Series 3, Episode 37: ‘Prejudice’
RUSSELL BRADDON Micheal Palin
VOICE OVER John Cleese
HIGHWAYMAN Michael Palin
DENNIS MOORE John Cleese
FRIEND Terry Jones
MOTHER Eric Idle
(A church-hall type stage, as if for a TV version of ‘Down Your Way’. A vast sign across the backcloth reads ‘Prejudice’. Russell Braddon enters. He wears a suit and has a clipboard.)
Braddon: Good evening and welcome to another edition of ‘Prejudice’ – the show that gives you a chance to have a go at Wops, Krauts, Nigs, Eyeties, Gippos, Bubbles, Froggies, Chinks, Yidds, Jocks, Polacks, Paddies and Dagoes.
(applause; he goes to desk at side of stage)
SUPERIMPOSED CAPTION: ‘ALL FACTS VERIFIED BY THE RHODESIAN POLICE’
Braddon: Tonight’s show comes live from the tiny village of Rabid in Buckinghamshire, and our first question tonight is from a Mrs Elizabeth Scrint who says she is going on a Mediterranean cruise next week and can’t find anything wrong with the Syrians. Well, Mrs Scrint, apart from being totally unprincipled left-wing troublemakers, the Syrians are also born skivers, they’re dirty, smelly and untrustworthy, and, of course, they’re friends of the awful gippos.
There you are, Mrs Scrint, I hope that answers some of your problems – have a nice trip.
Well now, the result of last week’s competition when we asked you to find a derogatory term for the Belgians. Well, the response was enormous and we took quite a long time sorting out the winners. There were some very clever entries. Mrs Hatred of Leicester Said ‘let’s not call them anything, let’s iust ignore them’…
(applause starts vigorously, but he holds his hands up for silence)
…and a Mr St John of Hurtfingdou said he couldn’t think of anything more derogatory than Belgians.
(cheers and appluse; a girl in showgirl costume comes on and holds up placards through next bit)
But in the end we settled on three choices: number three … the Sprouts
(placard ‘The Sprouts’) sent in by Mrs Vicious of Hastings… very nice ; number two….. the Phlegms
(placard) … from Mrs Childmolester of Worthing; but the winner was undoubtedly from Mrs No-Supper-For-You from Norwood in Lancashire… Miserable Fat Belgian Bastards.
(placard; roar of applause)
Very good- thank you, Carol.
(Carol exits) But as you know on this programme we’re not just prejudiced against race or colour, we’re also prejudiced against – yes, you’ve guessed, stinking homosexuals!
So before the streets start emptying in Chelsea tonight, let’s go straight over to our popular prejudiced panel game and invite you once again to- Shoot The Poof! And could our first contestant sign in please.
(Cut to blackboard and entrance as they used to have in ‘What’s My Line’. A contestant comes from behind screen and starts to write his name.)
Voice Over: Our first contestant is a hairdresser from…
(A shot rings out and the contestant falls to the floor. Applause. Cut to a camp highwayman in a pink mask who blows smoke from a gun and puts it back in the holster.)
Highwayman: I never did like that kind of person… !
(A shot rings out. He dies. Cut to Dennis Moore on a horse blowing smoke from gun and putting it in his holster. He gallops off. We see him swooping down, after a couple of riding shots, on another stagecoach.)
Moore: Halt! Halt!
(the stage comes to a halt and the occupants get out rapidly, their hands held high) Gentlemen, ladies, bring out your valuables please. Come along sir, come along. Come along, madam, come along. Oh, is that all you’ve got… well, he’s got much more than you… so you’d better have some of his…
(transfers money from one passenger to another, dropping some) … sorry… pick them up in a moment… there’s about oh, what, nine down there… so you must have about… oh, he’s still got lots… oh you’ve got what? …you’ve got more than he started with… so if I give you some of those
(transferring more coins) …well now, look… have you got a bit of jewellery? If I give you that one and you have some of his coins
(the credits start, superimposed) …is that another box? Were you trying to hide it? Well, that’s nice! Right! Now. I’ve got a tiara… you’ve got one… you’ve got one of the boxes… you’ve got one… anyone else got a tiara? Take your hat off!
(passenger does so to reveal a tiara) … Oh, honestly, it’s absolutely pointless trying to do this if you’re going to cheat. It really is awful of you… (fade out)
CAPTION: ‘ERRATUM. JACK BODELL WAS BORN IN SWADLINCOTE IN DERBYSHIRE’
(Cut to the inside’of a bus. A judge is sitting there in full robes, looking rather unhappy. He is obviously one of the competitors from earlier. His friend tries to cheer him up.)
Friend: I thought you should have won. I mean, judicially you swept the board … all right, he has posture, but where was he in the summing up?
(Behind these two another judge is sitting with his mother, crying.)
Mother: Oh shut up Melford, there’s always next year.
(Another judge further back petulantly rips up his number card. We cut to the outside back of this bus. The destination board says ‘The End’. As the bus drives away we hold on a board sticking out from a building which reads ‘Hospital… sorry no cheques’.)