Chapter Text
“Hello and welcome back to the final chapter of today’s Taskmaster saga! We’re about to see our five comedians take the stage for a live task that promises to be a riot. But before we dive into that, we need to wrap up the current conundrum that’s been unfolding.
“Alex, could you give us a quick reminder of the task?” Greg asks, glancing over at him.
“Yes, they were each given £50 to buy you a gift, Greg. We have one person left,” Alex replies, gesturing toward you.
All eyes are on you now. You can feel the heat of theirs, and the audience’s gaze, waiting in anticipation to see your gift. You smile sheepishly and stand up. “Er, I—I hope it fits. I didn’t have you to try sizing, obviously.” You scurry up and hand Greg an unmistakable black and pink shopping bag. You quickly sit back down, your face flushed as you stifle laughter.
Greg rolls his eyes. “Ann Summers. For fuck’s… Did you know about this,” he asks incredulously, turning to Alex.
He responds with a quick shake of his head, panic in his eyes. “No, she sent me a picture of this.” The screen flashes to show a bottle of Patron Silver, the logo covered with a custom Taskmaster sticker.
Greg raises an eyebrow, looking mildly annoyed. “Based on the weight alone, I can tell you it’s not tequila.” As soon as he looks in the bag, his expression changes to one of shock, followed by uncontrollable laughter. He pulls out a black, lacy bodysuit, holding it up for everyone to see. The audience and panel roar with laughter as Greg tries, and fails, to regain his composure, his face turning bright red.
“Oh god. Is this—are these crotchless,” he finally manages to ask between fits of laughter. The audience roars louder, their excitement building. Greg hides his face behind his cue cards trying, and still failing, to pull himself back into character. “You're going to have to do a lot of talking to get even one point out of this.”
You bite your lip, trying to hold back your own laughter. “My mum desperately wants me to bring a partner home for Christmas, so I was kind of hoping she’d shut up about it if I did something like this. Sexy pants, the really nice ones that don’t fall apart after one shag, are expensive!” You lock eyes with Greg and nearly lose it. “But mostly I thought ‘I’ve got a free £50 and I’m going to buy myself a present. Fuck the task! Fuck Greg!’”
The room erupts into laughter again. Greg shakes his head, fanning himself with his cards. “I can’t give you points for that,” he finally manages to choke out. “It's not a gift for me. You didn't complete the task. Jesus Christ… yeah, no points.”
You laugh and shrug, graciously accepting your disqualification with a grin.