Original subtitles

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

in a packed program tonight, we shall be talking to a Texas man who made a

fortune selling smokeless fuel to red Indian couples who aren't speaking to

other.

And we'll be talking to an insecticide maker who has just produced an

aphrodisiac for flies.

It doesn't kill them, but it lets you swat two of them at a time.

And then we shall talk to a showbiz chef.

who crossed Raquel Welsh with a packet of Bisto and got gravy with very big

lumps.

And also to a man who crossed Basil Brush with a cenopod and got a quick

foxtrot.

And then we shall interview a man whose parents were a clairvoyant and a

contortionist. And as a result, he can foresee his own end.

First, the news.

A man who threw his mother -in -law into the crocodile pool at London Zoo has

been prosecuted by the RSPCA.

There was a disturbance at Hampton Court Maze this afternoon. A party of Irish

trippers panicked when they couldn't find their way in.

The world's most stupid man, Mr. Brodnick Godbolt, was today found not

trying to gas his wife by throwing her into the North Sea.

In the sketch that follows, Ronnie Corbett was to have starred in his own

version of Jaws, but unfortunately, the goldfish died.

May I help you, sir?

Could be, John, could be.

Take care of dead people, don't you, John?

That is our sad duty, yes, sir.

I'd like you to take care of one for me, if you would.

Wooden overcoat job.

Wooden overcoat, sir?

Coffin, John, coffin.

Could I have the name, please, sir?

No names, no pact rule, you know what I mean?

Well, if I don't have the name of the person concerned... I'm sorry, his name.

His name, you mean. Ah, understood, yeah.

Scarlotti.

Luigi Scarlotti.

Two I's, only one E.

Never mind how he lost it or where I found the knife, it's not important, you

understand?

Could I have the date of death, sir? Well, very difficult for me to give you

date exactly. Well, just a rough date will do, sir. Well, we were thinking

next Saturday evening.

I beg your pardon, sir?

Well, next Saturday, like, you know, Bernard Manning on the telly, nobody

you know, get my point?

Am I to take it, sir, that Mr Scarlotti is not yet deceased, sir?

You got it in one.

You're very clever. I like your style. Yes, that's right. And that's where you

come in, you see. As the undertaker, we'd like you to put the screws on.

Put the screws on the coffin lid, you mean? No, on Luigi.

But we don't want anything elaborate. Nice, quiet affair, you know what I

Quiet affair?

What do you mean, a quiet affair?

Use a silencer. We don't want anything messy.

Nothing too ostentatious.

Simple inscription on the wall, in blood.

Nobody crosses Shorty Johnson and lives.

It's just under... Wait a minute, that's a bit of a giveaway.

Nobody... No, we'd better use your name, I think.

Nobody crosses WF Black and Son Funeral Directors and lives.

I'm sorry, sir, if our sign outside has misled you. We merely bury people, sir.

Bury them?

Bury... Oh.

Well, that's a little bit tricky, isn't it, eh?

All right, bury them. Bury them!

Bury him, safest way.

Only be sure you have a gag in his mouth and all that screaming and hollering

when you... We only bury dead people, sir.

Well, half an hour underground, there won't be much life left in him, will

there? Look, sir, we are morticians. We just arrange funerals. We do not murder

people, sir.

Not even a bit?

Not even at all, sir.

It's half a grand in it for you. I mean, you know.

Look, don't you think you're going about this in the wrong way, sir? I mean,

have you stopped to think? Have you taken time out just to think for a

the wrong you are doing?

I can see I haven't convinced you, have I, sir?

Well, look, tell you what. Why don't you phone up our parish priest, eh? What

for? Well, he does a very good line in Stakes Through the Heart, you see. No

questions asked, hat on the mail. Just ask for Ricky the Rev. Come on, come on.

Who shall I say told me then? Just say Harry the Hearse put you on.

Good evening.

Now, many people think that the GPO is wasting enormous sums of money.

Well, I've been paid an enormous sum of money by the GPO to say rubbish.

Rubbish. There, that's money well spent.

But seriously, you know, we at the GPO are often asked, how can you, the

viewer, combat this endless round of upping prices and upping wages?

What can you do when we continually up ours?

The answer is simply, up yours.

like to tell you about the wonderful improvements we're making at the GPO. We

know how frustrating it is for you to go into a post office and find that there

are only three positions and two of them are closed.

So in future, all post offices will have 12 positions and 11 will be closed.

And indeed, we're bringing out a new GPO edition of the Kama Sutra.

It has 186 positions and 185 of them are closed.

But it doesn't end there.

postal services, we are going to guarantee two deliveries.

March the 12th and September the 18th.

Now, these new services will not, of course, interfere with the regular mail

robberies. And, by the way, by the way, some stamps have come up with very

interesting defects, which makes them very valuable.

Now, there we are. See if you can spot it.

Yes, that's it. Too big to go on the envelope.

friends all over the country whenever you try to dial Birmingham.

In fact, by direct dialing, you can now get wrong numbers all over Europe.

Remember, if you're having trouble, ask for the long -distance call girl.

Now, where does this get us?

You see? Now, note the new agreeable ringing tone.

on the latest phone receiver.

This is part of the whole new range of wonderful tones we're introducing. Now,

one is so high that only dogs can hear it. So if you can train your dog to

answer the telephone, get one of those.

Ah, there it is now.

Hello.

Fido? No, he's out, I'm sorry.

Now, today you can dial almost anything.

I've just dialed for the sports news, the weather, and today's recipe.

There was a slight cross -line, but I can tell you that the south of England

will be simmered slowly in light rain at 20 minutes to the pound, at a

temperature of 97 for 3, and the outlook is warm with parsley sauce, regular 7,

West Ham 2.

With occasional roast potatoes.

Hello,

ducks.

I've told you not to phone me at work, ducks.

But what about vandals? Well, we are introducing a new vandal -proof phone

Now, here is a photo of some of them on Salisbury Place.

There we are.

Now, at any moment... Ah, yes.

I've been expecting this call.

This happens at the same time every night.

Hello? No, I'm not wearing a frilly black nightie, you disgusting pervert.

Try later tonight.

Here is the new standard GPO parcel. From now on, all goods will be specially

designed to fit these parcels. You'll be surprised...

How much you can send.

Here, for instance, here is a football, you see.

Football. And here we have a grand piano.

There we have a bicycle wheel.

That's the wife, silly girl.

Lastly, the problem of unwanted mail. Now, a lady in Bronsbury writes, I'm

worried. Today, I received a very frank pamphlet entitled, Seven Ways of Getting

Pregnant Through My Letterbox.

Well, Mrs. S... Well, Mrs. S, we have checked on this, and there are

only three ways of getting pregnant through your letterbox.

So, keep your pecker up.

Oh, that's four ways. That's four ways.

Well, there you have it. Oh, five.

So... If you want to send your newborn baby a telegram for his hundredth

birthday, you'd better start queuing now.

Good night.

Victorian London continued to be outraged by terrible attacks and

confrontations during those dark autumnal days of 1898.

I have never been so...

Police seemed to be powerless, although they were tireless in their efforts to

trap the assailant.

Even Mr Disraeli had recently become the victim of an attack.

My wallet.

But now, the scene moves to Chiswick.

An amateur cameraman captured this unique piece of evidence in an

bizarre affair.

The latest victim was the Dowager Duchess of Arrgh in broad daylight on

towpath of the river.

The Duchess was rendered unconscious by a series of gigantic raspberries. And as

she lay senseless, the fiend tattooed a raspberry on each of her knees.

We left her drifting helplessly in the Thames. This time, the Home Office

stepped in.

Cores of suspect were rounded up.

Finally, the numbers were whittled down to one man.

This looks like the man.

Sergeant Bowles, will you organise an identity parade?

Sure.

I never did nothing.

Nothing? Nothing?

What a terrible way to speak. Where did you go to school?

Arrow.

Come on here.

In your cup.

This way.

Over there.

Sergeant Bowles, are they all genuine passers -by?

No, I've got them. Arid, sir.

Bowles, bring in the Duchess. Yes, sir.

That's the man.

I'm the inspector.

Corner of the yard.

Many's the time.

Before we proceed, Your Grace, I understand the fiend tattooed parts of

body. May we see them?

Certainly.

Bowles, assist her, Grace.

Yes, sir.

Genuine raspberries?

And I speak as a gardener.

Right in the middle of the knee there, yes.

They shall have to be photographed as evidence.

My knees, are they important?

Well, of course they are, my dear, otherwise your legs wouldn't bend in the

middle.

Pardon me, I didn't put them away.

Your Grace,

would you choose one of these men from this line here, please?

Just one?

One will be enough.

to organize a noise test, please.

Number one. Number one.

Once more.

Oh, really?

Ah, oh.

This is a gross violation of individual liberty.

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

In the weeks that followed, the Phantom relentlessly continued his attacks on

the aristocracy.

Inevitably, the news filtered through to the darkest corners of the far -flung

empire, including Buckingham Palace.

Tempers were short. Nerves were frayed in the royal household.

On the morning of November the 12th, Edward VII, then Prince of Wales, was

arguing with his royal mother, Queen Victoria.

Oh, for heaven's sake, Edward, sit down.

I will not have you disobeying orders.

You will stay at home.

Mama, why will you never let me do anything? You never allow me to do

You treat me as if I were a child.

What's the problem? point of being Edward, Prince of Wales, if I'm never

to do anything.

Oh, please, Edward, please.

What is it you want to do?

I thought I might go out and look for conkers.

No, you'll not leave this palace. Not with this terrible phantom gooseberry

sucker.

Raspberry blower, Mama.

Well, whatever it is, it's fruity.

And anything fruity is never to be trusted.

My dear Albert would have nothing to do with anything fruity.

They named a pear after him. Well, they named a potato after you.

What does that mean?

It doesn't mean you've got to stuff yourself with chips.

Where do you want to go?

Why don't you find yourself a nice girl, a nice Jewish girl, bring her home,

meet your mother.

Mama,

you're not Jewish.

Do it.

I'm sorry, Edward. It's the effect of my mixed blood.

What were you saying?

The phantom raspberry, blah, blah, blah.

Oh, yes, Mr.

Gladstone said it could be almost anybody.

And almost everyone else says it could be Mr. Gladstone.

Just because he prowls around late at night talking to ladies of the street.

What's wrong with that?

Nothing. I think that's what I'll do.

Now, what about this game? Oh, very well, very well.

What do you want?

Go on, bust me for a shitting.

One by one. Your money, come on. Here.

Edward.

Edward. That noise.

Was that you?

Yes. I... You?

It... It can't be.

What do you mean?

What are you staring at me like that for, Mama?

Answer me!

Answer me!

Is it possible?

Could it be that our own Edward, Prince of Wales, is the dreaded monster?

Someone so near to the dear Queen?

If this is so...

then nothing at all can stand in the way of the phantom raspberry blower of old

London town.

Ladies and gentlemen, Barbara Dixon.

They have to be a mortal human.

But I look for the light through the pouring rain I

know it's a game that I hate to lose I'm

feeling the stress Ain't it a shame

Beginning to think that

Suppose he told you to take two aspirins and call him in the morning if you

weren't feeling any better, eh?

He says the cure for my problem is love.

Well, that's the cure for everybody's problem. I mean, don't you have a doctor

to tell you that?

He says I need to have love at least seven times a week.

How many?

Seven.

At least.

Well, put me down for two.

Senator Grunston, a candidate for the United States presidency, complained

that just because he likes to go down to his Carolina poultry farm, help with

the harvest, and preserve his beetroots, that doesn't make him a cotton

-picking, chicken -plucking pickle -decker.

Complaints were made following the chef's annual fancy -dress ball last

It seems a woman... dressed in gooseberries and cream, made improper

to a man dressed in cake and sherry.

She made a proper fool of herself and got a trifle excited.

After a marriage lasting only seven days, a newspaper editor's wife has

petition for divorce on the grounds that he is too small a type, she's become

bored with his special features, and he refuses to give her a late -night extra.

A man who broke into Bridget Bardo's bedroom and laid his hands on her

has been found guilty, but insane.

Now a sketch featuring Mr Ronnie Corbett, who this year has made a lot of

on the Greyhounds, as a jockey.

fork handles.

Handles for forks.

Rubble and barf.

Saw tips.

What do you want, ointment or something like that?

No, saw tips, but covering the saws. Tips.

No, we haven't got any.

It's coming in, but we haven't got any.

Got any hoes?

for a gate.

Mon repose.

No, tins of peas.

Food time.

What, windscreen washers, car washers, dishwashers, floor washers, back

scrubbers, lavatory cleaners, floor washers... Half -inch washers. Oh, tap

washers, tap washers. Look, I've had about enough of this. Give us that dish.

Make you and me self down here. What's this?

What's that?

Oh, that does it. That does it. I've had just about enough of this. Mr Jones!

like one or two thank

you

very much before before i start whatever i'm going to talk about i must

apologize for a joke i'm going to tell you you know which is not very funny now

no so i'll just have to i'll have to ask you to believe that i'm only obeying

orders you know

if I don't, I could find myself back doing guest appearances on Magic

Roundabout.

And it can get pretty hot in that Dougal skin.

Now, I know what you're thinking. Here he goes, making a feeble excuse to tell

another old joke. Actually, I suppose that's a little bit presumptuous of me,

you know, because you might be thinking something else altogether.

You might be thinking, shall I wear my blue hat when Auntie Ethel is ordained

Friday?

might be thinking, when Kojak shaves, where does he actually start?

So before you defect to the other side, let me explain that just before the show

started, I was having a chat with the producer, you know. Well, to be honest,

all draw lots before the programme, and the loser has a chat with the producer.

Makes him feel sort of, you know, part of the team.

Anyway, he said to me, what are you doing for your... for your little bit

of nonsense.

What are you doing for your little bit of nonsense tonight?

He's quite educated, you know, but a bit thick.

Would you believe that he studied medicine for four years and decided it

nasty stuff you'd take on a spoon?

Then he said, he said, why don't you, why don't you tell that joke I told you

about the lady with the little continental car with the engine in the

I said, well, frankly, Terry. I mean, you know, I don't really think it's all

that funny.

He said, well, they loved it at the squash club.

He said, they loved it at the squash club. He belongs to this club, you know.

Every Saturday night they buy a bottle of squash.

He said, if you know what's good for you, you'll do as you're told, he said.

Remember, he said, you still have relations in Welling Garden City.

So I am going to tell you a rather interesting little story about

a housewife who has just bought one of those little continental motor cars.

And the first morning, she drives down to the supermarket.

And, by the way, that is the only thing I do like about the joke.

It's got the sort of common touch, you know. There's a housewife and a small

and a supermarket and a crash.

No, there isn't. There's nothing like that. Nothing like that in this story.

I'm mixing it up, actually, with the one about the lady driver, you know, who

knocked over a dog that ran out into the middle of the pavement.

Well, I suppose... It's natural, really, because I did it because I was a bit

upset about my wife getting a summons yesterday for parking on the pavement. A

bit upset.

Actually, she wasn't parked on the pavement.

She was passing a bus on the near side when she ran out of petrol.

There is our housewife driving down to the supermarket, you see.

A little bit of driving there, you know, just gives the story a bit of

authenticity.

Nothing's too much trouble, you know.

If you don't like the joke, you can applaud the effort, can't you?

So she poos up outside the supermarket.

Actually, this is not the best chair.

It's not the best chair for doing car jokes, because you can't reach the

handbrake.

When she's done her shopping, she comes out, and it won't start.

Well, the time she's taken in there has probably run out of petrol. So there she

is. There she is.

Chug, chug, chug, chug, chug.

Nothing. Nothing. Oh, dear, she thinks.

I knew I should have bought a British car, and not one of these Continentals.

Little plug for British exports, you know.

There'll be no sleep at British Leylands tonight.

So she cleans.

So she cleans the wing mirrors, empties the ashtray.

Chug, chug, chug, chug, chug, chug.

Still nothing.

So she says to herself, perhaps it's something to do with the engine, you

Perhaps the lead has come off the prudential.

Or the overdraft is stuck.

She opens the bonnet.

Lady down here believes she's got an overdraft.

Of course, she opens the bonnet. Of course, there's nothing in there but a

wheel. Good heavens, she said.

Someone's pinched the engine.

of the old values. She said, bring back national service. And what happened to

capital punishment?

And the crusty white loaf.

Now, I don't know why she said that, you know, but she did.

And just as she did, another lady who had just parked her own car came over

said, may I be of some assistance, my dear?

She said, may I be of some assistance? What seems to be the trouble?

Well, she said, I've parked my car here while I slipped into the supermarket to

get a cod's head for the cat.

My husband is thinking of doing a transplant.

On my return, the car won't start.

Well, when I opened the bonnet, there was no engine.

Some miscreant was made off of the works. The other lady said, well, bless

soul, they'll take anything these days. My husband blames the Labour government

and the free orange juice.

He said, but don't worry, your troubles are over, because my car over there is

exactly the same model as this one.

And I have a spare engine in the boot. You can have that.

Me and Mrs.

Iggybottom come here every morning to look after the band.

Scrub the stage and empty out the kettle drums. Boy, this is fantastic.

Rain or shine, we're always at the ready and we're never lackadaisical or

hateful. Where else could you meet so many fellows? We are just a pair of

scrubbers who are grateful.

They look so charming. Some of them are quite an army when they play their

obligato. Half of them are pizzicato.

..like travel, have always quite excited me. I love to travel.

I'm more of a French horn girl, you see. Sun -kissed nights from the

Mediterranean. Pillow fights with a Randy Rubinian. Catching romance when it

falls. In the orchestra stalls.

Me and Mrs Iggybottom love it when we get put on these orchestra jobs.

My first husband used to play the organ, so I've always quite liked twiddling.

Oh,

I used to have an uncle in the woodwind. Oh.

But he would eat radishes for supper and was consequently not a very good wind.

Every week, week, work till Sunday. Have it all, then back.

Riley keeping the performance tidy. Sometimes there are times when I would

to go myself.

I could make music with anyone off the bottom shelf. So when they go for their

tea break, here's the kind of sound that we make. Let the work go hang while we

both have a bang.

in Camden Town. Tell them, girl, now they're going to pull them down.

Oh, what a disgrace.

That's what Harry tried to do. But I slapped his face.

Camden Town, my little town.

Oh, my childhood dream.

We could live on half a crown.

Now,

that's all for this week, but here are two items of late news.

We've just heard that British Leyland strikers have been fitting silencers to

motorhorns, and now the cars don't give a hoot either.

And we've heard from a very disappointed guest at the Charles Dickens Society's

annual nudist weekend.

He had great expectations, but it was a very bleak house, and everybody laughed

at his little Dorrit.

Brian Foster, it's goodnight from me. And it's goodnight from him. Goodnight.