Marty (1968–1969): Season 2, Episode 3 - Episode #2.3 - full transcript
Good evening. Earlier tonight,
"Show us your drawers, you old scrubber",
the episode of Magic Roundabout which
hinted at some unnatural relationship
between Zebedee and Dougal, brought a
flood of irate phone calls from viewers.
So tonight, Line-Up
looks once again
at the vexed question of
television censorship.
We have with us in the
studio, the president
of the league of television
decency, mr Whitefoot.
Good evening.
- Good evening.
Beg your pardon.
I understand that the principal aim of
your league is to clean up television.
Yes, that's right.
We object most strongly
to some of the suggestive dialogue and
innuendo in some BBC productions.
- Could you give me an example of this?
- Yes, yes, most willingly.
The other night, in the Epilogue,
a bishop said, and I quote,
wait a minute, I've got it written down...
- A bishop?
- Yes, a bisshop said: "Look here."
- "Look here"?
- Yes.
Yes, I may be obtuse, I fail to see
anything particularly dirty in that.
It depends on how
you look at it, doesn't it.
I mean, to me, to me the phrase
"look here" suggests immediately,
"Look here through that keyhole
at the young female person
taking her clothes off."
Well, I must admit,
I hadn't thought of that.
Well that's what I
thought of immediately.
I see, yes. Did you have
any other examples?
Oh yes, yes indeed.
Yes, yes indeed.
The other night in a play watched
by millions, by millions of people,
a character picked up a telephone.
- A telephone?
- A telephone.
Well don't you see the erotic imagery
contained in that gesture?
- This is just an ordinary telephone?
- An ordinary telephone, yes.
Of the kind used by certain sick people,
and they are sick, take my
word for it, they are sick...
Sick! Sick people!
There are sick people
who ring up young female persons
and breathe heavily
down the phone at them.
And make remarks like
"George is being unfaithful to you".
- George?
- That's her husband.
I don't think that anything
of that sort actually took place.
Oh no, what happened was far worse,
the character said, and I've got it
written down, got it written down.
- I thought you might have.
- He said, "Hello".
- "Hello"?
- Yes.
Well, I mean, "hello", he said.
"Hello", I fail to understand
the significance of "hello".
Well, I'm sure we all know
what that means, don't we?
Well, no.
Hello, what have we got
here through that keyhole?
Why it's a young female person
taking her clothes off...
Firm young... white of her thighs...
- Mr White... Mr White... Please!
- Mr Whitefoot!
- I'm sorry, I have the headaches.
I appreciate that, but surely
you'd agree that if by any chance
the BBC do offend,
it is only a very small minority?
That is exactly my point!
The BBC are going out of their
way to offend minorities.
I mean look at the titles of some of
their shows, the suggestive titles.
"Watch with mother"
Watch what?
Blue Peter?
The navy lark, I think we all
know what that is, don't we?
I was in the catering corps myself...
Two family favourites...
- Three way family favourites.
- That's even worse.
If the BBC do offend in this way,
it is entirely up to the viewer to decide,
I mean, evil is basically
in the eye of the beholder.
Oh yes indeed, evil is in
the eye of the beholder.
But you've got to know what to look for.
Excuse me, but sir, weren't you at Eton?
No, that was my brother,
I was at Charterhouse actually.
- Dreadfully sorry.
- Don't worry.
FORTHCOMING OBITUARIES No. 1
Good evening. We regret to
annouce the passing today,
December 13 of the year 2004,
of Britain's greatest son,
at his London home, this morning.
Born, or as legend has it,
immaculately conceived,
in a manger at Beckels in 1939.
The young Frost was soon to show
signs of his abilities, when...
when at his christening,
he blessed the priest.
The modest house where he was born
is now of course a national shrine,
and three miraculous cures of shyness
have been authentically recorded there.
In 1962 the television viewers got
their first taste of the Frost personality
when he emerged on That was the week
that was as the thinking man's Simon Dee.
Success followed.
But it cannot be said
that success changed him
or went to his head.
These things can definitely be said,
the laws of libel being what they are.
However, his every exploit became news.
He entertained the famous
on a lavish scale.
His breakfast parties became legendary.
And it is recorded that 14 cabinet
ministers and 1 archbisshop
committed suicide when they
were left off his invitation list.
Then, suddenly, he found
his true genius in the Frost Program,
as the unmasker of evils,
the righter of wrongs.
The phrase "trial by television"
was banded about,
but Frost ignored these carpet criticisms,
and in 1969 interviewed the lord
chief justice of England on television
and sentenced him
to 20 years hard labour.
In 1976 the Wilson government
redeemed its otherwise disastrous record
by placing the whole of British
television under his care.
It was the turning point.
Less then a month after Frost took over,
pope Paul flew to London
to appear on the Frost Program.
Overwhelmed by Frost's majestic
command of assertion and invective,
he fell to his knees on the studio floor,
and withdrew his prohibition on the use
of contraceptives for Roman catholics.
Characteristically, Frost refused
the offer of immediate sainthood,
with a well-rehearsed ad-lib written
by Dick Vosburgh, John Cleese,
Graham Chapman, Barry Cryer,
Antony Jay, and several others.
Equally characteristically he preached
at the mass wedding of
cardinals in Rome next spring,
and even became godfather
to the pope's first child, Paul Paradine.
In 1981 he took over the Royal
Variety Show from Bernard Delfonte,
so that he could audition
not only the performers,
but also the royalty
who attended.
In 1983 he was brought
somehow closer to the royal family
by his marriage to princess Anne.
In 1984, significantly, he reached
the peak of his great career
when he became
King David I of England.
We shall not look upon his like again,
if we play our cards right.
His death occurred early today.
King David was standing
in front of a gigantic mirror,
a present given to him by his admirers,
when it fell forward on top of him.
His last words to a grieving nation
that give us all consolation
and a hint perhaps of the
second coming, were:
"I'll be back in a thrice, meanwhile
here's a song from Engelbert Humperdinck."
- 240 million... - Do you mind
if I use your phone a minute?
I won't be a moment. I'm ever
so sorry, it won't take a minute.
- Two... three... three...
- What? What?
- Look, how much...
- Shh.
Hello, Else? Oh, it's me, Millie.
- My dear young woman...
- Shh.
No, it's nothing important, I just wanted
to know if your Bob got that rabbit.
- What?
- Oh, good. Oh, that's lovely.
- Look here...
- Shh.
No, Wally's gone back to school, yeah.
No, it was the nettle rash, yeah.
Are you going out tonight?
Oh good. Shall we meet then?
At the Roxy? And then we can go and
have a drink at the Gand afterwards.
Oh by the way Millie, how's Harry?
Hurry up, there's other people here
want to use the phone you know.
I know you're sorry
but I want to make a phone call.
Alright, I won't be a minute.
I should have exercised this.
My downfall, isn't it? Gravity.
Oh, these tights. Aoh!
You don't need an offbind...
Hello, something split. I have
to watch it when I take me calls.
Hello, hello here comes madam,
about as graceful as a bull elephant.
Grumpy, grumpy.
What does she want now?
Oh, the walking about bit.
Here we go, walk about.
What am I, a prop?
Just here to hold her up?
Sort of an animated walking stick,
that's all I am.
My god...And up we go again.
Hello, hello, got a touch
of the wind again?
I shouldn't have had that last
pot of stuff before the show.
Not that AND pickled onion, anyway.
I wonder if Snaggy won the 8:30
at Dagenham Dog Track.
He did well last time out, but he tends
to run a bit wide on the bends.
Hello hello. Where's she gone? Where's
she gone? Oh, it's me. It's me solo.
Thank god that's over.
No need to go potty, I'm not
going to rig myself for this lot.
Hello, here come the sylphides.
Watch it, wacht it, watch it darling!
Clumsy little scrubbers!
Now that sylphide third from the left,
I could definately fancy her.
I'll hang about the rosin box before
the matinee tomorrow and chat her up.
Tumtitum titum titum, and off we
go again. Oh, it's a game, isn't it.
That's typical, isn't it. I do all the
hard craft and she cops the applause.
What am I? Heloise's Abelard...
Well, it's a living I suppose. Better than
hanging about race tracks flogging tips.
Hello, she's doing her dying bit now.
Look at her. Look, look, look!
Oh, she's making a meal of it, isn't she?
Go on darling, hurry up and die...
Oh, very artistic, yes...
Come on, hurry up love,
all the pubs will be closed.
She's gone. Back again.
She's gone.
Back again, oh god, some people
got no consideration.
That's it, that's it, that's it.
She's dead. Snuffed it.
Hahahaha! Now for me distracted bit...
That's it, I've done me lot.
Here come the supporters club, I owe it.
Come on, drag her out, get on with it.
Come on, cart her out, don't
pad our part, darling. That's it.
Oh, that's nice applause, isn't it?
It's nice to know the public still
appreciate a dedicated artiste.
SPORTSLIGHT
with Loomis Tube
Good evening. Tonight, Sportslight
takes a look at the face of success.
This week Eastham signed former
Brentwich star Danny Gruntfuttock
for the all-time record
fee of 250,000 pounds.
What makes a footballer
worth this kind of money?
Well we have with us in the studio three
men who have devoted their whole lives
to the most popular game in the world,
and also to football.
First of all, Wally McCoarsetrouser,
genial manager of Oxtylodgy Academicals,
also E.J. Birdstrangler, football
columnist for the Sunday Tome,
and author of the book "Sado-masochism
and its relation to the 4-2-4-system",
and a cardboard cut-out of Sir Alf Ramsey.
Wally, you first discovered Danny,
what's your opinion of him?
Yes, well what happened
between him and your sister
is hardly relevant
to the conversation.
What's he like on the field?
Oh dear.
Yes, well it can be treated
in confidence these days.
What special ability singles him
out from the other players?
Yes, I can see it keeps the lads
amused in the dressing room,
but hardly worth 250
thousand pounds...
Yes. Thank you.
And now turning to you professor...
Yes, thank you.
Oh, my god...
And turning to you professor,
what do you think of Danny Gruntfuttock?
Well, football is the game of physical
contacts, and it is a man's game.
and I am attracted to men's games
which involve physical contact.
And of course, Gruntfuttock
is the epitomy of all this,
with his positively Proustian shoulders,
and thighs like something
out of Baudelaire.
As Nobby Styles remarked
me only the other day,
"Les mystères partout,
cul comme des sève
dans les caneux étroides
des colos puissant.
Do you know what I mean, whack?"
And one can but agree with him.
I think my fondest memory of dear Danny
is the superb goal
he scored against Barnsley.
As he soared into the air, I thought
of Michelangelo's nude figure of David.
But then I think of that all the time.
Sir Alf Ramsey?
Well, that's the sort of shrewd comment
we've come to expect from sir Alf.
Well, that's Danny Gruntfuttock,
the epitomy of all that's
good in English football.
Adored by the intellectuals,
admired by his colleagues,
loved by the public, and
ignored by sir Alf Ramsey.
But being a top flight footballer
doesn't come easily.
Recently we took our camera's
down to the Eastham ground
and I interviewed Danny in the dressing
room during a training session.
Danny, what's it like having a 250
thousand pound price tag on you?
Oh, well, it don't make no
difference to me, Loomis,
I mean, down here they treat me
just like one of the chaps, don't they,
I mean, 'course, they're a
common lot down here,
I mean they're as common as muck,
I mean, none of them cost a penny over
50 thousand quid, do they, for a start.
And that goalkeeper see he thinks
he's the star of the thing, don't he?
Leaping about, posturing and all that.
I wouldn't cheapen myself.
Another thing, vain, vain? Vain?
He pads his calves, you know.
And between ourselves,
that's not all he pads.
I've seen it, ballet dancers
nothing in it with him???
Danny, is there any friction
between you and the other players?
What do you mean, friction?
I mean no.
No, I mean, when they
sort of gather round me,
like when they kiss me after
I scored a winning goal,
well, I mean, there's no warmth in it,
there's no love, no affection or nothing,
I mean, not like when I
was with Brentwich,
I mean, there when they kissed you
it meant something, didn't it?
I remember once the
referee had to throw
a bucket of water over me
and the inside forward.
And that's what I call love, you see.
Well, I'm going to get into me training
gear now. Just change out of me...
Well, Danny, that looks
a very striking ensemble.
- Ah, you like it, do you?
- Yes.
You don't think the shorts
is too revealing, do you?
Only what I say is, if you got
the thighs, show 'em, duckie.
At least that's what Bobby Moore always
says to me, he says show 'em, that's what.
Yes. Danny, I can see the
other chaps are going out
for heading practice, are
you going to join them?
What, and ruin me backcombing,
don't be a twit!
Danny Gruntfuttock, the man.
But to the ordinary chap on the
terrace who has paid his half-crown
for 90 minutes toilet-rol throwing,
biting, swearing and kicking,
Gruntfuttock is little short of a god,
as we can see from some of these edited
highlights of a recent match of the day.
Well with twenty minutes of the
first half gone and still no score,
Gruntfuttock has got the ball.
And he's...
Oh, what a fantastic
ballplayer this boy is!
He's completely mesmerized
the opponent completely.
A fantastic achievement...
A clear goal has gone round a shot.
Fantastic!
He's scored!
And they're giving away a corner,
it's a corner and it's Gruntfuttock
that takes it.
Gruntfuttock with the corner...
That's it! To Crab, to Staybaker...
...to Westabridge as well...
Wonderful goal!
It's Gruntfuttock again,
he's waltzing, he's waltzing
round the players... And...
And he's down! He's down! Oh! Oh no!
Here come the men from the hospital...
it's a beeline, attention, attention...
What could it be, he's down.
Is it serious?
His mission is still there.
If he can just wait, the fullback
is coming to apologise...
And a typical gesture from Gruntfuttock...
His special is the tickle.
What's the decision?
It looks bad. Could it be...
He's taking nourishment, it could be a good
sign, it has been a good sign in the past.
He smiles.
I think of the treatment.
And the referee is coming to see
if he could help in any way.
All we can do is just pray.
Look, could it...? Could it...?
Yes! It's a miracle! He's alright!
What a boy! What courage!
He's released!
And I bet he's going to
take the penalty himself!
What a fantastic man!
Fantastic!
And it's Gruntfuttock again!
He beats one man,
he beats another man, and he's
there in front of the goal!
And he's ging to walk the ball in.
It's the famous Gruntfuttock walk.
And we're ready, we're alive!
It's a goal!
I don't know what to say, a hattrick!
A hattrick, that is Gruntfuttock's
49th hattrick this week,
and its still only Tuesday.
What a fantastic boy this is!
Well that film was
taken two weeks ago,
when Gruntfuttock was only
a 100,000 pound unknown.
Today, he's worth
a quarter of a million pounds.
Well, Danny, congratulations,
and we all look forward
to your first game with
United on Saturday.
No, I won't be actually
playing on Saturday.
Ah, they're saving you for
next Wednesday's cup tie?
No, the manager don't reckon
he ought to risk me in that either.
In fact he says he's not going
to let me play football at all.
But Danny, United have paid a
quarter of a million pounds for you.
If you're not going to play football,
why did they buy you?
Ah, well, it's an investment
for the future, isn't it?
He's putting me out to stud.
Mother's feeling fragile in the bathroom
Daddy's sleeping drunkenly upstairs
My eldest sister Anna
Has been sick in the piana
Because she ate a pound of
marzipan and six tinned pears
Six tinned pears.
Some fathead bought
the youngest child a trumpet
And now he's blowing
discords in my ear.
What I spent on my wife's presents
Could have bought Mornington Crescents
Christmas is a joyous time of year.
Plastic berries on the mistletoe
Come fill my cup with warmed-up beer
Christmas is a joyous, such a joyous
Christmas is a joyous time of year.
Elsie's started dancing on the table
Showing such a nasty pair of knees
My uncle Del from Leaf
Has just taken out his teeth.
And any minute now
He'll sing the dirty words to trees.
Dirty words to trees.
Granny's reading riddles
out of crackers
Which are just about
as funny as King Lear
I believe this festive season
will cause my to lose my reason.
Christmas is a joyous time of year.
Plastic berries on the mistletoe
Come fill my cup with warmed-up beer
Christmas is a joyous, such a joyous
Christmas is a joyous time of year.
On the first day of Christmas,
my family gave to me,
Twelve pairs of cufflinks,
eleven snowstorm paperweights,
ten pairs of underpants
with vintage cars on,
nine pairs, nine pairs,
with names of drinks on,
eight sets of hankies,
seven pairs of slippers,
six imitation hairbrushes
with leather bags,
and when you unzip them you find
a metal comb and a mirror
and a vicious looking instrument whose
function would appear to be doctoring cats.
Five knitted things.
Four sorted scarves, three
grotty ties, two potted plants.
And Don Partridges latest LP.
There's a 1930s picture on the telly
The other channel's
showing festive news.
Like rioting in Chelsea
and flooding down in Selsea
No wonder half the population's
drowned in booze.
Drowned in booze
As I sit amid the ruins of the parlour
Surrounded by this scene
of yule tide cheer.
Believe I'll remember
To drink lysol next November
Christmas is a joyous time of year.
Plastic berries on the mistletoe
Come fill my cup with warmed-up beer
Christmas is a joyous, such a joyous
Christmas is a joyous time of year.
Christmas is a joyous time of year.
"Show us your drawers, you old scrubber",
the episode of Magic Roundabout which
hinted at some unnatural relationship
between Zebedee and Dougal, brought a
flood of irate phone calls from viewers.
So tonight, Line-Up
looks once again
at the vexed question of
television censorship.
We have with us in the
studio, the president
of the league of television
decency, mr Whitefoot.
Good evening.
- Good evening.
Beg your pardon.
I understand that the principal aim of
your league is to clean up television.
Yes, that's right.
We object most strongly
to some of the suggestive dialogue and
innuendo in some BBC productions.
- Could you give me an example of this?
- Yes, yes, most willingly.
The other night, in the Epilogue,
a bishop said, and I quote,
wait a minute, I've got it written down...
- A bishop?
- Yes, a bisshop said: "Look here."
- "Look here"?
- Yes.
Yes, I may be obtuse, I fail to see
anything particularly dirty in that.
It depends on how
you look at it, doesn't it.
I mean, to me, to me the phrase
"look here" suggests immediately,
"Look here through that keyhole
at the young female person
taking her clothes off."
Well, I must admit,
I hadn't thought of that.
Well that's what I
thought of immediately.
I see, yes. Did you have
any other examples?
Oh yes, yes indeed.
Yes, yes indeed.
The other night in a play watched
by millions, by millions of people,
a character picked up a telephone.
- A telephone?
- A telephone.
Well don't you see the erotic imagery
contained in that gesture?
- This is just an ordinary telephone?
- An ordinary telephone, yes.
Of the kind used by certain sick people,
and they are sick, take my
word for it, they are sick...
Sick! Sick people!
There are sick people
who ring up young female persons
and breathe heavily
down the phone at them.
And make remarks like
"George is being unfaithful to you".
- George?
- That's her husband.
I don't think that anything
of that sort actually took place.
Oh no, what happened was far worse,
the character said, and I've got it
written down, got it written down.
- I thought you might have.
- He said, "Hello".
- "Hello"?
- Yes.
Well, I mean, "hello", he said.
"Hello", I fail to understand
the significance of "hello".
Well, I'm sure we all know
what that means, don't we?
Well, no.
Hello, what have we got
here through that keyhole?
Why it's a young female person
taking her clothes off...
Firm young... white of her thighs...
- Mr White... Mr White... Please!
- Mr Whitefoot!
- I'm sorry, I have the headaches.
I appreciate that, but surely
you'd agree that if by any chance
the BBC do offend,
it is only a very small minority?
That is exactly my point!
The BBC are going out of their
way to offend minorities.
I mean look at the titles of some of
their shows, the suggestive titles.
"Watch with mother"
Watch what?
Blue Peter?
The navy lark, I think we all
know what that is, don't we?
I was in the catering corps myself...
Two family favourites...
- Three way family favourites.
- That's even worse.
If the BBC do offend in this way,
it is entirely up to the viewer to decide,
I mean, evil is basically
in the eye of the beholder.
Oh yes indeed, evil is in
the eye of the beholder.
But you've got to know what to look for.
Excuse me, but sir, weren't you at Eton?
No, that was my brother,
I was at Charterhouse actually.
- Dreadfully sorry.
- Don't worry.
FORTHCOMING OBITUARIES No. 1
Good evening. We regret to
annouce the passing today,
December 13 of the year 2004,
of Britain's greatest son,
at his London home, this morning.
Born, or as legend has it,
immaculately conceived,
in a manger at Beckels in 1939.
The young Frost was soon to show
signs of his abilities, when...
when at his christening,
he blessed the priest.
The modest house where he was born
is now of course a national shrine,
and three miraculous cures of shyness
have been authentically recorded there.
In 1962 the television viewers got
their first taste of the Frost personality
when he emerged on That was the week
that was as the thinking man's Simon Dee.
Success followed.
But it cannot be said
that success changed him
or went to his head.
These things can definitely be said,
the laws of libel being what they are.
However, his every exploit became news.
He entertained the famous
on a lavish scale.
His breakfast parties became legendary.
And it is recorded that 14 cabinet
ministers and 1 archbisshop
committed suicide when they
were left off his invitation list.
Then, suddenly, he found
his true genius in the Frost Program,
as the unmasker of evils,
the righter of wrongs.
The phrase "trial by television"
was banded about,
but Frost ignored these carpet criticisms,
and in 1969 interviewed the lord
chief justice of England on television
and sentenced him
to 20 years hard labour.
In 1976 the Wilson government
redeemed its otherwise disastrous record
by placing the whole of British
television under his care.
It was the turning point.
Less then a month after Frost took over,
pope Paul flew to London
to appear on the Frost Program.
Overwhelmed by Frost's majestic
command of assertion and invective,
he fell to his knees on the studio floor,
and withdrew his prohibition on the use
of contraceptives for Roman catholics.
Characteristically, Frost refused
the offer of immediate sainthood,
with a well-rehearsed ad-lib written
by Dick Vosburgh, John Cleese,
Graham Chapman, Barry Cryer,
Antony Jay, and several others.
Equally characteristically he preached
at the mass wedding of
cardinals in Rome next spring,
and even became godfather
to the pope's first child, Paul Paradine.
In 1981 he took over the Royal
Variety Show from Bernard Delfonte,
so that he could audition
not only the performers,
but also the royalty
who attended.
In 1983 he was brought
somehow closer to the royal family
by his marriage to princess Anne.
In 1984, significantly, he reached
the peak of his great career
when he became
King David I of England.
We shall not look upon his like again,
if we play our cards right.
His death occurred early today.
King David was standing
in front of a gigantic mirror,
a present given to him by his admirers,
when it fell forward on top of him.
His last words to a grieving nation
that give us all consolation
and a hint perhaps of the
second coming, were:
"I'll be back in a thrice, meanwhile
here's a song from Engelbert Humperdinck."
- 240 million... - Do you mind
if I use your phone a minute?
I won't be a moment. I'm ever
so sorry, it won't take a minute.
- Two... three... three...
- What? What?
- Look, how much...
- Shh.
Hello, Else? Oh, it's me, Millie.
- My dear young woman...
- Shh.
No, it's nothing important, I just wanted
to know if your Bob got that rabbit.
- What?
- Oh, good. Oh, that's lovely.
- Look here...
- Shh.
No, Wally's gone back to school, yeah.
No, it was the nettle rash, yeah.
Are you going out tonight?
Oh good. Shall we meet then?
At the Roxy? And then we can go and
have a drink at the Gand afterwards.
Oh by the way Millie, how's Harry?
Hurry up, there's other people here
want to use the phone you know.
I know you're sorry
but I want to make a phone call.
Alright, I won't be a minute.
I should have exercised this.
My downfall, isn't it? Gravity.
Oh, these tights. Aoh!
You don't need an offbind...
Hello, something split. I have
to watch it when I take me calls.
Hello, hello here comes madam,
about as graceful as a bull elephant.
Grumpy, grumpy.
What does she want now?
Oh, the walking about bit.
Here we go, walk about.
What am I, a prop?
Just here to hold her up?
Sort of an animated walking stick,
that's all I am.
My god...And up we go again.
Hello, hello, got a touch
of the wind again?
I shouldn't have had that last
pot of stuff before the show.
Not that AND pickled onion, anyway.
I wonder if Snaggy won the 8:30
at Dagenham Dog Track.
He did well last time out, but he tends
to run a bit wide on the bends.
Hello hello. Where's she gone? Where's
she gone? Oh, it's me. It's me solo.
Thank god that's over.
No need to go potty, I'm not
going to rig myself for this lot.
Hello, here come the sylphides.
Watch it, wacht it, watch it darling!
Clumsy little scrubbers!
Now that sylphide third from the left,
I could definately fancy her.
I'll hang about the rosin box before
the matinee tomorrow and chat her up.
Tumtitum titum titum, and off we
go again. Oh, it's a game, isn't it.
That's typical, isn't it. I do all the
hard craft and she cops the applause.
What am I? Heloise's Abelard...
Well, it's a living I suppose. Better than
hanging about race tracks flogging tips.
Hello, she's doing her dying bit now.
Look at her. Look, look, look!
Oh, she's making a meal of it, isn't she?
Go on darling, hurry up and die...
Oh, very artistic, yes...
Come on, hurry up love,
all the pubs will be closed.
She's gone. Back again.
She's gone.
Back again, oh god, some people
got no consideration.
That's it, that's it, that's it.
She's dead. Snuffed it.
Hahahaha! Now for me distracted bit...
That's it, I've done me lot.
Here come the supporters club, I owe it.
Come on, drag her out, get on with it.
Come on, cart her out, don't
pad our part, darling. That's it.
Oh, that's nice applause, isn't it?
It's nice to know the public still
appreciate a dedicated artiste.
SPORTSLIGHT
with Loomis Tube
Good evening. Tonight, Sportslight
takes a look at the face of success.
This week Eastham signed former
Brentwich star Danny Gruntfuttock
for the all-time record
fee of 250,000 pounds.
What makes a footballer
worth this kind of money?
Well we have with us in the studio three
men who have devoted their whole lives
to the most popular game in the world,
and also to football.
First of all, Wally McCoarsetrouser,
genial manager of Oxtylodgy Academicals,
also E.J. Birdstrangler, football
columnist for the Sunday Tome,
and author of the book "Sado-masochism
and its relation to the 4-2-4-system",
and a cardboard cut-out of Sir Alf Ramsey.
Wally, you first discovered Danny,
what's your opinion of him?
Yes, well what happened
between him and your sister
is hardly relevant
to the conversation.
What's he like on the field?
Oh dear.
Yes, well it can be treated
in confidence these days.
What special ability singles him
out from the other players?
Yes, I can see it keeps the lads
amused in the dressing room,
but hardly worth 250
thousand pounds...
Yes. Thank you.
And now turning to you professor...
Yes, thank you.
Oh, my god...
And turning to you professor,
what do you think of Danny Gruntfuttock?
Well, football is the game of physical
contacts, and it is a man's game.
and I am attracted to men's games
which involve physical contact.
And of course, Gruntfuttock
is the epitomy of all this,
with his positively Proustian shoulders,
and thighs like something
out of Baudelaire.
As Nobby Styles remarked
me only the other day,
"Les mystères partout,
cul comme des sève
dans les caneux étroides
des colos puissant.
Do you know what I mean, whack?"
And one can but agree with him.
I think my fondest memory of dear Danny
is the superb goal
he scored against Barnsley.
As he soared into the air, I thought
of Michelangelo's nude figure of David.
But then I think of that all the time.
Sir Alf Ramsey?
Well, that's the sort of shrewd comment
we've come to expect from sir Alf.
Well, that's Danny Gruntfuttock,
the epitomy of all that's
good in English football.
Adored by the intellectuals,
admired by his colleagues,
loved by the public, and
ignored by sir Alf Ramsey.
But being a top flight footballer
doesn't come easily.
Recently we took our camera's
down to the Eastham ground
and I interviewed Danny in the dressing
room during a training session.
Danny, what's it like having a 250
thousand pound price tag on you?
Oh, well, it don't make no
difference to me, Loomis,
I mean, down here they treat me
just like one of the chaps, don't they,
I mean, 'course, they're a
common lot down here,
I mean they're as common as muck,
I mean, none of them cost a penny over
50 thousand quid, do they, for a start.
And that goalkeeper see he thinks
he's the star of the thing, don't he?
Leaping about, posturing and all that.
I wouldn't cheapen myself.
Another thing, vain, vain? Vain?
He pads his calves, you know.
And between ourselves,
that's not all he pads.
I've seen it, ballet dancers
nothing in it with him???
Danny, is there any friction
between you and the other players?
What do you mean, friction?
I mean no.
No, I mean, when they
sort of gather round me,
like when they kiss me after
I scored a winning goal,
well, I mean, there's no warmth in it,
there's no love, no affection or nothing,
I mean, not like when I
was with Brentwich,
I mean, there when they kissed you
it meant something, didn't it?
I remember once the
referee had to throw
a bucket of water over me
and the inside forward.
And that's what I call love, you see.
Well, I'm going to get into me training
gear now. Just change out of me...
Well, Danny, that looks
a very striking ensemble.
- Ah, you like it, do you?
- Yes.
You don't think the shorts
is too revealing, do you?
Only what I say is, if you got
the thighs, show 'em, duckie.
At least that's what Bobby Moore always
says to me, he says show 'em, that's what.
Yes. Danny, I can see the
other chaps are going out
for heading practice, are
you going to join them?
What, and ruin me backcombing,
don't be a twit!
Danny Gruntfuttock, the man.
But to the ordinary chap on the
terrace who has paid his half-crown
for 90 minutes toilet-rol throwing,
biting, swearing and kicking,
Gruntfuttock is little short of a god,
as we can see from some of these edited
highlights of a recent match of the day.
Well with twenty minutes of the
first half gone and still no score,
Gruntfuttock has got the ball.
And he's...
Oh, what a fantastic
ballplayer this boy is!
He's completely mesmerized
the opponent completely.
A fantastic achievement...
A clear goal has gone round a shot.
Fantastic!
He's scored!
And they're giving away a corner,
it's a corner and it's Gruntfuttock
that takes it.
Gruntfuttock with the corner...
That's it! To Crab, to Staybaker...
...to Westabridge as well...
Wonderful goal!
It's Gruntfuttock again,
he's waltzing, he's waltzing
round the players... And...
And he's down! He's down! Oh! Oh no!
Here come the men from the hospital...
it's a beeline, attention, attention...
What could it be, he's down.
Is it serious?
His mission is still there.
If he can just wait, the fullback
is coming to apologise...
And a typical gesture from Gruntfuttock...
His special is the tickle.
What's the decision?
It looks bad. Could it be...
He's taking nourishment, it could be a good
sign, it has been a good sign in the past.
He smiles.
I think of the treatment.
And the referee is coming to see
if he could help in any way.
All we can do is just pray.
Look, could it...? Could it...?
Yes! It's a miracle! He's alright!
What a boy! What courage!
He's released!
And I bet he's going to
take the penalty himself!
What a fantastic man!
Fantastic!
And it's Gruntfuttock again!
He beats one man,
he beats another man, and he's
there in front of the goal!
And he's ging to walk the ball in.
It's the famous Gruntfuttock walk.
And we're ready, we're alive!
It's a goal!
I don't know what to say, a hattrick!
A hattrick, that is Gruntfuttock's
49th hattrick this week,
and its still only Tuesday.
What a fantastic boy this is!
Well that film was
taken two weeks ago,
when Gruntfuttock was only
a 100,000 pound unknown.
Today, he's worth
a quarter of a million pounds.
Well, Danny, congratulations,
and we all look forward
to your first game with
United on Saturday.
No, I won't be actually
playing on Saturday.
Ah, they're saving you for
next Wednesday's cup tie?
No, the manager don't reckon
he ought to risk me in that either.
In fact he says he's not going
to let me play football at all.
But Danny, United have paid a
quarter of a million pounds for you.
If you're not going to play football,
why did they buy you?
Ah, well, it's an investment
for the future, isn't it?
He's putting me out to stud.
Mother's feeling fragile in the bathroom
Daddy's sleeping drunkenly upstairs
My eldest sister Anna
Has been sick in the piana
Because she ate a pound of
marzipan and six tinned pears
Six tinned pears.
Some fathead bought
the youngest child a trumpet
And now he's blowing
discords in my ear.
What I spent on my wife's presents
Could have bought Mornington Crescents
Christmas is a joyous time of year.
Plastic berries on the mistletoe
Come fill my cup with warmed-up beer
Christmas is a joyous, such a joyous
Christmas is a joyous time of year.
Elsie's started dancing on the table
Showing such a nasty pair of knees
My uncle Del from Leaf
Has just taken out his teeth.
And any minute now
He'll sing the dirty words to trees.
Dirty words to trees.
Granny's reading riddles
out of crackers
Which are just about
as funny as King Lear
I believe this festive season
will cause my to lose my reason.
Christmas is a joyous time of year.
Plastic berries on the mistletoe
Come fill my cup with warmed-up beer
Christmas is a joyous, such a joyous
Christmas is a joyous time of year.
On the first day of Christmas,
my family gave to me,
Twelve pairs of cufflinks,
eleven snowstorm paperweights,
ten pairs of underpants
with vintage cars on,
nine pairs, nine pairs,
with names of drinks on,
eight sets of hankies,
seven pairs of slippers,
six imitation hairbrushes
with leather bags,
and when you unzip them you find
a metal comb and a mirror
and a vicious looking instrument whose
function would appear to be doctoring cats.
Five knitted things.
Four sorted scarves, three
grotty ties, two potted plants.
And Don Partridges latest LP.
There's a 1930s picture on the telly
The other channel's
showing festive news.
Like rioting in Chelsea
and flooding down in Selsea
No wonder half the population's
drowned in booze.
Drowned in booze
As I sit amid the ruins of the parlour
Surrounded by this scene
of yule tide cheer.
Believe I'll remember
To drink lysol next November
Christmas is a joyous time of year.
Plastic berries on the mistletoe
Come fill my cup with warmed-up beer
Christmas is a joyous, such a joyous
Christmas is a joyous time of year.
Christmas is a joyous time of year.