...about the Two Ronnies. Now that Ronnie Barker, my old friend and dear showbiz companion for many a long year, is dead, I would like to make it clear that he was never really the funny one, you know. In fact, as I was juat saying to my producer the other day, it was me what wrote all the funny jokes and that. Not him. That Ronnie Barker, nice a chap though he was, never wrote none of them scripts, all that hilarious stuff about words being mispronounced and all the rest. That was me, that was.
Just like Ernie Wise, I was really the funny one, the talented one. That's why he won all them BAFTA's and got all that acclaim, while the best I could manage was the odd voice-over for adverts about British f***ing Gas.
Back in 1972, Ronnie said to me: "I've had this idea for a new show. What we do is I write loads of clever stuff that will make people piss themselves, and all you have to do is sit in some f***ing chair for ten minutes and tell some pooty story, usually about golf, that no cunt will be remotely interested in."
And the rest is history.
But at least I'm still alive, eh? How do you like them apples, Barker. You fat dead cunt. Go on...f***ing rot. You're six foot under while I've got Axa Insurance on the line wanting me to do a ten-second silly voice for another of their daft f***ing adverts. Then I'm off to play golf with Bruce Tarbuck and Jimmy Forsyth. Up yours, you deceased twat.
