..just keep on joking all the way to that great seaside special in the sky.
Nick Duerden tracked down five faded stars of primetime TV and learnt that, even after enduring jail, addiction, scandal or depression, they're still hungry for one last summer hurrah.
Jim Bowen was recently asked if he wanted to take part in the next series of I'm A Celebrity (Get Me Out of Here! This could have been something of a boon for the former Bullseye host, who hasn't done much telly of late.
"I'd rather be in the pub with the wife, drinking Tetley's." This was presumably something of a shock to the programme's producers, who had grown accustomed to yesterday's funnymen (and, occasionally, women) queuing up to be demeaned in the Aussie outback in exchange for that most tantalising of propositions: a primetime audience.
Cannon and Ball had jumped at the chance last year, Joe Pasquale likewise, and all reaped the ensuing dividends.
But not Bowen: "I've certain standards, me." Bully for him, as it were.
Television, as we all know, isn't kind to its comedy stars of yore.
The moment they fall foul of incoming TV producers young enough to be their offspring, they are mercilessly dismissed, their fading memory mere tumbleweed in the same corridors of power through which they once so magnificently strutted.
Already predisposed to bouts of depression, as most comedians inevitably are, bad luck stories then become profligate: the drinking, the drugs, the unfortunate swimming pool incidents.
What must life be like for the faded stars of 1980s variety shows, now that the limelight has swung so emphatically elsewhere? Or did they never particularly care for television in the first place, thank you very much?
Many, in fact, continue to thrive in the wings, and August - with its seaside Bank Holiday specials - is a particularly busy month.
In provincial theatres up and down the country right now, you'll find poster evidence that suggests something of a renaissance for these erstwhile titans of light entertainment.
They are everywhere: here, there, at the end of the pier, and even the Edinburgh Festival, where their otherwise outmoded brand of comedy is now hailed, perhaps confusingly, as post-modern and ironic.
In a country where nostalgia is big business, they are laughing all the way to Christmas - to panto, and way beyond.