Original subtitles

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

indeed it is. And in a packed programme tonight, we shall be showing you an

astonishingly frank interview with the Strathclyde mother -to -be, Flora

McDingle, who claims she was put in the pudding club by artificial insemolina.

And I'll be talking to a man who was late for his work this morning. He

overslept because the football match he was dreaming about went into extra time.

But first, the news.

Britain's decathlon squad was told today that frequent sexual indulgence reduces

their chances of success.

Daly Thompson will henceforth be known as Twice Nightly Thompson.

Norbert Tush was charged at Bridlington Town Hall today under the Leaseholders

Act of willful misuse of Home Improvement Grant. He used it to send

-in -law to Australia.

And at Romford Magistrates Court today, a £50 fine was imposed on the driver of

an ice cream van for failing to stop when the lights were on strawberry.

A disappointing end this afternoon to Wyndham Ponsonby's heroic one -man walk

across the roof of the world.

He fell down the chimney.

London gangland's farewell to gambling den operator Nifter Nugent was cut short

today when the police showed up and his ashes immediately scattered themselves.

And there's sensational news from Heathrow Airport.

Mr Chamberlain's luggage has just got back from Munich.

Now a sketch in which Mr Ronnie Corbett plays the part of a KGB mole who is

positively vetted by MI5 and then doctored by the RSPCA.

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here... sight of God and in the face of this

congregation to join together this man and this woman in Holy Gladys.

What do you mean, Holy Gladys? What do you mean, Holy Gladys? I'm awfully

It is Gladys, isn't it? It's Gladys Brocklebank, isn't it?

Hello, Henry.

Hello, Henry.

I didn't know you were going to do the service.

Oh, yes. I'm just standing in, you see. Standing in what, may I ask?

Father, don't make a fuss.

As a matter of fact, Gladys and I used to walk out together.

Oh, did you? Well, if you don't get on with the service, mate, you and I'll be

walking out together.

We should get one right in the vestry. Now carry on with it, please.

If any of you know cause or just impediment why these two persons should

joined together in holy matrimony, ye do now declare it, or else hereafter

forever hold thy peace.

Well, it's quiet, isn't it?

Why don't you carry on, then? I'm waiting. Someone in the congregation

have an impediment.

Look, mate, my Uncle George is sitting back in the third row. He's got a

terrible stutter.

And a double hernia. But what difference does that make to the price of

tomatoes?

They're ever so high at the moment.

Pardon?

She's trying to make conversation.

Look, Glab, will you please keep out of this?

This is strictly between the Randy Rev and me.

Don't talk to her in that manner. You're not fit to kiss the hem of her bridal

gown or any other part of her bridal gown, Amy.

You never mind where I'm going to kiss her. It's your job to make it legal.

will you kindly get on with the verbals, Vicar, please? If you will bear with me

for just a moment, there might be a slight delay.

There is, in fact, an impediment.

What are you talking about, mate?

Someone disapproves of this union.

I'm not even a member of the union.

This marriage.

Who's that, then? Me.

You're off your trolley, Vicar. Seven years ago, Gladys swore to be faithful

me eternally.

Is he so, Gladys? No, of course not.

There you are, Vicar, on your bike.

What's this? Look.

There you are. What's that?

Scotch mist? What does it say there?

Henry and Gladys.

and a little rat standing in a bowl of spaghetti.

A little rat standing in a bowl of spaghetti. Those are the twin serpents

true love surmounted by the lion of virtue.

Look, mate, I've got a tattoo round my belly button that says, I love Burton

best. What does that make me, Elizabeth Taylor?

Have you forgotten, Gladys? Have you forgotten what we meant to each other?

That wonderful golden fortnight in Little St Anne's? Or the time when we

away from the Ken Dodd concert at twenty past one?

And we went on that moonlight podalo trip on the ship canal?

Henry, please, not the ship canal.

Oh, it's like that, is it?

Listen, Gladys, did you give yourself to him, then?

No, I didn't. Well, did you lend yourself to him?

Listen, Arthur Brimshaw, do you want to marry me or not? What do you think? Of

course I do.

I spent 75 quid in once on this outfit.

Gladys, marry me. I have a handsome stipend. I bet you have, all covered in

tattoos and all that.

Forget the pedalos, dear. After this bum fight, we shall be off to Venice. We'll

be being serenaded by dagos in dongolas.

Marry me, please. My flesh yearns for you. So does mine, so does mine.

I bet my flesh yearns twice as much as yours does.

You've got twice as much flesh as me, haven't you?

Gladys, we could...

utopia together, you and I. Listen, we've already built a base, isn't it?

got planning permission for the garage and everything.

Take your filthy hands off her spotless white bridal gown.

It ought to be white anyway, not after Lytham's in hands.

He insulted me. Well, be fair. He does have a point, doesn't he, Gladys? Well,

the ship can... Careful, you'll get one on the cassock, you know that.

Oh, I'm fed up with a pair of you. I'm going to marry Purse. Purse? The best

man? Well, he's certainly better than you two.

Come on, Purse.

Oh, that is nice, isn't it? Couple of nice tickets to Venice, right up the

Swanee. You know, I've never been to Venice.

No? There you are, Rev. Have them on me. Oh, I see. That's awfully sweet of you.

No, I've been to Paris three times and Rome twice and once to Vienna and to

Nice. Oh, and a long weekend in Bogda. My goodness, it was long, too.

But I always like the champagne on the wedding night, you see. What do you

Well, a lot of people part at the altar. They always give me the honeymoon

tickets. Care to come with me? What?

Me cover you? Yes, why not? They say there's a wonderful little flea market

the Rialto.

Well, why not? After all, I paid for them, didn't I?

You're on, Vic, you're on. Certainly.

Will you want to go home and change? Oh, yes, I've got a lovely little girl on

the way out.

Please welcome our guest this week,

Elaine Page.

Some shrimp and bovril.

So, your Lil's having a night out tonight, is she? Yeah, she's gone to the

Yeah, well, we know that, but she's having a night out.

No, but she's gone down the racetrack with your Eid, hasn't she? You know,

they've gone dog racing for the night. Oh, that's right. They'll probably lose

all their money gambling, finish up paralytic as pigs.

They'll get picked up by a couple of drunks, probably finish up being ravaged

some all -night orgy at Peckham.

Still, it keeps them out of mischief, doesn't it?

Talking of mischief, by the way, far be it from me, Sid, to pry into your sexual

procavities. But I couldn't help noticing, ever since you've come in

you've been wearing a frilly black garter around the sleeve of your donkey

jacket. If my memory serves me correct, it's not your usual modus operandi, is

it? Now, where is the next place for that, George? I sure jolly well hope so.

You remember the other weekend you and I went up the West End, don't we? Yeah.

And we ended up about two in the morning in that draughty little strip club.

Oh, yeah, the air on the G -string, yeah, I remember.

Well, as I recall, that night we had quite a few. As a matter of fact, I

remember rightly what happened. Anyway, the other day there I was at home, you

see. Yeah. Lil, minding her own business, going through my pockets.

And she found this black garter, you see. Well, naturally, I had my wits

me, didn't I? So I spruced her along that it was a black...

And I bought, you see, in mourning for my Uncle Cedric, who, as luck would have

it, had dropped dead the day before.

Oh, yeah. That was lucky, wasn't it? Yeah.

Very fortuitous. Yeah, not, of course, quite so lucky for Uncle Cedric, now,

it?

And then, of course, being very, you know, what's the name? You know, what

word, you know, means, you know, they believe anything you say.

Thank you.

She swallowed it all, you see, of course. But, of course, they've still

wear this for a few days, otherwise you get very suspicious.

Oh, yeah. Good job she didn't find that bra in your other pocket then, wouldn't

she?

Otherwise you'd be walking around with red satin earmuffs, wouldn't you?

Little holes to poke your earlobes through.

Here,

listen, how old was Uncle Cedric when he kicked it then?

Well, the wrong side of 60.

What's that?

94.

Mind you, for the last four months, he'd been shacked up. a young bird of 25.

Shacked up? Yeah. A girl of 20? I think he was shacked out, wasn't he?

You see, he never had kids of his own. He wanted to carry on the family strain.

Well, it would have been a strain, yeah.

Would he die of terminal ecstasy or what?

You know, it's funny talking about life or death. You know, I often sit here and

I wonder, I wonder, why are we here?

Well, the beer's cheaper for one.

sitting here in the Mary Thatcher having a pint. No, I'm talking about the

answer to the external riddle.

Why do any of us exist?

Well, it's something to do, isn't it?

Furthermore, what happens afterwards?

Now, I was watching this programme the other night on ITV and there was a

on there what reckoned that it is possible that there is intelligent life

other side.

What, you mean on Channel 4, you mean?

Not Channel 4, no.

Be realistic, Sid, for God's sake.

No, no, he reckoned that snuffing it is not the be -all and end -all of

everything, you see. Oh.

Yeah, in fact, you and I could very well finish up in hell.

No. Oh, hell.

What do you suppose... What do you suppose hell's like, George? I mean, do

suppose... Not a very nice place, I suppose.

Well, of course it ain't a very nice place, is it? Otherwise it wouldn't be

hell, would it? No, no. It must be a terrible place. I always imagined it as

some vast...

bottomless burning pit where everyone's all chained up, you know, and forced to

eat shrimp and Bob real crisps, right?

Bit like East Croydon.

You suppose my Uncle Cedric then has ended up in hell, would you think? No,

It's my theory that even now he's been reincarnated.

Reincarnated? What do you mean by that? Well, reincarnated, you know, when you

come back to something else. Oh, yeah.

If I had to come back to something else, you know, I was thinking, if I had to

come back to something else, I'll come back as an hyena.

What would you come back as a hyena for then? Well, if you come back as a hyena,

you're laughing, aren't you?

You've got all that foreign sunshine, no food to hunt for for yourself. All your

food is provided for you by lions.

By lions?

Yeah. What, you mean lion's corners?

It's not that sort of food. It's deer.

It's not all that deer and lion's corners.

cats, you see. The big cats, they go out and hunt all the food that the hyenas

scavenge off.

Oh, it must be a great life.

Oh, no. If I come back as anything, I think I'll come back as a giraffe.

A giraffe? Why? Well, I wouldn't want to be a hyena, not with my feet for a

start, would I? Well, you wouldn't have your feet, would you? You'd have the

hyena's feet, wouldn't you? You wouldn't be trouting about through the tropical

undergrowth wearing two pairs of black blokes and a set of odour eaters, would

you?

You'd have the hyena's feet, wouldn't you?

Yeah. But I still think, really, basically, overall, taking an average,

were to come back, I'd soon be a giraffe.

Why is this about a giraffe? Why a giraffe?

Well, it'd stop you picking your nose so much, wouldn't it?

Listen, now, let's talk about this reincarnation. If my Lil was to be

reincarnated, what do you suppose she's come back as? Well, a great white whale,

I think.

All that whalebone corset and all that blubber and everything.

She's got a head start, hasn't she? She certainly has, yeah.

She nearly got harpooned when you took her paddling at Clacton that time.

Here, I'll be set. The time is two o 'clock.

I've got to be getting out of here.

Here, I must put my armband on now. My black armband, here it is.

What, are you going to a funeral and all, then? No, I'm going to watch

play at home.

Good evening.

I'm the Minister of Cuts.

I represent the National Institute of Cutting Known Economic Resources, Double

Urgent, or Nickers to You.

Now, what does all this mean? Well, firstly, we've cut the armed services.

And here's the new streamlined army brigade.

Two men, one to fire the gun and the other to ask for the bullet back.

Lance Corporal Hackett has reported sick.

What's more, we're putting the army on a one -day week, so unless the Russians

attack on a Monday, we'll be closed.

Now, the Navy will remain on full strength, but we will be using the

missile launcher from Scotland.

Yes, members of the RAF will still be up there flying, although a much greater

degree of skill will be demanded of them, as there won't be any aeroplanes.

Now, what is wrong with this picture?

Yes, you've spotted it.

It's not the real Queen.

Many famous people are being replaced by robots.

Here is a bionic Clement Croyd.

It doesn't move, but it's indistinguishable from the real thing.

We already have four Michael Heseltines sitting on various committees.

There they are.

Androids, I hear you cry. And you can get them if you sit on too many

committees.

And what about overproduction? Well, this is the European jockstrap mountain.

Sometimes known as St. Michael's Mount.

The tightening of our hold on underpants should lead to a slackening off in

production. Now, transport.

People have pointed out that due to cuts, the London Scunthorpe motorway

goes as far as my home in Potter's Bar.

Where? Who wants to go to Scunthorpe anyway?

It will be extended as soon as I move to Royston.

Now, this ticket here is British Rail's new stay -away day.

How does it work? Well, you travel to a secret destination and we close down the

line before you come back.

Trans -Siberian Railway is open, of course, so you can still go to the

but not while the train is standing in the station.

And we'll cut education.

Eaton and Harrow will come down to half size and merge with Sandwich College.

So we'll get a narrow Harrow and a half -Eaton sandwich.

Sport? Well, here's a new government racket.

There it is, for cheaper doubles.

Wimbledon will be simplified this year. In the mixed doubles, Joan Collins will

play with everyone.

Danny LaRue will play in the mixed singles.

And McEnroe will provide his own ball boys.

But where do you come in?

Well, there are many ways to cut your outgoings. Cut your heating costs by

night storage solar panels.

Yes, it takes a little longer, that one.

Now, if you have to dial the speaking clock, wait till six and get the cheaper

rates. And do use these new economical inventions.

Here we are.

The ultimate oven -ready chicken.

It has roller skates instead of feet.

Instant meals on wheels. There we go.

Our metal -saving scheme here.

The metal -saving scheme. There it is. We put holes in all the tins. Here, for

example, is a lovely tin of cock -a -leaky soup.

Yes, soup in a basket.

Plenty of leaky, but very little of anything else.

Lastly, government.

Parliament will be halved and many members cut down to size, including Mr

who will be reduced to six inches.

The Liberal Party will be allowed only three seats, which means there'll only

room for Cyril Smith.

Well, there you have it. I myself am going back to Whitehall now, and by

I shall be completely cut myself.

But who cares? Tell you the truth, I'm half cut already.

Good night.

I say, Humphrey.

What is it, Godfrey? You know, no matter how hot the day is, at night,

it gets dark.

Yes, it's the same in America.

Yes. Just come back, Havell.

Did you go for pleasure, or did the wife go with you?

I went alone, you know.

Very, very grand hotel.

Oh, really?

Yes, so grand that even the guests... have to use the service entrance.

That is grand.

Funny people, the Americans.

On the plane going over, a woman collapsed.

Doctor sitting one side of her refused to help. Said he was on holiday.

Amazing. Jack sitting the other side of her said, that's disgraceful.

The doctor said, would you carry on your profession if you were on holiday?

I certainly would, said the other chap. All right, what is your profession, he

said. I'm a fishmonger, said the other chap. And he picked the woman up,

loosened her clothing, and sold her two pounds of head up.

I said three blind mice.

See how they run. My, my, how they run.

They run after the farmer's wife. She cut off their tails with a cockney

Never saw such a thing in my life. Those three blind mice.

Listen, everybody, while I tell you all the story of the three blonde moths

living on a farm in Arizona where the owner was a real mean string bean

to a farming man. Well, late one Friday evening, they were leaving Harrisboro

and they were all blonde drunk, staggering and flipping over, tottering

tripping over each other's tails.

Now the farmer's wife was waiting out on the veranda cutting vegetables for

dinner and without no hesitating.

With a speed that makes you shudder, she cut off his tiny rudder. Oh, Lord, it

should have hurt that way.

I heard the story of the gory situation of the three blonde boys living

on a farm in Arizona where the owner was a real mean string bean married to a

farm. So, when you're sitting losing and your vision you are losing, don't

forget those marks.

Keep away from all the farmer's wives because the little chalmers might cut

your tail.

Three blind vines.

Three myopic marks.

See how they run.

Oh my God, how they run.

They all ran after the farmer's wife. She cut off their tails with a carving

knife. Which certainly ruins the old love life.

Oh, yes. Good evening.

Good evening. Hello. Nice party, isn't it? Yes.

I'm a travel agent, actually. I don't know if you've fixed your holidays yet,

no? Well, perhaps I can offer you one or two rather interesting ideas. No, no

need, old boy. Too late. I'm a travel agent as well. I'm giving him ideas

myself. You see, we rather specialise in unusual methods of travel. For example,

go on stilts through Wilts or by pogo to Togo.

Well, that's nothing. With us, you could scoot into Beirut or you could balloon

into Rangoon.

In Syracuse, I hire a cruiser and it's hello, sailor, to Venezuela.

taxidermy holiday, you know.

Embalming things in Palm Springs.

Stop a crow in Buffalo.

You're not actually into taxidermy. No, I probably thought that. You poor

inordinate broke who likes to do simple things like shopping. Well, indeed, go

shopping with us. Go shopping and whopping.

Buy a welly in New Delhi or a hat in Eilat. A sandal gay in Mandalay.

Or cop a natty kettle and pop a cat a petal.

Play your bongo in the Congo or rattle your maracas in Caracas.

Why not try our...

the world's sanitation crews. If you want to spend a penny, try Abergavenny.

to the loo in Peru, sample the ablutions in the Aleutians. There's a thunderbox

in Thunder Rocks, there's a dodgy old carsey to the east of Benghazi.

But in Rockall, there's absolutely nothing.

Perhaps he doesn't want a safari at all, a sanitation safari of that sort. I

mean, who does? Perhaps you'd like one of our booze tours.

Get blotto in the Blue Grotto and canned in the Strand.

Or a little tipsy in Porkipsy or plastered in Paris.

Giving me a headache.

Oh, you want a medical holiday? Well, fair enough. Go to Tulsa for an ulcer or

sin for the wind. Yes, if you're blushing, go to flushing. If you're

try Wyoming.

For migraine, it's the Ukraine. For sores, the Azores. Ethiopia for myopia

for the fear of Lumbago, Tierra del Fuego.

And it's off to the Bahamas if you suffer from the pharma. Yes, but for a

shock, Bangkok.

I don't want any of your holidays. I'm a travel agent too. I'm knobblers of

Twickenham. Oh, knickers the Twickers. And that's the knobblers.

Now, the joke I'm going to tell you tonight is not exactly the funniest joke

the world.

Now, I'll be honest, you know, this joke is so unfunny, I told it to Stuart Hall

of It's a Knockout, and he only laughed for one and three quarter hours.

We were in the BBC club at the time, and things were a bit boisterous.

One of Paul Daniel's tricks had got out of hand.

And there were 73 Nolan sisters at the bar.

And over in the corner, people were agog with the news that Patrick Moore's suit

had just walked into a dry cleaner's and given itself up.

No, he had some bother, poor old Patrick, because one of the moths in his

applied for a home improvement grant.

As usual, our producer was feeling a little bit full of himself.

as he stood there with a pint of Guinness between his legs, trying to get

frock out with a corkscrew.

It is difficult to say, isn't it?

It's not so difficult to laugh at, I hope.

Oh, by the way, I almost forgot at this stage a little wave to my wife, because

I sometimes just do this, to be honest with you. She's not been herself just

lately. Not since I got her that part -time job as a lollipop lady at Brands

Hatch.

Let's face it, there have been a few problems at home recently.

There was that episode with the settee in the front room.

Two weeks ago, a lady came round to recover it.

And since then, it's been incredibly lumpy.

Added to which, we haven't seen my wife's mother for a fortnight.

So it's very worrying. And on Tuesday, on Tuesday there was an incident when I

got up in the middle of the night to fix myself a snack.

I went too near the extractor fan and end up sailing through next door's

window.

So that took the wind out of their sails.

As a matter of fact, they've been a bit of a nuisance next door, to be honest.

They are gadget mad.

They have got solar heating panels that are so sensitive that when Terry Wogan

smiles on television, the kettle boils.

And a few weeks ago, they bought this big new waterbed with a very powerful

electric blanket on top.

And at two o 'clock every morning, they both start whistling.

Added to all that, I've had a lot of worries myself ever since I bought that

racehorse from Tesco's.

Now, I know it sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? I mean, how would anybody be

stupid as to buy a racehorse from Tesco's? But I did.

I got five pee off because I had a dent in it.

No, I didn't really buy it. I didn't buy a racehorse from Tesco's at all. I

actually bought a zebra.

It wasn't my fault. I thought it was a racehorse with a computer pattern on it.

On to the story. Now, this story this week all takes place on a farm where one

day this chap turns up to do a spot of casual work and is given the job of

cleaning out the pigsty.

And he's, incidentally, if at any point you're dazzled, By my fluent grasp of

agricultural terms.

Like pig.

You may have heard me say it's stye.

Just like that. I should point out that I did once work in a farm myself.

Very small farm, to be honest. We had one sheep.

And that was 75 % polyester.

As it happened, I only worked on this particular farm for a few weeks. I used

take the cockerel round every night to charge up the battery hens.

Oh, that's the sort of stuff you have.

And it wasn't easy, I can tell you, because the cockerels and the hens had

formed a vigilante group to hunt down Colonel Sanders.

That was at night time. In the daytime, I was told to go out and cut the corn.

Nothing changes, really.

There's this chap.

There's a chap happily hoovering out the pigsty and suddenly he notices that one

of the pigs has got a wooden leg.

Don't ask me which one it was. I can't remember.

So full of curiosity, doesn't really matter which one it was, one of them had

wooden leg.

And since it was only one, it was quite easy to notice.

He immediately takes the farmer aside. He said, listen.

I wasn't sure whether he takes or talks. Anyway, he takes the pharmacy. He said,

will you excuse me? Excuse me asking this, he said. But I can't help

speaking in a hushed tone, I can't help noticing that that pig has got a wooden

leg.

Well, you know, why would this be, pray? And the farmer says, well, if it wasn't

for that pig, he says, this farm wouldn't be here, he said. A few weeks

when I was on my holiday, a fire broke out in that hayloft there.

Straight away, the pig smelt the smoke, jumped out of the sty, raced over to the

shed, got the house pipe out, connected up to the tap there, and then turned all

the water on and put all the flames.

Then he wrangled out with fire brigade and came over, cleaned up the mess. And

if it hadn't been for that pig, he said, the whole place would have gone up in

smoke.

That's absolutely incredible, he said, for a pig to do a thing like that. But

why has it got the wooden leg? The farmer said, listen, I'll tell you

else. Another thing.

That pig saved my life, he said. Two weeks ago, I was in town on business.

Two muggers cornered me in an alleyway, and they pulled a gun at me. I shouts

for help, and from five miles away, that pig hears.

He jumps out of the stye, he leaps on his bicycle, cycles all the way into

then with two swift karate chops from his trotter, he said he fells both the

muggers and immediately disarms them.

And seeing me fainted, he gives me the kiss of life. And he carries me on his

back to the nearest doctor for assistance.

And if it wasn't for that pig, he said, I wouldn't be alive today. So the chap

says, well, he said, that's the most amazing story I've ever heard. He said,

why? Why has it got a wooden leg?

Oh, the farmer says, listen, he said, well, you've got a pig of that quality.

You don't eat it all at once.

Podmore's End. Never heard of it. You familiar with Podmore's End?

Not at all.

Lucky Podmore.

Don't make pathetic jokes, Brian. You haven't the faintest idea where we are,

have you? I know exactly where we are, Muriel. We're lost.

That's where we are.

There's another name up there. I can't see it from here.

Well, get out then.

Place called Mildoway.

Half a mile away.

It's only a footpath.

Well, at least there may be someone who can tell us where we are.

Righto. You staying?

No, I'm not.

It's far too hot and I'm getting bitten all over with gnats as it is. Probably

attracted by your aftershave. Brian!

Talking of Freudian slips, mind where you put your feet round about here.

Do you think there'll be anywhere where we can spend the night?

Well, there's bound to be a pub or an inn or something, you know.

Might be quite nice, actually.

Single bed, mind.

What, for the two of us?

Don't be facetious, Brian. You know how set I am on a single bed.

I won't be moved on that.

I wouldn't agree with trying to move you on any kind of bed.

Good day, master, mistress.

I do see by your apparel, in shape and form most foreign to mine eye, that you

be strangers in this valley and these lands.

I give you welcome, master.

Oh, thanks, hopefully.

By the way, I'm sorry to disturb you in the middle of your carnival day.

It's just that we were wondering if there's perhaps an inn, you know, where

could spend the night.

Single beds, of course.

Well, it'll be the end, good master. Yonder there.

But I must warn you straight.

The landlord here, true to his title, landlord, doth possess and is in sooth

lord of all these lands.

He is our thane, our duke, our governing peer, and he doth rule and over all all

sway. I know the type.

A bit of a big head.

Shall I convey thee to my good lord's door?

Yes, certainly.

I'll soon sort him out.

You're not even in the good food garden.

Now, poxy white, if I do but catch thee once again with thy greasy hand inside

my money bags, I'll wrap thy legs around thy neck and hang thee up by thy

garters for the crows to peck at.

Now, be gone.

Old Sir Thomas Thumb, I do declare.

Christ welcome, good Sir Tom, and to thy spouse.

If such is that she is, such frosty looks dispute she is the mistress of his

bed.

Single beds, Brown.

Good evening.

What I'm wondering is, could you accommodate us for the night in single

Both of us, that is.

Separately. In the same room.

Yes, replacing different ways.

What I mean is, can you put it up?

What? Put you up?

I marry that I shall, my microcosmic lord. Thou shalt be up as tall as any

subject in the realm.

Thou shalt take dinner seated on a cask of good red claret, earmarked for the

feast.

Astride this mount, the tap between thy legs, thou shalt replenish all the

serving maids.

What? Up indeed, the highest in the land, thou shalt dine here with me on my

right hand. Thy frosty spouse, like Claret by my crown, should not be up.

Nay, she should be laid down.

That reminds me, Brian, hot water bottles.

Oh, yes, yes.

Are the beds warm? There is a wench who, for an honest groat, will warm thy bed

with warming pan of coals, or whatsoever method you devise, twit her anew.

The girl knows all the ways.

As to this glacier, this Siberian stone, give me its latchkey, I will warm it

straight.

Come, enter, and prepare ye for the feast.

Come on, dear.

I hope he takes Barclay card.

You promised you would never touch me there, Brian.

I didn't mean to grab you badly. Just thought I'm hiding from that woman.

Had to drop down really low, you know.

She's got such a big bosom, she can't see the floor.

I think I'd like to go to our room now, Brian.

I want to listen to Book at Bedtime on Radio 4.

That's effective, isn't it?

He can relate. Supper's always the same, you know.

I've just realised I don't know what room we're in.

Well, let's ask him. Oh, dear me.

Excuse me, my host.

We'd like to retire.

So shall you, good Sir Tom.

Sweet dreams.

Thank you. But say, before you go, there's reckoning to be made.

Thou must, for this night's work, due recompense in full account of cost be

discharged. This is the custom in these whereabouts.

No man shall sleep until he pay his dues.

Obviously, a union man.

Well, how would you like to be paid, sir?

Barter card, or...?

Used timers? What?

Papers? Bills and promissory notes?

Nay, this is not a London counting house.

Were not the vittles real?

The meat not warm? Was not the wine wet? Did the cheese not bite?

How then can we accept some airy pledge, the promise of some future settlement?

A shilling in the silver of the realm, the honest coin that bears our good

queen's head.

A shilling?

Why didn't you say?

It's obviously Arts Council.

Lord Montague's probably behind it.

There we are, my man.

Five feet.

Come on, Muriel.

This coin is counterfeit.

Restrain them.

Bear witness all that some strange alien face doth masquerade hereon for good

Queen Bess.

Elizabeth II, the legend bears.

We know, God knows.

Let there be only one.

But look!

But me no buts, thou scurvy knave. This counterfeiting is a heinous crime.

The punishment is clear and widely known.

The forfeiture of all thy goods and wealth.

And for thy further humblement and shame, to spend the night imprisoned in

stocks. Take him away!

Yet hold his wife close by.

She being but a chattel of his house is likewise forfeit to our royal claim.

Go, women, and prepare her for the night with perfumes, unctions.

Dress her all in white.

White is the ice that floats on arctic sea.

But ice must melt.

And melt then, so shall she.

This would never have happened if we'd stuck to Trust House 40.

It's going to be freezing cold standing out here all night.

Lift them up and give me something on my head.

Sorry, I spoke.

Brian, dear.

You all right?

I'm not sure.

I think I'm possibly quite well.

Why are you doing that, Brian? You look silly.

Well, it's the stocks, dear, and I just set like it.

You'll have to drive.

Did you get much sleep?

Not a lot.

Do you know, I just realised that sign isn't there.

You know, the one that said mile away.

I suppose we dreamt it, all of you.

My God, what a nightmare.

Oh, I don't know.

All set, Brian, dear?

Yes, fine.

You seem very, uh, you know, relaxed this morning.

Oh, I'm just looking forward to the drive, that's all.

Don't drive too fast, will you?

In this position, I might fly away.

Let's have some music, shall we?

Now listen to me, little chickabiddies. With such beautiful weather, you should

be out there in the country. Not even indoors.

Listen to this kind of rubbish.

There's places out there you've never even heard of. Believe me, it's worth

Go and find yourself an adventure.

It may change your life.

Well, that seems to be all we have time for tonight.

But before we go, a few late items of news.

Special arrangements were made tonight at Lord George Davidson Circus when

Boris, the retiring human cannonball, was fired for the last time from the 10

-inch howitzer.

They shot him straight through the front door of the old folks' home.

Today also saw the presentation to BBC TV's longest -serving canteen

Imogen Scudamore.

She said she wanted something warm and furry, so they gave her the tea urn.

The annual secret service luncheon at the Guildhall took place today. They all

toasted themselves in invisible ink, memorised the menu and ate it.

But finally, some good news tonight. There's been a marked improvement in the

condition of TV star Terry Wogan. He's lost his voice.

In next week's programme, we'll be demonstrating the new indecent breakfast

cereal from Denmark.

It's called Porn Flakes.

When you put the milk on, they go slap, tickle and grope.

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

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