Original subtitles

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

Now, on the show tonight, we've got several musical items, including the

quartet of the British Twine Association, the mass pipes of the

tobacconist, and the elastic band of the stationery office.

But first, the news.

The Department of Environment announced that a new electric car is to be

withdrawn from the market. A spokesman said it was a failure, it could only

travel three yards if the flex wasn't long enough.

And here's some traffic news. The M6 was promoted to M7 today.

Motorists advised to continue as usual, but salute.

And the Ministry of Transport announced a new roundabout on the A1.

It's 10p a go, three minutes a ride and bring the children.

And here is a warning for drivers in the Midlands. The police apologise for the

fact that due to repairs, all detours are closed.

Motorists will have to use the alternative route, the M1.

Thieves in a stolen car were apprehended today after a 100 -mile -per -hour

chase by police constable Wainwright, who followed them on foot.

Said PC Wainwright, I had no choice. They shut the door on my truncheon.

And now... And now here's news of a record.

Or another record.

The biggest collection of matchboxes stuffed with sage and onion ever to

the Severn Estuary in the largest barge ever powered by a clockwork engine

designed by the tallest bald man in Worcestershire was sunk today.

By the third largest brick ever thrown from Western Superman.

A man appeared at Bow Street today, charged with dangerous driving.

His car got out of control in a winding country lane and narrowly missed a very

thin pig.

He told the court it was a narrow squeak.

And finally, some racing news.

At Kempton Park today, the starters in the 2 .30 were minestrone soup and

grapefruit cocktail.

Prunes were withdrawn at the last moment.

Only three ran.

Now, it's time for a sketch. In this sketch, you will, of course, see Ronnie

Corbett, whose fan club yesterday gave him a huge ovation and a small pair of

trousers.

And you'll also see Ronnie Barker, whose fan club yesterday gave him a huge pair

of trousers and a small ovation.

I'm awfully sorry.

The door was locked.

Yes, I locked it, actually. I just came in here for a few moments, a few moments

of tranquility.

Ghosts of yesterday and that sort of thing. I must be honest when I say that

find these old boys' reunions terribly moving.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Sorry.

It's all right. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bluff. It's all right. It's all

right. As a matter of fact, I came in here for the very same reason.

It's silly, really, isn't it?

I'm sorry.

Listen, your face is awfully familiar.

Don't tell me... Scaife? Elliot House, 4349. Scaife, of course.

But you were taller then.

Well, well, well.

Oh, lofty Scaife.

And you were... I was here behind you, Banyard.

Good God, yes, Barnyard. No, no, no.

Barnyard. I mean, Banyard.

I know, but everyone used to call you Barnyard. Yes, they don't anymore.

Now, wait a minute. There was you, me, and who was that other little girl?

Pringle, Arthur Pringle.

Arthur Pringle. Yes.

Proper little sneak, wasn't he? Yes, he was. He was, really. I often, to be

honest with you, I often thought he was a little girl. Yes.

He did have a chitty in Jim to keep his vest on, didn't he?

Tell me, whose fag was he? Oh, anybody's.

Mind you, he was a damn good cricketer. I'll give the band a credit.

He was the school's first homosexual wicketkeeper. He got his colours.

Chosen himself.

Therese and Violet.

There he is.

I wonder where he is now. Well, in Denmark, according to the Sunday Mirror.

Nothing like that about you there, was there?

You were a former little beggar with the girls, if I remember correctly. Well, I

did build up a slight reputation, yes.

Tell me, whatever happened to that friend of your sister's, Joanna? That

used to come to open days with your sister.

Horse of the year, we used to call her.

Remember, a great toothy thing with thighs like an elephant.

Tell me, whatever happened to her? I married her.

Oh, Lord, oh, Lord, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that tonight. I'm

I'm awfully sorry.

But you know what girls are like in their teens. I expect, I expect she's...

She's blossomed into an absolutely beautiful young baby.

No, no, no. It got very much worse, if anything.

Rapidly downhill, I finally divorced her. Oh, dear. On what grounds, might I

ask? Well, on the grounds that she was trampling me to death, I suppose.

The general public do seem impressed with a public school education. I can't

pretend it hasn't helped.

No. You've done well, Havell.

I have done well.

I have done well.

I've done well.

Well, well.

In fact, I've done extremely well.

As well as you would expect it.

Oh, oh, yes, weller. I mean better.

Yes, fate has been terribly kind to us, really, because when one thinks back,

really, we were a couple of shockers. Oh, a couple of absolute cads, weren't

No essential moral fibre.

As Matron said when she caught me with my hand up her apron, you're a very

naughty, wicked, rude boy, and I want to see you in my room.

At midnight.

A shocking pair.

Yes, they were, but I lived with them.

I mean us, I mean us. Oh, you mean us? I mean us, yes.

Now, of course, everything seems, doesn't it not, shrouded in the mist of

nostalgia. I'd almost really forgotten Pringle, you know. Have you really? Yes.

If only, if only one could make amends. Indeed.

Give something back. A small donation.

Not too much, nothing too ostentatious. No. I know. What about the Scaife

Banyard Memorial Prize for Grit? What about that? It could stand there in the

middle of all the other trophies.

Just a minute.

Where are all the other trophies?

What?

What can I say? What can I say, Banner? A few of all people to find out. Yes, I

stole them. I came here to steal them. And when you came in, I was on my way to

the headmaster's study to take the rowing cups.

They're not there anymore.

Do you mean they're... They're in there?

Every one of them.

Same old banyan. Same old scapegoat.

Well, will you be coming down here next year? Oh, why not? One always gets

something out of it.

And she's the daughter of a well -respected man who

taught her how to love and understand.

She's a sweet little rock and roll.

Spring!

She never gets any older.

Good evening.

Here is the news.

And now the rest of the news.

It's still raining.

And, uh... And the 8 .33 from Watford arrived eight minutes late this morning,

and there was a woman in an absurd pink hat on the train.

And it was raining at the bus stop.

At 149 Boddington Road Harrow this morning, it was announced that unless

something was done about the back boiler, there was going to be trouble.

Later, a man was understood to be helping his wife with the washing up.

My left hand is slightly larger than my right hand.

It was stated in London today.

Ah, here is a late news flash.

Pull yourself together, man, and tell them something.

Ha,

ha.

Auntie Clara and Uncle Bob are well.

And send their love.

They've had two fine days, and Bimby and the twins are loving it, and they'll

close now, hoping to see you on Saturday.

It was announced today that Edwin Clump has the best terms for

light removal in our jobs, and he further stated that he would go anywhere

in fact, do anything.

We hope to have some film of that in our next bulletin.

Later today, later today, Her Majesty the Queen promised to pay the bearer on

demand the sum of one pound.

The average contents of a box of matches is 36.

And, officer inspecting food, what is this?

Sergeant, it's bean soup, sir. Officer, I don't care what it's been, what is it

now?

Joke number 76, copyright made in Sweden.

H .P. Ebersharp.

Jenny 2468049.

Easy.

Robert Dougal loves Dusty Springfield, 1967.

Ingle Nook, Watchmakers.

12345.

789 -1011 -dot.

And if any of you have got any news items that you'd like to hear, send them

to me, please.

Care of the BBC.

And please hurry.

Oh, thanks.

And now I've got the sack.

The latest disaster to hit Brimston Grange, scene of many a gory tragedy in

past week, was the mass murder of the gardeners buried in their own vegetable

patch. The spectacle was too much for the hot -blooded but highly strong

Blanche. She collapsed onto the ground in a dead faint.

Charlie Farley stood by helplessly, but his overweight boss, Piggy Malone, knew

there was only one thing to do, carry her back to the house as quickly as

possible.

Three hours later, they were still no nearer to solving the mystery.

Malone had suggested that they all relax and make their minds a blank. And in

this, they had found the beautifully built Blanche more than cooperative.

Who's turning it?

I think it's Malone's.

But he's asleep.

Are you sure?

Well, nobody snores like that when they're awake.

Then it's your turn again, if you like.

Would you like?

I don't mind.

If you think it helps.

If I think it does.

Fine.

Okay.

I spy with my little eye... Gee.

Otto. That begins with O. No, these begin with T.

Must be Otto, the murderer.

What makes you say that?

Well, look, Charlie, it's only him left, and Pike the butler. What about Billy

Brimstone and his brand -new blushing bride, Brenda? They're still alive and

kicking. How do you know? Well, they're in the room next door to mine.

And that's my point.

Was it? I'm sorry. No, I mean, that's exactly what I mean.

Otto is insanely jealous of Billy.

He's always been in love with Brenda.

Everybody knows that. Well, I didn't. I mean everybody who is anybody.

Oh, dear.

I think we should keep a very close eye on Herr Otto Van Danse.

Remember, he's a crack shot.

Suddenly, a young couple hove into view and almost immediately began to heave

out again.

Otto's eyes narrowed and his nostrils widened. It was Billy Brimstone and his

brand -new blushing bride, Brenda.

In the few short weeks since Otto had first met the happy couple, he had

the victim of a strange love -hate relationship.

He loved her and he hated him.

And so it was that on that bright afternoon, a strange game of chess was

itself out.

and the overweight detective and his fearful assistant Charlie were to find

themselves mere pawns in a deadly battle for survival.

Thank you.

Give me my change.

Not any better?

No, not on me, no.

You're Otto von Tanzer. I recognize his birth.

So, you have discovered my guilty secret.

I am taking your lovely bride with me. Should you attempt to follow, you will

die. You, you German pig.

In spite of me, I demand satisfaction.

We'll settle this once and for all.

Follow me. Thank you, sir.

And so Otto Van Dancer, a recognized crack shot, was to fight a duel with

Billy Brimston, a man whose inaccuracy was well known.

Even at his London club, he had never once got his umbrella into the stand at

the first attempt.

Had they really killed each other? Or was that strange notice board merely a

part of a killer's fiendish sense of humour? And what was Blanche doing in

woods? Had she gone there simply to pick her nosegay?

I'll only tell you to find out.

One thing was certain.

There would be very little sleep for anyone that night.

Bit of fatter, bit of fatter, bit of fatter, bit of fatter. One drop of rain

your window pane.

Doesn't mean to say there's a thunderstorm coming. Rain me for, for an

hour or more, but it doesn't matter.

You know it doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter.

You know, it doesn't matter.

One little word that you may have overheard doesn't mean to say that

my love for you.

And...

Doesn't mean to say that my love...

Thank you.

lovely voice wasn't it lovely i hope you're going to uh talking about voices

excuse my voice this evening because I've got a little bit of a cold.

Can't seem to shake it off.

I've had it since I was 11.

Don't say, please don't say, have you tried penicillin?

Because I've had so much penicillin that every time I sneeze, I cure somebody.

They even sent me to the studio doctor to see the studio doctor before the

So I went along to the surgery.

The surgery.

A weighing machine and an eye bath.

You can hardly...

Hardly called it a surgery, really.

Now, he had a look at me, asked me if I'd lost weight or gutted a thing in my

eye, and told me to have faith.

Now, I go in there for a head cold, and all he told me was that I haven't got a

hernia.

Now, he took so many blood samples, I think he must have been keeping an

friend.

You see, the trouble with the BBC is, the trouble is that they won't pay these

people. I mean, it's pitiful.

I mean, the only time this fellow has a meal... It's when there's food poisoning

in the canteen and they send somebody over for analysis.

I mean, you've no idea what goes on.

Well, things are much better now than they used to be. I mean, the old chap

before him, he used to live on wild berries and what he could catch in the

shrubbery outside the studio.

A late spring in 1969, he was gone.

I remember it was 1969 because 1969 was a very unlucky year.

That was the year that my Uncle Mildred...

the one who had the accident in the sawmill, he became the first person to

down Everest on a tin tray.

And we buried him where he came to rest.

Just outside Watford.

Which reminds me of a very funny story about an artist from Watford, which is a

bit of luck because it does take our mind off Uncle Mildred.

My God, he must have been going in a hell of a leap.

Anyway, this artist, This artist meets this girl, you see, and she said to him,

will you paint me in the nude?

And he said, well, actually, I don't suppose for a minute she came out with

just like that.

I mean, when I took up art, I mean, I had a devil of a job getting a nude to

model for me.

Ten pounds an hour. Take it or leave it.

No five bob for a quick look and run all the way home and do it again.

I'll tell you.

The most important lesson I learned was this.

When drawing the nude female model, you must be completely detached.

You shouldn't even speak.

Now, this is where I made my first mistake.

She took off her clothes, and I said, I love you.

It was a careless remark, and a promising career in ruins.

Luckily, I hadn't spent a lot of money on equipment.

All I had up to then was a buyer and an empty cornflake packet.

Which the magistrate ordered to be destroyed for my own good.

That was all a long time ago. Although I sometimes do think of taking up

painting, you know, now that I can do the thing properly. I've got plenty of

brushes, paint, an easel, my own studio, and a damn good solicitor.

Anyway, the artist and the girl joke.

Actually, this joke is a little bit strong. It's the joke they said could

told. What can they do to me? I can always work in the railways, can't I?

That's the trouble these days. There's not enough people with the courage of

their own convictions.

And I happen to be one of them.

So there's these two Irishmen, you see, who wants to work for the

railways. There's these two Irishmen, you see.

Their names are Pat and Mike, you see.

Now, one day, Pat said to Mike, why don't we go, a rather posh Irishman,

actually, why don't we go, he said, why don't we go and hire a boat and go

fishing? Right, said Mike, who wasn't quite so posh.

Right, right.

Right, he said, which is exactly what they do. They went off, you see, fishing

in this boat, caught lots and lots of fish, and Pat said to Mike, that's the

posh one, faith and begorrah, he said.

Faith and begorrah, said the posh Pat.

This is a very fine place for fishing. Why don't we come and fish this very

tomorrow?

Well, Mike said, who was the less posh one, said, but how are we to know where

to find the spot? He was the less posh one.

How are we to know where to... Well, Mike said, this is very easy. He said,

make a mark on the side of the boat.

Oh, Fat said, that's ridiculous. We might not get the same boat.

That's the one, yes.

Exciting news for all those who love the romantic, exhilarating rhythm of the

Viennese waltz.

A Vienna music publisher has just unearthed a long -lost operetta based on

Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, with music by the waltz king, Johann Strauss.

Back in his dear imperial role, Trumpets we hear in and flee.

It's Julian T.

Oh, what joy to see him on once more, Twirling, whirling, round the

hill floor, Junking, grunting, to a German fan, Just to see the emperor

walk his friend.

Much thanks, good people, for your welcome here. The wars have kept me from

for a year, but all this time I've longed and yearned and sighed for

Calpurnia, my sweet bride.

She's waiting still, as luscious as a plum.

And so, folks, Calpurnia, here I come.

Good Mark Antony, thine ample form is welcome to my sight.

It seems so long.

Aye, and much wider, too.

Wait around the forum since I saw thee last.

It is true. I eat too much Italian food.

Cut the spaghetti, my physician says.

But that just makes it easier to eat.

I love thy newfound girth. It merely means you're now a bigger friend than

you were.

Unlike to Cassius, who just sidled in.

He usurps my power and he is thin. He craves my crown, he craves my land, my

life. The man's a proper craver. So is his wife.

Good citizens of Rome, hear Caesar's words.

Let me have men about me that are fat.

Young Cassius has a hungry look, a lean and mean and hungry

look. And he thinks too much, and he drinks too much, and he whispers and he

winks too much.

And he went off.

I had forgot.

The Ides of March are here.

I have a message for thy secret ear.

Oh, hearken to me, Caesar.

I insist.

All right, don't get thy toga in a twist.

Make you good night. The day draws to a close.

It's just as well, that nosy so -and -so's.

I met a tooth there once, when but a you. What did the tooth there say? He

a tooth.

Beware!

Beware the Ides of March.

Take care. Take care. Oh, no. Take care.

Beware. Beneath this very arch, I prophesy you die, die, die, die, die.

never heard such a lot of rot.

Lot of rot?

Lot of rot.

Now go and buy me an apricot.

Very well, Caesar.

Tat -ta.

Look who's coming. Good old Brutus. Hello, Caesar. Hello, Brutus. Why for do

not salute us? Because you are a pig.

When you speak, men turn pale. Lift that barge, toot that bale. Well, you're

through now. That's your cue now. And that, and that, you wicked little work.

All right, lads. Great.

Oh, mighty Caesar, doth thou lie so low?

Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears.

Anoint great Caesar's bony knees with tears.

For though he was not handsome, strong, or tall,

This was the nobliest Roman of them all.

But see, a sign, a portent far from good.

The river Tiber doth run red.

With blood?

Yes, the Tiber's red.

It's red, so red.

For either hath bled. He's bled, he's bled.

Yes, either is dead.

Be dead, be dead.

And killers have fled.

They fled, they fled.

And tears must be shed.

Be shed, be shed.

By Tom, Dick and Fred.

Tom, Dick and Fred.

Our hearts are like lead.

Just like lead.

What's ahead?

We dread, we dread.

What? We'll have no more of this.

In heaven's name.

Great Caesar, many daggers rent thy frame.

And yet we're all not alive.

How so?

Cos tis not yet the Ronnie Barker show.

No.

A happy ending was decreed by Strauss, so I live on to play the second house.

I'll pardon every Roman, true or false.

Oh, thanks, great Caesar.

May I have this wall?

Six, a new, a happy ending, too. Six, a new, a happy ending, too. Six, a new, a

happy ending, too. When things look dark, you scoot by faithfully.

And so, good Mark, would you come along?

Oh, to the palazzo fatso.

We'll say finish, which is that before.

Well, that's all for this week.

Next week, an enterprising farmer in Herefordshire will tell you how he's

training animals to do his office work for him.

So far, he's produced a pig that grunts into a dictaphone, a horse that carries

a cup of coffee in its mouth, and a sheep that sits on the boss's lap and

sheep's eyes at him.

But he's had no success at all with his herd of short -horned typists.

And we'll be telling you about a new BBC programme.

dealing with the problems of the oversexed.

This programme will be shown 14 times a week.

I shall watch it three or four times myself.

The teeth of a prehistoric mammoth were found today in Sussex. This is a double

event, according to the man who found them, Professor Smithers. Not only are

they the world's oldest teeth, but they were in the world's biggest glass of

water.

And a British pharmacologist from Cambridge made a remarkable breakthrough

medicine today when he mixed a packet of aspirins with a bottle of glue and

discovered the cure for the splitting headache.

And now it's goodnight from me. And it's goodnight from him. Goodnight.

Goodnight. Goodnight.