Original subtitles

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

in a packed programme tonight, we shall have excerpts from four new BBC classic

serials, What Katie Did, What Katie Did Next, Who Did What to Katie, and Son of

Katie.

And we'll have film of the Knaresborough Dutchman who got married this morning.

This afternoon, he carried his happy bride over the threshold, but through

of habit, dropped bits of her along the garden path.

After that, we present the massed mounted vans of the household cavalry,

followed by the massed buckets of the rhubarb growers.

But first, the news.

British Rail has introduced a new passenger service. It offers you

Aberdeen, lunch in Newcastle, dinner in London, and your luggage in Birmingham.

Mr. Zechariah Mole, the world's untidiest man, died today.

His body is now lying in a state.

This week is accident prevention week at Aldershot, and already 300 army wives

have signed an undertaking to have a guard in front of the fire.

Meanwhile, the search for the man who terrorized his nudist camps with a bacon

slicer goes on.

Inspector Lemuel Jones had a tip -off this morning, but hopes to be back on

tomorrow.

The record company who recently issued Rod McEwan's greatest hit, Without a

in the Middle, today offered the following advice to Biles. Take a polar

and using it as a template, bore a hole through the centre of the record.

For even better results, play the polar mint.

Finally, in mere Wiltshire, a Great Dane has been crossed with a bicycle pump to

produce a dog that really puts the wind up postman.

Now a sketch featuring Mr Ronnie Barker, whose hit single this week shot up to

number 36 in the Irish top 20.

I saw you standing over here all on your own.

I thought I'd just come over and make fun of you.

Well, you have got a problem, haven't you, huh?

You're the life and soul of the party, aren't you?

I bet you're a right old little box of fireworks when you get going, aren't

I'm sorry? Oh, dear.

Oh,

we're getting vicious now, are we? Oh, dear, vicious.

I hope you're not one of these Hell's Angels people, are you?

Come round to fright us with your thick knives and your razor blades and your

copies of Woman's Own, are you?

No, you're probably not, no. I actually think you're one of those obnoxious

people who gate -crash his parties just to pick fights with the bouncers, aren't

you? I have not gate -crashed, I beg your pardon. I have an invitation.

We both have.

Oh, both? Oh, you're married, are you? Yes. Oh, dear, your poor old wife.

She's scraping the bottom of the barrel with you, isn't she? Well, thank you not

to talk about my dear wife like that. She is, in fact, a very warm -hearted

generous person.

I'll have you know she gave me extra pocket money last week.

There aren't many women about like that these days. No, thank God.

She sounds a right old dragon to me.

Fancy being stuck indoors all day with her.

Oh, no, she lets me out every day to go to work, you know.

Now, don't tell me what you do. You're an accountant, aren't you?

No, no, much too boring for me. I require something that's much more

more stimulating. I may not look it, but underneath, I can tell you.

Proper little firebrand, I should say.

Oh, are you really?

What do you do, then? What are you, a pork butcher in Golders Green, or what?

Gee whiz, baby. Fan my flies. You must be a right little tearaway, mustn't you?

You probably only came here because you thought it was going to be an orgy, did

you? Certainly not.

No, no, probably not. I think your idea of an orgy is a 1952 copy of Playboy,

isn't it?

With all the good bits ripped out.

What's your name, by the way?

Gavin.

Gavin? I'd say that must be the most exciting thing about you, isn't it,

Oh, God, Gavin.

I can just imagine your parents lying there in the dark and thinking, that

up.

They must be a right old pair.

Talking of right old pairs, who made your teeth for you? A monumental mason?

Or did you cut them out of orange peel?

Are you trying to make a fool of me? Good heavens, no.

No, no, no. I think you're managing very well on your own.

Is your wife here, by the way? As a matter of fact, she's over there talking

your wife. My husband's a millionaire.

What's yours?

A little rat.

Is he here?

Yes, he's over there talking to your husband.

And it's time he was going home. He's beginning to enjoy himself.

Come on out.

Bedtime. You haven't said a word to me all evening.

Off hobnobbing with your male friends half the night, me standing here like a

lemon.

Come on out. Yes, all right, dear, I'm coming, I'm coming.

Good evening, here is the news.

In the House of Commons today, there were stormy exchanges from both sides of

the House during a discussion on the Prime Minister's forthcoming visit to

United States.

Using the new abbreviated form of speech introduced into the Commons to save

time, the Foreign Secretary replied to the MP for N2, Mr BF, and said that the

PM should P &O to the US as air travel was NBG for a VIP.

In the 707, anyone could KO the PM and the UN could do FA.

The latest trade figures are described as encouraging by the chance of... The

chance of the exchequer. The October figures... I'm awfully sorry, we seem to

picking up sound from another studio.

Excuse me.

Hello? Yes.

Yes, of course I can hear it.

Of course I can. It's Jackanory.

Well, yes, I watch it sometimes, yes.

Yes, very much. Yes, very much.

I apologise for the sound breakthrough. It is being traced.

Meanwhile, I will continue.

Inflation still continues to rise at an alarming rate.

Mrs Thatcher, attacking the government's policy, said, once upon a time, there

were three bears.

I'm sorry.

Once upon a time, there were three dollars to the pound.

And then there were two.

Two little dollar bills sitting on the wall.

Fly away, Peter. Fly away, Paul.

Come back, Peter. Come back in the days before the Labour government took over.

She was greeted with loud cheers, and then she went home and had tea in the

nursery with lots of lovely jelly and... And she ate so much that she was sick.

Sport.

Bob Fairbrother, now fully recovered from the leg injury, had originally

to play this Saturday, but has now stated that he cannot, as his mummy

him.

He says he can't come out to play until he's done his homework.

Now it's time for another adventure about Little Ben, the Wedge of Wood.

Little Ben was always being hard done by because he was only made of wood, and

being wedge -shaped made it even worse because people used to tread on his thin

end and kick his fat end.

He was always afraid to walk down the street because he was frightened of the

boy who lived at number ten.

He was called Sonny Jim, but he wasn't Sonny at all, really.

In the boy next door, Dennis the Menace, used to tease the men, because he was

different from them, and then they'd run away and he would be left on his own.

And he'd say, why am I always left?

So he went to see Jenkins.

He went to see Jenkins the Wizard, who lived far away in the Welsh mountains,

who sometimes turned into a big green dragon, and other times wore a white

collar.

He told Jenkins the wizard he was always left, and Jenkins the wizard said,

Don't be silly. Of course you're not left.

That's ridiculous.

My advice to you is to go for a trot. Go for lots of trots. With a few trots

behind you, you can't be left, can you?

He turned into a green dragon again and ordered a large gin and tonic.

Piggy Malone and Charlie Farley, our two heroes, dauntless, hopeless, and the

laughing stock of the underworld, once again were on the trail, speeding down

Devon in search of the answer to a number of mystifying questions.

Who was murdering the yokels and dumping them in London?

Why were they all dressed alike? And why did they all come from the same place,

a remote village called Drake's Bottom?

Iggy and Charlie were on their way to finding out.

Well, here we are then, Chief.

We are, yes.

No one else seems to be.

There's not a soul on the station.

Perhaps just as well, except we didn't buy a ticket.

Yeah.

Yeah, when did you change out of your schoolboy uniform? I never saw you.

In the toilet on the train.

Oh.

Taken a bit of a chance, weren't you?

If you got caught, we'd have had to pay full fare.

Where is everybody?

Perhaps it's early closing day.

But there must be some form of transport.

Taxi! Yes?

How long have you been there?

I just come. I come to meet the train.

Are you a taxi?

Yes.

Well, where is it?

You tell me where you want to go first.

We want to go to Duck's Bottom, my good man.

Drake's Bottom, Chief.

Oh. Well, it's all the same, isn't it? Well, it's not to a duck it isn't.

Drake's Bottom, eh?

That's it.

You want lower Drake's Bottom or upper Drake's Bottom?

Up to you, Charlie.

You're navigating.

Well, I suggest we start at lower Drake's Bottom and work our way up to

Drake's Bottom.

Righto.

Only, I mean, uh... You have got a taxi, have you? Otherwise all this

conversation is a bit academic, isn't it?

It's at home. I'll just go and fetch it.

Why don't you bring it with you?

Saves petrol, doesn't it? Wear and tear on the upholstery.

Shall be long.

What about the wear and tear on his upholstery?

I hope he's not long.

You got two pea, Chief?

No, why? Oh, it's all right, I've got one.

Come here.

No,

I haven't got a two pea. It's all right, I know how to work a dodge on this.

Get on.

22 stone six.

Half of 22 stone 6 is 11 stone 3.

Oh, goodness, you've lost a lot of weight.

Actually, 15 stone.

I put on a hell of a lot, you know. Watch it.

I've never known a place so deserted.

Not a soul about anywhere.

Perhaps they're having a siesta.

Don't they have siestas in Devonshire?

A lot of people go to Spain for the holidays these days. They might have

up the idea from there.

I've noticed more people in London going to bed in the afternoon lately.

Only because you've been up more ladders looking in bedroom windows.

I mean, that is our main line of work, isn't it?

Divorce and that.

By the way, that couple you were studying in Kilburn, were they genuine?

No, they were false.

The bra was padded.

Big pity.

Huh?

I said big pity.

I thought you said something else.

And so our two heroes, searching for lodgings, found themselves at Darkling's

Farm.

Little did they know what lay in store for them.

There's an unhealthy atmosphere about this place. I can sense it.

Think you'll find that's the pigs.

Oh, afternoon, gentlemen.

Looking for lodging?

Yes, I was wondering if you could fix us up.

Yes, I think I've managed you all right.

Come on in.

All right.

You're a big boy, aren't you?

If you gentlemen have had enough to eat, I'll show you your bedrooms.

Yes, very nice.

Very nice supper.

Shall I be a tech?

Have you

a soup?

Yes, it was very nice.

What soup was it?

It was nice, wasn't it?

Yes. Good cook, my wife. Good at anything.

Really?

Not younger than me, you know.

I known her since she were a babby.

I used to sit her on my knee.

Not any more.

If not, she'd suffocate you.

What soup was it?

Eh? What soup was it?

Eh? What soup was it?

Eh?

What soup was it?

Eh?

What soup was it?

Eh?

What soup was it?

Eh?

Very nice. Very nice indeed.

Yes, it was nice.

Did you like it? No, it was horrible.

Yes, it was nice.

Very nice.

Right then.

Oh, by the way, lock your bedroom doors because our Elsie tends to wander about

a bit in the night.

Elsie? Oh, yes, I've met her yet.

She's out at the moment.

Oh, she's lovely. Oh, you'll like her.

But she gets sort of restless at night. She's got a very friendly nature, you

see. And she wanders about half asleep.

And she's a bit inclined to get into bed with you.

And you wouldn't want that, now, would you?

I wouldn't. Sorry, I mean.

No, I wouldn't.

Oh, yes, we must remember that. Lock the doors.

Mind you, I've got the key to all the rooms.

What is the secret of Darkling's farm?

Is Farmer Green a CIA agent?

What has the farmer's wife got up her sleeve, apart from half a hundred weight

of mutton?

Find out next week in another exciting episode of Stop Your...

you, Hugh.

Did you manage to get through to HQ?

Two minutes to two. Two minutes to two.

Yes, I think they realized.

Yes? I think they realized I was due to get through. They cleared the line.

Divine.

What news of support?

Nought. Nought?

Lord Gort up at the fort thought we ought to have sought support.

Before we went out and fought.

Say we ought, say we ought. It's all a bit fraught. We are going to get caught.

Pass the port.

Here we sit, grounded, surrounded, and completely confounded.

Cut off by the krauts.

Oh, dear, I feel queer.

I think I'll have a brandy, Sandy.

Do, dear, do.

I've been, uh, I've been thinking. Drinking?

No, thinking. Oh.

Yes. We are not trapped completely, Captain Wheaty.

There are certain very tight gaps in these jetty -type jets.

Here is a map of one of the gaps.

Take a gander, Commander.

Good grief, O 'Keefe, do you expect me to squeeze through these?

A man of my size with my thighs?

I'm a holiday, Halliday.

O 'Keefe, sir. O 'Keefe, oh, quite, quite.

Oh, I'm thoroughly misforgotten, hot and rotten.

And the stench in the trench.

If I'm not caught by Jerry, I shall die of beriberi. Oh!

Pretty infernal, Colonel.

That's the understatement of the year, you little queer. I've had it up to

Don't panic and get manic. Oh, it's no good, chummy.

Oh, lummy.

I want my mummy.

Here, suck this dummy.

Come over to the bed and rest your head.

Try to unroll yourself and control yourself while I give you the lowdown on

showdown.

Look, now we may have run out of ammo, but we've still got an ammo.

He is conquering disease by degrees.

Private Schwartz has got warts. Private Doyle's got boils.

Private Wurzel's pet weasel's got the measles.

Corporal Clappy is not a happy chappy.

Still, you can't be a saint with his complaint.

No, nobody smiles with piles.

Still, it's worse for the nurse.

Oh, God, what a balmy army.

Do you fancy a flip, sir?

Let's slip out of this hellhole.

Well, I'd certainly sooner be in Solihull than sitting here shivering in

stinking load of shrapnel.

What's the plan, little man?

Frank's tank is on the bank. Frank?

Frank Messiter, the cricketer from Chichester. Oh, him!

I thought his name was Jim.

Is he no longer with us, Smithers? Not any more. He's gone before.

Jerry threw this grenade.

There sat Frank in his tank.

dreaming of cricket and a straight middle wicket. When this grenade came

the wall, Frank thought it was a ball, caught it and bought it.

So there sits Frank's tank on the bank, and we've only Frank to thank.

Can you drive it, private?

I think so, yes. I can say without fear of being egotistical, my vehicle test

verged on the artistical.

I can't repeat that.

I'd rather not try. I can quite see why.

When we leave... As soon as you feel partial, feel partial. Oh, good.

So it's all go, go, go.

Bravo. We're all set. Let's have a wet.

Talking of a wet, might I be excused, Generalissimo? I want to pop outside for

a... Yes, I know.

And so must I. So must I. But watch out for a hun with a gun.

You go first.

If I hear a short burst, I shall feel the worst.

If you hear a long thigh, you'll know I'm high and dry.

Hello? Your 45th, the Fusilier here, HQ82.

Who are you?

You are?

You are? They are?

Oh, how far?

Oh, hurrah! I see you in the barn by your cigar. Ta -da!

We're relieved.

You as well, sir.

Get the Sergeant Bone on the phone.

Captain Hooper has turned up trumps with... 22 troopers. They fired a

and hit the Kaiser squarely in the tricer. He has retreated much depleted.

Ah, then now's our chance. Before we get hurt and dropped in the dirt, let's put

on spurt and dessert.

But... Dessert? It's a good idea, my dear.

You think we could start a new life together, Merryweather? Of course we

silly man. Oh, you've made an old man very happy, you dear chappy.

Just call me Merry, you old fairy.

Ladies and gentlemen, the Nolan sisters.

Lay that thing down before it goes off and hurts somebody.

one two one

This week I'd like to tell you, if I may, a rather religious story, because,

you probably know, today is the last Thursday before Sunday.

I know that sounds rather like a pathetic excuse to tell an old joke, and

is exactly what it is, because this joke needs an excuse.

And if I could have thought of a better one, I would have done. But as my old

dad used to say, he used to lean forward in his chair, Ron, he used to say like

that, you know, Ron, you know.

I always remember that.

Actually, he didn't lean forward. I am leaning forward so that you'll know when

it's me talking and when it's him, you know.

Ron, he used to say. He had a wonderful memory for names.

Ron, he would say, and a habit of repeating himself that I seem to have

inherited. Ron, Ron.

You know, I've concentrated so much on method acting that I can't for the life

of me remember what he said. Oh, yes, yes, again, yes, again, yes.

Ron, he said, always remember, he said, always remember, if I had a pair of oars

and some water, I could have rode this chair to Oxford by now.

He didn't say that, I said that.

What he actually said was, Ron, always remember, he said, the show must go on.

And he was 40 years a centre lathe turner, so I don't know why I troubled

mention it.

But I did, so there.

Anyway, the joke.

Two vicars meet in the street, and one of them says, Woe is me, he said. Woe is

me, some thieving parishioner has made off with my bike, and from now on it

looks like Shanks' pony forever and ever, etc., etc.

Or worse for that effect.

Good heavens, said his friend, lapsing into the professional jargon. Good

heavens, he said.

By the way, now please don't think, I don't want you to think I am knocking

religion, or anyone's religion in particular. I wouldn't do that, believe

I can't wait to see the Pope catch up with Dave Allen.

That'll cure his dandruff.

Anyway, I do come, to be honest, I come from a very, very devout family.

Actually, my mother has recently started her own religion.

It's called the Hare Krishna Good Old Days and Bingo Appreciation School.

And it's all based... rather loosely on the assumption that Del Shannon is a

reincarnation of Nellie Wallace.

My dad actually goes along with it all, to be honest. Just something to do since

his ferret died.

He is actually the high priest of the golden altar and second reserve human

sacrifice.

He was first reserve, but he works in Tesco's on Friday evenings.

Actually, to be honest, they're both rather eccentric, you know. It runs in

family. Good heavens, I've got an aunt who likes Bernard Manning.

I digress.

I digress.

Back to the story, which incidentally was told to me by our local vicar, you

know, after Eden Song and the Rat and Handbag.

There's a little hostillery I frequent, you know.

It's four -starred in the short change guide.

And I promised... I promised to tell it on the telly because he is a nice chap.

what a worker too I'll tell you something I recall that an immigrant

moved into the parish and he was round there before you could say get the curry

on a short talk from him and they not only embraced Christianity but asked

if there was any more of it he pops into the round he pops into the he

pops into the he pops

I told you I had a habit of repeating myself.

He pops into the rat and handbag, the vicar, has a couple of pints, and takes

confession behind the jukebox.

He's not a Catholic, you know, he just enjoys confessions.

Anyway, I don't know why I'm talking about it so much, actually. If he hadn't

got the wrong collars back from the laundry, he'd still be on the buses.

And there we are, the two vicars.

talking about one of them had his bike stolen, remember?

Woe is me, he says, our one whose bike it was. Yea, woe is you, said his

His friend said, what about the local police?

He said, I've thought about them, but I don't want to accuse anybody until I'm

absolutely sure.

And his friend says, I've got an idea. He says, next Sunday, you get up there

and you give them the full ten commandments.

And when you get to thou shalt not steal, have a look for the red face, and

will be the one who has purloined your philosophy.

But I have a great temptation about here to tell the story about when Moses was

in the desert. And he heard the voice say, Moses, how would you like some

tablets of stone with some commandments engraved thereon?

And Moses replied, you must be joking. He said, here I am, fed up, far from

home, in the wilderness, and you are trying to sell me some stones.

Goodbye and thank you for calling.

And the voice said, I am not selling them for free. And Moses said, I'll take

ten.

A couple of weeks later, the two vicars meet again and they stand there talking

shop about.

you know, life on the one day a week and that sort of thing. And if buttons go

out of fashion, will people put zip fasteners in the plate?

One of them said, how did you get on about your bike?

Did the Ten Commandments idea work? And the other vicar said, yes, he said, it

worked marvellously. He said, I went through them all one by one, and when I

to thou shalt not commit adultery, I remembered where I left my bike.

I am heaven, he is die.

Though he's small and I be no much, he can get

much lower than I am.

Me and heaven, me and heaven, all

we want to do is sing like anything.

to make an honest curse.

We might have a young face or an old face. You can't tell behind this

ruddy dust.

Ruff and tuff and black as the ace of spades.

Ruff and tuff and black as the ace of spades. There's no colour problem

down the pit.

We use our brains, boys.

We leave the mines and start life anew.

But the coal dust gets into your veins, boys.

And lots of other funny places.

Pit head baths, they don't remove the black.

In the nude, we stand there back to back. Like a ton and a half of nutty

© BF -WATCH TV 2021

Took a girl to have some fun she last Friday night.

Wouldn't let me kiss or hug her. She just come to watch the rugger. Sent her

home that stupid blood wind.

My

wife

is a real fanatic.

I met a girl

called Megan, oh, she's got a wooden leg and a wooden tit.

Be nice sort of look on her face Now Megan was a cockney And her one knee it

a knockney And the other one had woodworm All over the place Megan's flat

far from us And she made me a solemn promise To show me a Dylan Thomas On a

bookshelf in the loo I started shaking When she said her name was Megan Bacon

You can guess what I had for breakfast I had berries

I met a girl called Sally, who worked in the Rhondda Valley, giving lessons in

Bali, and she charged half a quid. I danced with my fan, we, and my fan, we

said, can we? I fell flat on my fan, we, and we damn nearly did.

Then I met another girl called Shirley, who was big, beaky, broad, and burly.

Her hair, it was short and curly. She played scrum hard for real.

But the nicest was Amanda, when I kissed her on the... She asked

me to stop and I'm stopping there still.

Once a year the ball is ringing with the sound of Welshmen

singing. At the fancy dress I stepped foot down in go, go, go.

It was such a grand I stayed foot.

Opened by the Duke of Bedford. I went to rest as Robert Redford on

his half day off.

Everyone competing.

Drinking, smoking, eating.

Songs were sung and leaks were sprung and things were seen that wouldn't bury

teaching.

Oh, conductor Albert Stratton.

trouserless, but with his hat on, a ribbon tied around his baton,

he one second cries.

To the valleys of the Rhondda, singing songs from way back

yonder. But our minds are bound to wander when we've had a jar.

Blood wins bosoms cause a ruffus.

Especially when she's wearing jumpers. Black like knockers, more like bumpers.

Oh, God, no more car.

Megaton of Randy.

Granny smashed on Shanty.

Auntie Glad's gone raving mad with a Randy handyman from Tony Pandy.

And so say all of us. And so say all of us. Oh, don't go down the mine, Dad. Oh,

don't go down the mine, Dad. Oh, don't go down the mine, Dad.

There's plenty of coal in the bath.

Before we go, two late football

results. The Arsenal -Stoke City match was abandoned.

and the game between Nanita Nancys and Farnham Fairies was very abandoned.

So that's all for this week.

Next week we hope to be talking to the man who crossed the naughty 90s with a

Japanese airman to get a cami -nicker pilot.

And we'll have a live link -up with Australia where a skunk has been crossed

with a koala to produce a poo bear.

And good news for coach drivers, Peter Pan has successfully been crossed with a

travel pill to produce a little boy who never throws up.

And finally, news from the Middle East.

After exchanging his 500 wives for 500 others at a harem -swapping weekend

party, his magnificence, the potentate of Abdul El -Wadi, henceforth wishes to

be known as his patheticness, the impotentate of Abdul.

So, it's goodnight from me. And it's goodnight from him. Goodnight.

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