New Brain from Curry's

(Two pepperpots are watching the television. They are both called Mrs Zambesi.)

First Zambesi (Graham): What's on the other side?

(The second Mrs Zambesi gets up and switches channels.)

Dickie Attenborough (Eric): (unseen, on the television) Nobody could be prouder than...

Second Zambesi (Terry Jones): Ugh! (she switches the set off)

First Zambesi: Um, shall we go down and give blood?

Second Zambesi: Oh, I don't want a great bat flapping round my neck.

First Zambesi: They don't do it like that! They take it from your arm!

Second Zambesi: I can't give it. I caught swamp fever in the Tropics.

First Zambesi: You've never even been to the Tropics. You've never been south of Sidcup.

Second Zambesi: You can catch it off lampposts.

First Zambesi: Catch what?

Second Zambesi: I don't know, I'm all confused.

First Zambesi: You ought to go and see a psychiatrist. You're a loony. You might even need a new brain.

Second Zambesi: Oh, I couldn't afford a whole new brain.

First Zambesi: Well, you could get one of those Curry's brains.

Second Zambesi: How much are they?

First Zambesi: (picking up a catalogue) I don't know. I'll have a look in the catalogue. Here we are. (she thumbs through it) Battery lights, dynamo lights, rear lights, brains -- here we are...

Second Zambesi: I'm still confused.

First Zambesi: Oh, there's a nice one here, thirteen-and-six, it's one of Curry's own brains.

CAPTION: Old sketch written before decimalisation

Second Zambesi: That one looks nice, what's that?

First Zambesi: That's a mudguard!

Second Zambesi: It's only eight bob.

First Zambesi: Aw, I think it's worth the extra five bob for the brain. I'll give them a ring. (she goes to the phone and dials one number) Hello, Curry's? I'd like to try one of your thirteen-and-sixpenny brains please. Yes... yes... yes, ye... um... (looks at her shoe) five-and-a-half... yes... thank you. (replaces phone) They're sending someone round. (there is a knock at the door)

Second Zambesi: Oh, that was quick. Come in.

(A man puts his head round the door. He is wearing a hat with a label attached, and speaks in a nasal voice.)

Man (John Cleese): Er, hello Mr and Mrs and Mrs Zambesi?

First Zambesi: Yes, that's right. Are you the man from Curry's?

Man: No, I've just come to say that he's on his way. Would you sign this please.

(He hands a bare leg severed from the knee downwards round the door.)

First Zambesi: Oh, certainly. (she goes across to the man)

Man: Thank you very much.

First Zambesi: (she takes the pen from him but drops it) Ooh! (she picks it up and signs the leg)

Man: Thank you. Sorry to bother you.

First Zambesi: Thank you.

Man: Thank you.

First Zambesi: Thank you.

(The man goes. A knock at the door and he reappears.)

Man: Um, he's just coming now.

First Zambesi: Thank you.

(Another knock at the door)

Second Zambesi: Come in!

Man: Here he is.

(The door opens and a dummy salesman is flung in, carrying a briefcase. He flops down on to the floor. The door shuts. The two pepperpots lean over and look at him for some time.)

First Zambesi: Hello ... hello ...

Second Zambesi: (picking up the dummy) That's not a proper salesman. (she throws it down) I'm not buying one from him, he doesn't give you confidence.

First Zambesi: He doesn't give me any confidence at all -- he's obviously a dummy. I'll ring Curry's. (she just picks up the phone without dialing this time) Hello, Curry's -- that salesman you sent round is obviously a dummy... Oh, thank you very much. (she puts the phone down) They're sending round a real one. (a knock on the door)

Second Zambesi: Come in.

Salesman (Michael Palin): Good morning -- Mr and Mrs and Mrs Zambesi?

Second Zambesi: Yes, that's right.

First Zambesi: Yes, that's right ... (out of the side of the mouth in a man's voice) Yes that's right.

Salesman: (to dummy) All right, Rutherford, I'll take over.

(He opens a box and produces a device about the size of a small teapot with various gadgets and wires on it.)

Second Zambesi: Oh, that's nice.

Salesman: Yes, we sell a lot of these. Right, shall we try a fitting?

Second Zambesi: Oh, do I have to have an operation?

(He starts to put it on her head.)

Salesman: No, madam, you just strap it on.

Second Zambesi: Doesn't it go inside my head?

Salesman: Not the Roadster, madam, no. You're thinking of the Brainette Major.

Second Zambesi: How much is that?

Salesman: Forty-four-and-six.

(CAPTION: 44/6d = £2.22½p)

Second Zambesi: Oh no, it's not worth it.

Salesman: Not with the Curry's surgery we use, no, madam. (he gets out some tools) Now then. The best bet is the Bertrand Russell Super Silver. That's a real beauty -- 250 quid plus hospital treatment.

First Zambesi: Oooh, that's a lot.

Salesman: It's colour. Right. (he begins to twiddle a few knobs; lights flash on occasionally as he does this) One, two, three, testing, testing.

Second Zambesi: Mince pie for me, please.

First Zambesi: What did she say that for?

Salesman: Quiet please. It's not adjusted yet. (he makes more adjustments)

Second Zambesi: Oh, I am enjoying this rickshaw ride. I've been a Tory all my life, my life, my life. Good morning Mr Presley. How well you look, you look very well ... our cruising speed is 610 miles per hour ... well well well porridge ... well well well, well, hello hello dear ... hello dear!

Salesman: Right, one, two, three ... (the salesman adjusts a switch)

Second Zambesi: ... eight, seven, (he adjusts another switch) four.

First Zambesi: Oh, she never knew that before.

Salesman: Quiet please. Mrs Zambesi, who wrote the theory of relativity?

First Zambesi: I know! I know.

Salesman: Quiet, please! (he adjusts a tuning control)

Second Zambesi: Einstane ... Einstone ... Einsteen ... Einston ... Einstin ... Einsten ... Einstein.

Salesman: Good.

Second Zambesi: Noël Einstein.

Salesman: Right. That'll be 13/6d please.

First Zambesi: (paying him with invisible money) That's marvelous.

Salesman: She can take it off at night, unless she wants to read, of course. And don't ask her too many questions because it will get hot. If you do have any trouble here is my card. (he reaches in his case and hands her the dismembered part of an arm) Give us a ring -- give us a ring, and either myself, or Mr Rutherford, (he picks up the dummy) Good Bye.

Continue to the next sketch... The Blood Donor