I like Black Rod.
and it’s
PRODUCED BY
IRVING C. SALTZBERG JNR.
AN IRVING C. SALTZBERG PRODUCTIONS LTD.
AND SALTZBERG ARTFILMS, OIL, REAL ESTATE,
BANKING AND PROSTITUTION INC.
CO-PRODUCTION
FROM AN ORIGINAL IDEA BY
IRVING C. SALTZBERG JNR.
What’s his problem?
His wife left him for a horse.
You must be joking!
That’s what he said. But then the horse won the Grand National, and there was talk of a wedding.
But that’s impossible!
That’s what he said.
So what happened then?
The horse met a filly at Newmarket, and the wedding was off.
I still don’t believe it!
That’s what he said.
So what’s he upset about?
His wife came back to him, but insisted on keeping a saddle in the bedroom
I wouldn’t stand for that.
That’s what he said.
And …?
He left her for a greyhound.
What the …?
That’s what she said.
It’s quite staggeringly popular in the manor, squire.
He hasn’t got shit all over him.
Oh, you’re no fun any more.
Do you want to come upstairs?
It was a day like any other, and Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Brainsample were a perfectly ordinary couple, leading perfectly ordinary lives: the sort of people to whom nothing extraordinary ever happened, and not the kind of people to be the center of one of the most astounding incidents in the history of mankind. So let’s forget about them and follow instead the destiny of this man: Harold Potter, gardener and tax official, first victim of creatures from another planet.
Understand?
Yes, sir!
Now, write that a hundred times.
Yes, sir! Thank you, sir! Hail Caesar, sir!
Hail Caesar. If it’s not done by sunrise, I’ll cut your balls off.
Oh, thank you, sir! Thank you, sir! Hail Caesar and everything, sir!
Oh go get a glass of water.
How do you like my new poem: I wandered lonely as a cloud?
Oh, I’ve heard that before … somewhere.
Of course you have. I’m a plagiarist.
What’s a plagiarist?
Well, that depends.
On what?
On whether you’re a velocipede or an enchantress.
What’s the difference?
Well, the answer to that is contained in my latest deluxe volume of plagiarised poems.
How much is it?
Two hundred and fifty dollars.
It’s quite expensive.
Not for a first edition.
Will you accept cash? I don’t have a bankcard.
Oh, absolutely.
This is a frightened city. Over these houses, over these streets hangs a pall of fear. Fear of a new kind of violence which is terrorizing the city. Yes, gangs of old ladies attacking defenseless, fit young men.
Come in, my little loves. I’ve got no option but to sell you all for scientific experiments.
It’s only a model.
(Sssh)
It’s…
Well men, we’ve got a pretty difficult cat to confuse today so let’s get straight on with it. Jolly good. Thank you sergeant.
He said I was his dearest love;
he promised me a ring.
But now he’s gone - a thief who stole
my heart and everything.
What a sad little tale.
Yes, but he gets his just deserts in the end.
Oh? What happens?
What’s the worst thing you can think of?
His tongue is cut out.
Worse than that.
He’s blinded - like Samson.
Worse than that.
He’s castrated.
Worse than that.
Oh, this sounds like a lot of bullshit!
Now you’re on the right track.
You don’t mean …?
Well, if you’re thinking what I’m thinking, I probably do.
Oh, that’s …!
Quite.
Hello, Mrs. Teal, lovely to have you on the show. Now Mrs. Teal, if you’re looking in tonight, this is for 15 pounds: and is to stop us from revealing the name of your LOVER IN BOLTON. So, Mrs. Teal, send us 15 pounds, by return of post please, and your husband Trevor, and your lovely children Diane, Janice, and Juliet, need never know the name…of your lover in Bolton!
I haven’t had enough of the permissive society.
Bit lumpy…Ah no wonder - I was sitting on the cat.
(fave alltime sketch, btw)