Extraordinary!
Absolutely extraordinary.
I would say that our house would've been round about here.
And therefore, the front door would've been over there,
just where that branch of Safeway's is.
And of course, all this would've been our garden.
And, uh, yes, I can remember
the day that my dog, Hamper, died,
a Border collie with the loveliest laugh. It really was the saddest day of my life.
I remember my father insisting that he actually was dead. I could hardly believe it.
Harsh lesson.
Learnt young.
Anyway, part of the process of grieving, of course, is burial,
so I would have buried Hamper, I suppose, round about here, in fact. Yes.
Hello! So much for 1990s build quality, eh?
Good Lord!
It's you!
Between desire and reality.
A bit.
Between fact and breakfast,
madness lies, lies, lies…
A bit.
I hate you, I hate you and yet…
I hate you…
As love, rage and aches of the ear.
Pretension by Fry and Laurie.
Hello. Good evening.
Welcome to another evening of light comedy, heavy sarcasm,
medium-weight conversation, and good, rocking sex.
Mmm.
For the next half-an-hour or so, you're going to be in our hands,
but we'd like to think of you as being in our arms, too.
That's right. Snuggled up in your cosy homes, curtains drawn against the night.
Cup of low-calorie, chocolate-style fluid by your side.
Your fingers toying with the hair of your best-beloved in your lap.
Or perhaps you're…
just in some hotel,
with nothing but a paper bag and a prostitute for company.
Or perhaps you're, as I often like to, you're just standing naked
in front of the mirror, with nothing but a radish and a whole world of possibilities open to you.
Hmm.
But whatever your height, age, weight, sex, racial preference, knee colouring, or cock length,
some of you may be wondering
how my colleague came by this bandage upon his head.
It's very simple. A nurse put it on.
What my colleague is trying to say, if he had but the words,
is that this afternoon he sustained an accident to his head.
Vince, run that tape, if you'd be so careful to do exactly as you're told.
I hereby declare this second episode of A Bit of Fry and Laurie open.
My God. Sorry.
Um…
Hugh. Hugh, me old Chinese meal,
I must ask you this.
Have you sustained any loss of memory as a result of that accident?
And I think it only fair to warn you that if you say, “What accident?”
I shall squirt lemon juice into you.
-None whatever, which is a blessing. -Oh, that is good news.
I have lost my memory, though.
D'oh!
Can't seem to find a flush, or a handle.
Anybody know?
Now, there.
That is putting coppers back on the beat.
I think this idea of lowering the age of home secretaries is ridiculous.
You know that cling film,
that polythene stuff you put over food?
I love that stuff.
I do. I love it.
I'm thinking about it now.
I had that transport minister in the back of the cab the other day,
and it took us an hour and a half just to get down the Embankment.
And he tapped the window, this one behind me, that window there, that very one.
He tapped it. He said, “Oh, cabbie”, he said, “Why is it taking so long?”
I said, “It's taking so long, you dozy turd,
“it's taking so long because you have let the public transport service
“of this country run into the ground. They've become a standing joke.”
“It's taking so long,” I said,
“because you are a cast-iron, hundred-carat, natural-fibred git!
“Now, get out and walk, before I come round the back and give you a good hiding.”
Well, I didn't actually say that, but I should have done. I should have done.
I wrote to my MP a couple of weeks ago. I said, “Dear dickhead, you're a wanker.”
I haven't heard back yet.
Now then, I've got a doll here.
Can you show me what it was that he used to do?
He didn't use a doll.
No, no, no, I mean,
I mean, pretend that the doll is you, and then show me what it was…
Right, well, he would take my hand, like that, and he'd move it up and down a few times.
Did he threaten you at all, did he make you promise to keep this little secret of yours?
No.
-You don't remember? -No, I do remember. He didn't threaten me.
Huh. Well, let's just say that you don't remember not remembering.
No, I do remember remembering, because I remember thinking, “I must remember this.”
-You're in denial. -I'm sorry?
“Denial” is what we call the state you're currently in.
But denial, as everyone knows, is in Egypt.
Well, it's time now, ladies and gentlemen, to introduce some guests onto the show.
And first up is the thoughtless man's thinking man,
the serene love kitten of the caring set,
the DayGlo volunteer of international masturbation.
He's the boy they said would never grow up,
the best damn lettuce in the whole salad bowl.
Let's meet, let's greet, let's something rhyming with “eat”,
actor, book farmer and excremental narcissist,
Kevin McNally.
Kevin.
-Hello. -Well put, well put.
Kevin, they tell me that you're something of an impressionist.
Are they right to tell me that, or should I have them taken out and shot?
Uh, well, you know, Modesty Blaise.
-Well, the floor is yours, Kevin. -Well, thank you, Stephen.
-“Denial is in Egypt.” -Yes, all right.
♫ She packed my bags last night pre-flight
♫ Zero hour 9am ♫
-Whoa, whoa, whoa! Kevin, Kevin, Kevin, Kevin. -What?
-Impressionist? -Impressionist?
-He's nothing like Manet, or Renoir, or… -Monet?
-It's pathetic. -You're way off, mate.
Oh, no. That was… Sounded more like Elton John than anything else.
Dear, oh dear, oh dear.
You're in disgrace. Come and sit down.
Hugh, who have you got lying under your tree?
Well, you know, Stephen, there are many people who can act,
many who can sing, many who can dance, many who can make you laugh,
many who can play the kitchen, knit, drive to Formula 3 standard,
achieve a grandmaster norm at chess, fart, and spell the word moccasins.
But my following guest is one of that rare breed
who can do none of these things, and less. She is quite simply quite simple.
Her hair is her own, and her shoe size never a disappointment.
-Will you please welcome Fiona Gillies. -Oh, it isn't.
-It is. -Oh, I never…
Fiona, welcome. Welcome.
-Okay. Did you not know I'm here? -I can't believe this. I can't believe it.
-No don't… Don't sit there! Don't sit there. -Sorry, sorry.
It's a sort of a Bermuda Triangle, just there.
We had a couple of guests sit there last week, and they just completely vanished.
-No. -Yeah.
-What? What? What? -Tell her about the frigates.
The frigates. Yeah, that's right. We had two Royal Navy frigates, and a rotring pen
also vanish from that precise spot. Yeah.
Though we did find one of the frigates later, though.
We did, yes. It had slipped down the back of the sofa.
So now, Fiona, we asked you to tell us about your favourite TV blooper,
or TV cock-up. Uh, which is it to be?
Well, it's one I actually saw, actually.
-Ooh, ooh. -What, what?
Two actuallies.
Oh, Fiona, my colleague informs me that you just used two actuallies.
Oh, I'm sorry. Well, it's a clip I actually saw, in fact.
I was shooting Anna Karenina in York…
Can I stop you there? Can I stop you there?
When you say, “Shooting Anna Karenina,”
you don't actually mean filming, do you?
I mean blowing her brains out with a 12-bore shotgun.
Right, yeah. I wouldn't want to give the viewers the wrong impression there.
You know what it's like when you're away from home in a strange hotel.
You stand there naked in front of the mirror with a radish and a whole world of possibilities.
You watch the TV.
Yeah. Yes, yes, that's right.
-That's what I said, wasn't it? -Well,
there I was, watching the TV,
and this newsreader had the most blissful coughing fit.
Whoa, whoa, whoa! Fiona, I must stop you there,
because we've actually tracked this clip down, this blooper,
and I believe that Mr Director up in the gallery has got it laced up and ready to roll?
-Um, yes, I can confirm he has. He has. -Oh, it's on? He's got it.
The Local News at Ten Thirty Three and a Bit.
Good evening.
The main story tonight…
I'm so…
I'm sorry…
Yes, uh, the main story tonight,
Ronald Satterthwaite of Skipton announced that the oyster season…
I don't…
And you, Fiona, you actually saw that, actually.
Did indeed, Stephen, yes.
Yes, I understand that there was a happy ending to the story.
The newsreader was rushed to hospital but was found to be dead on arrival.
Which is nice. Which is nice.
Now, Kevin, could I ask you to hand round the Hula Hoops. There should be enough for one each.
And, uh, Fiona, would you be a love,
and scrub the back steps there?
There's a sort of yellowy-brown stain that my colleague and I just haven't been able to shift.
All right? Thanks.
And, funnily enough, “yellowy-brown stains” links in rather neatly with our next item.
I walked into a shop the other day.
14 stitches.
You know, I mean, they're always going about, “Don't do it”
and, “Say no” and all that.
You know, and that… It's just full of shit, innit?
Because, you know, I mean, I don't do, you know, smack or crack, or anything rhyming with “ack,”
or, you know, any of the heavy shit. You know, I do all the rest.
And, you know, I think they should legalise it, really,
because, you know, it don't do me any farm-weather pants,
or, you know, smiling cream… or onion dealers, do it?
Yes, well, I'm a Capricorn
and my boyfriend's an alcoholic.
Hello, and welcome to English People Appear to be the Most Ignorant in Europe.
This morning, I shall be asking questions of our three likely contestants,
Dieter Schaummer, who is a dental technician from Hamburg…
Hello.
…Andrea Larsen, who is a dental technician from Oslo…
Hi.
…and finally, Colin Mint, who is a dental technician from Tunbridge Wells in Kent.
Right, well, let's go straight into the first round. Dieter, your question.
Who am I? I am a female journalist who came to fame in the 1960s presenting Blue Peter.
-Valerie Singleton. -Correct, Dieter. Andrea, your question.
Who am I? I am an Underground station on London's Northern Line,
situated between Warren Street and Tottenham Court Road.
-Goodge Street. -Correct, Andrea.
Colin, your question. Are you ready?
Mmm.
Go on, Colin. Have a guess.
Um, Simon Mayo?
The answer I have on my card, Colin, I'm afraid, is General Agreement on Tariff and Trade.
Never mind. Second round.
Have a look at this.
♫ She's got eyes like diamonds
♫ Hair like twisted gold
♫ When she looks up to me
♫ I feel my blood run cold
♫ No, I don't care if people laugh
♫ Ha ha
♫ I'm in love with Steffi Graf
♫ I watched her all last summer
♫ I watched her every day
♫ She knew that I was with her
♫ She didn't have to say
♫ She can run but she can't hide
♫ She knows I feel deep down inside
♫ That Steffi is an angel
♫ But she folds her wings and walks like you and me
♫ She's extremely good at tennis
♫ On any kind of surface there might be
♫ Clay or grass
♫ She'll flay your ass
♫ When she hits that topspin second serve
♫ I think I know the meaning now of love
♫ East Bonn never was her favourite
♫ The outside courts were damp
♫ She had a hamstring problem
♫ And recurring muscle cramp
♫ But she dug deep and won it just the same
♫ My angel never lost a service game
♫ But now a shadow in the distance
♫ A girl with ponytail
♫ 16 and full of hunger
♫ The end of Steffi's trail
♫ I can't wait for her defeat
♫ I fetch a knife and take my seat
♫ 'Cause Steffi is a goddess
♫ My love for her, it knows no bounds
♫ I'd kill to make her happy
♫ Or just to get her through the early rounds
♫ Kill or maim
♫ It's just a game
♫ But if I had another life I'd choose
♫ To come back as one of Steffi's shoes
♫ 'Cause Steffi is an angel
♫ But she folds her wings and walks like you and me ♫
Ready?
Welcome to The Lover's Helper.
In the course of this cassette tape,
I'll be telling you about a number of techniques you can use to improve your love life,
bringing you and your partner closer than ever.
The first section of this course deals with foreplay. In this…
In this section, I want to deal with some techniques
that can help you arouse your partner.
Start off by simply holding each other.
Now try stroking your partner.
The key thing to remember at this point is relaxation.
If you're feeling very relaxed,
now might be a good time for the man to touch the woman's breasts.
But remember to be gentle.
Touch them as gently as you can.
Try moving one of your hands gently up and down.
Does that feel good?
Now it's the woman's turn.
Put your hands on his bottom.
Perhaps you might give his bottom a squeeze.
Now, during all of this, I hope you'll have been kissing.
But kissing doesn't just have to be on the mouth.
Some people like to kiss their partners all over their bodies.
Who knows, if things are going really well,
you might even end up nibbling your partner's toes.
If it feels good,
this may be the right time to start thinking about intercourse.
You know, there's been a lot of stuff in the news recently about the rise of fascism.
It's the next big thing, they say. But what exactly is fascism?
What kind of music do fascists listen to?
What do they wear? Are there clubs you can go to?
Well, now, Kevin, you're a bit of an old fascist from way back.
Tell me, what's it all about?
Well, I suppose the first thing that got me into fascism was the uniform.
Right, have you got your uniform with you at all?
-Well, I'm wearing it now. -Oh, that's it, is it?
-Oh, I see. Yeah. -Yeah, it's comfortable, it's hard-wearing,
and I just… I don't know, I just think I look good in it.
You do, Kevin, you look absolutely fabulous, yeah.
If I was homosexual, I'd want to buy you a drink at the very least.
Well, thanks. If I was homosexual, I'd have a pint of lager.
-As it is, I like birds. -Me too.
Right, now we've got…
We've got someone on the line. I think it's Anna.
Hello, Anna, are you there?
-Hello? -Anna, hi.
-Hello, Anna. -What's your question for Kevin?
-Kevin, could you give my mum a wave? -Certainly.
Yeah, what's your question for Kevin, Anna?
Kevin, what sort of music do you listen to?
Yeah, no, uh, that's quite a good question, actually, Anna.
Yeah, Kevin, what is your bag, what's your thing, what's your scene? What's your…
I suppose what Anna's really asking is, what kind of music do you listen to?
Oh. Well, it's all sorts really, Anna. Uh, military music, marching bands, and a lot of Wagner.
-Yeah, 'cause of course, Hitler liked all that stuff. -Well, absolutely.
Yeah. Does that answer your question, Anna?
-Well… -Yeah, cheers, love.
Now, for those of you watching at home, it's worth pointing out
that Hitler was quite a big name in the fascism business
way back in the, what, early '70s, was it?
-No, earlier than that, even. -What, even earlier than that?
So he's, like, right in there at the beginning, like a kind of Elvis figure.
-Yeah. -Yeah, that's…
That's really interesting. Now, tell me something about Hitler,
'cause there has been a lot of stuff written about him,
you know, a lot of magazine profiles. What kind of guy was he, do you think?
Oh, he was a wild guy, and a little bit strict, in a funny sort of way.
Yeah, I've heard that.
I'd heard he really liked to live out there on the edge.
-Oh, absolutely. -That's really interesting.
Did he have a philosophy at all? Was he a John-Lennony kind of guy?
Well, I suppose that the supremacy of the Aryan race was his sort of inspiration.
Yeah, and a sort of segregational kind of thing.
-Racial purity. -Racial purity, all that sort of stuff.
-Yeah, but then, tragically, he died, didn't he? -Yeah, I'm afraid so.
-Yeah, what was it? Was it drugs? I think I heard… -No, he shot himself.
Oh, he shot himself? Oh, that's really sad. Yeah. Yeah.
I guess he must have been really depressed.
Depression… Depression is a terrible thing. Terrible thing.
I've been depressed now for 14 years.
Can't shake it off.
My wife says I should kill myself, but it's just a coward's way out, you know.
I did try it once, though. Locked myself in the garage, started the car.
Bloody thing had a catalytic converter.
Came out after seven hours with a slight headache.
But mustn't grumble
Hello?
There doesn't seem to be anyone here.
I expect the others will turn up in a minute.
In the meantime,
it rather looks as if I'm sort of on my own.
That's right, my dear.
You are quite, quite alone.
Who's that?
A fog has settled on the moor and may not lift for days.
Who is there? Show yourself!
Oh, come, my dear, don't say you've forgotten me.
Forgotten who? What?
Welwyn Garden City, 1974,
Debenhams car park.
Max!
I waited, Fiona.
I waited a long, long time.
But you never came.
Why didn't you come, Fiona?
I waited.
The traffic, I had a flat headache.
My wife turned up, the fire burnt down.
Oh, what's the use?
Oh, Max, Max, Max!
I've waited a long time for this moment, Fiona.
-Max, I'm so sorry. -“Sorry”? “Sorry”?
You leave me with three bags of quite heavy shopping,
run off to Paris with your lover-boy dancing laugher,
and then tell me that you're sorry?
Oh, Max, you don't understand.
I was young. I was in love.
You broke me. You broke me into a thousand…
Fiona, my colleague, what's going on?
-Oh, nothing, nothing. -Nothing at all.
No, we were just, um… Just chatting.
Fiona, I must say, you look absolutely fabulous. Alive, feline, arousing.
No, that's Fiona.
Yes, all right, you know?
It's a sketch in a hospital ward. I'm so sorry.
I'm so sorry that we're not breaking moulds and deconstructing forms
and drinking strange new types of lager in underground bars
with tight hipster jeans hanging off our earlobes.
I'm so sorry,
you know, that we haven't raised interesting cultural questions.
I'm so nose-blowingly sorry.
-You're not sorry at all. -Damn bloody right, I'm not.
It's a hospital room, all right? He's a doctor, he's a patient. Oh, dear!
Oh, arsing dear!
What a disappointment. Where are the challenged perceptions there?
I don't wonder for a single hair-gelled,
Time Out-reading, bloody minute.
-Say “ah.” -Ah.
-Say “twim.” -Twim.
-Twim.
-Fa-dabba-ha-wee. -Fa-dabba-ha-wee.
-Twim. -Twim.
They do still exist, you know, hospitals.
Just 'cause a lot of twats in black polo necks fart their way through the Late Show,
talking about “the dark underbelly of British social repression”
doesn't mean hospitals don't exist,
and that people don't go to them when they're feeling ill…
-Hugh. -What?
Get out.
Well, Doctor?
“Well, Doctor.” Yes.
Well, the situation is this. We do have a new heart standing by, ready to go in.
A very nice heart it is, too.
Red, which I always think is the only colour for a heart.
No, that side of things is all fine.
Oh, thank God.
But, and it's a pretty fat “but,”
you're a smoker, aren't you, Mr Spears?
-Well, I occasionally… -You occasionally smoke cigarettes, yes.
-Is that a problem? -Well, I'm afraid it is, yes.
Puts me in a hell of a position. Mr Twovey doesn't smoke, you see.
-Mr Twovey? -Yes, nice chap, two rooms down,
came in yesterday. He's also hoping for a new heart,
and he's never smoked in his life.
Well, he smoked once, but didn't inhale, so he says.
So, you mean the one heart you've got, you're going to give it to Mr Twovey?
No, no, not necessarily. As I say, he's a nice enough chap.
But, by God, you should see him eating soup.
Soup?
Oh, revolting sight. Slurping, and sucking, and spilling all over the place.
-Quite revolting. -Yes?
Now, I've seen you eating soup, Mr Spears, and it's rather an attractive sight.
You know, you hold the spoon properly, tilt the bowl away from you,
suck out of the side of the spoon, not out of the end.
Yeah, all together very neat about it, very neat indeed.
-So? -So, I would say, you're about even on that score.
'Course, you don't dress as well as Mr Twovey.
Gerald does a lot of good work in the community.
-I'm so sorry? -He's very active within the community.
Yes, I've never really been sure what that phrase means.
I mean, burglars are very active within the community, aren't they?
Well, Gerald once met Esther Rantzen.
-Did you? -Yes, but I didn't inhale.
I feel so shitty.
Eany-meany-miney-mo…
Oh, now that is good news.
My nurse informs me that a new heart has just come in,
so we can, in fact, service you both.
-Never! -Oh, thank God. Can I kiss you, Doctor?
If I can punch you violently in the throat, then yes.
Now, um, since I'm here, I might as well give you first choice.
Of the two hearts, the first is…
It's from a young squash player from Aberdeen, about 25 years old.
And the new heart that's just come in is from a 65-year-old cabinet minister.
Which would you…
Definitely, I think the cabinet minister.
May I ask why?
Because it's never been used.
Say, Hugh. Do you know the way to San Jose?
No, Hugh… God, you ask a perfectly civil question…
Not his fault. He's a little hard of understanding.
Uh, my colleague, my guests,
um, I've just been on the telephone to the slim controller,
and I begged him to allow us to go beyond our allotted time,
but I'm sorry to say that
he was hard, he was inflexible, and he was very hot.
And that means that we're going to have to draw
another thick woollen scarf over yet another week of fun, temptation and pain.
Well, you know, Stephen, that's very sad…
-Hugh. -What?
Shut your neck.
Now, my guests, have you made your cocktail selection this evening?
-You ever had avocado? -Maybe.
I would like a long confident suck, please.
-You've selected a long confident suck. -Yes, please.
A very wise, if I may say so, decision.
It would be my honour and my privilege to prepare it for you.
Now, for a long confident suck, you need a tall glass,
tall spoon, a tall barman, that's me.
You need a sugar lump steeped in Angostura bitter, a pitted olive,
a handful of Rice Krispies. They must be Rice Krispies. Ricicles won't do.
To this, you add a full measure of gin,
a full measure of Fernet-Branca,
a full measure of cooking yogurt,
a full measure of Drambuie,
with or without, it doesn't really matter.
And, least important of all, some fried water.
However, the most vital ingredient is missing, and will be delivered
when I say these words.
Please, Mr Music, will you play?
Soupy twist.