(Cut to profile of Raymond Luxury Yacht from next sketch who has an enormous false polystyrene nose. Superimposed arrow pointing at nose.)
Voice Over: Number nineteen. The nose.
(A man sitting behind a desk in a Harley Street consulting room. Close-up of the name plate on desk in front of him. Although the camera does not reveal this for a moment, this name plate, about two inches high, continues all along the desk, off the side of it at the same height and halfway round the room. We start to track along this name plate on which is written: 'Professor Sir Adrian Furrows F.R.S. F.R.C.S. F.R.C.P. M.D.M.S. (Oxon), Mall Ph.D., M. Se. (Cantab), Ph.D. (Syd), ER.G.S., F.R.C.O.G., F. FM.R.C.S., M.S. (Birm), M.S. (Liv), M.S. (Guadalahara), M.S. (Karach), M.S. (Edin), B.A. (Chic), B. Litt. (Phil), D. Litt (Phil), D. Litt (Arthur and Lucy), D. Litt (Ottawa), D. Litt (All other places in Canada except Medicine Hat, B. Sc. 9 Brussels, Liege, Antwerp, Asse, (and Grower) '. There is a knock on the door.)
Specialist: Come in.
(The door opens and Raymond Luxury Yacht enters. He cannot walk straight to the desk as his passage is barred by the strip of wood carrying the degrees, but he discovers the special hinged part of it that opens like a door. Mr Luxury Yacht has his enormous polystyrene nose. It is a foot long.)
Specialist: Ah! Mr Luxury Yacht. Do sit down, please.
Mr Luxury Yacht: Ah, no, no. My name is spelt 'Luxury Yacht' but it's pronounced 'Throatwobbler Mangrove'.
Specialist: Well, do sit down then Mr Throatwobbler Mangrove.
Mr Luxury Yacht: Thank you.
Specialist: Now, what seems to be the trouble?
Mr Luxury Yacht: Um, I'd like you to perform some plastic surgery on me.
Specialist: I see. And which particular feature of your anatomy is causing you distress?
Mr Luxury Yacht: Well, well for a long time now, in fact, even when I was a child ... I ... you know, whenever I left home to ... catch a bus, or... to catch a train... and even my tennis has suffered actually...
Specialist: Yes. To be absolutely blunt you're worried about your enormous hooter.
Mr Luxury Yacht: No!
Mr Luxury Yacht: Yes.
Specialist: Yes, and you want me to hack a bit off.
Mr Luxury Yacht: Please.
Specialist: Fine. It is a startler, isn't it? Er, do you mind if I... er.
Mr Luxury Yacht: What?
Specialist: Oh, no nothing, then, well, I'll just examine your nose. (he does so; as he examines it the nose comes off in his hand) Mr Luxury Yacht, this nose of yours is false. It's made of polystyrene and your own hooter's a beaut. No pruning necessary.
Mr Luxury Yacht: I'd still like the operation.
Specialist: Well, you've had the operation, you strange person.
Mr Luxury Yacht: Please do an operation.
Specialist: Well, all right, all right, but only ... if you come on a camping holiday with me.
Mr Luxury Yacht: He asked me! He asked me!
(Cut to lyrical film of Luxury Yacht and specialist, frolicking in countryside in slow motion.)
Continue to the next sketch... Camp Square-Bashing