Well, you have to know these things when you’re a king, you know.
You Americans are all the same. You’ve got no balls!
The dark-hued mantis kneels in prayer
inside the doorway of his lair,
and grabs those unsuspecting creatures
who don’t discern his deadly features.
He bites their heads off with a crunch,
and smartly works his way through lunch.
Then, with his innards feeling fine,
he takes a nap till dinner time.
The wife of the mantis is slender and fair;
he loves her soft eyes and her shimmering hair.
But just when he thinks his life is bliss,
she bites his head off as they kiss.
Oh, you’ll probably get away with crucifixion.
Hello, uhh…can we have your liver?
Are you rolling your own jelly babies in there?
Oooo, I’ve had a bitch of a morning, luv!
Yes, what do you want?
I’m from the war department, and I’ve come to investigate the goings-on in your upper storey.
Goings-on? There’s a lot more coming off than going on up there.
Is that so? Well, I’d better pop up and take a look.
I wouldn’t if I were you.
And why not?
Because the minister for defence, a general, an admiral and a bevy of secretaries are investigating the latest navel problem.
I haven’t heard of any naval problems.
Well, so far as I can tell, it has something to do with the excess displacement of salt attributed to the latest consignment of celery from government stores.
Really? Oh, well, I’d better leave them to it.
I would if I were you.
I’ve noticed a tendency for this program to get rather silly. Now, I do my best to keep things moving along, but I’m not having things getting silly. Those last two sketches I did got very silly indeed. And that last one about the beds was even sillier. Now, nobody likes a good laugh more than I do, except perhaps my wife and some of her friends. Oh yes, and Captain Johnson. Come to think of it, most people like a good laugh more than I do, but that’s beside the point.
We do Dial M for Murder. Chief Running Elk - him kill buffalo with bare hands, run thousand paces when the sun is high - him play Chief Inspector Hardy. Heap good fine actor.
Quiet, quiet. Quiet! …There are ways of telling whether she is a witch.
Good Lord! The Crimson Permanent Assurance!
Nurse, does it speak English?
Oh, yes, Doctor. It’s multilingual.
Well tell it to speak English.
Doctor, I have a problem.
Yes, yes. What’s the matter with you?
I’ve got a lump on my head.
How did you get that?
I don’t know …
Well, I don’t know either, so unless you can come up with a better explanation than that, I can’t help you.
But Doctor …
Nurse, get this orang-utan out of my surgery!
Oh, poor thing! Isn’t that a bit harsh, doctor?
Harsh, nurse? Look, it’s my surgery and I’ll be harsh if I want to.
Harsh if you want to?
Harsh if I want to.
The Queen’s a good Sheila and not at all stuck up.
Good morning. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, but I’m afraid my walk has become rather sillier recently, and so it takes me rather longer to get to work.
What a terrible way to end a series. Why couldn’t it end with something like this? (a short piece of confusing animation later) Now there’s an ending for you. Romance. Laughter.
This is the BBC.
Don’t you talk to me like that, you lying bastard.
Oh, junior member Fred.
Yes, senior member Jim?
What were you about in the shrubbery last evening?
Counting the shrubs, senior Jim.
Very commendable, junior Fred. Were you alone?
No, senior Jim, an intern from the ladies’ seminary was assisting me.
Good at counting, was she, junior Fred?
Oh, indeed, senior Jim. The young lady holds a degree in abstruse mathematics, with a major in numerology.
Excellent, junior Fred. Just one thing, though.
Yes, senior Jim?
Could you undertake any future shrubbery accounting with somewhat fewer groans, cries, shouts, and other exuberant manifestations of satisfaction?
Of course, senior Jim.
Oh, and it’s not safe to smoke in the shrubbery at this time of year.
No, indeed, senior Jim.
It’s…Bicycle Repair Man!