Original subtitles

Good evening. It's great to be back with you once again, isn't it, Ron? Indeed

it is. And in a packed program tonight, I shall be reviewing the book written by

a woman who took two inches off her bust only to add two inches to her bottom.

It's called What You Lose on the Swings, You Gain on the Roundabouts.

Later, we'll be meeting the man who completely fooled the panel on What's My

Line as to what job he did. He's Sir Geoffrey Howe.

Then we'll be going over to the National Fruit Convention in Evesham, where Mrs.

Thatcher will chair a conference and Lord Whitelaw will sit on a Granny

At the end of the programme, we'll be meeting the Soho woman who celebrated

Massers of the Year award by doing a slap of honour.

But first, the news. The Home Office today granted the last request of

criminal Harry Angelface Cracknell that he be allowed to die on television.

He'll do a double act with Lenny Bennett.

In the High Court today, Maxim Cudlip, the Catford man found guilty of driving

off without paying after filling his car with petrol, was given three months'

imprisonment and a set of tumblers.

Romford police have an important new clue tonight on the identity of the man

found suffering from amnesia. They showed him page three of The Sun, and

obvious he's a Bristol man.

And the psychiatrist who was called in to examine Peabody Chug, the nudist who

thinks he's a horse chestnut, has diagnosed him as stark raving conkers.

And finally, at a ceremony at Guy's Hospital today, a gold watch was

to Mr Clipper Jubbs. the man who, for 40 years, has been in charge of samples.

Afterwards, friends and colleagues held a receptacle for him.

But now a sketch featuring Mr Ronnie Barker, who today admitted he's been

hush money to a speak -your -weight machine.

I must say, I think you made an absolutely excellent choice about the

we should eat in. I'm so glad you like it, darling.

Very nice.

It just seems such a shame that you're on this dreadful new nutmeg and celery

diet. I'm sitting here eating. I feel absolutely awful, innit? Well, the diet

will do wonders for my figure.

Probably end up looking like two nutmegs on a stick of celery.

Well, at least I'm allowed a glass of dry white wine. Yes.

There is just the one teensy criticism I would make.

What's that?

The waiter.

Does seem to be hovering, doesn't he?

Well, we are the lad. He probably wants to go home. You eat up.

I'm not going to rush, am I? It's only my starters, dear. I mean, the book did

say last order's 12.

It's only 20 past 11, dear. Look at that.

Please take the starters. I mean, I haven't touched it. Now, don't make a

darling. I'm not making a fuss, honestly.

Waiter.

Waiter.

Look.

I've brought my sweet here. I mean, I haven't even started the main course.

But you always peck at your food. I am not pecking. I don't peck at all here.

You're being unreasonable.

Waiter. Waiter, are you making... I've brought the bill.

I haven't eaten any of these things. I'm not paying.

No, no, no, please don't make a scene.

I'm not making a scene.

You've got to be reasonable, haven't you? I must have some sweet, the least I

can ask. I'm going to ask him to bring the sweet trolley.

Waiter! Waiter, could you bring the sweet trolley, please?

It's the least I can ask.

Well, there's nothing on it.

Well, thank goodness.

I'm on a diet.

Well, I'm not on a diet.

I'm underweight for my height, as it is.

I'm going to have some black forest gato, provided the acid rain hasn't

it.

Waiter, waiter, could you please bring me the, uh...

so boorish. I'm not being boorish, dear.

You told me this was the evening.

I think he wants you to raise your feet.

Look, I'm not finished eating, dear. I'm not going to be swept away.

Why do you always have to start rousing restaurants? I thought you were going to

enjoy this evening.

You're right. I'm a trifle overwrought and I just can't.

Thank you.

Why are you saying thank you in that sort of avuncular way? Why are you being

gentle in your attitude? Why this particular... I was trying to be polite,

unlike some people I could mention.

Polite? I am the customer, aren't I? But you're obsessed by the waiter. Forget

the waiter. I'm trying to... I'm not paying any attention to the waiter. Just

the gentleman.

What is he doing now?

He's only rolling up the carpet.

I'm going to call for the manager.

You'll have to yell. He's in the south of France.

There must be somebody here in charge. I'll see somebody in the office. I mean,

this is a disgrace.

I shall call the RAC.

Why don't you shut up and stop making these stupid things?

Very well, I shall keep calm.

Get away now.

Come on, we are going home. I like it here. Oh,

here's the bill. What's that?

£47 .50?

I've given £50.

The service has been, after all, something exceptional. Honestly, I have

not enjoyed a meal. I haven't eaten less, I can assure you.

Why are you getting so annoyed? Well, you will soon. He's taking your chair

Excuse me. Now, you've gone too far. This is my fiancée.

Come here, Priscilla.

No, thanks. I like it here.

Oh, you do? Well, that's it. Finito. Caput. Good night, all. Good night,

Priscilla. Forever.

I do hope he means it.

Rodney, you are wonderful.

Yes, well, I thought so. Where shall we go to dinner?

One of the great standards of all time, believe it or not, started its life in

March time.

Here, Elaine sings it in its more familiar tempo.

Jerome Kearns, Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.

They asked me how I knew

my true love was true.

To think they could die, my love.

Yesterday.

Without my love

Now laughing friends

deride Tears I cannot hide

So I smile

and say When the lovely flame

loyal society for the relief of sufferers from piss pronunciation.

For people who cannot say their worms correctly.

Or who use the wrong worms entirely so that other people cannot underhand the

bird they are spraying.

It's just that you open your mouth and the worms come turbling out in what can

say that you dick -knock what you're thugging a bit.

And it's very distressing.

I'm always looing it and it makes one feel unbumped to cuckoo.

Especially when one is going about one's deadly tasks.

Slopping in the supermarket, for example.

Only last wonk I approached the chuck -out point, and I showed the ghoul

the crash desk the contents of my trillie.

And she said, all right, Grandad, shout him out.

Well, of course, that's fine for the ordinary man in the stoat, who has no

dribble with his waltz.

For someone like myself, it's worse than the kick in the jackstrop.

Sometimes you get stuck on one letter, such as wobbly.

And I said, well, I've got a tin of whoop, a woocumber, two packets of

and a wallflower.

and said, that will be whoop -ounce -wifty -pooey -pence.

So I just said wobblers and walked out.

So you see how dicky -felt it is.

But help is at hand.

A new society has been formed by our mumblers to help each other in times of

excremises.

It is balled pittsbrunces unanimous.

Anyone can ball them up on the smelly phone at any time of the day or night.

24 flowers of spray, seven stays of cream, and they will come round and get

drunk with you.

be imperpetuators who will all squeak many sandwiches, such as Swedish,

Berkish, Jewish, gibberish and rubbish.

Membranes will be able to attend tights to wool for heaving classes, to learn

how to grope with the many kaplinkities of the daily loaf.

Which brings me to the drain reasons for squeaking to you tonight.

The society's first function as a body was a grand garden freight, and we hope

for many more bodily functions in the future.

The garden plate was held in the grounds of Blenheim Pallias Woodstick.

Our guest of horror was the great American pip singer, Manny Barolo.

It was opened by the bleeder of the proposition, Mr. Dale Pinnock.

Pinnock, who gave us a few well -frozen worms in praise of the society's jerk.

He said that in creaks and stunts that lie ahead, we must all do our nut rows

ensure that it sucks weeds.

And everyone visited the various stalls and abrusements, the rudeabouts, thing

-boats and the dodgers.

And, of course, all the old favourites, such as the coquishy nut, Stry your

length, getting the weight of the cook and tinning the pail on the wonky.

The occasion was great fun, and in short, I think it can safely be said

the men present and thoroughly good women were had all the time.

So please join our society, write to me, Dr.

Smallpith, the spanner, Pope Moses, and I will send you some brieflets to browse

through and a brass badge to wear in your loophole.

It says here, there is no recession.

Well, all I can say is if this isn't a recession, it must be the worst boom in

history.

Everybody's got more money than you used to have.

I haven't. I'm skint.

Didn't you just have an uncle die?

No, I got an auntie die.

No, it's Fred.

Oh, it was your auntie, was it?

No, auntie didn't die. She's alive.

It was Fred.

He's dead.

Fred? Dead.

How much money did you leave?

All of it. You have to.

There's none of it to me.

I am truly barassic.

Well, like me, I haven't got two apes to scratch the soles of my feet with.

I don't need money. Are you?

I have asked for money. I've begged for money. I've cried for money.

Why don't you work for it?

I'm going through the alphabet. I haven't got to double you yet.

You've caught a cold.

Do have a zoo.

How awfully kind.

Good heavens.

Victor.

Elliot. Is it you?

Yes, I'm afraid it is.

What are you doing here?

I'm burgling this apartment.

How interesting.

I'm robbing this one.

I hope you're enjoying it.

No, not very much.

I was always allergic to fitted carpets. I must remember never to fit a carpet

in your presence.

And yours?

Oh, looks tawdry.

Awfully gamages.

I'd heard we were in the same line of business.

Tell me, what made you give up being an actor?

I didn't mind a bit. I found it boring.

Incredibly boring.

Well, I was so incredibly boring as an actor that I didn't mind either.

You were on the Wilson Bank job, I understand.

Yes. Quite a bit disappointing.

Why? It was closed.

I was thoughtless of it.

You used...

Stung grenades, I understand.

Yes. How were they?

Stunning.

Have another zoob. No, no, I've just had a fisherman's friend.

I dare say the fisherman was frightfully jealous.

Oh, Elliot.

Elliot, do you realise we haven't met since the army?

Yes, Victor. Where did you go after that ghastly scene we had in the railway

boopy at Beveridge?

Oh, I went away.

Away.

The cataract.

Cataract?

Very flat cataract.

How was basic training?

Awfully basic.

Have a sip of this. What is it?

Ginger beer.

Very flat ginger beer.

Tell me, didn't something terrible happen to that wife you were so madly in

with? Oh, yes, it did.

I married her.

Snap. Snap. Snap. I married her, too.

Amanda? Yes.

Good Lord.

I always wondered where she went to on Tuesday morning.

I always wondered where she went to for the rest of the week.

We honeymooned in the highlands, you know.

Awfully bumpy, the highlands.

They go up and down quite deplorably. The downs are all very well, but the ups

are tremendously tedious, like life, in a way.

Tell me, Victor, are you cold?

It's awfully thin, that thing you're wearing.

You always did notice what I wore.

Yes. There's a little mole to the left of your nose that quivers quite divinely

in the moonlight.

I haven't got a mole to the left of my nose.

Must be a bogey.

Treacherous moonlight.

Talking of moonlight, whatever did happen to Amanda?

She was unfaithful to us.

How very unnecessary.

With whom?

West Bromwich Albion.

Awfully perfidious Albion.

Amanda went to Holland.

Holland? Yes.

Awfully flat, Amanda.

Oh, Elliot.

Elliot! What utter, utter fools we've been. What are we doing in this burglary

business? Oh, do shut up. Do shut up, you splendid creature.

We could run away together.

No. This minute, I've had an offer from the Merchant Navy.

Will you come?

What? The two of us? Together?

Madly paddling.

Ecstatically. And as a ludicrous moon makes your oil skins almost opalescent,

I'll whisper those two little words.

What words? You know what words.

Hello, sailor.

Have you seen the evening paper?

No, what's in it?

My lunch.

Have some of it. No, get your own.

Where'd you get it at?

That woman up the hill.

Oh, her.

Terrible cook she is.

I broke a tooth in her gravy once.

She gave me some cold spinach.

Eat that, she says.

It'll put colour in your cheeks.

It will, yes, it will.

But who wants green cheeks?

I don't know her again.

I nearly went blind drinking her cocoa.

You can't go blind drinking cocoa.

Well, I knew he did.

How? I left a spoon in the cup.

And this job is brutal, every date is the pits.

The trocadero bootle ain't exactly the ritz.

Travelling round the nation leaves me frazzled and whacked. The only

is the chicks we attract.

Blow me sexy saxophone for her and the snood. One, two, and she's in the mood.

When I was young and bony, I was king of the blues.

Played the symphony at society doos. I recall remarking to the Dutch, it's a

deal. Would you like some crumpet while you're eating your meal? She thought

that I said crumpet and an orgy ensued.

One thing, she was in the mood.

Listen, Neil. Oh, yeah.

When we're through blowing, we'll reveal.

Oh, yeah. Our overflowing sex appeal.

Oh, yeah.

To Rosie Cohen, the rather droopy groupie with a friendly nature.

She's a sport.

The pride of Clydeside. Slightly fraught.

She's got a snide side. No, she's short.

And on the white side, she'll bend over back to do accommodation.

Touring, touring all the roundy summer.

Chairs are getting harder and me bottoms getting number.

I was just attacked by some grey -haired gramps. Well, the big band fans. Oh, a

bunch of muggers. Man, it's really such a zero rocking out the Trocadero. When I

could be touring Cyprus with the great Alan Jamiro.

Swinging, singing like some twit. Pour a few cold lacquered old jitterbuggers.

See you in the pub, I'll be round there quick.

Just me and me licorice stick. And this gig is slowville.

And tomorrow we'll all be drinking Yeovil stout.

When those wallies in the wellies shake their bellies, it freaks me out.

I'll see Ava Thampery, and she's sure to do for me a great big favour.

Though Ava's really quite a raver. At least it's good for me. Go back and make

it big.

So as I was stressing, I am fairly content.

Though it's quite depressing being musically bent.

Passion's always lurking and it's night when I cease.

You will find me working on some popular piece.

When I push without that, all the chicks come unglued.

This house, I'm really in the mood.

Thanks a lot for dancing with you, the boys at the ball.

I can see by glancing at the clock on the wall.

It's goodbye from Pee Wee and from Jackie and Gus.

Time to have a wee -wee and get back on the bus.

Unless it's empty and you've got to conclude.

We didn't draw the multitude. There's no women to be wooed. Mustn't sit around

and brood. Friday night boys up in feud. When we get infused, we'll be in the

mood.

Thank you very much, Ronnie Corbett fans everywhere.

Mainly nowhere.

Now, since the last series, when I read out a letter from an old school chum,

thousands of you have rung up asking me to talk a bit more about my school days.

I say thousands.

Hundreds of you have actually rung up asking me to talk about my school days.

Let's be honest, nobody has rung up asking me to talk about my school days.

is strange, isn't it?

It is funny that when people do call you on the phone, it's always at the most

inconvenient moment. I mean, like last week, for instance, when I'd gone out of

the house for the day, someone rang up while my answering machine was in the

bath.

And it was actually a very important call because we'd just heard that our

eldest daughter, after three years of trying, had finally managed to get into

Oxford.

I told her to stay off that damn ring road, but she doesn't listen.

Now, you may... Now,

you may ask, why is he telling us all this?

Why is he telling us all this?

I had a feeling you were going to ask me that.

No, I seem to have wondered.

Very good, by the way.

I seem to have wandered a bit from the point. I was going to talk about my

school days. And to add a touch of authenticity, I have brought along this,

which I found on top of the wardrobe, one of my old school reports.

St. Crippen's Comprehensive.

R .B. Corbett, Vice -Captain, Wimpy House.

I think it can be very interesting to look back and see how you actually did

school. I mean, here I am today, you know.

To all intents and purposes, an international sex symbol.

Excuse me, I... I have just finished shooting my

new blockbuster feature film.

Rocky 3 1⁄2.

Sylvester Stallone was not available.

No, I only appear briefly in the film, to be honest, as Dolly Parton's

chiropodist.

So I'm working in the dark to allow... Now, here we go.

Here we go.

Maths, pathetic.

Science, awful.

History, terrible.

Geography, abysmal.

English, here we are.

I'm sure that can't be right. English.

His knowledge... Wait a minute, what is it? English. His knowledge... His

knowledge of vocabulary is lamentably deficient.

I knew I was good at something.

I always remember English because I used to sit next to Herbert Wibley, the

school sneak.

He had a very nasty habit of sawing through people's conker strings when

weren't looking.

He grew up to become a vet, if I remember.

brought a tear to my eye.

Music. Music.

Sluggish progress has taken a year to stop him blowing the xylophone.

No, it is true.

I was a bit of a terror at school. I'll never forget we used to put itching

powder in the gym mistress's bed.

Watch the headmaster scratching himself at the same time.

Religious knowledge.

ignorant and lazy, when told to find Joshua in the book of Numbers, rang up

Director Inquiry.

That's it. That is enough of that.

By a strange coincidence, I stopped there because it actually reminds me of

joke, which I am going to tell you tonight, which has rather a religious

and concerns the vicar of a sleepy little parish church, which is slowly

into a state of disrepair. And the vicar is at his wit's end. One morning, he's

sitting there at breakfast. He turns to his housekeeper and he says, Bless my

soul, he said.

Because it's a bit of a do -it -yourself habit.

Bless my soul.

Bless my soul, he said, the place is in a shambles, he said. The roof is falling

to bits, he said.

I've seen death watch beetles in there wearing safety helmets.

What am I to do? And his housekeeper, who was just hoovering the cornflakes,

looks up to him, she says, well, you know what I think, Reverend, don't you?

said, the building is possessed by an evil diabolical force.

He says, no, we paid off the loan to the Happy National Months ago.

No, he said, the whole thing is in need of restoration.

And unfortunately, the clerical coffers are bare.

Well, said his housekeeper, in that case, there's only one solution, she

will have to sell my charms on the streets of the village.

Which news, I mean, you'll do what, the vicar said?

What happens if the bishop finds out, she says?

Well, he'll have to pay the full rate the same as anyone else.

Cut a long story short, off she goes that very night, the housekeeper. A few

hours later, she's back with her purse out on the table. She says, there we

That's not bad for a night's work.

£25 and 10p.

Because £25 and 10p isn't bad at all. Tell me, who on earth gave you the 10p?

She said, everybody.

My name it is Ben Offit and you won't have heard of me. I live with my wife

in a cottage by the sea.

The bloke next door is Billy Biggs who works the promenade.

He's paid himself a fortune selling plenty of lemonade.

I can't afford the things he's got so I borrow them instead.

Last week I felt a proper fool when I broke a double bed.

I borrowed the bloke's next door. I borrowed the bloke's next door. It's a

one, a 50, and he doesn't drink it anymore.

He's had his share of wear and tear, scratches and scrapes galore, but

plenty of life left in it yet, so I borrowed the bloke's next door.

A day last year, my darling wife, she left me on me own.

She slung her hook to London town to visit her sister Joan.

Throughout the week, I couldn't sleep for the first time in me life. And all

night long, I tot and turn because I miss me loving wife.

So, I...

But when my Mary came back home, she caught the city style.

She loved to dance, she craved romance, was love me all the while. I sang to her

love's old sweet song till I was on me knees.

Oh, come on, Ben, again, again, she'd flee for Joel and cheese.

So I throw in the blokes the door.

No, I'm not going to break the door. It's a big one, a beauty, and he doesn't

use it anymore.

He'd had his share of wear and tear, but it was making the law. But I still,

he's got a lovely tone.

I'll blow Scramophone next time.

Now, come on out. I know you're in there.

Flaky!

Will you come out?

I know you're in there.

Right.

Come on, Flaky.

Come on. Come on out.

I know you're in there. Come on.

Come out.

Come on, Flaky.

I know you're in there. Come.

Come.

What's happened? He's not here.

Why don't you try dabbing some TCP on it, sir?

I'm less of a lip, Doyle. Just get back here as fast as you can.

What kept you?

That big jam at Wilwood.

I thought I'd go over Putney Bridge. I ought to have gone across it.

No, Doyle.

I'm sure I don't have to tell you that this department is getting shorter and

shorter on men.

Well, I know that, sir. I was six before when it started.

As a result of this, MI5 and CI5 have decided to combine operations.

From now on, you'll be working with a new partner.

New partner? What new partner?

I'd like you to meet Mr George Smiley.

Smiley by name, Smiley by nature, I see.

Don't be kidding, John.

Put it there.

Thank you.

Now, Mr. Crowley, the precise details, if you would, of the assignment you wish

me to carry out with this teddy boy here.

All right.

Right, gentlemen, now listen to me carefully.

I have reason to believe that I may be under surveillance by an agent for an

enemy power.

You have evidence?

The other night, I woke up and heard someone moving about downstairs.

When I went down, there was a man going through private papers and photographs

in my wall safe.

I made a grab for him in the dark, but he got away, leaving this in my hand.

So we're looking for a man wearing a brown toupee who works in a quiet,

manner.

Well, that rules out Paul Daniels, then, doesn't it?

No clues at all. He dropped this book of matches.

The Glamorama Review Club.

Spend a night with Fiona Richmond. Coach parties welcome.

I want this man found, gentlemen.

And I want him found fast.

This looks like the place.

See, I five.

Oh, the squalid depths that men will sink to. What would their friends say if

they saw them in a place like this?

Mervyn Miracle of Miracle Wigs.

Revolution in baldness relation.

I am.

You recognize this?

I've never seen it before. Come on, you know it's one of yours.

It's exactly like that wig you've got on your head.

Wig? What wig?

This one.

It might be one of our creations, but I'm not free to divulge the owner.

Oh, no, that's mine.

We operate on a totally confidential basis here. It could ruin my business.

Our overheads are ridiculous as it is.

Well, that one certainly is.

You're not going to tell us who sold it to.

Come on.

You're right. Anyone who comes here must be off his trolley. Oh, by the way, Mr

Smiley, your new one will be ready for fitting a week on Monday.

Open this door!

Settle them.

Isn't

that

gorgeous?

Blouse's licence to carry heavy goods.

Do you fancy yourself or something?

Well, girls I have known do say I'm a bit of a...

Well, what are you drinking?

I'll have a large Sheva's Regal on the rocks for a splash of soda, if you don't

mind. What are you going to have?

Could I have a pot of tea for one, please?

Mmm. A tea drinker. I really go for men who drink tea.

So soothing, so masculine.

You're obviously a man who doesn't have to prove a thing.

What are you doing later this afternoon?

That was sensational, George.

Just electric.

How was it for you?

Delightful, my dear. Most delightful.

A little too much sugar, possibly.

Very nice indeed.

Now, I wonder if you can give me a little information.

Did you get it?

Yes, I got it.

What about the information?

This thing is bigger than we thought.

The man that broke into Growley's house was Sir Dennis Truscott, deputy chief of

CI5. What?

Clever girl got his diary.

He is to be taken care of at 4 .30 this afternoon.

He said that?

Growley's life to be dealt with today.

Gone out?

Where's he gone out?

I mean, it's a maniac out there waiting to blow his brains out any second, you

know. I told you, it's his day off.

He's at his amateur dramatic society.

I think they're putting on a little play for the schoolchildren in the park.

Fifteen minutes, come on.

Is that a fresh pot of tea you've made there?

I've got the rope.

Now we'll lay a trap for the wicked weasels

as they come out of the wild.

I've reason to believe that one of you is a mole.

I'm not joking, sir.

One of these men is an enemy agent planning to murder you in cold blood.

Oh, no, he isn't!

Oh, yes, he is.

Oh, no, he isn't!

Oh, yes, he is. Look, I'm not going to stand here arguing with you, am I?

Hey, just a minute.

Is that true, what you've just told me? You mean you didn't know about it?

Well, there's not a moment to lose.

Is there another cup of tea in that pot?

of our documents.

Microfilm. What is it?

Oh, my God.

Oh, no.

Well,

congratulations.

You have managed to knock Eamon Andrews unconscious and completely sabotage an

entire episode of This Is Your Life, which took three months to set up.

Well, I was out to know they were doing one on Growley.

I was out to know Truskett was helping the TV boys with some extra information.

Listen, you don't suppose the chief will be upset?

You know, he's not going to appear in a programme.

Knowing Growley, I would say you're in for a sharp transfer to some other

department.

What department was that then?

Come on out.

I know you're in there.

Are you coming out or aren't you?

I'm terribly sorry. It must be all that tea I've been drinking.

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

few late items of news.

Doctors treating Latimer Rudge, the health service's fiercest critic, said

tonight they are very pleased with his condition.

He's dead.

Today's flag day, in support of the Noise Abatement Society, has been

hopeless failure.

They refuse to rattle the collecting tins.

So, goodness, and there's bad news tonight for Gary Glitter fans.

He's splitting up.

But good news for Joan Collins fans.

She is to star in a new film, an adult version of Wind in the Willows. It's

called Pinned in the Pillows.

The man who blacked out Bernard Manning's one -hour TV spectacular was

from custody today.

The judge said he had already done 60 minutes of community service.

Finally, finally, A shock announcement tonight from Hebden man, Mr. Stratford

Bing, who spent the last 33 years as an estate agent.

He's decided to go straight.

In next week's programme, we'll be bringing you a forthright investigation

why it is that men are not wearing this season's slimline male fashions.

I'll be telling you how I'm just too big in the first place. And I'll be telling

you how he's just too small in the second place.

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

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