Original subtitles

Come to Duke of Marlborough Country...

where the big flavour is.

Hello. Since I've changed to Honson and Bedges...

...I've never felt better.

Until then...

...I only had four days to live.

And now...

“I've got five!

Honson and Bedges.

The cigarette that gives you that little bit more.

One number 25.

Ow!

Ja! Butlins!

Ze Englanders, many such prisons have.

But ze worst of all ist ze BBC-ische Schloss Vood Lane.

Billy Cotton Junior, fourth floor.

The security is fantastisch and from this place zer is no escape.

Not only can you not get out of this place,

but you can't get in!

Nichts parken.

Within these walls, there are undreamed of tortures:

ze cheese und tomato - 75p.

Ze strawberry blancmange with real artificial cream - £1.50.

Worst of all, ze Scotch egg - £3.75 plus Wealth Tax, £9.11.

So top security is zis prison zat inside it is ein nuder prison.

These are men who have been caught acting in Colditz,

being escorted to their cells by sadistic floor managers.

There we are. Whoops!

Ve know that von of you is hiding ein short-wave radio.

Lies! All lies, Dr Krappenhauser.

My men are absolutely... erm...

- Innocent. - Innocent!

I know the line, Watley. I know the line.

Innocent. My men are innocent.

And as long as I'm in charge of these men...

As long as I'm in charge of these...

- Men. - Men. I know the line!

I know the line, I tell you.

Men. Men.

It's no good, I'll never remember these lines.

I'm afraid you'll have to go on with the series without me.

For God's sake, pull yourself together.

You think this is bad, you should have been with Antony Steele in The Wooden Horse.

Right. Noele Gordon and I were quite happy together in Crossroads.

And then came the great TV ratings war.

The ITV swept the board.

There was Montreux with the Golden Rose.

But the BBC hit back.

I remember the day when Sir Hugh Carleton Greene flew back from America.

And here is the paper which bears his name upon it, as well as mine.

It was the contract for Colditz.

Quiet! Can't you see the red light's on? We're shooting.

It'll be your turn next, sailor.

Do you think that frightens me? I've done the greatest acting in the world.

For God's sake, stop it, man. They'll get you for overacting.

Stop it! Do as your captain says.

For God's sake, do as he says.

Or I'll transfer you to a maximum security series.

- You mean? - The Larry Grayson Show.

Shut that door.

You chaps don't know what real suffering is.

Wait until you've done 20 years in The Black And White Minstrel Show.

Do you know what it's like to sing Hello Dolly 700 times,

and Toot, Toot, Tootsie, Goodbye 800 times,

and California, Here I Come 900 times?

When deep down, all you want is to sing...

Maybe It's Because I'm A Londoner.

'Ey, cobbers.

It's an Australian actor.

And a very bad one.

We've caught the bloody idiot, who's been writing this TV series.

- Who is it? - Well...

"he's a night washer-up in the Watford Gap cafeteria on the M1, digger.

So, that's why it's so bloody awful.

Now, listen, you've got to write us a mass escape from this series

because I've got a deodorant commercial in Barbados!

He's going to feel this in the morning.

Using ein brilliant series of disguises

from the crummy BBC wardrobe from other series,

the entire cast attempted to escape.

First... Coronation Street.

Then the brilliant Upstairs And Downstairs.

Then Dixon Of Dock Green.

Come Dancing...

On One Leg.

Arr!

Go away. Go away, all of you!

Physician, feel thyself.

That didn't go very well, did it? I think perhaps we didn't articulate clearly enough.

I'd like to do it again, so that those people, who are hard of hearing, or just plain thick,

- can have a second go at the rabbit. - All right.

We're going to go on that again, lads. The groping doctor sketch, take two.

Just a minute. It's absolutely unnecessary to refer to a sketch as that.

"Groping doctor sketch." In the script it says simply, "Doctor and lady patient sketch."

Yeah. But the whole idea is you're trying

to have it away with her on the National Health

and she's not having any of it, is she?

Clever dick. I was at the rehearsals, you know.

She's a woman of easy virtue and she's obviously disarranged her clothing

to blackmail the Queen's surgeon.

All right.

All right, then. Right, right.

The Queen's surgeon sketch with the dirty blackmailing tart...

...take two.

Physician, feel thyself.

Hold it! Hold it!

What did you put all the clobber on for?

We only did this take to make you the decent Queen's surgeon.

I didn't pull her clobber off as the Queen's surgeon, I pulled it off as an actor.

Well, it still didn't get a laugh, did it?

Allow me, allow me to play the doctor,

and I will guarantee you complete satisfaction.

I dunno. He come from the audience, didn't he?

All right, he's barmy. They're all bleeding barmy when they come here.

Don't shout me out, mate. I'm not responsible for it, am I?

We've got here... What's it? "Chuckles Malone?

Rent A Laugh. Clacton-on-Sea."

Look here, I happen to have my references on me.

Getting all this, are you? Bring the mike down a bit.

Des O'Connor crossovers. I have Max Bygraves.

One pie in the face.

And, look here, this one, I've even done News At Ten.

All right. He'll try anything.

- Thank you. God bless you. - All right, then.

You'll have your job cut out this time, believe me, mate.

What we need for this sketch is a couple of poofs in drag.

All right, what is it?

All right, then, the idiot from the audience Malone sketch

with the bird the big knockers and all the...

take...

I say! I say, nurse.

What comes out of cows and rings like a bell?

I don't know. What comes out of cows and rings like a bell?

Dung!

Listen... you screwed it!

How dare you?

You didn't say the line, darling: "Physician, feel thyself."

- Look here, it got a laugh. - That's not the point.

The point is... Stop that.

The whole point of the sketch is you've got to say, "Physician, feel thyself."

- All right, if you have to have it. - Yes, I have to have it.

All right, then. Look here, don't bawl me out, mate.

I've had a hard day. The missus gave me a large screwing last night. I've had enough.

Anytime you like! Outside, then! Outside!

All right! I've seen your bleeding washing hanging on the line.

- All right, then, are you ready? - Yes!

The bloke with the revolving chest and the bird who's flashing the lot

and I'm...

All right, action! I've had enough!

I say, I say, nurse!

What comes out of cows and rings like a bell?

I don't know. What comes out of cows and rings like a bell?

Physician, feel thyself!

You've made a right cock up of this, haven't you?

This was a decent, respectable sketch until you came along.

What are you insinuating, you Equity ponce?

I think you're an infiltrator from ITV.

You're one of Sir Lew Grade's "destroy a BBC sketch a day" men, aren't you?

You step outside and say that.

You must be an infiltrator from ITV.

You're one of Sir Lew Grade's "destroy a BBC sketch a day" men, aren't you?

I'm off the sketch.

It must be here somewhere.

Boy! Come on, boy.

♪ I had her down by the dance

♪ I had her down by the dance ♪

Excuse me, Constable. Have you seen the payoff to a comedy sketch?

I seen "That was no lady, that was my wife" go by half hour on a cycle.

Thank you.

How did he know I was a constable?

What you are seeing at this very moment is the smallest police station in the world.

But I am but a voiceover.

Oh, no, it isn't. This is the smallest police station in the world.

Yes, it will hold three fully-grown policemen or eight large constables.

Lies! That man is lying!

I'm not, I'm standing on my head.

Groans. Groans.

No, this is the smallest police station in the world.

And I should know.

Let us put an end to these rumours.

This is definitely the smallest police station in the world,

and I'm about to incarcerate a criminal in it.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

Yes. And now, live from a window ledge in Peckham...

...Frank Sinatra sings.

Old Red Eyes is back.

♪ Isn't it rich?

♪ Don't you agree?

♪ You with your feet on the ground

Agh!

♪ Hi-diddle-dee

♪ Bring on the clowns ♪

What are you doing on that ledge, son?

I'm not doing anything on it.

There's not enough room to do anything on it.

Unless it's something strange.

I must warn you that anything you say must be as rehearsed this afternoon.

There goes the repeats.

And now the best of Charles Aznavour.

♪ She

♪ Maybe the face you can't forget ♪

Is that really the best of Charles Aznavour?

Yeah. Bloody awful, isn't he?

But now, Constable, the best of Joan Sutherland.

♪ Once a jolly swagman

♪ He diddled in his duffel bag ♪

Just a minute. Are you going to come quietly,

or do I have to use ear plugs?

- Oh! Kinky, eh? - Stop that.

You're trying to turn me on, aren't you?

It's long-haired hippies like you who are responsible

for these wog, takeaway restaurants.

Listen, Constable, I died in the last war for people like you.

If I was alive today, I'd be a trainee suicide.

Did he say suicide?

Did he say internal lodgement fittings?

You won't kill yourself jumping off there, son.

No, this is only a trainee ledge, see?

Splat. I'm still alive.

You can't start at the top right away, you know?

Whereabouts is the khazi in this place?

Upstairs.

I've had enough of you. Now, you, hop it.

Hop it? No, I promised him I wouldn't.

You wouldn't? Wouldn't what?

- I promised him. - Who?

Neville Vile.

Neville Vile?

Neville Vile! Neville Vile!

He's the one who's supposed to be committing suicide.

I was only keeping his place for him.

You see, it was getting near his din-dins,

and he felt a bit faint, and he nearly felled off.

- But I thought that was the whole idea. - No.

No.

If Neville felled off, that don't count.

Neville has to hurl himself forth so he goes, whee, splat, ribs, guts.

It's called family planning.

You see, I have a job of natural impotence.

I am a birth control.

- Are you a precaution? - No.

I'm a Catholic.

You see, one of these days they''ll reckon it's cheaper to have suicides

than give the women the pill.

So, if a woman is in the club,

and goes to the quack and says, “I'm it again for the 15th time,“

he writes out a prescription for the husband to commit suicide.

So they send him to a National Health Service window ledge 50 feet up,

where highly trained staff push him off. Whee, splat!

'Ey. There's no paper.

In the cupboard under the stairs.

Aa-aagh!

Here! It's the governor of the Bank of England.

- And he's left a suicide note. - What does it say?

"promise to pay the bearer £1 on demand."

Ha ha ha!

That must be what they call the falling pound.

Right, then, folks, the very best of Marlene Dietrich.

♪ Falling in love again

♪ Never wanted to ♪

Miss Dietrich, I must congratulate you

on the brilliance of your impression just now, of the Tramp.

Fancy me thinking you was a real man.

Miss Dietrich, I would like to point out that you omitted to shave this morning.

Aa-aagh!

It's the new governor of the Bank of England.

- Here. - Aaagh!

It's the governor of the Bank of Germany.

It's the governor of the soddy Bank of Arabia.

There's another one!

I'll do it before somebody else does.

It's President Ford.

Bingo.

'Ey, there's none in the cupboard.

Here's a couple of quid. Use that.

No, no, no!

Yes, yes, yes.

'Ello, 'ello, 'ello. What are you doing?

I'm directing the traffic, my dear.

If you're a policeman, what am I?

Try these.

Right. Imagine that.

All my life I thought I was a policeman, when I was really a hedge cutter.

For the second time...

"this is The Doggerel Bank Band.

And I am not.

♪ Mr Skillicorn dances

♪ Mr Skillicorn dances

♪ He does it very well

♪ AII by himself

♪ And when he falls

♪ So slow

♪ He floats to the boards

♪ On a wave of applause

♪ Mr Skillicorn's ass hits the floor

♪ Give us some more

♪ Dance like before you fell

♪ Encore

♪ You can't deny he's falling well

♪ Tonight, yes, this was worth waiting for

♪ We laughed

♪ But it's not funny at all

♪ Not any more

♪ Every time he hits the stage

♪ We all of us cackle like hell

♪ But it wasn't funny

♪ When a fat comedian fell

♪ We laugh for him

♪ He falls for us

♪ He strips our tears of laughter

♪ We've been falling for years

♪ And after here comes another time taking its chance

♪ Dance, fool, dance, fool, dance, dance, dance

♪ Where's the rapport

♪ We had before?

♪ Mr Skillicorn, you're no longer fun

♪ Outside the trains have ceased to run

♪ We're willing to go home if only you'd admit you're done

♪ You're old, but the moon outside is still young

♪ The night is still young

♪ Mr Skillicorn dances ♪

♪ Oh, Susanna

Whoa! Tonto, look!

There's a golf hole in distress.

Wentwoflh.

And it's a birdie.

White man come. With athlete's foot.

Sir, you're standing on my hole.

You must be a funny shape.

That's why I wear a mask.

Who's a-saying so?

Matt Dillon, Marshall of Dodge City,

Royal and Ancient Country Club. No Jews.

We're giving you five minutes to get your balls off my green.

Are you calling me and my successful TV series a lie, sir?

No, sir. Me and my even more successful TV series is telling you

to get your balls off my green.

That's fighting talk from where my successful TV series comes from.

OK. Me and my even more successful TV series

is challenging you and your successful TV series to a shoot out,

high noon, Stars On Sunday, 6:15, Yorkshire Television, Colour.

♪ He gave us some daffodils and squashy marshmallows

♪ Delicious Barbara CartIand and Readers' Digest

♪ And nice little puppy dogs

♪ Yes, God made them all ♪

♪ Land of hope and glory ♪

Hey, that's my hole.

Lone Ranger, I'm taking you in for the murder of John Hanson in Stars On Sunday.

John Hanson, I'm taking you in for the murder of The Desert Song.

Lone Ranger, I'm arresting you for a bad impression of Schnozzo Durante.

I love you, Matt Dillon.

- Partner, you're dead. - I'm not that dead.

- Am I, Matt? - No, of course, John.

- Let's do a TV series together. - Yes.

♪ God made ♪

♪ Them all ♪

This Sunday...

"the third after Pontefract...

"the parable of the Good Samaritan...

...will be read by Police Constable Sergeant.

And I say unto you...

...evening, all.

And it come to pass that a man, Jewish, five-foot-three...

...he was proceeding along the Jerusalem-Jericho highway.

But he exceeded not the speed limit.

Then he pulleth up for he hath need of a bush,

an of fence that can bring a fine and 30 days.

There springeth out on him three thieves who beateth out of him the crap.

And, verily, he flaketh out.

Then come night, lighting up time, 7:23...

...and the snow falleth on him.

And, verily, by morning, thou could strike matches on them.

And many travellers, seeing him, passed by on the outside lane...

...saying he must beam as a newt.

But there cometh the Samaritan,

and seeing him flaked out, he bound up his wounds,

pouring in oil and vinegar.

And the victim screameth, sayeth...

..."Hast thou never heard of Elastoplasts?"

Then...

The the Samaritan setteth him upon his own ass.

Registration: RU 12.

And he taketh him...

And he taketh him to an inn...

where they had a good night.

On the morrow, he giveth the innkeeper tuppence.

Which was later brought up in evidence against him.

Evening, all.

Excuse me. Are you "That was no lady, that was my wife"?

- Oh, no, I'm a much better payoff than that. - What's that?

- Physician, feel thyself. - Absolutely correct.

Thank you. Isn't that wonderful?

Physician, feel thyself.

Really wonderful. It really is.

And very good too. That really is good.

- Physician, feel thyself. - Physician, feel thyself is correct.

♪ Land of hope and glory

♪ Mother of the free

♪ Who made thee mighty

♪ Make thee mightier yet

♪ Wider still and wider

♪ Mighty power...

♪ ..land for ever

♪ Make thee mightier yet

♪ God... who made thee... mighty

♪ Make thee mightier yet ♪

Well, now you can see what's wrong with the country.

Well, the show starts here, and it goes like this:

Good evening.

Seems to be going all right so far.

Good evening. Good evening. Good evening...

Good evening. Good evening. Good evening. Good evening. Good evening.

16 good-evenings, where we used to do with one.

That shows the level to which the English good-evening,

along with the pound, has fallen.

Do you know, it takes 17 English good-evenings

for one American good-evening...

...and 33 and a half English good-evenings

for one West German guten-Abend.

However, in Tunisia, you can still get two good-evenings for one hello-sailor.

Yes, our language has been inflated beyond all recognition.

"To be or not to be"

has gone up to "three B or not three B".

Almost double.

In 1899, this was the value of the English get-out.

Get out!

- Today... - Get out!

Cock-up number three.

Today, Open University introduces a new crash-course for late-comers.

It will combine ad, economics, English grammar,

nutrition, history and music.

We start at Sotheby's, where the late Lord Woburn

is auctioneering some of his priceless collection of..

"Magnificent Ming vase, which must be worth...

"nothing.

100 guineas!

- Too late, madam. It's already gone. - Ohh...

Lot number two. A magnificent rasher of bacon.

Do I hear 1,000 guineas?

No, you bloody well don't!

Shall we start, then, with £3.10?

Zwei hundred guineas!

Any advance on zwei hundred guineas?

Ja. Drei hundred guineas!

I am bidding against myself,

because I want to suffer.

- Sold to Adolf Hitler for... - Argh!

Pardon?

Upon my soul! Ach, Himmel! Mein Herr today, there and everywhere!

This is ein kleiner Nacht-bacon.

Genuine, but I fear it hath been streaked, a-pitter-patter-plon.

Streaky bacon? Ve march on Denmark tonight!

I vill not have streaky bacon.

You go down, down, down there. Down! Kill them all!

Ah!

If that's how you feel, I doth most strongly commend a second opinion,

from the Hunchback of Notre-Dame.

Zat loony? He's only made three films.

Just raise your left hand a little lower, my dear.

Now, zen...

Now, zen, Quasimodo..

Is zat ein real Sainsbury's bacon?

Absolutely correct.

That is a genuine Sainsbury bacon...

80 wonderful points.

So, ladies and gentlemen, a great big hand for Mr Adolf Hitler of Berlin.

Thank you, boys.

And there goes the bell for the next contestant.

- Sing! ♪ Deutschland... ♪

By golly! Look. It is Gerald du Mauriefs son, Svengali.

Ein Russian Hypnotischer.

Into his mince eyes I must not look.

There's been some mistake, Mr Svengali.

I can't sing.

Oh?

Well, where is my beloved trilby?

On the beloved 'atstand.

Listen, my dear. What is a fine girl like you, with zwei grosse boobs and good Aryan,

doing with this pop-eyed Russian creep?

Well, 'e thinks I got a nice voice.

He's blind!

Ve march on his things tonight.

Ladies and gentlemen, we march on his things tonight.

There's no colour bar in an Adolf Hitler war.

Get in one today.

It is time for your fit, fuhrer.

It's Bill Haley and the Comets.

The forest is on fire! The forest is on fire! The forest is on fire!

The forest is on fire! The forest is on fire! The forest is on fire!

Listen. It is the sound of horses' heaves.

It might be eine beautiful girl.

The sound of a carriage and pair was heard. It pulled up outside a comedy sketch.

In burst Sherlock Holmes and Mrs Watson.

My word!

Water the horses.

With a tigerish bound, I crossed the room and, with one paralysing right cross,

I felled the German Flasher, Hitler of Munich. Thud!

Likewise, Svengali. Kapow!

I was set upon by another ten Svengalis and 16 flashing Hitlers.

I felled them all. Splam!

Still they came. A hundred Tatars on horseback.

I beat them off with my bank statement.

Suddenly I heard the sound of Liszt trapped inside a piano.

It's Scott Joplin. You're just in time for one chorus of Chopin's Minute Waltz.

Next week's late study group will be on Saturday at 3:34am.

And now you can see what's wrong with the bloody country.

I love that!

And now... Quasimodo: is he bent?

I am Valentine Dyall, your friendly district actor.

I've been operating Quasimodo's hump for the last 87 years.

It's been a good life, and the pay is good.

♪ We bring you melodies from out of the sky

♪ My brother and I ♪

Hello. I'm Bob and Alf Pearson, the white Three Degrees.

We've had a lot of... Shut up. A lot of fun.

A gottle of geer. Shut up. We've had a lot of fun,

singing through Quasimodds knees,

but then, of course, we're used to playing low joints.

Shut up!

Hey, take no notice of all this crapology.

Hey, I've been trying to escape...

Hey, is this another jailbird?

Hey, hey, will you listen to me? Wait a minute.

I've been trying to escape from Quasimodo's feet

for nearly 200 years now.

I'll tell you... Hey, I'll tell you...

Wait a minute. Now, listen to me. Listen.

I'll tell you: it's hell down there.

Hey, listen. I'm getting athlete's foot all over.

It's time to go, son.

- Not again! - Bye-bye, blackbird.

Hello, sailor!

Serve aboard the Quasimodo bum-boat. Arrr!

It's a man's life, defending the southern approaches.

Now, remember: there's a Government health warning

on the tail of every sailor's shin. Arrr!

It's exactly nine Quasimodos,

so over to the news room for the vegetables.

Uganda. Carrots have been reported growing along the tense Tanzanian border.

From Kampala, Christopher Hassle reports.

The carrots are new to Uganda.

Therefore, the nice President Amin is being viewed with suspicion.

A spokesman for the gandan government said,

"This is a tissue of lies.

There are no truth in the matter.

These are Chinese carrots on a peace-growing mission."

Christopher Hassle, BBC News, Belfast.

Reports from farmers say

onions have started appearing in people's gardens,

apparently attracted by the good weather.

Mr Callaghan is standing by, ready to fly out.

Mr Wilson has urged people to eat as many as possible,

to keep numbers down.

In an interview, Enoch Powell said

they should never have been allowed into the country.

In London, Mr Callaghan is standing by, ready to fly out.

And now over to Bed Ford for tonight's Body Report

Well, it's been another one of those days.

Down here in the southern areas, it's been very hot and steamy.

But in the... in the Home Counties...

"temperatures have been normal for this time of the year,

falling off later tonight.

Further up here in the Midlands,

there's been a lot of turbulence and gale-force winds.

But they should be moving south during the night...

...and blowing themselves out towards tomorrow morning.

Now, this front looks more interesting up here.

There could be snow on high ground.

Therefore, there could be a lot of fun on these slopes early tomorrow morning.

This area here's very overcast at the moment,

but it should move down here by later tonight...

...and off altogether, leaving a nice, clear front for the rest of the night.

And now over to Stan Tracey, where he's playing Panama Red.

I must get there quickly.

♪ Jazz

Ah-so. Chop-chop.

You all thought I was gonna be Chinese, didn't you?

Ah.

Hands up, you Pommy swine. I want to buy a gun.

- What kind of gun, sir? - One that goes bang.

I can see through this man.

I'm going to foil him.

Here, sir.

Have you ever had the feeling this has all happened before?

OK.

All right, blue eyes, this is a stick-up, you Pommy swine.

Er, excuse me, sir, there must be some mistake,

because my eyes are actually brown.

Er, let me correct this, er, for you.

Well, hurry up, I'm on a double yellow. It costs £6 now.

"Hands up or I'll pump you full of lead, you dirty rat, you."

Ah, well, in that case, you'll need these.

Hands up.

Don't try anything funny. I get the laughs in this show.

You'll find those quite lethal if you put them in a gun.

And so shall I.

Funny. While I'm talking to you,

I get the sensation that this sketch is really going my way.

Rubbish! I've got some boffo jokes here. Listen to this.

I say, I say. Why are two Union Jacks like Margaret Thatcher's knickers?

I don't know, you Pommy swine,

why are two Union Jacks like Margaret Thatcher's knickers?

Because no power on Earth can pull 'em down.

Will you hurry up? I want to buy a razor.

- Your bill, sir. £96. - This is robbery.

I can't afford this. Put it on my account. Credit number 3-4-2-9-C...

No, no, it's 3-5-3... No, no. It's a lie. I tell a lie.

It's 3-5-T-2-1-8. No, it's a lie too.

- t's 5-9-T... - Would you find it any easier... Excuse me.

- Would you find it any easier to pay cash? - All right!

All right, if that's the way you feel. Hand me the contents of the Jewish piano.

Ah, the Jewish piano, yes.

Here we are, sir.

One pound.

A quid?

Now you can tell what's wrong with the country.

In London, Mr Callaghan is standing by, ready to fly out.

♪ Lovely lady, I'm falling madly

♪ In love with you

♪ It's a feeling

♪ Beyond concealing

♪ What can I do?

♪ Take my heart

♪ It's yours alone

♪ Keep it for ever

♪ Lovely lady

♪ I'm falling madly

♪ In love with you ♪

Thank you, boys.

“And the earth shall take him, but only before or since...

Whereas he goeth before, he goeth not early..."

"...later in the day,

but at a distance,

and when it mouldeth him, like the cricket bat..."

"...that drifteth on the screen,

what they picketh up and putteth down...

surely, the wind goeth up the chimney."

Molly? Molly? Molly!

I think it's for you, Mrs Bognor.

- Is that you knocking, Len? - I definitely feel much better, Molly.

Lie still for a minute. It might wear off.

No, darling.... I don't think I'm dead any more.

Get the screws out, John.

Sorry about this, folks.

- Who's that? - It's me, John. Your son.

Oh. What's the weather like?

Lovely.

You'll be cutting the grass this afternoon.

Better than pushing it up.

This is the Nine o'clock News.

Stop this funeral at once.

I am Inspector Dustbin from the Yard.

I arrest you all for the ritual burial alive

of Peter Woods and the Nine o'clock News.

- All right, Peter? - Yes, thank you, but it was a near thing.

At Downing Street today, a miner's leader held talks with Mr Wilson.

Mr Callaghan is standing by, ready to fly out.

Aye, they do a lot of it...

Fine day for this.

What?

♪ We'll do the hailing When other ships are round us sailing

♪ We're riding along on the crest of a wave

♪ And the world is ours ♪

All right. That's enough.

Now, from now on, this is no professional show.

It's a sort of party where everybody's got to get in together

and enjoy themselves.

And we're especially glad there's so many sergeants here.

One thing we love to see is sergeants.

It's the only time they sit down, shut up and listen.

These happy sounds of idiot laughter,

hammering and banging...

...are in fact the happy sounds

of idiot laughter, hammering and banging.

They belong to England's only idiot Scout troop.

They all joined when they were seven

and have failed every knot-tying test,

woodcraft and fire-lighting test.

But such was their enthusiasm,

that Lord Baden-Powell

did not have the heart to tell them.

Strangely enough, this year, they have shown

remarkable powers of recovery.

They can now dress themselves.

Let us go inside and speak with their Senior Sixer.

♪ On The Crest Of A Wave

♪ AII our eyes on the distant horizon

♪ Look out for passers-by... ♪

...I am Lord Baden-Powell.

What a wonderful memory for names, folks.

All right. Now, tell me this, sir.

Who are these gentlemen hanging from the beams?

They're learning to untie knots.

And they're getting knotted. Isn't that wonderful? It really is. All right.

And what's this over here?

- Ow! - These Scouts...

Ow!

- Ow! - These Scouts

have solved the problem...

- Ow! - ..of putting jigsaw pieces together

that don't fit.

Ow!

Linda Lovelace has asked to see me.

Now, what's this over here?

- Er... well, Your Majesty... - What's this here?

I'll...I'll get this. I'll get this. Erm...

That is one of the cups

that we drink out of.

Now, tell me this, sir: why is he smashing them?

Because he don't know how to wash up.

Really wonderful. It really is. Now, tell me this, sir.

Why is this gentleman over here...

Why is he mending them?

We can't afford new ones.

This is the sex class.

All the men in here

are over the age of 70,

and the day can't be far off when they...

...go blind.

Turn the lights out.

Now, this is a woman.

Isn't that wonderful? It's a woman.

Lesson one.

Now, then...

That's really wonderful. It really is.

Yeah. This is the advanced Mensa class, Your Majesty.

And now... a brain test.

Gilly-gilly-gilly...

Which one of those coconuts

is the piano under?

That one?

No. It's under this one.

Ha... ha... ha.

Now, then, we have great difficulty

in remembering tunes in this class,

but we have mastered the note of G,

and, using that, Your Majesty,

we are going to sing Ralph Reader's Riding Along On The Christopher.

Ah!

♪ Riding along on the crest of a wave

♪ And the sun is in the sky

♪ AII our eyes on the distant horizon

♪ Look out for passers-by ♪

So, with this sort of youthful enthusiasm and ingenuity,

Baden-Powell can rest in his grave.

- What's this? - Those are the Sea Scouts.

A man has managed to escape

from Butlin's holiday camp.

The police say he managed to get past the Redcoats

and got as far as Poof ins...

...where he's being held for £15 a week.

Butlin's are holding the man's wife and four children hostages.

Mr Callaghan is standing by, ready to fly out.

Now you can see what's wrong with the bloody country.

♪ God save our gracious Queen

♪ Long live our noble Queen

♪ God save our Queen

♪ Send her victor... ious

♪ Happy and glorious

♪ Long to reign over us

♪ God save the Queen ♪

Good evening.

Now there's someone else to say good evening.

I'm sorry about that. What I should've said was

here is somebody who is going to try and say "good evening".

However, he'll be appearing later on in the programme with a second try

at saying "good evening". By the way, I've suddenly realised,

if you've just switched on, what I'm saying must make absolute rubbish to you.

- So what I'll do is I'll recap. - Well, I hope she's satisfied.

Satisfied, right. That's the second time tonight. Anyhow...

All right, what happened was this, you see.

I said, "Here is a man who's going to say "good evening," but he said...

Hello, Lord Louis Mountbatten. Ha-ha-ha!

That's puzzled me, because the first time I announced him, he said...

And the second time I said he was gonna say, "Good evening," he said,

"Hello, Lord Louis Mountbatten. Ha-ha-ha!" Why? Why!

What is wrong with a man saying hello to Lord Louis Mountbatten?

That man was serving with me in the Navy.

Hello, sailor.

How did he do that?

By the way, have you ever done this without an aphrodisiac?

♪ Maria, I've just met a man called Maria

IAnd suddenly that name

♪ Will never be the same... ♪

Oww!

I couldn't resist that. Beautifully marked, and downwind, too.

But on the whole, I'd rather be in Philadelphia.

With the petrol price today, it's the only way to travel.

Last week, we visited the Septik River tribes in New Guinea,

and in Melanesia the Aku-Aku islanders and their mysterious belief

in Thor Heyerdahl, the god of sinking rafts.

This week we visited a lost white tribe

on whom no human eye has ever set foot.

Mysterious, strange, and remote.

They, for instance, believe that if you post a message

in the mouth of this iron god,

a horned uniformed devil will come, rip open the stomach,

take out the message, and lose it forever.

Therefore, there is no written language.

However, they communicate with this strange wooden box,

on which they pound out incessant rhythms.

Bloody thing... won't work.

Bloody thing... And so on and so on.

Good evening. Here is the Nine O'clock News. In London...

They speak a strange patois.

They, for instance, call these the apples and the pears.

The apples and the pears. And they believe if you ascend these apples and pears,

you come to a room where a white goddess awaits you.

He strips away his drab exterior plumage

to reveal a surprisingly delicate underlayer.

To arouse the female further, he dons what are called "winceyette pyjamas".

Now, by drawing his fingernails across his body,

he induces a pre-sexual trance.

And the ceremonial vessel, called the gazunder,

is taken out and purified for the night.

These are powerful tribal totems.

These sects gather here in large numbers,

especially in the mornings and the evenings.

At these hours the tribes become visibly agitated,

rushing in all directions with seemingly no purpose in life.

They are trying to catch one of these.

Huge red landlocked monsters which roam the concrete jungle.

They only appear very rarely,

and when they do, for protection, they appear in lines of up to 20.

Members of the tribe vie with each other to try and catch one.

The monsters are tended by a black tribe from another land called Pa-ki-stanis.

They chant to the crowd, "No standing on top. Pass along the bus, please.

And there's another one behind."

We leave the forest and travel overland...

and we came to a great septic river.

We cross into a great coin-operated valley

where the natives seek their food.

Can you ask the hunter what he is do-ing?

Certainly. I'll try.

'Ere, Eric, this is gonna kill you.

Go on, tell us, I can't wait.

This geezer 'ere wants to know what you're doing.

Well, I'm fr yin' bleedin' fish, ain't I?

He says he's frying bleedin' fish.

Frying bleeding fish.

And you can tell him it's a right bloody job an' all,

because soppy ha'pence come in here, asking for a piece of rock,

two of skate and six penny of chips and give you a 20 quid note to pay for it!

It makes me bloody spit!

He says the gods are angry.

The, argh, hunter...

The hunter has caught a tortoise in the boiling rock pool,

and has placed it on a piece of matting that the natives believe

comes from the sun.

Argh!

This is the day of the sun,

when the males of the tribe pay homage to the family god,

which is revered and worshipped above all else.

Hello!

- Hello. - Mo-tor car.

Motorcar, yes. A 3.4 litre Jag, twin overhead camshaft...

This is a member of the AA tribe,

who are looked down on by the great RAC tribe, who live in another world.

- It's a snip at 380 quid. - What?

These are the famous disappearing holes.

People go down here and are never seen again.

With the aid of a tribal elder, we decided to investigate.

Pardon me, tribal elder, to get the thing done here,

you are now famous and on television.

Oh, yeah, course I well remember, when I was just a little nipper,

they told us a story about another tribe called the Micks. The Micks.

Now then, they came from far across the sea,

and they brought all this here clobber with 'em.

How did this clobber come about?

And why does it strike terror into the hearts of all men who see it?

Now this delicately woven piece of paper is etched "Ladbrokes, Mill Reef,

two-dash-stroke each way."

What is that mysterious reef?

Is it the one that Thor Heyerdahl foundered upon when,

with a raft made of Guinness bottles and potatoes,

he set out to prove that St Patrick discovered Golders Green?

These and other things are still unanswered.

This is the commuter tribe.

So much do they fear the light of day

that they seek refuge in these ancient, dark tunnels.

And they rush forward blindly, seeking safety in great iron boxes

into which they are crushed and sealed,

and then driven off to distant places, like Chipping Sodbury,

Lewisham, Mill Hill, Barnet East, Catford.

The Cock-a-nees build these delicate wayside shrines,

and such is their reverence for them that they keep the insides spotlessly clean.

Particularly moving is the sacrifice by the Cock-a-nees of the iron bedstead,

the pram and the bicycle frame to the ever hungry gods of the village pond.

This is a temple that no woman can enter.

This is Bed Terrible,

a handmaiden of the temple.

He worships the sacred pools called Littlewoods.

The Cock-a-nees come here and seek relief in these cells of meditation.

Let us listen to them at their devotions.

No more bleedin' curry for me.

If we linger a while, we might hear the song of their great water god...

A fitting ending to these people called the Cock-a-nees.

Now, what will happen to these people when civilisation catches up with them?

Get out of it! Get out of the bleedin' way, will ya? Ooh! Agh! Ooh!

Get out of the way!

Ooh, if an injured cricketer can have a runner,

why can't a newsreader have an emotional conscience?

Good evening. Here is the Nine O'clock News.

Dead on time. Not like your bloody British railways. Late, late, late.

The news is only on time because we sleep here, that's why.

Today... Today, the Queen...

held a garden party which was attended by nearly a thousand people.

Yeah, but not me. Not Corbet Woodall, no. All the silly old poofy tarts

with the feathers, and those poof y Guards' officers. Haw-haw-haw.

But not butch Corbet Woodall, no.

I flew Fairey Swordfishes during the war.

It was worth a knighthood just to get into one of those things. The Queen,

the least she could do for me is to give me the ''oh'', or the "mmm", or the "look".

Last night, two young climbers were trapped by the Urals.

I beg your pardon, that should have read "trapped in the Urals".

We all make mistakes. It's a wonder we don't make more mistakes

reading this rubbish. Try saying "disestablishment parliamentarianism"

after three hours at the bar with Billy Cotton, Jr. Try saying "Billy Cotton, Jr"

after three hours in the bar with disestablishment parliamentarianism.

Same old... all day long. Achild's head caught in railings,

crippled Jewish vicar caught in lift. I broke my leg falling off a ladder.

Nothing on the news about that. “Corbet VVoodall broke his leg.“ Nothing about that.

The blood's congealing in my sock.

- Hurry up, they close at half-past ten. - Today the...

Today the National Union of Topless Dancers called a nationwide strike.

Their spokesman Miss Tania Armitage said, "It's like this. Two out, all out."

Have you seen them? United we stand, divided we fall.

In Parliament today, replying to Mrs Thatcher,

the Prime Minister said there are far too many knockers in Britain.

Your next news will be at 11 o'clock.

- And then I'll be stoned out of my mind. - And so, good night to you.

And a... ..to the lot of ya!

The words from this song are taken from a poem I wrote

for my children's school play in lieu of school fees.

And it's been set to music by the chap at the piano. His name is Ed Welch.

What? Where?

♪ There was a baboon who one afternoon

♪ Said" think I will fly to the sun"

♪ So, with two great palms that he strapped to his arms

♪ He started his take-off run

♪ Started his take-off run

♪ Mile after mile he galloped in style

♪ But he never once left the ground

♪ "You're running too slow," said a passing crow

♪ "Try reaching the speed of sound

♪ Reaching the speed of sound"

♪ So he put on a spurt, my God how it hurt

♪ The soles of his feet caught on fire

♪ There were great clouds of steam as he raced through a stream

♪ But he still didn't get any higher

♪ Still didn't get any higher

♪ Racing on through the night both his knees caught alight

♪ And smoke billowed out from his rear

♪ Quick to his aid came a fire brigade

♪ And they chased him for over a year

♪ Chased him for over a year

♪ Many moons passed by

♪ Did baboon ever fly?

♪ Did he ever get to the sun?

♪ I've just heard today that he's well on his way

♪ He'll be passing through Acton at one

♪ Passing through Acton at one... ♪

Here, how many of you recognised Mrs Mills in that new disguise? Did you notice?

- By Jove, I enjoyed that swim, Jim. - So did I, Eric.

- It's not real water, you know? - No, no.

It's only a piece of paper with the water painted on it. That's why we're not wet.

As we're dry, why don't we do a sketch on land together?

Spiffing idea. Let's do it over here where we were marked

- for the rehearsal this afternoon. - Ah. Ah, yes, strikes.

Knock-knock-knock on the invisible door.

Come, come, coming along the invisible hall. Walk, walk, walk.

Click, squeak, crunch, open.

Hello. We have reason to believe that you are a man standing in an invisible hall.

Yes, but he's out. Can I help you?

Yes. We are Jehovah burglars.

- But... I'm not Jewish. - I'll come to that later.

Me and my friend here are being persecuted for our beliefs by the police.

- What are your beliefs? - We believe you've got...

- a lot of good silverware and stuff like that. - Good heavens, that's absolutely true.

We only believe in the absolutely true.

- What are you doing? - You!

But why are you removing

that very valuable silverware?

It should be kept in a safe and it's mine.

We have a disbeliever here, brother. We must convert him.

Kneel down and say after me, "Oh, my bleedin' head."

Oh, my bleedin' head.

Here comes the ground.

Nah-nah. Sergeant, there has been a distinct thud on the head

at 365 Hagley Road, Birmingham.

This is a job for the police.

♪ We'll be seeing you... ♪

Here, they're playing our song.

Pardon me, sir, we have reason to believe

that a lump on a head has been committed at this address.

- Heel, Fang, heel. - "Heel, Fang," he says.

I'm sorry, sir, I shall have to arrest

your wrists with handcuffs.

- In connection with what? - The rest of your arms.

You can't arrest me. I'm a distant cousin of the Queen.

This puts me in a very difficult position.

- Lend him a quid until he's straight. - Heel, Fang.

- "Heel, Fang," he says. - Ssh. Sergeant,

I can hear someone coming down the stairs.

- Quick, let's run out of shot. - Where's there to pray?

This could mean promotion for you.

Ooh, I'm sorry, burglar, my wife thought she heard policemen down the stairs.

Nee-nah, nee-nah, nee-nah.

- Well... - Nee-nah, nee-nah, nee-nah.

Nee-nah, nee-nah, nee-nah.

Trying to escape, eh? I arrest you for being Houdini,

and while I'm here, give me a kiss.

- Darling, let me explain the mystery to you. - Yes.

You see the reason why these handcuffs fall off my wrists

is because I'm thin through malnutrition brought on by VAT.

This man needs a VAT-free diet.

We must hurry. That joke didn't get a laugh.

We must get this man to a criminal wrist- fattening restaurant as soon as possible,

otherwise he may die. Then the charge would be, bom-bom-bom-bom, murder!

♪ Oh, Rosemary

♪ I love you

♪ I'm always dreaming of you

♪ No matter what I do

♪ I can't forget you

♪ Sometime I wish that I had never...

- Heel, Fang. - "Heel, Fang," he says.

I say, I say, waiter, do you serve wrist-fattening foods here?

Yes, sir. Sit down. We serve anybody.

I say, I say, what's this fly doing in my soup?

That was no lady, that was my wife.

Waiter, waiter, why did the chicken cross the road?

Because no power on earth can bring it down.

Waiter, waiter, why's my dog got no nose?

To get to the other side.

- Now, any particular wine? - Yes, any particular wine.

De-da-da-da-da-da! Listen, it's time for the cabaret.

Ow!

And now... Testing, testing, testing.

Hello, hello.

The Revere at Caflord is proud to present, from merry Hong Kong,

the cabaret sensation of the year, 1929, Miss World.

And here he is, China's very own Gro Ti Thing.

Ohh!

OK, Lotus Blossom, take it away.

Ow! Agh.

Oww! That hurt! Oww!

A funny thing happen to me on my way to studio.

I go in fish and chip shop, I say, "Have you any more chip left?"

He says, "Yes." I says, "Serve you bloody right for making so many." Ha-ha-ha-ha.

Oh, well, you can't win 'em all.

Now, for my first trick, is there thin criminal in audience?

This could be my lucky night.

Give a big hand for this man. Ha-ha-ha.

Ow!

I'm not really Gro Ti Thing, I'm really a police,

and I've trapped this thin-wrist criminal in his lair.

Don't come out, cos I'm coming in.

Oww!

Dee-dee, dee-dee. I reck...

Ladies and gentlemen, I've been in many police sketches in my time,

and this has been one of them.

Evenin' all.

Oh.

And now it's time to play

Where Does It Hurt,

and here is your master of "sorrowmonies", Oily Grin.

Thank you, thank you, ladies and gentlemen, thank you,

and I mean that most sincerely, I really do.

Tonight, folks, we're gonna play Where Does It Hurt,

a game where we here in the studio draw attention

to all those wonderful sporting contestants who are in pain and suffering.

The way we play it is this. If you can think of any aspect of human agony

that'll bring this game alive,

just write it on a postcard and send it to us, c/o Where Does It Hurt

Remember this. One person's suffering can bring a great deal of pleasure to others.

I mean that most sincerely, I really do. And I mean that most sincerely.

All right, here we go. I'd like you to meet our wonderful hostesses.

Here they are. Victoria Sylvester.

And Platter Du Jour.

A big hand for these two wonderful girls.

And you certainly need a big hand for these two wonderful girls.

All right.

Now, ladies and gentlemen, all right. Here we are. I'd just like to describe to you

the way we play Where Does It Hurt. Don't forget, every contestant

that comes on this programme is going through some son of physical discomfort

Now over here, ladies and gentlemen, we have the painometer.

Now this painometer will register your applause and laughter

at what the contestants are suffering in order that they may entertain you.

Isn't that wonderful? It really is. All right, here we go.

Victoria, who is the first contestant who wants to play Where Does It Hurt?

I don't know.

How about that, ladies and gentlemen, an anonymous contestant.

Isn't that wonderful? It really is. All right, so here he is,

the unknown gentleman of breeding from Dick Crescent, Chiswick, W4,

famed for its flyover...

...and he has...

Abscess on the jaw.

Abscess on jaw.

Ash! Agh!

Aaaaagh!

Aaaaaaagh!

All right, three wonderful "aghs"

from the unknown gentleman of breeding from Chiswick, W4,

scoring 68 wonderful painometer points with abscess on jaw.

And don't forget, abscess makes the heart grow fonder.

All right, don't forget, ladies and gentlemen, it is your appreciation

of a good pain that will bring our contestants through to the finals

or to the grave. All right?

Now, what?

Our next contestant is Miss Zavira... Motts, from 23 Terrible Street, Luton,

and she's going to give us acute lumbago.

And I bet that's not all that's cute about her.

Ow, Bed!

Oww! Oww!

Come on, this could be a holiday in the South of France for us. Get on!

- Oh, Bed! Oww! - Come on!

Agh! Oww!

Owwww!

75 wonderful points.

Near agony to Mrs Motts with cute lumbago.

Thank you, thank you.

At this stage, ladies and gentlemen, I just wanna point out,

this contest is still wide open. So don't forget, folks, if you've got a friend

or a relative that's going through any sort of physical discomfort,

either at home or at Harrods, don't waste it.

That pain can be turned into hard cash right here on Where Does It Hurt

So keep those postcards coming in. I mean that most sincerely, I really do.

And I mean that most sincerely, I really do, and I mean that most sincerely...

All right, Victoria... There.

Oh. Yes.

It's Mr Ian McTomjim, of 309A Scraggers Road, Flat 7B, Bed 29,

Upper Bunk, Virginia Water.

How about that, ladies and gentlemen, this is a novelty contestant.

Now, this contestant, let me explain to you, he's got nothing wrong with him.

But being the sort of gentleman that he is, sporting gentleman I mean,

he's come right here into the studio to introduce his own pain,

so here he is, ladies and gentlemen, Mr Virginia Water with own pain.

No, the other side.

Aaargh...

Thank you, thank you. That was really wonderful, that really was.

99 wonderful painometer points for Mr Virginia McTomjim.

Don't forget, still in the lead is that wonderful contestant of last week,

Mr Patrick O'Murphy from... Ireland,

and he scored 100 points, ladies and gentlemen, with this act.

OK, Hughie, I'm going for the big one.

Extreme agony.

OK, Mick, drop it!

Thank you, thank you. So here he is, ladies and gentlemen.

A warm welcome to the all-time winner. Here he is, Patrick O'Murphy.

Finally, this month's £75,000 Premium Bond winner is Z-3-4-9-11/X,

and he lives in Middlesex.

"Romeo, Romeo,

wherefore an thou, Romeo?"

Coming, darling!

Oh.

Good evening. And now over to somebody you all love and treasure.

My little darling.

It's one minute past 12, my beloved's birthday.

Oh, oh, oh. Oh, Molly. Molly!

Agh, agh, argh! Not so fast, not so fast.

Of what is my beloved dreaming?

No, no, no! Use the appliance.

Put the appliance on. Now twist it round. Stop it! Keep going, keep going.

Here, dog's bum. Happy Birthday.

Yes, yes, now the whip. Oh, ah...

Use the grease, use the feather!

Use the feather! Oh! Agh, agh! I love you, I love you.

Dog's bum, Happy Birthday.

Oh.

Lovely. Just what I've always wanted.

A parcel.

Are you still there, Molly? Now the black stockings. And the whips.

Get the whips out, darling. Right now, put the custard in my boots.

Bring in the black man. Bring the black man in.

- Here. Here. - I love you, I love you.

Here, stop it, or you'll go blind!

I was only playing full frontal chess with her.

Aren't you going to unwrap it?

What, and spoil it?

Well, don't you wanna know what's inside?

No, darling. I'm a simple man.

I'm perfectly satisfied with that parcel as it is.

I'm not giving her the chance of opening that parcel and taking the present out

and saying, "Thank you, darling, thank you." Mwah, mwah, mwah.

No, no, cos I know what's inside. It's a bleedin' lawnmower.

You know why? She wants me to buy a garden.

You know what she bought me last year?

A hundred and eighty foot circular staircase.

I had to have two storeys built onto the bungalow.

And next year her mother's pushing her to buy me a lift,

an Alsatian, and an automatic Pope.

Why?

I've finished my asides now, dear. Molly, darling, come back again.

- Listen. - What?

If you don't want it, it'll have to go back.

But that would spoil it, my beloved.

This is my beloved?

Look, we'll have to take it to the Harrods unwrappery.

- Harrods unwrappery? - Yes.

- When? - Now, while the pound is stabilised.

All right then, cut to Harrods' beautiful salon room with thick carpets.

Agh!

Can you unwrap that present for me, please?

Certainly, sir. Certainly. Yes.

While he's there, I'll give this teddy bear the kiss of life.

There you are. We got it out for you, sir.

- You screwed it. - No, I just unwrapped it, sir.

Half an hour ago that was a lovely parcel.

Yes. Well, it will be £53. With VAT, £1,000.

Well, if that's what it's gonna cost, you might as well put the present back in.

We pause here, the man backs out of camera shot, out of shot,

he quickly changes to a big, new parcel, and comes back three minutes later.

You've wrapped it up again three minutes later.

Yes, sir.

But what was in it? It was an automatic Pope, wasn't it?

No, sir.

It was a plain deal coffin with your name on the lid.

Beautifully done, sir. Must have cost a fortune.

She wants to get rid of me.

I thought that All-Bran tasted dodgy this morning.

But little does she know that I am

England's only six million pound bionic man.

And a lot of bloody good it's done me.

Well, sir, now, in your condition, may I suggest a compromise?

- A compromise? - Yes. Death.

- Done. - It's quite simple.

- Harrods' home strangling kit. - Home strangling kit?

Yes, now. We have a free demonstration, with no obligation on your part to buy.

Do you mind doing a song and dance while I get these gloves on?

♪ I'll be seeing you in all the old... familiar places

♪ That this head of mine embraces

♪ - Be with you in a moment.

♪ The park across the way... ♪

All right, all right, we'll let you know.

Now... that's it. Now you take the remote control.

It took longer this time than the rehearsal, didn't it?

You take the remote control.

Now you can set this to "victim" or "self",

according to whether you want murder or suicide.

Suicide.

Now then, for the purpose of this demonstration, we will put it to "murder".

- To murder'? - Yes.

- Ready? - Yes.

Go.

Agh! Agh!

Turn it off!

- The bloody button's stuck. - Well, get an electrician!

Where am I gonna get an electrician this time of night?

Try the Yellow Pages, you daft Transylvanian twit!

Ash! Agh!

Agh!

Ash! Agh!

Is it a bird? Is it a plane?

No! It's Batman!

There must be some mistake. I'm Barkers man. That's one of my branches.

He's been sawn off.

- What appears to be the trouble? - This. The button's stuck.

I'll kung fu it. Ah-so!

- Ooh, gawd! - Well, that's done it.

We were dependent upon you mending that cos he's got to say the pay-off line.

What is the pay-off line? Perhaps I can say it.

I wonder what's going on in Ireland.

I wonder what... in Ireland... going on ist.

I didn't write this stuff, did I?

♪ Oh, Danny boy

♪ The pipes, the pipes are calling

♪ From glen to glen

♪ And down the mountain side

♪ The summer's gone

♪ And all the roses falling

♪ It's you, it's you

♪ Must go and I must bide

♪ But come ye back when summer's in the meadow

♪ Or when the Valley's

♪ Hushed and white with snow

♪ It's I'll be here

♪ In sunshine or in shadow

♪ Oh, Danny boy, oh, Danny boy

♪ I love you so

♪ But when ye come and all the flowers are dyin'

I if I am dead

♪ And dead I may well be

♪ The place where I am lying

♪ And kneel and say

♪ An "Ave" there for me

♪ And I shall hear

♪ Though soft you tread above me

♪ And all my grave

♪ Will warmer, sweeter be

♪ For you will bend

♪ And tell me that you love me

♪ And I shall sleep in peace

♪ Until you

♪ Come to me... ♪

Ladies and gentlemen, this is Jeremy Taylor, and this is not.

- What's your name? - Alun Davies.

Alun Davies. What a good memory you've got for names, Alun.

These two lads are gonna play a little Congolese tune.

Believe it or not, it's not from their latest LP.

♪ Masanga

The lyrics may be causing you some trouble

because they're in Swahili.

They're very simple, and all I'm doing is I'm talking to my friend

and saying what a beautiful wife he has,

and what a good idea it would be if he went away on holiday.

And left his wife behind.

Today is the last day of the Believe It Or Not Olympics,

which are taking place at Catford recreation grounds.

And we're just in time to see

the famous blind athlete John Foster in his final javelin throw.

And he sets himself now on the front foot forward.

He steadies himself, runs forward, gaining momentum all the time.

And he makes his throw on the front foot.

He listens carefully as to what's going on.

Ow!

But we'll come back to that later.

Ready?

Here's the start of the deaf tug of war.

Neasden on the left in the white, and Scunthorpe on the right in the white.

They're off to a good pull, Neasden, pulling hard.

Scunthorpe are over the line. Neasden have pulled it off.

No, they haven't. We'll come back to that later.

The start of the deaf 100 metres.

We'll come back to that. It's the end of the three-legged race.

It's Mulligan first, James second.

Back to the deaf tug of war. As they go through St Albans,

Neasden are still pulling powerfully to the north. We'll come back to that later.

After one false start, we go back to the deaf 100 metres.

One your marks...

We've just heard that the leader of the special 50-mile walk for athletes over 90

is about to enter the stadium. Here comes the first one.

Yes, it is, it's Harry Flakers. He's going absolutely flat out.

He's powering his way down the line to the finish,

and I don't think anyone can overtake. Wait a minute.

Here comes... It's Fred Labeale.

And Labeale's gonna take Flakers at the post.

And he hurls himself over the line. He's come a close second.

And now Labeale takes a lap of honour, but I'm afraid it's come too late for him.

The start of the 10,000 metres Drunken All-Corners.

They're under starters and last orders.

In lane one, Patrick Riley running for Guinness.

Followed by his brother Seamus who is running for his life.

Inside lane three, Glen Fiddich from Glasgow.

And there is the formidable Dalston verger

who is warming up with a glass of paint stripper.

The starter is Mr Edrich, who has dried out six times in the last week

trying to get the start of the race going.

I hope he's successful this time. There we go. And they're off.

For them it's a very, very good start.

I think it's Patrick Riley in the front. No, he's in the back.

No, he's in lane three, four and five and seven, alternately.

There's John Bluthal, at his best.

Do you remember him from Never Mind The Quality, Feel The Width?

You can see what it can lead to.

We're just in time for the start of the 100 metres advanced sex maniac's dash.

There go the hares. And there they are, warming up.

If they don't start soon they'll all go blind.

It's the start of the race. And they're off.

McGee in front, the other three behind. They're closing rapidly.

It's anybody's race. It's a dead heat. It's a dead heat.

The winners are each given a model of Linda Lovelace - and a throat spray.

And now over to the greasy Pole.

Hello, my little darling.

Despite hard times, I still promise to pay the bearer one pound on demand.

OK, Charles, it's your turn.

Hello. I'm an artist. My name is Francis Bacon.

I'm varnishing this painting. It is a very exciting life.

Dibbidy, dib, dab, dab I go.

Whoa!

Whoaaaaaaw!

Left foot to right, to the left.

My name is Vig... No, I'll get it right. Let me in, my name is Nubile Gulbenkian.

I'm afraid this gallery's been shut ten minutes now.

That's right, I'm the late Nubile Gulbenkian.

I'll... I'll buy that painting.

- Oh, no, you won't. - Why not?

That's not a painting, it's a window.

- Wait for laugh. - None here.

Let's get on with the sketch.

Ha-ha!

- Yes? - I don't like that painting.

Oh.

- I don't like that painting! - Don't worry.

I don't like that painting.

- You don't like it? - One more time.

I don't like that painting.

- Don't worry. - My impression of a woman.

- That's only the B-side. - Only the B-side?

- Let me show you the A-side, etc, etc. - While this man is showing you the A-side,

my horse will sing the B-side of his record.

♪ Oh, three birds up a mountain

♪ Each one looking for a thrill

♪ Cop hold of this great big shepherd

♪ Look what he's dragging up the hill

♪ Make it mine!

♪ Make it mine!

♪ He came into sublime... ♪

By Jove, I like that painting.

£3,000!

I'll give you £3,000. There.

Hey, you must be joking.

- You call that a painting? - Yes.

I call that £3,000.

It's exactly 150 years ago The Mousetrap opened,

when Agatha Christie was just a young man. Er...

Richard Attenboroughs. The curtain goes up in minutes two. Synchronise watches.

Minutes two.

I have here a telegraph.

And it reads, "Timing is vital. I wish I could be with you tonight."

Signed, "Laurence Olivier, Puss In Boots, Margate."

Ohm

Time to go. Farewell.

Farewell.

Farewell.

And four.

I wish I was a bad enough actor to be going with them.

Oh, they threw everything at us that night.

I couldn't let my agent down.

I can still hear the sound that kept me going.

That first week was touch and go,

but then British audiences showed what they were made of.

Despite the terrible dialogue and the appalling performances,

the audiences could not be scared off.

They came voluntarily and queued in their thousands.

Yes, troubled times. Mrs Elaine Grolix was box office manageress at the time.

Mrs Elaine Grolix, you were box office manageress at the time.

Did this long run have any effect upon you?

The porridge is on fire! The porridge is on fire!

The porridge is on fire!

Yes, troubled times.

Four weeks later, a statement was issued from No.10 Downing Street.

And the porridge is on fire.

Today it's my grave duty...

...to inform you that The Mousetrap has been declared a national disaster,

along with Singapore and Stafford Cripps.

But as in other times of dire emergency... Oww!

The Royal Family were first to visit the scene of the disaster.

Here we see them visiting the Circle Bar only minutes after the interval.

Every theatre was being drained of audiences

to keep The Mousetrap alive.

Here we see planes of Mousetrap Command

bombing provincial theatres, thus diverting essential supplies of audiences."

Watch out Dudley Hippodrome, you're next.

No words can describe the suffering and agony and sheer waste of bloody time

that those poor audiences suffered for Agatha.

You see, it was the blackout.

They couldn't tell one theatre from another.

And once we got them in, we shut the doors.

I can still hear the sound that kept me going.

By now the losses were staggering.

The first week £2,000.

The second week £2,000. It couldn't go on.

There was only one thing to do to save the day, and that was to send for me.

And so I sent for me.

And all the charabanc parties, there was no stopping them.

And then a new menace. A shortage of actors.

After 20 years in the same play, they'd had it.

There was only one thing to save the day. That was to send for me.

And so I sent for me.

Oh, 0h.

I'm walking up and down because the audience say it's funnier.

Cut. Now the news.

This is The Mousetrap calling to the free theatres of Europe.

For the third night running, actors of the B company, at Penn Cemetery,

acted before an audience of over three.

What? What's that? What's that?

However, they're getting paid no more than three in a night.

“Agatha Christie, 16ft high and smothered in red hair...

- It's a telegram. - Telegram. Give it to me.

It's a telegram for me. Who keeps sticking it down?

- It's his call-up papers for The Mousetrap. - Ah, he's too young to go.

Don't worry, darling, it will all be over by Christmas.

Ooh.

- But, Daddy... - Daddy?

They said that in 1939, and it's been running for 50 bloody years.

- Yes. - They don't know how to take if off.

You're dead right. I'm sorry I came in too soon. However, it says,

"Yugoslav guerrillas hold up train, and force third-class passengers

to listen to The Mousetrap at pistol point."

- They say they're going to do it in China. - Do you mean the Mao Tse-tung Trap?

Don't buy any more of that Irish butter, Ma.

Today, on this, the 150th anniversary of The Mousetrap,

we join the survivors at a celebration

at Highgate Cemetery! Agh!

Agh!

Ah, ah, 'twas a far, far better...

Ohh! Ohh!

They shall not grow old, as we grow Old Compton Street.

At the rising of the fire curtain and the lowering of the takings,

Agatha Christie will remember them, and I... I... I...

Now!

It's catching on, you know?

(Women SCREAM)

One of the big ones.

Love Theme from Romeo and Juliet

- Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Q6. - You're welcome to it too, mate!

Who said that?

It's from Princess Anne.

"Spike, my darling.

Wear this for me always."

Isn't royalty wonderful, folks?

Thank you, Princess Anne.

And Mark, don't take it too hard. There's always the horses.

- This way to romance, Anne. - First service.

Yes, that's right, first service. New balls.

Play a let.

I said, play a let.

It's first service and new balls.

That's right. No, it is not 30-40.

Play a let!

New balls. First service.

Yes, that's what I said. Ladies and gentlemen, quiet, please. Quiet.

- New balls. First service. Play a... - Oh!

Play.

♪ Only a nose I give you

♪ Only a nose growing only

I've always loved you, Anne. I've always loved you

and your horses.

♪ Only a nose to keep a memory

♪ Until we meet another night

Hello!

My name is Alan Clare.

I heard a lovely joke today.

I've forgotten it.

♪ Only a nose to whisper

♪ Blushing as roses do

♪ I bring along a smile and a song for any-oooone

I'm a personal friend of Spike Littletills.

I don't know her, but the day can't be too far off.

♪ Only a ro-nose

♪ For you ♪

I like playing for him. He's always got these novel endings.

First service. Play a let.

New balls. I said, new balls.

First service. Play a let. It is not the...

All right, I'll have my strawberries later.

You'll get your raspberry now.

I'll raise you ten Green Shield stamps,

a pawn ticket...

...and the old woman's truss.

- Too much for me, mate. - Me too.

Well, you ain't frightening me.

One Marmite,

two anchovy...

and paste.

All right. I'm raising you...

One...

For God's sake, somebody stop them!

Well, we have stopped them for his...

We have stopped them for his sake.

We'll be coming back to that sketch when we feel like it.

I say, did you know it was illegal to be over six foot tall in Lewisham?

If you do not believe me, I will give you experience of an actual case

that happened to an ordinary constable of England on the beat.

Knock-knock in the absence of a knocker.

- Good morning, er... Mrs Terrible? - Yes.

The wife of Ivan Terrible,

the bloke who works on the oil rigs

in the North Sea in shark-infested waters

in Force 9 gales?

Yes! Is it bad news?

Yes, very bad news, madam.

My wife's run off with a burglar.

I'll give you some good news.

Princess Anne will be 25 on 15th August.

Do you know? I feel better already!

I wonder if these men know that. Pardon me.

Did you know that Princess Anne will be 15th on 3rd December?

Who are these men?

Well, the one that's being strangled is my lodger.

- I don't know the other two. - Strangled?

That word strikes a chord.

Watch it. He's got a whistle.

Argh! Copper!

Copper, don't blow any more. We've had enough. We're coming out.

All right. Throw out your whistles and come out with your hands over your ears.

I have made a terrible mistake.

These men are plain-clothes policemen,

apprehending a plain-clothes criminal.

I'm six feet tall in a five-foot-nine zone.

That's breaking the laws, the district laws. Height laws.

Therefore I must caution you that you are exceeding the laws by inches three.

I want to see a lawyer.

Oh, there's one up in that window there.

- It's Arnold Palmer! - Arnold Palmer?

Here, he's doing it in the Ryder Cup!

There's far too much of this doing it in the Ryder Cup.

Therefore I must take a positive hand in meting out the son of justice

that we people...

Ah! This is Alan Clare.

And this is a palm tree in the bloody way!

And he's going to play one of his own compositions,

John O'Groats.

And I am going to walk left and wonder what it's all about.

I tell you, I cannot understand what it's about.

M'lud, my client admits being six foot in a five-foot-nine area.

He does! Indeed he does!

Oww!

I will not have overacting in my court!

Game of geer, game of geer!

- I appeal to camera three. - It's the only thing you'll appeal to tonight!

My client claims mitigating circumstances.

Your client claims mitigating circumstances.

- Yes, mitigating circumstances. - What, what?

He was inebriated and lost control of his height.

Lost control of his height?

- Did you get a doctor's report? - No, I got a builder's estimate.

- Why? - It was cheaper.

Can a lady with a wooden leg change a pound note?

Yes!

- Why not? - She's only got half a nicker!

Stop! I will not have canned laughter in my court

Now, then, why is your clint...

wearing that ridiculous nose?

You see, m'lud, he's in love with Princess Anne!

I see. He's in love with Princess Anne.

- Is that why you're wearing one? - Yes, m'lud.

- Why is yours bigger? - I've known her longer.

Ronald Biggs, of no fixed underwear,

you are accused of being illegally tall in Lewisham.

Pray, how do you plead?

Well, I plead like this.

I've got a wife and ten kids to support.

And she's in the club again.

I was at Dunkirk. I had it shot off.

Thank God!

I'm sorry, your plea has failed to get the maximum number of points

for the Actor of the Year award.

So therefore, Ronald Biggs, inside leg 32,

I sentence you to be hung by the neck until you are inside leg 79.

- How do you plead? Guilty or not guilty? - I am innocent! I am innocent!

M'lud, my client has gone to a higher court

- I say, my client has gone to a... - You're totting up with the laughs.

I want you to laugh with the audience.

- Now look here... - If you want jokes like it...

- Wait a minute. The line was... - Put your nose there.

My client has gone to a higher court!

I say, my dog's got no nose.

- How does he smell? - Terrible!

- Put your nose there! - Ow!

Two bishops were lying in bed. Which bishop wore the nightie?

- I don't know. Which one wore the nightie? - Mrs Bishop.

Listen to me. How do you burn an Irishman's ear?

I'll raise you a bottle of brown...

...and a quarter of bacon.

Here, they've stopped the music.

This is the nerve centre of England's fight against vermin of all types.

Inside, a myriad of activities.

What is that?

That is a pointing stick.

Ah. Operator Robert Redford.

That is a rat

and a rat is a vermin.

The Rat by Robert Redford.

The rat is a vermin, something that I should kill, thud, wallop, blat!

Very good.

Now, what is that?

That is still a pointing stick.

Sir! Sir! Sir!

Operator Prince Philip.

That is a wasp.

Now, The Wasp by Prince Philip.

The wasp, it is a naughty thing.

And in its bum, it has a sting.

Very good.

Now, then, all close your eyes.

Open.

Very good reactions.

- But this is only a dummy. - Oh...

Now, then, Operator Paul Newman,

come forward and demonstrate the kill.

The Kill by Paul Newman.

First, place the mouse in the trap.

Then...

Hello. Vermin Control at your service.

Hello. Vermin Control at your service.

Hello? Vermin Control at your service.

Hello? Vermin Control at your service.

Hello. I have picked it up.

Hello. This is Queen Elizabeth ll.

Hello, Your Majesty.

I've got vermin in my throne room!

Royal vermin! This could mean the big time for us!

Hello, Your Majesty.

I'll send a man round there right away tomorrow morning.

Where's the light switch?

Well?

- Hello, Your Majesty? Are you still there? - Yes.

These are not mice.

- Can I be frank with you? - Let me have it.

Later.

You are suffering from a plague of Liberaces.

Liberaces? Huh! I'd rather have rats!

- She'd rather have rats! - Hello. Vermin Control at your service

Hello, Vermin... Hello, Vermin...

Oh!

Look!

This is where they're getting in!

What causes Liberaces?

An innate hatred of music.

Thank you. And also they are attracted by any clothes with glitter or spangles.

- Have you got any of them? - Well...

I am wearing several pairs of spangled Gary Glitter knickers.

See, that's what attracts them.

There's only one cure for Liberaces.

That is the Jewish piano.

Another triumph for the Catford Vermin Squad.

Ow! Here...

Did you know you've got assassins in your skirting?

- Would you like a happy ending? - Yeah.

Upstairs on the bed, then!

- What's wrong with the hall? - It needs wallpapering.

I'll do that as well.

I'll raise you one pre-war 50-bob overcoat.

I'm seeing you.

Can anyone see me?

Pay Pontoons only.

Eric?

Jim?

Tom?

Lazarus, I'll pay Pontoons only.

Pontoons only.

Yes, sir?

I'm getting married in the morning.

Ding dong, the bells are gonna chime!

- I'd like to hire a photographer. - Ohh!

Yes, sir. What is the address of the church?

She's fainted!

She's...

...fain-ted.

- That's a strange address for a church, sir. - No, I mean the girl has fainted!

So she has.

Thank heavens the ground broke her fall.

What is the name of the church, sir?

St Mary Le Grand. Aren't you going to help her?

No, sir. Buni-sess before pleasure.

But if you want to help her, just loosen the clothing round the neck

and massage under the head.

She's not responding.

No, sir, that is because she's unconscience.

Try giving her the kiss of life.

That's it.

Look this way.

That'll look very nice in the News of the World.

"Chief of Police ravishes girl with big knockers on the floor."

How did you know I was the Chief of Police?

I saw the captions coming up earlier on, sir.

- Give me that camera! I'll give you £20. - That is a bribe.

- £50. - That is a deal.

- Oh... Oh... - Oh dear, oh dear.

- Fuel crisis grows. - Oh dear. Moan moan.

- 1975 groans and moans. - Moan moan, dear, oh dear.

Oh-oh, £6 limit pay rise groans.

Knock, knock, on the new "BBC in terrible financial trouble" economy set.

Woof woof!

Oh... Woof woof woof!

Woof.

Miaow miaow miaow!

Here, darling. There is enough room to swing a cat in here.

Miaow miaow miaow! Splat!

There's somebody at the door.

I'm not daft.

Aren't you?

Come in.

It's Roy Jenkins,

Minister of Flour on Coat.

You are a working-class couple.

No, I am a working-class couple. She isn't.

You have three plastic ducks crawling up the wall.

You have a china Alsatian dog in the window.

And you have a signed photo of Bed Weedon on the mintelpoose...

...tankelpete, dot dot dot, question mark, snells.

And we must get a new typist.

I agree, dot dot, question mark, dollar sign, asterisk, I agree.

I am acting the part of the Minister of the Environment,

rather like Anthony Crosland is acting it at the moment.

These are not happy times, Roy.

Do you think? We are certainly very concerned

about the strain of living in 1976.

It's a terrible strain. I have lumps in my groils.

Dong dong dong dong!

The wife is wearing a truss.

Dong dong dong dong!

You know what I'm wearing for shirts?

Her bloomers with collars sewn on.

Sailors are following me home.

Tell me, do you think we were happier during the war years?

♪ There'll be bluebirds over

♪ The white cliffs of Snulfrig Water ♪

I have good news for these two courageous people.

Harold Wilson has just given the go-ahead to bring back World War ll.

Report this, dot, dollar sign, half...

Listen.

It's the good old air raid!

We can get engaged again!

And again! And again!

♪ There'll be bluebirds over ♪

♪ Knees up, Mother Brown

♪ Under the table you must go Ee-aye, ee-aye, ee-aye-oh ♪

Hey, look, everybody! It's Fred and Molly!

Hello, Fred, Molly!

♪ Roll out the barrel

♪ We'll have a barrel of laughs

♪ Roll out the barrel

♪ We've got the blues on the run

♪ Zing! Boom! The barrel ♪

Listen! It's the good old Luftwaffe!

Hooray!

Good to be back, Tommy!

♪ Underneath the lamplights Three-quarters and a half... ♪

Whatever the cost may be,

we shall fight them on the beaches...

On the beaches! Hooray!

And I would say to the House,

as I have said to those who have joined this government,

I have nothing to offer but blood...

Blood, sweat and tears! Hooray!

♪ Knees up, Mother Brown Knees up, Mother Brown

♪ Under the table you must go Ee-aye, ee-aye, ee-aye-oh

That is the good old doodlebug!

Yay!

The doodlebug! The doodlebug!

♪ Knees up, Mother Brown Knees up, Mother Brown

♪ Under the table you must go Ee-aye, ee-aye, ee-aye-oh

♪ If I catch you bending...

I'm terribly sorry. It's the all-clear.

Just when we were beginning to enjoy ourselves.

Never mind that. I bet you a punch and a pinch of snuff

- they're back tomorrow night. - Hooray!

Here is an announcement.

♪ There'll be bluebirds over the white...

- Hello, darling! Are you enjoying it? - Yes!

♪ There'll be bluebirds over... ♪

'Ere, it must be time for good old Dunkirk! I don't want to miss that.

You did last time!

♪ Just you wait and see ♪

♪ Who do you think you're kidding, Mr Hitler

♪ When you see the day's done? ♪

- Rommel! - Montgomery! It's good to see you!

♪ Underneath the lamplight above the village square ♪

Here, Rom, is this good old Dunkirk?

Nein! This is good old breakthrough in Tobruk.

- Good old Dunkirk is number nine! - Oh!

♪ Underneath the lamplight ♪

♪ Who do you think you're kidding, Mr Hitler... ♪

Is this the er... Dunkirk?

Yes. Zey are in ze front room, you naughty boy!

♪ ..gun, gun, gun

- Oh, Lord Longford! - Prince Philip!

You're just in time for Adolph Hitler's big number!

- Hooray! - Sit down.

♪ The Lambeth Walk

I'm just back from good old Dunkirk.

Oh, lovely! Have we got our backs against the wall again?

Yeah.

Listen, here comes a good old V2 rocket.

I'll just go and put the kettle on.

I haven't been so happy for years, Molly. Have you?

No, it's lovely.

♪ We'll meet again

♪ Don't know where

♪ Don't know when... ♪

And now... a thought... to take you to bed.

Pontoons only.

Pontoons only.

Pontoons only, sir.

- What have you got there? - Pontoons.

Pontoons only.

Hel... Hel... Hel-Io, dar-ling.

I'm home.

You're late tonight.

I'm sor-ry I'm late.

The tubes were full of com-muters.

Well, how did you get on, then?

I ex-ter-mi-nated them.

Well, no wonder you're tired.

Yes, dear. Ex-term-in-ating is hard work.

Yes, well, I've got a nice cup of tea for you.

I think...

Erm... how's Mr Banerjee?

He's not ve-ry well.

- Why? - I ex-term-in-ated him.

- Well, you shouldn't have done that. - Woof woof!

Grr!

Put him in the cur-ry.

Johnny, have you finished your homework?

Yes, I have des-troyed it.

Somebody's exterminated Granny!

Yes. Put her in the cur-ry as well.

Hello, sailor.

Put him in the cur-ry too.

Now you know what's wrong with the country!

Put it all in the cur-ry.

Now you know what's wrong with the curry.

♪ I've just booked a bloke called Maria

♪ And suddenly that name will never be...

Argh! Urgh! Get off!

Hello, hello, hello. What's going on here? Peeping Tom?

No. My name is Dick.

Worse, a Peeping Dick.

I am an innocent Dick.

Don't you believe him.

This man's a voyeur. He spies on me.

When?

Thursdays at ten, Wednesdays and Mondays 2:30.

- What parts of you does he spy on? - My k-nees.

If he spies any higher, ring us and make a complaint.

If he spies any lower, ring him and make a complaint.

Thank you.

Now, madam, would you care to accompany me behind that bush

- and bring my police career to a close? - Ooh!

I always wanted to be a pension!

Hello, sailor.

None of that. I'm a not a "hello, sailor" but one serving on Her Majesty's GLC flats.

When you insult me, you insult the Qu-eeen.

Well, you can't park that spruce, maple and mahogany wardrobe there.

And when you insult me, you insult Mrs Ethel Terrible of Ongar.

Yeah, but this is taxed and licensed.

This is an antique. This has been road-tested by Arthur Negus.

And have you had the ten-year moth test?

Mot? How do you spell it?

Pronounced "mot".

I'll regret it? You'll regret it!

It was your bloody mother-in-law!

- What's that? - Look at the bleedin' lino.

Here, what's going on in here?

That is my divorce.

A divorce? In a spruce and mahogany lino?

Yeah. You see, she's got custody of the children.

I've got custody of the wardrobe.

I pays her £2,000 a week alimony.

Cor, stone the crow!

£2,000, that is the rate for Queen's cousins.

Now, it'd be more if she'd have been the Queen's sister.

That would be five grand.

And if I'd have to be divorced from the Qu-eeen,

I'd be walking along the street with my out of my trousers.

I don't think she's much of a queen...

...marrying a man with his out of his trousers.

'Ere, it is obvious that this man has mistaken me for Prince Philip.

Here, how do...

- That's better. - How do you find the money?

Very nice.

But now it's No.9, Fritz Krappenhauser of East Germany.

He's only 20 and a favourite for the silver medal.

He sets himself for the start, and the atomic clock has started.

Bert Scroggins of England is in the contest

and he's eating fried Spam and batter.

Krappenhauser tenses for the drive he needs.

Ben Scroggs goes for his second piece of Spam.

He drives down with a fork and an upward thrust lifts the Spam.

Krappenhauser starts his run. He's into the traditional crouch

that gives least wind resistance as he powers his way down

into the Laundromat where Mrs Scroggs is putting in two petticoats, three Y-fronts,

her mother's green bloomers, which fall on Krappenhauser

as he plummets down to the lift-off with a terrific cup of tea,

with only one sugar to cut down on calories,

as he's slimming for the holiday at Bognor.

Up he goes, doing nearly 75mph.

He's well inside the record as he has yet another slice of bread,

which will set him back months in his diet.

A man in Lewisham goes into the gents' khazi and strains over his skis.

But wait. He's disappeared. That's incredible.

He's gone out of the picture behind that chap on the hill playing the organ.

Fantastische!

Here, Molly. I swear I heard an East German skier say "Fantastisch".

Really, Bert?

Who knows? This could be our lucky day.

Mystery surrounds the whereabouts of East German ski champion Fritz Krappenhauser,

last heard saying "Fantastisch" over Eastbourne.

It's thought he may have defected to the West.

This has never happened to us before.

- Is it safe here? - Oh, yes. I'm on the pill.

It gets better all the time.

I am Fritz Krappenhauser. I have defected to the West

and I'm afraid some has gone on your husband.

Bert? This is Mr Krappenhauser.

Pardon me for not getting up.

Bert, I seek political asylum!

You want Westminster. That's the finest bleedin' asylum in the world!

♪ I must go down to the sea again

♪ To the lonely sea and the sky

♪ And all I ask is a tall ship ♪

This skier weighs 14 stone

and I am in grave danger.

Look, I cannot keep it a secret any longer.

I have fled here because I am...

bald!

Don't worry. Your baldness is safe with us.

He's been Kojaked!

I come seeking freedom wigs.

Molly? Am I still here?

Yes.

Don't worry, mein Herr.

I'm not worried about your hair!

It's mein hair I'm worried about!

Ssh! I'm an agent for the NHS.

Come. I'll lead you to free medicine!

This is the National Health Service of the BBC,

calling the bald and toothless people of Europe.

Do not worry. Canisters of wigs are on their way.

There goes one now.

Nicht gut.

I can't go to the party with this.

It's terrible.

Hello.

I think you should know early in this sketch

that I'm not one of these, and again, I'm not one of them.

I am a plainclothes policeman disguised as a constable.

Terrible.

Nicht good.

40 years I have waited for a National Health Service wig,

and they give me this.

I cannot make World War Ill in this.

Listen to me, sailor.

I have two million bald 60-year-old toothless stormtroopers in Argentina

ready to strike again.

But they must have the wigs!

They must have the wigs!

Otherwise their bald heads will give away their position from the air.

- Stop. - What?

I am a police raid. Nobody move.

You've got me surrounded.

It's no good lying.

I know you're all in here.

Here are your sealed acting orders.

Ah. That's what we've all been waiting for.

Oh, pussycat. I'm so tired.

Let us rest by this bush.

Listen, I can hear the Bow Bells of London.

Ting ting ting.

What are they saying?

"Turn again, Dick Whittington. Thrice Lord Mayor of London."

Lord Mayor?

Here, I've been promoted!

Listen... Are you sure you are a police raid?

Well, reasonably sure.

Of course, you can never be positive. Ha ha ha!

Look. Listen up.

Do you...

Do you look like ein police raid?

No. I look like Winston Churchill.

Aargh!

Run for it! It's a Winston Churchill raid!

Listen to those sound effects that have come on too soon!

That's how I broke the back of a gang of Germans

who had smuggled ten billion pairs of false teeth out of England,

causing acute embarrassment to our armed forces.

From the right, number.

Er... hello.

My impression of a raging forest fire.

Phew! Phew, what a scorcher!

And now my impression of the Atlantic Ocean.

Oh, I can't do that.

I'll do a different one. I'll do the English Channel.

♪ Daddy Wouldn't Buy Me a Bow-wow

♪ Bow wow.

♪ Woof woof.

I must tell you that this is a private fishing ocean.

I'm not fishing, I'm playing the piano.

Ah!... Who are you? - I said.

Liberace! - I replied.

- The Liberace? - No.

A Liberace.

I needn't have dropped this, then.

I give up. I...

- Is this the way to Dover? - I don't know. I'm a stranger.

I'm an Indian Ocean man.

I want to be the first person to walk the English Channel on foot.

- Which one? - This one!

And then that one.

And sometimes that one.

Michael!

Er. Hello.

Er... who, erm... Ah.

- Who are you? - Liberace.

Ooh!

The Liberace?

No. A Liberace.

I needn't have dropped this again.

Oh. Er...

This is a Liberace too.

Oh, I've never met a Liberace Two!

- Good on you, sport. - I've met a Seven, Eleven and a 183b.

Is it here?

Yes! Yes!

I have a delivery here for the Round Pond, Kensington.

A grand piano for a Mr. A. Liberace.

Ladies and gentlemen, I cannot tell a lie.

This is not the Round Pond, Kensington.

We have been forbidden permission to film in the Royal Parks.

I'll be having a word with Princess Margaret about this later on in the programme.

There must be some mistake. This is a dotty TV series calles

Well, play a few notes on it and I'll tell you if it's mine.

No, sir, I've only got a licence to drive a van.

Well, give us a few toots on your horn, then.

Well, it's definitely my van, but I'm damned if I know whose piano it is.

I'll tell you what I'll do, sir.

I will go and have a piano driving test

should refuse me the permission as an actor reaching his prime to film...

What I'd like you to do now is insert the key,

and off we will go.

That's it. Good. Now, then, I'd like you to place your hands comfortably on the piano.

Keyboard... Wait for it.

That is the way we control the progress of the music.

- I better put this er... this seatbelt on

cos I've got a very heavy vibrato,

or so the missus tells me.

I see. Now, I'd like you to place your foot on the soft pedal,

while I'll place my foot on my soft pedal... just in case.

- Oh! You control, then... - Yes.

And then I want you to start gradually...

Ready? In the key of C.

- That it? - C. That's it.

C!... C!

- I can see, I can see. - Carry on.

Now soft pedal off.

Up into the key of C sharp.

Sharp. Nice. I like it. Yes, that's nice.

Soft pedal down.

Now, up into D major.

- Now I ask you... - In a moment... in a moment...

- To stop. - Right, right.

When I slam the lid down, I want you to stop.

All right.

Did I pass?

Well? Is it yours?

Sorry, he's moved.

Moved? Where?

Beachy Head.

Beachy Head?

All right, Ted, take it away. Beachy Head.

Ladies and gentlemen,

If the piano doesn't come soon, the concert will be a total failure.

Mr. Liberace! We cannot keep the audience waiting any longer.

- I must make an announcement. - Thank you. He's wonderful.

- Ladies and gentlemen, over there in the bell cot! - Yes!

- May I have your attention, please? - Sure!

Now then, the concert will be delayed,

owing to the surprise non-appearance of Mr A Liberace's special piano.

Hey, there! We got the piano for A Liberace up here!

Well, then, send it down here as quick as you can!

All right. Have it your own way.

I'm afraid this will have to be tuned.

Isn't that wonderfull, ladies and gentlemen They'll just clap anything, over there.

- Hello! What's your name? - Andy Toledano.

- And where are you from? - Israel.

And what are you going to sing?

A song that I wrote myself.

- And what its called?' - Why.

- Why? - Why not?

Ladies and gentlemen, I told you earlier in the program...

that I'd be speaking in probe-depth personally to Princess Margaret.

Princess Margaret,

Do yuu mind if I speak to yuu in in-depth probe?

Well, 'urry-up then, cos I gotta get his tea ready, ain't I?

All right, then. Princess Margaret, tell me, when we were filming in the Royal Park,

er... the park keeper Eric the Terrible...

said that you're addicted... erm, you objected to filming in the park.

Well, yes, I did. Yes.

Oh.

Er... why did you... Why did you object...

Can you answer that in depth?

Well, I can't have tradesmen all over the garden,

throwing things in ponds.

I mean, how would you like it?

Well, I'd like it down there.

What?

What I'm trying to say, Princess Margaret, in depth,

...is that...

I think that you are personally, against the working classes.

- I've got nothin' against the working classes! - No?

My old man, Tony, he takes their photographs.

Oh.

Well, if he takes workijg-class photographs,

why do you object to working-class pianos being hurled in your pond

on top of Liberace?

Well, it's not nice, is it? I mean, what would the neighbours say?

They'd say, "Look, there's a man throwing white pianos

in the Round Pond on Liberace."

Is that what they'd say?

- Yes. - Oh.

Would somebody please take him to the Tower?

This is Eric Twill, the News at Nine, Lewisham, Broadway.

Now you can see what's wrong with the country!

Elementary, my dear Watson. Brilliant.

I see there's only a skeleton service running tonight.

- Bri||iant! - OK, you difly rat!

Hands together! Kneel down!

Now listen, blue eyes.

Et tuam dedicadum et servicum Christum, semper fidelis, amen!

This man is laying on his back, clutching his throat,

...groaning, and overaxting.

- Brilliant! - He's wearing a greasy bowler.

Briliantine!

Good God, he's been...

...ordained!

Ordained? Well, who do you suspect?

Looks like a typical six-and-lhree-quarler inch collar,

Archbishop of Canterbury job to me.

- But I'm Jewish! - Now, you're... Christian.

Oh, my life!

We must get him to the de-ordination hospital.

And lo, he came to the mountain, and fell down...

Oy...!

And so it came to pass

that they all spake out...

Oy...!

One more time!

He doesn't know when he's beaten!

Are you the Jewish mother?

Well, no, actually, I'm a Catholic, but I'll do anylhing for money.

This is the worst case of ordination I've seen...

since Pope Pius did the Bishop of Cantedbury job.

More money, nurse! Remember Harley Street.

Good God!

It's taken!

Abe!... Abe!

- My name's Dick! - Dick!... Dick!

Any1hing for money.

- Sherlock Holmes... - This is me, Sergeant.

I must warn you that anything you say that is funnier than me

will be cut out in the edited repeats.

Here's a newsflash.

It's been reported that the Archbishop of Canterbury

is holding out in Lewisham.

Exactly what he is holding out the police will not say.

It's also repofled that he's holding an atheist hostage.

And here is another flash...

Listen here, Archbishop of Canterbury, we know you're in there.

And we know we're out here.

Throw out your croziers, or we'll send in the jesuits!

Stay back copper! I've got Margaret Thatcher prisoner!

One step nearer and she gets ordained!

You fiend out of hell!

One step nearer, and I'll kill myself!

This is an opportunity not to be missed.

Aaargh!

Mrs Thatcher, are you all right?

Mrs Thatcher, I'm his double.

Speak to me, Mrs Thatcher! Speak to me!

Can you hear me?

She's deaf!

- Now you know what's wrong. - I'm just getting double.

The camera moves slowly away from us,

leaving us as two minute, small carbonised microcosmic figures.

In the background of a great landscape.

Behind them, a towering sky leans heavenwards,

its fingers ever groping the wrath of the gods above.

And the green hills in the background sing their song of eternity unto no one.

And then, as the clouds diminish and leave the dark, scowling sky behind us,

we hear a distant tune...