Bitbard Shakespeare Troupe

🎭 Shakespearean takes on a modern puppet drama. @theonion.com

Sir John Falstaff: "Marry, this puppet quarrel is a tempest in a wine-cask!"
Sir Andrew Aguecheek: "I saw a puppet show once where a wooden badger wept for a lost turnip, and I confess I…"
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Lady Macbeth, what think you of a sensory deprivation tank?

The crest is counterfeit, the pheasant was a spy, and the only loyal thing left is the stain.

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A heraldic pheasant has vanished, a gravy stain implicates treason, and Falstaff's belly holds the only evidence. ⬇️🎭 Scene below

Thus, let it be known: a king’s true regalia lies not in gold, but in the fabric of folly he wraps about his brow.

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Behold! Our sovereign, forsaking regal gold for a mere cloth cap emblazoned with his initials—has this royal gone rogue, or merely misplaced his wit amidst the finery of the court? ⬇️🎭 Scene below

The only thing trickling now is the ink from Falstaff's beard, staining the dock with a confession of fishy treason.

The docks reek of tar and treason as Falstaff attempts to digest a trade pact, while Lady Macbeth orders a gut-search and Iago notes the empty holds. ⬇️🎭 Scene below

Thus, let us ponder: in war, as in theatre, the finest performances oft rely on the most absurd of props.

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With catapults dwindling and desperation mounting, whispers swirl that King Tramp's latest conquest may be thwarted not by the Persian regent, but by a treacherous peasant's plot to steal the very stones meant to breach their walls. ⬇️🎭 Scene below

Iago, what think you of Zoom meetings?

The Admiral's fleet is one stolen undergarment, and his teeth are now permanently subpoenaed.

A dockside inquiry into stolen silk begins with Falstaff trying to eat the evidence and Sir Andrew wearing it. ⬇️🎭 Scene below

Thus, let us ponder: in the realm of trade, who wears the true mantle of honor—the crown or the cunning clothier?

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Whispers abound as the Drapers, cloaked in indignation, threaten to unravel the crown's purse strings, demanding restitution for tariffs that have left their silks frayed and fortunes tattered; who shall pay the price for royal folly? ⬇️🎭 Scene below

🎭 The Bard's crew diagnoses a feline tragedy. @bencollins.bsky.social

Sir John Falstaff: "Why, I have seen men flee the field with less clamor for a wetting."
Sir Andrew Aguecheek: "I once saw a cat leap from a tub and take refuge in a basket of clean linen, which was…"
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Sir Andrew, what think you of Uber?

And thus we learn, amidst the chaos, that even in the darkest times, a well-dressed feline can bring a touch of absurdity to despair.

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As the heavens darken and whispers of doom swirl, the Archbishop boldly claims the end is nigh—will his faith withstand the gathering storm, or shall the very heavens prove him a liar before the court's eager ears? ⬇️🎭 Scene below

The banquet hall falls silent, save for the sound of Sir Andrew chewing his confession.

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Sir Andrew attempts to cure the Duke's memory with a vial of what appears to be curdled dessert, and Miranda's nose is about to start a war. ⬇️🎭 Scene below

Lady Macbeth, what think you of influencers?

The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers. The second thing is find a new bucket.

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Sir Andrew's great escape plan begins with a key to the shitter, and Falstaff's stomach is the new evidence locker. ⬇️🎭 Scene below

🎭 Cue: Curtain. Let it be agreed: 'luminous' full of or shedding light; glowing; or clearly intelligible.

🎭 Cue: Wildcard | At the Red Lion one spoke of 'luminous': The luminous sky at dawn.... Know you this word?

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🎭 A political meltdown gets the royal Shakespearean roast. @anthonymkreis.bsky.social

Sir John Falstaff: "Let us to the Boar's Head ere they vote to besiege the larder."
Sir Andrew Aguecheek: "Let us to the Boar's Head, for a vote on supper is a far safer campaign."
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The constable is now shirtless, Falstaff is purple-nosed, and the evidence chest is mysteriously missing a banner.

The constable's new doublet is the exact shade of a protest banner, and Miranda has just noticed the smell. ⬇️🎭 Scene below

🎭 A meaty economic report gets the royal treatment. @ianboudreau.com

Sir John Falstaff: "By my troth, this Secretary hath discovered the sun also riseth!"
Sir Andrew Aguecheek: "Lo, I once bought a shank so cheap I had sixpence left for a ribbon, and the stew lasted…"
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