[explaining his fear of cutting hair to his customer] When I was a kid I used to hate the sight of hair being cut. My mother said I was a fool. She said the only way to cure it was to become a barber! So I spent five ghastly years at the Hairdressers' Training Centre at Totnes. Can you imagine what it's like; cutting the same hair for five years?! I didn't want to be a barber anyway. I wanted to be... a lumberjack!
Now, every so often here in the Refreshment Room it is my honor, my privilege, to welcome some the truly great international artists. And tonight we have one such artist. Ladies and gentlemen, someone who've I've always personally admired. More deeply, more strongly, more abjectly than anyone before. A man, no, more than a man, a god! A great god whose personality is so totally and utterly wonderful, that my feeble words of welcome sound wretchedly and pathetically inadequate. Someone whose boots I would gladly lick clean, until holes wore through my tounge! A man who is so totally and utterly wonderful, that I would rather be sealed in a pit of my filth than dare tread on the same stage with him. Ladies and gentlemen, the incomparably superior human being, Harry Fink! [crowd applauds]
"Pero las llamas son peligrosas. Si usted ve una llama donde hay gente? nadando, usted gritar: ¡Cuidado! ¡Llamas!" ["Llamas are dangerous, so if you see one where people are swimming, you shout: Look out, there are Llamas!"]
[sung] I cut down trees, I eat my lunch, I go to the lavatory. On Wednesdays I'll go shopping, and have buttered scones for tea.
MCMounties Choir
[sung] He cuts down trees, he eats his lunch, he goes to the lavatory. On Wednesdays, he goes shopping, and has buttered scones for tea. He's a lumberjack and he's OK, he sleeps all night and he works all day.
[sung] I cut down trees, I skip and jump, I like to press wildflowers. I put own womens' clothing, and hang around in bars.
MCMounties Choir
[sung] He cuts down trees, he skips and jumps, he likes to press wildflowers. He puts on womens' clothing, and hangs around- [starts to show signs of disgust] -in bars? [perk back up] He's a lumberjack, and he's OK, he sleeps all night and he works all day.
[letter read aloud] Dear Sir, I wish to complain on the strongest possible terms about the song which had just broadcast about the lumberjack who wears women's clothes. Many of my best friends are lumberjacks and only a few of them are transvestites. Yours faithfully, Brigadier Sir Charles Arthur Strong (Ms.). P.S. I have never kissed the editor of the Radio Times.
You've got a nice pair there, haven't you, love? [fondles Iris by the breasts and kisses her, causing her to spazz out] Shut up, you silly bitch. It's only a bit of fun.
I'm throwing you all out! I'm not going to have my house filled with filthy perverts. Now, I'm giving you half a minute to leave or I'm calling the police!
