Ad Sketch.

Please feel free to leave me any comments that you have, even if it just to enquire about an unused pack of condoms I have left over from my NYC trip.

Catch you next time,

Matt.

You may recall that back in June I asked for you help in deciding which sketches to use for a competition. If you don't know, you probably aren't interested in the original post that resides here. Nor will you be interested in the results that other readers such as yourselves helped decide.

In case you don't know where this is heading, I did a Mundane Monday post about sending off the entry for the script competition that this post relates to.

Well, I'm writing to tell you that I won't be going to New York. (At least not in September, with travel paid for to attend the finals of the competition.) It isn't that I wasn't willing to go. No, it was more akin to Newsjack failures that they didn't want what I was trying to sell them.

As part of the competition, the name of which escapes me (or rather it doesn't but I'm too bitter to type it out again), I was told that I'd get feedback about my entry form from a professional reader. (As a way that they justify the entry fee I suppose.)

At the end of last week I received my feedback in an email. Actually, it was in a PDF attached to the email. But you get my point that an email was sent and somehow feedback was attached, don't you?

Good.

So I've read the feedback, and without reprinting it here (because it would give too much of the whole concept away) I'm pleased with part of it. It seems that the only part they weren't keen on was the amount of character detail I submitted and the sketches themselves, which were voted on by you! So I hold you solely responsible.

Nah, I'm just kidding.

92.8% responsible.

It's at this point that I should say that I did need to develop some wrap arounds to make the submission not just a generic sketch show. It's a good job that I did because at least there was something that they liked.

But it isn't all bad news. I'm going to work on my sketch writing some more. I'm taking a Sketch writing course with CSz at the moment (the same one I did last year) and I've signed up for an online writing course in September, which should give me a little more one-on-one feedback (hopefully). September looks to be the start of a new series of Newsjack. So I'll be trying to write material for that, too.

So all in all, the next few months look to be a fairly busy writing time for me. (Especially with my fifth NaNoWriMo coming up in November.)

But that's not all, I'm not going to junk what I submitted for the New York competition, I'm going to take the central idea of the wrap arounds and develop it further. Hopefully I'll be able to write some new sketches, too. If all goes well, it will form the basis of my firswt submission to the BBC Writers Room.

Catch you next time,

Matt.

PS. I realise this should have been a weight loss post week, being the third Wednesday of the month and all that, but I wasn't weighed last Friday (as far as I'm aware, no one was). If I'm weighed this Friday, I'll be posting about it next week.

Over the next few months I hope to fine tune the sketches and then maybe I'll be ready for the stage again.

So this is the first sketch which I have deemed to be performance ready:

Mikey the Malevolent Mime

Mikey has a bit of a bad temper and we catch him on an off night where he decides to take his anger out on the audience.

You can download it here. (Right click, "Save as" in Windows. In Mac, who knows? I don't have one. Maybe Steve Jobs will tell you.)

Don't forget to keep your eyes open for further performed sketches.

Have a great week,

Matt.