“90 MILLION PEOPLE WATCHED THEM DESTROY EVERY RULE OF ETIQUETTE — AND STILL LAUGHED UNTIL THEY CRIED.” Harvey leaned across the table and whispered, “Don’t make a scene, Bob — we’re in public.” But Tim Conway already had that tiny grin… the one that meant everything was about to fall apart. What started as a polite business lunch slowly unraveled — a quiet accusation here, a frustrated sigh there, and Harvey clutching his napkin like it was the last bit of pride he had left. Tim stayed calm, almost too calm, letting each ridiculous line land as if it were perfectly normal. By the time the waiter arrived, the “break-up” was complete. Two grown men, one ruined lunch, and that unstoppable giggle Harvey could never hide.

Tim Conway and Harvey Korman Turn a “Simple Lunch” Into Comic Chaos

“Don’t make a scene, Bob — we’re in public!” Harvey whispers urgently, clinging to his napkin like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. And across the table? Tim Conway’s slow, mischievous grin — the surefire sign that a scene is about to be made.

What begins as a calm, professional lunch spirals beautifully into the kind of chaos only Conway could orchestrate. His delivery is polite to the point of absurdity, each line soft and harmless on the surface — until its ridiculousness finally detonates. That subtle menace, the kind that comes wrapped in kindness, is Conway’s specialty.

A Masterclass in Breaking Harvey Korman

Harvey tries — truly tries — to stay composed. But his face betrays him. The tightening jaw. The widening eyes. The careful, trembling sip of water meant to buy him time before he cracks. Every tiny movement becomes its own punchline.

The tension builds like only these two could build it — silently, steadily, hilariously. When the waiter approaches, he walks into not a business lunch, but a battlefield of comedic destruction.

A perfectly timed sandwich choke.
A full-bodied facepalm.
And finally, Harvey’s signature high-pitched giggle — the sound of a man defeated by genius.

Comedy That Could Never Be Contained by a Script

What follows is pure improvisational mayhem. Conway crafts gentle chaos; Korman surrenders to it with dignity in freefall. Together, they prove once again why their chemistry remains unmatched decades later. They weren’t just performing a sketch — they were dancing through it, reading each other’s breath, creating laughter that simply couldn’t be planned.

By the end, it’s clear: this wasn’t a business lunch. It was a duel of wits, a piece of comedy history, and a reminder that with Tim Conway and Harvey Korman, laughter isn’t just invited — it’s guaranteed.