I'm Sorry I'll Read That Again; 30

Yes, it's I'm sorry I read that again, and if you're feeling down in the mouth below part, oppressed, miserable, lackadaisical, or listless, just sit back and listen to the voices of Tim Rutteiler, John Cleese, Graham Garden, David Hatch, Joe Kendall and Belotti, and remember that our people worse off than you. Tim Rutteiler, John Cleese, Graham Garden. I'm sorry I'll read that again, presents another hard-hitting, no-punchies pulled, fact-finding, frank, ruthless, cheese-and-union-flavored investigation. The I'm sorry report on schools. What does our school report got to say?

4 out of 10 for effort, can do better than this. And now what does our report on schools got to say? Statistics show that the alarming number of children leave school each year, unable to read, and unable to do... What's this big one? This big one, the long one here, what is it? Arithmetic. Arithmetic. Arithmetic. Oh, some cleverness. Every year the government spends millions of pounds on education, and I still dance here to learn anything. But the question of the moment is, which is best? State school or public school? Well, of course the art is pretty obvious to us, Japs. But just for the sake of you, Lott, we have been investigating. We asked the question, would you ascend your child to a state school or a public school? 95% replied state school, and 5% replied public school.

The top 5% there, dear. We'll interview some parents in more detail. Mrs Hermione fought a school-fitch-feeling. State school, how good happens now? What an idea. He wouldn't like to go to a state school, would you Roger Darling? No, Mummy. I mean, you wouldn't. You wouldn't like to mix with that type of person, would you Roger Darling? No, Mummy. You'd much, much rather go to Daddy's L school and grow up a stockbroker, wouldn't you Roger Darling? Yes, Mummy. State school, the very idea. Silly old bag. Other parents, would you send your son to a public school? No, I'd rather see him in a secondary modern, you know, like we could learn a good trade, sort of, you know, like a fitter or a welder or something. I certainly wouldn't send him to eat him. I mean, he wouldn't enjoy it there, I know I didn't. What do you think about that? What are the advantages of a public school education?

We spoke to Barnaby Bull Strangler, headmaster of Workhouse Manor. One of England's oldest public schools. We asked him what he thought his school had to offer. Who are you? What are you doing, my stony? Get out of here, sir. Go away. So, be guard this instant before I bonk you on your busy bokeh and yarboo sacks you. We turn out good on his stand-worth chaps, good off as a material. We got three brigadiers and six four strong characters. Yes, fine chaps. Hmm, one to game of conquerors? Yes, we turn. We turn out leaders. We don't want them here, so we turn them out officers. That's what the country needs, not leaders. After all, dammit, there's a war on. No, there isn't, actually. Well, they're ready but ought to be. And it's very much the same for the girls. Here's Dame Fred Oyster prejudice of Rhymdite Keep Girl School for the daughter of the gentry, nobility, and those in peril on the sea. Each and every morning, our girls rise at the crack of dawn and have an icy co-bath in the moot. Then off they go on an early morning run round the grounds wearing only their liberty bodices. Winter all summer rain or shine. Then there's breakfast for those that come back. After breakfast, there's chapel for three hours

followed by rug and practice for all the girls, except those in the school boxing team. Rhymd is to turn these girls into proper young leaders. But should these schools go co-educational? Here are the opinions from some of the schools. Firstly, creep waterfoot college for boys. Oh, shit, our school. Over my dead body, oh, oh. A lady, Sabrina's whole for young gentle women. Well, I'm all faving boys at this school for one very good reason. Oh, what's that? Come on. The relief of Math King Memorial College. Oh, carried-eukational, ah, yes, carried-eukational. Well, I would always sit there. Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Well, I would always sit. I would sit and sit, and sit, and sit. I would always go deepening.

I would sit. Almost, certainly. I would always say, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I am not boring you, am I? A gym fosters school for girls? ried for. Finally, the Plancing College for Young Gentleman. We just don't know the meaning of the word, Ducky. LAUGHTER APPLAUSE Well, there it is. Education is still the same teeming hot spots of half-form conjecture, the same turmoil of conflicting opinion in the seeding melting part of emotion that it was last week. Tomorrow, who knows? Today, who cares? Yesterday, I went to the dentist. Has this country got the education it deserves or not? Perhaps yes, perhaps no. Perhaps, perhaps. There are still plenty of it if we go on the way we are. The system may collapse. If we change, we may not change wisely. If I rule the world, every day would be the first day of spring. Well, who can sort out the sorry myths?

Who can say, I can say, and here are some of the things I can say. Willoughby, Rumpus, B-Street, La Cooke, B-Truth, Odie, I think I've done again. Fish, quondas, quondas, quondas, quondas, quondas, quondas, quondas, quondas. Now, here is a police message. Would Mrs. Evelyn Hardy of 17 Acacia Gardens, Clark & Well, N.W.3, last seen in the region of Acton Town, accompanied by a tall gentleman wearing a bowler hat, pinstripe suit, and carrying an umbrella, please call Houndslow Police Station immediately, where our husband, PC240, will smash our face in. Good ever, good grace. Well, well, well, well, well, well, if it isn't Porky Blattertrap. No, it isn't. No, well, if it isn't Porky Blattertrap, must be Pondo Pantor. No, it's not. It's no wonderful to see you. You too, Jampon. I'm not, Jampon. Never mind. Haven't seen you since. No, I didn't. No, I didn't. Good gracious. Times we had to go and never forget him, whenever it was. I will.

Pooner, a buff, dunker. Catmando, Kuiber, Pondo. Oh, great, heaven, great, heaven. You remember, with old snouty poo pod, still the salt and spit goat? He did it in the bagpipe and put it under the colds camp bed. You remember that, brother? No. No, you know, I'm really... Wonderful war, I have. So, did I enjoy them both? Always say, start at the first war. Unmarried, finished it. Married, started at the second wall. Married, finished it, divorced. Always say that. No, no, why, it's not true. You know why it's not true, by the way, have you met my wife, Elspiris? And Jerika. And Jerika, well, we must dash. Me too, got to be on the cloud, meeting Froggage and go Big E. Fatsbeer in Beijing. That's not Fatsing, wouldn't it? No. I thought not, he's dead. Well, great to see you. Great to see you, Tophie knows. I'm not Tophie knows, but lovely to see you, bummer. I'm not bummer, still cheers. Jerika, keep in touch. Cheers, not in. Who was that darling? No idea, but I got his wallet. Ladies and gentlemen, international floor show presents.

Those three must have showed my stores of Latin America Melody. I give you Trio, Los Banditas. Thank you very much. Good evening, everyone. First of all, let me introduce the group. Jose Fernandez on the Bongo Drums. On the guitar, González Santa Maria, Victoria González González Pablo, is a part of Pedro de Los Angeles Enrico Concepción, paella Fernandez, Santa de Marco Wilkinson. That's me. And on the Maracas Manuel. And on the Maracas Manuel. Hey, Manuel de Maracas. Okay. One, two, three. Oh, ladies. Oh, ladies. We have the three banditas from A call. Oh, ladies.

Oh, ladies. We have the three banditas from A call. La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la. It's a disturbance. Today... Await, Mrs. Harper on the Christmas Day! You've come to see her. They're all in the shop! Don't you feel happy? I am an archipelago! Do you see the gray voice? Yes. Oh. Oh. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Aye. Aye. Aye. I think, Alexi Murtiki. Murtiki, will you always eat the same? Now behave yourself. All right, take away your maracas. No, my maracas. Don't take away my maracas, he belonged to my grandmother her last words. Before she died, when man was, when I died, you can have my maracas.

Then what happened? Then I shot her. Oh, man! Burn it!因為我維修 hard for making音 Ten thousand British sound We are the breath and air of America Give me a big heart Oh I am played by the 40成兩個 I am ready well I am happy my brocks very well I am man well Isn't you me paste? My brocks are very well Let go street Alma where I am The past is my rack of play In onlar. Hey, hey, hey, Hey Mathwell You're a little troublemaker, huh? Hey, Jose, you agree with me? I don't see what all the fuss is about myself. Hey! Hey! Jose, what happened to your accent? I always speak like this. Hey! There's your funny voice. You've got a funny voice. Listen to yourself. You want to hear a funny voice? I'll tell you. You've got a funny voice. Don't freak out. Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!

Hey! Hey! A bobshibon, a bobshibon, a bobshibon. A bobshibon, a bobshibon, a bobshibon, a bobshibon, a bobshibon. What was that? A bobshibon beach, you know, get with it real groovy lives. Someone over here, a bobshibon. Come on, let's go to some properly. One, two, three, four! Okay, what do you want? What'd like to do the beach for? I want to play with my raccoons. All right, all right, I'm giving. Altogether, no! One, two, three, four! Do they do! Let's goitution! All I look at very well, we're bobshibongs. Yeah. Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry I really again

presents in competence the story of a family in the industrial north of England. It's the tale of strife and struggles within a proud, defined family and starts that rise to fortune and power and their ultimate decline. In competence is the story of the Arkride family. It is the year 1850. This is Foswakit Mill, pride of the Arkrides. This is Victoria in England in its heyday, and this is a cheese sandwich. Our tale begins as old Joshua Arkride, proprietor of Foswakit Mill, here's grave news. Love is called Quibisteron. That is trouble, down up to Mill. Ine La Ne. Yes, I will die. No, no, no. Well, I said, I will die, raise the thrull down, Little You're trying to tell me something. None of your life.

That's all right, because they are still stupid. This is my place, Ladder cannot leave it now. 50 years, I've kept these looms spinning out, best cotton in England. They were spinning out, best, the world. World, cotton, it's all clothed. No, Ladder was old, Ruben Archer, I just built Foss Wacket Mill, and I'd built it with his own two hands. He did 20 years, it took him 20 long, hard years. And when he was done, he knelt down inside it, and he looked up at what he'd built, and he cried out, darling, Louie, and they all lot fell on him. LAUGHTER What happened? What happened? What happened? I was talking burning down, didn't mill. Burning it down, do you see? Yeah. Neverland. They'd never burn down, fuzz-wack it mill. THEY BUZZ They burn up, didn't mill.

I told you they'd never burn it down. They look up at the window, they're all coming up to house. They're after you, Mr. R. Christ. But don't fall. They'll stand up to them lad. Hello, anyone at home? Who's that? It's only us writing workers for the mill. Maybe you come in. No, it doors open. Oh, my intrusion, I'm sure. Oh, my, my, my. What a lovely abode you have here. So it's you, Jed's thorough budget. I might have known. You were always a trouble maker. Well, what are you after? Oh, you just kind of steer your valuables and burn down the house, if it's not too much of an inconvenience. No, no, no, no, get out of budget. We're unreasonable. Oh, let's talk it over. I already heard, but I'll have to ask the lense. What did they say? What did they say? They say it much, it much, it much, it much. Anyway, who are all these men? They're all the lense from the mill. I'll do, Mr. R. I. I'll do, Mr. R. I. I'll do, Mr. R. I. I'll do. I'll do. I'll do. I'll do. And so without further, I'll do. They got down. They got down to business. Mr. R. I. We're worried about all those machines you're bringing in.

They could put us out of work and we're powerful. Ah, but that's progress and land. Why? Why those machines can do anything a man can do and better? Ah, but what about our wives? Well, the machines and the limitations. And so they argue. At last, the men agreed to go back to work. If their weekly wage was increased to two slices of dried bread and a piece of cake. What sort of cake? Fruit cake. Ah, raising salary. Soon, Foss Wackett mill was back to normal. But there was a very hard winter to come. The children had no shoes and even the sheep went bare. Peep, peep, peep. Sheepishly. All around there was nothing but snow, snow, thick, thick snow. And the last day in nature grew weary of her wintery spell and casting aside the white mantle of her snow, she blessed the fair and waiting earth with the eager breath of spring tide, and once again the hills and veils were alive with colour. I wish I were a daffodil. Ah, daffy me down, dilly.

I'd turn my face towards the sun and they would call me Willie. Yes, if I were a daffodil. Ah, daffy me down, dilly. I'd wear a pair of purple socks. Now, wouldn't that be silly? Yes. Springtime, the time when a young man's fancy turns to thoughts of love. And speaking as a young man's fancy, I should know. But let us return. Let us return. Let us return. Let us return. Once again, we returned the arc rides. And in particular, a young inocard crate, son of old Joshua. One spring morning, inoc was riding out on business. His horse. When he spied by the wayside, a lovely young lass. Whoa, there, business. Good day to you, lass. Good day, master. Who are you? I'm young inocard, right. Well, I'm Martha Scupathatchit. My father's a weaver at Potswocket Mill. He works at the loom beside the window.

Oh, a loom with a view. You're right. Hey, old lass. What's the care to come for a ride on my horse, old business? You mean business. I certainly do. The name, master. And so they sat by the roadside, chatting away while the light lasted. Then they went on to Brownale. Eventually. Eventually, he proposed to her, although he knew that he was the world-dress son of a millowner, whereas she was a girl of humble birth in a cheap dress. And he could see that it was not fitting. Well, it's only a cheap dress. That's how they were married. And young inoc decided to tell his father about the wedding. Oh, well, here goes. Ah, that sounds like inocard. Father, I've something to tell you. I'm wed. Well, dry yourself out at five. No, no, no. I'm married. Marriage? Oh, too. Don't tell me you've gone and married all the Amos hard castles, young gist? No. Just as well as a fella.

No, no, father. I've married Martha Skoppathic. Martha Skoppathic. He, no, lad. What have you done? Well, nothing yet. City, lad. That's brought this... City, lad. That's brought his grace to the name of our Christ. I never want to see your face again. I'm going to cut you off. Well, I've just got married. Oh, go, go now. Goodbye, inocard. And you, father. And you, what you. And so without further ado, inocard. And he and Martha sit out together in search of a new life. Time passes. So what else is there? One bright morning, Martha has some news for Inoc. Inocard. I'm going to have a baby. Well, I never did. You did, you know. And so... And so one dark and windy night. Oh, Master, have you not heard news?

You, father. He passed over at ten o'clock this morning. And so Inocard Christ became the new Master of Foswakit Mill, the scene of so much trouble in the past. And with the passing of the seasons, a new piece came to the mill. Her name was Esmeralda Bonpas. Those were happy days for Inoc, but little did he know that his future was soon to be overshadowed by the dark, brooding figure of Jed Tharabajit. Hello, it's me, you. One dark and stormy evening, when Inoc was working late at the mill, Martha heard a wrapping at the door. She opened it and inside the wrapping, she found... Jed Tharabajit. She said, I am Martha, be mine tonight. Oh, very well. At these words, Jed flung himself at her feet. Oh, what blissful rupture. Shouldn't that be rupture? Inocard spent more and more of his time in the local pub, seeking solace in the bottle. A bottle of tomato solace, please. He searched. He searched high and low for Jed and Martha. Excuse me, landlord. I've seen a young man a woman pass this way.

Oh, very handsome pair. In fact, here's the young lady now. He knock. Martha. But where's that Jed Tharabajit? Gone, he knock. Gone and forgotten. He didn't really love me. And when I found out it wasn't the real thing, I broke it off. And so they returned to the home of the arc rides. Business was in a bad way, and even the quality of the cloth had deteriorated. Yes, things were going from blood to worsted. If only that son of mine was back from London, he could lend them. I am back. Hello, daddy. It can't be. Young Jonathan back from London. Yes, long time no see, Peter, what? Eh, lad, now you're here. You can help me wrong to mill. No, daddy, I've got a job in London. What? Yes, Luke, he's a photograph of me in a new job. What's this? Picture you wearing nothing but a stump to rest in, below. Yes, daddy, I'm a male model. How could you stoop so low? Well, if you were wearing a stump to rest... No, but lad, you need it here. No, thanks, daddy, nothing. Well, if you won't come back, you won't.

But this will mean the end of Foswakit Mill. Oh, daddy. I can't carry on some. And the only thing that could save us now would be some enormous freak in nature. Did somebody call me? Who are you? I am Lady Constance the Covalent. I don't think I made you all acquaintance. It all depends which acquaintance you mean. However, I was passing this way. Oh, and I heard you were having a little trouble. It's not for sale. Oh, come, I'll give you 12 million pounds for it. Two million for that old mill. I'll say anything about a mill. You mean you're giving away the money for fun? For fun, I'm not giving away anything. But let's get back to the mill. Very well, and then let's get back to my place. Look, I'm prepared to sell Foswakit Mill. If the price is right. Linda, I have brought with me by lawyer. Mr. Mouse breadler, would you explain the burdens of the butcher?

Certain of a lady, quite simply, the party of the first part here, and after known as the party of the second part, you'd have to set Foswakit Mill here and after, referred to as the said property harbor, and not then retaining the rights of chamfery abacens and ditherage. Moreover, the Foswakit parties and agreements shall severly bind themselves with odes and rumpage. And now here is a late football result. Arsenal 2. Arsenal 2, Sheffield Wednesday. And now, now I'll hand you back to the script. Will, Mr. Arkwright. What, after all that, do you say? Done. You'll certainly help him. And so much to everyone's surprise, ends the story of the Arkwrights and Foswakit Mill. A Lady Constance bought Foswakit Mill and several other mills around those parts and used them as kennels. For the 500 dogs, she brought her from Germany. Wait a minute. She bought the mills and filled them with dogs. She brought from Germany. You don't mean? Yes. And here's our night, a window of the beauty.

In that edition of I'm Sorry to Read That Again, which was written by Graham Garden, Bill Audi and Simon Brett. The parts were played as follows. I'm. Yes, I'm sure you are. I'm Tim Ruktele. Sorry. By John Cleese. That. By Joe Kendall. Also. I mean again. And again, by Bill Audi. The musical arrangements were by... Liam Kern. And the music was provided by... David Lee. And the whole ghastly business was the responsibility of Messers Hatch and Tithrich. Messers is right. I'll ignore that. And calls on the microphone, John Otto Cleese. Oh, no, I'm sorry. I mean, get again. But I think they speak full of me, Ricek, multiply. I'm talking about my portfolio gettin' gettin' Don't you have money for me, what you need, I told you?

They say you have name now, come here. Come here please, come here. I'm sorry not to use this, come on. Sing it again, everybody. I'll call you back on. Yeah! Let's go on! Well, that's progress! .

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