Derek and Clive Get the Horn

Clive:
I tell you one thing I can't stand.

Derek:
Tell me.

Clive:
About Russia, is the dead bodies in your hotel room.

Derek:
Oh, Blimey, yeah.

Clive:
Because I booked into, you know, a second class hotel, second class hotel, two stars. And, er, I asked, er, room service, erm, you know, for a light meal because I was going sight seeing the next morning. And I said I'd like some chips and, er, steak, medium rare and,er, banana fritter, you know, and this bloke come up to the room and frankly it wasn't what I ordered. He brought up, er, three thousand dissidents.

Derek:
Oh, God.

Clive:
With their testicles attached to electrodes. And I said call this f***ing room service? Not room service, I said. I asked for chips, steak and banana fritters. I get three thousand f***ing dissidents on a tray.

Derek:
What are they trying to pull, eh? They think we're c*nts.

Clive:
I said, if you're expecting a tip, mate, if you're expecting a tip, you can get the f*** out of my hotel room.

Derek:
Yeah.

Clive:
Anyway, they just dumped them down on the floor. All these dissidents. I got talking to them, some nice blokes, actually. There's Sergia, er, Wolankov. Sergia Wolankov.

Derek:
Oh, Wolankov, yeah.

Clive:
He wrote some poetry, he wrote the poem saying, er, the Soviet Union is a khazi, Mr Breznev is a c*nt, and, er, er, I want my freedom, you see. And he published that in a dissident newspaper.

Derek:
I'd rather be room seviced than in prison.

Clive:
I'll say one thing for Russia, the health service is tremendous.

Derek:
Oh, yeah.

Clive:
As soon as you're ill, they kill you.

Clive:
Damien was in terrible trouble cos, er, cos, er, people from the ecology, you know, the environmental people come round and er, he was just off to the laundrette to take his Y-fronts down there.

Derek:
Oh, yeah, I know. He does that every Wednesday, doesn't he?

Clive:
No, not every Wednesday. Every two years.

Clive:
Whales are f***ing stupid. Can you mention one whale in the history of mankind that's had a record in the top ten? Can you? Can you mention one whale that's written the equivalent of, er, Othello, Shakespeare, Health and efficiency?

Clive:
During the war, did we notice a lot of whales rallying around saying, "Save England?" I didn't notice any down my part of the world. I didn't see whales coming up with the Union Jack saying, "We'll fight the bosch."

Derek:
The whales were all Nazis! They were at the Nuremberg rallies, mate. They were all whales.

Clive:
What, they were tried at the Nuremberg trial?

Derek:
No, they were whales at the rallies. Hitler, Hitler was talking to whales.

Clive:
Well, that doesn't make them more intelligent cos, er, Hitler lost, didn't he?

Clive:
[after being horribly molested by sir] And I was, I felt, golly, that was a narrow squeek cos sir could have done something really nasty, you know, like punish me.

Clive:
Michael Moriarty was very good as that, um, Nazi. And as soon as I switched off the third episode, I, er, got on, er, got on the number eighteen and got up to Golders Green and I must of, must of slaughtered about eighteen thousand before I realised, you know, what I was doing. I thought, the f***ing television has driven me to this. The same thing happened with, urm, do you remember Andy Pandy?

Derek:
Yeah.

Clive:
He used to come on. As soon as that was on I used to get in a glove, used to jump in a glove and rush down the road. You know, the power it has over people.

Clive:
I tell you something. That, that religious singing reminded me of something. Did you, did you see that, er, TV coverage of the, er, Pope when he was lying in state? The, the last Pope, you know, John Paul.

Derek:
Yeah.

Clive:
Lying in state, on that catafalque? In those robes. It didn't half give me the horn, that. Him lying there. He looked so f***ing vulnerable, didn't he? I mean, like I, I couldn't prevent myself, you know, having a wank immediately cos he looked, he looked vulnerable, he looked at, at rest and, er, somebody had, er, gone to the trouble of plucking all that hair out of his nostrils.

Clive:
You know that big n*gger who lives down the road?

Derek:
Him? Yeah. Oh, lovely.

Clive:
Huge black c*nt. I said, I said to him, I said, um, Ephraim, strange name for a black, innit? I said there's a load of c*nts down the BBC and they need sorting out. I said, um, this should appeal to your f***ing primitive urges cos I said you like cannibalism, don't you? You like eating people alive in a frying pan. I said, go round to the BBC with some of your mates dressed up in your loincloths and that, and, er, paint yourselves up in different colours or whatever you c*nts do back in Africa. And so he said, er, oh, it's nice, that and he, he, he said what do we do when we arrive? I said, go beserk, tear the f***ing place down.

Derek:
Yes, spunk all over the f***ing centre.

Clive:
Spunk all over the Director General and kill everyone in the studios, you know, and, um, he was all, you know, he got about forty of these coons gathered together to rush round to the BBC. And I was really looking forward to it. I was looking forward to tuning in to the news that night and seeing the news on the BBC. The BBC had being burn't to the f***ing ground.

Derek:
Yeah. Yeah. Four... forty thousand.

Clive:
I turned on the Nine O'clock News. There was Kenneth Kendall, calm as a cucumber. No story about anything burning to the f***ing ground. And do you know what the *c*nt, black, n*gger, poof, c*nt said when he came back?*

Derek:
No?

Clive:
"Oh, I'm sorry. I couldn't find it."

Derek:
No!

Clive:
"I lost my way", he said.

Clive:
Can we have a sensible discussion?