All language subtitles for The Two Ronnies s12e01.eng

Good evening, it's wonderful to be with
you for this special Christmas show,

isn't it, Ronnie? Indeed it is, and in a
packed programme tonight, we shall be

meeting a Scotsman who ate the usual
turkey today, and we'll be asking him

he doesn't buy a new one.

I'll be talking to the Polegate branch
of the Animal Liberation Front, who

rescued thousands of turkeys and intend
to release them into the wild as soon as

they're defrosted.

But first, the news.

At a specially convened Geneva Christmas
conference, President Reagan brought

his guitar, Mr Gorbachev brought his
balalaika, and Mrs Thatcher brought her

comb and paper.

The meeting was said to be harmonious.

News has just come in from Sussex that
firemen have freed the drunken bell

ringer who forgot to let go of the rope
and caught his ding -dong merrily on

high.

But now a seasonal sketch in which Mr
Ronnie Corbett appears as little Jack

Horner sitting on a tuffet with Miss
Muffet.

First she shares her curds with him, and
then she has her way with him.

Afternoon, Doctor.

Hello. Champion that you can see me,
it's a short notice.

Well, that's all right, lad.

Me name's... Do come in, Siddharth, and
sit this end down, aye.

You! I know, I've just had Josiah
Ackroyd's lurcher in here having pups

nose. Fair takes the breath away,
doesn't he?

Nay, nay, Pew, me name is Pew.

Oh, I see. I rang thee on the telephone
about me tortoise. Oh, well, he's

nothing like as maybe I remember now,
yes. Let's have a look at the little

fellow. What's the matter with him then,
says he? Well, you see, he's just not

been feeling himself of late, I know.

Well, that's not but divvying it with a
tortoise, you know.

In fact, well, I am possible with them
little stumpy legs.

Yeah, you see, he's not been feeling
himself, and I just reckon he may be a

martyr to some kind of mental stressor.

Maybe we all are, eh? What's to say?

Let's have a little gander at this camp
then, Sither. Come on, get him out. Oh,

well, he's been acting... He's been
acting re -queer, you know.

Fair mithers me, you see. Yeah.

You see, I'm fair mithers.

I'm fair mithers, you see, because his
little legs and little head have been

tucked out of sight all day.

It's as if he's got kind of fed up for
living, you know what I mean?

I mean, has ever seen Outlook so
dejected?

Well, only in the British Rail Buffet.

Then pardon?

Well, you see, Mr. Pew, yon's none of
tortoise.

Yon's none of tortoise? What do you
mean? Yon's none of tortoise. I say,

none of tortoise. Yon's a meat pie.

A meat pie.

I'm a meat pie. Get away.

Oh, I'm telling thee, it's no but
factual.

Yon's a meat pie, and I'd swear that on
me mother's whippet's grave.

Say, thou must be bleeding yourself to
head. Yon's a tortoise, and no mistake.

Listen, if yon's a tortoise, thine's a
chinaman.

I tell you, if one's a meat pie, then
thine's another giant. All right, then.

All right. Up and we'll test it with a
lettuce test. What's to say, eh? Fair

enough. Yes.

Up and lettuce test will settle matters.

Right -o. Here we go, then. Give it
lettuce test.

Yes, lettuce test.

Ha!

It has eaten a little bit, hasn't it?
Oh, of course it hasn't. That little

was in the lettuce to start with, you
barnpot. No, that is a meat pie, admit

Gee, there's no but right the noise.
It's once a meat pie. I'm bound thinking

there's no mistakes, is there?

Just a moment, though.

If it's once a meat pie, what have I
left in the oven

warming up for me dinner?

It's time you got a new suit, you know.

You're beginning to look shabby.

The suit was made to measure.

But the bloke didn't pick it up, so I
had it.

You've worn that jacket ever since I
knew you.

I know, I know.

This was my wedding suit.

Oh, you was married in all, was you?

Yeah, yeah.

My wife was like the ocean.

She was wild and restless and she made
me sick.

Any kids?

Oh, yeah. Yeah.

I don't know how, though. She was so
daft.

When I suggested a family, she went out
and pulled up all the gooseberry bushes.

Having kids with her was like waiting
for a bus.

Nothing happened for ages, then three
come along.

How triplish you are.

Yeah, yeah.

Of course, they're all grown up now.

What were they?

One of each.

A boy, a girl and an hairdresser.

This series, Ron and I thought we'd
treat ourselves to the very best of both

worlds, so we asked two of Britain's top
singer -songwriters to join us. They

are Barbara Dixon and Phil Collins.
Tonight, gentlemen first, I'm delighted

welcome the driving force behind the
group, Genesis, and with his Oscar

-nominated theme from the hit movie
Against All Odds, ladies and gentlemen,

Collins.

How can I just let you walk away? Just
let you leave without a trace.

When I stand here taking every breath
with you.

You're the only one who really knew me
at all.

How can you just walk away?

Cause we shared the laughter and the
pain and even shed the tears.

You're the only one who really knew me
at all.

Turn around, turn around and see me cry.

There's so much I need to say to you.

So many reasons why you're there.

and you have

stand there all on your own.

That's Hamish.

Currently Peter.

Hamish, this is Peter. Peter Hamish. How
do you do? You two have got so much in

common.

I must pop off and do my hair.

Hamish, did Valerie say?

That's right, yes.

Scottish? Uh -huh.

Not Irish?

No.

Oh.

Pity.

In what way? Well, Irish is rhyming
slang.

Oh, yes.

Irish jig.

I don't know any rhyming slang.

No, no, do I really?

I'm not a cockney, you know.

I'm from Barnet.

Barnet is Valerie's maiden name, isn't
it? Barnet, yes. And she's fair, you

She's not fair. She's a brunette.

Well, she's blonde underneath.

Oh, I wouldn't know about that.

So tell me, which town in Scotland do
you come from?

You know, Ayr, I suppose, is it?

Ayr? Why do you mention Ayr? What's so
special about Ayr? Well, nothing,

nothing, nothing particularly.

It's a very nice town, Ayr. You know, I
understand.

It grows on you.

I come from somewhere quite different.

Oh, really? Where?

Wigton in Wigton.

Wigton in Wigton. On the River Wig. I
don't see anything funny about that at

all. It's a very thriving town.

My company... Tell me, what business are
you in? I'm a rug maker.

I make rugs, that's all.

I don't see anything funny about that.
Very necessary things, rugs. What do you

do? I suppose you do something very
vital, do you? Something wildly

do you? Well, I work for British
Aerospace.

I work in the wind tunnel.

Yes, I work in the... I move the
position of the little aeroplane in the

tunnel. Oh, I don't believe you. What
with the wind blowing? Well, sometimes,

yes. Oh, doesn't it tend to be a bit
troublesome at all?

No, not really. Oh, doesn't it blow
things away?

No. Oh, come off it. Your glue can't be
as strong as that.

What are you talking about?

What am I talking about? Why don't you
face up to reality? You're wearing a

I am not. This is one of the worst wigs
I've ever seen.

It looks like a doormat.

I'm not wearing a wig. You're the one
who's wearing a wig.

I deny that.

You are wearing one of the worst wigs I
have ever seen in the whole wide world.

It's like a hat. Well, yours looks like
a ginger cow pat.

I shall poo yours off. Well, I'll stuff
yours down the laboratory.

Now, come on, chaps, break it up.

Keep your hair on. Ah, sure.

Yes, but change that terrible music.
That sitar gets absolutely on my wits. I

will change it. I will change it. I can
never recognize the tune.

Ah.

In the rocking little village of
Battersea, there's a groovy little cup

the Pink Rupi. Where we're selling every
night food to eat or take, we've got

tandoori dishes like your mother used to
make. We're talking crab.

Kebab. Frothy beer on top.

Lambriani. Pakistani papadummer up.

Oh, the women, they are coming from as
far as Patni to nibble my naan and to

chew my chutney. My cashmere flan with a
pear and a peach refreshes the parts

other tarts can't read.

We got onion -barty deep -fried toast to
bring tears to your eyes and a lump to

your throat. Oh, my cauliflower booner
is quite first -class, but you sure fall

down on your chicken madras.

Oh,

a lot of bigwigs make a stop at our shop
when they hurry for a curry with this

Indian dog.

Last week Ted Rogers was here having
fun. He sat

and ate from three to one.

He was stuffing it in.

Finished up with a pain in his dusty
bins.

We got posh, nosh, not shiny or just.

Very nice spicy rice, papadum rock.

Bamboo, chewy gooey, pickles and puff.

Hot and squishy Bangladesh, papadum
rock. Oh, buddy, all this talk of food.

making me famished. I know, absolutely.

I want my dinner now, if I may. Yes, you
want the usual. Yes, please, I have the

baked beans on too. Oh, the baked beans,
I love the native food, yes.

1920, and the act of prohibition sends
shockwaves throughout America.

One by one, the nation's liquor stores
are forced to close down, and even a

young Dean Martin has to come off the
bottle.

But corruption and bribery are
widespread, and there are plenty of

cheap booze if you know where to look.

Jobs are scarce.

Many men go short. But young Rocky
Stallone goes shorter than most.

After three years working as hat -check
boy in a confessional box, Stallone gets

a job as a two -bit cab driver in the
steamy back streets of Chicago.

Hey, Matt.

You do deliveries.

I'd do anything.

When's the baby due?

Got the cracks busted.

Take this to a guy called Tuxedo John.

He'll be waiting outside Macy's
Warehouse on Dockside. That big run

where all the bums hang out?

That's him.

What's in here, I know.

Aftershave, brother.

Just aftershave.

Is this old banger up for hire?

Sure. That makes two of us.

You were looking for a little cheap
company?

I already worked for one.

Oh, come on, Mac.

How's about it?

This month I'm giving away a free set of
wine glasses.

You know, you could have a real good
time for 200 bucks.

I ain't got two big ones on me.

I know the feeling.

for Mr.

Tuxedo Johnson.

I got his aftershave for him.

Aftershave?

Oh, his aftershave.

You know him? Sure. He'll be out any
second.

Okay, Eddie, this is it.

Time to start saying your prayers.

What's this creep doing here?

I thought I told you to keep watch.

I did tell.

He just come to bring you your
aftershave.

My aftershave? Oh, my aftershave, yeah.

What's wrong with your friend?

Oh, he's just taking an afternoon nap.
He gets tired real easy.

Is that why you told him to start saying
his prayers?

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. He likes
to say his prayers before he goes to

sleep. I like that. It's nice.

Give Moose Anne with it.

Mr. Johnson?

What are you going to do with him?

Oh, he likes to go for his afternoon
swim just around about now.

Shouldn't we wake him up first? No, no,
no, no, no. He gets awful sore if you

wake him in the middle of his beauty
sleep.

Beauty sleep?

He must be some kind of insomniac.

meant to be floating on his stomach like
that, Mr.

Johnson?

For a swimmer, he don't seem to be
moving very fast.

Hey, Mr. Johnson, he's sunk.

So are you, buddy.

Come on. Where did they go? I didn't do
anything, officer.

Yeah, and I'm Florence Nightingale.

You smell of cheap liquor.

Okay, let's go.

But, officer Nightingale.

Sentenced for a crime he did not commit,
Rocky Stallone commences the ten -year

stretch in the dreaded state
penitentiary.

He is forced to don the striped uniform
of a common convict, to live like an

animal in a cage.

Incarcerated in his lonely cell, he
counted the days.

until he ran out of toilet paper and had
to improvise.

Eventually, all those days were behind
him.

Eight long years later, he is released
on parole.

As the guard hands back his few...

eager possessions, the moldy sandwich
only serves to remind him of the big

cheese who put him inside.

I hear Rocky just got out of the pen,

boss.

He's got a bullet with your name on it.
That little shrimp.

I dip bigger than him in my boiled egg.

You want to try it?

of this from the loony wraparound of
Britain.

Why can't he use a telephone like
ordinary people?

That's not particular advice.

Your days as a big... Is that a no or an
I?

No. Your days as a big shot are
numbered.

That's all he says.

Looks like he plans to stitch you up,
Tux.

What are you going to do?

Patience, Joanie, patience.

Two can play at that game.

No, only one can play at patience, boss.

Ow.

That's smart.

So, what are you going to do about
Rocky?

I don't think we need to bother about
Rocky anymore. I just sent 12 of the

around there to give him a little
welcome home party.

Oh, my God.

I appreciate you buying me my own
nightclub and my own orchestra and my

audience, but you've got to face it,
Tuck.

I can't sing.

Of course you can, doll.

I'm going to knock them dead tonight,
and if you don't, I will.

Listen, Joanie, I aim to get even with
Tuxedo.

And you can help me.

Thanks, Louie.

You think Rocky would try anything
tonight, boss?

Listen, I got so many guns around this
joint, a cockroach couldn't get in.

When would a cockroach want to come to a
nightclub, boss?

To meet someone on his own intellectual
level, like you.

Yeah, yeah.

is coming to do it up.

You gonna throw me in for a swim like
you did, Eddie?

Yeah. It's time for you to start saying
your prayers.

Because you're going for a sleep.

The big sleep.

Here's a rather amusing story about a
chap who goes to live in Bridlington.

And, by the way, take no notice of this.

I'm sorry it's here, but there's nothing
we can do about it.

That's the BBC for you.

You'd think the least they would do is
sweep the floor before you came on,

wouldn't you?

I mean, this would never have happened
under our old producer, you know, before

he was put on the transfer list to Rugby
Special.

He's been having a few marital problems,
by the way, recently.

Apparently, since he's been out there
covering the rugby matches, he hasn't

scored at home at all all season.

This joke concerns... Oh, it's pathetic,
is it really? I mean, as a matter of

fact, I did lodge a formal complaint
about this just before the show with the

head of Light Entertainment.

And I must say that his reply, nap off,
you four -eyed little plonker, did leave

something to be desired.

I said, look... the audience out there
do not want to see some ugly great

eyesore on the screen.

He said, I know, that's why we put the
packing case.

He said, don't forget, your BBC contract
expires this week, so if I were you, he

said, I'd watch my step lofty. Well, I'm
not standing for this cavalier sort of

treatment anyway. I want to know what's
inside this damn thing. I mean, the one

consolation, the one good thing about
being a comedian is it's the one job

they can't replace you with a machine.

So we'll see what... Good evening.

I don't believe this.

For

goodness

sake. Oh, I shouldn't have said that.
For goodness sake, don't encourage it.

Technology gone mad. There we are. Get
off.

Idea.

idea that a machine like that can do
anything I can do.

I wouldn't mind, but my wife has just
ordered one.

Enough of this sophisticated repartee.
On with tonight's joke. Now, I am

hoping this joke will cheer everyone up
because we are still all a bit upset

here about that incident at lunchtime
when the BBC's lift operator was

sunbathing on top of the building and he
fell off the roof and stopped between

the third and fourth floors.

What with that and a tip -off that an
animal rights group had laced a bottle

rat poison with some BBC coffee.

It's all been a bit fraught.

Now, once again, I have to admit this
joke is not entirely new. In fact, I was

reminded of it the other day while
browsing through a copy of the Tortoise

Gazette.

I've just started taking it ever since I
was bought a tortoise, a racing

tortoise. I've never had a real pet
before. You have to remember I was

up in a very poor and tough
neighborhood.

I mean, my father used to ride shotgun
at a Tesco supermarket, probably.

My goodness, where we lived, you could
be strip -searched going into a

Tupperware party.

I remember we used to live in constant
terror of the local gay mafia,

run by the fairy godfather.

If you refused to pay protection money,
a couple of the boys would come round

and criticise your curtains.

That has nothing to do with the joke I'm
going to tell you, which, as I say, is

about a man who has just moved to
Bridlington.

And, by the way, I must give a wave to
my wife at this point, because it was

actually in Bridlington that we first
met, Anne and I.

She was working on the beach at the
time, on the donkey rides.

It was love at first sight. In fact, she
was so overcome with emotion, she very

nearly dropped the donkey.

Back to the plot.

The chap who has just moved to
Basildon... Or did I say Bridlington?

Well, it could have been either.

But since he's a man who's just got a
job with the Essex County Council, it's

probably best to make it Basildon.

Rather than Bridlington.

Doesn't bloody matter where it was.

The main thing is that one day he is
looking out of his window and coming up

street, he sees a little old man
carrying two enormous heavy boxes, you

one in each hand.

And as he watches the old man, he
struggles up the road with these two

puffing and panting, and he disappears
around the corner. Two hours later, the

chap looks again, and there is the old
man coming back, still gasping for

breath, doubled up with these two
enormous boxes, you see. Well, this goes

day after day.

Every time he happens to look out of the
window, he sees this old man lugging

the two massive boxes about. Well, one
day, the chap has just popped down to

local for a quick one.

But she's out, so he decides to go to
the pub.

On the way, he bumps into the little old
fellow, still staggering along with

these two hefty boxes. He said, excuse
me, he said.

He said, you wouldn't have to have the
time on you, would you? And the old man

puts the boxes down and he mops his
brow. He looks at his watch, he says,

he said, it's 12 .15, he said.

In Nairobi, he said it's quarter to
three.

And in Guatemala, he said it's quarter
past six.

Lighting up 10 in Tibet, it's 3 .37.

The temperature in Rangoon is 83
Celsius.

The FT index is up 6 .2.

ICI has put on 25p.

Elizabeth Taylor has lost two and a half
pounds since last Friday.

In New Delhi, England are 205 per six,
with Gatting on 71.

He said the 10 .37 from Clapham to
Bromley is running nine and a half

late. And Sainsbury's pork sausages have
just gone on special offer in Aberdeen

at 15.

The chap said, that is incredible. That
is the most amazing watch I have ever

seen in my life. And the old man said, I
know, he said, but these bloody

batteries are killing me.

We're cornered, Corporal.

We should be lucky to get out of here
alive.

Probably later than that, sir. What?

Probably later than five, sir, near a
half hour.

I said get out alive, not get out by
five.

Sorry, sir, it's these guns, sir. I
know. I can't hear, sir, with the guns,

Yes. Are we, sir, are we cut off from
the others here? Yes, I'm afraid we are,

Corporal, yes. We can either lie low
here until morning, or you can find a

vantage point and see if you can spot
the enemy.

What do you say?

Thank you, sir. No, no, no, no.

Oh, well, it's up to you, sir. Yes.

I think you'd better get up a tree and
risk it. Oh, thank you, sir. I could

do with one.

do with a cup of tea and biscuits, sir?

It's a bit of a tree and risk it. Oh.

Oh, dear.

Well, go on. Make a start.

Make a start. Make a start.

Make a start. Do I have to repeat every
stupid little word?

Well, it's no need to be personal, sir.
What?

Well, calling me that.

I said stupid little word.

Oh, sorry, sir. I thought you said
something else, sir.

Get on with it, corporal.

Sir, sir, I can't... I can't climb
trees, sir.

What? I can't climb trees. Never could.

Ever since I was a small boy at
Wimbledon, sir.

You never told me that, corporal. What's
that, sir? That you were a bald boy at

Wimbledon.

And I've always loved tennis.

Dennis the cook, sir. Oh,

never mind all that. Look, up on the
ridge there is one of our tanks.

You've got to go up and recapture it,
right?

snipers. Anywhere near a tank is a hot
spot.

Oh, I don't think we are, sir. What?

Anywhere near a Lancashire hot pot, sir.

You're obsessed with food, corporal.

Sir, I can't go, sir. Why not?

My gun's gone wonky, sir.

Well, it snows. I'm the same. Don't
worry about it.

No, sir,

my gun, sir. Oh, your gun.

pocket, sir, and it went off half
-cocked, sir.

That's terrible. You'll have to report
to me to them when we get back to

Canterbury. I tell you what, I'll have
to go myself, corporal.

All right, sir. Are you all

right, sir? Of course I'm not all right.

I'm shot.

Well, it is, sir. I'm hot too, sir.

Shall I get the stretcher bearer, sir?
No, it's too late for that.

Just go and let me die in peace.

Do you want any gravy, sir?

Gravy? Any gravy on your pie and peas,
sir?

I didn't say go and get me pie and peas.
I said go and let me die in peace. Oh,

sorry. Oh, don't worry about it,
Corporal. You're not such a bad chap.

Thank you, sir. We haven't always seen
eye to eye.

Or ear to ear, for that matter.

It's a gun, sir.

Listen, at least...

At least if you get back alive, when I
get up to heaven, they'll say, out of

this mess, you've saved an ordinary man.

Yes, sir. Yes, sir.

Save what, sir? An ordinary man.

Yes, sir, I will. You will what? As soon
as I get back to the mess, sir, I'll

save you a strawberry plant.

It won't please me. Wherever you go, I
can't go to parties.

Christmas dinner.

Homer is as loony as the latter.

Your hat is on fire.

I'm smoldering with desire for Alice in
her winter underwear.

Winter wonderland.

What did I say there? You said
underwear.

Underwear? No, no, no. Underwear,
ladies' lingerie, peekaboo bras, garters

go -betweens. Did I say all that? Well,
you had that in mind.

Well, I'm not as mad as I look.

I'd rather think I overdid the sherry.

I'm drowsy and definitively drugged.

I'm well beyond the stage of being
merry.

As a hare, I do insist on being young.

There's the cook, and there's the
duchess, trying hard to fall into some

fellow's clutches.

I don't fancy yours.

No, I'd sooner be indoors with Alice in
her winter underwear.

Wonderland! With Alice in her winter
wonderland.

Christmas Eve, oh dear me, got to bed at
half past three. Christmas morning,

kids are up adored. Who gave Willie that
hunting horn?

Christmas Day, state of shock.

Try a snifter at ten o 'clock. Knock
back another one, then another five.

Stop that goose, I'm still alive.

Christmas lunch, pour more wine, more
mince pies, I'm feeling fine.

Knick -knack, six -pack bucket full of
beer. I'll go here with Christmas cheer.

Let's play postman's knock again.

Knock, knock, nicky -nack, knickers in a
twist. The queen of hearts, she looks

quite pleased.

One more gin, no more lime. Let's play
sardines one more time.

Perfect strangers disappear in pairs.

Joseph Davis, wife upstairs.

Half past two, time for bed. Let's knock
Christmas on the head.

Knick -knack, pretty wax sleep is on the
way. Start again on Boxing Day.

This dinner has been going on for five
days, off with everyone's heads.

Perhaps you'd care to watch some more
television, my dear.

I don't think I could take any more.

No, I know.

been altogether too much TV this
Christmas.

On the twelve days of Christmas we've
seen upon TV twelve hours of snooker,

eleven hours of bowling, ten curry
peaches, nine Polish dramas, eight

seven brides and brothers, six Nolan
sisters, four Bill and Dean, four

what it's worth, three to one, to the
manor boy, and a speech from the dear

queen.

other queen, my dear, you know, the one
on the stamps. How would you know? You

didn't even see it.

You missed the speech from Buckingham
Palace.

I'm sorry, my dear, I was out with
Alice.

I must say I didn't rate it much. It
wasn't a patch on Starsky and Hud or

Dallas.

Let's not bother with TV, shall us?

It's either the ballet or Maria Callas.

I think I'll give the ballet a miss. I'd
rather watch Fulham at home to Chris.

To Palace.

It's much more fun at this Christmas
dinner.

The turkey this year's an absolute
winner.

If you're talking turkey, I hope you're
aware the king of turkey's over there.

Beautiful.

Off with his head.

I don't advise it, my dear. He'll
probably run around the farmyard for

afterwards. Anyway, there's nobody left
to carry out the orders.

Where's the white rabbit?

He was the third course.

Oh, so he was. Delicious.

Well, where's the neighbour Farts? He's
taken some tarts off to the pictures.

This party is getting out of hand.

as two fat boys with the end of the
table out eating everything in sight.

with their knives and forks.

We're tweedledum and tweedledee. We're
not really twins as you can see. He's

smaller than me. He's fatter than me.
And we both like filling our faces.

We're tweedledee and tweedledum. He's my
friend. He's my chum. We're boarding

away and filling our down like a couple
of properties. Crazy.

Just chips and chips and cheese souffle.

Scallops and dollops of liver pate.

Corn on the cob and creme brulee. We're
bound to be sick in the morning.

There's ham and halibut, haddock and
hake.

Pickles and prawns, sausage and steak.

Truffles and trifles of dipsy cake. We
might go off bang without warning.

Right, that's it. If people are going to
start exploding, then that's the end of

it. It's Alice's fault. Off with her
head. All six of them.

See you next time.

We're so glad you could stay on your
Christmas day with us in our winter

wonderland.

In our Christmas winter wonderland.

you late items of news.

A turkey which escaped this morning from
its pen in Norfolk and managed to get

airborne was judged to be the world's
unluckiest bird when it flew 37 miles

then dropped exhausted into Bernard
Matthews' backyard.

Thieves! Thieves who stole 28 ,000
Christmas crackers containing hats,

and silly jokes are tonight being sought
by the police and Little and Large.

Finally, finally, due to heavy fog
tonight in central London, Peter Pan

land and had to be diverted to
Manchester Opera House.

Next week, in a festive mood, we'll be
taking you out of the studio to where

Grand Order of Water Rats and the cast
of The Mousetrap are having a cheese and

cheese party.

And I'll be meeting the temp who did
some typing for Santa Claus but couldn't

resist a bit of the ho -ho -ho, and now
she's in the Christmas Pudding Club.

It's a Merry Christmas from me. And a
Happy New Year from him. Good night.

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