"Thank you." "Thank you very much." "Now, er... good evening." "Good evening." "Good evening." "Good evening." "Good, to some extent, evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to tonight's programme." "As some of you are probably aware, the political and sexual climate in this country has led to many large institutions, like the BBC, being forced to look elsewhere for their funding." "Fun-ding." "And we are particularly excited here to be able to say that this show comes to you in association with Tideymans Carpets." "Tideymans carpets resist stains and repel spills." "They're regarded as a major step forward in the history of business sponsorship of the arts." "Only Tideymans can do this." "But we don't want you to run away thinking that in any way our editorial independence has been compromised here at A Bit of Fry and Tideymans Carpets." "Bet you can't eat three." "So without any further ado, here is the first item in tonight's programme." "And it's called quite simply, "The spillage that wasn't."" "Shut the door, Rufus, old scout." "Oh, righto, Pater." "Fancy a quick hundred up?" "Oh, absolutely, Governor." "Ladies won't miss us for half an hour, right?" "Rather not." "–I'll break off." "–Mmm." "Nice girl, this Helena." "Oh, damn, hell and custard." "Yes, she's a ripper, Father, an absolute ripper." "Yes, yes." "Good, erm, good set of breasts to her." "Oh, yes." "Fine curving arse." "–Yes, she has got a nice arse, hasn't she?" "–Mmm." "The thing is, Rufus, old scout." "Erm, you getting married and so on," "I thought it was time we raised this whole subject of women." "Oh, blimey." "Are you expecting to have children?" "–Oh, I should say so, Pater, yes." "–Hmm, hmm, hmm." "Now, I haven't raised this subject with you before, Rufus, but have you ever wondered how you came to be born?" "Oh, well, I just sort of assumed, Pater, you know, that one day you put your penis inside Mama's vagina and inseminated her ovaries." "Yes." "Yes, that is what we told you, isn't it?" "The thing is, Rufus, it's actually a spot more complicated than that." "–Complicated?" "–Hmm." "Yes, I'm afraid all that stuff about penises was just a lot of old pretending." "So..." "So, what exactly...?" "Well, it's not easy, this, you know?" "–Well, have a stab at it, Pater." "–Hmm." "Erm, I know." "Stroke the table." "–Stroke the table?" "–Stroke the table." "Is this strictly relevant, Pater?" "Come on, man." "What does it remind you of?" "–Billiard table." "–And?" "Well, nothing." "–Unless, you mean...?" "–Go on!" "Of course, the lush, velvety texture of a Tideymans carpet." "Good man!" "I knew you'd get there in the end." "Pater, how does having a Tideymans carpet help you to have children?" "Are you completely stupid?" "Yes." "If you haven't got a Tideymans carpet, you can't do any kissing, and kissing makes babies." "But, Pater, I still don't understand." "How does a Tideymans carpet help you to snog?" "Think, you jillock." "Of course!" "Sucking a Tideymans carpet removes the stale unpleasant mouth odours that stop others from Frenching you." "Quite right." "–I got it in one, eh, Pater?" "–Hmm." "Now, wrap your laughing gear round this and then wrap it round Helena." "Just you try and stop me, Pater." "Ah, that's my boy." "Well, I was born Mary Patterson, but then I married, and naturally I took my husband's name, so now I'm Neil Patterson." "I said, "Well, if God loves me, he's got a funny way of showing it, hasn't he?"" "That's shut him up, Pope or no Pope." "Now, it may not be a very popular or fashionable view, but I do believe that everyone should be forced to wear flared trousers." "Hello, Control, I was just wondering..." "Oh." "Hello, this is the Secret Service." "No, I'm afraid Control's not in at the moment." "Who is this, please?" "Ah, hello, Mrs Control." "No, I don't know where he is." "Yes, it's very strange." "I just popped in to ask him if he'd like a cup of coffee because it's nearly 11:00, and there's no one here." "I agree with you, Mrs Control, that he'll probably turn up." "Bye." "Hello, Tony." "–Ah, Control, I was just beginning to worry." "–Oh?" "Yes, Mrs Control has just been on the telephone." "And between me and Mrs Control, neither of us seem to know where you were." "Well, let me explain, Tony." "But before I do that, let me ask you if you notice anything unusual about the office?" "The window." "Of course, the window always used to be slightly further to the left." "Not quite, Tony." "Oh, it was a bit of a guess, actually." "I do remember that we did talk about moving the window, but, if you recall, I asked you to make a feasibility study into the whole thing, but I then had to make the rather difficult decision" "that that particular game just wasn't worth the candle." "What's actually different about the window, Tony, is that it's open." "So it is, Control." "Is this in some way connected to your not having been in the office earlier on?" "Yes, you see, I fell out of the window." "Gosh, Control, I can only say how sorry I am and ask whether you were hurt in any way." "To my surprise, Tony, I was not hurt in any way at all." "Well, that is something of a blessing." "Yes, that's right." "Because one of the other things about being Control, I've always thought, is that your office is on the sixth floor." "So that in the event of something like this happening, you have got slightly further to fall than if you were in the Records department, who are located on the first floor of this building." "Very similar thoughts were going through my mind, Tony, as I travelled towards the pavement with gathering speed." "But, Control, how did this whole sorry business come about?" "Well, Tony, I've got a confession to make." "You see, one of the things I like to do before you very kindly bring me my morning coffee is to feed the pigeons who perch on the windowsill." "Control, I can't say I'm altogether surprised." "There had been some rumours in the canteen to that effect." "Well, I'm glad to be able to silence those wagging tongues once and for all." "I do feed the pigeons, and it was while doing so this morning that I fell out of the window." "Control, I think I can picture the scene." "Here you were at the window, so engrossed in what you were doing that you neglected not to fall out of it." "Am I pretty near the mark?" "–Spot on, Tony." "–Hmm." "Well, I'll tell you another thing, Control, that's resulted from this adventure." "It's past 11:00 and you've not had your coffee." "Oh!" "It never rains but it pours, eh, Tony?" "Yes, Control, but quite often it rains and pours at the same time." "Uhn." "Tell you what, Tony." "On your way to the coffee-making area, perhaps you could ask Valerie kindly to pop outside and apologise to an old lady who was selling flowers outside the main entrance." "I'll certainly do that, Control." "Did she happen to be the unlucky one who broke your fall?" "No, she was fortunate in that respect, Tony, but she might be a little bit upset that my fall was broken by her small grandson." "Well, fair enough, Control." "I expect that in that case, she'd welcome a cup of coffee too." "Good thinking, Tony." "Oh, now come on, Simon." "You've caused enough trouble today." "You're not getting a single seed." "Oh, all right, then." "There you are." "Bo!" "You see, you've got an aura around you." "We all, we all of us..." "We all have auras round us." "Now, I can tell from your aura that you're wearing shoes." "Am I right?" "Now, it's our firm belief here on A Bit of Fry and Laurie, married to a passionate girl from Stockton-on-Tees, that there is a right way and a wrong way to do everything." "So, now I and my partner-in-crime, Hugh Laurie..." "I call him my partner-in-crime, but we don't actually commit crimes together of any kind." "That's just..." "That's just a ghastly and unacceptable phrase I like to use." "So, I and my, as I say, partner-in-crime... would now like to show you the right way and the wrong way to deal with a couple of young children who've come round on Halloween, a-trick-or-treating." "Right, all we've gotta do now is wait for the doorbell to ring." "Right." "Er, nice carpet, Hugh." "Tideymans?" "Well, who else?" "If you'll pardon the pun." "What pun?" "Oh, wasn't there one?" "I'm sorry." "Ah!" "–Ha!" "Trick or treat, mister." "–Ah!" "Trick or treat." "–Trick or treat." "So tell me, Steve, did we prepare a bag of jellybeans out back?" "We most certainly did, I'll go fetch them." "So, young shaver snapper, do you like football, do you?" "–Yeah." "–Yeah." "Do you fancy Arsenal this year?" "No way." "I quite fancy me sister, though." "Here we are, then." "There you go." "Enjoy those." "–Catch you guys later, all right." "–All right." "–Bye." "–Bye-bye." "That was, of course, ladies and gentlemen, the wrong way." "The wrong way!" "–Wrong way!" "–Wrong way!" "–Wrong way!" "We're now gonna show you the right way." "Trick or treat, mister." "–What?" "–What?" "–What did you say?" "–Trick or treat." "–Trick or treat?" "–Ugh!" "Ugh!" "–Come here." "You come here now." "–What are you talking about?" "This is England, not America." "What are you talking about?" "This is not America!" "We call it the Tideymans test, because only Tideymans carpets have the absorbency and luxurious shag pile bounce that can cushion a fall from even the highest of buildings." "So if those two children had landed 15 feet further to the right, their lives would have been saved." "Isn't it time you started thinking about a Tideymans in your life?" "The deep shag that really satisfies." "Oh, I do beg your pardon." "Ha!" "Play it again, Sam." "Well, that is brilliant, that." "–Thank you." "Play it again, Sam." "Yes." "Yeah, I used to play the piano, but I gave it up." "–Really?" "–Yeah, 'cause you..." "You have to practise a lot, don't you?" "–That's quite right." "–Yeah, it's all the practising." "I couldn't take that." "–Really?" "–Yeah." "I'll tell you what, do you know that...?" "What's that song, Strangers in the Night?" "Do you know that one?" "–Strangers in the Night?" "–Yeah." "–Yes, yes." "–Oh, go on, play that one." "Okay, it's Strangers in the Night." "He's playing it." "Go on." "Oh, nice, yes." "♫ Some enchanted evening" "♫ You... ♫" "That's actually a different song." "–What is?" "–"Some enchanted evening"" "comes from a song called Some Enchanted Evening." "–No, it doesn't." "–Yes, it does." "♫ Strangers in the night ♫" "Yeah, which one do you want?" "No, Strangers in the Night, go on." "Off you go." "♫ Strangers in the night ♫" "What are the words to it?" "–"Exchanging glances." –"Exchanging glances," got it." "All right, off you go." "Go on." "♫ Strangers in the night, exchanging glances ♫" "No, that's too high." "Do it down there." "Do it down there." "♫ Strange...♫" "That's it." "Yeah, go on." "♫ Strangers in the night" "♫ Exchanging... ♫" "Oh, I'll tell you what, what's that other one?" "Erm, it goes... ♫ La de-di-da de-di-da" "♫ My pretty one ♫" "I don't think I know that one." "Oh, you know." "You must know that one." "Everyone knows that one." "I'll sing it for you." "You follow along with me." "♫ La di-de-da di-de-da... ♫" "Go on." "Yes, that's it." "♫ La di-de-da" "♫ My pretty one ♫" "Oh, it's brilliant, that one." "Who wrote that one?" "Er... –You did, I think." "–No, no." "No, I tell you what." "Look, I'll..." "You shift up." "You shift up, and I'll play, 'cause I do actually..." "No, I'll tell you what." "I'll tell you what." "I'll play you this one, 'cause this is absolutely my favourite one." "Do you know this one?" "It goes..." "All right." "–It's Beethoven, that is." "–Is it?" "Is it, really?" "Always makes me very sad." "Yes, I could weep." "Berlin in 1924 was a shattered and divided city." "No city for lovers." "If Clarissa and I had known how brief our moments together were to be, perhaps we would have spent the time in the pension in the Friedrichstrasse with more care." "But lovers are traditionally careless of time." "And what it— –Tell you what." "Tell you what." "Do you know this one?" "Oh, no, I absolutely, absolutely swear by these things." "Okay, ask me anything." "Ask me the time of day in Adelaide, anything, any..." "Tell you what." "I'll tell you what I'm doing on the 3rd of August, 1997." "There, you see?" "Nothing." "What?" "What?" "Ah, we return to some form of consciousness, eh, Major?" "What?" "Where?" "You must forgive the rough methods of my colleagues, they are barbarians, barbarians." "They have no finesse, it grieves me to say." "Where the hell am I?" "You're fond of Matisse, Major?" "Such bold strokes of the brush, such masterly control." "What were you doing so far in front of your own lines?" "What was the purpose of your operation?" "Donaldson, Eric." "Major." "Serial number 64003..." "Oh, come, come, Major." "You can do so much better than that, you know, really, so much better." "That's all you're getting out of me." "Such a pity that our two nations are at war." "We have so much in common, you know?" "Tell me, please, when is planned the invasion of France?" "Do you think I know that?" "And do you think if I did know, that I would tell... you?" "Oh, my God." "What is the matter, please?" "You!" "I can't believe it!" "You are not believing what, please?" "You, you're so, so beautiful." "What are you saying?" "That it should happen here and now, of all times and all places." "This is it!" "I..." "I just can't believe it." "You're the most fantastic and attractive creature I've ever laid eyes upon." "Now, now." "No." "Don't..." "Don't play games with me, Major." "Games?" "Games?" "This is no game." "This is the realest thing that's ever happened to me." "Where have you been all my life, you gorgeous darling?" "Now sit down, Major." "Your eyes, they light up when you're angry." "Did you know that?" "Now, look." "There's so much time to make up for." "I don't know anything about you." "I don't know your name, your..." "Hauptsturmführer Friedrich von Stoltz." "Friedrich." "Yes!" "I like that, Friedrich." "Major, have you taken leave of your senses?" "Yes!" "Yes, I have." "For the first time in my life, I've taken leave of my senses, and I love it!" "Did anyone ever tell you, you have the sweetest, silliest little nose, and the biggest, bluest eyes?" "Now, I am going to give you one last warning, Major Donaldson." "Get that arse!" "Friedrich, Friedrich, that has got to be the cutest little bum ever." "No, no." "Now, listen." "Enough, Major, enough." "Maybe..." "Ha!" "Yes." "Maybe you are playing on me some of your English senses of humour." "But, you know— –Oh, that accent." "It's so dreamy you could bathe in it." "Kiss me, Friedikins, kiss me now." "When is planned the invasion?" "Oh, who cares about a stupid little invasion?" "I do." "Oh, all right, then." "6th of June, Normandy." "But that doesn't matter." "What matters is that we've found each other." "6th of June, Normandy." "Yes." "Now, honey, don't you think that deserves a kiss?" "Well, maybe just a little one." "Well..." "Oh, Christ, I've left the iron on." "Cheers, Keith." "Thanks for your time." "–Damn it!" "–What?" "It's pretty much as we feared, John." "–Yeah?" "–Only a whole heap worse." "Suppose you start from the beginning." "Not much to say." "Seems that..." "Seems that 20 minutes ago, our time, Derwent Enterprises went into liquidation." "What?" "Keith called a couple of hours ago from Helsinki." "But that was Keith just now, surely." "Yeah, just now, our time, but he called a couple of hours ago, his time." "And he called to say that Derwent had gone under?" "–That's right." "–Damn!" "Damn it to damnation!" "Damn, double damn and an extra slice of double damn." "Who else knows this?" "Well, it's gonna be all around town before you can say," ""Hell, triple blast and damn it to Hades twice."" "Hell, triple blast and damn it to Had..." "Yup?" "Derek knows." "Damn it!" "Christ, if they pull in their options, it doesn't bear thinking about." "This whole health club could go belly up." "Right." "I wanna know who's behind them." "I wanna know who's pulling the strings." "I wanna know what in hell's name is going on." "Damn it, John, I do believe you're scared." "You're damn right I'm scared." "I sense Marjorie's hand in this." "Marjorie?" "I never told you this, Peter, but after Marjorie left me," "I settled a block of shares on her and the boy." "Shares in the health club?" "Were you out of your goddamn mind?" "In the club, no." "No, I knew I couldn't trust her there, but I gave her shares in D-Tec." "–And you think..." "–Think?" "I don't think anything." "There isn't time to think." "There's only time to act." "But is Marjorie really capable of pulling a scrimshaw trick like this?" "Hell, Marjorie would float her own grandmother as a holding corporation and strip her bare of preference stock if she thought it would hurt me." "Three pints of damn and a chaser of hell blast." "What about the boy, John?" "The boy is Dennis, Peter." "No, no." "What about the boy, John?" "You leave the boy out of this." "He's just a boy." "–There's something I've always wondered, John." "–Yeah?" "How the boy ended up living with Marjorie after the divorce?" "The court ruled that I was violent and unstable." "An unfit father." "Well, that's a damn joke, John." "If they could have seen how you've parented this company." "Yeah, well, Marjorie told them a story about how one night I'd been working late." "I came home, and I sensed in Marjorie's eyes and voice a sneering, a mocking, I don't know." "I suppose I must have flipped." "I emptied a bowl of trifle all over her." "So, she got custody." "Very." "Well, it must have hurt, John." "Must have hurt, not being able to watch Dennis grow up." "Hurt, no." "No, the boy means nothing to me now." "Oh, yeah, John?" "Oh, yeah?" "So how come every year on his birthday you take him down to London to see Phantom Of The Opera?" "I do that because I hate him." "Well, fair enough." "But I give Marjorie due warning this day." "If she wants a fight, then by arse she's gonna get one." "–And the prize, John?" "–It's as big as they get, Peter." "The entire leisure market in the Uttoxeter catchment area goes to the winner." "No strings attached." "Why can't you leave me alone?" "John, what was it you once said to me about perspective?" "I seem to remember asking how it was spelt." "No, no." "After that." "What are you trying to say to me, Peter?" "I'm saying..." "I'm saying, damn it, I'm here." "Marjorie's, well, 150 miles away, her time." "And, well, if you and I, we can't fight this bastard, son of a mongrel, hellcat bitch, well, then we aren't the team that weathered the Tideymans crisis and came up smelling of roses." "That's what I'm saying." "Damn it, Peter, you're right." "Call Ipswich now, your time, and tell them that Derwent Enterprises or no Derwent Enterprises, this health club is in business and stays in business." "–And if Marjorie should call, John?" "–Marjorie?" "Never heard of her." "Damn it, John, I love it when you're flying." "Right, Sarah, get in a pot of hot, strong coffee and a dozen memo pads." "Right." "Let's get the hell out of here before they arrive." "–Damn!" "–Damn!" "Oh, this is, er...?" "this is one of them hidden camera things, is it?" "No?" "Oh, well, 'cause I was gonna say, it's not very well hidden, is it?" "Now, ladies and gentlemen, we're very excited." "We're very excited, aren't we, Hugh?" "–Yes." "We're certainly tremendously excited." "Shall I tell them or will you?" "I think you'd better tell them because I don't know what you're going to say." "Well, ladies and gentlemen, our final item this evening, our end sketch, has been stolen." "–Stolen?" "–Mmm, by Omar Sharif." "–Again?" "God!" "–Yes." "Well, I say stolen." "I lost it to him in a game of backgammon." "And even as we speak, he's using it as his end sketch in Monaco TV's Omar Sharif Comedy Hour." "So that means we're going to have to improvise our end sketch this week." "Ah, well now, you see, now I know why you were excited." "Because, of course, improvisation is very much the coming thing, isn't it?" "That's right, that's right." "Everybody's at it." "Apparently David Vine— "The Guv'nor"— even David Vine improvises." "Has been for years." "–Mmm-hmm." "–So does Mike Smith." "–That's right." "Everything that The Guv'nor and Smitty say just comes to them off the top of their brains." "–Frightening." "–Mmm." "Now, in order to prove to you that the sketch we're going to end this evening with is totally improvised, we're going to ask you, the audience, to give us, the us, some kind of first line on which we can build our improvised sketch." "That's right, and to give you some idea of a suitable sort of thing for a first line, we're going to show you some first lines from the A Bit of Fry and Laurie First Line Archive." "Erm... has Deborah Munnings arrived yet?" "Yes, I'd like to apply to become a homosexual, please." "–I didn't know you had spots." "–I haven't, just great looking hair." "♫ When somebody loves you" "♫ It's no good unless they love you ♫" "Well, perhaps I can press you to a cream slice, as I once said to an actress." "Has Deborah Munnings arrived yet?" "So if any of you have any ideas for first lines for sketches that we can improvise, well, hit us now." "–Anybody?" "Hit us hard." "The first line." "Some first line that we can weave some kind of magic around." "First line." "Yes?" "Do you sell grapefruit?" "–Do you sell grapefruit?" "–Do you sell grapefruit?" "Well, it's a..." "We can weave a pretty tantalising spell around that one." "–Okay, we'll try this." "–Christ, yes." "Fabulous." "Whoo!" "–All right." "–All right, so, ladies and gentlemen, we now present our improvised sketch entitled "Do You Sell Grapefruit?"" "Yes, I'm hot for this." "Hot, hot, hottie." "Right." "All right, okay." "What?" "I'll be the grapefruit seller, you be the customer." "Oh, right." "Yes, okay, right." "Let's go." "Right." "Wait a minute." "What do I say?" "–You make it up as you go along." "–Oh, I make it up as I go along, yes." "Oh, I'm excited about this." "Yes, right, okay." "Do you sell any grapefruit?" "Yes." "Right, I'll have three, please." "They're 14 pence each." "–Here's 50p." "–Thank you." "Here's 8p change and your grapefruits." "Thank you." "–Well, we just made that one up!" "–That's amazing." "–All up." "–Every word of it." "Unbelievable." "–We're very excited about it." "–Oh, yes, yes." "Well, seeing as being as how we're on a roll, does anybody have any other suggestions at all?" "–Any more first lines?" "You're wearing my hat." "–Well, yes, there could be something there." "–Good one." "Any others?" "Bugger off!" "–Bugger off." "–Bugger off, now..." "It's not really a line, is it?" "–No, it's more of a sort of idea, really." "–It's quite a good idea, though, isn't it?" "–Yeah, yeah." "Should we do it?" "–Let's do it." "We'll do it." "We'll do it, right." "–Okay." "–Nice jacket." "Tideymans?" "–No, Allied."