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Sketch:(We see an art critic examining a nude painting. Caption on screen: 'AN ART CRITIC' He sees the camera and starts talking guiltily.)
Art Critic: Good evening. I'd like to talk to you tonight about the place of the nude in my bed … um … in the history of my bed … of art, of art, I'm sorry. The place of the nude in the history of tart… call-girl… I'm sorry. I'll start again… Bum … oh what a giveaway. The place of the nude in art. (a seductively dressed girl enters slinkily) Oh hello there father, er confessor, professor, your honour, your grace …
Girl: (cutely) I'm not your Grace, I'm your Elsie.
Art Critic: What a terrible joke!
Girl: (crying) But it's my only line!
(Cut to an idyllic countryside. Birds sing etc. as the camera starts a lyrical pan across the fields.)
Voice Over: and superimposed caption: 'BUT THERE LET US LEAVE THE ART CRITIC TO STRANGLE HIS WIFE AND MOVE ON TO PASTURES NEW'
(After about ten seconds of mood setting the camera suddenly comes across the art critic strangling his wife in middle foreground. As the camera passes him he hums nervously and tries to look as though he isn't strangling anybody. The camera doesn't stop panning, and just as it goes off him we see him start strangling again.)