Original subtitles

Good evening. Good evening. It's very nice to be with you again, isn't it,

Ronnie? Lovely, lovely.

We've got some very interesting people on the show tonight. We've got Chas

Chase, The New World, Tina Charles.

We had hoped to have a team of Eskimo dancers on the show, but at the last

moment they got cold feet.

We'll be interviewing the only remaining handsome cab driver in London and

asking, why are all the others so ugly?

And we should be speaking to a man who's lived for 60 years on nothing but

carrots and oysters.

The carrots give him the ability to see in the dark, and the oysters give him

the ability.

We must apologize for a fault in today's farming program, Compost for Beginners.

Vision and sound both failed, and the program continued in smell only.

And now, some news of programme changes.

Due to the party political broadcast, last week's edition of This Week will be

repeated tonight, replacing tonight's edition of Today, which was shown

yesterday.

This means that tonight, Tomorrow's World will be shown in place of all our

yesterdays, the nine o 'clock news will be at a quarter past eleven, and the

midnight movie High Noon is replaced by Breakfast at Tiffany's.

And the morning story will be read by Robin Day later in the afternoon, just

after a book at bedtime.

If any of you find this at all confusing, please write to the BBC and

forward an informative pamphlet entitled How to Knit.

Thieves broke into the National Fish Museum today and stole 17 stuffed trout

a chub.

Police arrested a man four foot two tall but threw him back as he was too small.

A man who got away was said to be 23 feet tall and weighing 726 pounds.

Now it's time once again to consider the state of the party.

It's a very nice party.

Oh, thank you, Robert.

I wonder if I might use your bathroom.

Yes, certainly.

It's up the stairs, first on the right and the last on the left. Thank you very

much. I say, it's a funny time to be having a bath, isn't it?

Wouldn't you prefer a drink?

No, I'm not going to have a bath. Oh, I see. Well, there's nothing else much you

can do in there. There's just a bath in there, you know.

Just a bath?

Yes.

No, um, no other things?

No.

Oh.

Only I, you know, I rather wanted to, you know...

See a man about a dog.

Well, old Griffith over there, he's a vet.

No, not a real dog. Oh, I see.

No, I just wanted to sort of, you know, wash my hands and generally,

you know, go upstairs.

Oh, well, there's no need to go upstairs. You can wash them in the

No, I hardly think that would be right, surely.

No, I wanted to use the smallest room.

Yes, well, that would be Camilla's bedroom, but she's asleep at the moment.

There is a little brush cupboard under the stairs, if you like.

No, you don't seem to understand what I mean. If I said I wanted to inspect the

plumbing, would you understand what I mean?

Yes. Well, that's what I want to do.

I want to inspect the plumbing.

But you'd get filthy, Elder.

No, you don't. I'm going to be absolutely frank with you.

I want to do ones.

Ones?

Yes, ones.

Ones what?

What do you mean, ones what?

Ones ones.

Ones number ones.

I want to do number ones.

I want to be excused. I want to spend a penny.

I want to go to the lavatory.

Yes, I want to go to the lavatory.

Well, why didn't you say so?

Julia, Robert wants to go and sit on the doughnut in Granny's greenhouse.

The honey wind blows and the warm days

dwindle.

The butterfly spins a silk cocoon on a silvery

spindle.

The petals fall from the last day.

The petals fall and the summer goes.

The summer goes and the honey wind

blows.

And now let's sing it.

But the world and I have grown just that little bit old. I sit alone

and the summer goes.

And the honeymoon blows.

The honeymoon blows and the days...

and somehow the world and i have grown just a little bit

Only this morning we had a very big argument with the kiddies about staying

late to watch Daddy.

They wanted to go to bed.

I know my wife will be watching, you know, if only to check on where I get to

Saturday nights.

I don't know why they lock these pianos, you know.

Something about ivory poachers.

Oh, here's the key under the mat.

Open it up.

Goodness me.

By the look of these keys, the elephant must have smoked himself to death.

I... Oh, dear.

Oh, the sound can't get out.

It needs

a tune as well.

That was supposed to be tea for two.

Actually, why I wanted the piano here tonight was not so much to play it,

although a quick arpeggio would never hurt anyone, but have you ever thought

that if Logie Baird hadn't invented television, we could all be out enjoying

ourselves?

I could actually be sitting here all night, you know. I may have to. I've got

one foot caught under the pedals.

I was going to relate an incident years ago when I played the piano in a public

house. I did, honestly, you know.

It's incredible, really, isn't it, when you see me sitting here in a Harley

Street sweater and alligator socks.

And it's not easy getting the socks off an alligator.

Yes, I used to play the piano in a pub, you know, just sort of background music.

I used to get 30 bob off the public and just sit at the piano for a couple of

hours, or two quid off the customers to sit somewhere else.

Not much money by today's standards.

Wasn't a hell of a lot then, either.

But they were hard times, very hard times. You know, I used to lie awake at

night, making plans to ambush meals on wheels.

I remember I broke my glasses.

Broke the glasses, the lens was completely smashed, and I couldn't

replace it, so I had it boarded up.

I was two years squinting through a knot hole.

Now, you've got to believe... You've got to believe all this, or what is coming

will seem ridiculous.

So anyway, this particular night, just before closing time, it was a Saturday,

and all the customers were singing away.

They were singing Verdi's Requiem Mass.

That's how I remember it was a Saturday.

God, they were a wild bunch.

And I was playing.

And suddenly, This man shouted out, that piano playing is terrible, he said.

I've got an old cat at home that can play better than that.

Well, it all went quiet.

Not as quiet as this.

But quiet.

And my mother, my mother, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, taking

back off a fruit machine,

jumped

to her foot.

Did I tell you she had a wooden leg?

Jumped to her foot.

I knew it was her. I knew it was her. I could see her through the knot hole.

She said, sir, what's your name?

McHugh, said he.

McHugh. He was Irish by extraction.

He once had a tooth out in Dublin.

He said, sir, are you out of your mind or have you been drinking the bitter?

He said, I'll show you. So he goes out and he comes back with this old moggy

cat. The cat jumps on the piano stool and the man puts a piece of music on the

stand. And he said to the public, now this is a little bit he wrote himself,

just listen to this.

And the cat sat there and started to play.

Now, it wasn't a brilliant pianist, I'm not going to pretend it was for a

minute.

Quite a nice touch, but couldn't quite reach the pedal to the back.

Anyway, finished the piece, finished the piece, and the publican said, do you

mean to tell me that old cat wrote that music? He said, that's marvellous, he

said. Why don't you get it orchestrated?

Well, the cat jumped off that stool and was out of the door.

You may recall, dear patient reader, how in the previous chapter I related my

adventures in the Crimean War.

After the garrison had been evacuated, I had attempted to return to England,

but, sad to say, had not sufficient money to complete my journey and had

in Paris penniless.

But fate was once again to place its gentle finger upon me in the person of a

well -known painter.

one to lose Lautrec.

Bonjour, mademoiselle.

Good day, sir.

May I join you?

Oh, I would indeed be honored.

Wonderful. Thank you very much. You're very kind.

Pierre, some coffee, please.

Oui, monsieur.

Angelique.

Even you have your uses.

Are you not Monsieur Lautrec?

I trust you do not object to my forwardness?

No, I am just looking at it. It is very beautiful, my dear.

I am indeed, as you say, Toulouse -Lautrec.

And you very well might be the girl I've been searching for for all these years.

I wonder, my dear, if you could lend me a hundred francs. Only I appear to be

rather short.

This week.

You appear to be rather short every week.

You haven't paid the rent for three months.

Rent? For that?

Oh!

Ballon!

I did not understand the language.

But the argument soon blew over, and Monsieur Lautrec began again to persuade

to model for him.

And thus it was that an hour later, I found myself accompanying him to his

studio above the café.

Monsieur Lautrec.

Ah, let me... What's happened to your beard?

I've taken it off.

Entwistle British intelligence.

Not a word, my dear. We might be overheard. Sufficient to say that I'm

for some secret papers, and I have every reason to believe that Pierre, the cafe

proprietor, has them.

Yes, indeed.

Now, I'm looking for a British girl, preferably British, who can pose as my

model. Do you understand?

And share with me my dirty, mucky secret.

Oh, what secret?

The fact that I can't paint for toffee.

How do you manage to keep up the pretence of being a great painter? Well,

rather a clever device, my dear, thought up by British intelligence. The

paintings are drawn out back at HQ, and I fill in the colours according to a

code. Each colour has a number.

I'm sorry.

Quick. He mustn't see you with your clothes on, dear. It'll look suspicious.

Take them off. But there isn't time.

Go behind the screen, my dear.

Good day, Christopher.

Come in, monsieur.

Come in. Don't forget your beard.

Well, uh... Oh, oh, there you are,

monsieur. Are you just going out?

No, I've just come back in. Oh, I've brought some supper for your little girl

also.

Where, where is she?

As a matter of fact, she's undressing behind the screen.

Oh, mademoiselle, supper is here.

Make haste, or your noodles will get cold.

Yes,

yes, I insist you leave us alone.

Oh, very well, monsieur. I will leave you with your little bedmate.

She is not my bedmate, Pierre.

She will have to be. There is only one bed. So I sleep on the floor.

I myself would find that very hard.

Oh, I could sleep on a clothesline.

Oh, that's a good idea. You could hang yourself up on your little hook.

And so began my new career as a model for British intelligence.

It seemed to be one long round of dressing and undressing.

It was hard work, but it certainly achieved results.

After three weeks, Mr. Entwistle's technique had improved enormously.

But Pierre had begun to press his intentions upon me, especially when Mr.

Entwistle was not present.

And on one occasion, completely overstepped the bounds of gentlemanly

This was too much for Mr. Entwistle.

His honour was at stake.

The duel was arranged for the following morning at eight o 'clock.

... ... ... ...

so so

That was the last I was to see of Mr. Entwittle.

The old gentleman recovered from his blow on the head, and he drove me back

his country house.

He suggested that I stay for a bit, but I declined.

I had already resolved to set my sights once more on dear old England.

And so, the kind gentleman dispatched me forthwith to Dover, with an

introduction to a wealthy friend of his.

who was in need of a housekeeper.

What

a

feeling of dread suddenly overcame me.

What sort of house had I come to?

Welcome to Doomsday Call.

You've been running, you've been rambling, and you don't know what to do.

A holy way to stand.

It's this, uh, it's this blessed pain in my leg here, you see.

I've been getting these, uh, terrible throbbing pains just from being here

this. I mean, I was all right on a Saturday night, but I did a bit of

the Sunday, and I just can't walk about at all now, you see. No, no, well, I've,

I've discovered to see you. Oh, I know, and I appreciate it. I do appreciate it.

Especially, uh, especially with all this flu going about at the moment. You must

be awfully busy.

No, no, I've come to see you about my arm.

Oh, did you? Yes.

Oh, I see. You came to see me.

Yes. About your arm.

Yes. Oh, I see. Oh, yes. Well, uh...

Why me?

Well, because... I

came to see

you because you're a doctor.

Oh, I'm the doctor? Yes.

Oh, I see, I'm the doctor.

Oh, I'm the doctor, am I? Oh, I see, I am the doctor.

I am the doctor. Good morning, good morning, doctor. Oh, yes, I see what you

mean, yes. I must be the doctor.

Hello, doctor here. Yes, it sounds very good. Yes.

Hello, nurse.

Yes, doctor. Oh, yes, you're quite right.

Oh, yes.

No question of it.

Now, which part of Spain did you want to go to?

No, I've come to... The lower half of Spain's awfully nice at this time of

A bit crowded, but I'll see what I can do.

Nurse, would you bring in the Torremolinos sunshine holiday brochures,

You're a doctor.

Oh. Oh, we're not arranging people's holiday bookings at the moment?

No. Oh, I'm awfully sorry. No, we can't accept any more holiday bookings just at

the minute.

No, I didn't come to see you about holiday bookings. Ah, theatre bookings,

it? I can help you there. No, no, no. I come to see you about my arm, you see.

I am a patient and you're a doctor.

Oh, I'm the doctor. Oh, yes. I'll have to write that down in large letters.

Yes. D -O -C -K -T -E -R.

Doctor. Yes. Oh, yes. Yes, I see now. Yes, I've got it.

Right. What can I do for you, Doctor?

No, I'm not a doctor. Oh, you're not a doctor.

Oh, dear, we're wasting each other's time here. I think I'll go then.

No, no, I'm the chartered surveyor.

Oh, you're the chartered surveyor. Oh, now we're getting somewhere.

Right. Right. And last week, last week I broke my arm. Broke your arm, yes. It

has been set in plaster.

Set in plaster. But I think it's getting worse. I think it's getting worse.

Causing me more pain. Causing me more pain. And I can't sleep at night. And

can't sleep at night. What should I do?

Well, I think you should see a doctor.

a minute.

I'll be with you in a minute. I've got a couple of... Where are we? Oh, how is

it, Mr.

Jenkinson? They're a bit tight, I think, Doctor. Oh, are they? Right.

I'll just... Just a minute. I've got something else in here. I'll have a look

for you.

Oh, yes.

Try a pair of these.

Try a pair of those.

I think they're a bit more expensive, but they're awfully smart.

Thank you. Good night to you.

That's it. Now then, who's next?

Me. Oh, you, yes. Yes, yes. Well, what can I do for you? Well, this arm is

getting increasingly more painful. All right, well, yes, come over here.

Just lie down on the couch, take off your coat, and I'll have a look at your

trousers for you.

That's it.

A half a pound of jelly babies, please, Doctor. Oh, I'm afraid we're out of

jelly babies, Mrs. B. We've only got mint humbugs at the minute.

Oh, please. Fine, Doctor, I'll have them. All right, I think you'll be

with those.

That'll be... That'll be... Oh, I've made another pair there.

That's a decent piece of paper. Put them down there. That'll be £8 .50.

£8 .50? Yes. Eight and a half quid, as we used to say. There we go.

Right.

Thank you very much. Let's take a bit of that on there.

A wee bandage. There we go.

I don't think you can go far wrong in those.

You'll have a go if you like. I mean, you can try.

Thank you very much.

I'll just... Thank you.

Right. Oh, and I've got those for you.

There's about 24 there, so they should last you through the winter.

How many should I take, Doctor? Oh, no, you don't take them. No, they're extra

fly buttons. You never know, do you?

Right.

Mind your head on the way out, won't you?

Yes. Now, how's it getting on now? A quarter of licorice, all sorts. A

of licorice, all sorts. Certainly, Mrs. B.

I'll be glad to oblige you at any time.

There we are.

That's it.

Oh, my goodness.

That's it. One for luck.

Now then, I clearly haven't got any smaller bags in this house.

There we go.

Lovely.

How much, John?

Pardon me?

How much? Well, whatever you've got in your hand.

Can you read that all right? Goodbye.

Goodbye, John.

Mind your head in the warehouse, won't you?

That's it.

Right, who's next? Oh, you over here.

Come along, man. Look,

I think we're both wasting each other's time here. You think so? Yes, I haven't.

I must be honest with you. I haven't come to see you about my arm.

Ah, now you're talking.

Pull up a Bentwood and sit down. Yes. I want a new car.

Oh, that's more like it. Nurse, would you come in, please?

Was it the Alvis in the window you were interested in? That's the one I am.

Would you show Mr. Thompson the Alvis in the window, please, nurse? Yes, sir.

Thank you.

Don't bother to mind your head on the way out.

Oh, no, ladies, how are you getting on in here?

Good evening.

Last month on this programme, we dealt with the Reverend W .A. Spooner of New

College, Oxford, initiator of the Spoonerism, the man who once said to his

congregation, now let us preel and neigh and confess the dongs we have run.

The success of our profile on Spooner has led to a new Western musical which

closed last week in rehearsal.

Here, then, is an excerpt from the show.

What a lovely lay it is.

Oh, it does feel up to be good in the morning.

Where is my lovely wife? Millicent! She surely can't be Bill instead.

Still in bed.

Oh, I forgot. She's gone to have her pig whirled. Her wig furled. But she should

be back by now.

Millicent!

Did you call, William?

Ah, good milling, Mornicent.

Happy Anning Wediversary, dear.

Nuit d 'amour, number five. Oh, thank you, William.

I knew you needed a scent of bot.

Of subtle event.

Purple. Oh, yes, I did.

And are you still taking me out tonight?

Sweetly, my third.

I want you to go away and put on your hideous little pratt.

I have reserved our usual nosy little cook and ordered your favorite meal,

pops and dotted speak.

Ah, but if only our place was still open. Ah. The restaurant you took me to

day we met.

Oh, William.

I still remember that table for two where close together we'd sit

in that bohemian cafe we knew.

Somewhere in Notting Hill, Git.

It was delectable mock -suit -le -ter.

Rooms were my favorite course.

Mine was roast horse and beef radish sauce.

Lances at each other with stool, hating to miss a glimpse.

Over the check -in kiss -a -roll and the shrotted pimps.

I'm still your...

Dr. Spooner. My name is Mr. Armstrong.

Ah, how do you arm, Mr. Dewstrong?

Armstrong. Nevertheless, I am demited to like you.

My wife has just gone away to make us a nice tot of pea.

I didn't come here to drink tea, I'm afraid. No, I came to see you about the

fences. Oh, all right. Don't get your knickers in a twist. Oh, I did that one

right. I'm sorry.

Don't get your twisters in a nick. What do you want?

Well, I want to know, for example, beside yourself and your wife, If there

any other people domiciled or resident in this domicile? Well, I have a

university colleague staying with me who is writing a thesis on songs of the

Wild West entitled Pioneer Poke Music.

Would you like to hear one?

Well, I don't think so.

Oh, then show yourself.

It was round -up time at Cherokee Landing and the cows were randy for

ready.

Slim and watching his moves.

When I thought I heard the distant hounding of fools.

Overcome with fear. I couldn't quite stifle.

Just for safety's sake I picked up my rusty trifle.

When in gallop the gorgeous girl in spangles and crystals.

Threateningly pandishing her bristles.

Pandishing bristles.

Pounding hooves. Really, Dr. Squirell, this is letting us go where?

Going us net worth.

Getting us nowhere. Is that what you're saying to Trey?

Well,

what do you wish to know? Well, I wish to know complete details of your family,

where you were born, your earnings and so forth. If you will dictate them to

I will poppy them all in a little bit of caper. Very well.

Well, I was scorned in Botland and my wife was worn in bales.

I have one done and two sorted. That's one me -male and two fales.

Domestically, we're overdaft and postily undergraved.

There's Harry, she's the mousekeeper, and Moosey, she's the lad.

Forgive me for asking, but could you take it slower, please? It's not that I

doubting a Guinister of mod.

It's just that my ears haven't quite become accustomed to the manner of your

speaking, and it hounds a little thought.

Well, there's Harry, he's the gardener. There's Gary, he's the hardener. And

Colin, he's the boot boy. And Bolling does the coots.

There's Melanie, the tweeny maid.

Young Eeny Twee, the lemonade.

And Bertie is my doggie. Ah, little dirty bog.

My mother comes from Britain, my father comes from Turkey. So, your mother, she

is Titish, and your father, he's a Berk.

And you'll be very glad to see that that concludes the inventory. I think that

you'll admit that it's a lovely wab of jerk.

Wab of jerk?

Wab of jerk, Mr.

Doosprong? Your words are not making sense. Not making sense?

Poppy Dash and Baldacock.

Really, I've never heard anything so reliefulous in all my dick.

I must ask you to leave my house at once. I'm going, don't worry. Or heave

if you prefer.

Heave your louse?

Yes, please. I shall certainly heave your louse. Yes. If you don't want the

lion, I'll have it.

Wonderful thing you are.

I shall heave your louse.

Yes. This is a nightmare. A nightmare, I tell you. My hound is going red in

circles. Oh.

Not making sense.

Oh, how bare he, the dastard.

Has he gone?

Has he gone? Good gracious me, has he gone? Of course. As from now on, I am

house of this headhound.

No, but, Mrs. Spooner, I am not as confused as I seem.

Now, look, from now on, and you can go up these clothes and take your stairs

straight away.

I'm talking of stairs.

We'll stair this up.

A crappy Christmas to you all.

Well, that's all for this week. Next week, we'll discuss assistant

who pose in school photographs and ask should they stand by their principals.

And we'll be looking at nudists and asking can they show us a thing or two?

And finally, a late newsflash. We've just heard that Raquel Welsh has been

signed to play Quasimodo in the new film entitled The Hunchfront of Notre Dame.

And now it's good night from me and it's good night from him. Good night.