Original subtitles

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

it is. And in a packed programme tonight, we shall be meeting the West

transplant patient who recently received the heart of a dog and the kidneys of a

rabbit, and who made history tonight when he chased himself three times

White City and won.

And in a new religious section of the programme, I'll be talking to a nail

-biter who gave himself up for Lent.

But first, the news.

Britain's top punk rock star, Des Dirty, whose personal habits have outraged

millions, caused another sensation tonight when he announced his intention

on the road.

And there was surprising news today for Sandra Micklethwaite, the Nottingham

woman who recently made love on the big wheel.

She's in the Rotary Club.

Second prize in the British Airways contest to find their most travelled

passenger has gone to Mr. Bertram Thottleby, who has flown 70 ,000 miles

last six months.

First prize went to his luggage, which has done 90 ,000.

500 people had a miraculous escape at a Rod McEwan concert tonight. He didn't

turn up.

And now a sketch featuring Mr. Ronnie Corbett, a self -made man who ran short

material.

you want then? About half a pound, three quarters, what? Well, I really wanted

two ounces, if it's not too much trouble.

Too much trouble, madam?

Nothing's too much trouble in this shop. No, no, no. Two ounces. Only they're a

bit heavy for two ounces, these, you see. Look, because you only get one, you

see.

You can have a suck of that and put it away for later, can't you?

Exactly two ounces, that is. There you are. And one for luck.

13p, that'll be, madam.

Oh, thank you. Thank you, madam. Sorry to trouble you. No, no trouble at all,

madam. No trouble at all.

In there, there. Oh, good morning, sir. Good morning.

Can I trouble you for a quarter pound of liquorice, all sorts?

Trouble me, sir?

Trouble me? Nothing's too much trouble in this shop, sir. Look, we've got it

over the door there. Nothing is too much trouble. Quarter a pound of liquorice,

all sorts, sir. Right, here we go. I'll just get these humbugs out of the way,

because they're a bit of a humbug, those two. Here we are.

There. Four of a pan of licorice sauce. Of licorice sauce.

That's right. They're lovely, these, aren't they? Yes, they're good.

Here we go.

Now, wait a minute. Wait a minute, sir.

Here we go.

The only thing is, I don't like the pink ones. Oh, yes.

You don't like the pink? No, no. Oh, right. Well, we'll take the pink ones,

Sir, that's very easy. I hope you don't mind. No, nothing's too much trouble,

sir. No, there we are, sir. And I don't like the blue ones.

You don't like the blue ones? No. I see. That's it, right. We'll take out the

blue ones. Shall we, sir? That's it.

Not the black and white ones either, please.

I don't want the black ones. You don't want the black and white ones? Well,

only leaves the orange ones, I'm afraid, sir. Yes, but I only like the orange

ones. Oh, you only like the orange ones. I'll tell you what we'll do. Then we'll

take them all out of the case.

Then we'll sort a few orange ones and put in there.

That's it.

Lovely. Right.

There we go, sir. A quarter pound of those. Now, what else would you like?

Anything else you'd like, sir? Yes, I'd like a gobstopper.

Gobstopper, sir? Big gob or little gob, sir?

Little gob, please. Little gob, right, sir. Little gobstoppers. Here we are.

peas, they are. Two peas. They could have the kind that go pink after you've

sucked them, please.

Oh, well, I don't know what colour they go. So they start off green, you see.

Well, they all start off green. We know that.

Yes. But they don't all go pink afterwards, you know. Oh. Oh, no.

Some of them do the dirty on you and go brown.

Could I try one? Certainly, sir. You don't mind, do you?

No, nothing's too much trouble, sir. I'll try one myself, sir.

There we go. Now, is there anything else you want while we're having a suck,

sir?

Have you got any of those mints for the hole in? Oh, mints for the hole in? Yes,

sir, yes, sir. How big is the hole?

Eh?

Well, I don't want it to be too big, you see.

You've got something to measure it with, sir.

Not on me, no.

But it must be just small enough not to go on the finger. Do you know what I

mean? Oh.

You know, I had a friend once took out a girl for the evening, you know, got her

finger wedged in the mint. Oh, dear, what happened? Had to marry her.

The vicar said, with this mint, I thee wed.

I'd like...

Never mind about the mint. Right, never mind about the mint. Could I have...

Have you got any of these chocolates that melt in your mouth but not in your

hand? Yeah, well, we've got something very similar, sir. I haven't got the

actual ones, but these are very similar, sir. All right, could I try one?

Certainly try. Hold it in my hand.

Oh, hold it in your hand. All right, sir, yes, please. You don't mind, do

No, sir, no, there's too much trouble, sir. No, not even you, sir, no.

There's a taste of gobstopper coming on.

Oh, it's gone white.

Oh, dear.

Well, that's hopeless, isn't it? Absolutely hopeless. No, he's gone pink.

there you are, sir. There's a nice pink one, sir. That's one anyway.

and you sucked it, can I?

Look at this. It's melting in my hand, this.

Never mind. Wipe it on my jacket. Oh, yes, right. There we are. That's it.

Right, sir. Now, I take it that'll be all, will it, sir? No, no, no. I want

chocolates. Chocolates. Very well, sir. What sort, sir? Milk or plain? Well, I'd

like milk, please. Milk chocolates. These are very popular, sir. This is a

milk chocolate. They're Sunday assortment. Oh, lovely. They're all milk

chocolates. Are they all milk? Are they nice?

Are they nice? Soft centres, are they? Yes, sir.

They'll all be all soft centres. Oh, yes.

Oh, yeah, that's soft. That's all right. Yeah.

That's hard over there.

Oh, look, look, look.

Last four or five have been hard.

Yes. Oh, I don't want them. No, well, we won't bother about that.

Right, so now...

We're just closing up, sir. Is there anything else? Yes, I'd like... I notice

you've got that rolled licorice, haven't you? Rolled licorice, yes. For my

nephew, thank you. There we are. That's it. Rolled licorice. How long would they

be if you unrolled them, you know?

Well, they'd be quite long. They're quite long, sir. They'd be long.

Yes, would you mind if I unroll one? I'll unroll them, sir. There we are,

You don't mind, do you? No, nothing's too much trouble. That's how long they

are, sir. There you are. Are they all the same length? Yes, they're all the

length. This one looks longer. No, they won't. That looks longer.

They're all the same. The blue ones are not. No, they're not. Look, I've got the

middle bit. Never mind about the liquorice. We'll just leave all that. So

give it to you.

All right, sir. Now, is that all? No, no. I've forgotten the very thing I came

in for. What's that? Hundreds of thousands.

Hundreds and thousands. Very good, sir. Yes, hundreds and thousands. Yes, we've

got hundreds and thousands of them, sir. Yes. There we are. Could you count them

out for me, please?

I'm not being any trouble, I hope. No, you're not being any trouble. How many

you want, sir? Well, only the wife's making a cake. She wants it exactly. If

could count them out. One, one, one thousand, one hundred.

One thousand, one hundred. One thousand, one hundred.

There you go, sir.

One thousand, one hundred.

Now,

that's about 15 shorts. Don't worry, sir, I've got some more here.

There you are, sir.

Hundreds and thousands.

Now, what do you want, you old bag?

Toffee. Toffee? Yes. And then you cut it up, absolutely smash it all up. Yes. In

little bits. Little bits.

I'll smash it up in a little bit. All right, all right.

No, it's nothing. It's too much trouble, madam. I'll smash it all up.

I'll smash your teeth up in a dumpster.

to the Princess Charlotte Hall in Egham, where there's an atmosphere of hushed

expectancy as we wait for Sir Gilbert Vaughan Evans to make his entrance for

this second public performance in Egham of Humpmeister's little -known Second

Symphony.

But as I say, we are waiting for Sir Gilbert, and if anything, the atmosphere

even more hushed than it was when I last mentioned it.

In fact, just a few seconds I have to tell you that, as is stated in the

programme, that...

Sir Gilbert Vaughan Evans is, of course, the conductor, and it is he who will be

conducting the orchestra.

Any moment now. Ah, and yes, yes, here comes in person that well -known

immaculate figure of the man who's come to sweep the platform.

Nice gesture, that, suggesting perhaps that a new broom has swept through the

whole world of early Slovenian Baroque music.

Oh, the platform's dirty.

Perhaps the thing that is best known about Humpmeister's little -known Second

Symphony is the fact that it is little -known. It is, interestingly enough,

more little -known in his native Slovenia, where it is not known at all.

I think I've just time to tell you, yes, I'm sure I've just time to tell you,

that Humpmeister's Second Symphony was written, and what's more, it was written

between his first and his third symphony.

Humph Meister was born, I believe. Yes, he was.

Shortly afterwards came his death, which followed almost his life

almost immediately. And it was largely during his life that he did write his

second symphony.

And now, yes, the lights are dimming and we see the dim figure of the

electrician dimming the lights.

recalling, perhaps, how much the young Humphmeister used to enjoy switching the

light off before whatever he used to do.

I expect so, anyway.

It might be relevant to point out that when Humphmeister conducted in Vienna,

had one of the finest lady violinists in the world, and so did nearly everybody

else.

It's just a small observation to while away these few seconds, or indeed...

Indeed, ours, while we wait.

This unexpected delay does give me a golden opportunity to tell you a bit

about the Princess Charlotte Hall in Egham, here in Egham.

Princess Charlotte Hall was opened by Princess Charlotte Hall when she was in

Egham, and interestingly enough, it is the largest hall called the Princess

Charlotte Hall in Egham.

Princess Charlotte Hall was, of course, the sister of Prince Albert Hall.

Isn't there any sign of...

It is interesting to note that Humphmeister died in the very year that

was already dead.

It's a pity, because Beethoven would have appreciated Humphmeister's Second

Symphony if he hadn't been deaf and dead.

Sir Gilbert Vaughan Evans is, of course, the son of that distinguished father,

the late Vaughan Evans, but not as late as he is.

always damn well late. By the time he gets here, he's always three parts

and Liszt.

Liszt was born in 1811, was always putting on clean underwear, hence he was

known as Laundry Liszt.

Brahms had short arms and lived on farms, and the handle fell in love with

candle till it got on his wig.

And lighting up time is 8 .32.

And, oh my God, the concert's in the Princess Charlotte Hall in Esher.

in the wrong hall.

This concert is apparently Heidi Svensson's Swedish All Girls Orchestra.

This does give me an unexpected opportunity to tell you that this is the

first time a BBC announcer has been sacked live on TV in England during a

performance of Humpfmeister's Second Symphony in Asia. So good night and...

You still getting that dizziness when you wake up in the morning?

Yes, I am, yeah.

How long do it last?

About half an hour, then I'm all right after that.

You been to the doctor about it? Yeah.

What did he say?

He said I ought to sleep half an hour longer.

I lost myself on a cool, damp night.

Gave myself in that misty light.

Was hypnotized by strange delight.

Under a lilac tree.

I made wine from the lilac tree.

Lost my heart in its recipe.

Made me see what I want to see.

Be what I want to be.

But I think more than I ought to think.

Do things I never should do.

I drink much more.

And I look wine, if sweet

and heady

The late line is 2012.

England labours under the yoke of a reign of terror.

Every Englishman is now at the mercy of his age -old enemy, woman.

Women now rule, women govern, women earn the daily bread.

And the dreaded state police strike fear into the hearts of all and sundry.

The poor downtrodden male, forced to wear a crock, and even given a feminine

name, is a sad caricature of his former self.

Two such caricatures are our two heroes.

two fine, upstanding specimens of English manhood, Janet and Betty.

Wanted by the secret police for crimes against the state, our heroes are forced

to go to ground in a remote village in Herefordshire and find work in a pub

owned by Betty's brother -in -law, Diana.

It isn't long, however, before Betty is recognised by a former school chum, who

still seems to have a crush on him.

You, er, you do know there's a reward out for your capture, do you?

It's all in the papers.

Now, don't worry.

I'm not going to give you away.

What then?

I want to keep you for myself.

But having lured our hero to her house, she shows herself in her true colours.

Hello. State Police.

I wish to speak to somebody about one of the missing men, Betty Chalmers.

And the State Police are quick to act on the information.

No,

no, no, no, no. What I mean to say is, a night is for going to bed in.

Well, that's just what you'll be doing when you've finished filling your face.

Ready?

Now, my darling, I'm going to take a shower and a bath.

Shower and a bath? Why, did you miss out yesterday or what? No, I shower off the

dirt first, then when I'm nice and clean, I have a bath.

Oh, isn't that rather like carrying coal to Newcastle? Though, of course, if you

had been carrying coal to Newcastle, you'd need a bath, wouldn't you?

Though, of course, if you live in Newcastle, you couldn't have a bath

you do keep the coal in the bath. You are rambling again, my darling.

Yes. I do believe you're nervous.

What are you, man or mouse?

I'm not sure.

You know what? This cheese tastes very good, though.

Now, in ten minutes, I shall be in the bar. I want you to rush in and scrub my

back with a loofah.

Rush in?

Absolutely hurtle.

Is it a rough loofah?

Very rough.

Be careful you're not facing the wrong way.

Rush in.

Hello?

Could I please speak with Betty Chambers?

Oh, it's you, Janet, old boy.

How do you know this name?

Well, you're using that voice that you used when you played the Frenchman to

how they run at the drama club.

You know, the one that was in disguise.

He was a German.

Oh, was he?

Better disguise than I thought.

Look, never mind about that. I've got your note. All it's got on it is this

woman's address and something's come up.

What are you doing, though? What are you up to?

Well, I'm sitting down playing and preparing to dash in with the Louvre.

Listen, I wouldn't advise you to do that, old boy.

Are you in the room on your own? Yes.

Well, everybody's got a phone number. She's well known for it. What?

She's been picked up so often, she's starting to grow handles.

Really?

What's more, she's betrayed you.

She's what?

The police are all around the house.

Where?

What?

Listen,

I'm trapped in here, old chap. Where are you?

I'll get your brother -in -law.

I've got a plan how to get you out of there, but you have to deal with the

woman. How?

Just keep her quiet somehow.

Keep a lookout for us, right?

How can I keep her quiet? I don't know.

Try champagne or something.

It's only meat from over the sea, says Barnacle. Better to say... Well,

what do you think?

Haven't lost my figure, have I?

No, but I think you're about to lose your balance.

Shall be worth a treat.

Good afternoon, madam. We've brought your order.

Baron of Brown Ale and collect the empty one.

Here we are.

Get into these.

Oh, dear.

Oh, dear.

You all right? Yeah, pretty dizzy. Otherwise, no damage done. How's that?

good Lord.

What's the matter? What's the matter? Herbert, he's still in the handbag.

Wonder how he managed to survive the journey.

Mice get dizzy like we do, you know. Yes, I suppose they do.

Oh, yes, he's all right. Well,

congratulations, old boy.

You certainly got me out of a very ticklish situation there. Really? Yes.

Pretty frightening -looking looper in there.

Well, you know, things are getting pretty desperate, aren't they?

I mean, the police are everywhere.

They're bound to catch up with us sooner or later.

Don't despair. Things are not as desperate as that. I've had a word with

who's got a few friends in the know, and there's still a ray of hope. What?

Where? I've got an address of an organisation, an underground

hide us.

We shall need fake papers, a change of clothing, and a lot of nerve.

Where are they going to hide us? No, they're not going to hide us. Even

than that, they're going to give us a chance to start a completely new life.

Free. Completely free.

How? They plan to smuggle us over the border.

You mean?

Yes.

Into Wales.

Will Janet and Betty succeed in their daring plan?

How long before the police realise our heroes had them over a barrel?

Find out next week in the final exhausting episode of The Worm That

to meet a friend of mine from London, Arnold.

I like him.

Make him feel at home. Show him some real Highland hospitality.

Eat and enjoy yourself.

This is Liberty Hall. Oh, is it? Oh, thanks very much indeed. Thank you so

Don't touch that.

Why not? Why not? Oh, my God.

He's a Ferguson.

Who is? The waiter.

Well, Ferguson.

Well, cheers.

Have some of this. What?

It's lemonade, that is. I know, but he's a Marchbanks.

A Marchbanks? Yes. I ought to tell you that I am also a Marchbanks. The

Marchbanks never speak to the Fergusons, and the Fergusons never speak to the

Marchbanks. If I was as much a dropping of thirst, I would not have a dram or a

drop from an accursed Ferguson.

Oh, I see. But I don't want you to worry about that. Oh, no. Just you enjoy

yourself. Whoop it up.

I see an awfully pretty girl over there.

Doing so much as smile at her. Why not? She's a Ferguson.

Oh.

What do you mean, Dougal?

This is the stuff of life. Yes, I bet it is, yes.

That's an awfully marvellous picture, isn't it? It is not. It's a Ferguson.

Oh, is it?

Oh, dear.

Ugly old cow, isn't she?

You're speaking about my mother.

But you said she was a Ferguson. It was painted by a Ferguson. But why? Hang it.

What else would you do with a Ferguson?

Oh, look.

Sausage rolls, I'm famished. Thanks so much.

I'm a lady.

Oh, he's a Ferguson. Oh, yes, I didn't want to... I wouldn't dream of eating a

Ferguson sausage roll. Excuse me.

You shouldn't have done that. Why, is the dog a Ferguson?

No, he's a Doberman.

Good evening, dear.

She's a real corker. Oh, are we speaking to the corkers?

Not in her case, her husband.

Ah, a Ferguson. No, black belt in judo.

are you laughing at over there? The gathering of McSnood. Oh, is that a war

council or something? No, a nasty wee boil on the back of his neck.

I'm having a fine time here talking about the boils on people's necks. Don't

there. Why not?

Ferguson sat there. Oh, so what? He spilt the trifle all over it.

Oh,

this is stupid.

Grown men playing these silly games.

Silly games, you say? The whole story started in 1192 when Twimple Marchbanks

stole... Kirsty Ferguson's best chicken, I'm telling you. Seven years later to

the day, the Fergusons swooped, swooped from Merkin's mohel, massacred the

Marshbanks men, raped the women and ran off with the cattle. Or perhaps it was

the other way round.

Anyway, the Marshbanks have never forgotten, and that's why we carry the

chronicle. Oh, the chronicle. Well, that just about does it. Excuse me, ladies

and gentlemen, I would like to make a small announcement.

I'm not a Ferguson, and I'm not a Marshbanks. I'm simply a Brown.

Now, we Browns... have lived in Chipley Drive, Ongar, since 1927.

Did you say Brown?

I did indeed.

And was it not Angus Brown who pillaged McCulloch's mants in their Cassandere of

1092? Aye!

And was it not the blood -soaked Brown who started the whole feud?

Aye! And is it, I say, is it not said that when Brown of Ongar ends their

brood, so ends the Ferguson and Marchbank feud?

because this week I received rather a charming letter from a cocker spaniel.

That's not strictly true. I didn't actually receive a letter from a cocker

spaniel. It was a whippet.

I said it was a cocker spaniel just to try and make it more interesting.

And, well, the first... I didn't succeed, did I? Anyway, the first dog I

owned myself was a cocker spaniel, only he had to go after he disgraced himself.

He wandered into the bedroom one day and thought I was a bone.

I spent the weekend tunnelling out of the back garden.

I was ready for him the next time, I'll tell you.

He went for me in the bathroom and bit off a bit more than he could chew.

However, this particular whippet who wrote to me is the honorary secretary of

the new Dog Language Society.

The ones who are campaigning for a new TV station on which everyone barks.

You've probably seen them in the news, you know, they go around digging up

signposts. Well, not exactly digging up signposts, but doing something up

signposts.

He asked if I'd kindly say a few words in dog language for all the dogs who

might be watching tonight. So there we are.

It's amazingly lifelike, actually, isn't it?

As a matter of fact, I learned how to speak fluent dog while still at college.

studied under a chihuahua. Anyway, on to tonight's joke. Now, any blame for the

joke I'm going to tell tonight must rest squarely on the shoulders of my agent.

Seamus L. Blumstein of Stonehill Mansions. A man of

somewhat mixed parentage. He is actually part Muslim, part Hebrew, and part

Catholic.

Three times a day, he kneels towards Mecca and sings, Oy ve Maria.

Now, I know my agent very well, actually. He's like one of the family,

Like my Auntie Ethel.

As a matter of fact, we both grew up together in this very rough

Well, he grew up. I sort of never really bothered.

It was a very violent area. People were afraid to go anywhere. I remember one

chap got mugged turning over in bed.

It was the only town in the district... It was the only town in the district

where the local paper had a forthcoming deaths column.

Anyway, I happened to run into him last week while I was out shopping.

I'd just popped into the local chemist's.

to get measured for an elastoplast.

And, as a matter of fact, the service in our chemists is so slow, they've opened

a little off -licence bar in the shop where you can wait.

It's quite nice, you know, you can get a pint of draft Optrex, or a penicillin

in a basket, or a packet of smoky Valiumcrisp.

Or if you prefer, they do a running Buffy and Andrews liver salts.

Anyway...

Who should I see in there about my agent? Before I left him, he reminded me

this story, which is all about a golfer. Now, I know what you're thinking.

Straight away, you're thinking, oh, he's going to go on about his boring old

game of golf. You know, because I do like a game of golf. You know, I do

it. If I didn't like it, I wouldn't play, would I?

And it stands to reason I'm not an idiot.

I wouldn't trudge around in the pouring rain, frozen to the bone, to knock a

little white ball down a hole if I wasn't enjoying myself.

I mean, I had nine holes this morning.

Played five, fell down four.

I went out to play, you know, with my big cat, you know, walked out on the

course. Greenkeeper rushed out and said, these bloody mushrooms are early this

year.

Now, I am not going...

Now, I'm not going to do that. I'm not going to talk about myself. This is a

story about a fellow who, a golfer, obviously, who was constantly defeated

the 13th hole on his local golf course. Every time he played this hole, this

hole got the better of him. You know, he finished up one shot, two shots over

par. And eventually he said to his wife, he said, when I die, he said, I'm going

to get my own back on that 13th hole. If it kills me, he said, promise me, he

said to his wife, after my death, that you'll have my ashes scattered all over

that damn 13th hole.

You know, that way I feel I have my revenge.

So, as luck would have it, shortly afterwards, he came to an untimely end.

no. He joined the Ronnie Corbett Appreciation Society and died of

And after the funeral, true to her promise, his wife set off to the local

club, went out to the 13th hole, and solemnly proceeded to scatter husband

all over the fairway.

And the wind blew them out of bounds.

and programmed by computers to be enterprising robots who do anything

tough enough. We welded barb -on -tee at cars and no -good lay -land who does

too. And we're the lads who did the ad for dehydrated match.

We're not robots.

Always wanting fun and solid. I'm hard -working. I am quite a busy bee.

Understeer to stop the leaks in our hydraulics. Ten, two, one, we...

never pass the M .O .T. We're fully automatic brains to dot a space

Cause father was an IBM and money was a hoover. But far and far they flew a fuse

when their genetic data produced a big computer and a pocket calculator.

Transistorized, we've been advised to modulate our system for our junctions

malfunctioned and our printed circuits get up and our switches get the

So don't try to pick or twist them or you might adjust a bit that much and get

nasty flash.

We are too misguided. I did missiles, screws, and fuses, fleets,

and whistles.

Just an android and a robot.

He's a high -prow. He's a rather low -bot.

Transistorized, we've advertised.

Our service is available to one and all. Just give a call. No job too small.

We'll have a fact. We're in the yellow pages, and we're rentable and saleable.

From co -op jobs to 10 long talks and 50 feet of cash.

Tooting men, welded tight, we get well oiled every night with a pigeon,

have a little spree, SO blues and SOD.

Tooting men, scared of rust, circuit breakers bent or bust, with a slow

unipart, mustn't have a cough, or your wing, that's good for us.

Tooting men, largely bronze, polished up their cedar fog, with a toolkit, you're

a glitz, sparkle like a gem, brass. so for the PTN.

Tooting men, batteries flat, tooting ladies, sort of that. They will read

they'll be out charging us a lot. They're all sweet, oh, and you know

One night at a robot dance, I met a robot girl by chance. Wise and buff was

round the rear. Two big headlamps out to here. Used his eyes, he'd ever seen.

One was red and one was green. When he hugged her, she said, Mister, take your

hands off my transistor.

Weeks on end, I kept my distance till she lowered her resistance.

One and one have to say aye. Let's add up and buddy die. Soon they had a robot

son. Weight at birth was half a ton.

Had its mummy's hi -fi ear and daddy's differential gear.

Led a happy robot life with my little robot wife. Everything was quite okay.

Then her mother came to say, Now his lounge is damn near sunk. Needs a pile

mental junk. What's that heap of rubbish for?

Rubbish? That's my mind, Lord.

I'm a high -precision robot with solid silver skin.

I'm a cross between a hobbit and an empty baby tit.

My face is signed and dated, that's the reason I'm high class. Both my legs are

chromium plated and his head is solid brass.

Who's a big success with the young princess?

Ah, he arose to the space walker. What a lady fair, what a lovely pair. She

really is a corker. She kissed him like a thousand volts, all hugs and easy

knees. Well, of course, was lost when his wires got crossed. And now he's

Doing Space Wars 2 with a dose of flu, I was running very cold and hot.

With a wheezy little you -know -what.

And a dicky carburettor which has got a little better, but I got quite throat

when I went and caught my antenna in the airlock doors.

Now it's got a little dangler, it's a funny sort of actual thing, Space Wars.

Princess Elle, she looked so swell, done up in her off -white top.

What a shock.

Beneath that rock, she's a docker from the Isle of Dogs.

She looks sad, he's driven mad, in his little no -score drawers.

Fast -paced invader, big Darth Vader, in space wars.

When the war is won, and the battle's done, and they stick us in the studio

store. And we're hanging up behind the door, and my parts are all rusted, and

belly button's busted. Now one big fear is we're brought back here, and we're

painted up to look like new.

And we're thrown on to be shown on dog.

Boom. 2D motive. Dulux coating.

Walk on.

all we have time for tonight, but before we go, a few late items of news.

The cold weather, which is afflicting New York, continues.

The city's most notorious flasher, Fernando Gonzalez, now jumps out and

describes himself.

Half the workforce at a club in Manchester walked out tonight in a

Manning. The other half stayed behind to see if the rest of his jokes were any

better.

And we'll be talking to the Birmingham man who met his wife at a fancy dress

party. She went as a pile of pennies, and he took her outside and found out

was a pushover.

And finally, in court today, garage owner Monty Ripoff pleaded not guilty to

turning the clock back on a number of cars at his garage in Chelsea.

He stated that at the time of the offence, he was 10 ,000 miles away in

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

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