The Rutles - The LP Booklet - Pages 15 and 16

The LP Booklet Pages 15 and 16

"Yellow Submarine Sandwich," a full-length animated feature film was almost the only success for Rutle Corps.
In 1968 Dirk and Nasty flew to New York to announce the formation of Rutle Corps, their aim, as Nasty put it "to help people help themselves." Unfortunately Rutle Corps did just that-people helped themselves for years. So many parasites jumped onto the Band's wagon that at one stage they were losing money faster than the British Government. Some clever Dutch designers "The Smart" persuaded the Rutles to open a boutique and took nearly a million dollars off them in only three weeks before Nasty blew it up.
The pilfering from Rutle Corps was on a monumental scale-typewriters, TV sets, telephones, cars, even offices disappeared over night.
Eric Manchester was the Rutles Press Officer, called back from California to help run Rutle Corps.

Stig, meanwhile, had hidden in the background so much that in 1969 a rumour went around that he was dead. He was supposed to have been killed in a flash fire at a water bed shop and replaced by a plastic and wax replica from Madame Tussauds. Several so-called 'facts' helped the emergence of this rumour.
Firstly, he never said anything. Even as the 'quiet one' he had not said a word since 1962.
Secondly, on the cover of their latest album "Shabby Road" he is wearing no trousers, an old Italian way of indicating death.
Thirdly, Nasty supposedly sings "I buried Stig" on "I Am the Waitress." In fact he sings "E burres stigano" which is very bad Spanish for "Have you a water buffalo?"
Fourthly, on the Sergeant Rutter album he is leaning in the exact position of a dying Yeti (from the Rutland Book of the Dead). And finally, if you sing the title of Sergeant Rutter's Only Darts Club Band backwards it is supposed to sound very like "Stig has been dead for ages honestly." In fact it sounds uncannily like "dnab bulc strad ylno srettur tnaegres."
Stig was, of course, far from dead. Although not far from London. He had fallen in bed with Gertrude Strange, a large-breasted, biologically-accomodating American girl whose father had invented the limpet mine. When Stig met her it was love at first sight. They retired to his bungalow where he woke up exhauted a year later to find that Gertrude was gone, leaving only some crumbs in the bed and a lot of torn sheets. She left no forwarding address, no farewell notes, but luckily no children.