Any second now he's gonna do the imaginary tits.

There they are. THEY CHUCKLE

Thank you.

Look at him.

Moments like this make you realise why Elvis shot so many TVs.

This programme contains very strong language

They're quiet bat people. Is she sniffing these pens at night?

What's going on inside her abandoned barn of a brain?

Tickle wasn't the Queen of people's hearts, he was a twat in a tent.

Tickle! We drove a man to his death! We are responsible for this!

Does this look like a bat? No. I should challenge her? Not necessary.

She's going to kick her own head in.

Which will be easy for her because she does yoga.

Sam, Hi, listen, can you do me a favour?

Buy some flowers for Nicola fucking Murray.

Yeah, have them delivered to her home this evening with a card

that says "sorry you had to go, but let's face it,

"you are a fucking waste of skin."

"Waste of skin," yeah.

Yeah, Doug, get the cattle gun ready.

I'm afraid it's gonna be painful, yeah.

But you know me, I'm always on the look out

for new sources of powerful opiates.

Morning, I'm looking for Mr Oliver Reeder.

He looks a bit like a Quentin Blake illustration.

Just down the corridor on the right.

Very good, Bill, very good.

You weren't funny in London, you're not funny in Salford.

Oh, do I have to do the..? Yes, please. Matron knows best, eh?

I do. I've got a friend who drinks this stuff.

Give him that, and a bag of macadamias

and he's made for the night.

Hiya, Mum. Yeah, a bit sore.

Here she is. Britain's latest post-op transsexual.

Do they actually manage to graft one on?