‘This time next year we’ll be millionaires!’ Laugh out loud to the best bits of Only Fools And Horses, Dad’s Army and Rising Damp in part three of our rib-tickling series …TV’s funniest moments
Weekend magazine is 25 and, to celebrate, the Mail’s TV critic Christopher Stevens has picked his favourite scripts from Britain’s top comedy shows. Today, we start with this classic 1982 episode of Only Fools And Horses in which brothers Del Boy (David Jason) and Rodney (Nicholas Lyndhurst) are hired to clean a stately home’s priceless chandeliers.
The Sketch: a touch of glass
Written by John Sullivan
When Lady Ridgemere’s car breaks down the Trotters help out. At Ridgemere Hall, Del convinces her husband that he’s qualified to renovate two Louis 14th chandeliers. He also tries to sell them a naff pottery cat. We pick up the scene in the Trotters’ flat where Del (Jason) is pacing the room. Grandad (Lennard Pearce) is slumped in an armchair and Rodney (Lyndhurst) is on a dining chair.
The episode contained one of the sitcom’s most famous scenes, where Del & Rodney drop an expensive chandelier
DEL: Don’t be a plonker all your life, Rodney! I’ve just done the deal now. It’s 350 quid just to take down and clean a couple of chandeliers.
RODNEY: And do you honestly think he’s gonna pay us?
GRANDAD: Of course he’s gonna pay us! He ain’t one of your fly-by-the-night merchants. I mean he’s a lord of the realm, he’s got blue blood and — and mottos!
RODNEY: He didn’t even pay us for that cat.
DEL: Oh shut up about that rotten cat.
RODNEY: Del, you need specialised equipment for a job like this — refined glass brushes, advanced soldering gear. What we gonna use, eh? Superglue and a bottle of Windolene, knowing you!
DEL: Look, I’ll get the right equipment, Rodney. I know this panel beater and he owes me a favour. Look, once we’ve done this job our name will spread. All those dukes an’ earls they’ll be crying out for us. Just imagine it, eh? Just think of it, all the hounds, you know, baying with excitement, as our steeds bite on the rein eager for the chase. Hello, tally ho Sir Herbert. Did you ken John Peel? Come on boy…
RODNEY: Take a look at him will yer! He’s spent three hours in a stately home and he thinks he’s the Earl of Sandwich! He can’t wait to get a shotgun and a retriever and go marching across the grouse moors all done up like a ploughman’s lunch, can he?
DEL: No, that’s right Rodney. I deserve a bit of the good life, worked hard enough for it, I mean I’ve always been a trier. Where’s it got me? Nowhere, that’s where it’s got me! We live ’alf a mile up in the sky in this Lego set built by the council. Run a three-wheel van with a bald tyre. We drink in wine bars where the only thing’s got a vintage is the guvnor’s wife! That’s why I want to grab this opportunity with both hands, Rodney. You know, he who dares wins. This time next year we’ll be millionaires.
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RODNEY: Do you honestly believe that, Del? I mean, do you really think we can make a success of this?
DEL: Of course we can, Rodney. The door will be opened to a new world. It’ll be like… Alex Through The Looking Glass. You will dine at the finest restaurants on… on steak chasseur and sauté potatoes. Your shoes will be by Gucci, your jewellery will come from Asprey, your clothes will be made by Man at C&A! What d’you reckon Rodders, eh? What d’you reckon?
RODNEY: Man at C&A. Yeah, all right. I’ll give it a whirl.
DEL: Good boy. You know it makes sense, don’t you?
RODNEY: Oi, but we do a proper job, right. No bodging.
DEL: Of course not, what do you take me for, eh?
RODNEY: Oi!
DEL: I’ll save the best bit for you.
RODNEY: I’ll see you in the morning then.
DEL: Yeah, see you in the morning. Night.
GRANDAD: ‘No bodging.’ I think he lacks faith in you, Del Boy!
DEL: Always been his trouble, innit, eh? Oi, ’ere, do me a favour, will you, Grandad? Pop out in the kitchen, see if we’ve got any Windolene and superglue left, will you?
We cut to the main hallway of Ridgemere Hall. Rodney carries a set of aluminium ladders into the hall and lays them against a wall. He exits to get another set. Grandad is carrying a tool bag and large canvas bag. Del is supervising. Wallace the butler watches from a distance with a growing sense of doom.
DEL: Righto, Grandad, you pop upstairs and get the floorboards up! Now, you know what you’re doing don’t you?
Grandad reaches into his tool bag and removes a hammer, a large screwdriver and a spanner.
GRANDAD: Don’t worry, Del, leave it to me.
DEL: (To Wallace) Oh he’s a craftsman. (Calls) Oi, Grandad, d’you want a jemmy?
GRANDAD: No, I had one before we left.
WALLACE: Why does he have to remove the floorboards?
DEL: What is this, the International Year of the Wally-Brain or something? Listen, my good man, how do you think that great big heavy chandelier stays up there on that ceiling, eh? It is not by the power of prayer or double-sided sticky tape! There is a long threaded bolt through that chandelier, it goes through a wooden joist and is held in position by a locking nut. Now in order to undo the locking nut you must first lift up the floorboards. Ordre du jour!
WALLACE: We learn something new every day! If you need me I shall be round at the garages.
DEL: Right. Here, while you’re there give the van a wash, will you?
Wallace exits as Rodney enters with a ladder.
DEL: Ah, talking of wally-brains. Come on. Here — watch it!
RODNEY: I mean this is terrific, innit! His lordship’s nowhere to be seen and now even the butler’s having a moody. D’you reckon we’re gonna get paid?
They begin to place the ladders beneath one of the chandeliers.
DEL: Look, his lordship is away on holiday, he’ll pay us when he gets back! Now come on, get these ladders up. Yeah, you never know might be in for a bonus.
RODNEY: Oh yeah, perhaps he might bring us back a nice stick of rock each, eh?
DEL: Well, just shut up moaning, will yer! Oi, Grandad, how you doing?
In the upstairs room, Grandad has the carpet rolled back and has one floorboard removed. He is levering another one free.
GRANDAD: (Calls) All right, Del Boy. I’ve found it, Del!
Down in the main hallway, Del and Rodney are standing by the two ladders, unrolling the canvas bag.
DEL: Here you are. See, he’s found the nut. I told you we could trust him. Right, come on, get this out.
GRANDAD: (Out of view upstairs) I’ve started to undo it.
DEL AND RODNEY: No!
DEL: (Calls) Gordon Bennett, we ain’t even up the ladders yet!
RODNEY: Grandad — don’t you touch nuffink till we tell you.
DEL: Come on, we’d better get it up there.
Holding the canvas bag between them, Del and Rodney climb the ladders, carefully enveloping the first chandelier with the canvas bag.
DEL: All right, Rodders? Is there anything you want?
RODNEY: Yeah, I wanna go home! This ladder’s none too safe.
DEL: The ladder’s all right. Look, this is the chance I’ve been waiting for. Now don’t let me down Rodney, don’t let me down! (Calls) All right, Grandad, we’re ready! You can start undoing it now!
In the upstairs room, Grandad places the spanner on the nut and begins easing it round.
GRANDAD: It’s coming, Del Boy! (He turns it) One more turn, Del!
Back in the main hallway.
DEL: Right. Now brace yourself, Rodney, brace yourself!
Grandad bangs the nut with the hammer and it comes free. In the hall the second chandelier crashes to the floor with an almighty 17th-century crystal type crunch. Del and Rodney stare at each other for a few seconds before turning to survey the damage.
DEL: (In shock) Grandad was undoing the other chandelier!
RODNEY: How can you tell?
They climb down the ladders, lowering the canvas bag gently to the floor. They walk slowly towards the remains of the chandelier, broken French crystal crunching beneath their feet. Grandad comes downstairs, blissfully unaware.
GRANDAD: All right Del Boy?
DEL: All right? What do you mean ‘all right’? Look at it!
GRANDAD: Did you drop it, Del?
RODNEY: Drop it? How could we drop it? We wasn’t even holding it! We were working on that one!
GRANDAD: Well, I wish you’d said something. I was working on this one! Is it very valuable, Del?
DEL: No, not really! It was bleedin’ priceless when it was hanging up there though!
RODNEY: What’s his lordship gonna say when he finds out?
DEL: Well, I think I can safely say that my invitation to the hunt ball has gone for a Burton!
WALLACE: It’s broken!
DEL: Look, what the hell do you know about chandeliers anyway?
RODNEY: I think he’s tumbled, Del!
WALLACE: I shall telephone his lordship at his cottage immediately!
DEL: Yeah, well, tell him to phone us at home. Oh, by the way, has his lordship got our home address and telephone number?
WALLACE: No!
DEL: Good! Right, out of it. Go on.
The Trotters run for the door.
Jimmy Perry, co-writer of Dad’s Army with David Croft, based Britain’s best-loved sitcom on his own days in the Home Guard as a teenager. They co-created other classics — but never outdid their most memorable characters, the brave defenders of Walmington-on-Sea. Between 1968 and 1977, the show made national treasures of a motley collection of minor actors: among them, Arthur Lowe as irascible Captain Mainwaring, John Le Mesurier as urbane Sergeant Wilson, Ian Lavender as Wilson’s illegitimate son, Private Pike, and Clive Dunn as excitable Corporal Jones. Hilarious and immortal comedy.
Jimmy Perry, co-writer of Dad’s Army with David Croft, based Britain’s best-loved sitcom on his own days in the Home Guard as a teenager. Picture shows the cast of the show
The Sketch: the Deadly Attachment
Captain Mainwaring and his platoon are in the church hall where they’re guarding a captured German U-boat captain and his seven crew members, who’ve been picked up by a fishing boat.
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: Get the Tommy gun, Pike.
PIKE: Tommy gun. Tommy gun? Thank you, yes.
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: Now look, there’s an armed escort picking this lot up.
WILSON: Yes.
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: And in the meantime, I want maximum security, you understand? Maximum security.
WILSON: All right, sir. Maximum security. Yes, sir.
FRAZER: Here you are, sir. All loaded and ready.
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: Right, set it up.
FRAZER: Aye, sir.
CORPORAL JONES: Permission to speak, sir.
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: Yes.
CORPORAL JONES: Why don’t we chop off their trouser buttons?
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: What?
CORPORAL JONES: If we chop off their trouser buttons and they try to run away, that would show something unusual. And then if there should be some person nonchalantly walking down the street and they see the men with all their trousers round their legs, they will make some inquiries.
GERMAN: You! You don’t dare to do anything of the sort. The Geneva Convention states clearly the prisoners of war shall not be put in humiliating positions.
CORPORAL JONES: (Pointing at his bayonet) You’ll be in a humiliating position if you get this up you, mate.
GERMAN: Don’t! Don’t threaten me, you silly old fool.
CORPORAL JONES: You!
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: Jones!
CORPORAL JONES: He called me a silly old fool, sir!
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: We’re not savages. You get back in your place and speak when you’re spoken to.
WALKER: That’s right. Get back in the huddle.
GERMAN: I’m warning you, Captain. (Blows smoke in Mainwaring’s face.)
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: Just do as you’re told. (Coughing) You see the sort of unscrupulous slime we’re up against, don’t you?
WILSON: I quite agree, sir. Yes, sir. I must admit he has rather an abrupt manner, but we must make allowances for him, sir, you see. He’s probably a little bit upset because he sank his submarine.
MR SPONGE AND ONE OTHER: (Bringing in ladder) Where do you want this, Mr Mainwaring?
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: Here you are. Set it up here.
PIKE: Mr Sponge, I’ll give you a hand.
MR SPONGE: Right. Thank you. There we go.
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: Right, Pike, get on top with your Tommy gun. Where you’ve got a clear view of the entire hall. Up you go.
PIKE: You know I can’t go up ladders. Not with my vertigo.
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: Come along, come along, boy.
PIKE: It ain’t half wobbly. You know I’ve got a doctor’s note.
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: Will you get up there? Godfrey. Where’s Godfrey? Godfrey!
GODFREY: Did someone call? I’m terribly sorry, sir. I must’ve dozed off.
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: Dozed off? We’re guarding a dangerous bunch of cut-throats and you doze off? Now, I want you to watch them like a hawk, you understand? Like a hawk! Hold this ladder. (Telephone ringing.) Take charge, will you, Wilson?
WILSON: All right, sir.
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: (Answering the telephone.) Mainwaring here.
COLONEL: HQ here. Everything all right, Mainwaring?
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: Yes, yes, all safe and sound. Just waiting for you to pick them up, sir.
COLONEL: Ah. Well, I’m afraid the escort won’t be able to get over there until tomorrow.
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: You mean, you want us to keep them all night?
COLONEL: Sorry, there’s nothing I can do about it. Just give them a blanket each and bed them down. Oh, and give them something to eat of course.
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: I’m afraid we’ve only got our own sandwiches, Colonel.
COLONEL: Well, send out for some fish and chips.
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: Send out for?
COLONEL: I’ll see you get the money back. I’ll be over about 8 in the morning. Cheerio.
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: Bye. Fish and chips. Wilson.
WILSON: Yes, sir?
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: Come here. Jones.
JONES: Yes, sir?
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: Come on, Jones. Conference here. Now, listen, the armed escort can’t get here before morning. So, we’ve got to keep these chaps all night.
CORPORAL JONES: Well, in that case, we really better chop their buttons off.
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: Put that thing away. Now, I’m going to have a word with these prisoners, Wilson.
WILSON: You can’t speak any German, can you, sir?
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: They’ll know by the tone of my voice that I’m in charge. They recognise authority when they see it. You better come with me.
WILSON: Yes, of course, sir.
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: Now, pay attention!
WILSON: I say, they’re awfully well disciplined, aren’t they, sir?
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: Nothing of the sort. Just slavish, blind obedience. Not like the cheerful discipline of our own jolly Jack Tars. (Mainwaring clearing his throat.) I tell you, Wilson, they’re a nation of automatons led by a lunatic who looks like Charlie Chaplin.
GERMAN: How dare you compare our glorious leader with that non-Aryan clown. I am making notes, Captain. And your name will go on the list. And when we win the war, you will be brought to account.
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: You write what you like. You’re not going to win this war.
GERMAN: Oh, yes, we are.
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: Oh, no, you’re not.
GERMAN: Oh, yes, we are.
PIKE: (Singing) Whistle while you work, Hitler is a twerp. He’s half-barmy, so’s his army, whistle while you work.
GERMAN: Your name will also go on the list. What is it?
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: Don’t tell him, Pike!
GERMAN: Pike, thank you.
PIKE: You rotten thing!
CAPTAIN MAINWARING: Now look here, I’ve had about enough of you. You tell your men that they’ve got to stay here for the night and they better behave themselves. Now get on with it.
PIKE: Uncle Arthur.
WILSON: Yes. Now, what is it, Frank?
PIKE: It’s not fair. My name going on the list. I was only joking.
WILSON: You really must try and be more careful. You must realise by now that the Germans have absolutely no sense of humour.
PIKE: But he said much worse things about Hitler. He said much worse things about…
WILSON: Quiet! Quiet, Frank. He’ll hear you.
PIKE: Do you think if you had a nice word with him, he’ll take my name off?
WILSON: Yes, all right. I’ll have a nice word with him.
Forerunner of Monty Python, At Last The 1948 Show (actually broadcast in 1967) starred Graham Chapman and John Cleese, as well as Tim Brooke-Taylor (soon to be a Goodie), Marty Feldman (soon to be a movie star) and Aimi MacDonald… always known as The Lovely Aimi MacDonald. It was she who coined the phrase ‘And now for something completely different’, later the Pythons’ catchphrase. The Four Yorkshiremen sketch became a Python favourite, too.
An ’ouse’, we only hole in’t ground covered by a couple of foot of torn canvas
From top: John Cleese, Graham Chapman, Marty Feldman and Tim Brooke-Taylor
Four Yorkshiremen in white dinner jackets are at a table, smoking cigars and drinking wine served by a bow-tied waiter and reminiscing about their humble roots.
first YORKSHIREMAN (FELDMAN): Aye, very passable, not bad at all.
third YORKSHIREMAN (CHAPMAN): Nothing like a good glass of Chateau de Chasselas, eh, Josiah?
fourth YORKSHIREMAN (BROOKE-TAYLOR): Aye, you’re right there, Obadiah, dead right.
second YORKSHIREMAN (CLEESE): Who’d have thought 40 years ago we’d all be sitting here drinking Chateau de Chasselas, eh?
FIRST: Aye, we’d a’ been glad of the price of a cup of tea then.
THIRD: Aye, a cup of cold tea.
ALL: Aye.
SECOND: Without milk or sugar.
ALL: Aye.
FOURTH: Or tea.
FIRST: An’ out of a cracked cup, at that.
SECOND: Oh, we never ’ad a cup. We used to have to drink out of a rolled-up newspaper.
THIRD: The best we could manage was to suck on a piece of damp cloth.
FOURTH: Aye, but you know, I often think we were happier then, although we were poor.
FIRST: Because we were poor. My old Dad said to me, he said: ‘Money won’t bring you happiness, son’.
SECOND: He was right. I was happier then and I had nothing. We used to live in a tiny tumbledown old house with great ’oles in’t roof.
THIRD: ’Ouse! You were lucky to ’ave a ’ouse! We used to live in one room, 26 of us, all there, no furniture, half the floor was missing, and we were all huddled in one corner for fear of falling.
FOURTH: Room! You were lucky to ’ave a room! We used to ’ave to live in t’corridor!
FIRST: Corridor! Oh, I used to dream of living in a corridor! That would have been a palace to us. We used to live in a water tank on t’rubbish tip. Aye. Every morning we’d be woke up by ’aving a load of rotting fish dumped on us! ’ouse? Huh!
SECOND: Well, when I said ’ouse’, I mean it were only hole in’t ground covered by a couple of foot of torn canvas, but it were a house to us.
THIRD: Oh, well, we were evicted from our hole in the ground; we ’ad to go and live in the lake.
FOURTH: Eh, you were lucky to have a lake! There were over 150 of us living in a small shoebox in’t middle o’ road.
FIRST: Cardboard box?
FOURTH: Aye.
FIRST: Aye, you were lucky! We lived for three months in a rolled-up newspaper in a septic tank. Aye. Every mornin’, we’d ’ave to get up at six, clean out rolled-up newspaper, eat a crust of stale bread then we’d ’ave to work 14 hours at mill, day-in, day-out, for sixpence a week. Aye and then when we’d come home, Dad would thrash us to sleep with his belt.
THIRD: Luxury. We used to get up at three, clean the lake, eat a handful of hot gravel, then we’d work in’t mill for 20 hours for tuppence a month, then we’d come home and Dad would beat us about the ’ead and neck with a broken bottle, if we were lucky!
FOURTH: Paradise. We had it tough. I used to ’ave to get out of shoebox at midnight, lick road clean, eat a couple of bits of coal gravel, work 23 hours a day at mill for a penny every four years and when we got home, Dad used to slice us in ’alf wi’ a bread knife.
SECOND: Right! We used to get up in’t morning at half past ten at night, ’alf an hour before we’d gone to bed, eat a lump o’ poison, work 29 hours a day at mill for ’alfpenny a lifetime, come home and each night Dad would strangle us and dance about on our graves.
FIRST: Aye, and you try and tell that to the young people of today . . . will they believe you?
SECOND, THIRD & FOURTH: NO!
The Sketch: Under the influence
Written by Eric Chappel
Cantankerous, greedy, disloyal and randy, the appalling Rigsby epitomised everything a tenant didn’t want in a landlord — but in Rising Damp, the character portrayed by Leonard Rossiter somehow became one of the most popular characters of the Seventies. Perhaps it was because whatever he tried to get away with — seducing Miss Jones (Frances de la Tour) or catching medical student Alan (Richard Beckinsale) breaking the rules — he was destined to fail.
It’s teatime and, in his room, crafty Ambrose (Peter Jeffrey, far right, with Rigsby) is toasting a crumpet. When he hears Rigsby on the stairs he puts down the toasting fork and closes his eyes. Rigsby enters in an angry mood.
Leonard Rossite and Peter Jeffrey in the scene from Rising Damp
RIGSBY: Now, come on Ambrose, my patience is exhausted. Where’s my rent?!
AMBROSE: Rigsby! You shouldn’t barge in like that, you could’ve done untold damage. My mind was in complete repose.
RIGSBY: You’re lucky. I wish mine was. Come on, where’s the rent?
AMBROSE: I was about to enter Nirvana — the state of serenity and self-denial.
RIGSBY: Oh yeah? I bet you’re the first bloke to arrive toasting a crumpet.
AMBROSE: For the moment, I had forsaken the world of the flesh, but pass me the butter, Rigsby.
RIGSBY: You can save all that rubbish for your customers — not that you get many customers these days. I passed your stall last Saturday — it was deserted.
AMBROSE: My gifts are not for the marketplace, Rigsby. I’m not interested in money. I am a mystic!
RIGSBY: (Snorts) A mystic!
AMBROSE: Yes, like the holy men of India, sitting there all day in their simple loin cloths, pushing rusty nails through their hooters. They don’t do it for money!
RIGSBY: What are you talking about? Of course they do it for money. You don’t push a rusty nail through your hooter just to see it come out the other side. It’s a job like any other. You know what your holy man does after a day’s work? He goes home — has a shower — takes one of his hundred suits from the wardrobe and drives round Calcutta in a pink Rolls-Royce. I wouldn’t have any trouble getting the rent out of them.
AMBROSE: Well, you’ll get your money, Rigsby just as soon as business picks up.
RIGSBY: And when’s that going to be? I know why there’s no-one round your stall, mate. It was that tonic you sold to that woman. It was supposed to cure her lethargy. My God, it cured her lethargy all right — all her hair fell out.
AMBROSE: Well, that wasn’t my fault. She was supposed to swallow it, not rub it on her bonce.
Rigsby takes a bottle from sample case.
RIGSBY: You couldn’t swallow this stuff, it’d take the stripes off a zebra! You know she had to sit up all night with her head in a bucket?
AMBROSE: Look, if she’d followed the instructions she would have been perfectly all right. That’s a sovereign remedy that is. It cures rashes, pimples, flatulence, piles, blushing, stammering and foot odour. (Pause) And it’s not bad at getting stains out of suede, either.
RIGSBY: Well, what’s in it then, apart from liquid dynamite?
AMBROSE: I can’t tell you that, Rigsby! That’s a Romany secret.
RIGSBY: Romany?! You’re not a Romany. The only time you’ve been in a caravan was when you had that week at Cleethorpes —and then you came back on the Thursday. You don’t even look like a gipsy.
AMBROSE: Just because I don’t wear a spotted handkerchief and earrings it doesn’t mean I’m not a gipsy. I’ve got Romany blood, I have.
RIGSBY: Then why don’t you get out and sell a few clothes pegs instead of sitting around here all day?
AMBROSE: I could tell your fortune.
RIGSBY: You can’t tell fortunes.
AMBROSE: I can. I’m the seventh son of a seventh son. We have the gift. We can draw aside the misty veil of time and see the future.
RIGSBY: You can’t see the future. Look what happened when that woman’s hair came off and her husband came round. We all knew what he was going to do with that starting handle, but you just stood there. He was bound to be distressed, wasn’t he? He goes to bed with a flaming redhead, and wakes up next to a billiard ball. If you’d have been able to read the future, you’d have shinned down the drainpipe!
AMBROSE: I don’t use the gifts for myself. They are in trust for my fellow man. Go on — let me tell your fortune. Would you like the cards or the tea leaves?
RIGSBY: You don’t think I believe in that rubbish, do you? You know, I’m amazed at the gullibility of the British public. If they’re not having their palms read, it’s their bumps, or their handwriting, or their doodles. There’s even a bloke in Brighton reading women’s breast prints! He had a very nice pair through the post the other day. He wrote back predicting a glowing future for her, said she was deeply sincere with a sense of humour — she had a sense of humour all right, she’d made them with a couple of oranges. Turned out he’d advised a couple of jaffas to invest their money in America.
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