Clive: You know that big nigger who lives down the road?
Derek: Him? Yeah. Oh, lovely.
Clive: Huge black cunt. I said, I said to him, I said, um, Ephraim, strange name for a black, innit? I said there's a load of cunts down the BBC and they need sorting out. I said, um, this should appeal to your fucking primitive urges cos I said you like cannibalism, don't you? You like eating people alive in a frying pan. I said, go round to the BBC with some of your mates dressed up in your loincloths and that, and, er, paint yourselves up in different colours or whatever you cunts do back in Africa. And so he said, er, oh, it's nice, that and he, he, he said what do we do when we arrive? I said, go beserk, tear the fucking place down.
Derek: Yes, spunk all over the fucking centre.
Clive: Spunk all over the Director General and kill everyone in the studios, you know, and, um, he was all, you know, he got about forty of these coons gathered together to rush round to the BBC. And I was really looking forward to it. I was looking forward to tuning in to the news that night and seeing the news on the BBC. The BBC had being burn't to the fucking ground.
Derek: Yeah. Yeah. Four... forty thousand.
Clive: I turned on the Nine O'clock News. There was Kenneth Kendall, calm as a cucumber. No story about anything burning to the fucking ground. And do you know what the *cunt, black, nigger, poof, cunt said when he came back?*
Derek: No?
Clive: "Oh, I'm sorry. I couldn't find it."
Derek: No!
Clive: "I lost my way", he said.