(Cut back to Canadian backdrop. In front, a man with a knotted
handkerchief on his heed, a woolly pullover, and braces.
Superimposed caption on the screen ' PROF. R. J. GUMBY')
Gumby: Well I think TV's killed real entertainment. In the
old days we used to make our own fun. At Christmas parties I used to
strike myself on the bead repeatedly with blunt instruments while
crooning. (sings) 'Only make believe, I love you, (hits
himself on head with bricks) Only make believe that you love me,
(hits himself) Others find peace of mind...'
(Cut to a swish nightclub. Compare enters.)
Compare: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome
to the refreshment room here at Bletchley. (applause) My name
is Kenny Lust and I'm your Compère for tonight. You know, once in a
while it is my pleasure, and my privilege, to welcome here at the
refreshment room, some of the truly great international artists of
our time. (applause) And tonight we have one such artist.
(groveling) Ladies and gentlemen, someone whom I've always
personally admired, perhaps more deeply, more strongly, more
abjectly than ever before. (applause) A man, well more than a
man, a god (applause), a great god, whose personality is so
totally and utterly wonderful my feeble words of welcome sound
wretchedly and pathetically inadequate. (by now on his knees)
Someone whose boots I would gladly lick clean until holes wore
through my tongue, a man who is so totally and utterly wonderful,
that I would rather be sealed in a pit of my own filth, than dare
tread on the same Stage with him. Ladies and gentlemen the
incomparably superior human being, Harry Fink.
Voice Off: He can't come!
Compare: Never mind, it's not all it's cracked up to be.
Ladies and gentlemen, we give you Ken Buddha and his inflatable
(Cut to Ken in evening dress; his knees go 'bang'.)
Compare: Ken Buddha, a smile, two bangs and a religion.
Now ladies and gentlemen, for your further entertainment, Brian
Islam and Brucie.
(Two animated men dance to jug band music When they finish we
cut back to the barber and customer, from the Homicidal Barber
Barber: So anyway, I became a barber.
Customer: (sympathetically) Poor chap.
Barber: Yes, pity really, I always preferred the outdoor
life. Hunting, shooting, fishing. Getting out there with a gun,
slaughtering a few of God's creatures - that was the life. Charging
about the moorland, blasting their heads off.
(Sketch moves on to 'Hunting Film'.)