Selected transcripts from Monty Python TV, movies and records.
None of these were entered by me or anybody at DCIEM, most were pulled
from a local BBS; some were contributed by USENET people. Enjoy!
Keyword Description
------- -----------
\albatross The Albatross sketch from "Live at City Center"
\allthings "All Things Dull and Ugly" song from "Contractual Obligation" LP
\anneelk "Miss Anne Elk" from Monty Python's Previous Record
\arab "Never Be Rude to an Arab" song from "Contractual Obligation" LP
\argument The Argument Clinic sketch
\bishop The Dead Bishop on the Landing sketch from "Live at City Center"
\blackmail Blackmail! The TV Game show
\bookshop The Bookshop sketch
\brian The opening song from "Life of Brian"
\bridge The Bridgekeeper scene from "The Holy Grail"
\brightside The "Bright Side of Life" song from "Life of Brian"
\bruce The Australian sketch from "Live at City Center"
(Includes "The Philosophers' Song")
\camelot The Camelot song
\cheeseshop The Cheese Shop sketch
\chinese "I Love Chinese" song from "Contractual Obligation" LP
\decompose "Decomposing Composers" from "Contractual Opligation" LP
\everysperm "Every Sperm is Sacred" song
\face "Sit on My Face" song from "Contractual Obligation" LP
\fishlicense The Fish License sketch (Includes "Eric the Half-Bee" song)
\french The French castle scene
\frog The Crunchy Frog sketch from the Hollywood Bowl
\galaxy The Galaxy song
\grail The Blessing from the Lord
\grenade The Holy Hand Grenade scene
\idiot "A Song for the Sensitive" from "Live at Drury Lane"
\lumberjack The Lumberjack song
\medical "Medical Love" song from "Contractual Obligation" LP
\medoctor The hilarious "Me, Doctor?"
\melish "Ralph Melish" from "Matching Tie and Handkerchief" LP
\ni The Knights Who Say Ni scene from "The Holy Grail"
\noelcoward "Not Noel Coward" song from "Meaning of Life"
\nudge Nudge Nudge, KnowhatImean, Saynomore!
\penguin The Penguin on top of the Television Set
\petshop The Dead Parrot Sketch
\robin The song of Sir Robin from "The Holy Grail"
\sermon "Sermon on the Mount" from "The Life of Brian"
\sheep The sheep in the trees sketch
\spam Need I describe it?
\string The advertising sketch
\swamp The complete Swamp Castle scene
\undertaker The undertaker sketch
\albatross
*** Albatross
*** from Monty Python live at City Center
*** transcribed from tape 10/3/87 Daniel Rich <
[email protected]>
Salesman: (shouting) Albatross....albatross....albatross....
albatross....albatross...albatross....albatross....albatross
Man: Two good humors please.
S: I haven't got any good humors, I've just got this bloody
albatross....(shouts) Albatross
M: What flavor is it?
S: It's a bird mate, it's a bloody bird, it's not any bloody
flavor....(shouts) Albatross
M: It's got to be some flavor, I mean everything's got a flavor.
S: All right, it's blood albatross flavor, it's bloody sea bloody bird
bloody flavor....(shouts) Albatross
M: Do you get wafers with it?
S: Course you don't get bloody wafers with it, it's a bloody albatross
isn't it...(shouts) Albatross
M: I'll have two please.
S: I've only got one you cocksucker....(shouts) Albatross....albatross....
albatross....albatross
\allthings
The following song was taken from Monty Python's Contractual
Obligation Album. It is sung to the tune of "All Creatures
Great and Small".
All Things Dull and Ugly
========================
All things dull and ugly,
All creatures short and squat,
All things rude and nasty,
The Lord God made the lot.
Each little snake that poisons,
Each little wasp that stings,
He made their brutish venom,
He made their 'orrid wings.
All things sick and cancerous,
All evil great and small,
All things foul and dangerous,
The Lord God made them all.
Each nasty little hornet,
Each beastly little squid,
Who made the spiky urchin?
Who made the sharks? He did!
All things scabbed and ulcerous,
All pox both great and small,
Putrid, foul, and gangrenous,
The Lord God made them all.
Amen.
\anneelk
Miss Anne Elk
as transcribed by Tim Pointing, DCIEM <
[email protected]> 870914
From "Monty Python's Previous Record"
Cast: Chris (Interviewer)
Anne Elk
Chris: Good evening. Tonight: "dinosaurs". I have here, sitting in the
studio next to me, an elk.
Ahhhh!!!
Oh, I'm sorry! Anne Elk - Mrs Anne Elk
Anne: Miss!
C: Miss Anne Elk, who is an expert on di...
A: N' n' n' n' no! Anne Elk!
C: What?
A: Anne Elk, not Anne Expert!
C: No! No, I was saying that you, Miss Anne Elk, were an , A-N not
A-N-N-E, expert...
A: Oh!
C: ...on elks - I'm sorry, on dinosaurs. I'm ...
A: Yes, I certainly am, Chris. How very true. My word yes.
C: Now, Miss Elk - Anne - you have a new theory about the brontosaurus.
A: Can I just say here, Chris for one moment, that I have a new theory
about the brontosaurus?
C: Uh... Exactly... What is it?
A: Where?
C: No! No, what is your theory?
A: What is my theory?
C: Yes!
A: What is my theory that it is? Yes. Well, you may well ask what is my theory.
C: I am asking.
A: And well you may. Yes, my word, you may well ask what it is, this
theory of mine. Well, this theory, that I have, that is to say, which is
mine,... is mine.
C: I know it's yours! What is it?
A: ... Where? ... Oh! Oh! What is my theory?
C: Yes!
A: Ahh! My theory, that I have, follows the lines that I am about to
relate. [starts prolonged throat clearing]
C: [under breath] Oh, God!
[Anne still clearing throat]
A: The Theory, by A. Elk (that's "A" for Anne", it's not by a elk.)
C: Right...
A: [clears throat] This theory, which belongs to me, is as follows...
[more throat clearing]
This is how it goes...
[clears throat]
The next thing that I am about to say is my theory.
[clears throat]
Ready?
C: [wimpers]
A: The Theory, by A. Elk [Miss]. My theory is along the following lines...
C: [under breath]God!
A: ...All brontosauruses are thin at one end; much, much thicker in the
middle and then thin again at the far end. That is the theory that I
have and which is mine and what it is, too.
C: That's it, is it?
A: Right, Chris!
C: Well, Anne, this theory of yours seems to have hit the nail right on the
head.
A: ... and it's mine.
C: Thank you for coming along to the studio.
A: My pleasure, Chris.
C: Britain's newest wasp farm...
A: It's been a lot of fun...
C: ...opened last week...
A: ...saying what my theory is...
C: ... Yes, thank you.
A: ...and whose it is.
C: Yes.... opened last week...
A: I have another theory.
C: Not today, thank you.
A: My theory #2, which is the second theory that I have. [clears throat].
This theory...
C: Look! Shut up!
A: ...is what I am about to say.
C: Please shut up!
A: which, with what I have said, are the two theories that are mine and
which belong to me.
C: If you don't shut up, I shall have to shoot you!
A: [clears throat] My xxx theory, which I posses the ownership of, which
belongs to...
[Sound of a single gun shot]
A: [clearing throat] The Theory the Second, by Anne...
[Sound of prolonged machine gun fire]
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Enjoy!
Tim -
[email protected]
\arab
** Never Be Rude to an Arab
** From Monty Python's Contractual Obligation Album
** Submitted by Christopher Gayle Lewis <
[email protected]>
Never be rude to an Arab,
An Isreali, or Saudi, or Jew.
Never be rude to an Irishman,
No matter what you do.
Never poke fun at a Nigger,
A Spic, or a Wop, or Kraut.
And never poke fun at at...
<KABOOM>
\argument
Monty Python/Argument Clinic
From "Monty Python's Previous Record"
and "Monty Python's Instant Record Collection"
Originally transcribed by Dan Kay (
[email protected])
Fixed up and Added "Complaint" and "Being Hit On The Head lessons" Aug/ 87
by Tak Ariga (
[email protected])
The Cast (in order of appearance.)
M= Man looking for an argument
R= Receptionist Girl
Q= Abuser
A= Arguer John Cleese
C= Complainer Eric Idle
H= Head Hitter
M: Ah. I'd like to have an argument, please.
R: Certainly sir. Have you been here before?
M: No, I haven't, this is my first time.
R: I see. Well, do you want to have just one argument, or were you thinking
of taking a course?
M: Well, what is the cost?
R: Well, It's one pound for a five minute argument, but only eight pounds for
a course of ten.
M: Well, I think it would be best if I perhaps started off with just the one
and then see how it goes.
R: Fine. Well, I'll see who's free at the moment.
Pause
R: Mr. DeBakey's free, but he's a little bit conciliatory.
Ahh yes, Try Mr. Barnard; room 12.
M: Thank you.
(Walks down the hall. Opens door.)
Q: WHAT DO YOU WANT?
M: Well, I was told outside that...
Q: Don't give me that, you snotty-faced heap of parrot droppings!
M: What?
Q: Shut your festering gob, you tit! Your type really makes me puke, you
vacuous, coffee-nosed, maloderous, pervert!!!
M: Look, I CAME HERE FOR AN ARGUMENT, I'm not going to just stand...!!
Q: OH, oh I'm sorry, but this is abuse.
M: Oh, I see, well, that explains it.
Q: Ah yes, you want room 12A, Just along the corridor.
M: Oh, Thank you very much. Sorry.
Q: Not at all.
M: Thank You.
(Under his breath) Stupid git!!
(Walk down the corridor)
M: (Knock)
A: Come in.
M: Ah, Is this the right room for an argument?
A: I told you once.
M: No you haven't.
A: Yes I have.
M: When?
A: Just now.
M: No you didn't.
A: Yes I did.
M: You didn't
A: I did!
M: You didn't!
A: I'm telling you I did!
M: You did not!!
A: Oh, I'm sorry, just one moment. Is this a five minute argument or the full
half hour?
M: Oh, just the five minutes.
A: Ah, thank you. Anyway, I did.
M: You most certainly did not.
A: Look, let's get this thing clear; I quite definitely told you.
M: No you did not.
A: Yes I did.
M: No you didn't.
A: Yes I did.
M: No you didn't.
A: Yes I did.
M: No you didn't.
A: Yes I did.
M: You didn't.
A: Did.
M: Oh look, this isn't an argument.
A: Yes it is.
M: No it isn't. It's just contradiction.
A: No it isn't.
M: It is!
A: It is not.
M: Look, you just contradicted me.
A: I did not.
M: Oh you did!!
A: No, no, no.
M: You did just then.
A: Nonsense!
M: Oh, this is futile!
A: No it isn't.
M: I came here for a good argument.
A: No you didn't; no, you came here for an argument.
M: An argument isn't just contradiction.
A: It can be.
M: No it can't. An argument is a connected series of statements intended to
establish a proposition.
A: No it isn't.
M: Yes it is! It's not just contradiction.
A: Look, if I argue with you, I must take up a contrary position.
M: Yes, but that's not just saying 'No it isn't.'
A: Yes it is!
M: No it isn't!
M: Argument is an intellectual process. Contradiction is just the automatic
gainsaying of any statement the other person makes.
(short pause)
A: No it isn't.
M: It is.
A: Not at all.
M: Now look.
A: (Rings bell)
Good Morning.
M: What?
A: That's it. Good morning.
M: I was just getting interested.
A: Sorry, the five minutes is up.
M: That was never five minutes!
A: I'm afraid it was.
M: It wasn't.
Pause
A: I'm sorry, but I'm not allowed to argue anymore.
M: What?!
A: If you want me to go on arguing, you'll have to pay for another five
minutes.
M: Yes, but that was never five minutes, just now. Oh come on!
A: (Hums)
M: Look, this is ridiculous.
A: I'm sorry, but I'm not allowed to argue unless you've paid!
M: Oh, all right.
(pays money)
A: Thank you.
short pause
M: Well?
A: Well what?
M: That wasn't really five minutes, just now.
A: I told you, I'm not allowed to argue unless you've paid.
M: I just paid!
A: No you didn't.
M: I DID!
A: No you didn't.
M: Look, I don't want to argue about that.
A: Well, you didn't pay.
M: Aha. If I didn't pay, why are you arguing? I Got you!
A: No you haven't.
M: Yes I have. If you're arguing, I must have paid.
A: Not necessarily. I could be arguing in my spare time.
M: Oh I've had enough of this.
A: No you haven't.
M: Oh Shut up.
(Walks down the stairs. Opens door.)
M: I want to complain.
C: You want to complain! Look at these shoes. I've only had them three weeks
and the heels are worn right through.
M: No, I want to complain about...
C: If you complain nothing happens, you might as well not bother.
M: Oh!
C: Oh my back hurts, it's not a very fine day and I'm sick and tired of this
office.
(Slams door. walks down corridor, opens next door.)
M: Hello, I want to... Ooooh!
H: No, no, no. Hold your head like this, then go Waaah. Try it again.
M: uuuwwhh!!
H: Better, Better, but Waah, Waah! Put your hand there.
M: No.
H: Now..
M: Waaaaah!!!
H: Good, Good! That's it.
M: Stop hitting me!!
H: What?
M: Stop hitting me!!
H: Stop hitting you?
M: Yes!
H: Why did you come in here then?
M: I wanted to complain.
H: Oh no, that's next door. It's being-hit-on-the-head lessons in here.
M: What a stupid concept.
\bishop
*** The Dead Bishop on the Landing sketch from Monty Python's Flying Circus.***
*** Transcribed from tape by Malcolm Dickinson <CLARINET@YALEVMX> 4/3/86 ***
Mother: (turning off radio) liberal rubbish! Klaus!
Klaus: Yeah?
M: Whaddaya want with yer jugged fish?
K: 'Alibut.
M: The jugged fish IS 'alibut!
K: Well, what fish 'ave you got that isn't jugged?
M: Rabbit.
K: What, rabbit fish?
M: Uuh, yes...it's got fins....
K: Is it dead?
M: Well, it was coughin' up blood last night.
K: All right, I'll have the dead unjugged rabbit fish.
voice over: one dead unjugged rabbit fish later:
K: (putting down his knife and fork) Well, that was really 'orrible.
M: Aaw, you're always complainin'!
K: Wha's for afters?
M: Rat cake, rat sorbet, rat pudding, or strawberry tart.
K: (eyes lighting up) Strawberry tart?
M: Well, it's got *some* rat in it.
K: 'Ow much?
M: Three. A lot, really.
K: Well, I'll have a slice without so much rat in it.
voice over: One slice of strawberry tart without so much rat in it later:
K: (putting down fork and knife) Appalling.
M: Naw, naw, naw!
Son: (coming in the door) 'Ello Mum. 'Ello Dad.
K: 'Ello son.
S: There's a dead bishop on the landing, dad!
K: Really?
M: Where's it from?
S: Waddya mean?
M: What's its diocese?
S: Well, it looked a bit Bath and Wells-ish to me...
K: (getting up and going out the door) I'll go and have a look.
M: I don't know...kids bringin' 'em in here....
S: It's not me!
M: I've got three of 'em down by the bin, and the dustmen won't touch 'em!
K: (coming back in) Leicester.
M: 'Ow d'you know?
K: Tattooed on the back o' the neck. I'll call the police.
M: Shouldn't you call the church?
S: Call the church police!
K: All right. (shouting) The Church Police!
(sirens racing up, followed by a tremendous crash)
(the church police burst in the door)
Detective What's all this then, Amen!
M: Are you the church police?
All the police officers: (in unison) Ho, Yes!
M: There's another dead bishop on the landing, vicar sargeant!
Detective: Uh, Detective Parson, madam. I see... suffrican, or diocisian?
M: 'Ow should I know?
D: It's tatooed on the back o' their neck. (spying the tart) 'Ere, is that rat
tart?
M: yes.
D: Disgusting! Right! Men, the chase is on! Now we should all kneel!
(they all kneel)
All: O Lord, we beseech thee, tell us 'oo croaked Lester!
(thunder)
Voice of the Lord: The one in the braces, he done it!
Klaus: It's a fair cop, but society's to blame.
Detective: Agreed. We'll be charging them too.
K: I'd like you to take the three boddlabin into consideration.
D: Right. I'll now ask you all to conclude this harrest with a hymn.
All: All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The church has nigged them all.
Amen.
\blackmail
*** BLACKMAIL!!!!! from Monty Python's Flying Circus and Monty Python
*** At City Center. Transcribed by Malcolm Dickinson <CLARINET@YALEVMX>,
*** from tape on 4/3/86.
(Music up-- wild applause and cheers from the audience)
Announcer:
Hello! Hello! Hello! Thank you,thank you.
Hello good evening and welcome, to BLACKMAIL! Yes, it's another edition of
the game in which you can play with *yourself*. (applause)
And to start tonight's show, let's see our first contestant, all the way from
Manchester, on the big screen please: MRS. BETTY TEAL!
(applause, which suddenly stops when the clap track tape breaks)
'Ello, Mrs. Teal, lovely to have you on the show. Now Mrs. Teal, if you're
looking in tonight, this is for 15 pounds: and is to stop us from revealing
the name of your LOVER IN BOULTON!! So, Mrs. Teal, send us 15 pounds, by
return of post please, and your husband Trevor, and your lovely children
Diane, Janice, and Juliet, need never know the name... of your LOVER IN
BOULTON!
(applause; organ music)
Thank you Onan! And now: a letter, a hotel registration book, and a series of
photographs, which could add up to divorce, premature retirement, and possible
criminal proceedings for a company director in Bromsgrove. He's a freemason,
and a conservative M.P., so that's 3,000 pounds please Mr. S... thank you...
to stop us from revealing:
Your name
The name of the three other people involved,
The youth organization to which they belonged,
and The shop where you bought the equipment!
(organ music)
But right now, yes everyone is the moment you've all been waiting for; it's
time for our Stop the Film spots! As you know, the rules are very simple. We
have taken a film which contains compromising scenes and unpleasant details
which could wreck a man's career. (gasp) But, the victim may 'phone me at
any moment, and stop the film. But remember the money increases as the film
goes on, so,.... the longer you leave it, the more you have to pay! Tonight,
Stop the Film visits the little Thames-side village of Thames Ditton.
(music--announcer's voice over)
Well, here we go, here we go now, let's see...where's our man.
Oh yes, there he is behind the tree now....
Mm, boy, this is fun, this is good fun....
He looks respectable, so we should be in for some real...real shucks here....
A member of the government, could be a brain surgeon, they're the worst....
wHOW! Look at the *size* of that.....briefcase.
Aah, yes, he's, he's up to the door, rung the doorbell now....
O-oh, who's the little number with the nightie and the whip, eh? Heh-heh.
Doesn't look like his mother....could be his sister....
If it is he's in real trouble....
And just look at that, they're upstairs already... whoah, boy, this is fun!
A very brave man, our contestant tonight.
Who-ho-ho!! This is no Tupperware party!
Very brave man, they don't usually get this far...
What's--what's that, what's she's doing to his.....is that a CHICKEN up
there? No, no, it's just the way she's holding the grapefruit... Whoah, ho
ho...
('Phone rings; buzzer goes off. Applause)
(picking up 'phone)
Hello sir...yes...aha-ha-ha...yes, just in time, sir, that was...what?
No, no, sir, it's alright, we don't morally censor, we just want the
money. Thank you sir, yes,....what? You...okay....Thank you for playing the
game, sir, very nice indeed, okay....okay, see you tonight, Dad, bye bye.
Well, that's all from this edition of Blackmail. Join me next week, same
time, same channel....Join me, two dogs, and a vicar, when we'll be playing
"Pedorasto", the game for all the family.
Thank you, thank you, thank you....
\bookshop
*** The Bookshop Sketch - from Monty Python at the Hollywood Bowl ***
*** Transcribed from memory by Bret Shefter <SHEBREB@YALEVMX>, who was in ***
*** a weird mood (as usual) on 3/25/86. Revisions by mmd<C@YVMX> 4/3/86 ***
Customer: (entering the bookshop) Good morning.
Proprietor: Good morning, sir. Can I help you?
C: Er, yes. Do you have a copy of "Thirty Days in the Samarkind Desert with
the Duchess of Kent" by A. E. J. Eliott, O.B.E.?
P: Ah, well, I don't know the book, sir...
C: Er, never mind, never mind. How about "A Hundred and One Ways to
Start a Fight"?
P: ...By?
C: An Irish gentleman whose name eludes me for the moment.
P: Ah, no, well we haven't got it in stock, sir....
C: Oh, well, not to worry, not to worry. Can you help me with "David
Coperfield"?
P: Ah, yes, Dickens.
C: No....
P: (pause) I beg your pardon?
C: No, Edmund Wells.
P: I... *think* you'll find Charles Dickens wrote "David Copperfield", sir....
C: No, no, Dickens wrote "David Copperfield" with *two* Ps. This is
"David Coperfield" with *one* P by Edmund Wells.
P: "David Coperfield" with one P?
C: Yes, I should have said.
P: Yes, well in that case we don't have it.
C: (peering over counter) Funny, you've got a lot of books here....
P: (slightly perturbed) Yes, we do, but we don't have "David Coperfield"
with one P by Edmund Wells.
C: Pity, it's more thorough than the Dickens.
P: More THOROUGH?!?
C: Yes...I wonder if it might be worth a look through all your "David Copper-
field"s...
P: No, sir, all our "David Copperfield"s have two P's.
C: Are you quite sure?
P: Quite.
C: Not worth just looking?
P: Definitely not.
C: Oh... how 'bout "Grate Expectations"?
P: Yes, well we have that....
C: That's "G-R-A-T-E Expectations," also by Edmund Wells.
P: (pause) Yes, well in that case we don't have it. We don't have anything
by Edmund Wells, actually: he's not very popular.
C: Not "Knickerless Knickleby"? That's K-N-I-C-K-E-R-L-E-S-S.
P: (taciturn) No.
C: "Khristmas Karol" with a K?
P: (really quite perturbed) No....
C: Er, how about "A Sale of Two Titties"?
P: DEFINITELY NOT.
C: (moving towards door) Sorry to trouble you....
P: Not at all....
C: Good morning.
P: Good morning.
C: (turning around) Oh!
P: (deep breath) Yesss?
C: I wonder if you might have a copy of "Rarnaby Budge"?
P: No, as I say, we're right out of Edmund Wells!
C: No, not Edmund Wells - Charles Dikkens.
P: (pause - eagerly) Charles Dickens??
C: Yes.
P: (excitedly) You mean "Barnaby Rudge"!
C: No, "Rarnaby Budge" by Charles Dikkens. That's Dikkens with two Ks, the
well-known Dutch author.
P: (slight pause) No, well we don't have "Rarnaby Budge" by Charles Dikkens
with two Ks, the well-known Dutch author, and perhaps to save time I
should add that we don't have "Karnaby Fudge" by Darles Chickens, or
"Farmer of Sludge" by Marles Pickens, or even "Stickwick Stapers" by Farles
Wickens with four M's and a silent Q!!!!! Why don't you try W. H. Smith's?
C: Ah did, They sent me here.
P: DID they.
C: Oh, I wonder...
P: Oh, do go on, please.
C: Yes...I wonder if you might have "The Amazing Adventures of Captain Gladys
Stoutpamphlet and her Intrepid Spaniel Stig Amongst the Giant Pygmies of
Beckles"...volume eight.
P: (after a pause for recovery) No, we don't have that...funny, we've got a lot
of books here...well, I musn't keep you standing here...thank you,
C: Oh, well do, do you have--
\brian
***** The Opening Scene Song of Life of Brian *****
***** Transcribed by Dwayne A. X. E. E. (86/4/27) *****
Monty Python's Life Of Brian
Brian ... the babe they called Brian
Grew ... grew grew and grew, grew up to be
A boy called Brian
A boy called Brian
He had arms and legs and hands and feet
This boy whose name was Brian
And he grew, grew, grew and grew
Grew up to be
Yes he grew up to be
A teenager called Brian
A teenager called Brian
And his face became spotty
Yes his face became spotty
And his voice dropped down low
And things started to grow
On young Brian and show
He was certainly no
No girl named Brian
Not a girl named Brian
And he started to shave
And have one off the wrist
And want to see girls
And go out and get pissed
This man called Brian
This man called Brian
***** Here endeth Part Two of ... Life of Brian (of Nazareth) *****
***** Please send your comments, praise, complaints or *****
***** copyright infringement lawsuits to ... *****
***** Dwayne A. X. E. E. (<CS107124@YUSOL>) *****
\bridge
--- Submitted and transcribed from memory by Bret Shefter <SHEBREB@YALEVMX> ---
---- in yet another weird mood on 3/25/86 ----
---- The Bridgekeeper scene from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" ----
King Arthur: Now, we are about to attempt to cross...the Bridge of Death! The
gate-keeper of the Bridge will ask any who attempt to cross five
questions--
Sir Bedevere: Three, sire.
Arthur: (pause) Oh, yes, three. He who successfully answers these five
questions--
Bedevere: Three, sire!
Arthur: (slightly longer pause) Ah, three, then...er, may pass in safety.
However, anyone who fails to correctly answer all five questions--
Bedevere: THREE, sire!
Arthur: I KNOW IT'S BLOODY THR--ahem, yes, of course, three. (black look at
Bedevere)...will be cast into the Gorge of Eternal Peril!!!
(dramatic music)
Arthur: (continuing) Sir Robin, why don't you go?
Sir Robin: Er...I've got an idea! Why doesn't Sir Lancelot go?
Sir Lancelot: Yes, I'll take him, sire. (about to draw sword) I'll make a feint
to the North-East, and then--
Arthur: No, no, just answer the questions, Sir Lancelot.
Lancelot: But I'd really like a feint to the North-East, sire...
Arthur: No, Sir Lancelot. We'll all be right behind you, listening...
Lancelot: (sheathing sword) I...understand, sire.
Arthur: Our prayers go with you, Sir Lancelot.
(Lancelot approaches the bridge. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the BRIDGEKEEPER
appears.)
Bedevere: (whispering) It's the old man from Scene 24!!
Bridgekeeper: STOP!
He who would cross the Bridge of Death
Must answer me
These questions three
Ere the other side he see.
Lancelot: Ask me your questions, Bridgekeeper. I am not afraid.
Bridgekeeper: What...is your name?
Lancelot: Sir Lancelot of Camelot.
Bridgekeeper: What...is your quest?
Lancelot: To seek the Holy Grail.
Bridgekeeper: What...is your favorite color?
Lancelot: Blue.
Bridgekeeper: Right, off you go.
Lancelot: (realizing that was it) Oh! Well, thank you. Thank you very much.
(and off he goes. The knights look at each other.)
Robin: That's EASY!!!
(A mad rush for the bridge. Robin arrives first. The knights cluster behind.
A few sniff and wrinkle their noses, and the group backs off.)
Bridgekeeper: STOP!
He who would cross the Bridge of Death
Must answer me
These questions three
Ere the other side he see.
Robin: (excitedly) Ask me your questions, Bridgekeeper, I am not afraid.
Bridgekeeper: What...is your name?
Robin: Robin of Camelot.
Bridgekeeper: What...is you quest?
Robin: I seek the Grail!
Bridgekeeper: What...is the capital of Assyria?
Robin: (indignant) I don't know THAT!! (An unseen force whisks him up and over
the side.) AAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHH!!!!!!!
(The knights pause, realizing this may be a bit tougher than all that.)
*** Note: The following bit was cut from the movie. ***
Bedevere: What shall we do, sire?
Arthur: Well, I'm not sure, but...
Bridgekeeper: (off) What...goes black, white, black, white, black, white?
Sir Gawain: (off) Uh...er...ah...Babylon? AAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!
*** Movie resumes. ***
Bridgekeeper: STOP!
He who would cross the Bridge of Death
Must answer me
These questions three
Ere the other side he see.
Sir Galahad: (swallowing) Ask me your questions, Bridgekeeper...I am not a-
fraid...
Bridgekeeper: What...is your name?
Galahad: (nervous) Sir Galahad...
Bridgekeeper: What...is your quest?
Galahad: (really nervous) To seek the Grail...
Bridgekeeper: What...is your favorite color?
Galahad: (relieved) Blue! (starts across; oops) NO! YELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWW!!!!
(Arthur steps forward)
Bridgekeeper: STOP!
He who would cross the Bridge of Death
Must answer me
These questions three
Ere the other side he see.
Arthur: Ask me your questions, Bridgekeeper. I am not afraid.
Bridgekeeper: What...is your name?
Arthur: King Arthur of the Britons!
Bridgekeeper: What...is your quest?
Arthur: I seek the Holy Grail!
Bridgekeeper: What...is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?
Arthur: (brief pause) What do you mean, an African or a European swallow?
Bridgekeeper: (confused) Well...I don't know...AAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHH!!!
Bedevere: (crossing behind Arthur) How do you know so much about swallows,
sire?
Arthur: Well, you have to know these sorts of things when you're a king, you
know...
*** Note: The following bit was *also* cut from the movie. ***
(Arthur and Bedevere approach a gigantic lake.
A boat in the shape of a dragon glides slowly
towards them. As they prepare to cross, the
same old man suddenly appears before them.)
Boat-keeper: STOP!
He who would cross the Sea of Fate
Must answer me these questions twenty-eight!
(Arthur and Bedevere look at each other. They look at the old man. They look
back at each other. They pick the old man up, throw him in the water, and
board the ship.)
\brightside
Tanscribed by Mark Johnson <
[email protected]>
The "Always Look On The Bright Side of Life" song from "Life of Brian"
Cheer up, Brian. You know what they say.
Some things in life are bad,
They can really make you mad.
Other things just make you swear and curse.
When you're chewing on life's gristle,
Don't grumble, give a whistle!
And this'll help things turn out for the best...
And...
(the music fades into the song)
...always look on the bright side of life!
(whistle)
Always look on the bright side of life...
If life seems jolly rotten,
There's something you've forgotten!
And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing,
When you're feeling in the dumps,
Don't be silly chumps,
Just purse your lips and whistle -- that's the thing!
And... always look on the bright side of life...
(whistle)
Come on!
(other start to join in)
Always look on the bright side of life...
(whistle)
For life is quite absurd,
And death's the final word.
You must always face the curtain with a bow!
Forget about your sin -- give the audience a grin,
Enjoy it -- it's the last chance anyhow!
So always look on the bright side of death!
Just before you draw your terminal breath.
Life's a piece of shit,
When you look at it.
Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true,
You'll see it's all a show,
Keep 'em laughing as you go.
Just remember that the last laugh is on you!
And always look on the bright side of life...
(whistle)
Always look on the bright side of life
(whistle)
\bruce
**** The Bruces
**** From Monty Python Live at City Center,
**** Monty Python Live at the Hollywood Bowl, etc.
G'day, Bruce!
Oh, Hello Bruce!
How are you Bruce?
A bit crooked, Bruce.
Where's Bruce?
He's not 'ere, Bruce.
Blimey, it's hot in here, Bruce.
Hot enough to boil a monkey's bum!
That's a strange expression, Bruce.
Well Bruce, I heard the Prime Minister use it. "It's hot enough to boil
a monkey's bum in here, your Majesty," he said and she smiled quietly
to herself.
She's a good Sheila Bruce, and not at all stuck up.
Here! Here's the boss-fellow now!
'Ow are you, Bruce?
G'day Bruce!
Bruce.
Hello Bruce.
Bruce.
How are you, Bruce?
G'day Bruce.
Gentleman, I'd like to introduce man from Pommeyland who is joinin'
us this year in the philosophy department at the University of
Walamaloo.
(Everyone) G'day!
Hello.
Michael Baldwin, Bruce. Michael Baldwin, Bruce. Michael Baldwin, Bruce.
Is your name not Bruce?
No, it's Michael.
That's going to cause a little confusion.
Mind if we call you "Bruce" to keep it clear?
Gentlemen, I think we better start the faculty meeting. Before we start,
though, I'd like to ask the padre for a prayer.
Oh Lord, we beseech Thee, Amen!!
Amen!
Crack two! (Bottles opening)
Now I call upon Bruce to officially welcome Mr. Baldwin to the
philosophy faculty.
I'd like to welcome the pommey bastard to God's own Earth, and remind
him that we don't like stuck-up sticky-bates here.
(Everyone) Hear, hear! Well spoken, Bruce!
Bruce here teaches classical philosophy, Bruce there teaches Haegelian
philosophy, and Bruce here teaches logical positivism. And is also
in charge of the sheep dip.
What's New-Bruce going to teach?
New-Bruce will be teaching political science, Machiavelli, Benton,
Lockholm, Sackly, Millbo, Hasset, and Bernerd.
Those are all cricketers!
Aww, spit!
Hails of derisive laughter, Bruce!
(Everyone) Australia, Australia, Australia, Australia, we love you
amen!
Another two! (Bottles opening)
Any questions?
New-Bruce, are you a Poofter?
Are you a Poofter?
No!
No. Right, I just want to remind you of the faculty rules:
Rule One! (Everyone) No Poofters!
Rule Two, no member of the faculty is to maltreat the Abbos in any
way at all -- if there's anybody watching.
Rule Three? (Everyone) No Poofters!!
Rule Four, now this term, I don't want to catch anybody not drinking.
Rule Five, (Everyone) No Poofters!
Rule Six, there is NO ... Rule Six.
Rule Seven, (Everyone) No Poofters!!
Right, that concludes the readin' of the rules, Bruce.
This here's the wattle, the emblem of our land. You can stick it in
a bottle, you can hold it in your hand.
Amen!
<And now all four Bruces launch into the Philosopher's song>
Immanuel Kant was a real piss-ant who was very rarely stable.
Heideggar, Heideggar was a boozy beggar who could
think you under the table.
David Hume could out-consume Schoppenhauer and Hegel.
And Whittgenstein was a beery swine who was just as sloshed as Schlegel.
There's nothing Nieizsche couldn't teach 'ya 'bout the raising of the wrist.
Socrates, himself, was permanently pissed.
John Stewart Mill, of his own free will, after half a pint of shanty was
particularly ill.
Plato, they say, could stick it away, 'alf a crate of whiskey every day!
Aristotle, Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle,
And Hobbes was fond of his Dram.
And Rene Descartes was a drunken fart:
"I drink, therefore I am."
Yes, Socrates himself is particularly missed;
A lovely little thinker, but a bugger when he's pissed.
\camelot
**** The song of the Knights of Camelot ****
**** from Monty Python and the Holy Grail ****
**** transcribed from tape by Malcolm Dickinson <CLARINET@YALEVMX> 4/3/86 ****
Launcelot: Look, my liege!
(fanfare)
Launcelot: Camelot!
Robin: Camelot!
Galahad: Camelot!
Patsy: (whispered) It's only a model.
Galahad: Shh!
Arthur: Knights, I bid you welcome to your new home. Let us ride...to
CAMELOT!
song:
We're knights of the round table, we dance whene're we're able.
We do routines, and border scenes, with footwork imp-e-cable;
We dine well here in Camelot, we eat ham and jam and spamalot.
We're knights of the round table, our shows are for-mid-able
Though many times, we're given rhymes, that are quite un-sing-able
We're not so bad in Camelot, we sing from the Dia-phragm alot!
Though we're tough and able,
Quite in-de-fa-ti-gable,
Between our quests, we seek incest and impersonate Clark Gable,
It's a busy life in Camelot:
I have to push the pram-a-lot!
Arthur: On second thought, let's not go to Camelot. It is a silly place.
\cheeseshop
*** The Cheeseshop Sketch
*** From Monty Python's Brand New Papperbok
*** Transcribed from tape by Malcolm Dickinson <CLARINET@YALEVMX>, 4/4/86
*** The Cheese Shoppe ***
(a customer walks in the door.)
Customer: Good Morning.
Owner: Good morning, Sir. Welcome to the National Cheese Emporium!
Customer: Ah, thank you, my good man.
Owner: What can I do for you, Sir?
C: Well, I was, uh, sitting in the public library on Thurmon Street just now,
skimming through "Rogue Herrys" by Hugh Walpole, and I suddenly came over
all peckish.
O: Peckish, sir?
C: Esuriant.
O: Eh?
C: 'Ee, Ah wor 'ungry-loike!
O: Ah, hungry!
C: In a nutshell. And I thought to myself, "a little fermented curd will do
the trick," so, I curtailed my Walpoling activites, sallied forth, and
infiltrated your place of purveyance to negotiate the vending of some cheesy
comestibles!
O: Come again?
C: I want to buy some cheese.
O: Oh, I thought you were complaining about the bazouki player!
C: Oh, heaven forbid: I am one who delights in all manifestations of the
Terpsichorean muse!
O: Sorry?
C: 'Ooo, Ah lahk a nice tuune, 'yer forced too!
O: So he can go on playing, can he?
C: Most certainly! Now then, some cheese please, my good man.
O: (lustily) Certainly, sir. What would you like?
C: Well, eh, how about a little red Leicester.
O: I'm, a-fraid we're fresh out of red Leicester, sir.
C: Oh, never mind, how are you on Tilsit?
O: I'm afraid we never have that at the end of the week, sir, we get it
fresh on Monday.
C: Tish tish. No matter. Well, stout yeoman, four ounces of Caerphilly, if
you please.
O: Ah! It's beeeen on order, sir, for two weeks. Was expecting it this
morning.
C: 'T's Not my lucky day, is it? Aah, Bel Paese?
O: Sorry, sir.
C: Red Windsor?
O: Normally, sir, yes. Today the van broke down.
C: Ah. Stilton?
O: Sorry.
C: Ementhal? Gruyere?
O: No.
C: Any Norweigan Jarlsburg, per chance.
O: No.
C: Lipta?
O: No.
C: Lancashire?
O: No.
C: White Stilton?
O: No.
C: Danish Brew?
O: No.
C: Double Goucester?
O: <pause> No.
C: Cheshire?
O: No.
C: Dorset Bluveny?
O: No.
C: Brie, Roquefort, Pol le Veq, Port Salut, Savoy Aire, Saint Paulin, Carrier
de lest, Bres Bleu, Bruson?
O: No.
C: Camenbert, perhaps?
O: Ah! We have Camenbert, yessir.
C: (suprised) You do! Excellent.
O: Yessir. It's..ah,.....it's a bit runny...
C: Oh, I like it runny.
O: Well,.. It's very runny, actually, sir.
C: No matter. Fetch hither the fromage de la Belle France! Mmmwah!
O: I...think it's a bit runnier than you'll like it, sir.
C: I don't care how fucking runny it is. Hand it over with all speed.
O: Oooooooooohhh........! <pause>
C: What now?
O: The cat's eaten it.
C: <pause> Has he.
O: She, sir.
(pause)
C: Gouda?
O: No.
C: Edam?
O: No.
C: Case Ness?
O: No.
C: Smoked Austrian?
O: No.
C: Japanese Sage Darby?
O: No, sir.
C: You...do *have* some cheese, don't you?
O: (brightly) Of course, sir. It's a cheese shop, sir. We've got-
C: No no... don't tell me. I'm keen to guess.
O: Fair enough.
C: Uuuuuh, Wensleydale.
O: Yes?
C: Ah, well, I'll have some of that!
O: Oh! I thought you were talking to me, sir.
Mister Wensleydale, that's my name.
(pause)
C: Greek Feta?
O: Uh, not as such.
C: Uuh, Gorgonzola?
O: no
C: Parmesan,
O: no
C: Mozarella,
O: no
C: Paper Cramer,
O: no
C: Danish Bimbo,
O: no
C: Czech sheep's milk,
O: no
C: Venezuelan Beaver Cheese?
O: Not *today*, sir, no.
(pause)
C: Aah, how about Cheddar?
O: Well, we don't get much call for it around here, sir.
C: Not much ca--It's the single most popular cheese in the world!
O: Not 'round here, sir.
C: <slight pause> and what IS the most popular cheese 'round hyah?
O: 'Illchester, sir.
C: IS it.
O: Oh, yes, it's staggeringly popular in this manusquire.
C: Is it.
O: It's our number one best seller, sir!
C: I see. Uuh...'Illchester, eh?
O: Right, sir.
C: All right. Okay.
"Have you got any?" He asked, expecting the answer 'no'.
O: I'll have a look, sir..
nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnno.
C: It's not much of a cheese shop, is it?
O: Finest in the district!
C: (annoyed) Explain the logic underlying that conclusion, please.
O: Well, it's so clean, sir!
C: It's certainly uncontaminated by cheese....
O: (brightly) You haven't asked me about Limburger, sir.
C: Would it be worth it?
O: Could be....
C: Have you --SHUT THAT BLOODY BAZOUKI OFF!
O: Told you sir...
C: (slowly) Have you got any Limburger?
O: No.
C: Figures.
Predictable, really I suppose. It was an act of purest optimism to have
posed the question in the first place. Tell me:
O: Yessir?
C: (deliberately) Have you in fact got any cheese here at all.
O: Yes,sir.
C: Really?
(pause)
O: No. Not really, sir.
C: You haven't.
O: Nosir. Not a scrap. I was deliberately wasting your time,sir.
C: Well I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to shoot you.
O: Right-0, sir.
The customer takes out a gun and shoots the owner.
C: What a *senseless* waste of human life.
\chinese
*** I like Chinese
*** from Monty Python's Contractual Obligation Album
*** transcribed from tape 11/16/87 Daniel Rich <
[email protected]>
(spoken)
The world today is absolutely cracked.
With nuclear bombs to blow us all sky high.
There's fools and idiots sitting on the trigger.
It's depressing, and it's senseless, and that's why...
(singing)
I like chinese,
I like chinese,
They only come up to you knees,
Yet they're always friendly and they're ready to to please.
I like chinese,
I like chinese,
There's nine hundred million of them in the world today,
You'd better learn to like them, that's what I say.
I like chinese,
I like chinese,
They come from a long way overseas,
But they're cute, and they're cuddly, and they're ready to please.
I like chinese food,
The waiters never are rude,
Think the many things they've done to impress,
There's maoism, taoism, eging and chess.
I like chinese,
I like chinese,
I like their tiny little trees,
Their zen, their ping-pong, their ying and yang-eze.
I like chinese thought,
The wisdom that Confusious taught,
If Darwin is anything to shout about,
The chinese will survive us all without any doubt.
So, I like chinese,
I like chinese,
They only come up to you knees,
Yet they're wise, and they're witty, and they're ready to please
Wo, I chumba run,
Wo, I chumba run,
Wo, I chumba run,
Ne hamma, Ne hamma, Ne hamma chi chen.
I like chinese,
I like chinese,
They're food is guaranteed to please,
A fourteen, a seven, a nine and li-chese
I like chinese,
I like chinese,
I like their tiny little trees,
Their zen, their ping-pong, their yin and yang-eze
I like chinese,
I like chinese,
(fade out....)
\decompose
*** Decomposing Composers
*** from Monty Python's Contractual Obligation Album
*** transcribed from tape 2/4/88 Daniel Rich <
[email protected]>
Beethovan's gone, but his music lives on,
And Mozart don't go shopping no more.
You'll never meet Liszt or Brahms again,
And Elgar doesn't answer the door.
Shubert and Chopin used to chuckle and laugh,
While composing a long symphony.
But one hundred and fifty years later,
There's very little of them left to see.
They're decomposing composers,
There's nothing much anyone can do.
You can still hear Beethovan,
But Beethovan cannot hear you.
(Rather warped section of Beethovan's Fifth)
Handel and Hayden and Rachmaninoff,
Enjoyed a nice drink with their meals.
But now-a-days no one will serve them,
And their gravy is left to congeal.
Vetty and Wagner delighted the crowds,
With their highly original sound.
The pianos they played are still working,
But their both six feet under ground.
They're decomposing composers,
There's less of them every year.
You can say what you like to Debussy,
But there's not much of him left to 'ear.
Achille Debussy, Died 1918
Cristoph Willibald Gluck, Died 1787
Karl Meriah VonVaber, not at all well 1825, died 1826
Geocommo Miabier, still alive 1863, not still alive 1864
Modest Mussorgsky, 1880 going to parties, no fun anymore 1881
Joanne Neppomut Ummel, chatting away night-in and a dozen,
with his mates down at the pub every evening 1836,
1837, nothing.
\everysperm
Transcribed by Rebecca Burgess <
[email protected]> on or before 25/03/87
Every Sperm Is Sacred
lyrics by Michael Palin and Terry Jones
There are Jews in the world, there are Buddists,
There are Hindus and Mormons and then
There are those that follow Mohammad, but
I've never been one of them.
I'm a Roman Catholic,
And have been since before I was born,
And the one thing they say about Catholics is
They'll take you as soon as you're warm.
You don't have to be a six footer,
You don't have to have a great brain,
You don't have to have any clothes on,
You're a Catholic the moment Dad came, because
Every sperm is sacred,
Every sperm is great,
If a sperm is wasted,
God gets quite irate.
Every sperm is sacred,
Every sperm is great,
If a sperm is wasted,
God gets quite irate.
Let the heathen spill theirs,
On the dusty ground,
God shall make them pay for
Each sperm that can't be found.
Every sperm is wanted,
Every sperm is good,
Every sperm is needed,
In your neighborhood.
Hindu, Taoist, Morman,
Spill theirs just anywhere,
But God loves those who treat their
Semen with more care.
Every sperm is sacred,
Every sperm is great,
If a sperm is wasted,
God gets quite irate.
Every sperm is sacred,
Every sperm is good,
Every sperm is needed,
In your neighborhood.
Every sperm is useful,
Every sperm is fine,
God needs everybody's,
Mine, and mine, and mine.
Let the pagans spill theirs,
O'er mountain, hill and plain.
God shall strike them down for
Each sperm that's spilt in vain.
Every sperm is sacred,
Every sperm is good,
Every sperm is needed,
In your neighborhood.
Every sperm is sacred,
Every sperm is great,
If a sperm is wasted,
God gets quite irate.
\face
*** Sit on My Face
*** from Monty Python's Contractual Obligation Album
*** transcribed from tape 11/16/87 Daniel Rich <
[email protected]>
Sit on my face and tell me that you love me
I'll sit on your face and tell you I love you, too.
I love to hear you moralize,
When I'm between you're thighs,
You blow me away!
Sit on my face and let my lips embrace you.
I'll sit on your face and then I'll love you truly.
Life can be fine if we both sixty-nine.
If we sit on our faces, in all sorts of places in life,
till we're blown away.
\fishlicense
Transcribed by Dave Sherman ({mnetor,utzoo}!lsuc!dave) in May 1976 (yes, 1976).
Tidied up for distribution by Tim Pointing ({mnetor,utzoo}!dciem!tim) 870817.
[Text of "Eric the Half-Bee" song added by Tim Pointing 870914.]
Customer: Hello, I would like to buy a fish license, please.
Shopkeeper: A what?
C: A license for my pet fish, Eric.
S: How did you know my name was Eric?
C: No no no, my fish's name is Eric, Eric the fish. He's an halibut.
S: What?
C: He is...an...halibut.
S: You've got a pet halibut?
C: Yes. I chose him out of thousands. I didn't like the others, they were
all too flat.
S: You must be a looney.
C: I am not a looney! Why should I be attired with the epithet looney merely
because I have a pet halibut? I've heard tell that Sir Gerald Nabardo
has a pet prawn called Simon (you wouldn't call him a looney); furthermore,
Dawn Pailthorpe, the lady show-jumper, had a clam, called Stafford, after
the late Chancellor, Allan Bullock has two pikes, both called Chris, and
Marcel Proust had an haddock! So, if you're calling the author of 'A la
recherche du temps perdu' a looney, I shall have to ask you to step outside!
S: Alright, alright, alright. A license.
C: Yes.
S: For a fish.
C: Yes.
S: You are a looney.
C: Look, it's a bleeding pet, isn't it? I've got a license for me pet dog
Eric, and I've got a license for me pet cat Eric...
S: You don't need a license for your cat.
C: I bleeding well do and I got one. He can't be called Eric without it--
S: There's no such thing as a bloody cat license.
C: Yes there is!
S: Isn't!
C: Is!
S: Isn't!
C: I bleeding got one, look! What's that then?
S: This is a dog license with the word 'dog' crossed out and 'cat' written
in in crayon.
C: The man didn't have the right form.
S: What man?
C: The man from the cat detector van.
S: The looney detector van, you mean.
C: Look, it's people like you what cause unrest.
S: What cat detector van?
C: The cat detector van from the Ministry of Housinge.
S: Housinge?
C: It was spelt like that on the van (I'm very observant!). I never seen so
many bleeding aerials. The man said that their equipment could pinpoint
a purr at four hundred yards! And Eric, being such a happy cat, was a
piece of cake.
S: How much did you pay for this?
C: Sixty quid, and eight for the fruit-bat.
S: What fruit-bat?
C: Eric the fruit-bat.
S: Are all your pets called Eric?
C: There's nothing so odd about that: Kemal Ataturk had an entire menagerie
called Abdul!
S: No he didn't!
C: Did!
S: Didn't!
C: Did, did, did, did, did and did!
S: Oh, all right.
C: Spoken like a gentleman, sir. Now, are you going to give me a fish license?
S: I promise you that there is no such thing: you don't need one.
C: In that case, give me a bee license.
S: A license for your pet bee?
C: Yes.
S: Called Eric? Eric the Bee?
C: No.
S: No?
C: No, Eric the Half-Bee. He had an accident.
S: You're off your chump.
C: Look, if you intend by that utilization of an obscure colloquiallism to
imply that my sanity is not up to scratch, or indeed to deny the
semi-existence of my little chum Eric the Half-Bee, I shall have to ask
you to listen to this!
Take it away, Eric the orchestra leader!.......
A one... two.... A one.. two.. three..four...
[piano intro]
Half a bee, philosophically, must, ipso facto, half not be.
But half the bee
has got to be,
vis a vis
its entity - do you see?
But can a bee
be said to be
or not to be
an entire bee
when half the bee
is not a bee
due to some ancient injury?
Singing...
La dee dee, 1 2 3,
Eric the half a bee.
A B C D E F G,
Eric the half a bee.
Is this retched demi-bee,
half asleep upon my knee,
some freak from a menagerie?
No! It's Eric the half a bee.
Fiddle dee dum,
Fiddle dee dee,
Eric the half bee.
Ho ho ho,
Tee hee hee,
Eric the half a bee.
I love this hive employee-ee-ee [with buzzing in background]
bisected accidentally
one summer afternoon by me
I love him carnally.
He loves him carnally... [together]
...semi-carnally
[spoken]
The end
"Cyril Connelly?"
No! "Semi-carnally"
Oh!
Cyril Connelly [sung softly and slowly]
\french
****** The French Castle Scene from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" ******
****** Transcribed 10/20/86 by Malcolm Dickinson '89 <CLARINET@YALEVMX> ******
****** and the almost inevitable Bret Shefter '89 <SHEBREB@YALEVMX>. ******
King Arthur and his knights of the round table, along with their servants,
"ride" up to a castle. King Arthur's servant, Patsy, blows a horn.
Arthur: HELLO!
(waits)
Bedevere: HELLO!
(waits)
An armor-clad face appears at the top of the rampart.
It speaks in an outrageous French accent.
Soldier: 'Allo! 'Oo is it?
Arthur: It is I, King Arthur, and these are my knights of the Round Table.
Whose castle is this?
S: This is the castle of my master, Guy de Lombard.
A: Go and tell your master that we have been charged by God with a sacred
quest. If he will give us food and shelter for the night, he can join us
in our quest for the Holy Grail.
S: Well, I'll ask 'im, but I don't think 'e'll be very keen-- 'e's already got
one, you see?
A: What?
Lancelot: He says they've already *got* one!
A: (confused) Are you *sure* he's got one?
S: Oh yes, it's ver' naahs.
(to the other soldiers:) I told 'em we've already *got* one!
(they snicker)
A: (taken a bit off balance) Well... ah, um... Can we come up and have a look?
S: Of course not! You are English types.
A: Well, what are you then?
S: (Indignant) Ah'm French! Why do you think I have this out-rrrageous
accent, you silly king?!
A: What are you doing in *England*?
S: Mind your own business!
A: If you will not show us the Grail, we shall take your castle by force!
S: You don't frighten us, English pig-dogs! Go and boil your bottoms, son of a
silly person! Ah blow my nose at you, so-called "Arthur Keeeng"! You and
all your silly English Knnnnnnnn-ighuts!!!
(the soldier proceeds to bang on his helmet with his hands and stick out his
tongue at the knights, making strange noises.)
Lancelot: What a strange person.
A: (getting mad) Now look here, my good ma--
S: Ah don' wanna talk to you no more, you empty-headed animal food-trough
wiper! Ah fart in your general direction! Your mother was a hamster, and
your father smelt of elderberries!
Galahad: Is there someone else up there we can talk to?
S: No!! Now go away, or I shall taunt you a second time!
** does anybody know the rest of the scene?
** We're working on it now.
** To be continued...
\frog
*** Crunchy Frog
*** from Monty Python live at City Center
*** transcribed from tape 10/3/87 Daniel Rich <
[email protected]>
Police Officer: 'Ello.
Mr. Hilton: 'Ello.
PO: Mr. Hilton?
H: Yes.
PO: You are the sole proprieter and owner of the Wizzo Chocolate
Company?
H: I am, yes.
PO: Counstable Clitoris and I are from the agent(?) squad, and we
would like to have a word with you about your box of chocolates
entitled the Wizzo Quality Assortment.
H: Oh yes.
PO: If I may begin at the beginning. First, there is the cherry
fondue. Now this is extremely nasty, but we can't prosecute you
for that.
H: Agreed.
PO: Then we have number four, number four: crunchy frog.
H: Yes.
PO: Am I right is thinking there's a real frog in here?
H: Yes a little one.
PO: What sort of frog?
H: A dead frog.
PO: Is it cooked?
H: No.
PO: A raw frog??
H: Oh we use only the finest baby frogs. Due picked and flown from
Iraq. Cleansed in the finest quality spring water. Lightly
killed, and sealed in a succulent swiss quintuple smooth treble
milk chocolate envelope, and lovingly frosted with glucose.
PO: That's as may be, but it's still a frog!
H: What else?
PO: Well, don't you even take the bones out?
H: If we took the bones out, it wouldn't be crunchy, would it.
PO: Counstable Clitoris 'et one of those.
Clitoris: Would you excuse me a moment sir?
PO: We have to protect the public! People aren't going to think
there's a real frog in chocolate. Counstable Clitoris thought it
was an almond whirl. They're bound to think it's some sort of
mock frog.
H: (outraged) Mock frog?! We use no artificial additives or
preservatives of any kind.
PO: Never-the-less, I advise you in future to replace the words
"Crunchy Frog" with the legend "Crunchy Raw Unboned Real Dead
Frog" if you want to avoid prosecution.
H: Well, what about our sales?
PO: Fuck your sales. We've got to protect the public! Now what about
this one: number five, it was number five wasn't it. Number five:
Rams Bladder Cup. Now what kind of confection is that?
H: We use only the finest juicy chunks of fresh cornish rams bladder.
Emptied, steamed, flavored with sesame seeds, whipped into a
fondue, and garnished with lark's vomit.
PO: Lark's vomit!
H: Correct.
PO: In doesn't say anything here about lark's vomit.
H: It does, at the bottom of the label, after monosodium glutamate.
PO: I hardly think that's good enough! I think it would be more
appropriate if the box bore a big red label warning lark's vomit.
H: Our sales would plummet!
PO: Well why don't you move into more conventional areas of
confectionary! Like praline or lime cream, a very popular flavor
I'm led to understand. Or rassberry light. And then what's this
one, what's this one. 'Ere we are. Cockroach cluster. Anthrax
ripple. (sound of vommiting in the background)
Narrator: For those of you listening at home, the young counstable
has just thrown up into his helmet. This is the longest
continuous vomit seen on Broadway since John Barrymore puked over
Niotes in the second act Hamlet, in 1941.
PO: And what is this one. Spring suprise.
H: Ah, that's one of our specialalities. Covered in dark velvety
chocolate, when you pop it into your mouth stainless steel bolts
spring out and plunge through both cheeks.
PO: Well, where's the pleasure in that? If people pop a nice little
chocolate in their mouths, they don't expect to get their cheeks
pierced. In any case, it is an inadequate description of the
sweetmeat. I shall have to ask you to accompany me to the
station.
H: It's a fair cop.
PO: And don't talk to the audience.
\galaxy
----- The Galaxy song from Monty Python's The Meaning of Life -----
----- Transcribed 3/25/86 by Bret Shefter '89 <SHEBREB@YALEVMX> -----
----- From a singing by HENMATJ@YALEVMX -----
<spoken>
Whenever life gets you down, Mrs. Brown,
And things seem hard or tough,
And people are stupid, obnoxious or daft,
<sung>
And you feel that you've had quite eno-o-o-o-o-ough,
Just remember that you're standing on a planet that's evolving
And reolving at nine thousand miles an hour.
It's orbiting at nineteen miles a second, so it's reckoned,
The sun that is the source of all our power.
Now the sun, and you and me, and all the stars that we can see,
Are moving at a million miles a day,
In the outer spiral arm, at fourteen thousand miles an hour,
Of a galaxy we call the Milky Way.
Our galaxy itself contains a hundred million stars;
It's a hundred thousand light-years side to side;
It bulges in the middle sixteen thousand light-years thick,
But out by us it's just three thousand light-years wide.
We're thirty thousand light-years from Galactic Central Point,
We go 'round every two hundred million years;
And our galaxy itself is one of millions of billions
In this amazing and expanding universe.
<waltz>
Our universe itself keeps on expanding and expanding,
In all of the directions it can whiz;
As fast as it can go, that's the speed of light, you know,
Twelve million miles a minute and that's the fastest speed there is.
So remember, when you're feeling very small and insecure,
How amazingly unlikely is your birth;
And pray that there's intelligent life somewhere out in space,
'Cause there's bugger all down here on Earth!
-- Eric Idle
\grail
*** Blessing from the Lord ***
*** Monty Python and the Holy Grail ***
** transcribed from the memory of Malcolm Dickinson CLARINET@YALEVMX 3/30/86 **
Bedevere: And that, my leige, is how we know the earth to be of a girly
shapement.
Arthur: This new learning amazes me, Sir Bedevere. Explain again, how sheep's
bladders can be employed to prevent earthquakes.
Bedevere: Oh, certainly, Sir. You see,...
(Thunder)
(the clouds open and a giant animated face is seen. It speaks:)
God: Aaaarthur... Aarthur, King of the Britons...
(the knights fall to their knees)
God: Oh don't grovel!
Arthur: Sorry, Lord...
God: And DON'T apologize!! Every time I try to talk to somebody, its "I'm
sorry" this and "forgive me" that and "I'm not *worthy*"... It's like
those miserable Psalms--they're soooo depressing!
Arthur: Yes, Lord.
God: What're you doing now?
Arthur: Averting my eyes, o Lord.
God: Well KNOCK IT OFF!
Arthur: Yes, Lord.
God: Right. Arthur, King of the Britons, I have decided to set you a task as
an example in these dark times.
Arthur: Good idear, o Lord!
God: (thunder) 'COURSE IT'S A GOOD IDEA! Now: this is the Holy Grail.
(giant picture of a golden, jewel-encrusted grail appears in the sky)
(heavenly music)
Look well, Arthur: It is your mission to seek this Grail. That is your
purpose, Arthur: The Quest for the Holy Grail!
(the clouds slam shut.)
Arthur: A blessing! A blessing from the Lord!
Lancelot: God be praised!
\grenade
**** The Holy Hand-Grenade
**** from Monty Python and the Holy Grail
**** Transcribed from left-over electical impulses in the brain cells of
**** Malcolm <Clarinet@Yalevmx> Dickinson
**** Finished up by Bret "Eat at Joe's" Shefter <Shebreb@Yalevmx>
*** The Holy Hand Grenade ***
The knights rush into a cave, huffing and puffing, to take cover from the
vicious onslaught of the Killer Rabbit.
Arthur: RUN AWAY! RUN AWAY!!
Bedevere: Okay, how many did we lose?
Arthur: Well...Gawain...Ector...and Bors. That's five.
Bedevere: Three, Sire!
Arthur: Three. And we can't risk another try, that rabbit's dynamite!
All: Hmmmm..
Robin: Maybe if we attack it, it will get confused, and make a mistake!
(pause)
Arthur: Like what?
(longer pause)
Robin: Ummmm....
Lancelot: Have we got birds?
Arthur: (quickly) No.
Galahad: (brightly) We *have* the Holy Hand Grenade, Sir!
Arthur: Of course! 'Tis one of the sacred relics that Brother Maynard
carries with him! Brother Maynard! Bring out the Holy Hand Grenade!
Monks: (Chant)
Die Jesu domine,
Dona eis requiem.
Die Jesu domine,
Dona eis requiem.
(Pause. Arthur examines the hand grenade, turning it over in his hands.)
Arthur: How does it....How does it work?
High Priest: I know not, my leige.
Arthur: Consult the book of Armaments!
High Priest: Armaments Chapter One, verses nine through twenty-seven:
Brother Maynard: And Saint Attila raised the Holy Hand Grenade up on high
saying, "Oh Lord, Bless us this Holy Hand Grenade, and with it
smash our enemies to tiny bits."
And the Lord did grin, and the people did feast upon the
lambs, and stoats, and orangutans, and breakfast cereals, and
lima bean-
High Priest: Skip a bit, brother.
Brother Maynard: And then the Lord spake, saying:
"First, shalt thou take out the holy pin.
Then shalt thou count to three.
No more, no less.
*Three* shall be the number of the counting, and the number
of the counting shall be three.
*Four* shalt thou not count, and neither count thou two,
excepting that thou then goest on to three.
Five is RIGHT OUT. Once the number three, being the third
number be reached, then lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade
to-wards thy foe, who, being naughty in my sight, shall snuff
it. Amen.
All: Amen.
Arthur: Right! (pulls pin)
One!
Two!
Five!
Bedevere: Three, Sire!!
Arthur: Three! (throws hand grenade at the Killer Rabbit)
(holy music)
KABOOM.
\idiot
A Song for the Sensitive, the Idiot Song.
>From the Album, Monty Python Live at Drury Lane,
Transcribed by Tak Ariga <
[email protected]>. Aug/87
How sweet to be an Idiot,
As harmless as a cloud,
Too small to hide the sun
Almost poking fun,
At the warm but insecure untidy crowd.
How sweet to be an idiot,
And dip my brain in joy,
Children laughing at my back,
With no fear of attack,
As much retaliation as a toy.
How sweet to be an idiot, how sweet.
I tiptoed down the street,
Smiled at everyone I meet,
But suddently a scream,
Smashes through my dream,
Fie fye foe fum,
I smell the blood of an asylum,
(Blood of an asylum,
But mother I play so beautifully,
listen. ha ha)
Fie fye foe fum,
I smell the blood of the asylum,
Hey you, you're such a pennant,
You got as much brain as a dead ant,
As much inagination as a carvan sign.
But I still love you, still love you,
Oooh how sweet to be an idiot,
How sweet. how sweet. How sweet.
\lumberjack
*** The Lumberjack Song ***
*** from Monty Python's Flying Circus ***
*** transcribed from tape on 4/3/86 Malcolm Dickinson <CLARINET@YALEVMX> ***
I never wanted to do this in the first place!
I... I wanted to be...
A LUMBERJACK!
(piano vamp)
Leaping from tree to tree! As they float down the mighty rivers of
British Columbia! With my best girl by my side!
The Larch!
The Pine!
The Giant Redwood tree!
The Sequoia!
The Little Whopping Rule Tree!
We'd sing! Sing! Sing!
Oh, I'm a lumberjack, and I'm okay,
I sleep all night and I work all day.
CHORUS: He's a lumberjack, and he's okay,
He sleeps all night and he works all day.
I cut down trees, I eat my lunch,
I go to the lava-try.
On Wednesdays I go shoppin'
And have buttered scones for tea.
Mounties: He cuts down trees, he eats his lunch,
He goes to the lava-try.
On Wednesdays 'e goes shoppin'
And has buttered scones for tea.
CHORUS
I cut down trees, I skip and jump,
I like to press wild flowers.
I put on women's clothing,
And hang around in bars.
Mounties: He cuts down trees, he skips and jumps,
He likes to press wild flowers.
He puts on women's clothing
And hangs around.... In bars???????
CHORUS
I chop down trees, I wear high heels,
Suspenders and a bra.
I wish I'd been a girlie
Just like my dear papa.
Mounties: He cuts down trees, he wears high heels
Suspenders and a .... a Bra????
(spoken, raggedly) What's this? Wants to be a *girlie*? Oh, My!
And I thought you were so rugged! Poofter!
CHORUS
All: He's a lumberjack, and he's okaaaaaaayyy..... (BONG)
Sound Cue: The Liberty Bell March, by John Phillip Sousa.
\medical
MEDICAL LOVE SONG
from "Monty Python's Contractual Obligation Album"
Transcribed circa 1984 by Rich Holmes (
[email protected]). As McCoy would
say, I'm a particle physicist, dammit, not a doctor. Most of the medical
terms were checked with either a medical dictionary or a slang dictionary
and are probably right. The ones marked with an asterisk either (1) sound
like what was sung but aren't in any dictionary I could find or (2) in a
dictionary but don't sound like what was sung. Second opinions welcomed.
Inflammation of the foreskin
Reminds me of your smile
I've had balanital chancroids
For quite a little while
I gave my heart to NSU [Non-Specific Urethritis]
That lovely night in June
I ache for you, my darling,
And I hope you'll get well soon
My penile warts, your herpes,
My syphilitic sore,
Your monilial infection
How I miss you more and more
Your *dobies itch my *scrum-pox
Ah, lovely gonorrhea
At least we both were lying
When we said that we were clear
My clapped-out genitalia
Is not so bad for me
As the complete and utter failure
Every time I try to pee
I'm dying from your love, my love,
I'm your spirochetal clown
I've left my body to science,
But I'm afraid they've turned it down
Gonococcal urethritis
Streptococcal balanitis
Meningomyelitis
*Diplococcal *catholitis
Epidydimitis
Interstitial keratitis
Syphilitic coronitis
And anterior *ureitis.
-- Graham Chapman
\medoctor
*** Okay, Malcolm, you asked for it... ***
*** A very silly sketch submitted once again by <SHEBREB@yalevmx> - 3/28/86 ***
*** Transcribed from memory or the script, who knows which, by Bret Shefter. *
(Mr. Bertenshaw and his sick wife arrive at a hospital.)
Doctor: Mr. Bertenshaw?
Mr. B: Me, Doctor.
Doctor: No, me doctor, you Mr. Bertenshaw.
Mr. B: My wife, doctor...
Doctor: No, your wife patient.
Sister: Come with me, please.
Mr. B: Me, Sister?
Doctor: No, she Sister, me doctor, you Mr. Bertenshaw.
Nurse: Dr. Walters?
Doctor: Me, nurse...You Mr. Bertenshaw, she Sister, you doctor.
Sister: No, doctor.
Doctor: No doctor: call ambulance, keep warm.
Nurse: Drink, doctor?
Doctor: Drink doctor, eat Sister, cook Mr. Bertenshaw, nurse me!
Nurse: You, doctor?
Doctor: ME doctor!! You Mr. Bertenshaw. She Sister!
Mr. B: But my wife, nurse...
Doctor: Your wife not nurse. She nurse, your wife patient. Be patient,
she nurse your wife. Me doctor, you tent, you tree, you Tarzan, me
Jane, you Trent, you Trillo...me doctor!
Sergeant-Major: Stop this, stop this. What a silly way to carry on. What
do you want?
Customer: I wish to register a complaint.
Sergeant-Major: Well, this is a hospital. You want the pet shop in the
next file...
\melish
*** Ralph Melish
*** from Matching Tie & Handkerchief LP
*** transcribed from tape 11/16/87 Daniel Rich <
[email protected]>
Narator: June the 4th, 1973. It was much like any other summer's day
in Petersburg, and Ralph Melish, a file clerk at an insurance
company, was on his way to work as usual when....(Dramatic music)
nothing happened.
Scarcly able to believe his eyes, Ralph Melish looked down. But
one glance confirmed his suspicions. Behind a bush on the side
of the road, there was no severed arm, no dismembered trunk of a
man in his late fifties, no head in a bag, nothing...not a sock.
For Ralph Melish, this was not to be the start of any trail of
events which would not, in no time at all, involve him in neither
a tangled knot of suspicion nor any web of lies, which would, had
he been not uninvolved, surely have led to no other place than
the central criminal court of the old baliff.
(Sound of gavel banging)
But it was not to be. Ralph Melish reached his office in
Dallezll Street, Petersburg, at 9:05 am. Exactly the same time
as he usually got in.
Secretary: Morning Mr. Melish.
Melish: Morning Enid.
N: Enid, a sharp eyed, clever young girl, who had been with the firm
for only 4 weeks, couldn't help noticing the complete absence of
tiny but teltale bloodstains on Mr. Melish's clothing. Nor did
she notice anything strange in Mr. Melish's behavior that whole
morning! Nor the next morning. Nor at any time before or since
the entire period she worked with that firm.
M: Have the new paper clips arived Enid?
S: Yes, they're over there Mr. Melish.
N: But for the lack of any untoward circumstances for this young
secretary to notice, and the total non-involvement of Mr. Melish
in anything illegal. The full weight of the law would have
ensured that Ralph Aldis Mellish would have ended up like all who
challenge the fundemental laws of our society: in an iron coffin
with spikes on the inside.
Wife: Turn that thing off. You'll be late for the bus. It's nearly
half past nine.
Husband: It was indeed nearly half past nine.
W: Now off you go!
H: Off I went on a perfectly ordinary day....(fade out)
W: Oh, I'm so worried about him doctor.
Doctor: Yes. Yes, I know what you mean. I'm afraid he's suffering
from what we doctor's call whooping cough. That is, the failure
of the autonomic nervous section of the brain to deal with the
nerve impulses that enable you and I to retain some facts and
eliminate others.
W: Another dog?
D: Not for me thank you.
W: I'll have one last one.
D: (Spoken over barking and yelping) The human brain is like an
enormous fish. It's flat and slimy, and has through which it can
see. (Gunshot, barking stops).
W: There we are.
D: Should one of these gills fail to open (sound of frying in the
background) the messages transmitted by the lungs don't reach the
brain. It's as simple as that.
W: Well, I'm a simple soul, I don't understand all that. All I know
is he's not the same man as I married.
D: Am I the man you married Mrs. Egis?
W: No, no. Get away. You'll get struck off
D: Come on, come on.
W: I can't. I'm eating dog.
D: Come on, just a quick examination.
W: No, get off, I'm married.
H: But, Dr. Quatt was a man of quite remarkable medical insight, skill
and determination. And within a few minutes, he had completely
removed my wife's knickers.
W: Get out you! (door slams) oo, oo, doctor. Oh doctor Quatt.
D: Now, now. Put your tongue in my mouth.
W: No!
D: Oh, come on, come on. I've got your knickers.
(Music up and fade....)
\ni
**** The Knights Who Say "Ni!" ****
**** From, of course, Monty Python and the Holy Grail ****
**** Transcribed (from memory even!) by Malcolm Dickinson <CLARINET@YALEVMX> *
**** on 4/6/86, and corrected to 99.9% accuracy on 10/20/86. ****
**** Continued from ROBIN PYTHON ....
Voice over: Meanwhile, King Arthur and Bedevere, not more than a swallow's
flight away, had discovered something.
Knights of Ni: Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni!
Arthur: Who are you?
Knight of Ni: We are the Knights who say..... "Ni"!
Arthur: (horrified) No! Not the Knights who say "Ni"!
Knight of Ni: The same.
Other Knight of Ni: Who are we?
Knight of Ni: We are the keepers of the sacred words: Ni, Ping, and Nee-womm!
Other Knight of Ni: Nee-womm!
Arthur: (to Bedevere) Those who hear them seldom live to tell the tale!
Knight of Ni: The knights who say "Ni" demand..... a sacrifice!
Arthur: Knights of Ni, we are but simple travelers who seek the enchanter who
lives beyond these woods.
Knights of Ni: Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni!
Bedevere: No! Noooo! Aaaugh! No!
Knight of Ni: We shall say "Ni" to you... if you do not appease us.
Arthur: Well what is it you want?
Knight of Ni: We want.....
(pregnant pause)
A SHRUBBERY!!!!
(minor music)
Arthur: A *WHAT*?
Knights of Ni: Ni! Ni!! Ni! Ni!
Arthur; No! No! Please, please, no more! We will find you a shrubbery.
Knight of Ni: You must return here with a shrubbery... or else you will never
pass through this wood... alive.
Arthur: O Knights of Ni, you are just and fair, and we will return with a
shrubbery.
Knight of Ni: One that looks nice.
Arthur: Of course!
Knight of Ni: And not *too* expensive.
Arthur; Yes!
Knight of Ni: Noowwwww.... GO!
(music)
Arthur: O Knights of Ni. We have brought you your shrubbery. May we go now?
Knight of Ni: Yes, it is a good shrubbery. I like the laurels particularly.
But there is one small problem....
Arthur: What is that?
Knight of Ni: We are now *no longer* the Knights Who Say "Ni"!
Other Knights of Ni: Ni! Shh! Shh!
Knight of Ni: We are now the Knights who say "Ekky-ekky-ekky-ekky-z'Bang,
zoom-Boing, z'nourrrwringmm".
Other Knight of Ni: Ni!
Knight of Ni: Therefore, we must give you a test.
Arthur: What is this test, o Knights of.....
Knights who 'til recently said "Ni"?
Knight of Ni: Firstly, you must find....
ANOTHER SHRUBBERY!!!
(minor music)
Arthur: Oh not *another* shrubbery!!
Knight of Ni: (excitedly) THEN... Then, when you have found the shrubbery,
you must place it here, beside this shrubbery, only slightly
higher, so we get the two-level effect with a little path
running down the middle.
Other Knights of Ni: A path! A path! A path! Shh, shhh. Ni! Ni!
Knight of Ni: Then, when you have found the shrubbery, you must cut down the
mightiest tree in the forest...
Wiiiiiithh.... A HERRING!
\noelcoward
** The "Not Noel Coward Song"
** From "Monty Python's Meaning of Life"
** Submitted by Christopher Gayle Lewis <
[email protected]>
warning:
This song is very specific in its reference to certain nether parts of the
body. We don't want to get in trouble or anything so if you don't want to
see the song, please STOP reading now. We take no responsibility for any loss
of innocence that might occur as a result of viewing this file.
The Not Noel Coward Song
Isn't it awfully nice to have a penis.
Isn't it simply grand to have a dong.
It's swell to have a stiffy, it's divine to own a dick,
From the tiniest little tadger to the world's biggest prick...
So three cheers for your Willy or John Thomas,
Hooray for your one-eyed trouser snake.
Your piece of pork, your wife's best friend,
Your Percy or your cock,
You can wrap it up in ribbons, you can slip it in your sock,
But don't take it out in public or they'll stick you in the dock,
And you won't a-come a-back.
--Eric Idle
\nudge
*** Nudge Nudge, know what I mean, know what I mean!
*** from Monty Python live at City Center and Monty Python's Flying Circus
*** transcribed from tape 4/3/86 Malcolm Dickinson <CLARINET@YALEVMX>
Man: 'Evening, squire!
Squire: (stiffly) Good evening.
Man: Is, uh,...Is your wife a goer, eh? Know whatahmean, know whatahmean,
nudge nudge, know whatahmean, say no more?
Squire: I, uh, I beg your pardon?
M: Your, uh, your wife, does she go, eh, does she go, eh?
S: (flustered) Well, she sometimes "goes", yes.
M: Aaaaaaaah bet she does, I bet she does, say no more, say no more,
knowwhatahmean, nudge nudge?
S: (confused) I'm afraid I don't quite follow you.
M: Follow me. Follow me. That's good, that's good! A nod's as good as a
wink to a blind bat!
S: Are you, uh,...are you selling something?
M: SELLING! Very good, very good! Ay? Ay? Ay?
(pause)
M: Oooh! Ya wicked Ay! Wicked Ay! Oooh hooh! Say No MORE!
S: Well, I, uh....
M: Is, your uh, is your wife a sport, ay?
S: Um, she likes sport, yes!
M: I bet she does, I bet she does!
S: As a matter of fact she's very fond of cricket.
M: 'Oo isn't? Likes games, eh? Knew she would. Likes games, eh? She's been
around a bit, been around?
S: She has traveled, yes. She's from Scarsdale.
(pause)
M: SAY NO MORE!!
M: Scarsdale, saynomore, saynomore, saynomore, squire!
S: I wasn't going to!
M: Oh! Well, never mind. Dib dib?
Is your uh, is your wife interested in....photography, ay?
"Photographs, ay", he asked him knowlingly?
S: Photography?
M: Snap snap, grin grin, wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more?
S: Holiday snaps, eh?
M: They could be, they could be taken on holiday. Candid, you know,
CANDID photography?
S: No, no I'm afraid we don't have a camera.
M: Oh. Still, mooooooh, ay? Mwoohohohohoo, ay? Hohohohohoho, ay?
S: Look... are you insinuating something?
M: Oh, no, no, no...yes.
S: Well?
M: Well, you're a man of the world, squire.
S: Yes...
M: I mean, you've been around a bit, you know, like, you've, uh....
You've "done it"....
S: What do you mean?
M: Well, I mean like,....you've SLEPT, with a lady....
S: Yes....
M: What's it like?
\penguin
---- The Penguin on top of the Tellyvision set ----
---- and The Death of Mary, Queen of Scots ----
---- from Monty Python's Flying Circus ----
--- transcribed from memory by Malcolm Dickinson <CLARINET@YALEVMX> 3/28/86 ---
--- Corrections added by Wade Kemp <
[email protected]> 11/14/87 ---
(voice over) Number ninety-seven: a radio.
voice on radio: And now the BBC is proud to present a brand new radio drama
series: The Death of Mary, Queen of Scots. Part One: The Beginning.
(music)
man's voice: Yoo arrr Mary, Queen of Scots?
woman's voice: I am!
(sound of violent blows being dealt, things being smashed, awful crunching
noises, bones being broken, and other bodily harm being inflicted. All of
this accompanied by screaming from the woman.)
(music fades up and out)
voice: Stay tuned for part two of the Radio Four Production of "The Death of
Mary, Queen of Scots", coming up...almost immediately.
(music)
(sound of saw cutting, and other violent sounds as before, with the woman
screaming. Suddenly it is silent.)
man's voice: I think she's dead.
woman's voice: No I'm not!
(sounds of physical harm and screaming start again.)
(music fades up and out)
voice: that was episode two of "The Death of Mary, Queen of Scots", specially
adapted for radio by Gracie Fields and Joe Frazier. And now, Radio Four will
explode.
(music)
the radio explodes.
two old women are sitting on the couch listening to the radio when it
explodes. One looks at the other:
1: Oh dear, the radio exploded.
2: Oh, well What's on the Telly vision then ?
1: It looks like a penguin.
2: I didn't mean what was on the T.V. set, I meant what program.
1: Oh, well I'll switch on.
1 & 2: (singing, mumbled) hhmhmhmhmh... mhmmhmh mhmhm hhmhmmhm mhmhmmhmhmh
(pause)
1: It's odd that penguin being there, isn't it, What's it doin' there?
2: Standin'.
1: I can see that!
2: If it laid an egg it would fall down the back of the Telly Vision
Set(pause) I don't know.
1: We'll have to watch that, (pause) unless it's a male.
2: OH, I hadn't thought of that
1: It looks fairly butch.
2: Perhaps it from nextdoor.
1: (indignent ) NEXTDOOR?!, Penguins don't come from nextdoor, they
come from the antartic.
2: BURMA! ( sound of tea spoon being dropped into tea cup )
1: Why'd you say Burma ?
2: I panicked, Perhaps it's from the Zoo.
1: Which Zoo ?
2: How should I know which Zoo ?, I'm not Dr. Bloody Burnofsky!!
1: How would Dr. Burnofsky know which zoo it was from ??
2: He knows everything !
1: Oh, I wouldn't like that, it would take all the mystery out of life.
2: Anyway if it was from the zoo it would have
"Property of the Zoo" stamped on it!
1: No it wouldn't, They don't stamp animals "Property of the Zoo"!!!
You can't stamp a huge lion, "Property of the Zoo"!!
2: (resolute) They stamp them when they're small.
1: But what happens when they molt?
2: Lions don't molt!
1: No, but penguins do, There I've run rings around you logicaly.
2: OH, INTERCOURSE THE PENGUIN !! ( throws spoon at dishes )
(the television warms up: a man is sitting behind a news desk)
man: Hello It's just after 8:00 and time for the penguin on top of
your television set to explode.
(the penguin explodes)
1: 'Ow did 'e know that was going to happen?!
man: it was an inspired guess. And now:
voice over: Number ninety-eight: the nape of the neck.
\petshop
*** Transcribed by ***
*** Bret "<your advertisement here>" Shefter - <SHEBREB@YALEVMX> - 3/28/86 ***
*** and revised by Malcolm "Sleep. Who needs it?" Dickinson, <CLARINET@YALEVMX>
*** 4/3/86. (From "Monty Python's Flying Circus" and "And Now For ***
*** Something Completely Different") ***
*** Dialect correction by Richard Sexton - <
[email protected]> ***
The Pet Shoppe
A customer enters a pet shop.
Customer: 'Ello, I wish to register a complaint.
(The owner does not respond.)
C: 'Ello, Miss?
Owner: What do you mean "miss"?
C: <pause> I'm sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint!
O: We're closin' for lunch.
C: Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this parrot what I
purchased not half an hour ago from this very boutique.
O: Oh yes, the, uh, the Norwegian Blue...What's,uh...What's wrong with it?
C: I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my lad. 'E's dead, that's what's
wrong with it!
O: No, no, 'e's uh,...he's resting.
C: Look, matey, I know a dead parrot when I see one, and I'm looking
at one right now.
O: No no he's not dead, he's, he's restin'! Remarkable bird, the Norwegian
Blue, idn'it, ay? Beautiful plumage!
C: The plumage don't enter into it. It's stone dead.
O: Nononono, no, no! 'E's resting!
C: All right then, if he's restin', I'll wake him up!
(shouting at the cage)
'Ello, Mister Polly Parrot! I've got a lovely fresh cuttle fish for you if
you show...(owner hits the cage)
O: There, he moved!
C: No, he didn't, that was you hitting the cage!
O: I never!!
C: Yes, you did!
O: I never, never did anything...
C: (yelling and hitting the cage repeatedly) 'ELLO POLLY!!!!!
Testing! Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your nine o'clock alarm call!
(Takes parrot out of the cage and thumps its head on the counter. Throws it up
in the air and watches it plummet to the floor.)
C: Now that's what I call a dead parrot.
O: No, no.....No, 'e's stunned!
C: STUNNED?!?
O: Yeah! You stunned him, just as he was wakin' up! Norwegian Blues
stun easily, major.
C: Um...now look...now look, mate, I've definitely 'ad enough of this.
That parrot is definitely deceased, and when I purchased it not 'alf an hour
ago, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it bein'
tired and shagged out following a prolonged squawk.
O: Well, he's...he's, ah...probably pining for the fjords.
C: PININ' for the FJORDS?!?!?!? What kind of talk is that?, look, why
did he fall flat on his back the moment I got 'im home?
O: The Norwegian Blue prefers kippin' on it's back! Remarkable bird, id'nit,
squire? Lovely plumage!
C: Look, I took the liberty of examining that parrot when I got it home,
and I discovered the only reason that it had been sitting on its perch in
the first place was that it had been NAILED there.
(pause)
O: Well, o'course it was nailed there! If I hadn't nailed that bird down,
it would have nuzzled up to those bars, bent 'em apart with its beak, and
VOOM! Feeweeweewee!
C: "VOOM"?!? Mate, this bird wouldn't "voom" if you put four million volts
through it! 'E's bleedin' demised!
O: No no! 'E's pining!
C: 'E's not pinin'! 'E's passed on! This parrot is no more! He has ceased
to be! 'E's expired and gone to meet 'is maker! 'E's a stiff! Bereft
of life, 'e rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed 'im to the perch 'e'd be
pushing up the daisies! 'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! 'E's off
the twig! 'E's kicked the bucket, 'e's shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run
down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisibile!!
THIS IS AN EX-PARROT!!
(pause)
O: Well, I'd better replace it, then.
(he takes a quick peek behind the counter)
O: Sorry squire, I've had a look 'round the back of the shop, and uh, we're
right out of parrots.
C: I see. I see, I get the picture.
O: <pause> I got a slug.
(pause)
C: (sweet as sugar) Pray, does it talk?
O: Nnnnot really.
C: WELL IT'S HARDLY A BLOODY REPLACEMENT, IS IT?!!???!!?
O: Look, if you go to my brother's pet shop in Bolton, he'll replace
the parrot for you.
C: Bolton, eh? Very well.
The customer leaves.
The customer enters the same pet shop. The owner is putting on a false
moustache.
C: This is Bolton, is it?
O: (with a fake mustache) No, it's Ipswitch.
C: (looking at the camera) That's inter-city rail for you.
The customer goes to the train station.
He addresses a man standing behind a desk marked "Complaints".
C: I wish to complain, British-Railways Person.
Attendant: I DON'T HAVE TO DO THIS JOB, YOU KNOW!!!
C: I beg your pardon...?
A: I'm a qualified brain surgeon! I only do this job because I like
being my own boss!
C: Excuse me, this is irrelevant, isn't it?
A: Yeah, well it's not easy to pad these python files out to 200 lines,
you know.
C: Well, I wish to complain. I got on the Bolton train and found myself
deposited here in Ipswitch.
A: No, this is Bolton.
C: (to the camera) The pet shop man's brother was lying!!
A: Can't blame British Rail for that.
C: In that case, I shall return to the pet shop!
He does.
C: I understand this IS Bolton.
O: (still with the fake mustache) Yes?
C: You told me it was Ipswitch!
O: ...It was a pun.
C: (pause) A PUN?!?
O: No, no...not a pun...What's that thing that spells the same backwards
as forwards?
C: (Long pause) A palindrome...?
O: Yeah, that's it!
C: It's not a palindrome! The palindrome of "Bolton" would be "Notlob"!!
It don't work!!
O: Well, what do you want?
C: I'm not prepared to pursue my line of inquiry any longer as I think
this is getting too silly!
Sergeant-Major: Quite agree, quite agree, too silly, far too silly...
\robin
**** Brave and Bold Sir Robin -- his song
**** Transcribed, expressly for the python collection at BBoard@Yalevmx
**** from the memory of Malcolm <Clarinet@Yalevmx> Dickinson -- 4/6/86
** The Tale of Sir Robin. **
So, each of the knights went their separate ways.
Sir Robin rode north, through the dark forest of Ewing, accompanied by his
favorite minstrels.
Minstrel: song:
Bravely bold Sir Robin
Brought forth from Camelot.
He was not afraid to die,
Oh, brave Sir Robin!
He was not at all afraid to be killed in nasty ways.
Brave, brave, brave Sir Robin.
He was not in the least bit scared to be mashed into a pulp.
Or to have his eyes gouged out, and his elbows broken!
To have his kneecaps split, and his body burned away
And his limbs all hacked and mangled, brave Sir Robin.
His head smashed in and his heart cut out,
And his liver removed and his bowls unplugged,
And his nostrils raked and his bottom burnt off,
And his peni--
Robin: That's...That's, uh... That's enough music for now, lads. It looks
like there's getting work afoot.
Three headed knight: HALT!!!
Voice over: YES!! It was the dreaded Three Headed Knight, the fiercest
creature for *yards* around!
For second.... after second..., Robin held his own, but the
onslaught proved too much for the brave knight. Scarcely was
his armor damp, when Robin suddenly, dramatically, changed his
tactics!
Minstrel: Robin:
Brave Sir Robin ran away. No!
Bravely ran away away.... I didn't!
When Danger reared its ugly head,
He bravely turned his tail and fled No!!
Yes brave Sir Robin turned about I didn't!
And gallantly chickened out..
Bravely bravely bravely bravely I never did!
Bravely bravely bravely bravely All lies!
Bravely bravely brave Sir Robin! I never!
Voice over: Meanwhile, King Arthur and Bedevere, not more than a swallow's
flight away, had discovered something.
( continued in NI PYTHON )
\sermon
*** Sermon on the Mount
*** from Monty Python's "Life of Brian"
*** transcribed from the photonovel 2/11/88 Daniel Rich <
[email protected]>
Jesus: How blest are the sorrowful, for they shall find consolation.
How blest are those of gentle spirit. They shall have the earth
for their possession. How blest are those who hunger and thirst
to see right prevail. They shall be satisifed. . .
(Camera pulls back to the back of the multitude)
Mandy: Speak up!
Brian: Mum! Sh!
M: Well, I can't hear a thing! Let's go to the stoning.
Big Nose: Sh!
B: You can go to a stoning any time.
M: Oh, come on Brian!
BN: Will you be quiet?
Wife: Don't pick your nose.
BN: I wasn't picking my nose...I was scratching.
W: You were picking it while you were talking to that lady.
BN: I wasn't.
W: Leave it alone...give it a rest...
Mr. Cheeky: Do you mind...I can't hear a word he's saying.
W: Don't you "do you mind" me...I'm talking to my husband.
C: Well go and talk to him somewhere else! I can't hear a bloody thing!
BN: Don't you swear at my wife.
C: I was only asking her to shut up so we can hear what he's saying,
big nose.
W: Don't you call my husband "big nose."
C: Well, he has got a big nose.
(Cultured jew turns around...)
Gregory: Could you be quiet, please? (to Mr. Cheeky) What was that?
C: I don't know...I was too busy talking to big nose.
Man: I think it was "Blessed are the Cheesemakers."
Mrs. Gregory: What's so special about the cheesemakers?
G: It's not meant to be taken literally. Obviously it refers to any
manufacturers of dairy products.
C: (to Big Nose) See--if you hadn't been going on, you'd have heard
that, Big Nose.
BN: Hey, if you say that once more, I'll smash your fucking face in.
C: Better keep listening...might be a bit about "Blessed are the big noses."
B: Oh lay off him.
C: (rounding on Brian) You're not so bad yourself, Conkface. Where
are you two from? Nose City?
BN: Listen! I said one more time...mate and I'll take you to the
fucking cleaners.
W: Language! And don't pick your nose!
BN: I wasn't goint to pick my nose. I was going to thump him.
Another Person: I think it was "Blessed are the Greek."
G: THE Greek?
AP: Apparently he's going to inherit the earth.
G: Did anyone catch his name?
BN: I'll thump him if he calls me Big Nose again.
C: Oh shut up, Big Nose.
BN: Oooh! Right I warned you...I really will slug you so hard...
W: Oh it's the Meek...Blessed are the meek! That's nice, I'm glad
they're getting something 'cos they have a hell of a time.
C: Listen...I'm only telling the truth...you have got a very big nose.
BN: (trying to control himself) Your nose is going to be three foot
wide across your face when I've finished with you.
C: Who hit yours then? Goliath's big brother?
BN: Oooh...oohh...aargh...ah (supreme self control) That's your last
warning...
Mrs. Gregory: Oh do pipe d...
(Big Nose punches Mrs. Gregory, and a general scuffle breaks out)
BN: Silly bitch, getting in the way.
M: Brian! Come on, let's go to the stoning.
B: Alright.
\sheep
*** From the first Monty Python's Flying Circus episode ever!!! ***
*** Transcript submitted 4/12/86 by (guess who?) ***
*** Bret "Yup, again" Shefter <SHEBREB@YALEVMX> ***
Flying Sheep
(A tourist approaches a shepherd. The sounds of sheep and the outdoors
are heard.)
Tourist: Good afternoon.
Shephrd: Eh, 'tis that.
Tourist: You here on holiday?
Shephrd: Nope, I live 'ere.
Tourist: Oh, good for you. Uh...those ARE sheep aren't they?
Shephrd: Yeh.
Tourist: Hmm, thought they were. Only, what are they doing up in the
trees?
Shephrd: A fair question and one that in recent weeks 'as been much on
my mind. It's my considered opinion that they're nestin'.
Tourist: Nesting?
Shephrd: Aye.
Tourist: Like birds?
Shephrd: Exactly. It's my belief that these sheep are laborin' under
the misapprehension that they're birds. Observe their be'avior.
Take for a start the sheeps' tendency to 'op about the field
on their 'ind legs. Now witness their attmpts to fly from
tree to tree. Notice that they do not so much fly as...plummet.
<Baaa baaa... flap flap flap ... whoosh ... thud.>
Tourist: Yes, but why do they think they're birds?
Shephrd: Another fair question. One thing is for sure, the sheep is not
a creature of the air. They have enormous difficulty in the
comparatively simple act of perchin'.
<Baaa baaa... flap flap flap ... whoosh ... thud.>
Trouble is, sheep are very dim. Once they get an idea in their
'eads, there's no shiftin' it.
Tourist: But where did they get the idea?
Shephrd: From Harold. He's that most dangerous of creatures, a clever
sheep. 'e's realized that a sheep's life consists of standin'
around for a few months and then bein' eaten. And that's a
depressing prospect for an ambitious sheep.
Tourist: Well why don't just remove Harold?
Shephrd: Because of the enormous commercial possibilities if 'e succeeds.
\spam
*** Spam
*** from The Final Rip Off
*** transcribed from tape 3/30/88 Daniel Rich <
[email protected]>
Man: Morning.
Waitress: Morning.
M: Well, what you got?
W: Well, there's egg and bacon; egg, sausage and bacon; egg and spam;
egg, bacon and spam; egg, bacon, sausage and spam; spam, bacon,
sausage and spam; spam, egg, spam, spam, bacon and spam; spam,
sausage, spam, spam, spam, bacon, spam, tomato and spam; spam, spam,
spam, egg and spam; (vikings start singing in background) spam, spam,
spam, spam, spam, spam, baked beans, spam, spam, spam and spam.
Vikings: Spam, spam , spam, spam, lovely spam, lovely spam.
W (cont): or lobster thermador ecrovets with a bournaise sause, served
in the purple salm manor with chalots and overshies, garnashed with
truffle pate, brandy, a fried egg on top and spam.
Wife: Have you got anything without spam?
Waitress: Well, there's spam, egg, sausage and spam. That's not got
much spam in it.
Wi: I don't want any spam!
M: Why can't she have egg, bacon, spam and sausage?
Wi: That's got spam in it.
M: It hasn't got as much spam in it as spam, egg, sausage and spam has it?
Wi: (over vikings starting again) Could you do me egg, bacon, spam and
sausage without the spam then?
Wa: Ech!
Wi: What do you mean ech! I don't like spam!
V: Lovely spam, wonderful spam....etc
Wa: Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Bloody vikings. You can't have egg, bacon
spam and sausage without the spam.
Wi: I don't like spam!
M: Sh dear, don't cause a fuss. I'll have your spam. I love it. I'm
having spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, baked beans, spam,
spam, spam and spam. (starts vikings off again)
V: Lovely spam, wonderful spam...etc
Wa: Shut up! Baked beans are off.
M: Well, can I have her spam instead of the baked beans?
Wa: You mean spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam,
spam, spam, and spam?
V: Lovely spam, wonderful spam...etc...spam, spam, spam! (in harmony)
\string
**** The string sketch
**** from Monty Python's Instant Record Collection
**** Transcribed from tape by Malcolm Dickinson <CLARINET@YALEVMX> , 4/5/86.
Adrian Wapcaplet: Aah, come in, come in, Mr....Simpson. Aaah, welcome to
Mousebat, Follicle, Goosecreature, Ampersand, Spong, Wapcaplet, Looseliver,
Vendetta and Prang!
Mr. Simpson: Thank you.
Wapcaplet: Do sit down--my name's Wapcaplet, Adrian Wapcaplet...
Mr. Simpson: how'd'y'do.
Wapcaplet: Now, Mr. Simpson... Simpson, Simpson... French, is it?
S: No.
W: Aah. Now, I understand you want us to advertise your washing powder.
S: String.
W: String, washing powder, what's the difference. We can sell *anything*.
S: Good. Well I have this large quantity of string, a hundred and twenty-two
thousand *miles* of it to be exact, which I inherited, and I thought if I
advertised it--
W: Of course! A national campaign. Useful stuff, string, no trouble there.
S: Ah, but there's a snag, you see. Due to bad planning, the hundred and
twenty-two thousand miles is in three inch lengths. So it's not very
useful.
W: Well, that's our selling point!
"SIMPSON'S INDIVIDUAL STRINGETTES!"
S: What?
W: "THE NOW STRING! READY CUT, EASY TO HANDLE, SIMPSON'S INDIVIDUAL EMPEROR
STRINGETTES - JUST THE RIGHT LENGTH!"
S: For what?
W: "A MILLION HOUSEHOLD USES!"
S: Such as?
W: Uhmm...Tying up very small parcels, attatching notes to pigeons' legs, uh,
destroying household pests...
S: Destroying household pests?! How?
W: Well, if they're bigger than a mouse, you can strangle them with it, and if
they're smaller than, you flog them to death with it!
S: Well *surely*!....
W: "DESTROY NINETY-NINE PERCENT OF KNOWN HOUSEHOLD PESTS WITH PRE-SLICED,
RUSTPROOF, EASY-TO-HANDLE, LOW CALORIE SIMPSON'S INDIVIDUAL EMPEROR
STRINGETTES, FREE FROM ARTIFICIAL COLORING, AS USED IN HOSPITALS!"
S: 'Ospitals!?!?!?!!?
W: Have you ever in a Hospital where they didn't have string?
S: No, but it's only *string*!
W: ONLY STRING?! It's everything! It's...it's waterproof!
S: No it isn't!
W: All right, it's water resistant then!
S: It isn't!
W: All right, it's water absorbent! It's...Super Absorbent String!
"ABSORB WATER TODAY WITH SIMPSON'S INDIVIDUAL WATER ABSORB-A-TEX
STRINGETTES! AWAY WITH FLOODS!"
S: You just said it was waterproof!
W: "AWAY WITH THE DULL DRUDGERY OF WORKADAY TIDAL WAVES! USE SIMPSON'S
INDIVIDUAL FLOOD PREVENTERS!"
S: You're mad!
W: Shut up, shut up, shut up! Sex, sex sex, must get sex into it. Wait,
I see a television commercial-
There's this nude woman in a bath holding a bit of your string. That's
great, great, but we need a doctor, got to have a medical opinion.
There's a nude woman in a bath with a doctor--that's too sexy. Put an
archbishop there watching them, that'll take the curse off it. Now, we
need children and animals.
There's two kids admiring the string, and a dog admiring the archbishop
who's blessing the string. Uhh...international flavor's missing...make the
archbishop Greek Orthodox. Why not Archbishop Macarios? No, no, he's
dead... nevermind, we'll get his brother, it'll be cheaper... So, there's
this nude woman....
\swamp
*** The Tale of Sir Launcelot ***
*** From Monty Python and the Holy Grail ***
*** Laboriously plagiarized by Bret "zzzz...." Shefter <SHEBREB@YALEVMX>
*** on the tenth day of April in the year of our Bret 1986
*** Laboriously corrected by Malcolm Dickinson <CLARINET@YALEVMX> 10/30/86
THE TALE OF SIR LAUNCELOT
As Sir Launcelot, the boldest and most expensive of the knights, lost his way
in the Forest of Ewing, at nearby Swamp Castle, a celebration was underway.
Setting: A small garret room in the Tall Tower of Swamp Castle.
The King and his son the Prince.
King: (gesturing expansively out the window) One day, lad, *all* this will be
yours.
Son: What, the curtains?
King: No, not the curtains, lad! All that you can see, stretched out over the
'ills and valleys of this land. That'll be your kindom, lad.
Son: But, Mother...
King: Father, lad, Father.
Son: But, Father, I don't want any of that.
King: Listen, lad: I built this kingdom up from nuthin'. When I started
here, all of this was swamp! Other kings said it was *daft* to build a
castle in a swamp, but I built it all the same, just to show 'em! It
sank into the swamp. SO, I built a second one! That sank into the
swamp. So I built a *third* one. That burned down, fell over, *then*
sank into the swamp. But the fourth one......stayed up. And that's what
you're gonna get, lad: the *strongest* castle in these islands.
Son: But I don't want any of that! I'd rather...
King: Rather what?
Son: I'd rather...just...sing!......
<music up>
King: Stop that! Stop that! You're not going into a song while I'm here!
<music dies away>
Now, listen, lad. In twenty minutes you're gettin' married to a girl
whose father owns the biggest *tracts* of open land in England.
Son: But I don't want land!
King: Listen, Alex...
Son: 'Erbert...
King: 'Erbert. We live in a bloody swamp! We need all the land we can get!!
Son: But... but I don't *like* 'er!
King: don't like 'er?!? What's wrong with 'er? She's... beautiful, she's...
*rich*, she's got... HUGE............. tracts o' land...
Son: Ah...ah know. But I want the girl that I marry to have... a
certain...*special*...something... <music up>
King: Cut that out!! Cut that out.... <grabs the prince>
<music dies away>
You're marryin' Princess Lucky, so you'd better get used to the idea!
<slaps the prince>
GUARDS!!! <two guards come in>
Make sure the prince doesn't leave this room until I come and get 'im.
<starts to go>
Guard 1: <repeating> Not to leave the room, even if you come and get 'im.
Guard 2: *Hic*
King: Nono.... *Until* I come and get him.
Guard 1: Until you come and get him, we're not to enter the room.
King: <stops> Nono, no... You *stay* in the room, and make sure *he*
doesn't leave.
Guard 1: And you'll come and get him.
Guard 2: *Hic*
King: Right.
Guard 1: We don't need to do anything, apart from just stop him, entering the
room.
King: Nono. *Leaving* the room.
Guard 1: Leaving the room, yes.
King: All right?
Guard 1: 'Right.
King: Right. <goes out the door>
Guard 1: Oh! If if if uhhhh.... if if uhhhhh.... If if if we......
King: <coming back in> Yes, what is it?
Guard 1: Oh. I-if....... Oh....
King: Look, it's quite simple.
Guard 1: Uh.....
King: You just stay here, and make sure 'e doesn't leave the room.
All right?
Guard 2: *hic*
Guard 1: Oh, I remember! Uhhhh, can he leave the room with us?
King: No...nono, no. You just keep him in 'ere, and make sure...
Guard 1: Oh yes, we'll keep him in here, obviously, but if he *had*
to leave, and we *were* with him...
King: nononono just KEEP HIM IN HERE
Guard 1: ...Until you or anyone else...
King: No, not anyone else, just me...
Guard 1: ...Just you...
Guard 2: *hic*
King: Get back.
Guard 1: Get back.
King: All right?
Guard 1: Right, we'll stay here until you get back.
Guard 2: *hic*
King: <pause> And, uh... make sure 'e doesn't leave.
Guard 1: What?
King: <pause> Make sure 'e doesn't leave!
Guard 1: The prince??????
King: Yes, MAKE SURE 'E DOESN'T LEAVE...
Guard 2: *hic*
Guard 1: Oh, yes, of course!! I thought you meant him! <motions towards
the second guard> You know, it seemed a bit daft me having to guard
him when 'e's a guard...
King: <pause> Is that clear?
Guard 1: Oh, quite clear, no problems!
Guard 2: *hic*
King: Right. <starts to leave. The guards follow him>
Where are *you* going?
Guard 1: We're coming with you!
King: Nono, I want you to *stay* here and MAKE SURE 'E DOESN'T LEAVE!
Guard 1: Oh, I see, right!
Son: <plaintively> but father...
King: Shut your noise, you! And get that suit on. <leaves>
<music up>
<king re-enters>
AND NO SINGING!
Guard 2: *hic*
King: Oh, go and get a glass of water. (leaves)
The Prince looks at the guards. They look at him. He smiles. They smile
back. He gets a pen a paper out. He smiles at them. They smile back.
He scribbles something on it very fast, not looking at it. He smiles at the
guards. They smile back. The Prince gets a bow and arrow from the wall.
He sticks the note on the arrow. He smiles at the guards. They smile back.
He side-steps to the window. He smiles at the guards. They smile back.
He shoots the arrow with the note out the window. He puts down the bow.
He smiles at the guards. They smile back.
Guard 2: *Hic*
Meanwhile, at a nearby stream, Sir Launcelot approaches. We hear horse's hooves
in the distance. Sir Launcelot appears, behind Concorde, who is banging two
coconut halves together to make the noise of a horse.
Launcelot: Ho! <they jump over the stream> Well taken, Concorde! Steady there,
boy!
<an arrow whizzes through the air and embeds itself in Concorde>
Concorde: (as he falls) Message for you, sir. (he falls)
Launcelot: Concorde!! (spying the arrow) A note! <reads> "To whomever finds
this note. Help. I am being held prisoner by my father who wishes
me to marry *against my will*!! Please please please please rescue
me. I am in the Tall Tower of Swamp Castle." <aloud> A quest! A
damsel in distress! Oh, Concorde, noble Concorde, you shall not have
died in vain! <starts to draw sword>
Concorde: I'm not quite dead yet, sir!
Launcelot: (a bit put off) Well...you shall not have been...mortally wounded
in vain! <draws sword>
Concorde: I think I could pull through, sir.
Launcelot: (a bit more put off) Concorde, maybe you'd better stay here and
rest a bit, eh?
Concorde: Oh, I think I could come with you, sir...
Launcelot: No, no, Concorde, brave soul, you shall stay here, and I...I shall
undertake a perilous quest to win freedom for a maiden and eternal
fame for myself. Farewell, Concorde!! <runs off, leaving Concorde
looking after him perplexedly>
Scene: The drawbridge of Swamp Castle. Two guards standing here looking very
bored. Off in the distance, they see Launcelot running towards them
waving his sword in the air. They look at each other, then back at
Launcelot. They seem confused. He does not get any closer, though he
he keeps running. The guards look at each other again. One taps his
forehead. They lean on their pikes and idly watch Sir Launcelot
still running towards them and getting nowhere. They look at each
other. Suddenly Launcelot appears right next to them and runs them
both through. They die, considerably surprised.
Launcelot runs through the castle, slicing, dicing, grating, mincing,
and otherwise generally killing the entire populace. He fights his
way up to the Tower through the throngs of bewildered wedding guests.
He reached the Tower and throws open the door.
Guard 1: Hello! Urggh. <dies, run though>
Guard 2: *Hic* <also run through>
Launcelot: <kneeling before the white-garbed figure in the room> Milady, here
kneels the humble Sir Launcelot of Camelot, Knight of the Round
Table, and I stand ready to deliver you from-- <sees it's a man,
gets up immediately> Oh, I'm terribly sorry.
Son: <claps hands delightedly> You got my note!
Launcelot: Well, I got *a* note...let's not jump to conclusions...
Son: I *knew* some one would read it and rescue me! I've got a rope all ready!
<dispays shredded blanket made into rope> Let's climb down!
King: <barging in, quite upset> What's all this!?! <sees Launcelot> Are you
the one who killed all my guests?
Son: He's come to rescue me!
King: Shut your noise, you. Well, what about it?
Launcelot: <highly embarrassed> Well, I suppose I may have got...a bit...
carried away with the moment...
King: Carried away?!? Look, whoever you are, you not only ruined my wedding
reception, and caused me great mental anguish, but you killed the
bride's father and kicked the bride in the chest! Now what sort of
behavior is that??? Who are you, anyway?
Launcelot: Well, I am Sir Launcelot of King Arthur's Court, and I--
King: King Arthur?? King-of-England Arthur? And you're one of his Knights of
the Round Table?
Son: I'm ready, Sir Launcelot! <ties rope to table>
Launcelot: Well...yes...and I'm awfully sorry about the fuss...
King: Fuss? Nonsense!! Why, Sir Launcelot, consider yourself my honored guest,
please! (quietly) Lots of land up by Camelot, eh?
Launcelot: Well, I'm terribly sorry about killing all those people...and
kicking the bride...
Son: Hurry, Sir Launcelot! <goes out the window>
King: Don't worry about a thing, sir. Just come downstairs with me, will you?
I want to introduce you to everyone.
Launcelot: Well, thank you....Thank you very much... <leaves>
King: I won't be a minute, Sir Launcelot.... <goes to window, draws dagger>
Son: (from outside) Are you coming, Sir Launcelot?
<The King cuts the blanket-rope, which slithers out the window>
Aaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!! (thump)
King: (liltingly) Coming, Sir Launcelot...
Sir Launcelot goes down the stairs. Upon recognizing him as the one who caused
all the damage, the remaining guests shout such things as, "There he is!" and,
"He's the one!" and, "Get him!" Launcelot draws his sword and goes beserk
again.
King: Oh, bloody hell.
Launcelot is at last subdued before causing too much damage, save only kicking
the bride again, and the King prepares to make a speech.
King: Ladies and gentlemen. This man whom you see beside me is my own honored
friend, Sir Launcelot of Camelot. He has come all this way just to see
my son married to Princess Lucky. Unfortunately, my son Herbert has just
fallen to his death from the Tall Tower. (gasps) But, I like to think of
myself, not as having lost a son, but as having gained a daughter. For,
since the father of the bride perished in most untimely circumstances....
Voice: He's not quite dead yet....
King: (thrown) Er...since her father has come so close to death as to be
considered dead...
Voice: I think he's coming 'round!
King: <whispers to a guard, who circles towards the back of the room, where the
father lies> Since her father, who, when it seemed he was just on the
verge of recovery, suddenly felt the icy hand of death upon him...
(thump)
Voice: He's kicked off!
King: Right...I should like the Princess to think of me as her own Dad. In the
firm and legally binding sense. And, as this is meant to be a wedding
day, I would like to welcome Sir Launcelot into my family, and give him
the hand of my new daughter in earnest token of my esteem for him and his
title. <pause, some feeble applause from the guards>
Launcelot: <taken aback> Well, really, I must be going, I don't think--
King: Going? Nonsense! Why, how could you leave me at a time like this, so
recently bereft of my only son?
Concorde: <entering with Son> He's not quite dead yet! (general reaction)
King: Oh, bloody hell.
Voice: But, how on earth did you survive the fall from the Tall Tower?
Son: Well, I'll tell you...
<music starts>
King: No! Wait! Stop that! <But it is too late>
Guests: He's going to tell,
he's going to tell,
he's going to tell,
he's going to tell!
He's going to tell,
he's going to tell,
he's going to tell,
he's going to tell!
Concorde: Quick, sir, let's get out of here. This way.
Launcelot: No, no. I need something more...more...
Concorde: Dramatic, sir?
Launcelot: Dramatic! Right! This bell pull will do... <grabs bell pull.
Runs up stairs. Jumps in the air. Swings down towards the window.
Falls about twelve feet short, having not given himself a very good
start. Swings back and forth for a short time.>
Launcelot: Err...could someone give me a push?
\undertaker
*** Undertaker
*** from Monty Python - The Final Rip Off
*** transcribed from tape 3/30/88 Daniel Rich <
[email protected]>
Man: Um, excuse me, is this the Undertakers?
Undertaker: Yep that's right, what can I do for you squire?
M: Um, well, I wonder if you can help me. Uh, my mother has just died
and I'm not quite sure what I should do.
U: Oh well, we can help you. We deal with stiffs.
M: Stiffs.
U: Now there's three things we can do with your mum. We can bury her,
burn her, or dump her.
M: Dump her?
U: Dump her in the Thames.
M: What?
U: Oh, did you like her?
M: Yes!
U: Oh well we won't dump her then. Well, what do you think. Burn her
or bury her.
M: Well, um, which would you recommend?
U: Well, they're both nasty. If we burn her she gets stuffed in the
flames; crackle, crackle, crackle; which is a bit of a shock if she's
not quite dead, but quick. And then you get a box of ashes which you
can pretend are hers.
M: Oh.
U: Or, if you don't want to fry her, you can bury her, and then she'll
get eaten up by maggots and weevels; nibble, nibble, nibble; which
isn't so hot, if as I said, she's not quite dead.
M: I see, um, well, I'm not very sure she's definately dead.
U: Where is she?
M: She's in this sack.
U: Let's have a look. Umm, she looks quite young.
M: Yes, she was.
U: (calling) Fred.
Fred: Yes?
U: I think we've got an eater.
F: I'll get the oven on.
M: Um, uh, excuse me. Um, are you suggesting we should eat my mother?
U: Yeah, not raw, we'd cook her. She'd be delicious with a few french
fries, a bit of brautaline stuffing, delicious!
M: What? Well, actually I do feel a little bit peckish. No, I can't.
U: Look, we'll eat your mum and if you feel a bit guility about it
afterward we can dig a grave and you can throw up in it.
M: Alright.
