From the album ‘Come Again‘ (1977).
- Clive:
- How you doing 4105?
- Derek:
- (belches) What? (belches again)
- Clive:
- I said, “How you doing 1045?”
- Derek:
- Oh, not so bad 305-stroke-Z.
- Clive:
- No, ’cause I had, er… I’ve had a fucking terrible day.
- Derek:
- Yeah?
- Clive:
- I had, er, you know that, er, that, er, what’s he called? – that philosopher?
- Derek:
- Philosopher?
- Clive:
- Er, philosopher, yeah.
- Derek:
- Errr…
- Clive:
- The one who knows words and everything like that.
- Derek:
- What, er, Des O’Connor?
- Clive:
- No, not Des. No, Des…
- Derek:
- No.
- Clive:
- Des is clever but he’s, he’s not quite as reputed to be as clever as this, erm…
- Derek:
- Other bloke.
- Clive:
- RUSSELL! Russell!
- Derek:
- Oh, Jane Russell!
- Clive:
- No, Bertrand – Bertrand Russell.
- Derek:
- Bertrand Ru-, Oh, BERTRAND RUSSELL!!
- Clive:
- I had fucking Bertrand Russell in the back of my cab.
- Derek:
- Yeah, mmm, yeah…
- Clive:
- I looked round, you know, I recognised him and I said, “Hallo Bertie.”
- Derek:
- Yeah, right.
- Clive:
- And, you know, he, he was a bit surprised ’cause, you know, he’s not used to…
- Derek:
- Pissed out of his head, wasn’t he? Fucking hell.
- Clive:
- Yeah, pissed out of his fucking head.
- Derek:
- Cunt.
- Clive:
- Fucking dwarf…
- Derek:
- Yeah.
- Clive:
- Wide-headed cunt…
- Derek:
- Yeah.
- Clive:
- So I said, “‘ere, Bertie, you’ve written the history of the fucking Western World,…
- Derek:
- Right.
- Clive:
- …what’s the fucking answer?”
- Derek:
- Yeah.
- Clive:
- He looked round, didn’t fucking know.
- Derek:
- Probably farted, didn’t he?
- Clive:
- He farted…
- Derek:
- Knowing him, mate, you know.
- Clive:
- He farted twice, he clouded up the windscreen.
- Derek:
- Yeah, right.
- Clive:
- And, er, I said, “Look, Bertie, Bertie, Bertie,…
- Derek:
- Yeah, right, right.
- Clive:
- …get out-, GET OUT THE CAB!”
- Derek:
- Right.
- Clive:
- “GET OUT THE CAB!”
- Derek:
- Right, right.
- Clive:
- Yeah, I always use those words when I’ve got some cunt and…
- Derek:
- And you want to get him out the cab.
- Clive:
- Yeah, I said, “GET OUT THE CAB!”
- Derek:
- “GET OUT THE CAB!”
- Clive:
- He said, he said, “What is the meaning of getting out the cab?” I said, “There’s no fucking meaning, it just means ‘get out the cab’.” And he went into some philosophical argument…
- Derek:
- Oh, fuck.
- Clive:
- …about whether getting out the cab was getting the same as in the cab…
- Derek:
- In this…
- Clive:
- All that crap, I thought, “fuck it.”
- Derek:
- Yeah, fucking dualistic world crap.
- Clive:
- And, er, you know… know what I got for a tip?
- Derek:
- What?
- Clive:
- Nothing, absolutely nothing.
- Derek:
- I suppose that was his philosophical joke.
- Clive:
- Yeah, heh-heh, you get a philosopher in the cab you get nothing, the same with, with Picasso.
- Derek:
- Yeah? You had Picasso in your cab?
- Clive:
- Picasso. You know, I-, I knew him at once ’cause he was…
- Derek:
- (belches)
- Clive:
- …enigmatic.
- Derek:
- Yeah.
- Clive:
- And I said, yeah, you know, just as a friendly joke, I said, er,…
- Derek:
- What, did he have a paintbrush out of his arsehole?
- Clive:
- He had, er, he had a fucking oil painting coming out of his arsehole.
- Derek:
- Yeah.
- Clive:
- And, er, neolithic style, erm, abstract on his, erm,…
- Derek:
- On his knob.
- Clive:
- …on his knob.
- Derek:
- Yeah, I know…
- Clive:
- So I said…
- Derek:
- …he paints his knob.
- Clive:
- He paints his knob different colours then photographs it and sells it to other people.
- Derek:
- Yeah, dirty fucking cunt!
- Clive:
- The fucker. So I said, “You know what I call you, Mister Picasso?”
- Derek:
- Yeah.
- Clive:
- I said, “I call you ‘Mister Pick-Arsehole’…
- Derek:
- Right! Fucking hell.
- Clive:
- …’cause as far as I’m concerned you take shit out of other people’s arseholes, shove it on the canvass and sell it to other cunts.”
- Derek:
- Right.
- Clive:
- And, er, he was non-plussed.
- Derek:
- Yeah, well I had the same experience. I, er, opened the cab door for somebody who hailed me on the corner…
- Clive:
- Who was that? “Hailed” you?
- Derek:
- Richard Wagner.
- Clive:
- Richard Wagner?
- Derek:
- Yeah.
- Clive:
- But he’s been dead two hundred years.
- Derek:
- That’s what I thought but, no, he was large as fucking life in the King’s Road. So I said…
- Clive:
- You’re not confusing him with Richard Wagner? (pronouncing “W” sound)
- Derek:
- Er… Robert Wagner?
- Clive:
- Robert Wagner.
- Derek:
- Errr…
- Clive:
- No, ’cause he’s been alive for…
- Derek:
- No, ’cause he was humming…
- Clive:
- …he’s, he’s been alive for years, hasn’t he?
- Derek:
- No, h-, he’s been alive for years, you’d know the difference.
- Clive:
- Yeah.
- Derek:
- No, Richie, Richie came into my cab humming, you know, snatches of, er, Tristan And Isolde. I thought, “fucking hell”…
- Clive:
- Ye-, ah, fucking hell.
- Derek:
- I thought he was dead, I thought, you know. Anyway, he sat in the cab, whistling away, all, you know…
- Clive:
- (whistles tunelessly)
- Derek:
- I said, “Hello! A-huh, I recognise that leitmotif!”
- Clive:
- Yeah.
- Derek:
- Yeah, and he recognised, er, you know, er, er, another soul on his, er, wavelength, and he said, er, “Fuck off, cunt!” I said, I said, “Hold up… “
- Clive:
- What, w-, in German? Or English?
- Derek:
- No, in English. I said, I said, “You speak very good English for a cunt.” Anyway, I pulled over, I said, “Wha-“, I looked round, I said, “What was that all about?” I said, “You can fucking get out the cab, as far as I’m concerned,” I said, “get out the fucking cab.” I said, “You may be Richard Wagner, but,” I s-….
- Clive:
- BUT!
- Derek:
- “You can’t come in my fucking cab…
- Clive:
- BUT!
- Derek:
- …and tell me to fuck off!”
- Clive:
- No.
- Derek:
- So I got, I said, “You just fuck off out the cab.” I never saw him again – he didn’t give me nothing.
- Clive:
- He gave you n-, no tip whatsoever?
- Derek:
- Nothing! No tip, no fare.
- Clive:
- NO TIP, NO TIP WHATSOEVER? Like all celebrities I’ve had in my cab, Lord, er, Bradwell.
- Derek:
- Yeah, right.
- Clive:
- Lord Bradwell.
- Derek:
- Yeah.
- Clive:
- Well, I didn’t know he was poofter.
- Derek:
- No? Oh yeahhhh, oh…
- Clive:
- I had no reason to suspect.
- Derek:
- I could have told you that.
- Clive:
- Well I didn’t know that.
- Derek:
- Oh yeah.
- Clive:
- He just came in his, his fine fishnet stockings with this, erm, young, erm, ‘chicken’ with him.
- Derek:
- Oh yeah, yeah, yeah.
- Clive:
- You know, what they call in the trade, a ‘chicken’ is…
- Derek:
- Yeah, right.
- Clive:
- …a young bloke with a huge knob…
- Derek:
- Yeah, yeah… (laughs)
- Clive:
- …wearing nothing at all. And, er, he come in with this chicken, he said, er, he said, er…
- Derek:
- (as a chicken:) Fucky-fucky.
- Clive:
- …he said, he said, “I’d like to go to my flat, please.” I said, “All right, O.K.”
- Derek:
- “Where the fuck’s that,” I bet you said, did you?
- Clive:
- I said, “Where the fuck is that?”
- Derek:
- Yeah, cunt.
- Clive:
- He said, “Kensington.”
- Derek:
- Yeah, yeah.
- Clive:
- I said, “O.K., O.K.,…
- Derek:
- Yeah, right.
- Clive:
- …Kensington, right, yeah,…
- Derek:
- Yeah, right.
- Clive:
- …all right, nude boy, nude boy,…
- Derek:
- Kensington Frensington.
- Clive:
- …Kensington Frensington, nude boy in there with you”
- Derek:
- Nude chicken.
- Clive:
- This fucking Lord Driberg, or Lord Bradwell I think he’s called.
- Derek:
- I don’t care what he’s called, mate, I don’t give a shit.
- Clive:
- No, I don’t, I didn’t care either.
- Derek:
- No, frankly, I don’t give a shit.
- Clive:
- He pulled out his cock…
- Derek:
- He could be called…
- Clive:
- He pulled out his cock and he pulled out this young, erm…
- Derek:
- And said, “What a good boy am I.”
- Clive:
- No, no, no, he didn’t.
- Derek:
- No.
- Clive:
- I wish he had, I wish he had.
- Derek:
- Yeah, right.
- Clive:
- He said, “What a bad boy am I.”
- Derek:
- Right.
- Clive:
- ‘Cause he still felt guilty.
- Derek:
- Yeah, right.
- Clive:
- And he pulled out the little bloke’s, er, cock, you know,…
- Derek:
- Knob.
- Clive:
- Knob, yeah.
- Derek:
- His little knob, yeah.
- Clive:
- And all began wanking, wanking, wanking, wanking, wanking all over the fucking…
- Derek:
- Cab.
- Clive:
- …Bac-k of the cab.
- Derek:
- The “bac-K”?
- Clive:
- All over the fucking windows, everywhere was glazed up,…
- Derek:
- Yeah.
- Clive:
- …I had no view from the rear mirror, I didn’t know where the fuck I was,…
- Derek:
- What, with s-
- Clive:
- I said, “Stop wanking otherwise -…
- Derek:
- What, with spunk-?
- Clive:
- …I’M GONNA CRASH!!” And – voomp! – I did.
- Derek:
- Yeah, what, with spunk all over the, all over the, er, over your glasses probably.
- Clive:
- I had spunk…
- Derek:
- Yeah.
- Clive:
- …everywhere in the cab.
- Derek:
- Yeah.
- Clive:
- And, I thought, you know, if this is the peerage…
- Derek:
- Right, fuck ’em.
- Clive:
- …what’s the House of Commons like?
- Derek:
- Yeah, fuck ’em, eh? Humpf.
Derek and Clive 