Sing, Little, Buh-die?
Brian, let’s stop this pretending, shall we.
It’s a bazooka!
…or Lobster Thermidor au Crevette with a Mornay sauce served in a Provencale manner with shallots and aubergines garnished with truffle pate, brandy and with a fried egg on top and spam.
Shut up! Bloody Vikings!
No. I’m sick of it! I want to do something else. I want to make something of my life.
Well I’m afraid we’re having a little trouble getting this very exciting Icelandic saga started. If any of you at home have any ideas about how to get this exciting saga started again here’s the address to write to:
4th Voice Over: Help the Exciting Icelandic Saga, 18b MacNorten Buildings, Oban.
CAPTION: HELP THE EXCITING ICELANDIC SAGA
C/O MATCH OF THE DAY
BBC TIt
THE LARCHES
26 WESTBROOK AVENUE
FAVERSHAM
This is side two! If you want to hear the record from the beginning, please turn over! Do NOT play this side again if you want to hear side one. THIS IS SIDE TWO!
And now, the sound of John Denver being strangled.
I think she’s dead.
No I’m not!
:: crash, bang, kabam, pound, thrash ::
Here to play Tchaikovsky’s first piano concerto in B Flat Minor is the world-famous soloist Sviatoslav Richter. During the performance he will escape from a sack, three padlocks and a pair of handcuffs.
We go onto the next part of our program. The Sonatino in E sharp by Antonio Vivaldi played by Pablo Casals during his 400 foot plunge into a bucket of boiling fat.
Accidents happen, Colonel.
Don’t mind me, Spadge. Toffs is all the same. One minute it’s all ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, and the next, they’ll kick you in the teeth!
Watkins, are you a pacifist?
Oh, no sir, I’m not a pacifist. I’m a coward.
Trading was crisp at the start of the day with some brisk business on the floor. Rubber hardened and string remained confident. Little bits of tin consolidated although biscuits sank after an early gain and stools remained anonymous. Armpits rallied well after a poor start. Nipples rose dramatically during the morning but had declined by mid-afternoon, while teeth clenched and buttocks remained firm. Small dark furry things increased severely on the floor, whilst rude jellies wobbled up and down, and bounced against rising thighs which had spread to all parts of the country by mid-afternoon. After lunch naughty things dipped sharply forcing giblets upwards with the nicky nacky noo. Ting tang tong rankled dithely, little tipples pooped and poppy things went pong! Gibble gabble gobble went the rickety rackety roo and … (a bucketful of water descends on him)
Pope: Evening, Michelangelo. I want to talk to you about this painting of yours, The Last Supper. I’m not happy about it.
Michelangelo: Oh, dear. It took me hours.
Mmm. That’s what he used to say. ‘It’s all for the good of the country’ he used to say.