All language subtitles for The Two Ronnies s09e07.eng

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

is. And in a packed programme tonight,
we talk to weatherman Michael Fish about

his first single, released today,
entitled October Rain.

Said to be the worst since records
began.

And I'll be talking to the woman... I'll
be talking to the woman lighthouse

keeper who lost her job because she
would insist on pulling the curtains at

night.

But first, the news.

A new leisure centre for London's
skinheads was opened today, and to

the occasion, the Prime Minister
uprooted a tree.

Trouble today at a Chadwell Heath
engineering firm, where a man complained

bitterly at being locked out of the
executive washroom and decided to go

the boss's head.

In the fourth order of the tennis
classic today, John McEnroe abused a

judge, swore at an umpire, and broke his
racket on a ball boy.

And immediately won praise for his much
improved behaviour.

An independent committee of inquiry into
why post office staff were so rude

published its findings today. Basically,
the report says, it's because they get

so much practice.

Now a sketch featuring Mr Ronnie
Corbett, who usually goes to the

Christmas, but this year has accepted a
kind invitation from the gerbils.

Good evening, sir. What can I get you?

I'll have a pint of bitter, please. A
pint of bitter, sir?

What would you like, dear?

A gin and tonic, please.

A gin and tonic, please.

A slice of lemon. A slice of lemon.

Yes, please.

Yes, please.

Anything else? Anything else?

A round of flamboyant pig, please. A
round of sandwiches, please.

Cheese? Cheese.

Cheese.

Pickle? Pickle.

Pickle. Pickle. Pickle.

And a packet of crisps. And a packet of
crisps.

What flavour?

What flavour?

Salt and vinegar.

Salt and vinegar.

Haven't got any salt and vinegar. Plain.

Haven't got any salt and vinegar. Plain.

Plain.

Plain. Plain.

That'll be two pounds, please.

That'll be two pounds, please.

But I didn't think I had to pay. I
didn't think I had to pay.

Well, you ordered them. Well, you
ordered them.

you have any money? Well, don't you have
any money? Of course I've got money. Of

course I've got money.

Well, that's two pounds then. Well,
that's two pounds then.

Thanks.

That's settled.

Thanks. That's settled.

Thanks. That's settled.

What about one for yourself?

What about one for yourself? What about
one for yourself?

I don't mind if I do. I don't mind if I
do. I don't mind if I do.

We can't go on meeting like this.

We can't. I'll go on meeting like this.

I have to work in the evenings. I've got
to work in the evenings.

Well, you should get a better job. Well,
you should get a better job.

I've tried.

I've tried.

Well, you can't expect me to stay in
every evening. Well, you can't expect me

stay in every evening. I agree.

I agree.

Good. Good, good, good.

How long have you known this little
creep? Who is he anyway?

How long have you known this little
creep? Who is he anyway?

I don't know what you're talking about.

What are you talking about? You know
what I mean. You know what I mean.

Oh, him.

Oh, him. Yes, him. Who's him?

Oh. Just some twit from the office. Oh,
just some twit from the office.

How long you known him?

How long you known him?

Why all these questions?

Why all these questions?

I think there's someone else. I think
there's someone else.

Susan, darling.

Jason, darling.

Susan, darling, come back.

I always knew there was somebody else.

Remember last time we explored the
fossilized horse droppings of

And we were able to deduce from their
shape, frequency, and general condition

that King Solomon had at least three
more concubines than he could handle in

Olympia.

Today we turn to the Orinoco Basin in
the pre -Jurassic menopause.

A place where, until recently, the hand
of man had never set foot.

Here is a model in plasticine,
naturally, because it's a plasticine

showing how America, And South Africa
and Finland were joined together before

they were thrown apart by a giant pre
-Boracic volcanic belch.

To form what we know today as the
Atlantic Ocean, the Pacific Ocean and

Reservoir.

It's my belief that just before the two
continents parted, a giraffe was

standing on this very crack with one
foot on one side and three feet on the

other.

How do we know this? Because we found
half a giraffe in South Africa, half a

giraffe in Finland.

And this bicycle wheel in Staines
Reservoir.

Now here, here we have a map of the
Pernambuco Trench as it was at the time

King Popocatapetl in the 19th.

What does this tell us?

It was here that we discovered the most
significant find of our dig so far.

Lice in the beds.

Archaeology can be fun. Now here, here
on the map there occurred an event that

was to make us all redraw the maps of
the region.

It was a giant porcupine that ate all
the previous maps.

Now here, on this new post -porcupine
map, we went up the river, and up the

wing, and around the... And here, in
this shallow depression,

we found this. No, we didn't find that.
That's my dressing room key.

We found this.

We found this. Now, to Professor Beard
of Gideon Park University, It's just a

rusty nail.

To me, it's an open sesame of the most
intimate harems of the court of King

Popocatapetl the 12th to the 21st,
inclusive.

Except, of course, the 16th, who was a
pulta.

What other evidence have we got?

Well, what is this?

Quite clearly, it is a ceremonial
earring worn by an early pre -prandial

of the Machu Picchu.

She went on her way, quite naked, to
take part in the ceremony of a

consternation of the sun god, Scrib.

and the opening of the anteater shooting
season.

Why only one earring? Professor Hump of
Harlem Newtown University suggests that

this is a red herring. Nonsense.

I say she wore the red herring in her
other earring.

Here is an artist's reconstruction of a
young pre -prandial virgin wearing her

ceremonial regalia. There she is.

What a prickly pair.

The price was fine, but there was even
better to come. Now, what is this?

Professor Heap of Basildon University.

states that this is part of David
Bellamy's tent from the 1973 expedition,

he was accompanied by Magnus Pike, Terry
Wogan and a gorilla.

There's a mound of Tacton University,
says Bucket.

Now, it's not part of a tent, it's not
part of a canvas bucket, it is no less

than King Popocatapetl's jock strap.

Or as Dr Spooner would say, King
Jocopatapetl's pop strap.

Now, the point is, how was it held up?
Elastic was unknown, chewing gum was

unheard of, indeed, untuned, except...

It says the inhabitants of a pre -Iron
Age tribe of hunters and potters

to a small area in the southeast, now
known as Serventon.

Now, this, which Professor Heap thinks
is a guy rope, was clearly the world's

first and most primitive suspender. Its
failure is self -evident. How, then, did

the king hold it up? He held it up with
the nail. It all fits in, you see. But

the nail fell out, and the naked king
cavorted with his naked virgins, clad

in their earrings and their herrings.
Now, how can we conjure up this picture

riding naked bodies glistening with
sweat from these two rivers?

Is it the wondrous science of
archaeology?

Or should I be back on the tablets?

Perhaps we'll never know. Next week, a
moss -covered bulldog clip and

orgies among the South Attica
Munvirgins, live from the car park at

Tesco's. Good night.

My sister Doris's boy went to a good
school, didn't he? Good school?

I'll tell you how good a school it was.

He was considered an idiot in his class.

Is that good?

In his class it was, yeah.

Anyway, you know he married that girl
from over the road with a big back

He's just found out she's running around
with another man.

How did you find out?

When was after they moved from London up
to Liverpool?

You suddenly noticed they had the same
milkman.

Paying a return visit, please welcome
our guest, Elkie Brooks.

Let me...

Thank you.

Charlie Farley, North Acton's answer to
Starsky and Hutch, and I did it again.

Cruising to Madeira on the trail of an
eccentric Oriental, and his loony butler

Angus, who thinks himself to be the
reincarnation of Rabbie Burns and speaks

only in rhyme, they are searching for
the disappearing members of an all

orchestra managed by the formidable Mrs.
Bumstead.

They are aided in their search by Susie,
a girl who didn't believe in hiding her

light under a bushel.

They eventually arrive at the Wiley
Oriental's mansion in Madeira, Disguised

electricians, Iggy is taken in by the
mad Scots butler to a room full of

promise.

You wait here, you menial fella.

I'll fetch the keys to unlock the
cellar.

Tell me, senor... Max Prading. Max
Prading. I've got Max Prading.

Tell me, why do some of the ladies wear
the black dressings and the others are

always showing their baubles of bangles
and big bits?

The ones in block are in the barn.

The musicians, on the other hand, the
ones with tassels on their trousers are

just a load of local losses with strings
and beads and garments flimsy to

satisfy the master's flimsy.

Tell me, do you always... I always speak
in the rhyming couplings.

I'm Robbie Barnes reincarnated. My
rhymes flow from me unabated. I do it

morning, night and noon.

When it's no easy, I'm telling you.

What's he doing in here?

A man?

How fascinating.

Let's go and find out.

Hello. What's your name, darling?

They don't let men in here. How long can
you stay? We need a bit of company.

Listen, girls, you all from the
orchestra?

Orchestra? What orchestra?

The band on the boat, run by Mrs.
Bumstead.

Mrs. Who's dead?

We don't know what you're talking about.

The up as down as what?

Oh, happy time.

Who means happy time?

Happy time?

It's soon, honey.

What's the time, Lydia? She has got a
hidden watch.

Watch it.

11 .15.

Any minute now, girls.

Listen, listen. I've come to get you out
of here.

This is our home, silly boy.

Come on, let's get comfortable. All
right, all right. A bit later, ladies.

a bit later.

I've got to check your fuse boxes, you
see.

Oh, mine first.

Hey, I don't want to get the longest
deal on the list, honey.

Yeah, oh, I will. I will put you on
the... I said later, madam, please.

No, Jean, now.

Oh, it's you, Charlie.

I thought it was one of them, Charlie.
Listen, they're all drugged, Charlie.

They're all on some sort of happy pill.

I can't remember a thing.

Well, come in here. I've found the place
where they keep these garments.

We'll find one for you, you see. Mind
you, it won't be easy. You should have

stuck to that diet, you know that.

Come, my beauties, happy time.

Sweets to the sweet and thoughts
sublime.

Some of pink and some of white.

Eat, oh, moons of my delight.

Soon your fires will burn more bright.

Cool by day and hot by night.

Look at him.

He's a nutter. He's trying to wobble up.

You can't. What are you doing?

Have you had your sweeping?

No, we haven't, ma 'am. Oh, come now.

Don't you want to grow up to be a big
girl like your friend here?

of that and repent it.

It makes you carefree. It makes you gay.

I am gay.

All Germans are gay.

Was Hitler gay?

Hitler? Hitler? I've never heard of him.

Come, I'll feed you some.

Never heard of Hitler?

She must be on air now.

Voila. Come, my dear. I need someone to
help me on the bed making.

What are you like, Umberto?

You wouldn't like me, I'm far too good.

So am I, my Liebchen.

musician, Oboe.

The Oboe's not there. It's like this. I
hope you're not taking the mickey, young

man.

I'm sideways.

It's my speciality.

down to boat bound for Hong Kong.

You will arrange.

You!

You are in London, you fix.

What?

You're supposed to be my henchman.

You're not giving me enough hench.

Listen, my friend.

When the butterflies

He flies on high for a day.

Then someone sticks a pin through him
and he hangs on the wall for 50 years.

You want to be pinned to the wall,
sunshine?

He do it.

I scare seven kinds of fried rice out of
him.

We fly all girls to London. You come
too, disguised as harem girls.

Those stupid detectives remain here
looking for us. They stay here under

and mind your beard doesn't blow off in
this wind.

Where'd you get all that from?

That German housekeeper. She hasn't half
got some funny clothes.

I cut this out of the seat of a pair of
fur trousers.

She'll be tickled to death next time she
puts them on.

And so our two heroes leave the magic
island of Madeira, watched by Mrs.

Bumstead and Susie, who, in turn, are
watched by the ever -present blind man.

And as the plane departs for London, we
ask ourselves this question.

Will Charlie's tape recorder work?

What kind of reception do you get under
a Scotsman Sporran?

Find out next week in another
exasperating episode of Band of Slaves.

Morning.

Afternoon.

Were you the bloke I met here the other
day?

Oh, you.

Me? Yeah.

No, I ain't never been here in my life
before.

Oh. What are you doing here now, then?
Well, I enjoyed it so much, I thought

come again.

You're a village idiot, aren't you?

I watched till you got here, yeah.

Nice weather we're having, isn't it?
Well, you know, we just come out.

Oh, it starts off in the morning.

Then either it rains or it gets dark
before nightfall.

Then I ask me supper.

Oh, yeah. What do you ask for your
supper, then?

Pie. Oh. Yeah. If I'm hungry, I get a
big pie and I cut it into four pieces

I eat all four pieces.

If I'm not so hungry, I only cut it into
two pieces.

Village idiot?

No, I've got a village of my own I ought
to be an idiot in.

Where do you come from, then?

The stork brought me.

Why do you mean that? I mean, what
village you come from? Oh, I come from

Wiggle.

Wiggle? That's not a village.

That's what the milkmaid does.

Wiggle on the moor. She wiggle all over
the place.

It's only up the road.

Oh, I ain't never been up the road.

Why not?

road he's never seen again.

Oh, dear.

Who was he? The treasurer of the
Christmas Club.

Well, he were a crook then, weren't he?
You don't want to talk about my dad like

that. You're only upset my mum.

He went off, left his wife, did he? No,
he went off, left my mum, went back to

his wife.

So you were born out of Wedlock?

No, I was born out near Matlock.

You know what I make you, don't you?

Bigger one as he is.

Even my mum, I enjoyed like that.

I enjoyed?

Yeah, she was upstairs having a bath. He
pulled the plug out.

Yeah. Yeah, she stuck her big toe down
the plug hole. It just got jammed in

there, you know.

She just sat there shivering till the
blind man came and freed her.

Who's freed her?

No, freed her. Freed her. Oh, I see.

Freed her.

Lucky for her, he couldn't see her.

Oh, he could.

All she had was her Snoopy cloth.

Oh, dear, you said he was a blind man.

No, a man who came to fit the blinds in
the bathroom.

We never had no bathroom, you know. My
missus used to get the old tin bath full

of water on a Saturday night.

I used to go upstairs, take all me
clothes off. I used to come running down

take a flying leap.

One day I landed on the vicar.

It weren't Saturday, it was Sunday.

He brought his missus over for tea.

She was so flabbergasted she couldn't
finish her cream horn.

It gave the kids a laugh.

You've got kids, then? Oh, yeah, I've
got three children, yes.

And half of them are boys.

What's the other half? Oh, they're boys
and all.

They're triplets, are they? Well, two of
them are.

What's the other one? A window dresser.

He's a Kentish man, is he? He is a bit,
yeah.

What do you do for a living, then? Who?
You.

Me? Yeah.

I'm a rumour spreader. Who?

Me. Yeah, I'm a muck spreader.

Now, I spread rumours. Yeah? Yeah, I
spread rumours in the village.

To the tourists, for example, I'd say, I
spread this rumour that they used to

offer me a 10 pp's and a 5 pp's. I'll
always take the 5 pp's. That is the

I spread and I do.

Oh. Don't you lose a lot of money that
way?

No, the other day I took 127 5 pp's.

Oh, yeah, yeah, it works, doesn't it?

That's over a 10 shillin'. Right, right
there, yeah.

I may be an idiot, you see, I'm not
daft. No.

Well, I'm off now.

Oh, yeah. Where are you going?

Muck spreading?

Well, in a manner of speaking, going to
a council meeting.

Oh.

Well, listen, tell me this. Do they let
you in there, then? Let me in? I'm the

chairman. Oh.

Could I come along?

No, there's enough village idiots on the
council already.

I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking, where has Ronnie Corbyn
gone?

Who is that strange gentleman sitting
there in his place, you're thinking?

No, well, I'm afraid Mr. Corbett can't
be with us tonight, owing to a slight

accident.

Yesterday morning, he was taking part in
the all -Croydon put -a -ferret -down

-your -trousers finals.

Sponsored by the Family Planning
Association.

And he is still in hospital, waiting to
see if the ferret regains consciousness.

No, that is not true.

Now, I'll let you into a little secret.

It's me all along.

How many of you guessed?

How many?

Now, I'll tell you why I did that,
because a lot of people often ask me,

you do, you know, when you don't want to
be recognised in public, you know?

After all, you know, you're a show
business giant, they say.

Don't laugh.

Oh, you weren't going to. I see.

As a comedian who can command a four
-figure fee, £11 .50,

there are times when it is nice to
travel incognito. Sometimes I put this

you know.

Other times, I wear this, you see.

Where did he go, you're all asking?

Actually, I'll be honest, I've stopped
wearing this beard just lately. Ever

since the day I put it on, popped into
our local sports shop, and I picked up a

fishing rod to have a look at it. And
someone came in and said, how much do

want for the garden? No.

So I was out in a flash.

But enough of this sophistication. I
mean, if you all behave yourself, Ronnie

Corbett will tell you a joke.

The zero option of British comedy.

Well, we can all do with a joke in these
troubled times, let's face it. Once

again, I've had some incredibly bad luck
this week.

On Monday afternoon, I put my shirt on a
clothes horse and it went lame.

As a result, I've been in a bit of a
state emotionally, and to be honest, I

think I'm losing my ability to
concentrate.

On Wednesday evening, I spent six hours
trying to put a plug on a packet of

spaghetti.

I'm not very up in technical matters.

You know, I'm a little bit gauche on
things. Do you know this? I once saw a

milking a cow, and I thought he was
pulling a pint of draft bottle.

Anyway, this evening, my wife, who was
sitting over at the table...

making a pair of curtains for the little
peephole in the front door.

She said to me... She said to... We've
had a bit of trouble with our front

I don't mind telling you. Caught Dutch
elm disease.

That's not a pretty sight.

Standing there watching your knocker
dropping off.

She's standing there making these
curtains, you see. She said to me,

said, here, Ron...

Amazing memory for names, really.

Here, Ron, she said, why don't you go
and see the doctor about it? So the next

day, I went straight up to the BBC's
chief medical officer, Dr.

Compucius Mboko.

He's quite good, actually. He practices
a subtle blend of witchcraft and

acupuncture. The story goes that he once
stuck some needles in a black and white

minstrel and three gollywogs died.

His advice...

His advice to me was to take a holiday,
but to be honest, I haven't properly

recovered from last year's. You remember
we went on that disastrous ocean

cruise. I could tell it was going to be
ill -starred when the ship berthed at

Southampton, got a parking ticket.

The catering was dreadful, particularly
the breakfasts. The porridge was so

lumpy, they served it on cocktail
sticks.

That's got nothing to do with tonight's
joke.

Which concerns a monk, which I sincerely
hope will not cause any offense to any

of the monks who happen to be watching.
Well, I'm reliably informed that a large

number of monks listen to my jokes
religiously.

As a penance. So here it is.

Picture, if you will, a little monastery
and a nunnery side by side, high up in

the Spanish mountains, and down below
them in the valleys is this rather seedy

little village. You know, the kind of
thing.

Massage parlors, gambling dens, strip
joints, vice rings.

And there's a lady over here asking
directions.

One day, this rather young and innocent
novice monk from the monastery leaves

the mountain and goes down into the
village for some provisions.

With all the World Cup soccer traffic,
loses his way, you see, and he ends up

the back street. So there he is,
standing there, looking at this red

He's watching this red light, waiting
for it to change to amber. When a girl

leans out of the window and shouts, Hey,
you down there, she says. Hey, you down

there, with a dirty habit, she says.

And the monk looks up, he says, And she
says to him, she says, she says of

naughtiness for 300 pesetas.

She's a bit French, this Spanish girl.

At which the monk, not understanding her
gist or her accent for that matter, not

wishing to hang about, takes a flight
down the road and he just turns the

when he sees another girl standing under
the lamppost. And she calls out the

same thing, and that of naughtiness for
300 pesetas, at which he runs away again

and rushes through the street.

Same cries ring out from all the
doorways. A night of naughtiness for 300

percent. Eventually, he manages to
escape. He runs back up to the mountains

such a spate that instead of returning
to the monastery, he goes into the

nunnery. And immediately, immediately,
up comes the Mother Superior.

She said, what is wrong? What is wrong?

She used as bad an accent as the girls
in the village.

Oh, Mother, he said, I'm in such a panic
and so confused. He said, please tell

me. I have to know. What is a night of
naughtiness? The Mother Superior said,

300 percent is lucky.

working for the philharmonic full of
zest and gin and tonic belting out the

classics with a beat just a major and a
minor knocking up the iron

You can do amazing tricks, that's very
very true.

Gaius Mozart never scored a goal for
Wolverhampton.

Mendelssohn was messy, very, very
dressy. Sousa was a boozer and

a jazzy.

Gaius Mozart never wrote a jingle for
St. Bruno.

What a pity Guno had a little you know.

Louise is six foot two. She's such a
peach, but every niche is out of reach

you -know -who.

And is this, when I attempt to pinch a
kiss for a chap like me, who's fancy

and five foot three, it's hit and miss.
She's very undemanding and very

understanding. I kissed her once on her
hands and knees, twice on her upstairs

landing.

I've found a way to reach the heights.
It's not my stocks of padded socks, my

wooden blocks, my concrete blocks, my
heels and chalks, my piles of rock.

away, I'm glad to say, for just today I
found a way. I climbed a ladder, hit the

dice, and I had a regular heart. Mr.

Rodney Russ, he's trouble with things we
can't discuss.

Every payday wreath he smiles, he lugs
his heart for miles and miles, although

he's got black... feet and follows a cat
and wears a truss. A piccolo player,

Henry Boot, sat ever so clumsy on his
flute.

He took him in a cab to Bart's to
extricate his solo parts. And now he

fits and starts and doesn't give a hoot.

Just one cornet in all bone and skin.

He's on a diet.

He's way far thin.

And concerts.

He knows the score.

Tchaikovsky's seven.

And Chelsea four.

The ballet.

All excited.

There was Rudy.

Nicely tidied.

Bought my drumsticks.

On the socket.

And they whistled off at Rudy like a
rocket.

No one noticed. So where?

Where they flew to. From the air.

Misadventure. Lack of care. It was due
to. My welfare.

Lover to Rudy.

Here and there.

Huh? Toot toot. There and square. And he
got a big hand on his entretien.

The chap with the cello's a terrible
fellow and frequently mellow on liquor

drinks. He bothers the fiddles with
juvenile riddles and beats the

tiddlywigs. The conductor got fed up and
chucked a rebuke at the cellist because

of his tics. So now he just twiddles his
fingers and fiddles and goes out for

tiddles and giggles and drinks.

No summer on a Friday drum, I got a job
with a plumber doing loose.

Drums can be posher, but a chap with a
washer gets the price of a nosh and a

booze. Worked like a nabby, but we just
couldn't have you getting locked in the

labby for a lock.

End of the summer, down the pan with the
plumber, but we still got a tap on the

drive now.

That seems to be just about all we have
time for tonight, but before we go, a

few late items of news. The first ever
reunion for school dunces

took place tonight at the Albert Hall
and was a huge success, with over 3 ,000

people standing in the same corner.

And Melvin Boggess will appear at
Uxbridge Magistrate's Court tomorrow,

of slapping a sailor on the rift.

Police suspect he's a hitman for Gay
Liv.

And after the multiple collision on the
A1 last night between a sewage truck, a

lorry containing 200 gallons of sour
milk, a garlic cellar on a bicycle, and

tomcat, police have appealed to
witnesses not to come forward.

Finally, at Crewe Station today, a
retirement party was held for British

longest -serving waiter.

In memory of his service, hundreds of
former customers filed past, shook his

hands, trod on his toes, and spilled
soup down his throat.

On next week's programme, we'll be
meeting the Rotherham Romeo, who made

35 different women in one night and is
now in the Guinness Book of Records.

That's a bookmark.

And I shall be reading extracts from the
memoirs of a disillusioned vet entitled

All Creatures Grunt and Smell.

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

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