(Cut to profile of Raymond Luxury Yacht from next sketch who
has an enormous false polystyrene nose. Superimposed arrow pointing
Voice Over: Number nineteen. The nose.
(A man sitting behind a desk in a Harley Street consulting
room. Close-up of the name plate on desk in front of him. Although
the camera does not reveal this for a moment, this name plate, about
two inches high, continues all along the desk, off the side of it at
the same height and halfway round the room. We start to track along
this name plate on which is written: 'Professor Sir Adrian Furrows
F.R.S. F.R.C.S. F.R.C.P. M.D.M.S. (Oxon), Mall Ph.D., M. Se.
(Cantab), Ph.D. (Syd), ER.G.S., F.R.C.O.G., F. FM.R.C.S., M.S.
(Birm), M.S. (Liv), M.S. (Guadalahara), M.S. (Karach), M.S. (Edin),
B.A. (Chic), B. Litt. (Phil), D. Litt (Phil), D. Litt (Arthur and
Lucy), D. Litt (Ottawa), D. Litt (All other places in Canada except
Medicine Hat, B. Sc. 9 Brussels, Liege, Antwerp, Asse, (and Grower)
'. There is a knock on the door.)
Specialist: Come in.
(The door opens and Raymond Luxury Yacht enters. He cannot
walk straight to the desk as his passage is barred by the strip of
wood carrying the degrees, but he discovers the special hinged part
of it that opens like a door. Mr. Luxury Yacht has his enormous
polystyrene nose. It is a foot long.)
Specialist: Ah! Mr. Luxury Yacht. Do sit down, please.
Mr. Luxury Yacht: Ah, no, no. My name is spelt 'Luxury
Yacht' but it's pronounced Throatwobbler Mangrove.
Specialist: Well, do sit down then Mr. Throatwobbler
Mr. Luxury Yacht: Thank you.
Specialist: Now, what seems to be the trouble?
Mr. Luxury Yacht: Um, I'd like you to perform some plastic
surgery on me.
Specialist: I see. And which particular feature of your
anatomy is causing you distress?
Mr. Luxury Yacht: Well, well for a long time now, in fact,
even when I was a child ... I ... you know, whenever I left home to
... catch a bus, or... to catch a train... and even my tennis has
Specialist: Yes. To be absolutely blunt you're worried
about your enormous hooter.
Mr. Luxury Yacht: No!
Mr. Luxury Yacht: Yes.
Specialist: Yes, and you want me to hack a bit off.
Mr. Luxury Yacht: Please.
Specialist: Fine. It is a startler, isn't it. Er, do you
mind if I... er.
Mr. Luxury Yacht: What?
Specialist: Oh, no nothing, then, well, I'll just examine
your nose. (he does so; as he examines it the nose comes off in
his hand) Mr. Luxury Yacht, this nose of yours is false. It's
made of polystyrene and your own hooter's a beaut. No pruning
Mr. Luxury Yacht: I'd still like the operation.
Specialist: Well, you've had the operation, you strange
Mr. Luxury Yacht: Please do an operation.
Specialist: Well, all right, all right, but only ... if
you come on a camping holiday with me.
Mr. Luxury Yacht: He asked me! He asked me!
(Cut to lyrical film of Luxury Yacht and specialist,
frolicking in countryside in slow motion.)