This is a frightened city.
Over these houses, over these streets hangs a pall of fear.
Fear of a new kind of violence
which is terrorising the city.
Yes, gangs of old ladies attacking defenseless, fit young men.
What are they in it for, these old hoodlums, these layabouts in lace?
Well, it's something to do isn't it?
It's good fun.
Nowadays, some of us daren't even go down to the shops.
Well, Mr Johnson's son Kevin, he don't go out any more.
He comes back from wrestling and locks himself in his room.
Favourite targets for the old ladies are telephone kiosks.
Well, come on, come on, off with you.
Clear out. Come on, off. Get out of it.
We have a lot of trouble with these oldies.
Pension day's the worst, they go mad.
As soon as they get their hands on their money,
they blow it all on milk, bread, tea, tin of meat for the cat.
The whole problem of these senile delinquents
lies in their complete rejection of the values of contemporary society.
They've seen their children grow up and become accountants,
stockbrokers and even sociologists,
and they begin to wonder, is it all really...
But this is not just an old ladies' town.
There are other equally dangerous gangs, such as the baby snatchers.
I just left my husband outside here while I went in to do some shopping,
and I came back and he was gone.
He was only 47.
And on the roads, too, vicious gangs of "keep left" signs.
Right, right, stop it. This film's got silly.
Started off as a nice little idea about grannies attacking young men,
but now it's got silly.
That man's hair is too long for a vicar, too.
Those signs are pretty badly made.
Right, now for a complete change of mood.
Ron, now, let's just get this quite clear,
you're intending to jump across the English Channel?
Oh, yes, that is correct, yes.
And just how far is that?
Oh, well, it's 26 miles from here to Calais.
That's to the beach at Calais?
Well, no, no, provided I get a good lift off
and maybe a gust of breeze over the French coast,
I shall be jumping into the centre of Calais itself.
Ron, are you using any special techniques to jump this great distance?
Oh, no, no. I shall be using an ordinary two-footed jump
straight up in the air and across the Channel.
I see. Ron, what is the furthest distance
that you've jumped so far?
11 foot 6 inches at Motspur Park on July 22nd.
But I have done nearly 12 feet unofficially.
I see. Ron, Ron, Ron, aren't you worried, Ron,
aren't you worried jumping 26 miles across the sea?
Oh, well, no, no, no, no. It is, in fact, easier to jump over sea than over dry land.
Well, how is that?
Well, my manager explained it to me.
You see, if you're five miles out over the English Channel
with nothing but sea underneath you,
there is a very great impetus to stay in the air.
I see. Well, thank you very much, Ron, and the very best of luck.
Thank you, thank you.
The man behind Ron's cross-channel jump
is his manager Mr Luigi Vercotti.
Mr Vercotti.
- Mr Vercotti. - What?
- Mr Vercotti. - Look, I've never been down
the old Coco Club. I don't know what you're talking about.
No, we're from the BBC, Mr Vercotti.
- Who? - The BBC.
Oh, I see. I thought... I thought you were the...
I like the police a lot,
- I've got a lot of time for them. - Yes. Well, Mr...
Mr Vercotti, what is your chief task as Ron's manager?
Well, my main task is to fix a sponsor for the big jump.
- And who is the sponsor? - The Chippenham Brick Company.
They pay all the bills,
in return for which, Ron will be carrying half a hundredweight of their bricks.
Clay bricks, mainly.
I see. Well, it looks as if Ron is ready now.
He's got the bricks. He's had his passport checked,
and he's all set to go.
And he's off on the first ever cross-channel jump.
Will Ron be trying the cross-channel jump again soon?
No. No, I'm taking him off the jumps,
because I've got something lined up for Ron next week
that I think is very much more up his street.
What's that?
Ron is going to eat Chichester Cathedral.
Well, there he goes, Ron Obvious of Neaps End, in an attempt
which could make him the first man ever to eat an entire Anglican cathedral.
Right, David, this is something which both Ron and myself are really keen on.
Ron is gonna tunnel from Godalming there to Java here.
Java?
Yeah, I personally think this is gonna make Ron a household name overnight.
And how far has he got?
Well, he's quite far now, Dave, well on the way. Well on the way, yeah.
Well, where is he exactly?
- Yeah. - Where?
Oh, well, you know, it's difficult to say exactly.
He's, you know, in the area of...
Ron, how far have you got?
About 2 foot 6, Mr Vercotti.
Yes, well, keep digging, lad. Keep digging.
Mr Vercotti, are you sure there isn't a spade?
I, Erik...
And now...
This little-known Icelandic saga,
written by an unknown hand in the late 13th century,
has remained undiscovered until today.
Now it comes to your screens for the first time
fresh from the leaves of Iceland's history.
The terrible Njorl's Saga.
It's not that terrible.
- No, I meant terribly violent. - Oh, yeah. Yeah.
Erik Njorl, son of Frothgar,
leaves his home to seek Hangar the Elder at the house of Thorvald Nlodvisson,
the son of Gudleif, half brother of Thorgier, the priest of Ljosa Water,
who took to wife Thurunn, the mother of Thorkel Braggart,
the slayer of Gudmund the Powerful,
who knew Howal, son of Geernon, son of Erik from Valdalesc,
son of Arval Gristlebeard, son of Harken,
who killed Bjortguaard in Sochnadale in Norway
over Cudreed, daughter of Thorkel Long,
the son of Kettle-Trout, the half-son of Harviyoun Half-Troll,
father of Ingbare the Brave,
who wed Isenbert of Gottenberg the daughter of Hangbard the Fierce...
I apologise for an error in the saga.
Evidently, Thorgier, the priest of Ljosa Water who took to wife Thurunn,
the mother of Thorkel Braggart,
the slayer of Gudmund the Powerful,
who knew Howal, son of Geernon, son of Erik from Valdalesc...
Well, I'm afraid we're having a little trouble
getting this very exciting Icelandic saga started.
If any of you at home have any ideas about how to get this exciting saga
started again, here's the address to write to.