Series One: October 5, 1969 - January 11, 1970
1) Whither Canada
"It's Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart"
Famous deaths
Italian lesson
Whizzo butter
"It's the Arts"
Picasso/cycling race
The funniest joke in the world
2) Sex and Violence
French lecture on sheep-aircraft
A man with two noses
Musical mice
Marriage guidance counsellor
The wacky queen
Working-class playwright
A Scotsman on a horse
The wrestling epilogue
The mouse problem
3) How to recognize different types of trees from quite a long way away
Court scene (witness in coffin/Cardinal Richelieu)
The larch
Bicycle repair man
Children's stories
Restaurant sketch
Seduced milkmen
Stolen newsreader
Children's interview
Nudge nudge
4) Owl-stretching time
Song ("And did those feet")
Art gallery
Art critic
It's a man's life in the modern army
Undressing in public
Self-defence
Secret Service dentists
5) Man's crisis of identity in the latter half of the twentieth century
Confuse-a-Cat
The smuggler
A duck, a cat and a lizard (discussion)
Vox pops on smuggling
Police raid
Letters and vox pops
Newsreader arrested
Erotic film
Silly job interview
Careers advisory board
Burglar/encyclopaedia salesman
6) It's the Arts
Johann Gombolputty.... von Hautkopf of Ulm
Non-illegal robbery
Vox pops
Crunchy frog
The dull life of a City stockbroker
Red Indian in theatre
Policemen make wonderful friends
A Scotsman on a horse
Twentieth-century vole
7) You're no fun any more
Camel Spotting
You're no fun any more
The audit
Science fiction sketch
Man turns into Scotsman
Police station
Blancmanges playing tennis
8) Full frontal nudity
Army protection racket
Vox pops
Art critic - the place of the nude
Buying a bed
Hermits
Dead parrot
The flasher
Hell's Grannies
9) The ant, an introduction
Llamas
A man with a tape recorder up his nose
Kilimanjaro expedition (double vision)
A man with a tape recorder up his brother's nose
Homicidal barber
Gumby crooner
The refreshment room at Bletchley
Hunting film
The visitors
10) Untitled
Walk-on-part in sketch
Bank robber (lingerie shop)
Trailer
Arthur Tree
Vocational Guidance Counsellor (chartered accountant)
The first man to jump the Channel
Tunnelling from Godalming to Java
Pet conversions
Gorilla librarian
Letters to "Daily Mirror"
Strangers in the night
11) The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra goes to the bathroom
Letter (lavatorial humour)
Interruptions
Agatha Christie sketch
Literary football discussion
Undertakers film
Interesting people
Eighteenth-century social legislation
The Battle of Trafalgar
Batley Townswomens' Guild presents the Battle of Pearl Harbour
Undertakers film
12) The Naked Ant
Falling from building
"Spectrum" - talking about things
Visitors from Coventry
Mr Hitler
Police station (silly voices)
Upperclass Twit of the Year
Ken Shabby
How far can a minister fall
13) Intermission
Intermissions
Restaurant (abuse/cannibalism)
Advertisements
Albatross
Come back to my place
Me Doctor
Historical impersonations
Quiz programme - "Wishes"
"Probe-around" on crime
Stonehenge
Mr Attila the Hun
Psychiatry - silly sketch
Operating theatre (squatters)
Series Two: September 15, 1970 - December 22, 1970
1) Dinsdale
"Face the Press"
New cooker sketch
Tobacconists (prostitute advert)
The Ministry of Silly Walks
2) The Spannish Inquisition
Man-powered flight
The Spanish Inquisition
Jokes and novelties salesman
Tax on thingy
Vox pops
Photos of Uncle Ted (Spanish Inquisition)
The semaphore version of "Wuthering Heights"
"Julius Caesar" on an Aldis lamp
Court scene (charades)
3) Untitled
A bishop rehearsing
Flying lessons
Hijacked plane (to Luton)
The Poet McTeagle
Psychiatrist milkman
Complaints
Deja vu
4) The Buzz Aldrin Show
How to give up being a Mason
Motor insurance sketch
"The Bishop"
Living room on pavement
Poets
A choice of viewing
chemist sketch
Words not to be used again
After-shave
Vox pops
Police Constable Pan-Am
5) Live from the Grillomat
Live from the Frill-o-Mat snack bar
Paignton
Society for Putting Things on top of Other Things
Escape (from film)
Current affairs
Accidents sketch
Seven Brides for Seven Brothers
The man who is alternately rude and polite
Documentary on boxer
6) School Prizes
"It's a Living"
The time on BBC 1
School prize-giving
"if" - a film by Mr Dibley
"Rear Window" - a film by Mr Dibley
"Finian's Rainbow" (starring the man from the off-licence)
Foreign Secretary
Dung
Dead Indian
Timmy Williams interview
Raymond Luxury Yacht interview
Registry office
Election Night Special (Silly and Sensible Parties)
7) The Attila the Hun Show
"The Attila the Hun Show"
Attila the Nun
Secretary of State striptease
Vox pops on politicians
Ratcatcher
Wainscotting
Killer sheep
The news for gibbons
Today in Parliament
The news for wombats
Attila the Bun
The Idiot in Society
Test match
The Epsom furniture race
"Take Your Pick"
8) Archaeology Today
Trailer
"Archaeology Today"
Silly vicar
Leapy Lee
Registrar (wife swap)
Silly doctor sketch (immediately abandoned)
Mr and Mrs Git
Mosquito hunters
Poofy judges
Mrs Thing and Mrs Entity
Beethoven's mynah bird
Shakespeare
Michaelangelo
Colin Mozert (ratcatcher)
Judges
9) How to recognize different parts of the body
"How to recognize different parts of the body"
Bruces
Naughty bits
The man who contradicts people
Cosmetic surgery
Camp square-bashing
Cut-price airline
Batley Townswomen's Guild presents the first heart transplant
The first underwater production of "Measure for Measure"
The death of Mary Queen of Scots
Exploding penguin on TV set
There's been a murder
Europolice Song contest
"Bing Tiddle Tiddle Bong" (song)
10) Scott of the Antarctic
French subtitled film
Scott of the Antarctic
Scott of the Sahara
Fish licnece
Derby Council v. All Blacks rugby match
Long John Silver Impersonators v. Bournemouth Gynaecologists
11) How not to be seen
Conquistador coffee campaign
Repeating groove
Ramsay MacDonald striptease
Job hunter
Agatha Christie sketch (railway timetables)
Mr Neville Shunte
Film director (teeth)
City gents vox pops
"Crackpot Religions Ltd"
"How not to be seen"
Crossing the Atlantic on a tricycle
Interview in filing cabinet
"Yummy yummy"
Monty Python's Flying Circus again in thirty seconds
12) Spam
"The Black Eagle"
Court (phrasebook)
Communist quiz
"Ypres 1914" - abandoned
Art gallery strike
"Ypres 1914"
Hospital for over-actors
Gumby flower arranging
Spam
13) Royal Episode 13
The Queen will be watching
Coal mine (historical argument)
The man who says things in a very roundabout way
The man who speaks only the ends of words
The man who speaks only the beginnings of words
The man who speaks only the middles of words
Commercials
How to feed a goldfish
The man who collects birdwatcher's eggs
Insurance sketch
Hospital run by RSM
Mountaineer
Exploding version of "The Blue Danube"
Girls' Boarding school
Submarine
Lifeboat (cannibalism)
Undertaker's sketch
Series Three: October 19, 1972 - January 18, 1973
1) Whicker's World
Cdourt scene - multiple murderer
Icelandic saga
Court scene (Viking)
Stock Exchange report
Mrs Premise and Mrs Conclusion visit Jean-Paul Sartre
Whicker Island
2) Mr and Mrs Brian Norris' Ford Popular
Emigration from Surbiton to Hounslow
Schoolboys' Life Assurance Company
How to rid the world of all known diseases
Mrs Niggerbaiter explodes
Vicar/salesman
Farming Club
"Life of Tschaikovsky"
Trim-Jeans Theatre
Fish-slapping dance
World War One
The BBC is short of money
Puss in boots
3) The Money Programme
"There is nothing quite so wonderful as money" (song)
Erizabeth L
Fraud film squad
Salvation fuzz
Jungle restaurant
Apology for violence and nudity
Ken Russell's "Gardening Club"
The Lost World of Roiurama
Six more minutes of Monty Python's Flying Circus
Argument Clinic
Hitting on the head lessons
Inspector Flying Fox of the Yard
One more minute of Monty Python's Flying Circus
4) Blood, Devastation, Death, War and Horror
"Blood, Devastation, Death, War and Horror"
The man who speaks in anagrams
Anagram quiz
Merchant banker
Pantomime horses
Life and death struggles
Mary recruitment office
Bus conductor sketch
The man who makes people laugh uncontrollably
Army captain as clown
Gestures to indicate pauses in a televised talk
Neurotic announcers
The news with Richard Baker (vision only)
"The Pantomime Horse is a Secret Agent film"
5) The All-England Summarize Proust Competition
"Summarize Proust Competition"
Everest climbed by hairdressers
Fire brigade
Our Eamonn
"Party Hints" with Veronica Smalls
Language laboratory
Travel agent
Watney's Red Barrle
Theory on Brontosauruses by Anne Elk (Miss)
6) The war against pornography
Tory Housewives Clean-up Campaign
Gumby brain specialist
Molluscs - "live" TV documentary
The Minister for not listening to people
Tuesday documentary/children's story/party political broadcast
Apology (politicians)
Expedition to Lake Pahoe
The silliest interview we've ever had
The silliest sketch we've ever done
7) Salad Days
Biggles dictates a letter
Climbing the north face of the Uxbridge Road
Lifeboat
Old lady snoopers
"Storage jars"
The show so far
Philip Jenkinson on Cheese Westerns
Sam Peckinpah's "Salad Days"
Apology
The news with Richard Baker
Seashore interlude film
Mr Pither
Clodagh Rogers
Trotsky
Smolensk
Bingo-crazed Chinese
"Jack in a Box"
9) The nude man
Bomb on plane
A naked man
Ten seconds of sex
Housing project built by characters from
nineteenth-century English Literature
M1 interchange built by characters from "Paradise Lost"
Mustico and Janet - flats built by hypnosis
"Mortuary Hour"
The Olympic hide-and-seek final
The Cheap-Laughs
Bull-fighting
The British Well-Basically Club
Prices on the planet Algon
10) Henry Thripshaw's Disease
Tudor jobs agency
Pornographic bookshop
Elizabethan pornography smugglers
Silly disturbances (the Rev. Arthur Belling)
The free repetition of doubtful words sketch, by an underrated author
"Is there?"...life after death?
The man who says words in the wrong order
Thripshaw's disease
Silly noises
Sherry-drinking vicar
11) Dennis Moore
"Boxing Tonight" - Jack Bodel v. Sir Kenneth Clark
Lupins
What the stars foretell
Doctor
"TV4 or not TV4" discussion
Ideal Loon Exhibition
Off-Licence
"Prejudice"
12) A Book at Bedtime
Party Political Broadcast (choreographed)
"A Book at Bedtime"
"Redgauntlet"
Kamikaze Scotsmen
No time to lose
BBC programme planners
Unexploded Scotsmen
"Spot the Loony"
Rival documentaries
"Dad's Doctors" (trail)
"Dad's Pooves" (trail)
13) Grandstand
Thames TV introduction
"Light Entertainment Awards"
Dickie Attenborough
The Oscar Wilde sketch
David Niven's fridge
Pasolini's film "The Third Test Match"
New brain from Curry's
Blood donor
International Wife-swapping
Credits of the Year
The dirty vicar sketch
Series Four: October 31, 1974 - December 5, 1974
1) The Golden Age of Ballooning
Montgolfier Brothers
Louis XIV
George III
Zeppelin
2) Michael Ellis
Department Store
Buying an ant
At home with the ant and other pets
Documentary on ants
Ant communication
Poetry reading (ants)
Toupee
Different endings
3) The Light Entertainment War
"Up Your Pavement"
Trivializing the war
Courtmartial
Basingstoke in Westphalia
"Anything Goes In" (song)
Film trailer
The public are idiots
Programme titles conference
The last five miles of the M2
Show-jumping (musical)
Newsflash (Germans)
"When Does A Dream Begin?" (song)
4) Hamlet
Bogus psychiatrists
"Nationwide"
Police helmets
Father-in-law
Hamlet and Ophelia
Boxing match aftermath
Boxing commentary
Piston engine (a bargain)
A room in Polonius's house
Dentists
Live from Epsom
Queen Victoria Handicap
5) Mr Neutron
Post box ceremony
Teddy Salad (CIA agent)
"Conjuring Today"
6) Party Political Broadcast
"Most Awful Family in Britain"
Icelandic Honey Week
A doctor whose patients are stabbed by his nurse
Brigadier and Bishop
Appeal on behalf of extremely rich people
The man who finishes other people's sentences
David Attenborough
The walking tree of Dahomey
The batsmen of the Kalahare
Cricket match (assegais)
BBC News (handovers)
Others:
A Pet Shop somewhere near Melton Mowbray
Transmission Details
Series Transmission Recording Number as
/number date date recorded
1/1 Oct 05, 1969 Sep 07, 1969 2
1/2 Oct 12, 1969 Aug 30, 1969 1
1/3 Oct 19, 1969 Aug 14, 1969 3
1/4 Oct 26, 1969 Sep 21, 1969 4
1/5 Nov 16, 1969 Oct 03, 1969 5
1/6 Nov 23, 1969 Nov 11, 1969 7
1/7 Nov 30, 1969 Oct 10, 1969 6
1/8 Dec 07, 1969 Nov 25, 1969 8
1/9 Dec 14, 1969 Dec 07, 1969 10
1/10 Dec 21, 1969 Nov 30, 1969 9
1/11 Dec 28, 1969 Dec 14, 1969 11
1/12 Jan 04, 1970 Dec 21, 1969 12
1/13 Jan 11, 1970 Jan 04, 1970 13
2/1 Sep 15, 1970 Jul 09, 1970 4
2/2 Sep 22, 1970 Jul 02, 1970 3
2/3 Sep 29, 1970 Jul 16, 1970 5
2/4 Oct 20, 1970 Sep 18, 1970 9
2/5 Oct 27, 1970 Sep 10, 1970 7
2/6 Nov 03, 1970 Sep 10, 1970 8
2/7 Nov 10, 1970 Oct 02, 1970 11
2/8 Nov 17, 1970 Oct 09, 1970 12
2/9 Nov 24, 1970 Sep 25, 1970 10
2/10 Dec 01, 1970 Jul 02, 1970 2
2/11 Dec 08, 1970 Jul 23, 1970 6
2/12 Dec 15, 1970 Jun 25, 1970 1
2/13 Dec 22, 1970 Oct 16, 1970 13
3/1 Oct 19, 1972 Jan 14, 1972 5
3/2 Oct 26, 1972 Jan 28, 1972 7
3/3 Nov 02, 1972 Dec 04, 1971 1
3/4 Nov 09, 1972 Dec 11, 1971 2
3/5 Nov 16, 1972 Apr 24, 1972 9
3/6 Nov 23, 1972 Jan 21, 1972 6
3/7 Nov 30, 1972 Jan 07, 1972 4
3/8 Dec 07, 1972 May 04, 1972 10
3/9 Dec 14, 1972 May 11, 1072 11
3/10 Dec 21, 1972 May 25, 1972 13
3/11 Jan 04, 1973 Apr 17, 1972 8
3/12 Jan 11, 1973 Dec 18, 1971 3
3/13 Jan 18, 1973 May 18, 1972 12
4/1 Oct 31, 1974 Oct 12, 1974 1
4/2 Nov 11, 1974 Oct 19, 1974 2
4/3 Nov 14, 1974 Oct 26, 1974 3
4/4 Nov 21, 1974 Nov 02, 1974 4
4/5 Nov 28, 1974 Nov 09, 1974 5
4/6 Dec 05, 1974 Nov 16, 1974 6
Title: The Man Who Speaks In Anagrams
From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
Transcribed By: Jonathan Partington
Palin: Hello, good evening and welcome to another edition of Blood,
Devastation, Death War and Horror, and later on we'll be
meeting a man who *does* gardening. But first on the show
we've got a man who speaks entirely in anagrams.
Idle: Taht si crreoct.
Palin: Do you enjoy it?
Idle: I stom certainly od. Revy chum so.
Palin: And what's your name?
Idle: Hamrag - Hamrag Yatlerot.
Palin: Well, Graham, nice to have you on the show. Now, where
do you come from?
Idle: Bumcreland.
Palin: Cumberland?
Idle: Stah't it sepricely.
Palin: And I believe you're working on an anagram version of
Shakespeare?
Idle: Sey, sey - taht si crreoct, er - ta the mnemot I'm wroking
on "The Mating of the Wersh".
Palin: "The Mating of the Wersh"? By William Shakespeare?
Idle: Nay, by Malliwi Rapesheake.
Palin: And what else?
Idle: "Two Netlemeng of Verona", "Twelfth Thing","The Chamrent
of Venice"....
Palin: Have you done "Hamlet"?
Idle: "Thamle". 'Be ot or bot ne ot, tath is the nestquoi.'
Palin: And what is your next project?
Idle: "Ring Kichard the Thrid".
Palin: I'm sorry?
Idle: 'A shroe! A shroe! My dingkom for a shroe!'
Palin: Ah, Ring Kichard, yes... but surely that's not an anagram,
that's a spoonerism.
Idle: If you're going to split hairs, I'm going to piss off. (Exit)
by John Cleese and Graham Chapman
From: Monty Python's Flying Circus, 20 October 1970
Transcribed By: Dawn Whiteside
Scene: A large posh office. Two clients, well-dressed city gents, sit
facing a large table at which stands Mr. Tid, the account manager
of the architectural firm. (original cast: Mr Tid, Graham Chapman;
Mr Wiggin, John Cleese; City Gent One, Michael Palin; Client 2:,
Terry Jones; Mr Wymer, Eric Idle)
Mr. Tid: Well, gentlemen, we have two architectural designs for this new
residential block of yours and I thought it best if the architects
themselves explained the particular advantages of their designs.
There is a knock at the door.
Mr. Tid: Ah! That's probably the first architect now. Come in.
Mr. Wiggin enters.
Mr. Wiggin: Good morning, gentlemen.
Clients: Good morning.
Mr. Wiggin: This is a 12-story block combining classical neo-Georgian features
with the efficiency of modern techniques. The tenants arrive here
and are carried along the corridor on a conveyor belt in extreme
comfort, past murals depicting Mediterranean scenes, towards the
rotating knives. The last twenty feet of the corridor are heavily
soundproofed. The blood pours down these chutes and the mangled
flesh slurps into these...
Client 1: Excuse me.
Mr. Wiggin: Yes?
Client 1: Did you say 'knives'?
Mr. Wiggin: Rotating knives, yes.
Client 2: Do I take it that you are proposing to slaughter our tenants?
Mr. Wiggin: ...Does that not fit in with your plans?
Client 1: Not really. We asked for a simple block of flats.
Mr. Wiggin: Oh. I hadn't fully divined your attitude towards the tenants. You
see I mainly design slaughter houses.
Clients: Ah.
Mr. Wiggin: Pity.
Clients: Yes.
Mr. Wiggin: (indicating points of the model) Mind you, this is a real beaut.
None of your blood caked on the walls and flesh flying out of the
windows incommoding the passers-by with this one. (confidentially)
My life has been leading up to this.
Client 2: Yes, and well done, but we wanted an apartment block.
Mr. Wiggin: May I ask you to reconsider.
Clients: Well...
Mr. Wiggin: You wouldn't regret this. Think of the tourist trade.
Client 1: I'm sorry. We want a block of flats, not an abattoir.
Mr. Wiggin: ...I see. Well, of course, this is just the sort of blinkered
philistine pig-ignorance I've come to expect from you non-creative
garbage. You sit there on your loathsome spotty behinds squeezing
blackheads, not caring a tinker's cuss for the struggling artist.
You excrement, you whining hypocritical toadies with your colour TV
sets and your Tony Jacklin golf clubs and your bleeding masonic
secret handshakes. You wouldn't let me join, would you, you
blackballing bastards. Well I wouldn't become a Freemason now if
you went down on your lousy stinking knees and begged me.
Client 2: We're sorry you feel that way, but we did want a block of flats,
nice though the abattoir is.
Mr. Wiggin: Oh sod the abattoir, that's not important. (He dashes forward and
kneels in front of them.) But if any of you could put in a word
for me I'd love to be a mason. Masonry opens doors. I'd be very
quiet, I was a bit on edge just now but if I were a mason I'd sit
at the back and not get in anyone's way.
Client 1: (politely) Thank you.
Mr. Wiggin: ...I've got a second-hand apron.
Client 2: Thank you. (Mr. Wiggin hurries to the door but stops...)
Mr. Wiggin: I nearly got in at Hendon.
Client 1: Thank you.
Mr. Wiggin exits. Mr Tid rises.
Mr. Tid: I'm sorry about that. Now the second architect is Mr. Wymer of
Wymer and Dibble. (Mr. Wymer enters, carrying his model with great
care. He places it on the table.)
Mr. Wymer: Good morning gentlemen. This is a scale model of the block, 28
stories high, with 280 apartments. It has three main lifts and
two service lifts. Access would be from Dibbingley Road. (The
model falls over. Mr Wymer quickly places it upright again.)
The structure is built on a central pillar system with...
(The model falls over again. Mr Wymer tries to make it stand up,
but it won't, so he has to hold it upright.) ...with cantilevered
floors in pre-stressed steel and concrete. The dividing walls on
each floor section are fixed by recessed magnalium-flanged grooves.
(The bottom ten floors of the model give way and it partly
collapses.) By avoiding wood and timber derivatives and all other
inflammables we have almost totally removed the risk of.... (The
model is smoking. The odd flame can be seen. Wymer looks at the
city gents.) Frankly, I think the central pillar may need
strengthening.
Client 2: Is that going to put the cost up?
Mr. Wymer: I'm afraid so.
Client 2: I don't know we need to worry too much about strengthening that.
After all, these are not meant to be luxury flats.
Client 1: Absolutely. If we make sure the tenants are of light build and
relatively sedentary and if the weather's on our side, I think we
have a winner here.
Mr. Wymer: Thank you. (The model explodes.)
Client 2: I quite agree.
Mr. Wymer: Well, thank you both very much. (They all shake hands, giving the
secret Mason's handshake.) Cut to Mr. Wiggin watching at the
window.
Mr. Wiggin: (turning to camera) It opens doors, I'm telling you.
From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
Transcribed By: Jonathan Partington ( JRP1@PHX.CAM.AC.UK )
(Scene: a wartime RAF station)
Jones: Morning, Squadron Leader.
Idle: What-ho, Squiffy.
Jones: How was it?
Idle: Top-hole. Bally Jerry, pranged his kite right in the how's-your-father;
hairy blighter, dicky-birded, feathered back on his sammy, took a waspy,
flipped over on his Betty Harpers and caught his can in the Bertie.
Jones: Er, I'm afraid I don't quite follow you, Squadron Leader.
Idle: It's perfectly ordinary banter, Squiffy. Bally Jerry, pranged his kite
right in the how's-your-father; hairy blighter, dicky-birded, feathered
back on his sammy, took a waspy, flipped over on his Betty Harpers and
caught his can in the Bertie.
Jones: No, I'm just not understanding banter at all well today. Give us it
slower.
Idle: Banter's not the same if you say it slower, Squiffy.
Jones: Hold on then -- Wingco! -- just bend an ear to the Squadron Leader's
banter for a sec, would you?
Chapman: Can do.
Jones: Jolly good. Fire away.
Idle: Bally Jerry... (he goes through it all again)
Chapman: No, I don't understand that banter at all.
Idle: Something up with my banter, chaps?
GRAMS: AIR RAID SIRENS
(Enter Palin, out of breath)
Palin: Bunch of monkeys on the ceiling, sir! Grab your egg-and-fours and
let's get the bacon delivered!
Chapman (to Idle): Do *you* understand that?
Idle: No -- I didn't get a word of it.
Chapman: Sorry, old man, we don't understand your banter.
Palin: You know -- bally tenpenny ones dropping in the custard!
(no reaction)
Palin: Um -- Charlie choppers chucking a handful!
Chapman: No no -- sorry.
Jones: Say it slower, old chap.
Palin: Slower *banter*, sir?
Chapman: Ra-ther.
Palin: Um -- sausage squad up the blue end?
Idle: No, still don't get it.
Palin: Um -- cabbage crates coming over the briny?
The others: No, no.
(Film of air-raid)
Idle (voice-over): But by then it was too late. The first cabbage crates hit
London on July the 7th. That was just the beginning.
(Chapman seen sitting at desk, on telephone)
Chapman: Five shillings a dozen? That's ordinary cabbages, is it? And what
about the bombs?... Good Lord, they _are_ expensive.
From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
Transcribed By: Jonathan Partington
Edited By: Bret Shefter
Husband (Terry Jones): Hello, my wife and I would like to buy a bed, please.
Mr Lambert (Graham Chapman): Certainly sir, I'll get someone to help you.
Wife (Carol Cleveland): Thank you.
Lambert: Mr Verity!
Mr Verity (Eric Idle): Can I help you, sir?
Husband: Yes, we'd like a bed, a double bed, and I wondered if you'd got one
for about fifty pounds.
Verity: Oh no, I'm afraid not, sir. Our cheapest bed is eight hundred
pounds, sir.
Husband & Wife: Eight hundred pounds?
Lambert: Excuse me, sir, but before I go, I ought to have told you that Mr
Verity does tend to exaggerate. Every figure he gives you will be
ten times too high.
Husband: I see.
Lambert: Otherwise he's perfectly all right.
Husband: I see. Er... your cheapest double bed then is eighty pounds?
Verity: Eight hundred pounds, yes, sir.
Husband: I see. And how wide is it?
Verity: It's sixty feet wide.
Husband: Yes...
Wife: (whispers) Sixty feet!
Husband: (whispers) Six foot wide, you see.
Wife: (whispers) Oh.
Husband: ...and the length?
Verity: The length is ... er ... just a moment. Mr Lambert, what is the
length of the Comfidown Majorette?
Lambert: Ah. Two foot long.
Husband: Two foot long?
Verity: Yes, remembering of course that you have to multiply everything Mr
Lambert says by three. It's nothing he can help, you understand.
Otherwise he's perfectly all right.
Husband: I see, I'm sorry.
Verity: But it does mean that when he says a bed is two foot long, it is in
fact sixty foot long, all right?
Husband: Yes, I see.
Verity: That's without the mattress, of course.
Husband: How much is that?
Verity: Er, Mr Lambert will be able to tell you that. Lambert! Could you
show these twenty good people the dog kennels, please?
Husband: Dog kennels? No, no, the mattresses!
Verity: I'm sorry, you have to say 'dog kennel' to Mr Lambert, because if you
say 'mattress' he puts a bucket* over his head. I should have
explained. Otherwise he's perfectly all right.
Husband: Oh. Ah. I see. Er, excuse me, could you show us the dog kennels,
please, hm?
Lambert: Dog kennels?
Husband: Yes, we want to look at the dog kennels, hm.
Lambert: Ah yes, well that's the pets' department, second floor.
Husband: No, no, no, we want to see the DOG KENNELS.
Lambert (irritated): Yes, second floor.
Husband: No, we don't want to see dog kennels, it's just that Mr Verity said
that...
Lambert: Oh dear, what's he been telling you now?
Husband: Well, he said we should say 'dog kennels' instead of saying
'mattresses'.
(Lambert puts bucket on his head)
Husband: Oh dear. Hello? Hello? Hello?
Verity: (approaching) Did you say 'mattress'?
Husband: Well, yes, er...
Lambert: (muffled) I'm not coming out!
Verity: I did *ask* you not to say 'mattress', didn't I?
Husband: But I mean, er...
Lambert: (muffled) I'm not!
Husband: Oh.
Verity: Now I've got to get him to the fish tank and sing.
Husband: Oh.
Verity: (sings) And did those feet, in ancient time...
Another assistant (John Cleese): (walking up, hearing the singing) Oh dear,
did somebody say mattress to Mr Lambert?
Husband: Yes, I did.
(Assistant gives nasty look at Husband)
Verity: (still singing) ...walk upon England's mountains green...
(Assistant joins in) ...and was the Holy Lamb of God...
(Lambert removes bucket; Verity and Assistant immediately stop singing;
assistant leaves.)
Verity: He should be all right now, but don't...you know...*don't*!
Husband: No, no. (to Lambert) Excuse me, could we see the dog kennels please?
Lambert (irritated): Yes, pets department, second floor.
Husband: No, no, no. Those dog kennels, like that. You see?
Lambert: Mattresses?
Husband: (relieved) Yes.
Lambert: But if you want a mattress, why not say 'mattress'?
Husband: (nervously) Ha ha, I mean...
Lambert: I mean, it's a little confusing for me when you say 'dog kennel' if
you want a mattress. Why not just say 'mattress'?
Husband: But you put a bucket over your head last time we said 'mattress'.
(Lambert puts the bucket over his head again)
Verity: (running on the scene again) Oh dear! (sings) And did those feet...
Assistant: (to Husband) We *did* ask!
(duet) ...in ancient times,
walk upon England's mountains green...
(singing continues throughout the next few lines of dialogue)
Yet another assistant (Michael Palin): (running in)
Did somebody say 'mattress' to Mr Lambert?
(Cleese points angrily towards the Husband and Wife)
Verity: *Twice*!
Other Assistant: (shouting throughout the store) Hey, everybody! Somebody
said 'mattress' to Mr Lambert -- *twice*!
(joins in the singing)
(Organ music swells and they carry on singing)
Verity: It's not working, we need more!
(The entire Mormon Tabernacle Choir begins to sing in the background. Sounds
of water splashing; eventually Lambert removes the bucket again and they stop
singing)
Lambert: I'm sorry, can I help you?
Wife: (brightly) We want a mattress!
(Lambert puts the bucket over his head again. Verity, husband and assistants
all groan and glare accusingly at wife)
Wife: But it's my only line!!!
Title: Bicycle Repair Man Sketch
From: unknown
Transcribed By: unknown
Edited By: Adam Fogg <borg@agate.net>
Voiceover: This man is no ordinary man. This is Mr. H G Superman. To all
appearances, he looks like any other law-abiding citizen. But Mr F G
Superman has a secret identity. When trouble strikes at any time, at
any place, he is ready to become... BICICLE REPAIR MAN!
Boy: Hey, there's a bicycle broken, up the road.
Bicycle Repair Man: <Hmmmmm. This sounds like a job for... Bicycle Repair Man.
But how to change without revealig my secret identity?>
Superman 1: If only Bicycle Repair Man were here!
Bicycle Repair Man: Yes, wait, I think I know where I can find him.
Look over there!
Caption: FLASH!
Supermen 1-3: BRM, but how?
Superman 1: Oh look... is it a stockbroker?
Superman 2: Is it a quantity Surveyor?
Superman 3: Is it a church warden?
Supermen 1-3: NO! It's BRM!
Superman In Need: MY! BRM! Thank goodness you've come! Look!
Caption: Clink!
Screw!
Bend!
Inflate!
Alter Saddle!
Superman 2: Why, he's mending it with his own hands!
Superman 1: Se how he uses a spanner to tighten that nut!
Superman In Need: Oh, Oh BRM, how can I ever repay you?
Bicycle Repair Man: Oh, you don't need to guv. It's all in a days work for...
Bicycle Repair Man!
Supermen 1-3: Our Hero!
Voiceover: Yes! whenever bicycles are broken, or menaced by international
communism, BRM is ready!
From: Monty Python's Flying Circus, Taken From Album
Transcribed By: unknown
Edited By: Adam Fogg <borg@agate.net>
Mother: (turning off radio) liberal rubbish! Klaus!
Klaus: Yeah?
Mother: Whaddaya want with yer jugged fish?
Klaus: 'Alibut.
Mother: The jugged fish IS 'alibut!
Klaus: Well, what fish 'ave you got that isn't jugged?
Mother: Rabbit.
Klaus: What, rabbit fish?
Mother: Uuh, yes...it's got fins....
Klaus: Is it dead?
Mother: Well, it was coughin' up blood last night.
Klaus: All right, I'll have the dead unjugged rabbit fish.
Voiceover: One dead unjugged rabbit fish later.
Klaus: (putting down his knife and fork) Well, that was really 'orrible.
Mother: Aaw, you're always complainin'!
Klaus: Wha's for afters?
Mother: Rat cake, rat sorbet, rat pudding, or strawberry tart.
Klaus: (eyes lighting up) Strawberry tart?
Mother: Well, it's got *some* rat in it.
Klaus: 'Ow much?
Mother: Three. A lot, really.
Klaus: Well, I'll have a slice without so much rat in it.
Voiceover: One slice of strawberry tart without so much rat in it later.
Klaus: (putting down fork and knife) Appalling.
Mother: Naw, naw, naw!
Son: (coming in the door) 'Ello Mum. 'Ello Dad.
Klaus: 'Ello son.
Son: There's a dead bishop on the landing, dad!
Klaus: Really?
Mother: Where's it from?
Son: Waddya mean?
Mother: What's its diocese?
Son: Well, it looked a bit Bath and Wells-ish to me...
Klaus: (getting up and going out the door) I'll go and have a look.
Mother: I don't know...kids bringin' 'em in here....
Son: It's not me!
Mother: I've got three of 'em down by the bin, and the dustmen won't touch 'em!
Klaus: (coming back in) Leicester.
Mother: 'Ow d'you know?
Klaus: Tattooed on the back o' the neck. I'll call the police.
Mother: Shouldn't you call the church?
Son: Call the church police!
Klaus: 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!
Mother: Are you the church police?
All the police officers: (in unison) Ho, Yes!
Mother: There's another dead bishop on the landing, vicar sargeant!
Detective: Uh, Detective Parson, madam. I see... suffrican, or diocisian?
Mother: 'Ow should I know?
Detective: It's tatooed on the back o' their neck. (spying the tart) 'Ere, is that
rat tart?
Mother: yes.
Detective: 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.
Klaus: I'd like you to take the three boddlabin into consideration.
Detective: 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.
From: Monty Python's Flying Circus, Taken From Album
Transcribed By: unknown
(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....
Title: The Man With Three Buttocks
From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
Transcribed By: unknown
Eric Idle: And now for something completely different. A man with three
buttocks!
Host (John Cleese): I have with me Mr Arthur Frampton who... (pause)
Mr. Frampton, I understand that you - um - as it were...
(pause) Well let me put it another way. Erm, I believe
that whereas most people have - er - two... Two.
Frampton (Michael Palin): Oh, sure.
Host: Ah well, er, Mr Frampton. Erm, is that chair comfortable?
Frampton: Fine, yeah, fine.
Host: Mr Frampton, er, vis a vis your... (pause) rump.
Frampton: I beg your pardon?
Host: Your rump.
Frampton: What?
Host: Er, your derriere. (Whispers) Posterior. Sit-upon.
Frampton: What's that?
Host (whispers): Your buttocks.
Frampton: Oh, me bum!
Host (hurriedly): Sshhh! Well now, I understand that you, Mr Frampton, have
a... (pause) 50% bonus in the region of what you say.
Frampton: I got three cheeks.
Host: Yes, yes, excellent, excellent. Well we were wondering, Mr Frampton,
if you could see your way clear to giving us a quick... (pause) a
quick visual... (long pause). Mr Frampton, would you take your
trousers down.
Frampton: What? (to cameramen) 'Ere, get that away! I'm not taking me
trousers down on television. What do you think I am?
Host: Please take them down.
Frampton: No!
Host: No, er look, er Mr Frampton. It's quite easy for somebody just to
come along here claiming... that they have a bit to spare in the
botty department. The point is, our viewers need proof.
Frampton: I been on Persian Radio, and the Forces' Network!
From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
Transcribed By: Jonathan Partington
Mrs. Conclusion (Chapman): Hullo, Mrs. Premise.
Mrs. Premise (Cleese): Hullo, Mrs. Conclusion.
Conclusion: Busy Day?
Premise: Busy? I just spent four hours burying the cat.
Conclusion: *Four hours* to bury a cat?
Premise: Yes - it wouldn't keep still.
Conclusion: Oh - it wasn't dead, then?
Premise: No, no - but it's not at all well, so as we were going to be on the
safe side.
Conclusion: Quite right - you don't want to come back from Sorrento to a dead
cat. It'd be so anticlimactic. Yes, kill it now, that's what I
say. We're going to have to have our budgie put down.
Premise: Really - is it very old?
Conclusion: No, we just don't like it. We're going to take it to the vet
tomorrow.
Premise: Tell me, how do they put budgies down, then?
Conclusion: Well, it's funny you should ask that, because I've just been
reading a great big book about how to put your budgie down, and
apparently you can either hit them with the book, or you can shoot
them just there, just above the beak.
Premise: Just there? Well, well, well. 'Course, Mrs Essence flushed hers
down the loo.
Conclusion: No, you shouldn't do that - no, that's dangerous. They *breed* in
the *sewers*!
From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
Transcribed By: unknown
(a customer walks in the door.)
Customer: Good Morning.
Owner: Good morning, Sir. Welcome to the National Cheese Emporium!
Customer: Ah .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-like!
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 mazuki 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 Tilset?
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 Cafilly, 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, Bell Paisey?
O: Sorry, sir.
C: Red Windsor?
O: Normally, sir, yes. Today the van broke down.
C: Ah. Stilton?
O: Sorry.
C: Emental? Brilliere?
O: No.
C: Any Norweigan Yarlsburger, 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, Porceileu, Savoy Aire, Sampolan, 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: Goudon?
O: No.
C: Idam?
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 Fetta?
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 MAZUKI 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 optomism 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 takes out a pistol.
C: What a -senseless- waste of human life.
Title: Interview With Sir Edward Ross
From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
Transcribed By: Jonathan Partington ( JRP1@PHX.CAM.AC.UK )
Eric Idle: Good evening and welcome to another edition of It's the Arts. And
we kick off this evening with Cinema.
Host (John Cleese): Good evening. One of the most prolific film directors of
this age, or indeed of any age, is Sir Edward Ross, back
in his native country for the first time for five years
to open a season of his works at the National Film
Theatre, and we are indeed fortunate to have him with us
in this studio tonight.
Ross (Graham Chapman): Good evening.
Host: Edward... you don't mind if I call you Edward?
Ross: No, not at all.
Host: Because it does worry some people - I don't know why - but they are a
little sensitive so I take the precaution of asking on these occasions.
Ross: No, that's fine.
Host: So Edward's all right. Splendid. I'm sorry to have brought it up.
Ross: No, no, please. Edward it is.
Host: Well thank you very much for being so helpful. And it's more than my
job's worth to, er...
Ross: Yes, quite.
Host: Makes it rather difficult to establish a rapport - put the other person
at his ease...
Ross: Quite.
Host: Silly little point but it does seem to matter. Still, er, least said
the better. Ted, when you first started you... I hope you don't mind
if I call you Ted, er, I mean as opposed to Edward?
Ross: No, no, everyone calls me Ted.
Host: Well of course it's shorter, isn't it.
Ross: Yes it is.
Host: And much less formal!
Ross: Yes, Ted, Edward or anything!
Host: Thank you. Um, incidentally, do call me Tom. I don't want you bothering
with this 'Thomas' nonsense! Ha ha ha ha! Now where were we? Ah yes.
Eddie Baby, when you first started in the...
Ross: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but I don't like being called "Eddie Baby".
Host: What?
Ross: I don't like being called "Eddie Baby".
Host: (pause) Did I call you "Eddie Baby"?
Ross: Yes, you did! Now if you could get on with the interview...
Host: I don't think I did call you "Eddie Baby".
Ross: You did!
Host: Did I call him "Eddie Baby"?
(Audience murmurs of 'yes' etc.)
Host: I didn't really call you "Eddie Baby", did I, sweetie?
Ross: Don't call me "sweetie"!
Host: Can I call you "sugar plum"?
Ross: No.
Host: "Pussycat"?
Ross: No!
Host: "Angel drawers"?
Ross: No you may not! Get on with it!
Host: Can I call you "Frank"?
Ross (suspiciously): Why "Frank"?
Host: It's a nice name. Richard Nixon's got a hedgehog called Frank.
Ross: What IS going on?
Host: Now Frank -- Fran -- Frannie -- little Frannie-pooh...
Ross: No. I'm leaving. I'm off. I'm going. I've never... (exits)
Host (loudly): Tell us about your latest film, Sir Edward.
Ross (nearly offstage): What?
Host: Tell us about your latest film, Sir Edward, if you'd be so very kind.
Ross: None of this "Pussycat" nonsense?
Host: Promise. (Pats seat next to him.) Please, Sir Edward.
Ross: My latest film?
Host: Yes, Sir Edward.
Ross: Well the idea, funnily enough, is based on an idea I had when I first
joined the industry in 1919. Of course, in those days I was only the
tea boy and...
Host: Oh shut up!
From: Monty Python's Flying Circus (Episode 10)
Transcribed By: Jonathan Partington
MONTY PYTHON'S FLYING CIRCUS
EPISODE 10
Written and performed by
JOHN CLEESE, MICHAEL PALIN, TERRY JONES,
ERIC IDLE, GRAHAM CHAPMAN, TERRY GILLIAM
THURSDAY, 4TH MAY, 1972
(The green, lush Devon countryside. Theme music. There are trees in the
background perhaps and the camera is tracking along the hedgerow along a road.
We see a head whizzing along, sometimes just above the hedgerow and sometimes
bobbing down out of sight.... occasionally for long periods.
Title: THE CYCLING TOUR
Mr. Pither, the cyclist, bobs up and down a few more times, then disappears
from sight. There is a crash and clang of a bicycle in collision, mixed with
the scream of a frightened hen, and stifled shout of alarm. We are still in
long shot and see nothing. The music stops abruptly on the crash.)
Pither (Voice Over): August 18th. Fell off near Bovey Tracey. The pump
caught in my trouser leg, and my sandwiches were badly crushed.
(Cut to interior of a transport cafe. A rather surly proprietor with fag in
mouth is operating an Espresso coffee machine. Pither, a fussy bespectacled
little man, in sweater, trousers, is leaning over the counter, talking
chattily).
Pither: The pump caught in my trouser leg, and my sandwiches were badly
crushed.
Prop: 35p. (He goes back to working the machine).
Pither: These sandwiches, however, were an excellent substitute.
(Enormous lorry driver comes up to counter)
Driver: Give us ten woods, Barney.
Pither: Hello!
(Lorry driver looks at him without interest, goes off with his cigarettes)
Pither: It's funny how one can go through life, as I have, disliking bananas
and being indifferent to cheese, and then be able to eat, and enjoy, a
banana and cheese sandwich like that.
Prop: 35p please. (A juke box starts up in the background)
Pither: Ah! I have only a 50. Do you have change?
Prop. (with heavy sarcasm): Well I'll have a look, but I may have to ring the
bank.
Pither: I'm most awfully sorry.
(Prop gives him change)
Prop: 15p.
Pither: Oh, that was lucky. Well, all the very best.
(Pither proffers his hand. Prop. ignores it)
Thank you for the excellent banana and cheese sandwich.
(He exits busily. Prop. looks after him, shakes his head, and absent-mindedly
opens a sandwich and flicks ash in, and closes it up again.)
(Cut to hedgerows. Theme music. Pither's head bobbing up and down. At the
same point in the music.... it disappears and there is a crash mingled with
grunting of pig.)
Pither (V.O.): August 23rd. Fell off near Budleigh Salterton.
(Cut to a woman gardening. Behind her we see Pither's head peering over the
hedge.)
Pither: ...and the pump caught in my trouser leg.
(She carries on digging, trying to ignore him)
Pither: And that's why they were damaged...(no reaction)...the eggs...you
remember...the hard-boiled eggs I was telling you about...(he comes round to
the gate and leans familiarly over the gate)...they were in a Tupperware
container, reputedly self-sealing, which fell open on contact with the
tarmacadam surface of the road. (He looks for a reaction. She goes on digging
very butch)...the B409...(he looks again for a glimmer of interest)...the
Dawlish road...(again no reaction) That shouldn't really happen to a
self-sealing container, should it?
(Lady gardener goes back into house. Pither waits for a few moments)
Pither (shouting): What do *you* keep your hard-boiled eggs in? (No reaction)
I think in future I shall lash them to the handlebars with
adhesive tape. That should obviate a recurrence of the
same problem...well I can't stop here all day...must get
on...I'm on a cycling tour of Cornwall.
(Cut to hedgerows again. Pither's head bowling along. Theme music. He dips
out of sight. Crash and a cow moos.)
Pither (V.O.): Aug. 26th. Fell off near Ottery St. Mary. The pump caught in
my trouser leg. Decide to wear short trousers from now on.
(Cut to another hedgerow. Pither's head bowling along. Short burst of music.
Crash.)
Pither (V.O.): Fell off near Tiverton. Perhaps a shorter pump is the answer.
(Cut to a tiny village high street, deserted save for an old lady. Pither
cycles into shot, carefully parks his bike by the kerb. He is in shorts, but
still has his bicycle clips on. He takes them off and approaches the old
lady.)
Pither: Excuse me, madam, can you tell me of a good bicycle shop in this
village, where I could find either some means of adapting my present
pump, or, failing that, purchase a replacement?
Old lady: There's only one shop here.
(She points with a shaking finger. Camera pans very slightly to
one side to reveal a shop with a huge four foot high sign:
"BICYCLE PUMP CENTRE. SPECIALISTS IN SHORTER BICYCLE PUMPS."
another sign: "SHORT PUMPS AVAILABLE HERE"
another sign: "WE SHORTEN PUMPS WHILE-U-WAIT"
The camera shows the shop only for a couple of seconds and pans
back to the old lady and Pither.)
Pither: What a stroke of luck. Now perhaps cycling will become less
precarious.
(Cut to int. of doctor's surgery. A knock on the door).
Doctor: Yes?
Nurse: (sticking her head around the door): There's a Mr. Pither to see you,
Doctor. His bicycle pump got caught in his sock.
Doctor: Alright, nurse, send him in.
(Nurse exits, Pither enters in shorts and sweater)
Doctor: Morning.
Pither: A very good morning to you too, Doctor
Doctor: I gather you had an accident?
Pither: Yes, my pump got...
Doctor: ...caught in your sock.
Pither: Yes, and my fruit cake was damaged on one side.
Doctor: Well...
Pither: It's got grit all over it.
Doctor: Well now, are you in pain? (reaching round for his stethoscope and
coming around desk)
Pither: Oh heavens no.
Doctor: Well where were you hurt?
Pither: I escaped without injury fortunately.
(Pause)
Doctor: Well what is the trouble?
Pither: Could you tell me the way to Iddesley?
Doctor: I'm a doctor, you know.
Pither: Oh yes. Under normal circumstances I would have asked a policeman or
a minister of the Church, but finding no one available, I thought it
better to consult a man with some qualifications, rather than rely on
the possibly confused testimony of a passer-by.
Doctor: Oh alright. (He scribbles something on a piece of paper and hands it
to Pither) Take this to a chemist.
Pither: Thank you.
(Ching of door. Chemist comes out holding the paper and points up the street.
Pither thanks him and mounts his bike.
Cut to the hedgerows again. Pither's head. Theme music...reaches the point
where Pither normally falls off...his head disappears, the music cuts off...
no crash...suddenly Pither's head reappears further on and the music starts up
again)
Pither (V.O.): Sept 2nd. Did not fall off outside Iddesley.
(Cut to a small market town. Line of cars. Pither's head just above the roofs
of cars. Theme music. He suddenly disappears, the music stops and there is a
crash.)
Pither (V.O.): Fell off in Tavistock.
(Cut to a discreet corner of a Watney's pub. Carpet and soft music. A
middle-aged businessman and a sexy secretary who obviously want to be alone are
sitting huddled over a table. On the other side of the table is Pither, with
half pint in front of him.)
Pither: My leg got caught in my trousers and that's how the bottle broke.
Girl: Tell her today, you could ring her.
Man: I can't. I can't.
Pither: I said you'd never guess.
Man: 16 years we've been together. I can't just ring her up.
Girl: If you can't do it now, you never will.
Pither: Do you like Tizer?
Man (to Pither): What? No. No.
Girl: Do you want me or not? It's your decision, James.
Pither: I suppose it is still available in this area?
Girl: Do you want me or not, James?
Man: What?
Pither: Tizer.
Girl: Yes or no.
Pither: Is it still available in this area?
Man (to Pither): I don't know.
Girl: In that case it's goodbye for ever, James.
Man: No! I mean yes!
Pither: Oh it is?
Man (to Pither): No.
Girl: You never *could* make up your mind.
Man: I can.... I have....
Girl (taking off ring): Goodbye James. (She runs out sobbing.)
Man: No wait, Lucille!
Pither: And does your lovely daughter like Tizer?
Man: Lucille!
Pither: I wouldn't mind buying *her* a bottle of Tizer.... if it's available
in this area, that is.
Man (turning on Pither): Would you like me to show you the door?
Pither: Well that's extremely thoughtful of you, but I saw it on the way in.
Man: You stupid, interfering little rat.
Pither: Oh! The very words of the garage mechanic in Bude!
(The man picks Pither up by the scruff of the neck and the seat of his pants.
He carries him bodily towards the door.)
Pither: I had just fallen off...and my cheese tartlet had become embedded in
the...
Man: Damn your cheese tartlet! And damn you, sir!
Pither: ...dynamo hub... which was not at that time functioning...
(He is thrown out.)
(Cut to ext. of pub. Pither picks himself up. Sees girl outside sobbing.)
Pither: Just had a chat with your dad.
(Girl bursts into further tears. Whistling cheerfully, Pither gets on his
bicycle and, happier than he has been for a long time, he cycles off down the
road and round a corner. Sounds of car tyre screech and crash of Pither going
straight into a car.)
(Cut to interior of car speeding along highway. Pither is sitting in the back
seat with his bicycle. The driver, Mr Gulliver, is a bespectacled young man.
He talks with a professional precision.)
Pither: Yes...my rubber instep caught on the rear mud-guard stanchion and...
Gulliver: Really? And what happened to your corned beef rolls?
Pither: They were squashed out of all recog... here just a minute. How did
you know about the corned beef rolls?
Gulliver: I saw them - or what remained of them - on the road. I noticed also
that the lemon curd tart had sustained some superficial damage.
Pither: The curd had become...
Gulliver: Detached from the pastry base.
Pither (with some surprise): Yes.... that's absolutely right!
Gulliver: Otherwise the contents of the sandwich box were relatively unharmed,
though I detected small particles of bitumen in the chocolate cup
cakes.
Pither: But they were wrapped in foil!
Gulliver: Not the hard chocolate top, I'm afraid.
Pither: Oh dear, that's the bit I liked.
Gulliver: The ginger biscuit, the crisps and the sausage roll were unharmed.
Pither: How do you know so much about cycling?
Gulliver: I'm making a special study of accidents involving food.
Pither: Really?
Gulliver: Do you know that in our laboratories we have produced a cheese
sandwich that can withstand an impact of 4,000 lbs per square inch?
Pither: Good heavens!
Gulliver: Amazing, isn't it? We have also developed a tomato which ejects
itself when an accident is imminent.
Pither: Even if it's inside am egg and tomato roll?
Gulliver: Anywhere! Even if it's in your stomach, and it senses an accident
it will come up your throat and out of the window. Do you realise
what this means?
Pither: Safer food?
Gulliver: Exactly! No longer will food be damaged, crushed or squashed by the
ignorance and stupidity of the driver! (Becoming slightly messianic)
Whole picnics will be built to survive the most enormous forces!
Snacks will be stronger than ever! An ordinary pot of salad cream,
treated in our laboratories, has been subjected to the force of a
9,000 lb steam hammer every day for the last 6 years. And has it
broken?
Pither: Er....
Gulliver: Yes, of course it has! But there are other things that haven't!....
the safety straps for sardines for instance.
(A tomato leaps up out of the glove compartment and hovers, then it ejects
itself out of the car window)
Pither: That tomato just ejected itself.
Gulliver: Really?
Pither: Yes.
Gulliver (embracing Pither): It works! It works!
(Crash and cut to black.)
(Fade up on country road. Pither is cycling along with Gulliver on the back of
the bicycle. Gulliver has his head bandaged and his arm in a sling.
Occasionally strains of 'Jack in a box' by Clodagh Rogers float towards us as
Gulliver moves rhythmically.)
Pither (V.O.): What a strange turn this cycling tour has taken. Mr Gulliver
appears to have lost his memory and far from being interested in safer food is
now convinced that he is Clodagh Rogers the young girl singer. I am taking him
for medical attention.
(Cut to Pither and Gulliver cycling into hospital. Sign: "North Cornwall
District Hospital".)
(Cut to nurse receptionist at counter with glass window which lifts up and
down. Above window small notice: "Casualty Admissions". Pither appears)
Pither: Good afternoon... is this the Casualty Department?
Nurse: Yes, that's right.
(Noise of splintering wood and crash out of view. Pither and nurse look up.
Cut away to three benches under large 4 ft sign "Casualty". The front bench
has collapsed in the middle and half a dozen or so patients sitting on it have
slid into a heap in the middle. Some with scalded hands, bandages etc. some
with bloody heads. A negro nurse is on her way to assist. Cut back to Pither
and nurse.)
Nurse: What can I do for you?
(The window comes down on her fingers, she winces sharply in pain. She pushes
it up again).
Pither: Well, I am at present on a cycling tour of the North Cornwall area
taking in Bude and...
Nurse: Could I have your name please?
Pither: My name is Pither.
Nurse: Hm?
Pither: No... P I T H E R ... as in Brotherhood, but with PI instead of the
BRO and no HOOD.
Nurse: I see...
Pither: I had already visited Taunton...
(Terrific crash. Cut to trolley on its side, and a bandaged patient under a
mound of hospital instruments and a nurse standing looking down)
Nurse: Sh!
Pither: ...and was cycling north in...
Nurse: Where were you injured?
Pither: Just where the A397 Ilfracombe road meets the...
Nurse: No - on your body...
Pither: Ah no... it's not I who was injured, it's my friend.
(Nurse scowls, crumples up paper... and throws it away. The piece of paper
hits a smallish cabinet of glass which topples forward.)
Nurse: Tut... Name?
Pither: Pither.
Nurse (long sufferingly): Your *friend's* name.
Pither: Clodagh Rogers...
Nurse: Clodagh Rogers!
Pither: Well...since about 4:30....
Nurse: ...well I think you ought to tell Doctor Wu... Doctor!
(Cut to doctor on top of step ladder, unloading whisky from a crate balanced on
top of ladders into a medicine cupboard already stacked with whisky bottles.
Doctor whips round knocking off the crate of whisky.)
Doctor: What? Damn!
(Cut to patient in a wheelchair being pushed. The wheelchair completely
collapses and the nurse is left holding the handles. Quick cut to nurse as
window comes down on her fingers again.)
Nurse: Aaaaaagh!
(Doctor comes across to pither, limping slightly, in some pain.)
Doctor: Now, what's the trouble?
Pither: I am on a cycling tour of...
Nurse (nursing her fingers): He thinks he's had an accident.
Pither: Yes, I have friend who, as a result of his injuries, has become
Clodagh Rogers.
Doctor: Don't be silly, man; people don't just become Clodagh Rogers.
Pither: So you may think, but what happened in this case was...
(There is a terrifying crash)
(Cut to doors, which are flying open, knocking over a nurse with
a tray of surgical instruments. Gulliver comes in...)
Gulliver (rushing up to Pither): No time to lose - we must make for Moscow
tonight. (Grabs Pither and pulls him out.)
(The window comes down on the doctor's fingers.)
Doctor: Aaaaagh!
(Gulliver and Pither rush out of doors of Casualty Dept. They slam the door.
Casualty sign drops on the heads of the people on the third bench.)
(Cut to camp fire at midnight in a forest clearing. By the light
of the fire, Pither is writing up his diary.)
Pither (V.O.): Sept 4th. Well I never. We are now in the Alpes Maritimes
region of Southern France. Clodagh seems more intent on reaching Moscow than
on rehearsing her new BBC1 series with Buddy Rich and the Younger Generation.
(Gulliver enters the scene. His head is still bandaged but he has a goatee
beard.)
Pither: Hallo!
Gulliver: We cannot stay here. We must leave immediately. There is a ship at
Marseilles.
Pither: I did enjoy your song for Europe, Clodagh.
Gulliver: I have seen an agent in the town. My life is in danger.
Pither: Danger, Clodagh?
Gulliver: Stalin has always hated me.
Pither: No one hates you, Clodagh.
Gulliver: I will not let myself fall into the hands of these scum.
Pither: I suggest you have a little lie down, my dear. There is a busy day
of concerts and promotional visits tomorrow.
Gulliver: I. One of the founders of the greatest nation on earth. I! Who
Lenin called his greatest friend.
(From the darkness we hear French voices.)
M. Brun: Taissez-vous. Taissez-vous.
Pither: Oh dear.
Gulliver: I! who have fought and suffered that our people should live.
(Pair of middle class froggies in their prix-unis pyjamas appear.)
M. Brun: Taissez-vous. Qu'est-ce que le bruit? C'est impossible.
Pither: Er... my name is Pither.
M. Brun: Oh... you are English?
Pither: Er yes. I'm on a cycling tour of North Cornwall, taking in Bude.
Gulliver: I will not be defeated. I will return to my land and continue the
fight against this new tyranny.
Pither: This is Clodagh Rogers, the Irish-born girl singer.
Mme. Brun: Mais oui (sings) Jack-in-a-box, I know whenever love knocks (M.
Brun joins in) Eh!! Genevieve, Gerard. C'est Clodagh Rogers la
chanteuse Anglaise.
(Happy shouts from off as two small froggies in their teens appear in pyjamas
with autograph books and run up to Gulliver. Gen. offers her book to
Gulliver.)
Gulliver: They will never silence me. They will nev...
Gen.: Excusez-moi Mam'selle Clodagh. Ecrivez vous votre nom dans mon livre
des celebrites. (Gulliver takes book.) S'il vous plait. La,
au-dessous de Denis Compton. (Gulliver, having signed, hands the
book back.) Merci... oh! Maman. Ce n'est pas la belle Clodagh.
Mme. B.: Quoi?
Gen.: C'est Trotsky le revolutionaire.
M. B.: Trotsky!
Mme. B.: Trotsky ne chante pas.
M. B.: Un peu.
Mme. B.: Mais pas professionalement. Tu penses de Lenin.
M. B.: Lenin!! Quel chanteur: 'If I ruled the world'.
(Cut to stock shot of famous Lenin-addressing-the-crowd scene doctored so that
we can dub the words 'Every day would be the first day of spring' onto it.)
(Cut back to clearing as before.)
Gulliver: Lenin. My friend. I come. (He dashes off into the forest
possessed.)
Pither (aux Bruns): Oh excuse me, she's not very well you know, pressure of
work, laryngitis... (He gets on his bike and pedals off
hurriedly after Gulliver into the forest.)
M. Brun (still reminiscing): Et Kerensky avec le 'Little White Bull'.
Mme. Brun: Formidable.
(Cut to a few quick shots of Gulliver dashing through the trees and then of
Pither making much slower progress due to his bike.)
(Cut to a shot possibly of two frogs in a signal box, but probably a mundane
setting and it's not worth wasting too much time on, of Gulliver passing within
sight of the two aforesaid frogs, F1 and F2.)
F1 (seeing Gulliver): Maurice! Regardez! C'est la chanteuse Anglaise Clodagh
Rogers.
F2: Ah mais oui! (sings) Jacques dans la boite (he switches on a nearby horn
gramophone and the song is heard throughout the forest)
(Cut to Russian street. Pither cycles along with Gulliver, looking like
Trotsky, on the back.)
Pither (V.O.): After several days I succeeded in tracking down my friend Mr.
Gulliver to the outskirts of Smolensk.
(Cut to military man in studio. He has a large map of Europe and Russia and a
stick with which he raps at the places.)
Military man: Smolensk. 200 miles west of Minsk. 200 north of Kursk. 1500
miles west of Omsk.
(Cut back to Pither.)
Pither: Thank you.
(They've stopped by a signpost that says:
Smolensk Town Centre 1/2
Tavistock 1612 m. )
Pither (V.O.): Anyway, as we were so far from home, and as Mr. Gulliver, still
believing himself to be Trotsky, was very tired from haranguing the masses all
the way from Monte Carlo,
(Cut to military man who thumps the map again.)
Military man: Monte Carlo. 100 miles south of Turin. 100 west of Pisa. 500
miles east of Bilbao.
(Cut back to Pither.)
Pither: Thank you. I decided to check...
Pither (V.O.): I decided to check...
Pither: No, you go on.
Pither (V.O.): I decided to check him into a hotel while I visited the British
Embassy to ask for help in returning to Cornwall.
(By the end of this speech, they are leaving the bicycle on the kerb and
entering a door with the sign "Y.M.A.C.A." over it, looking like a Y.M.C.A.
sign. Over this...)
Pither (V.O.): And so we registered at the Smolensk Young Men's Anti-Christian
Association.
(Cut to military man.)
Military man: Y.M.C.A. Corner of Anti-semitic street and Pogrom square.
Pither (by now standing at the reception desk with Gulliver): Go away. (To
departing desk clerk). No not you. A single room for my friend please.
Desk clerk: Yes, sir. Bugged or unbugged?
Gulliver (as Trotsky): I think I'd feel happier with a bugged one.
Desk Clerk: One bugged with bath.
(As Gulliver starts to sign the register, Pither starts to leave. He says...)
Pither: Have a nice lie down. I'm just off to the Embassy. (He goes.)
(Desk clerk looks at book.)
Desk clerk: Trotsky! My lack of God, it's Trotsky!
(A couple of people race in excitedly.)
Gulliver: Comrades. Socialism is not a national doctrine it... (Fade.)
(Mix through to sign: "British Consulate Smolensk" sign is on railings
outside. Pither cycles up and parks his bike and goes in. Imperial music.)
(Mix through to interior... smoke and incense about. A picture of the queen
is dimly visible on the back wall. A Chinaman approaches.)
Pither: Excuse me. Is this the British Consulate?
Chinaman: Yes yes... si si... That is correctment. Yes... Piccadilly
Circus, mini-skirt... Joe Lyons.
Pither: I wish to see the Consul, please.
Chinaman: That's right. Speakee speakee... me Blitish consul.
Pither: Oh! (He examines his diary.) Are you... Rear Admiral Dudley de
Vere Compton Bart then?
Chinaman: No. He died. He have heart attack and fell out of window onto
exploding bomb, and was run over in shooting accident. Nasty
business. I his susscussor... how you say... succsussor.
Pither: Successor.
Chinaman: Successor yes... I his successor, Mr. Atkinson.
Pither: Oh, I see.
Atkinson: You like have drinkee? Game bingo?
Pither: Well.... a *drink* would be extremely pleasant.
(Atkinson snaps fingers. Another chink bows obsequiously.)
Atkinson: Mr. Robinson. Go and get Saki.
Robinson: Yes, Boss. (goes)
Atkinson: How is Tunbridge Wells? How I long to see once again walls of
Shakespeare-style theatre in Stratford-on-Avon.
Pither: I'm a West Country man myself, Mr. Atkinson.
Atkinson: Ho yes! Arizona -- Texas -- Kit Carson Super Scout.
Pither: No - West of England... Cornwall.
China (with difficulty): Coron... worll...
Pither: Cornwall.
Atkinson: Coronworl... oh yes know Coronworl very well. Go to school there,
Mother and Father live there, ah yes, have lots of friends there. Go
for weekend parties and polo playing cards and bridge in evening. Oh
yes belong to many clubs in Coronworld.
(Robinson reappears, with drink and plate of pastries. He puts them down.)
Atkinson: Ah, Mr. Rutherford, saki and bakewells tart.
(Hands glass of Saki to Pither.)
Atkinson: Well, old chap. Buttocks up!
Pither: Rather. (They drink.)
Atkinson: Now then Mr... er...
Pither: Pither.
Atkinson: Pither ah yes... fine old English name. My father he Pither, and
mother she Pither... all flends Pither... Now we Blitish here in
Smolensk velly intellested in playing clicket.
Pither: Cricket?
Atkinson: No...you not speak English velly wells. We like play *clicket* -not
clicket - clicket...clicketty click...housey housey...Bingo.
Pither: Oh... Bingo...
Atkinson: Yes. Bingo.
Robinson: Bingo.
Atkinson (trying to get a grip on himself): Bingo.
Robinson: Bingo! Bingo!
(Hammering on door.)
Chinese V.O.s: Bingo Bingo Bingo! (etc)
(Three Chinese throw themselves out of a cupboard and throw themselves at
Pither's feet, imploringly.)
3 Chinese: Bingo! Bingo! Bingo!
Atkinson: Contloll. Contloll selves!
Robinson: (beating floor with fist): Bingo.
Atkinson: Mr. Richardson! Contloll self!
3 Chinese (under breath): Bingo....
Atkinson: Hsai! (turns to Pither) So solly. Boys get velly excited.
Robinson (quietly): Bingo.
China (close into Robinson's face): Shut face. (smiles at Pither)
Perhaps you help us join Bingo Club back in jolly old Blighty.
Pither: Well it's not quite my line...
Atkinson: You put in good word, me and flends join really smart Bingo club in
Coronwold...
Pither: Well...
Atkinson: We all velly quiet...sit at back...only shout "Housey! Housey!"
(Obviously trying to control himself but it is too late.)
Robinson: Housey! Housey!
3 Chinese (still on floor): Housey! Housey!
Atkinson (with supreme effort of will): Contloll selves!!
(Hammering on doors and Chinese V.O.s sound of Chinese hordes from outside.)
Chinese (V.O.): Housey housey! Housey housey!
(Atkinson runs onto balcony. Shot of stock film of Chinese hordes.)
Chinese hordes: Housey housey! Housey housey!
Atkinson: Ni akawati nihi, keo t'sin feh t'sung, nihi *watai* bingo cards!
(There is a sudden silence from the invisible hordes below, except for slightly
shocked muttering. Atkinson turns, and goes back inside. Cut back to
interior. Atkinson stalks in looking grim.)
Robinson: Nihi *watai* bingo cards?
Atkinson: Nihi *watai*!
Robinson: Ah so... (he bows and falls back obediently.)
(Atkinson turns to Pither.)
Atkinson: Now then, Pither Mr, which do you think better, Hackney Star Bingo or
St. Albans Top Rank Suite?
Pither: Well, Mr Atkinson, I was hoping that you could help me and my friend
to get back to England as...
Robinson (terribly quietly): Hackney Star Bingo. (Atkinson strikes Robinson
hard.)
Pither: I'm actually cycling to...
(One of the other Chinese falls to the floor.)
Chinaman on floor: Star Bingo! (He cowers as Atkinson turns on him and
strikes him.)
Atkinson: Controll selves!
2 other Chinamen (with awed reverence): Top Rank Bingo...
Atkinson: Shut faces!
All: Bingo... Top Rank... ahhhh!
(As the word Bingo starts to swell again from all those present and from the
hordes outside, Atkinson rushes around trying to silence them.)
Pither: Well I think I'll be off...
Atkinson: Please not go yet... (he has grabbed Robinson by the throat.)
Robinson (breathlessly): Wimbledon Granada Bingo.
Atkinson: Shut face. Please Mr. Bingo don't bingo yet... I mean bingo...
BINGO!
(Pither escapes as all available Simian lungs cry out.)
All: Bingo etc. etc.
Chinese hordes: Bingo!
(Chinese are climbing over the balcony. Cut to stock film of Chinese hordes
rioting.)
Hordes: Bingo! Bingo! Bingo!
(Cut to worried Director reading script: 'I'm sorry, News, I'd like to do it,
but...')
(Cut to Y.W.A.C.A. Lobby. Pither walks up to desk.)
Pither: Is Mr Trotsky in his room please?
Desk clerk: No. He has gone to Moscow.
(Cut to military man.)
Military man: Moscow. 1500 miles due East of...
Desk Clerk: Shut up!
Pither: Moscow!
(Pither is suddenly surrounded by four secret policemen dressed in heavy
trenchcoats and pork pie hats.)
Grip: Come with us please.
Pither: Who're you?
Bag: Well we're not secret police anyway.
Wallet: That's for sure.
Grip: If anything we are ordinary Soviet systems with no particular interest
in politics.
Bag: None at all. Come with us.
Pither: Where are you taking me?
(Secret police all move to confer.)
Wallet: What do we tell him?
Grip: Don't tell him any secrets.
Bag: Agreed.
Grip: Tell him anything except that we are taking him to Moscow to be present
as an Honoured Guest when Trotsky is reunited with the Central
Committee.
Wallet: We're taking you to a Clam Bake.
Pither: Oh a Clam Bake. I've never been to one of them.
Grip: Right, let's go.
Bag: Who's giving the orders round here?
Grip: I am. I'm senior to you.
Bag: No, you're not. You're a greengrocer, I'm an insurance salesman.
Grip: Greengrocers are senior to insurance salesmen.
Wallet: Cool it. Ice cream salesmen are senior to both of you.
Bag: You're an ice cream salesman? I thought you were a window-dresser.
Wallet: I got promoted. Let's go.
Bag: Taxi!
(Man enters dressed as a New York cabbie.)
Taxi: Yes.
Bag: Drive us to Moscow.
Taxi: I haven't got a cab.
Wallet: Why not?
Taxi: I'm in the Secret Police.
(They all snap into salute.)
(cut to stock film of train wheels in the night. The siren sounds.)
CAPTION: PETROGRAD.
CAPTION: OTTOGRAD.
CAPTION: LEWGRAD.
CAPTION: LESLIEGRAD.
CAPTION: ETCETERAGRAD.
CAPTION: DUKHOVSKOKNABILEBSKOHATSK.
CAPTION: MOSCVA.
*FIRST RUSSIAN HALL SET SCENE*
(C.U. Hammer and sickle flag. Pull out to reveal the stage of a big Russian
hall. A banner reads "U.S.S.R. 42nd annual clambake". At one side of the
stage sits an impressive table on a dais. At the table are very important
Russian persons. At a bank of mikes in centre stage a general is orating.
Pither sits on one side of the stage with his bike propped up against his
chair.)
General: ...Dostoievye unsye tovarich Trotsky borodins (Applause)
Subtitle: Here is the man who brought our beloved Trotsky back to us.
General: Beluntanks dretsky mihai ovna isky Reg Pither.
Subtitle: The friend of the Revolution - Reg Pither.
(Cut to stock shot of wildly cheering Russians.
Cut back to general who beckons for silence.)
General: Shi muska di svetsana dravenka upstomivia Engleska Vantyat.
Subtitle: And now, in order to save time, I will continue in English.
General: And now, Comrades, let us welcome the return of the greatest leader
of our revolution... Lev Davidovich Trotsky!
(Gulliver appears looking as much like Trotsky as possible.
Pandemonium breaks out. He raises his hands for silence.)
Gulliver: Comrades. Bolsheviks. Friends of the Revolution. I have returned.
(Renewed cheering.) The bloodstained shadow of Stalinist repression is past.
I bring you new light of permanent revolution (his movements are starting to
become a little camp and slinky). Comrades, I may once have been ousted from
power, I may have been expelled from the party in 1927, I may have been
deported in 1929 but (sings)
I'm just an old-fashioned girl,
With an old-fashioned mind.
(Shot of Pither looking amazed, and confusion among the generals.)
Gulliver: Comrades, I don't want to destroy in order to build, I don't want a
state founded on hate and division (sings)
I want an old-fashioned house
With an old-fashioned fence,
And an old-fashioned millionaire.
(Gulliver is now totally Eartha Kitt. Cut to Pither.)
Pither (thinking): Poor Mr. Gulliver was clearly undergoing another change of
personality.
(Senior general appears beside Pither with two guards.)
General: So! You have duped us. You shall pay for this. (To guards) Seize
him.
(The guards seize the startled Pither and drag him away. The senior general
strides back across the stage.)
General 2 (to boss general): Shall I seize *him*, sir? (indicates Gulliver)
Boss G.: Wait, I think he's going down well.
(Cut to audience really enjoying it.)
General 2: He's more fun than he used to be.
Boss G. (tapping fingers): This is an old Lenin number, you know.
(Interior of Empty Prison Cell. Pither is in cell writing diary. Sign behind:
'Condemned cell'.)
Pither (V.O.): April 26th. Thrown into Russian cell. Severely damaged my
Mars bar. Shall I ever see Bude Bus station again? Shall I
ever...
(Two guards enter)
Oh excuse me...
(Guards grab him and lead him out of cell.)
(Cut to exterior film of door leading out into prison yard. The door is thrown
open and Pither is marched over and stood against a blank wall. There are lots
of small holes in the wall, if Roger has time to drill them (!))
Pither (V.O.): What a pleasant exercise yard. How friendly they were all
being.
Officer: Cigarette?
Pither: No thank you I don't smoke.
(Cut to shot from behind Pither, including his back to see him facing a line of
uniformed men with guns, obviously a firing squad. At that moment a regular
slow measured drum beat starts, like the cliche.)
Pither (V.O.): After a few minutes I perceived a line of gentlemen with
rifles. They were looking in my direction...
(Cut to Pither against the wall, looking behind him.)
Pither (V.O.): I looked around but could not see the target.
Officer: Blindfold?
Pither (very cheerful): No thank you.
Officer (stepping clear): Slowotny.
(Firing squad snaps to attention.)
Officer: Gridenwa. (Clicking of bolts.)
(Cut to shot of firing squad and the officer, his front is to the camera.)
Officer: Verschnitzen.
(They raise their rifles pointing in the direction of Pither, who is in shot..
The drum starts to roll. Officer raises his arm. We hear running footsteps
approaching, and shouting Russian. Officer waits. A Russian soldier runs in
waving a telegram. he runs up and hands it to the officer.)
Officer (opens it and reads): It's from the Kremlin, the Central Committee!
It says "Carry on with the execution".
Officer: Verschnitzen! (They raise their rifles.)
Pither (V.O.): Now I was really for it.
(Cut to shot of officer with his hand raised, the same shot as before, only
without Pither in shot. Drum rolls again. He brings his sword down, (we need
a sword); volley of shots from the firing squad. Officer is looking in
Pither's direction. Long pause.)
Officer (turning to squad): How could you miss?
Soldier: He moved.
Officer: Shut up! Go and practise. (To Pither) I'm so sorry. Do you mind
waiting in your cell?
(Pither is flung back in his cell by guards. The door is slammed.)
Pither (V.O.): What a stroke of luck. My Crunchie was totally intact. I
settled down to a quick intermeal snack...
(Fade down. Fade up.)
(Pither has just finished his Crunchie.)
Officer (outside door): Aha! Gut!
(The guards race in and take him out. The door left open. We hear shouted
instructions. Drum roll then stop. Then a volley of shots. Pause. Sound of
feet coming back.
Pither is thrown into the cell, followed by the officer.)
Officer: Next time. Definitely! (To guard as he leaves) Now then, how many
of them are injured? Oh God...
(Close on Pither. Outside we hear odd shots and muffled curses from officer.)
Pither (V.O.): As I lay dwon to the sound of the Russian gentlemen practising
their shooting, I realised I was in a bit of a pickle. My heart sank as I
realised I should never see the Okehampton by-pass again... (he lies down)
(...we close on his sleeping face then we ripple and mix through to film of his
sleeping face, waking up, shaking himself in disbelief at finding himself in a
beautiful garden, with the sun shining, the birds singing, he is in a deck
chair, and his mother having poured him a jug of iced fruit juice, is gently
nudging Pither to wake him.)
Mother: Wake up dear, wake up.
Pither: Mother!
Mother: Come on dear.
Pither: So, it was all a dream.
Mother: No, no dear, *this* is the dream, you're still in the cell.
(Quick ripple to him waking up in cell.)
Pither: What a disappointment.
(The guards race in and take him out. The door left open. We hear shouted
instructions. Drum roll then stop. Then a volley of shots. Pause.
(Music?) Pither is thrown back into the cell followed by the officer.)
Officer: Next time. Definitely! (To guard as he leaves) Now then, how many
of them are injured? Oh god...
(Close up on Pither.)
(Officer enters.)
Officer: O.K. We're going to have another try. I think we've got it now. My
boys have all been looking down the wrong bit, see.
Pither: No, no, they want to look down this bit.
Officer: Oh I thought it was that bit.
Pither: No no this bit, otherwise you won't hit anything.
Officer: Alright, we'll give it a whirl. Seize him guards.
(They take him out.)
Officers (V.O.): Here, come here. You've got to look down this bit.
(We zoom into and mix through the poster on the wall, and the large name of
Eartha Kitt.)
(Mix through to stock film of the Kremlin. We dub over laughter and applause.
Cheerful band sting. Mix through to stage where someone dressed as Marshall
Bulganin is standing with a little real ventriloquist's dummy. He gets up and
takes his bow, walks off as the curtain swings down. Lots of applause and
atmosphere. Terrible Russian compere comes on from the wings smiling and
applauding.)
Compere: Osledi Osledi. (He tells quick joke in Russian, and roars with
laughter, laughter from audience.) (Holds up his hands, and then becomes very
sincere, saying obviously deeply moving, wonderful things about the next guest.
He finally introduces...)
Compere: Eartha Kitt!
(He backs off. The opening bars of "Let's do it" on (RCA Ints. 10 30 Eartha
Kitt, C'est si bon") are played. Gulliver dressed as Eartha Kitt slinks onto
the stage, the music stops. He speaks like...)
Heath: We in the Conservative party believe strongly in the virtues of
allowing the People of Britain to get on with the business of running their
affairs, of running their own lives, indeed of standing on their own two feet
without constant interference from the Government.
(Slight consternation from the audience.)
Voices say: "Niet Eartha Kitt" "Es Edward Heath" "Who?" "Der Premier Poofski
dos Britannia" etc. "Ah, Edward Heath, capitalist pig".
Gulliver (as Heath): We shall not shirk our responsibilities, nor desert our
principles.
(Cut to audience.)
Russian: It's Clodagh Rogers.
Other Russian: No, it's Edward Heath.
Another Russian: Sing "Old fashioned girl".
Gulliver: ...We shall remain united, in our determination...
Russians are shouting: Sing Old Fashioned girl. Old Fashioned girl. Old
Fashioned girl.
(The first fruit starts being thrown. It spatters around Heath.)
Gulliver: Furthermore I cannot reiterate too often our determination to
take responsibility for our own actions.
(He dashes off, comes back with large shield, with his arm through, he holds it
in front of him and on it there is a large picture of the face and shoulders of
Reginald Maudling (deceased).)
Gulliver: ...I'm very fond of Tchaikowsky.
(The fruit is now so thick, that it is impossible for him to continue. At this
moment a piece of fruit thrown from the audience hits him in the head (possibly
an arty shot in slow motion). The word 'Tchaikowsky' echoes around as we hold
a close shot of him, indicating that he is reverting to being really Gulliver
again. He looks at a piece of fruit in his hand that has landed on him.)
Gulliver (in original voice as used in car): Well that turnip's certainly not
safe. (He looks up and becomes more aware of his surroundings.) Good heavens.
What's going on? Mr Pither, Mr Pither!?
(At this point it is becoming precarious on stage -- some Russians are coming
across the footlights and the shouting is very angry -- so he turns tail and
runs off the stage).
(Cut to outside stage door.)
(Gulliver comes running out of the stage door past a big poster saying 'Next
week Clodagh Rogers with the Goodies', and runs down street closely pursued by
angry Russians.
There now follows a chase sequence which should be as dramatic as possible.
Lots of close shots of Gulliver looking frightened as he runs for his life
shouting 'Pither'. Close shots of Russians pursuing thin lipped and avenging,
some secret police, no longer comic, driving after Gulliver. Latterly they
fire at him. Gulliver, exhausted, finally turns into a cul-de-sac and stops,
realising that there is no escape. He shouts desperately one last time
'Pither', 'Mr Pither'. From over the wall of the cul-de-sac comes an answering
shout.)
Pither: Yes.
(Gulliver hears it, reacts and in the nick of time leaps onto a car and up and
over the wall as his pursuers turn into the street. Low angle shot from other
side of wall of Gulliver dropping over it. He lands.)
Pither: Gulliver.
Gulliver: Pither! What a stroke of luck.
Pither: Well yes and no. (He indicates with his head.)
(Cut to show that both of them are standing in front of a firing squad. The
officer is heard as before.)
Officer: Squad! Fix bayonets!
(With a terrifying clank the bayonets are fixed. Gulliver and Pither cower,
terror on their faces.)
Officer: Squad! Charge!
(The squad charge towards Pither and Gulliver screaming horribly.
When they are about two feet from them (!)...)
(Cut to Black.)
CAPTION --- SCENE MISSING
(Cut to Cornish country lane. A road sign says 'Tavistock 12 miles'. Pither
stands beneath with Gulliver and his bicycle.)
Pither: Phew, what an amazing escape.
Gulliver: Quite agree.
Pither: Well goodbye, Reginald.
Gulliver: Goodbye... George.
(They shake hands, Gulliver strides off. Pither mounts his bike and rides off
into the sunset. Music swells.)
From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
Transcribed By: unknown
England, 1747
(Sounds of a coach and horses, galloping)
Cleese: Stand and deliver!
Chapman: Not on your life (SHOT) ... aagh!
(Girl screams)
Cl: Let that be a warning to you all. You move at your peril, for I have two
pistols here. I know one of them isn't loaded any more, but the other one
is, so that's one of you dead for sure...or just about for sure anyway. It
certainly wouldn't be worth your while risking it because I'm a very good
shot. I practise every day...well, not absolutely every day, but most days
in the week. I expect I must practise, oh, at least four or five times a
week...or more, really, but some weekends, like last weekend, there really
wasn't the time, so that brings the average down a bit. I should say it's
a solid four days' practice a week...At least...I mean...I reckon I could
hit that tree over there. Er...the one just behind that hillock. The
little hillock, not the big one on the...you see the three trees over
there? Well, the one furthest away on the right... (fade)
(Fade up again)
Cl: What's the... the one like that with the leaves that are sort of
regularly veined and the veins go right out with a sort of um...
Girl: Serrated?
Cl: Serrated edges.
Id: A willow!
Cl: Yes.
Id: That's nothing like a willow.
Cl: Well it doesn't matter, anyway. I can hit it seven times out of ten,
that's the point.
Id: Never a willow.
Cl: Shut up! It's a hold-up, not a Botany lesson. Now, no false moves
please. I want you to hand over all the lupins you've got.
Jones: Lupins?
Cl: Yes, lupins. Come on, come on.
Id: What do you mean, lupins?
Cl: Don't try to play for time.
Id: I'm not, but... the *flower* lupin?
Cl: Yes, that's right.
Jo: Well we haven't got any lupins.
Girl: Honestly.
Cl: Look, my friends. I happen to know that this is the Lupin Express.
Jo: Damn!
Girl: Oh, here you are.
Cl: In a bunch, in a bunch!
Jo: Sorry.
Cl: Come on, Concorde! (Gallops off)
Chorus (sings):
Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore, galloping through the sward,
Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore, and his horse Concorde.
He steals from the rich, he gives to the poor,
Mr Moore, Mr Moore, Mr Moore.
Title: The Hairdressers' Ascent up Mount Everest
From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
Transcribed By: Betty McLaughlin ( IO60147@MAINE.BITNET )
(Begins with a picture of the sun rising over two mountain peaks)
Announcer (Graham Chapman): Mount Everest. Forbidding, aloof, terrifying.
The mountain with the biggest tits in the world.
(Gong crashes, a disgusted voice interrupts)
Voice Over: Start again!
(A hideous clown in green plaid shirt, 14-inch wide blue polka-dotted bow tie,
red curly wig, false teeth and an ugly mask steps in front of the picture of
the mountain for a second and waves.)
Announcer: Mount Everest. Forbidding, aloof, terrifying. This year, this
remote Himalayan mountain, this mystical temple, surrounded by the
most difficult terrain in the world, repulsed yet another attempt to
conquer it. (Picture changes to wind-swept, snowy tents and people)
This time, by the International Hairdresser's Expedition. In such
freezing, adverse conditions, man comes very close to breaking
point. What was the real cause of the disharmony which destroyed
their chances at success?
(Hairdresser #1 is a snowy, bundled up climber with a very gay voice.
Hairdressers #2 and #3 are even more gay and windswept.)
Hairdresser #1: Well, people keep taking your hairdryer on every turn.
Hairdresser #2: There's a lot of bitching in the tents.
Hairdresser #3: You couldn't get near the mirror.
(Cut to the announcer, a stuffy looking older man, delicately trimming
millimeters off the leaves of cabbages growing in his country garden.)
Announcer: The leader of the expedition was Colonel Sir John Cheesy-Weezy
Butler, veteran K2, Annapurna, and Vidal. His plan was to ignore
the usual route around the south and to make straight for the top.
(next part shows a map of the mountain)
Cheesy-Weezy: We established Base Salon here, and climbed quite steadily up to
Mario's, here. From here, using crampons and cutting ice steps
as we went, we moved steadily up the face to the north ridge,
establishing Camp Three, where we could get a hot meal, a
manicure, and a shampoo and set.
Announcer: Could it work? Could this 18-year old hairdresser from Brixton
succeed where others had failed? The situation was complicated by
the imminent arrival of the monsoon storms. Patrice takes up the
story.
(cut to Patrice (Eric Idle) in a salon, very effeminately brushing and blow-
drying a customer's hair.)
Patrice: Well, we knew as well as anyone that the monsoons were due. But the
thing was, Ricky and I had just had a blow dry and rinse, and we
couldn't go out for a couple of days.
(Picture of mountaineers climbing down mountain)
Announcer: After a blazing row, the Germans and Italians had turned back,
taking with them the last of the hairnets. On the third day, a
blizzard blew up. Temperatures fell to minus 30 degrees
centigrade. Inside the little tent, things were getting desperate.
(Ricky (Michael Palin) and John Cleese are crowded inside a little tent,
sporting beards, hairnets, and curlers. They sit beneath stationary
hairdryers. Cleese is reading, Ricky is buffing his nails.)
Ricky: Well, things have gotten so bad that we've been forced to use the last
of the heavy oxygen equipment just to keep the dryers going. (A woman
hands him a cup of tea.) Oh, she's a treasure.
Cleese: Shhh!
(another mountain climbing scene)
Announcer: But a new factor had entered the race. A team of French
chiropodists, working with brand new corn plasters and Dr. Scholl's
Mountaineering Sandals, were close behind. The Glasgow Orpheus
male voice choir were tackling the difficult north part. All
together, fourteen expeditions were at the scene. This was it.
Ricky had to make a decision.
(back to Patrice at his salon)
Patrice: Well, we decided to open a salon.
Announcer: It was a tremendous success.
(the following is accompanied by pictures of great mountaineering
heros upon whom are pasted elaborate Marie Antoinette style hairdos)
Announcer: Challenging Everest? Why not drop in at Ricky Pule's, only 2400
feet from this cinema. (A huge pink neon sign reading 'Ricky's'
appears on the mountain.) Ricky and Maurice offer a variety of
styles for the well-groomed climber. Why should Tensing and Sir
Edmond Hillary be number one on top, when you're number one on top?
Title: Self-defense Against Fresh Fruit
From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
Transcribed By: Jonathan Partington ( JRP1@PHX.CAM.AC.UK )
Colonel (Graham Chapman): get some discipline into those chaps, Sergeant
Major!
Sargeant (John Cleese, shouting throughout): Right sir! Good evening, class.
All (mumbling): Good evening.
Sargeant: Where's all the others, then?
All: They're not here.
Sgt.: I can see that. What's the matter with them?
All: Dunno.
Chapman (member of class): Perhaps they've got 'flu.
Sgt.: Huh! 'Flu, eh? They should eat more fresh fruit. Ha. Right. Now,
self-defence. Tonight I shall be carrying on from where we got to last
week when I was showing you how to defend yourselves against anyone who
attacks you with armed with a piece of fresh fruit.
(Grumbles from all)
Palin: Oh, you promised you wouldn't do fruit this week.
Sgt.: What do you mean?
Jones: We've done fruit the last nine weeks.
Sgt.: What's wrong with fruit? You think you know it all, eh?
Palin: Can't we do something else?
Idle (Welsh): Like someone who attacks you with a pointed stick?
Sgt.: Pointed stick? Oh, oh, oh. We want to learn how to defend ourselves
against pointed sticks, do we? Getting all high and mighty, eh? Fresh
fruit not good enough for you eh? Well I'll tell you something my lad.
When you're walking home tonight and some great homicidal maniac comes
after you with a bunch of loganberries, don't come crying to me! Now,
the passion fruit. When your assailant lunges at you with a passion
fruit...
All: We done the passion fruit.
Sgt.: What?
Chapman: We done the passion fruit.
Palin: We done oranges, apples, grapefruit...
Jones: Whole and segments.
Palin: Pomegranates, greengages...
Chapman: Grapes, passion fruit...
Palin: Lemons...
Jones: Plums...
Chapman: Mangoes in syrup...
Sgt.: How about cherries?
All: We did them.
Sgt.: Red *and* black?
All: Yes!
Sgt.: All right, bananas.
(All sigh.)
Sgt.: We haven't done them, have we? Right. Bananas. How to defend yourself
against a man armed with a banana. Now you, come at me with this
banana. Catch! Now, it's quite simple to defend yourself against a man
armed with a banana. First of all you force him to drop the banana;
then, second, you eat the banana, thus disarming him. You have now
rendered him 'elpless.
Palin: Suppose he's got a bunch.
Sgt.: Shut up.
Idle: Suppose he's got a pointed stick.
Sgt.: Shut up. Right now you, Mr Apricot.
Chapman: 'Arrison.
Sgt.: Sorry, Mr. 'Arrison. Come at me with that banana. Hold it like that,
that's it. Now attack me with it. Come on! Come on! Come at me!
Come at me then! (Shoots him.)
Chapman: Aaagh! (dies.)
Sgt.: Now, I eat the banana. (Does so.)
Palin: You shot him!
Jones: He's dead!
Idle: He's completely dead!
Sgt.: I have now eaten the banana. The deceased, Mr Apricot, is now 'elpless.
Palin: You shot him. You shot him dead.
Sgt.: Well, he was attacking me with a banana.
Jones: But you told him to.
Sgt.: Look, I'm only doing me job. I have to show you how to defend
yourselves against fresh fruit.
Idle: And pointed sticks.
Sgt.: Shut up.
Palin: Suppose I'm attacked by a man with a banana and I haven't got a gun?
Sgt.: Run for it.
Jones: You could stand and scream for help.
Sgt.: Yeah, you try that with a pineapple down your windpipe.
Jones: A pineapple?
Sgt.: Where? Where?
Jones: No I just said: a pineapple.
Sgt.: Oh. Phew. I thought my number was on that one.
Jones: What, on the pineapple?
Sgt.: Where? Where?
Jones: No, I was just repeating it.
Sgt.: Oh. Oh. I see. Right. Phew. Right that's bananas then. Now the
raspberry. There we are. 'Armless looking thing, isn't it? Now you,
Mr Tin Peach.
Jones: Thompson.
Sgt.: Thompson. Come at me with that raspberry. Come on. Be as vicious as
you like with it.
Jones: No.
Sgt.: Why not?
Jones: You'll shoot me.
Sgt.: I won't.
Jones: You shot Mr. Harrison.
Sgt.: That was self-defence. Now come on. I promise I won't shoot you.
Idle: You promised you'd tell us about pointed sticks.
Sgt.: Shut up. Come on, brandish that raspberry. Come at me with it. Give
me Hell.
Jones: Throw