Derek and Clive – Back Of The Cab

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.