No comedy duo ever broke each other faster than Tim Conway and Harvey Korman, but nothing prepares you for the moment when Harvey finally tries to “get his revenge” — and Tim completely falls apart. What unfolds on The Carol Burnett Show isn’t just a sketch. It’s a slow-motion collapse of professionalism that becomes legendary the instant it begins.
From the very first beat, you can see Tim Conway barely holding it together. His eyes dart, his mouth tightens, and the smile he’s fighting creeps out anyway. Harvey Korman, determined to keep things serious for once, launches into his role with exaggerated focus, which somehow makes everything worse.
Then the “sewer shark” strikes. The timing is merciless. The bathroom door jams. Harvey attempts to muscle through a straight-faced line, but his body betrays him — shoulders shaking, knees buckling, breath hitching as he tries to keep going. Tim watches, stunned and delighted, which only accelerates the meltdown.
The genius of the moment lies in its inevitability. Conway doesn’t chase laughs; he lets them come to him. A look. A pause. A perfectly innocent reaction. Each one chips away at Harvey’s composure until it’s clear the sketch is no longer in control of itself.
When the dynamite gag finally hits, the room detonates. Harvey bends at the waist, completely undone. Carol Burnett and the rest of the cast lose it in unison. The audience screams, sensing they’re witnessing something that can’t be replicated — comedy born from chaos, not choreography.
What makes this moment endure is how nakedly human it is. There’s no recovery, no reset, no attempt to salvage dignity. The performers accept defeat, and in doing so, elevate the sketch to something unforgettable.
For fans, this is Conway and Korman at their purest. Harvey’s earnest seriousness is the perfect foil for Tim’s unassuming mischief. Together, they prove that the funniest moments often happen when control slips and laughter takes over.
Decades later, the clip still circulates because it captures lightning in a bottle. Not scripted funny. Not polished funny. The kind of funny where even the professionals can’t survive their own joke.
It’s a masterclass in timing, restraint, and the power of a single look. And it’s a reminder of why Tim Conway and Harvey Korman could destroy a room without raising their voices — just by daring each other to try and keep it together.
