Series 81 - Episode 3

We present I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue, the antidote to panel games.

At the piano is Colin Sell and your chairman is Jack Dean.

Hello and welcome welcome to I'm sorry I haven't a clue.

You join us today on a visit to the Lancashire town of Blackburn.

Known throughout the world as the Gateway to Burnley.

Blackburn has a proud history of textile production and is famed for its Blackburn checks, a cotton of alternating blue and white squares.

These are not to be confused with Yorkshire checks, which are famously in post.

In 1958, the first motorway in Britain was built in Lancashire.

Built by the famous motorway pioneer James Drake, it famously bypassed Preston, which I think we can all agree is still an excellent idea.

Comedian Lee Mack was brought up in Blackburn and has credited the town as being an inspiration for him.

As the son of a publican, Lee would have been familiar with the town's many bars, restaurants, and nightclubs, whose influence can be seen in the title of his best-known work, Not Going Out.

Each July, Blackburn is home to the National Festival of Making.

It's run in conjunction with the National Festival of Irony.

If visitors today are interested to see how cotton is processed, woven and made into garments that are sold around the world, then Blackburn will not disappoint.

Simply visit the town's travel agent and book a flight to Bangladesh.

And on the subject of shoddy cut price material, let's meet the teams.

On my right, please welcome Vicki Pepperdine and Tony Hawkes.

And on my left, Marcus Brigstock and Henning Bain.

And taking her place at the desk next to me to enjoy an evening of scoring, please welcome the ever-delightful Samantha.

Well, we begin this week with a round called Change a Letter, Ruin a Song.

As summer approaches, music fans will be attending festivals across the country.

Yet for the organisers, planning their headline act is fraught with difficulty.

Even back in the 1970s, picking the right headliner could mean the the difference between success and disaster.

For example, at a festival in Woollocombe in Devon, featuring Paul Weller and Eric Clapton, Paul insisted that Eric's band should headline instead of his and to great acclaim.

And yet the next week in Cornwall, when Cream went on first, followed by the jam, the crowd rioted.

Anyway, teams, in this round, I'd like you to suggest song titles ruined by the change of just a single letter.

You could start this, please, Marcus.

I shat the sheriff.

Vicky.

R-E-S-P-E-L-T.

I'm every Vulgan.

Tony.

It started with a piss.

Almost like being in Gove.

killing me softly with his dong

Viva las vegan

A day in the wife

Blame it on the booby

last night a BJ saved my life

Don't let the nun go down on me.

Well, it's time now for a musical round as I ask the teams to sing one song to the tune of another.

Exactly, you'd have to spent years in the comedy wilderness not to know how this works.

So teams, this is how it works.

Try to imagine a song as being like your local fishmongers.

The shop itself represents the tune, while the fish it sells are its lyrics.

However, while the shop or tune stays the same, the fish or lyrics are often substituted from, say, mackerel to a nice lemon sole, depending on the day's catch.

Of course, it can't be the nicest place to work.

Imagine the glazed eyes, the icy, cold, numb fingers, and the scales all over the place.

Which reminds me at the piano Colin Sound.

Incidentally, during rehearsals, I was listening to Colin, and I have to say, he reminded me of Prince.

He's my neighbor's Alsatian, and he can't play the piano either.

Okay,

start with you, please, Vicky Pepperdine.

I'd like you to sing the words of the message by Grandmaster Flash to the tune of Dream a Little Dream by the Mamas and the Puppas.

It's like a jungle sometimes.

It makes me wonder how I keep from going under.

Broken glass everywhere, people pissing.

On the stairs, you know they don't care.

Can't take the smell, can't take the noise.

Got no money to move out, I guess I.

Got no choice.

Rats in the front, a rumor roaches in the back

Junkies in the alley with a baseball bat

I tried to get away

But I couldn't get far cause a man

With a tow truck repossessed my car

Don't push me cause I'm close to

the edge.

I'm trying not to lose my head.

It's like a jungle, sometimes it makes me wonder how I keep from going under.

You now, Henning Vane, I'd like you to sing the words of Light My Fire by the Doors to the tune of the German Christmas song O Tannenbaum,

which I understand is the only tune you know.

You know that it would be untrue.

You know that I would be a liar.

If I was to say to you, Girl, we couldn't get much higher.

Come on, baby, light my fire.

No, come on.

hang on

i i have to apologize for calling on that one he jumped

it's his first date don't be too harsh on him

come on baby light my fire

come on baby light my fire try to set the night on fire

The time to hesitate is

blue and glanced as glues

Well, it was remarkable to watch you working like that, Henning.

Okay, your turn now, Marcus Brigstock.

I'd like you to sing the words of Chip.

It's all irrelevant now, Jack, isn't it?

Just try your best, Marcus.

Thank you.

So, Sir Marcus, I'd like you to sing the words of chippy tea by local band the Lancashire Hot Pots.

Yeah, to the tune of The Power of Love by Jennifer Rush.

Well, it's the end of the working week,

and I'm rushing back home quick.

I'm starving, I'm fat, lent, I I know

I could eat a butter break

I need stodgy food

without the force then

wife

gives me a plate of goose goose

I said I'm sorry love

but I want sir chippy tea

chippy tea chippy tea

I want such a chippy tea

But you keep giving me bosh Nosh

and it don't agree with me

I don't want loves the thermidor

or your raspberry coolie

I'm a working man from Lancashire

and I want such a chippy team

Well you did your best Marcus but you know

not easy following Henning

And finally Tony Hawkes I'd like you to sing the words of the pheasant plucker song

to the tune of Sometimes When We Touch.

I'm not a pheasant plucker.

I'm a pheasant plucker's son.

I'm only plucking pheasants till the pheasant plucker comes.

My husband is a keeper.

He's a very busy man.

I try to understand him

and help him all I can.

But sometimes on an evening,

I feel a little trim.

All alone, I'm plucking pheasants

when I'd rather pluck with him.

I'm not a pheasant plucker.

I'm a pheasant plucker's mate.

I'm only plucking pheasants cause they're pheasant pluckers late.

This next round is called Word for Word, and it's all about words.

A study carried out by the University of Lancaster has revealed that Blackburn is one of the last places left in England with a proper northern accent.

They say a genuine northern accent involves the rhotic R, which is the hard pronunciation of the letter R at the end of a word.

So instead of mother, they say mother,

instead of weather, they say weather, and instead of place where we actually make stuff, they say chiner.

So

in round, each team takes it in turn to exchange a series of words while the opposing team should challenge if they detect a connection between one of these words.

Okay, I'd like you to start exchanging completely unconnected words, Marcus and Henning.

Tony and Vicky, it's your job to try to spot a connection.

If I uphold the challenge, I'll ask you to take over, and so on.

So off you go, please.

Marcus and Henning.

Preparation.

Barge.

Diligence.

Horizontal.

Excellence.

Doubt.

Horizontal excellent.

Well, I think we'll agree that we're all at our best when we're horizontal.

You know, we're excellent when we're horizontal.

That's when we're at our best.

Well, I'll give you that then, yes.

There was a connection.

Including people who've died.

I could name a few, yeah.

There's some more singing to come, ladies and gentlemen.

Tony and Vicky, it's over to you.

Eggplant.

Paranoid.

Rose.

Knock.

Roadworks.

Greek.

Glove.

Roadworks and Greek?

Yeah, I mean, I've been to Greece and they're tremendously efficient people.

Whenever they set about doing any roadworks, they're done in lightning speed and they're famed for it.

Okay, well, I will allow that.

I mean, you know.

I mean, Henning would attest, you're German, you pay for it all.

They do it very quickly.

So, yes, it's over to you, Marcus and Henning.

Gamble.

Damage.

Vicky has come in.

Yeah, I think if you gamble, it does a lot of damage to your bank balance.

Yes.

Only if you gamble wrong.

Yeah, but if you do gamble, it can do.

There's a clear connection there, I think.

But they always say gamble responsibly, and most people listen to that, don't they?

They do.

Like, when it stops being fun, stop.

Yeah.

Stop.

Which is advice you could give to anything, basically.

Literally.

But yeah,

I'm going to give gambling and damage.

I think that

sends a good message as well.

So thank you, Vicki.

A great pleasure.

Over to you, Vicky and Tony.

Standardise.

Tart.

Resembling.

Golf.

Mud.

Golf and mud, were you picking up on, Henning?

Yeah, if you play in the winter and you play golf, there's definitely lots of mud going around.

Yes, yes, that's true.

It's a good challenge, and it just goes to show what an exhilarating game this is.

Over to you, Henning and Marcus.

Mildew.

Oh!

And that gong is the signal that tells us it's time to turn your radio back up.

When the fun stops, it's stop.

Well, the next round is called specialist greeting cards.

If we think back to our youth, I'm sure we can all remember that awkward moment on opening a birthday card when you feel you have to read what's written inside after the crisp five-pound note has tumbled out into your lap.

To be honest, I don't think I'd have bothered if I hadn't been guilt-tripped into it by the other people in the sorting office.

There's definitely a gap in the UK greetings card market team, so I'd like you please to suggest niche greetings cards for a specific occasion not currently catered for by greetings cards manufacturers, together with the rhymes or messages inside.

Marcus, you can start this.

This is a sympathy card after a multiple bereavement.

To lose your mum and dad like that, it really is too sad.

Your wife is gone as well, I know.

It seems somehow just mad to lose your brother sister too it makes you want to weep blackburn have admitted though these potholes are too deep

congratulations on your best-selling political memoirs

your book is out and doing well it's sat at number two Good to know that we should blame the deep state and not you.

Here's the book that beat you and I really hope you get this.

It's called My Shelf Lives 50 Days by your nemesis, The Lettuce.

Henning,

I've got congratulations on having a British baby.

So, you've given birth in the good old UK.

I'm sure that you'll have no regrets.

You should probably start looking for a school place today and buy it some cigarettes.

Tony.

On the occasion of a young person using their grands disabled badge.

So you've borrowed a disabled badge.

You really are the dregs.

Now let me help you earn it by breaking both your legs.

This one's congratulations on hosting your first orgy.

The pizzas came from Woking, the girls looked young and tarty.

The chaps took all their trousers off for a straightforward shooting party.

This is a congratulations card.

I know you've waited 15 days and we're beginning to suspect this moment wouldn't ever come.

Hello, NHS Direct.

Congratulations on paying for official software.

Happy official software day.

You're grown up now.

Never again will you download stuff from Pirate Bay connected via VPN.

Yeah, that's the end.

On being the first German on I'm sorry I haven't a clue.

It's great to have you, Henning, moving in our comic circle, but you're only here because we couldn't get our first choice, Angela Merkel.

The next game is a musical one entitled Songstoppers.

Musical freedom is a gift we all too often take for granted in this country.

In some parts of the world, many types of music are completely banned.

For example, in Afghanistan, following the country's takeover by the Taliban, every musician playing Western songs was expelled, with the sole exception of one lucky 1970s tribute band, Jihadiwadi.

In this round panelists from each team will take it in turn to sing the opening lines to a series of well-known songs.

It's the job of their teammate to answer each opening line in a manner likely to end the song altogether.

At the piano we have Colin Sell.

Incidentally, Colin was telling us that during the 70s he toured with the skids.

That's what comes from living off service station pies.

Well, you can go first, please.

Marcus and Henning, can we have your medley of first lines now, please?

Well, let's hope Colin can play this one.

Oh, baby, do you know what that's worth?

Well, it has a crack.

You've lost the lid, and it's meant to be one of a pair, so I'd say about 30 quid to a collector.

Well, bless my soul, what's wrong with me?

I'm inch like a man on a fuzzy tree.

It's Skybeys.

Hallelujah, come on, get happy.

Get ready for the judgment day.

The component is surrounded.

Do not drink the cornet.

Just a small town girl

living in a lonely world.

She took the midnight drink going anywhere.

Unfortunately, it was Blackpool.

Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air.

Are you a French soldier?

Okay.

Your turn now, Tony and Vicki.

Can we have your first line medley now, please?

All men come in these places,

and the men all look the same.

You don't look at their faces

and you don't ask their names.

I see, and how long have you worked in Gregg's

people try to put us down?

Well, you signed us up for dignitas.

Clang, clang, clang went the trolley.

Ding, ding, ding went the bell.

Yes, that's one of our older ambulances.

The first time

ever I saw your face,

I thought the sun

rose

in your eyes.

To be fair, you were quite pissed though, weren't you?

Pardon me, boy.

Is that the Chattanooga Choo-Choo?

No, it's the Chattanooga Bus Replacement Service.

I feel the earth move under my feet.

Yes, but think of all the gas we'll have once we frack the hell out of Lancashire.

You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips.

That's because I need to check if you're dribbling.

When I was young, I'd listen to the radio.

And who would have thought, I'm sorry, I haven't a clue would still be on now?

And they called it puppy love.

No, you did.

They called it bestiality.

Well, it's very nearly the end of the show.

But there is just time to fit in a quick round of Northwest Film Club.

Animal trainer Samantha loves a traditional northern dog and is teaching her current pet to respond to her whistle.

When a gentleman dog walker friend popped around the other day and let her whip it out in the park for some vigorous exercise, Samantha was gratified to see how quickly the little fellow came after just one blow.

Really?

Was that worth the stamp, Pruleaf?

Was it?

Well, in this round, teams, I'd like you please to suggest the titles of films likely to be appreciated by those living in the northwest of England.

And you can start this, please, Henning.

Dus Bolton.

Tony.

Reservoir clogs.

Vicky.

Paint your wiggin.

Marcus.

Some like it hot pot.

Dial M6 for murder.

Pie hard.

The Whippets of Eastwick.

Pennine and a half weeks.

Surely in the chocolate factory.

Bootle juice.

A bamber bridge to far

Raiders of the Lost Arkwright.

Captain Corelli's Ma'am's Not In.

And so, ladies and gentlemen, as the intolerable turkey twizzlers of time are cremated by the fickled air fryer of fate, which is promptly confined to this spare room of regret alongside the purposeless Peloton of posterity, I notice it's the end of the show.

So, from the team, Samantha, myself, and our audience here in Blackburn, it's goodbye.

Goodbye.

Marcus Brigstock, Tony Hook, Spicky Pepperdime, and Henry Vane were being given silly things to do by Jack Dean with Common Cell, setting some of them to music.

The programme consultants were Fraser Steele and Stephen Dick.

The producer was John Maisman.