Ooh, that was lucky. I never even heard of him.
Well, we’ve just heard that Picasso is approaching the Tolworth roundabout on the A3 so come in Sam Trench at Tolworth.
Uh-oh! Here’s the PM coming back for more.
Well, it certainly looks as though we’re in for a splendid afternoon’s sport in this, the 127th Upperclass Twit of the Year Show.
Wait a minute, there’s something going on here.
Now these mice are so arranged upon this rack, that when played in the correct order they will squeak ‘The Bells of St Mary’s’. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you on the mouse organ ‘The Bells of St Mary’s’.
Vivian Smith-Smythe-Smith has an O-level in chemo-hygiene. Simon-Zinc-Trumpet-Harris, married to a very attractive table lamp. Nigel Incubator-Jones, his best friend is a tree, and in his spare time he’s a stockbroker. Gervaise Brook-Hampster is in the Guards, and his father uses him as a wastepaper basket. And finally Oliver St. John-Mollusc, Harrow and the Guards, thought by many to be this year’s outstanding twit. Now they’re moving up to the starting line, there’s a jolly good crowd here today. Now they’re under starter’s orders… and they’re off!
…Monty Python’s Flying Circus!
It’s…
There is only me, sir.
(“Upperclass Twit of the Year” is by far my favorite Python sketch.)
And Nigel has run himself over! What a great twit!)
We wish to praise the infant.
Bicycle Repair Man! But… how?
You are all individuals!
It’s a fair cop.
I get so bored. I get so bloody bored.
Oh, most magnificent and merciful majesty, master of the universe, protector of the meek, whose nose we are not worthy to pick and whose very feces are an untrammelled delight, and whose peacocks keep us awake all hours of the night with their noisy lovemaking, we beseech thee, tell thy humble servants the name of the section between the triglyphs in the frieze section of a classical Doric entablature.
Michael, do you think you know what a larch tree looks like?
I want to have Raquel Welch dropped on top of me.
Well I’m very sorry but you didn’t pay.