The hallway.
 From the outside an ordinary house.
 A great house, true.
 Four hundred and eighty-three rooms,
 each one with its own marble wash basin and douche.
 Bidet, as it may.But inside - and the positions are reversed.
 A human failing, some say a disease,
 but a disease that Sir Francis Dashwood knew and used well.
 Upstairs, inside, and: a revelation!
 It's a discotheque.
 No, no, uh... there are paintings - real..., and look here!
 A rare seventeenth century masterpiece.
 And if I can scrape a little of it off, beneath I can find hidden ...
 a fourteenth century underpiece.
 Made entirely of tiny pieces of eggshell,
 this lurid work has caused controversy in the world of embroidery and anthropolodge-,
 no, I'll say it again, anthropolology.
 No - quite possibly making... anthropole, no, I mean an'epilog...
 It has enthralled distinguished professors, and In layman's language,
 it's blinking well baffling.
 But to be more obtusely, buggered if I know.
 Yes, buggered if I know.
 And that's all we've gleaned so far from experts in fourteenth century painting,
 renaissance greengrocers, and recently revived members of the public.
 Buggered if I know.
 Vivian Stanshall, about three o'clock in the morning, Oxfordshire
 Nineteen Seventy-three. Goodnight.