A Bit of Fry and Laurie (1987–1995): Season 3, Episode 6 - Episode #3.6 - full transcript

The owner of a magic shop demonstrates some of his wares by cutting off his customer's finger in a trick guillotine, but he still manages to sell him some very realistic dog poo. Elizabeth ...

Hello, I'm now going to just
flip through some magazines.

Er, this is Prima.

Er, what have we got here? We've
got, well, obviously, Time magazine.

Er, this is Woman's Own.

And here we have Essentials,
for bright ideas.

Er, yes, I'm now
going to go and see

the person who first had the idea
of putting leaflets in magazines.

Bye!

My dear boy!

Come in, come in,
come in, come in.

Don't mind Clothilda, she gets a little
excited when she sees strange men.



This is Number 43
Cheyne Square, is it?

Come through to my oubliette, my
dear, and faîtes comme chez vous.

I shall mix you a little something
devilish of my own devising.

A suspicion of Parfait
Amour, a hint of orgeat,

a couple of cocktail cherries, some thick
cream and of course a sprig of hyssop.

I call it my Moroccan Sunrise.

And believe me, it has caused many a
son of Morocco to rise in its time.

Oh! I should stop
myself. I should really.

Clothilda here will tell you
that I do go on so sometimes.

Won't you, Clotty dear?

I don't believe I
caught your name?

- Nigel Carter.
- Nigel Carter.

Nigel Carter.

There's a breath of something
fine and ripe in that name,



something impossibly noble
and yet thrillingly rotten.

Sit, Master Nigel Carter.

Sit, sit, sit, sit, sit.

It's called a lover's seat.

And I picked it up in San Gimignano in
1963. That and so much else besides.

You may keep your
clothes on for the moment

while I weave my magic
with my cocktail shaker.

Clothilda shall amuse you with
stories of the gorgeous East.

Er, yes, it's, um...

It's about the advertisement in
this month's Model Aeroplanes.

Such a stimulating read.
I never miss a copy.

Yes. Erm...

"Models wanted.
Highest prices paid.

"Apply Simbold Cleobury, 43 Cheyne
Square." That is you, is it?

It is I.

My parents christened me Donald,
a name entirely without hope.

Do you know, I think I'm going to
give you two cocktail cherries.

One for each of your
blue, blue eyes.

I usually pay £30 for my models.
Does that seem fair, my dear?

Oh, yes, yes, more than
reasonable. Yes. Erm...

I've got a Sopwith Camel, full
RFC markings, scale 120th...

I brought a photograph.

A camel?

Yes. It's quite old but
in very good condition.

And where do you keep
this camel, Nigel Carter?

Well, in my room at
home in Greenford.

And they dare to say, Nigel Carter,
that the age of romance is dead.

I think you'll find it's the hyssop
that makes all the difference.

I adore hyssop, don't you?

Very tasty.

So, what is the name of this camel who
lives with you in your room in Greenford?

- Well, Sopwith.
- Sopwith. Too heavenly!

Perhaps I shall paint you astride
this Sopwith. It's not impossible.

But first I shall have you
sprawled on the tiger skin,

firelight dancing on your
naked, shivering thighs.

Have you modelled before?

Oh, yes, yes, all my life.
Well, since I was four.

- Mercy, Nigel. Mercy! Since you were four!
- Yes.

- My grandfather started me off.
- So often the way.

We both ended up
covered in glue.

Nigel, you amaze me.

- It was a Fokker.
- It sounds it, Nigel.

In glue, you say?

Well, you need fear no
such extravagances from me.

Perhaps a light brushing in oil to bring
out your flesh tones but nothing more.

Er, would you like
to see my jumbo?

Nigel, I should like to see
your jumbo very much indeed.

There you are.

Nigel, this is a photograph
of a large jet aeroplane.

Oh, I'm sorry. I don't know how that
got in there. Er, there it is, there.

My, that is a jumbo, isn't it?

Now, clothes off and on to
the tiger skin with you.

Righto.

Well, bring back hanging, I say.
These tumble dryers are useless.

I was popping,
absolutely popping to go,

so I said, "Do you mind if
I use your toilet, love?"

And she would have let me, too. Only
that Prince Philip told me to naff off.

Smell. Smell.

Smell. Smell!

Was that the sort
of thing you meant?

Computers?

Bollocks, more like.

Hello.

Good morning,
sir. Can I do you for anything?

Yes, I rather hope you can.

Yeah. Tricks,
novelties, jokes, games?

- Tricks, I think.
- What about the tie snipper?

- Tie snipper?
- Watch this.

- Yes?
- It's a beauty that one, isn't it, sir?

- You cut off the end of my tie.
- Yeah. Very popular, that one.

- Is it?
- Hugely popular.

Hmm.

Not really a trick
though, is it?

Yeah, you're right. It's more of a gag.
You want a trick? I'll show you a trick.

Now then, put your
finger in there.

- You sure about this?
- Oh, yeah.

It's a beauty, this one.
You'll love this one.

- Put your finger in there.
- Right.

Right. I'll drop
the blade like so...

My finger is chopped off.

Right. So that proves it works.

Now then, I'll take this cigar,

place that in there like so.

I drop the blade and, hey
sesame, the cigar is intact.

Now, explain that.

Hmm. Have you got anything else?

Have a look at that.

A plastic dog turd, not
even a very convincing one.

Ah! Fooled you. It looks like a plastic
dog turd, but is, in fact, a real dog turd.

Mmm.

Well, I'll take a dozen.

How nice.

- How absolutely delightful.
- Charming.

Quite charming. A
charming restaurant.

- A charming, as you say, restaurant.
- Really quite delightful.

I think one of my favourite really
quite delightful restaurants.

Yeah, I agree. I do agree. I
really do agree. I really do.

Are you ready to order?

- Did you say something?
- No.

I thought I heard...

I rather think it may have been
a member of the restaurant staff.

Ah. Ah.

Ah.

- Are you ready to order?
- Yes, we are ready to order, thank you.

I shall have the melon
followed by the roast lamb.

Melon, lamb. And you, sir?

I shall have soupe de poisson, I
think followed by roast lamb also.

Fish soup, lamb.

- I'm so sorry.
- Yes?

- What did you just say?
- Fish soup, lamb.

Ah! Yes. Perhaps I didn't
make myself absolutely clear.

I would actually like
some soupe de poisson.

Soupe de poisson is fish soup.

- Oh, dear.
- Oh, deary me.

Was I speaking
too quickly for you?

Yes,
you seem to be a little bit confused.

- I asked for soupe de poisson.
- Soupe de poisson.

Soupe de poisson is fish soup.

- No, no, no, no, no.
- No, no, no, no.

No, I've obviously lost you.

Soupe de poisson is
soupe de poisson.

Do you see?

One thing cannot be
another thing. All right?

Now, as you have gone to the trouble
of advertising soupe de poisson

and I have gone to the great lengths
of ordering soupe de poisson,

perhaps you would be kind enough to bring
me some soupe de poisson. Thank you.

- And some mineral water.
- Mineral water.

Thank you.

- What a delightful restaurant.
- Absolutely delightful, yes.

- Mineral water.
- Oh, dear.

- Oh, waitress.
- Waitress.

Yes?

Can you remember what
it was I asked you for?

I think I saw you write it
down. Did you write it down?

Yes. Mineral water.

- Bravo.
- Excellent, well done.

But you have brought a
bottle of mineral water.

Do you see? These
are called bottles.

We asked for mineral water.

Mineral water, just as you carefully
wrote down on your small pad.

- How much mineral water?
- Some.

Some mineral water,
I think we asked for.

- Some.
- Some?

Yes, however, we can check precisely
how much we requested from you.

We do tape all our conversations
against just such a contingency.

Get out the pair of
you, you snotty wankers!

Ah, no. No.

That was the restaurant
we were in yesterday.

Yes.

And what a delightful restaurant it was,
too.

Quite delightful.

Here we are.

- And some mineral water.
- Mineral water.

- There. Do you see?
- Some mineral water.

- No mention of bottles.
- Shall I bring it in a jug?

Yes, now, you see, young lady,

my suggestion to you is that you
should bring us mineral water in a jug

when we ask for
mineral water in a jug.

Till then, we'd be very grateful if
you just brought us some mineral water.

- Thank you.
- All right, thank you.

- What a delightful restaurant.
- Simply charming restaurant.

- Thank you.
- Thank you.

Delightful.

Now, I wonder, my dear, is there a gents
near by? I'm rather desperate for a pee.

Well, there is one, but it was out of
order earlier on. I'll just check for you.

- Charming waitress, do you see?
- This is right, do you understand?

Yes, now, waitress. You
must forgive my stupidity...

Well, you asked for it. Listen.

I'm rather desperate for a pea.

I see.

I was four when I
saw my parents at it.

My father said he was mending the
fuse that made Mummy's teeth work.

I believed him, too.

No, er, very happily married. Very happily
married. Very happily married, indeed.

Er, my wife's away in Wales at
the moment, visiting her sister.

This isn't going out
on television, is it?

Who the hell are you?

Who is she? Go away.

Is God an Englishman?
Well, that's a tricky one.

Theologians are
pretty much undecided,

but I think it is universally
accepted that he isn't Welsh.

Answer phones?
Bollocks, more like.

Oh, that was lovely, Michael.
Lovely. Absolutely lovely.

I wouldn't mind
going there myself.

Well, hello, good morning and welcome to
this week's episode of Tahitian Kitchen.

I'm Elizabeth Martin.

Last week, if you can
be bothered to remember,

we looked at the preparation
of main dishes, Tahitian style.

Well, this week I'm thinking of those
who might be on a tighter sodding budget,

and so I shall be showing you what
to do with those cheaper off-cuts,

the rarer offals and so on,

which, while they may not look
so blasted, bloody-well tempting,

can often be as appetising and
nutritious and arsingly well worth eating

as many of the dearer cuts.

Well, I have here two ears, which
I've salted and marinated overnight.

They come from a young
Anglia journalist

whom I slaughtered a couple of
days ago just outside Biggleswade.

The important thing with ears is
that they should always be fresh.

Now, what I'm going to do is
I'm going to combine them.

I'm going to put them in a bowl

and I'm going to combine them
with some testicles here.

These are from some Third
Division football players.

I'm going to put them
in with the ears.

And we're just going to add some fingers
here, which come from a Rod Stewart fan.

They should all go in,
including,

particularly delicious,
of course, the thumb.

Now, I'm just going to mix that in a nice
Provençal sauce of tomato and garlic.

For those of you who are more
interested in feet and toes,

I should urge you to remember
that smaller is tastier.

These come from a
Welsh heterosexual.

Welsh toes are always preferable if you
can find them at this time of the year.

Remember, too, that toes
are an absolutely ideal

fork supper treat or
appetising dip idea.

- Michael, would you care to have a try?
- Well, I'm game for anything, Elizabeth.

Don't I know it?

- Mmm. Delicious.
- And they won't break the bank, either.

And talking of not breaking
the bank, Wilson...

In this edition of
My Favourite Pants,

we visit the home of former National
Hunt jockey, Sir Clive Drummond.

Though thankfully
my daughter Jennifer

now lives reasonably close at hand,
so that's...

That's all worked
out pretty well.

Now these ones over here,

not exactly my favourite pants,

but ones, I think, with the
greatest sentimental value.

Because, you see,
these used to belong to Arnold Travis,

the great Leicestershire fast bowler.

He gave them to me
shortly before he died.

Now I can never look at these
pants without thinking of Arnold

and that marvellous great
booming laugh of his.

And of course the day he took
five for 12 against Yorkshire.

Wearing these very pants, I
think I'm right in saying,

although Arnold could never give
me an absolute assurance of that.

Ah, now, these ones here...
Again, not my favourite pants,

but... Because I've always been
a lifelong Liberal, you see.

And these pants used to
belong to Jimmy Westbrook

who stood as the Liberal candidate
in the Newbury by-election of '61.

Lost his deposit, unfortunately,
but fought a marvellous campaign

and was admired by
everyone who knew him.

And he gave me these pants

after the Liberal Party
Conference the following year.

And he said that if I ever
wanted to go into politics,

I ought to wear these pants.

I never did, of course,
but a marvellous thought.

Now, the pants I most like to wear
on a day-to-day basis are these ones.

Marks and Spencer, so
nothing very fancy.

But, you know, I always say there's
little point in a fancy pant.

You know, give me a...

Give me a straight no-nonsense
Marks and Spencer pant,

and I'm as happy as
a sandboy, you know.

These pants really are the
ideal working or leisure pant,

equally at home in
town or country.

Truly a pant for all seasons.

Yeah. Oh, good
Lord, now, here...

I'd quite forgotten about
these. Now there's a...

There's a very funny story
attached to these pants.

But it must have fallen out. It
was stapled into the gusset there.

I can't think what would
have happened to that.

Oh, now, yes. Now, look at this.

These ones, now these really
are the Rolls-Royce of pants.

These were made by Wellard's
of Bishop's Stortford,

who made pants for, well, just
about everyone you can think of.

They're custom made,
as you can see.

You put these on and you feel
like a maharaja. You really do.

In fact, I often think it's a bit of a
crime to put trousers on over these ones.

Yeah, yes...

Quite often I'll put these
on outside my trousers

and, you know,
walk up and down the High Street

just admiring them in
shop windows and so on.

And let me tell you, they
attract quite a lot of attention.

Now, these ones over here...

No, you... You can't
lick the system.

You can give it a damn
good fondling, though.

I gave up smoking in July 1985.

Just like that. Didn't cut down, didn't
get acupuncture. I just plain stopped.

I've been in hell ever since.

Oh, no, I've... I'm afraid to say,
I've never forgiven the Japanese.

To this day I refuse to have
a Japanese car in the house.

Well,
he was drinking so much low-alcohol beer

that he was in danger of
becoming a low-alcoholic.

Fax machines?
Bollocks, more like.

Well, way to go, get
seriously down to that.

Now it's time to crank it up and really
boogie to some back-to-back fat beat.

Let's have ourselves a rocking good
time with the Bishop and the Warlord.

Give me at least five.

♪ Yes, my baby turns some heads

♪ When she walks
in through the door

♪ She's got red, red ruby lips

#And legs right
down to the floor

♪ She walks just like a wild cat

#And she sings just like a dream

♪ Yes, my baby

♪ Well, she's the greatest thing
that you've ever, ever seen

♪ I need the heat
of your loving, baby

♪ You've got to burn
with your desire

♪ Start smoking at the edges

♪ Set yourself on fire

♪ Oh, my baby is
mine, mine, mine

♪ My baby is mine,
all mine, all mine

♪ Set yourself on fire, my
dear Set yourself on fire ♪

"Set yourself on fire."
Four words, Your Honour.

Four innocent words every bit as
common in our everyday language

as "freedom" or
"vitamin enriched".

But you play those four words
backwards and what do you have?

Erifnoflesruoytes.

But that isn't enough
for these people. Oh, no.

No, they're smarter than that, because if
you play "Erifnoflesruoytes" backwards,

you can clearly make out the
words "Set yourself on fire."

A distinct explicitous and
unambiguoustical instruction to my client,

which she obeyed,

to pour a can of gasoline over
her head and set fire to it,

causing untold physical
and mental traumatisation.

Let me get this
straight, Mr Sanchez.

You're saying that your
client listened to the song...

- Grease My Gristle, Blow My Whistle.
- Catchy title.

- And as a result she set fire to herself?
- Precisely, Your Honour.

As a matter of interest, did she
also grease her gristle and...

She certainly did, Your Honour, causing
herself grievous internal bruisality.

That case comes to
trial next month.

Any other cases pending?

Yes, Your Honour,
we have a suit of $700 million

against the rock group Queen

who caused my client
to suffer a broken jaw

by urging her to become
champion of the world.

- In what?
- Light-middleweight boxing.

$400 million against
Frankie Goes to Hollywood

for instructioning her
to relax and not do it.

Relax and not do what?

Relax and not apply the breaks of
her automobile at a T-junction.

And finally $900 million
against Jason Donovan.

- For what?
- We haven't decided yet, Your Honour.

I see. Well, that makes $2 billion.
Quite a substantial figure, Counselor.

Well, to be honest, Your Honour, my
wife and I have seen a place down south

that we're kind of keen on.

It's, you know, space for the
kids, weekends, that sort of thing.

- Oh, really? What's it called?
- Paraguay.

That's nice.

Now, do you have any witnesses?

I certainly have. I call
the defendant himself.

The self-styled clergyman of
cool, Bishop of Attleborough.

Take the book in your right
hand and say after me.

- I have no objection...
- "I have no objection..."

- ...to this trial being televised...
- "...to this trial being televised..."

- ...and subsequently being made...
- "...and subsequently being made..."

...into a motion picture, book
or stage musical, so help me God.

"...into a motion picture, book
or stage musical, so help me God."

Now then,

what is your name, sir?

My name is...

Just answer the question "Yes" or "No",
please.

What is your name?

- Yes.
- Yes?

- Yes.
- Is that your real name?

- No.
- "No", is your real name?

- No.
- "No", it's not your real name?

- Yes...
- Objection, Your Honour...

Objection overseen, Counselor.

Now, Mr Yes, you are the lead
singer of the heavy metal band

The Bishop and the Warlord?

- That's substantially correct.
- Substantially?

Well, of course being a bishop

means I have to spend a great
deal of time within my own diocese

as well as attending
council of synod meetings,

which means I have only limited
amount of time to devote to the band.

- But you are, in essence, correct.
- I am, in essence, correct.

I see, and when you look upon the poor
wretched figure of my client, Mr Yes,

an innocent victim of your
handiwork, how do you feel?

Your Honour, I really must stand up and
make some pretence of earning my fee.

- Nice work, Counselor.
- I say it again, how do you feel?

Well, most awfully sorry.

"Most awfully sorry."

But it simply never crossed my mind that
people could be told what to do so easily.

I mean, for instance, perhaps
you know our second album,

May I Plant My Bulb
in Your Window Box?

There was a song in that which I
wrote called, Bake Me a Love Soufflé.

Now, surely you're not suggesting
that anybody would go to such...

Love soufflé. One
baked by my client.

Sadly, at no personal
injury to herself.

Mr Yes,
in the light of this evidence

I have no choice but
to find for the plaintiff.

Do you have anything to say
before I name the amount?

Well, yes, Your Honour.

- One thing does occur.
- Yes?

Perhaps I can put it this way.

- One, two, three.
- Objection!

♪ Woman!

♪ Woman, drop your case

♪ Woman! Woman,
get out of my face!

♪ Woman, forget the
whole thing ever happened

♪ Drop those charges
and pay my legal costs

♪ Woman, you know this
case is as good as lost

♪ Woman, get out of my life

♪ Woman, get out of my face

♪ Get out of my face,
woman Get out of my face ♪

Your Honour after due consultation
with my client she has asked me to say

that she would like to drop all charges,
pay all the legal costs and, er...

She would also like permission
to get out of his face.

Such permission is so
engranted, Mr Sanchez.

Case dismissulated. Next case.

The state would like to
call Mr Tony Inchpractice.

Hello, I'm Tony Inchpractice.

Welcome to Flying a Light Aeroplane Without
Having Had Any Formal Instruction With.

Today I shall be flying a light aeroplane
without having had any formal instruction

with Sir Peter Winstanton, former
Chairman of the National Trust

and now Maître de Danse at
the Galliard Ballet Company.

- Hello, Sir Peter.
- Good afternoon, Johnny.

- No, my name isn't Johnny.
- Never said it was.

Right. Now, Sir Peter, have you
ever flown a light aeroplane before?

- Never have, Johnny, never, no.
- Never had any lessons?

Oh, I've had
lessons, yes, yes...

- History, Geography, English, Maths...
- Yes, but not in flying?

- Flying, no.
- No, and I've never flown before.

Is this something you've
always wanted to do?

Not particularly.

So when you rang up I
absolutely leapt at the chance.

- Right. Well, Sir Peter, shall we?
- Right.

I mean, I don't know if you...

Actually, would it be all
right if I sat in the front?

Because I tend
to get a bit sick...

- It's fine by me, yes.
- ...if I'm in the back.

- Absolutely, carry on.
- Right.

Put... Yes, that's it.

Now...

Sir Peter, can I begin by asking you
about your early childhood influences?

Your parents died when
you were very young,

and you were brought up

by an aunt in a boarding house
on the South Coast, I believe.

Yes, that's right.

So, what... What
exactly do we do now?

Haven't got the faintest
idea, I'm afraid.

- Ah.
- It's, I suppose...

- Start the, um...
- Mmm.

You know, in my Saab, it won't
start unless you're in park.

I do say. Well, let's
try a few knobs.

So, presumably, yours must have
been rather a lonely childhood?

- Hello! That was a stroke of luck.
- Well done!

Tell you what. Have you
got any levers in the back?

- Any what?
- Levers in the back.

No, I tell you what. I
have got a hat, though.

- A hat?
- Yes.

- Oh, I've got a hat.
- Hats on?

- Hats on, good idea.
- Right.

Oh, what the hell? I'll
just pull everything.

Oh, hello! Looks like we're off.

- I'll just head for the trees, shall I?
- Fine with me, Sir Peter.

Now, Sir Peter, can I ask you?

You've often said that your wife

has been an important source of
encouragement in your career.

How did you actually
come to meet?

Well, there's a story
behind that, actually.

- Is there? I thought there might be.
- Yes.

- I went to a fancy dress party in Bournemouth...
- Oh, how nice.

...and I was dressed
as an airmail parcel.

I then got posted overseas.

- Right.
- And I met her in Bombay.

- Bombay?
- Bombay. And...

Was it love at first sight,
do you mind me asking?

- I adored Bombay. It's a lovely city. Lovely city.
- Right.

Oh! Hello. Oh, I thought
for a moment we were off.

Well, I have to say, Sir Peter, I
think you're doing enormously well.

- Well, beginners' luck, I think.
- Yes.

- We're definitely off the ground now.
- It really is splendid.

How about that?

Oh, hello? Oh, no,
there go my car keys.

Oh, no, you haven't, have you?

I hope they don't
land on the button

or they'll open all the
car doors automatically.

- That's what happens.
- Yes.

Now, Sir Peter,

how and when did you come
to join the National Trust?

Well, it was a
strange thing, I...

This looks like it's... Is
it landing, do you think?

- Well, it's as near as one can get I suppose.
- Yes, yes.

- So what happened was... Oh!
- Oh! Hello.

I wrote a letter to the
National Trust group

- asking if I could join them.
- Yes. Do you mind not actually doing this?

- This bouncing.
- Are you getting a bit queasy?

- Just a little bit queasy, yes.
- You in the back, of course.

- So sorry.
- Oh, my word.

So, Sir Peter,
where to from here?

Well, I think probably the Bell at
Aston Clinton for a spot of tea.

Jolly nice, too.

Testicles? Bollocks, more like.

Well, that's about
it for this week.

Indeed that's about
it for this series.

If you've enjoyed this series
of A Bit of Fry & Laurie,

you may like to
know that the BBC

are bringing out some special
commemorative oven gloves

in the shape of special
commemorative oven gloves.

And for those of you who like
to get out into the garden...

- Hugh.
- I'm sorry.

I do beg your pardon. I
shouldn't have said that.

All right. So until
we meet the next time,

and who knows where or
under what circumstances,

there's just time for me to
say, it's good night from me.

- And it's good night from me.
- And it's good night from me.

- And it's good night from me.
- And it's good night from me.

And it's good night from me.

And we're going to leave you now
with our final cocktail recipe.

And this one's called
Berliner Credit Sequence.

For this you will a
need a television set,

the names in German
of all the people

who go to make up a faintly
amusing television series

and a plate of
tomato sandwiches.

Now, I'm going to ask the master
magician of handcraft himself,

Mr Music, for the
very last time,

to weave a dizzying,
jazz pattern of sound.

As I say for the final time,

please, Mr Music, will you play?