Monty Python's Personal Best (2006) s01e01 Episode Script

Eric Idle's Personal Best

Good evening, or as they say here in Hollywood, "How much?" I'm standing here in the middle of the Bollywood Hole.
And I'm standing here because Never mind why I'm standing here.
I'm standing here because it was right here Well, actually, right down there.
- That a group of five British boys and one Yank performed live to packed houses in 1980 and changed the face of comedy forever.
Yes, the legendary Monty Python boys: John Whose names will be remembered eventually forever, in the anal of comedy.
John Paul George and Spike.
But what was it that made them so unique? Well, in a word, nothing.
But one thing does remain clear and that is, that in this new world of many types of television, DVDs their particular brand of cheap sketches will always be available for recycling.
Tonight's personal best, the 16th in this series of six looks at the work of Eric Idle.
He's often been described as the funniest of the Monty Python boys.
He obviously is not the nicest.
That was clearly Ringo.
But many people have suggested that he might have been the third tallest.
Was he, indeed, over 6 feet tall? Or was he, perhaps, two shorter men sitting on each other's shoulders? Well, one person you can't fool is your mother.
Well, he was a very odd little boy.
When Eric was small he liked nothing more than dressing up and playing with other little boys.
- Dressing up as? - Well, dressing up as little girls.
- Oh, I see.
Yes, he said, " Mother, I want to spend the rest of my life trying to get into women's underwear.
" And I said, " Eric, be very careful otherwise you're going to grow up and be arrested.
" And he said, " No, Mother, not at all.
There is a future in cross-dressing on British television.
" And sadly, he was right.
I remember the day he told me he was going to be on a BBC television show.
And it was to be called Owl-Stretching Time.
And I said, "That is a dreadful title.
You might as well just call it Monty Python's Flying Circus.
" And he said, "Oh, Mother what do you know about television-show titles?" And by an odd coincidence that is what the BBC called it.
Do you think he stole the idea from you? Oh, no The bastard.
I spoke with Eric Idle's gynaecologist who asked to remain anonymous.
Doctor.
Sorry.
Mr.
X, you knew Eric Idle.
- Oh, yeah, intimately.
- What was he like? Well, a difficult bastard.
Really? In what way? Well, he liked to be funny.
- Funny? - Oh, yeah.
He was always trying to be funny.
He'd say funny things, you know, all the time.
John Cleese would try and stop him and he'd just laugh.
- It was terrible.
- How upsetting.
Many's the time little Terry Gilliam cried himself to sleep over something funny Eric Idle said.
And Michael Palin, well one year on his birthday, Eric said something funny about his age.
And we had to talk him down from the top of a television tower.
- He was threatening suicide? - No, threatening to do a TV series.
- Oh, dear.
- Exactly.
And as for Terry Jones, well Eric Idle once said to him: "Is that your nose or are you just pleased to see me?" Well, he was distraught for 12 years.
And poor Graham Chapman.
Well, there were rumours that he I'm sorry.
No, no, please, take your time.
Just remember that film is bloody expensive.
Oh, cut it, if he's just gonna cry.
This isn't bloody Oprah.
I flew to Paraguay to ask former Oberleutnant Otto Rumsfeld what he knew about Eric Idle.
Yeah, well, when I first escaped I came to Paraguay at the end of World War II which we lost.
I stole I brought with me an incredible secret.
This secret was that Hitler was developing a weapon of mass entertainment.
Oh, yeah.
German scientists were working on a show that was so silly even the British wouldn't laugh.
It would depress and confuse the Americans and it would leave the Reich supreme in world comedy.
Now, alas, when the war was over and we had lost all these great comedy ideas were captured by the British and recycled on the BBC.
There is very little of this original footage left.
But here in the original, wonderful German you can see the Führer himself was a simple man who dreams of becoming a lumberjack.
So much better in the original German.
Well, there you have it.
And here is where Eric Idle had it after the show.
And once again over there, with the occupants of row H.
So now it is with great pride that we present the personal, very best bits of Eric Idle live from the Hollywood Bowl.
Sit on my face and tell me that You love me I'll sit on your face and tell you I love you too I love to hear you oralize When I'm between your thighs You blow me away Sit on my face And let my lips embrace you I'll sit on your face And then I'll love you truly Life can be fine If we both sixty-nine If we sit on our faces In all sorts of places And play till we're blown away Good evening, ladies and gentlemen and welcome to the Refreshment Room here at Bletchley.
My name is Kenny Luss, and I'm your compère for tonight.
You know, once in a while it is my pleasure and my privilege to welcome here at the Refreshment Room some of the truly great international artists of our time.
And tonight we have one such artist.
Ladies and gentlemen someone whom I've always personally admired perhaps more deeply, more strongly more abjectly than any other performer.
A man Well, more than a man.
A god.
A great god whose personality is so totally and utterly wonderful my feeble words of welcome sound wretchedly and pathetically inadequate.
Someone whose boots I would gladly lick clean until holes wore through my tongue.
A man who is so totally and utterly wonderful that I would rather be sealed in a pit of my own filth than dare tread on the same stage with him.
Ladies and gentlemen the incomparably superior human being Harry Fink! Can I have fifty pounds To mend the shed? Can I have fifty pounds To mend the shed? I'm right on my uppers I can pay you back When this postal order Comes from Australia Honestly Hope the bladder trouble's Getting better Love, Ewan Good evening.
Tonight is, indeed, a unique occasion in the history of television.
We are very privileged and deeply honoured to have with us in the studio Karl Marx, founder of modern socialism and author of the Communist Manifesto.
Vladimir llich Ulyanov, better known to the world as Lenin leader of the Russian Revolution writer, statesman and father of modern communism.
Che Guevara, the Cuban guerrilla leader and Mao Zedong leader of the Chinese Communist Party since 1949.
And the first question is for you, Karl Marx.
The Hammers.
The Hammers is the nickname of what English football team? The Hammers? No? Well, bad luck there, Karl.
So we go on to you, Che.
Che Guevara.
Coventry City last won the FA Cup in what year? No? I'll throw it open.
Coventry City last won the FA Cup in what year? I'm not surprised you didn't get that.
It was a trick question.
Coventry City have never won the FA Cup.
So with the scores all equal, now we go on to our second round and, Lenin, it's your starter for 10.
Teddy Johnson and Pearl Carr won the Eurovision Song Contest in 1959.
What was the name of the song? Teddy Johnson and Pearl Carr song in the 1959 Song Contest? Anybody? No? - Yes, Mao Zedong.
- "Sing Little Birdie"? Yes, it was, indeed.
Well challenged.
Well, now we come onto our special-gift section.
The contestant is Karl Marx and the prize this week is a beautiful lounge suite.
Now, Karl has elected to answer questions on the workers' control of factories so here we go with question number one.
Are you nervous? The development of the industrial proletariat is conditioned by what other development? The development of the industrial bourgeoisie.
Yes, yes, it is, indeed.
You're on your way to your lounge suite, Karl.
Question number two.
The struggle of class against class is a what struggle? - A what struggle? - A political struggle.
Yes, yes.
One final question, Karl and the beautiful lounge suite will be yours.
Are you gonna have a go? You're a brave man.
Karl Marx, your final question.
Who won the Cup final in 1949? The workers control the means of production.
The struggle of the urban proletariat.
No, it was, in fact, Wolverhampton Wanderers who beat Leicester, 3-1.
Eric, do you think you could recognize a larch tree? I don't know.
- What's your name? - Michael.
Michael, do you think you know what a larch tree looks like? I want to go home.
Bottom.
Now, are there any other trees that any of you think you could recognize from quite a long way away? I want to see a sketch of Eric's, please.
What? I want to see a sketch of Eric's, nudge, nudge.
A what? A sketch? - Eric's written a sketch.
- I've written a sketch.
Nudge, nudge, Eric's written a sketch.
- Nudge, nudge.
- Nudge, nudge.
- Good evening, squire.
- Good evening.
Is your wife a goer, eh? Know what I mean? Know what I mean? Nudge, nudge.
Know what I mean? Say no more.
I beg your pardon? Your Your wife, does she go, eh? Does she go, eh, eh? Well, she sometimes has to go, yes, of course.
Oh, I bet she does, I bet she does.
Say no more, say no more.
Know what I mean? Nudge, nudge.
- I'm afraid I don't quite follow you.
- Oh, follow me, follow me.
That's good, very good.
A nod's as good as a wink to a blind bat.
Are you selling something? Selling, selling, very good indeed.
You're wicked, you are, eh? Wicked, eh? - Wicked.
Say no more.
- But I So your wife's interested in sport, eh? Well, she likes sport, yes.
I bet she does, I bet she does.
As a matter of fact, she's very fond of cricket.
She likes games, eh? Likes games? Knew she would.
She's been around a bit, eh? She been around? She has travelled, yes.
She's from Glendale.
Say no more.
Glendale, squire, say no more, say no more, say no more, say no more.
Well, I Is your Glendale wife interested in photography, eh, eh, eh? - Well, photography? - "Photographs, eh?" - He asked him knowingly.
- Photography? Snap, snap, grin, grin, wink, wink, nudge, nudge, say no more.
- Some holiday snaps, you mean.
- They could be.
They could be taken on holiday.
Swimming costumes, candid, you know? - Candid photography? - No, we don't have a camera.
Still eh? Look, are you insinuating something? Oh, no, no, no.
Yes.
- Well? - Well, I mean, you're You're a man of the world, squire.
- You've been around, you know? - What do you mean? Well, I mean, like, you've, you know You, like You've done it, you know? You've slept with a lady.
Yes.
What's it like? Hello, and welcome to Munich for the 27 th Silly Olympiad an event held, traditionally, every 3.
7 years which this year has competitors from over 4 million different countries.
We are at the start of the first event of the afternoon the second semi-final of the 100 yards for people with no sense of direction.
The competitors: Lane one, Skolomovski of Poland.
Two, Zatapatique of France.
Three, Gropovich of United States.
Next to him, Drabble of Trinidad.
Next to him, Fernandez of Spain, and in the outside lane, Bormann of Brazil.
Get set.
Well, that was fun, wasn't it? And now, over to the other end of the stadium.
Here we're just waiting for the start of the 1500 meters for the deaf.
And they're under starter's orders.
We'll be back the moment there's action.
Now, over to the swimming.
And you join us here at the Bundesabsurd pool in time to see the start of the 200 meters freestyle for non-swimmers.
Watch for top Australian champion, Ron Barnett, in the second lane.
We'll be bringing you back here the moment they fish the corpses out.
And now, over to international philosophy.
Welcome to a packed Olympic Stadium, München for the second leg of this exciting final.
And here come the Germans now, led by their skipper, "Nobby" Hegel.
They must start favourites this afternoon.
They've attracted attention from the press with their team problems.
And let's now see their line-up.
The Germans playing 4-2-4, Leibniz in goal.
Back four, Kant, Hegel, Schopenhauer and Schelling.
Front runners, Schlegel, Wittgenstein, Nietzsche and Heidegger and the midfield duo of Beckenbauer and Jaspers.
Beckenbauer, obviously, a bit of a surprise there.
And here come the Greeks, led out by their veteran centre half, Heraclitus.
Let's look at their team.
As you'd expect, it's a defensive line-up.
Plato's in goal, Socrates, a front runner there and Aristotle as sweeper, very much the man in form.
One surprise is the inclusion of Archimedes.
Well, here comes the referee, K'ung Fu-Tzu, Confucius and his two linesmen, St.
Augustine and St.
Thomas Aquinas.
And as the two skippers come together to shake hands we're ready for the start of this final.
The referee, Mr.
Confucius, checks his sand, and they're off.
Neitzche and Hegel there.
Karl Jaspers, seven on the outside.
Wittgenstein there with him.
There's Beckenbauer.
Schelling's in there.
Heidegger covering.
Schopenhauer.
And now, it's the Greeks, Epicurus, Plotinus, number six.
Aristotle.
Empedocles of Akragas and Democritus with him.
There's Archimedes, Socrates, there he is, Socrates.
Socrates there going through.
There's the ball, there's the ball.
And we'll be bringing you back to this exciting contest the moment anything happens.
Now over to Hans Clegg for the start of the marathon for incontinents.
We've got an enormous entry for this event.
Forty-four competitors from 29 different countries all of them with the most superbly weak bladders not a tight sphincter in sight ready to embark, nevertheless, on the world's longest race and they're just aching to go.
- On your marks.
Get set.
And they're off, they're off.
Oh, no.
Back at the 1500 meters, the starter is putting on a magnificent show.
We've had volleys, rapid bursts scattered random fire, fusillades firing.
Well, and still he can't get the buggers moving.
It's enough to make you chew your own foot off.
And now the high jump.
Katerina Ovelenskij for the Soviet Union.
And what a jump, what a jump! That's got to be a record.
Here we are at the 3000-meter steeplechase for people who think they're chickens.
There's Samuelsson of the United States and there is Klaus of East Germany.
He's been a Rhode Island Red for three Olympics.
The referee trying to get them going, but he's frightened them.
There is the leader, Abe Seagull of Canada.
Went off Got a good start then settled down on the water jump and has now gone broody.
We're back with the marathon for incontinents.
There's Polinski of Poland in the lead.
Brewer of Australia has taken over.
There's Laparche.
Brewer's overtaken him, but he's got to spend a penny.
There goes Brewer to spend a penny.
There's König.
So now it's Alvarez of Cuba, followed by the plucky Norwegian, Bors.
They're in and out like yo-yos, these boys.
MacNaughton can't hold it.
It's Machievich.
Machievich has taken a leak, can't hold it either.
Well, these must be some of the weakest bladders ever to represent their countries.
We interrupt to take you right back to the international philosophy.
There's no score, but no lack of excitement.
As you can see, Nietzsche has been booked for arguing with the referee.
He accused Confucius of having no free will and Confucius, he say, "Name go in book.
" And this is Nietzsche's third booking in four games.
And who's that? It's Karl Marx.
He's warming up and it looks as though there's going to be a substitution on the German side.
Obviously, manager Martin Luther has decided on all-out attack.
Indeed, he must, with only two minutes of the match to go.
But who is he going to replace? Who's gonna come off? It could be Jaspers, Hegel, or Schopenhauer.
It's Wittgenstein, who saw his auntie only last week.
Here's Marx.
Let's see if he can put some life into this German attack.
Evidently not.
What a shame.
Well, now, with just over a minute left the replay on Tuesday looks vital.
And there's Archimedes, and I think he's had an idea.
Eureka! Archimedes out to Socrates.
Socrates back to Archimedes.
Archimedes out to Heraclitus.
He beats Hegel.
Heraclitus with a flick.
Here he comes on the far post.
Socrates is there.
Socrates headed it in! The Greeks have scored! The Greeks are going mad.
The Greeks are going mad.
Socrates scores.
Beautiful cross.
The Germans are disputing it.
Hegel is arguing that reality is merely an a priori adjunct of non-naturalistic ethics.
Kant, via the categorical imperative, is holding that ontologically it exists only in the imagination.
Marx is claiming it was offside.
But Confucius has answered them with the final whistle.
It's all over.
Germany, having trounced England's famous midfield trio of Bentham, Locke and Hobbes, have been beaten by the odd goal.
And let's see it again.
There it is.
Socrates heads it in and Leibnitz doesn't have a chance.
And just look at those delighted Greeks.
There they are, "Chopper" Sophocles, Empedocles of Akragas.
What a game he had.
And Epicurus is there.
Socrates, who scored what was probably the most important goal of his career.
Hello and welcome to another edition of: Blood, Devastation, Death, War and Horror.
And later on, we'll be talking to a man who does gardening.
But our first guest Our first guest in the studio tonight is a man who talks entirely in anagrams.
Taht si crreoct.
- Do you enjoy this? - I stom certainly od, revy chum so.
- And what's your name? - Hamrag.
Hamrag Yatlerot.
Graham, nice to have you on the show.
- Now, where do you come from? - Bumcreland.
- Cumberland? - Taht's it, sepricely.
And I believe you're working on an anagram version of Shakespeare.
Sey, sey, taht si crreoct.
Ta the mnemot, I'm wroking on The Mating of the Wersh.
The Mating of the Wersh, by William Shakespeare? Nay, by Malliwi Rapesheake.
And what else? Two Netlemeng of Verona, Twelfth Thing The Chamrent of Venice.
- Have you done Hamlet? - Thamel.
Be ot or bot ne ot, tath is the noestqui.
- And what is your next project? - Ring Kichard III - I'm sorry? - A shroe, a shroe.
My dingkom for a shroe.
Ring Kichard, yes.
But that's not an anagram, that's a spoonerism.
If you're gonna split hairs, I'm gonna piss off.
Mount Everest.
Forbidding, aloof, terrifying.
The mountain with the biggest tits in the world.
Start again.
Mount Everest.
Forbidding, aloof, terrifying.
This year, this remote Himalayan mountain this mystical temple surrounded by the most difficult terrain in the world repulsed yet another attempt to conquer it.
This time, by the International Hairdressers Expedition.
In such freezing, adverse conditions man comes very close to breaking point.
What was the cause of the disharmony which destroyed their chances of success? Well, people keep taking the hairdryer and never returning it.
There's lots of bitching in the tents.
You couldn't get near the mirror.
The leader was Colonel Sir John "Teasy-Weasy" Butler.
A veteran of K2, Annapürna and Vidals.
His plan was to ignore the usual route round the South Col and to make straight for the top.
Well, we established base salon here and climbed quite steadily up to Mario's here.
From here, using crampons and cutting ice steps as we went we moved steadily up the Lhotse Face to the North Ridge establishing camp three, where we could get a hot meal a manicure and a shampoo and set.
Could it work? Could this 18-year-old hairdresser from Brixton succeed where others had failed? The situation was complicated by the imminent arrival of monsoon storms.
Patrice takes up the story.
Well, we knew as well as anyone that the monsoons were due.
But the thing was, Ricky and I had just had a blow-dry and rinse.
And we couldn't go out for a couple of days.
After a blazing row, the Germans and the Italians had turned back taking with them the last of the hairnets.
On the third day, a blizzard blew up.
Temperatures fell to minus 30 centigrade.
Inside the little tent, things were getting desperate.
Well, things have got so bad that we're forced to use the oxygen equipment to keep the dryers going.
- Cup of Milo, love? - Oh, she's a treas.
But a new factor had entered the race.
A team of French chiropodists, working with corn plasters and Dr.
Scholl's mountaineering sandals, were covering ground fast.
The Glasgow Orpheus male-voice choir were tackling the difficult North Col.
Altogether, 14 expeditions were at his heels.
This was it.
- Morning.
- Oh, good morning.
Have you come to arrange a holiday or would you like a blowjob? - I'm sorry? - Oh, you've come to arrange a holiday.
- Yes.
- Oh, sorry, sorry.
Now, where were you thinking of going? To India.
Yes.
- One of our adventure holidays.
- Yes, that's right.
Well, you better see Mr.
Bounder about that.
Mr.
Bounder, this gentleman's interested in the India overland, and nothing else.
Hello, I'm Bounder of Adventure.
Oh, hello, my name's Smoketoomuch.
- What? - My name is Smoketoomuch.
Mr.
Smoketoomuch.
Well, you'd better cut down a little then.
- I'm sorry? - You'd better cut down a little then.
Oh, I see.
I smoke too much, so I'd better cut down a little then.
Yes.
Bet you get people making jokes about your name all the time, hey? No, actually, it never struck me before.
Smoketoomuch.
Anyway, you're interested in one of our holidays, are you? Yes, that's right.
I saw your advert in the blassified ads.
- The what? - In The Times' blassified ads.
Oh, The Times' classified ads? Yes, that's right.
I'm afraid I have a speech impediment.
I can't pronounce the letter B.
- C.
- Yes, that's right.
B.
It's all due to a trauma I suffered when I was a sboolboy.
I was attacked by a Siamese bat.
Oh, a Siamese cat.
No, a Siamese bat.
They're more dangerous.
Listen, can you say the letter K? Oh, yes, khaki, kettle, Kipling Khomeini, Kellogg's Born Flakes.
Well, why don't you say the letter K instead of the letter C? What? You mean, pronounce "blassified" with a K.
Yes, absolutely.
- Classified.
- Good.
Oh, that's very good.
I never thought of that before.
What a silly bunt.
Now, then, about the holiday.
Yes, well, I've been on package tours many times before so your advert baught my eye.
- Jolly good.
- What's the point of going abroad if you're gonna be treated like sheep, carted around in buses surrounded by sweaty, mindless oafs from Boventry? - Absolutely.
- Their bloth baps and bardigans their radios, bomplaining about the tea.
"Oh, they don't make it properly, do they?" Stopping at Majorcan bodegas selling fish and chips and Watney's Red Barrel and calamaris and two veg.
Sitting in cotton sun frocks squirting Timothy White's sun cream all over their puffy raw, swollen flesh because they overdid it on the first day.
Yes, I know just what you mean.
And being herded into endless Hotel Miramars and Bellevueses Bontinentals with their international luxury modern roomettes.
Swimming pools full of draught Red Barrel and fat German businessmen pretending to be acrobats, forming pyramids, frightening children and barging into queues.
If you're not at your table at 7 you miss your bowl of cream of mushroom soup.
The first item in a menu of international cuisine.
- Absolutely.
- Every Thursday night there's bloody cabaret in the bar featuring some tiny emaciated dago with 9-inch hips and some fat tart with her hair Brylcreemed down and a big ass presenting flamenco.
- Will you be quiet, please? Adenoidal typists from Birmingham with flabby white legs and diarrhoea trying to pick up hairy, bandy-legged waiters called Manuel.
- Be quiet.
- Once a week there's an excursion to the remains, where you can buy melted ice cream - Quiet.
Shut up.
and bleeding Watney's Red Barrel.
And one night, they take you to a typical restaurant with local colour.
Sit next to a party of people from Rhyl who sing: - I love the Costa Brava - Shut up.
I love the Costa Brava You get cornered by some drunken grocer from Luton with an Instamatic camera and last Tuesday's Daily Express.
- Be quiet.
- He drones on and on - This is the last time about Ian Smith running the country.
And how many languages Margaret Powell can speak.
And she throws up all over the Cuba Libres.
Then spending four days at Luton Airport on a five-day package tour with nothing to eat but British Airways-type sandwiches.
Can't get a glass of Watney's Red Barrel because you're in England, where the bar closes when you're thirsty.
The kids are crying and vomiting and breaking the plastic ashtrays.
They tell you it'll be another hour.
They know damn well your plane is still in Iceland and has to come back And take a party of Swedes to Yugoslavia before it can load you up at 3 a.
m.
In the morning.
And then you sit on the tarmac for four hours because of difficulties i.
e.
The permanent strike of air-traffic control over Paris.
When you finally get to Malaga Airport everybody's queuing for the toilet queuing for the armed customs officers and the bloody bus that isn't there taking you to the hotel that hasn't been built.
When you finally get to the half-built Algerian ruin called the Hotel del Sol by paying half your holiday money to a licensed bandit in a taxi there's no water in the pool, no water in the bog there's no water in the tap.
Only a bleeding lizard in the bidet.
- Shut up.
- Half the rooms are double-booked and you can't sleep anyway because of the 24-hour drilling at the hotel next door.
Meanwhile, the Spanish National Tourist Board promises the raging cholera epidemic is merely a mild outbreak of Spanish Tummy.
Meanwhile, the bloody Guardia are arresting 16-year-olds for kissing.
Finally, on the last day, in the airport lounge everybody's buying little awful, horrid donkeys with their names on and bullfight posters with their own names on.
Like Antonio Norpenny.
Mr.
Brian Pules of Norwich.
And then finally, when you get to bloody Luton you drive around for bloody four hours trying to find a plane that can take you back to Manchester.
When you finally get to Manchester Never be rude to an Arab An Israeli or Saudi or Jew Never be rude to an Irishman No matter what you do Never poke fun at a nigger Or a spic or a wop or a kraut And never put Hello.
Tonight, on Face the Press we're going to examine two different views of contemporary things.
On my left is the minister for home affairs who is wearing a striking organza dress in pink tulle with matching pearls and a diamante collar necklace.
The shoes are in brushed pigskin with gold clasps by Maxwell of Bond Street.
The hair is by Roger and the whole ensemble is crowned by a spectacular display of Christmas orchids.
And on my right, putting the case against the government is a small patch of brown liquid which could be creosote or some extract used in industrial varnishing.
Good evening.
Minister, may I put the first question to you? In your plan, "A Better Britain for Us" you claim that you would build 88,000 million billion houses a year in the Greater London area alone.
In fact, you built only three in the last 15 years.
Are you a bit disappointed with this result? No, no.
I'd like to answer this question, if I may, in two ways.
Firstly, in my normal voice and then in a kind of silly high-pitched whine.
- See, housing is a problem, really - While the minister is answering I'd like to point out that the minister's dress has been made entirely by hand from over 300 pieces of Arabian shot silk specially created for the minister by Vargar's of Paris.
The low, slim line has been cut off-the-shoulder to heighten the effect of the minister's fine bone structure.
But the minister's coming to the end of his answer so let's go back over and join the discussion.
Thank you very much, minister.
Hello.
Are you a hermit, by any chance? Yes, that's right.
Are you a hermit? Yes, I certainly am.
Well, I never.
What are you getting away from? Oh, you know, the usual.
People, chat, gossip, you know.
Oh, I certainly do.
It was the same with me.
I mean you realize there's no good frittering your life away in idleness and trivial chitchat.
- Where's your cave? - Oh, up the goat track.
First on the left.
They're very nice up there, aren't they? Yes, they are, they got the view, you see.
- Bit drafty though, aren't they? - No, we've had ours insulated.
- Yes? - Yes, I used bird's nests moss and oat leaves round the outside.
- Oh, sounds marvellous.
- Oh, it's a treat.
It really is.
Because otherwise, those stone caves can be so grim.
Yes, they really can be, can't they? - They really can.
- Oh, yes.
- Morning, Frank.
- Morning, Norman.
But talking of moss, you know Mr.
Robinson? - He tried wattles and he got a rash.
- Really? Yes, and there's me with half a wall wattled.
I mean, what will I do? Well, why don't you try bird's nests like I've done? Or else, dead bracken.
- Frank! - Yes, Han? - Can I borrow your goat? - Yes, that'll be all right.
Oh, leave me a pint for breakfast, will you? I couldn't see it.
You know, that's the trouble with living halfway up a cliff.
You feel so cut off.
It takes me two hours every morning to get out onto the moors, collect my berries, chastise myself and two hours back in the evening.
There's one thing about being a hermit.
You meet people.
Oh, yes.
I wouldn't go back to public relations.
Well, bye for now, Frank.
Must toddle.
Right, you two hermits, stop that sketch.
- I think it's silly.
- What? Go on, stop it.
It's silly.
You can't stop it.
It's on film.
Doesn't make any difference to the viewer.
Go on, get out.
Off with you.
Come on.
Out, all of you.
Get out.
Go on, all of you.
Get that bloody camera out of here.
Go on, move.
Move.
Get out.
I'm doing an interview.
Go on.
Get out.
Come on, come on.
Move.
You lot, sod off.
Move, move.
Hello, children.
Hello.
Here is this morning's story.
Are you ready? Then we'll begin.
"One day, Ricky the magic pixie went to visit Daisy Bumble in her tumbledown cottage.
He found her in the bedroom.
Roughly, he grabbed her shoulders pulling her down onto the bed and ripping off her" "Old Nick, the sea captain was a rough, tough, jolly sort of fellow.
He loved the life of the sea and he loved to hang out down by the pier where the men dressed as ladies.
" "Rumpletweezer ran the Dinky-Tinky Shop in the foot of the magic oak tree by the wobbly dum-dum bush in the shade of the magic glade down in Dingly Dell.
Here, he sold contraceptives and" Discipline.
Naked With a melon? - Hello.
- Hello.
Well, last week we showed you how to become a gynaecologist.
This week on How to Do It we'll show you how to play the flute how to split an atom how to construct a box girder bridge how to irrigate the Sahara desert to make vast new areas of land cultivatable.
But first, here's Jackie to tell you all how to rid the world of all known diseases.
- Hello, Alan.
- Hello, Jackie.
Well, first of all become a doctor and discover a marvellous cure for something and when the medical profession starts to take notice of you you can tell them what to do and make sure they get things right so there'll never be any diseases ever again.
Thanks, Jackie.
Great idea.
How to play the flute.
Well, here we are.
You blow there, and you move your fingers up and down here.
Great, great.
Great, Alan.
Well, next week, we'll be showing you how black and white people can live together in peace and harmony.
Alan will be over in Moscow showing us how to reconcile the Russians and the Chinese.
So, until next week, cheerio.
And next, the men of the 2nd armoured division regale us with their famous close order, swanning about.
Squad, camp it up.
Ooh, get her.
Whoops.
I've got your number, ducky.
Couldn't afford me dear.
Two, three.
I'll scratch your eyes out.
Don't come the brigadier bit with us, dear we all know where you've been, you military fairy.
Whoops, don't look now, girls.
The major's just minced in with that dolly colour sergeant.
Two, three - Good day, Bruce.
- Oh, hello, Bruce.
- How are you, Bruce? - A bit crook, Bruce.
- Where's Bruce? - He's not here, Bruce.
Blimey.
It's hot in here, Bruce.
It's hot enough to boil a monkey's bum.
That's a strange That's a strange expression, Bruce.
Well, Bruce, I heard the prime minister use it.
"Hot enough to boil a monkey's bum in here, Your Majesty," he said.
And she smiled quietly to herself.
She's a good sheila, Bruce.
And not at all stuck-up.
Here comes the boss fellow now.
- Good day, Bruce.
- How are you, Bruce? Hello, Bruce.
How are you, Bruce? Gentlemen, I'd like to introduce a chap from pommy-land who'll be joining us this year here in the Philosophy Department at the University of Woolamaloo.
Michael Baldwin, this is Bruce.
Michael Baldwin, this is Bruce.
Michael Baldwin, this is Bruce.
- Is your name not Bruce, then? - No, it's Michael.
That's going to cause a little confusion.
Mind if we call you Bruce, just to keep it clear? Gentlemen, I think we better start the meeting.
Before we start, though I'll ask the padre for a prayer.
Oh, Lord, we beseech thee, have mercy on our faculty, amen.
Amen.
Crack the tubes.
Right, Bruce, I now call upon you to welcome Mr.
Baldwin to the Philosophy Department.
I'd like to welcome the pommy bastard to God's own earth.
And I'd like to remind him that we don't like stuck-up stickybeaks here.
Well spoken, Bruce! Now, Bruce teaches classical philosophy Bruce teaches Hegelian philosophy.
Bruce here teaches logical positivism and is also in charge of the sheep dip.
What does? What does new Bruce teach? Our new Bruce will be teaching political science, Machiavelli Locke, Hobbes, Sutcliffe, Bradman, Lindwall, Miller, Hassett and Benaud.
- Those are cricketers, Bruce.
- Oh, spit.
Howls Howls of derisive laughter, Bruce.
In addition, as he's gonna be teaching politics I told him that he's welcome to teach any of the great socialist thinkers provided he makes it clear that they were wrong.
Australia, Australia, Australia.
We love you, amen.
Any questions? New Bruce, are you a poofter? - Are you a poofter? - No.
No, right, well, gentlemen, I'll just remind you of the faculty rules.
Rule one, no poofters.
Rule two, no member of the faculty is to maltreat the Abos in any way whatsoever if there's anyone watching.
Rule three, no poofters.
Four, I don't wanna catch anyone not drinking in their room after lights out.
Rule five, no poofters.
Rule six, there is no rule six.
Rule seven, no poofters.
That concludes the reading of the rules.
Bruce.
This here is the wattle, the emblem of our land.
You can stick it in a bottle, you can hold it in your hand.
Amen.
Amen! It's 6:00.
I want every man-Bruce of you in the Sydney Harbour Bridge room to take a glass of sherry with the flying philosopher.
Bruce, I now call upon you, Padre, to close the meeting with a prayer.
Oh, Lord, we beseech thee, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, amen.
- Amen.
- Good afternoon.
- Amen.
- Good afternoon.
There's still minutes to go before the race on the card the Queen Victoria Handicap.
Let's have a word with the winner of the last race one of the season's top jockeys, Ronnie Mau-Mau.
- Good afternoon, Ronnie.
- Good afternoon, Brian.
A very fine ride there, Ronnie.
Well, a fine horse, Brian, you know, you can't go wrong.
Fancy your chances for the Derby? Oh, very definitely, very definitely, indeed.
Certainly, Brian.
Let's see if a colleague of yours agrees.
Let's have a word with Desmond Willet.
Afternoon, Des.
Good afternoon, Brian.
No chance, no chance at all.
I think you're wrong there, Des.
With the right going he's going to be at the finish.
- No chance.
There's no chance.
Well, in fact, I can see last season's top jockey, Johnny Knowles.
- Good afternoon, Johnny.
- Hello, Brian.
Could we have a box for Johnny, please? - Thank you.
- Hello, Brian, thank you.
There you are, three very well-known faces from the racing world.
Thanks for coming along this afternoon, lads.
Not at all.
And best wishes for the Derby.
- Oh, thank you, Brian.
- Thank you very much.
In fact, I hear they're ready for us now at the start of the main race this afternoon.
Let's go and join Peter at the start.
Well, they're under starter's orders for this very valuable Queen Victoria Handicap.
And they're off.
Queen Victoria is the first with a clean jump off followed by Queen Victoria, Queen Victoria and Queen Victoria.
It's Queen Victoria in complete control.
Victoria running on the inside.
At back, Queen Victoria a couple of lengths behind the leaders.
Victoria now moved up to challenge Queen Victoria with Victoria losing, and Victoria on the stand side with a clear view.
Victoria's still the back marker.
They approach the halfway mark.
Making ground now, Queen Victoria.
With Victoria, Victoria and Victoria well placed as they approach the fence.
It's Queen Victoria just ahead of Queen Victoria with Victoria way in third place.
And Queen Victoria in the And Queen Victoria in the Good evening, and welcome to The Money Programme.
Tonight, on The Money Programme, we're going to look at money lots of it, on film and in the studio.
Some of it in nice piles, others in lovely clanky bits of loose change.
Some of it neatly counted into fat little hundreds delicate fivers stuffed into bulging wallets nice, crisp, clean cheques pert pieces of copper coinage thrust deep into trouser pockets.
Romantic foreign money rolling against the thigh with familiarity.
Beautiful, wayward, curlicued banknotes.
Filigreed copper plating cheek by jowl with tumbling hexagonal milled edges rubbing against the terse leather of beautifully balanced bankbooks.
I'm sorry.
But I love money.
All money.
I've always wanted money.
To handle, to touch.
The smell of the rain-washed florin, the lure of the lira the glitter and the glory of the guinea.
The romance of the rouble.
The feel of a franc.
The heel of a deutsche mark.
The cold, antiseptic sting of the Swiss franc and the sunburned splendour of the Australian dollar.
I've got 90,000 pounds In my pyjamas I've got 40,000 French francs In my fridge I've got lots and lots of lira Now the deutsche mark's Getting dearer And my dollar bills would buy The Brooklyn Bridge There is nothing Quite as wonderful as money There is nothing Quite as beautiful as cash Some people say it's folly But I'd rather have the lolly With money you can make a smash There is nothing Quite as wonderful as money Money, money, money There is nothing Like a newly minted pound - Money, money, money, money - Everyone must hanker For the butchness of a banker It's accountancy that makes the world Go round, round, round, round You can keep your Marxist ways For it's only just a phase Money, money, money Makes the world go round Money, money, money, money Money, money, money, money Money Here to play Tchaikovsky's First Piano Concerto in B flat minor is the world-famous soloist, Sviatoslav Richter.
During the performance, he will escape from a sack three padlocks and a pair of handcuffs.
Oh, I've had a bitch of a morning in the High Court.
Oh, I could stamp my little feet, the way those counsellors carry on.
Oh, don't I know it, love? - Oh, dear - Oh, I do.
Objection here, objection there.
That nice policeman giving his evidence so well.
- Beautiful speaking voice.
- And what a body.
- Oh, yeah.
- Really.
Well, after a bit, all I could do was bang me gavel.
- You what, love? - I banged me gavel.
- Oh, get away.
- I did.
- I did my "silence in court" bit.
- Oh, yes.
If looks killed, that prosecuting counsel would've been in for 30 years.
- How did your summing-up go? - Quite well, actually.
I did it in my butch voice, you know.
"What the jury must understand," and they loved it.
I could see that little curly-headed foreman of the jury eyeing me.
- Really? - Oh, yeah, cheeky devil.
I finished up with I got really strict.
"The actions of these vicious men are a violent stain upon the community.
And the full penalty of the law is scarcely sufficient to deal with their ghastly crimes.
" - Yeah.
And I waggled me wig.
- You waggled what? - I waggled me wig.
- Really? - That was all I waggled.
Ever so slightly, stunning effect.
Anyway, I gave him three years.
He only took 10 minutes.
- As I said to Melvin Belli, you know.
- Oh, aye.
"You can put it in the hand of attorneys, but it'll never stand up in court.
" Meanwhile, not very far away.
Climbing, the world's loneliest sport where hardship and philosophy go hand in glove.
Another British expedition, attempting to be the first man to successfully climb the north face of the Uxbridge Road.
This four-man rope has been climbing tremendously.
BBC cameras were there to film every inch.
They've spent a good night in there in preparation for the final assault today.
The leader of the expedition is 29-year-old Bert Tagg a local headmaster and mother of three.
Bert, how's it going? It's a bit gripping is this, Chris.
I've got to try and reach that bus stop in an hour or so.
And I'm doing it by Damn.
I'm doing it by layback up this gutter.
So I'm kind of guttering and laying back at the same time and philosophizing.
- Bert, some people say this is crazy.
No, you see, he's putting in a peg down there.
I'm quite a way up now.
And if I come unstuck, I go down quite a long way.
Such quiet courage is typical of the way these brave chaps shrug off danger.
Like it or not, you've got to admire the skill that goes into it.
Today, we look at a vanishing race a problem people who are fast disappearing off the face of the earth.
A race who, one might say, are losing a winning battle.
They live in a sunshine paradise a Caribbean dream where only reality is missing.
For this is Whicker Island.
An island inhabited entirely by ex-international interviewers in pursuit of the impossible dream.
The whole problem of Whicker Island is here in a nutshell.
There are just too many Whickers.
The lightweight suits.
The old-school ties.
The practiced voice of the seasoned campaigner Cannot hide the basic tragedy here.
There just aren't enough rich people left to interview.
You can't teach an old dog new tricks.
And so you find them Sitting beside elegant swimming pools.
Sipping Martinis.
And waiting for the inevitable interview.
I talked to the island's only white man, Father Pierre.
Father Pierre, why did you stay on in this colonial Campari-land where the clink of glasses mingles with the murmur of mosquitoes where waterfalls of whiskey wash away the worries of a world-weary Whicker where gin and tonics jingle in a gyroscopic jubilee of something beginning with J? Father Pierre, why did you stay on here? Well, mainly for the interview.
Well, there you have it.
- A crumbling - Empire in the sun-drenched Caribbean where the clichés sparkle on the waters Like the music of repeat fees.
- And so - From Whicker Island It's farewell and bon voyage.
Well, there you are.
The very best bits of Michael Palin specially chosen by Eric Idle.
And so, from the Hollywood Bowl, it's farewell.
And whilst I'm saying farewell, I'd like to finish with a song.
I never wanted to be in such a shambolic sketch.
I always wanted to be a lumberjack.
Leaping from tree to tree as they float down the mighty rivers of British Columbia.
The larch.
The redwood, the mighty sequoia with my best girl by my side.
The giant deadwood.
The spruce.
The little Californian root tree.
We'd sing, sing, sing.
Oh, I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay I sleep all night and I work all day He's a lumberjack and he's okay He sleeps all night And he works all day I cut down trees I eat my lunch I go to the lavatory On Wednesdays I go shopping And have buttered scones for tea He cuts down trees He eats his lunch He goes to the lavatory On Wednesdays he goes shopping And has buttered scones for tea - He's a lumberjack and he's okay - I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay I sleep all night And I work all day I cut down trees, I skip and jump I like to press wildflowers I put on women's clothing And hang around in bars He cuts down trees He skips and jumps He likes to press wildflowers He puts on women's clothing And hangs around in bars? I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay I sleep all night And I work all day I cut down trees I wear high heels Suspenders and a bra I wish I'd been a girlie Just like my dear papa He cuts down trees He wears high heels Suspenders and a bra? What kind of goddamn pervert are you, you lousy commie fairy faggot? I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay I sleep all night and I work all day I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay