All language subtitles for The Two Ronnies s02e08

Good evening, it's nice to be with you
for this, the last show of the present

series. And tonight we've got a high
wire act by the GPO's telegraph pole

repairers, juggling by the staff of the
statistics office, and tap dancing by 20

Glasgow plumbers.

And we'll be talking to two girls who
went on expensive holidays to Italy and

felt the pinch.

And now the news. A man was fined £500
at Stevenage today for forging rare

bird's eggs.

He told the court he bought supermarket
eggs and painted speckles on them.

Staff at the Natural History Museum
became suspicious after he sent them a

of six medium -large golden eagle's eggs
and a tawny owl's egg stamped Tesco.

There was a garden party at Buckingham
Palace this afternoon.

33 gardens attended, along with seven
cabbage patches and a rockery.

But Percy Thrower's compost heap was
refused admission.

On the island of Skye, the unemployment
figures for last month were one.

As the island has no unemployment clerk
to pay the unemployed man, they gave him

the job of unemployment clerk.

This month's unemployment figures
dropped dramatically.

They are now nil.

However, said an island spokesman, as
the unemployment clerk now has no one to

pay, they will have to sack him.

And now the weather.

Reports are coming in of a freak tidal
wave in Birmingham, mountain avalanches

in Norfolk, six -foot snowdrifts in the
North Sea, and a very good party at the

Met Office.

There was a row at the Miss Silver
Screen beauty contest when contestants

asked to remove the top half of their
bikinis after allegations that their

were padded.

Miss Susan Hampshire said people were
making mountains out of molehills.

Miss Barbara Windsor said she would be
letting down her supporters, and Twiggy

flatly refused.

Miss, uh, Miss Raquel Welsh, however,
agreed to remove her bra, and in doing

knocked out all the other competitors.

And now, a sketch about enormous
embarrassment at a small, intimate

Ronnie Corbett will play the small
intimate party.

And Ronnie Barker will play the enormous
embarrassment.

Hello, George. Hello.

Have a sausage roll.

Oh, I'm sorry, a cheese straw.

Oh, bless you.

I'm awfully sorry, awfully sorry. Just
that whenever anyone mentions food, I

sneeze, you see.

Oh, dear.

Oh, dear. I'm sorry about that. Have a
little drink. Thanks a lot. Drink to

better health. A little toast.

Sorry.

Sorry. Oh, dear.

Come on. Oh, I said toast.

No!

It's all right. It's fine.

I'm quite used to it, really.

Tell me, how's your golf?

Oh, very, very good, actually. I played
Addington yesterday.

Yes. Wonderful greens.

The whole trouble started, you see, when
I went to see this damned hypnotist,

the great misto. Well, he put me under,
you see, and he got me to do this

sneezing as a sort of lark. Moo!

Oh, you go, pardon? I'm sorry, I'm
sorry.

I do that rather silly moo every time
someone mentions a bird, and you said L

-R -K.

L -A -R... Oh, lark!

Moo!

Sorry.

You see, I went to the great misto, too,
and he hypnotised me as well.

You know he's coming to this party,
don't you? That's why I'm here.

The first damn thing he can do is the
cure us. Certainly, yes.

In the meantime, we'll just avoid
mentioning food and birds.

Yes, quite, quite.

We've got to say something, I suppose.

Can't chicken out...

what we'll do. We'll get someone else
over here and we'll talk to someone else

and forget all about it, all right?
Yeah, good idea.

Right, right.

Robin! Oh, I'm sorry.

I picked the wrong channel.

Hello, Robert.

Yes, Robert.

Well, just be Robert for the minute,
would you? This is Robert, this is

Robert Swan.

I beg your pardon. How do you do?

Have you met my girlfriend? She's over
there. Oh, yes. Which one is that? She's

the red.

Oh, dear. I'm sorry. This really does
take the biscuit.

Gesundheit. Bing!

Pardon? Pardon?

I'm terribly sorry. You see, I went to
this hypnotist. The great Mr.

Yes. Now, whenever I hear a German word,
I go, Bing!

It's very painful.

Oh, yes, well, it can be. It can be.

Yes, well, very well, we mustn't say any
German words. No, of course indeed not.

No, sorry.

Awfully cold weather we've been having.
Absolutely bitter.

Bitter? Bang!

Oh, nuts!

I'm awfully sorry. Look, we must stop
this. Everybody's rather looking at us.

It's time to be unobtrusive.

For God's sake, everybody duck.

Is that you? Are you all right?

Oh, dear, well, you see, I went to the
kidney.

Well, the great mister.

Yes.

And whenever someone says sorry, I go
wee.

How very inconvenient.

Embarrassing. Oh, he's awful.

I go as red as beetroot.

Well... Pardon? You said beetroot.

Stop all this. Right.

Look, from now on, there's no apologies,
no German, no food, and no birds, all

right? Right.

Right, good.

Simple. Piece of cake.

Sorry.

Everybody's looking at us. Try and hold
a normal conversation, would you? Yes,

yes. How many children do you have?

Nine. Nine?

say goodnight. The great mister!

He's been here all the time, this one.
Oh, you can cure us. I'm afraid I

time. You see, my plane leaves in just
one hour. Where are you going?

I'm off to Turkey.

So sorry. Auf Wiedersehen!

I don't remember what day it was.

And if all my dreams come true.

Dearly beloved, haven't we all, at some
time or another, said to ourselves,

who am I?

Who am I?

And haven't we all, in those times of
doubt, answered ourselves with frank

honesty, I don't know?

I don't know.

Three words which we've all said, you
and I, which somehow seem to sum up the

confusion which confronts us all.

And it's no good, you know, at these
times of confusion,

pretending that we can go it alone, is
it?

It's no good. Nor's your sermon, mate.
You're a raving idiot.

I get paid for being an idiot, sir.
What's your excuse?

Well, at least you admit it. I have a
feeling you're at the wrong service,

You should be attending a funeral.

Whose? Yours.

No, but seriously, members of the
congregation, life is confusing. Life is

strange. But after all, it does have two
sides to it. Yeah, a front side and a

back side.

Why don't you go and lie down in the
cemetery and tell them you're ready,

Noble, they're saving a big space for
you.

Listen, the biggest space around these
piles is in between your ears.

But people are funny, ladies and
gentlemen.

People are funny. In fact, people are
funnier than anybody.

Now, take my wife, please.

My wife's a very funny woman. My wife's
a very funny woman.

She phones me up specially so she can
hang up on me.

sent me to the doctor because she
thought I looked ill. You never look

your life, whenever that was.

There's a bus leaving directly after the
service. Be under it.

Well, I went to the doctor. The doctor
said, you're going to live until you're

55. I said, I am 55.

He said, what did I tell you?

No, but my wife, she's an amazing woman,
amazing woman. I treasure every moment

we're apart.

They say that beauty is only skin deep.

And there's people like her who keep
saying it.

I had this cardinal come round for tea
the other day. My wife opens the door.

She said, is that your wife? He said, is
that your wife, he said.

I said, you think I'd employ a maid that
ugly?

You're lucky to have a wife the way you
look.

I'm lucky? Listen, you're lucky, sir. We
had an old verger peg out here the

other day. He was 106.

After he'd been dead three days, he
looked better than you do now.

Japanese chap living in Tokyo, you see,
in his wartime. He walks into the

recruiting office for kamikaze pilots.
The guy there says, why do you want to

a suicide pilot?

He says, yeah, it's a living one.

What are they like out there?
Marvellous.

Well, that's good, because we're doing
Garagos from the Gargoyle.

The final act in the terrifying saga of
Brimstone Grange was about to unfold

itself. Piggy Malone, the pitifully
boring, overfed private eye, and his

pathetic underweight assistant, Charlie
Farley, had at last come face to face

with a homicidal maniac who had murdered
ten people in six days.

A new British all -comers record.

The Finnish professor, Amos Brimstone,
held them at gunpoint while he indulged

in an orgy of self -confession, a
popular pastime amongst murderers the

over. There seemed to be no escape.

One slim chance lay open to Charlie.

It was just possible that the professor
hadn't seen him.

It was a risk he had to take.

Yes, I did it.

I killed them all.

Partly because of the money, but mainly
simply because I enjoyed killing them.

I've always wanted to know what it felt
like to kill someone.

Now I know.

It's a nice feeling, Malone.

You're off your bloody head.

That gun's not loaded?

You would think not.

Oh, yes, that's, uh... That's a very
nasty hole you've made there, Professor.

Very nasty indeed.

If, um...

If someone had been sitting in that
chair, that could have been very nasty.

But there wasn't, was there?

Which reminds me, what happened to that
obnoxious assistant of yours, Mr Farley?

I thought he never left your side.

Well, he has to sometimes, doesn't he?
He's only human.

He'll be back in a minute, though.

He's never very long.

You may rest assured I shall be ready
for him, Mr. Malone.

But the door's behind you, my dear
professor.

Okay. What's that?

Right.

It's you against me.

We'll just see who can run the fastest.

And so the wily professor escaped for
the moment the clutches of the law. But

Piggy and Charlie were not beaten yet.

Back in London, they discovered that the
mad professor was on the board of

directors of a well -known chemical
company.

They accordingly made plans to waylay
him when he attended the company's next

board meeting at the firm's head office
in Southall the following Friday.

They rendezvoused at the head office the
day before.

and finalise their scheme.

Now, this is my scheme. We change the
numbers of all the floors, right?

So that when he gets in the lift and
comes up to the 14th, he'll get out and

it marked the 15th. So he'll naturally
go down one flight of stairs to the 13th

floor, which is unoccupied, and we'll be
waiting for him.

Why change all the numbers on all the
floors?

Well, in case by chance he gets out the
wrong floor,

he'll still be confused.

and he'll get back in the lift and start
again.

That way we can be sure that he gets out
at the right floor. The right floor for

us, that is.

What a fantastic scheme, Chief.

However did you think that up?

It was on Blue Peter yesterday
afternoon.

And so the trap was laid.

Next morning at precisely 10 .57, the
mad professor, brutal killer of almost a

dozen people, walked sedately to a board
meeting of the Brimston Chemical

Company. Completely unaware of the net
that was closing inexorably around him.

With split -second timing, Malone was
about to take his place on the 13th

Fate, however, was about to take a hand
in the shape of Dulcy Latimer, typist.

17th floor. Oh.

Could you open the door for me, please?

All right.

Hello.

Bleh!

Never stand very high speeds. That's the
trouble with the world today.

Speed, speed, speed.

Well, never mind.

I shan't be in it for long.

What do you mean?

You don't think I'm going to let you
take me alive, do you? What can you do?

You have no weapon.

Did you notice that number beside the
left foot?

This? 17?

Exactly.

Exactly. The 17th floor.

Don't try to stop me, Willow. This is
the ground floor.

That's him, lads. Come on.

Let's move in.

Are you all right?

Yeah, I'm all right.

to appear to be killed right at the
beginning of the case and then to

himself in the house without being
spotted by the servants.

Simple. He simply grew a beard, which
made him look exactly like his older

brother. Then he invited him down to
Brimpton Grange and killed him.

Pushing his face in the trial for help.

Of course, the brother was deaf and dumb
as well. He made it a lot easier.

Well, anyway, I'm glad you managed to
clear the whole thing up. It was a messy

business.

Well, I suppose I'd better get back to
the yard.

Lots to do today.

All those apple boxes to shift.

Can I leave my coat here, dear?

Mm, yeah.

Oh, uh, Daisy.

What now?

Save me a bunch of your bananas, will
you?

Rightly so.

Off we go.

Woman's work is never done.

And so the saga of Brimstone Grange drew
to a close.

Piggy Malone and Charlie Farley were
once more about... to think back into a

purity.

Once more, it was to be the unending,
dreary, day -to -day task of an

unsuccessful private eye.

Or was it?

Yes? We're from this nudist camp.

We need protection.

Against what?

Pickpockets.

One thing was certain. There would be
very little sleep for anyone that night.

I've got a girl called Bonnie.

She's as skinny as a stick of macaroni.

You ought to see her rock and roll with
her blue jeans on.

She's not very fat, just feeling bone.

I love her. She loves me.

Oh, how happy now we can be. Making love
underneath the apple tree.

Listen here.

I've got a girl called.

She's asking.

Pardon me, I am Max Trouble of the
Herald Tribune. You are the commanding

officer? That's right, Mr. Trouble.

Major Bertie Raven Howard, at your
service.

I wish to speak to Lieutenants Dave
Granger and Hedley Merrill. I'm sorry,

Lieutenants Granger and Merrill were
wounded in an attack by the Mad Muller

his tribesmen. I'm afraid Abdullah the
Mad Muller is about to attack again,

reinforcements. What? Yes, you are in
for trouble.

Tribal trouble.

Treble tribal trouble.

Tribal tribal trouble trouble?

Abdullah the Mad Muller is... I have
heard at the head of a hired horde of

Ushanties, Uvanties, and that other
rotten Hottentot lot.

The situation is as combustible as the
path to Paul.

It's a pity I've got to go upriver to
deliver a shipment of equipment.

You've no boatman.

I've Bateman. Who's Bateman? My Batman.

You're going upriver to deliver a
shipment of equipment, leaving the

Dave Granger and Headley Merrill in
deadly peril?

Certainly. Those are the facts, Max.

You're a yellow fellow.

You're an abject object. You are the cur
of the corps. A crout!

He's talking through his Homburg, that
Hamburg Humbug.

Everyone knows wherever he goes, Max
Taubel makes trouble.

Matt Muller and his rebel rabble.

Taubel called me a yellow fellow.

Shall I yet fight the Yankee lout and
brave it?

No,

I'll get the white hanky out and wave
it.

What am I?

Yes? Sir, there's been an ambush.

An ambush? When ambushed? They've
captured Nurse Maud Miller. Maud!

Good Lord.

Gad, lad.

The mad muller mustn't maul Maud Miller.

If the rat attacks, we'll be flat on our
backs.

Snap out of that stupor, dooper -dooper.

Don't flinch, pinch. Quiet, quiet.

We'll make that sheik shake the chalk.
The enemy will think it's Tammy.

Sure.

Major Regan Howard, I... Where is he?

Good heavens.

He's reducing that rebel rabble to a
rubble.

Oh, what a fighter.

I've never seen a fitter fight her, nor
a fatter fitter fight her.

And with one pot shot, he's got that
rotten hot and tart laugh in the

misbegotten butt.

They're fleeing, flying, wounded,
wounded, in complete retreat, wounded

wounded.

Though they gave my forefathers four
feathers repeatedly, reputedly, and I

myself was a yellow feather.

An abject object who thought naught of
going upriver to deliver a shipment of

equipment, leaving Dave Granger in grave
danger and Henley Merrill in deadly

peril. And the mad muller mauling Maud
Miller, my splendid intended.

Nevertheless, I triumphed over treble
-treble -treble and treble -treble

and reduced the rebel rebel to rubble
and blew a bill of the muller that flies

by sky -high so that never ever would
men again flaunt the taunt that Bertie

Raven Howard was a dirty craven coward.

Thank you very much. This evening I'd
like to tell you a very, very funny

about a chap who loses all his money on
the horses, which is

rather a coincidence because I am
thinking myself of buying a racehorse

as a little sort of publicity gimmick,
you know. I mean, at one time of the

if you became successful in this
business, you married Ava Gardner.

Now you buy a racehorse.

Suddenly there's nothing to look forward
to anymore.

Anyway, I was saying to the... I was
actually saying to the producer the

day, you know, there are people, I said,
there are people buying racehorses who

think that an early morning canter is a
Jewish singer with insomnia.

And he didn't laugh a lot either.

Now I'm in a bit of a quandary. I mean,
at the end of this series, either I buy

a racehorse or have a fortnight in
Bermuda.

Now, I mentioned this to my wife.

I mean, the racehorse, not the holiday.

No, I'd like that to come as a surprise.

I'll send her a card when I get there.

Now, at least if I do buy a racehorse, I
will be a bit of a novelty. I'll be the

only man who has to stand on tiptoe to
whisper to the jockey.

Anyway, I spoke to her.

I spoke to her about this racehorse, you
know, as she was getting ready to come

to this show, you know, at the time.

That would be about a week last
Thursday.

I said, I said, listen, dear heart.

I know, I know, I know, I know. Dear
heart, you know, does sound a bit mushy.

But we haven't been married, you know,
very long.

And I can't always remember her name.

I said, I said, I bet you, I bet you
wouldn't like me to buy a racehorse.

she didn't speak for almost a minute.

Which is rather exciting.

Another eight seconds and she would have
broken her own record.

She said, whatever.

Sort of like that. Whatever.

Whatever.

do you want a horse for?

Look at it, like that.

She said, you've already got a dog.

Well, I had to explain to her with the
best will in the world, you can't expect

a ten -year -old poodle to win the Grand
National.

Takes him all his time to put his leg up
for the oaks.

Anyway, she said, all right. That look
again.

All right, she said.

Sort of looking down at that angle. All
right, she said.

If that's what you want to do, as long,
she said, as you have it seen to.

Otherwise, we'll never be able to let it
out at night.

Now, as soon as I told my agent I was
going to buy a horse, he said, what a

lovely idea, he said. Have a chat with
my brother, he said. He'll get it for

wholesale.

As a matter of fact, his brother rang me
this afternoon. Nice man, very nice

man. Very big in ladies' underwear.

But we've all got our problems.

Now,

he rang me, all very businesslike.

Reverse the charge. He said, he said,
Ron, he said, I've just got back to the

office. I guessed he was in his office.
I could hear his secretary saying, drink

up, it's well past time.

He said, Ron, he said, I have bought a
nice little horse that will do you

beautifully. He said, I bought it at the
Newmarket Bloodstock sales.

He said it wasn't actually in the sales,
but it was, you know, very near the

sales. I said, what's he like? He said,
he's very quiet, very mature, about five

foot two, his eyes are blue.

He said, he's out of airborne by marmot.

I said, I thought they were both
stallions. He said, Ron, we're living in

permissive age.

Well,

I'll be honest with you, I've been very
busy, I've been very busy, and I haven't

had time to go down to his racing
stables in Paddington.

So they've sent me the photo of the
horse.

taken soon after he won his last race.

Now, I don't know whether you can see
all that's there. You see that he's

actually down there. He's being led in
to the winner's enclosure, looking very

fit. And there's his owner at the time,
Baden Powell, looking very proud and

holding his woggle.

And they're all there. There's Lloyd
George there, Nellie Wallace,

the Wright brothers, Max Bygraves over
here.

Isn't it amazing how time flies when
you're dying? Anyway, to cut a long

short, he wants 5 ,000 guineas for it.

Now, I've offered him 30, Bob, and he's
ringing me back.

Now,

how did all this start? Ah, yes, I know.

Ah, yes, the joke about the chap who was
in his betting shop. Now, this fellow

lost all his wages, did all his scratch,
as we say in the racing game, did all

his pieces. Now, he goes out of the
shop, eyes filled with tears, and he

his foot on the step and wrenches the
sole half off his shoe, you know, and it

starts. Flapped his way back to the
clerk. He said, look, I've done all my

here. Done all my wages in the shop.
Yeah, now I've ruined my only pair of

and I can't even walk home. The clerk
said, oh, that's terrible. Wait here. He

said, I've got to get the governor. He
said, I can't just get the governor. So

the bookmaker comes out and the man
shows him his shoes. The bookmaker says,

good heavens.

Bless my soul.

Then he takes a big roll of money from
his pocket.

Takes off the elastic bat and he says,
here, put this around it. That'll last

you as far as the mud stock.

Well, now, things are certainly hotting
up here at the Shangri -La Ballroom in

Barnsley. North and South are now
absolutely equal, and the outcome of

exciting heat of come dancing now rests
entirely on the last contestants this

evening. So here now to show their paces
with a dazzling display of old -time

dancing are the ladies and gentlemen of
the Phoebe Fanshawe Formation T.

Why in the world did we agree to join
this troop heaven knows?

My ruddy girdle's killing me and the
sequins up my nose.

See how the girls all smile at me as I
cavort up and down. They love my tangos

and my pandangos the best in town.

Twist your body left and right, although
your shoes may pinch and bite. And your

dicky front is much too tight. Keep off
me like a thief.

Donkey Gordon's all the day. You twist
your wrist and you walk this way. No

wonder Gordon's rather gay with a one, a
two, a three, four.

There's that new girl Mary. This chub,
she's joined the team from the local

She's just been put in the dancing club.
Well, what are you looking at me for?

Well, hello there. Do me a favour.

Keep your eyes off her chest.

Oh, who's talking?

The niece and raver.

She's had more kicks than Georgie Best.
How dare you!

Been untrue, Claude, only twice since
you took my hand.

Once with the man from the true, Claude,
and once with the Joe Locke band.

He's six foot two, can't figure who put
you up to it. And made this fight.

Got drunk and played me false.

What you did on that yacht was decidedly
not the super nerd's fault.

Of all

the old time dancers were quite my...

No, I'm not that way inclined.

Oh, yes, way too so highly.

I'd love to try you out. Tell me, do you
reverse Mr. Riley?

Yes, but not when the wife's about.

Look at Claude, it's so absurd.

Look at Claude with that big beard.

because I'm your man.

Your exquisite coming to visit my
caravan.

In the morning we can breakfast on tea
and fudge. Shall I call you on the

No, I'll give you a nudge.

Wait till I get you home tonight. I saw
you twizzle and twirl.

Don't you get sloppy and try to frighten
the poor defenseless girl.

Can't you see we're on TV?

Forget the punch up and round the bunch
up and dance, dance.

Well, that's it for the present series.

I'd like to thank, on behalf of Ronnie
and myself, Georgie Fame and Alan Price

for being our regular guests every week.

Next week, we go our separate ways.

Ronnie Corbett will be appearing in Two
Gentlemen of Verona at the Public Baths

in Loo.

And I shall be appearing in Two Public
Loos of Verona, The Gentlemen's in

Thank you very, very much for all your
letters. We've had one letter from a

tooting viewer asking how he can stop
tooting.

And we've put him in touch with our
barking viewer who has a similar

Not to mention a similar joke.

And to end on a showbiz note, one of the
world's most famous contortionists

arrived at London Airport today after 40
years in Australia.

He told reporters...

I've just come to look up my relatives.

And now it's goodnight from me. And it's
goodnight from him. Goodnight.

Goodnight.