Marty

Before we start, we would like to remind viewers

that at this time of year, when a lot of people leave windows open,

a TV or a radio playing full blast can be a great irritation to your neighbours.

Another good way to irritate them is to set fire to their dustbins.

Room for one on top, sir.

- Morning, Miss Armitage. - Good morning, Mr Armstrong.

- Anything for me this morning? - No, nothing at the moment, Mr Armstrong.

In that case, I'll just, er...dive out and have a coffee.

Righto.

Mornin'.

- Oh, er...good morning, Your Grace. - Morning.

Bit parky this morning, innit, flock?

It is...it is a trifle chilly, Your Grace.

Chilly? It's brass monkeys, innit, flock?

- I'm a bishop, you know. - Yes.

This is the proper... Yeah. This is proper bishops' clobber, this, the real gear.

None of your tat, no schmatte. Feel that, son. Real silk.

That's the real gear. Real silk, son. God bless you all. Any unbelievers here?

- Pardon? - I said, any unbelievers here?

- Atheists, agnostics, Hindus, that lot. You know. - (OTHERS) No, no.

- What are you, son? - Church of England.

Good for you, mate! Yeah, good for you, son!

- What about you, mate? - Roman Catholic.

Roman Catholic. Yeah. That's one to them, one to us.

Well, it's all down to him, innit? All down to him.

'Alf a crown says he's C of E, right?

- I don't actually indulge... - I tell you what I'll do.

Six to four on he's C of E, Jew, no bet,

and I'll throw in a few indulgences for free.

There you are. Can't say fairer than that.

- All right? You on? - Yes.

Right. What are you, son?

I'm an agnostic.

- You what? - I'm an agnostic.

- You stupid git! - I...I'm sorry, Your Grace.

You stupid git, you get up there, tell him you're an agnostic, he'll smash your teeth in!

In his infinite mercy.

Tell you what... Tell you what. If I can convert him before we get to Swindon, you still on?

No? All right, all right. Forget it, gentlemen.

We'll have a little service. Hold me snout. Thank you, brother.

Just get the case out... Right, nice little service. How about an hymn, then, eh?

Fancy an hymn? Cop for a book, son. And you. There you go, son, one for you. Right.

How about hymn number 42, "'Oly, 'Oly, 'Oly"? All the 'olies, 42.

All right.

- Well? A-one, a-two... - I don't know the tune of this one.

- You what? - I don't know it.

That's all right, son, I'll lead you in, then. All right? One, a-two!

"Lord God Almighty." Come on, then.

# Lord God Almighty #

- You can sing louder than that! Come on! - (THEY SING FEEBLY)

Take the plate round, son, will you?

# Lord God Almighty... #

Hey! Hey, hey, hey. Hold it. Shtum.

Oi, you. Your mate give sixpence and he's an atheist!

You ought to give half a dollar. You're a bloody member, son!

I've just about had enough! It's obvious to any fool that you're not a bishop!

What do you think I am, then, bloody Bo-Peep?

And what's this, a bleedin' crash helmet? Course I'm a bishop.

- Your Grace, you don't look like a bishop. - And you don't behave like one!

That's nice (!) That's charming, that is. That's class discrimination.

Nothing to do with class! You're not a bishop!

I am a bloody bishop!

I'm a working-class bishop.

- Ask him where his diocese is. Go on! - That is true. Where is your diocese?

I'm not answering trick questions.

Where are you bishop of?

Well, I'm the bishop of, er... no fixed abode, in't I?

You've got to be bishop of somewhere.

All right, I'm bishop of this train, then, in't I? The Cheltenham Express.

- Not stopping at Tewkesbury (!) - Exactly.

- Can you be a bishop of a train? - Of course not! He's an impostor! Get out!

He says he can't be bishop of a train.

No need to get nasty, gentlemen! No need to get nasty.

God bless you all, and may you rot in hell.

Yeah?

Is this the "Sunday Blast", the paper that rips the lid off?

- Yeah, come in. - I'm Globb. Would you like to rip my lid off?

- How exactly do you mean? - Are you interested in sex in the suburbs?

Yes, but I promised the wife I'd be home by seven.

Er...what I meant was, would you like to buy my story?

I am a twilight person. You can expose me for £20,000.

All right, what is your story?

It is the story of how I left my wife and 14 children in a slum caravan in Romford

to live in sin with a scarlet woman up at Ponders End.

It is the story of how I give midnight nudie bathing parties off my private yacht

moored off the millionaires' playground of Grimsby.

It is the story of how I set up a harem

fit to rival that of the ill-famed despot Harun al-Rashid.

It is the story of how I bought forbidden love and paid the price. Are you interested?

Yes, that sounds as though it's worth £20,000. When did this happen?

Oh, it hasn't yet, but if you give me the money, I'm willing to start...

- (CLANK) - (BELL CLANGS)

Mademoiselle, would you mind if I painted you in the nude?

- Of course not. - All right, thank you.

- Er...are you open? - Well, yes, it says so on the door.

- We saw that, but we thought it might be a trap. - A trap, yeah.

- May we come in? - Yes. Please come in.

- We're not disturbing you, are we? - Not at all. Come right in.

Why did you do that?

- We wanted to see the travel agent. - The travel agent.

I AM the travel agent.

- (BOTH YELP) - Are you?

Where's your hat, then? Frightening people like that!

What hat?

The hat with "travel agent" written on it.

You might be anybody. You might be a murderer.

No, 'cause then I'd have a hat with "murderer" on it, wouldn't I (?)

Oh, yes, so you would.

How can I help?

My wife and I would like to see the Edinburgh Festival.

- Edinburgh Festival. - Edinburgh Festival.

How would you like to go?

- Sorry, could you repeat that question? - Yes.

How would you like to travel?

- Don't know. - Neither do I. What's the answer?

I am not asking you a riddle, madam, I am seeking information.

Do you want to go by train, plane or coach?

- (BOTH) No. - No what?!

- Thank you. - That's be...

- I mean, no, what? - Definitely not, we don't want to travel.

No.

- But you've GOT to travel! - Don't you order me about, young man!

Look, you want to see the Edinburgh Festival.

- Yes, we want to see the Edinburgh Festival. - Edinburgh Festival.

Therefore you have got to travel to Edinburgh.

- Why? - Answer that, young man, you're so clever.

Because Edinburgh is the only place that HAS an Edinburgh Festival.

Isn't there one in London?

No, there isn't!

- Look, look, look! - Look!

I fought in the First World War!

Yes, he did, and he was wounded! Had his brain blown out.

- Brain blown out. - That is as may be! Neverthe...

Nevertheless, Edinburgh is the only place that has got an Edinburgh Festival.

Look, look, look! I was on the Jarrow March!

Yes, yes, his nostrils went raw!

- Raw! Look at 'em! - Look! Look! I cannot move Edinburgh!

- Look, look, look, look! - Look! Look!

She was wounded in the Second World War. A V-2 hit her on the head.

- Yeah, right on the head! - Right on the head, look!

I don't believe it.

Tell that to the young, they'd run you over in their sports cars.

- All the thanks we get! - Thanks.

Look, you stupid old fools, I can't shift Edinburgh!

- Stupid old fools? - There's gratitude.

- He died in the war for people like you! - Yes, I did.

- He and Arthur Stoatbury. - Arthur, yes.

- Arthur Stoatbury (!) - He was a gentleman!

Arthur was, and a murderer.

He wouldn't have stood for it. He'd have bitten your throat out!

- He would've done. He was a gentleman. - He was.

He made the finest vanilla blancmange outside of Leamington.

And I'll tell you one thing, he could juggle with rats! Yeah, he could!

Well, thank you.

- And we won't forget the mattress. - (LAUGHS HYSTERICALLY)

- (LAUGHING) - That was fun, wasn't it?

- Yeah. Now let's go and destroy the grocer. - Right.

Good evening. Welcome to the charming village of Gesprichtebrösse in the Bavarian Alps,

where the local wine-treading festival is in full swing.

You've joined us just in time to see one of the most colourful parts of the festival,

the traditional Gesprichtebrösse wine-treading dance.

Hoy!

Excuse me, sir, there's a Mr Cartwright waiting to see you, sir.

He's come about a mortgage.

- Well, has he an appointment? - Yes, he phoned up yesterday.

- Well, send him in. - Yes, sir.

- Morning. - Morning. Do sit down.

Thank you.

I'll just finish signing...

- Who are you? - Cartwright.

George Cartwright. I've come to see you about a mortgage.

Excuse me asking, but are you an actor of some sort?

Oh, no, I'm a gnome.

- Oh. And you want a mortgage? - Yes.

I suppose there's no reason why not.

- Mr Cartwright... - (JINGLING)

Wha...

What, er...what's your occupation?

Er...garden gnome.

I can hardly put that on a proposal form. How do you make your money?

Oh, well, I weave magic spells by the light of the full moon

to transmute base metal into gold.

Ah. Yes. Erm...

Night-worker in a metal factory. How would that do?

Now, er...this... this property, what is it?

Er...the Magic Oak Tree, Dingly Dell.

- It's, er...it's a pub? - No.

- No. It's a...? - Tree.

- Magic Oak Tree. In Dingly Dell. - In Dingly Dell, yes.

- Where...where is Dingly Dell? - Wonderland.

I know you'll think me a fool for asking, but where exactly is Wonderland?

Er...at the rainbow's end, just along the A38, and turn right.

- Fine. - It's near Bristol.

That's fine. Thank you very much indeed.

And, erm...so you are a night-worker in a metal factory

and you, er...want to purchase a ma...erm...

a property, shall we call it? A property near Bristol.

- Now, what is the value of the property? - 40 bags of acorns.

Roughly what would that be, er...in sterling?