The Unbelievable Truth - 15x01 Magic, Austria, Swans, Onions

Episode Date: February 12, 2022

15x01 24 August 2015 Lloyd Langford, Henning Wehn, Sara Pascoe, Miles Jupp Magic, Austria, Swans, Onions

We present the unbelievable truth, the panel game built on truth and lies. In the chair, please welcome David Mitchell. on truth and lies. In the chair, please welcome David Mitchell. Hello and welcome to The Unbelievable Truth, the panel show about incredible truths and barely credible lies. I'm David Mitchell. This week I'm joined by four comedians, all of whom can be defined by one word, available. Please welcome Miles Jupp, Sarah Pascoe, Lloyd Langford and Henning Vane. The rules are as follows. Each panellist will present a lecture

that should be entirely false, save for five pieces of true information, which they should attempt to smuggle past their opponents, cunningly concealed amongst the lies. Points are scored by truths that go unnoticed, while other panellists can win points if they spot a truth or lose points if they mistake a lie for a truth. First up is Lloyd Langford.

Lloyd, your subject is magic, both the art of using spells to control supernatural forces and the practice of performing tricks and illusions by sleight of hand. Off you go, Lloyd. Fingers on buzzers, the rest of you. In 1998, Paul Zenon was expelled from the Magic Circle for revealing one of magic's best-kept secrets, how David Copperfield managed to date Claudia Schiffer. Apparently, it was all done with blindfolds and interlinking chains.

All magicians have to sign up to the Conjurer's Code of Conduct, which states that the only permitted facial hair is a goatee, wands cannot be longer than 12 inches, and rabbits should not spend more than 45 minutes inside a hat without a 10-minute comfort break. Sarah? I think the wand length is true, that you're not allowed to have a wand longer than 12 inches. No.

Oh. No. Henning? Is it that rabbits aren't allowed to spend more than 45 minutes in a head? I don't think there are any rules of that. I mean, you can put a rabbit in a pie pretty much permanently. In the initial Superman

comics, it was proximity to green peppers rather than kryptonite that robbed Superman of his magical powers. Henny. I don't know anything about Superman, but is it? No. No, it was never

green peppers. Like a reverse Popeye. The original Popeye first got his strength from rubbing a magic... Oh, hang on, that was magic. Now, what happened there, honestly? I can tell you what actually happened, is that when Lloyd thought of Superman, he then thought of Popeye. Why would Popeye follow Superman, as a thought?

What's the logical sequence of that? I was thinking about the pepper, Popeye being the green spinach. Well, yes, spinach is to Popeye sort of the opposite of what Kryptonite or, in this case, green peppers. Very straightforward piece of thought process. Yes, absolutely. Two people would think identically. Yeah.

I would have thought of red tomatoes if someone said green peppers. But then, you know, I'm of an age where we were brought up on the work of Ainsley Harriot. If he says Ainsley Harriot now, it's going to be amazing. Now that's a phrase that's never been true before. Lloyd. The original Popeye first got his strength from rubbing a magic chicken, but this was changed by DC Comics,

who decided eating spinach was a healthier pursuit than rubbing the chicken, and also much better for the eyesight. Sarah. I think that's true about them changing it. There was backhanders from the Spinach Council trying to get product placement. And they were like, why does it need to be a chicken like that?

Is it true? It's easy to forget how powerful the Spinach Lobby once was. It is completely true. Oh! When Popeye first appeared in the comic strip in 1929, he was just a minor character, and he derived the strength to survive being shot 15 times by stroking the head of a magic chicken

called Bernice the Wifflehead. In Britain, the Magic Circle has appealed for UK magicians to use more attractive assistants, condemned the practice of using street pigeons instead of doves, and also demanded an increase in the size of euro coins, which they complain are too small for some of their best tricks. Sarah? I'm going to say that one of those things is true,

and I think it's the thing about having more attractive assistants. That's not true. Miles? I think it's the thing about street pigeons. that's not true no miles i think it's the thing about street pigeons that's not true either now street pigeons are like normal pigeons penny that other one uh the euro coins yeah i mean that is the sort of xenophobic thing that a UK organisation would come up with. So, yeah, I say that is true. Well, it is true.

Yes, according to William Hartston in the Daily Express, so it's definitely true, the Magic Circle once asked for an increase in the size of the Euro coin as they considered it too small for some of their tricks. Excluding Ken Dodd and Jesus, more people have seen David Copperfield perform live than any other entertainer. Henny. More people have seen Copperfield than any other performer

but Ken Dodd and Jesus. You're absolutely right, except more people have seen David Copperfield than any other performer. I mean, Jesus, I don't think we've got the box office figures. More have seen him than Ken Dodd and everyone else.

By 2012, Copperfield's net worth was an estimated $150 million, and his ticket sales had grossed an estimated $3 billion. Non-magicians injured whilst attempting to perform magic tricks include Shane McGowan, several unsuccessful attempts at catching a bullet.

Isambard Kingdom Brunel, inadvertently inhaled a coin into his lung whilst trying to impress his children, who all thought bridges were rubbish. Miles. I think Isambard Kingdom Brunel attempted to entertain children using a coin and, what did you say, ingested, inhaled, swallowed? Inhaled.

Inhaled? Yes. Are you losing confidence? Can you breathe in a solid? I mean, I've come close. Can you breathe in a solid? I mean, I've come close. I think that one's true.

It is true. In 1843, while performing a magic trick for his children, the great engineer inhaled a half-sovereign, which eventually jammed in his right bronchus next to the lung. After a tracheotomy failed to reach it and unable to breathe without difficulty, Brunel sketched out a contraption to dislodge the coin, built it, and it worked. It was initially the rabbit's tail rather than its foot that was considered lucky, and the skins of otters have long been held to have magical and healing properties, particularly as a safeguard against drowning,

despite all you've heard about otters wearing armbands. Henning? Well, was back in the day, were the tails considered to be of magical power rather than the paws? Of the rabbit? Yeah. No, that's not true.

No, I didn't think so. But strangely, the rabbit's foot as a lucky charm is a superstition that's grown up independently in China, Africa, Europe and North and South America. And that's the end of Lloyd's lecture. And at the end of that round, Lloyd, you've managed to smuggle one truth past the rest of the panel, which is that the skins of that round, Lloyd, you've managed to smuggle one truth past the rest of the panel, which is that the skins of otters have long been held to have magical and healing properties,

particularly as a safeguard against drowning. And that means, Lloyd, you've scored one point. Next up is Henning Weyn. Your subject, Henning, is Austria, a German-speaking landlocked country in Central Europe best known for its famous classical composers and psychiatrists, its strudels and schnitzels, its alpine skiing and the sound of music. Fingers on buzzers, everyone else. Off you go, Henning.

Let's begin by stating the obvious. Austria was, is and always will be an integral part of the fatherland. LAUGHTER Austria was, is and always will be an integral part of the fatherland. Henning. That was the first truth. So, let's concern ourselves with the minutiae. Austria was invented by Jesus when he created the Holy Roman Empire to keep Europe on the straight and narrow.

It was so holy that its rulers, the Habsburgs, didn't have sex with anyone other than each other. The result was Frederick IX had 12 legs and a really long nose with a finger on the end. Bizarre. Mozart composed the song for the emperor's unfortunate children that goes a bit like this. Head, shoulders, knees and knees, knees and knees,

knees and knees and knees and finger nose. Well, whatever you make of the song, it's still preferable over the offerings of an Austrian-based cable channel that plays the sound of music 24 hours a day. Sarah. That's true. I believe that there's an Austrian channel that plays The Sound of Music 24 hours a day. There is indeed.

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE Austria is a morbid country. Ignoring his wife's concerns that the title tempted fate, Austrian Gustav Mahler composed the Kinder Totenlieder, songs about the death of children. When their daughter sadly packed it in shortly after, he composed a song about winning the lottery, the lottery-gewinner-leader, but then forgot to buy a ticket.

Lloyd. Did Mahler compose a song about the deaths of children he did indeed yes and indeed shortly after the kindertorten leader were premiered in vienna in 1905 both his daughters fell ill with scarlet fever the oldest dying so which is very sad ill with scarlet fever the oldest dying so which is very sad or a very cynical pr stunt i'm so sorry too soon too soon so now that that's all covered even though always full to the brim with caffeine not a a single Austrian has ever made an irrational decision. The closest the Austrians have ever come to doing something stupid

was the time when they started wearing tartan kilt after archaeologists claimed them to be of Austrian origin. Miles. There is a connection with tartan and Vienna. Quite convinced. You're right to be convinced. That's correct. Yes, in 2004, many Austrian stores, with tartan and Vienna. Quite convinced. You're right to be convinced. That's correct.

Yes, in 2004, many Austrian stores began selling, quote, traditional Austrian kilts after archaeologists claimed erroneously that the country had invented them following the discovery of a sample of tartan in Carinthia dating from 320 BC. But in fact, tartan wasn't invented in Austria. The oldest tartan was found in Western China and dates from 1800 BC,

and kilts were worn by the ancient Egyptians and the Romans. So the Austrians didn't invent them, but neither did the Scottish. They're just a very, very old form of clothing that most cultures have abandoned after the invention of the trousers. After the Second World War, they stopped being Austria-Hungary. But they didn't stop Austrians being Hungary. See what I've done there?

No, I don't get it. And inventing millions of desserts. Among them schnapfendampf, kampenberger, habsenhausenkuchen, habsenhausenkuchen mit brot, habsenhausenkuchen ohne brot, habsenhausenkuchen mit etwas brot, habsenhausenkuchen mit etwas weniger brot, panzerkampenwagen, topfenkopfen und googlehupfenhausen-Kuchen mit etwas weniger Brot, Panzerkampfenwagen, Topfenkopfen und Gugelhupfenhausen. And last we forget, Hapsenhausen-Kuchen ohne Brot, aber mit Marmelade. APPLAUSE Miles. Was that an extract from the German shipping port?

LAUGHTER I think... And it would be hard to pick one. Miles. Was that an extract from the German shipping port? I think... It would be hard to pick one. But what is this word? Habschenhausen... Habschenhausenkuchen. Yeah, that is a Viennese dessert. Are you referring to the one mit Brot? Ohne Brot?

Mit etwas Brot? Mit etwas weniger Brot? Oder ohne Brot, mit etwas Brot, mit etwas weniger Brot, oder ohne Brot, aber mit Marmelade. Or the plain one. The plain ones, they must exist. They must have started with them and then built up. No, they don't exist. What? None of them?

Well, I made it up. Yeah. Well, there wasn't always that much choice. Back in the day, during the potato war with Prussia, Austrians tried to eat all of Prussia's potatoes and so had to come up with a wide variety of starch-based dishes. These included Kartoffel-Hopfentopf, Kartoffel-Giraffenhals,

Kartoffel à la Hapsenhausen, mit Brot, ohne Brot, mit etwas Brot, mit etwas weniger Brot, ohne Brot, aber mit Marmelade. Und Brot. Not forgetting Kartoffelbrot, ohne Marmelade, aber und Brot. Not forgetting kartoffelbrot

ohne marmalade aber mit Brot. Miles. The second one. Now, the second one, I believe, is kartoffelgaraffenhaus, which I noticed it's got the word giraffe in the middle of it,

which is making me suspicious, but I'm reliably informed that that's not a genuine Austrian starch dish. Lloyd. Was there an Austrian potato war with Russia? With Prussia, yes, there was. That's absolutely right. The War of Bavarian Succession

was nicknamed the Kartoffelkrieg, or Potato War, due to raiding parties on each side digging up the enemy's potato crop and even lobbing potatoes at each other instead of mortars. That's going to leave you with a chip on your shoulder. Well, seeing this tendency to overindulge, it can't come as a surprise that the streets of Austria are traditionally covered in sick. Sigmund Freud wrote hundreds of books on and with sick,

believing that morning sickness represented a loathing of the baby's father and a woman's desire to vomit up his baby. Yet, in nine out of ten cases, the women still get custody. the loathing of the baby's father and the woman's desire to vomit up his baby. Yet, in nine out of ten cases, the women still get custody. Mit Brot. Sarah? I'm going to say that Freud did think that. He got a subconscious desire not to be pregnant anymore.

And to vomit up the father's baby. Yes, that's completely true. He was a crazy desire not to be pregnant anymore. And to vomit up the father's baby. Yes, that's completely true. He was a crazy man. Yeah. And that's the end of Henning's lecture. And at the end of that round, Henning, I'm afraid you've smuggled no truths past the rest of the panel. I'm an honest person.

But that means you've scored no points. That's what I like to hear, the slightly severe applause of disappointment, as England cricket fans will be familiar with. Next up is Sarah Pascoe. Sarah, your subject is swans. Large, usually white water birds, known for their graceful long necks,

fierce temperaments and powerful wings. Fingers on buzzers, the rest of you. Off you go, Sarah. Swans' arms are very strong and are principally used as weapons. Miles. Swans do have very strong arms, but they're feathered arms, or wings. But they are strong. They're very strong. I've been attacked by a swan. They're very strong.

But did it actually attack you with its arms? Yeah, but they were feathered. What had you done, out of interest? I'd done nothing. Off yourself. I was in a small lake somewhere in, I think, Somerset, in a rowing boat with an author. The natural enemy of the

swan. Swans hate literature. It was for a sort of quirky documentary programme for this station and he didn't notice that he'd hit this swan two or three times with an oar and I was going, I think you

hit, and then it just lost it. Presumably, if this was for a Radio 4 quirky documentary, there is a sound recording of you being attacked by a swan. What you can really hear, and you don't even have to turn it up to hit, you can hear just how strong those arms are. I don't think we can call a swan's wings arms. And with cows and dogs, we refer to their arms as legs.

Yes, exactly. You wouldn't start talking about the foreleg of a cow as its arm. You wouldn't put a wristwatch just above the hoof. Yeah, but it's like when one human looks after another one, and then you say, oh, yeah, I'll take you under my wings. Well, we haven't got any wings. We've got arms So it's the same. Exactly, the two words are completely interchangeable You can't

When we refer to taking someone under our wing we're using metaphor and swans as already established do not use metaphor because they hate literature No, they let their fists do the talking They hate literature. No, they let their fists do the talking. Well, their fist has got a beak on it. No, so I'm not going to give you the point. What?

Are you going to tell me this is the worst thing that's happened to you on this radio station? Because I don't believe you. However, swans have mastered the art of levitation so they can float high above ponds, trees and the shard. And airline pilots have even seen them flying at a height of 29,000 feet. How could they afford the aeroplane ticket? Nobody knows. Miles. Aeroplane pilots have seen swans flying at 29,000 feet.

You're correct. Well done. In a way, it's not surprising they can fly that high. I mean, they've got unbelievably strong arms. Her Majesty the Queen owns all the swans in the world. Nothing upsets the Queen more than the sight of a poorly swan, so she gives them flu jabs every year on the understanding that this will make them immortal. Henny. Now, do they get a flu jab once a year? They do get flu jabs.

They do. Yes, by the order of the Queen in 2011, after a virus killed off more than 180 swans on the Thames near Windsor, it was decided by the Queen's swan warden that swans in the affected area should all receive the flu jab vaccine. Swans taste gross, all muddy and horrible, and these days the queen doesn't enjoy eating mud as much as she used to once upon a time there was a german swan she met a massive pedalo in the shape of a swan and she thought it was so handsome and waterproof that she encouraged it to mate with her and when all of the other swans emigrated to a country with better unemployment benefits and bigger lakes she stayed with her love mr Mr Pedalo, because he could...

Hasn't there been a story that there was some goose thinking Pedalo was its mate? Yes, there was. And it was... Yeah. And it was a swan, not a goose, a swan on a boating lake in Germany, paused between attacking writers to become a national celebrity in 2006 after choosing as her mate

a giant plastic pedalo in the shape of a swan and refused to fly south in the winter when the pedalo didn't. She stayed with her love, Mr Pedalo, and this made the crowd of swans sad so that even today they're known as a lamentation of swans. Is lamentation a collective noun for swans? It is indeed. Anyway, that's the end of Sarah's lecture. At the end of that round, Sarah,

you've managed to smuggle one truth past the rest of the panel, which is that swans taste muddy. At least according to Arthur Boyt, the retired biologist and star of his own BBC TV series, The Roadkill Chef, who's an authority on eating wild animals since he started consuming those he found killed on UK roads over 50 years ago. One of his favourite meals, in contrast, was Labrador Retriever, which he says has a pleasant taste and flavor that is a bit like lamb. Mrs. Boyt is a vegetarian. And that means, Sarah, you've scored one point. Next up is Miles Jupp. Your subject, Miles, is onions. Swollen edible bulbs with a pungent smell and taste

comprised of several concentric layers. Off you go, Miles. When the tomb of King Ramesses IV was opened, small onions were found in the eye sockets of his mummy. It was later discovered, however, that it was not part of the burial ritual, it was just that a careless embalmer had misplaced his lunch. Henning.

The onions, were they... Did they stick them in your eye sockets? They did indeed. Did they? Yes. They're mad. Some Egyptologists have theorised that onions may have been used because it was believed that their strong scent and or magical powers would bring breath back to the

dead. In Elizabethan England, the word onions referred to illegitimate children. A man who acknowledged his bastard offspring was regarded as wise and responsible, and it is believed by some that this is the origin of the phrase to know your onions. Henny. Well, if it's not true, then it's very well made up. It was not a term for illegitimate children.

An old Scottish remedy for deafness was to mix onion juice with ant's eggs and then drip it into the ear, presumably the ear of the deaf person. Sarah? I think that's true. The Scottish remedy? Yeah. It is true. Yes.

In South Dakota, at the end of the 19th century, rival onion ranchers took to branding each onion with their own symbol, effectively bringing onion rustling to a halt, and it's believed by some that this is the origin of the phrase to know your onions. One morning in Michigan, onions helped foil an armed robbery. A Burger King clerk told the would-be armed robber that he couldn't open the cash register without a food order,

and so the robber ordered onion rings. The onion rings, the clerk explained, were not available as part of a breakfast order, and so the robber left. Lloyd. I'll take a punt on that being the truth. It is a truth. Well done. The incident was

reported in Stephen Pyle's Ultimate Book of Heroic Failures and the robber was nominated for a Darwin Award in 2005. Ernest Hemingway's favourite food when he was writing was peanut butter and onion sandwiches, washed down with rum. Presumably to take away the horrible taste.

Gwen Frid. Henning. Did he enjoy peanut butter and onion rings? Onion sandwiches? He did indeed. Yes, yeah. He described the peanut butter and onion sandwich as one of the highest points in the sandwich maker's art. When Fred Champney, the housewife's favourite,

won Mastermind in 1973, he was the first competitor in the history of the show to score a maximum 23 points on his specialist subject, onions. It's believed by some that this is the origin of the phrase... LAUGHTER ..to know your onions. A pickled onion which miraculously carried the face of David Mitchell recently exchanged hands on eBay for £7. I think that's true.

I think someone found a little onion with David Mitchell's face on it. It's not true. So it's still out there? So it's still out there? According to research by a Swiss company, let's face it, they're all above board, the underarm sweats produced by women actually smells of onions. The underarm... Sarah. That's true. It is true, yes.

And it comes with a partner fact, doesn't it, Miles? That's right. The underarm sweat of men, however, smells of cheese. This is why when a man and a woman take a bath together, they create the aroma of French onion soup. It's rumoured that if you blindfold yourself, put a peg on your nose and take alternate bites from an apple, a potato and an onion,

you'll be asked to leave Waitrose. Thank you, Miles. At the end of that round, Miles, you've also smuggled no truths past the rest of the panel, which means you've scored no points. Which brings us to the final scores. In fourth place, with minus four points, we have Miles Jupp.

In third place, with minus one point, it's Henning Vein. And in equal first place with an unassailable two points each, it's this week's winners Sarah Pascoe and Lloyd Langford. That's about it for this week. Goodbye.

The Unbelievable Truth was devised by John Naismith and Graham Garden and featured David Mitchell in the chair with panellists Lloyd Langford, Miles Jupp, Sarah Pascoe and Henning Vane. The chairman's script was written by Dan Gaster and Colin Swash, and the producer was John Naismith. It was a random production for BBC Radio 4.