Mrs. Niggerbaiter Explodes
(Pull out to reveal that the 'Blue Peter' set is in one corner of a stockbroker-belt sitting room. Two ladies are sitting by the fire looking at a photo album.)
Mrs Nigger-Baiter: (Michael Palin) Oh, yes, he's such a clever little boy, just like his father.
Mrs Shazam: (Terry Jones) D'you think so, Mrs Nigger-Baiter?
Mrs Nigger-Baiter: Oh yes, spitting image.
(The door opens. The son comes in.)
Son: (John Cleese) Good afternoon, mother. Good afternoon, Mrs Nigger-Baiter.
Mrs Nigger-Baiter: Ooh, he's walking already!
Mrs Shazam: Yes, he's such a clever little boy, aren't you? Coochy coochy coo.
Mrs Nigger-Baiter: Hello, coochy coo.
Mrs Shazam: Hello, hello... (they chuck him under the chin)
Mrs Nigger-Baiter: Oochy coochy. (the son smiles a little tight smile) Look at him laughing... ooh, he's a chirpy little fellow. Isn't he a chirpy little fellow, eh? eh? Does he talk? Does he talk, eh?
Son: Of course I can talk, I'm Minister for Overseas Development.
Mrs Nigger-Baiter: Ooh, he's a clever little boy - he's a clever little boy. (gets out a rattle) Do you like your rattle, eh? Do you like your rattle? Look at his little eyes following it, eh? Look at his iggy piggy piggy little eyeballs eh... oo... he's got a tubby tum-tum. Oh, he's got a tubby tum-tum.
Son: (whilst Mrs Nigger-Baiter is talking) Mother, could I have a quick cup of tea please. I have an important statement on Rhodesia to make in the Commons at six.
(Sound of an explosion out of vision. Cut to reveal Mrs Nigger-Baiter's chair charred and smoking. Mrs Nigger-Baiter is no longer there. The upholstery is smouldering gently.)
Mrs Shazam: Oh, Mrs Nigger-Baiter's exploded.
Son: Good thing, too.
Mrs Shazam: She was my best friend.
Son: Oh, mother, don't be so sentimental. Things explode every day.
Mrs Shazam: Yes, I suppose so. Anyway, I didn't really like her that much.
(The doorbell rings. Mrs Shazam goes to the door. A vicar with a suitcase.)
Continue to the next sketch... Vicar / Salesman