Good evening. Good evening. It's very nice to be with you for the start of a
brand new series, isn't it? Yes, it is. Yes, it is. And in a packed program
tonight, Antonio, the famous Spanish dancer, will be showing us how to dance
fandango with his fan in one hand and his dango in the other.
And we'll be talking to a one -fingered pickpocket who only steals
polo mints.
But meanwhile, here is the news. The National Coal Board are pleased to
that there was no absenteeism in British pits last month.
All the absentees stayed at home.
Mr Arnold Limpkin, the famous one -legged tap dancer, retired today.
A special programme tonight features some of his greatest hits, like I Could
Have Hopped All Night, Knee Up, Mother Brown,
And 20 tiny fingers, 15 tiny toes.
But here is a motoring flash.
On the A30 this evening, a tanker load of bleach on its way to the West Country
overturned on a notorious accident black spot, turning it immediately into a
notorious accident white spot.
And a vicar who rode his bicycle the wrong way up the M1 was asked how he
managed to avoid an accident. He replied, God was with me, and was
charged with riding two on a bike.
Yes, and there was an accident today involving Britain's worst goalkeeper,
Barclay, who has already let through 157 goals this season.
Shouting out, I'm a complete failure, Barclay threw himself in front of a bus.
Luckily, the bus passed under him and he wasn't hurt.
Drive to improve the standards of service and hygiene. A West End hotel
dismissed a waiter for having his thumb in the soup.
They also dismissed a topless waitress for two similar offences.
In the sketch that follows, the public and private life of Samuel Pepys, I play
the public parts and Ronnie Corbett.
Ronnie Corbett plays the piano.
Morning. Morning.
What can I do for you then?
Is the watchmaker in?
I'm the watchmaker.
What do I look like then?
Cedric, cut it down, would you?
Call yourselves Frick out of here.
Don't worry about that, sir.
Very noisy business, stringing poles, you know.
Charlie, what could I do you for, sir? Well, it's my watch. Oh, isn't that a
dainty little piece, eh? Isn't it lovely? What's the matter with you, my
boy, eh?
Well,
he needs adjusting.
He's losing a bit. Oh, losing a bit, are you, you little monk?
Right. Well, Susie, have you walked for it? No, no, wait a minute.
It's not as important as that. You mustn't do that. Well, you said he was
a bit. Well, only a couple of hours a day. Nothing to worry about. Oh, we
have that, sir. No, no, I'll still knock him into shape. Let's have a bit of
space here, will you?
Wait a minute.
Right.
He's not very slim, is he, eh? Would you like it a bit slimmer? No, no, I like
it fat like that. Oh, you like it fat. Oh, all right. Then please yourself.
Now, how do we get the back off this? Oh, it's one of them, is it?
You haven't got one of those things for getting the stones out of horses' boy
scouts, have you?
Look, I don't want to waste your valuable time. Valuable time?
Time is my life's work, my dear sir.
Ah.
You know what's the matter with this toaster? What's that? Well, it don't go
anymore.
Well, at least I'll know it'll be correct. you know, twice a day. Ah, but
about the rest of the days? I would have been right somewhere in the world,
wouldn't it? Hong Kong, Rady Vostok. And I won't get that annoying ticking.
No, I'm sorry. I can't let this little monkey out of my hands, otherwise
all want to do it, see. You must show them who's the boss, that's the idea.
Is it walk -proof?
Oh, most of them are. Never mind.
I'll get the beer out. I've just got to get the back off. Of course, they're
like little Brazil nuts, you know, these little devils.
And he's modern once, you know. Old Arthur, he ruptured himself on an omega
other day.
He's only winding it up at all.
There's a bit of purchase on the little beggars. That's a trouble.
You don't know anyone who wants any panels beaten out or horseshoes or
like that. No, I don't know. The bottom's dropped out of that, you know.
I'll fix it for you. Don't worry.
A couple of rivets won't put right, sir. Here, I'll put the bits in the bag for
you. There you are, so no extra charge.
Well, listen, I shall have to buy a new watch now.
Oh, all right, yes.
Hey, Harper, where's Charlie?
Ah,
you wanted a new watch?
Well, that gentleman, your friend, has just gone out, smashed my watch.
Fourth thing, we're buying a new one. I mean, it's a confidence thing. Well,
this is a nice one, sir.
£20. Good Lord, is that the time?
Yes. Well, I'm supposed to be down at the hospital.
Oh, you know what you say, going down to the hospital?
You see where you dropped me off?
Eh? I'm a doctor now, only part -time, you know. What's the matter with you,
then? Well, I've got headaches, pains in the head. The head? Oh, your head will
have to come off, definitely.
No,
no, no, look at the words on the prompter there, all written up. Just
out. I'll take that.
I am a spokesman for the Ministry of... What's it?
Communications.
And we thought it would be a good idea if I came along this evening and told
all what was... I mean, tried to explain the whole... Put you... Put you in
it.
The picture as to what the folk...
think they're doing, know they're doing, and I should know what they're doing,
because I am one of them.
One of them.
I should know what I'm doing, but I don't.
Want you to think that we, at the, where is it, the
ministry, are sitting down on our fat chance we get to sit down.
are constantly on each other's toes as secretaries.
Secretaries are buzzing around, making tea and men's meat, and each girl giving
her utmost to whoever needs it.
And when I say her utmost, I mean most of her utmost.
Not that I want you to think that we have anything.
to hide. The Ministry of Communicles?
Communicles?
Communications? It cannot be compared with, I mean, it's nothing like a water
closet. As the Ministry itself said, we don't want any bugs in this Ministry.
I'm the only big bug around here.
Yes, I think that's what he said.
And, of course, he's absolutely parched.
Oh, perfectly right.
I say, it's damn stifling in here. Does anyone mind if I open a bottle?
Oh, thank you very much.
Because it does get damn hot in here, you know.
Oh, that's it.
been said many times, and indeed, who am I?
I repeat, who am I?
Who am I?
A mere moss -broth to argue.
He said at the last Common Market Assembly, and here I quote,
Trousers to cleaners.
Liquid paraffin boots.
And what a sorry picture that presents of the country today.
We stand here figuratively speaking at the crossroads of men of this women, men
of this women, men of the women of this country having been taken to the
cleaners, trousers, slipping and sliding our boots filled with liquid paraffin
on the downward path that leads to the upward spiral of inflation.
knowing that we must move in ever -decreasing circles, finally
our only chance of standing tall and sleeping off, sweated up, back -to -back
noses to the wall, best foot forward, knees together and legs astride.
We must all push in the same direction.
I will be the first to join in the fun, bearing in mind that I include women in
this because women are, in a sense, lumped together.
At least the ones I know are.
Finally, in confusion, I would like to say unequivocal.
I would like to say unequivocal.
I would like, but I can't.
But what I can say is this, peace.
Peace, that's what we all want. And we cannot get this alone.
We must combine with the best of the rest of Europe.
And that is why I am meeting the French minister for communications directly
after this broadcast.
In his own words, we go out and get peace together.
Marseille, city of intrigue, smuggling centre for the drugs traffic of the
Western world.
Crime lurks behind every corner, filth and degradation in every gutter. And
worst of all, the town, like most places abroad, is crawling with foreigners.
Venice, memorial to the lost glories of the Renaissance, and the only town in
Europe to have found a way of keeping prostitution off the streets.
But our story begins many miles from teeming, steaming Marseille.
Not on the banks of the Grand Canal in Venice, but on the banks of the Grand
Union Canal in Watford.
Piggy Malone, overweight private detective, and his undernourished
Charlie Farley, failed undergraduate and former hitman for the Brownies.
And Charlie was about to teach his boss the gentle art of fishing.
This, Chief.
This. It's called a float.
Guess why?
Because it sinks?
It does.
I shall have to take that one back.
It's supposed to float, you see.
No point in calling it a float if it sinks.
Floats that sink, that's a contradiction in terms, isn't it?
I mean, sinks don't float, do they?
Terrible what people throw in the canals these days, isn't it?
That float hasn't come up, has it?
You've had that. Oh, got plenty more of these.
We've come here to enjoy ourselves, haven't we?
Now, I tell you what.
You get the lunchboxes out.
I shall be over there adjusting my tackle.
I'd like to spread it all out in the grass.
Bread's a bit stale.
Can you only meet with it? That's the bait, Chief.
Are the worms all right?
They're okay.
Oh, dear.
Now, here's your rod, Chief.
Are you? Um, I think I'd better watch you first, because I've never watched
anyone fishing, you know.
Now, there's a lot of nonsense talked about fishing, Chief.
Nothing complicated to it at all.
Three. Golden rules.
Three things you've got to do.
My grandad told me that when I was that high.
When was that, last week?
Be fair.
Now, look, never mind all that. He said, never mind all that crap, he said.
There are three things you must remember to do.
Make sure the bait is on the hook.
Make sure the line is on the rod.
Throw it into the water.
Right? Three things, Chief. Right.
See that the bait is on the hook.
Bait on the hook.
See that the line is attached to the rod?
Correct.
And the last thing?
Throw it in the water. Got it.
Now go on.
No, not the rod in the water.
The, uh... Oh, let's go and have lunch and we'll think the whole thing through.
Yeah.
Rest the rods in these.
Don't even have to hold them.
Safe as houses. Just sit back and enjoy the solitude.
At least we can forget all the worries of all those criminal cases.
Both of those criminal cases.
Allowing your dog to foul the footway is hardly a criminal offence, is it? Not
in the ordinary course of events.
Granted. But this is hardly the ordinary course of events.
Not when a High Court judge steps in.
Not on its own doorstep, was it?
Most of it was, yes.
Yes, you have a case that fascinates me most.
What, the Breacher Promise case? Yeah.
Have you seen her?
No, that would be criminal. Why? If he had to marry her.
I've got a bite.
Are you the two famous British
detectives on holiday?
What are you doing down there, my good man?
He's a frog banshee.
I know that. I can tell by his accent.
I still don't know what he's doing down there.
Top secret.
Read this.
Who are you?
Undercover man.
More like an underwater man.
No stupid jokes.
If you please.
Meanwhile, further up the bank, two figures watch the scene with interest.
Peculiar.
Frogman, over there.
Talking to two idiots on the bank.
They're up to no good. I'll be bound.
Now, now, sir, don't get involved. We're on holiday, remember?
Frogman probably feel the need for conversation the same as anyone else.
Fishy.
Oh, dear.
I don't think this holiday's doing you any good at all.
I can tell you no more now, except that it is a case of international
importance.
It is imperative that you meet the head of MI6 at once.
The fate of nations is at stake.
Hoping this finds you as it leaves me in the pink.
Yours ever, British Intelligence.
What do you say, Charlie?
Do we take the case?
International importance?
We can hardly refuse, can we?
I don't know. I mean, I've got that roast chicken in the oven.
Roast chicken?
You can't think about roast chicken at a time like this.
The fate of nations at stake.
I've done roast potatoes around it and everything.
Oh, God, have you?
Could we report a bit later on?
It must be at once.
You're on.
Where do we go?
Follow me!
Well,
I knew they threw the little ones back.
I didn't think they threw the fat ones as well.
What is the murky secret of the canal?
Is the MI6 running Watford?
What will happen to Charlie's roast chicken?
Don't miss next week.
Passage to Marseille.
Thank you.
Maestro played the music upside down. Then upon one knee he tells them all
he believes there's no one like his dear old ma.
Why did I ever roam from my Kentucky home and leave behind that dear old
don't know.
Another hit, a smash, they're on their feet and a -plodding with another
show.
Back in the dressing room, flowers and French perfume, everyone said, Pink,
champagne.
Now they're calling the casting call to celebrate the success of the show.
Overflowing from limousines, lovely ladies from fashion magazines.
All the folk at the Grand Hotel congratulate him on doing so well.
From the coast to the coast, he is the one they love most, the entertainer.
He can hear on call coming from the gloom. There's no one there he can drink
with. No one to reminisce or think with. From an old suitcase
takes a photograph of a young girl's face in a checkered scarf. My baby, your
daddy loves you.
It won't be long before I'm home.
Lonely breakfast on the train with old Flandreau, yet another town to win.
While he's at the town, no need to stop and worry. When the show's a flop, well
then it's time to hurry. Get with every draw, from Snark or Francis Curry, from
the stinking ship. In the meantime, sell our show tonight.
Behind the stage they're saying, do I look alright?
To the swing of the ragtime rage The entertainer comes on to the
stage In the spotlight he looks a case With a comic expression
on his face
Then a wink and a little pause.
He's taming love to accept the applause.
They all want him to know they love the star of the show. The entertainer is
ready to go.
They all want him to know they love the star of the show. The entertainer is
ready to go.
Hello, Nigel. Long time no see.
Hello.
How are you? Oh, I'm fine. Can't complain.
Keep him busy, you know.
Like your hair's shorter.
Must have been a weight, too, haven't you?
No, I didn't. Oh, you have, you know.
You used to have a real little tummy down there, didn't you?
Well,
I'd best get on.
No peace for a working girl.
Really nice to see you, Nigel.
Well, get off at nine. Ring me.
Well, what the hell was all that about?
Look, don't you start.
I'm going to have enough trouble explaining you to her.
I am trying to find the theological college. I am to deliver a speech there
evening, but I feel that I am lost.
Oh, you want to go straight past the Albion fish and chip shop, right at the
Choo Chin Chow takeaway, straight on past the kebab house, and then left at
New Bengal restaurant. You can't miss it.
Oh, thank you very much.
No, no, no, sir. There's a much better way than that. You go straight past the
police station, bear left at the vandalized phone box, straight through
traffic lights, up the street where it says no entry, Park on the zigzag lines
near the zebra crossing. It's right opposite. Can't miss it. Oh, thank you.
I think I know a far better way, Vicar. You know, you go straight up the high
street, past the Green Man and White Bear, right at the Cricketers, left at
Burnside Hotel, past the Marks of Granby and on to the Elephant. What happens
when I get to the Elephant? You take the trunk road.
Then you go as far as the Bull and turn left. Right.
No, left.
Then you go on past the coaching horses and left again at what's yours?
What's yours?
Awfully kind of. I'm going to have a wee rally.
No, left, dear, left. And right at the Royal Oak. No, no, no. You want to go
left at the strip club, right at the knicker factory, then left again at
Sandy's.
I do think I would know where Randy Sandy's is. Oh, you can't miss it. She's
a big notice in the window. Sandy, 38, 26, 38, optician.
Swedish glasses of speciality.
Sandy's an optician, is she?
Optician, my eye.
No, no, he wants to go... I think he wants to go right past the fountain inn.
No, no, no, no. You'll want to take the shortcut past Frilly Lily's.
Well, where's Frilly Lily? Oh, you can't miss it. It's the house with the big
overhanging gables, you know.
I've got a big notice outside saying, Lily, 382638, chiropodist.
Swedish pedicure is a speciality.
Is she a chiropodist? Chiropodist, my foot.
I still say it's going to be quicker and far better for him to go left at the
have another.
Have another?
Off the kind of you. I'm going to have a wee brandy.
Right. No, no, left.
Go left at the dirty bookshop.
Or right at the dirty duck. Right. That's right. No, left. Left. That's
Right. No, left.
Right, then left.
Right, then left. Right, then left, left.
Wrong. Right, left, right.
Right. Left. Wrong.
Right.
Perhaps we'd better start again.
Listen, you want to go straight past the seven stars, the six bells, the five
swans, the four feathers, the three jolly farmers, the two cricketers, the
partridge in the pear tree. Then you go left at one for the road.
One for the road? Awfully kind of you. I'm going to have a wee.
Right. No left.
He had the axe and compasses. No, no, no. He's right at the axe and compasses
and left at Baggy Aggie's. He doesn't know where Baggy Aggie's is. It's easy.
So is Baggy Aggie.
He's got a notice in the window. You can't miss it. It says, Baggy Aggie, 38,
26, 38, qualified nurse, Swedish injections of speciality.
Does she do injections? Injections my backside.
I'm afraid I'm finding this all rather confusing.
Look, it's awfully simple, really it is.
It's right at the axe and two large ones.
Two large ones? Oh, that's very kind of you.
Now, it's not the two large ones. No, it's right at the injection and
That's what you want. No, no, it's left at the injection and compasses and right
at the nurse and crowd. Oh, well, of course, if you're going to go that way,
go left at the coach and chiropodist. Right at the five baggy opticians. Left
the four frilly backsides. Right at the three randy thandies. Left at the two
dirty girdies. Right at the left luggage opposite the stoning faggot. Yeah, left
at the right luggage opposite Stoney Joanie, who's a right faggot. And right
the left luggage opposite Busty Dusty, who's a stoning faggot. Yeah, you can't
miss it.
Yes, well, thank you for your efforts. I'll do my best.
You know... He'll never find that in a month of Sunday
school. Yes, as well. We shan't have to listen to him at the meeting, shall we?
They say he's a rotten speaker. I don't know how we're going to get there. I've
only been once before in my life. Do you know how we're going to get there? Left
and St. Peter's, I think. No, it's right to St. Peter's, left to St. Andrew's.
No, no, it's left to St. Andrew's, right to...
I
must... I must tell you... a very, very funny joke.
Now, it's about two men who go to heaven.
Now, they go to heaven because they're both a bit, um,
um, D -E -A -D.
Now, I said D -E -A -D because there might be somebody watching who's a
bit sensitive about people saying dead.
Sorry.
I said it.
Like this morning. Now, I was... I was having a row with my wife, and she said
to me, Don't keep saying bloody in front of the K .I .D. yet.
Now, I've got to be a bit careful what I say, because she is in the audience
here tonight.
If I'm not mistaken, second row up, third in on the left.
I am mistaken. It's Arthur Mullard.
I'm mustering the bottle factory and see if my new glasses are ready yet.
But seriously, this is rather a special evening because it is exactly ten years
ago tonight when she said, I do.
Which certainly surprised me because I didn't think she did.
And to be honest, anything I say about my wife is said in fun.
I mean, yesterday, I heard a comedian...
Or was it Des O 'Connor?
He said, he said, my wife is so thin that when she's under the shower, she
to walk about to get wet.
Now, I wouldn't say that. I wouldn't, because it would hurt her feelings.
Because she is unusually thin.
As a matter of fact, when I first picked her up in the snooker hall, I thought
she was a cube.
She was wearing a brown dress and a little blue hat.
And before I knew it, I'd chalked her and got a break of 46.
No, no, no, sorry. Now I'm exaggerating it.
I got a red and a green and a... But whatever I say about her, she is a
wonderful mother.
She knows both the children by name.
She takes them to school in the morning.
and waits there all day to bring them home at night.
Which doesn't leave much time for the housework.
As a matter of fact, the house is so dirty, sometimes you have to wipe your
to go out in the street.
And the cooking is down to the minimum.
We are actually the only family in Croydon with a season ticket for the
chip shop.
But I would not swap her.
I would not swap her for anything in the world.
Unless there happens to be someone looking in who is desperately lonely and
got a gearbox for a B registration Vauxhall vehicle.
Anyway, back to the joke while I can still remember it.
The two fellas up there, you know, doing the old wings and nightshirt bit.
One says to the other, he said, hello there, he said, where are you from?
The other one says, I'm from Scranton, New Jersey, USA.
The other one says, that is peculiar because, by the way, I mentioned
New Jersey, because my wife's family come from there. You know, I thought I'd
give them a little mention.
You know,
it helps, doesn't it? As a matter of fact, they were one of the real old
families.
And as another matter of fact, her great -grandfather was actually killed at
Custer's Last Stand.
He didn't actually take part in the fighting, you know. He was camping
and he went over to complain.
And he went over to complain about the noise.
He was apparently a great character when he was alive, you know.
When he was dead, he got a bit ordinary.
Now, he would have been a fighting man.
But he didn't fancy the cavalry, and he failed his medical for the Indians.
Actually, to be honest, the family don't talk about him a lot, you know.
I get the impression that out there where men are men, old Buffalo Cyril was
bit of a novelty.
So the other chap says, back to the story, up in heaven.
The wings and nightshade. But this other chap, if you can remember. He said,
that is funny. He said, because I am from Scranton, New Jersey myself, he
And I only got here yesterday.
And the first fellow said, so did I. I only arrived here, he said, peculiarly
enough, yesterday afternoon.
The other chap said, what happened to you? He said, well, I tell what
He said, I suspected that my wife was having an affair with this guy at 824th
Street, North Scranton, New Jersey.
So I went up to his apartment.
There she was, but I couldn't find him anywhere, he said, so I started to wreck
the place in my temper.
He said, first I got hold of the freezer and I lifted it bodily and threw it out
of the window into the street four floors below.
Too much for the old ticker, I suppose, he said, so here I am.
He said to the other chap, he said, how did you get here?
The other fellow said, well, he said, I was... I was in this freezer,
he said.
There's been a revolution in Abdication Street where dear old Ina Sharples and
Minnie Caldwell meet. The show is really lively. It's going with a bang.
For now they sit and gossip to the tunes George Farmy sang.
We've been leaning on the table.
Swapping lines, supping beers.
We sat so long, we both got cauliflower ears.
I hate this lot, and that's the truth. That Jerry Booth is so uncouth.
only one I can stand.
Stood at bar, looking grand.
With his little ukulele in his hand.
Oh, I do miss that young Elsie Tanner.
Ran off with that family planner.
He had such a nice bedside nanner.
Well, his planning went astray. She's in the family way.
We carry on. That Rita's gone. Another one?
What's she doing now? Me, oh, my.
She's leaning on the lamppost at the corner of the street, rattling keys at
the he's that's passing by.
There goes that Hilda Ogden. Oh, where's her husband, Stan?
Wait until you hear about that.
Fat, disgusting man.
He's got a wenchant neighbourhood.
He what she like? A worthless dud with a shape like a fallen Yorkshire pud and a
face like Tommy Trinders. He takes his bike out for a ride, goes round to her
all starry -eyed. He knocks three times and goes inside.
And he's not cleaning windows.
Can't reach the window cleaner, fancy Zilda, so I hear.
He's got a mini Cooper.
Well, nobody's perfect, dear.
He found out something wrong. She took her turban off by gum. She's as bald as
baby. Well... Now he's back in the windage.
Oh, look, there's Albert Tatlock. He's dressed up to beat the band.
He's kissing Annie Walker.
What's he holding in her hand? It's his little sticker, Black Bull Rock.
He gave it to her. Who?
Tatlock.
Is he new barman?
Aye, mucky old pup.
He kissed her on the cellar, stepped and worked his way up.
It's perfectly clear he's not here for the beer, cos last night till two o
'clock they both sat there canoodling, drinking pints of milk stout. I'm quite
surprised at all, but he looks old and worn out. The only thing he's got in
worth bragging about is his little stick of black bull rock.
What's this I view?
Oh, kindly put away your dirty laundry, dear.
It's then Fairclough's flannel late night shirt.
He stayed with me Tuesday night. What next?
Oh, he did have fun when nightlight were dim.
I bet he felt old age creeping upon him.
And we whacked back the gin.
Local vicar came in.
I said, have a drink. He answered just this word.
When we last saw Reverend Fleet, he was rolling down the street dressed in
Lenzo.
Lordy, lordy. In Lenzo.
What can we do?
We've been stuck in this bar since 1962.
I sip with Ena and suck right with Ena.
I've sucked so much my tongue is turning blue.
Where's Annie's lad?
He's taken Betlin to do the flickers. I hope she's got her handbag because
she'll need it for her ticket.
It's plain to see.
We're doomed to do or die for bloody ITV.
There may come a day when we'll both get away from Granada.
And we'll both turn up in Crossroads just you seeing.
Turn it out nice again.
Next week, a famous millionaire reveals how it feels to have piles of gold.
Wealthy but uncomfortable.
And now news from the court. In the Central Divorce Court today, a Lady
Voyant was granted a divorce on the grounds of her husband's adultery next
weekend in Brighton.
Here's the late news.
Mr. Healy gave some interesting figures on education today. In the greater
London area, one half of the population can't read, one half can't write, and
the other three quarters can't hide out.
A West Drayton man who kept himself awake by snoring every night for 17
has at last found the answer. He's going to sleep in another room.
And finally...
Finally, sport.
At the nudist pentathlon at Crystal Palace this afternoon was won by
Orville Stark.
He was fourth in the 100 metres, third in the long jump, second in the low
hurdles, had an accident in the high hurdles, and was first in the yodelling.
So it's good night from me, and it's good night from him. Good night.