Jersey Floyd on Food

Hi there, good morning.

Do you know, this is the very last programme in the current

Floyd series. Sad, isn't it? Terribly sad.

But, the BBC are a generous lot.

They have invited me for a little BBC self-catering mini break

here on Jersey.

And so, to make the thing really authentic,

they went to a lot of trouble in their Research Department to find

the original potato farmer's

costume, which I am wearing here today.

The light, white silk jacket, pale boots, the mandatory spotted

silk handkerchief, and of course, a bowtie.

Anyway, enough of all of that.

What Jersey is really all about is the potato.

Over 100 years ago, a guy named Delahaye, I think it was, had

a huge potato weighing about four pounds, but it had 16 eyes in it.

So, he cut these 16 eyes out and planted them.

A remarkable thing happened.

It founded a whole economy on a potato

they call the Jersey Royal Fluke. Anyway, enough of that.

This isn't a history lesson.

I've got a very important man coming to lunch.

So, I'd better get the rest of lunch together.

One of my duties as a kid on Sunday mornings,

when I lived near Wiveliscombe,

when we had our big feast of the week,

in the week itself was dripping and Shepherd's Pie and pig's

trotters and things like that, but Sunday was a really, really...

PAN SIZZLES LOUDLY

Warms the cockles of your heart, doesn't it?

..was a really great day

because just as the lunch was coming to the final, ultimate,

the succulent roasting, you would go into the garden,

dig the potatoes,

and pick the Brussels sprouts, which still had frost on them.

I can remember to this day my fingers, blue with cold,

but I can still remember the superb taste of that fresh kind of food.

And that's what I've got here.

I mean, you saw me dig the potatoes out of the field,

away with the lid, no kitchens here, you see, just the field.

Beautiful Jersey New potatoes, and I've fried a bit of liver,

and into the juices of the pan I've put a little glass

of Jersey white wine,

to make a very, very simple and elementary sauce.

Now I'm going to add some beautiful Jersey cream to that.

Keeping stirring the thing the whole time.

You know, in real cookery programmes they have seven home economists,

a studio, 18 backup men, 14 examples of the same dish, but

we're just going to do this because we're a very talented sort of lot.

Some fresh chives, which we picked on the way here this morning.

We did ask permission, as well, I can tell you,

which I put into my pan.

And, because I want this to be super duper good,

because I've got a very important man coming for lunch today,

I told you, he's a senator, you'll recognise him, because

senators were togas and togas and laurel leaves, don't they?

And I won't do this for him.

So, I put my bit of egg yolk into the sauce.

So, one thing is for sure about this meal, hey, look, come and see me,

one thing for sure about this is you won't get a fresher dish anywhere.

Now, back onto here. Thank you, Richard.

The beautiful chive and cream sauce over there.

Turn off the gas so we don't blow the countryside up.

Put the potatoes on here.

Hoping they're not going to crush and crumble as I put them on.

I don't care who you are, but I don't think you could get

a better, simpler little dish than that.

Which, if you don't mind, my man awaits me,

my bottle of wine awaits me. I'd better have a quick slurp.

And off I go.

# Spuds, spuds, spuds, # Spuds, spuds, spuds,

# Spuds, spuds, spuds... #

Here we are, Your Majesty.

New Jersey potatoes... It's not Majesty, is it?

It's Lord? No. What are you? Senator!

Well, it's a bit disappointing, no toga and no laurel leaves.

I did ask for them, you know.

Well, I'm afraid the toga's being dry-cleaned at the moment,

and the laurel leaves, I think, are caught by the frost.

It's been a funny winter, hasn't it? It has, extremely.

Has it affected the business of the island? It has to a point.

Our beautiful potatoes are a little bit later than they normally

would have been, but other than that, we're managing OK, thank you. Great.

Tell me, the popular conception of Jersey is in fact

an island of fun, of high-rise banking offices with sinister men

in Mercedes-Benz and tinted sunglasses and stuff like that,

who whisper to each other. But, that's not the whole picture, is it?

I mean, what is your job?

Well, my job is to be responsible for agriculture in all its aspects

in the island, and that of course is probably the most important

part of the island economy.

Not necessarily money, I might add, it's the character.

Jersey wouldn't be what it is without it.

What is this business about the Fluke?

I mean, these potatoes were a fluke, weren't they? Yes, they were.

Excuse me while I sit down. OK.

They were fluke.

I believe you know the story, the chap had the 16-eyed potato

and he planted it in the ground,

and he produced this remarkable strain of potatoes

on which the island's economy has been based for a number of years.

And when I look back, I think it's a remarkable thing.

First of all, that he should realise what an important discovery

he made, and secondly, imagine if he'd been a very greedy person

and eaten them all instead of putting them back for more seeds?

The island's history may have been changed by a single meal.

What do you think of my setting, of my little restaurant here?

You like it? I think it's fantastic. I'd like to come here every day.

It really is a beautiful place. But a very serious point.

What is it like being a lord or a senator or a king?

I mean, do you eat in cloistered halls with rusty

servants in green dinner jackets shambling, perhaps a club-footed one

dragging the trolley of the baron of beef as the band play in the food?

I mean, what's life really like for you?

No, that sounds like the BBC canteen.

As far as we're concerned, we don't go in for that sort of thing at all.

It's a very ordinary sort of existence.

We do our job to the best of our ability.

But at the same time, we get certain advantages.

If I wasn't a senator, I wouldn't be sitting here with you.

And I must say, I'm enjoying it very, very much, and I thank you for it.

Well, I actually think that's enough senators.

I mean, he's been plugging this Jersey Island for the last 15

minutes or something like that.

I reckon it's time we got on with what Floyd is all about,

which is a slurp and a mouthful, and hope that you enjoy

what is going to be a magical, but very sadly last programme.

Bye now.

That was great, Peter, thank you very much. Oh!

I forgot to say one thing! The senator has a name!

He's called Pierre Horsfall.

Lord, Senator, President Pierre Horsfall, King of All Tomatoes,

and all the potatoes on this island.

I wondered about a bit on my own,

and as I strolled through these fields on my tod,

strange visions of the director's parenthood filled my mind,

as I strived to make my words rhyme.

But even with a slurp, there was no doubt,

Floyd, leave the poetry out.

It won't reach the parts it should, so here's a note on Jersey.

That's good.

Observe that the cows are neatly dressed in barbers,

and the fields in nylons.

But happily, the tide rushes in,

bringing with it a link for the next sequence, which is eels.

Shallot, orange leaves, Marigold leaves, parsley and thyme,

plain flour, a quart of milk, I like that.

And a pint of green... Oh, good heavens, you're here again already.

I hadn't realised.

And you've caught me at my favourite tipple as well,

because actually, I only swig this lot down to wind you up.

Like I sometimes think you wind me up.

I was in the pub the other day, a big fishermen came up to me

and said, "Ever eaten Conger eel and flowers, John?" I said,

"Conger eel and flowers? You're putting me on."

He said, "No, I'm serious.

"It's a very, very old dish. Very famous here in Jersey."

On these programmes,

we've trundled around really looking for what we've

decided are a dying breed of regional specialities.

There aren't going to be any soon!

And that's why I'm so thrilled to cook this Conger eel dish.

The reason I'm reading it from here is,

A, I'm at a distinct disadvantage.

I have never cooked it before, and I've never eaten it before,

so I'm really on the line.

Let's have a quick, no further ado,

a quick whiz around what we've got here.

We've got my favourite old mother-in-law, here, the old

trout, with flowers and peas up her nose like that.

And all I did was cut off the head and tail,

and I popped it into water, and I simmered it for an hour,

I took the head out, leaving the stock, which I will show you.

Now, Richard, come over to here.

I'll show you the ingredients that we have, most remarkable.

Chopped cabbage, a few peas, some borage, no,

these are marigold leaves, I beg your pardon.

Marigold leaves. Chopped borage.

Dried marigold flowers, chopped shallots, petals of marigold

for a garnish later, to make it look really superb.

Fresh parsley, and fresh thyme. I've also got some flour and butter.

Come back to me, Richard, I'm feeling a bit lonely here.

Flour and butter to thicken the whole thing up. Right.

The endangered species, get your notes ready,

your pencils ready, I'm going to be asking questions,

and if anybody on Jersey would like to challenge me on this recipe,

be kind to me, I've never done it before,

and none of you have ever offered it to me before.

But, it's going to be for real.

So, over here, Richard, into our fish stock

first of all we put the cabbage, OK?

Cabbage goes on. The peas go in.

I bet people in Jersey are reaching for their pens

and telephones right now to say he's doing it all in the wrong order,

all the wrong way round. That is the marigold leaves going in.

This is the borage going in, it's absolutely splendid.

This looks like saffron. In fact, it's dried marigold petals.

They're going in. Give those little stir round.

Oh, nearly set fire to the recipe!

Not to worry. So, in we go with the shallots.

A bit tedious, all of this, isn't it? Here I am stirring.

Only two more things to go. But you know, it's a curious soup, isn't it?

These folk tales are wonderful.

I'm creating something which is 400 years old. I'm only 40.

I'm a 10th of all of that! I've never heard of it before. Great.

Anyway, as I say,

sorry to be a bit boring about that kind of thing.

And the parsley.

Now, this is the bit where I reflect,

I reflect deeply on the meaning of life. Conger eel and flowers.

Will they be telling me next they have seagulls roasted for Sunday lunch?

I don't know.

But I'll have to leave the director to get me

out of this treaty sequence while this simmers away for an hour so.

I'm going to have another glass of milk.

That was really interesting, wasn't it?

You know, how he dreams up these brilliant little interludes,

I shall never know.

Not sure that I really care.

Anyway, while you've been away enjoying yourselves,

I've thickened the soup with a mixture of flour and butter,

added some thick, rich Jersey milk to it, it is delicious.

And if you cast your mind back to the beginning of the programme,

where the senator was there laying on a bit like,

"I run the agriculture of this island.

"Everything that happens is all down to me." Well, it isn't really true.

He, like any other politician, is only a minister, really.

And behind him there is a real expert, a real man, who grades

every potato, tastes every tomato, measures every strip of calabrese,

susses out the scallops and fiddles with the eels and things like that.

Or whatever he does.

Anyway, he's the man I need to test my soup, and he's called Francois.

Francois, it's great for you to come along on the show. Hello.

Thank you very much. Not at all.

Now, you've got to be really straight with me.

You are a Jersey man, born and bred. Yes, I am.

I have reason to believe that you have eaten this in the past?

Oh, yes, yes. In fact, in this very house.

Great Auntie used to make that soup.

So, when you get to taste it,

and I'm going to float my little marigold leaves on the top...

Richard, just come in close to that.

Marigold leaves on top, that's lovely.

Francois, it's down to you. This is Floyd versus Jersey.

Could you please taste it, and tell me what you think?

This is a very worrying moment, chaps. Worry for me. Pray, pray.

Oh, superb! Is that true?

Superb! No, it is, it is.

And is it better than your granny used to make? No, it's good.

It's as good. It is superb!

Well then, I'm very thrilled.

Now, I know you like this, and I like it, you're an old Jersey hand,

you reckon it's great.

But, have we, in fact, resurrected a culinary dinosaur?

Do people, do real people still eat Conger eel and marigold?

Of course they do, of course they do.

Not so much as they used to in the past.

I think because we've got a cosmopolitan population now,

we don't have so many of the Jersey people left, as it were.

But there are still quite a number who love this.

What are we going to do to stop, I mean, wouldn't it be better

if the States of Jersey, instead of not making cheese, which is

another little bone I want to pick with you in a moment,

by the way, propagated the ancient Jersey dishes?

I mean, we're going down a hamburger and chips road.

Well, I'm not.

I prefer my wife to do all things fresh

and she, in fact, makes lovely vegetable soups, all fresh,

not out of packets, that's no good at all. All right, that's very fine.

But, I'm still going to pick this bone with you,

what about the Jersey cheese?

You have got brilliant milk, why aren't you making any cheese?

And the other thing I want to complain about,

and I mean this quite sincerely, Jersey is a fabulous island, but

all of its butter is an little tiny packets and I really resent that.

Oh, that's not true! It is.

Why can't we, in the restaurants, have slabs of this fabulous

butter not these naff little packets? Ask the hoteliers.

That's not me. Not you. Right. Your fault is the cheese.

What about the cheese?

Well, I think, we tried it, you see, we tried it once.

The Milk Marketing Board here tried an experiment, and it didn't work.

I think, and it's only my opinion, I think

it's because our milk is too rich.

The cream is too rich.

Guernsey do it, and they get a lovely cheese, I'm afraid to say.

I love Guernsey Cheddar.

Yes, but aren't you... you're a bit of a hypocrite,

because the last time I was here when I met you

and we were doing the reccy, you said,

"What really cheers a Jerseyman up is to turn into the sunset

"and see Guernsey on fire."

Oh, wait, wait, wait, come off it! I didn't quite say it like that.

You did!

Anyway, you quite liked my soup.

Tell me you think my soup's OK in patois or argot or whatever..

La soupe d'andgulle, c'etait superbe!

Absolument merveilleux.

There you go. Another day, another dinner. I think we've cracked it.

My mother, who was a brilliant cook,

one said she would rather dally in a butchers than a dress shop any day.

Well, I feel the same about markets.

I prefer one of these Victorian cathedrals of gastronomy to the

local museum, or the local Roman bars.

And isn't it good that Jersey has taken the trouble to restore

the splendid hall to its original glory?

A lesson that would be easily learned by councils

throughout the British Isles who have pillaged our heritage

for the sake of car parking and double glazing stalls.

I can think of one and South Moulton, for example,

a beautiful market there should be restored.

Anyway, that's not I'm why here, to witter on.

I'm here looking amongst this wonderful fish for a very shy

and retiring species which I hope to cook.

Aha! There we are, the end of the quest. The elusive ormer.

Did you know, years ago,

there were thousands of these available in Jersey.

They only cost two shillings a dozen or something like that.

Now, they are about one pound each.

And the other thing is, not only have they overfished them,

but these are very highly-strung little things, very sensitive.

And you have to go creeping up to them into the water

and grab them before they notice you.

No heavy boots or things like that or they go, clunk!

Onto the rock, and you can't get them.

Anyway, once you have got them, and we got these at great expense,

as I said, they're nearly a pound each these days, you take these

leathery little molluscs out,

beat the living daylights out of them with a hammer,

fry them in butter with onions, carrots, white wine,

and parsley, chicken stock, and things like that.

Put them in the oven overnight for about 24 hours.

And then when you come back from a hard day in the pub

or at the allotment or something like that,

you call out the old trout, "Where's my supper?"

And she brings out of the Aga this wonderful dish,

unctuous dish, of these things swimming in rich gravy which.

when you've eaten these, you dip your bread into,

swill it down, plate of mashed potato, and have a really fine time.

And, if you're really lucky, I'm going

to cook these and you'll see exactly how to do it.

If I don't forget, that is.

Frank Knight in Rutley would probably want about three

quarters of a moon for this little pile, but we're not proud,

and anyway, beggars can't be choosers.

I only wanted to use the kitchen for the afternoon,

so I phoned up Caroline Briggs and said, "Hey, what about it?

"Can I use one of your 97 rooms to cook some ormers in?"

Hello, I'd like to welcome you to my humble fisherman's cottage,

the sort of thing that typical Jersey fishermen have

lived in for centuries, especially

since they invented things like money, gold, and stuff like that.

Anyway, we've borrowed it,

as we always do on this programme, because we're skint.

And we're so skint that we're going to have to cook ormers, which

years ago, as I told you earlier, were a totally peasant dish.

Today, they are for the rich and famous, people like me and you.

Here they are, nasty, disgusting-looking things,

rather as if they were sawn off elephants' feet.

And the first thing you've got to do is to scrub them

into a presentable state.

And you can't do that without invoking the products and the craft

of a centuries-old tradition here in Jersey of the ormer brush.

Notice its hand-carved shape, and the thumb-gunnel there

for correct grip.

You walk over to the sink, you take one of these nice-looking

things, they don't actually smell very nice, I'll tell you that.

And you scrub and scrub and scrub.

And you do that until you get really bored. And I'm really bored, OK?

So, you come back over here, where you see a pristine,

Alice in Wonderland-style mother of pearl shell, which they

also use for building garages I mean, the ormer, not the shell.

You throw that away, you take it out, and you beat it.

And I've just muddled that up a tiny bit, but that doesn't matter,

because sometimes you can make mistakes on television,

so I have to pick that one back up again, slide it out of the shell,

and at the risk of damaging the recording equipment and the

sound engineer's ears, I have to beat it really hard until it's flat.

But, by the magic of television, Richard, come over here,

I have a load of them already beaten out, rather like veal schnitzels or

something like that, a piece of veal or a piece of pork that's beaten up.

That is the thing. Other bits of ingredient...

Are you looking at me, or the food? Thank you.

..is garlic, carrot, onion, and tomato. Is that...?

God, you're a thick cameraman. Is that tomato, or onion? Onion!

Thank you, onion.

Right, just checking you were paying attention.

And some chopped parsley, butter,

rich, yellow, Jersey butter, beautiful.

A bit of ordinary flour,

I don't think they grow wheat over here, and salt and pepper.

That's all we need.

The only other thing we really need before we reset the lights,

rearrange the camera things, is for me to have a slurp,

you to get your notebooks and pencils,

turn to page 73 for the scratch pack on the Radio Times

I want you to savour the smell when it's all cooked.

See you in a moment.

# Slurp, slurp, slurp # Slurp, slurp, slurp

# Slurp, slurp, slurp... #

There you are. That's the carrot, the onion, the bacon, the garlic,

frying away in butter.

I don't need to explain that to you, after all,

you are BBC Two watchers, aren't you?

Anyway, Richard, as you pan over here, you're coming to the ormers,

which are frying until they're golden brown in butter.

This is the ormers. You see that.

You're on the right dish, aren't you?

Yes? Answer me when I'm speaking to you. Yes, yes.

That's fine, that's great, right.

Well, now, we've made those golden brown,

we now have a few little simple things to do,

so if you can wind that machine back onto the two dishes,

it might be difficult for you, stay with them while

we put some red wine into the ormers, some chicken stock,

and those observant members of you who... Come back again, come back.

Because you weren't all paying attention. I didn't have chicken stock in the other sequence, did I?

You forgot to notice. There it is. It's in. Come back again.

Then we put some parsley into that.

That's the red wine, the chicken stock. Not confusing the camera any

more than we have to, we tip... What are these called, Richard?

Those are the other bits. Those are the other bits you see.

He's really learning very well. Now all that goes into...

Come back, come back. Goes into an earthenware

dish into the oven for, and you're not going to believe this,

it's a very simple dish of course, goes in there for 14 hours.

Which has completely wrecked our plans here on Jersey. We've had

to have an extra overnight. That's a lot of money for the crew.

We've had to cancel our flight and it means that

I am going to drink Jersey dry between now and then.

And now the moment of truth.

14 hours, 14 long tedious hours have passed

and this much vaunted Jersey

dish is about to be sampled by us all here.

I tell you what, Richard, come up.

While those 14 hours have been going by I've been doing good works.

You know, lecturing to Boy Scouts,

opening Women's Institute fetes and things like that,

but much more importantly I've pulled the most

beautiful bird on the whole island.

Who in her own right is a fabulous cook.

It's Caroline and it's her kitchen that we've pinched for the afternoon.

And she is the unfortunate or lucky victim of this tasting session.

Caroline, have a bite of that.

Let me know what you think of it all.

It is rather splendid. What I'm going to tell you about Caroline,

is that she is a superb cook and if you are in Guernsey

later on this year you are in for a super duper treat,

but I can't really say things like that because this is the BBC.

But you'll work it out for yourselves.

But you'll work it out for yourselves.

What do you reckon, my darling?

It's very good.

It's got an interesting flavour.

What do you mean, interesting? Meaty.

What do you mean, interesting?

SHE LAUGHS

I'll tell you what. If this is the dish we've all come for, quite frankly, John, I can

leave it out.

I'd rather have a plate of ox tongue and gravy and gherkins.

Jersey, I'm really sorry, maybe I blew it, maybe there's been a mistake,

but quite frankly I'd rather spend the rest of the day with you.

I never liked mixing business with pleasure.

I always try and keep my work away from home,

but on this occasion, it's the end of the series,

and it's the end of the whole bit and my director comes from, what shall I say, fairly humble origins.

He was going on the other day about, "It isn't fair,

"all the Dynasty programmes and Dallas and all that lot,

"they have swimming pool shots and Cadillacs and things."

So I thought just to cheer him up I'd invite him home.

Anyway, sorry about the mess by the way, but I have been terribly

busy all day and in fact I've got some more cooking to do tonight.

I've got friends coming round. It never stops for me.

It's absolutely dreadful. But listen.

This is the last programme

and the one thing I want to say is it's jolly hurtful for me

around about the time it gets transmitted to see buses full

with people, cars whizzing by. I know many of you don't even watch the programme.

I think that's a bit mean because we've put our heart

and soul into it. Like today for example. What have we done for you?

We've done new potatoes.

Really interesting, you know. We've done conger eel soup.

We've done ormers and they were delicious I can tell you.

What else have we done?

Well, I've got, as I said, these friends coming for dinner

so there's nothing to it. No peace for the wicked at all.

I better go and get up a bit of frying speed.

Welcome to a magical evening. The rain is dripping down fairly steadily.

It's dark, it's cold, it's the end of April

and I've never seen weather like it. And what do we do?

Well, we do like all the rest of you do.

Mad gastronauts that you are, we surround ourselves with luxury,

with fitted carpets, Rolls-Royces, minibuses, the whole bit,

refrigerators, Magimixes and microwaves, and what do we do?

We set fire to some twigs and have a barbecue.

By the time we've cooked the food which is usually just sausages on sticks

and hamburgers, which is quite disgusting, our friends have got fed up.

They've gone, they've driven over the lawn

and made a mess of the whole thing. But this is the Floyd programme.

And it isn't like that here.

Richard, let me reveal to you a little snackette

we've got arranged for you this evening.

Starting over here we have some prawns skewered with fresh thyme.

Then we've got some simple pieces of fresh monkfish which I've

simply wrapped in bacon rather like this. I'll fumblingly show you that.

Fumbled onto there and stuck onto the end of a skewer.

Over here we similarly have some very fresh scallops wrapped in bacon.

There's a brilliant book over there. I learned a lot from that.

And then some Mediterranean prawns with mint.

So with no further ado what we must do is get a little cooking

going because people are hungry.

Now you can't just cook dry things like that.

What you also have to have is a little marinade,

which I have made here of fresh olive oil and fresh thyme,

black pepper, salt, and a squeeze of lemon juice.

And I simply paint a little of this on to my prawns

and I put them onto this grill.

Ignore the one that's already there.

This is a test piece

because we weren't quite sure how hot the barbecue was.

And they go there for a while.

While those are going on, Richard come back over here again,

and I'll prepare another one. This time of monkfish.

I'm not walking too fast for you I hope.

Paint that with oil

similarly

and pop that on.

And really, up to me, up to me,

it's sort of in the lap of the gods now

because the coals are on, the fire's burning,

the cameraman is here, you're the cameraman. The sound recorder is there, the director is there,

my glass is in my hand. All we can do is wait for a few moments for those to cook away.

In the meantime what I've got to do is check up on a few

recipes to see how I can really make this work. Yes.

It's not often I see such a brilliant book, but there it is.

It's a fine book. I've done it right. Everything is OK.

See you in a sec.

# Slurp, slurpity, slurp, slurp slurp slurp. #

I'm going to start this piece with a strange hush.

The director's been rather taken by the moon.

He had the cameraman swinging about the skies looking for it.

I don't know who he thinks he really is. Anyway, that's enough of all that nonsense.

The point is the unidentified barbecuing objects are ready.

My friend's here, Caroline Griggs, Helen and Ron Hickman,

whose house this is, and a few other people have come together tonight to

enjoy what we have been cooking. We hope they going to enjoy it.

So if they'd like to come on in and have a taste of this.

I don't know how it is. It might be a little overdone.

It might be a little underdone. Here they are.

This is the gastronomic get-along gang. There are all smiling happily.

They haven't had a drink all night. Hold your plate,

because I can't do it all.

And have a little. That's a scallop,

for you there. Not much help here is there?

Goodness gracious me.

It smells wonderful. I'm pleased you like the smell.

So a couple of scallops for you. Oh sorry, didn't mean to...

There is a... CLINK

..here but it wasn't on the end of that.

And there's another scallop for you. A couple of these prawns.

You see we've got them in a perfect sterile television position.

A glass in one hand, a plate in the other,

and no possible chance of being able to eat it.

Which is what this programme... Actually, come back here.

The programme is about food. I'm doing this

so they can disengage themselves from the embarrassing

situation the director has got them into.

So now they're all ready again.

No they're not. Ron is still frozen solid here.

Here you go. Eat away.

Let me take that. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll relieve you of that.

It would only be bad for you.

I must have one myself. what do you think of your barbecue? Scrumptious. Really is. Mm.

They are very good. Would you like one, Richard? Here you are. Fantastic.

See if they are... They're absolutely excellent. What is that?

I don't know if the camera can see it,

but there's a very strange,

I don't know if it's a mushroom or a pair of embracing ladies,

but there's a bizarre piece of sculpture at the end of the garden there.

Can the camera see that? Answer in your own words. Yes. Yes.

What's that, Ron?

That's done by a local sculptor, Geoffrey Thornton,

and it's called The Embrace.

I don't what the hell you thought it was. Not two ladies.

I'm a bit short-sighted and I didn't bring my glasses,

but there is this extraordinary protuberance at the end

of this manicured lawn and on that I think it's time that we got

on with a bit of fun and we should see things like, to Ron Hickman...

Oh, he's gone.

To Ron Hickman and Helen his beautiful wife

and to the bird I've pulled, Caroline, who will be

married by the time this programme is out, or if not she shortly will be.

Thank you very much for making this end of term party a great

and brilliant success.

I'd like to drink to you all. Thank you. Will you promise to come again?

Most definitely. Right.

God bless you all. And Jersey too.

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