The Comedy Prom BBC Proms

The Comedy Prom

The first-ever Comedy Prom, hosted by Tim Minchin at the Royal Albert Hall. With soprano Susan Bullock and pianist Danny Driver. Jules Buckley conducts the BBC Concert Orchestra.

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This programme contains adult humour. Tonight's Prom looks set to


be unlike anything that you've seen or indeed are likely to see this


season. Hosted by musician, actor and all round comedy rock God, Tim


Minchim, who Jones me now. Tim, how will it go tonight? I don't know. I


don't know what's happening. I'm very late. I haven't learnt my


liepbts lines. You are wuet beautiful. I love you. I don't know


what's going to happen at all. Welcome to the BBC's, first ever,


# I sit here as for 20 years I've sat.


# Wearing my music critic's hat. # I mean, it's clearly not an act-


-ual hat. # It's metaphorical.


# And in those 20 years I'm sad. # To say these wondrous promenades.


# Have gone from bard to worse to bad.


# To even worse to bloody horrible. # I admit, I'm a bit of a classical


music boffin. # And although I've said this often.


# The final nail in the coffin of the Proms is clearly imminent.


# Yes, we survived Nigel effing Kennedy.


# But surely there's no earthly remedy.


# For a night of so-called comedy. # Hosted by an immigrant.


CHEERING AND APPLAUSE # Why they insist on this tosh,


it's a mystery. # Laughter and classical music


don't mix you see. # 160 years of history.


# Tossed away for a cheap gaffaw! # One of our country's greatest


traditions. # Some of our nation's finest


musicians. # Forced into hu-miliating


positions. # Is nothing sacred any more?


# Classical music should always be. # Performed, well, you know,


classically. # With suitably solemn solemnity,


and usually in three quarters. # Now we have this, this "comedy


prom". # It's all boom-tish and pom pom


pom. # What are these BBC idiots on?


# Is nothing sacred any more? # I remember, it seems like


yesterday. # Watching the greats who'd come to


play. # It was so magical and gay.


# Back when gay meant something good.


# I wish that I were back there once again.


# When this orchestra were made of men.


# And some patience and a penny. # Could give you Henry Wood.


# (You would get Wood) # Oh, what Henry Wood would think.


# If only Henry Wood could think. # Though he's extinct.


# He would have died if he had seen this.


# Endless rhymes and dirty puns. # People drumming with their


tongues. # They think it funny.


# Forcing divas to sing "penis". # Penis.


# Penis # Get off


# Penisboffins for opera # # I remember, it seems like


yesterday. # When conductors were bearded and


grey. # This little twerp is not yet


shaving. # Or even looking at the score.


# Is nothing sacred any more? # We used to care about the art.


# I mean, honestly. # Look at this violinist's chart,.


# It actually says "fart". # Nothing's sacred anymore.


# The stories that inspired the greats of yore.


# Sin, redemption and the Lord. # Heaven's glory and hell's fires.


# The battle of the light against dar.


# The timeless narratives of mad Mozart and boring Bach.


# These days we just don't give a farch.


# We are amoral and uninspired. # I reckon that it's time to start


a new tradition. # Especially designed for us comic


musicians. # We'll do it every year at the


comedy prom. # It'll be our ritual from now on.


# At the end of the prom. # Right, get this.


# Before the lights come up. # I reckon all the prommers in the


cheap seats. # Should take off their clothes and


writhe naked on the floor. # While a member of the Royal


family plays the theme from Doctor Who on a Keytar #. Yeah, seemed


reasonable at the time. Welcome to the planet's first Comedy Prom, go




That was interesting. Something new. So, as, I'm sure you all know, the


word, "Prom" is a shortening of the word Promenade, which is a type of


drink. Like, lemonade, but instead of lemons it's made of... Prom...


Egranites. Promegranite, as you know, of course, is a fruit, the


flesh of which is the same colour as your lifr, because it's named


after the -- liver, because it's named after the great myth of


Prometheus, who was punished by Zeus for stealing fire. His


punishment was to be tied to a rock for eternity, that's where the


granite comes from in promegranite. The Eagles were sent down to peck


out his liver, therefore, Promenade and the drink promenade, which


Henry would have loved. Could you ask him, he promenade and thought


it was nice and frizzy. Therefore, he named his series of concert,


classical concerts after... Tonight, you will see classical pianists,


opera singers, puppets, a rapper, a beat-boxer, a mime artist -


especially, for the Radio 3 listeners at home.


CHEERING AND APPLAUSE And me, Tim Minchim, who has been


engadgeed on the promise that I won't -- engadgeed on the promise


that I won't - - a few people realised it was me. I have been


engaedgeed on the promise that I won't swear or talk about Jesus or


mention the riots. Damn. Because, this is a promenade we want to keep


it fizzy. Your first guest tonight was a successful rapper. He played


with people like Mark Ronson, Lily Allen and the late Amy Winehouse.


In 200, he turned his hand to comedy. He now plays with the likes


of me. Interesting career move. Please welcome, the absolutely


lovely, and funny, Doc Brown. Yeah, OK. This is a special moment


for me, man. You know, I always dreamed of being, like, the most


famous British rapper since, like, John Barnes. Now, like, with this


gig, I felt, it could be tricky, you know, because a lot of people


they really, they really, really hate rap. You know. I'm used to a


bit of animosity. I've been to Kent. So, you know - I was thinking like,


what should I rap about, in this situation? What should I rap about?


Politics maybe. I'm way too much of a fence sitter when it comes to


politics. I would be like, "for get Nick Clegg, he's a wannabe, however


I do agree with some of his policies". That's in good. Street


crime. I can't really get into. That I have never been a criminal


of any kind. Never been to prison. I never was one of those kids who


would forcibly do jail time to beef up my street cred. I don't think I


could maintain the hard facade. Even just using words like,


"facade" would probably blow my cover.. I figure, it's the Royal


Albert Hall. I'm at the Proms. It doesn't get any more British than


that. I figured I would rap about a British institution. OK. I figured,


look, I'm living my dream right now. That is how I feel, I'm living the


dream. I want to share my dreams with you. OK.


# Everybody got a fantasy. # A mad scheme.


# A crazy plan, a dream that we could make reality.


# Maybe my plan's sad. # But since I was a lad, I wished


David Attenborough was my granddad. # You look at me like.


# "This man's mad! # Get a cat scan!


# You're one horn short of a Jazz band!"


# Yeah, it may seem strange for a rap fan.


# To wish for Attenborough's voice on my sat-nav.


# He'd be my guide. # I'd be Robin to his Batman.


# I'd help him research wolfcubs in Lapland.


# I'd be like "Granddad, I saw another one!"


# He'd give me a handclap because that man's a living legend.


# The best yet. # He was flipping old when I was


little, still isn't dead yet. # And when he pops his clogs, I'll


be crestfallen. # He never sat me on his knee for a


bed story. # Wish I could just put him on.


# As a very special vocal guest on a song.


# Have him do a little cameo feature saying.


# "Doc Brown's an incredible creature".


# Imagine that? # Of all my crew, I wish


Attenborough had my back. # We could spend a beautiful future


together. # He could dumb it down for me.


# I could get clever. # Tell him all about rap and girls.


# He could tell me all the facts of the world.


# What's the chances he'd be listening to some little rap?


# He probably thinks it's all bitches n' stuff.


# Dave, it's so much more. # I aspire to have lyrics like


yours. # I'd love to rap about panthers


that ran fast. # Damn, I wish Attenborough was my


# You can but dream # You can but dream... #


CHEERING AND APPLAUSE Thank you. Thank you. I know a lot


of you think I might have been joking. Some of you may have felt


that you just witnessed a man having a mini-break down. But, no,


I'm serious. For get rappers, Attenborough, to me, is the


greatest living lir cyst there is. You know why? Anything he in a


rates. Anything that he in a rates, for me shall I think I can relate


to it. I don't know if you seen any of his shows. You will know what I


mean. IN ATTENBOROUGH'S VOICE Alone, the giant Pacific octopus scours


the seabed, in search of the perfect den. It must be perfect,


for it's going to be her home for the next six months. She's carrying


fertilised eggs. And now, happy and settled she lays them, 100,000 of


them. Over the next six months she carefully tends to her brood, never


leaving the den for a moment. THUS, unable to leave, she's starving.


Many of these young will not reach adulthood, but she's giving them


the best possible chance. Her final act of devotion, gently blowing


warm water over the surface of the eggs to encourage them to hatch.


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After her long, and lonely vigil, Then I was sat there looking at


that television. Wow! This guy knows exactly how it is for single


Ladies and gentlemen, Mr Doc Brown. APPLAUSE. Our guest conductor is no


stranger to the Proms, having performed to over 30,000 people in


Hyde Park as part of the BBC's Last Night of The Proms coverage in 2008.


Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome Sue Perkins!


APPLAUSE. There is an old saying, you play


the Royal Albert Hall twice in your career, once on the way up, once on


the way down. I always thought when I played this


place again, I would be in a breastplate, in horns. And being


forced to saying the word, penis. I am being heckled by a woodland


creature. I and Nelson the fox. I am an enormous fan. I have seen all


of your work. Of course, Maestro, the conducting Competition were you


beat Goldie. I did actually meet Goldie the Where do you stand on


toxoplasmosis? As far away as possible! We are not so different.


We are erudite. We have both paraded in his late at night. Been


chased by packs of angry dogs. We have both bitten children now and


then. This might seem like a crazy suggestion. But I will say it


anyway. We are out the Royal Albert Hall. Would you like to sing a song


from The Mongrels? Here's: Middleclass Is Magical, from the


multi-award-winning hit BBC Three # A safe world free from strife


# Let bad things happen to other folk while you read Country Life.


# Buy an Aga. # Wear a Monsoon dress.


# Get your food from M&S. # Own an iPhone.


# Watch Bear Grylls. # Take anti-depressant pills.


# Middle class is magical. # Drive a 4x4 to school.


# Keep three sorts of hummus in your fridge.


# Makeover your downstairs loo. # Learn to salsa.


# Ski in Verbier. # Drink too much Chilean Chardonnay.


# Ignore the homeless. # Don't mind burkhas.


# When all the world is middle class.


# There'll be no poverty or starvation.


# Cos we'll all grow our own mange tout.


# And Myleene Klass will rule the nation.


# Because: middle class is magical. # Join us and you'll see.


# You're already half-way there because you're not watching ITV!


# Yes, middle class is magical. # What matters is what we wear.


# Let's pay someone else to do the difficult jobs.


# While we work on our hair! # Middle class is magical Yeah!


APPLAUSE. 8. TIM INTRO TO LULLABY. This is a lullaby. I wrote it for


# Sleep little baby, sleep now my love.


# The Milky Way's shining high up above.


# When you grow up, you will learn all that stuff.


# But for now, close your eyes. # Close your eyes.


# Sleep little baby, try not to squawk.


# Tomorrow and tomorrow you'll learn how to walk.


# To love and laugh, to eat toast and talk.


# But for now, beddy-byes. # Your blanket's hand-knitted with


pure angora wool. # Your nappy is dry and your tummy


is full. # Of enough antihistamine to


placate a bull. # Yet still all this gringeing.


# What more could you want for? I just cannot guess.


# You constantly complain to me, when you should feel blessed.


# There are children in Africa, starving to death.


# And you don't hear them whingeing. # What more can I do to put a stop


to this mind numbing noise you are making?


# Where is the line between patting and hitting?


# When is rocking "rocking" and when is it "shaking"?


# I don't know what else I can try to try to hush you.


# My heart knows I love you but my brain's saying (BLEEP) you.


# And hoping a child trafficker will abduct you.


# At least then I'd get a few hours in bed.


# I've shooshed and I've cooed and I've even try to sing:


# Obladi, oblada, in the exact voice of Ringo.


# Now all I have left is to hope that a dingo will sneak in and rip


# Hush little baby, don't say a word.


# Papa's gonna buy you a mocking bird.


# In the hope you get avian flu. # The nice folk in A&E will take


# That's it, close you're eyes, sshhh, not a sound.


# I can barely see your tiny chest move up and down.


# One thing they don't mention in parenting books.


# Your love for them grows, the closer to dead they look. APPLAUSE.


Ladies and gentlemen, please maintain and enhance your applause


for the indescribable phenomenon that is: The Boy With Tape On His


Apology for the loss of subtitles for 44 seconds


Sorry, I don't suppose I'll get many more opportunities to do that.


APPLAUSE That is Light My Fire on the Royal


Albert Hall organ, I think I can particular tick that off my bucket


list. This next duo have been compared in the press to a modern-


day Flanders and Swann. They have been all over the country. Really,


the kind of act that represent everything a a Comedy Prom should


be and would have been if my agent hadn't of slept with the Head of


Radio 3. Please welcome the beautiful kit and the Widow.


Lavatory seats, I know the vandals are at the gates, but, Henry Wood


must be spinning in his grave. Listen to that, we can hear him.


Are we in the right place? There should be a found fountain.


Somewhere here there should be a fountain. Did it get lost in the


looting. First down market. No fountain we could help by trying to


raise the tone. Raise the musical bar this is the Albert Hall and the


Proms. We should include some music by the man who, is without question,


the it greatest composer alive in this country. In this country and


Europe and the world. His brother was playing his cello? There was a


little bit of Holts. I refer, of course, to Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber,


may his tribe increase. He name is Lord Webber. I am not worthy.


I am not worthy. These things are important. Since we seem to be


chasing the Saturday night ratings what better to place - If you could


remember that his name is Lord, Lord Lloyd Webber, baron of


Sydmonton. He's styled Baron. Nothing to do with his musical


imagination. He's styled Barren. His place is rightfully here. We


will share with you tonight # You too can write a great West


End score # Steal it from somebody else


# The public will clamour, the public will roar


# He they won't know the best tunes were written before


# Prod their memories # With some musical aero


# That sounds quite like bolero # And sits back as it sells


# You too can write a great West End score


# Steal it from somebody else # Young Mendelssohn wrote this


# Lovely violin tune # I don't know, but I love it


# I don't see why it moves me # Goldener Tro pft


# Blattund Blatt # I bet Richard Strauss couldn't


think of that # Open up your mind


# Let your fantasies unwind # And if Puccini's Fanciulla sounds


the same # Better that than rip-off La


Boheme # You too can write a great West


End score # Steal it from somebody else


# It's very easy # Don't think it's strange


# All you need is a piece from Bach # And no-one will know once you've


made the odd change # It's an illusion


# It's not as original as they all claim


# It's the prelude in C all the time


# But the royalties still stay stay the same


# Wolltempierte Klavier # Fugue In E Major


# Sung high by Michael Ball # Love changes bugger all #


Excuse me. Trouble. There is a disturbance. Security, we have


trouble. Excuse me much I need to have a word with you. Do you know


who this is? There is a rogue Bullock. Do we have a Matador in


the house. What are you doing down there? I neat need a strict word


with you. I can't concentrate when you are dressed like. That excuse


me. What is this? Trousers. Trousers at the Albert Hall. You


are a soprano. And? You are dressed like a mezzo. Excuse me. Do I look


like the sort of girl who is about to break into a dark opera aria.


Let's only hope not. Aren't you four weeks early? Into I'm getting


practice. She is doing the last night, ladies and gentlemen. This


is it. Meanwhile. I have the most marvellous song time song here.


do now? Absolutely. I can't wait. Which one? This one. Ladies and


gentlemen, # Tall and slender like an apolo he


goes walking by # I have to follow him


# The boy from Sondheim # When I meet I feel we are on fire


# I'm breathless every time I enquire


# Why when I speak does he vanish # Why is he acting so clanish


# I wish I understoon stood Spanish # When I tell hem I think he's the


# He giggles a lot with his friend # Tall and slender moves like a


dancer # But I never to get any answer


# Why are his trousers vermillion? # His trousers are vermillion.


# Why does he claim he's Castilian? # He thayth that he'th Cathtilian.


# Why do his friends call him Lillian?


# And I hear at the end of the week he's leaving to start a boutique.


# Though I smile, I'm only pretending.


# Cos I know today's the last I'll be spending with the boy from


Tacarembo La Tumbe Del Fuego Santa Malipas Zatatecas La Junta Del Sol


Y Cruz. # Tomorrow he sails.


# He's moving to Wales. # To live in:


Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyr ndrobullllandysiliogogogoch!


# Fairy liquid sq ueeges and dismembered brollies


# Coco cola cans and rusting shopping trolleys


# Several discarded single black dock martens


# Hoards and hoards of old MacDonalds cart ins


# Half a Fiat126 to claim the # Bottles labelled Cherryade and


Rocket Thunder. # Empty packs of cigarettes and


Golden Wonder. # Toys that you get given free at


# Plastic fobs from Henley members' reservations.


# Orange peel and Castrol Superlube containers.


# Bacofoil and Adidas athletic trainers.


# Double blade disposable blue razorblades. And look, there are:


# Part disintegrating bit of perch and tench.


# And floating recent life that won't bear close attention.


# Shiny pools of manganese and benzochloride.


# Sulphurous waves of petrofluoride. # Sewage treated and untreated in


profusion. # Drainings from an engine sump in


part solution. # Old car batteries sitting on the


glorious placid shoreline leaking acid.


# And washed down from lovely shimmering Derwentwater:


# One whole sheep marked "radioactive, do not slaughter".


# Canisters with skull and crossbones part revealed.


# Canisters unmarked just saying, "Sellafield".


# Banks of vegetation standing rotting sweetly.


# Banks where vegetation's given up completely.


# There I sat down and I saw a swan of purest whiteness gently lying.


# Saw a swan of purest whiteness, slowly dying.


# Saw a swan enmeshed in bits of anglers' twine.


# Poisoned by the lead weights on a fishing line.


# And many people rushing forward who cried to see it.


# Many people rushing forward who tried to free it.


# Saw the swan, who lifted up her failing head.


# Saw them gasp to hear her as she quietly said:


# "You'll no doubt have heard how swans refrain from crying, up until


the moment that we find we're dying. # Charming, but as you can see, by


then it's not much use. # Quite apart from which, swans


aren't responsible, you know. # So, what's your excuse?"


Apology for the loss of subtitles for 44 seconds


The pianist Danny Driver and the conductor Andrew Litton are world


reknowned artists working at the top of their field. It says in my


notes that Danny was to play Grieg's poo concerto, but I met the


conductor in the loo and he was waving his baton around wildly,


insisting he was con ducking Tchaikovsky. Either way, please


Apology for the loss of subtitles for 44 seconds


welcome Andrew Litton and Danny Andrew Litton and Danny Driver.


Performing the famous Concerto Popolare by Franz Reizenstein.


Probably not a good idea to get an actual musician to do an actual


piece of music. I am feeling insecure, threatened. I am going to


do what I have always done in my life. It has served me well. When I


feel threatened. I do something I have a box full of stupid people


to support me! This is a piece I wrote a long time ago. # I've been


having a little a problem recently. # Which is quite disturbing


musical-ically. # Involving a semi-tonal


discrepancy. # Vocally and instrumentally.


# You see, musicians of different varieties prefer playing in


particular keys. # And singers, too, treat


preferentially those notes they tackle more proficiently.


# Now, you don't have to be a member of Mensa to understand the


depths of my dilemma. # The two elements of me favour two


different keys. # Thus the rift betwixt my fingers


and my tenor. # I love nothing more than playing


instruments in F. # It warms the very cockles of my


heart. # The trouble is that F can leave


me vocally bereft, you see. # I like playing in F major. But I


like singing in F sharp. # F sharp. F sharp.


# I refuse to be beholden to my hands.


# I don't see why my larynx should give in to their demands.


# I will not be forced to compromise my art.


# And so I just keep playing in F major and singing in F sharp.


# F sharp. F sharp. # I'll keep playing in F major, and


You have to use what skills you have got. Ladies and gentleman,


please welcome back to the stage: Kit And The Widow. And the two Sues,


So do whatever is necessary, get your friends, adjust. On this


Comedy Prom has a programme we could not possibly not have the


greatest comedy song ever. The greatest comedy song of all time,


which needs no introduction. Do you know this song? Can you look like a


hippopotamus? Can we sing together? It will be very encouraging to me.


# A bold hippopotamus was standing one day.


# On the banks of the cool Shalimar. # He gazed at the bottom as it


peacefully lay. # By the light of the evening star.


# Away on a hilltop sat combing her hair.


# His fair hippopotamine maid. # The hippo-pot-amus was no


ignoramus. # And sang her this sweet serenade.


# Mud, mud, glorious mud. # Nothing quite like it for cooling


the blood. # So follow me, follow down to the


hollow. # And there let us wallow in


glorious mud. What a chest. # The fair hippopotama he aimed to


entice. # From here seen on the hilltop


above. # As she had not got a ma to give


her advice. # Came tip-toeing down to her love.


# Like thunder the forest re-echoed the sound of the song that they


sang as they met. # His enamorata adjusted her garter


and lifted her voice in duet. # Mud, mud, glorious mud


# Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood.


# So follow me, follow down to the hollow.


# And there let us wallow in glorious mud. The Boy With Tape On


His Face and Tim Minchim. Do you want to do a duet? Why not. That


would be really fantastic. Oh, yes. It's not safe any more. It's called


Apology for the loss of subtitles for 44 seconds


I hit a Bottrill tomorrow A. Most musicians spend years and years


trainges their fingers to do more and more intricate tasks. The guest


guest spent years and years sitting in his bedroom with a moibg


microphone figuring out ways to make us all look pretty boring. He


is an or al wizard labial-magician and lingual-wizard, please put your


Apology for the loss of subtitles for 44 seconds


hands together for the not very Improvisation of Pachelbel's


APPLAUSE Ladies and gentlemen, I do


apologise if you were actually enjoying that, ladies and gentlemen,


but I wasn't. It was doing my nut. All right. I tell you what. Here is


a little something for you. How Nah, it's a bit much, really, isn't


it? It's the Proms. You can't do that at the Proms, no. Saint's


preserve us. Grill my cockels or whatever it is. It should be more


appropriate for the environment. Here it goes. Could somebody give


me a concert A, please. #Me,me,me... #


Apology for the loss of subtitles for 44 seconds


JAZZ (sound slows down) (sound JAZZ INSTRUMENTAL.




# We're going to do another little thing


# You know that I'm going to the future yet yes


# I know you are will be impressed if you can hear the words I want to


get off my chest # Can you hear what I'm saying to


# All I want to do right now # Is tell you all I don't know how


# All I'm doing this with my mind # You will find,


# I didn't write any of this # It's coming off the top of my


head this # That's why the next line won't


rhythm at all # 1, 2, 3, 4


# Yeah # I want to tell you it's been nice


playing for you # I've got to go


# I adore you # Now, it's time for me to say


goodbye # Stop, stop, stop, stop maybe, 1,


Apology for the loss of subtitles for 44 seconds


maybe 2, maybe 3 maybe 4 This is a song about prejudice, and


the language of prejudice. And the power of the language of prejudice.


# In our modern free-spoken society, # There is a word that we still


hold taboo. # A word with a terrible history of


being used to abuse, oppress and subdue.


# Just six seemingly harmless letters.


# Arranged in a way that will form a word with more power than the


pieces of metal that are forged to make swords.


# A couple of Gs. # An R and an E.


# An I and an N. # Just six little letters, all


jumbled together, have caused damage that we may never mend.


# And it's important that we all respect that, if these people


should happen to choose # To reclaim the word as their own.


# It doesn't mean the rest of you have the right to its use.


# So never underestimate the power that language imparts.


# Sticks and stones may break your bones.


# But words can break hearts. # A couple of Gs.


# (Geez unless you've had to live it).


# An R and an E. # (Even I am careful with it).


# An I and an N. # In the end it will only offend.


# Don't wanna have to spell it out # Only a ginger can call another


ginger "ginger". # Only a ginger can call another


ginger "ginger". # So listen to me, if you care for


your health. # You don't call me ginger unless


your ginger yourself. # Only a ginger can call another


ginger "ginger". # When you are a ginger, life is


pretty hard. # The years of ritual bullying in


the school yard. # Kids callin' you "ranga" and


"Fanta pants". # No invitations to the high school


dance. # But ya get up and learn to hold


our head up. # Ya try to keep ya cool and not


get het up. # But until the feeling of ill has


truly let up. # Then the word is ours and ours


alone, don't ya know. # Only a ginger can call another


ginger "ginger". # Only a ginger can call another


ginger "ginger". # So if you call us "ginge", we


just might come unhinged. # If you don't got a fringe with at


least a tinge of the ginge in it. # Only a ginger can call another


ginger "ginger". # Now listen to me, we're not


looking for sympathy. # Just because we're sensitive to


# Just because we're pathetically pale.


# We do all right with the females. # Yeah, I like to ask the ladies


round for ginger beer. # And soon they're running their


fingers through my ginger beard. # And dunkin' my ginger nuts into


their ginger tea, yeah. # And asking can they call me


"Ginge". # And I say, I don't think that's


appropriate. # Cos only a ginger can call


another ginger "ginger". # Only a ginger can call another


ginger "ginger". # All the ladies, they agree, it's


a fact: # Once you gone ginge, you can't go


back. # Only a ginger can call another


# You can call us "bozo" or "fire truck".


# You can even call us "carrot top" or "bloodnut"


# Yeah, you can call us "matchstick" or "tampon".


# But muckin' with the G-word is just not on.


# If you're a gingerphobe and you don't like us.


# We'll stand up to the fight if you wanna fight us.


# But if you cut yourself, you might catch gingervitis.


# So maybe you should shut your funky mouth.


# Only a ginger can call another ginger "ginger".


# Only a ginger can call another ginger "ginger".


# So if you call us ginge, you can't whinge if you're injured.


# If you don't have a tinge of the ginge in your minge.


# Only a ginger can call another ginger "ginger".


# And I know my kids will always be clothed and fed.


# Cos daddy's gonna bringin' home the ginger bread.


# And they'll be pretty smart because they will be well-read.


# And by read, I mean read, and the other kind of red.


# Only a ginger can call another ginger "ginger".


# Only a ginger can call another ginger "ginger".


# Just like only a ninja can sneak up on another ninja.


# Only a ginger, only a ginger, only a ginger, yeah.


# Are you listening-a? # I'm not pointing the finger.


# I'm just having a sing-a. # I am just reminding ya.


# That only a ginger can call another ginger "ginger".


And learned that, my friends, is Then I hope you have had a


wonderful night here at the Proms. I hadn't thought what I would say


here. Do Go nuts! Deed cello is Please thank Doc Brown! Thank you


for not stereotyping may, if you do, I will do so you drugs and kill


Apology for the loss of subtitles for 44 seconds


you! Jules Buckley. And the BBC Concert


Apology for the loss of subtitles for 44 seconds


And this has been your Comedy Prom I basically saw this concert as an


opportunity to force incredible musicians to do what I wanted them


to do. And, this is probably the most self indulgent of these four


things. This is my private # This is my Earth and I live in it.


# It's one third dirt and two thirds water.


# And it rotates and revolves through space at rather an


impressive pace. # And never even messes up my hair.


# And here's the really weird thing:


# The force created by its spin is the force that stops the chaos


flooding in. # This is my Earth and it's fine.


# It's where I spend the vast majority of my time.


# It's not perfect but it's mine. # It's not perfect.


# This is my house and I live in it. # It's made of cracks and


photographs. # We bought it from a guy who


bought it from a guy. # Who bought it from a guy whose


granddad left it to him. # And the weirdest thing is that


this house has locks to keep the baddies out.


# But they're mostly used to lock ourselves in.


# This is my house and it's fine. # It's where I spend the vast


majority of my time. # It's not perfect but it's mine.


# This is my body and I live in it. # It's 35 and 10 months old.


# It's changed a lot since it was new.


# It's done stuff it wasn't built to do.


# I often try to fill it up with wine.


# And the weirdest thing about it is I spend so much time hating it.


# But it never says a bad word about me.


# This is my body and it's fine. # It's where I spend the vast


majority of my time. # It's not perfect but it's mine.


# This is my brain and I live in it. # It's made of love and bad song


lyrics. # It's tucked away behind my eyes


where all my screwed up thoughts can hide.


# Cos, God forbid I hurt somebody. # And the weirdest thing about a


mind is that every answer that you find is the basis of a brand new


cliche. # This is my brain and it's fine.


# It's where I spend the vast majority of my time.


# It's not perfect but it's mine. # It's not perfect.


# I'm not quite sure I've worked out how to work it.


Apology for the loss of subtitles for 44 seconds


My new friends. Thank you Jules, thank you BBC Concert Orchestra.


Thank you so much for coming. Enjoy The BBC's first ever Comedy Prom.


We didn't know what to expect, but the audience here have loved this


evening. Of course, hosted by the fabulously talented, Tim Minchim.


Tomorrow evening, on BBC Four there is another chance to see in Marl's


Second symphony. I will be back next Saturday for an evening of


glitz and glamour when John Wilson and his ok orchestra return to the


The first-ever Comedy Prom, hosted by musician, actor and comedian Tim Minchin at the Royal Albert Hall.

Tim weaves his way through an unpredictable evening of musical comedy, fun and surprises and is joined by guests including Maestro winner Sue Perkins, musical cabaret duo Kit and the Widow, the puppet Mongrels, and Doc Brown.

Soprano Susan Bullock and pianist Danny Driver attempt to keep the musical standard from plummeting too far. Jules Buckley conducts the BBC Concert Orchestra.

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