[J‘]
[SPEAKING INDISTINCTLY]
NARRATOR: Taking life as it comes.
Sharing the good things and the bad things.
Finding laughter and fun wherever they go.
It’s with these two happy-go-lucky rogues
that our story begins.
[TIRES SQUEALING]
[CRASH]
For it is they who were run over by Alex Diamond.
International crime-ﬁghter and playboy.
Fast-moving, tough-talking
and just one of the hundreds of famous people
who suffer from Iumbago, the endemic disease
about which no one knows more
than this man, Dr. Emile Konig.
Doctor, surgeon, proctologist,
and selfless fighter against human suffering
whose doorbell was the one above
the hero of our story tonight.
Rear Admiral Humphrey De Vere.
Yes, this is the story
of Rear Admiral Humphrey De Vere,
or rather, the story of his daughter.
For it was her courage, foresight and understanding
that enabled us to probe beneath
the sophisticated veneer
of the Royal Arsenal Women ’s College, Bagshot,
and learn the true history of this man.
Len Hanky. Chiropodist, voyeur, hen-teaser.
The man of whom the chairman of Fiat once said:
[IN ITALIAN]
[PHONE RINGS]
Si.
NARRATOR: Yes, tonight we examine the career of Gino Agnelli.
The man who started from nothing
to build up one of the greatest firms in Europe.
And whose telescope was bought from the shop
part-owned by a man who, at the age of 8,
stole a penknife from the son
of this man's brother’s housekeeper's
dental hygenist's uncle,
the Reverend Charlie "Drooper" Hyper-Squawk Smith.
The cleft-palated RAF chaplain
who, single-handed, shot down over 500 German chaplains.
This is the story of the men who flew with him.
It really is.
Morning, squadron leader.
What ho, Squiffy.
How was it?
Top-hole. Bally Jerry pranged his kite
right in the how's-your—father.
Hairy blighter, dicky-birdied, feathered back on his Sammy,
took a waspy, flipped over on his Betty Harpers,
and caught his can in the Bertie.
Afraid I don't quite follow you,
squadron leader.
It's perfectly ordinary banter, Squiffy.
Bally Jerry pranged his kite
right in the how's-your—father.
Hairy blighter, dicky-birdied, feathered back on his Sammy,
took a waspy, flipped over on his Betty Harpers,
and caught his can in the Bertie.
I'm just not understanding banter at all well today.
Give us it slower.
Banter's not the same if you say it slower, Squiffy.
Hold on, then. Wingco! Yes?
Bend an ear to the squadron leader's banter for a sec?
Can do. Jolly good.
Fire away.
Bally Jerry pranged his kite
right in the how's-your—father.
Hairy blighter, dicky-birdied, feathered back on his Sammy,
took a waspy, flipped over on his Betty Harpers,
and caught his can in the Bertie.
No, I don't understand that banter at all.
Something up with my banter, chaps?
[ALARM SOUNDING]
Hah. Bunch of monkeys on the ceiling, sir!
Grab your egg and fours and let's get the bacon delivered.
Do you understand that?
No, didn't get a word of it.
Sorry, old man, we don't understand your banter.
You know, bally ten-penny ones dropping in the custard.
Um, Charlie Choppers chucking a handful.
No, no, sorry.
Say it a bit slower, old chap.
Slower banter, sir?
Rather.
Um, sausage squad up the blue end.
No, still don't get it.
Um, cabbage crates coming over the briny?
ALL: No, no, no.
NARRATOR: But by then it was too late.
The ﬁrst cabbage crates hit London on July the 7th.
That was just the beginning.
Five shillings a dozen?
That's ordinary cabbages, is it?
And what about the bombs?
Good Lord, they are expensive.
Sir!
Yes, what is it?
News from the Western Front, sir.
Yes?
Big enemy attack at dawn, sir.
Yes?
Well...
the enemy were all wearing little silver halos, sir,
and they had fairy wands
with big stars on the end and--
They what?
And they had spiders
in matchboxes, sir.
Good God. How did our chaps react?
Well, they were jolly interested, sir.
Some of them--
I think it was the 4th Armored Brigade. They--
They...
Yes?
Well, they went and had a look at the spiders, sir.
Oh, my God! Well, thank you, Shirley.
Sir!
Get me the prime minister.
Sir!
Not that quickly.
Sir.
Gentlemen, it's now quite apparent that the enemy
are not only fighting this war on the cheap,
but they're also not taking it seriously.
Bastards.
First they drop cabbages instead of decent bombs--
The crates were probably expensive.
Quiet, critic!
And now they're doing very silly things in one
of the most vital areas of the war.
What are we going to do, Shirley?
Well, we've got to act fast before it saps morale.
We're gonna show these Chinese--
Germans.
These Germans.
We're gonna show them that no British soldier
will descend to their level.
Anyone found trivializing this war
will face the supreme penalty
that military law can provide.
That was all right, I think?
Seemed to go quite well.
Sapper Walters, you stand before this court
accused of carrying on the war by other than warlike means.
To wit, that you did, on April the 16th, 1942,
dressed up as a bag of dainties,
flick wet towels at the enemy
during the important offensive.
Well, sir--
Shut up.
Colonel Fawcett for the prosecution.
[CLEARS THROAT]
Sir, we all know--
Shut up.
I'm sorry? Carry on.
Sir, we all know the facts of the case.
That Sapper Walters, being in possession
of expensive military equipment,
to wit, one Lee-Enfield .303 rifle
and 72 rounds of ammunition
valued at 140 pounds three shillings and Sixpence,
chose instead to use wet towels
to take an enemy command post in the area of Basingstoke.
Basingstoke? Basingstoke in Hampshire?
Uh, no, no, no, sir, no.
Oh, I see, carry on.
The result of his action was that the enemy--
Basingstoke where?
Basingstoke in Westphalia, sir.
Oh, I see. Carry on.
The result of Walters' action was that the enemy
received wet patches upon their trousers
and in some cases, small, red strawberry marks
upon their thighs.
I didn't know there was a Basingstoke in Westphalia.
It's on the map, sir.
What map?
The map of Westphalia as used by the army, sir.
Well, I've certainly never heard
of Basingstoke in Westphalia.
It's a municipal borough, 27 miles
north-northeast of Southampton.
Its chief manufactures--
Southampton in Westphalia?
Yes, sir. Bricks, clothing.
Nearby are remains of Basing House,
burned down by Cromwell's cavalry--
Who--? Who compiled this map?
Cole Porter, sir.
Cole Porter, who wrote "Kiss Me, Kate"?
No, alas not, sir. This was the Cole Porter
who wrote "Anything Goes," sir.
I shall seek to prove the man--
It's the same one.
J‘ In olden days A glimpse of stocking J‘
I beg your pardon?
J‘ In olden days A glimpse of stocking J‘
J‘ Was looked on As something shocking J‘
J‘ Now heaven knows Anything goes J‘
No, this one's, uh, different, sir.
How did it go?
What, sir?
How does your "Anything Goes" go?
Can I go home now?
Shut up! Come on!
Sir, really, I think this is--
Come on, how does your "Anything Goes" go?
J‘ Anything goes in J‘
J‘ Anything goes out J‘
J‘ Fish, bananas, old pajamas Mutton, beef and trout J‘
J‘ Anything goes in-- J‘
No, that's not it. Carry on.
With respect, I shall prove that the man
before you in the dock
being in the possession of the following:
One pair of army boots, value, 3 pounds 7 and 6,
one pair of serge trousers, value, 2 pounds 3 and 6,
one pair of gaiters, value, 68 pounds 10 shillings, one--
Sixty-eight pounds 10 shillings
for a pair of gaiters?
They were special gaiters, sir.
Special gaiters?
Yes, sir, they were made in France, sir.
One beret costing 14 shillings--
What was special about them?
They were made of a special fabric, sir.
The buckles were made of
empire silver instead of brass.
The total value of the uniform was--
Why was the accused wearing special gaiters?
They were a presentation pair, sir, from the regiment.
The total value of the uniform--
Why did they present him
with a special pair of gaiters?
Sir, it seems to me totally irrelevant to the case
whether the gaiters were presented to him or not.
The court will be able to judge that for themselves.
I want to know why the regiment
presented the accused
with a special pair of gaiters.
He used to do things for them, sir.
The total value of the uniform--
What things?
He used to oblige them, sir.
The total value--
Oblige them?
Yes, sir. The total value of the uniform--
How did he oblige them?
What, sir?
How did he oblige them?
He, um, he used to make them happy in little ways, sir.
The total value of the uniform could--
Did he touch them at all?
Sir! I submit that this is totally irrelevant.
I want to know how he made them happy.
He used to ram things up their--!
All right! All right!
No need to spell it out.
What has the accused got to say?
What, me?
Yes. What have you got to say?
What can I say, sir?
I mean, how can I encapsulate in mere words
my scorn for any military solution?
The futility of modern warfare,
and the hypocrisy by which
contemporary government applies one standard
to violence within the community and another
to violence perpetrated by one community upon another?
I'm sorry, but my client has become pretentious.
I will say in his defense--
We haven't finished the prosecution!
Shut up! I'm in charge of this court. Stand up.
Sit down! Go "moo."
ALL: Moo.
See? Right, now, on with the pixie hats.
And order in the skating vicar.
And...
J‘ Anything goes in Anything goes out J‘
J‘ Fish, bananas, old pajamas Mutton, beef and trout J‘
J‘ Anything goes in Anything goes out J‘
J‘ Fish, bananas, old pajamas Mutton, ﬁsh and trout J‘
ANNOUNCER: Yes! Coming to this cinema soon.
The tender, compassionate story
of one man ’3 love for another man in drag.
[SHOUTING INDISTINCTLY]
Thrill to the excitement of a night emission over Germany.
When the pilot, Jennifer, has to choose
between his secret love for Louis,
the hot-bloodedly bisexual navigator,
and Andy, the rear gunner,
who, though quite assertive with girls,
tends to take the submissive role
in his relationships with men.
And sensational Mexican starlet Rosetta Nixon
plays the head of bomber command
whose passion for sea birds ends in tragedy.
With Ginger
as the half-man, half-woman parrot
whose unnatural instincts
brought forbidden love to the aviary.
And Roger as Pip, the half-parrot,
half-man, half-woman,
three-quarter badger, ex-bigamist,
Negro preacher for whom banjo playing was difﬁcult.
And he never mastered it, though he took courses
and went to banjo college, ah, and everything.
Don 't miss it! Coming to your cinema soon.
Only ﬁve minutes from this restaurant.
But now...
It's...
[J‘]
Bloody repeats.
[ELECTRICITY BUZZING]
Ahh!
Yes. Repeats or war films.
It really makes you want to micturate.
People on television
treat the general public like idiots.
Well, we are idiots.
Oh, no, we are not!
Well, lam.
How do you know you're an idiot?
Oh, I can show you.
How?
Look.
[WHOOPING]
You see, the public are idiots.
You might as well just show them
the last five miles of the M2.
They'd watch it, eh?
At last they done been put on something interesting.
Oh, most interesting.
- We certainly ought to show something what, like, which,
what we are about, to,
(audience laughs)
Oh, sorry, I got lost in that sentence.
Mrs. Elizabeth the third, could you help me out?
- Oh, certainly, how far have you got?
- How far had I become.
- Oh, of course, so sorry.
How far had you become.
What?
Hello.
- Hello?
- How far?
- How far what?
- What?
- Let's just watch the motorway.
- Yes, let's.
(engines roar)
- I think that was the gist of what I was just about
to be done being saying that I was.
- Oh, don't start again, dear, please.
Our figures show conclusively that these motorways
are extremely popular.
I mean, last time we showed a repeat
of the Leicester Bypass,
our ratings gave us 97, 300, 912
and ITV naught.
So I do feel that we ought to give
B roads their own series.
I'm sorry, we just can't give you a bigger budget.
Budgie?
No, he's left I think.
Why not?
Well, we're only one slice of the cake, you know.
Wouldn't mind a slice of cake.
Nice chocolate cake, delicious.
I had a budgie once, you know. Lovely little budgie.
Amusing little chap. Used to stick his head in a bell.
What was his name, now?
Uh, Joey? Uh, Xerxes?
We could repeat them.
Reheat them?
No, repeat them.
You don't reheat cakes. Not chocolate cakes.
What, repeat the cakes?
Mr. Heath. What?
That was the name of the budgie.
Good Lord, the bar's open.
Oh, great.
Oh, no. No, it isn't.
I was looking at the little hand
that goes round awfully fast.
Blast.
I've got it. We can retitle the repeats.
What, give them different names?
Wouldn't that mean retitling them?
BHManﬂ
Right. All we need is new titles.
And they must be damn new.
How about Dad's Navy?
Good, good, good.
Up Your Mother Next Door.
Even better.
Doctor at Bee.
What? [KNOCK ON DOOR]
Someone's knocking at the door.
Quite like it. Bit long, though, I think.
Far too long.
I Married Lucy.
Hasn't that been done?
Oh, yes, a long time ago, though.
They'd never remember it.
Doctor at Three.
[KNOCK ON DOOR]
I think someone's knocking at the door.
That's even longer.
I Married a Tree.
And Mother Makes Tree.
Doctor at Cake.
Look, I'm not absolutely certain,
but well, I do rather get the impression
there is someone knocking on the door at this very moment.
That's ridiculous. Half the program gone.
Stop playing games!
I Married a Cake.
I Married Three Rabbit Jelly Molds.
Prefer cake. Especially chocolate cake.
MAN: Open the sodding door!
NO, no. You can't say "sodding"
on television. NO, no.
You're supposed to knock!
Sorry, sir, but there's trouble at Studio 5.
You're in, uh, Security, are you?
Yes, sir.
Well, you're not allowed to suggest program titles.
-lam!
I've been in light entertainment, L-E,
for the last 25 cakes.
Years.
(audience laughs)
Well, I'm fed up with pusillanimous,
chocolate, pompous asses, like you,
who doth donut, donut, jamming them in.
- It's terrible trouble at studio five, sir!
- Never did like cripples, too damn disturbing.
- Chuffing fun.
- Good television though.
- Really?
- My auntie had a budgie.
Funny little chap, what was his name now?
Philemon?
- [Man] Chocolate!
- Aristotle, Cripping?
Cripple, Cripple that's it.
Half a beak, no wing, funny little chap.
He died, of course, she trod on him.
Terrible noise, he went, (squawks)
- What?
- Sure. (squawks)
- Blind people are the worst,
tapping on the legs with their sticks.
Not very funny.
(groaning)
- It's a world war, sir.
- NO, no, no, cripples're the worst.
Those damn wheeled chairs.
They only do it to attract attention, you know.
Hangdog expressions. (retches)
- Mind you, I should know.
The wife's in an iron lung.
- I married an iron lung!
- NO, I married an iron lung.
- And mother makes iron lungs.
- God's truth, iron lungs.
It's the World War series in Studio 5.
They're not taking it seriously anymore.
You're not allowed to suggest program titles.
Look!
Ahh! Mind me war wound!
That's it! That's the one.
Very good title. Very good.
J‘ Fish, bananas, old pajamas J‘
God! Bloody World War M series.
I hate them.
Ooh, always the same, so damn predictable.
Depressing, miserable.
Day after day after day after day.
Oh. Oh, evening star, if only we could
have a decent day tomorrow.
Oh, this weather's so wretched and awful and filthy and--
[SNORING]
[RATTLING]
What? What? What's going on? What the hell is going--?
Now I can't even sleep.
[BUZZING]
What--? What are they doing?
[BUZZING, CLANGING]
[GASPS]
What was that? What was it? What is going on?
Oh, I can't stand it.
[NOISE FADES]
Oh...
[SNORING]
[CLOCK RINGING]
Oh! All right, that does it. That does it!
[GRUMBUNG]
What a lovely day.
Oh, lthink I'm gonna just...
[YAWNS, SNORES]
[AIRPLANE HUMMING]
[J‘]
I say.
Yes, Daddy?
Croquet hoops look damn pretty this afternoon.
Frightfully damn pretty.
They're coming along awfully well this year.
Yes, better than your Aunt Lavinia's croquet hoops.
Oh, dreadful tin things.
I did tell her to stick to wood.
Yes, you can't beat wood.
"Gorn."
What's "gorn," dear?
Nothing, nothing, I just like the word.
It gives me confidence.
Gorn. Gorn. It's got a sort Of woody quality about it.
Gorn. Gorn.
Much better than "newspaper" or "litter bin."
Oh, frightful words.
Perfectly dreadful.
Uh, "newspaper," "litter bin." Dreadful tinny sort of words.
[SCREAMS]
Tin, tin, tin.
Oh, dear, don't say "tin" to Rebecca,
you know how it upsets her.
Sorry, old horse.
Sausage.
There's a good woody sort Of word, "sausage."
[CHUCKLES] Gorn.
Antelope!
Where? On the lawn?
NO, no, Daddy, just the word.
Don't want antelope nibbling the hoops.
No, no, "antelope." Sort of nice and woody type of thing.
Don't think so, Becky, Old chap.
NO, no. "Antelope,"
"antelope," tinny sort of word.
[SCREAMS] Oh, sorry, old man.
Really, Mansfield.
Well, she's got to come to terms with these things.
Seemly, prodding,
vacuum, leap.
Ooh, hate "leap."
Perfectly dreadful.
Sort of PVC sort of word, don't you know.
Lower-middle.
Bound.
Now you're talking.
Bound, vole, recidivist.
Bit tinny.
[SCREAMS]
Oh, sorry, Becky, Old beast.
Oh, dear. I suppose she'll be gorn for a few days now.
Caribou.
Splendid word!
No,dean nibbling the hoops.
Caribou gorn.
Intercourse.
Later, dear.
NO, no, no. The word "intercourse."
Good and woody. Intercourse.
Pert, pert thighs. Botty, botty, botty.
Oh, erogenous zone.
Oh, concubine. Erogenous zone.
Loose woman. Erogenous zone--
Oh.
Oh, thank you, dear.
Uh, you know, it's a funny thing, dear,
all the naughty words sound woody.
Really, dear?
How about "tit"?
Oh, dear, I hadn't thought about that.
Tit, tit. Oh, that's very tinny, isn't it? Tit, tit.
Uh, tinny, tinny, tinny. [SCREAMS]
Oh, dear.
Ocelot.
Wasp.
Yowling.
Oh, dear, I'm bored.
I'd better go and have a bath, I suppose.
Oh, really, must you, dear? You've had nine today.
All right, I'll sack one of the servants.
Simpkins! Nasty, tinny sort Of name. Simpkins!
I say, mater, cabbage crates coming over the briny.
Sorry, dear, don't understand.
Uh, cow-catchers creeping up on the conning towers.
No, sorry, Old sport.
Um, caribou nibbling at the croquet hoops.
Yes, Mansfield shot one in the antlers.
Oh, jolly good show. ls Becca about?
NO, she's "gorn orff."
Oh, what a super woody sort Of phrase, "gorn orff."
Yes, she's gorn orff because Mansfield said "tin" to her.
Oh, what rotten luck.
Yeah, well, whole afternoon to kill.
Better have a bath, Isuppose.
Oh, Gervaise, do sing me a song.
Oh, okay.
Something woody.
J‘ For she's going to marry Yum Yum J‘
Oh, crikey. Old song's finished her Off.
What's "urp"?
Urp?
What's up?
Oh, I'm afraid Mrs. Vermin Jones
appears to have passed on.
Dead, is she? Afraid so.
What a blow for her.
What I want to know, Mrs. Elizabeth Ill,
is why they show us crap like this
when there's bits Of the Leicester Bypass
what have never been shown. Biscuit?
Oh, thank you.
[ELECTRICITY BUZZING]
MAN: Appearing on the M2 were 4,281 Vauxhall Vivas
2,117 Vauxhall Vivas deluxe--
Bloody repeats.
Repeats or war films. Makes you want to--
MAN: Hello and welcome to Show Jumping from--
Oh, motocross.
--just about to go into a jump-off against the clock.
The slight pause is for the stewards
who are repairing The Sound of Music.
Captain Phillips on Streuth
caught one of the nuns at the start of
what would’ve been a ﬁne, clear round.
It's a formidable obstacle, this Sound of Music.
Eight nuns high, they're ready now and singing.
[BELL SOUNDS]
And there ’3 the bell.
She's got 1.07 seconds to beat,
but she needs a clear round to win
as she comes towards The Sound of Music--
Quite exciting.
Beautifully taken. And now she needs
to pick up speed for Oklahomal,
but not too much.
This is where Alan Jones knocked down poor Jud.
You notice how you never actually see the horses jump?
Superb. Superb show jumping.
She's coming up to the black-and—white minstrel show.
Watch this.
J‘ .--music and dance J‘
And she's taken it. She's over the minstrels.
She just flicked Leslie Crowther with her tail.
The time’s good, and now she turns
before coming into the ﬁnal jump.
This is a tough one. It's Ben-Hur.
Forty-six chariots, 6000 spectators,
400 slaves, lions--
I bet we don't see this one.
We interrupt show jumping to bring you a news flash.
The Second World War has now entered a sentimental stage.
This morning on the Ardennes front
the Germans started spooning at dawn.
But the British Fifth Army responded
by gazing deep into their eyes,
and the Germans are now reported to have gone all coy.
J‘ When does a dream begin? J‘
J‘ Does it start with a Goodnight kiss? I
J‘ Is it conceived Or simply achieved? J‘
J‘ When does a dream begin? J‘
J‘ Is it born In a moment of bliss? J‘
J‘ Or is it begun When two hearts are one? J‘
J‘ When does a dream exist? I
J‘ The vision of you Appears somehow I
J‘ Impossible to resist I”
J‘ But I'm not Imagining seeing you J‘
J‘ For who could have Dreamed of this? J‘
J‘ When does a dream begin? I”
J‘ When reality is dismissed? J‘
J‘ Or does it commence When we lose all pretense? J‘
J‘ When does a dream begin? I”