And Now for Something Completely Different Page #4

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I have in this box...

mice which I have

painstakingly trained...

over the past few years...

to squeak at a selected pitch.

This one is "A"-Sharp...

and this one is "G".

"G", "A"-Sharp.

You get the general idea.

Now, these mice are so arranged

upon this rack...

that when played

in the correct order...

they will squeak...

"Three Blinded White Mice."

Ladies and gentlemen,

I give you, on the mouse organ...

"Three Blinded White Mice."

Thank you.

- Oh, my God!

- Somebody stop him.

Ten seconds, studio.

Stop him!

Stop that bastard!

Hello, and welcome to another

edition of It's the Arts.

And we kick off this evening

with a look at the cinema.

One of the most prolific film directors

of this age, or indeed, of any age...

is Sir Edward Ross, back in this country

for the first time in five years...

to open a season of his films

at the National Film Theatre.

And we are indeed fortunate to have him

with us in the studio this evening.

- Good evening.

- Edward...

- You don't mind if I call you Edward?

- Not at all.

It does seem to worry some people.

I'm not sure why.

Some are sensitive, so I do take the

precaution of asking on these occasions.

- No, that's fine.

- So Edward it is. Splendid.

- I'm sorry to have brought it up.

- No. Edward it is.

Thank you very much

for being so helpful.

- At times it's more than my job's worth.

- Quite.

Makes it hard to establish a rapport,

to put the other person at his ease.

- Quite.

- Quite.

Silly little point,

but it does seem to matter.

Still Iess said the better.

Ted, when you first went in the film...

You don't mind if I call you Ted,

as opposed to Edward?

- No. Everyone calls me Ted.

- Splendid.

- Because it's much shorter, isn't it?

- Yes, it is.

- Much Iess formal.

- Ted, Edward, anything.

Splendid.

Incidentally, do call me Tom.

I don't want you bothering with

any of this "Thomas" nonsense.

Fine. Where were we?

Eddie baby, when you first...

I'm sorry. I don't like

being called Eddie baby.

- I beg your pardon?

- I don't like being called Eddie baby.

Now get on with your interview.

- Did I call you Eddie baby?

- Yes, you did.

I don't think I did.

Did I call him Eddie baby?

Yes, you did!

I didn't call you Eddie baby,

did I, sweetie?

- Don't call me sweetie.

- Can I call you sugar plum?

- No!

- Pussycat?

- No!

- Angel drawers?

No, you may not.

- Now get on with it.

- Can I call you Frank?

- Why Frank?

- Frank's a nice name.

President Nixon's got

a hedgehog called Frank.

- What is going on?

- Frank. Frankie. Fran. Frannie.

- Little Frannie Boo.

- That's it. I'm leaving.

Had enough of this.

I've never been so insulted.

- Tell us about your film, Sir Edward.

- What?

Tell us about your latest film,

Sir Edward, if you'd be so kind.

- None of this pussycat nonsense?

- Promise.

Please. Sir Edward.

- My latest film?

- Yes, Sir Edward.

I first had the idea, funnily enough,

when I joined the industry in 1919.

Of course, in those days

I was only a tea boy...

Oh, shut up.

- There he is!

- Get him.

Stop him!

He's a murderer!

Come back, you fiend! Fiend!

He's a murderer!

"The room is full of milkmen...

some of whom are...

are very old."

This man is Ernest Scribbler...

manufacturer of jokes.

In a few moments he will think

of the funniest joke in the world...

and as a result

he will die laughing.

It was obvious

the joke was lethal.

No one could read it and live.

Scribbler's mother, alarmed by

the unusual sounds of merriment...

entered the room and found

what was, apparently...

a suicide note.

The war against the Hun

continues...

and as Britain's brave boys

battle against the Bosch...

their leaders are on the lookout for

new breakthroughs that could provide...

the ultimate weapon

in the war against the Hun.

Here, in this little house in Pinchley,

they think maybe they've found it.

It's a joke so deadly, it could have

Fritz's forces falling about.

Tests on Salisbury Plain confirm...

the joke's devastating effectiveness

at a range of up to 50 yards.

Fantastic!

All through the winter of '43...

we had translators working

in joke-proof conditions...

to try and manufacture

a German version of the joke.

They worked on one word each

for greater safety.

One of them saw two words by mistake and

had to spend several weeks in hospital.

But apart from that,

things went ahead pretty fast.

And by January

we had the joke in a form...

which our troops couldn't understand,

but which the Germans could.

So on July the 8th, 1944...

the joke was first told

to the enemy...

in the Ardennes.

Squad, tell the joke!

In action, it was deadly.

The German casualties

were appalling.

It was a fantastic success

over 80,000 times as powerful...

as Britain's great prewar joke,

which was used at Munich...

and one which Hitler

couldn't match.

I would like to apologize

for the rather poor taste...

of the previous item.

And excuse me, please.

Fleet Street, please.

All right, everybody,

stay close.

Don't lag behind.

Keep together, everybody.

Remember. Watch out

for the killer cars.

Yes, the killer cars.

For years the city had been plagued by

ever-increasing pedestrian congestion.

In an attempt to eliminate

this problem...

certain fanatical cars,..

had taken the law

into their own hands.

But the days of the killer cars

were numbered...

thanks to the miracle

of atomic mutation.

Thank you!

You've saved our city!

But at what cost?

Just then as it looked for certain,

that the city was about to be eaten...

the earth trembled and the sun

was blotted out from the sky.

Suddenly, swarms of giant

bees filled the air...

and 300 million armored horsemen covered

with coats of 1,000 different colors...

appeared at every street corner

attacking the monster cat...

in a scene of such

spectacular proportions...

that it could never in your life be seen

in a low-budget film like this.

If you'd notice,

my mouth isn't moving either.

But just as the monster cat

was starting to weaken...

the earth split apart

with a deafening roar and...

Hello. I wish

to register a complaint.

- Hello. Miss?

- What do you mean, "miss"?

Oh, I'm sorry. I have a cold.

I wish to make a complaint.

Sorry.

We're closing for lunch.

Nevermind that, my lad.

I wish to complain about this parrot...

what I purchased not half an hour ago

from this very boutique.

Oh, yes, the Norwegian blue.

What's wrong with it?

I'll tell you what's

wrong with it, my lad.

It's dead.

That's what's wrong with it.

No, it's resting. Look.

Look, my Iad, I know a dead parrot when

I see one and I'm looking at one now.

No, that's not dead,

it's resting.

- Resting?

- Yeah, resting.

Remarkable bird, the Norwegian blue,

isn't it? Beautiful plumage.

The plumage don't enter into it.

It's still dead.

No, it's resting.

All right, then.

If it's resting, I'll wake it up.

Hello, Polly!

I've got a nice, fresh cuttlefish for

you if you wake up, Mr. Polly Parrot!

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