Victoria Wood's Short Term Memories

Don't even go there.

'Always wanted to talk rubbish, but never had the confidence to try?

'With Let's Talk Rubbish,

'you can learn to talk rubbish, easily, with no memorising.

'Let's Talk Rubbish uses everyday situations.

'You'll be talking rubbish in no time.

'You'll learn how to answer, "How are you?"

'with a meaningless, "Yeah."

'As well as banal replies, you'll learn pointless banter.'

COMPUTER: Don't even go there.

Don't even go there.

'And you'll master that tricky upward inflection.'

You meet a friend and want to tell her that you've seen a table.

And there was, like, this table.

'Soon you'll be talking rubbish with everyone you meet.'

Don't even go there!

-Nightmare!

-Tell me about it.

-Fair enough. To be honest with you.

-Whatever.

-That's it, at the end of the day.

How are you doing, guys?

ALL: Yeah!

When I remember my childhood, it's always in sunlight.

We were poor, but we were contented.

And although we knew grief, there were always joyous times.

You won't find us on the map now.

The cottages are long gone,

and where they stood is the loading bay of River Island.

But I shall never forget that cluster of tumbledown houses

next to our field with our old grey donkey.

Where every spring, the larks would rise, rise up,

and hover in the blue sky.

What was the name of this lark filled place?

We just knew it as Donkeyfield.

It'll be busy -

market day in Cranchesterford.

No larks in the sky there.

No. Just in pastry.

That was Ma and Pa's cottage, and that's me,

Araminty, the day my life changed for ever.

No, Mother! Araminty's to stay under this roof.

She's to take no job

at Cranchesterford post and potato office

and let that be the last pickle in the crock!

Do you want her to live as we have?

Every stick of furniture sold for boots

and not a right foot amongst them.

Do you want to break her heart as your father broke yours?

You told me how it he would not let you work the land.

How you yearned to thresh the wheat, to tend the corn.

I could have been somebody.

I could have been a corn tender.

Then let her go, Hal Finch, for one thing, we could use her nightie.

Cath Finch, are you with child?

Again?! How could this happen?

I told you, there was a hole in the bolster.

Call the children down.

I don't know their names.

They cannot come down. We sold the stairs.

Araminty!

I learned so much in those simple sunlit days,

that when you wipe your nose on a patchwork quilt,

there will always be one square stiffer than all the others.

And that love is one thing, but without stairs,

you can't really get up to the bedroom.

Cranchesterford was only seven miles away over the fields,

but so different was it from our simple hamlet

it might as well have been more like eight.

I shall never forget my first sight of Cranchesterford,

that day I was to start work with Miss Finch

at the post and potato office.

'Action!'

The hustle and bustle,

the crowds, so much noise and gaiety

and movement.

I could barely catch my breath.

Miss Finch.

Lord Cranborne.

Have you considered further my proposal?

It is not practical, Charles.

I am attracted to you,

but it takes 20 minutes to take my corsets off

and 35 minutes to get them back on.

I can only close the Post Office for an hour. You do the math.

And will you continue to handle my potatoes?

Of course.

Oh, Arnica, my Araminty has gone

and had her hair straightened.

But he's a well-known gambler...

It is some years since the closed sign went up

on the door of Manchesterford's famous antique shop.

I'll make some sherry, Miss Babs.

And though the faithful cleaner Mrs Overall

may have hung up her rubber gloves,

the actress Bo Beaumont is a busy working actress.

Oh, yes, I like that, busy, busy.

Embracing the challenges of a modern media career,

this film follows a week in Bo's life as she moves

Beyond The Marigolds.

APPLAUSE

-What can I do for you?

-Hello.

Was I Mrs overall? Was she me?

On the face of it, no.

She was a simple good-hearted Brummie

and I'm a sophisticated, modern actress

living on the borders of Paddington.

And yet...

And yet, Colin, I like to think I have her tenacity,

her loyalty.

-I've just said it, her good-heartedness.

-May I?

No, sorry, those are for Saturdays.

-Wendy, you didn't put the biscuits away, dear!

-Oh, sorry.

Of course, I should never have got the part of Mrs Overall.

I was actually down to the last two for Emma Peel in the Avengers.

'Bo seems keen, almost desperate, that I should understand how she came

'to be cast in what was, let's face it,

'a rather low budget and derided soap.'

..goes through one door.

I go through....

'And yet, she generally seems to believe that she ended up

'with the better part.'

..I got Mrs Overall

and poor old Diana Rigg was stuck with the Avengers,

which ran, what? Two series?

Oh, it was a nice little show.

-Oh, it was a nice enough show and Diana...

-Dame Diana.

Yes, for charity work.

-She was respected.

-But she's not loved.

-No.

Bo is loved.

'Bo lives in London with her friend and companion Wendy

'and their Yorkshire terrier, Binky.

'It's the start of a very important week for Bo as she begins rehearsals

'for the very popular BBC One series Strictly Come Dancing.'

Did you get the Ovaltine off the wraparound?

'Dance professional Anton du Beke has no idea who his celebrity partner

'is to be.'

To be honest with you, I just want somebody fairly young who can move.

-Hello.

-Hello.

-Anton du Beke.

-No, doesn't ring a bell.

-Have you ever won?

-No.

Well, Luck Be a Lady.

Shall we dance?

Yes. I'll just get ready.

Roll back the rug.

OK, let's warm up a little.

Just try moving to the music.

# My baby don't care for shows

# My baby don't care for clothes... #

OK, well, let's try a little sequence of steps. Try this.

A-one, two, three.

A-one, two, three...

Have a go.

Show me again.

It goes, and a-one, two, three.

And a-one, two, three.

Oh, I think that's going to be lovely. Wendy?

-A winning routine, wouldn't you say?

-Snazzy.

Do you want to give it a try?

Go again.

A-one, two, three.

A-one, two, three.

It's sinking in, but I think we'll leave it there.

I don't want to overload myself on the first day.

Lovely meeting you and I should have remembered your name, and I haven't.

A typical scatty actress.

Bye.

Welcome back to Brentford

to the Midlife Olympics, 2009

and what a cracking start we've just had.

As you saw earlier, Robin Carmichael and his team

bringing home the gold for Great Britain

in the 4x4 100 hedge trimming.

Now it's very much the turn of the ladies.

-Carol.

-Yes, indeed, Steve.

There's the music. The team is just coming into the women's arena now.

This is, of course,

the Midlife Ladies Pentathlon.

Not too much of a crowd there, Carol.

No, the supporters will be mainly middle-aged

women themselves, they may have gone shopping

or forgotten about coming into the stadium.

There's Kerry Perry, hoping to bounce back after

the Ladies Indoor texting,

where she held her phone

the wrong way round

and sent a photo of her left breast

to everyone on her Christmas card list.

We're going over to Andy Cafferty in the parking Stadium.

-Andy, how are things going down there?

-Mixed fortunes, Steve.

Britain pipped to the medals

in the Ladies outdoor parking.

Kathy Daker struggling,

as usual, with Chevrons.

She was in a Volvo with a dog cage.

That may have affected

her reversing.

And how did you get on in the multi-storey time-trials?

Not too great, I'm afraid.

The American Laura Sabatini got gold.

A little bit controversial.

Failed on her third attempt, burst into tears,

and the car was parked for her by a passing male motorist.

What did you make of that manoeuvre? Very quickly.

Well, there's nothing in the rulebook against it.

Personally, I don't like it.

I don't think it helps the cause of women's parking.

Well, there, I've said it. I don't like it. I'm sorry.

Ciao, for now.

As the weeks went by,

I became accustomed to the non-stop hurly-burly of Cranchesterford,

to my work in the post and potato office,

and I began to get to know Miss Finch and the postman

a little better.

Excuse I, marrow!

Getting the kiddies off to school?

No, I've just seen them across the lane.

Them pie wagons come along at such a lick,

you're lucky if you've got 20 minutes to get over.

Are you all right, Arnica?

It's not getting you down, is it, living in a hovel?

Lord bless you, I don't want for nothing.

Clean air, good neighbours,

them's my riches. But...

But what?

I don't know.

Sometimes, I fancy a fur coat and a bunk up.

You're depressed. You need a folk dance.

Oh, no, Cath, I'm on six a day already from my doctor.

I'm trying to cut down.

I'd better go.

I've got some pigs bladders to rot down for Lammas tide.

-Just nibbles for when folks pop in.

-And ain't you giving birth today?

I knew there was something else! Thank you.

-Take care.

-Bye, my dear.

Poorly-paid assistant number three, please.

-Miss Finch.

-Mrs Goddard. Miss Muslin.

I saw you in conversation with Lord Cranborne, did I not?

We were discussing the best protection for his Pentland Javelin.

-Is that a euphemism?

-No, it's a potato.

Badly-exploited assistant number one, please.

What are you smirking at?

If you want to smirk, go outside.

I love Ma and Pa, but now that I had straight hair and an umbrella,

it was getting harder to tear myself away from the excitements

of Cranchesterford to walk home to see them.

Araminty, come with us.

There has been enough rain for Walt's Big Puddle.

It's my day off.

I'm off to Donkeyfield to see Ma and Pa and the children.

Araminty, you're like really going to have to choose

between Donkeyfield and Cranchesterford,

cos you can't have friends in both places. End of.

It's a fine cup of tea, postman.

I swirl it around before I pour.

It just brings out the flavour.

We're both bachelors.

You got that right, girlfriend.

But lately, I've had a terrible yearning for postmistress Finch.

I need to know if you have any sort of intentions towards her.

Ooh, no.

So, I could plight my trough.

You can plight it and paint it purple, don't mind me.

I wouldn't know where to start with a lady.

They're all slither and curves.

-A nightmare.

-Have you never been courting, postman?

Not as such.

I have a lot of shallow meaningless encounters with boys, though,

so, I don't feel I'm missing out.

Still-not-paid-enough assistant number three, please.

What do you reckon?

-It's a little youthful.

-Meaning?

That its gay frivolity may not sit so well on the more mature -

not to say miserable and sagging - countenance.

May I remind you who pays your wages?

-On you, it's fabulous.

-I'll take it.

Enjoy.

Oh, my God!

I'm like eeeer!

I'm like mmmmmm!

Oh, ta!

Got any plans for the weekend?

I'll just be bitterly musing on my arid existence.

I might stare out of a few windows.

I'll see how I go. Yourself?

A boy from the Haberdashers

is coming round.

We're going to send out for Broth

and I've got the new wax cylinder of Gladstone.

I wish I was gay.

It's day two of Strictly Come Dancing

and Bo has still not got to grips

with the first two steps of the warm-up.

One, two, three,

and one, two, three.

One, two, three,

and one, two, three.

I think the problem is, Bekton, it's a lovely routine,

but I'm not getting it because I'm not feeling it.

But it's not actually the routine...

No, I know. You're waiting for me to put in my own little flourishes.

Look, how about we cook up something a little bit more sassy.

-Sassy.

-Calypso, rumba, something with a bit of a hip action.

Hocha-cocha!

I'll get some music.

Good. You're changing?

-Changing the routine?

-I think so. It's a little dull.

You know, you don't have very much time left to learn the routine, Bo.

We've got 16 weeks. It's tight, but it's manageable.

No, the whole series is 16 weeks.

You do your first show this Saturday.

It goes out live.

# Like a flower bending in the breeze... #

Wendy!

WENDY!

Colin, no cameras.

Sorry about all this.

Bo has decided against appearing on Strictly Come Dancing

and is on her way to visit Delia Smith

to talk about taking part in Delia's new cookery

and travel show, The Gravy Train.

-These are very good. Did you make them, dear?

-Mm-hm.

A little tip, whip them out a couple of minutes earlier.

Can you taste, they've slightly gone over.

Can you, Karen, explain to Bo what our new project is?

OK.

Well, The Gravy Train is basically Delia

going from town to town on a steam train,

meeting members of the public...

'I sense Bo's enthusiasm for this cookery programme

'and wonder if this might not be the thing that puts her back

'in the TV limelight.'

..so, basically, you would tell us your signature dish.

We'd sort out all the ingredients, and everything,

you just have to turn up on the day and teach it to Delia.

All we need to know from you, Bo, is, what is your signature dish?

Which shall we reveal, Wendy?

The mince timbale?

Fish finger surprise?

Cracker-mole.

Cracker-mole!

What it is, Smithy, you take an ordinary pack of Tuc crackers...

MUSIC DROWNS SPEECH

Can I just, you know, get this straight?

Tuc Crackers...

..a piece of sardine

and then a squeeze of lemon...lime.

Lime juice.

That's the kick of the mole.

-And then on a plate.

-That's right.

In a spiral. Arranged in a spiral.

We used to lay them out in concentric circles.

And then I was looking at the crackers one day.

It was just after 9/11.

I suppose I just wanted to do something life-affirming.

Like any chef, I was in the zone.

I said to Wendy, ditch the circles.

Put them in a spiral.

Later that day, Bo got a call from Delia's office

to say there had been a double-booking

and instead of Bo's cracker-mole,

they were going ahead

with the Archbishop of Canterbury's Spam curry.

It was just an ordinary day at work and then, bang!

I slipped on a chip...

..someone had left on the ground.

I phoned slippedonachip.com.

They couldn't have been more helpful.

I received £8,000 in compensation.

So, when my friend at work

tripped over a miniature cuckoo clock

someone had glued to the curb,

she got in touch with slippedonachip.com straightaway.

But they wouldn't take the case cos it wasn't a chip.

Slippedonachip.com

Does not apply in the case of French fries, curly fries or mash.

Welcome back.

Women's pentathlon hotting up.

As we just heard on the news, pentathlon stalwart

Kerry Perry has failed her drugs test.

That's official.

She tested positive in an on-the-spot testing for, what was it, Carol?

Vienetta.

A sad day, but the stuff is out there, unfortunately.

And being realistic, anyone can get hold of it.

Coming in today, I was offered a petit four.

Oh, and we're just hearing that

the third event in the Ladies Pentathlon -

the Supermarket Checkout Relay, has been halted.

Deirdre, this is pretty unheard of.

Can you tell us what happened?

The relay was halted

when one of the Kenyans

chose the five-items-or-less aisle

but was found to have six items in her basket.

So, she's out then?

The Kenyans are claiming that

two of the items were part of

a buy-one-get-one-free offer,

so count, in effect, as one item.

So, Carol, should she have gone for a different aisle?

It's a tough call, so much depends on the checkout operative.

Younger operatives are not always quicker.

It was a young lad, you may remember,

who scotched Sweden's chances in the semis,

when he couldn't recognise a kiwi.

We lost out, of course, in the European Shopping Championships

two years ago when our girl took a risk

with a packet of maxi pads

and they were beeped through as a white Hovis.

Let us look back at the history of this shopping event.

This is the 1912 Games in Stockholm.

As you see, the shopping element is quite embryonic.

Minimal choice, none of the trickier-to-manage items

we see today - no cat litter, no Toilet Duck...

And not the easiest of kit to run in.

No, indeed, a lady hitting the deck, there, with her long skirt.

And this is, of course, Connie Flanders Bentham,

who won in front of the home crowd here in London in 1948.

1948, the austerity Games,

the medals were cast in a cheap metal

and many athletes did suffer an allergic reaction.

-In fact, Connie did die later that day.

-That's right.

That really is a day of contrasts.

Winning and then dying.

Real bad luck there.

Back after this.

It's 8am

and Nick and Margaret have both arrived early

for their meeting with Sir Alan.

SWING RHYTHM

Big changes came to all of us that summer.

Ma and Pa had separated.

She was working as a private dancer in a gentleman's club

in the red bonnet district,

and Pa had been reunited with his childhood sweetheart, Lolly Coggins,

the rich widow, Mrs Godchild.

-What's wrong, my darling?

-I cannot get used to these garments.

I am a flitcher.

And flitchers don't wear such stuff.

Our shirts are rough hemp,

our trousers moleskin,

softened by wind and weather,

creased at the knee and groin.

I am loving the sound of that. Maybe a neckerchief,

chunky belt.

Araminty!

I had no time for Ma and Pa.

One of the new spray-whitening booths

had opened in Cranchesterford,

and soon, my rosy cheeks would be gone for ever.

Turn around, please.

And, er, lift your ringlets.

I reckon you could go a shade lighter than that.

Araminty! Ain't you got no shame?!

Whitening the good brown bosoms the Lord gave you.

My Pa shacked up with a fine lady

an Ma showing her bonnet to anyone with a threepenny bit!

I reckon I don't have no shame. No.

Fair point. Well made.

Ah! Miss Muslin, I fear I cannot serve you.

Our postman is out on his rounds

and I've a most urgent delivery to make to Lord Cranborne.

-Is he missing some potatoes?

-I'm hoping not.

-It would seem you have a bee in your bonnet.

-I admit I have feelings for him.

-No, you have a bee in your bonnet.

Oh! Doh, woah! Ah! God, I hate the country.

Best call it midsummer madness, Ma.

Me shacking up with Mrs Godchild.

-Me doing the private dancing.

-That's no life.

I never want to hear Greensleeves again, I can tell you that.

If we could just set things straight with Araminty.

Take a look yonder.

It's Araminty with the children!

-I sold my flitching tools to get them out of the pawnshop.

-Oh, Pa!

Wrong children. Little beggar.

Never mind. Still got the tickets. Come on, tiddlers.

Easy mistake.

I love you, Albert Finch.

Not as much as I love you, Catheter Finch.

Lord Cranborne, please.

I have a registered package and an Innovations catalogue.

KNOCK Hang on.

Ah, Lord Cranborne, the matter we discussed previously,

regarding ladies' netherwear and the time taken in removal...

-I'm not sure I recall.

-Corsets.

The blacksmith has come up with a gadget

that will make it much quicker for the dog to see the euphemism.

I'm afraid my circumstances now are such that I have no desire

to see your euphemism.

Might I know what has altered your circumstances?

We just clicked.

I should have said something, but I was waiting to see how it went.

I see.

-Do you want to see how the corset works, just for info?

-No fear.

I was saying to Lord C, here, I delivered a telegram, once,

and a woman was naked.

It was like a go-slow in a blancmange factory.

I was sleeping with the light on for weeks.

I'll see myself out.

We weren't to know that sunlit evening, Ma and Pa and me,

how swiftly life would change in that lark-filled place.

That Pa would finally admit there was no such trade as flitching,

and that he'd been spending all day in the reference library.

That Ma would do an external degree in Gender Politics

at Cranchesterford Technical College,

and that although she would always love Pa,

she would always slightly despise him.

We could never have realised, as we waltzed on that sunlit meadow,

that we were actually dancing on a badly maintained septic tank,

and that many of us would die horribly

from sewage-related illnesses.

Or that Ma and Pa's children would have children of their own,

and some of them would become the Nolan Sisters,

Nigel Kennedy

and Gary Wilmot.

And as for the girl I was, Araminty,

she fell in love with the blacksmith

and they were as happy as larks in the sky.

For a bit, anyway.

Wednesday morning, and Bo has an appointment with the producers

of the genealogy programme

Who Do You Think You Are?

The meeting hasn't gone well.

Bo has walked out, having refused to give the researchers

her real name or her date of birth.

But Bo is not deterred by this latest setback

and has contacted an old friend at ITV.

He was very interested. Very.

What's the programme, Bo?

It's called I Am A Celebrity.

Ooh, I like the sound of that.

Yes, and to be fair, I did work for the commercial channel years ago.

Do you remember, Wendy?

-Emergency-Ward 10.

-That's right. I was a comedy nosebleed.

A little scrap of raw talent.

Here I am, whizzing through the streets of the capital,

on my way to meet the producers of I Am A Celebrity.

Ah, the whirligig of time.

The producer of I'm A Celebrity

has explained that it is a Japanese-style endurance game.

You get all the jungle gear, the boots and the shorts, and so on.

Sometimes we fly people in as a surprise.

I think we did that with Cannon and Ball.

But Bo seems still to be interested.

We have these things called Bushtucker Trials,

where the celebrities have to eat rather disgusting things,

like edible grubs and locusts

and kangaroo anus.

I think Jan Leeming ate wombat penis.

Well, that's about it.

How dare you!

What?

Do you seriously think I would give an instant's consideration

to your fetid little programme?

-Why? What?

-I am an actress.

A loved and respected actress.

I was voted Best Loved Character in a Soap 1987, 1989 and 1990,

and there are three things on television I will never do.

I will not wear shorts.

I will not take part in any repellent eating trial.

And I will not appear on any programme

that considers Jan Leeming to be a celebrity. Come on, Wendy.

Some ladies may need to kick-start their careers

by chomping on the private parts of a marsupial.

In the unlikely event that I ever have to boost my profile,

you'll find me on Channel 4.

In Dictionary Corner on Countdown. Good day.

Out of my way.

Sorry.

Oh, Bo, isn't that the Olympic skaters?

That's right.

It's Pearl and Dean.

Now that looks like an elegant show to be on.

I don't suppose they have to chow down on wallaby scrotum.

Is it worth giving them a ring? While we're here?

MUSIC: Ravel's Bolero

-Have you skated before, Bo?

-Not for some time.

-We used to go to Richmond.

-That's right.

We used to go round the edge, didn't we? Once round the edge.

-What, just hanging on?

-That's right. I'm sure it'll come back to me.

What do they call it? Muscle...

-Memory.

-That's it. Muscle-memory.

Bo.

Here they are, the plucky little East Midlanders.

-Ooh! Hello. Hello.

-Hello.

Hello.

'While Bo makes friends

'with Dancing On Ice Stars Torvill and Dean,

'I take a minute to chat to Wendy.'

Wendy, you do an awful lot for Bo, don't you?

There's the shopping, cooking, cleaning and driving.

I mean, you're almost a dogsbody.

I'm very privileged.

You don't see what she does for me.

Actually, no, I don't.

What does she do for you? I'm intrigued.

She's my life!

She is my life.

I thought I might get a hot chocolate.

Only if Bo shows some competence on the ice

will she be allowed to take part in the show.

Get back.

Thank you. Thank you, Christopher.

All right, Bo?

Yes.

-It's a lot about poise, isn't it?

-Gliding.

Is that a moment?

I think, yes.

She's relaxing a bit more now, I think.

Oh, my god! Wendy!

-Thank you.

-Keep practising.

What did they say?

They say it would be a very big time commitment

if I stayed in right to the final.

We wouldn't want to miss Crufts.

I might have to turn it down, sadly.

-Can you get yourself up off the ice?

-No.

Come on, insy-pooh!

'Saturday evening.

'It's my last chance to talk to Bo and there's one question

'I feel I must put to her.'

Has it been a humiliating week, Bo?

Oh, that's a pretty probing question, Colin.

Deserves an honest answer.

It was a hard week, shall we say.

And I did have to be forceful at times.

But humiliating, no. I don't think I humiliated anyone.

Not my style.

-Ooh, lovely.

-So, you weren't out of your comfort zone this week?

Colin, I'm an actress.

You can take me to risk, you can take me to danger,

but never ask me to visit comfort zone.

That's one place Bo Beaumont ain't never going to go.

Oh, cracker-mole.

What's on the gogglebox, Wendy?

When Celebrity Gastric Bands Wear Out.

Lovely.

Mmm.

Mmm.

Well, what a Games it's been.

An unforgettable Midlife Olympics.

Carol and I would like to thank you for spending time with us

here in Middlesex.

Let's take a look at our medal highlights,

including that unforgettable closing ceremony.

But first, we're going to take a look at that magical moment

when the Midlife Olympic flame finished its long journey

from Addis Ababa and arrived in Brentford.

And what a solemn moment this is.

Veteran Tony Middleton,

holder of the world speed record for Setting The Table,

lighting the Olympic flame that will mark the start

of the Midlife Games of 2009.

Lit by wife Sheila, there.

Eve Bluston, first attempt

on the balance beam,

pipped to silver in Nagasaki,

looking to conquer today.

And, oh...

No. It's not happening. Lost momentum. First refusal.

Pain etched on the face

of Graham Gardner,

back on the pedalo only weeks

after a botched hip-replacement.

Ghanaians giving their all, but it's not enough.

Yes! Britain has gold

and the Ghanaians are nowhere.

Come in, number three, you've got a gold medal.

Second attempt from Eve Bluston, now.

That's a lovely run.

Achieves good height. No, no. Second leg not coming up.

And coach Alan Lily there, with the official bunk-up.

No, no, doesn't want it. Second refusal.

Well, I think we can say goodbye to the silver.

India,

very good in all flat-pack events,

but Babs and Nigel Conway

are racing ahead with only one shelf to go.

Is it solid? It's solid!

Married Couples Self-assembly

Flat-pack Olympic gold

back where it belongs - in Britain.

Nice use of the hand

to steady herself.

One leg on. That's a new plastic knee she's holding. She's up.

She needs both hands up to secure the medal.

Alan lets go. Up go the arms.

Bluston has silver.

And what a breathtaking sight

that is.

Ken Falloway forming the shape

of the Olympic Rings in fire against the night sky

of our host city, Brentford in Middlesex.

And one can only marvel at the months of dedication

and sheer slog that have resulted

in this flawless closing display.

And there it goes.

Gold and silver fountain, one of the hardest fireworks to light,

but it lit for the British Olympic hosts in Brentford tonight.

And on that triumphant note,

we say a very good night to middle-aged people everywhere.

Well, we've come to the end of the show

and we're going to finish with a song.

We wanted to have a big musical number with big orchestration

and lots of dancers but, you know, we can't afford it, so...

Anyway. Never mind.

We've got a piano, which is more than we had this morning

when I came in and it was a Bontempi.

So I'm going to dedicate this song to all the middle-aged people

watching out there.

All the Barrys and Fridas.

They may have been married for a long time.

Perhaps the spark has gone out of their relationship.

Perhaps they don't have quite as good a sex life as they once had.

This is for them.

# Frida and Barry sat one night

# The sky was clear, the stars were bright

# The wind was soft, the moon was up

# Frida drained her cocoa cup

# She licked her lips, she felt sublime

# She switched off Gardener's Question Time

# Barry cringed in fear and dread

# As Frida grabbed his tie and said

# Let's do it, let's do it

# Do it while the mood is right

# I'm feeling appealing

# I really got an appetite

# I'm on fire with desire

# I could handle half the tenors in the male-voice choir

# Let's do it, let's do it tonight

# But he said, I can't do it, I can't do it

# I'm not exactly Russell Brand

# Your thwarted, I'm sorted

# Got me evening's telly planned

# It's a pity, the nitty-gritty

# I've taped 11 episodes of Holby City

# Can't do it, can't do it tonight

# So she said, let's do it, let's do it

# Do it till our hearts go boom

# Go native, creative

# Living in the living room

# This folly is jolly

# Bend me over backwards on my hostess trolley

# Let's do it, let's do it tonight

# Can't do it, can't do it

# Me heavy breathing days have gone

# Niagara, Viagra

# Nothing really turns me on

# Stops stewing, boo-hooing

# I've had a good look down there and there's nothing doing

# Can't do it, can't do it tonight

# Let's do it, let's do it

# While I'm really in the mood

# Three cheers, it's years

# Since I caught you even semi-nude

# Get drastic, gymnastic

# Wear your baggy Y-fronts with the loose elastic

# But let's do it, let's do it tonight

# Can't do it, can't do it

# It's really not my cup of tea

# I'm harassed, embarrassed

# Wish you hadn't picked on me

# Don't choose me, don't use me

# My mother's sent a note to say you must excuse me

# Can't do it, can't do it tonight

# Let's do it, let's do it

# I feel absolutely must

# I won't exempt you, what to tempt you

# Want to drive you mad with lust

# No cautions, just contortions

# Skewer an avocado on my lower portions

# Let's do it

# Let's do it tonight

# I can't do it, can't do it,

# I must refuse to get unzipped

# I'm tearful, I'm fearful

# Worried that I'm ill-equipped

# Don't bully, I can't fully

# Guarantee to cope without a rope and pulley

# Can't do it, can't do it tonight

# Let's do it, let's do it

# I really want to run amok

# Let's wiggle, let's jiggle

# Let's really make the rafters rock

# Be mighty, be flighty

# Come and light the buttons on my flameproof nightie

# Let's handle some scandal

# Come and suck Ribena from my peep-toe sandal

# Surprise me, chastise me

# Let's be Fern and Phil and you can patronise me

# Let's do it, let's do it tonight.

# Get festive, get restive

# Dunk me in the duvet like a big Digestive

# Just humour a late bloomer

# Stuff my Christmas stocking with your big satsuma

# Not bleakly, not meekly

# Beat me on the bottom with a Woman's Weekly

# Let's do it

# Let's do it toni-i-ght.

APPLAUSE

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd