Read the transcript for the stand-up comedy special 'Billy Connolly's Route 66' (2011) by Billy Connolly on Comedy Buff. Track transcripts ready: 3/3.

Route 66, the most famous road in the world. How many other roads do you know that people sing about? And it's just one of those magical places that you always long to see. Ever since I was a wee boy in Glasgow, I fantasised about getting my kicks on Route 66. Oh my God! To me, it was a magic trail heading west through the heart of America. And to the land of broken dreams and Hollywood endings. The highway that built a continent, defined a nation, running from Chicago to LA.
Route 66 is the story of America, written by the people, for the people. Over eight states and two and a half thousand miles. I love that! It's a tale in tarmac of presidents and paupers, cowboys and Indians, diners and drive-thrus, framed in a landscape from a hundred movies with a soundtrack of the greatest music in the world. Rock and roll. Sounds good, doesn't it? Oh my God! Whoa! We're going to have lots of fun, meet lots of people, see lots of nice things.
Come with me. Let's take a walk on the wrong side. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun.
We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun.
We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun.
We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. We're going to have lots of fun. I'm with you in a minute, sir. Madam. And a magic whistle. And if you think you know this place from a lifetime of John Wayne movies, think again. This place. I wish you were here. I wish you could see it. Starting in Oklahoma, I'm going to plow 700 miles through Texas, New Mexico and Arizona, before making a 150-mile detour north into ancient Navajo land and Monument Valley.
But first... Well, that's quite enough of that. But yes, I'm in Oklahoma where the wind really does come crashing down the plain and the cattle outnumber humans by almost two to one. This is the face of modern cowboy country. Ranch hands from New York, dreadlocks, baseball hats and low-slung jeans. It's refreshing, but I'm secretly pleased that Stan Manishrek, the owner of this ranch, is still a proud bearer of a 10-gallon hat.
Well done, guys. We're on our way. Oh, great. I'll go round the other side. Sounds good to me. And we are going literally on a cattle drive. I love the way those two boys work the cattle. Yeah. They're pretty good boys. They work hard and they do a good job, and it's hard to find people to work on the farm. I bet it is. This is a nice way to make a living. It's not a good way to make a living. You don't make a lot of money, but it's the best life in the world.
Yeah. Takes a bit of driving this thing, doesn't it? No, I'm not very good at it. They're talking about gear grinders. I'm a grinder. I don't do very good. Apparently, cows create so much methane when they fart. They cause more harm to the ozone layer than cars. I mention this because there's a constant emission of gas, fluid, and effluence going on behind us, with potentially explosive consequences for those standing roadside.
Up here at this toll booth that goes through there, we go through there, and we'll pay. And generally, if they have any experience with these cattle, the minute you get through paying, that window goes up. Oh, I mean, you'll see them slam that window close. Thank you. Okay. See that window come out? There you go! Whoo-hoo! That was great! She's been down this road before. Yeah. An hour later, we reach our destination, Oklahoma City Stockyards.
Come on, come on, come on! There goes 25 grand's worth of steer, and who knows how many burgers. That's it! These stockyards are the biggest in the world, known locally as Cow Town. They've been here since 1910, and process up to 18,000 head of cattle a day. It's a town within a city. It's a bit like the Vatican, really. It rules itself, and the city would love to get rid of it, because of the smell and the airflow and the noise and all that.
Poor things. They're going to be hamburgers soon. That means... Honest, they'll be good. Don't send me to be sold. They'll be a really good boy if you just let me live. Poor old things. They've got no balls or anything. One way, go! One way, go! Have you ever heard anything like that in your life? One forty-eight! That's what I sounded like to English audiences when I first came from Scotland. That's what I sounded like to Edinburgh audiences when I first came for Glasgow.
I can't begin to tell you what he's saying, but this is serious business. Oklahoma is currently suffering a drought of the same magnitude, if not worse, than the one that saw the state turn into a dust bowl during the Great Depression. And the only way that the farmers and ranchers let stand can survive is by using cutting-edge farming techniques, which cost money. So every word that's being said here counts.
I loved that. It was like listening to bluegrass banjo. But now it's time to leave Oklahoma. So here it is, the Route 66 of my imagination. Long, straight roads, big skies, and bigger distances to travel. It was against the law. It was against the law. It was against the law. It was against the law. My next stop is 200 miles away over the border in Texas, where everything, even religion, is bigger.
That's the biggest crucifix in the Western Hemisphere. I wonder what height they thought Jesus was. Judging by that, he must have been about 42 feet high. It's a funny place, Texas. Not only did they vote George W. Bush into public office, there are also 102 registered Elvis impersonators working there at any given time. Not a good run of claims to fame, but that could be about to change because I'm heading for the tiny town of McLean.
Stuck in the middle of nowhere with very little to do, the town has put itself firmly on the map as a must-see for one simple reason. This is a museum to barbed wire. That may sound daft if you don't live in Texas or if you don't live in the West, but barbed wire, or the devil's rope as they called it, was invented by a man called Samuel Glidden. A lot of people wished him dead because before that, the whole West was free range for cattle, free grazing.
You could take, you could drove your cattle over hundreds of miles just eating as they went. But then people started putting up barbed wire and lining off their land, especially if they had water, because that way they could stop the whole herd and its tracks and charge for the water. And it caused range wars, caused a lot of death, a lot of fight and a lot of terrible arguing. It doesn't have a good history, barbed wire.
Come on in, we'll have a wee look. Oh, here we go, here we go. Now just hold your excitement. I'm going to take you over to the barbed wire splices. There's the stuff that you know so well from the L-shaped cut on your khaki shorts as you're escaping from the orchard with your jumper full of apples. And the guy's shouting, "Come back here, you bunch of bastards!" That's what causes it. They're khaki cutters.
I always wondered why it made such a right-angled cut. You would think it would just tear it. But oh... There's more over there. I'll spare you the agony. Oh, here's the First World War barbed wire. The German... This says, "Welcome to our trenches." English military wire. Now you'll notice there's more spaces in between the barbs. A gentler race of people. "Come and have a cup of tea." This suggests.
Now the German one suggests... It sounds a bit like German too, doesn't it? Isn't that a coincidence? And that's where we see the roots of German language. As the barbs go through your search trousers. In a million L-shaped cigars. Who would have thought barbed wire could be so much fun? Is this the way to Amarillo? Every night I've been hugging my pillow. Dreaming dreams of Amarillo. That sweet Marie who waits for me.
There are two things worth noting about Amarillo, Texas. The first one is that no one here has ever heard the song, "Is this the way to Amarillo?" And the second is this, the Cadillac Ranch. It's the brainchild of Stanley Marsh III, a millionaire eccentric. And they are as an iconic piece of art as Andy Warhol's tin of Campbell's soup. And just like those tins of soup, you can treat it as seriously or as silly as you want.
He did it in the 70s to represent the American love of the automobile and the freedom that it brought them. For reasons best known to himself, they're perched at an angle exactly the same to the Great Pyramid of Giza. I don't know why that should be, you'll have to ask him. But he encourages people to graffiti on them, to repaint them, to whatever you care to call it. He encourages it. And I'm going to do it.
And every now and again, apparently, he recoats them to give you a clean canvas. The public can start again doing whatever they like on it. To make love to me, I know will never be Billy Connolly. What? How in the name of God did I... He must have come and done that. Imagine having my name on it. That's freakish. Billy plus Amarillo. Billy C. This has been prepared for me. What a lucky chap I am. Look at it along that way.
Isn't it good? How very weird. That's really knocked me off my balance. I might as well say hello to him. I've never graffitied before. It's great fun. I'm not surprised people do it. It's a... It's the last thing on earth I ever thought is that the Cadillac Ranch would be... a shrine to me. I've had a lovely time. I think I'll do it in Scotland with bicycles. Mother, mother, there's too many of you crying.
Brother, brother, brother, there's far too many of you dying. There it goes, the Midpoint Cafe, the halfway point of Route 66. And with 1,300 miles to go, before I reach L.A., I can't hang around. We don't need to escalate. I've started to notice something, though. The further west I travel, the lonelier and more isolated the towns become. You know we've got to find our way. And there's a reason for that.
When the new interstate highways were built, all these towns on Route 66 were simply cut off from the rest of the world. Some survived, others like my next destination, Glen Rio, turned into ghost towns over mine. This is Glen Rio. It's a ghost town. Except for one lady who lives here, Roxanne. The interstate bypassed Glen Rio in 1973. There was 30 residents. And apparently, it just completely died overnight.
Good, but we worked with it, I think. Hello, Roxanne. Billy Connolly. Nice to meet you. Nice to meet you. So this was your dad's gas station? Yes. Did you work here? Oh, yes. All my siblings and I, every summer. All the traffic would be lined up to the highway, both directions. Very, very busy. Yeah. Every island. He would have us go wash the windshields and check the oil so they'd be ready to just pump the gas and keep them moving through.
Texas Longhorn down there was the last to go. What was that? What was the Texas Longhorn restaurant? It was this. Oh, it was a motel? Yes. Cafe station and motel. It's still here? Uh-huh. It certainly isn't now. So how old does it feel to live here all alone? Uh, well, I'm us