Ripped By mstoll
Hi, there. I'm Simon Cowell.
I'm loads richer than you.
But I haven't always been happy. Hard to believe, I know.
I used to often turn up for work with two black eyes.
I pretended I'd been attacked by angry X Factor rejects.
The truth is, I'd simply run down the stairs naked and been hit by my flying man boobs. They were simply
out of control.
I kept having to get my teeth fixed, too.
But now, that's all a thing of the past,
thanks to my new undetectable trouser bra.
Pay attention, here comes the science-y bit.
First, pull the trousers up nice and high.
No, higher than that.
Then simply do up the trouser bra belt to hold in those embarrassing moobs.
The new Simon Cowell trouser bra will give you the confidence to be seen again in public.
I take my trousers in a C-cup.
Do you?
One point instead of three, Stevie. Do you blame your goalkeeper?
No, it's a mistake, you know, we're a team, win, lose or draw.
I'm sure he'll be very relieved to hear his captain saying that.
But is rap music becoming too poppy?
Er, I think so. I'm not saying there's not a place for your Eminems and your Jay-Zs, but I think
they're missing, you know, a lot of the insight and effectiveness of your Tupacs and your Ice-Ts.
No, let's lose the catchy tunes and get back to basics, you know, sex,
drugs, er, random gun crime, and reflect on life in the ghetto.
Thanks for your time, Stevie.
Right, thanks.
My beautiful bouncing boys, and then probably my children.
The rain forests, I saved 'em, they're mine now!
I've got a copy of my first single in a box somewhere...
with the 10,000 other copies.
ITV's Loose Women was recently voted Best Factual Programme at the National Television Awards,
narrowly beating Channel Five's My 17 Nipples.
Now the show is holding open auditions to find a new presenter,
a move welcomed by regular Carole McGiffin.
You know, people just think we just turn up to the studio
and spout inane claptrap for an hour.
It's not true! With ad breaks, we only get 47 minutes.
Come on, let's go and talk to some of the hopefuls.
Do you like the sound of your own voice? Well...
I'm sorry, I'm going to have to stop you there,
because I'm more interested in what I've got to say. Know what I mean?
Lesley Garrett works up a short list with the help of a questionnaire.
So, Chelle, what do you bring to the table?
This ankle bracelet. I'm on parole for trying to kill my ex-husband.
Any particular reason? He forgot our anniversary.
Oh, you're good! You're very, very good!
♪ Ha-haaaa! ♪
Isn't this the queue for Britain's Got Talent, then?
Talent? Go on, sling your hook. We don't want your sort here.
Security! So, how many husbands have you had?
Let's be honest, darling.
You're a bit past your best, love. You're through to the next round!
♪ Ha-haaaa! ♪
The hopefuls are then whittled down in a gruelling afternoon session
where they listen to Lesley Garrett singing.
SHE SINGS OPERATICALLY
Until finally, the search is at an end. I think we've chosen wisely.
Perfect for the show!
Foul-mouthed... Plenty of front. # Ha-haaaa! #
Opinionated... With enough hair product to be a major fire risk.
♪ Ha-haaaa! ♪
What? Come on, beggars can't be choosers.
It was either this or Live From Studio Five. Here we go.
Robert Pattinson? Phwoar, yes, I'd do him!
Criminals? Hanging too good for 'em!
The change? Yes, I'm all for it in a caring way, I would have thought.
Ladies and gentlemen of the press.
Lend me your ears.
I have, as it were, an important announcement to make
about the 2012 Anno Domini London Olympiad.
All your favourite sports will, of course, be back,
but joining their exalted ranks
will be some events making their debut in the Olympic Pantheon.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you...
bikini car wash.
Where a team of scantily-clad maidens must wash an automobile
as quickly as possible.
But, ladies and gentlemen, here is where the skill comes in.
No hands. They are only allowed to wipe off the soapy suds
using their big ooba-loobas.
Boris, have you talked this over with Lord Coe?
Oh, there's no need. I am sure the mighty Sebastian will love it.
And, ladies and gentlemen, bikini car wash is only the beginning.
There'll also be Grew-Roman mud wrestling, a wet t-shin relay,
and synchronised snogging. And one last thing.
The venue for the beach volleyball has been relocated to my back garden.
Fingers crossed for a Brazil-Sweden final. Thank you for coming.
Well, I think that went rather well. Would you mind briefing Lord Coe?
Are you nearly ready, Vernon?
How much longer's Brucie going to be here?! A few days, you said!
Six weeks he's been under me roof!
He's finished all me Aquafresh!
Why don't you just use my Mentadent P? I like the stripes.
Anyway, that's not the point! Hey, let's not argue about toothpaste.
Again.
This is your special night.
I can't believe my Vernon's got all the top TV executives coming round tonight
to discuss his very own primetime TV show.
Yeah, just imagine it.
Vernon's Saturday Night Extravaganza.
It just feels right, Tess, you know, like this is my moment.
Everything's got to go perfectly, though.
Thank God we packed Brucie off to see Iron Man 2, eh?
Ah, yeah, about that...
TO THE TUNE OF "IRON MAN" BY BLACK SABBATH: #I am Bruce Forsyth!
# De-de-de-de-de-de de-de-de
♪ Play your cards right! Brilliant film! ♪
Downey Jr was out of this world!
Why aren't you still at the pictures, Brucie? I went to the matinee.
When Tess told me all about your special night, I thought,
"you need the support of a pro, someone with
I will hear none of it, Roland! I will just be here, making sure
everything runs smoothly, I won't interfere with your meeting.
Tonight, I will be your Brucie butler.
At your service, master.
DOOR BELL RINGS Get the door, Roland.
So at the end of your specialist round on the books of Katie Price,
Katie Price, you scored...
no points.
Yeah, well, you know, I was going to read 'em, but I got busy.
Think I'll go and get me score enlarged.
CHEERING AND APPLAUSE
Please welcome Lorraine Kelly. Hello!
Lorraine, your childhood was tough and traumatic, wasn't it?
Why don't you tell us about it, and get choked up while you're doing it?
My childhood was fab, very, very happy indeed.
Country dancing...shortbread...
Great. OK, well, let me put that question to you once again,
but this time let's lower down some onions, so they're quite close to your face.
And should you feel the need to weep, please feel free to do so.
SHE LAUGHS
But I love onions. And anyways, what have I got to cry about?
Lorraine, this is Clip-Clap.
A poor orphaned donkey, abandoned by his donkey mommy and daddy and left
to fend for himself on the mean streets of Skegness.
AUDIENCE: Awww!! That must make you desperately sad,
to the point of wanting to weep openly.
Oh, no, no, that is sad. No, that's very, very sad.
No, so it is, it is sad, very sad.
But you're not crying? No, no, no. Not quite.
Shoot the donkey.
Oh, nooooo! SHE SOBS
There they are, the Piers Tears! Get in!
I imagine it's my Oscar.
You haven't got one. No, but I imagine I do.
Mm, what's my most treasured possession?
Probably my wedding dress...
collection.
THEY LAUGH
We're very excited about working with you.
Yes, we think we might be able to make you Mr Saturday Night.
Ooh, did you hear that, Tess? Mr Saturday Night!
Ooh, I love Saturday nights.
Yes, right, I hope I can dazzle you with the food, too.
I take it you like spag bol.
MUSIC: THEME FROM "THE GENERATION GAME"
Spag bol is off the menu!
This evening, we have cuisine Forsyth a la Brucie.
Here's what you could be eating tonight!
Here they are, they're so appealing.
Chicken goujons made in Ealing,
Oriental spare ribs, didn't they do well?
Cuddly toy, cuddly toy! Covered in barbecue sauce.
And Brucie's special pie! A pie!
# Pie is the name of the game
♪ And I want to have a pie with you. ♪
It will be nice to eat pie, to eat pie...
ALL: Nice! SMASH!
Well, that's the pie off, for a start!
I need the fire brigade. And quickly, the whole place has gone up.
Yes, the building is on fire.
I know, the chip pan caught and it spread to the curtains.
I know, I should have got one of those modern electrical fryers!
Mind you, I know why I didn't! Do you know how much they are?
35 quid! I don't know what they think I'm frying in there!
Deep-fried gold bars? Imagine me biting into one of them?
It'd be like a tooth bomb had gone off...innocent bystanders taken out by enamel shrapnel and fillings.
What? Oh. The burning building, oh, don't worry, there's barely anything left.
Anyway, I went to Waitrose for some cat food the other day...
So I said to Sammy Davis Jr,
"Sammy," I said, "no, that's not a microphone."
Bruce, you are a hoot. Please, please, call me Mr Forsyth.
And the food was fantastic.
I'm stuffed. Me, too.
I've never eaten seven whole peas in one go before.
Go on, Bruce, tell us another story.
There was that time I walked in on Arlene Phillips and Kenny Lynch...
Why don't we talk about Vernon's Saturday Night Extravaganza?
Yeah? Brucie, how about some coffee?
Oh, yes, yes, quite right...
Two sugars in mine, please, Roland. What about you three?
I'll have one too, Roland. Just a drop of milk.
Can I have my coffee with no milk and no coffee, please, Roland?
I mean, Vernon.
I'll go and put the kettle on.
So, Bruce, what are you doing after the next series of Strictly?
Because we were thinking, what about something
along the lines of Brucie's Saturday Night Extravaganza?
Well, I mean, what can I say, I wasn't expecting this...
but I suppose I've got one or two ideas.
Now...
MUSIC: "ALL THINGS BRIGHT AND BEAUTIFUL"
Well, isn't he just the cutest little thing, Mrs Ramsay?
Oh, thank you, vicar.
Truly we are blessed with little Gordon.
Oh, look... I think he's about to say his first words.
My mistake.
Ah. Bishop. Mrs Ramsay thought her little Gordon
was about to say his first words, but then he didn't.
Perhaps he will now.
No, no, still nothing.
Ah, Mother Superior. Come and meet little Gordon.
We think he's about to say his first words.
Bleugh! This milk's not warm enough, do you know that, yeah?
Son it out, yeah? HE BLOWS A RASPBERRY
ALL: Awwww!
Well, at least he didn't swear.
DOOR BELL RINGS
Hello! Can I help you?
lam currently clothed, but I'm soon to be unclothed.
You're the strippergram?! lam indeed. Hurrah.
Good evening.
I've brought some music to get us in the mood.
The Brandenburg Concerto No.3 in G major.
I can tell from the L you must be the proverbial hen.
Either that or a junior cabinet minister.
Anyway, you're all about to have the time of your lives...allegedly.
Can I ask how much you're charging?
£50. If I give you 100, would you leave right now?
Um... Yes.
I'll get my purse.
I'm Heston Blumenthal.
And I've been working here, in my molecular laboratory,
to create meals and flavours never before experienced by mankind.
Come with me on a gastronomic journey...
into the unknown.
Today we started off with some sub-processed swine flesh.
Then I de-constitute the molecules into their constituent atoms.
Then I went from the laboratory to the greenhouse to get these.
Pig pulp flavour enhancers.
Now I'm using this organic piping which I harvested
from the intestinal tract of this organism.
Then inject the flavour-enhanced pig pulp
into the now-sealed organic pipe to create this.
A flavour-enhanced organic pig pulp pipe
ready to cook.
It's a sausage.
A sausage? I've done it again, haven't I?
I've spent so long working with the crazy stuff,
I've forgotten how to make the real things.
The celebrity guests out there expecting a weird food experience.
We can still do that. We'll just fire it up their backsides on one of these.
In the past 12 months, Lady Gaga has become a sensation.
But what is the real Lady Gaga like?
What does she look like sitting down, for example?
Lady Gaga has a man in her life.
He is her rock.
He gives her what no other man can.
John is the dullest man Lady Gaga has ever met and that excites her.
Lady Gaga and John Craven met by chance at an agricultural show
in Kent just over 12 months ago, where she was filming a video.
Oh, look. There's a sheep.
And there's another sheep.
Yes, it's really quite a fascinating story about how we met, I remember it was
Thursday 12th March because the Met Office had forecast a mild, cloudy day, with scattered showers
and the likelihood of some sunshine, but... Actually, no, you tell the story.
No, you tell it. No, you...
No, you tell it. You tell it so much better than I would.
Would I? All right, then.
They'd forecast a mild cloudy day, with scattered showers and the likelihood of some sunshine,
but the scattered showers were far more pronounced and the sunshine didn't happen at all.
SHE LAUGHS HYSTERICALLY
And then we did it in a combine harvester.
Did we? Oh, yes!
I forgot about that.
Before Lady Gaga met John, she didn't realise how empty her life was.
This is a woman who'd never experienced the thrill
of dunking a milk digestive into a cup of warm Bovril.
And I mean who else would know all about irrigation,
and the importance of crop rotation in modern arable farming.
And pastoral, in some cases.
For this odd couple, the future seems rosy.
This is fairly atypical hedgerow for this part of the West Country because a tall thick hedge
with good bottom growth is of more value to wildlife
than a low thin hedge.
Mmm. More John, more!
Managing hedges by laying and trimming is better than no hedge at all
and it prolongs the life of the hedge, which is good for the species that live there.
Ah, yes. yes, yes!
What can I say?
When you've got it, you've got it.
TV: 'Hey, thank you so much, can't believe my luck, welcome to Jimmy Carr - Live.'
Jimmy. We need to talk about us.
I mean, just how committed are you to this relationship?
I went to a wedding once.
Priest said, "You may kiss the bride."
Didn't realise he was only talking to the groom.
I just can't put up with your constant jokes any more.
I may as well be invisible half the time.
When I was a boy I spent the whole day trying to be invisible.
Nobody noticed.
If you could just talk normally, just once even, if you could just tell me how you felt.
OK, this is going to be pretty difficult for you to hear.
HE WHISPERS EXAGGERATEDLY
Jimmy, I'm sorry. I'm leaving you.
Tina's coming to pick me up.
I can't stay here forever trying to work you out.
HORN HONKS I'll miss you...
"but then I am lousy shot.
Either my BAFTAs
or my Panini football sticker collection, yeah?
Got about 3,000..
And quite a few stickers.
Probably my seven-foot cactus...
It's my favourite outfit.
My most treasured possession, well, that would be the poster from my first-ever live show...
and the flint they used to carve it.
So, did you see anyone about at the time?
No, I put my shopping bags down, I turned my back for two seconds
to unlock my bike, and when I turned back again, my shopping was gone.
Loan not believe it. Who would do something like that?
It was me! I'm Bruno Tonioli, I'm a little bit cheeky.
I'm just so naughty, I can not help myself, like a bright orange ltaliano Dennis the Menace.
Cheeky, cheeky me. Smacky-botty boom-boom! Ohhhhhhh.
Bruno having extra cheeky din-din and very cheeky naughty pudding tonight. Ohhh!
Hello and welcome to Gary Barlow's North,
where I unearth some of the lesser-known treasures that lurk beyond Newport Pagnell services.
Today, we're in Chorley to take a look at this electricity substation dating from 1975.
Now, unfortunately, we can't show it in all its majesty as some yobo has daubed an obscenity on it.
But here to talk about it - the substation, not the obscenity -
are two great fans of it, and that's Dean and Jez.
So, lads what do you like about this electricity substation?
It's great. We hide behind it when we're bunking off school.
It doesn't half give you nasty headaches.
Oh, yeah... It does make quite a loud humming sound, doesn't it?
I think that's an F.
Yeah. A lot of our most famous songs are in F.
Well, I say "our", I mean mine, really.
I mean Mark writes one or two, but not many of the hit singles, though.
But what can you do? It's either agree or spend the rest of your life writing jingles for the BBC library.
Anyway, we're not here to talk about that, we're here to celebrate Dean and Jez's substation.
Aren't we, lads?
Lads?
Hey, they've nicked me man bag!
I had 42 new songs in that man bag.
That's another morning's work gone up the swanny.
My name is Miss Sophie Dahl.
Young, pretty, rich
and almost able to poach an egg.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man in possession of a Michelin star
is in want of a wife, and so I, Sophie Dahl,
was wooing the parish's most eligible bachelor-farmer.
HE CLEARS HIS THROAT
Mr Fearnley-Whittingstall!
My heart flutters like a butterfly cake to see you.
And mine likewise. I should like to congratulate your Aunt Delia
on yesterday's spectacular ball but, alas, I cannot find her anywhere.
Oh, no, she has left for the clay.
She has pressing duties as director of Norwich Village football club.
Ah! I do enjoy the sight of 86 men in pursuit of a pig's head.
My aunt had left for the village football,
accompanied by the Reverend Ramsay and my companion, Miss Nigella.
I must confess, I once harboured feelings for your companion,
Miss Nigella, with her expert culinary skills and her plenteous bottom.
But after tasting your divine fish soup last evening, I have eyes only for you, Miss Sophie.
Pray, would you make some more? For me?
Of course. I can definitely...
do that.
'Oh, soup spoons!'
Boil...water?
But how?
The soup de poisson which Mr Fearnley-Whittingstall had tasted
had been the work of Miss Nigella.
I had passed it off as my own in an attempt to conceal the fact that I was less than able in the kitchen.
Mmm, poisson! Now I must surely
cook my way to Mr Fearnley-Whittingstall's heart.
SIREN WAILS
Welcome to Autumn Crimewatch.
Tonight, we need your help on some particularly nasty cases.
We're looking for the villains who have been terrorising a Mrs Roberts
of Maidstone by viciously pecking through the lids of her milk bottles.
But first, we turn to the case of Ms X,
whose life was turned upside down on 13th June, 2010.
It was one o'clock and I was going
to have my sandwiches in the office like normal...
But it was such a nice day
that I thought I'd go to the park.
I got my sandwiches out...
That's when he attacked.
Hmm.
DC Claxton, you believe this incident may be related to another unsolved case?
We do, Kirsty, as we discovered a cache of stolen goods
in the immediate vicinity,
hidden in a tree.
Are these your nuts?
Do you know whose nuts they are?
Please, get in touch.
Looked like an angry exchange with the referee, Stevie?
Err, words were said but I wasn't angry and at the end of the day, I respect his decision.
Good to hear. But Stevie, what are your thoughts on animal organs being used for human transplants?
There's not enough human donors, you know.
The pig heart valves work, genetically they're very close to humans. Why not give 'em a shot?
Erm, you know, I hope it doesn't come to it, but personally,
I'd be very happy walking around with a bit of pig inside me.
Thanks for your time, Stevie. Right, thanks.
The soup I had prepared earlier for Mr Fearnley- Whittingstall had had unfortunate consequences.
How is he, doctor?
He is not well.
I prescribe two teaspoons of snail ice cream every two hours.
At bedtime, a turkey, stuffed with a duck,
stuffed with a bear's fist, served on a flaming toffee galleon.
It's simple fare, but it might just pull him through.
'Oh, fish balls.'
Miss Nigella.
I came as soon as I heard.
Are you not with the Reverend Ramsay?
You two seemed quite smitten at the ball. Oh, no, Miss Sophie! Not at all!
Haven't you heard? The Reverend Ramsay has proposed to Aunt Delia!
'It was all most unexpected.'
My only regret is that I may die not knowing the recipe for the fish soup I ate at the ball.
Miss Sophie seems to have forgotten it...
with disastrous consequences for my gizzards.
But...
I cooked that soup.
Miss Sophie could not mix a one-lettuce salad.
The soup...was yours?
Mine!
A hearty seasonal soup you can just lick off your fingers.
Great heavens. What a cook! Marry me!
Marry me while I still have breath!
Nuptials, yeah? Done.
They were wedded within the week.
And after all my plans, who was I to marry?
For though I could not bake a potato without burning my lovely hair,
I was young and pretty. Did I not deserve love, too?
HE MUTTERS INDISTINCTLY
I'm sorry, Mr Worrall Thompson.
I have no idea what you're saying.
HE MUTTERS INDISTINCTLY
Oh, well. You take what you can.
Hello, children. This next nursery rhyme is not a rebel nursery rhyme.
THIS nursery rhyme is Old Mother Hubbard.
Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard
To fetch her poor doggie a bone
And when she got there the cupboard was bare
And the poor little doggy had none.
The poor little doggy had none.
He was starving, and all because of Old Mother Hubbard's poverty.
Just a small donation will make sure Old Mother Hubbard's doggy and other
old mothers' doggies will all have a bone in future and be lucky doggies,
like Roobarb and Scooby-Doo.
Together we can make bare cupboards history.
Night-night. Yeah.
Ripped By mstoll