There’s a whole horde of them marauding Visigoths to see y’all.
It’s…
‘The BBC WOULD LIKE TO APOLOGIZE FOR THE NEXT ANNOUNCEMENT’.
I’m a goner, major. Leave me, I’m … I’m not a complete man anymore.
Eric, the half-a-bee.
Jimmy, at least one ageing football commentator was gladdened last night by the sight of an English footballer breaking free of the limpid tentacles of packed Mediterranean defence.
And there’s, there’s Simon now in the sports car, he’s reversed into the old woman, he’s caught her absolutely beautifully.
Well, I’m not having Harvey Smith jumping over my binette.
Do you want to come upstairs?
Three cheers for the defendant. Hip. Hip. Hooray!
We’re done for, we’re done for!
Well, here we try to help people who have to link sketches together. We try to stop them saying ‘Have you ever wondered what it would be like if’ and instead say something like um… er… ‘And now the mountaineering sketch’.
Are you suggesting coconuts migrate?
Bye-bye, Gordon. Bye-bye. Oh, dear. Bye-bye!
Don’t call me señor! I’m not a Spanish person. You must call me Mr Biggles, or Group Captain Biggles, or Mary Biggles if I’m dressed as my wife, but never señor.
That’s right. I’m Mrs G. Pinnet.
What’s that on the telly?
Go on, Bors. Chop his head off!
I just spent four hours burying the cat.
It wouldn’t keep still, wriggling about howling its head off.