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1. Coming Out of a Book

They call it coming out of a book, and you’ve got to do it at some point in your life, haven’t you? You’ve got to just fuckin’ come out of a book, you know, surprise your neighbours! Hey! A fucking big book next door, yes… Andy Warhol said, “You’ve always gotta come out of a book at some point,” he said, and then, poof! And big hair… Or he said something like that.

So we’re here, yes… This is the video, a very, very special video- a video album, this is what it is… (mumbles) of all the incredibly funny things… in my brain, I suppose, ‘cause people think I’m on drugs, and I’m not, I’m really quite, you know… just a bit of coffee, and I’m really… (mimes being level-headed) When I take drugs, I start going, “Oh, insurance! Ever thought of…? And pensions! Very sensible!” So don’t take drugs, otherwise you’ll go like that! Just go… (sticks tongue out) Yeah!

2. Of Thimbles and Horseshoes

But thimbles is what I really wanted to talk about, because… you don’t really- well, they don’t get enough press these days, do they? I don’t think they ever did, because very rarely you see, “’Thimbles: Oh!’ Says Man” You know what I mean… ‘Cause my Gran said, “Put a thimble on your finger, and it helps you, in case you slip with a needle, the needle goes up, and into brain, and death…” And before thimbles were invented, it was… “Needle Death – Tragic – Whole Family! Family of Sewers – Tragic! ‘If Only Thimbles Were Invented,’ says psychic man with big hat… and beard to match” “Thimbles Compulsory for Children in Many Buses” So – yeah…

The best thing with thimbles is to put one on each finger, and then you can do impressions of horses. (mimes tapping fingers) Horses with one too many legs, I suppose… ‘Cause they do have a metallic sound, don’t they, horseshoes? Well, horses have got hooves, they’ve got this bit of semicircular metal nailed to each and every foot! And that’s just a con! For centuries, blacksmiths saying,

“Is that your horse? Better nail a bit of semicircular metal to each of his feet!”

“Oh, no, thanks, it’s got hooves! Thanks very much.”

“No, better nail a bit of semicircular metal on. Have you ever had a blowout on a horse doing 70? Yeah…” (mimes horse getting out of control) “Steel radials, that’s what you want, mate! Are those anti-lock hooves?”

“Ooh, I’m not sure…”

It is. Perhaps it’s a big con, they’ve done it very successfully for centuries, but they were just trying with all hoofed animals. “You got any more in your farm? Cows! Bring them in, they’ve got hooves! And pigs and sheep, hooves the lot of them! I’ll put shoes… And your ducks and geese, get the whole bloody farm in! And your next door neighbour. The whole farm for 50 quid…” Ducks going around, going ‘clang, clang, clang…’ (points finger) “Quack!” Swimming out in the water… (mimes swimming and sinking, only to take off horseshoes at the end) They don’t do the breast-stroke, do they, ducks? They just (mimes duck swimming) Any duck doing that is really kind of crap. (moves from breast stroke to crawl) Yes…

And it’s also lucky, horseshoes are lucky! And horses have four bits of lucky nailed to their feet. They should be the luckiest animals in the world! They should win all their horse races, shouldn’t they? “It’s after 3:30, and today, every single horse was first equal… One horse dropped a shoe, came in fourth… And the duck was ninth. Five ran…” It’s what they always say at the end, don’t they? A bit of useless – “five run.” Are there people at home, going, “But how many run?” Or is it the idea, “Five run, one sauntered, really… one drove a small car… one windsurfed, one “hang-glid.” Yeah, you decline the verb “to hang-glide,” then – I hang-glide, you hang-glide, he/she hang-glides, we hang-glid, you hang-glided, they “hang-glidededed.” Anyway, that’s all rubbish!

3. Supermarkets

Sometimes, though, you want to buy a thimble, or a horseshoe, or a bit of fluff, or an elephant, and you go down your local supermarket. Don’t laugh too much, please… The local supermarket, you know; the hypermarket, they’re big, fuckoff, huge, big as a village these days, and everyone’s in there: trendy people, straight people, rich, poor; everyone in there, pushing trolleys, going, “Do we want yoghurt? I don’t know…” And you can push things around, you can fill up with stuff, and then you get bored of your shopping. “Oh, forget that! I don’t want it!” You can just leave your trolley, kind of… “No, I’m just…” Pick another one, “Oh, I’ve got this one!”

But trolleys, they never run straight, do they? Have you ever flown on a trolley? Never! Because they’ve always got the wobbly wheel off to the right, hit someone in the stomach, and they drop all their shopping in, and then you’ve got their shopping… (mimes moving away with the trolley) And if you hit an old lady, you get hairnets and dog food! That’s all they buy. At a certain age, about 80, I think, they go, (mimes writing shopping list) “Fuck everything else! Hairnets and dog food, that’s all I need now…” ‘Cause you’re on bonus time from then on, really, so you might as well get weird shit. “Hairnets and dog food.” Hairnets, of course, are pointless; we’ve all known this, and we’ve marveled at people putting them on, ‘cause when you take them off in the morning, you’ve got criss-cross patterns on your hair.

“Why, old lady? Why the hairnet?”

(mimes holding the hairnet against the hair) “Oh, the hair thieves! The hair thieves, they come in the night… Steal your hair, they do! Sell us into slavery… in Azerbaijan. “

4. Caesar

And dog food as well. There was a dog food a while back called “Mr. Dog.” It was a small can of dog food for small, yappy-type dogs. And there was a big advertising campaign, saying, “Buy Mr. Dog, for small, yappy-type dogs… and maybe, they’ll shut the fuck up!” So that was fine, and then there was a “stroke your beard meeting” back at Mr. Dog’s headquarters. (mimes stroking beard) “Well… we’ve sold but two cans of ‘Mr. Dog…’” which some people do say, “But two cans… Let’s change the name!” So they changed the name, from “Mr. Dog” to “Cesar.” Now that’s a bit of an image shift in my book of references. “Mr. Dog” – small dog, yes, you can see the sort of linky there. “Caesar” – Roman leader 2,000 years ago – small dog. Bit of a strangled route up to that one, isn’t it? Left at the traffic lights to get there… I think that’s a 3:00 in the morning decision, that one. (mimes dragging from joint) “It’s ‘Caesar,” we’ll call it ‘Caesar’! ‘Caesar’! What about…? Yeah, yeah, fucking ‘Caesar’! He was a Roman leader… Yeah, small dogs are Roman leaders, aren’t they? (offers joint to dog) All right, ‘Caesar’! But we’ll drop the ‘a’ out, right?” ‘Cause it was C-A-E-S-A-R, for some reason.

I don’t think Caesar was going 2,000 years ago, (as James Mason) “I have defeated Pompeii, I’m first Emperor of Rome! I wear the laurel wreath, with the front bit bitten out… In 2,000 years’ time, I shall be remembered as a can of small dog food for small, yappy-type dogs… and I shall be played by James Mason in the film. Yes, I shall, I shall…” (mimes pointing fingers and shaking) That’s what he used to do, didn’t he, James Mason? Eh… “Here’s Jimmy!” No, he didn’t, that’s a lie. It would have freaked us out if he did! “Ladies and gentlemen, James Mason!” (repeats movement) “What are you doing, James?” Sorry, forget all that bit; we’ll cut that out. Now…

Oh, yes! And supermarkets, yes… As soon as you go in, have you noticed? They do psychological tricks on us. As soon as you go in, you hit fresh fruit and veg. You noticed that? Every single time! You go to France, Germany, fresh fruit and veg, and it’s psychological, you go in, thinking, “This is a fresh shop! Everything here is fresh! I will do well here…” It is, think about it! You never go in to the toilet paper section, with the loo brushes and the squeeze… ‘cause then you go, “This is a poo shop! Everything here is made of poo! I’m not shopping here, I’m… going to Azerbaijan!” (mimes walking away and stops, then poses) I knew I didn’t need to mime any further, you got the drift…

Yeah, so… and all these fruits have got vitamins- vitamin A, of course, which is good for (mumbles), vitamin B, which we all know is very good for (mumbles again), vitamin C is good for scurvy, isn’t it? Yes! There’s a lot of scurvy around these days… People phone in, “I can’t come in to work, I’ve got scurvy, yes… Well, I live on a houseboat and… Yeah, frothing at the mouth, yeah… the old Captain Cook problem there…” They’ve got vitamin D, which again is good for (mumbles), Vitamin E, which is good for skin, and then that’s it, no more vitamins. The whole vitamin-naming committee are going, “Let’s see, vitamin F. Suggestions? Oh, fuck it! I’m off down the boozer… Azerbaijan.”

And all these people made food, like Granny Smith. Granny Smith made apples. Who was this woman, Granny Smith?

“My name is Mrs. Smith, I’ve made apples out of bread, a dripping and a bit of green paint, and corrugated iron.”

“No, these are horrible apples, Mrs. Smith. Go away, Mrs. Smith! Go away until your daughter has a baby.” (mimes walking away)

“Shag, daughter, shag! It’s a marketing idea, shag for babies! (mimes running back) My daughter’s had a baby, I’m Granny Smith now!”

“Come in, Granny Smith! You a wonderful idea, you! Come in with your shiny apples.”

“Brought family member, Mr. Delicious. He’s got apples – Gold Delicious. Come in, Gold. King Edward, abdicated the throne, took up potato-making, there we go… Mrs. Simpson, jewellery… And there’s Hitler as well, they used to hang out together, and Jeff Bruckley, of the Bruckley family.” It’s all about threes…

Apples are great, apples are user-friendly, just big, hearty- you grab ‘em, you go “arf, arf, arf, arf, arf” (mimes chomping on the apple) and then you start to eat them, and… Always do the dog impression first, and when you get close to the pips in the middle, you go, “Ew!” and you throw it away, in case you swallowed a pip and a tree comes out of your head. We know this to be true…

And oranges! There’s a big war, don’t know if you know, but there’s this sort of internal war going on between the big, old-fashioned oranges, big, fuckoff, kind of… (stern sounds) Stalinist, big, fuckoff… (more noises) kind of oranges, and the new baby Satsuma, Minneola, kumquat, MG… (makes car noises) Satsumari, kind of… (makes noises accompanied by mime of easy opening the fruit) Big fat war on that, because to eat a Satsuma , it’s a piece of piss, you just go (mimes opening the fruit, taking a piece and eating it) And you break off these one by one, don’t you? And you’ve got so much of it, and if there’s people in the room, you go, (mimes offering a piece) “Go on, go on!” It’s like a very cheap round, isn’t it? “Go on, Satsuma for everyone!” And if you’re the other person in the room, you go, “No, no… Well, all right, yeah… (mimes accepting piece) Thank you very much.” Yeah…

So Satsumas are great, eating’s a piece of piss, but you can’t do it with an orange. You go, “You want a bit of orange? I’ve got… fucking ‘ell! (mimes hammering on the orange to open it) Can’t fucking… hell…” ‘Cause inside an orange- it’s like the film “Das Boot” in there! With Jürgen Prochnov going,

(German accent) “Don’t let them get in to the orange! It’s most important! Or the juice will get out, and it’ll not be good. They’re breaking in with fingers, depth charges! Let the peel come off only in small chunks!”

(mimes peeling orange with fingers) “Shit! Jesus Christ!”

(as Prochnov) “They’re breaking in! Push all the pips into bits they wouldn’t expect, that’ll do!” (mimes pushing pips around)

‘Cause it is! There’s no chance of someone eating an orange, going, “Hey!” (mimes choking on the bit due to a pip) “You’re very nice…” (chuckles) There’s not a chance of someone who speaks like that anyway…

So oranges can fuck off, that’s what I say! And pears can fuck off too! ‘Cause they’re gorgeous little beasts, but they’re ripe for half an hour… and you’re never there! They’re like a rock, or they’re mush! In the supermarket, people are hammering in nails… (mimes hammering) “We’re just putting these shelves up, mate, then you can have the pear.” Really, ‘cause you do do that squeezy-squeezy thing on fruit, where you go, “Oh..! Squeezy, oh…” It’s a test- squeezy thing, that you’ve seen French chefs do on telly. “Oh, squeezy, oh…” But I have no frame of reference, so I’m going, “Oh… Is that good? I’m squeezing it about this much – is that a good squeezy?” ‘Cause it seems like such an expert thing! They seem to go… (mimes squeezing fruit without looking) “This one!” They don’t even look at it, they just… Sometimes they go (mimes squeezing and bursting fruit) “Oh, shit! No, it’s got a hole in it, I’m not really…” Or just put it on the end of a broom… “Yeah… it’s the manager!”

So fuck pears… Pears are like a rock, so you think, “I’ll take them home and they’ll ripen up,” and you put them in a bowl, and they sit there going, “No! No! Don’t ripen yet! Don’t ripen yet! Wait till he goes out of the room! Ripen now! Now! Now!” (mimes pears ripening fast) And you come back in, and you go, “I’ll just have one of these…” (mimes touching a rotten fruit) “Hey, these pears are dead! These are dead pears, man. Hey, what happened, guys?” They’re all going… (laughs like Muttley)

And then there’s banana skins as well. There’s bananas and their skins; there’s all this sort of slipping on a banana skin and hilarity that’s been around for many years. Now I don’t know about you, but I’ve never actually, in my life, ever seen anyone actually slip on a banana skin in reality. I’ve never seen documentary footage of anyone slipping on a banana skin; I’ve heard the stories, oh, yes! People have told me stories… The Nazis did propaganda…

So it’s all those fruits there, and there’s South African fruit we can have now, without going, “Oh, the guilt!” And star fruit, which are from Mars! So it’s great, you’ve got all these fruits, and you get a selection, you take it home, you arrange it in a bowl… and then you watch it rot! You never eat it, really… Occasionally, you go up to it, and go… “Ah… I don’t think I will. Ooh, a Mars bar, there we go!” (mimes eating bar) “Oh, I’m full-up now!” And they all rot from the bottom up, you go… (disgusted noises) Except for the oranges, that sit in the back and go, “No!” (blows up cheeks to imitate orange, if such a thing is possible) You chuck all the rest away, and the oranges are sitting there, going… (repeats mime) for months it sits there… in a Stalinist kind of way. So, yeah…

And there’s also labels in supermarkets; you’ve got labels on the food stuff now, so you can- it says “Four grams of protein,” you go, “Ah!” Is that good? Is that far too little protein? Is it you’re gonna die of protein shortage, or you’re gonna overdose on it? “0.02 milligrams of sodium.” Sodium explodes in water. Do I need 0.02 milligrams of that? Calcium- can you overdose on calcium? Can you go… (grins impossibly, miming having huge teeth)

“Well, I think there’s too much calcium in your diet.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought.”

“Are you eating a lot of chalk salad?”

“Yeah…”

So you make your choices of stuff in the supermarket, and you go down to where the queues are, and there’s 30, 40, maybe a million queues there! And you always choose one of those aisles- when you’re walking down, it’s kind of enclosed in the aisle, isn’t it? There’s all this stuff there, and suddenly, whoosh! It’s out, and there’s all the queues, and you know you’ve got 30 seconds to choose your queue, and you’re going… We’re all very good at queue strategy now, have you noticed? No one taught us this, we just go… We’re going, (mimes moving to pick the best queue) “Okay, 4, 4 looks pretty good… 7. No, no, quite a few people, all hand baskets. Hand baskets are good… It’ll move fast. 17 just opened! You take the French bread, you go on 17! I’m on 4. (mimes using Secret Service-type intercom) Keep in touch, keep in touch. Whoever gets there first, we’ll join and we get out, OK? Dropout on 7! I’m on 7! Shit, they’re paying with Luncheon vouchers! I’m back on 4! I’ve lost 4! You bastard! I left my aura there…” (chuckles) Always a good one… unless you get a ticket for parking.

“Your aura is parked there.”

“Oh, sorry.”

You’re fine, usually, in the queue, until you see someone about three meters behind you pull up in a queue, and then there’s a bit of a delay, and they’re almost paying! They’re almost out! And you’re going, “Come on! Come on, there’s a war on, you know?” And the new queue, that’s what I’m always looking for, the new queue; that is the end of the rainbow, that’s where all the gold in the world is stacked, the new queue! ‘Cause you could be fifth, sixth in that sort of 15-minute queue, and “New queue!” You’re in there! And the fastest, the most agile, the keen minds are there, and you’re looking in advance for potential new queues. People around the till, putting money in, and as soon as you see it going on the till… (mimes moving slowly towards the new queue) But not too obvious, otherwise everyone else in the queue sees you… so you just keep one eye on it, and try… “Look over there! There’s a badger with a gun! Can you see? Surely he’s going to kill… new queue!” (dashing over to new queue) But then you’re not sure- are they opening? Are they just mending the till? And you… you don’t want to… “Oh, you’re not? Oh, I was there!

was there!” You can take all your clothes off and put them on a string, and then… (moves to new line while tending rope) “Oh, you’re not? Okay.” (walks back picking up rope and clothes, then gets redressed) Depends on what you’re wearing, of course. A lot of you applaud, going, “Yeah! Oh, that wasn’t that good, was it?”

But they’ve the beeping machines these days! There’s a bar code on all the stuff, and there’s a little sort of star-shaped thing, and they just show it to it. (mimes scanning items) “Beep!” Like the machine is going, “Yes, all right…” (beeping continues) “Yes, that’s still fine.” And it must get boring! (scanning and beeping continue) All day… (beep) and the excitement (beep) that never happens (beep) is when it goes… (mimes failed scanning and repeated attempts to make it work)

(pointing at the bar code) “Fucking make the noise! It’s some thing!”

The machine is going, “No, I’m bored…”

“Oh, go on! Make the noise!”

“No, I don’t want to…”

“I’ll read it at you. Thick one, thin one, thick one, thin one… thick, thick, thin… are you getting this? Thin… Oh, forget it! I’ll just type out the handy 50-digit number, I’ll be with you in a second.” (mimes entering bar code number into a manual typewriter) “So much more efficient these days!” And you realize two sea anemones have taken over your hands… sometimes.

Late night shopping in local petrol stations, that’s a form of 20^th. Century shopping that I don’t think anyone would have thought it was gonna happen. And you’re there, at 3:00AM, especially in inner cities, this is- 3:00AM, you’re at the petrol station, there’s a guy behind bullet-proof glass, slumped over a desk, dead! Or asleep, you’re not sure, you don’t care; even if he is dead, you’re going, (mimes knocking on glass) “Wake up! I want groceries…” And he wakes up, and you go, “Oh, sorry, mate, sorry, I just want… No, I don’t have a car- I don’t have a car. I do not have a car.” There’s a big communication problem, isn’t there? They’ve built this bullet-proof glass, and it’s sound proof! (mimes gesticulating and trying hard to listen) Try to talk through the thing… (mimes talking through pay box) “I don’t want any… Some brown bread, I just want some brown bread. Yeah, brown bread. Right over there, brown bread… No, that’s diesel oil… Brown bread, brown… (mimes like in charades) Two words, brown bread. First word, sounds like… brown. Brown! Brown bread!” 3:00 in the morning, and you get into this, and there’s a queue forming behind you… (uneasy looking behind himself) “No, it’s brown bread, brown… “ A queue of murderers! (mimes the different murderers in line) With different weapons! Someone on a camel about here… people from “Star Trek” down here… And you’re going, (scared and desperate) “Yeah, the brown bread! Get the brown bread, man! Just get it quickly!” You’re trying to give real fuckoff vibes around here, so that no one hassles you. “Yeah, bread for my bread gun!” (mimes for petrol station attendant to hurry up) “Give me the bread! What? Shredded wheat? That’s fine! I’ll eat that shredded… fuck it! I’ll put marmalade on it, it’s fine. And a packet of Rizlas, thanks. Why do I want them? I… I’m a stamp collector, and I’ve run out of stamps, so I thought I’d get those clippy, plain ones, you know? Where you can draw your own stamp in on it. Fucking give it to me!”

Then they do the dance of the tray (makes tray noises) “Aah! My hand! Thank you. Can I have a bag?” Then they put this very thin bag in, the thinnest bag in the world. So thin, you’re surprised you get everything into it… Then you go off, and the whole queue follows you.

“Follow him! He speaks in sentences.”

“No, no, you must hassle him now. He has the groceries.”

“Oh, groceries! Yeah, yeah…” (walks back to the petrol station) “Hello, we’re murderers. A Twix, please.”

And they’re behind bullet-proof glass there, because, you know, it’s late at night, people are hassling them, if they go in the shop, they try to nick stuff… And I must admit, I got caught nicking stuff when I was 15, and I was nicking makeup, back in Boots in Bexhill-On-Sea. I could’ve bought it, I could’ve saved up and bought it, but I thought, if I bought it, someone might say, “Hey, you’re a boy buying makeup! You must be a trans-vestite!” And then I’d have to go, “Oh, Sherlock Holmes! How did you get to the bottom of that one, you big, deer-stalker, weird, fucking hat person? Four dog ears!” Why is it called a deer stalker? Anyone stalking a deer now, the deer would go… (mimes deer bursting out laughing)

“There’s a guy out there with four dog ears, with two strings hanging off.”

“I’m a deer stalker! That’s a deer-stalker!”

Don’t know why, just a stupid hat, I think. Anyway, so I didn’t buy the makeup, I nicked it! And I had a loaf of brown bread, so I put it under this brown bread, and I run out of the shop and down Bexhill High Street, and they caught me! But I was 15, so they let me off with a warning, which was,

“This lipstick is not gonna work with this eye-shadow, no way! That’s light blue, that’s a death colour! You want a bit of foundation in this, that’s very cheap foundation.”

“Oh…”

“That’s a warning!”

“Oh, thank you, Chief Constable.”

Also, I got done for jumping a 20p tube fare! This is my whole crime sheet, right? Which is quite an interesting read… 20p! This is not Don Corleone, this is Don Crap. I jumped a 20p underground tube fare, and I was waving a pass at the time, you know, it was drawn on a Rizla or something; it was a Bishop of Durham pass. (mimes bishop’s gestures) “I’m the Bishop of Durham… Oh, bless you, my son.” (chuckling) And the guy said, “You’re not Bishop of Durham! He wears a bigger hat than that!” So he got me. “I got him! I got the 20p kid! You’ve caused us £1.60 worth of trouble, you have, in your time. I’ve got him and I’ll be promoted in the underground system. I’ll get my own darkness!”

Then an off-duty policeman came, and he had a pot plant and a camera, on his way home for a good night photographing pot plants, I suppose… This is all bizarre, but true; this is what he had, and he said, “I’ve got him too! Oh, I’ll get promoted… King of Metropolitan Police!” And I thought, “I’m going down for 20p! No, I’m gonna run for it! I’ll run for it like Mel Gibson in the film “Gallipoli,” and… other people in running films.” So I run, and I run, and I run, and I run, and after five inches, they caught me… They called for backup, and now 20 policemen are coming down, thousands of pounds worth of police work – “We’ve got the 20p kid! 20ps are safe from now on…” And three policemen pulled me for five minutes! I don’t know if you’ve ever had this, they grab one leg each, and I don’t know – obviously, they were working together; they thought I was struggling like crazy, I’d given up at this point. One over here was going, (mimes pulling from arm) “Don’t struggle, there! Don’t struggle!” People over here going, “Eh! Don’t you fuckin’ struggle!” So it was a continuous machine of them pulling against each other, I had one hand free, I was going, (waves) “Hi! How are you? I’ll talk about this in many years…”

And then they put me in Bower Street overnight, and that became assaulting a police officer! Surely it was stretching a pedestrian! It was! I got down for assault, and I was running away! Assault is motion towards, I feel… it takes an accusative. Very rarely in war, they go, “Assault that hill over there!” (mimes running in opposite direction) “Let me do a bit of stretching here…” I should have been done for deserting a police officer.

There’s a shop in South London which was a very… it’s still there, apparently. It’s in Tooting High Street, and it sells two very disparate items. On one side of the shop – they put them on different sides, it’s great! One side is guns, and knives, and harpoons and fucking- really mean fucking weapons. On the other side, there’s banjos, and violins, and bassoons, and you know about it, don’t you? Yeah! It’s fucking there! And what’s the guy doing? “Oh, we’re way down in weaponry, but up on banjos this week… That’s good, people are getting lighter these days, in tough times. They shift to music like crazy at the moment! Way down on bassoons!” What, is this mad guy going… Someone browsing around… “An Uzi machine gun, slices a man in two, 200 rounds a minute, or… a banjo!” (mimes playing banjo) “A ukulele, like George Formby.” You remember that famous fight, George Formby against Muhammad Ali? That was very… A dyslexic promoter put it on, and it was brilliant… “I’m gonna kill him, I’m gonna kill him…” (mimes playing banjo) “Hey, turn that… “ (mimes getting punched while playing) “Hey! Oh, it’s a big bugger! (mimes running away while playing) Who put me up for this gig? (punch) Fucking ‘ell!” (bell sound) The trainer comes up,

“You’re doing well, you’re doing well!”

“He’s fucking hitting me!” (continues to play banjo and sings nonsense) “My ukulele is smashed. I’m going to that gun shop!”

Guns & Banjos… interesting band. Could be… (mimes audience reaction) It was a very wide reaction on that last… ish thing. We’ll cut this. (chuckles) No, they’re gonna leave it in! You noticed that when people say, “Oh, we’ll cut this,” it’s always left in there? Anyway…

Oh, I forgot my rest of the show! How does it go? Oh, emergency joke: two men went into a pub… and they totally redecorated it! It was brilliant! It’s an old joke…

Oh, yeah, musical instruments! I played the clarinet, right? I wanted to play the piano, but somehow I got a clarinet. I don’t know quite how that worked… Five people can play the clarinet in the world, and they make quite a beautiful, wooden… It’s just a wooden noise (imitates sound), it floats… (makes noise again) That’s not the noise, is it? It’s like a clarinet, but I played it like a foghorn being dragged through a place where foghorns shouldn’t be dragged. It was just… it was bad noise. (bad clarinet noise) And if you’re an adult, and you’re playing a musical instrument, you’re probably making some of this sound, ‘cause you want to play it, your heart is in it, you’ve gotta have feeling, you gotta go… You can’t paint a picture if you don’t want to… (mimes painting sloppily) “Oh… it’s the Eiffel Tower!” You know…

“This is a splotch.”

“It’s the Eiffel Tower.”

You’ve gotta be in there. Now, if you’re a kid playing a musical instrument, there’s probably a certain element of parental pressure that’s going in there.

“Yes, little Johnnie, you should play the violin, because I never had the chance when I was a child.”

“Well, you’ve got the child’s now, why don’t you learn it now?”

“No… No, I don’t think I will. I have to watch telly and drive cars now, it’s the pressure of being an adult.”

“But I don’t wanna learn! I want to go and smash things with hammers!”

“Yes, I know, but if you were musical, oh, the world would be wonderful, and I would hear the wonderful noise…”

(rolling eyes) “Oh, fucking ‘ell!”

So the kid goes, “All right, I’ll learn the violin, but you won’t like it! I’ll make a bad noise! Practicing… (mimes making the violin screech) “Oh, fucking ‘ell!” The violin like this, the cello is slightly bigger, with a spike on the bow that kills you, and the double bass you have to rest on a friend to play… I played the clarinet.

And if you play a musical instrument; if you’re a kid and play a musical instrument,

you want to play sexy tunes, don’t you? “I want to play sexy tunes! I want to play tunes so that other kids at school come up and say, ‘Hey, he’s playing sexy tunes!’ People who I fancy say, ‘We must dance provocatively in front of him, like they do in films we don’t believe.’ (humming a tune and dancing) ‘We will shag him as soon as we know how.’” That was where you wanted to go, wasn’t it? You wanted everyone to go, “Oh, wow, what a hip fucking dancey tune…” But all the music lessons just make you learn dirge! I was learning from this book called “A Tune A Day,” and…

“This tune is called “Snug As A Bug In A Rug.” So, is this a sexy tune, Mrs. Badcrumble? I just don’t think, Mrs. Badcrumble, that this is really gonna be a sexy tune.”

“No, it’s a totally sexy tune on the clarinet! I made love to this tune with my husband in 1481, I’ll have you know…”

“You did? It’s a very sexy tune? All right, I’ll have a go. Here we go…” (mimes playing “Snug As A Bug In A Rug”) “At what point did you orgasm during this song, Mrs. Badcrumble?”

“All through it, it was multiple! They hadn’t been invented in 1481, but I got there… on a hang-glider.”

“You’re fucking nuts!”

The clarinet’s got a wooden reed at the back, and you have to push it, you have to make… it’s not an ambesure, which is something else, it’s a kind of vegetable… that flute players have to deal with… (ambesure sounds) and if you’re making a sound, you squeak (squeaking and making practice sounds) After a while, I was practicing and my Dad was going, “Stop practicing! You sound crap! I have bought a hammer! You may borrow it if you wish!” Oh, it was a dreadful, fucking noise! And the clarinet’s like that, but the oboe has two bits of wooden reed pushed together, you have to… (blowing through ambesure) It’s designed not to let any sound in! It’s like trying to blow in a weasel! (mimes blowing in a weasel)

The tuba! Who chooses to play a tuba? Surely a tuba is a punishment thing, surely it’s community service.

“You’ve been sentenced to three years on the tuba.”

“Oh, God!”

Who wants to make… (mimes playing tuba)? It’s got a huge horn, you can get a child in there! (mimes playing tuba and child eventually taking off) The trumpet’s okay, but it makes your cheeks go out to hamster-size; there’s a thing called a triangle, it’s just a triangle, it goes “ting!” Forget it, just with your mouth, go “ting!” The percussionists… (mimes playing percussion and vocal triangle)

“Where’s your fucking triangle?”

“Oh, grow up!”

(mimes playing percussion short notes) They do that, people play these big cauldrons… it’s like doing it too loud… (mimes putting hand on kettle drum after playing note) Yeah, true story…

So there’s all these instruments, and I played third clarinet, right? In the school band. The first clarinets played the melody, that’s okay, you know where you’re going;

second clarinets played harmonies that back up the melody and sort of link, okay; third clarinets played the notes that are left over! We were just going (sings third clarinet part) It’s boring! The only exciting way to do it is really blow it loud! (sings third clarinet part loudly) The teacher is going, “Piano! Piano!” You go, “It’s not a fucking piano! It’s a clarinet... you weird-talking person.”

And then it was… (making horrible noises from instruments played by children)

These strange, fucking noises, and the teacher is going, “Oh, this is a God-awful band! I know, I’ll get the parents to listen to this. Then maybe they’ll kill ‘em!” And a big sign went up – “School Band Will Play Tunes!” And no one from the local town came, no hip people said, “Hey, we’re going down the school, they’re gonna play a gig… I’m gonna stage-dive on the bassoon player…” Just the parents came, and sat down, going… (waving to each other) “Oh, they’re gonna kill us! We’re crap!” The teacher gets up, “The school band will now murder ‘O Come All Ye Faithful.’ The song has been arranged with… no real care. Helmets will be worn during the production. Go!” (sings awful noise, including blowing on weasel, tuba flight, vocal triangle and hamster cheeks) Parents are going, “Oh… my… God!! We have spawned the devil! Let’s go and find hammers for them.”

Poetry! Poetry is very similar to music, only less notes and more words. And there was a Scottish poet named Robbie Burns- Robbie Burns to Scottish people, Robbie Burns to English people, and Rabbi Burns to Jewish people… who turn up at his door and say,

“What is the Hebrew translation…?

“I don’t know, I’m a poet, I don’t know this… go away. Are you trick or treat?”

“I need the translation…”

And he wrote poetry, he wrote a big fucking book of poetry, but one of his most famous lines is “The Best Laid Plans O' Mice and Men Aft Gang Aglay,” meaning “The best laid plans of mice and men often go wrong.” And because it’s poetry, people go, (mimes stroking beard) “Oh, I know what you mean there, Robbie, yes… Fucking plans ganging aglay by a fucking truckload…” And being a poet, he must have observed humanity, must have said, “Men. Men make plans. These plans go wrong. Go wrong once, twice… often! Often, a number of plans I’ve seen go wrong… Possible idea for a poem…”

And then he must have turned his attention to the other animal mentioned in that line of poetry. If you think back to it, “The best laid plans of mice and men…” Exactly which mice plans was he really honing in here on? The best laid ones go aglay, some of the worse laid ones are okay? Some of them get through? He was fucking off this trolley! “See, mice also make plans, unbeknownst to most people. They plan to get cheese! They run, they scamper… Oh, one’s fallen over! No cheese today… Oh, plan two: they’ve got three, another one’s got a stick, he’s gonna put the stick into the mousetrap… No, he’s broken the stick! What a jessie! Plan three – Oh, they’ve got a flip chart now! Very serious… there’s a lot of mise surrounding the meeting, and they’re having a discussion… Oh, good plan this, probably! Their best laid plan, I believe… I could just hear what they’re saying. One mouse is going,

“You aren’t supposed to blow the bloody doors off! Told you about that… What are you doing, coming in here, and making such a fracas? Now tell me the plan.”

“Well, we’ll drive the Minis into the square…”

“No, piazza.”

“Oh, it’s piazza, Charlie? And we load the cheese in the back of the Minis, and we drove it at you during a football match.”

“That’s right. Wallop, wallop, wallop, into the big coach driven by William, rounding in the Alps, and we’re free. And you’re sitting in the back, and you’re not having a migraine, and you’re gonna shut your face.”

“All right, Charlie.”

(as Burns, still taking notes) “Meanwhile, back in London, the Chief Mouse is talking to the prison governor-

“Somebody has broken into my toilet.”

“Well, I’m terribly sorry.”

“Get on to Camp Freddy, I want Charlie Crocker given a good going-over.””

So if you haven’t seen “The Italian Job,” this is all meaningless, by the way, but then, if you haven’t seen it, you probably haven’t lived… Yes, yes…

And sayings as well! Sayings are very interesting ‘cause they’re based on truth, then they’ve got a bit of old wives’ tale on top, then a bit of a hazy farther, a bit of uncle… banana, and then you’ve ice-cream on top, and it’s just rubbish! I mean, like “He doesn’t suffer fools gladly.” We go (mimes agreeing with saying) Who does suffer fools gladly?! How often you can go,

“Hello! I’ve got a pig in me trousers!” (mimes having a pig in trousers)

“Come in! Come in, you fool! That pig sounds like a dog.”

“No, it’s a pig; I just can’t be bothered to do the impression. Can my friend come in? He’s got jam for brains”

“Yes, come in, you fool!” (mimes trying to keep jam inside head)

The other saying was… what was the other saying? Oh, yes, “Go and teach your grandmother to suck eggs.” What on Earth is that one about? You’ve got a lot of free-range eggs,

“All right, Gran, I’m gonna teach you to suck eggs.”

“I’m not gonna suck eggs, I’m not! You piss off, you young children! There’s a mouse here making a plan, you see? Planning to scale the Eiffel Tower on a bat…”

“Why are you Scottish, Gran?”

“I don’t know… I’ve been taken over by Mrs. Badcrumble. Oh, my hairnet! It’s coming off… The hair thieves are upon us!”

Now we do have haircuts, don’t we? Humans have haircuts, and sheep have haircuts, and poodles, and they’re the only three animals in the entire world, in the universe, as we know, to have haircuts. This is true, you don’t get ants going, (mimes ants marching and moving hair away from the face) You don’t get lions going, “I’ll go and get that antelope… (mimes running) Jesus Christ! (moving hair away from face) I’ll put it in bunches, right?” (mimes lion braiding his mane and resumes running) The antelope’s going, “There’s a huge girl with big teeth coming after me! Run! Run!” (mime turns from running to swimming) The last one was the butterfly… Which is a pointless swimming stroke, isn’t it? Remember when you had to stand back in the swimming bars, and some big, fucking kid came through doing the butterfly? (mimes water splashing) You just wanted to hit him with a floater. “Fuck off with your butterfly! Fucking show-off! We can’t even do doggy-paddle yet! Bastard!”

Anyway, we do get haircuts, and sheep get haircuts. Some sheep must be going into that shearing shed, going, “Hi, can I get a coffee? Thanks.” (singing laconically while turning magazine pages) “Yeah, a little bit off the top, loose down the back, and sort of wedge-shaped, that’s quite in at the moment. That’d be great, thank you… thank you” (mimes sheep reading and shearer at work) Flump! (mimes sheep looking in mirror after being sheared) “Well, it’s not quite what I was after…” (picks up the fleece and piles it on top of head) “Do you have a hairnet?”

I’ve done a bit of Latin in me time, but I can control it, you know. I never let it get out of hand, I just… have a dealer and… he sells me Latin transcripts, and you know, “Okay…” (mimes effects of Latin) so that late at night you just feel like translating Latin for a bit, upstairs, smoking in the coats’ room. I don’t know what I’m talking about now. No, I did, I did Latin, I learnt “Amo, amas, amat, amamus, amatis, amant!,” and it comes in handy. Yes! Sometimes you’re queuing at a petrol station at 3:00A.M. in the morning, and there’s a line of murderers behind you, and you turn around and go, “Amo, amas, amat, amamus, amatis, amant!” and they go, “Fuck! He knows Latin! (mimes running away) He knows a dead language! Run! Head for the hills! Head for Azerbaijan! Run down the forecourt”

Yeah, I remember you did it as “an option,” yeah… And the teachers with options were,

“Yeah, learn Latin! You’ll get the whole underlying knowledge of all the European languages!”

“Why don’t we just learn the European languages, then?”

“That’s a good point, yes…”

It’s very rare you’re at Frankfurt airport and someone’s going,

“Ja mein Herr, was ist los?”

and you’re going:

“Sprechen Sie Latin? Pugnato sum… et kumquat and romanes avec gallum et… pugnato fish…..’

“Ja, ja, aber was ist los?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know, what ist los? Do tell me…”

So I don’t think it’s very useful today, really, and they had language labs! Language labs came in when I was at school, and that was great; you get in that little cubicle, had a tape going around, the headphones on, and the tape would go, “Où est la plume de ma tante? Monsieur, où est la plume de ma tante?” And you’d go, “La plume de ma tante est près de la chaise de ma tante… as well you know…”

And the tape would go: “Oui! Oui, la plume de ma tante est près de la chaise de ma tante…” You’d go, “How does this tape know what I’m talking about?” And the tape would continue, “Où est la plume de mon oncle?” And you’d go, “La plume de mon oncle est bingy bongy boogy bongy…”

And the tape would go,

“Non! Pas du tout! La plume de mon oncle n’est pas bingy bongy boogy bongy – qu’est-ce que vous dîtes? Vous êtes un putain!”

“Je ne suis pas un putain. Je n’avais pas le sexe pour l’argent – qu’est-ce que vous dîtes, vous cassette?’

And the tape would go, “Oh, oh pardon. Je suis désolé, vous avez raison. (sings) Je suis seulement un pauvre cassette. Je n’avais pas les pantaloons…” Oh, it’s an old song…! Yeah…

I did an exchangeship with France; yeah, the teacher at my school said, “Do you want one of ours? He’s already loaded into the tuba.” (mimes flying to France taking off from inside a tuba) And I went to a place called Châlons-Sur-Marne, it’s on the river Marne, otherwise it’d be “Châlons-Sur… no, nothing.” It’s in the Champagne region of France,

which is North… North-East, and champagne is going on there all the time. They have loads of champagne, and they celebrate all the time. “You’ve crossed the road? Champagne! You’ve walked out of a shop? Champagne! You can lean over a bit like this? Champagne!” Big occasions – “You had a baby?” (mimes opening and drinking a can of beer)

So it’s a bit of a functional French town, every country’s got a bit of “oh!” Emotionally linked with Felix, though… And we were shown around places of interest in Châlons-Sur-Marne; we were shown around the glue factory, you know. When you’re a kid, you go,

“Oui, oui, le – le usine de glue. C’est très bien.”

“Voici le usine de glue. Voici la porte de l’usine de glue. (mimes getting hand stuck to doorknob) Merde!”

Se we went around, they showed us glue- one pot, they lifted the lid, there was just glue going around, we’re going, “Oui, c’est très bien.” (mimes tasting glue) And we ended up in a boardroom, and a bloke with a flipchart was saying, “Voici l’usine de glue. C’est le flipchart et… qu’est-ce que c’est? Le fromage? Les souris? ‘Le Job Italian’! Qu’est-ce que ‘Le Job Italian’? Qui est Charlie Croker? Camp Freddy? Mr Bridger…” Sorry, just gave you the whole list there. The cast list.

So he said, “Oui, oui, c’est l’usine de glue. Ah ici, c’est… Ah, the glue making process, okay. Ici un cheval, pas de glue, un cheval, pas de glue, pas de cheval, beaucoup de glue!”

“Oh, c’est merde pour le cheval!”

“ Oui, c’est merde…”

And it was an exchange trip, so we had to be re-exchanged, you know, and this all took place in the cross-Channel ferry, like it does. And all my teachers went down – we all went down on to the car deck, and my teachers switched on the lights of their Rover… and the Châlons teachers switched on the lights of their Citröen. All my teachers got out with cricket bats and tennis rackets (mimes teachers taunting French teachers) And all the Châlons teachers got out with French sporting equipment… a set of boules. And my head teacher is going, “Send the English kid over!” So I was pushed off with a load of French bread…

“C’est un cadeau, un cadeau!”

“Oh, merci, merci…”

And the French kid was coming over with a load of Brillo pads… “Oui, oui, c’est un cadeau de les anglais. C’est le shredded wheat. Ils sont très generous, n’est-ce pas? Oui, oui, on peut le manger. Oui, un peu de lait, un peu de sucre… Et on mange, mange, mange, mange, mange, mange, mange, mange, mange, et après, pas de dents!”

If you don’t understand French, by the way, all of this is very funny, I assure it. But we’re Europeans, we can swing with it.

I did German tapes as well! Big drop in your understanding. The tape’s going round and saying, “Wo ist das Kind, mein Herr? Wo ist das Kind?” And I’d go, “Das Kind ist in dem Flughaben… as well you know!” And the tape would go,

“Ja, das Kind IST in dem Flughaben. Aber warum?”

“Well, I’m not really sure… Perhaps he likes the airplanes.”

And then we did Latin tapes as well, we did bloody Latin tapes, and they were just lies. It was pure lies because no one knew what the bloody accent was. They were trying to get you to learn the Latin accent, and they had NO IDEA! Because everyone was dead, it’s a dead language; the Romans, for all they knew, could have said, (in a high pitched voice) “Hello, we’re the Romans!” (in a deeper, dumber voice) “We’re the Romans.” (mumbles same line through different pitches and accents) “We’re the Romans, we want to come in your country and take all your things.” They had no idea, so they lied, and they made up all this Roman accent, which was kind of floaty, it was (floatily) “Puella est in cena.” And that was too floaty for me, because this is a very aggressive nation, very (growls); I mean, they weren’t into democracy and diplomacy, ‘cause they were Greek words, and they’d invaded them… They went ‘round, invading countries, with organized men with stabby swords, stab, stab, stab… I just don’t think they went into Gaul, going,

“Hello… Are you the people of Gaul? Wonderful! Well, we are the Romans. Yes, we are. And you must be Chief Vercingétorix, is that right? No, I recognize you from the “Asterix” books. Well, we’re the Romans, I am a legionary; this is our leader, Mr. Dog.”

(mimes being on a horse, then as James Mason) “Yes, I am. And a word with you, legionary, if I may… Thinking of changing my name, I am… Changing it from Mr. Dog to Cesar. Had a word with the marketing department… the marketing department of Rome, and it’s Mr. Cesar… Oh, I’m getting off this see-saw! It’s boring. Bring me my horse, thank you very much! There we go, that’s much better… Have we got steel radials on the back of this?” Yeah…

Roman history was fascinating because 2,000 years ago they murdered and killed a lot of people! But 2,000 years ago, “forgive and forget,” eh? Let bygones be “beegones.” Whatever a bygone is… That’s another saying, isn’t it?

“Let bygones be bygones.”

“What’s a bygone?”

“Well, it’s a gone…”

Oh, it’s a thing that’s gone by, isn’t it? Forget it. That makes sense… So some sayings are true! So what you do is you hit someone –

“Why the fuck did you do that for?”

“Oh, it’s a bygone! It’s already done, it’s been done… No use crying over bygones. Look, the bygones are coming!”

(mimes bygones marching down)

“It’s the fucking invasion of the bygones!”

That’s quite good, isn’t it? “Invasion of the bygones!” They’re all going, “Look, it’s no bother, really.” (chuckling) That’s a very British invasion. “I’m terribly sorry, we’ve overstayed our welcome. We used to be imperialist bastards, but now we’re just coming quite politely. Hello…”

Yes! Back in Roman times, when people died, they had professional mourners come in, which is a terribly weird idea. “My husband is dead- Mr. Claudius is dead. Oh, God…!” Which god…? Oh, Jove! “By Jove, he’s dead! Tragedy…” Not the other god that you’re thinking about. I’ll do this again… (cracks up) “Oh, my husband is dead!” Fuck it! Forget the whole thing. Re-cut. No. “My husband is dead, Mr. Claudius is dead… And there’s not enough grief! There’s not enough grief in this house to warrant his death, I wish to beef up the grief! Slave, get a message out to Mourners-R-Us, will you? Tell them I wish to beef up the grief! Yes, let bygones be bygones. Here’s 10 denarii for your trouble, and get them straight back here, slave. What do you think you’re doing?”

And up will come a very smooth guy,

“Good afternoon, I’m Mr. Marcellus. I’m from Mourners-R-Us. (suffering moan) Just a free sample there. Now…”

“That’s very impressive!”

“Yes… (different types of mournful sounds) I told you… (more sounds) We can do both hands, ambidextrous. Oh, Mr. Claudius is dead, what a tragedy! A great man- was he a great man? I hope he was, yeah… A great big man, anyway. Well, we have several funerals on offer this week, we have a special on, the cheap one- we call it “Oh, bum, he’s dead!” funeral. It’s our bargain, 25 denary, and that’s just Mr. Claudius out front, and just myself about 10 meters behind, just a little bit pissed off.” (mimes walking behind the dead man and gesturing that he’s dead) “Oh, bum!” “That’s the ‘Oh, Bum!’ funeral, not much bother, shove him in the ground, no problem. For a full 50 denary, we got myself and Flavius here, at either side of the funeral cortège, slightly more geared up, slightly more, ‘Oh! (takes hand to forehead) Tragedy! Tragedy! He was a great man…’ We could have a CV at this point… ‘Oh, he made jam… played the ukulele, all these things… in the George Foreman quartet’ and we’ll poke people with sticks to make them cry more. (mimes poking) ‘Go on, cry, you bastards!’ That’s our 50 denary.

And for a full 100 denary, all four of us carry the deceased along, and then we gently lower him into the ground on straps… and then we’ll twang him into a tree!”

That end bit isn’t really authentic, is it? But just to tail off the whole piece, so I started twanging him into trees! And it gets a big laugh, and then I carry on… (sticks tongue out) That’s comedy for you! But we’re kind of lugubrious about, you know, funerals and people dying, and we always mourn the death throughout, when celebrating the life is a different attitude. And I think, “twang ‘em into trees!” That’s what I say. Wouldn’t you rather die and be twang into a tree? The jury is out for that one, you know… Just think about it, give a lot of fun to people… (mimes twanging corpse into a tree) “Oh, it didn’t! Bring it back, bring it back… Come on! (mimes re-twanging it) Duel funerals… (mimes corpses crossing each other mid air) Funerals on bonfire night… (mimes fireworks and twanging corpses) It’s an option, we can go that way if we want to. So, yeah…

Also, back in Roman times, Pliny The Younger wrote letters. He was a letter-writer, it’s a great bloody profession, isn’t it? ”Oh, I’m gonna write some letters today… April 7^th…” He’d just write postcards, (campy cockney) “’ello. Bye!” ‘Cause people do write really crap postcards, you know. ‘I’m here. You’re not. Bye!’ Or you start getting interesting, just at the bottom of the postcard, and you start writing all along… (mimes writing on all sides)

Anyway, I don’t know that Pliny did postcards, but he wrote from Vesuvius; he was at Mt. Vesuvius when it erupted, on the West coast of Italy, back in 80 (mumbles) No, it was AD 79, right? So that’s kind of the time period, and he was there. “Dear Father, I am here at Vesuvius, it is erupting as I speak. Fucking ‘ell!!! Get me out of here!! The top’s come off the mountain! There’s stuff everywhere! (hysterical screaming) Send ships and big ships. Send fucking dogs… Get on to Mr. Dog, tell them to send people… Everything’s gorgeous. Got a great tan, even though we all have it ‘cause we’re in Italy. Love and kisses, Pliny the Younger. P.S.: Nothing.” Yeah…

And St. Paul, he wrote letters, didn’t he? “St. Paul’s Letter to the Corinthians.” Always writing to the Corinthians. “St. Paul’s letter to the Corinthians – Chapter 1 – Verses 1 to 53. Dear Corinthians, as you can tell from my preamble, it’s gonna be quite a long letter. Here we go: Don’t do bad things, only do good things. Always treat your neighbour like someone who lives near to you. Never put a sock in a toaster. Never put jam on a magnet. Never throw your Granny in a bag. Never suck all the juice out of a vampire. Never lean over on Tuesday…” (takes drag out of joint) “Lots of other things, but I gotta go and have a Mars bar now. Love, Paul (Saint).” (cracks up) Is that how he wrote his name? “Paul (Saint). B.A. honours.” Yeah, so he wrote this – “All right, that’s the end of the letter…” (mimes folding the letter, putting it into an envelope and licking it close) “The Corinthians… Corinth.” (mimes sending the letter out like a paper plane)

They must’ve been real fucked off over in Corinth, don’t you think? The postman going,

“Come on, one of you Corinthians, gotta take this letter.”

“Oh, fuck off! That’s from old mourner St. Paul, isn’t it? No… I don’t want it, I don’t want it!”

“You gotta take it. Come on, I gotta have a signature for it.”

“Oh, fuck off! It says “the CorinthianS,” plural. Ask someone else. Oh, give it here. What does it say…? ‘Don’t do this, don’t do that… Never put a sock in a toaster? Jam on a magnet…’ Ooh, he’s lost his brain, ain’t he? Whose idea was it to be a pen-pal with St. Paul anyway? That fucking backfired, didn’t it? He’s supposed to stop doing it at about 15, he’s been doing it for years… Come on, Corinthians, come on, general meeting. We’re gonna write a letter back to him, stop all this rubbish.”

“The Corinthians’ Letter Back to St. Paul - Chapter 1- Verses 1 to a million. More letters to follow. Tuesday 28^th of something. Dear Paul (Saint, apparently), FUCK OFF! Just fu- who are you? Why do you keep sending these letters? You arrogant bastard, you send a letter to an entire city! What do you want us to do, put these up in a board or something? Just fuck off! You’re coming on like Alistair Cooke, for fuck’s sake! ‘Never put a sock in a toaster,’ what’s all that about? You daft git! Love and kisses, the Corinthians. Kiss, kiss – Steve the Corinthian, Fred the Corinthian, George the Corinthian…” (mimes folding letter and sealing it in an envelope) “There we go – St. Paul… Outside Corinth” (sends letter as paper plane)

And the Carthaginians as well! Oh, they gave the Romans hell! Because they attacked Rome, the Carthaginians did, over the Alps on elephants… and the Romans were never expecting that. The Romans were there, going, “What? The Carthaginians attacking? God! I knew it! What? Attacking over the Alps? Damn! I knew they’d do that! What? They’re coming on elephants? Where did they get the elephants? There aren’t any elephants in Europe! This I’ve gotta see… Are you sure? You sure it’s just not a typo mistake? ‘The Carthaginians are attacking, they’re coming over the Alps in their element’? Happy, you know? They’re coming on fucking elephants…”

They weren’t gonna, you know, they were gonna come on skis, of course. That was the way in down the fucking Alps. But their leader, Hannibal, and his brothers, Hasdrubal,

Haveaball and Haveabanana, whose real name was, “whoa! Have a banana…” Hannibal went to the shop, and said, “Skis for all my men! We’re gonna attack the Romans over the Alps.” And the guy said,

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“We’re gonna attack the Romans over the Alps, in fact.”

“Oh, all right. Well, fresh out of skis at the moment. The last pair just went to… someone.”

“Oh… that’s a bummer.”

“We’ve got some elephants, though…”

“Are they good at skiing?”

“Oh, tops! Top skiers there…”

‘Cause elephants were much more lithe back in Roman times, much more like Austrian skiing instructors are today… (mimes ski instructor’s moves) Off the tops of those roofs of chalets… (mimes jumping from chalet roof) What about the people who lives in those wooden huts? (mimes coming out of house with gun)

“Fuck off my roof! (shoots) Stop skiing off my roof, you bastards! Bloody elephants! All my life living at Heathrow, coming out here… fucking ‘ell! Bit of peace of quiet and whoom! Fucking elephants on my roof! (shoots) Sorry about that, Mrs. Badcrumble! Anyway… So you think I should take up the clarinet, do you?”

“Yes, I do, I think it’d be very good. Mr. Cesar here has been learning the clarinet for some time now.”

(as James Mason) “Yes, I have, it’s a very good instrument… It’s very sexy. I’m learning ‘Snig as a Bug in a Rig.’”

“Isn’t that ‘Snug as a Bug in a Rug’?”

“Yes.” (cracks up)

“Well, I’ll go on, Mrs. Badcrumble. You know, I’m just… Why am I Australian, by the way?”

“I don’t know.”

“My country hasn’t even been invented yet… except by the indigenous tribes who lives there…” Whoa, there we go!

I don’t know what all that bit’s about… “Sorry about living here in this hut… (elephant jumps off roof) Fuck off my roof! I’m gonna put a huge hairnet up, that’s what I’ll do… (mimes putting up hairnet) That will stop them from doing it. “ Elephants going, (mimes skiing and getting trapped in the net)

“And you’re gonna stay there!”

“Can we have our ball back, please?”

So he did, and Hannibal said,

“Well, all right, you proved it with that small film there… (cracks up) You’ve let me into it with that small elephant ski… Are you sure it’s a good idea?

“Oh, yes! (singing) If you’ve never seen an elephant ski, then you’ve never been on acid…”

“Too true, as the old film shows. Right! Elephants for all my men.”

“What size do you take?”

“Six and a half, thanks.” (mimes standing on two elephants) “All right, you guys better be good at skiing.”

(mimes skiing on top of elephants) Huge ski sticks. (mime continues) And the ski lifts back in those days were enormous! I don’t know if you’ve seen… The Carthaginians are sitting in those bucket seats, with two elephants hanging off their feet (mimes elephant in air) The Carthaginians are going, “Oh, my thighs!”

The whole military thing is very organized; it’s a very tight regime. You need a military, I think, because it’s very hip to say, “Oh, all military should disband!” but you keep getting organized shitheads that wanna kill people come along, like Hitler. If it’s just a shithead, that’s fine; but if it’s an organized shithead, people go… (mimes following in line) And that’s the problem.

Every army has rules; there are no casual armies that go,

“Oh, ‘ello, General!”

“Oh, ‘ello, Corporal.”

It’s all, (miming military salute) “Yes, Sir! No, Sir! Yes, Sir!” and there’s all these different salutes. (miming the different salutes) You’ve got the British one, the American one, the French one, and countries in Eastern Europe, new countries, going,

“Well, we can’t use that one, and that one’s been… What about this one? (using both hands)

“Almost a surrender kind of thing…”

“Well, there’s that one… (puts hand in the air over head) or this one… (hands to sides of face, waving fingers) or this one we quite like…” (puts hand on forehead as visor and lifts left leg towards the back)

“Go for that one.”

(doing the arm and leg salute) “Afternoon, General.”

“Afternoon, Corporal.”

It’s not very efficient either, that… (mimes salute) What about that? (lifts hand to the waist) That’s much more efficient, sure. (lifts hand to the hip, then to upper thigh)

Civilians, we have a hand-shaky kind of agreement- kind of greeting thing. And people sometimes say to you, “Oh, come here! I want you to meet a whole bunch of people.” Suddenly, you’re meeting eight people all at once, and they all tell you their names.

“Hi, my name is Steve.”

“Steve, hi.” (mimes name coming in one ear and out the other throughout)

“My name is Jennifer.”

“Jennifer. Bernard…”

At the end, you go, “Good to meet you all. Did you have names? I didn’t hear a thing! They’re all over here, aren’t they?”

And some people do those squeezy handshakes; that crusher handshake, you know, the “Small-Dick-I’ve-Got-A-Big-Handshake” kind of... The Compensation Handshake. A firm handshake is great, but that crusher one where they start to rotate your knuckles, you know? You’re going, “Hi, how are you? Nice to meet you…” (mimes shaking hands casually, then encountering a crusher) And they go into this, and you don’t react, you just go… (mimes taking in the pain, then recovering his hand) “Jesus Christ!” We should react… because they’re gonna get away with this, they just keep doing this stupid crusher handshake; they think it’s very “Ooh-I-have-an-enormous-penis!” handshake, but we know it’s a small dick handshake. And you should react; if someone starts crushing the life out of your hand, just go, “AAAAAAAAH! Fucking hell! You bastard! Good Lord! Hope you die in a car crash!” Either that, or the complete opposite, and just collapse on the floor. “Oh, you killed him! You killed him dead, man! Now he suffers from hand-squeezy death. Yeah, you killed him… I’m gonna tell on you!”

The other type of handshake is that sort of “sock in a cart” handshake you just receive, you know? (mimes weighing the handshake) “Oh… I don’t know, 2 kilograms, 2.5 kilograms, what do you think?” You should always have a fish up your sleeve for that one, someone gives you that kind of drop-in handshake, then you just slap in the fish…

“Hey, your hand’s come off! Oh, it’s a fish…”

“Yes, a present from my country! Done in one! ”

21. Circle of Cool

Then it’s the cool handshake, the street handshake, which is… (mimes an elaborate handshake) there, and then there, there and there… and sometimes… and bits after it, you know? You can’t ask how it’s done, you just have to know it, that’s what cool is all about. You just know… and you don’t actually just know, ‘cause no one knows, so you have to watch it… (mimes watching on the sly) And you go home and practice furiously on five bananas… (mimes practicing) until the thumb comes off.

“Cool” is a pursuit of youth, it’s a fashion link thing being cool. It’s linked to the circle- you’ve got “Looking Like a Dickhead” over here, “Average Looking,” “Kind of Cool,” “Cool,” “Hip and Groovy…” “Looking Like a Dickhead”! I have been known to cruise in that back area… I can walk down the street and get these opposite reactions now. I can walk down, and people go, (mimes alternately positive and negative reactions) Makes you feel really good, but sick… And yeah, so…

There was a look back in the ‘50s that was a matchstick out of the corner of your mouth, in the sort of James Dean kind of era, and it was considered quite cool. It’s quite timeless as well, it just works, I don’t know quite why; you lean up against a wall, and you have it there, and you roll it around, and occasionally you pull it out and go,

“Hey, you, kids! You kids be cool…”

“What a wanker! Who is he? He’s eating a match!”

“Yes, I am…”

It’s the urban equivalent of the country, kind of yokel character, with the ear of corn out of his mouth, going,

“Hey, you, kids! Never suck the juice out of a tractor.”

(mimes sucking juice out) “What’s that?”

The tractor going (mimes deflating himself) All the juice sucked out of it. Never mind… How do you mime a tractor that’s had all the juice sucked out of it? That’s my one… Anyway… Just a thumbnail sketch. So…(squeaks)

Oh, yes! I just forgot what I was talking about. So one matchstick out of the corner of your mouth, mm-hmm-hmm, quite cool. Second matchstick out the other side of the mouth, and you’re looking like a dickhead! You’re right… A third one in the front, looks like your teeth are sliding out…

Eye patches have a similar number problem. One eye patch, looking quite cool! Two eye patches… hello? Three eye patches- now what’s going on here?

Pirates and the kid at school with the lazy eye, they were the two groups that had eye patches; again, very disparate. I don’t know how you do sub-sets with them, but anyway… And the lazy-eye syndrome, you have one eager beaver eye, that goes, “Oh, look at that! Oh! Oh!” and the other eye is going,

“Hey, I’m in bed! I’m in bed! Chill out, man!”

“You’re missing the best part of the day.”

“Oh, fuck off!”

So you put the eye patch over your lazy eye, so it can have a snooze, yeah?

Long John Silver had an eye patch, quite cool. Also had a parrot on his shoulder… (doubting noises) It was the wrong bird, he should have had a mina bird! ‘Cause parrots, they suffer from the beautiful plumage, ‘cause they’ve got greens, and yellows and reds – real vibrant colours that really kick out, and you go, “Ooh, wow!” but they look great and talk shite. (imitates parrot) “Squawk! Squawk! Pieces of eight, ‘ello!” A bird that says “pieces of eight” is equivalent to having a bird on your shoulder, going,

“£4.53! £4.53!”

“Shut up, bird, shut up. Don’t say that!”

“£4.53!”

“Shut up! Stop talking prices!”

Yeah, stuff them! Mina birds are much better; they’ve got slick black feathers, and they sit on your shoulder, and they say things like, “Oh, look at that sunset!” (mimes showing off the bird) If you ever see them in a pet shop, they want to get out of the pet shop; they hate being cooped up in there, they say things ‘cause they’re bored. People come up, and they say,

“Ooh! Nice shoes… I like your haircut, you know? I think you’re sexy!”

“That’s a nice bird! Can I buy it?”

But be careful, when you take the mina birds home, they don’t like it; they think they’re getting their freedom once they’ve been bought, but you take them into the lounge and they get pissed off, they get sullen… You’ve got people around, and they go,

“Oh, they hate you!”

“What was that, mina bird?”

“You heard me… They hate you! They put poison in your coffee. There’s a pig under the table with a gun. I control them through this cuttlefish here…”

‘Cause birds fly and we have airplanes, that’s the deal; but no one’s put a flying bird, a bird that can fly, into an airplane. It’d be amazing, because it wouldn’t be flying, but it’d be flying! A mina bird in a 747… (mimes plane taking off, mina bird fastening seat belt, looking out the window and waving to the birds outside) The birds outside… (mimes birds looking in while flying, in disbelief – mina bird waves back from inside plane, points at seatbelt, reclines seat, puts on headphones, laughs at movie…) These birds are flying very fast, of course! (bird outside tries to stop midair to have a better look and starts falling down) “Shit!” (gets mime for mina bird confused as he keeps flapping wings) Oh, I’m not flying, I’m sitting! (mimes mina bird sitting, listening to music) “Sorry? White wine, please.”(mina bird brings down tray, wine and food are put down before it as outside birds look on) They’re hanging on to the side! (mimes mina bird trying to deal with food) “I haven’t got fingers, could you cut this up, please? Thank you very much.”

We have a fascination with flying, hang-gliding is the closest we’ve got. There’s a cliff near where I used to go to school, in Beachy Head, and it’s a big, chocolate, 300, 400-foot, maybe a mile high, who knows? We certainly don’t, ‘cause we have no idea. Well, we’re metric now, so 30 cubic litres high, all right? And the road goes very close, if you go to Beachy Head, and people get out of the cars and they just want to look over the cliff. We want to look into the jaws of death, we have that thing; and when you get close to the edge, your brain goes… (taunting sounds) And if there’s two of you there, you go… “Get out there!” (mimes trying to push your friend off the cliff) What is all that about? You can’t chuck each other off! You know, whoever you’re going out with – “Come on!” And everyone does a lot of “wait-on-the-back-foot” type walking as well, in case there’s a big crack, and everyone goes… (mimes falling off, screaming) And you just go lift and stand back… They old Playtex two-step – lift and stand back.

And it’s pointless- it would be interesting up to a point to jump off a cliff, up to… (mimes going for the jump) Up to that point… After that, “Oh, no, no, no!”(trying to hang on to the cliff by the nails and splattering at the bottom) At the bottom, on the jaggy rocks, and there, a lot of crabs and seaweed going, (mimes matador’s cape move) “¡Olé!”(singing Brazilian samba tune for some reason and waving his hands around) “¡Si-ñor!” All the time I was doing that, I was thinking of a Spanish word to say at the end of it… came out a bit weird, didn’t it? Should have been “¡Señor!” not “¡Si-ñor!” That just sounds like a brand of fucking cigarettes… from the ‘40s or something. God! Weird analogy… Even now… Oh, fuck it!

And so… and so what? Oh, yes, wizards! Now wizards… well, a bit of a jump there, but they can fly, can’t they? They can fucking fly! They can fucking do anything, because they have the big staff, the big, sort of Gandalf kind of like… (mimes pointing the staff) “I’ll turn you into a pig!” kind of thing. And when shit’s happening, it’s great to be a wizard, “I’ll turn you into a pig!” We can’t do that, but the closest we’ve got to it, it’s the TV control, when you’re in your flat, on your own, you can go, (pointing the control) “2! I’ll have a bit of 3, thank you. 2. 3. 2. 3. 1!” In North America, they’re going, “78! 87! 54!” We’re going, “4! Volume, volume, volume, mute… fast forward, rewind…” (sounds of tape moving back and forth) And then the “pause” button- you press “Pause,” and when I press the pause on a video, I want it to pause… (mimes different pause postures) But you press it, and everyone in the film goes… (mimes characters dancing during the pause) Surely, that button should say “La Cucaracha.” We’d love a “La Cucaracha” button, you’d go, “La Cucaracha! I’m gonna make a toffee…” A coffee, that is, not a toffee. Switch it off, I’m gonna make a toffee, that’s a fucking hour! The coffee is the better one, I don’t know… fuck it. Ah, yes…

But I talk about television, I know television, I’m a child of the television age- all the gadgets as well; I like those, but if you lose the control, we just sit there, going, “uhhh…”

“Switch the telly on.”

“No, I’ve lost the control! We can’t even switch it on by hand, the television is smooth…”

In the old days, you’d say,

“Change the channel!”

“No, you change it!”

“Change the channel!”

Eventually, the mouse is going, “Oh, it’s not in the plan I had! I’ll change the channel, fucking…” (muttering) And the button was really long in the ‘70s, (mimes pressing button) or that turny one (mimes switching channels with dial).”BBC1… BBC2… oh, it’s come off!”

And after a while, the batteries start to go. “2. 2. 2! 2! 2!” And when this happens, you take the back off, you put your hand up against the batteries, and you roll them up and down… (mimes rolling hand against batteries) Yeah! That gives you an extra two days on batteries! Two days before the long walk down to the petrol station to queue with the murderers… (mimes operating the remote on the queue behind and the petrol station attendant, who starts dancing) La Cucaracha.

Yeah… Wizards never have that problem, do they, with their magic staff. (mimes pointing the staff to the other person) “I turn you into a pig. Into a pig! A pig! (turning it on to himself) A pi… Oh, I’m a pig now! (turns himself back into a wizard, and points away again) “Pig! Frog! Pig! Frog! Pig! Bloody batteries! (rubbing hand against batteries) Pig! Frog! Loud Pig! (grunting) Loud pig! Loud pig! Mute pig! La Cucaracha The Pig!” (mimes pig dancing)

Television- I’m addicted to television, I’m actually watching less of it now, ‘cause at 4:00 in the morning, I’m going, (drowsily) “I must watch the… Maybe it’s important… Beavers do what? Oh, dams! They build dams! Okay. If I ever meet one, I’ll say, ‘Build a dam, beaver!’”

But quiz shows are something I’ve never really got into; quiz shows like “Come On!” Well, officially, I’m not into them, they come on, I go, “God damn it! God, I don’t like this… Jesus! A quiz… How would somebody quiz… Venice! No, Vienna! Vienna! Damn! Fuck, I knew it was a “V” town!”

The big mainstream quiz games, like, you know, 8:00 o’clock on some evening , anyone watches anything.

(as quiz show host) “Hey, it’s 8:00 o’clock, it’s ‘Who Gives a Shit?’ (sings quiz show music) You don’t even know what you’re watching, and I’m Charlie Smiles, and here it is, it’s ‘Who Gives A Shit?’ Two teams of five! Steve, tell us a bit about yourself!”

“Well, I…”

“That’s great, Steve!” (sings quiz show music) “And something happened to you when you were 2.”

“I was shot dead by a duck… wearing Blakeys.”

“Sounds good, Steve. This game is very, very simple and very similar to all the other games in the world. You’re gonna pick three things out of a hat, put them together into a small bag. If you choose the things off the conveyor belt, put your headphones on, go into the booth, listen to some music, come back out, act out a scene from ‘Othello,’ make a pie out of pastry, act out another scene, sing a song, and then, if you do that, you win a sausage. Do you wanna do that?”

”Sorry?”

“Okay, you don’t go home empty-handed, ‘cause we’re gonna cut your hands off!” (sings music from quiz show again) “Do you want to see what you would have won? Do you want to see what you would have won? You would have been president of the world! 3 billion people as your slaves! Instead, you’re gonna spend your entire life living in a ditch… with poo on your head!”

“Oh, thank you very much.”

I’ve invented my own quiz game, for late nights, sort of Channel 4, when everyone’s blasted out of their brains, and it’s called “Whose Pig Is This?” Right? That’s what it’s called, and it’s got a mainstream presenter, who just comes out… (sings quiz show theme) And these pigs keep getting sent out, and he goes, “Eh, whose pig is this?” The audience is laughing, and he doesn’t know! “Whose pig is this? There’s a pig in the studio! There’s a pig here! Can you get this pig the fuck out of here? Sorry about that, there’s a pig…” Everyone laughing, “Right. Whose pig is this now?” It goes on for about two hours, and 400 pigs are pushed on. Needs a bit of work, doesn’t it? But it’s basically there, the pig motif…

But I am a gadget nut, I’m a real- you’ve heard of techno-fear? Well, there’s techno-fear and techno-joy, and techno-fear are people on computers, going, “No… I don’t… It’ll wipe it… No…” (shuddering) And techno-joy are people going, “I know how to do this! It’s… Oh, I’ve wiped it! Oh, it’ doesn’t- hit it with a hammer! “ That’s me, “hit it with a…” You’re just getting something new, and you get this big tome to read through, and you go, “Oh, it’s so powerful! Oh, fuck…” (mimes turning pages on manual and slowly pressing keys on gadget) And then you just set fire to it all, and run around in your knickers for a bit…

But I am into gadgets; I was always fascinated by James Bond’s gadgets, ‘cause he had these brilliant little gadgets, but the guy who gave them to him, “Q,” he must have been some sort of psychic, ‘cause they always gave him exactly what he would have want of, very lean, wasn’t it? He used every single item, he never came back, going, (as Sean Connery) “Q, I’ve got a lot of stuff I didn’t use on that adventure. Went all the way out to fucking God knows where, and this watch that turned into a hamster, what was the point of that? These trousers, press a button, turn into jam. Why? The hat turned into a bicycle, that was very funny…”

It was! He’d fall into the water, there were sharks there, he had a breathing apparatus; he could breathe up to four minutes. He never went, (as Connery) “Shit! It’s in the hotel! I’ve got the trousers that turn into jam, though…”(mimes pressing button, pants turning into jam, and shark approaching) The shark’s going, “Oh, there’s blood everywhere! Look, it’s blo- (sniffs) It’s jam! (sniffing more) Oh, I’ve got water in me nose!” Anyway… Do they do that? Do they go… (mimes choking on water) You see a shark coming to the surface… (mimes shark coughing and spitting) “Oh, it went down the wrong way… I swallowed some oxygen…” Anyway… yeah…

So he did, he had precisely- when James Bond got into the Aston Martin, with the ejector seat, the baddie sat in the fucking ejector seat! He never sat in the back… (mimes Bond driving with baddie in backseat) James going,

(as Connery) “You couldn’t sit in the front, could you?”

(in strange voice) “No, Mr. Bond, I will sit in the back. I will sit in the back seat. I have a gun on you, I’m a S’mores agent and you can go nowhere.”

“You couldn’t come and sit up here in the front, could you? It’s a nice seat here… I like the company.”

“No, I will not, Mr. Bond. I’ll sit in the back here.”

“Where exactly are you from, by the way?”

“Don’t you take the piss out of me! I will come up in the front and talk to you… Why don’t you… I am a S’mores agent, I have a voice synthesizer in my throat. I can do any accent you can think of. Unfortunately, I’ve lost the instructions, it seems, and my voice box is stuck on “shop demonstration,” which is a bit of a bummer…”

“You’re a fucking nutter you are! Still, he’s in the ejector seat now, I’ll press… Oh, shit! I’m not in the Aston Martin! I’m in a fucking Mini! Nice car, but no fucking ejector seat. Even the windows are those half ones…” (mimes opening the window in a Mini) “Bugger!” (laughs like Muttley)

He never did that, did he, James Bond? He never went… (again laughs like Muttley) That was more Muttley, wasn’t it? “My name is Bond, James Bond.” (laughs like Muttley) That wouldn’t be cool enough for him.

“You think you’ve got me, Blowfelt? Well, you haven’t!” (Muttley laughter)

“My name is not Blowfelt, I am a S’mores agent, man.”

“Right… Oh, I’ve got a breathing apparatus! I know what to do.” (mimes breathing through apparatus)

“What are you doing, Mr. Bond?”

“I can breathe for four minutes with this, and you can’t!”

“I think I can…”

“Can you? Oh, bum!” (Muttley laughter) “You don’t have a shark, do you, by any chance? ‘Cause they quite like jam, you know…” Yeah…

I watch a lot of educational stuff on telly as well, and I think it’s great, ‘cause you can just watch it and then fuck off; you can go, “Really? Oh, really? Oh, really?” That’s a great way to be a student- if you could have had lessons when you were at school, going, “Oh, really? Oh, that’s great! No, I didn’t know that… Oh, that’s the bell! Bye!” Trouble is, the teachers would say, “Now write that out four times, and then I’m gonna test you tomorrow on stuff I’ve not told you about.” (mimes disappointment)

I did Physics, for some reason, I didn’t want to do Physics at A-level, but I did it, and I was quite interested in the space stuff, String Theory, Stephen Hawkings, Einstein’s Theory of Relativity- didn’t understand what the hell it was all about… It was great, you come up with a theory that you only can test if you go into a black hole with a ruler. “Oh, really?” (mimes measuring with ruler) “Oh, I got sucked in!” Probably there are two people in black holes, going, “Hello? Have you got a ladder?” You’d need quite big forearms to pull yourself out of a black hole… Sorry, that’s a density joke… (mimes joke going over audience’s heads) No, it’s a gravity joke, no density joke… Fuck it! Anyway… so…

Yeah, Einstein came up with the Theory of Relativity, “E=mc2.” Energy equals the mass, the weight, times the speed of light squared, and the annoying thing is it’s so bloody precise, it’s so- it’s just there! And he went,

“E=mc2. It works! I’m off for a sandwich now!” (mimes Einstein walking away) “I’m going to America to plug my head into the main…” (mimes hair standing on end) “Now I’m going skiing with my elephant friends! Snowplough!” (mimes skiing and jumping off roof)

“Fuck off my roof! Stop skiing off my roof!” (mimes shooting at skiers)

“Fucking nuclear physicists! Sorry about that, Mrs. Badcrumble! Anyway, tell us that joke again about the three banjo players…” Yeah…

So anyway, he did, he came up with “E=mc2,” and there must’ve been some physicist at the time, going, “E=mc2? I had F=mc2! Oh, damn! So close!” “F” for fudge. “Fudge equals the mass times the speed of light squared.” But we used to do experiments,

where you tested it. “We decided to test the Theory of Relativity. Jeff got a torch… and stood on this side of the room. Now Jeff, switch the torch on and shout ‘’go,’ and I will time how long it takes to see the light and the speed… (mimes getting stopwatch ready) Hold on, if you say ‘go,’ that’s speed of sound, and I would hear that after I’ve seen the light, so say ‘go’ slightly earlier… and you time how early you’ve… (frustrated) Oh, it’s a million miles an hour! I said a million billion… no one can tell! No one can run that fast! And mass… can you weigh the torch for the mass, please? Can you weigh it in a vacuum? Can you weigh it near a vacuum, then? You can weigh it near a vacuum cleaner, that’s great! 4.5 fluid ounces… And that is the energy in cat’s pi squared ironing board… And so where are the batteries? Wallop, wallop, wallop…” Then you write it all in a project, and you put water on it, dry it off with a hairdryer and give it in.

“It’s kind of blurry…”

“Oh, it was the rain!”

Finally tonight, I want to talk about a guy called Pavlov, who was Eastern European, I think Russian, and did the famous experiment, “Pavlov’s Dog.” You probably heard of, ring bells and dogs eating food, response times, Pavlovian kind of response, it’s all about ice-cream and… And he wrote these experiments.

“Day One – Pavlov’s Dog – Rang bell, dog ate food, very excited…” He’s become Welsh! (Welsh accent) “Very excited… terribly excited here in Russia. Day Two – been well-accepted here in Russia… changed my name from Evans to Pavlov. I’m now called Gareth Pavlov… and fitting in well. Day two – rang bell, dog ate two loads of food, very excited. Day Three, right? (big grin, trying hard not to laugh) Day Three – rang three bells, dog ate a whole bunch of food and my leg, too. Very excited, win Nobel Dog Prize for cats.”

So he did this, he won the prize… Nobel, whatever he won, and Pavlov’s dog, we all know that, but you never heard his cat results, did you? You probably thought he was finished!

“Pavlov’s Cat Results – Day One – rang bell… cat fucked off. Damn… Day Two – rang bell, cat went and answered dog. Day Three – rang bell, cat said he’d eaten earlier. Day Four – went to ring bell on day four, but cat had stolen batteries. Final day – Day Five – went to ring bell with new batteries, but cat put his paw on bell, so it only made a ‘thunk!’ noise. Then cat rang his own bell! I ate food…”

I’m just gonna finish up by talking about the beginning of time. Very quick piece, very quick! Beginning of time- the Big Bang, right? Everyone stood well back… (mimes walking away, then covering his ears with his fingers)

“What? Oh, okay… (moves even further back) Well, how big? Very big. All right… Stand back, Mrs. Badcrumble. Come on, Cesar; come on, Australian man… Come on, Welsh Pavlov… “

(as Pavlov)”Oh, thank you.”

“Never go back to the universe once it’s been made, come on…”

Suddenly, BOOM! They all went, “Fucking ‘ell!” And it was made, the whole universe exploded out in perfect circular bits that became planets later, which was very lucky, and later on all the planets are gonna go all the way back to the middle and crash back in when the gravity gives out, and when it goes back in, I want to be on top of the world, holding on to big reins, going, “Come on! Come on!” Anyway…

But later on, the Earth cooled, and Mother Nature revealed itself to the world one day. She said,

“Creatures of the world! Gather ‘round, I shall give you your methods of procreation.”

“Oh, cheers, Mother Nature! I’ve been dying for a shag, me!”

“All right, gather round… Here’s a big clipboard, big flipchart! Now… what’s this…? Ccheese… Minis… anyone knows what this is? (turns page) Glue factory… anyone? Glue factory? (turns page again) Here we go. Dogs! How you doing, dogs?”

(dogs bark)

“Okay, now dogs… we have got you down, dogs… your method of procreation will be doggy fashion! How about that?”

(dogs bark) “Yeah, we invented it!”

“I know you did! And it’s caught on big time! Okay, off you go…” (dogs bark, then vacuum sound) “Be careful with the air lock!”

“Now cats…”

(cat meows)

“Cats, good to meet you. Now, we’ve got you down for doggy fashion! How about that?”

(irritated meow) “What about catty fashion?”

“No, sorry, dogs got in there first; it’s a ‘patent pending’ situation… Anyway, you’ve got cat flaps, so what the fuck are you arguing about?” (cat meows, then vacuum sound)

“Now… Pavlov, what are you doing here?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to do things and… (mumbles) banjo…” (bell rings) “Ooh, I’m hungry now!”

“Next we have… sheep! Good haircut, by the way… We’ve got you down for doggy fashion! If you get hot, just take your coats off, right?” (sheep baas) “Okay… You wearing Blakeys?”

“Mouse, what are you doing here?”

“Well, I’ve got a space rocket out of jam… It won’t work, but… it’s not my best laid plan. I could go aglay… but Mrs. Badcrumble is coming, and Cesar, and the Australian guy… And we could burn up on re-entry, or become a sort of… thing.”

“Well, think of a joke for the end of that line, anyway… Off you go…

“Now giraffes! Good to see you. We’ve got you down for doggy fashion, but it’s whatever you can work out, basically. Hang off a lamppost, lean over a tree, you know… just swing about a bit; I mean, sorry, we were gonna make you like a Spaniel kind of size, but someone brought me a coffee and vooom! (mimes stretching line while drawing) when I was doing design work, and there you go… Anyway, chin up! All right…

“Human beings… Well, doggy fashion, catty fashion, giraffe fashion, sheep fashion; whatever the hell you want, basically… Hang upside down like a bat, play the banjo, do it on a golf course! As long as you get guilt in there somewhere, we really don’t mind…

“Now finally, salmon! Good… Got a bit of a surprise for you, people… What you’re gonna do is to swim upstream against a down-flowing river until you come to a huge waterfall…”

(mimes salmon looking at Mother Nature as if she’s off her rocker)

“…and you’re going to leap, and leap, and leap, and leap up this waterfall, and you swim along, and you leap, and leap, and leap, and leap; then you get along, and you lay eggs, and you fertilize the eggs, and then you drop down dead! Ha!”

“We’re quite happy with doggy fashion…”

“No… You piss me off, you salmon! You’re too expensive in restaurants, that’s your trouble…”

And there’s a moral to this story. Or at least there was supposed to be a moral, but because I’m dyslexic, it is, in fact, a marble. Thank you, good night.