‘Wereyou hurt,Ern? Thatmagic roundabout wasatfull peltwhen youfelloff’
ALL THIS week we’ve been celebrating the 25th anniversary of Weekend magazine with our series of side-splitting classic TV comedy moments. In our final pullout, Morecambe & Wise take centre stage. When Eddie Braben took over writing duties for the duo, he was determined to develop Ernie’s role more. In Eddie’s hands, he became pompous, dim-witted and deluded enough to believe himself a great playwright. The Play What I Wrote became their shows’ highlight and stars from Glenda Jackson to Frank Finlay would clamour for roles.
THE show opens and Ernie begins an introduction. Eric interrupts. He calls for the curtains to be closed and pulls a chair from behind them. He seats Ernie, reaches behind the curtain again and brings out a large silver trophy. Ernie looks surprised and expectant.
ERNIE: This is a complete surprise to me, I don’t know what to say. ERIC: Ernest Oliver Toby Wise . . .
ERNIE: Is it This Is Your Life? ERIC: No, it’s better than This Is Your Life. Over the years . . . incidentally, anything is better than This Is Your Life. Over the years Ern, you have given a lot of pleasure to a lot of people. But the least said about that the better. I have been asked by the Guild Of Television Producers, founded in 1546, if I’ll come along here tonight and make this presentation to you for your outstanding contribution to the world of entertainment. Ernie rises and begins a tap dance. ERIC: Not for that rubbish. You were born, Ern . . . you were born, weren’t you? ERNIE: Yes. ERIC: You were born with a gift that is given to very few men. Very few men, ladies and gentlemen, can put their legs at the back of their neck and whistle a selection from Gilbert and Sullivan. I have seen this boy do it — haven’t I? ERNIE: You have. ERIC: And when he’s done it he’s frightened the life out of the dog, haven’t you? ERNIE: Yes. ERIC: However, that apart, it is ERIC: as an entertainer that we all know, love and respect you. ERNIE: I do my best. ERIC: There’s no need to apologise. Few people, ladies and gentlemen, apart from myself, know that Ern did not ERNIE: have to enter the world of showbusiness, because he came from a very — you don’t mind me ERIC: saying this, do you? ERNIE: What are you going to ERNIE: tell them?
That you come from a very wealthy family. You see, it broke his father’s heart when Ernie told him he was going to go on the stage and wouldn’t be able to take over from him the general managership of the multi-storey knacker’s yard. That’s true, isn’t it?
Oh yes, yes. We have branches all over the Continent.
It’s well known. Interknacker, isn’t it?
Yes. But what about the award?
ERIC: I’m coming to that. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?
ERNIE: It’s the finest I’ve ever seen.
ERIC: Over the years, Ern, your work has been of the very highest order. You have set a standard few men can compete with. ERNIE: Well, one has a job to do. ERIC: ‘One has a job to do!’ Typical of the man. And you have done your job despite setbacks that would have lesser men crying ‘Enough!’ I’m talking about your accident.
ERNIE: It was nothing. ERIC: ‘It was nothing!’ he says. It could have proved fatal. That magic roundabout was going full pelt when you fell off. Why are you so modest?
ERNIE: You didn’t have to bring that up. What about the award?
ERIC: I’m coming to that. Nobody knows, Ern, your worth, better than me. Many times we have been working together and something has gone wrong, but you saved the day. Quick as a flash, without thinking, you collapsed.
ERNIE: I’d rather not talk about that. ERIC: I don’t blame you. ERNIE: What about the award? ERIC: I’m coming to it, son. At the age of 18 you proved yourself in the field, but she promised never to tell her mother. And that is what you get the award for. The moment we’ve all been waiting for . . . I feel a lump in my throat right now. ERNIE: Gosh! ERIC: Ernest Burkinshaw Paddy Wise, on behalf of just about every television viewer in the country it gives me the very greatest personal pleasure to be able to present you with this luncheon voucher. Eric takes a piece of paper out of the trophy. ERIC: Now whatever you do, don’t eat that all now, save it till you get home. And save a piece for me. ERNIE: But . . . luncheon voucher? What about the cup? ERIC: I won that. ERNIE: You won it? What for? ERIC: Telling lies.
n EDDIE BRABEN’S Morecambe & Wise Book by Eric Morecambe, Ernie Wise and Eddie Braben (Ebury Press, £12.99).