“I HAVE NEVER SEEN 200 PEOPLE FALL APART IN UNDER 6 MINUTES.” Tim Conway didn’t just walk onto that stage — he slid into it, slow enough to make time look impatient. And somehow, that tiny shuffle sent 200 people into total collapse. You can see Carol Burnett trying so hard not to fall apart she’s practically shaking. Every step he took felt like a dare, every turn so slow it made the whole cast lose control. It’s wild how one man, moving like a melting snowflake, could blow up a room like that. And now, 50 years later, millions are still replaying those six chaotic minutes… wondering how comedy ever got that perfect again

There are moments in comedy that feel almost impossible — the kind you watch once, laugh until you can’t breathe, and then immediately hit replay just to make sure it actually happened. Tim Conway’s “Galley Slaves” sketch is one of those miracles. Not a performance… a phenomenon.

People who were backstage that day still say the same sentence: “I have never seen one man break 200 people at once.” And when you watch the clip, you understand why. Tim didn’t walk into the scene. He drifted into it, moving so slowly it looked like he was fighting gravity itself. Every tiny turn of his head, every delayed blink, every inch of that tortoise-speed shuffle was so perfectly timed it felt supernatural.

See also Tim Conway walked into what was supposed to be a simple, harmless sketch—just him washing windows on a shaky scaffold. Nothing special. But the moment he stepped into the scene, everything fell apart in the most hilarious way possible. He slipped, swung around, and turned a tiny bit of comedy into pure, unstoppable chaos. Harvey Korman was begging him—literally begging him—to stop, but Tim was on a roll and there was no putting the brakes on it. For 22 straight minutes, the script might as well have been thrown in the trash. The cast couldn’t think, the crew was gasping for air, and the audience was laughing like they’d lost control of their own bodies. Tim wasn’t following anything. He wasn’t even steering the ship. He just broke the entire show—and nobody could do a thing to stop him.

Carol Burnett later admitted she was seconds from falling to the floor. You can see her hand gripping the edge of the desk, shaking, eyes glassy with tears. Even Harvey Korman — a man famous for never breaking — is literally biting his lips to stay alive. It wasn’t just funny. It was a meltdown. A total chain reaction where one slow-motion gesture detonated the entire cast.

What makes it even more magical is that Conway never raised his voice, never rushed, never tried to “sell” a joke. He let silence do the heavy lifting. He trusted the pause. The whole scene plays like comedy in slow motion, yet somehow it hits harder than any fast-paced routine today.

See also “Are you sure it’s still ticking?” — the question barely leaves Harvey Korman’s lips before The Oldest Man (Tim Conway) shuffles into the room, moving at a speed that could make a sundial impatient. In “Clock Repair,” one of The Carol Burnett Show’s most iconic sketches, Conway turns time itself into a joke — and Korman’s battle to keep a straight face into pure comedy legend. Every movement creaks like the antique clock he’s supposed to fix, every pause stretches longer than logic allows, until the audience is in hysterics and even Korman can’t hold it together. What begins as a simple repair job unravels into total chaos: gears fall, tools drop, and Conway’s deadpan expression never wavers. It’s physical comedy at its most masterful — a reminder that in Conway’s world, time doesn’t just fly… it limps, coughs, and wheezes its way into history.

And now, half a century later, millions of people who never saw the original broadcast are rediscovering it. The clip is everywhere — TikTok, YouTube, Facebook — sparking the same uncontrollable laughter it did in the ’70s. Young fans keep asking the same question: “How can someone moving that slowly be that funny?”

Maybe that’s the secret. Tim Conway didn’t just act the character. He became time itself — stretched, bent, and exaggerated — until the whole room couldn’t take it anymore.

Fifty years later, he’s still teaching modern comedy a lesson:
Speed isn’t everything. Timing is everything. And no one, before or after, ever timed it like he did.

See also Tim Conway & Harvey Korman’s “Dueling Pianos” — The Sketch That Still Has the World Laughing