And now for something completely different.
It's...
Hello, and welcome to the show.
Without more ado, the first item
is a sketch about architects,
called The Architects Sketch...
The Architects Sketch...
Up there!... Up there!...
Up there!...
Gentlemen, we have two basic suggestions for the design of this...
Shut up!
Gentlemen, we have two basic suggestions...
Gentlemen, we have two basic suggestions
for the design of this residential block,
and I thought it best
that the architects themselves came in to explain the advantages of both designs.
That must be the first architect now.
Ah yes, it's Mr Wiggin of Ironside and Malone.
Good morning, gentlemen.
This is a twelwe-storey block combining classical neo-Georgian features
with the advantages of modern design.
The tenants arrive in the entrance hall here,
and are carried along the corridor on a conveyor belt in extreme comfort
and past murals depicting Mediterranean scenes, towards the rotating knives.
The last twenty feet of the corridor are heavily soundproofed.
The blood pours down these chutes and the mangled flesh slurps into these...
Excuse me...
Did you say knives?
Rotating knives, yes.
Are you proposing to slaughter our tenants?
- Does that not fit in with your plans? - No, it does not. We asked for a simple block of flats.
Oh, I see. I hadn't correctly divined your attitude towards your tenants.
You see I mainly design slaughter houses.
Yes, pity. Mind you, this is a real beauty.
I mean, none of your blood caked on the walls and flesh flying out of the windows, inconveniencing the passers-by with this one.
I mean, my life has been building up to this.
Yes, and well done, but we did want a block of flats.
May I ask you to reconsider. I mean, you wouldn't regret it. Think of the tourist trade.
No, no, it's just that we wanted a block of flats, not an abattoir.
Yes, well, of course, this is just the sort of blinkered philistine pig ignorance
I've come to expect from you non-creative garbage.
You sit there on your loathsome, spotty behinds squeezing blackheads,
not caring a tinker's cuss about the struggling artist.
You excrement!
You lousy hypocritical whining toadies
with your lousy colour TV sets and your Tony Jacklin golf clubs
and your bleeding masonic handshakes!
You wouldn't let me join, would you, you blackballing bastards.
Well I wouldn't become a freemason now
if you went down on your lousy, stinking, purulent knees and begged me.
Well, we're sorry you feel like that but we, er, did want a block of flats.
Nice though the abattoir is.
Oh the abattoir, that's not important.
But if any of you could put in a word for me I'd love to be a freemason.
Freemasonry opens doors. I mean...
I was...I was a bit on edge just now,
but if I were a mason I'd sit at the back and not get in anyone's way.
Thank you.
- I've got a second-hand apron. - Thank you.
- I nearly got in at Hendon. - Thank you.
I'm sorry about that, gentlemen. The second architect is Mr Leavey of Wymis and Dibble.
Good morning gentlemen. This is a scale model of the block.
There are 28 storeys, with 280 modern apartments.
There are 3 main lifts and 2 service lifts.
Access would be from Dibbingley Road.
The structure is built on a central pillar system
with cantilevered floors in pre-stressed steel and concrete.
The dividing walls on each floor section
are fixed by recessed magnalium flanged grooves.
By avoiding wood and timber derivatives
and all other flammables, we have almost totally removed the risk of...
Quite frankly, I think the central pillar system may need strengthening a bit.
- Isn't that going to put the cost up? - It might.
Well, I don't know whether I'd worry about strengthening that much. After all, they're not meant to be luxury flats.
I quite agree. I mean, providing the tenants are of light build and relatively sedentary and,
given a spot of good weather, I think we're on to a winner here.
Thank you.
Quite agree. Quite agree.
Thank you very much. Thank you.
It opens doors, I'm telling you.
Let's have a look at that handshake again in slow motion.
What other ways are there of recognizing a mason?
Having once identified a mason immediate steps must be taken to isolate him from the general public.
Having accomplished that, it is now possible to cure him of these unfortunate masonic tendencies
through the use of behavioural psychotherapy.
In this treatment, the patient is rewarded for the correct response
and punished for the wrong one. Let us begin.
Would you like to give up being a mason?
Think carefully.
Think.
- No. - No? That's wrong!
Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!
No! No! Bad! Bad!
The BBC would like to apologize for the following announcement.
Oh! And the next item is a sketch about insurance
called 'Insurance Sketch'.
'Insurance Sketch'...
What do you want?
Well I've come about your special fully comprehensive motor insurance policy offer...
What was that?
Fully comprehensive motor insurance for one-and-eightpence.
Oh, oh, yes...
yeah well, unfortunately, guv, that offer's no longer valid.
You see, it turned out not to be economically viable,
so we now have a totally new offer...
- What's that? - A nude lady.
- A nude lady? - Yes.
You get a nude lady with a fully comprehensive motor insurance.
If you just want third party she has to keep her bra on, and if it's just theft...
No, no, I don't really want that, Mr...
- Devious. - Mr Devious.
I just want to know what it would cost me to have a fully comprehensive inurance on a 1970 Aston Martin.
- Aston Martin? - Yes.
- 500 quid. - 500 quid?
- 40 quid. - 40 quid?
- Forty quid and a nude lady. - No, no, I'm not interested in a nude lady.
- Dirty books? - No, look, I'm not interested in any af that.
I just want to know what it would cost me to have a fully comprehensive insurance on a 1970 Aston Martin.
Can you please quote me your price?
Knock knock.
- Who's there? - The Reverend...
- The Reverend who? - The Reverend Morrison.
Oh, come in.
Now then, vic. What's the trouble?
- Well, it's about this letter you sent me. - Excuse me, do I have any more lines?
I don't know, mush, I'll have to look in the script...
Where are we? Show 8.
- Are you 'man'? - Yeah.
No...no, you're finished.
Well, I'll be off then.
'The vicar sits'.
It's about this letter you sent me regarding my insurance claim.
Oh, yeah, yeah - well, you see,
it's just that we're not as yet... totally satisfied with the grounds of your claim.
But it says something about filling my mouth in with cement.
Oh well, that's just insurance jargon, you know.
But my car was hit by a lorry while standing in the garage and you refuse to pay my claim.
Oh well, reverend Morrison, in your policy...
in your policy...
Here we are.
It states quite clearly that no claim you make will be paid.
You see, you unfortunately plumped for our 'Neverpay' policy,
which, you know, if you never claim is very worthwhile...
but you had to claim, and, well, there it is.
Oh dear, oh dear.
Still, never mind - could be worse. How's the nude lady?
Oh, she's fine.
Look, Rev... I hate to see a man cry,
so shove off out the office, there's a good chap.
OK, Devious...Don't move!
The bishop!
I take as my text for today...
The text, vic! Don't say the text!
Leviticus 3-14...
We was too late. The Reverend Grundy bit the ceiling.
Hello? ... What?...
We'll be right over!
And it is for this reason that the Christian Church lays upon you, the godparents,
the obligation of seeing this child
is brought up in the Christian faith.
Therefore, I name this child...
Don't say the kid's name, vic!
Francesco Luigi...
We was too late... The Rev. Neuk saw the light.
The ring, vic! Don't touch the ring!
Hey vic!
...dust to dust, ashes to ashes.
Help...
Help... Help...
Help...
Come on!
OK, Devious... Don't move!
The bishop!
- This is where we came in. - Yes.
Oh, it's nice to be home.
- Builders haven't been then. - No.
These two old people are typical of the housing problem
facing Britain's aged.
Here! Don't you start doing a documentary on us, young man.
- Oh please ... - No, you leave us alone!
Oh, just a little one about the appalling conditions under which you live.
No! Get out of our house! Go on!
Oh all right. Come on, George, pick it up.
Why don't you do a documentary about the drug problem round in Walton Street?
Oh, I'll go and have a bath.
The splendour fans on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story...
'Ere, there's Alfred Lord Tennyson in the bathroom.
Well, at least the poet's been installed, then.
Yes, a poet is essential for complete home comfort, and all-year round reliability at low cost.
We in the East Midlands Poet Board
hope to have a poet in every home by the end of next year.
Poets are both clean and warm And most are far above the norm
Whether here, or on the roam Have a poet in every home.
I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high...
Morning, madam, I've come to read your poet.
Oh yes, he's in the cupboard under the stairs.
What is it, a Swinburne? Shelley?
- No, it's a Wordsworth. - Oh, bloody daffodils.
A host of golden daffodils Beside the lake, beneath the trees Fluttering and dancing in the breeze
Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the Milky Way They stretch in...
- Right. Thank you, madam. - Oh, not at all. Thank you...
It's a nice day, isn't it?
Yes, yes, the weather situation is generally favourable.
There's a ridge of high pressure centered over Ireland
which is moving steadily eastward bringing cloudy weather to parts of the West Country,
Wales and areas west of the Pennines.
On tomorrow's chart...
the picture is much the same. With this occluded front bringing drier, warmer weather.
Temperatures about average for the time of year.
That's 3 degrees centigrade, 44 degrees fahrenheit, so don't forget to wrap up well.
That's all from me. Goodnight.
Now on BBC television a choice of viewing.
On BBC 2 - a discussion on censorship between Derek Hart,
The Bishop of Woolwich and a nude man.
And on BBC 1 - me telling you this.
And now...
We don't want that, do we. Do you really want that cherry in your tea?
- Do you like doing this job? - Well, it's a living, isn't it?
I mean, don't you get bored reading people's poets all day?
Well, you know, sometimes ... yeah.
Anyway, I think I'd better be going.
You've got a nice torch, haven't you?
Er, yeah, yeah, it er...
It er... It goes on and off.
How many volts is it?
- Er ... um... well, I'll have a look at the batteries. - Oh yes, yes.
It's four and a half volts.
Mmmm. That's wonderful.
- Do you want another look at the poet? - No, no, I must be off, really.
I've got Thomas Hardy in the bedroom. I'd like you to look at him.
- Well, I can't touch him. He's a novelist. - Oh, he keeps mumbling all night.
- Oh well, novelists do, you see. - Oh forget him! What's your name, deary?
- Harness. - No, no! Your first name, silly!
- Wombat. - Oh, Wombat. Wombat Harness!
Take me to the place where eternity knows no bounds,
where the garden of love encloses us round.
Oh Harness!
All right, I'll have a quick look at yer Thomas Hardy.
Nude man, what did you make of that?
Well, don't you see, that was exactly the kind of explicit sexual reference I'm objecting to.
It's titillation for the sake of it.
A deliberate attempt at cheap sensationalism.
I don't care what the so-called avant-garde, left-wing, intellectual namby-pambies say...
It is filth!
Bishop.
Okay, don't anybody move!
The BBC would like to apologize for the constant repetition in this show.
I...
hope...
you're...
en...
joy...
ing...
this!
'tention; there's been a nasty 5 frog curse near the M4.
Proceed immediately to the area.
- Oh dear... - Looks bad!
Very bad.
Only one thing to do with a multiple frog curse like this.
Get the magic wound.
Clear out the area. Fire!
Thank you.
And now a sketch about a chemist
called 'The Chemist Sketch'.
Right. I've got some of your prescriptions here.
Er, who's got the pox?
Come on, who's got the pox...
Come on...
There you go.
Who's got a boil on the bum...
Boil on the botty?
Who's got the chest rash?
Have to get a bigger bottle.
Who's got wind?
Catch.
The BBC would like to apologize for the poor quality of the writing in that sketch.
It is not BBC policy to get easy laughs with words like bum,
knickers, botty or wee-wees.
These are the words which are not to be used again on this programme.
- Semprini!? - Out!
Right, who's got a boil on his Semprini, then?
- Good morning. - I'd like some aftershave, please.
Ah, certainly. Walk this way, please.
If I could walk that way I wouldn't need aftershave.
Good morning, sir. Can I help you?
- Yes. I'd like some aftershave. - Ah. A toilet requisite-t-t-t-t-t...
Would you like to try this, sir?
It's our very very latest, it's called Sea Mist.
- I quite like it. - How about something a little more musky? This one's called Mimmo.
- Not really, no. Have you anything a little fishier? - Fishier?
Fishier. Fish, fish, fish.
A fishy requisite-t-t-t-t-t...
Like halibut or sea bass.
- Or bream? - Yes.
No, we haven't got any of that...
Ah, I've got mackerel, or cod, or hake...
You haven't got anything a little more halibutish?
Er... parrot?
What's that doing there? Or skate with just a hint of prawn?
- Or crab, tiger and almonds, very unusual. - I really had my heart set on halibut.
Well, sir, we had a fishy consignment in this morning, so I could nip down to
the basement and see if I can come up trumps with this particular requisite-t-t-t-t-t.
So it was halibut... or... ?
- Sea bass. - Sea bass. Won't be a moment.
Sorry about this...
Normally we try to avoid these little... pauses... longueurs...
only dramatically he's gone down to the basement, you see.
'Course, there isn't really a basement but he just goes off and we pretend...
Actually what happens is he goes off there, off camera, and just waits there
so it looks as though he's gone down... to the basement.
Actually I think he's rather overdoing it. Ah!
Well, sorry, sir. Lot of steps.
Well, I'm afraid it didn't come in this morning, sir. But we have got some down at our Kensington branch.
I'll just nip down there and get it for you.
- How long will that be? - 20 minutes.
20 minutes?
Oh... I wonder what other people use for aftershave lotion?
I use a body rub called Halitosis
to make my breath seem sweet.
I use an aftershave called Semprini.
I'm sorry, sorry - can't stop now, I've got to get to Kensington.
I use two kinds of aftershave lotions: Frankincense, Myrrh...
three kinds of aftershave lotions: Frankincense, Myrrh, Sandalwood...
four kinds of aftershave lotion: Frankincense, ...
I have a cold shower every morning just before I go mad, and then I go
Mad, 1. Mad, 2. Mad, 3. Mad, 4...
I use Rancid Polecat number two.
It keeps my skin nice and scaly.
Sorry again. Can't stop, got to get back.
Well I'm afraid they don't have any at our Kensington branch. But we have some down at the depot.
- Where's that? - Aberdeen.
- Aberdeen? - It's all right. Wait here, I got a car.
- No, no, no. I'll take the other, the crab, tiger and... - Almond requisite... t... t... ?
I'll take it.
Right. Right! RIGHT!
Now then! Now then!
- Your turn. - Aren't you going to say 'What's all this then?'?
Oh! Right, what's all this, then?
- This man has been shoplifting, officer. - Oh, he has? Yes?
- Are you trying to tell me my job? - No, but he's been shoplifting.
Look! I must warn you that anything you may say will be ignored
and furthermore, given half a chance I'll put my fist through your teeth. F'tang. F'tang.
- But officer, this man here... - I've had enough of you. You're under arrest.
Officer, it wasn't him. He's the shoplifter.
- No I'm not. - He's not ... I'm a witness.
One more peep out of you and I'll do you for heresy.
Heresy. Blimey. I didn't expect the Spanish Inquisition.
Shut up! F'tang. F'tang.
Oh, that's nice.
- Right. I'm taking you along to the station. - What for?
I'm charging you with illegal possession of whatever we happen to have down there.
Right. Lunar module calling Buzz Aldrin. Come in.
Raindrops keep falling on my head... but that doesn't mean that my...
The BBC would like to apologize to the police about the character of Police Constable Pan Am.
He was not meant to represent the average police officer.
Similarly, the reference to Buzz Aldrin, the astronaut,
was the product of a disordered mind and should not be construed as having any other significance.
And now for something completely different.
Oh that was fun.
And now...
Monty Python's Flying Circus tonight comes to you live
from the Grillomat Snack Bar, Paignton.
Hello to you live from the Grillomat Snack Bar, Paignton.
And so, without any more ado, let's have the titles.
It's...
Well, those were the titles.
And now for the first item this evening on the Menu - ha ha -
the team have chosen as a little hors d'oeuvres an item
and I think we can be sure it won't be an ordinary item
in fact the team told me just before the show that anything could happen, and probably would
so let's have ... the item.
Hello, good evening, and welcome to 'Blackmail'!
And to start tonight's programme, we go North to Preston in Lancashire,
and Mrs Betty Teal!
Hello, Mrs Teal!
Now this is for £15
and it's to stop us revealing the name of your lover in Bolton.
So Mrs Teal...if you send us £15 by return of post, please,
and your husband Trevor, and your lovely children, Diane, Janice and Juliet
need never know the name of your lover in Bolton.
And now...a letter... a hotel registration book...
and a series of photographs... which could add up to divorce,
premature retirement, and possible criminal proceedings
for a company director in Bromsgrove.
He's a freemason, and prospective Tory MP.
That's Mr S. of Bromsgrove... £3000...
... to stop us from revealing your name, the name of the three other people involved,
the youth organization to which they belong,
and the shop where you bought the equipment.
We'll be showing you more of that photograph later in the programme...
unless we hear from Charles or Michael.
And now it's time for our 'Stop the Film' spot!
The rules are very simple. We have taken a film which contains compromising scenes and unpleasant details,
which could wreck a man's career.
But, the victim may phone me at any point and stop the film.
But remember the money increases as the film goes on.
So the longer you leave it... the more you have to pay!
So now, with the clock at £300
this week 'Stop the Film' visited Thames Ditton...
He's being very brave here...
Hello, sir, hello, yes.
No sir, no, I'm sure you didn't.
No, it's all right, sir, we don't morally censure, we just want the money.
Yes, here's the address to send it to:
Not at all, sir...thank you.
Sorry chaps, it was my mother.
Gentlemen, pray silence
for the President of the Royal Society
for Putting Things on Top of Other Things.
I thank you, gentlemen.
The year has been a good one for the Society
(hear, hear)
This year our members have put more things on top of other things
than ever before.
But, I should warn you, this is no time for complacency.
No, there are still many things,
and I cannot emphasize this too strongly, not on top of other things.
I myself, on my way here this evening,
saw a thing that was not on top of another thing in any way.
(shame!)
Shame indeed but we must not allow ourselves to become too despondent.
For, we must never forget that if there was not one thing that was not on top of another thing
our society would be nothing more than a meaningless body
of men that had gathered together for no good purpose.
But we flourish.
This year our Australasian members
and the various organizations affiliated
to our Australasian branches
put no fewer than twenty-two things on top of other things.
Well done all of you.
But there is one cloud on the horizon.
In this last year our Staffordshire branch
has not succeeded in putting one thing on top of another!
(shame!)
Therefore I call upon our Staffordshire delegate
to explain this weird behaviour.
Er, Cutler, Staffordshire.
Um ... well, Mr Chairman, it's just that most of the members in Staffordshire
feel... the whole thing's a bit silly.
Silly! SILLY!!
Silly! I suppose it is, a bit.
What have we been doing wasting our lives with all this nonsense? Right, okay, meeting adjourned for ever.
Good Lord. I'm on film.
How did that happen?
It's film again. What's going on?
Gentlemen! I have bad news.
This room is surrounded by film.
We're trapped!
Don't panic, we'll get out of this. We'll tunnel our way out.
Good thinking, sir. I'll get the horse.
Okay Captain, you detail three men, start digging and load them up with cutlery,
and then we'll have a rota, we'll have two hours digging, two hours vaulting and then two hours sleeping, okay?
All right, Medwin, let's see you get over that horse. Pick your feet up, Medwin. Come on, boy!
Ze stupid English. Zey are prisoners and all they do is the sport.
- One thing worries me, Fritz. - Ja?
Where's the traditional cheeky and lovable Cockney sergeant?
Cheer up, Fritz, it may never happen.
Good. Everything seems to be in order.
- Colonel! I've found another exit, sir. - Okay, quickly, run this way.
If we could run that way... Sorry.
Oh, I'm terribly sorry, excuse me.
Ah, hello. Well they certainly seem to be in a tight spot,
and I spot... our next item
so let's get straight on with the fun and go over to the next item
or dish! Ha ha!
Hello. 'Ow are you?
I'm fine.
Welcome to a new half-hour chat show
in which me, viz the man what's talking to you now, and Brooky - to wit my flat mate -
and nothing else, I'd like to emphasize that, discuss current affairs issues of burning import.
- Have you heard the one about the 3 nuns in the nudist colony? - Shut up. Tonight, the population explosion.
- Apparently there were these 3 nuns... - Shut up.
Come the year 1991, given the present rate of increase in the world's population,
the Chinese will be three deep. Another thing...
Sorry, loves, sorry, the show is too long this week and this scene's been cut.
Lord Hill's at the bottom of this.
But if you can find a piano stool you can appear later on in the show on film.
- 'Ow much? - Oh, about ten bob each?
- I wouldn't wipe me nose on it. - 'Ave you 'eard the one about these 3 nuns...
Shh. I can hear something.
'Ang about, we may still get in this show as a link.
- That's clever. How do they do that? - Colour separation, you cotton head.
No, that's not right.
Oh, what's this?
- 'lo British pig, we meet again! - What?
That bitch! He spilled the entire bottle of Chateau la Tour.
- Everything? - It's a disaster!
- Over here, Sir William. - Sir William, over here.
Now, stay there!
How do we get out of this?
No idea.
- Don't jump! - What?
- Don't jump! - The firemen are coming!
- What? - The firemen, don't jump!
- What? - Don't jump!
My god, he's coming back!
Well, they seem to be in another tight spot.
Could you...could you, could you keep it down a little, please?
Thank you so much.
Could you keep it down please...
Thank you.
Well and now we move on to our, main course. Prawn salad...
Prawn salad?
Well, if you'll just wait in here, sir,
I'm sure Mr Thompson won't keep you waiting long.
Fine. Thanks very much.
The mirror fell off the wall.
Sir?
The mirror fell off... off the wall... it fell.
I see. You'd better wait here.
I'll get a cloth.
- Ah, it ... it came off the wall. - Yes, sir?
- It just came right off the wall. - Really, sir.
Yes, I ... I didn't touch it.
Of course not. It just fell off the wall.
Yes. It just fell off the wall.
Don't move. I'll get help.
Yes - er, fell off the wall.
Oh my God, what a mess.
- 'Ere, did you do this? - No, no. I didn't do all this. It... it did it all.
Oh? Well...
'ere, hold this. I'll get started.
Oh, it's jolly nice. What is it?
It's a Brazilian dagger. Ooops!
Er, she just fell on... on to the dagger.
- Yes, of course she did, sir. - Yes,
just gave me the dagger and tripped, and went, 'Oops'.
- Yes sir, I understand. - I mean, I didn't er...
Oh no, no, of course not, sir, I understand.
- I mean she ... she just, er... - Fell?
I'm terribly sorry.
- That's him. - Right, sir.
Hello, officer. There seems to have been an accident.
Well, several accidents actually.
That's right, sir. Would you come this way, please.
Ahh! It's me ... me heart, sir.
You swine. I'll get you for that.
Er, I won't wait.
I'll phone.
Sorry.
I think we're really out this time. Yes. Jolly good.
Now where's the school hall?
- I think it's over there. - Come on. Sorry. Jolly good.
'Oh, Mr Belpit.
Your legs are so swollen.'
Excuse me, is that the school hall?
Um, I'm sorry, I don't know.
I'm not in this one, I'm in next week's, I think.
Oh, come on.
'Oh, Mr Belpit! ...'
Oh, here we are.
Ah well, they seem to have linked that themselves,
so there's no need for me to interrupt at all.
So, ah, back to the school hall.
'Seven Brides for Seven Brothers'.
'Tis time the seven Smith brothers had brides.
Fetch me Smith Major.
Sir.
'Tis time you and your six brothers were married.
Thank you, Headmaster.
Fetch me your six brothers, that the seven brothers may be together.
Behold, the seven brothers.
Right, I'll see Watson, Wilkins, and Spratt
in my study afterwards.
But...
where shall we find seven brides for seven brothers?
The Sabine School for Girls.
Yes, and it's the Annual Dance.
Fetch hither the seven brides for seven brothers.
Behold the seven brides.
Fetch hither the padre that the seven brides
may marry the seven brothers.
Fetch hither the master on duty that the seven brides
may marry the seven brothers.
Sorry, I'm late, Headmaster - I've been wrestling with Plato.
What you do in your own time, Padre, is written on the wall in the vestry.
Right, do you 4 boys...
take these 2 girls to be your 7 brides?
- Yes, sir. - Right, go and do your prep.
- I say, Teddy. - You said something, Neddy?
- That's right, I did, Teddy. - Well what is it, Neddy?
Piggybanks, Teddy.
Piggybanks, Neddy?
Yes, I want to hunt piggybanks, Teddy.
- You want to hunt piggybanks, Neddy? - That's right, Teddy.
- I got him, Teddy. - Time to bring home the bacon, Neddy.
That's not bacon, that's sirloin, Teddy.
Can't be sirloin! Not from a piggy, Neddy.
- But that's sirloin, Teddy. - No it isn't, Neddy.
- Is, Teddy. - Isn't, Neddy.
- Is, Teddy. - Hmm... Looks like I've been playing the fool, Neddy.
- That's all right, Teddy. - Thanks, Neddy.
Doesn't matter at all...
Good morning, I'd care to purchase a chicken, please.
Don't come here with that posh talk you nasty, stuck-up twit.
- I beg your pardon? - A chicken, sir. Certainly.
Thank you. And how much does that work out to per pound, my good fellow?
Per pound, you slimy trollop, what kind of a ponce are you?
- I'm sorry? - 4/6 a pound, sir, nice and ready for roasting.
I see, and I'd care to purchase some stuffing in addition, please.
Use your own, you great poofy poonagger!
- What? - Ah, certainly sir, some stuffing.
- Oh, thank you. - 'Oh, thank you' says the great queen
like a la-di-dah poofta.
- I beg your pardon? - That's all right, sir, call again.
- Excuse me. - What is it now, you great pillock?
Well, I can't help noticing that you insult me and then you're polite to me alternately.
I'm terribly sorry to hear that, sir.
- That's all right. It doesn't really matter. - Tough titty if it did, you nasty spotted prancer.
Sorry, I asked for tea.
Thank you very much.
Well we've had the dessert and then,
and so the first item,
the last item on our menu of fun is the coffee.
- Now I did ask for tea. - But you just said coffee.
No, no, that was just my announcement, just a metaphor.
We come... look would you mind keeping it down, please...
we come as - as I said just now, to the coffee.
- Here, he said it again! - Shut up!
This is Ken Clean-Air Systems, the great white hope of the British boxing world.
After three fights, and only two convictions,
his manager believes that Ken is now ready to face the giant American, Satellite Five.
The great thing about Ken is that he's almost totally stupid.
Every morning, he jogs the 47 miles from his 2-bedroomed, 8-bathroom, 6-up-2-down, 3-to-go-house in Reigate,
to the Government's Pesticide Research Centre at Shoreham.
Nobody knows why.
Basically Ken is a very gentle, home-loving person.
I remember when one of his stick insects had a knee infection.
He stayed up all night rubbing it with germoline and banging its head on the table.
Oh he was such a pretty baby,
always so kind and gentle. He was really considerate to his mother,
and not at all the kind of person
you'd expect to pulverize their opponent
into a bloody mass of flesh and raw bone, spitting teeth and fragments of gum
into a ring which had become one man's hell and Ken's glory.
Every morning at his little 3-room semi near Reading, Ken gets up at three o'dock
and goes back to bed again because it's far too early.
At seven o'clock Ken gets up, he has a quick shower, a rub-down,
gets into his track-suit, and goes back to bed again.
At 7.50 every morning Ken's trainer
runs the 13,000 miles from his 2-room lean-to in Bangkok
and gets him up.
I used to wake Ken up with a crowbar on the back of the head.
But I recently found that this was too far from his brain
and I wasn't getting through to him anymore.
So I now wake him up with a steel peg driven into his skull with a mallet.
For breakfast every day,
Ken places a plate of liver and bacon under his chair,
and locks himself in the cupboard.
Well, he's having a lot of mental difficulties with his breakfasts,
but this is temperament,
caused by a small particle of brain in his skull,
and once we've removed that he'll be perfectly all right.
At 8.30 the real training begins.
Ken goes back to bed and his trainer gets him up.
At 10.30 every morning Ken arrives at what he thinks is the gym.
Sometimes it's a sweetshop, sometimes it's a private house. Today it's a hospital.
Urn, straight down there.
Straight down there.
For lunch, Ken crouches down beside the road
and rubs gravel into his hair.
But lunch doesn't take long.
Ken's soon up on his feet and back to bed.
And his trainer has to run the 49,000 miles from his 2-bedroom, 6-living-room tree-house
in Kyoto to wake him up.
Hello. When Ken is in a really deep sleep like this one,
the only way to wake him up is to saw his head off.
What is he like in the ring, this human dynamo,
this 18-stone bantam weight battering-ram?
We asked his sparring partner and one-time childhood sweetheart,
Maureen Spencer.
Well, I think that if Ken keeps his right up,
gets in with the left jab and takes the fight to his man,
well, he should go for a cut eye in the 3rd and put Wilcox on the canvas by 6th.
Ken's opponent in Tuesday's fight is Petula Wilcox,
the Birmingham girl who was a shorthand typist before turning pro in 1968.
She's keen on knitting and likes Cliff Richard records.
How does she rate her chances against Ken?
Well, I'm a southpaw and I think this will confuse him,
particularly with his brain problem.
My lords, ladies and gedderbong!
On my right, from the town of Reigate
in the county of Kent, the heavyweight...
Mr Ken Clean-Air Systems!...
and on my left, Miss Petula Wilcox.
I think boxing's a splendid sport - teaches you self-defense.
Obviously boxing must have its limits,
but providing they're both perfectly fit I can see nothing wrong with one healthy man
beating the living daylights out of a little schoolgirl; it's quick and it's fun.
Oh, no, he's gone. But he left a message.
Jack! Where's that note that fellow left?
Oh, here you are.
It says...
'Sorry, had to catch the last bus.
Am on the 49b to Babbacombe.'
Oh, er, there you are. Hello.
You got the note, jolly good.
Well, um, that's all the items that we have for you this week
and er, what a jolly nice lot of items too, eh?
Um...well, the same team will be back with you again next week with another menu full of items.
Um...I don't know if I shall be introducing the show next week
as I understand that my bits in this show
have not been received quite as well as they might
but er, never mind, the damage is done
- no use in crying over spilt milk.
I've had my chance and I've muffed it.
Anyway, there we are.
I'm not really awfully good with words. You see, I'm more of a visual performer.
I have a very funny - though I say so myself - very funny funny walk.
I wish I'd been in that show. I'd have done rather well.
But anyway, there we are - the show's over.
And...we'll all be - they'll all be back with you again next week...
Sorry.
I do beg your pardon.
I don't like these... displays of emotion.
... I wish it would say the end.
Hello, good evening, and welcome to 'It's A Living'.
The rules are very simple: each week we get a large fee;
at the end of that week we get another large fee;
if there's been no interruption at the end of the year we get a repeat fee
which can be added on for tax purposes to the previous year or the following year if there's no new series.
Every contestant, in addition to getting a large fee is entitled to three drinks at the BBC
or if the show is over, seven drinks
- unless he is an MP, in which case he can have seven drinks before the show,
or a bishop only three drinks in toto.
The winners will receive an additional fee, a prize which they can flog back
and a special fee for a guest appearance on 'Late Night Line Up'.
Well, those are the rules, that's the game, we'll be back again same time next week. Till then. Bye-bye.
Well, it's five past nine and nearly time for six past nine.
On BBC 2 now it'll shortly be six and a half minutes past nine.
Later on this evening it'll be 10 o'clock and at 10.30 we'll be joining BBC 2 in time for 10.33,
and don't forget tomorrow when it'll be 9.20.
Those of you who missed 8.45 on Friday will be able to see it again this Friday at a quarter to nine.
Now here is a time check. It's 6 and 1/2 minutes to the big green thing.
- You're a loony. - I get so bored, I get so bloody bored.
- This way, please. - Righto, I'm coming.
Yes sir, it's this way.
Bloody hell, where are the lights?
What is this? Where are they?
How was this turned off?
Oh it won't stop!
Where are the lights? Oh, here they are...
You probably noticed that I didn't say 'and now for something completely different' just now.
This is simply because I am unable to appear in the show this week.
Sorry to interrupt.
I'm terribly sorry to interrupt but my tooth's hurting, just around here.
- Get off. - Oh, sorry.
I'm not sorry to interrupt,
I'll interrupt anything if it gets people looking in my direction
like at my old school where, by a coincidence,
the annual prize giving is going on at this very moment.
My Lord Mayor, Lady Mayoress,
it gives me very great pleasure to return to my old school,
to present the prizes in this centenary year.
This school takes very justifiable pride in its fine record of... aaagh!
... scholarship and sporting achievement in all... aaagh!
I'm, I'm afraid there's been a mistake. The man who has been speaking to you is an impostor.
He is not in fact the Bishop of East Anglia,
but a man wanted by the police.
I am the Bishop of East Anglia
and anyone who doesn't believe me can look me up in the book.
Now then, the first prize is this beautiful silver cup,
which has been won by me.
Next we come to the Fairfax Atkinson Trophy
for outstanding achievement in the field of Applied Mathematics.
Well, there was no-one this year who reached the required standard
so it goes in my sack.
And by an old rule of the school all the other silver trophies also go in my sack ... aaagh!
Velly solly for hold-up ... no ploblem now ...
me are Bishop of East Anglia, now piesent plizes...
Eyes down for first plize...
The Fyffe-Chulmleigh Spoon for Latin Elegaics... goes to...
People's Republic of China! Aaaagh!
Good evening, everybody. My name's Bradshaw Inspector Elizabeth Bradshaw, of the Special Branch Speech Day Squad,
but I'd like you to think of me as the Bishop of East Anglia,
and I'd like to present the first prize, the Grimwade Gynn Trophy to...
Lady Mayoress, ladies, gentlemen and boys.
Please do not panic.
Please keep your heads right down now,
and at the back please keep your heads right down.
Do not panic, don't look round, this building is surrounded.
There is nothing to worry about. I am the Bishop of East Anglia.
Now the first prize is the Granville Cup
for French Unseen Translation...
and it goes to Forbes Minor... Forbes Minor... Right, give him covering fire...
Come on Forbes. Come on boy. Come and get it. Keep down. Well done...
Oh... bad luck! The next prize...
Mr L.F. Dibley's latest film 'if'.
Mr Dibley, some people have drawn comparisons between your film, 'if',
which ends with a gun battle at a public school,
and Mr Lindsay Anderson's film, 'if', which ends with a gun battle at a public school.
Oh yes, well, I mean, there were some people who said my film
'2001 - A Space Odyssey', was similar to Stanley Kubrick's.
I mean, that's the sort of petty critical niggling that's dogged my career.
It makes me sick. I mean, as soon as I'd made 'Midnight Cowboy'
with the vicar as Ratso Rizzo, John Schlesinger rushes out his version,
and gets it premiered while mine's still at the chemist's.
Well, we have with us tonight one of your films, 'Rear Window',
which was to become such a success for Alfred Hitchcock a few weeks later.
Now this is a silent film, so perhaps you could talk us through it...
Yes, well, let's see now... There's the rear window.
There's the man looking out of the window. He sees the murder.
The murderer's come into the room to kill him, but he's outwitted him and he's all right. The End.
I mean, Alfred Hitchcock, who's supposed to be so bloody wonderful,
padded that out to 1 and 1/2 hours... Lost all the tension
just because he had bloody Grace Kelly he made £3 million more than I did.
Mind you, at least she can act a bit, I could have done with her in 'Finian's Rainbow'...
The man from the off-licence was terrible...
a real failure that was - 10 seconds of solid boredom.
Bloody terrible.
Mr L. F. Dibley's 'Finian's Rainbow'. And now over to me.
Exclusively on the programme today we have the Foreign Secretary,
who has just returned from the bitter fighting in the Gulf of Amman.
He's going to tell us about canoeing.
That gives you just some idea of what's going on out there.
Today saw the long-awaited publication of the Portman Committee's Report
on Industrial Reorganization...
It's taken five years to prepare and it's bound to have an enormous impact
on the future of industrial relations in this country.
In the studio tonight Lord Portman, Chairman of the Committee,
Sir Charles Avery, Employers' Reorganization Council,
and Ray Millichope, leader of the Allied Technicians' Union.
And they're going to make a human pyramid.
Bra...vo.
Now the President of the Board of Trade.
Now here's the Vice-Chairman of ICI.
Good evening.
So much for politics and the problems of Britain's industrial reorganization.
Now we turn to the lighter subject of sport,
and Reg Harris, the former world cycling sprint champion,
talks to us about the psychological problems of big race preparation.
And now the world of song - Anne Zeigler and Webster Booth.
Well, all good things must come to an end, and that's all for this week.
But to close our programme, Dame Irene Stoat, who celebrates her 85th birthday this month,
reads one of her most famous poems.
'Who shall declare this good, that ill
When good and ill so intertwine
But to fulfil the vast design of an omniscient will.
When seeming again but turns to loss
When earthly treasure proves but dross
And what seems lost but turns again
To high eternal gain.
We had the most marvelous holiday. It was absolutely fantastic.
- Michael, you tell them about it. - No, darling, you tell them. You do it so much better.
Excuse me a moment.
- Dung, sir. - What?
- We've got your dung. - What dung?
Your dung. Three hundredweight of heavy droppings. Where do you want it?
- I didn't order any dung. - Yes you did, sir. You ordered it through the Book of the Month Club.
Book of the Month Club?
That's right, sir. You get 'Gone with the Wind', 'Les Miserables' by Victor Hugo,
'The French Lieutenant's Woman' and with every third book you get dung.
- I didn't know that when I signed the form. - Well, no, no.
It wasn't on the form, they found it wasn't good for business. Anyway, we've got 300 weight of dung in the van.
- Where do you want it? - Well, I don't think we do. We've no garden.
- It'll all fit in here; it's top-class excrement. - You can't put it in here, we've having a dinner party!
's alright. I'll put it on the telly.
Darling... there's a man here with our Book of the Month Club dung.
We've no room, dear.
- How many rooms have you got, then? - Well, there's only this room, the bedroom, a spare room.
I'll tell you what, move everything into the main bedroom, then you can use the spare room as a dung room.
- Yes. - Dead Indian.
Have you recently bought a new cooker, sir? Ah well, this is your free dead Indian, as advertised...
- I didn't see that in the adverts... - No, it's in the very small print, you see, sir,
- so as not to affect the sales. - We've no room.
That's all right, you can put the dead Indian in the spare room on top of the dung.
- Me ... heap dizzy.
- He's not dead! - Oh well, that's probably a faulty cooker.
Have you, er... you read and enjoyed 'The French Lieutenant's Woman', then?
No.
- No... still, it's worth it for the dung, isn't it? - Darling, it's the Milk Marketing Board.
For every two cartons of single cream we get the M4 motorway.
Are you Mr and Mrs P. Forbes of 7, the Studios, Elstree?
- Yes. - Right, well, get in the car. We've won you in a police raffle.
Yes! This couple is just one of the prizes in this year's Police Raffle.
Other prizes include two years for breaking and entering,
a crate of search warrants, a 'What's all this then?' T-shirt
and a weekend for two with a skinhead of your own choice.
And that's not all. Three fabulous new prizes have just been added,
a four-month supply of interesting undergarments
a fully motorized pig
and a hand-painted scene of Arabian splendour,
complete with silly walk.
Finally add the sliced meat,
the vegetetables and voilà!
Personally I prefer more classical dishes.
Nigel! Wonderful to see you, super, super, super.
- Am I a teeny bit late? - A bit, an hour.
Oh, super! Only Snowdon's been re-touching my profile and we can't upset the lovely Snowdon, can we?
David Bloggs... the one and only... Super to see you.
Who are you working for? Come and work for me, I'll call you tomorrow.
It's really lovely to have this little chat with you.
It is so nice to have this little talk about things.
I heard a teeny rumourlette that you were married.
- Well, not quite, no. My wife's just died, actually. - Oh dear.
Brian! We must get together again soon. See you. Bye.
- Well, perhaps we could do a tribute to her on the show. - Well, no. I...
I'll get Peter, William, Arthur, Alex, Joan, Ted, Scott, Will, John and Ray to fix it up.
It is so nice having this little chat.
- Well, actually Timmy, I'm glad to get you on your own... - You don't mind if Peter just sits in?
- Well, actually... - Only he's doing an article on me for the 'Mail'.
- He's such a lovely person. - Hello.
Peter, this is one of the nicest people in the world, Nigel Watt.
W-A-double T. That's right, yes.
Well, actually, Timmy, the thing is, it's a bit private.
Oh, you don't mind if Peter just sits in, do you? Only Peter's writing a book on me.
- Peter, you know Tony from the 'Mail', don't you? - We met in the Turkish bath yesterday.
- Super, super. Did it come up well in the writing yesterday? - Great, great, great.
- You took out the tummy references? - Yes, I did.
Super, super, super. Just to fill you in, this is Nigel Watt
and we are having a little heart-to-heart. H-E-A-R-T. Smashing.
Do go on, Nigel.
Well, well, the thing is, Timmy, um...
Carry on, it's the 'TV Times', only they syndicate these photographs to America.
Would you mind if we just er...
Super, super. One over here, I think, Bob. A little smile, please...
Smashing, smashing. Feel free, Bob, to circulate, won't you.
- Do go on, this is most interesting. - Well, the thing is, Timmy, I'm a bit embarrassed.
Oh, Mr Williams, it's so nice to see you. Will you sign this for my little daughter, please?
Hello, Mario. Super, wonderful. Just two lovely coffees, please.
Sorry, sorry, Timmy. Can we just go from where Mario comes in, we're getting bad sound, OK?
It's German television. Isn't it exciting, Nigel? They're doing a prize-winning documentary on me.
'The Wonderful Mr Williams', scene 239, take 2.
Action!
Mario, how super to see you. How are the lovely family?
Please give your little daughter this. Thank you. And just two lovely coffees, please.
Such a lovely waiter. Now, go on please, this is most interesting.
Well ... er... as I was saying, Timmy, my wife's gone... gone.
I've got three children and I'm at my wits end.
No job, no insurance, no money at all.
I'm absolutely flat broke, I just don't know where to turn.
I... I'm absolutely at the end of my tether. You're my only chance. Can you help me, please, Timmy?
Sorry, I was on the phone to America.
It's been super having this lovely little chat. We must do this again more often.
Er... will you get the coffees? I'm afraid I must dash, I'm an hour late for the Israeli Embassy.
- Did you get that shot all right, sound? - Yes, fine.
- It... it wasn't a bit too wicked, was it? I mean, it wasn't too cruel? - No, no, no. It was great.
No, super... well, er... I think it shows I'm human, don't you?
- Yes, great. - Super. Well, the charabanc's here.
Go on, everybody. Bye.
Timmy Williams' 'Coffee Time' was brought to you live from Woppi's in Holborn.
Good evening. I have with me in the studio tonight
one of the country's leading skin specialists - Raymond Luxury Yacht.
That's not my name.
I'm sorry - Raymond Luxury Yach-t.
No, no, no - it's spelt Raymond Luxury Yach-t, but it's pronounced 'Throatwobbler Mangrove'.
You're a very silly man and I'm not going to interview you.
- Ah, anti-semitism! - Not at all. It's not even a proper nose.
- It's polystyrene. - Give me my nose back.
- You can collect it at reception. Now go away. - I want to be on the television.
Well you can't.
All clear.
Hi there, big boy...
- Hey, cutie. - Hello, tiger.
Tiger! Tiger!
Tiger!
- Er, excuse me, I want to get married. - I'm afraid I'm already married, sir.
Er, no, no. I just want to get married.
I could get a divorce, I suppose, but it'll be a bit of a wrench.
Er, no, no. That wouldn't be necessary because...
You see, would you come to my place or should I have to come to yours, because I've just got a big mortgage.
- No, no, I want to get married here. - Oh dear. I had my heart set on a church wedding.
Look, I just want you to marry me...
I want to marry you too sir, but it's not as simple as that.
- You sure you want to get married? - Yes. I want to get married very quickly.
- Suits me, sir. Suits me. - I don't want to marry you!
- There is such a thing as breach of promise, sir. - Look, I just want you to act
- ... as registrar and marry me. - I will marry you sir, but please make up your mind.
- Please don't trifle with my affections. - I'm sorry, but...
That's all right, sir. I forgive you. Lovers' tiff.
But you're not the first person to ask me today. I've turned down several people already.
- Look, I'm already engaged. - Yes, and I'm already married. Still we'll get round it.
- Good morning. I want to get married. - I'm afraid I'm already marrying this gentleman, sir.
- Well, can I get married after him? - Well, divorce isn't as quick as that, sir. Still, if you're keen.
- I want to get married, please. - Heavens, it's my lucky day, isn't it.
All right, but you'll have to wait until I've married these two, sir.
What, those two getting married... Nigel What are you doing marrying him?
- He's marrying me first, sir. - He's engaged to me.
- Come on, Henry. - Blimey, the wife.
- Will you marry me? - I'm already married.
Well, things turned out all right in the end,
but you musn't ask how 'cos it's naughty.
They're all married and living quite well in a council estate near Dulwich.
Today I want to tell you a story.
Once upon a time, there was an enchanted prince
who ruled the land...
One day he discovered a spot on his face.
Foolishly he ignored it. And 3 years later, he died of
gangrene.
The spot soon set out to seek its fortune...
Did you see who's just moved in next door?
Yes, black as the ace of spades.
Oh, there goes the neighbourhood! Them and their smelly cooking.
- And the noise... - And they breed like rabbits.
Oh yes...
Hello and welcome to 'Election Night Special'.
There's great excitement here as we should be getting the first results through any minute now. We don't know
where it'll be from... it might be Leicester or from Luton. The polling's been quite heavy in both areas...
oh, wait a moment, I'm just getting... I'm just getting a loud buzzing noise in my left ear. Excuse me a moment.
Anyway, let's go straight over to James Gilbert at Leicester.
Well it's a straight fight here at Leicester...
On the left of the Returning Officer you can see Arthur Smith, the Sensible candidate and his agent,
and on the other side is the silly candidate Jethro Walrustitty with his agent and his wife.
Here is the result for Leicester.
Arthur J. Smith... (Sensible Party)
30 612.
Jehro Q. Walrustitty... (Silly Party)
32 108.
Well, there's the first result and the Silly Party has held Leicester. What do you make of that, Norman?
Well, this is largely as I predicted, except that the Silly Party won.
I think this is mainly due to the number of votes cast. Gerald?
Well there's a swing here to the Silly Party... but how big a swing I'm not going to tell you.
Well, if I may... I think the interesting thing here is the big swing to the Silly Party
and of course the very large swing back to the Sensible Party... and a tendency to wobble up and down in the middle because the screw's loose.
- No, I'm afraid I can't think of anything. - I can't add anything to that. Colin?
Can I butt in at this point and say this is in fact the very first time I've appeared on television.
No, no we haven't time, because we're just going straight over to Luton.
Here at Luton it's a 3-cornered fight
between Alan Jones (Sensible Party), in the middle,
Tarquin Fin- tim- lim- bim- whin- bim- lim- bus- stop- F'tang- F'tang- Olè- Biscuitbarrel (Silly Party),
and Kevin Phillips-Bong, the Slightly Silly candidate.
Alan Jones (On the left, Sensible Party)
9 112.
Kevin Phillips-Bong (On the right, Slightly Silly)
Nought...
Tarquin Fin- tim- lin- bin- whin- bim- lin- bus- stop- F'tang- F'tang- Olé- Biscuitbarrel...
(Silly)
12 441.
And so the Silly Party has taken Luton.
A gain for the Silly Party at Luton. The first gain of the election, Norman?
Well this is a highly significant result. Luton, normally a very sensible constituency
with a high proportion of people who aren't a bit silly, has gone completely ga-ga.
Do we have the swing at Luton?
Well, I've worked out the swing, but it's a secret.
Er, well, ah, there... there isn't the swing, how about a swong?
Well, I've got the swong here in this box and it's looking fine.
I can see through the breathing holes that it's eating up peanuts at the rate of knots.
And how about the swang?
Well, it's 29% up over 600 feet but it's a little bit soft around the edges about...
What do you make of the nylon dot cardigan and plastic mule rest?
- There's no such thing. - Thank you, Spike.
Can I just come in here and say that the swong has choked itself to death.
- Well, the election's really beginning to hot up now. - I can't add anything to that.
Can I just add at this point that this is in fact the second time I've ever been on television?
I'm sorry, Sasha, we're just about to get another result.
Hello, from Harpenden. This is a key seat because in addition to the official Silly candidate
there is an independent Very Silly candidate
who may split the Silly vote.
- Mrs Elsie Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz... (Silly)
26 317.
James Walker (Sensible)
26 318.
That was close.
Malcolm Peter Brian Telescope Adrian
Umbrella Stand Jasper Wednesday Stoatgobbler John Raw Vegetable
Arthur Norman Michael Featherstone
Smith Northgot Edwards Harris
Mason Frampton Jones Fruitbat
Gilbert 'We'll keep a welcome in the'
Williams If I Could Walk That Way Jenkin
Tiger-draws Pratt Thompson 'Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head'
Darcy Carter Pussycat
'Don't Sleep In The Subway' Barton
Mannering Smith (Very Silly)
2.
Well there you have it. A Sensible gain at Driffield.
Norman...
Well, I've just heard from Luton that my auntie's ill, er, possibly,
possibly gastro-enteritis - Gerald.
Er, well, if this were repeated over the whole country it's probably be very messy. Colin.
Can I just butt in and say here that it's probably the last time I shall ever appear on television.
No I'm afraid you can't, we haven't got time. Just to bring you up to date with a few results, er, that you may have missed.
Engelbert Humperdinck has taken Barrow-in-Furness,
that's a gain from Ann Haydon-Jones and her husband Pip.
Arthur Negus has held Bristols.
That's not a result, that's a bit of gossip.
Mary Whitehouse has just taken umbrage. Could it be a bit of trouble there.
And apparently Wales is not swinging at all. No surprise there.
And... Monty Python has held the credits.