Original subtitles

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, we shall be meeting Bendo, the

India rubber man in Lord George Davidson's circus, who recently went

He told the court he'd taken up with the lady contortionist, and she'd

overstretched his resources.

And then I'll be talking to a man who has been unemployed for nine years, but

has now landed a good steady job.

He changes the prices at petrol stations.

But first, the news.

After His Holiness the Pope arrived in Britain at Heathrow yesterday, the

airport lounge fell to its knees and prayed for his luggage.

And on his visit to Balmoral today, Michael Foote was blown by the wind into

loch, caught his coat in the car door and was dragged backwards through a

Her Majesty later congratulated him on looking rather tidier than usual.

House of Commons was sealed off today after police chased an escaped lunatic

through the front door during the Prime Minister's question time.

A spokesman at Scotland Yard said it was like looking for a needle in a

haystack.

Finally, there was a short ceremony today at the house in Devonshire Place

Inigo Stott, the inventor of dental floss, was born. The Minister of Health

a speech and unveiled a small piece of commemorative plaque.

A sketch in which Mr. Ronnie Corbett plays the part of a man who crossed a

submarine with a tambourine and formed the Salvation Navy.

Hubert, this is Gregory.

I'm going to leave you two together. You've got so much in common.

Oh, really?

How do you do, Hubert? How are you?

So much in common, eh? Yes, I wonder what that could be.

Are you with the diplomatic corps, then? No, I'm in cement.

Well, do you live hereabouts?

Aberdeen.

School, perhaps?

Eton? Droitwich Grammar.

Grenadier Guards? No, I was too short for that.

Hang gliding.

Potholing. Well, she says we've got something in common, so we must have. I

wonder what it is. Oh, I know.

Hearing aid.

Fun? Hearing aid.

A bit mutton, Jeff? No, not in the least. Oh, it can't be that. I tell you

do you collect butterflies?

No. No, neither do I.

It can't be that, then. No, it can't. I know, I am a bit of a jigsaw buff. Would

it be that?

Not that either. I know, I'm rather eccentric in one way. When I have a

always test the temperature with my earlobe.

But it's a silly thing to do.

what it could be.

Toupee. Yeah. Contact lenses.

No. Forced teeth.

Truss.

Impetigo. A fever.

Block drains.

Cockroaches. No, no.

I'm squeaking to you tonight, once again, as the chairman for the Loyal

for the Prevention of Pismonunciation.

A society formed to help people who can't say their worms correctly.

I myself often use the wrong worms, and that is why I was erected charming of

the society.

Firstly, let me try and put you in the puncture regarding our mumblers.

Now, peach in every plummet. them have Dickie Felty in conversing with the

people they meet in everyday loaf.

Their murkweights at the fig tree or the orifice, or even in their own holes,

men and wolves, Sather and Fun, Brother and Thistle.

Unable to commandecute.

Now this can be an enormous bandage chap to our tremblers at all times,

especially at Bismuth time, because Bismuth is a season of grease on earth

pig's will to all men.

When the family all get together to eat drunk and be messy.

Gather round the fireside, cracking nits.

Smelling Tories and singing old Pongs and Barrels.

Many of our rumblers lose out on these skinful pastimes.

A very close fringe of mine, for instance, once went carol -slinging with

local church queer.

But instead of slinging Good King Wencesar stuck out...

and his feet were steaming, he sang, Go rest your belly, gentlemen, let nothing

rude display.

Which, of course, caused havoc among the queer and deeply upended the knicker's

wife.

This is just one instance of what my tremblers have to stiffer with a lip

of stuff.

What we need now is money to build clubs and calamity centres where people don't

have to bother with the right worms, places where they can greet each other

a cheery, good -after -nuts -how -nice -to -squeeze -you.

A place where they can play a game of ping tennis or table pong.

Scribble or newts and crutches.

Many famous people are patrons of the society.

Piddly titians like Widdly Whitelaw.

Sir Geoffrey Who and Mr Dennis Holey.

Also famous TV nosebleeders like Reggie Bousencourt.

Angela Ripon and Anna Flaught.

And of course, Mrs Hairy White Mouse.

to be confused with Mrs. Woodlouse, the hog dangler.

Among the aristocracy, there is Lord Longfelt, there is the Duchess of

and Lord Monty Boo of Gouley.

But patronage is not enough. Remember the worms of William Shakespeare's Our

Great National Poet.

A horse, a house, my kingdom for a hearse.

And of course, eventually, he got all three.

What we need is printed matter. Any sort of printed matter, no matter what sort.

Send your magazines, newspapers, dicks and booksharers.

Do it now.

Bungle it up in pustules and post it to one of our mini -branches dotted all

over the Bottish Isles.

Manchester, Hermenbaum, Loverpill, and as far north as the Firth of Filth.

We are also busy setting up outposts in foreign pants, too, all over the globe.

In fact, we have just opened a branch in Siam. And now, in confusion...

I would like you to join me in singing the Siamese notional anthem to the tune

of God Save the Queer.

Oh, what a night.

What does that mean?

Well, every week he has to report to the police.

And he did yet?

No, no, he's divorcing her for infidelity.

Oh, dear.

No, it's not her fault. She's short -sighted. She can't help it. It's just

she can't recognise her friends till they're right on top of her.

I'm going to use it to lock away your love.

I've got a standing obligation never to

change it.

Thank you.

I'm going to use it to lock away your love.

I've got a standing obligation never to change

it because then I'd lose your love.

Never to change it, cause then I'd lose your love.

Piggy Malone and Charlie Farley, known in police circles as the thinking man's

little and large, are at it again.

On board an ocean -going liner, they have been employed by the wealthy Mrs.

Bumstead to safeguard her all -girls orchestra, who have been mysteriously

disappearing, one by one.

Since our two heroes took over, however, there have been no further

disappearances. Could it be that the pathetic duo have struck terror, or even

boredom, into the hearts of the unknown kidnappers?

You viewers start here.

Well, Chief, it certainly seems to have been...

Quiet!

Yeah, it has, yeah.

Absolutely no -one has disappeared since we've come on board.

No, nothing's happened at all.

We should be docking in Madeira soon, too, according to the steward.

Who, Bernard?

Bernadette, more like.

Sure he puts nail varnish on his teeth.

Still, it's been a very nice trip so far, isn't it? Oh, yes. Mustn't grumble.

Everything paid for? Yep. Twenty quid a day and all you can eat.

Right up your street, Chief.

What do you mean, right up my street?

I don't eat any more than the next man.

Oh, come on. If the next man leaves any, you eat that and all.

All right.

The point is, if it's free, why waste it?

And the other point is, we are earning it. Our presence here, obviously, is

deterring the kidnappers, isn't it? What we're about...

Nothing happens.

It's happened.

Another one gone, Barbara.

She's the one with the big symbols, isn't she?

They keep disappearing one by one.

Well, in her case, two by two.

When was this?

Jane and June were checking her cabin. The place is a mess.

And Barbara gone.

She left a note saying, don't try and find me.

You haven't met Jane and June, have you?

Jane? June?

Say it. June?

Jane? Jane.

They're not really twins. We just pretend they are. It's a good gimmick.

And you say you've searched everywhere?

But you can't search people's private cabins. That's where she'll be.

But she went of her own free will.

Do you know what I think?

No. Shall I tell you what I think? I wish you would. There is just a chance

it might have some bearing on the case, Mrs. Grimstead.

Bumstead? Granted.

I think they've been drugged.

What is more, I think the drug is... such that it makes them only too

Willing?

You know what I mean.

Oh, very willing.

That willing.

Precisely. And I, for one, do not trust that barman in the equator bar.

Shifty eyes.

And I fancy his moustache is a false one.

Oh, then the drugs might be in the drinks.

We must put him to the test.

The sooner, the better.

You getting all this down, Charlie? Yes, Chief.

What have we got so far?

Mrs. Bumpstead, willing.

Fancy's the barman. The sooner, the better.

Never mind all that.

What we've got to do is to get a list of the girls' favourite drinks. Then we

can move in on this shifty barman.

Hey, we can do that.

We're going to organise it now.

And I'll bring it to your cabin later.

Thank you very much, Mrs. Bumpstead.

Not bear.

Bumstead. As you wish.

Come on, Charlie. We've got a bit of thinking to do.

Have we?

Well, you have. I'm going to have my tea.

Thanks very much, Mrs. Baskin.

Bumskin! Bumskin!

Leave this to me, Chief.

A large whiskey and creme de menthe with port in it.

and a double vodka and brandy.

Wrappy, please.

Are you sure?

Of course I'm sure.

Please yourself.

What's all that about, Charlie?

Well, look, there are 28 different drinks on this list the girls have given

You see, now, we're not going to have time to check them all one by one, are

We have to do them in twos and threes.

Ah, I see.

After this, you're having a rum and Chianti, and I'm going to have a pink

and sherry.

All sounds a bit concentrated for me, that does.

I think I better have a light ale as a chaser.

I read so much about the evils of drinking that a short while ago I

completely gave up reading about it.

Have we found what we're looking for, Charlie?

Yes, yes, I think we have, yes.

Good.

looking for, Charlie?

You know, that relaxing thingy.

Oh, yeah.

Have we found it, George?

Didn't you just ask me that?

Oh, no, that was me.

Ah.

Yes, I, um... Yes, I do feel, you know...

chips, sir.

Oh, yeah.

Yeah, so far.

The swim will do us good.

We're in a reciprocal situation.

He can talk, but he can't walk.

I can walk, but I can't talk.

So between us, neither of us can do both.

None of us can do either.

Isn't that right, Charlie?

That's a funny sight.

Four twins.

I think we'd better get you to bed.

Oh, that's a good idea.

That's very civil of you, madam.

Very civil of you.

I knew your mother.

So the two pie -eyed private eyes find themselves being put to bed by the twin

clarinetists, having failed once again to discover the mystery of the drugged

kidnapped victims.

Oh,

was that my head?

The girls did a thorough job, which in other circumstances could have been fun.

But our pathetic heroes were too befuddled to realize that once again

been caught with their pants down.

Yeah. This breakfast smells of fish.

Well, it's a kipper.

I can't eat this.

Well, I must eat something.

My mouth tastes like the inside of a wrestler's laundry basket.

We did overdo it last night, didn't we? Yeah, and we still didn't discover

anything.

Well, it must be the food, that's all. The drugs have to be in the food.

Yeah, but not just any food, is it, you see? It's not.

It's not ordinary food, is it? It's the food only given to the orchestra.

Yeah, but when?

In the interval.

When they all go round the back for their refreshments. Yeah, that's it,

Yeah, but we can't get hold of any of that, can we? The only people allowed

round here are the orchestra.

Just give me a little while. I might just come up with an idea.

I'm going to come up with something else.

What did Sandra say?

Well, she said she'll have a go on the cymbals, but do you know what a big

she's got?

What about it?

She wants danger money.

Do you mind, madam? I'm changing my clothing here.

Oh, a shoe chore.

Yeah, viewed it from one of the girls' cabins. She got three or four, so she'll

never notice.

And the elasticated wig.

You see, and the dolly bag to put me samples in. So I'm now ready to

the enemy camp. Camp is right.

What are they? Me socks.

So, you're just going to walk in, help yourself with a few bits of food, put me

in your bag.

And so Charlie prepares to do battle

in the bun fight which takes place behind the scenes at Mrs. Bumstead's

concert. But who is the blind man who constantly lurks within earshot?

Will Mrs. Bumpstead pay danger money to the girl with the cymbals?

Or is she playing it a bit too close to the chest?

Don't miss next week's enthralling episode of Band of Slaves.

Afternoon.

Nice evening, isn't it? Oh, yeah.

It's a lovely evening.

Mind you, it's not such a nice evening as it was yesterday morning.

No, yesterday morning's a real nice evening, wasn't it? Yeah, yeah.

It was a nice evening yesterday morning.

I blame the weather, you know.

Oh, I blame the government.

Oh, yeah, and the government, yeah. We'd be better off without no government,

you know. And we could do as we like.

Are you the village idiot?

Yeah.

I'm the next village idiot.

How do you know that?

I mean, I'm the idiot from the next village.

Oh, I see, yeah.

Was you elected?

No, I were passed.

names in the act. They put the names of the three daftest people in the village

in the act and mine were picked.

Oh, who were the other two?

The vicar and the local MP.

You were lucky to get the job then, weren't you?

Mind you had an unfair advantage, you know, because my name were in the act

twice. Who was that?

It were my act.

you get the job? Always the one with the funniest nose.

They all pick mine.

I wouldn't pick your nose.

I wouldn't pick yours.

If you could do anything you wanted to do in the whole wide world, what would

you like to do most?

I'd go and pinch Rosie Bottoms' apples.

Rosie Applesbottom.

No, George Bottoms Rosie.

Is he?

It's over Wormalt Way. Grows apples, big and rosy.

Who is?

His daughter.

I could pick your apples, I would. I'd climb over her wall, I would.

You sure she wouldn't mind?

Oh, she's used to having her things pinched.

You'd better be careful, she might pinch yours.

Oh, no, I wear me thick corduroys.

How is your wife?

I haven't got a wife.

I know that, but how is she anyway?

She's very well.

We're getting married next month.

What, both of you? Oh, yes.

Who to?

Each other.

There's a coincidence there.

Oh, yeah.

She's getting married in white. Oh. Oh, yes.

What colour will you be getting married in? Well, I'll be getting married in me

best suit. Yes, the one I got for me birthday.

You'll get married in your birthday suit?

Yeah, that's right, yeah.

It'll need pressing, won't it?

Will she be carrying anything up the aisle? Yeah, her father, most likely.

I don't mean that. I mean, like a wreath.

Oh, yes, she'll be carrying a big lump of apple blossom.

Roses? Eh?

Who? Rosie Bottoms Blossom, over the Big Applers.

No, my bride'll have that.

Big Rosie Bottoms?

She won't be there.

Who?

My wife Blossom will go up the aisle with Roses holding her Big Bottoms.

Oh, well, I... I... I wish her joy, then. Joy,

the person's daughter.

Now, she has got big rosy apples. Oh, yes,

I'm in love with her, Guy. I really am. I'm learning to write, so I can write

her a letter. I wrote her a letter, yeah. I've got the letter here. Oh,

yeah. Is all that written by you?

All wrought by me.

What's it say?

I don't know. I haven't learned to read yet.

Here. That parson's a funny -looking bloke, isn't he? I wonder who picked...

nose.

I wouldn't have picked the parson's nose.

Oh, I don't know. Roll on Christmas, I say.

Well, I'm going to go home now. I've got to plant some corn.

Oh, do you grow corn?

No, it grows by itself.

I fertilise it.

And the wife.

and the better it did last year, it didn't grow at all last year. So small

year, the rooks had to get down their ends and knees to eat it.

So it's Paris.

Well, I'm off. Oh, it's you.

We're here for all summer.

Well, I'll see you here when I get back.

No, no.

Why's that?

I'm coming with you. Oh.

Thank you very much, Sam.

Here is a joke about a man who, for 35 years, has been a supporter of Fulham

Football Club.

Pathetic, isn't it?

Another story of the low life. No, actually, I know what you're thinking.

know what you're thinking? Here we go, just an excuse to do a lot of cheap

about Fulham. Well, you are wrong, because I happen to be Fulham Football

biggest fan.

To give you some idea how many fans they've got. As a matter of fact, I only

heard this story at lunchtime, to be honest. My agent, who had been making a

phone call, we were at lunch, came back to the table, checked the dipstick in

his Perrier water.

He's not exactly a heavy drinker.

He once took three weeks to dry out after eating a wine gun.

However, he came back to the table with some rather exciting news, as I'm

pleased to be able to tell you tonight, because I have just been picked, it's

only been announced, but I've just been picked for the title role in the next

Tarzan film.

It's going to be called Tarzan Isn't Very Well.

And next week, next week I begin rehearsing my first big scenes with Bo

He'll be in a very revealing low -cut loincloth.

And now I'll be in a fallout shelter.

All went very quiet there, didn't it?

To be honest, I'm hoping it will buck me up a bit because I've been feeling very

sort of tense this week. Now, I went to see the doctor about it.

And he got out one of those things that test your blood pressure.

A rates demand.

Then he made me take off all my clothes.

And he examined me from top to bottom.

He said, I'm sorry, I can't find anything wrong at all with you, Mrs.

Personally, I don't think he's got much idea. I asked him for something to slow

me down. He gave me a pint of brake fluid.

I know why I was feeling tense. It's this new house we've moved into, I was

telling you, and that we're still getting an awful lot of teething

There's been some shrinkage in the woodwork. The other day, a fellow put

hand under the front door and stole the dining room table.

I digress.

The joke is what I, as I told you, in the bar, by my agent, this joke. As a

matter of fact, to be honest, he told me two jokes. The other one was the story

about a very rich oil tycoon who's deciding what to buy his three sons for

Christmas, and the first son said he'd like a boat.

So he bought him the QE2.

And the second son said he'd like a music centre, so he bought him the

Hall.

The younger son said he'd like a cowboy outfit, so he bought him British

Airways. Now, but that... Unfortunately...

Unfortunately... Unfortunately... How will I get to Australia next time?

Unfortunately,

I haven't got... time to tell that joke as well beside which i happen i happen

to prefer the sporting flavor of the other one because i myself i'm something

a sports enthusiast and um i it sounds hard to believe i know doesn't it when

you consider that school i was a bit of a weakling believe it or not no no no i

was i um i was a hitman for the oval teenies when

i when i think of all the risky things we used to get up

to at school i'll tell you Like playing conkers in the showers.

That really kept you on your toes.

We return to the chap who, you remember, supports Fulham. Now, one day, he goes

along to the club secretary and he says, I've supported your team religiously,

he said, all my life. When I die, as a gesture of respect to the club, I'd like

my ashes.

to be scattered all over the ground, the pitch, you see. So the secretary said,

well, you know, you know the rule, you know, that spectators aren't really

allowed onto the pitch.

He didn't say that.

I just thought about it.

Anyway,

he said, I've got a better idea, the secretary said to him. He said, I've got

better idea. He said, why don't you go and see a taxidermist?

He sounds a little bit like my bank manager, to be honest.

He said, why don't you go and see a taxidermist, he said, and arrange

with him.

Well, then what we'll do, he said, when it's all over, he said, we'll sit you

back in your old place in the sand every Saturday afternoon.

So the chap agrees to this, and years went by, and eventually the fateful day

came round.

He was sitting there, you know, watching the Borgias.

And he died in his sleep.

Well, all the instructions he left were carried out to the letter, and the

following Saturday, at three o 'clock, they sat him in his old place, in the

stand at Fulham Football Ground.

And as usual, he left at half -time.

It's that great show, Nashville. It's that great show, Nashville.

Tonight's going to be some celebration.

Because the stars are going to see. Post it, post it on KYT.

Turn it up to Tennessee.

Go to the TV station.

Going to meet you.

Going to meet you.

Going to meet you. And the stars are going to cry.

Going to see some Germany.

Here on the station, KYT.

Going to get some good old offering here tonight.

Here he is, folks. The Kentucky Cowboy.

Tall in the saddle and short in the breath. It's Mr.

Slim Pittman.

I'm a guy with a darned height where my feet are. My spurs rip me up where I

tread. And that old jingle jangle gets my sheets in a tangle. But I don't take

my boots off in bed.

Gonna teach you to hogwash and grip.

All my jeans, they've been shortened and they did swear the old and they

gronched my important little bit.

Folks, she's big down south.

She's big way out west. She's the one you've all been waiting for. Little lady

who's big all over. Let's hear it for Missy Holly Parton.

I'm a gal whose crib ages ten, folks.

I can chat, I can jigger, I'm a real hourglass figure, and the fan

sure is stacked up the top.

Gonna meet ya, gonna greet ya, gonna treat ya, and a hot wash and grills.

I got jazz, I got jingles, I got great swinging singles.

Gonna meet ya, gonna greet ya.

I love my dear ma. She's a real Texas dame. And we both love my pa, though we

don't know his name.

I love my grandpappy. I'm a sister, of course.

But best of all these, dang it, I love my horse. He's a three -legged critter,

but he's my best friend. With a smile in each eye and a grin at each end. So I

keeps him in the over and I scratches his head.

because he keeps me real warm when we're tucked up in bed.

So I took deep breathing and a small guitar.

Now I'm a 47 and a real big star.

It's pretty, it's pretty, it's fabulous me.

Big star, hell is it great. They don't come any bigger down in old Tennessee.

When I see apples, then I think of Ann.

When I see nectarines, think of Nan.

peaches and a thing called brew.

But when it's watermelons, then it's you -know -who.

It's a rooty, it's a tooty, it's a fruity old me.

They don't come any riper down in old Tennessee.

I thought, oh boy, she's a poker like a sofa. Give me country style. We're the

best of friends.

I'm called the country western king. He gets crowned each time he sings.

Country style is still the best of friends.

Well, now, baby, baby, gonna shake my hip. Gonna get that wild applause.

Baby, baby, gonna let it rip. Ooh, yeah, bust my drawers.

The folks call us the Nashville sound. Gonna lash their teeth when we're

Country style is still the best of friends.

I've got sequins on my sets. I've got things they're taking bets on.

Country stars, we're the best of friends.

I'll call the Cadillac of rock. There's 40 ,000 on your clock. Country stars,

we're the best of friends.

Well now, baby, baby, gonna shake my hip. Gonna twist that ball to jack.

Baby, baby, gonna let it rip.

Ooh, I've done my back.

The royal process, him and me. The king, the queen of Tennessee.

Country style and steal the best of rings.

That seems to be all we have time for tonight, doesn't it, Ronnie? Indeed it

does, but before we go, a few late items of news. Many old musical fans were

present at the funeral today of Fred Chuckles Jenkins, Britain's oldest and

unfunniest comedian.

In tribute, the vicar read out one of Fred's jokes, and the congregation had

minutes' silence.

A would -be thief in a Romford supermarket was thwarted today by have

assistant Miss Teresa Quilp, who attacked him with a labelling gun.

The police say they are now looking for a man with a price on his head.

And finally, a committee of the United Nations has declared that next year will

be the year of the gas man.

The gas board says it won't be able to start until March at the earliest.

Next week, in a packed programme, we'll be meeting the public footpath inspector

who met a girl on Hampstead Heath and had his right of way with her.

Now I'll be talking to the man who made love with his wife six times in an hour

and a half and amazed two of Britain's top doctors.

They were sitting at the next table.

Until then, it's goodnight from me. And it's goodnight from him. Goodnight.

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