S02E07 Lesson 13 – Commemorate Jubilees the Burkiss Way

The Burkiss Way to Dynamic Living, Radio’s * Limited Edition * Correspondence Course. Your own personalised programme with your name engraved here............................ in your own gilt-plated Lesson 13: Commemorate Jubilees the Burkiss Way, with mock-hide instruction from Jo Kendall, Nigel Rees, Chris Emmett and Fred Harris and an embossed scrollwork script from Andrew Marshall and David Renwick in a genuine leatherette production by Simon Brett (a gift you will treasure for always).

First broadcast on 26 January 1977



Male Announcer: We would like to warn listeners that the following programme contains comedy of an explicit nature, likely to cause amusement to persons of a jolly disposition. We would also like to apologise for the rather explicit actors used during the programme, and also for the explicitly verbal nature of the scripts, likely to cause reaction to ears of an aural disposition. Thank you.

Female Announcer: We would like to apologise to listeners for that somewhat explicit apology, which may have caused confusion to listeners of a thickus too-short-planks disposition. The explicitly er continuity announcer-like manner was essential to warn listeners of a phoning-in-and-complaining-in-loud-voices disposition of the explicitly explicit nature of the next programme, which could cause distress to some listeners. (pause) In fact it’s so bad, we’re not even going to broadcast it. Instead, we’re going to show you an old film. Now this was made in Cinemascope, and unfortunately therefore will not fit exactly onto your radio sets. Now this may result in the beginnings and ends of sentences being slightly chopped off. Er, we would like to apologise for th—

Music: 20th Century Fox Fanfare, first second or two cut off

Credits Voice-over: ’entieth Century Fo’
’resent: A
’inemascope Fil’.

Music: [??]

Credits Voice-over: ’Tiny on the Bount’.
’tarring: Charles Laugh’
’nd Clark Gab’.

F/X: seaside atmosphere with wind blowing and seagulls crying, continues in background

Captain Bligh: ’ice the mainbra’.

Sailor: ’ardon, Captain Blig’?

Captain Bligh: ’ice the mainbra’.

Sailor: ’ardo’?

Captain Bligh: ’ister Christia’.

Fletcher: ’es, Capt’?

Captain Bligh: ’his man is deaf as a po’. (audience reaction)
[?? ’ell me. ?]
’here have all my ship’s officers go’?

Fletcher: ’ey’re all in bed with Curvy, Capt’.

Captain Bligh: Sss-curvy?

Fletcher: No, Curvy. That new kitchen maid, Capt’.

Captain Bligh: [??] that woma’.
’ou will all pay for this, all of yo’.
I’ll have her [’ow ?] flogged to death for thi’.

Fletcher: ’hat’s what you thin’.

Captain Bligh: ’hat do you mea’?

Fletcher: ’ev’ve decided it’s tim’
to get rid of yo’.

Captain Bligh: Errr…

Fletcher: ’e’re going to dump you in the portio’
off the screen that’s been cut off, Bligh!

Captain Bligh: ’ou wouldn’t da’!
’ou wouldn’t dare to that to your Capt’! Ow!
’et go of my a’!
’et go of m’!
’et go of m’!
’et g’!
’et e’!
’et ’o!
’g!
’a!
’mmm…!

Music: Theme from A Summer Place

Male Announcer: There will now be a short intermission.

Voice-over: Int’rmissio’.

Male Announcer: And now:

F/X: fanfare

Music: festive, stately music

Female Announcer: (over) Good evening. As you already know, Nineteen Seventy-Seven marks the Silver Jubilee of Her Majesty, The Queen. To commemorate this historic and illustrious event, the BBC are now presenting a special Souvenir Edition of the humorous wireless programme ‘The Burkiss Way to Dynamic Living’. This special Souvenir Jubilee show, transmitted on the finest-quality gold leaf-embossed Jubilee airwaves, and broadcast at the finest-quality diamond-inlaid Jubilee megacycles, on finest-quality gilt-encrusted Jubilee VHF will, we are sure, furnish you with a priceless comedic memento, the jokes of which you will still be able to treasure even when they’re seventy years old – a week next Tuesday. And so now, as the commemorative Jubilee japes commence, we begin with the opening credits, specially composed and read for us on this grand Jubilee programme, by a finest-quality Jubilee Poet Laureate.

Music: out

F/X: fanfare

Poet Laureate: Oh golly, it’s so jolly / I’m delighted, to come and in this Royal (exhales) Show appear / and even little pussies, so excited / it’s moving him to onomatopoeia. (audience reaction) This year of Jubilees, a time for sharing / to rid the land of all its greedy gobblers (audience reaction) / to give my poems all a special airing / for lets be honest, they’re a load of… off my mind. Now with Chris Emmett, Nigel Rees, Fred Harris, and Miss Jo Kendall, let the show begin. And if you think you can write / something still more trite / you’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din.

(applause)

F/X: fanfare

Male Presenter: Hello… and welcome to this special Royal Souvenir Edition of the Burkiss Way to Dynamic Living. And first, this speech, which you’re now listening to, read by finest-quality me, from a finest-quality hand-prepared vellum script, typed by a finest-quality, hand-prepared BBC secretary.

F/X: paper rustling

Male Presenter: And we begin with three Royal jokes: Here’s Patrick Lichfield. (short pause) And here’s the second joke:

Man: Who was that knight I saw you with last, lady?

Lady (posh accent): That was no knight, that was Brigadier Sir Fortley Damien Fitzwillington-Smoth Petersfield [Ross?]-Charles-Pierre Qubert III., OBE, CBE, MBE, OGMBRBE, DMBRCJRL­GJBE, CRMOBDR­GMBRS­DMRBE, GFBLM­CDRBMMM­GMGRM­DRGBDRM­SBE and BAH.

Everybody: applause and not quite convincing-sounding laughing

Bystander: Well done.

Male Presenter: And the third joke:

Lady: My corgi’s got no chin.

Man: How does it bark?

Lady: Woof, woof.

Man & Lady: Aha ha ha ha ha, aha ha ha ha ha…

Female Presenter: (still in previous posh voice) Well now it’s— (back to normal) well, ahrm, well now it’s time to just sit back in your armchair, rest your head on the cushion and sip your cup of tea. And even if you’re not an employee at British Leyland, just relax as we present for you a special finest-quality Royal Jubilee Farce, specially commissioned by Buckingham Palace, and performed by the Whitehall Trouser Dropping Company, in association with a little blond raver with big ones, but the wife doesn’t know anything about it and cor blimey grandma, what [er ?] to do when the vicar finds out?

Male Presenter: So over now to the foyer of the Whitehall Theatre and Clifford Hushed-Voice.

F/X: crowd murmur in background

Clifford Hushed-Voice: A very good evening to you from the foyer of the Whitehall Theatre, and from me as well. And as you join us, I’m speaking a bit like this, and telling you that at this very moment the doors below us are opening to admit no lesser person than that most distinguished of all distinguished guests, Her Royal Highness, Her Majesty, Johnny Kwango!?

F/X: crowd murmur fades up momentarily

Clifford Hushed-Voice: No no no, that er..th-that..that’s can’t be right, I-I-I think there’s been a slight slip-up in the distribution of the invitations here tonight, because we appear to have er, a Royal Party headed by heavyweight wrestler Johnny Kwango… a..and not the Queen. So while we’re waiting, here is a short piece of music:

F/X: door handle

Customer: Good morning, garage mechanic. Do you repair cars?

(pause)

Garage Mechanic: That’s right, pal!

F/X: cash register operating

Garage Mechanic: Fifteen pounds please, pal.

Customer: Fifteen pounds, what for?!

Garage Mechanic: Professional advice, pal.

Customer: That’s a bit expensive, isn’t it?

Garage Mechanic: Nyah. (pause) Bit expensive.

F/X: cash register operating

Garage Mechanic: Twenty-six pounds please, pal.

Customer: What for?!

Garage Mechanic: Professional advice for your advice. Anything else?

Customer: Yes. Would you come and have a look— I-I mean, I mean.. I mean, if, if I asked you to come and have a look at my car, but only if, how much would that cost?

Garage Mechanic: Fifty-six pounds, pal?

Customer: Pheew. I see.

F/X: cash register operating

Garage Mechanic: Ninety-seven pounds please, pal.

Customer: What for?!

Garage Mechanic: The estimate… pal.

Customer: Look, this is ridiculous! All I want is for you to have a look at my car!

Garage Mechanic: Nah, I can’t do it, pal. Sorry.

Customer: You’re just lazy.

Garage Mechanic: I’m not lazy.

Customer: You are lazy.

Garage Mechanic: I’m not lazy.

Customer: Alright, prove it! Get out of that bed and come and look at my car.

Garage Mechanic: Ohhh… alright.

F/X: door handle, outside atmosphere in the background (birds tweeting etc.)

F/X: two unsuccessful attempts at starting the motor

Garage Mechanic: Sorry, pal. Can’t do anything about that.

Customer: Why not?

Garage Mechanic: Doesn’t work properly.

Customer: What??!

Garage Mechanic: Doesn’t work properly. Broken, innit? I can’t do anything with inferior goods like that.

Customer: Well can’t you mend it?

Garage Mechanic: Mend it?? Blimey, what is this, pal? Billy Smart’s Circus? Have you any idea how long it takes to get the parts for a job like this?

Customer: Yes!

Garage Mechanic: Damn. (audience reaction) Well alright, I’ll do it… I’ll do it, but it’ll cost you… three hundred… thousand pounds.

Customer: Three hundred thousand pounds?!

Garage Mechanic: Weell, it’s your tappets, pal. It’s your tappets.

Customer: (exasperated) Well how long will it take?

Garage Mechanic: Well er… I’ve got a rush on, you see.

Customer: (on verge of nervous breakdown) I can’t see any other cars!

Garage Mechanic: No, no. We’re very busy.

Customer: How many cars have you got to repair then?

Garage Mechanic: Pardon?

Customer: (shouting) How many cars??

Garage Mechanic: Uhm, I’ve got sixty cigarettes to smoke by tomorrow morning. I’m sorry, pal, but I can’t do anything for you. If you’re really set on getting it mended, I can only suggest you try the vicar across the road.

Customer: Why?

Garage Mechanic: Well, he does a very good service.

Studio Audience: (groaning)

Customer: I beg your pardon?

Garage Mechanic: He does a very good service.

Customer: Is that it then??

Garage Mechanic: Sorry, pal?

Customer: W-what..what sort of a punchline’s that? I mean surely you can do better than that, I mean… you know, I mean something like ‘I got to go now, I’m only here delivering the groceries’ or something, I mean anything—

Garage Mechanic: Sorry, pal. I can’t get the parts for that sort of punchline, you see it’s a Christmas rush, I’m up to me eyes in [tags ?] at the moment, —

Customer: Oh, forget it, I’m leaving!

Garage Mechanic: —I just can’t afford…

F/X: outside atmosphere stops, theatre foyer atmosphere starts again

Clifford Hushed-Voice: Well, we interrupt this short piece of music to return you here to the foyer of the Whitehall Theatre, where I think I can in fact just now see Her Majesty coming in, yes, she’s dressed resplendently in a magnificent diamond tiara, spangled with er… (silently) one, two, three, four, fi… (normal) er a hundred and sixty-seven glittering jewels, and wearing a full-length sequined evening gown in powder blue, offset by a charming mink stole in radiant white draped elegantly round her shoulders. Er… oh no, I’m-I’m sorry. I-iii..just a piece of grit in my eye. Er… no no, the Queen hasn’t yet arrived, so erm… yes, so er… [just what you think? ?]… oh I see, yes, thank you, well er, while we’re waiting, let’s hear ‘The Bells of St. Mary’s’, performed by the East Catford Frank Spencer Impersonators’ Society.

F/X: conductor tapping his baton

Frank Spencer Impersonators: (singing to the tune of The Bells of St. Mary’s) Hmm, hmm, hmm. Hmm, hmmm, hmm. Hmmm, hmmm, hmmmm, hmmm, hmm hmmmm.

F/X: applause

Clifford Hushed-Voice: We’re… well er, we-we-we-we..we’re sorry that er, Her Royal Highness still hasn’t arrived yet for this Royal Farce, so in the meantime, I’m going to.. cry. (starts sobbing)

Male Presenter: Well er, we’re sorry about the breakdown in our commentator there, we’ll er, er…ha, we’ll have him fixed as soon as possible. Er for the moment, though, there now follows a BBC minority interest television programme.

Music: Old Grey Whistle Test theme tune (Area Code 615 – Stone Fox Chase), then down for

Bob Harris: (over) Hi. Tonight on the Old Grey Whistle Test we got some er, some really far out sounds for you… including the new one from Proboscis Asparagus Disorder’s album. I think the new one er, ‘Unexpurgated Vegetative Walrus Conscience’, and er some really wild [film ?]‘A Fat Briefcase And The Drivel Biscuit’ [by ?? ?], in..in concert of course with the er… ‘Autopsy on Reg Quickburger, 5 Acacia Gardens, Bloomsbury’. Right now, though, we take a look at the Blues scene, and it’s great to start off with one of the truly classic Delta Blues men: Caught-Short Williamson.

Music: something bluesy

Caught-Short Williamson: (singing) Well I woke’d up this morning… (normal) Oh uh, ohhh ohoh…

F/X: quick foot steps receding into the distance

Caught-Short Williamson: Ohh, ahhh… (fading out)

F/X: distant door handle, then door closing

(pause)

Bob Harris: Yeah. Yeah, that was great, Caught-Short, yeah, really great. And er, you can hear four hundred and fifty-seven of Caught-Short’s other numbers on the er, on the new ‘Blue Horizon’ single, second door on the left we visited. Er right now it er, it gives me extra special pleasure to er, to welcome to the studio one of my personal Rhythm and Blues favourites er: Deaf Boy Smedley. Hi there, Deaf Boy. (pause, audience reaction) Great, great. (short pause) Yeah now, er, what’s the number you’re gonna do for us tonight er, Deaf Boy? (pause) Yeah. Well, far out.

(pause)

Female Announcer: Well, we interrupt this minority interest television programme to return you to Clifford Hushed-Voice at the Whitehall Theatre.

F/X: crowd murmur in background

Clifford Hushed-Voice: Well er, welcome back here to the foyer, and I’m afraid that while you were away, the Queen did in fact arrive. (pause) Yes, er..er and then er, she left again because she’d forgotten something. So, while she’s getting Prince Philip, I’m… (audience reaction), I’m now going to mingle here, in this most distinguished foyer, and talk to some of the many distinguished and glittering personalities, who’ve gathered here for this auspicious occasion. Well now let’s see – well if it isn’t Rod Hull and Emu?

Eric Pode: Pardon?

Clifford Hushed-Voice: Err, ahrm, if it isn’t Rod Hull and Emu, i-i-it must be errm… Eric Pode of Croydon, ha ha.

Eric Pode: That’s right, yeah.

Clifford Hushed-Voice: Well, good evening to you, Mr Croydon.

Eric Pode: What..what, [am I ?]

Clifford Hushed-Voice: May I compliment you on your excellent er looking bow tie, there?

Eric Pode: Oh thanks very much, mate.

Clifford Hushed-Voice: Yes, don’t you think you er should have put something else on as well, there?

Eric Pode: I can’t afford any other clothes, I-I just lost my job with the Ministry of Transport.

Clifford Hushed-Voice: Oh, really?

Eric Pode: Yeah, I was their chief accident blackspot, you know. Then to make matters worse, my wife threw me out the flat last week.

Clifford Hushed-Voice: Oh ye..that must have been terrible…

Eric Pode: Yeah it was, we live on the twenty-fourth floor. She said I wasn’t fit to spit on, so now I gotta find somebody else to do it. And yesterday, yesterday my granddad died, —

Clifford Hushed-Voice: I see, yes, yes…

Eric Pode: —yeah. So, so I’ve been down in the dump.

Clifford Hushed-Voice: Oh, really?

Eric Pode: Yeah, —

Clifford Hushed-Voice: Yes.

Eric Pode: —we couldn’t afford a proper funeral, we had to (unintelligible due to audience reaction)

Clifford Hushed-Voice: Oh, well I see, yes, well thank you… thank you Mr Croydon…

Eric Pode: Aye?

Clifford Hushed-Voice: Yes… ha ha… oh well, er, well Mr Croydon, you er certainly seem to be having a bad time…

Eric Pode: Yes, thank you, yes.

Clifford Hushed-Voice: Well Mr Croydon, thank you very much, and now let’s move on over here to the—

Eric Pode: I, I, I had to have my cat put to sleep yesterday as well.

Clifford Hushed-Voice: Haha, yes, yes. And now let’s move on to the—

Eric Pode: Ah you see, ah, on account, on account of it suffers from insomnia, —

Clifford Hushed-Voice: Hahaha,—

Eric Pode: —see?

Clifford Hushed-Voice: —yes, well isn’t he a panic? Now, well, who’s this over here? I believe—

Eric Pode: [Then ?], I, as well I, I haven’t had a thing to eat for sixteen years.

Clifford Hushed-Voice: Hahaha, yes I’m sure, well, I think can just see [Elizabeth Richard… ?]

Eric Pode: My, my stomach’s gone back to live with its mother.

Clifford Hushed-Voice: Look, will you get out of the way, you weedy little dipstick! Get out!! Ahahahaha, wehe-ell, yes, well, er that’s er just a few of the famous faces in the foyer here tonight, as we await the arrival of Her Majesty The Queen. And erm—

Female Announcer: (whispering) [I’m sorry to ?? ??]

Clifford Hushed-Voice: Oh aha, right, right er. Er so, while we’re still waiting, here is a… another intermission.

Music: vibraphone glissando, then Theme from A Summer Place

Male Announcer: There will now be another, not quite so short, intermission.

Music: Dick Barton theme (The Devil’s Galop), then down for

Male Announcer: (over) Coming soon to this intermission, Burkiss feature films for soccer fans. The people who brought you ‘Alice in Sunderland’, ‘2001: A Luton Town Home Gate’, Malcom Macdonald in ‘Jaws and the Dance of the Zombies: An Analysis of er West Ham’s Field Play So Far This Season’, now proudly presents the epic football thriller of all times: Bill Shankly as Sherlock Holmes in ‘The Hound of the Baskervilles’.

Music: ominous music, then fades out

F/X: Victorian street atmosphere with horse carriages passing by

Watson: (narrating) It was an uncommonly dismal and freezing night in late November. Round the corner at the bakery, the bakers were slowly dropping off. Round at the cobbler’s shop, the men were… (audience reaction) Round at the cobbler’s shop, the men were feeling the cold worse than anywhere. (bit of applause) I, I had just been out visiting a patient in a ramshackle old bed and was thinking how much quicker it would have been if I’d… (audience reaction) if I’d used a cab. That was as I returned, close on twelve o’clock, to my rooms in Baker Street. (normal) Ah, my dear Holmes, I perceive that your are still up then.

Holmes (slight Scottish accent): Aye, there I am Watson… I am… I feel I nearly finished this case at last.

Watson: That’s absolutely incredible.

Holmes: It certainly is, there were twenty-four bottles in it when I started. Here… help yourself.

F/X: bottles clinking

Holmes: Here, I say Watson, have you seen a match anywhere at all?

Watson: No.

Holmes: Well try and get along to Stamford Bridge tomorrow then. Chelsea vs. Southampton cup-tie, they reckon Mick Channon will be past fit [??]

Watson: Really, really, my dear Holmes, I wish you would refrain from continually pontificating about that awful football. You’re supposed to be a private detective.

Holmes: Alright, alright. Here’s summat’ll interest you, Jimmy. Now this was left behind here by some visitor while I was out. From the look of it I’d say it belongs to a footballer, who speaks with a Scottish accent, has an IQ of twelve-and-a-half below zero, and enjoys kicking things.

Watson: What makes you think that?

Holmes: Well, I don’t know any other people.

Watson: My dear Holmes, I fear your are wrong. Here, let me have a look at the lace hanky and see what I can make of it.

F/X: knocking on door

Holmes: Ah, that must be the visitor again, oh.

F/X: door being unlocked

Mrs Baskerville: Mr Holmes, Mr Holmes, I need your help! Oh you recognise me of course.

Holmes: Errm, centre half for Bradford United.

Mrs Baskerville: What? But I am a dainty little ballet dancer.

Holmes: Ohh, that’s quite close.

Mrs Baskerville: My name is Mrs Marjorie Baskerville. My father – Sir Henry – and I fear that we’re about to be slaughtered. What do you advise?

Holmes: Well, if I were you, my little girl, I’d play… Hudson and [??] in midfield, with possibly Terry Mancini, then perhaps [??]

Watson: Holmes, Holmes, I don’t think that’s what she means.

Mrs Baskerville: Indeed I don’t, Dr Watson. No, what we are frightened off is th… is t… a gigantic hound!

Holmes: Oh well, you’ve nothing to worry about there, that’s nothing at all.

Mrs Baskerville: Are you sure?

Holmes: Absolutely. In my experience, gigantic hounds have absolutely no feel for tactical ball play at all, they find it very difficult to dribble with the paws.

Watson: Holmes, Holmes, will you please try and put football out of your mind just for one minute!

Holmes: But I’m hoping to pull up a set of eight draws this week.

Watson: That’s better. (audience reaction) Now then, Mrs Baskerville. Have no fear, we shall accompany you down to Dartmoor on the next train.

Music: ominous music starts up again, then down for

Watson: (over) But when we arrived at Baskerville Hall that night, we discovered to our horror that Sir Henry had already gone out.

Music: out

Mrs Baskerville: Gone out, Thrimpson? But where?

Thrimpson: Err, across the old mooor, ma’am.

F/X: wind blowing

Watson: Old moor? What does that tell you, Holmes?

Holmes: A load of stupid predictions that never come true.

Watson: Exactly. Exactly, I think we better go after him. Quick!

F/X: door handle

F/X: outside atmosphere with wind blowing and owl hooting, quick foot steps

Mrs Baskerville: I only hope we’re in time!

F/X: eerie dog howls, continuing in background

Mrs Baskerville: Oh my god! Did you hear that? It sounds like an awful, diabolical attack.

Holmes: In that case, I think we should put Trevor Brooking in the number ten shirt and bring out [??], with possibly Osgood for [??] in the forward line.

Watson: Holmes, silence, silence! Look: It’s Sir Henry, being savaged by the hound!

F/X: scream, dog howls stop, wind noises fade up

Mrs Baskerville: (sobbing) Ohhh, my poor, poor father. Torn apart by that ghastly, horrible great hound! Ripped limb from limb, horrifically savaged to death by that terrible evil monster, ohhhh! Have you nothing to say, Mr Holmes?

Holmes: Well… I thought it was a reasonable result considering we were [??] and conditions weren’t very favourable, mind you if we’d had Peter Shilton and say ermm, played Kevin Keegan and Ray Clemence, I think I would have put the…

Music: Devil’s Galop fades up again, then down for

Male Announcer: (over) Yes, Bill Shankly in ‘The Hound of the Baskervilles’, coming soon to this intermission!

Music: out

F/X: vibraphone glissando

Female Announcer: Well, now we rush you straight back to the Whitehall Theatre foyer, where apparently something is now on the verge of happening. A bit.

F/X: theatre foyer atmosphere

Clifford Hushed-Voice: Yes, and er back here at the Whitehall Theatre foyer, the news is that the Royal Party has not yet arrived. Er, we can only hope they’ll make it before the end of the show, which will be upon us at any second – oh! Oh! Just a minute, yes, I-I think that.. here they come now:

Music: Burkiss Way closing signature tune

Burkiss Way Announcer: (over) A ha, well that ends Lesson 13 in our amazing series of Royal correspondence courses, Commemorate Jubilees The Burkiss Way. After sending off for just one hundred and thirty-five of our pamphlets on Royal etiquette, you, too, could be in a position to rub shoulders with people very high up. Simply stack the books on the floor and then stand on top, ha! In today’s incredibly finest-quality Royal broadcast, Jo Kendall, Chris Emmett and Nigel Rees were the Court Jesters, and Fred Harris was the jester that got away, haa! To commemorate the majestic script of Andrew Marshall and David Renwick the BBC are planning to fire a twenty-one gun salute, and after that producer Simon Brett of Stepney. See you next week, subjects, and happy dynamic living!

Music: to finish & out

(applause)

Continuity Announcer: The Burkiss Way. With a lighthearted look there at the Royal family. (chuckles) Thank goodness we can get away with that sort of thing these days without.. without fear of reprisals. And now, news of programmes later today on Radio Four. At nine o’clock—

F/X: guillotine blade falling down

Continuity Announcer: Ugh!

F/X: heavy object clunking down and rolling around

End