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Series 2, Episode 1

Transcript by: Sarah Falk

TRANSCRIPT

Stephen
Hello, hello, hello, hello, hello. A very good evening to you, and welcome to QI. This is the show where everything is as bright as a new pin, and we avoid clichés like the plague. You won't hear me saying that our four players are "champing at the bit" and "raring to go", not in a month of Sundays. So without further adieu, let's meet and greet Bill Bailey . . . Sean Lock . . . Jo Brand . . . and Alan Davies.

Now, tonight, although this is series "B", we're talking about "colour", so all of our buzzers are "blue". Bill goes:

Bill
[presses buzzer, which plays the sound of a harmonica being blown]

Stephen
Sean goes:

Sean
[presses buzzer, which plays the sound of a melancholy guitar twang]

Stephen
Jo goes:

Jo
[presses buzzer, which plays the sound of a woman singing soulfully]

Stephen
And Alan goes:

Alan
[presses buzzer, which plays the sound of a woman having an orgasm]

Stephen
Ah.

Alan
That's a genuine recording.

Stephen
You said that without moving your legs!

Erm, right. Now. [spreads arms to panellists] Sweeties . . . You all have sweeties, and to help you get into a primary mood, a range of bright colours. And here's a nice Mediterranean one to get you started with: What colour was the sky in Ancient Greece?

Viewscreens: Picture of ancient Greek columns against a backdrop of a blue sky.

Jo
[presses buzzer, which sings soulfully]

Stephen
Jo.

Jo
Blue, if that picture's any good.

Forfeit: Klaxons sound. Viewscreens flash the word "BLUE".

Stephen
Oh, no! It wasn't, I'm afraid, blue. Erm, I should have, er--[laughs slightly]
--I should have told you that it was ancient Greece . . . and I did.

Jo
Yeah, you did.

Stephen
Yeah. And
 . . . and they didn't . . . they didn't take photographs in ancient Greece, so that might have been a hint that the photograph was of modern Greece.

Jo
Oh, well, I know, but you know . . . 

Stephen
Yes. No, no, you fell into our beautifully
--

Sean
It could be a very good carving. It could be!

Stephen
Yeah, yeah, I suppose. Erm . . . 

Bill
Could it perhaps have been darker blue, 'cause it's sort of faded a little bit over time . . . ?

Stephen
Well, it's a photograph
--

Alan
What we call blue, they called something else.

Stephen
Well, no, the ancient Greeks don't call
 . . . didn't call anything "blue".

Alan
They didn't look up ever.

Stephen
No, they didn't call anything "blue".

Alan
They didn't have colours?

Bill
No word for "blue".

Stephen
They had colours, but they didn't have a word for "blue".
[points to Bill] That's right.

Bill
Ahhh.

Alan
No word for "blue"? What did they say? [gestures upward with hand] "The sky."

Stephen
Bronze.

Alan
Bronze?

Stephen
Yes, they called it "the bronze". Homer called it "bronze-coloured".

Alan
I've got no time for these Greeks.

Viewscreens: The picture of the columns becomes tinted bronze.

Stephen
And yet without them, you wouldn't be here.

Alan
Oh, that's so rubbish! [hitting desk with palm of hand] You say this every week!

Stephen
Because it's true! Because without logic, mathematics . . . 

Alan
What do you mean we wouldn't be here?

Stephen
 . . . harmony, democracy, justice . . . 

Alan
That's got nothing to do with the people shagging for decades, ending up with me . . . 

Stephen
There wouldn't be
 . . . there wouldn't be television. And without television, you are nothing. I know that better than anybody.

Sean
There wouldn't be a word for "television". A Greek word.

Stephen
Well, no, funny enough, television is a
 . . . is a word that offends a lot of classicists, because it's both Latin and Greek. It's a . . . it's a . . . it's a hybrid word.

Sean
Awww. They're so touchy, aren't they, those classicists.

Stephen
They are, you see . . . They call it a
 . . . a chimeric word, because it's . . . The "tele" is Greek and the "vision" is . . . is Latin.

Sean
But if there was no Greek, like, the Saxon word for "television" would be something like
--

Stephen
Well, it would be
--

Sean
--er, "boxylight".

Stephen
Well, we know what they are, because the German. It would be Fernseher.

Sean
Oh, yeah. [rapidly slaps his cheek several times] Wake up, Sean!

Alan
They've got blue in their flag! What do they call their flag? "Bronze and white"?

Stephen
That's the modern Greeks.

Alan
Oh, the modern Greeks. We don't like them!

Stephen
It
's not that blue . . . it's not that blue didn't exist. They didn't have a word for it.

Alan
I would be here without the ancient Greeks.

Stephen
I wonder how many Welsh words there are for colours, Alan Davies, when we start on this; I wonder . . . 

Alan
Unfortunately . . . unfortunately, because of you English people destroying our natural culture and heritage, I don't know our own language!

Stephen
Oh, yes, I must apologise for
--

Alan
Cruel imperial invader! My great-grandfather was forced to flee Cardiff and set up a restaurant in the East End.

Stephen
Do you want to know something very interesting, Alan? There is no Welsh word for "blue".

Alan
Oh . . . well . . . I'm sure there is . . . 

Stephen
There isn't.

Bill
There is.

Stephen
There is no word
--[breaks off to look at Bill].

Alan
[points to Bill]

Bill
You just can't say it!

So when
 . . . when did they hand over? When did "ancient" Greece hand over to "modern" Greece?

Stephen
Well, that's
--

Bill
They just can't say, "There you go! Go on!"

Alan
The first thing they do: "The sky is blue!" [points upwards]

Bill
[pointing upwards] Oh, there you go!

Stephen
Well, that's a very interesting question. They used to believe
 . . . some Darwinians believe that the Greeks genuinely . . . er, that's to say, Greeks as ancient as Homer, who was a very, very long time before even, erm, Sophocles and Socrates, the ancient Greeks that you and I talk about every day--

Alan
[makes a show of sceptically crossing his arms, looking at Stephen with raised eyebrows]

Stephen
Erm, he . . . 
er . . . They . . . they actually believed that they hadn't developed a colour sense in the eye, but it's now essentially perceived that they didn't really find any use for calling things by different colours, so much as they did as function--

Jo
[presses buzzer, which sings soulfully]

Stephen
Yes, darling. Am I boring you?

Jo
Losing the will to live.

Stephen
I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.

Bill
Can you just hit that, your buzzer, there, Al?

Alan
Huh?

Bill
Just that
--

Alan
[presses buzzer, which climaxes]

Bill
That's just a
 . . . an excerpt from a bronze movie, I think . . . 

Stephen
Very good. Very, very good. Nice one.

Bill
[mimes smoking his pipe]

Stephen
Now, in a
 . . . in a similar spirit, er, Homer regarded wine, the sea, and sheep as all being the same colour, which is red. To us, colours are so obvious that this seems peculiar, but colour is just one way of describing tones. Now, look at this picture.

Viewscreens: Picture of a rainbow.

Stephen
Er, what does a rainbow look like from the other side?

Alan
You can't see it.

Sean
Slightly different.

Bill
Yeah.

Sean
Just
 . . . slightly different. Not . . . it's not . . . It's nice! It's okay. . . . 

Bill
But it's not the same.

Sean
But it's not as
--[traces the sweeping shape of a rainbow in the air]. It's a bit, you know . . . You'd rather be on the proper side. But it's all right.

Bill
Yeah.

Stephen
It
's . . . it's a good answer.

Sean
I wouldn't bother going 'round to look at it from the other side.

Stephen
No.

Sean
I just go, "No, it's better this side!"

Stephen
It's a long journey.

Alan
It's hard to really concentrate on it because there are people going, "Come around; look at it from this side!"

Stephen
But your first answer was correct, for which you will get some points.

Alan
[attempting to demonstrate with hands] You can only see it
 . . . from--

Bill
From the side that you're on.

Alan
--from the . . . Yeah. Otherwise, you wouldn't know it's there. [narrows eyes and raises index finger knowingly]

Stephen
No, there is a very particular way
--

Alan
It's to do with where the rain is and where you are.

Stephen
And where the sun is.

Alan
Where the sun is, and the rain, and where you are.

Stephen
Yeah. There has to be sun. And the sun has to be behind you.

Bill
Of course.

Alan
Yeah.

Stephen
[demonstrating with hands] Because the light coming from behind your head, and going through a raindrop . . . they're bouncing off the back of a raindrop, and coming back to your eye. And it can only happen at an angle of 42-degrees, which is why it's in a
--[mimes curvature of rainbow].

Jo
[presses buzzer, which sings soulfully]
Can you tell me at what point in time human beings were actually able to sing a rainbow?

Stephen
Ah. Is there a song about singing a rainbow?

Jo and Alan
[sing together] "I can sing a rainbow! Sing a rainbow!"

Bill
There's loads of different ones, wasn
't there? [sings in a monotone] "Grey and grey and grey and grey, grey and grey and grey: I can sing a woodlouse!" You know, it's like that.

Stephen
I see. Very, very good. Very good. Very good.

In Estonia, they believe that if you point at a rainbow, your finger will fall off.

Alan
Oh, for God's sake. [hides face in hand]

Stephen
I know.

Alan
Estonians aren't stupid people, are they?

Stephen
They aren't.

Sean
They're very stumpy, though. [holds up fists sturdily]

Bill
Yeah. Yeah.

Stephen
Indigo, incidentally. What do you know about indigo?

Sean
Blue, isn't it?

Alan
Purple. It's purple.

Bill
A little of both.

Stephen
It's a funny colour. Do you remember
--

Sean
It's the colour of, erm
--

Bill
Silence.

Sean
No.

Bill
[wriggles fingers at Sean]

Stephen
Can you sing that song, incidentally?

Bill
No, I can't.

Alan
[as Stephen] "It's the colour of audacity." See, I'm doing it now; I'm talking like that. [takes out pipe] "It's the colour of audacity!"

Stephen
Oh, stop it!

It's a sort of darky, darky blue, isn't it?

Sean
No, isn't it a
 . . . a fertility thing?

Stephen
Well, it's
 . . . it's . . . it's an . . . it's an Indian plant that was used for dyeing, and--

Jo
In what
 . . . in what sense would it be "a fertility thing"?

Sean
It's a colour. Doesn't it
 . . . doesn't it come up on women's legs in circles when they're ready?

Stephen
Ah. That may be
 . . . that may be impetigo.

Sean
In bands.

Stephen
Are you thinking of
"impetigo"?

Bill
You
're thinking of, erm--

Jo
"It comes up on women
's legs"?

Bill
--garters. Garters.

Stephen
Are you thinking of "impetigo"?

Well, indigo is indigo, it's
 . . . it's . . . it's a dark blue dye used for such things as jeans and, erm, police uniforms, er . . . Er, which brings me, erm . . . Why, oh why take the piss out of Newcastle?

Sean
Haven't got any toilets. They've got no toilets, and they hold it in. They're so hard, they can hold it in 'til they go on holiday. And that's why they talk out the side of their [demonstrates] mouth, like that. "I'm coming to visit, Auntie. Can't wait!"

Stephen
Interesting theory.

Sean
Is that wrong?

Bill
Erm, is it that the
 . . . the urine is exceptionally pure? Because of the filtering process of brown ale?

Stephen
It used to be very pure.

Bill
Right.

Stephen
But now no longer, probably, is. Newcastle was a major exporter of piss
--

Bill
Ahhh.

Stephen
--in the 18th century. What does urine contain?

Alan
Ammonia.

Bill
Uric acid.

Stephen
Ammonia, good.

Alan
And some sort of infection
 . . . thing. If a jellyfish stings you, you've gotta pee on your leg.

Stephen
I'll
 . . . I'll give you a further hint, which was that I introduced the question by saying--

Alan
Anaesthetic!

Stephen
--indigo was used--

Bill
Dyeing!

Stephen
--for such things as policemen's uniforms, yes.

Bill
A dyeing agent.

Stephen
And so ammonia was used in the dyeing industry. And in North Yorkshire, they had these great quarries where they mixed the ammonia and,
er--and stones and things with woad, and, er--came out with these . . . these dyes. Newcastle's third biggest export, after coal and beer, was wee-wee.

Alan
You think you could wee into . . . Has anyone ever wee'd into their own mouth?

Bill
Yeah. Oh, it's easy.

Stephen
You can be certain people have done . . . I've seen babies do that. It's very funny. They're sort of
--[flails arms]--you know, they're lying, wriggling, having been changed. They pee into their mouths.

Alan
Years ago . . . we used to have a toilet at school, and it was a
 . . . it was a urinal up at there, and then [gestures upward] wall, and then [gestures further upward] a window--

Stephen
Yes.

Alan
--and we could . . . quite high--

Stephen
Mm-hmm.

Alan
--and my friend Danny, "the Squirt" . . . bending [leans backwards in chair] quite far back like that, could wee [extends arm upwards] out of the window.

Stephen
Wow.

Well, the fact of the matter was, in Newcastle, people had to pee into buckets, which were collected,
erm, "wee-kly", hah . . . Erm . . . Er, no, the reason that policemen's uniforms used to be such a rich and impressive hue was that they had been widdled on by Geordies, ultimately.

Now. Have you all enjoyed your sweeties?

Alan
Yeah.

Bill
Yes.

Stephen
Good. Which colour did you like best?

Alan
Red, I think.

Stephen
Red. Red. Now, that
's interesting. Most children, when asked which colour they like most will say "red". When a food manufacturer wants to colour food red, he uses, erm . . . some . . . one of these, in fact. [pulls out a small red bottle of food colouring from under desk] Er . . . It's food additive. This is E120. It's a colourant. Erm, my question is: What is E120 made from?

Jo
[presses buzzer, which sings soulfully]
A beetle of some sort.

Forfeit: Klaxons sound. Viewscreens flash the word "BEETLES".

Stephen
No, no, I
'm afraid not. No, we rather predicted you would say that. It's rather unfair of us, because you're almost right. It's actually a bug, not a beetle.

Jo
Oh, right, well . . . 

Stephen
And we
--

Alan
What
's the difference between a bug and a beetle, then?

Jo
Oh, don
't ask him that.

Stephen
You should remember, of all people, because we covered it,
erm--

Alan
Bugs suck things.

Stephen
--we covered it last year. Well done, you did remember. Five points for remembering.

Jo
[to Alan] What do beetles do?

Alan
They don
't suck. They can't.

Stephen
Well, they're
 . . . they're an order of insects--

Jo
So . . . 

Alan
You give them a drink with a straw, and they look at you like
--[raises eyebrows and makes a supremely doubtful expression]. "Yeah? I'm not a bug, all right . . . ?"

Stephen
The point is, Jo,
"bug" is not just American slang for any insect. It's a specific scientific word. It has piercing mouthparts.

Jo
Oh, how lovely.

Bill
Mandibles?

Stephen
Yes. Yes. Mandibles.

Sean
You answered to that like it was your nickname.
"Mandibles?" You went, "Yes?"

Stephen
But,
erm--[picks up bottle of colouring].

Bill
[to Sean] It was his nickname at school.

Sean
"Mandibles Fry."

Stephen
The point about this stuff,
which is also called . . . ?

Jo
Cochineal.

Stephen
Cochineal, yes. You get some points back for that, of course.

Jo
[fakes an unconvincing sigh of relief] Phew.

Stephen
--is that it is made from crushed insects. They're called Dactylopius coccus, erm, and they're a kind of a bug, as they say, and it takes about 70,000 of them to make one pound of cochineal. We've moved away from cochineal because those people who don't like eating animals felt they were being conned by things that were supposedly vegetarian, like a tube of Smarties--

Bill
Yes.

Stephen
--when it turned out they had dead animals in them. And, of course, they're not kosher. E122, which we now use, except in Smarties . . . In Smarties, you're still eating the crushed--

Alan
I
'm eating the crushed bugs?

Stephen
--crushed bugs. Yeah. With the red ones.

Alan
[pointedly pushes away bowl of sweets]

Stephen
But E122 is very bad if you have an allergy to aspirin, for example. It makes some people go very blotchy; it makes some people go [raises voice, then ends word normally] hyperactive! And,
er . . . So, it's an interesting issue.

Alan
Can I stop you there?

Stephen
Yeah?

Alan
Changed my mind. I think I prefer green. [pops sweet in mouth]

Stephen
Oh, there you are. Never mind. Tough. Erm . . . 

Bill
Where did the whole notion of,
er, crushing beetles to get their colouring from . . . I mean, arise? When did people think, "This . . . these foods are just not the right colour. I need a bit more pizzazz in my . . . in my lunch."

Stephen
Well, I think you
'll only need, sort-of, imagine, don't you? I mean, you know, you're pounding maize in . . . in Mexico, which is where this thing sort-of started--

Bill
Right . . . 

Stephen
--and . . . and a few of these beetles that live . . . They're all over the place in--

Bill
Right.

Stephen
--in Mexico.

Bill
Accidentally fall in.

Stephen
And while you're pounding it, it goes all
 . . . a rather beautiful pink colour.

Bill
"Wait a minute
--"

Stephen
And your husband says,
"I like this new maize cake! This . . . this pink polenta . . . "

Sean
They didn
't start, like, crushing animals, and slowly work their way to beetles? Like [beats on desk] crushing a squirrel! "Nope, that's no good, that colour!" [sweeps squirrel off desk and mimes bringing another animal on] "Next animal!" [beats on desk]

Bill
That's what I meant!

Sean's buzzer suddenly goes off, and twangs.

Stephen
You
've set your buzzer off.

Alan
Also, they didn
't say, [mimics Stephen] "I love this pink polenta." They said, [loud Mexican accent] "This peenk polenta! I love eet!"

Stephen
So you think
--

Alan
"I want some more peenk polenta!"

Stephen
So you think this happened after the Spanish colonisation of Mexico
--

Alan
[lost for words, pauses in thought]

Sean
Oh, Alan! [mimes having been struck by a dagger to the chest] Oh! Ah!

Stephen
You think
--

Sean
He got you! That was a good one. Yeah. That was a good one. [to Stephen] Hats off.

Alan
You
're telling me that the Incas talked like Oxbridge graduates?

Stephen
Well, however they talked is really ir


Alan
[as Stephen]
"I'm just off to finish Machu Picchu. Help me with these stones?"

Stephen
It was really the Aztecs we were concerned with. Erm . . . 

Alan
[flicks pen up and down, unable to rebuke]

Stephen
But,
er, in either case . . . Never mind.

Alan
[lounges back in seat and turns to Jo] You ever felt like your weapon
's not big enough, Jo?

Stephen
Oh, nonsense. Nonsense.

Jo
No!

Stephen
No. Let
's move from "bugs" . . . from "bugs" to "beetles". Er . . . 

Alan
"Lovely peenk polenta!"

Stephen
Beetle-fanciers, as you probably know, are called
--

Bill
[presses buzzer, which harmonicas]
Coleopterists.

Stephen
Very good. Coleopterists. You get
 . . . I'll give you five points.

Bill
Well, thank you very much.

Alan
[wagging finger accusatively] Press him on how the hell he knows that.

Sean
Yeah.

Bill
Well, when I was a child, I
--

Stephen
In Alan
's world, knowing something is a kind of freakish, weird thing. So . . . 

Alan
[poises index finger and laughs openly]

Stephen
"Explain how you know something!" Alan would love to know the mystery of this.

Bill
Well, welcome to my world of knowing
! The wonderful world of . . . looking up things in books.

Alan
You looked it up in a book?!

Bill
No, no,
'cause . . . When I was a kid, I, er, collected butterflies.

Alan
What were you called, then?

Stephen
A l


Bill
What was that? A lepidopterist.

Stephen
A lepidopterist.

Bill
I was a lepidopterist.

Alan
[swivels index finger in air]

Bill
Not a leopard-collector, as you may have thought.

Jo
Did you, sort-of, run out and kind-of kill them yourself?

Bill
No, you catch
'em in a net, and then you put 'em in a bottle with chloroform. And they gradually . . . I know it's not . . . It's cruel.

Jo
That
's not very nice. [suddenly, to Stephen] Were you a lepidopterist as well?

Stephen
I did
 . . . I did . . . a bit . . . a bit of bug hunting, yes, as . . . as the Americans call them . . . 

Jo
Did you?

Stephen
Yes.

Sean
I can see you running along with a big net, like that. [mimes holding up enormous net]

Stephen
Thank you.

Sean
"Tarquin! Tarquin! I've got one!"

Alan
As an ancient Greek . . . A flowing toga and a big net . . . 

Stephen
Oh! . . . But you
're quite right. You're . . . a coleopterist--

Alan
"I am an Aztec!" . . . [mimes holding up the net imperially and bringing it down]

[folds arms] I was a philatelist.
 
Stephen
Were you?

Alan
Yeah. Yeah.

Sean
[presses buzzer, which twangs]
Is there a special word for someone who did metalwork?

Bill
A "smith".

Stephen
A
"smith"!

Sean
Ahh.

Stephen
A blacksmith.

Sean
I did a bit of that when I was a young man, yeah.

Stephen
Or
 . . . or a metallurgist.
 
Sean
Yeah.

Bill
Yeah. A
"loser", we call 'em.

Stephen
No! Coleopterists,
who love beetles . . . coleopterists are extremely busy people, far too busy to sit and watch television panellists dithering about, er, so we have to push on a bit if we want to keep them on board, because they're very, very busy. How long is it since anyone discovered a new type of beetle?

Sean
[presses buzzer, which twangs]
8 seconds.

Stephen
8 seconds is quite recent, but it
's not far off--

Jo
[presses buzzer, which sings soulfully]

Stephen
Yeah?

Jo
[with displeased expression] Oh, 700 years.

Bill
No.

Sean
No.

Stephen
Look, no one is forcing you to play this game . . . If you want to sit in the corner . . . 

Bill
[presses buzzer, which harmonicas]

Jo
[pointing at Bill] You killer! You
're a killer, you are.

Bill
No,
er, I released them into the wild after they'd been killed.

Stephen
Yes, after.

Bill
Actually, that is the
 . . . it's a supreme irony, er, that . . . moths got into the collection and et them all.

Stephen
The answer
 . . . well, it could be . . . it's about an hour. Since 1700, er, they . . . they've reckoned that, er, a new species was discovered, on average, at the rate of about one new species every six hours, but it's accelerated. There may be as many as 10 million different species of beetle, erm, and, er . . . only two thousand coleopterists in the world, supposedly.

Sean
So many beetles; just not enough time. [presses buzzer, which twangs]
[bops head to guitar sound]

Stephen
Very good. The amazing thing about beetles: Two-thirds of all insects are beetles,
er . . . . but even more, if you put all examples of plant and animal species in a row, every fifth one would be a beetle.

Bill
[whistles in awe]

Stephen
Every tenth one would be a weevil, as it happens.

So, we come to the next question. Which is the odd one out of these three: A ptiliidae beetle, a camel, or the Sultan of Brunai?

Jo
[presses buzzer, which sings soulfully]

Stephen
Yes.

Jo
Is it a Ptiliidae beetle?

Stephen
It is. Correct. You
'll get the points. . . . Can you . . . can you elaborate?

Jo
Erm, well . . . I don
't want to show off.

Alan
The camel stores water in its hump
--

Stephen
Nope.

Sean
[presses buzzer, which twangs]
Well, I know the Sultan of Brunai
--

Alan
The Sultan of Brunai
--

Stephen
What do you know about the Sultan of Brunai?

Bill
[to Sean] How to you know? You don
't know the Sultan of Brunai.

Sean
He can afford
 . . . he can afford to pay pop stars to dance around in their knickers.

Stephen
Indeed he can.

Sean
He
's that rich.

Stephen
He
's that rich.

Bill
He
's that rich.

Stephen
Now, what do rich people have in common with camels?

Bill
The
 . . . the ability to sustain, er, water in their humps.

Stephen
The inability
--

Jo
[presses buzzer, which sings soulfully]
I know what it is.

Stephen
Yes?

Jo
I know what it is. They
're fucking miserable all the time!

Stephen
What can they not do?

Sean
Go to heaven! Go to heaven!

Bill
Pass through the eye of a needle!

Stephen
Pass through the eye of a needle.
"It's easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven."

Sean
Same thing.

Bill
Yes, it is.

Stephen
The point is, this little beetle is so small, it can literally go through the eye of a needle. Unlike a camel or a rich person.

All panellists make sounds expressing enlightenment; Alan's is a purposeful imitation of Jo's.

And they come in very, very varying sizes, beetles. Er . . . The biggest one, Titanus giganteus, is huge. We have a sample of the second-biggest one. [reaches under desk and pulls out padded box with an enormous beetle on top] This is the Hercules beetle.

Alan
[yells in fright]

Bill
Ooh!

Stephen
This is from the Natural History Museum in London. [passes box to Alan] How many,
er, examples of beetle do you think they have there? How many different . . . 

Jo
Eight hundred and twenty thousand.

Stephen
No, it
's a lot more. It's 12 million.

Jo
Oh. Blimey.

Stephen
They have 12 million.

 Er . . . Finally, we plunge into the land that knowledge forgot. Daviesland. The place we call General Ignorance. So.

Alan
[munches nonchalantly on a red sweet]

Stephen
Fingers on buzzers, please, for one last chance to avoid looking like complete Charlies.

Firstly, and returning to our "colour" theme: What rhymes with
"orange"?

Alan
[presses buzzer, which climaxes]

Stephen
Alan.

Alan
[stays crouched over buzzer, completely still, surveying Stephen in silence for several long seconds]

Sean
[presses buzzer, which twangs]

Alan
No
nothing.

Forfeit: Klaxons sound. Viewscreens flash the word "NOTHING".

Stephen
Oh! Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear. Oh, Lordy. Bless.

Alan
"Flange".

Stephen
[laughing]
"Flange"? "Or-ange"! Or-ange. Can you think of any words that might rhyme with it?

Sean
Borringe.

Stephen
"Borringe" would rhyme with it, yeah . . . 

Sean
Yeah.

Stephen
I don
't think there is such a thing as "borringe". There's "borage" . . . 

Sean
No, borringe. Borringe. That
's what you suck up, erm . . . [pauses in thought].

Bill
[raises hand]
"Sir, sir! Lock's making it up, sir . . . !"

Stephen
You
're terribly close, 'cause there's "Blorenge" . . . 

Bill
"Blorenge"?

Stephen
It
's a place. Anyone know where Blorenge is?

Jo
It sounds like it
's in Belgium.

Stephen
No, closer to home. [Welsh accent]
"Blorenge".

Alan
Wales.

Stephen
Wales it is! It overlooks Abergavenny. It has a famous car park.

Alan
[throws Stephen a look of deepest scepticism]

Stephen
It has . . . A horse is buried there. A famous horse. Called the Foxhunter.

There
's also Gorringe--

Sean
[presses buzzer, which twangs]
If you said
"porridge" with a cold.

Bill
Yeah.

Stephen
Yes.

Jo
I've got a cold.

Sean
"Porringe. I'll have some porringe." Lester Piggott . . . he goes, "Oh, where's the breakfast, Lester?" "It's porridge!"

Jo
I
'm sure that Richard Whiteley, on Countdown, said that nothing rhymes with "orange".

Stephen
He may well have done, but we are here to explode--

Jo
Richard Whiteley?

Stephen
--the myths of the Whiteleys.

Alan
Explode Richard Whiteley!

Stephen
Richard Whiteley!

Alan
I saw him interviewing two Bluebell Dancers once.

Stephen
Really?

Alan
I thought he was going to have a coronary.

Bill
"Can I have two from the top?"

Stephen
I . . . Very good.

Here we are.
"Gorringe". It's a surname. It's probably the same root as "Göring". My prep school tailors were called Gorringe, funnily enough.

Bill
Really?

Stephen
We'd get our uniforms made. Yeah.

Bill
You
--[breaks off and looks at Sean to share in the incredulity].

Sean
[already looking at Stephen, ready to attack] You had a tailor? You had a tailor! For that suit you wear when you
're five!

Stephen
It was
--

Sean
Were you born in the 1850s?

Stephen
No! [attempting in vain to explain] You had
--

Sean
"Measure up, young Sir! For you shorts and caps."

Stephen
--a particular outfitter--

Bill
[puts pipe in mouth]

Stephen
It was the school outfitter.

Sean
All right. A tailor.

Stephen
Which was a tailoring shop
--for outfits, school outfits--called "Gorringe's".

Sean
"Which . . . which side does young Sir dress on?" [looks down and spreads arms in uncertainty] "Well . . . "

Stephen
[waving arms in dismissal, barely able to speak through laughter] Hardly worth
--

Sean
"There's nothing for me to worry about."

Alan
[with pipe in mouth] He should know; that
's written on the toilet walls!

Stephen
Oh, please! Oh, heaven; Why did I even mention that? That
's--

Sean
"Would you like to get measured up for shorts?"

Stephen
[deeply pained expression] Oh, Lord!

Bill
"Would Sir like to wear a cravat on the cross-country run?
" [mimes jogging with pen-as-pipe in mouth]

Stephen
Oh, you all are such beasts!

Bill
[puts real pipe in mouth and resumes jogging]

Stephen
Well, anyway,
"Gorringe" is a splendid English surname . . . 

Sean
"Sir, I suggest a cummerbund for geography . . . "

Alan
[highbrow accent]
"I say!"

Stephen
Shh! [slaps back of one hand against the palm of the other]

Alan
"I do rather like this pink polenta!"

Jo
[wipes tears from her eyes]

Stephen
"Gorringe". "Gorringe" is the splendid English surname of, amongst others, Henry Honychurch Gorringe, who brought,
er, Cleopatra's needle to . . . to New York Central Park. In case you didn't know.

[inhales sharply] Anyway. What colour . . . What colour
--fingers on buzzers--what colour is the planet Mars?

Jo
[presses buzzer, which sings soulfully]

Stephen
Yes, Jo.

Jo
It
's red.

Forfeit: Klaxons sound. Viewscreens flash the word "RED".

Stephen
Oh, Jo!

Jo
I knew that was going to happen.

Stephen
No, it may be called
"The Red Planet," but it isn't red, I'm afraid. It's actually brown.

Alan
Rusty brown.

Stephen
It
's brown-y brown, really.

Stephen
No, it only appears red sometimes because of the dust in,
er, in . . . in . . . in . . . in the atmosphere; in fact, its landscape is a very boring brown colour. According--

Alan
[suddenly incensed] Why are we going there? What
's the fucking point?

Stephen
[exasperated, turns away and closes eyes] You are
 . . . you are just unbelievable . . . 

Alan
[has crossed his arms and turned slightly to Jo as though to share an inside joke;
smiles smugly and points surreptitiously to Stephen
]

Stephen
[realising the game, breaks quickly into a smile, and points jocularly back]
Ahh. I see. I see.

Alan
[mimes deftly throwing a fishing rod and reeling Stephen in]

Stephen
[waving pointed index finger]
Yes. I see. Right. I refuse to rise to the bait . . . All right.

Alan
[complacently snacks on a blue sweet]

Stephen
According to New Scientist, actually, the most recent pictures of Mars, issued by NASA, were tweaked by sort of a, you know
--

Alan
Photoshop?

Stephen
--using filters, and Photoshop, exactly . . . 

Alan
Britney Spears on it
--

Stephen
In order to conform . . . They were tweaked in order to conform with our expectations of its redness.

Next, apropos of absolutely nothing at all,
er . . . A topical one. What prevented Henry VIII from marrying Lord Pembroke?

Jo
[presses buzzer, which sings soulfully]

Stephen
Jo.

Jo
Lady Pembroke?

Stephen
Very good.

Alan
[presses buzzer, which climaxes]
[shakes head as though he were responsible for it]
Erm . . . 'cause gay marriages were illegal.

Forfeit: Klaxons sound. Viewscreens flash the phrase "GAY MARRIAGES WERE ILLEGAL".

Stephen
Oh, you've done it . . . 

No, the fact is, he actually did marry Lord Pembroke, eventually.

Alan
He married Lord Pembroke?

Stephen
Yes, he did.

Bill
Was Lord Pembroke a nickname for
--

Jo
A lady!

Bill
--a lady?

Stephen
Lord Pembroke was certainly a lady. Absolutely. It was Anne Boleyn, in fact.

Bill
Oh, right.

Stephen
He was married to Catherine of Aragon at the time, and the
 . . . the, er . . . it was not head of the Church . . . 

Alan
[stage whisper] She disguised herself as a man to sneak into the king
's chamber!

Stephen
No . . . She was just very miffed at not being able to marry
--

Sean
[to Alan] You sounded like you were in a school play, then! Well done. [exaggeratedly acting; miming being on horseback]
"She disguised herself as a man . . . "

[gestures roguishly to Alan] You
're supposed to be an actor!

Stephen
Have you never seen Jonathan Creek? . . . Erm, no.

Sean
[buries face in elbow as though in a cloak]

Stephen
Nonsense. No.

Sean
[whips off cloak; speaks in stage whisper]
"She disguised herself as a man, and sneaked into the king's chamber!" [puts cloak back on; mimes stealthy movement] "I must leave for France!" [mimes galloping away]

Stephen
Yes, what happened was: He was married to Catherine of Aragon; the Pope
 . . . the Pope was head of the Church in England and elsewhere in Europe; and, er, Anne Boleyn was very annoyed, so he . . . to shut her up, he offered her a title, and at first he offered her an ordinary title. She said, "No, I want a proper title." So he gave her "the Marquess of Pembroke". So she became the Marquess of Pembroke, which is a male title, of course. But then, eventually, he did overcome it and declare that his marriage to Catherine of Aragon was null and void, and separated from Rome and married Anne Boleyn, and then cut her head off, of course.

Anyway, from
"marquesses" to "mammals". I'm one; you're one; Lord Pemboke . . . she was one as well. We're all mammals. We come in a wide variety of colours: White rhinos, black panthers, brown bears--

Alan
Whales . . . 

Stephen
--red kangaroos--

Alan
Blue whales . . . [extends hand to Stephen in appreciation of himself]

Stephen
Blue whales, pink elephants, ha ha . . . But no. There are . . . Name a green mammal.

Alan
[presses buzzer, which climaxes]
Frog. Frog.

Stephen
[pauses to collect self] Oh, come on . . . Now, name a green MAMMAL!!

Sean
[presses buzzer, which twangs]

Alan
[presses buzzer, which climaxes]
Ancient Greek cow!

Bill
Yeah.

Stephen
That
's a good answer.

Jo
[presses buzzer, which sings soulfully]

Stephen
Yes, Jo.

Jo
A budgie.

Stephen
Now, name a green mammal!

Jo
I
'm getting 'round to it. Erm . . . 

Stephen
Right.

Sean
[presses buzzer, which twangs]
Okay. A rotten badger!

Stephen
Very good. Excellent.

Alan
We
've all seen them.

Stephen
Yes, good one. No.

Alan
Green mammal.

Stephen
There are none.

Alan
Chameleon! Is that a mammal?

Bill
No, no.

Stephen
Chameleon
's a lizard.

Bill
[presses buzzer, which harmonicas]
A really, really jealous shrew.

Stephen
No, there really are none. They
're very common . . . birds, er, reptiles, er, fish . . . but there're no green mammals. There is a sloth that looks green, but it's actually the algae that grow on its fur. But that's the--

Bill
What, it
's so slow-moving that moss grows over it?

Stephen
Exactly. It
's so much a sloth. Exactly.

Bill
[lolls back in chair as a sloth]

Stephen
Lastly, we come full-circle to the mad, mad world . . . Alan . . . of ancient Greece.

Alan
[groans, then exhales in preparation]

Stephen
Why wouldn
't an ancient Greek . . . why wouldn't an ancient Greek baker mind if you told him where he could stick his baguette?

Sean
[presses buzzer, which twangs]

Stephen
Sean.

Sean
[wobbles hand to indicate
"iffiness"] 'Cause they were a bit like that. . . . You know what I mean. [to audience] I think we all know. I'm not going to say it . . . 'Cause you can't these days. Ooh. Very hot water. Erm . . . 

Stephen
I almost thought it was Bertrand Russell talking, then, for a minute.

As a pleasuring device?

Sean
A bread dildo.

Stephen
A dildo.
"A bread dildo" is the right answer. They made their dildos out of bread in Greece.

Jo
Oh. You know that most women would have gone for the eating option.

Alan
Did someone write that down? Is that written down in ancient Greek?

Stephen
It was only discovered in 1987, actually. It
's a very recent discovery.

Jo
Who discovered it?

Bill
It was a Greek baker frozen in a glacier, with a
--

Alan
[stands up and freezes self in a position that indicates he has bread up his bum, with frozen expression of shock]

Bill
[leans forward and does much the same]

Sean
No, he
's going like that--[makes gleeful expression with two thumbs up].

Bill
[imitates Sean's expression and puts his thumbs up as well]

Stephen
He was handing the baton of ancient Greece to modern Greece!

It
's time for the final reckoning! I shall give scores. Now. Just in last, fourth place; just, with minus twenty-two, is Alan Davies. But a brilliant performance, and we thank you for it.

Alan
[narrows eyes]

Stephen
In third place, with minus twenty, is Jo Brand.

Jo
[gapes, shocked, at Alan]

Stephen
In second place, with a huge plus seven, is Bill. . . . 

Bill
Oh.

Stephen
But way out in front, with seventeen, is Sean Lock, ladies and gentlemen!

Well, my thanks go to Bill, Sean, Jo, and Alan. I
'm gonna leave you with two quite interesting remarks on the subject of colour. The first is from Frank Borman, the Apollo 8 astronaut: "My experience helped me to see how isolated and fragile the earth really is. It was also beautiful. It was the only object in the entire universe that was neither black nor white." And the second is from former U.S. president Gerald Ford: "Ronald Reagan doesn't dye his hair; he's just prematurely orange."