Carry on Up the Jungle Page #3

what have you bagged for us tonight?

This? This is what we call fricassee

of fully-grown African lion.

Is it? Delightful!

Isn't that rather dangerous,

shooting lions, Mr Boosey?

Oh, not half. Take this one here. When I come

across him, he was having fun with a lioness.

If there's one thing that drives a lion mad,

it's being disturbed when he's with a lioness.

Oh. Do they charge?

Oh, no, they do it for love.

What is your sport, Professor?

I don't think I've seen you shooting.

No, no, I get my pleasure in other ways.

Oh, really?

Professor Tinkle is an ornithologist.

Actually, I'm fascinated by rare and exotic birds.

Aren't we all?

Yes, my last expedition was to the Virgin Isles.

It was there that we discovered

the rare species of the frigate bird.

- The what bird?

- Frigate. Frigate!

- Now, now. Language!

- Now, you listen here...

What is that?

Probably a frigate hyena.

Let's have a bit of fun with him.

That'll shake him.

Lady Bagley, now you know why we are here,

won't you tell us what brings

a beautiful lady like yourself here to Africa?

Well, before I tell you,

I would like to show you something

that I have in here.

Oh, no, don't bother. I always say,

when you've seen one, you've seen them all.

I promise you, Professor,

you've never seen one like this before.

That is a picture of my little baby boy.

Lying there on the rug,

playing with his wee engine.

I must tell you that

soon after little Cecil was born,

my husband brought us out here

on our honeymoon.

It was a delayed honeymoon, of course.

Well, of course.

A lady like yourself would never make

the mistake of putting the cart before the horse.

- Or the club before the pudding.

- Will you spare us the clinical details?

Thank you. Pray continue, my dear.

One morning,

out here in the wilds of the interior,

my husband took our baby for his usual walkies.

And they never came back.

How ghastly, ma'am.

Soon afterwards, while searching

along the banks of the Limpopo River,

our bearers shot a crocodile.

And there, in its stomach,

was my dear husband's fob watch.

How very terrible! And the baby?

On the bank, close by, was his nappy.

Clean?

I'm afraid not.

- And so near to the Limpopo, too.

- But surely, ma'am,

after all this time, there's no hope?

Oh, no, but you see,

we never did find his nappy pin.

And it would be something to remember him by.

Argh! Ooh!

Africa is so very romantic.

I never get tired of listening

to the strange noises.

Burp!

- Must you do that always?

- Do what?

Emit air in that disgusting fashion.

Well, what else can I do with it?

Better than sneaking it out in other ways.

Mr Chumley, please don't worry on my account.

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