G’day, Bruce!
And Renee Descartes was a drunken fart - “I drink, therefore I am!”
Tonight on The Money Programme, we’re going to look at money. Lots of it. On film, and in the studio. Some of it in nice piles, others in lovely clanky bits of loose change, some of it neatly counted into fat little hundreds, delicate fivers stuffed into bulging wallets, nice crisp clean cheques, pert pieces of copper coinage thrust deep into trouser pockets, romantic foreign money rolling against the thigh with rough familiarity, beautiful wayward curlicued banknotes, filigree copperplating cheek by jowl with tumbling hexagonal milled edges, rubbing gently against the terse leather of beautifully balanced bank books…
Spam!
Oh, so you’re Italian, are you?
¡Cuidado, hay llamas!
Every sperm is sacred.
He’s pinin’ for the fjords.
Finland, Finland, Finland
The country where I want to be
Pony trekking or camping
Or just watching TV
Finland, Finland, Finland
It’s the country for me
It’s…
The larch.
We’ve been mentioned on telly!
It’s just gone 8 o’clock and time for the penguin on top of your television set to explode.
“How do you do?” - deep-voiced, purse-puking Dreary Fat Boring Old Git
“What’s all this, then?” (John Cleese as the sheriff in Silverado)
Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake baker’s man. Good morning, madam, I’m a psychiatrist.
A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse.
It’s not a question of where he grips it! It’s a simple question of weight ratios! A five ounce bird could not carry a one pound coconut.
Cheerful and violent.