It’s a man’s life in the British Dental Association.
From Harold. He’s that sheep there over under the elm. He’s that most dangerous of animals, a clever sheep. He’s the ring-leader. He has realized that a sheep’s life consists of standing around for a few months and then being eaten. And that’s a depressing prospect for an ambitious sheep. He’s patently hit on the idea of escape.
Who’d a’ thought 40 years ago we’d be sitting here drinking chateau du chasseur?
But now over to the exploding version of the ‘Blue Danube’.
And they’re eating the blancmange … Yes! The blancmange is leaving the court… it’s abandoning the game! This is fantastic!
But soon this quiet pattern of life was to change irrevocably. The commonplace routine of a typical Monday morning would never be the same again, for into this quiet little community came… Mr. Neutron!
Well, he’s having a lot of mental difficulties with his breakfasts, but this is temperament, caused by a small particle of brain in his skull, and once we’ve removed that he’ll be perfectly all right.
Blessed are the cheesemakers!
August 18th.
Fell off near Bovey Tracey. The pump
caught in my trouser leg, and my sandwiches were badly crushed.
But there’s no S in “Burt Bacharach.”
Who is it … is that you, Charlie?
Oh! Now we see the violence inherent in the system! Help, help, I’m being repressed!
Stand by to fire Mrs Nesbitt.
At 8.30 the real training begins. (General shot of room. Ken asleep in bed) Ken goes back to bed and his trainer gets him up. (The door bursts open but we don’t stay to see what happens. We cut immediately to outside of the house. His trainer pushes Ken out. Trainer goes back into the house (obviously to Ken’s wife). Cut to Ken jogging through town. Hand held. Ken finds his way blocked by a parked car. He stops and looks very puzzled, then instead of going round it turns and runs back the way he has come.) At 10.30 every morning, Ken arrives at what he thinks is the gym. Sometimes it’s a sweetshop, sometimes it’s a private house. Today it’s a hospital.
It’s just a flesh wound!
Look, you seem to be bleeding rather badly. I think you’d better hurry up and fill in that form.
And now I must come to the jury. What can I say. I’ve dragged you in here, day after day, keeping you away from your homes, your jobs, your loved ones, just to hear the private details of my petty atrocities.
I waggled me wig!
It’s…
But by December their joke was ready, and Hitler gave the order for the German V-Joke to be broadcast in English.