j_f_s_p (j_f_s_p) wrote,

John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme s04e02 transcript

cast: John Finnemore, Simon Kane, Carrie Quinlan, Lawry Lewin, Margaret Cabourn-Smith
music by Susannah Pearse, producer Ed Morrish


(telephone ringing)
Carter: “Bridge.”
Ramsey: “Carter! This is Captain Ramsey! We’ve picked up a hurricane warning in the Gulf of Mexico. Voyage postponed, return to port. Alter course 180 degrees steady to new heading north north east.”
Carter: “Aye aye sir!”
(telephone ringing)
Carter: “Bridge.”
Ramsey: “Did you not hear me man?”
Carter: “Eh sir yes sir!”
Ramsey: “Well do it then! Alter course 180 degrees!”
Carter: “I have sir!”
Ramsey: “You have not! You take me for a fool? We’re still heading south west!”
Carter: “Well yes sir but eh you know with an oil tanker of this size sir, it’s like trying to restructure a large and bureaucratic instituation.”
Ramsey: “It’s like what?!”
Carter: “Eh say the NHS for example, sir. I’ve adjusted our headings sir, which is like installing a new executive board with a fresh ethos but the vessel will need time to adjust to this direction sir like eh like individual hospital managers and medical practitioners adapting to the boss’ new priorities sir!”
Ramsey: “What are you jabbing about the NHS for? I just want you to turn this tanker around!
Carter: “Yes sir and I understand that, I am doing it but eh... we’ll put it another way! It’s like China cautiously adopting a more open relationship with the west sir.”
Ramsey: “Like China?!”
Carter: “Yes sir! The new heading is like an encouraging international summit sir, but the tanker is like decades if not centuries of ingrain mistrust.”
Ramsey: “What?!”
Carter: “Ok sir! Think of me sir as a dynamic new head teacher and the tanker is a failing school. Now-”
Ramsey: “Carter! Need I remind you I’ve been captain of this vessel for seventeen years! Now what the hell are you playing at!”
Carter: “Ow. Well it’s just it’s a really lovely sunset sir, can’t we have five more minutes?”
Ramsey: “No! Turn her around this second!”
Carter: (sigh) “Aye aye sir!”
(boat turns around)
Carter: “On new heading north north east sir.”
Ramsey: “That’s more like it!


Grandad: “So eh Rachel, Al here says you’re waitressing eh?”
Rachel: “That’s right yeah.”
Grandad: “I was in catering myself back in the day. Where are you working, are you local?”
Rachel: “Eh yeah, the Boars’ head, on Russell street?”
Grandad: “Oh yeah yeah yeah I know the Boars’ head! Ah who’s running that now then? Is it still old Jamie Palmer is it?”
Rachel: “I don’t think so no, my boss is ms. Patel.”
Grandad: “Oh right. Ms. Patel is it?”
Al: “Grandad...”
Rachel: “I’ll tell you something about Indians right...”
Al: “No grandad, don’t!”
Grandad: “No seriously, seriously. The thing about your Indians right...”
Al: “No, seriously, I’m sorry Rachel, he’s a different generation.”
Rachel: “It’s ok, I don’t mind.”
Grandad: “There you go, she don’t mind!”
Al: “No she’s being polite! Grandad you can’t talk about people like this anymore!”
Grandad: “Of course you can! I’ve seen them all in the catering trade, I’ve worked with them all I have! Blacks, Irish, Chinese, lots and lots more. The thing is with your Indians-”
Al: “I’m really sorry about this!”
Grandad: “The end of the day, right Rachel, when you shake hands with an Indian... that is gospel. That’s bonded. You know what I’m saying?”
Rachel: “Right.”
Al: “...yeah but... what are you saying though?”
Grandad: “I’m just saying they’re men of their word. Never been robbed by an Indian. Very trustworthy people.”
Al: “Right. Ok. That’s.... still, you’ve-”
Grandad: “Course your Turk, very different people.”
Al: “No don’t!”
Grandad: “With your Turks right it’s all about one thing.”
Al: “No please grandad!”
Grandad: “All comes down to one thing with your Turk. Family. Very family centered people. Yet, at the same time, very hospitable. Can’t do enough for you, your Turk, got a lot of time for them. Now your Jews!”
Al: “No grandad seriously! No! Don’t do the Jews!”
Grandad: “The thing I’ve noticed with the Jews!”
Al: “You know Rachel’s Jewish don’t you!”
Grandad: “Oh is she? Oh you’ll bear me out on this one then Rach. The thing with your lot is... they’re very clever, the Jewish, aren’t they? They’re very, oh what’s the word, very clever people.”
Al: “Oh what, you mean cunning?”
Grandad: “Cunning? I don’t know, they’re definitely clever.”
Al: “Yeah, but that’s code isn’t it? For sneaky and conniving.”
Grandad: “No, no I wouldn’t say... no I’m gonna have to disagree with you there.”
Al: “Wha- hang on- no I didn’t say it!!”
Grandad: “Well you did say it.”
Al: “No you were saying it!”
Grandad: “No not me, son, I just think they’re intellectually very sharp.”
Al: “Right well look, look it’s still racist to say that!”
Grandad: “Really? How did you make that out?”
Al: “You can’t make generalizations like that! Not all Jewish people are clever! Some of them are stupid!”
Grandad: “Well about a minute ago you were saying they was cunning!”
Al: “I wasn’t!”
Grandad: “And now they’re stupid? You’ve really got your knife out today haven’t you!”
Al: “No, I didn’t say it!”
Grandad: “I’d watch out for this one Rach, seems like a bit of an anti anti semite!”
Al: “Oh come on!”
Grandad: “Now! The Belgians though! I’ll tell you something about the Belgians...”
Al: “What. Go on then, what.”
Grandad: “They’re the scum of the earth!”
(all agree)

Announcer: There now follows an open letter to the people of Belgium.
“I mean we’re joking! Obviously we’re joking! Come on, you know that! You lovely Belgians! You’re not the scum of the earth, nobody thinks that! I mean, in a way, it’s a compliment that we picked Belgium for the joke! It wouldn’t have worked if we’d said eh, Saudi Arabia because – doesn’t matter why it wouldn’t have worked! The point is, you guys, you Belgies! You’re great! We are, we’re all big Belgium fans. I’ll tell you what. We’ll make it up to you. We’ll say two nice things about Belgium in the rest of the show. Ok? Ok! Love you!”

Hotel forms

Hotel manager: “Good evening sir, how can I help you?”
Bell: “Hello. Eh I have a reservation for tonight.”
Hotel manager: “That’s no problem at all sir, just bear with me, what’s the name?”
Bell: “It’s Bell.”
Hotel manager: “Perfect, is that B, E, double L?”
Bell: “Yes.”
Hotel manager: “That’s no problem.”
Bell: “Good.”
Hotel manager: “How long are you with us?”
Bell: “Eh one night.”
Hotel manager: “Perfect. How many people in the room?”
Bell: “Two.”
Hotel manager: “That’s not a problem. Eh bear with me, you’ll be in room 202. Will you be needing a wake up call at all?”
Bell: “Eh no thank you.”
Hotel manager: “Perfect. Would you like a newspaper at all?”
Bell: “No.”
Hotel manager: “No problem. Would you be joining us for breakfast at all?”
Bell: “Eh yes!”
Hotel manager: “Perfect. Will you be wanting cooked or continental at all?”
Bell: “Eh... eh... do I have to decide now...?”
Hotel manager: “Not at all sir, that’s not a problem! Just let the waiter know when you arrive and he or she will bring it to you.”
Bell: “Yes I thought that’s probably what would happen... Good. Thank you. Well eh...”
Hotel manager: “Just bear with me sir. Will you be using the WIFI at all?”
Bell: “No.”
Hotel manager: “Perfect. Will you be using the bath at all?”
Bell: “I... I might. Why, is there a problem-”
Hotel manager: “No sir, it’s not a problem. Not a problem at all.”
Bell: “Well then why-”
Hotel manager: “Are you smoking or non smoking at all?”
Bell: “What?”
Hotel manager: “Are you smoking or non smoking at all?”
Bell: “Am I smoking or non smoking?”
Hotel manager: “At all.”
Bell: “I don’t smoke...”
Hotel manager: “That’s not a problem.”
Bell: “I know!”
Hotel manager: “Sorry sir?”
Bell: “Of course, of course it’s not a problem. Under what circumstances would it be a problem that I don’t smoke!”
Hotel manager: “It isn’t! It’s not a problem.”
Bell: “Good! Now if that’s all...”
Hotel manager: “Just bear with me sir, car registration?”
Bell: “I came by train.”
Hotel manager: “No problem at all. Married or unmarried?”
Bell: “Married.”
Hotel manager: “Perfect. Happily or unhappily?”
Bell: “What?! Happily, why-”
Hotel manager: “No problem. First or second marriage?”
Bell: “Why are you asking me this?!”
Hotel manager: “Oh it’s not a problem sir, it’s just one of the questions I’m asking you. First or second marriage?”
Bell: “First.”
Hotel manager: “Perfect. And your wife... married or unmarried?”
Bell: “Well MARRIED obviously!”
Hotel manager: “Happily or unhappily?”
Bell: “Eh no, no, no hang on!”
Hotel manager: “I can wait while you ask her sir or just leave it blank for now.”
Bell: “Leave it blank.”
Hotel manager: “Not a problem at all!”
Bell: “Thank you! Now can I please-”
Hotel manager: “Bear with me sir. Are you here for business or pleasure sir?”
Bell: “Oh for...! What’s it got to do with you?”
Hotel manager: “If you can just bear with me sir!”
Bell: “I won’t bear with you.”
Hotel manager: “Unfortunately you do have to bear with me.”
Bell: “I’m sorry?”
Hotel manager: “Not a problem at all sir! Business or pleasure?”
Bell: “Eh pleasure I suppose, I’m here for a wedding.”
Hotel manager: “Perfect. Out of choice or duty?”
Bell: “What?!”
Hotel manager: “Choice or duty sir?”
Bell: “Choice, alright? It’s my nephew’s wedding.”
Hotel manager: “Not a problem. Will that be a traditional wedding or a gay one?”
Bell: “Oh well as it happens it’s a gay wedding! Why, is that a problem?”
Hotel manager: “Not a problem at all sir! No. And how long will it be lasting?”
Bell: “I don’t know! Three or four hours...”
Hotel manager: “Eh no sir, the marriage, how long will that be lasting?”
Bell: “I don’t know! Why are you asking?”
Hotel manager: “Oh well simply we can pencil you in to stay in the same room for silver, ruby or diamond wedding anniversary celebrations.”
Bell: “No!”
Hotel manager: “Awh I’m  sorry to hear that sir. Still, I’m sure they’ll enjoy the day.”
Bell: “Now can I please go to my room?!”
Hotel manager: “Absolutely sir, not a problem at all.”
Bell: “Thank you.”
Hotel manager: “Just a recap.”
Bell: “AAHHH!”
Hotel manager: “That's room 202 for one night, two people, no paper, no wake up call, using the bath, no smoking, no WIFI, ??? mr. Bell, B, E, double L, happily married to your first wife, here on pleasure out of choice to celebrate your nephew’s short lived gay marriage. And you’re leaving it till tomorrow to decide if you want the cooked or continental breakfast and whether your wife is happily or unhappily married.”
Bell: “Fine!”
Hotel manager: “Good! Perfect. Do you have any questions for me sir?”
Bell: “Oh actually yes! Is there a pool here?”
Hotel manager: “I don’t know. Work it out for yourself.”

Watch commercial

“You never actually own one of our watches. You merely look after it for the next generation. So, really, I don’t know why we bother to advertise them. Because presumably you either already have the one your father left you or you’re patiently waiting for him to die. Oh. Unless... ghastly thought! Your father doesn’t have one! I’ve heard there are such people. Possibly he’s a hopeless drunkard and he sold the one his father gave him to buy gin. (gasp) Or perhaps he never even had one! Perhaps he was a... costermonger or something. Oh the shame of it! Whatever can you do? You appalling little counter jumper! Well. I suppose you could... buy one of our watches. I know, unspeakably vulgar but what choice do you have. Then, with a bit of luck, everyone will assume you’ve inherited it. Like a proper person. Oh yes. And I suppose your kid can have it once you’re dead. As if that’s the reason anyone’s ever bought a watch.”

The Hunchback of Notre-Dame

Victor: “Quasimodo! Quasimodo! Are you still here old friend?”
Quasimodo: “Who calls for me?”
Victor: “It is I Quasimodo! Victor!”
Quasimodo: “No! By the saints, Monsieur Hugo! Oh! My old friend and benefactor! How good to see you after so many years!”
Victor: “Too many! I feared you would not still be living at the cathedral.”
Quasimodo: “Oh I shall not soon leave Notre-Dame! But tell me of your news! Do you still write those magnificent tales?”
Victor: “I do, Quasimodo, indeed. In fact, I have just published my latest novel.”
Quasimodo: “Oh wonderful!”
Victor: “I hope you will find it so. Quasimodo, it is your own story.”
Quasimodo: “My story?! I don’t understand!”
Victor: “You are the hero of my new novel, old friend.”
Quasimodo: “I am overcome! Such an honor!”
Victor: “I should say, I have you die at the end, I hope you don’t mind.”
Quasimodo: “Oh naturally! How else is a French novel going to end?! But how can I thank you, myself a humble bell ringer, to be immortalized by the greatest writer in all of France! In all the world!”
Victor: “Ah well, not all the world! There are some very exciting new novelist coming out of Belgium at the moment.”
Quasimodo: “Well that’s true! Belgium is a hot bed of culture! But even so monsieur, you have made me the happiest man in Paris!”
Victor: “The pleasure is all mine! And see, I have brought you a copy as a gift. The very first edition of... the Hunchback of Notre-Dame...”
Quasimodo: “The what?!”
Victor: “The Hunchback of Notre-Dame!”
Quasimodo: “That’s what you’ve called it?!”
Victor: “Yes?”
Quasimodo: “I have a name! I have a really memorable name!”
Victor: “Well yes of course but-”
Quasimodo: “But what?!”
Victor: “No the cathedral, see she is a character in the novel as well. It’s only right that the title contains her name.”
Quasimodo: “Well then what about the bell ringer of Notre-Dame? Did that ever cross your mind? Or did you just leap straight for hunchback?!”
Victor: “But my friend, you do have-”
Quasimodo: “I KNOW I DO! So what?! You don’t have to call me by it! I’m not defined by my disability.”
Victor: “??? It’s all romantic!”
Quasimodo: “It’s not romantic! It’s rude! It’s just rude! I don’t call you the big nosed novelist of Montmartre, do I?”
Victor: “??? in a work of fiction.”
Quasimodo: “Shakespeare didn’t call his play “the Hunchback of the Tower of London”, did he?! He called it “Richard III” because that was the name of the man!”
Victor: “But Richard was a king!”
Quasimodo: “Oh I see! Oh I see! Only the nobility get names! What about Long John Silver?! He was a common pirate but Stevenson didn’t call his book stumpy Jack the one legged sailor!”
Victor: “No! No he did not! Because Treasure Island will not be written for another 50 years!”
Quasimodo: “Oh no no! Don’t think you can get out of this by going all meta!”
Victor: “Actually that is exactly how I can get out of it! Because in fact, the Hunchback of Notre-Dame is only the English title and I called my book Notre-Dame de Paris!”
Quasimodo: “Ah yeah and you didn’t base it on a real person either! So who the hell do you think you’re talking to?!”
Victor: “I- oh where’s he gone? Where’s who gone? I thought I was... why am I in a cathedral anyway? Ah now I remember! Notre-Dame?”
Notre-Dame: “Oui?”
Victor: “I’ve written a book and named it after you!”
Notre-Dame: “Awh merci beaucoup!”
Victor: “De rien!”

Waking up at the vet

Vet: “Ok, well, mr. Richards, we’ve had a good look at the growth on Rusty’s bad leg and there’s good news and bad news. The bad news is... that it is a tumor and it is malignant.”
Dog owner: “Oh no.”
Vet: “But the good news is, though, that we’ve caught it very early and there’s no sign of it having spread. Also, Rusty is a relevantly young and healthy dog so... what I would suggest, and of course it’s up to you but, if he were my dog, I think what I would do is amputate the leg.”
Dog owner: “Really?”
Vet: “I know, it sounds bad but dogs get on very well with three legs and there’s no reason why he shouldn’t go on to live a long and healthy life.”

Rusty: “Oh. Oh. I’ve been asleep. Too, too long... too much! I...” (sniffs) “Wait! This isn’t home! Where am I? Where am I?!” (sniffs) “I’ve been here before! I’ve woken up here before... Long time ago... Not much more than a puppy. I woke up and-” (gasp) “Oh no! It’s the place they took- don’t tell me they’ve come back for the- no it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine! It’s still there! Ah thank god. Ah thank god. Alright. Calm down Rusty. Keep it together. You can get through this. Ok. Alright, all you need to do is get up, sniff around a bit, see if you can find out what-” (falls over) “Oh you are kidding me!!”

Ghost story: the trapdoor

“Well. Since you ask me for a tale of a mystery trapdoor! I believe I have something that caters to your oddly specific taste. It all began when I was taking a bicycling holiday in the low countries, in which category I include France, but not Belgium! My first couple of days riding went tolerably well but I discovered that I was aching rather in my legs, in my feet, and another part that I’d never noticed before and for which I do not know the technical name. It’s sort of round the back at the top of the legs and it really hates cycling. Accordingly I took my machine to a local workshop and had it refitted. They put on a more comfortable seat, rigged up a make shift cover to protect me from the elements, put on another couple of wheels for stability and added an engine. These slight modifications having been made, I was able to cycle in some comfort two or thee hundred miles a day. At the end of one such ride, I decided to put up at a rural wayside inn. And a genial landlord showed me to my room.
“Here we are sir. See, it has every modern facility. A trouser press, a Queen sized bed, a King sized Twix, an Emperor penguin. There is only one thing. I must ask of you if you take this room tonight sir.”
“You may notice in the center of the floor a mysterious trapdoor.”
“Oh yes!”
“I must ask you sir, whatever you do, not to open the mysterious trapdoor during your stay! Can you make me this promise?”
“Well of course! If you wish it. But what is behind this trapdoor? You make it sound almost... mysterious!”
“Oh nothing! Nothing special. Just dust and cobwebs and, you know, all that super boring trapdoor stuff. But don’t open it!”

That night I found my attention oddly drawn to that mysterious trapdoor. There was nothing out of the common way about it. What possible harm could there be in taking one quick look... but then, I had promised my host I would not! So I didn’t. The next morning, when I came down to breakfast, my host seemed oddly surprised to see me!

“Sir! You are still... here...”
“Well of course.”
“I thought you might have gone...”
“What, before breakfast?”
“Eh no...”
“You did say breakfast was included?”
“Eh yes absolutely we always give our guests breakfast in the morning because they’re always still here.”

That evening, as I was making my way up to my room, my host’s wife waylaid me.

“Excuse me sir, but didn’t my husband tell you about the trapdoor?”
“Yes, yes he told me about the trapdoor, not to open it, yeah.”
“That’s right, you must definitely not open it... But did he tell you why not?”
“No, he just said there was nothing interesting underneath.”
“Oh such lies he tells! He’s trying to stop you opening it. But in truth sir, there is something underneath it! Something wonderful! Something incredible! The most extraordinary and life enhancing thing you could ever see!”
“Well then I’m sorry to miss it. You sure I can’t open the trapdoor and have a look?”
“Yes... don’t open the trapdoor... even though it would be absolutely amazing if you did!”

So I didn’t. The next morning they were both waiting outside for me.

“Good morning sir. Did you sleep well?”
“Very well thank you!”
“No bad dreams, no being kept awake by your insatiable curiosity?”
“No nothing like that, no. I slept like a big incurious log!”

The third night, at three o’clock in the morning, I was awoken by a voice from beneath the trap door.

“Who’s there?”
“I eh, doesn’t matter! It’s just... we haven’t eaten anything for three days! We’re really really peckish!”
“Dear, I’m terribly sorry to hear that. How many of you are there, down there?”
“Eh don’t know, I’ll do a head count. One two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty twenty-one twenty-two twenty-three... there’s four of us!”
“No, no, no, you counted two of my heads twice.”
“Aye! Yes so there’s three of us! Well, like we mentioned before, we are a bit peckish!”
“Well can I fetch you something to eat?”
“Ah that’d be smashing if you could!”
“Well what do you eat normally?”
“Oh eh don’t know what they’re called... eh but they’re sort of pink, wriggly things with arms and legs and everything.”
“Oh eh... oh prawns!”
“Could be prawns, yeah, could be, could be prawns!”
“Well I don’t have any prawns I’m afraid! Eh there’s a Twix here! And a penguin!”
“Oh, oh I will have a Twix!”
“Alright, how shall I, shall I just sort of open the trapdoor and throw it in?”
“No, no, he can’t... because, you know...”
“Oh yeah! Oh... oh no you mustn’t open the trapdoor...”
“Oh alright then! Good night!”
“Oh hey! Wait a minute!”
“When I say... Ok so I’m saying, ‘don’t open the trapdoor’, right? But my remark is imbued with subtext!”
“I don’t understand at all. I’ll tell you what, I’ll go fetch the innkeeper! I’m sure when he realises you’re hungry down there, he’ll let me open the trapdoor!”
“No! No you can’t do that! It doesn’t work if you don’t disobey a command...”
“You have to open the trapdoor even though you’ve been told not to, otherwise we’re not allowed to eat you-rrr Twix.”
“What a peculiar system. Whose idea was it?”
“I don’t know! I’m a creature from a netherworldly dimension. Not a folklorist. But let’s say it was, eh, a wizard who had a real thing about manners.”
“Unfortunately I’m unable to help you.” I replied. “Because you see, as an Englishman, I am physically uncapable of breaking my word.”
(Both creatures groan)

The next morning, the netherworldly denizens of the fourth dimension and I had a lie in. But eventually my host brought me tea and I had a stern word with him.

“Look here my man! I have a strong notion, that had I disobeyed you and opened that trapdoor, I might’ve come of the worse for it!”
“What can I say sir, you are quite right. But to you sir, I take off my innkeeper's hat. Nobody before had spend three nights in this room and resisted opening the trapdoor. As a reward, would you like me to open it, so you can see the faith that you have escaped?”
He bend down and took hold of the handle.
“No really.” said I. “You musn’t open it just for my sake!”
“Oh it’s no trouble!” he said, pulling open the door and realising his mistake.
But it was all over. All I could do was scoop up the remains of my host into his own innkeeper's hat, place it on the reception desk with a nice little note, get into my bicycle, start my engine and cycle sadly away! Good night!


John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme was written and performed by John Finnemore, with Margaret Cabourn-Smith, Simon Kane, Lawry Lewin and Carrie Quinlan. Original music was by Susannah Pearse and the producer was Ed Morrish.
As part of our ongoing commitment to sustainable comedy for every sketch harvested, four new premises are planted in Finland.

Song: Belgium

Ed: Er, John?
John: Hi, Ed.
Ed: I’ve got the Belgian embassy on the phone.
John: Ah … Oh no …
Ed: Yeah, they said you promised you’d say two nice things about Belgium, and you still owe them one.
John: No, I don’t. I said the thing about novelists.
Ed: Yeah …
John: Yeah, and I just said they weren’t one of the low countries.
Ed: They don’t think that really counts as a compliment.
John: Why not?
Ed: Firstly, it’s a bit lukewarm, and secondly, they are one of the low countries.
John: Well, okay, can’t I just say something quickly nice about Belgium now?
Ed: They’re rather hoping you will.
John: Oh, okay.

Belgium is a really, really, really lovely place
I like the Belgian country side, I like the Belgian race
The fact that I’m not Belgian is a personal disgrace
For Belgium, Belgium, Belgium is the best!

John: Er, how’s that?
Ed: They want to know if you’re being sarcastic.
John: No, no. I’m not, honestly. I’m not. I genuinely really like the place, I-I-

I really cannot tell you what a Belgium fan I am
I would sooner be in Brussels than Berlin or Amsterdam
I like my chips with mayonnaise, I love Jean-Claude Van Damme
For Belgium, Belgium, Belgium is the best!

Belgium is quite honestly the greatest land on earth
We regard all time as wasted that’s not spent on Belgian turf
We will celebrate the Belgians now for all that we are worth
For Belgium, Belgium, Belgium is the best!

Any chance to visit Belgium I regard as heaven sent
Whether Flanders or Wallonia, I am equally content
From the Rubenshuis in Antwerp to the Gravensteen in Ghent
Oh, Belgium, Belgium, Belgium is the best!

Every inch of Belgium’s as bewitching as can be
From Ardennes* in the south, right up to to Ostend on the sea
Okay, they messed up Africa, but God knows so did we
Oh, Belgium, Belgium, Belgium is the best!

Belgium could beat anyone in any kind of fight
The armies of the globe would quail before the Belgian might
The Belgians soon will rule the world and that is only right
For Belgium, Belgium, Belgium is the best!

Behold the Belgian banners and beware the Belgian hordes
They are coming to subdue us with their massive Belgian swords
We must all bow down before them, our new Belgian overlords
For Belgium, Belgium, Belgium rules the world!

I must admit I didn’t know until I heard this song
That Belgium was so war-like or their armies were so strong
And so much power in Belgian hands is surely very wrong
Belgium, Belgium, Belgium must be STOPPED!

Belgium, be afraid, for we are coming for you soon!
Your reign of fear and blood must end this very afternoon!
We’re determined to destroy you, be you Fleming or Walloon!
For Belgium, Belgium, Belgium is the worst!


Belgium, be afraid, for we are coming for you soon!
Your reign of fear and blood must end this very afternoon!
We’re determined to destroy you, be you Fleming or Walloon!
For Belgium, Belgium, Belgium is the worst!

John: Ok, Ed, are they happy now?
Ed: Yeah, that’s fine.

Anouncer:  the BBC would like to profoundly apologize to the proud nation of Belgium. For the cheap insults and casual racism to which it has been subjected throughout the past half hour. It would also like to point out something perhaps not realized by nonnative English speakers, which is that it happens that the word Belgium, simply by the fact of beginning with a hard plosive B and ending with an unusual combination of J and M sounds has a superficially comic sound to the Anglophone ear. And that is the sole reason why lazy hack comedy writers, such as Mr. Finnemore, continue to reach for Belgium as a default funny country. Decades after Douglas Adams and Rowan Atkinson did it far better. Of course, if Mr. Finnemore had the courage of his convictions, he would use the opportunity to attack the true source of evil in the world, which is of course, in the official opinion of the BBC, the BBC.

Transcribed by johnfinnemoressouvenirprogramme
Transcribed by Brynhild = song: Belgium
Any mistakes, please let me know in the comments and I'll edit it!
Tags: jfsp, john finnemore, john finnemore's souvenir programme, transcript
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