Pete, talk us through them, will you? I have a moral objection to endorsing products.
Me too, Sean.
No, it's in your contract, Pete.
Okey-dokey.
On the original Darrot's Wheel tonight, Joan, you could win the state-of-the-art audio cassette player from JVC.
At $25, music has never sounded so audible.
As easy as JVC?
A rhetorical question worth pondering.
Or maybe a £50 shopping spree at Woolworths, or Food Fair is more to your liking.
Woolworths and Food Fair.
The last words in this sentence. Except for these ones.
Or how about this fabulous sewing machine from Faff?
Yes, sirree.
Whether it be a smart linen suit, or one made from the eviscerated skin of your murder victims,
then look no further than Faff.
Faff, the P is silent, but my god the machine isn't.
Back to you, Sean.
Tired of eating your Sunday roast raw? Why not cook it in an oven by draven?
With its spacious interior and plenty of headroom, it's also perfect for ending it all.
Yes, if you stop laughing, put your head in a draven.
Penelope, I can see you in this revealing underwear from Fredericks of Fruville.
Curse these x-ray eyes of mine. If only I could rip them from my skull and dash them into the sea.
That's the last time I go to a mad scientist to have my cataracts looked at.
And what do red bags, a camera and a cassette player have in common?
That's right, they can all be stirred in the cargo hold of a passenger aircraft.
And here comes the passenger aircraft.
It's not this one, obviously, it's far too small.
It's the Boeing Minus Two, built in the 60s, so that mice could experience the thrill of air travel.
Three years and no bookings later, rodent travel went into voluntary receivership.
Their shattered dreams can be your diverting curio when you take home this five-foot freak of aeronautical design.
Be the envy of people with no concept of worth with a Boeing Minus Two.
Back to you, Sean, like this giant concrete statue of Carl Page.
Much more lifelike than the actual Carl Page, seen here demonstrating the escape features of the new Green Falcon.
It's a pleasant addition to any roof and makes regular garden gnomes seem dwarf-like,
and on a different altitude by comparison.
Carl Page, the first and last names of a person with that identity.
Or if you're one of those people who thinks it's funny because it's true,
then you'll cack yourself over these beautiful encyclopedias from Britannica.
18 volumes, all of them inaudible.
And like an S&M dominatrix who's eaten too many bananas, they're bound in leather.
Normally valued at $1,800, tonight they're abnormally valued at negative 53 rubles.
Well, why not get away from it all with a weekend of greywater rafting at the Werribee Sewage Treatment Works.
Test your rafting skills and your ability to withstand odour on this two-day non-stop adventure,
battling the elements.
Or should that be effluence?
I'm serious, I can't read my handwriting.
From Greywater Tours, a company in liquidation.
Over to you, Sean and Bozo.
Or Pete.
Sean.
Francis.
Len.
Pete.
Thanks, Len.
If you enjoy listening to a tranny but don't have anything by Carl Lotter on audio cassette,
why not try this portable radio by National.
Sleek leatherette carrying case, AM frequency, tuner dial, mono speaker and battery compartment with flange
all add up to one thing.
Style with a capital letter.
And with an optional earpiece, the trots have never been more enjoyable.
The National Transistor Radio, I won't hear a word said against it, or indeed on it.
Need to deliver a million dollar ransom?
Then these beautiful suitcases from Bon Voyage are just what the desperate kidnapper ordered down the phone
in his electronically altered voice.
Perfect for leaving in a hollowed out tree or a train station locker.
No cops or the old lady gets it.
Bon Voyage, it's French for a river d'etchie.
A river d'etchie.
Or what about this beautiful elephant from Elefants of North Melbourne?
Eight tonne of this magnificent beast delivered to your door 24 hours a day.
Startling April Fool's Day joke.
Or an unusual diamond wedding anniversary present capable of gore-ing the recipient.
It's the perfect way to say, hey, I got you that elephant.
Back to you, Sean.
Well, lime green is the new black this year, and what better way to wear it than paint it on this 1976 Holden Gemini.
Hits will turn, as will many stomachs as you drive past in this baby.
Hear them gasp, particularly when you mount the curb in Korea through a shock window.
Holden Gemini, Australia's answer to the Corvette.
Assuming the question was very badly worded.
Or why not sit back and be mystified by a one-year subscription to Foxdill's Jimmy Hannon channel.
24 hours a day, seven days a week devoted to Australia's 29th favourite television presenter.
And what better way to endure him than on this beautiful 18 and three-quarter inch JVC TV.
You and JVC, four letters of the alphabet.
Or what about a 1958 upright stove with the top of the range oven hood to the value of 14 guineas.
Gas operated and with a door that both opens and shuts.
It's the perfect gift for someone without a stove.
New world, so good they named it once.
Back to you, Sean, and...
Oh, sorry, it's gone.
Paint!
That's right, Sean.
Our lucky contestant this week will be the one missing out on winning this outdoor furniture set from Sunlander.
Once you experience the total sitting pleasure of Sunlander, you won't stand for anything else.
Except for the national anthem.
Sturdy, beautiful, modern.
All words which can be found in Webster's dictionary.
In fact, with 3075 pages of them and in an order which can only be described as alphabetical, you can't go wrong.
Webster's, the last word in dictionaries, but only if they leave out anything starting with X, Y and Z.
Tired of tiny fridge magnets?
Sick to death of your children's drawings cluttering up the door when you want to get out the ghee?
Then why not try the disguise your fridge as an oven giant fridge magnet?
Confuse your child and double the appearance of ovens in your kitchen today or tomorrow depending on when you start using it.
Back to you, Kath and Kim.
Thanks, Pete.
That's right, Sean.
Hey, Groovers, how about a month's worth of invisible groceries from our good friends at Claude Rains Supermarkets?
Quality meats, colourful vegetables, attractive dairy produce.
Who'd know with this lot?
See-through food stops the kids raiding the fridge, confuses mice and means you'll never have to wash a dish properly again.
Mind you, it is radioactive and it will kill you.
Claude Rains Supermarkets, so you'll need a pretty big umbrella.
Impressed with the superb cleaning action of the Enyo dusting mitt?
But want to clean your household surfaces even faster than normal because of some psychological problem?
Then why not try the Enyo jump set on for size?
Rap dance, frottage or just writhe about strangely to rid your home of filth?
Enjo, it's Latvian for the bison are giggling.
Vulcan have been making heaters since as long as I can remember.
This means that as my memory goes they're becoming less experienced with time.
In a few years they'll have no freaking idea what they're doing.
That may explain this red wine boiling kit for those who like their claret and themselves warmer than room temperature.
Although be warned you could eventually spontaneously combust.
Vulcan, the Greek god of destructive fire, perhaps not the best name for a heating manufacturer.
Pete!
Thanks, Leanne.
What better way to get some sleep at the end of the day than by going to bed?
Hypnotic spiral patterns on the quilting sheets ensure that you'll be in a deep deep slumber before you can say,
get that woman to a doctor immediately.
This bedroom furniture is valued at Fred Spoon's bedroom furniture valuations of North Ride and it's certainly worth it.
From Captain Snooze, and remember the apostrophe makes no difference when you're pronouncing the word.
Well how about this for a magnificent china cabinet?
Pretty poor substitute I'd have thought.
It's finished in teak veneer before it's even started and stained with whatever happens to fall on it.
And I don't know what fell on that poor woman but that gauze poncho's not gonna clean it off.
Maple, a curious name for a product predominantly made of chipboard.
Or how about these old standbys?
Red luggage, camera and slide projector.
At least that weirdo model's not in this one showing off her creosote stained bod.
Ugh, my godfather, put some clothes on you hussy!
Or at least stand on a tarpaulin.
Back to you Red and Wilbur.
This one is playing for tonight.
Pete!
Francis!
Sean!
Len!
Pete!
Francis's knee.
Pete!
With a knee.
Sean!
Pete!
That's right Sean.
Stop living and start decomposing in your brand new house made entirely of Manchester.
Flimsy yet colourful, it features a variety of sheeted walls, some with strings as well as this striking tuna facade.
And it comes to you from Little Tents.
Aren't you a Little Tents?
That doesn't even make any sense.
Then get away from it all on your new bike.
It's from Repco, a name that's almost an anagram of epoch.
Two words, brown and hideous.
No, not that model's sun shriveled hide.
The appalling couch she's sitting on.
It's a Jason Reclina rocker, need I say more?
Yes, probably.
Dear God.
And God help anyone foolish enough to try and watch anything on this TV.
What with that grinning lunatic stuck to the bloody screen.
I mean freak me sideways, it's a television not a photo album JBC.
Capiche?
Or how about this delightful Russian mail order bride?
Packaged in sturdy bubble wrap and cardboard, she comes to you from plop-offs of Vladivostok
and leaves you six months later when the visa comes through.
Back to you Tango and Cash.
Thank you very much Pete.