Episode 5 It's Kevin

Ladies and gentlemen, It's Kevin.

JAUNTY TUBA MUSIC

This programme contains some strong language

# Oh, welcome to the show

# This week we're starting loose and free

# We've decided to dispense with any continuity

# Now my face is hairless # And now I've got a beard

# And in the next shot that you see me, look,

# The beard has disappeared

# And now this man who's singing isn't actually me

# I think his name is Francis and he comes from Tewkesbury

# Oh, oh, it's the Kevin Eldon Show

# It's the Kevin, Kevin Eldon Show

# And that's the title

# Oh, oh, it's the Kevin Eldon Show

# It's the Kevin, Kevin Eldon Show

# Onwards with the show and continuity is back

# But just to keep it interesting, I'm standing in a sack. #

DEEP BREATHING

# Actually I'm not sure if that's interesting at all

# So watch me while I run this way headlong into a wall, go!

# Argh! Oh, it's the Affin Affon Sha

# It's the Aflinn Eogha Eflan Show

# As the taflagg...

-PUNKIER:

-# Ah, it's the Kevin Eldon Show

# It's the... (Kevin, Kevin, Kevin)

# Kevin, Kevin, Kevin

# Kevin, Kevin, Kevin!

# Kevin, Kevin, Kevin

# Kevin Eldon

# Shoo-o-o-o-o-o-ow. #

KNOCK ON DOOR Come in.

What appears to be the trouble?

I think I might be suffering from depression.

It just flew into the studio.

Looks like it might be a rare red-tailed hedgehopper,

known for its highly unusual cry...

I'll see if I can get it to make a noise.

..which some say sounds like a human voice.

-VOICE IN BOX:

-'Ere, stop shaking the box about, you prick!

Yeah, it does sound quite human, doesn't it?

Look, stop it or I'm going to peck my way out of here and crap in your eye!

It's lovely.

Makes you think of summer fields.

Arrgh! I warned you!

OK, I'm just going to pop outside and let it go.

You are dead mate, dead! What are you looking at?

I'm going to cut you!

Oh, it's hauntingly beautiful.

NONSENSE FRENCH LYRICS OVER POPPY GUITAR CHORDS

DRAMATIC GAMESHOW MUSIC

Can we have mobiles off, please?

-VOICE BEHIND CAMERA: Sorry!

-Thank you.

Now, you hear a lot of people saying "Ooh, I'd love to be a king".

CROWD: Ooh I'd love to be a king!

But it's not easy being a king. Just ask Prince Charles.

KLAXON BLARES

I mean, personally, I'd hate to be a king.

For a start, you'd have to be nice to people you knew for a fact were scum.

You'd stink of velvet. You'd probably have syphilis.

All you'd get to eat would be gossamer omelettes.

Republicans would say "Your Majesty" to you all sarcastically.

Cardinals would be outside your bedroom door whispering all night.

There'd be a man in charge of cleaning your bottom

and all the pictures of you on stamps wouldn't have any irises.

Basically, you'd be so spoilt, you wouldn't be happy. Not really.

And what about all the bowing and the scraping, eh?

That's a mixed blessing. How can I put it?

ORNATE HARPSICHORD RIFF

# Some people dream of monarchy

# The very thought of royalty just fills their hearts with joy and glee

# They'd like to be a king

# Oh, yes, we yearn to wear a crown,

# Some silkened pants and an ermine gown

# Oh, being common gets us down, we'd love to be a king

# But do you think from misery you'd really be escaping?

# The bowing would be very ni-i-i-i-ice

# But what about the scraping?

# The bowing would be very ni-i-i-i...

# ..i-i-i-i-ce. #

But what about the scraping?

You've got to admit, though, haven't you?

Kings, they haven't exactly got a brilliant track record.

Henry VIII, for example. Destroyer of Monasteries.

Big man, but he was out of shape.

Hardly a candidate for spouse or partner of the millennium was he?

Thanks, Alison.

FERAL SCREAMING

KNOCKING

Come in.

-Morning, Anne.

-Sire.

-Anne.

-Sire.

-Catherine.

-Sire.

-Catherine.

-Sire.

-Catherine.

-Sire.

-Jane.

-(MAN'S VOICE)

-Sire.

Now, listen. I'm fed up with this six wives business,

it's giving me the hump. So I'm going to execute two of you,

divorce another two, one of you can die of natural causes and the other can survive my death.

I'm not bothered what happens to who. Sort it out yourselves. Ta-ta.

ARGUING

Even some of the lesser-known crowned heads

made a far from positive impact on British history.

-Thanks very much, Alison.

-FERAL SCREAM

Take King Leonard.

In a reign lasting only five days he managed to ban crackling,

upset his tailor and had the population of Wales put to death,

by the population of Scotland.

On the plus side, he did legalise speed dating.

But generally, kings,

they can take their crowns and shove them right up their...

-Near.

-Far!

-Near.

-Far!

-Equidistant.

-Equidistant.

-Equidistant.

-Equidistant.

-Far!

-Near.

-Far!

-Near.

Oh, there's a really great bit coming up near the end of the show.

Let's have a quick look.

No, not that bit. Hang on.

No, not that bit.

Um, er...

Not that bit.

Not that bit.

Ooh, that bit. There you go.

Look at him, look at him. Look at him, look at him.

Look at him, look at him. Look at him, look at him.

I'm really looking forward to that bit.

Now then, my name is Stanley Dewthorpe.

I am a fictional man from the North of England,

a fantastical construct of some southern bastard's diseased mind.

T'other day I were down Griddle Wallop Arms having a pint of Southern Tussock

with Harry Peasbury. You know Harry, with the face.

The one the walks along, that sits down, that eats food.

The one that murdered Colonel Gaddafi.

Suddenly I noticed that all me adverbs

that I were using in conversation were physically manifesting themselves into trapeziums.

Is it trapeziums or trapezia? I don't care!

I were that embarrassed, I didn't know where to hide me face.

I tried the Breville toaster but they found it in three minutes, flat.

Thank you! Oh, Gerry the landlord, he were killing himself laughing.

He said "I'm sorry Stanley, I can see you're embarrassed."

He said, "It's just that Tony Bits were in here last Wednesday

"and his adjectives were nicking peoples pork scratchings",

"Whatever next? Arthur Beakstone's indefinite articles

"opening a nail shop in the High Street?" I had to laugh.

I had to, I had to, I had to, I had to - hoo - kill me, I had to, hee,

I had to - her - I had to - har - I had to - huay,

I had to haaa...

I'm on this special diet at the moment.

All I'm allowed to eat of an evening is one loaf of bread

and one measly leg of lamb.

Pathetic! Oh well.

And you join us here live for the finals

of the Outraged '70s Sitcom Vicar Playoff.

On the left here, Colin Snodgrass,

at 42, a comparatively young '70s sitcom vicar.

And fast gaining the reputation of being thoroughly outraged

at the slightest lapse in moral propriety.

On the right, Desmond Winkleberry, 64 years old,

yet showing no signs of gaining any tolerance at all of anything

outside the narrow confines

of accepted 19th century Christian convention.

And now pouring the first tea of the competition,

here's tonight's official, Mrs Valerie Bainbridge of Weybridge.

A veteran of many occasions such as these.

And as she takes her place at the curtains,

final prayers have been said and...

-BELL RINGS

-..there goes the bell.

And the first cups of the evening are raised to the lips.

A sip is taken.

Very tense.

Oh, that's quite a challenging opening salvo.

That's really rattled them. The word bum there,

a vulgar term for the buttocks or glutinous maximus.

Let's have a look at the replay and as to who had the edge,

it's hard to call. Lets see how they scored on the indignometer.

That's a dead heat. Both men of the cloth scandalised.

And that's three points apiece. Well, what an exciting start.

Both men fairly evenly matched, although Winkleberry,

a finalist for two years running, a favourite by an edge.

There's the bell. And let's see what is next behind the curtain.

They take their sips.

And here we go.

And I must say, at first glance there doesn't seem to be anything

here to cause consternation.

Oh, wait a minute! And, yes, they've seen it. There it is.

There are no wedding rings on this young couple's fingers

and that means their child was born out of wedlock.

And I must say that really has rattled their vicarial cages.

The institution of marriage, so important to these guys.

Here's the replay, look.

And yes, Snodgrass just registering his disapproval

of the bastard issue of an unblessed union

a split second before his opponent.

Here's the indignometer

And both at Outraged.

But that very slightly earlier demonstration of disapprobation from

Snodgrass just edging the younger parish leader ahead by half a point.

Winkleberry 7, Snodgrass 7 and a half.

So, thrills and spills in tonight's electrifying

standoff between these two dog-collared titans.

Join us for the decisive final round after the break.

Waaa! Bucket of Water Warehouse!

We've got buckets of water stacked to the rafters!

Thousands of bucket of waters, like this bucket of water!

Only 1.99! And this bucket of water, only 3.99!

And these end of line bucket of waters only 10.99 for four!

While stocks last, but hurry! Everything must go!

Including Bucket of Water Warehouse, which is on a hill and has wheels on each corner!

Bucket of Water Warehouse!

If it's buckets of water you're after, we're your warehouse!

Waaaa!

And a warm welcome back to the Outraged '70s Sitcom Vicars Playoff Final.

Well, this is edge of the pew stuff all right.

And right now I wouldn't like to lay a bet either way.

And if I did I'd do it very surreptitiously.

Both these chaps very down on gambling. There's the bell.

In this exciting finals of the Outraged '70s Sitcom Vicar Playoff.

And the last sip.

And, well, this is quite unusual.

Can't see anything morally untoward here at all.

Quite the opposite in fact.

Goodness gracious me! Well, we weren't expecting that!

And this has sent the two '70s vicars into outrage overdrive.

Oh, look at this!

Have you ever seen tea spat in such a forceful manner?

And they really don't know what to do with themselves.

And Snodgrass particularly

seems to... Oh, my goodness me!

He's stood up and his trousers have fallen down!

I don't believe it.

Snodgrass' trousers have fallen down and look at this,

look at this, oh, somebody pinch me!

He's looking faint! And he's fainted!

Straight into a Victoria sponge!

Goodness gracious! Let's have a look at the replay.

And look at the pressure!

The sheer force behind both of those tea spurts.

But look here, you can see Snodgrass,

he's finished his tea spurt.

He's up and then down come the trousers

and have you seen anybody look so appalled?!

Just when you think that's enough,

this happens, straight into a fresh Victoria sponge.

Winkleberry knows the game is over for him.

And so now a final look at the Indignometer,

and, goodness me, Winkleberry has top marks

but Snodgrass is off the scale.

And so the winner of this year's 1970s Sitcom Vicar Playoff,

Colin Snodgrass!

Well, that hardly touched the sides!

Here, it says in this book

that it's better to get shot by a firing squad at dawn than dusk.

But is that just an old wives' tale?

Well, George here was shot by a firing squad at dawn

and Richard here was shot by a firing squad at dusk.

Doesn't seem to make much difference, does it?

What do you say to that, old wives?

Bollocks!

Thanks, old wives. Thanks, guys.

Ladies and gentlemen, your respect please for Mr Crab Marley.

-ROOTS REGGAE MUSIC

-This crustacean! Across the nation!

With specification!

# I am a crab in a tank

# I am a crab in a tank

# I'm not a cab in a rank. # No way!

# I am a crab in a tank

# I am a crab in a tank. # I won't be dressed!

# I am a crab in a tank

# I'm not a kebab in a bank. #

Ow! # I am a crab in a tank

# And my mind is sweet

# Cos I smoke a little seaweed. #

-ECHOING:

-Waa-waa-waa-waa!

Cold.

Cold.

Warm.

Warmer!

Hot!

Boiling! Boiling!

Cold.

Warm.

Cold.

-You got any rubbish?

-No.

-Well, you can have this then.

-Oh, thanks, Bob!

-So, how are you?

-Oh, very well, thanks, Kevin.

-Glad to hear it.

-Well, I say very well,

you wouldn't know it, I've actually got ingrowing legs.

-Ingrowing legs?

-Ingrowing legs.

The problem started while I was working as a buffet guard.

On a train.

No.

Oh.

-'I guarded buffets.

-Oh, right.

'Three years training.

'Not everyone makes it through, but I stuck with it.

'I dealt with it all in my time.

'Everything from the threat of contamination of trifles

-'by pickled onions.

-Ooh.

'To simple plate overloading.

'You'd be amazed at what some people would try and get away with.

'So, were you good at it then?

'I was a natural. Buffet Bob they called me.

-'Why did they call you that?

-Oh, that would take too long to explain.

'It's a bit of an in-joke. Anyway, I couldn't do it forever.

'Dealing with bridesmaids who'd taken all the crudites.

'Well, it's a young man's game.

'There's more to you than meets the eye, isn't there, Bob?

Oh, yes, Kevin. I am a mysterious man, with hidden depths.

Right, I'd better crack on. Your toilet's blocked again!

MOUTHING GUNFIRE

MOUTHING SCREAMING AND EXPLOSIONS

-Big!

-Small.

-Big!

-Small.

-Same.

-Same.

-Same.

-Same.

-Small.

-Big!

-Small.

-Big!

Lets meet somebody who's written a book about music hall.

And it's a young man by the name of Mark Woods.

Hello, Mark, how old are you?

-I'm 37.

-37? Wow!

And you've got a family connection to music hall, haven't you?

Yes, I do. My great grandfather, Al Woods,

was one half of the comedy duo Whitstable Al and Adaptable Hal.

Do you want some juice?

-No.

-OK.

And now we've got a fantastic clip of your great-grandfather

-and his comedy partner from 1929, haven't we?

-Yes, we do.

-Shall we have a look?

-OK.

Do you want another cushion so you're sitting a bit higher?

-I'm fine.

-OK.

LAUGHTER

-But wait a minute, Al.

-What's that, Hal?

I have a leg where me arm should be and an arm where me leg should be.

LAUGHTER

Tell you what, how about...

..I take this over there...

..and take this off here...

..then put this on here...

..and this on here?

Now, what do you reckon to that?

Yes, I am, I really do.

You want to do what now?

-I really do feel...

-Really do feel what now?

I really do feel like me old self again.

LAUGHTER AND APPLAUSE

JAUNTY MUSIC

Whitstable Al and Adaptable Hal there.

Now you mention lots of different acts in your book?

-Yeah.

-Don't say "Yeah". It's yes.

Yes.

There were some wonderfully original performers out there.

'There was Hobson and Pugh.

'Now, we've got a clip of them.

'They would shoot each other in the stomach with rifles.

'Are you warm enough?

-'Yeah.

-Yes.

-Yes! Really.

'There was Brawny Betty.

'She could pick herself up by her own hair.

'Amazing.'

Just a few of the characters featured in this,

'The Golden Years Of Music Hall' by Mark Woods.

Available is what book shops there are still left. Well done, Mark.

You all right?

Where's my mother?

It's all right, she's just over there.

Mrs Woods, could you...?

-Is he all right?

-I think he's just tired.

Hi, my name is Paul Hamilton and I am a poet.

Poetry on TV. It's like a bishop on crack.

Do you drive a car? You do. Well, shame on you.

Roadside, roadside genocide.

Roadside Genocide is the title of this week's poem.

Hey. What's black and white and red all over?

A magpie that's been hit by a Rover.

And that's not funny, it's a bird all runny.

And what about the others all now gone?

The list goes on and on and on

and on and on and on and on and on and on and on.

A rook with both its eyes washed out.

An owl with entrails strewn about.

What once was a mouse is now a stain and, ooh, what's that? It's a puppy dog's brain.

A rabbit in the habit of being alive.

Yeah, until it got hit by a Mazda 5.

And on and on and on and on and on and on, but wait.

What's that up in the road ahead?

A car crash and the driver's dead.

And by the road stands an orphaned vole,

and he laughs and he shouts from the depths of his soul.

"Ah, ha ha ha ha ha ha, death to the driver, death to the car."

Roadside, roadside genocide. Roadside genocide.

Drive care-ful-ly.

LOW-PITCHED LAUGHTER

Ah, there you go. Another show's just flown by.

Lets see what's coming up next week.

I'll be demonstrating that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.

Yeah, buy. No, sell. Sell. Sell.

No, yeah, sell. Sell.

It's the semi finals of the Zulu Darts Championships.

DISTANT BATTLE CHANTING

And I'll be asking international peace envoy Tony Blair

some probing questions.

POPPING SOUND

Care for some pop?

# I fell in love with a pretty little girl

# And she makes me feel so fine

# All the other guys fell in love with her too

# But I know that girl is mine

# Now I'm jumping up and down. #

-Jump!

-# I'm jumping up and down. #

-Jump!

-# I'm jump, jump, jump

# Yes, I'm jumping up and down. #

Here we go!

Jump!

Jump!

# I killed the other guys with me own bare hands

# And I made sure she could see

# Then I ate their brains and now she knows

# I'm superior genetically

# Now I'm jumping up and down. #

-Jump!

-# Jumping up and down. #

-Jump!

-# Jump, jump, jump

# Yes, I'm jump, jump, jump

-# Jumping up and down. #

-Jump!

NONSENSE FRENCH LYRICS OVER POPPY GUITAR CHORDS

Quoi?

WASHING MACHINE BEGINS CYCLE

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd