All language subtitles for The Two Ronnies s04e03

Good evening. It's very nice to be with
you again, isn't it, Ronnie? Yes, it is.

Very nice indeed.

And in a packed programme tonight, we'll
hear from a Florida fruit farmer who

crossed a grapefruit with an aphrodisiac
and got a gropefruit.

We'll also have a chemist who crossed a
budgie with a laxative and got a chirrup

of figs.

But first, the news.

This evening, a female streaker...

disturbed patrons at the Albert Hall,
but she was caught by the bouncers and

ejected.

And there's news of a plumber who
earlier today swallowed an immersion

and a ball cock.

He's now said to be comfortable, apart
from occasional hot flushes.

A mother of three today filed a
paternity suit against a cricketer.

Asked on what grounds, she replied,
Trent Bridge, the Oval, and behind the

screen at Battersea Park.

News has just come in about what MPs ate
for their Christmas dinners. Harold

Wilson had the usual turkey, whilst Mr
Heath bought a new one.

The Farmer of the Year is Mr Clarence
Larkin of Stroud.

He won the title on three counts.

Initiative. He drove a steamroller over
his fields, hoping to achieve instant

mashed potato.

Imagination. He has developed a
revolutionary new insecticide for the

of Agriculture. It kills all the crops
and the insects starve to death.

And C, consideration.

He put a silencer on his shotgun because
his daughter wanted a quiet wedding.

But we've just heard that Raquel Welsh
has recovered from her nasty accident in

a revolving door.

Raquel Welsh is now appearing in The Odd
Couple.

Sport. In an exclusive interview last
night, Britain's best -known show

husband, Captain Philip Dugdale...

told our reporter that his first year of
marriage had been almost perfect. His

bride, Anthea Scott -Jones, had only six
faults, he said, and two of those were

refusals.

Next year, he was hoping for a clear
round.

A hen belonging to the Maris of Bingley
in Buckinghamshire, which was given

cement instead of oatmeal, laid three
concrete eggs and conked out.

Paris, however, who also ate a
considerable quantity of the cement,

effects and later went on to lay a
foundation stone.

In the sketch that follows, I'll be
playing a man whose wife has left him

the dustman.

And I shall be playing the dustman who
refused to take him.

begin the test. Can you read the licence
number plate of that vehicle parked 25

yards down the road, please?

Well, uh, perhaps I can, perhaps I
can't, know what I mean?

Follow my reasoning, John?

No, I'm afraid I'll be easy.

Ooh,

look at that. Fancy that.

Well, it's a £10 note. You just threw it
down there.

Never. Yes, you did. I saw you.

Fancy you spotting that, John.

Boy, I told you you are lucky. Course,
tone of crows, I'll do envy you.

Handsome and lucky. Well, finders
keepers, losers weepers, I suppose,

what, are we up the West End knocking
out your little windfall, eh?

I'm not going anywhere.

I'm just about to test your proficiency
as a driver.

Furthermore, this does not belong to me,
thank you very much.

Now then, is this the car? Yeah.

Would you occupy the driver's seat,
please?

I mean, John, temporary.

Now, just a minute, please.

I expect you'll be wanting to have a
butcher's, John, at my provisional

licence. There we are, John.

We, uh... What is this?

20 quid!

Well, I never... That's fantastic, John.

Of course, we are seeing some lucky
fellas in my time, John. But you are

definitely the golden boy, John.

Well, I expect you want to tick the
office pass, don't you, now? Get up the

End, have a few beers with the mates and
all that. Just sit still, will you,

please, and shut up.

All right, John.

Only I thought I heard you say a pass.
No, no.

My name is not John.

My name is not John.

My name is Mr.

Mountford. I'm a qualified driving
examiner, and I'm about to test your

proficiency as a driver. Is that clear?

Double clear, John.

No more ridiculous attempts to bribe me,
if you please.

A nod with me, John, is as good as a
wink to a blind horse, John. And less

familiarity.

Time and a place for everything, John.

Right. Let us start with a clean sheet,
then.

John, you have in turn been fair with
me, and I in turn intend to be fair with

you, John Boyce. Thank you very much.
Thank you very much. Now then, the

code. What would you say was the
permitted speed allowed in a built -up

30?

Excellent. In ones, all right, down the
sky, the way you...

Let us talk speed limits, since you're
obviously bent on it.

Bent's the word, John.

What would you say, for instance, is the
speed permitted in a motorway?

Oh, John, that is a dead -bleed liberty.
You are not copying 70 sheets out of

me, John.

Would you say 60, then, was permitted in
a built -up area? Oh, no, 40. 40, John.

Top whack, 40. I mean, you know, am I
going to get the green light? Are you

going to let me filter through? I would
say you were on the skids, if you were

to ask me. What would your braking
distance be, then, in feet?

45, not one foot more.

Wouldn't it be more like 55?

On a muddy road, mud sticks, you know.
You put me in a very sticky position.

right, 50, top whack, 50. 50, down,
down. Right, in crinklies. You're off,

you're off. Right, here we are. Car,
car.

Yeah, certainly. Peel five pens off the
top for Mr. Manford, will you? Never

mind, Mr. Manford. Call me John now.
Come on, check your indicator.

Switch on.

Clutch up slowly. Put the gas in. Jack,
indicate right. Look in your mirror.

Good

evening.

Here is the news.

Excuse me.

Yes? Yes.

Oh, right.

I see. Thank you. Yes.

Sorry about that.

It appears that we've had a slight
problem with the news. Our new

typewriter has developed a minor fault.

It's been typing O's instead of E's.

I hope you'll bear with us.

Good evening.

Horro is the now's a ton.

At the Primo Minister's country house
-o, Charles,

there was a mooting of all true party
loaders

to discuss this country's optionally
serioso economic scono.

The confronco was followed by an
appetising mole of roast booth,

and jolly and chrome.

Afterwards,

Afterwards, the dollar gatos heard a
spooch by the ex -foreign secretary, Sir

Alok Douglas Homo.

In the short address, Mr. Mr.

Onok Pole said Sir Alok had his coon
support.

to unboil a memorial to Sovereign Great
English Mon of Lottes and Poots,

including Anthony Trollopeau, H .G.
Walls, and Hilaro Bollock.

It says.

It says that. It says that.

In cow gardens today, a lady was
frightened by a Scotsman with a wooden

who jumped out from behind some trues.

He told the polico he was stung on the
news by a swarm of boos after the bolt

had broken on his trousers.

After his arrost, Ho stated Ho was
turning over a no -loaf and undergoing a

change of socks.

In Worcester today, Mr. Wodgewood Bond
spoke of his plan.

to nationalise the stool industry.

And Mr Donis Holey discussed his plans
for a further tax on bots and botting

shops.

He said, it's no good boating about the
bush, I must lay it on the lino.

It will cost the punter only a couple of
ponds.

And now the wother.

Tomorrow's wother will be what?

Oh.

Will be what? Will be what? With a touch
of sloot.

Well, that's all from Moe.

Tomorrow, the nose will be robbed and
rued by Roggy Bosonquat.

Now, I'm going to croup away to my
little bod.

And said the lot of you. Good night.

Piggy Malone, the fat, little -known
detective.

And Charlie Farley, his little, little
-known assistant.

once again found themselves involved in
a strange world of intrigue and secrecy.

Whilst quietly fishing in the canal at
Watford, they are approached by a

frogman and told to report immediately
to MI6.

And like the courageous, patriotic,
foolhardy idiots that they are, they

Have you found that file yet, Miss
Willow? No, I haven't. When you've got a

minute, I wouldn't mind you going
through these drawers.

I don't know where to look.

Neither do I.

It says here in my stars that I'm going
to meet a short, dark stranger and a

fat, grey stranger.

That's a bit specific.

Sounds like those men we located at
Watford, sir. Does it indeed?

I think you'd better get our chaps
investigating this Stargate. The bloke

getting a bit too accurate.

I don't want my private doings flashed
across the newspapers.

Certainly not before I've done them.

Oh, hello, Elsie.

Yes. Are they?

Right -o, Elsie. Send them in, yes.

Bye, Elsie.

That was Major Cartwright, sir.

Mr. Malone and Mr. Farley have got out
of their wet clothes and are ready to

you, sir. Oh, good.

They have got into some other clothes,
have they? Oh, yes. We lent them some

uniforms. They're quite decent.

Oh, well, that's fine. We don't want
someone coming here and corrupting you

first week here, do we?

Oh, no.

Not before I've had a go, anyway.

Four inches from the curb, no yellow
lines, not across anyone's entrance. You

jumped up, little Hitler's come barging
in here.

Mr Malone and Mr Farley see you, sir.
What?

I'm so sorry, of course.

The clothes.

How do you do?

How do you do? How do you do? Do park
yourself somewhere, won't you?

Would you mind very much...

Telling us what all this is about.
Certainly, but first, what can I offer

drink?

I'll have a martini, please.

Shaken or stirred?

Both, please.

Ginger beer shandy, please. A half pint?
Yes.

Oh,

no, a pint I do, thanks.

Would you see to that, Miss Willard?

I'll just have some tea.

Pint? Just a half pint.

Straight to the point.

Drugs.

Drugs and world domination. Now, I'm not
talking about your ordinary dope

pushers. This is a special drug
developed, we think, in Marseille.

At any rate, we're certain that the
headquarters of the drug smuggling ring

centered in that area.

Excuse me, um, are you M?

Hmm? M?

You know, the head of MI6, M.

Ah, no, no. M is retired. No, it's M
now. But he's on holiday. And O, he's

second in command.

He's on compassionate leave.

His mother's got a bit of back trouble.

I see. So you must be... I'm P.

Yes.

Well, tell me now, this special drug, P,
what's before?

Ah, now, this is the whole crux.

Excuse the word.

Of the man.

A certain organisation is endeavouring
to undermine authority all over the

by administering to important people a
certain drug which has the effect of

making them clumsy. Clumsy? Did you say
clumsy? Clumsy.

Clumsy. Oh, you mean they appear foolish
and so lose respect in the eyes of the

public? Exactly. And you can see it
happening. You only have to watch

television.

I noticed it first, some time ago, in
the case of Tommy Cooper.

Now, Tommy Cooper used to be a
wonderfully smooth performer, but just

he's been getting decidedly clumsy.

I've noticed that.

Getting everything wrong, I've noticed
that. Oh, come on, he was the first man

to knock down Muhammad Ali, wasn't he?

Henry Cooper?

Anyway, there's certainly no doubt that
this thumbs -in is spreading.

I'd like you to watch this film. It's
been compiled by our Colonel Millichoke

the research department.

Nice this is, you know. All the usual
attributes of walnut stock.

See the silver trigger guard.

And the beautiful silver... Well, of
course, you can't see.

Great night. Ten o 'clock. Goodbye now.

I see what you mean.

Stupid, isn't it, eh?

Stupid.

We've got to stop it.

Not half. I mean, think what would
happen if something like Opportunity

the dignity.

I mean, just imagine people sniggering
at Huey Green.

It could happen, I suppose.

But what would you do if she beats the
royal family?

Oh, yeah.

The Queen's speech at Christmas would be
a fiasco, wouldn't it, eh?

One long laugh from start to finish.

So, gentlemen, our aim.

to locate the spice ring in Marseilles
and render them inoperative.

Wipe them out, you mean?

Oh, we don't do a lot of violent work.
Not Mr Malone and myself. I mean, we're

mainly really more civil cases, really.
Like divorce and breach of promise.

Yeah. A lot of ladder work, you know.
Peering into people's windows, that sort

of thing.

We're more sneaks, really.

That's exactly why you've been chosen.

Now, we've got a heavy mob that'll come
up and clear up after you.

All you have to do is to get the
formula. The formula?

So that our chemists can research an
antidote.

That's the important thing. We've got to
get that formula. Now, what do you say,

Chet?

Supposing we say no?

What if we refuse?

I'll have you shot.

Okay, by me, then. Yes.

And so our two heroes take the first
step on the road to murder and mayhem.

But already they are marked men.

In some ill -lit corner of a cafe in
Marseilles, two of the underworld's arch

-villains are even now completing the
first stage of their plan to conquer the

world. And the evil tentacles of their
organization are already reaching out to

Whitehall. Ah, all is proceeding
according to plan.

Well done, odd knob.

Grails must have green trails.

How? How awful have I to tell you all
that my name is not Odd Knob.

I'm called Bob Job.

This name was given to me by my rate
-remembered master before he

rushed his wife in a London nightclub.

Please call me Bob Job.

Nothing but Bob Job.

And if you don't like it, then you must
bloody well romp it.

Later, bring me some Turkish coffee.

Do you realise, Bob Job, that in London
now, it's just about time for afternoon

tea?

Well,

here we are. Do help yourselves.

Thank you, Miss Willow. You've saved our
lives.

Just thinking to myself, if I don't get
that cup of tea soon, I shall die.

He's dead.

Poisoned. Oh, my God.

I'd better get the next in line.

What a terrible thing to happen. It's a
terrible thing to happen to anybody,

isn't it?

You sure he's dead?

He's dead, all right.

Will it be all right if I have the other
sandwich, then?

Well, I don't want it yet, all right.

Did he say she'd gone out to get the
next in line? Yeah.

That must be, uh... Q.

Q.

Are you Q?

Yes. Are you?

And so, as Charlie comforts a weeping
Miss Willow, questions seethe round in

Piggy Malone's thick skull.

Who holds the secret of the clumsy drug?

Is this man really Q, or is he just
playing at it?

Who got the tea and poisoned pee?

Don't miss next week.

Into the web.

Like a snowball down a mountain, like a
carousel turning

around, like a clock who stands for
sweet, and the

world is like an apple burning silently
in space.

Thank you.

Thank

you.

Thank you.

Never ending or beginning

Dr. Atkinson speaking, yes.

What? Oh, all right. All right.

I'll come at once.

Oh, not another one.

Don't go, John.

I've got to go, haven't I?

I'm on call.

It's all part of a doctor's life, I
suppose.

Now, listen.

You carry on taking those tablets every
four hours. I'll come and see you later.

Good evening.

My name is Professor... And tonight we
have a

Swedish lesson for you, but with a
difference.

It is in Norwegian.

Now, I expect some of you are wondering
why I am dressed as a waiter.

It is because tonight our lesson is
entitled In the Restaurant.

Or as we say in Sweden, in the
restaurant.

But before we go over to the scene, let
me explain that as we act out our little

drama for you, there will be on the
screen subtitles, which, as you know,

used in Swedish films and which are
necessary to explain to the English

what is going on in the bedroom scenes.

But to make it easier, we spell it out
for you. We use only one letter for each

word. Now, this also helps with the
pronunciation. Instead of putting thus,

hello, we put thus, L -O.

You see? And similarly, here we have
here, P -T. You see? P

-T.

And here...

We have sea tea.

Sea tea.

And here

we have another picture for you.

Now come with me and we will begin the
lesson.

I've sold my new house.

Well, I haven't actually sold it. I
mean, there is a little legal hold -up,

you know. A chap came along and had a
look and said he wants to buy it, and

family are trying to get him certified.

I know the house is settled with a
little bit of a tilt, hardly noticeable,

they came at an awkward time when the
kids were playing sliding down the

I honestly think they're getting a
bargain, you know, because the house is

near the shops and actually getting
nearer all the time.

Now, at the present rate, in about 25
years, it should be passing

the chemists and well on its way to fine
fare.

And there is actually a great community
spirit, you know, about the area.

I mean, we've been to about eight
parties. in the last six weeks.

My God, we've got some Tupperware.

Then there's the... Then there's the
local ex -serviceman's dramatic society.

They've been doing Lorna Doon.

And the case comes up on Thursday.

We shall, however, when we move, we
shall miss the village pub, the jolly

stockbrokers.

It's such an interesting place, you
know, real old original plastic beams

genuine Elizabethan jukebox and lovely
big open hearth with its picture

of a log fire.

And up above the bar, there's a glass
containing a stuffed farmer.

Now, it's whispered, it's whispered that
upstairs in this pub is the actual room

where Michael Parkinson hid from
Muhammad Ali.

Or was it Muhammad Ali who hid from
Michael Parkinson? And then there's

Host, the landlord, always ready with a
jolly anecdote about his war service in

the SS.

And his wife, Flora Dora.

who may seem a bit of a grasper, but it
is rumoured that once a year she quietly

selects a customer who's a bit down on
his luck and gives him the right change.

I recall an old tramp came into the bar
once and he said, I haven't eaten for a

whole week. And she said, well, you must
force yourself, dear.

The pub is actually right opposite the
cemetery.

So they rely an awful lot on the late
-night funeral trade.

And the local vicar, he gets in there
quite a lot, you know, sort of

with his flock, you know.

Although I sometimes think he carries
the integration a bit too far, you know.

Last night, just about closing time, he
was giving us all absolution and he fell

off the counter.

Then he got a bit hysterical and
excommunicated the landlord's dog.

Then he spake unto me, and he said, he
said, I don't know why you're laughing,

he said, you still haven't paid for your
grandmother's funeral.

And he said, if we don't get the cash
tomorrow, up she comes.

Now, that, that, that upset me a bit.

I must be honest, because it did remind
me of the moment, you know, reminded me

for a moment, rather than of the moment,
reminded me for a moment of my old

Uncle Angus.

My old Uncle Angus.

Reminded me of her as well.

It reminded me of my old Uncle Angus.
You may remember... I don't know if you

remember, he met his death when he was
drowned in a vat of whiskey in a

distillery.

Very, very quick end.

Mind you, it would have been quicker if
he hadn't got out twice to go to the

loo.

Now, when they had him cremated and his
ashes, now his ashes, when they had him

cremated, were placed in an urn and kept
on the mantelpiece in the golf club.

Now, some members, not knowing any
better...

were using the urn as an ashtray.

And the secretary picked it up one day
and he said, bloody marvellous, he said,

he's been dead for three years and I do
believe he's putting on weight.

Fortunately, it reminds me of the story
I was going to tell you in the first

place. It's about this chap who phones
up the police very late one night, you

know, he says, he phones up and he goes,
he says, hello, is there...

Is that the police station, he said.

He said, well, I thought I ought to tell
you, he said, I've had a little bit of

a mishap, he said. He said, I've been
driving along the wrong side of the

motorway, and he said, I've done a very,
very naughty little thing.

He said, I've never done such a naughty
little thing. He said, I've knocked over

a lot of your little bollards, he said.

And he said, I've demolished a row of
fairy lights.

He said, I've been awfully naughty,
really. He said, and I've written off a

workman's hut.

Smashed it, he said, all over the road.

And the policeman at the other end said,
where exactly are you, sir?

The fellow at the other end says,
wouldn't you like to know?

Now performing Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker
Suite, our special guest tonight,

members of the Imperial Ballet School.

Oh, hurry up, Jess, where have you been?

You should have been here at 6 .15.

I've been to Leonard's for a rinse. Next
week I'm with the student prince. I

hope you'll both be happy.

Oh, shut up, you silly queen.

Here's Batman and Robin, arms in time.

Her bosom is throbbing, ain't love
blind?

He's old enough to be her mum, but she
adores his sugarplum. He's got a room in

Euston and she's got a flat behind.

Where'd you get to last

night, Beverly?

Me and Dave had a rave in a rather
low...

Little wine bar drinking, heavily
sitting on a little post.

Anyone I know.

Look at her, Jess, don't she look a
mess.

Tatted dress, no finesse, shaking it
about.

Shoes by Dulcis, when she waltzes.

Watch her falses, fall out.

He's a bloody fruit and nut cake.

I just can't abide him. Oh, he's really
vile. Yes, he'd just ignore him. Though

the birds adore him, most of him is
padded. Yes, it's sticking out a mile.

Oh, God.

Don't you shush me, Gladys Wainwright.

She's been on the Guinness, you can
always tell.

Look at Casanova, feeling glad all over.

He's on his points, look.

And hers as well. Get out, you dirty...

that I flush with rage.

Well, Geoffrey, you're at a funny age.

Last week, I danced with Moody Peg, the
bird who's got a wooden leg. I did six

pirouettes with her and screwed her to
the stage.

With Cynthia Fairfax, I got stuck.

She's got a physique like Donald Duck.
Oh, she's so bandy -legged, dear, that

when we took her home... I'll ask you.
We hung her up above the door to bring

bleeding luck.

Excuse me, dear.

Oh, my feet are chronic, covered in
blisters. Oh, for gin and tonic, round

your sisters. Oh, I'll get completely
Oliver Twist as soon as I've hung up

me truss. Oh, these here nights just
bore me to the skies.

These here tides bring water to me eyes.

find new positions. They say Lionel
Blair started holding auditions for

at Leon C.

And if he can't fill us, it's back to
the tillers and not to the number.

God's sweet.

Well, that's all for this week. Next
week, I'll be reviewing a book that has

just become a bestseller in Scotland,
entitled Indoor Games for Flag Days.

Then we shall have some hints on course
fishing, followed by lewd hockey,

suggestive cricket and obscene golf.

But here's the late news. We have just
heard that two pandas at London Zoo have

begun to mate.

The winner meets Bobby Fischer in the
final.

The courts. In the Central Divorce Court
today, a traffic light manufacturer was

granted a divorce on the grounds that
his wife only ever wore three night

dresses. A red one, which meant stop,
you can't go.

A green one, which meant you may go
unless there are any pedestrians about.

And an amber one, which meant you may
only go if you've started or you're so

close to the line that the stop suddenly
might cause an accident.

Encouraging news on the industrial
front.

A 63 -year -old Liverpool docker claimed
that he had never had a day's illness

in his life. He always managed to make
it last a week.

And Sir Hartley Horsfall, the eminent
plastic surgeon, is being sued by one of

his lady clients because of shoddy
workmanship and high prices.

She stated, I realise what a bad job he
had done on me when someone took me on

one side and said, a word in your nose,
you're paying through the ear for

everything.

Well, that's all we have time for
tonight, so it's goodnight from me. And

goodnight from him. Goodnight.
Goodnight. Goodnight.