Well, you’ve had the operation, you strange person.
I want you all to call me Loretta.
G’day, Bruce!
But now the men of the Derbyshire Light Infantry entertain us with a precision display of bad temper.
Ant!!
But first on the show we’ve got a man who speaks entirely in anagrams.
Hail Caesar. If it’s not done by sunrise, I’ll cut your balls off.
This is the first time at the Festival Hall that I have seen a
violinist of Gilbert’s calibre poked with a stick.
Dear Sir, I am writing to complain about that sketch about people failing out of a high building. I have worked all my life in such a building and have never once aaaaaaaaaa!
He must have died while carving it.
It is the rabbit!
Skip a bit, brother.
And what are your ladies going to do for us this year?
The Holy Hand Grenade
Shall I “thwow him to the fwoh,” sir?
I’d like the blow on the head.
No, Brian.
Looks like a penguin.
This little-known Icelandic saga, written by an unknown hand in the late thirteenth century, has remained undiscovered until today. Now it comes to your screens for the first time. Fresh from the leaves of Iceland’s history. The terrible ‘Njorl’s Saga’.
No realli!