Fifth Sailor Listen ... chaps ... there’s one last chance. I’m done for, I’ve got a gammy leg, I’m going fast, I’ll never get through ... but ... some of you might ... so you’d better eat me.
First Sailor Eat you, sir?
Fifth Sailor Yes. Eat me.
Second Sailor Uuuuggghhh! With a gammy leg?
Fifth Sailor You don’t have to eat the leg, Thompson, there’s still plenty of good meat ... look at that arm.
Third Sailor It’s not just the leg, sir.
Fifth Sailor What do you mean?
Third Sailor Well, sir ... it’s just that ...
Fifth Sailor Why don’t you want to eat me?
Third Sailor I’d rather eat Johnson, sir. (he points at fourth sailor)
Second Sailor Oh, so would I, sir.
Dear Sir,
I am glad to hear that your studio audience disapproves of the last skit as strongly as I. As a naval officer I abhor the implication that the Royal Navy is a haven for cannibalism. It is well known that we have the problem relatively under control, and that it is the R.A.F. who now suffer the largest casualties in this area. And what do you think the Argylls ate in Aden? Arabs?
Yours etc.,
Captain B.J. Smethwick in a white wine sauce with shallots, mushrooms and garlic.
Perkins: “So it’ll just grow back again, won’t it?”
Surgeon: I’m going to level with you. A tiger has bitten your leg off.
Everybody: “A tiger? In Africa?!”