No. 1. The Larch.
After five years they give me a brush. [coughs] I’m sorry squire, I’ve gobbed on your carpet.
He has given us food!
I like what he likes.
We eat ham and jam and spamalot!
The Salmon Mousse!
A møøse once bit my sister.
I must say this is amazing - this is the first time in Festival Hall that I’ve seen a violinist of Gilbert’s calibre poked with a stick.
Hello. 'Ow are you? I’m fine. Welcome to a new half-hour chat show in which me, viz the man what’s talking to you now, and Brooky - to wit, my flatmate - and nothing else, I’d like to emphasize that - discuss current affairs issues of burning import.
I’m afraid it’s my unpleasant duty to inform you that you’re fired.
Have you heard the one about the three nuns in the nudist colony?
‘Sing Little Birdie’?
How do you know you’re an idiot?
I’d like to put a tax on all people who stand in water… Gor!
Shut up. Come the year 1991, given the present rate of increase in the world’s population, the Chinese will be three deep.
That’s a very silly line. Sit down.
Albatross!
Ha-ha, very good, very good! Well, the audience here certainly enjoyed that, uh, visual joke. I only hope the soundtrack does justice to it, because it certainly was, ha, a most outstanding joke.
[Giant foot comes down, crushes man.]
That doesn’t make any difference to the viewer at home, does it? Come on, get out. Out. Come on out, all of you. Get off, go on, all of you. Go on, move, move. Go on, get out. Come on, get out, move, move.