Episode 13:Grandstand

Episode 13

Thames TV Introduction

(Begin with Thames Television logo and fanfare. Cut to David Hamilton in their presentation studios.)

David Hamilton (David Hamilton): Good evening. We've got an action-packed evening for you tonight on Thames, but right now here's a rotten old BBC programme.

(Cut to the Nude Man at the organ.)

Announcer (John): (in a field of daffodils) And now ...

It's Man (Michael) : It's ...

(Opening Credits)

The ‘Light Entertainment Awards’

(Cut to a photo of Picadilly Circus.)

CAPTION:

The

British

Show Biz

Awards

CAPTION:

Presented by

Her Royal Highness

The Dummy

Princess Margaret

(We mix through to the dummy Princess Margaret at a desk, as for awards ceremony. At the desk also, on either side of her, two men in dinner jackets and a pantomime goose. Bill Cotton is nowhere to be seen. High up above them, there is a screen. Enter Dickie Attenborough.)

Dickie (Eric Idle): Ladies and gentlemen, Mr Chairman, friends of the society, your dummy Royal Highness. (she gives a dummy wave) Once again, the year has come full circle, and for me there can be no greater privilege, and honor, than to that to which it is my lot to have befallen this evening. There can be no finer honor than to welcome into our midst tonight a guest who has not only done only more than not anyone for our Society, but nonetheless has only done more. He started in the film industry in 1924, he started again in 1946, and finally in 1963. He has been dead for four years, but he has not let that prevent him from coming here this evening. (he gets out an onion and holds it to his eyes; tears pour out) Ladies and gentlemen, no welcome could be more heartfelt than that which I have no doubt you will all want to join with me in giving this great showbiz stiff. Ladies and gentlemen, to read the nominations for the Light Entertainment Award, the remains of the late Sir Alan Waddle.

(There is awful continuity music. Terrific applause. Attenborough weeps profusely. A man in a brown coat comes in pushing a white five-foot plinth. Behind him comes another man carrying a bronze funeral urn. It has a black tie on. Cut to stock film of the audience standing in rapturous applause. The urn is put on top of the plinth and a microphone placed in front of it. Slight pause. Cut to Dickie weeping profusely. The urn clears its throat.)

The Urn: (Michael Palin in a very silly voice) The nominations are Mr Edward Heath, for the new suit sketch, (zoom quickly in to film on the screen of the lady of Brussels throwing ink all over Mr Heath; cut back to the hall for applause) Mr Richard Baker for Lemon Curry.

(Cut to Richard Baker.)

Richard Baker (Richard Baker): Lemon curry?

(Cut back to urn.)

The Urn: And the Third Parachute Brigade Amateur Dramatic Society for the Oscar Wilde skit.

The Oscar Wilde Sketch

(Zoom in to overlay showing some stock film of hansom cabs galloping past. Suitably classy music starts.)

CAPTION: LONDON 1895

CAPTION:

THE RESIDENCE OF

MR. OSCAR WILDE

(Mix through to Wilde's drawing room. A crowd of suitably dressed folk are engaged in typically brilliant conversation, laughing affectedly and drinking champagne.)

Prince: (Terry Jones) My congratulations, Wilde. Your latest play is a great success. The whole of London's talking about you.

Oscar: (Graham Chapman) There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.

(There follows fifteen seconds of restrained and sycophantic laughter.)

Prince: Very very witty ... very very witty.

Whistler: (John Cleese) There is only one thing in the world worse than being witty, and that is not being witty.

(Fifteeen more seconds of the same.)

Oscar: I wish I had said that.

Whistler: You will, Oscar, you will. (more laughter)

Oscar: Your Majesty, have you met James McNeill Whistler?

Prince: Yes, we've played squash together.

Oscar: There is only one thing worse than playing squash together, and that is playing it by yourself. (silence) I wish I hadn't said that.

Whistler: You did, Oscar, you did. (a little laughter)

Prince: You really must forgive me, Wilde, I've got to get back up the Palace.

Oscar: Your Majesty is like a big jam doughnut with cream on the top.

Prince: I beg your pardon?

Oscar: Um ... It was one of Whistler's.

Whistler: I never said that.

Oscar: You did, James, you did.

(The Prince of Wales stares expectantly at Whistler.)

Whistler: ... Well, Your Highness, what I meant was that, like a doughnut, um, your arrival gives us pleasure and your departure only makes us hungry for more. (laughter) Your Highness, you are also like a stream of bat's piss.

Prince: What?

Whistler: It was one of Wilde's. One of Wilde's.

Oscar: It sodding was not! It was Shaw!

Shaw: (Michael Palin) I ... I merely meant, Your Majesty, that you shine out like a shaft of gold when all around is dark.

Prince: (accepting the compliment) Oh.

Oscar: (to Whistler) Right. Right? (to Prince) Your Majesty is like a dose of clap.

Whistler: Before you arrive -- before you arrive is pleasure, and after is a pain in the dong.

Prince: What?

Oscar and Whistler: One of Shaw's, one of Shaw's.

Shaw: You bastards. Um ... what I meant, Your Majesty, what I meant ...

Oscar: We've got him, Jim.

Whistler: Come on, Shaw-y.

Oscar: Come on, Shaw-y.

Shaw: I merely meant ...

Oscar: Come on, Shaw-y.

Whistler: Let's have a bit of wit, then, man.

Oscar: Come on, Shaw-y.

(Shaw blows a raspberry)

(The Prince shakes Shaw's hand. Laughter all round.)

Charwoman

(A society function; general sound of polite conversation.)

Lady: Very amusing, Lord Kimble, but would you excuse me a moment? I want to powder my nose. (She walks away and into the rest room)

(Grossly exaggerated lavatorial noises)

Lady: (emerging from rest room) Ah, that's better!

(Back to the other people at the do. Suddenly Charwoman swings in on a rope, Tarzan-like, and grabs one of the gentlemen. She is massively built and naked except for pink stockings and knickers.)

Gentleman: It's Charwoman! (3D comic-book style title says: CHARWOMAN. Cut to Charwoman swinging back and forth on her rope between two lines of buildings.)

Voice Over (Terry Gilliam): Yes, Charwoman! Sweeping away the last remnants of male chauvanism, polishing off all who dare stand in her way, and cleaning up all in the publishing game. Yes, all these and more as once again Charwoman takes to the skies. (Charwoman faces the camera, beating her chest with alternate fists like King Kong. Then she hits both breasts at the same time and they explode.)

David Niven’s Fridge

(Back to Dickie Attenborough at the awards ceremony. He now has bunches of onions slung around his neck.)

Dickie (Eric Idle): Ladies and gentlemen, seldom can it have been a greater pleasure and privilege than it is for me now to announce that the next award gave me the great pleasure and privilege of asking a man without whose ceaseless energy and tireless skill the British Film Industry would be today. I refer of course to my friend and colleague, Mr David Niven. (vast applause. Dickie applies tears to his face from a dropper) Sadly, David Niven cannot be with us tonight, but he has sent his fridge. (applause; 'Around the World in Eighty Days' music; the fridge is pushed down by the men in brown coats, and a microphone is positioned in front of it. The fridge also has a black tie on.) This is the fridge in which David keeps most of his milk, butter and eggs. What a typically selfless gesture, that he should send this fridge, of all of his fridges, to be with us tonight.

Fridge: (Michael Palin in the same silly voice as the urn) The nominations for the Best Foreign Film Director are: Monsieur Richard Attenborough, Ricardo de Attenbergie, Rik Artenburg, Ri Char Dat En Bollo, and Pier Paolo Pasolini.

Dickie: Before we hear the joint winner, let's see the one that came sixth. Let us see Pier Paolo Pasolini's latest film.

Pasolini’s ‘The Third Test Match’

(Close up of grass on cricket pitch. In the background we hear birdsong. A cricket ball rolls into shot and a hand reaches down and picks it up. Shot of one end of cricket pitch; batsman, umpire, bowler and a fielder in the foreground.)

(CAPTION: Pasolini's The Third Test Match)

(Close up on the bowler as he turns to look at his field. Cut to a skeleton on the boundary in tattered remains of cricket gear. Sounds of mocking laughter. Cut to the bowler in close up turning into the direction of the laughter. Shot of the batsman at his crease, but behind him the wicket keeper and first slip are monks in brown cowls. They are laughing at him.)

(Cut back to the bowler's horrified eyes, then back to the cricketers/monks, then to his eyes again. Cut to same shot of the batsman only now the wicket keeper and first slip are cricketers again.)

(Cut back to the bowler, who starts to rub the ball on his trousers. Music comes in. Close up bowler's face starting to sweat. Close up ball rubbing on trousers. Close up face sweating.)

(Cut to a girl spectator who smiles and moves her shoulders invitingly. Cut back to ball rubbing. Cut to his sweating face. Cut to girl; cut to face; cut to trousers; cut to girl; cut to trousers; cut to girl licking her lips.)

(Cut back to bowler as he starts his run in slow motion. Cut to batsman who is naked except for footwear, pads and cap. Close up of bowler running. He runs over a couple making love in the nude. Mounting music. Cut back to the bowler, as he releases ball.)

(Cut to the ball smashing into stumps, shot from three different angles. The music crescendos as the the bowler turns, and appeals to the umpire. Silence. Three quick, successively closer shots of the umpire.)

(The umpire turns into a cardinal who produces a cross and holds it up like a dismissal sign, laughing mockingly.)

(Cut to a vociferous group of cricketers in a TV studio. They are all in pads and white flannels. Above them is a sign saying `BACKCHAT'. They are on staggered rostra as in `Talk-back'. Facing them is Pier Paolo Pasolini.)

First Cricketer (Graham Chapman): Aye, I mean there's lots of people making love, but there's no mention of Geoff Boycott's average.

Pasolini (John Cleese): (Italian accent) Who is-a Geoff Boycott?

(CAPTION: Pier Paolo Pasolini)

Second Cricketer (Michael Palin): And in t'film, we get Fred Titmus...

Pasolini: Si, Titmus, si, si ...

(CAPTION: Yorkshire)

Second Cricketer: ... the symbol of man's regeneration through radical Marxism ... fair enough ... but, but we never once get a chance to see him turn his off-breaks on that Brisbane sticky.

Third Cricketer (Eric Idle): Aye, and what were all that dancing through Ray Illingworth's innings? Forty-seven not out and the bird comes up and feeds him some grapes!

(General cricketorial condemnation. We pull back to show that it is on a television set in an ordinary sitting room.)

New Brain From Curry’s

(Two pepperpots are watching the television. They are both called Mrs Zambesi.)

First Zambesi (Graham): What's on the other side?

(The second Mrs Zambesi gets up and switches channels.)

Dickie Attenborough (Eric): (unseen, on the television) Nobody could be prouder than...

Second Zambesi (Terry Jones): Ugh! (she switches the set off)

First Zambesi: Um, shall we go down and give blood?

Second Zambesi: Oh, I don't want a great bat flapping round my neck.

First Zambesi: They don't do it like that! They take it from your arm!

Second Zambesi: I can't give it. I caught swamp fever in the Tropics.

First Zambesi: You've never even been to the Tropics. You've never been south of Sidcup.

Second Zambesi: You can catch it off lampposts.

First Zambesi: Catch what?

Second Zambesi: I don't know, I'm all confused.

First Zambesi: You ought to go and see a psychiatrist. You're a loony. You might even need a new brain.

Second Zambesi: Oh, I couldn't afford a whole new brain.

First Zambesi: Well, you could get one of those Curry's brains.

Second Zambesi: How much are they?

First Zambesi: (picking up a catalogue) I don't know. I'll have a look in the catalogue. Here we are. (she thumbs through it) Battery lights, dynamo lights, rear lights, brains -- here we are...

Second Zambesi: I'm still confused.

First Zambesi: Oh, there's a nice one here, thirteen-and-six, it's one of Curry's own brains.

CAPTION: Old sketch written before decimalisation

Second Zambesi: That one looks nice, what's that?

First Zambesi: That's a mudguard!

Second Zambesi: It's only eight bob.

First Zambesi: Aw, I think it's worth the extra five bob for the brain. I'll give them a ring. (she goes to the phone and dials one number) Hello, Curry's? I'd like to try one of your thirteen-and-sixpenny brains please. Yes... yes... yes, ye... um... (looks at her shoe) five-and-a-half... yes... thank you. (replaces phone) They're sending someone round. (there is a knock at the door)

Second Zambesi: Oh, that was quick. Come in.

(A man puts his head round the door. He is wearing a hat with a label attached, and speaks in a nasal voice.)

Man (John Cleese): Er, hello Mr and Mrs and Mrs Zambesi?

First Zambesi: Yes, that's right. Are you the man from Curry's?

Man: No, I've just come to say that he's on his way. Would you sign this please.

(He hands a bare leg severed from the knee downwards round the door.)

First Zambesi: Oh, certainly. (she goes across to the man)

Man: Thank you very much.

First Zambesi: (she takes the pen from him but drops it) Ooh! (she picks it up and signs the leg)

Man: Thank you. Sorry to bother you.

First Zambesi: Thank you.

Man: Thank you.

First Zambesi: Thank you.

(The man goes. A knock at the door and he reappears.)

Man: Um, he's just coming now.

First Zambesi: Thank you.

(Another knock at the door)

Second Zambesi: Come in!

Man: Here he is.

(The door opens and a dummy salesman is flung in, carrying a briefcase. He flops down on to the floor. The door shuts. The two pepperpots lean over and look at him for some time.)

First Zambesi: Hello ... hello ...

Second Zambesi: (picking up the dummy) That's not a proper salesman. (she throws it down) I'm not buying one from him, he doesn't give you confidence.

First Zambesi: He doesn't give me any confidence at all -- he's obviously a dummy. I'll ring Curry's. (she just picks up the phone without dialing this time) Hello, Curry's -- that salesman you sent round is obviously a dummy... Oh, thank you very much. (she puts the phone down) They're sending round a real one. (a knock on the door)

Second Zambesi: Come in.

Salesman (Michael Palin): Good morning -- Mr and Mrs and Mrs Zambesi?

Second Zambesi: Yes, that's right.

First Zambesi: Yes, that's right ... (out of the side of the mouth in a man's voice) Yes that's right.

Salesman: (to dummy) All right, Rutherford, I'll take over.

(He opens a box and produces a device about the size of a small teapot with various gadgets and wires on it.)

Second Zambesi: Oh, that's nice.

Salesman: Yes, we sell a lot of these. Right, shall we try a fitting?

Second Zambesi: Oh, do I have to have an operation?

(He starts to put it on her head.)

Salesman: No, madam, you just strap it on.

Second Zambesi: Doesn't it go inside my head?

Salesman: Not the Roadster, madam, no. You're thinking of the Brainette Major.

Second Zambesi: How much is that?

Salesman: Forty-four-and-six.

(CAPTION: 44/6d = £2.22½p)

Second Zambesi: Oh no, it's not worth it.

Salesman: Not with the Curry's surgery we use, no, madam. (he gets out some tools) Now then. The best bet is the Bertrand Russell Super Silver. That's a real beauty -- 250 quid plus hospital treatment.

First Zambesi: Oooh, that's a lot.

Salesman: It's colour. Right. (he begins to twiddle a few knobs; lights flash on occasionally as he does this) One, two, three, testing, testing.

Second Zambesi: Mince pie for me, please.

First Zambesi: What did she say that for?

Salesman: Quiet please. It's not adjusted yet. (he makes more adjustments)

Second Zambesi: Oh, I am enjoying this rickshaw ride. I've been a Tory all my life, my life, my life. Good morning Mr Presley. How well you look, you look very well ... our cruising speed is 610 miles per hour ... well well well porridge ... well well well, well, hello hello dear ... hello dear!

Salesman: Right, one, two, three ... (the salesman adjusts a switch)

Second Zambesi: ... eight, seven, (he adjusts another switch) four.

First Zambesi: Oh, she never knew that before.

Salesman: Quiet please. Mrs Zambesi, who wrote the theory of relativity?

First Zambesi: I know! I know.

Salesman: Quiet, please! (he adjusts a tuning control)

Second Zambesi: Einstane ... Einstone ... Einsteen ... Einston ... Einstin ... Einsten ... Einstein.

Salesman: Good.

Second Zambesi: Noël Einstein.

Salesman: Right. That'll be 13/6d please.

First Zambesi: (paying him with invisible money) That's marvelous.

Salesman: She can take it off at night, unless she wants to read, of course. And don't ask her too many questions because it will get hot. If you do have any trouble here is my card. (he reaches in his case and hands her the dismembered part of an arm) Give us a ring -- give us a ring, and either myself, or Mr Rutherford, (he picks up the dummy) Good Bye.

The Blood Donor

Samson: (John Cleese) Blood donors that way, please.

Donor: Oh, thank you very much.

Samson: Thank you.

Grimshaw: (Eric Idle) (whispering)

Samson: What?

Grimshaw: (whispering)

Samson: No, no. I'm sorry, but 'no'.

Grimshaw: (whispering)

Samson: No, you may not give urine instead of blood.

Grimshaw: (whispering)

Samson: No. Well, I don't care if you want to.

Grimshaw: (whispering)

Samson: No. There is no such thing as a urine bank.

Grimshaw: Please.

Samson: No. We have no call for it. We've quite enough of it without volunteers coming in here donating it.

Grimshaw: Just a specimen?

Samson: No. We don't want a specimen. We either want your blood or nothing.

Grimshaw: I'll give you some blood if you'll give me...

Samson: What?

Grimshaw: ...a thing to do some urine in.

Samson: No, no. Just go away, please.

Grimshaw: Anyway, I don't want to give you any blood.

Samson: Fine. Well, you don't have to, you see. Just go away.

Grimshaw: Can I give you some spit?

Samson: No.

Grimshaw: Sweat?

Samson: No.

Grimshaw: Ear wax?

Samson: No. Look, this is a blood bank. All we want is blood.

Grimshaw: All right. I'll give you some blood.

Samson: Where did you get that?

Grimshaw: Today. It's today's.

Samson: What group is it?

Grimshaw: What groups are there?

Samson: There's 'A',--

Grimshaw: It's 'A'.

Samson: (sniff) Wait a moment. It's mine. This blood is mine! What are you doing with it?

Grimshaw: I found it.

Samson: You found it?! You stole it out of my body, didn't you?

Grimshaw: No.

Samson: No wonder I'm feeling off-colour. (drinks from bottle) Give that back!

Grimshaw: It's mine.

Samson: It's not yours. You stole it.

Grimshaw: Never.

Samson: Give it back to me.

Grimshaw: All right, but only if I can give urine.

Samson: Get in the queue...

International Wife-Swapping

(Cut to John Rickman type person with hat which he raises. There are white rails behind him which might be a racecourse.)

Rickman (Michael): Good afternoon and welcome to Wife-Swapping from Redcar. And the big news this afternoon is that the British boy Boris Rogers has succeeded in swapping his nine-stone Welsh-born wife for a Ford Popular and a complete set of Dickens. Well now, I can see they're ready at the start and so let's go over now for the start of the 3.30.

(Cut to high shot of a street with about 10 houses on each side.)

Rickman: And first let's catch up with the latest news of the betting.

CAPTION:

No. 12 Betty Parkinson 7/4 on fav

No. 27 Mrs E. Colyer 9/4

No. 14 Mrs Casey 4/1

5/1 bar

Voice Over (Eric Idle): Number 12 Betty Parkinson 7 to 4 on favourite, number 27 Mrs Colyer 9 to 4, 5 to 1 bar those.

Rickman: And here's the starter Mrs Alec Marsh, (she climbs onto a rostrum and fires a gun) and they're off.

(One of the doors opens and a lady rushes across the street into another house. Other doors start opening up and down the street, with ladies criss-crossing out of each other's houses. About twenty seconds of this high activity.)

Rickman: And Mrs Rogers is the first to show, there she goes into Mr Johnson's, and Mrs Johnson across to Mr Colyer, followed closely by Mrs Casey on the inside. Mrs Parkinson, number 12, going well there into Mr Webster's from the Co-op, Mrs Colyer's making ground fast after a poor start, she's out of Mr Casey's into Mr Parkinson's, she's a couple of lengths ahead of Mrs Johnson who's still not out of Mr Casey's. Mrs Penguin and at number 8 Mrs Colyer -- these two now at the head of the field from Mrs Brown, Mrs Atkins, Mrs Parkinson, Mrs Warner and Mrs Rudd -- all still at Mr Philips's. Mrs Penguin making the running now, challenged strongly by Mrs Casey, Mrs Casey coming very fast on the inside, it's going to be Mrs Casey coming from behind. Now she's making a break on the outside, Mrs Penguin running ... and at the line, it's Mrs Casey who's got it by a short head from Mrs Penguin in second place, Mrs Parkinson in third, Mrs Rudd, Mrs Colyer, Mrs Warner and there's Mrs Griffiths who's remained unswapped.

(One lady is left in the middle of the road. Cut back to Rickman at the course railing.)

Rickman: Well, a very exciting race there, and I have with me now the man who owned and trained the winner, Mrs Casey -- Mr Casey. Well done, Jack.

Mr Casey (Terry Jones): Thank you, John.

Rickman: Well, were you at all surprised about this, Jack?

Mr Casey: No, not really, no she's been going very well in training, and at Doncaster last week, and I fancy her very strongly for the Cheltenham weekend.

Rickman: Well, thank you very much indeed, Jack. We must leave you now because it's time for the team event.

(Peter West type figure in a white dinner jacket standing with five ladies in ball gowns and two gentlemen.)

CAPTION: Come Wife-Swapping -- North West v the South East

Peter (Eric Idle): Hello, and a very warm welcome from the Tower ballroom suite at Reading, where there's very little in it, they're neck and neck, crop and grummit, real rack and saddle, brick and bucket, horse and tooth, cap and thigh, arse over tip, they're absolutely birds of a feather, there's not a new pin in it, you couldn't get a melon between them. Well, now, everything rests on the formation event and here comes the North West with the Mambo. Maestro, take it away, please.

(Cut to two lines of ballroom dancers, ladies opposite gentlemen, sixteen altogether. The ladies are in nasty tulle, the gents in tails, with numbers on their backs. Mambo music starts its intro. At the back of the hall a large banner says 'Mecca Wife-Swapping'. The men bow and the ladies curtsey; each pair joins hands and they wait for a few bars. Then the two teams start grabbing each other and wrestling on the ground. A vast orgy breaks out as they roll all over the floor. Cut quickly to Frank Bough in the 'Grandstand' studio.)

Frank Bough (Michael Palin): And now it's time for Rugby League, and highlights of this afternoon's game between Keighley and Hull Kingston Rovers.

(Cut to a field where mud-caked rugby league players, one team in hooped shirts and the other in red, are getting ready for a scrum.)

CAPTION: Keighley 2 Hull K.R. 23

Eddie Waring (Eric Idle voice over): Well, good afternoon and as you can see, Hull Kingston Rovers are well in the lead, it's a scrum down on the twenty-five for Keighley, Tom Colyer with the put-in, Mrs Colyer to be put.

(The scrum has formed up, the scrum half has a dummy woman, small and light but real looking, tucked under his arm while he steadies the scrum. He puts her into the scrum, and after a lot of kicking she is eventually heeled out.)

Eddie Waring: And there goes his wife into the scrum. And Hull have got the heel against the head. Doing nicely with this scrum, some very good picking here. Warrington's picked her up, is he going to let her go, Wrigley's with him, grand lad is this.

(Mrs Colyer is picked up by the scrum half who makes a run with her. Handing off a strong tackle and dodging with her, he side steps and slips Mrs Colyer to a back who makes a run through and touches her down between the posts. They leave the lady dumped down between the posts and run to congratulate and hug each other.)

Eddie Waring: Well, that was right on the whistle, Rovers walkin' it there, winnin' easily by twenty-six points to two.

(Cut to Frank Bough again in the 'Grandstand' set.)

Frank Bough: Just a reminder that on 'Match of the Day' tonight you can see highlights of two of this afternoon's big games: Mrs Robinson v Manchester United and Southampton v Mr Rogers, a rather unusual game that. And here's a late result... Coventry City nil, Mr Johnson's Una three -- Coventry going down at home, there. Just a little reminder that the next sport you can see on BBC1 will be 9.20 on Wednesday night, when 'Wife Swapping with Coleman' comes live from my place. Till then, goodnight.

Credits of the Year

(Credits roll over four screens of naughty bedroom activity to the 'Grandstand' signature tune.)

CAPTION:

Grandstand

A BBC

Inside Broadcast

Conceived Written

and Performed by

Michael Palin

and Mrs. Cleese

Eric Idle

and Mrs. Palin

John Cleese

and Mrs. Jones

Terry Gilliam

and Terry Jones

and Mrs. Idle

Graham Chapman

and Mr. Sherlock

Also Appearing

Carol Cleveland

and Mr. and Mrs

and Mrs. Zambesi

Caron Gardner

and Mr A.

Make-up by

Miss Gaffney

and Mr. Last

Costumes

Hazel Pethig

and Mr. Clarke

Graphics by

Bob Blagden

and `Naughty' Rosy

Animations by

Terry Gilliam

Rabbi Colquhoun

Film Cameraman

Alan Featherstone

and Miss Weston

Film Editor

Mr. Ray Millichope

and his Orchestra

Sound

Richard Chubb

and Mrs. Lighting

Lighting

Bill Bailey

and Mr. Sound

Choreography by

Jean Clarke

and an unnamed man in Esher

Designed

by Chris Thompson

and Mrs. Armstrong-Jones

Produced by

Ian MacNaughton and `Dickie'

A BBC TV

and Mrs. Thames

Pproduction

Back to the ‘Light Entertainment Awards’

(Pull out from screen to see that this is the screen in the awards set and Dickie is working a stirrup pump which pumps tears out from the side of his head via rather obvious tubes.)

Dickie (Eric Idle): There they go, the credits of the year. Credits that you and the Society voted as the credits that brought the most credit to the Society. Sadly, the man who designed them cannot be with us tonight, as he is at home asleep, but we are going to wake him up and tell him the good news.

(We see a darkened bedroom. The light is suddenly switched on. We see two men in bed together.)

Dickie: Are you there in Bristol, Arthur Briggs...?

Briggs (Michael Palin): Oh, my God! (pulls a sheet over the other man)

(Cut back to Dickie.)

Dickie: And now for the moment you've all been waiting for...

CAPTION: The End

Dickie: No, not that moment. Although that moment is not coming, in a moment. The moment I'm talking about is the moment when we present the award for the cast with the most awards award, and this year is no exception. Ladies and gentlemen will you join me and welcome please, the winners of this year's Mountbatten trophy, Showbusiness's highest accolade, the cast of the Dirty Vicar sketch.

(The cast enter to applause and stately music, shake hands in turn with the Dummy Princess Margaret and collect the award, shake hands with Dickie and then line up behind him.)

Dickie: Well, now let us see the performances which brought them this award. Let us see the Dirty Vicar Sketch.