All language subtitles for The Two Ronnies s10e01

Good evening. It's wonderful to be back
with you once again, isn't it, Ronnie?

Indeed it is. And in a packed programme
tonight, I shall be talking to the

Animal Freedom Now group, who claimed a
big success today after they raided the

Amersham branch of the Army and Navy
stores and liberated four dozen donkey

jackets.

And I'll be talking to a man who crossed
a Venus fly trap with a sprig of

mistletoe to get a plant which gives you
a nasty bite but then kisses it better.

But first, the news.

Claims that Mr. Norman Tebbit is
becoming more popular were confirmed

Somebody touched him with a barge pole.

After the funeral at Watford Gap today
of Britain's worst motorway chef,

Stodge, former customers stayed behind
to dance on his gravy.

The Bromsgrove woman, who caused traffic
chaos by making love to a succession of

men in her sports car, has pleaded not
guilty to obstructing the highway.

She says she was only giving way to
oncoming motorists.

But sad news tonight from Lord George
Davidson Circus, where, after an

unfortunate accident, Purgeo, the human
rhubarb stick, has been forced into

retirement.

And now a sketch featuring Mr. Ronnie
Corbett, just back from acting in a film

in the Sahara Desert with Raquel Welch.
She'd rather put him in the shade.

I say, that was really jolly good, that
one. I must say, I really enjoyed that.

Thanks very much.

It's a super game, isn't it? I can't
understand why I've never tried it

Absolutely lovely.

I loved it. But thanks to you, old boy,
of course, from now on, I should be a

dedicated squish player.

Squash. Huh?

The game is called Squash. Oh, Squash.
That's right. Yes, I'm sorry.

Who actually won? I mean, I couldn't
quite grasp the scoring mechanism.

Did I win? Yes, you flaked. Yes, you
won.

You won.

Oh, that's good.

How many goals did I get?

Goals? Well, you know, the thing is...
Points.

Points. Points, yes. Points. How many
points did I get? Well, the score was,

you want to know, game love, game love,
game love, game love.

See? Yes.

You won four games.

to love. Oh, I see. So I got poor and
you got love. Yeah. I see. How many is

love?

Love is nothing.

Oh, no, no, that's not right. I'm sure,
because I'm sure you got a goal earlier

on, right at the beginning.

A point. A point, I mean. Yes, a point.
Yes, of course I did. That was when

you... Oh, I know. I was holding the
thing by the wrong end.

I must remember.

Hold the bat by the thin end. The
racket.

Racket, I mean. The racket. Yes.

This is...

This is a ball. The game is called
squash.

That'll start from basic principle. The
whole thing is called squash. This is a

ball. This is a blasted racket.

That is a racket. I'm free.

Will it work now you've done that?

I don't much care, to be honest.

I'm not going to be playing squash
anymore, ever.

Oh, I see.

That's a pity, because I was hoping we
could have another game next week.

I mean, I thought, well, you know, I
thought I might get a bit better.

A bit better?

A bit better?

Look, matey, I am the secretary of this
squash club.

You know, I mean, I captain the A team.

You know, I'm one of the best players
round here.

You know, I won the area finals last
year and all that sort of thing, you

You know, I'm good.

You know, good.

And you come along here, if I may say
so, you've never played the game before,

you're vastly overweight, if I may say
so, you're very slow on the court,

gone up that court in your ruddy Burton
suit, and you've thrashed me,

you've pounded me into the ground.

in front of my friends, four games to
love.

Well, how do you do it?

Beginner's luck.

It's a fluke. That's what it is, a
fluke, mate. It won't happen again, I'll

you what. It won't happen the next time.
No, it won't be the next time, because

you've broken your rocket. My racket!

I'll get a new one, I don't care. I'll
get a new one. Look, mate, I'll get a

one, and tomorrow morning, here, ten o
'clock, Things will be different. Oh,

no. Sorry, old boy. No, not tomorrow. No
can do. What do you mean, no can do?

Well, I've got to go up to a place
called Lord's tomorrow. I've got to meet

chaps called Botham and Willis. I've got
to play a game called Crack It or

something.

Our

guest

this week, ladies and gentlemen, Elaine
Page.

The sun will come out tomorrow.

There's a bottom dollar that tomorrow
there'll be sun.

Thinking about tomorrow.

Lift away the conquest and the sorrow.

Still there's none when I'm stuck with a
day.

I say, Godfrey, what is it, Humphrey?

How's your headache?

She's out playing bridge.

Oh, come on, old fellow.

You shouldn't talk about the old girl
like that, you know.

Love makes the world go round.

Well, so's a punch on the nose, old man.

Now, I've had bad luck with both my
wives. The first one divorced me, and

second one won't.

It's a case of love at first sight with
me.

Oh? Why didn't you marry her? I saw her
again on several occasions.

So you married someone else? Yes.

She's frightfully slow.

Slow? What at?

everything, old boy.

Takes her a whole day to make instant
coffee.

The trouble is, I'm hem -picked. Oh,
mustn't be, old lad.

No, mustn't be. Stand up to her. Show
her who's boss.

I'm going to.

I've made up my mind.

I'm going to pluck up courage and tell
her something I've been wanting to tell

her for ages.

Oh, what's that?

I must have a new apron.

and welcome to the book programme.

William Shakespeare, it is generally
agreed, has provided the English

with more sayings, proverbs and quotes
than any other writer.

Every other book title is a quote from
the Bard.

Many plays in the theatre do the same.

Why then should not television follow
suit?

Here, with a little help from our
caption department, is the scene from

VI, part one.

faster pace, when for my crowning we
must soon prepare.

By liege, I have the information close.

Then spill it out.

Thou art already late.

Thou hadst foresworn to bring me news at
ten.

But tell me first, how may I seek to rid
my royal self of that arch -villainess

that calls herself the Queen?

Queen, so she is. She is your consort,
sire.

Or will be so when you are crowned next
week in Westminster.

Motherland, her beauty is renowned.

Her person is respected nationwide.

Her person is the Duke of Hastings, sir.
He is her lover and must get the job.

Daily they flaunt their fever in the
court. He arrogant and bold and she all

smiles.

contented with her lot and with her bed,
each night with her bride's head

revisited.

Revenge shall be complete.

My crowning's perk, my coronation's
treat.

Don't furnish evidence with all.

Observe the queen's speech when she's
with him close.

As oft beneath the starry sky at night,

He speaks in tones both moribund and
wise.

And he, during the reign of John, kept
silent and endured the tyrannies.

Don't mind her.

That will I, most royal liege. He often
plots with Lovell against the crown.

These points of view are treason you
well know.

He can it think, but can he ever it
show?

He must be cornered with some trumped
-up charge of treasonable acts, both

little and large.

To the tower.

No blemish shall besmirch my nuptial
hour.

Come, dancing maidens.

Prophets, play away.

Drums that do beat at night.

Must throb in day.

The song of praise proclaim us well. Let
Hastings lose his

head.

You'll find us morning, noon and tea
time on our feet.

Sweeping up the bits of litter around
your feet.

To keep the highways and the byways nice
and neat.

Let me repeat.

Out in the street.

You'll find us out there in the cold or
in the heat.

It is our duty to perform and to
complete.

The sort of work that can be hardly
called a treat.

Not very sweet.

Just a couple of working boys

Doing a job like others

Putting up with

all the jokes From the...

Somebody has to do it. Somebody has to
do it. Somebody has to do it.

Nobody wants a mucky job, but someone
must go through it.

Somebody's got to lift it, shovel it up
and chip it, sweep it and scrape it,

squash it and shape it, kick it around
and try to get rid of it, keeping it

and tidy, so long as we're paying on
Friday.

What's the point in making a lot of
fuss?

Though we may all poo -poo it, somebody
has to do it, and somebody's decided

that it's us.

It ain't much fun.

It is the sort of work a lot of people
shun.

But then it can't be said that we're the
only one.

There are a lot of other jobs that must
be done.

That ain't much fun.

Now take the Queen.

Although the work she has to do is nice
and clean, it must be tiring being on

the public scene.

And looking fresh as paint no matter
where she's been.

And still to read.

It may look just like a

game All that glamour All

that fame Maybe so

Somebody has to do it. Somebody has to
do it. Nobody wants to be the queen, but

someone must go through it.

Opening public functions, banquets and
balls and luncheons.

Ruling the land and waving her hand and
changing the guards and tripping the

colour and training the derby with us.

Getting the Duke kissed in her.

Baby 64, the Prince of Wales.

Smiley looking regal.

Acting like an eagle and always keeping
clear of the horse's tail. That's where

he's coming from. Somebody has to do it.

Somebody has to do it.

Somebody has to do it.

Somebody's decided.

Somebody's decided.

Somebody has to do it.

And that's us.

I say, Godfrey.

What is it, Humphrey?

You've got your shoes on the wrong feet.

It's impossible.

These are the only feet I've got.

Anyway, my head is in no fit state to
think about my feet.

Hungover? Absolutely draped, old boy.

Well, tear up, old lad. No one ever died
of a hangover. Oh, don't say that,

Humphrey. It's only the hope of dying
that's keeping me alive.

Who were you with, Godfrey?

Oh, Geoffrey, Humphrey. We both left the
party together.

He was so drunk I couldn't see him.

I took him to the East End for coffee.

You should never give coffee to a drunk.
All you get is a wide -awake drunk.

Is he deaf or nervous? Well, he's
getting better. He's in hospital.

Hospital? Why?

Well, we were sitting on the Westminster
Bridge playing who could lean over the

farthest, and he run.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12,
13.

Don't want to overdo it.

That's right.

Ah, g'day, Ross.

G'day, Craig.

You're late, mate. We're supposed to be
having a meeting here.

I know that, you stupid drongo, but
where were you yesterday?

I had some strife with me car.

Pack of dingoes ate the tires.

Dropping? What's dropping?

Kookaburras dropping by the look of it.

You know what? I went down the
billabong. I was bitten on the set -upon

gillagon.

The blueberry truck was commandeered to
fight a bushfire.

They used beer to put the fire out?
Yeah, after they drank it, yeah.

What are you going to drink, then, huh?

What's that new glass?

Dust. I'll have a big one of those.

Where's Bruce?

Bruce went out the back about three days
ago to the dunny.

Don't take that long to read the paper.
I know.

and the spider got him.

I thought you'd blocked all the holes
up. Well, I did, but he was living in

toilet roll.

Yeah, Bruce had never locked himself in
there. He can't get out now. We can't

get in either.

Have you seen anything of Wayne McLaren?

Only his belly button.

He went to Hanging Rock with some abos.

Turned out he was the picnic.

Where's Rooney?

Rooney's gone a bit strange. I reckon
the loneliness has got to him.

Well, he should never have joined the
Royal Paris Band Club.

Anyhow, his wife reckons he was
wandering and acting queer.

Now he's gone mince about.

That was only you, me and Dennis. Yeah,
except Dennis.

Oh, him too.

Ah, yeah, he went down to Dalton's Creek
to pray for rain, and it did.

He drowned it? No.

Jellyfish? No. No, he was washed out to
sea.

It was found in seven separate sharks.

Typical. Typical. Just an excuse, the
wowser. Yeah.

You ought to have made the effort to get
here, oughtn't you? Well, let's get on

with it now. Come on now.

I made the effort after all I got here,
didn't I? Had a bit of luck while you

were out there. A sandstorm blew up and
the alligators couldn't see us, you see.

I lost my sandwiches. I was just going
to eat some deadly nightshade when the

locusts got in. And would you believe?

They'd bitten on the upper thigh with a
king snake, and a swarm of vampires came

down and sucked the poison out.

Don't let's waste time on trivialities,
Ross.

We've come here to rehearse this
commercial.

Yeah, what do you think of that, I thunk
up?

Yeah, together, you mean? Yeah.

Hey, you drongos, come and visit
Australia for a safe and reliable

holiday of a lifetime.

Yes, you poms, come and say, Good night.

Good night.

And you want me through and through.

Yet you won't fulfill my yearning.

Just dampen down my dream.

I'm sorry, but I can

Ain't nobody left worth talking to.

Cause I've lost my little John.

Everybody loved my cockatoo.

He would whistle at the crow.

Flowered right free at the piece of his
wife.

Got the mission, we did well.

Now he's good for it, the cotton guy.

Now dear my son, my parrot guy.

He's lying there apart.

It's courtesy of Bhagavad -Gita.

Dear, tonight I would like, if I may, to
relate a very funny story

that I heard when I...

Sorry,

what's that? I think the producer just
shot himself.

There's plenty of time for that when we
get to the joke.

Anyway, this is a very funny story that,
funnily enough, that

noise is reminding me of a very old show
business adage, you know, that every

time you hear an unexpected noise, like
a bang, it means that someone backstage

who doesn't like your act. That's true.

Now, the story I was going to...

they've missed out the tea lady,
actually.

Oh, I see.

Thank you very much for that. Slightly
bad timing.

I was... What I was going to say was
that tonight I have actually been

to tell a joke for charity.

Now, this means that every time I get a
laugh tonight, a pound will go to the

Shepherds Bush home for underprivileged
studio audiences.

I know what you're thinking. I know what
you're thinking. How will they manage

on 50p?

No, and there he goes again, trying to
make us feel guilty for not laughing at

his pathetic old joke. But the fact is,
I do have a philanthropic side to my

nature. Certain things are very close to
my heart.

My feet, for example.

And I'd like, if I may, to dedicate it
to my agent.

A very dear friend. To be honest, his
business has fallen on hard times

Once upon a time, when you rang the
office, you got this highly

answering machine, and now they've got a
parrot that takes messages.

Well, everyone's having to trim back
these days, aren't they? I mean, to be

honest, where I live, you know, they've
just opened a self -service crematorium.

And the GLC's cutbacks are beginning to
bite, too.

Once upon a time, to dig a hole in the
road, they used a pneumatic drill.

Now they've got Cyril Smith on a pogo
stick.

There I go, rambling again. And to be
honest, I'm already... I'm rambling away

here. I'm already in the producer's bad
books this week. On Wednesday, I was up

in his office waiting to see him,
reading rather an interesting magazine

article, actually, about the dying art
of roof -thatching by Arthur Scargill's

hairdresser.

Barry Manilow put his nose round the
door.

And, well, not all the way round,
obviously.

You know, about halfway round.

And then in came the producer's
secretary, a very pleasant lady. Very

indeed. Not altogether with it, but very
nice.

I once asked her for a fibre tip.

And she told me to eat more prunes.

He sent me into the producer, now, who,
to be honest, was still looking a bit

shaky. He'd been trying to adjust the
height on his swivel chair, and he'd

screwed his head into the ceiling.

Anyway, he beckoned me over with his mug
of starch -reduced whip bread, and he

said, ah, Corbett, he said, what is all
this I hear about these photos?

I said, photos?

Now, I knew it would get out sooner or
later. The fact is...

And you might as well know it now. I
recently posed for a set of

nude photographs

for Playgirl magazine under the heading
Raunchy

Ronnie.

A comic stripped.

It's all very tasteful, actually, you
know. I mean, the nude centrefold is all

quite decent, you know.

Unless you lift the staple.

He wasn't too pleased, so to keep my
nose clean, tonight, no rambling of any

kind, straight on with the story.

Picture the scene.

A sleepy little village in Surrey.

Nice old semi -detached house.

Man in bed with the wife.

Wife's husband comes home.

Unusual so far.

Well, straight away, the wife jumps out
of bed, wipes the steam off the windows.

Memories of Brian and Julie.

Looks outside and down below there's her
husband getting out of the car carrying

a dead cow in his shoulders.

My God, she said, he's come back early
from the slaughterhouse and brought some

work home with him.

Well, it so happens that I know because
I myself once worked in a

slaughterhouse. Glasgow Empire it was
called.

I was in a pantomime, you know, where
the audience threw so much fruit.

Humpty Dumpty ended up as a tomato
omelette.

So there are this couple in the bedroom,
and the man, not wanting to risk

sliding down the drainpipe with no
clothes on, leaps.

The pain of that is called silence.

Leaps across the room and hides in the
wardrobe.

And as he's in there crouching in the
shadows, suddenly he hears this voice

saying, Coo, isn't it dark in here?

And he looks down, and there beside him
is this little boy, you see.

Good gracious, he said, how long have
you been in here?

The little boy said, I've seen
everything, and I'm going to tell my

Oh, no, don't do that, Sir Chapsley,
don't do that. Look, if you promise to

quiet, he said, I'll give you a nice
crisp ten -pound note.

Certainly not, said the little boy. I've
been brought up as a good Catholic boy,

and that would be bribery.

Besides, ten quid's not enough.

Sir Chapsley said, all right, five quid.
He says, done.

Sad indictment on our educational
standards today.

So he takes the money, and he's sitting
there at breakfast, the little boy, the

next day, brandishing this fibre. And
his father says, where did you get that?

He said, a nice gentleman gave it to me,
Daddy. Father said, don't tell me a

lie, you stole it, didn't you? You're a
disgrace to your religion. And you know

what happens to people who mock their
religion?

Their fingers all drop off one by one.

He says, look at Dave Allen.

Off you go to church, he says, and
confess.

So off the little boy goes to the local
church.

Steps into the confessional box and
pulls the curtain behind him. Looks

he says, Coo, isn't it dark in here?

And a voice from the other side says,
Not you again.

On the 7th of June, 1844, on the remote
marshlands of northern Canada, the last

living example of the great auk was
found dead.

it to be enchanted, the villagers
fashioned a model of the bird in purest

Legend decreed that the golden auk
possessed strange magical powers and a

prophetic warning for all mankind.

For a hundred years, greed and avarice
drove many men to kill for it.

This is their story.

1933, and the golden auk had been
missing for 20 years.

until the beautiful archaeologist,
Melissa Winthrop, stumbles across a

revealing the statue's whereabouts.

But a foreign power are soon on to her.
To kidnap her and make her talk, the

Germans dispatch their evil emissary,
Dr. Heinrich von Hesseltine.

Melissa, in the clutches of the Nazis,
there was only one man in England

equipped to rescue her.

Little Hampton Jones.

Old famous troubleshooter. And the only
man known to have failed the medical for

the oval teams.

A demon with a horse whip, Little
Hampton could rope in a wild animal at

feet.

A master of illusion, Little Hampton
smuggles himself into Germany disguised

a nun.

He soon tracks down his arch -adversary,
von Heseltine, to a crumbling old house

near Munich.

Tell us where we can find the oar.

No. Never.

Never.

No, no, damn you.

You do not impress me with your false
bravado, Miss Winstead.

I have known grown men sell their own
grandmothers rather than endure the

traditional Bavarian folk dancing.

I think you should know that I am not a
man to be trifled with,

my dear.

No, he is not a man to be trifled with.

Either you tell me the real... He'll
soon make you talk, don't worry about

Either you tell me the real...

stop using the latest truth drugs, but
he is the quickest, definitely.

Oh, he can wring a confession out of you
so fast. Will you shut up?

Who is carrying on this interrogation,
you or me?

Eh?

I'm surrounded by simpletons.

Shut your great fat go.

Now, my dear, in return for this
information...

not to shout at me.

I promise I won't shout at you anymore.

I won't shout at you. It's a nice little
dog.

Now, my dear, you've had time to
consider my question.

What is your answer?

Don't bore your face, you big fat shark,
right?

I see.

You want time? to sink it over.

Very well.

But let me assure you, my dear Fraulein,
that I shall stop at nothing until the

fabled orc is in my hands.

Never shall I let up until its magic and
secret prophecies are mine.

No one, but no one...

Esselstyn's got an army of pygmies with
poison darts. Pygmies, poison darts?

I've never heard of anything so
ridiculous.

You idiot!

Have you seen the seat of your trident?

My God!

Is it serious?

Serious? The poison's fatal unless it's
sucked out straight away.

Well, I think that's got it all right
now, Mr. Jones.

I'm lucky we find this.

Now,

my little dove, you have had time to
consider.

I hope that you have now decided to be a
sensible girl.

So far,

is not entirely

with the Great Ork restored to its place
of honor in the British Museum.

You never really believed it, did you,
Miss Winthrop? You know, all this hokum

about magic prophecy.

Who knows?

I don't suppose there's really any truth
in it.

What's my name?

meant there.

Well, I guess that's that.

There never was a secret prophecy
attached to it after all.

Well, that... seems to be just about all
we have time for tonight, but before we

go, a few items of late news.

Yes, the All England Pro -Am Wine
Tasting Festival ended today when the

President carried out the closing
ceremony and two waiters carried out

Reed.

All the hens at a chicken farm in
Woodbridge, Suffolk stopped work today

protest against flexible roostering.

Oscar Chumworthy, Grantham's most
sociable man, was buried today. In a

tributes, he was described as a big
wheel in the Rotarians, a brick in the

Masons, and a right weirdo in the
Oddfellows.

Next week, we'll be bringing you edited
highlights of the Gay Lib Highland

Games, and we'll be watching them
tossing the salad.

And I'll be interviewing health food
fanatic Sir Oswald Musely.

Good night from me. And it's good night
from him. Good night.