       Selected sketches from Monty Python's Flying Circus
                   The Complete Index of Shows
                     Compiled by Sir DarkWolf



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"
      Arthur "Two-Sheds" Jackson
      Picasso/cycling race
      The funniest joke in the world

2) Sex and Violence
      Flying sheep
      French lecture on sheep-aircraft
      A man with three buttocks
      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
      Lumberjack song
      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
      The Minehead by-election
      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
      The Piranha brothers

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
      Architect sketch
      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
      "Blackmail"
      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 parrots
      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"
      Dirty Hungarian phrasebook
      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
      "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
      Cheese shop
      Philip Jenkinson on Cheese Westerns
      Sam Peckinpah's "Salad Days"
      Apology
      The news with Richard Baker
      Seashore interlude film

8) The Cycling Tour
      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
      Dennis Moore
      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
      Penguins
      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"
      RAF banter
      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
      Woody and tinny words
      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:
      German Special
      Fresh Fruit
      Pet Shop
      The Trial
      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)

           Title: The Architects Sketch
                  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.


           Title: The Banter Sketch                                   
            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.


           Title: Buying a Bed
            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!


           Title: Dead Bishop
            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. 

           Title: Blackmail
            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!


           Title: Burying The Cat
            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*!
 
           Title: The Cheese Shoppe
            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!
 

           Title: The Cycling Sketch
            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.)


           Title: Dennis Moore
            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 the gun away.
Sgt.:  I haven't got a gun.
Jones: You have.
Sgt.:  Haven't.
Jones: You shot Mr 'Arrison with it.
Sgt.:  Oh, that gun.
Jones: Throw it away.
Sgt.:  Oh all right.  How to defend yourself against a redcurrant -- without a
       gun.
Jones: You were going to shoot me!
Sgt.:  I wasn't.
Jones: You were!
Sgt.:  No, I wasn't, I wasn't.     Come on then.  Come at me.  Come on you weed!
       You weed, do your worst!  Come on, you puny little man.   You weed...
 
       (Sgt. pulls a lever in the wall--CRASH!    a 16-ton weight falls on Jones)
 
Jones: Aaagh.
Sgt.:  If anyone ever attacks you with a raspberry, just pull the lever and the
       16-ton weight will fall on top of him.
Palin: Suppose there isn't a 16-ton weight?
Sgt.:  Well that's planning, isn't it? Forethought.
Palin: Well how many 16-ton weights are there?
Sgt.:  Look, look, look, Mr Knowall.  The 16-ton weight is just _one way_ of
       dealing with a raspberry killer.  There are millions of others!
Idle:  Like what?
Sgt.:  Shootin' him?
Palin: Well what if you haven't got a gun or a 16-ton weight?
Sgt.:  Look, look.  All right, smarty-pants.  You two, you two, come at me then
       with raspberries.  Come on, both of you, whole basket each.
Palin: No guns.
Sgt.:  No.
Palin: No 16-ton weights.
Sgt.:  No.
Idle:  No pointed sticks.
Sgt.:  Shut up.
Palin: No rocks up in the ceiling.
Sgt.:  No.
Palin: And you won't kill us.
Sgt.:  I won't.
Palin: Promise.
Sgt.:  I promise I won't kill you.  Now. Are you going to attack me?
Palin & Idle: Oh, all right.
Sgt.:  Right, now don't rush me this time.  Stalk me.  Do it properly.     Stalk
       me.  I'll turn me back.     Stalk up behind me, close behind me, then in
       with the redcurrants!  Right?  O.K.  start moving.  Now the first thing
       to do when you're being stalked by an ugly mob with redcurrants is to --
       release the tiger!
 
(He does so. Growls. Screams.)
 
Sgt.:  The great advantage of the tiger in unarmed combat is that he eats not
       only the fruit-laden foe but also the redcurrants.  Tigers however do
       not relish the peach.  The peach assailant should be attacked with a
       crocodile.  Right, now, the rest of you, where are you?   I know you're
       hiding somewhere with your damsons and prunes.  Well I'm ready for you.
       I've wired meself up to 200 tons of gelignite, and if any one of you so
       much as makes a move we'll all go up together!
       Right, right. I warned you. That's it...
 
(Explosion.)


           Title: Monty Python's Fliegender Zirkus
            From: 1972 German Special
  Transcribed By: Mr and Mrs and Mrs Zambesi <zambesi@nyphot.demon.co.uk>


This 40-minute episode was, I believe, one of two made specially for
German television.  The captions etc. are in German, but almost all
dialogue is in English (it may of course have been dubbed into German
when originally transmitted).  The Philosophers' football match and
Wrestling sketches both appear in Live at the Hollywood Bowl, and a
shorter version of Happy Valley is on the Previous Record, but the
remaining material is, to the best of my knowledge, `new'.

The commentary [in square brackets] and some character designations are
mine; the rest is a direct transcription from a recording of the episode
as shown on BBC2 in the U.K. in 1993(?).
                
                    --oOo--

     [A woodland scene.  To a background of Rossini's "William Tell
     Overture" we see William Tell (Graham) preparing to shoot an
     arrow, and his son's head in close-up bearing an apple.  Others
     look on anxiously, tension mounts; the arrow is fired and
     pierces the apple; the onlookers cheer.  Then a wider camera
     shot reveals the boy riddled with many previous arrows.]

     [Camera pans over a city, then zooms in on three smartly dressed
     men.]
Reporter (John)  Arthur Schmidt, top international economist, government
     adviser on tariff control, lecturer at Hamburg University,
     author of the Schmidt Plan for Transport Subsidies, simply can't
     resist a bit on the side.  [Schmidt (Eric) lunges away from the
     others and chases a young woman.]  Half a chance, and he's away.

     [Shot of another businessman.]  Norbert Schultz, chairman of
     thirty-two companies and a brilliant fiscal theoretician, but
     one glimpse of a bit of tail and you can forget it.  [Schultz
     (Michael) chases a woman.]  You might not see him for weeks.

     [Two men talking in a stair well, while a woman passes.]
     Professor Thomas Woitkewitsch lectures on Business Studies at
     the Wurtemburg Institute.  Son of the famous industrialist,
     he's always slipping into someone.  Blonde or brunette, if it
     goes he'll chase it [Woitkewitsch (Eric) follows her, undoing
     his trousers.]

     [A committee room.]  These six men have just produced a
     controversial report for the Iron and Steel Advisory Committee
     of the Common Market Secretariat, the most vital decision making
     body in European politics today.  [A tea lady enters; all six
     jump her.]  They're always at it.  Bang, bang, bang.  They're
     worse than rabbits.

     [Various shots of buildings, the City etc.]  Here in Brussels,
     headquarters of the Common Market, prices have soared.  It now
     costs ten pounds for half an hour at her flat, and up to twenty
     pounds for a hotel room with trapeze.  In Rome, agricultural
     experts have spent nearly three weeks having a good time with
     some ladies, and it's rumoured that when the International
     Monetary Fund meets next week in London, it'll be pants down and
     on with the job.  Why are so many of these top financial experts
     so keen to get into bed with young girls, to rub themselves up
     against bare skin, to put their tongues into other people's
     mouths, to put their fingers in tight brassieres and to bury
     their faces in handfuls of underwear?  We asked a sociologist.
Sociologist (Graham) [dressed very strangely, holding a goat]  They're
     probably just confused.
Reporter [to camera]  What exactly is it that makes them want to go to
     bed with these people, and do these apparently irrational things
     to them?  Is it for tax concessions?  Is it allowable
     expenditure against half-yearly profits?  Is it something to do
     with central heating?  Do they eat too much citrus fruit?
     Whatever the reason, in the light of this, should the Common
     Market now be cancelled?  Has it become just a thin excuse for a
     multi-national orgy, or is it still a serious attempt to aid the
     rich?  And will tariff cuts bring more trade, or just a higher
     birth rate?  Even as I speak to you now, in this famous Munich
     bank behind me, there are some people who, seventeen or
     eighteen times a night...  [A car screeches to a halt, knocking
     him over out of shot.]

     [Animated title sequence: "Monty Python's Fliegender Zirkus".]

     [A discussion program - caption "Schleimer" {Slimes}; a
     presenter sits between two guests.]
Presenter (Eric)  Good evening.  Tonight, sycophancy.
Thromby (Michael)  What a super title!
Presenter  Shh!  With me tonight is the well-known Bristol sycophant,
     Mr Norman Thromby.
Thromby  Hallo everyone, wherever you are, thanks a million for looking
     in.
Presenter  And a man from Glamorgan who is not a sycophant.
Man (Graham)  Hallo. Nice to be here.
Presenter  I thought you weren't a sycophant.
Thromby    That's right, you tell him Mr chairman, you just tell him.
Man  I'm not a sycophant!  But I do try to be polite to people.
Thromby  Ooh, sounds a bit creepy to me, doesn't it.
Man  It's not creepy!
Reporter [Appearing from left, bandaged.]  This famous TV personality
     has it off...  [He is dragged off camera.]
Presenter  Well I think we'll come back on this point in a few minutes.
Thromby  Oh yes, by far the best idea.  Absolutely right, absoloutely
     right again.
Presenter  First of all, let's see some sycophants on film.

     [Stock film of seals on a rocky shore.]
Voice-Over (Terry J)  The sycophants are one of the largest of marine
     carnivores.  Their soft, furry underbellies made them a
     favourite target for hunters.  Now, on this island, the
     sycophants come to breed every summer, protected by law.  But
     they're not the only breed which has been saved by a small body
     of men determined to preserve the dying species of the world.
     [Shots of wooded mountain scenery.]  Here, in his four thousand
     acre nature reserve in Southern Bavaria, Frank Tutankhamun has
     dedicated his life to preserving mice.  We spoke to his nearby
     neighbour, Mrs Betty Weiss.
Mrs Weiss [a Germanic pepperpot]  Hallo.
Voice-Over Hallo.  Mr Tutankhamun claims that his eight white mice roam
     in these mountains and hills.
Tutankhamun (Terry J)  Well, there's one over there, there's two of the
     little fellows on this plateau here, and I think "Old Squeaky"
     is up on that mountain there.
Voice-Over  Many wildlife preservationists have questioned the need for
     preserving eight mice on these four thousand acres, when there
     are over sixty million of them in nearby Stuttgart alone.
Presenter [back in studio]  Just be another few minutes.
Voice-Over [A Land Rover drives along a country track.]  But Mr
     Tutankhamun is undaunted by criticism, and has recently opened a
     National Fish Park - six hundred acres of pasture and woodland,
     [we can see dead fish suspended from trees] where cod and
     herring can wander freely.  Visitors can drive through the
     reserve and look at the fish [a passenger in the Land Rover
     takes a photo] - provided of course they don't leave their cars.
     The fish wardens work hard, [a man in scuba gear steps out of
     undergrowth near a "FISCHPARK" sign] but so far this year the
     Fish Park has only had six visitors, less than most other zoos;
     indeed, less than most private houses.  We asked the Peruvian
     Minister of Pensions why this was.
Minister (Eric) [In a yucca-laden office.  Caption "PERUANISCHER
     PENSIONSMINISTER".]  Er, well... I suppose it may be...
     [caption "LIVE AUS LIMA"] er... because...
Voice-Over  He hadn't a clue.  But it's mice that are the big business
     here.  [Three cowboys (mouseboys) ride out of "BIG PIEPS
     RANCH".]  And every Monday, Frank Tutankhamun rides out to count
     his herd.  He takes with him three of his most tough and
     hardened mouseboys.  This is mouse country, where a man can ride
     for days and days without seeing his aunty.  But, suddenly
     they're in luck.  Frank has spotted a mouse and the chase is on.
     [One of the mouseboys (Terry G) throws a lasso.  We see a
     lassoed mouse.  The mouseboy is pulled from his horse by the
     rope.]  If it's a mouse Frank hasn't seen before, it's taken
     back to the ranch, broken in by a mouseboy, and branded with a
     big "S".  [Two mouseboys hold down a mouse.  A third approaches
     with a brand, obviously several times the size of the mouse, and
     applies it.]
     [Exterior of "DER SCHNUCKELIGE PLUESCHTIER SALOON" {The Cute
     Cuddly Toy Saloon}; honky-tonk piano music.  A mouseboy is
     ejected, dusts himself down, takes a saddle from the rail,
     places it over one of three tethered mice and straddles it.  He
     looks up; we hear a thunder of hooves (paws?) approaching.  He
     runs back into the saloon.]
Mouseboy (Terry J)  Hey, mouseboys!  There's a mouse stampede!
     [All run out side and stare in horror.]
     [Animation of mouse stampede.]
Voice-Over  Whilst the mouse herds trample their way south, up in the
     hills there are solitary men seeking the even greater rewards
     that lie in these mountains.  [A prospector examines the
     contents of his pan.]  The single magic word that has
     tantalised man since the dawn of history: "Chickens!"  [We see
     the delighted face of the prospector, then the pan in which a
     live chicken now sits.]  Gabby has spent fifty years panning for
     chicken.  He, like many other prospectors, remembers the Great
     Chicken Rush of '49, when this whole river ran with chickens.
     [Gabby is dancing and cheering.]  Then they were defeated by
     primitive methods.  [Interior shot of mine workings.]  Now they
     are defeated by progress.
Miner (Michael)  Chicken bones!  We've struck chickens!

     [A geologist stands in front of a diagram showing geological
     strata, titled "HUEHNERMINEN von NORD-DAKOTA" {Chicken Mines of
     North Dakota}.]
Geologist (John) [with a strange voice and manner]  Die Huehnerminen
     von Nord-Dakota...  [He runs away, chased by two men in white
     coats pushing a dustbin on wheels.]
Second geologist (Michael)  I'm sorry.  The big chicken mines of North
     Dakota are located in this particular geological strata.  As you
     can see, volcanic activity has caused these igneous rocks to
     expand up through the alluvial shales revealing these rich veins
     of chicken here.  [The first geologist runs past, chased by the
     two men in white coats.]
Voice-Over  [Shot of pit-head.] The men who mine these chickens work at
     the chicken face for long and hard hours, [five miners emerge,
     covered in feathers] in appallingly noisy conditions, sometimes
     going for weeks without seeing their aunties.  [Gilliam picture
     of oil wells.]  Nowadays, every possible means is being used to
     tap the world's hen resources.  [Oil gushes from a well;
     chickens rain from the sky.]

     [Gabby enters assay office and takes chicken from box.]
Gabby (Terry G)      Here y'are, pure chicken, from up the creek.
     [Assayer weighs chicken and examines it with magnifying
     glass.]
Assayer   (Graham)  I'm sorry, Gabby, that ain't no chicken at all.
Gabby     What?!
Assayer    It's a fake, Gabby.
Voice-Over  Yes, the first forged chickens had appeared.

Expert (Michael) [Describing a sequence of sepia montages.]  This Rhode
     Island Red was a cleverly reconstructed rabbit.  This Suffolk
     bantam was a hollowed-out eagle, stuffed with lizards and
     badgers.  This Kentish poullet turned out to be a Mr S.P.
     Stebbins.  This herd of broilers was made out of a single camel.
     A most interesting development, but not nearly as interesting as
     this man, [Pull out to a Gilliam cartoon face.] who makes his
     living...
Face Get out of here, I'm busy.
Expert    Oh, sorry.
     [Animation continues.]
     Yes, Heinrich Bonner is a professional flea-buster, capturing,
     breaking and training wild fleas for Europe's leading flea
     circuses.  This year, he's also one of Germany's big hopes in
     the Olympic three-day flea dressage event, and looks a sure bet
     to come away with a medal.  Good luck, Heinrich!

     [Aerial view of Muenchen Olympic stadium.]
Football Commentator (Michael)  Good afternoon, and welcome to a packed
     Olympic stadium, Muenchen [caption "INTERNATIONALE PHILOSOPHIE -
     Rueckspiel" {International Philospohy - Return match}] for the
     second leg of this exciting final.  [German philosophers jog out
     of the dressing room.]  And here come the Germans now, led by
     their skipper, "Nobby" Hegel.  They must surely start favourites
     this afternoon; they've certainly attracted the most attention
     from the press with their team problems.  And let's now see
     their line-up.
     [Caption "DEUTSCHLAND" {Germany}
          "1 LEIBNITZ
           2 I. KANT
           3 HEGEL
           4 SCHOPENHAUER
           5 SCHELLING
           6 BECKENBAUER
           7 JASPERS
           8 SCHLEGEL
           9 WITTGENSTEIN
          10 NIETZSCHE
          11 HEIDEGGER"]
     [High shot of Germans jogging onto pitch.]  The Germans playing
     4-2-4, Leibnitz in goal, back four Kant, Hegel, Schopenhauer and
     Schelling, front-runners Schlegel, Wittgenstein, Nietzsche and
     Heidegger, and the mid-field duo of Beckenbauer and Jaspers.
     Beckenbauer obviously a bit of a surprise there.

     [Greek philosophers, all in togas, jog from the dressing room.]
     And here come the Greeks, led out by their veteran centre-half,
     Heraclitus.
     [Caption "GRIECHENLAND" {Greece}
          "1 PLATO
           2 EPIKTET
           3 ARISTOTELES
           4 SOPHOKLES
           5 EMPEDOKLES VON ACRAGA
           6 PLOTIN
           7 EPIKUR
           8 HERAKLIT
           9 DEMOKRIT
          10 SOKRATES
          11 ARCHIMEDES"]
     [High shot of Greeks jogging onto pitch, kicking balls about
     etc.]  Let's look at their team.  As you'd expect, it's a much
     more defensive line-up.  Plato's in goal, Socrates a front-
     runner there, and Aristotle as sweeper, Aristotle very much the
     man in form.  One surprise is the inclusion of Archimedes.

     [An oriental referee, holding a large sandglass, walks down the
     centre line, flanked by two linesmen with haloes.]  Well here
     comes the referee, Kung Fu Tsu Confucius, and his two linesmen,
     St Augustine and St Thomas Aquinas.  [Referee spots the ball and
     the captains shake hands.]  And as the two skippers come
     together to shake hands, we're ready for the start of this very
     exciting final.  The referee Mr Confucius checks his sand and...
     [referee blows his whistle] they're off!  [The Germans
     immediately turn away from the ball, hands on chins in deep
     contemplation.]  Nietzsche and Hegel there.  Karl Jaspers number
     seven on the outside, Wittgenstein there with him.  There's
     Beckenbauer.  Schelling's in there, Heidegger covering.
     Schopenhauer.  [Pan to the other end, the Greeks also thinking
     deeply, occasionally gesticulating.]  And now it's the Greeks,
     Epicurus, Plotinus number six.  Aristotle.  Empedocles of
     Acragus and Democratus with him.  There's Archimedes.  Socrates,
     there he is, Socrates.  Socrates there, going through.  [The
     camera follows Socrates past the ball, still on the centre
     spot.]  There's the ball!  There's the ball.  And Nietzsche
     there.  Nietzsche, number ten in this German side.
     [Caption "DEUTSCHLAND - GRIECHENLAND
                   0 : 0"]
     Kant moving up on the outside.  Schlegel's on the left, the
     Germans moving very well in these opening moments.
Anchorman (John) [in the studio]  Well, there you are.  And we'll be
     returning to the match some time in the second half, but right
     now it's time for wrestling.

     [Cut to a wrestling ring containing a Master of Ceremonies.]
Emcee (Michael)  A five round heavyweight contest, three falls, two 
     submissions or a knock-out to decide the winner, between, in the
     red corner, Colin "Bomber" Harris [Bomber (Graham) climbs into
     the ring] and, in the red corner, Colin "Bomber" Harris.
     [The bell rings.  Graham begins his stunningly beautiful, but
     mainly visual, self-wrestling routine.]
Wrestling Commentator (John)  Here comes Bomber now, circling round,
     looking for an opening.  He's wrestled himself many times in the
     past, this boy, so he knows practically all his own moves by
     now.  And he's going for the double hand lock.  He's got it.
     Here's the head squeeze.  And the Albanian head lock.  He's
     going for the throw.  He's got the throw.  And now he's working
     on the left leg, this is an old weakness of his.  Oh, but he
     caught himself beautifully there, with the, er, the flying
     Welshman, and now it's the half Nelson.  And he can twist out of
     this.  And he's twisted beautifully into the Finnish leg lock.
     But he didn't like that!  He did not like that one little bit.
     But the referee's not interested, he's waving him on, and
     Bomber's angry now.  Bomber is really angry with himself now.
     And there's a forearm chop and he's gone for the double overhead
     nostril.  Now this is painful, but he caught himself
     beautifully, a really lovely move there.  Now he's going for the
     fall.  The shoulders have to be on the mat for three seconds.
     No, he's twisting out of that, no problem here.  Oh, but he's
     caught himself beautifully there, with the double overhead.
     He's got the double overhead on, I don't think he can get out of
     this.
Referee (Terry J) [echoed by commentator]  One!... Two!... Three!
Wrestling Commentator  And that's the first fall to Bomber.  Well, what
     a surprise there.  I think Bomber will have to come back at
     himself pretty fast now, before he gets on top.  And there's the
     forearm smash, and the hammer to the head and he's groggy now,
     and there's the flying Welshman again, and another flying
     Welshman.  And a half-Egyptian.  And he's a little stunned
     there, but he's got the half-crab, and he's got the half-crab,
     and this looks very nasty.  This looks very nasty indeed.  But I
     think Bomber's going to make the ropes.  Is he going to make the
     ropes?  [Bomber inches across and touches the rope.]  Yes, he
     made them.  Well, I think he was a little lucky there, he was in
     a tricky situation, and he's gone straight into the neck pin,
     he's got a neck pin there.  He's in a little trouble, he twists
     out of it.  He looks groggy, and he's caught himself with two
     beautiful forearm smashes and he's out.  I think Bomber's out!
Referee [raising the arm of the inert Bomber]  The winner!
Wrestling Commentator  Yes, he's won.  He has won.
Anchorman  Well what a match. And he'll be going on next week to meet
     himself in the final.  Well right now we're going back to the
     Olympic stadium for the closing minutes of the Philosophy Final,
     and I understand that there's still no score.

     [On the pitch, a German is remonstrating with the referee.]
Football Commentator  Well there may be no score, but there's certainly
     no lack of excitement here.  As you can see, Nietzsche has just
     been booked for arguing with the referee.  He accused Confucius
     of having no free will, and Confucius he say, "Name go in book".
     And this is Nietzsche's third booking in four games.  [We see a
     bearded figure in a track-suit is warming up on the touch-line.]
     And who's that?  It's Karl Marx, Karl Marx is warming up.  It
     looks as though there's going to be a substitution in the German
     side.  [Marx removes the track-suit, under which he is wearing a
     suit.]  Obviously the manager Martin Luther has decided on all-
     out attack, as indeed he must with only two minutes of the match
     to go.  And the big question is, who is he going to replace,
     who's going to come off.  It could be Jaspers, Hegel or
     Schopenhauer, but it's Wittgenstein!  Wittgenstein, who saw his
     aunty only last week, and here's Marx.  [Marx begins some
     energetic knees-up running about.]  Let's see it he can put some
     life into this German attack.  [The referee blows his whistle;
     Marx stops and begins contemplating like the rest.]  Evidently
     not.  What a shame.  Well now, with just over a minute left, a
     replay on Tuesday looks absolutely vital.  There's Archimedes,
     and I think he's had an idea.
Archimedes (John) Eureka!  [He runs towards the ball and kicks it.]
Football Commentator  Archimedes out to Socrates, Socrates back to
     Archimedes, Archimedes out to Heraclitus, he beats Hegel [who,
     like all the Germans, is still thinking].  Heraclitus a little
     flick, here he comes on the far post, Socrates is there,
     Socrates heads it in!  Socrates has scored!  The Greeks are
     going mad, the Greeks are going mad.  Socrates scores, got a
     beautiful cross from Archimedes.  The Germans are disputing it.
     Hegel is arguing that the reality is merely an a priori adjunct
     of non-naturalistic ethics, Kant via the categorical imperative
     is holding that ontologically it exists only in the imagination,
     and Marx is claiming it was offside.  But Confucius has answered
     them with the final whistle!  It's all over!  Germany, having
     trounced England's famous midfield trio of Bentham, Locke and
     Hobbes in the semi-final, have been beaten by the odd goal, and
     let's see it again.  [Replay viewed from behind the goal.]
     There it is, Socrates, Socrates heads in and Leibnitz doesn't
     have a chance.  And just look at those delighted Greeks.  [The
     Greeks jog delightedly, holding a cup aloft.]  There they are,
     "Chopper" Sophocles, Empedocles of Acragus, what a game he had.
     And Epicurus is there, and Socrates the captain who scored what
     was probably the most important goal of his career.
     [Aerial view of stadium; segue into Gilliam animation]

Presenter  And now for ten seconds of sex.
     [Totally blank screen for ten seconds; sound of clock ticking.]
Presenter  Okay, you can stop now.
Reporter  Why do they go on about it?  Isn't there anything else of
     interest to these people?

     [A customer enters an optician/hearing aid shop.]
Customer (Eric)  Good evening.  I'm interested in buying a hearing aid.
Rogers (John)  I'm sorry?
Customer  I'm interested in buying a hearing aid.
Rogers    I didn't quite catch it.
Customer  I want to buy a hearing aid.
Rogers    Ah, um, er, hang on just one moment sir, I'll just switch the
     radio off.  [He switches it on; music blares forth.]  Right,
     now what was it again?
Customer  What?
Rogers    What was it again?
Customer  I can't hear.
Rogers    What?
Customer  The radio's too loud.
Rogers    Yes, very nice, isn't it.
     [The customer turns off the radio.]
Customer  I'm sorry, I couldn't hear, the radio was too loud.
Rogers    Ah.  Pardon?  I'm sorry, I don't think my hearing aid's working
     properly.  I've only had it a couple of days.  Hang on.  [He
     takes it from his pocket and adjusts it.]  Yes, there we are,
     it's working now.
Customer  Is it good?
     About fourteen pounds.
Customer  Yes, but is it good?
Rogers    No, no, it fits in the pocket here.
Customer  Can you hear me?
Rogers    What?
Customer [louder]  Can you hear me?
Rogers    Oh!  Contact lenses!
Customer  What?
Rogers    You want contact lenses.
Customer  No.
Rogers    Oh, well I'll get Dr Waring then, he does contact lenses.  I
     only do the hearing aids.
     [Waring emerges through a curtain from a back room and bumps
     into a display case.]
Waring (Michael) [to Rogers]  Ah, good morning sir, you want some
     contact lenses do you?
Rogers    What?
Waring    You want some contact lenses, do you?
Rogers    Er, I can't hear what you're saying, Dr Waring.
Waring    I think you need a hearing aid, not contact lenses.
Customer  No, I want the hearing aid.
Waring    Who said that?  Is there someone else in here?
Rogers    What?
Waring    I think there's someone else in here.
Customer  Yes. it's me.  [He waves his hand.]  Here.
Waring    Ah!  You wanted the contact lenses did you?
Customer  No, I want a hearing aid.
Waring    Ah, Mr Rogers will see to you about that.  [calling] Someone to
     see you, Mr Rogers.  He'll be down in a minute.  [to Rogers]
     Now, you wanted the contact lenses, did you, sir?  Would you
     come this way, please.
Rogers    Er, What?
Waring    This way, please.
Rogers    Er, I don't understand, Dr Waring.
Waring    Just in here. [Waring guides him through into the back room.
     After a pause they both emerge.]
Waring    Why didn't you say you were Rogers?  You know my lenses play me
     up sometimes.
Rogers    What?
Waring [to empty space]  Ah, I do apologise most sincerely for the
     inconvenience, sir.  Now, you wanted the contact lenses, did
     you?
Customer  No, I wanted a hearing aid.
Waring    Mr Rogers will deal with you, sir.  I'm dealing with this
     gentleman here.  [to empty space] Now would you like to come
     this way, sir, we'll try the contact lenses.  Come on sir.  [He
     guides an invisible customer into the back room.]
Customer  Now, Dr Rogers, I want a hearing aid.
Rogers    Pardon?  I'm sorry, look, I'm worried about Dr Waring.  I think
     he thinks he's with someone.
Waring [from back room]  Hallo!  Hallo!
Customer  Well, had you better go and tell him?
Rogers    No, no, I'd better go and tell him.  [He goes to the back room.]
     Er, Dr Waring!
Waring    Ah, there you are.  I thought I'd lost you.
Rogers    Er, no, no.  Dr Waring, you're not with anybody.
Waring    Well, who's that talking to me then.  Don't be silly, sit down.
Rogers    What?  [Waring takes him into the back room.  After a moment
     they emerge.]
Waring    Why didn't you say you were Rogers?
Rogers [looking at his watch]  About quarter to six.
Waring    Ah, sorry.  [to empty space] Now then you wanted the contact
     lenses, did you sir?
Customer  No, I wanted a hearing aid!
Waring    Ah.  [He turns through three quarters of a circle towards the
     customer.]  So you must be the gentleman who wanted the contact
     lenses?
Customer  No, I want a hearing aid.
Waring    Ah, er, Mr Rogers!  Two gentlemen here would like hearing aids!
Rogers    What?  I can't hear you, Dr Waring, I think it must be my
     hearing aid.  Hang on a moment.  [He adjusts it.]  Aaaah!  Too
     loud, it hurts!  [He hits the side of his head repeatedly.]  Ah,
     that's better.  Wait a moment, I've knocked my contacts out.
     [He begins searching on the floor.  An angry man storms in and
     addresses a display stand next to the customer.]
Complainant (Terry J)  I've come to complain about my contact lenses!
Rogers  What?
Complainant  I've come to complain about my contact lenses!  They're
     terrible.  They've ruined my eyesight.
Waring  But I haven't given you any.
Complainant  You're a liar!
Rogers    What?
Complainant  You swindler!  You money-grabbing quack, sir!
Waring    Don't talk to me like that!
Complainant  I'll talk to you any way I...  [He knocks the display
     stand].  Oh, fisticuffs!  Right!  Oh!  [He punches the display
     stand and throws it to the floor.  Waring attacks a seat amid
     much shouting.  The complainant is meanwhile wrestling the
     display stand out of the door.]
Waring    Oh!  To big for you eh?  Ah!  Break up my shop, would you?  [He
     steps back, trips over Rogers and grabs him.]  I've got him!
Rogers    Help!  Help!  I'm being attacked!  Help me, Dr Waring, I'm being
     attacked.  [They grapple with each other.]
Waring    It's all right, Rogers, I've got him.
Rogers    Quick, I've got him!  Grab his arms.
Waring    I can't, he's got me round the waist.  Never mind, get him to
     the door, we'll throw him out.
Rogers    I'm going to throw him out!
Waring    Attack Mr Rogers, would you?  Well, we're more than a match for
     you.
Rogers    Help, he's got me by the throat!
Waring    Go ahead, I've got him by the throat.
Rogers    We're by the door.
Waring    Let's throw him out. One!
Rogers and Waring together  Two!  Three!  [They throw each other out of
     the door.]
Customer [to camera]  You should see them when they've had a couple of
     drinks.  [He takes out a cigar and brandishes it in Groucho Marx
     fashion.]  Goodnight, folks.  Just a fairy tale.

Storyteller (John)  Once upon a time, long, long ago, there lay in a
     valley far, far away in the mountains the most contented kingdom
     the world has ever known.  It was called Happy Valley, and it was
     ruled over by a wise old king called Otto.  And all his subjects
     flourished and were happy, and there were no discontents or
     grumblers, because wise King Otto had had them all put to death,
     along with the trade union leaders, many years before.  And all
     the happy folk of Happy Valley sang and danced all day long, and
     anyone who was for any reason miserable or unhappy or who had any
     difficult personal problem was prosecuted under the Happiness
     Act.
Prosecution (Michael)  Caspar Schlitz, I put it to you that you were, on
     February 5th this year, very depressed with malice aforethought,
     and did moan quietly, contrary to the Cheerful Noises Act.
Schlitz (Terry G)  I did.
Defence (Eric)  May I just explain, m'lud, that the reason for my
     client's behaviour was that his wife had just died that morning.
     [All except the accused laugh uproariously.]
Judge (Graham)  Members of the jury, have you reached your verdict?
Foreman  Guilty.  [All laugh again.]
Judge [donning red nose]  I hereby sentence you to be hanged by the neck
     until you cheer up.  [All laugh.]
Storyteller  And while the good folk of Happy Valley tenaciously
     frolicked away, their wise old king, who was a merry old thing,
     played strange songs on his Hammond organ all day long, up in his
     castle where he lived with his gracious Queen Syllabub, and their
     lovely daughter Princess Mitzi Gaynor, who had fabulous tits and
     an enchanting smile and a fine wit, and wooden teeth which she'd
     bought in a chemist's in Augsburg, despite the fire risk.  She
     treasured these teeth, which were made of the finest pine and she
     varnished them after every meal.  And next to her teeth, her
     dearest love was her pet rabbit Herman.  She would take Herman
     for long walks, and pet and fuss over him all day.  And she would
     visit the royal kitchens and steal him tasty tit-bits which he
     never ate, because, sadly, he was dead, and no one had the heart
     to tell her because she was so sweet and innocent and new nothing
     of death or gastro-enteritis, or even plastic hip joints.

     One day when she was romping with Herman, she suddenly set eyes
     on the most beautiful young man she had ever seen, and fell
     deeply in love with him, naturally assuming him to be a prince.
     Well, fortunately he was a prince, so she found him in the book,
     which her mother made her always carry, [she opens a bird-
     spotting book at a page headed "EBERHARD, PRINZ" opposite a
     photo of him] and learned his name, and went and introduced
     herself, and the subject of marriage.  And he fell deeply in
     love with her, and in what seemed like the twinkling of an eye,
     but was in fact a fortnight, they were in her father's lounge,
     asking his permission to marry.

     [Otto sits at his organ howling a strange song.  He finishes and
     Mitzi and the prince applaud politely.  He starts another.
     Caption "Spaeter am selben Nachmittag" {Later that afternoon}.]
Mitzi (Connie)  Daddy.
Otto (Terry J)  Yes, daughter.
Mitzi     We have something to ask you.
Otto A request!
Eberhard (John)  Sir, may I have your daughter's hand in marriage?
Otto Well, I don't know it, but if you hum it I'll soon pick it up.
Eberhard  No sir, I really do wish to marry your daughter, sir.
Otto Oh.  Are you a prince?
Prince    Yes, sir.
Otto Is he in the book?
Mitzi     Yes, Daddy.
Otto Do you really love my daughter?
Prince    I do.
Otto Well in that case, I must set you a task to prove you worthy of
     her hand in marriage.
Eberhard [standing]  I accept.
Otto You must climb to the highest part of the castle, first thing
     tomorrow morning, armed only with your sword, and jump out of the
     window.

     [A crowd waits expectantly in the street below the castle.]
Villager (Terry J?)  Hey look, there he is!
     [The crowd look up, clapping and cheering.  Eberhard, up on the
     castle tower, waves, wets his finger to test the wind, then
     plummets to his death.  The crowd laugh and cheer.]
Mitzi     Can we get married now, Daddy?
Otto No, I'm afraid not, daughter, he wasn't worthy of you.
Mitzi     Oh Daddy!  Will he have to go into the ground like all the
     others?
     [Cut to a cemetary where a coffin is being cheerfully lowered
     into a grave.]
Mitzi     Come on, Herman.  [She walks away, dragging Herman.]
Storyteller  And so Mitzi and Herman went down to the river bank to see
     if they could find another prince.  Everyone was fishing that
     day, the carpenter and the candlemaker and the blacksmith and the
     window-dresser and his friend, and the hangman and all his
     apprentices, and the secret policeman, and the narcotics salesman
     and his aunty, but not a prince for miles.  Until... Mitzi's eyes
     suddenly spotted the slightest flash of gold underneath a weeping
     willow tree and there, sure enough, was a prince.

     He was rather thin and spotty with a long nose and bandy legs and
     nasty unpolished plywood teeth but, thought Mitzi, a prince is a
     prince, and she fell in love with him without another thought.
     [She leaps on top of him and engages him passionately.]  And
     after a time, or a few times anyway, he too fell in love with
     her.  And very soon they were on their way to ask King Otto's
     permission to wed, as this prince didn't read the newspapers any
     more than the others did, [they walk past a news stand on which
     is written "Die Happy Valley ???  Ein ??? Prinz ??? ??? ???" -
     sorry, it's too small and unclear on my recording] decadent,
     dim-witted, parasitic little bastards that they were.  [They
     come across Queen Syllabub romping with a black man.]
Syllabub [getting up hurriedly]  What!  Oh!  Ha ha ha!  Oh, hello,
     darling.
Mitzi     This is my mother the Queen, and, er, this is, er, ...
Syllabub  This is my new algebra teacher, Dr Erasmus.
Erasmus  Hello there.
Syllabub  Don't stare, darling.  And who is this?
Mitzi     Oh, this is Prince Walter.
Syllabub  Oh.
Mitzi     We were just going down to Daddy for permission to get married.
Syllabub  Ah, well I want to talk to him about like that.  I'll see you
     about the binomial theorem in the wood shed at eight o'clock, Dr
     Erasmus.
Erasmus  I'll bring the baby oil, Queen.
Syllabub  Yes.  Ahem.
Mitzi     Does Daddy like Dr Erasmus?
Syllabub  I wouldn't mention him, darling.  He's a bit funny about darker
     people.
Mitzi     I know nothing of racial prejudice.
Syllabub  Good.  Well I'll talk to him first.

     [Syllabub enters the lounge where Otto is at his organ, howling
     one of his songs.]
Syllabub  Stop that and listen to me!  Now!  [She pulls the plug out.]
Otto Plug my organ in.
Syllabub  Ha, that's a joke.  Now, listen to me.
Otto What!  What is it?
Syllabub  I've got something important to tell you.  Mitzi's coming in a
     moment with another prince.
Otto Yeugh.  [He begins howling one of his songs.]
Syllabub  Look, will you stop that again!
Otto Huh, princes!
Syllabub  Well there soon won't be any left, thanks to you.  Now just you
     make sure you make that task nice and easy, otherwise I'll smash
     your organ.
Otto Can I play at the wedding?
Syllabub  Yes.
Otto All right, all right.  I could play  that one about "Yum de boo
     ptang..."
Syllabub  The king agrees to see you now.
Mitzi     Hallo Daddy!
Otto Come in, child.
Mitzi     This is Prince Walter.
Otto Eeeugh!  Is he in the book?
Mitzi     Yes.
Otto Oh, hello Walter.
Walter (Michael)  Prince Walter.
Otto [sarcastically] Oh, so sorry!  So you want to marry my daughter,
     do you?
Walter    Perhaps.
Mitzi     Oh, say you do, and wing me such joy as I have never tasted
     before.
Walter    Yeah, all right.
Otto All right.  First I must set you a task, so you may prove
     yourself worthy of my daughter's hand in marriage.
Walter    Why?
Otto Because she's a f[bleep]ing princess, that's why!  You must go
     tomorrow morning to the highest part of the castle... [Syllabub
     hits him.]  You must go, um... [Syllabub threatens him again] er,
     go down to the shops and get me twenty Rothmans.
Walter    What, now?
Otto Tomorrow morning.

Storyteller  And so, early next morning, all the happy villagers were
     gathered to watch Prince Walter set off on his quest.
     [From a dais outside the castle, on which King, Queen and
     Princess sit, Prince Walter walks, holding a banknote, past the
     villagers down the street to the tobacconist.  He emerges holding
     a packet of cigarettes aloft triumphantly to cheers from the
     crowd.  He walks back up the street to the dais, on which Mitzi
     is jumping up and down excitedly.]
Walter    Here are your fags.  [He tosses them to Otto.]
Otto [grudgingly]  Thank you, Walter.
Walter    Prince Walter!
Syllabub  Well done, Prince Walter.
Otto [standing]  Loyal subjects, faithful followers, this is indeed a
     proud moment for the Queen and myself.  For this is the moment
     when Princess Mitzi marries Prince Walter.  But first, a little
     number I've written, entitled "Ya Te Buckety Rum Ting Too".
     [Everyone sings "Ya Te Buckety Rum Ting Too" accompanied by
     Otto.  But then Prince Charming draws up on a horse.]
Charming (Eric)  Halt, halt!  Halt, I prithee, gentle king.
Syllabub  Who are you?  What do you want?  [to Otto] Belt up!
Charming  I am Prince Charming, from the Kingdom of the Golden Lakes,
     good Sir King.  Page four in the book.  And I crave the hand of
     your most beautiful daughter, Princess Mitzi.
Walter    You're too late.
Charming  What?
Walter    I've got her, Charming, now buzz off.
Syllabub  Now, wait a minute, Mitzi is not betrothed yet.
Walter    What?  He said, if I went and got him twenty Rothmans I could
     have her.
Charming  Got you twenty Rothmans?
Walter    I had to go down the town.
Charming  For Princess Mitzi?
Otto Yes.
Charming  For this priceless treasure?  For this most perfect of all
     God's creatures?
Mitzi [to Syllabub]  I think I'm falling in love again.
Charming  For this finest and most delicate flower in the whole of this
     geographical area, I will face in mortal combat that most dreaded
     of all creatures.
Mitzi, Syllabub & Otto  A dragon?!
Charming  And I shall slay it, single-handed, to prove myself worthy of
     your enchanting daughter, O King.
Otto I accept.
Walter    What?
Otto I accept.  Tomorrow morning, then.
Walter    Where's he going to get a dragon from?
Charming  I provide my own.

     [The rear of a horse box opens.  A dragon, all of 18 inches long,
     emerges.  Prince Charming fights it matador-style, then draws a
     pistol and shoots it.  The crowd cheer.]
Otto Loyal subjects, by virtue of Prince Charming's noble deed, I now
     consent to give him Princess Mitzi's hand in marriage.  But
     first, the B side of my latest single.
Walter    I'll be revenged on the lot of you!
     [Otto plays and everybody starts singing "Ya Te Buckety...".]
Storyteller  Nobody in Happy Valley worried about Prince Walter's
     threats, and the joyous day soon arrived for the royal wedding.

     [Interior of cathedral.  Otto is up in the organ loft.
     Everyone sings "Ya Te Buckety, Rum Ting Too, Ni Ni Ni, Yaooo."]
Priest (John)  Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join
     together this man, Prince Charming, and this woman, Princess
     Mitzi Gaynor, in holy matrimony.  If there be anyone who knoweth
     just cause or impediment why these two should not be joined
     together...  [There is a loud boom.  A witch enters, followed by
     Prince Walter.]
Witch     Yes, 'tis I, the wicked witch, Ya ha ha!
Priest    Witch, you commit sacrilege here by your very presence.  I
     command you in the name of the Good Book, to leave this holy
     place forthwith.
Witch     Shut up!
Priest    Sorry, sorry.
Witch     Now, where's the King?  Where's the King?  Where's the King?
     [The congregation point upwards.]
Otto Oh, me.  I'm terribly sorry, I was miles away.
Witch     I forbid this marriage to take place.
Chancellor  You forbid it?
Witch     Who are you?
Chancellor  I am the Lord Chancellor, you old hag!  How dare you speak
     thus to our... [The witch casts spells, turning him successively
     into a lampshade, then a dog, a soda syphon, a rabbit, and back
     into himself.]  Aah!
Witch     Now, watch it!  Now, Mitzi marry Prince Walter, or I curse the
     lot of you, and your aunties.
Otto Mitzi marries Prince Charming.
Witch     I'm warning you!
Otto Carry on with the ceremony.
Priest    Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today...
Witch     Very well.  I hereby change every single person in this cathedral
     into chickens!  [then as a shocked afterthought] Except me!
     [Everyone is turned into chickens.]
Chicken [wearing witch's hat]  Oh, bugger.

     [Cut to Gabby with his mule.  He turns and runs excitedly.]
     [Credits, over a sequence of shots of prospectors shouting
     "Chickens!", "Yippee!" etc.
     Captions: "MONTY PYTHON'S FLIEGENDER ZIRKUS

               von und mit         {written and performed by}
               GRAHAM CHAPMAN
               JOHN CLEESE
               TERRY GILLIAM

               ERIC IDLE
               TERRY JONES
               MICHAEL PALIN
               und als Gast        {with guest}
               CONNY BOOTH

               Animation:
               TERRY GILLIAM
               Szenenbild:         {Scenery:}
               MICHAEL GIRSCHEK
               Kostueme:      {Costumes:}
               MONIKA ALTMANN-KRIGER

               Schnitt:       {Editing?:}
               HILWA VON BORO
               Ton:           {Sound:}
               HEINZ TERWORTH

               Maske:              {Make-up:}
               GEORG JAUSS
               JOSEF COESFELD

               Kamera:             {Camera:}
               JUSTUS PANKAU
               ERNST SCHMID

               Produktionsleitung: {Production management?:}
               PETER STERR

               Produzent:          {Producer:}
               THOMAS WOITKEWITSCH

               Regie:              {Director:}
               IAN MACNAUGHTON

               ENDE"               {The End}]
     [Pull back to reveal a seal in the presenter's chair and the
     bandaged reported].
Reporter  Why do they do it?  What do they get out of it?  Well, quite
     frankly, I just don't know.
     Guten Abend.
     Come on, Eric, let's go and get a meal.  [They both leave.]
     [Caption: "BAVARIA  Eine Produktion der Bavaria Atelier GmbH"]
     [Caption: "im Auftrag des WDR"]
     [Caption: (c) Python (Monty) Pictures Limited 1972]


           Title: The Hospital
            From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
  Transcribed By: unknown


(Mr. Bertenshaw and his sick wife arrive at a hospital.)
 
Doctor: Mr. Bertenshaw? 
Mr. B:  Me, Doctor. 
Doctor: No, me doctor, you Mr. Bertenshaw. 
Mr. B:  My wife, doctor... 
Doctor: No, your wife patient. 
Sister: Come with me, please. 
Mr. B:  Me, Sister? 
Doctor: No, she Sister, me doctor, you Mr. Bertenshaw. 
Nurse:  Dr. Walters? 
Doctor: Me, nurse...You Mr. Bertenshaw, she Sister, you doctor. 
Sister: No, doctor. 
Doctor: No doctor: call ambulance, keep warm. 
Nurse:  Drink, doctor? 
Doctor: Drink doctor, eat Sister, cook Mr. Bertenshaw, nurse me! 
Nurse:  You, doctor? 
Doctor: ME doctor!! You Mr. Bertenshaw. She Sister! 
Mr. B:  But my wife, nurse... 
Doctor: Your wife not nurse. She nurse, your wife patient. Be patient, 
        she nurse your wife. Me doctor, you tent, you tree, you Tarzan, me 
        Jane, you Trent, you Trillo...me doctor! 


           Title: Johann Gambolputty...
            From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
  Transcribed By: unknown


Why is it that nobody remembers the name of Johann Gambolputty... de von
Ausfern-schplenden-schlitter-crasscrenbon-fried-digger-dingle-dangle-
dongle-dungle-burstein-von-knacker-thrasher-apple-banger-horowitz-
ticolensic-grander-knotty-spelltinkle-grandlich-grumblemeyer-
spelterwasser-kurstlich-himbleeisen-bahnwagen-gutenabend-bitte-ein-
nurnburger-bratwustle-gernspurten-mitz-weimache-luber-hundsfut-
gumberaber-shonedanker-kalbsfleisch-mittler-aucher von Hautkopft of Ulm?


           Title: The Lumberjack Song
            From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
  Transcribed By: unknown


I never wanted to do this in the first place!
I...  I wanted to be... 
 
A LUMBERJACK! 
 
(piano vamp) 
 
Leaping from tree to tree!  As they float down the mighty rivers of 
British Columbia!  With my best girl by my side! 
The Larch! 
The Pine! 
The Giant Redwood tree! 
The Sequoia! 
The Little Whopping Rule Tree! 
We'd sing!  Sing!  Sing! 
 
Oh, I'm a lumberjack, and I'm okay, 
I sleep all night and I work all day. 
 
CHORUS:  He's a lumberjack, and he's okay, 
         He sleeps all night and he works all day. 
 
I cut down trees, I eat my lunch, 
I go to the lavatree. 
On Wednesdays I go shoppin' 
And have buttered scones for tea. 
 
Mounties: He cuts down trees, he eats his lunch, 
          He goes to the lavatree. 
          On Wednesdays he goes shoppin' 
          And has buttered scones for tea. 
 
CHORUS 
 
I cut down trees, I skip and jump, 
I like to press wild flowers. 
I put on women's clothing, 
And hang around in bars. 
 
Mounties: He cuts down trees, he skips and jumps, 
          He likes to press wild flowers. 
          He puts on women's clothing 
          And hangs around.... In bars??????? 
 
CHORUS 
 
I chop down trees, I wear high heels, 
Suspenders and a bra. 
I wish I'd been a girlie 
Just like my dear papa. 
 
Mounties: He cuts down trees, he wears high heels 
          Suspenders and a .... a Bra???? 
          (mounties break off song, and begin insulting lumberjack)  

    Girl: (crying) I thought you were so rugged!


           Title: The North Minehead Bye-election
            From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
  Transcribed By: unknown

 
Knock. Door opens.
 
Landlady (Terry Jones): Hello, Mr and Mrs Johnson?
Mr Johnson (Eric Idle): Yes, that's right. Yes.
Landlady: Oh, come on in. Excuse me not shaking hands, I've just been
          putting a bit of lard on the cat's boils. (Door closes)
Johnson:  Thank you.
Landlady: Oh, you must be tired.  It's a long way from Coventry, isn't it?
Johnson:  Well, we usually reckon on five and a half hours and it took us six
          hours and 53 minutes, with the 25 minute stop at Frampton Cottrell to
          stretch our legs; and we had to wait half an hour to get onto the M5
          at Droitwich.
Landlady: Really?
Johnson:  Then there was a three mile queue just before Bridgewater on the A38.
          We usually come round on the B3339, you see, just before Bridgewater.
Landlady: Yeah.  Really?
Johnson:  We decided to risk it 'cause they always say they're going to widen
          it there.  Yes, well just by the intersection there where the A372
          joins up.  There's plenty of room to widen it there, there's only
          grass verges.  They could get another six feet, knock down that
          hospital.  Then we took the coast road through Williton - we got all
          the Taunton traffic on the A358 from Crowcombe and Stogumber.
Landlady: Well you must be dying for a cup of tea.
Johnson:  Well, wouldn't say no, long as it's warm and wet.
Landlady: Well come on in the lounge, I'm just going to serve afternoon
          tea.
Johnson:  Very nice.
Landlady: Come on in, Mr and Mrs Johnson and meet Mr and Mrs Phillips.
Mr Phillips (Graham Chapman): Good afternoon.
Johnson:  Good afternoon.
Landlady: It's their third time here; we can't keep you away, can we?
          And over there is Mr Hilter.
 
(In the corner are three German generals in full Nazi uniform, poring over a
map.)
 
Hilter (Cleese with heavy German accent): Ach. Ha! Gut time, er, gut afternoon.
Landlady: Oho, planning a little excursion, eh, Mr Hilter?
Hilter:   Ja, ja, ve haff a little...  (to Palin) was ist Abweise bewegen?
Bimmler (Michael Palin, also with German accent): Hiking.
Hilter:   Ah yes, ve make a little *hike* for Bideford.
Johnson:  Ah yes.  Well, you'll want the A39.  Oh, no, you've got the wrong map
          there.  This is Stalingrad.  You want the Ilfracombe and Barnstaple
          section.
Hilter:   Ah! Stalingrad!  Ha ha ha, Heinri...Reginald, you have the wrong map
          here you silly old leg-before-vicket English person.
Bimmler:  I'm sorry mein Fuhrer, mein (cough) mein Dickie old chum.
Landlady: Oh, lucky Mr Johnson pointed that out.  You wouldn't have had much
          fun in Stalingrad, would you?  Ha ha.
 
(stony silence)
 
          I said, you wouldn't have had much fun in Stalingrad, would you?
Hilter:   Not much fun in Stalingrad, no.
Landlady: Oh I'm sorry.  I didn't introduce you.  This is Ron. Ron Vibbentrop.
Johnson:  Oh, not Von Ribbentrop, eh?
Vibbentrop (Graham Chapman, with German Accent):  Nein!  Nein!  Oh. Ha ha.
Different other chap.  I in Somerset am being born.  Von Ribbentrop is born
Gotterdammerstrasse 46, Dusseldorf Vest 8.....so they say!
Landlady: And this is the quiet one, Heinrich Bimmler.
Bimmler:  Pleased to meet you, squire.  I also am not of Minehead being born
          but I in your Peterborough Lincolnshire was given birth to.  But am
          staying in Peterborough Lincolnshire house all time during vor, due
          to jolly old running sores, and vos unable to go in the streets or to
          go visit football matches or go to Nuremburg.  Ha ha.  Am retired
          vindow cleaner and pacifist, without doing war crimes.  Oh...and am
          glad England vin Vorld Cup.  Bobby Charlton.  Martin Peters.  And
          eating I am lots of chips and fish and hole in the toads and Dundee
          cakes on Piccadilly Line, don't you know old chap, vot!  And I vos
          head of Gestapo for ten years.
(Hilter elbows him in the ribs)
 
          Ah! Five years!
 
(Hilter elbows him again, harder)
          Nein!  No!  Oh.  NOT head of Gestapo AT ALL!  I was not, I make joke!
          (laughs)
Landlady: Oh, Mr Bimmler.  You do have us on!  (Telephone rings) Oh excuse me.
          I'd better get that.
Johnson:  How long are you down here for, Mr Hilter, just the fortnight?
Hilter:   Vot you ask that for, are you a spy?  Get on against the wall,
          Britischer Pig, you are going to die!
Bimmler:    Take it easy, Dickie old chum!
Vibbentrop: He's a bit on edge, Mr Johnson, he hasn't slept since 1945.
Hilter:     Shut your cake-hole, you Nazi!
Vibbentrop: Cool it, Fuhrer cat!
Bimmler:    Ha ha, the fun we have!
Johnson:    Haven't I seen you on the television?
Hilter, Vibbentrop, Bimmler: (hastily) Nicht.  Nein.  No.
Johnson:  Simon Dee show, or was it Frosty?
Hilter, Vibbentrop, Bimmler: Nein.  No.
Landlady: Telephone, Mr Hilter.  It's Mr McGoering from the Bell and
          Compasses.  He says he's found a place where you can hire bombers by
          the hour...?
Hilter:   If he opens his big mouth again, it's Lapschig time!
Bimmler:  Shut up!  Ha ha, hire bombers!  He's a joker, that Scottish person.
Vibbentrop: Good old Norman!
Landlady (to Johnson): He's on the phone the whole time now.
Johnson:  In business, is he?
Bimmler:  Soon, baby!
Landlady: Of course it's his big day Thursday.  They've been planning it for
          months.
Johnson:  What's happening Thursday then?
Landlady: Well it's the North Minehead bye-election.  Mr Hilter's standing as
          the National Bocialist.  He's got wonderful plans for Minehead!
Johnson:  Like what?
Landlady: Well, for a start he wants to annex Poland.
Johnson:  North Minehead's Conservative, isn't it?
Landlady: Well, yes, he gets a lot of people at his rallies.
 
(Short scene cut: huge crowds outside going "Sieg Heil. Sieg Heil. Sieg Heil.")
 
Hilter:  I am not a racialist, but...and dis is a big but...the National
         Bocialist party says that das (stream of German).
Bimmler: Mr Hitler (Hilter slaps him)
         ...Hilter says historically Taunton is a part of Minehead already!
Hilter:  Und der Minehead ist nicht die letze (stream of German)...in die
         Welt!
Crowd: Sieg Heil.
 
( Cut to interviews on the street: )
 
Yokel (Jones):  Oi don't loike the sound of these 'ere Boncentration Bamps.
Woman (Idle):   Well, I gave him my baby to kiss, and he bit it in the head!
Upper class (Cleese): Well, I think he'd do a lot of good to the Stock
                      Exchange.
Gumby (Palin): I THINK HE'S GOT BEAUTIFUL LEGS!
Conservative (Chapman): (droning) Well...  well...  as the Conservative
                        candidate I just drone on and on and on and on without
                        letting anyone else get a word in edgeways, until I
                        start to froth at the mouth and fall over backwards.
                        Ooo-aaahhh.  (THUD)


           Title: The Money Programme
            From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
  Transcribed By: Betty McLaughlin ( IO60147@MAINE.BITNET )
 
 
(begins with pictures of money, bank vaults, gold, etc.  overwritten by THE
 MONEY PROGRAMME)
 
Eric Idle sits at a desk between Michael Palin and John Cleese.  He begins
quietly but becomes increasingly agitated as he speaks.
 
Idle: Good evening, and welcome to The Money Programme.  Tonight on The Money
      Programme, we're going to look at money.    Lots of it.  On film, and in
      the studio.  Some of it in nice piles, others in lovely clanky bits of
      loose change.  Some of it neatly counted into fat little hundreds,
      delicate fivers stuffed into bulging wallets, nice crisp clean checks,
      pert pieces of copper coinage thrust deep into trouser pockets, romantic
      foreign money rolling against the thigh with rough familiarity, beautiful
      wayward curlicued banknotes, filigreed copper plating cheek by jowl with
      tumbly ( ?  ) rubbing gently against the terse leather of beautifully
      balanced bank books!!
 
(He looks around in surprised realization that he's panting and screaming)
 
Idle: I'm sorry.
 
(adjusts tie, darts eyes around room)
 
Idle: But I love money.
      All money.  (growing excited again)
      I've always wanted money.
      To handle! To touch!
      The smell of the rain-washed florin!
      The lure of the lira!
      The glitter and the glory of the guinea!     (stands up )
      The romance of the ruble!   (stands on chair)
      The feel of the franc!   (stands on desk)
      The heel of the deutschmark!   (stomps foot)
      The cold antiseptic sting of the Swiss franc!
      And the sunburnt splendor of the Australian dollar! (slaps knee)
 
(sings the rest while dancing across desk; Michael and John just look at him
 blandly.)
 
I've got ninety thousand pounds in my bank account.
I've got forty thousand French francs in my fridge.
I've got lots and lots of lira,
Now the deutschmark's getting dearer,
And my dollar bill could buy the Brooklyn Bridge.
There is...
 
(enter a chorus of 5 men in women's pilgrim costumes)
 
...nothing quite as wonderful as money!
There is nothing quite as beautiful as cash!
Some people say it's folly, but I'd rather have the lolly (?),
With money you can make a splash!
 
(chorus kneels ans sings "money, money, money" through Idle's solos )
 
There is nothing quite as wonderful as money!
There is nothing quite as beautiful as cash!
Everyone must hanker for the butchness of a banker (all give Italian Salute)
It's the currency that makes the world go round!
 
(a harp is wheeled across the stage but not played)
 
You can keep your Marxist ways, for it's only just a phase...
Money, money, money makes the world go round!
 
(play money falls from above as chorus reaches a glorious crescendo)
 
Money! Money! Money! Money! Money! Money! Money! Money! Money!
 

           Title: The Money Song
            From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
  Transcribed By: Adam Fogg <borg@agate.net>


I've got ninety thousand pounds in my pajamas.
I've got forty thousand French francs in my fridge.
I've got lots and lots of lira,
Now the deutschmark's getting dearer,
And my dollar bill could buy the Brooklyn Bridge.

There is nothing quite as wonderful as money!
There is nothing quite as beautiful as cash!
Some people say it's folly, but I'd rather have the lolly,
With money you can make a smash!
 
There is nothing quite as wonderful as money!
There is nothing like a newly minted pound!
Everyone must hanker for the butchness of a banker,
It's accountancy that makes the world go round!
 
You can keep your Marxist ways, for it's only just a phase...
Money, money, money makes the world go round!!!
 
Money! Money! Money! Money! Money! Money! Money! Money! Money!!!
 

           Title: The News For Parrots
            From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
  Transcribed By: Steve ( ACS045@GMUVAX.BITNET )


Good evening.  Here is the news for Parrots:
 
No parrots were involved in an accident on the M-1 today when a Lorry carrying
High-octane fuel was in collison with a bollard. That's a BOLLARD and *NOT* a
PARROT. A spokesman for parrots said he was glad no parrots were involved.
The Minister of Technology today met the three Russian leaders to discusa
a 4 million pound airliner deal....None of them entered the cage, or swung on
the little wooden trapeze or ate any of the nice millet seed. Yum, Yum.
 
And while thats going on, here's a parliamentary report for Humans:
 In the debate, a spokesman accused the goverment of being silly and doing
 not at all good things. The member accepted this in the spirit of healthy
 criticism, but denied that he had ever been naughty with a choir boy.
 Angry shouts of 'What about the Watermelon then' were ordered then by the
 speaker to be stricken from the record and put into a brown paper bag in the
 lavvy. Any further interruptions would be cut up and distributed amongst
 the poor. For the Government, a front-bench spokesman said the Agricultural
 Tariff WOULD have to be raised. And he fancied a bit. Whats more he argued,
 this would give a large boost to farmers, him, his friends, and Miss Moist
 of Knightsbridge. From the back benches there were opposition shouts of
 'Postcards for sale' and a healthy cry of 'Who likes a sailor then' from the
 minister without portfolio. Replying, the Shadow Minister said he could no
 longer deny the rumors, but he and the Dachsund were very happy. And in any
 case he argued Rhubarb was cheap, and what was the harm in a sauna bath?
 
We're not involved.
 
The Minister of Technology met the three Russian leaders to discuss a 4 million
pound airliner deal....none of them were indigenous to Australia, carried their
young in pouches, or ate any of those yummy Eucalyptus leaves..Yum Yum. Thats
the news for wombats...now Attila the Hun.
 

           Title: Penguin on the Television
            From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
  Transcribed By: unknown


(voice over)  Number ninety-seven: a radio.
 
voice on radio: And now the BBC is proud to present a brand new radio drama 
series: The Death of Mary, Queen of Scots.  Part One: The Beginning. 
 
(music) 
 
man's voice: Yoo arrr Mary, Queen of Scots? 
woman's voice: I am! 
  (sound of violent blows being dealt, things being smashed, awful crunching 
   noises, bones being broken, and other bodily harm being inflicted.  All of 
   this accompanied by screaming from the woman.) 
 
(music fades up and out) 
 
voice: Stay tuned for part two of the Radio Four Production of "The Death of 
Mary, Queen of Scots", coming up...almost immediately. 
 
  (music) 
  (sound of saw cutting, and other violent sounds as before, with the woman 
   screaming.  Suddenly it is silent.) 
 
man's voice: I think she's dead. 
woman's voice: No I'm not! 
  (sounds of physical harm and screaming start again.) 
 
  (music fades up and out) 
voice: that was episode two of "The Death of Mary, Queen of Scots", specially 
adapted for radio by Gracie Fields and Joe Frazier.  And now, Radio Four will 
explode. 
 
(music) 
 
the radio explodes. 
 
two old women are sitting on the couch listening to the radio when it 
explodes.  One looks at the other: 
 
1: We'll have to watch the Telly-vision! 
2: Aaaaw. 
(they turn the couch so it's facing the television.  One turns the television 
 on, and they sit down.  There is a small penguin sitting on top of the 
 television set.) 
 
1 & 2: (singing, mumbled)  hhmhmhmhmh... mhmmhmh mhmhm hhmhmmhm
mhmhmmhmhmh 
1: What's that on top of the telly-vision set? 
  (pause) 
2: (matter-of-factly) Looks like a penguin. 
1: What's it doin' there? 
2: It's sittin'. 
1: I can see that!  I meant, why's it there? 
2: (pause) I don't know. 
1: Where'd it come from? 
2: Well, it must have come from the zoo. 
1: It can't have come from the zoo!  If it had come from the zoo it would have 
   "Property of the Zoo" stamped on it! 
2: They don't stamp animals "Property of the Zoo"!!!  You can't stamp a huge 
   lion!! 
1: (resolute)  They stamp them when they're small. 
2: Besides, penguins don't come from the zoo!  they come from the antartic! 
 
  (the television warms up: a man is sitting behind a news desk) 
 
man:  And now the penguin on top of your television set will explode. 
 
(the penguin explodes) 
 
1: 'Ow did 'e know that was going to happen?! 
man: it was an educated guess.  And now: 
 
voice over:  Number ninety-eight: the nape of the neck. 

           Title: The Pet Shop
            From: And Now For Something Completely Different
  Transcribed By: Bret Shefter ( SHEBREB@YALEVM.BITNET ) 
       Edited By: Adam Fogg <borg@agate.net>
 
 
A customer enters a pet shop.
 
Customer: 'Ello, I wish to register a complaint.
 
(The owner does not respond.)
 
C: 'Ello, Miss?
Owner: What do you mean "miss"?
C: <pause> I'm sorry, I have a cold.  I wish to make a complaint!
O: We're closin' for lunch.
C: Never mind that, my lad.  I wish to complain about this parrot what I
   purchased not half an hour ago from this very boutique.
O: Oh yes, the, uh, the Norwegian Blue...What's,uh...What's wrong with it?
C: I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my lad. 'E's dead, that's what's
   wrong with it!
O: No, no, 'e's uh,...he's resting.
C: Look, matey, I know a dead parrot when I see one, and I'm looking
   at one right now.
O: No no he's not dead, he's, he's restin'!  Remarkable bird, the Norwegian
   Blue, idn'it, ay?  Beautiful plumage!
C: The plumage don't enter into it.  It's stone dead.
O: Nononono, no, no!  'E's resting!
C: All right then, if he's restin', I'll wake him up!
   (shouting at the cage)
   'Ello, Mister Polly Parrot!     I've got a lovely fresh cuttle fish for you if
   you show...(owner hits the cage)
O: There, he moved!
C: No, he didn't, that was you hitting the cage!
O: I never!!
C: Yes, you did!
O: I never, never did anything...
C: (yelling and hitting the cage repeatedly) 'ELLO POLLY!!!!!
   Testing! Testing!  Testing!     Testing!  This is your nine o'clock alarm call!
 
(Takes parrot out of the cage and thumps its head on the counter.  Throws it up
in the air and watches it plummet to the floor.)
 
C: Now that's what I call a dead parrot.
O: No, no.....No, 'e's stunned!
C: STUNNED?!?
O: Yeah!  You stunned him, just as he was wakin' up!  Norwegian Blues
   stun easily, major.
C: Um...now look...now look, mate, I've definitely 'ad enough of this.
   That parrot is definitely deceased, and when I purchased it not 'alf an hour
   ago, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it bein'
   tired and shagged out following a prolonged squawk.
O: Well, he's...he's, ah...probably pining for the fjords.
C: PININ' for the FJORDS?!?!?!?  What kind of talk is that?, look, why
   did he fall flat on his back the moment I got 'im home?
O: The Norwegian Blue prefers keepin' on it's back!  Remarkable bird, id'nit,
   squire?  Lovely plumage!
C: Look, I took the liberty of examining that parrot when I got it home,
   and I discovered the only reason that it had been sitting on its perch in
   the first place was that it had been NAILED there.
 
(pause)
 
O: Well, o'course it was nailed there!  If I hadn't nailed that bird down,
   it would have nuzzled up to those bars, bent 'em apart with its beak, and
   VOOM!  Feeweeweewee!
C: "VOOM"?!?  Mate, this bird wouldn't "voom" if you put four million volts
   through it! 'E's bleedin' demised!
O: No no!  'E's pining!
C: 'E's not pinin'!  'E's passed on!  This parrot is no more!  He has ceased
   to be!  'E's expired and gone to meet 'is maker!  'E's a stiff!  Bereft
   of life, 'e rests in peace!     If you hadn't nailed 'im to the perch 'e'd be
   pushing up the daisies!  'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory!  'E's off
   the twig!  'E's kicked the bucket, 'e's shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run
   down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisibile!!
   THIS IS AN EX-PARROT!!
 
(pause)
 
O: Well, I'd better replace it, then.
(he takes a quick peek behind the counter)
O:  Sorry squire, I've had a look 'round the back of the shop, and uh, we're
    right out of parrots.
C: I see.  I see, I get the picture.
O: <pause> I got a slug.
 
(pause)
 
C: Pray, does it talk?
O: Nnnnot really.
C: WELL IT'S HARDLY A BLOODY REPLACEMENT, IS IT?!!???!!?
 
O: Well!  I never wanted to do this in the first place.  I wanted to be...
   A LUMBERJACK!


           Title: The Hungarian Phrasebook Sketch
            From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
  Transcribed By: Betty McLaughlin ( IO60147@MAINE.BITNET )


Set: A tobacconist's shop.
 
Text on screen:  In 1970, the British Empire lay in ruins, and foreign
           nationalists frequented the streets - many of them Hungarians
           (not the streets - the foreign nationals).  Anyway, many of
           these Hungarians went into tobacconist's shops to buy
           cigarettes....
 
A Hungarian tourist (John Cleese) approaches the clerk (Terry Jones).  The
tourist is reading haltingly from a phrase book.
 
Hungarian: I will not buy this record, it is scratched.
Clerk: Sorry?
Hungarian  I will not buy this record, it is scratched.
Clerk: Uh, no, no, no.   This is a tobacconist's.
Hungarian: Ah! I will not buy this *tobacconist's*, it is scratched.
Clerk: No, no, no, no.   Tobacco...um...cigarettes (holds up a pack).
Hungarian: Ya! See-gar-ets!  Ya!  Uh...My hovercraft is full of eels.
Clerk: Sorry?
Hungarian: My hovercraft (pantomimes puffing a cigarette)...is full of eels
        (pretends to strike a match).
Clerk: Ahh, matches!
Hungarian: Ya! Ya! Ya! Ya! Do you waaaaant...do you waaaaaant...to come
        back to my place, bouncy bouncy?
Clerk: Here, I don't think you're using that thing right.
Hungarian: You great poof.
Clerk: That'll be six and six, please.
Hungarian: If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?
        I...I am no longer infected.
Clerk: Uh, may I, uh...(takes phrase book, flips through it)...Costs six and
       six...ah, here we are.  (speaks weird Hungarian-sounding words)
Hungarian punches the clerk.
 
Meanwhile, a policeman (Graham Chapman) on a quiet street cups his ear as if
hearing a cry of distress.  He sprints for many blocks and finally enters the
tobacconist's.
 
Cop: What's going on here then?
Hungarian: Ah. You have beautiful thighs.
Cop: (looks down at himself) WHAT?!?
Clerk: He hit me!
Hungarian:  Drop your panties, Sir William; I cannot wait 'til lunchtime.
         (points at clerk)
Cop: RIGHT!!! (drags Hungarian away by the arm)
Hungarian: (indignantly) My nipples explode with delight!
 
(scene switches to a courtroom.  Characters are all in powdered wigs and
 judicial robes, except publisher and cop.  Characters:
   Judge: Terry Jones
   Bailiff: Eric Idle
   Lawyer: John Cleese
   Cop: Graham (still)
   Publisher: Michael Palin )
 
Bailiff:   Call Alexander Yalt!
(voices sing out the name several times)
Judge:       Oh, shut up!
Bailiff:   (to publisher) You are Alexander Yalt?
Publisher: (in a sing-songy voice) Oh, I am.
Bailiff:   Skip the impersonations. You are Alexander Yalt?
Publisher: I am.
Bailiff:   You are hereby charged that on the 28th day of May, 1970, you did
        willfully, unlawfully, and with malice of forethought, publish an
        alleged English-Hungarian phrase book with intent to cause a breach
        of the peace.  How do you plead?
Publisher: Not guilty.
Bailiff:   You live at 46 Horton Terrace?
Publisher: I do live at 46 Horton terrace.
Bailiff:   You are the director of a publishing company?
Publisher: I am the director of a publishing company.
Bailiff:   Your company publishes phrase books?
Publisher: My company does publish phrase books.
Bailiff:   You did say 46 Horton Terrace, did you?
Publisher: Yes.
Bailiff:  (strikes a gong) Ah! Got him!
       (lawyer and cop applaud, laugh)
Judge:       Get on with it, get on with it.
Bailiff:   That's fine.  On the 28th of May, you published this phrase book.
Publisher: I did.
Bailiff:   I quote on example.     The Hungarian phrase meaning "Can you direct me
        to the station?" is translated by the English phrase, "Please fondle
        my bum."
Publisher: I wish to plead incompetence.
Cop:    (stands) Please may I ask for an adjournment, m'lord?
Judge:       An adjournment? Certainly not!
 
(the cop sits down again, emitting perhaps the longest and loudest release of
 bodily gas in the history of the universe.)
 
Judge:    Why on earth didn't you say WHY you wanted an adjournment?
Cop: I didn't know an acceptable legal phrase, m'lord.
(cut to ancient footage of old women applauding)
Judge:    (banging + swinging gavel) If there's any more stock film of women
     applauding, I'll clear the court.

           Title: The Tale Of The Piranha Brothers
            From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
  Transcribed By: Jonathan Partington ( JRP1@PHX.CAM.AC.UK )
 
 
Last Tuesday a reign of terror was ended when the notorious Piranha brothers,
Doug and Dinsdale, after one of the most extraordinary trials in British legal
history, were sentenced to 400 years imprisonment for crimes of violence.  We
examined the rise to power of the Piranhas, the methods they used to subjugate
rival gangs and their subsequent tracking down and capture by the brilliant
Superintendent Harry 'Snapper' Organs of Q Division.
 
Doug and Dinsdale Piranha were born, on probation, in a small house in Kipling
Road, Southwark, the eldest sons in a family of sixteen.  Their father Arthur
Piranha, a scrap metal dealer and TV quizmaster, was well known to the police,
and a devout Catholic.   In 1928 he had married Kitty Malone, an up-and-coming
East End boxer.  Doug was born in February 1929 and Dinsdale two weeks later;
and again a week after that.  Someone who remembers them well was their next
door neighbour, Mrs April Simnel.
 
"Oh yes Kipling Road was a typical East End Street, people were in and out of
each other's houses with each other's property all day.  They were a cheery
lot.  Cheerful and violent.  Doug was keen on boxing, but when he learned to
walk he took up putting the boot in the groin.    He was very interested in that.
His mother had a terrible job getting him to come in for tea.  Putting his
little boot in he'd be, bless him.  All the kids were like that then, they
didn't have their heads stuffed with all this Cartesian dualism."
 
At the age of fifteen Doug and Dinsdale started attending the Ernest Pythagoras
Primary School in Clerkenwell.     When the Piranhas left school they were called
up but were found by an Army Board to be too unstable even for National
Service.  Denied the opportunity to use their talents in the service of their
country, they began to operate what they called 'The Operation'...  They would
select a victim and then threaten to beat him up if he paid the so-called
protection money.  Four months later they started another operation which the
called 'The Other Operation'.  In this racket they selected another victim and
threatened not to beat him up if he didn't pay them.  One month later they hit
upon 'The Other Other Operation'.  In this the victim was threatened that if he
didn't pay them, they would beat him up.  This for the Piranha brothers was the
turning point.
 
Doug and Dinsdale Piranha now formed a gang, which the called 'The Gang' and
used terror to take over night clubs, billiard halls, gaming casinos and race
tracks.  When they tried to take over the MCC they were, for the only time in
their lives, slit up a treat.  As their empire spread however, Q Division were
keeping tabs on their every move by reading the colour supplements.
 
One small-time operator who fell foul of Dinsdale Piranha was Vince
Snetterton-Lewis.
 
"Well one day I was at home threatening the kids when I looks out through the
hole in the wall and sees this tank pull up and out gets one of Dinsdale's
boys, so he comes in nice and friendly and says Dinsdale wants to have a word
with me, so he chains me to the back of the tank and takes me for a scrape
round to Dinsdale's place and Dinsdale's there in the conversation pit with
Doug and Charles Paisley, the baby crusher, and two film producers and a man
they called 'Kierkegaard', who just sat there biting the heads of whippets and
Dinsdale says 'I hear you've been a naughty boy Clement' and he splits me
nostrils open and saws me leg off and pulls me liver out and I tell him my
name's not Clement and then...     he loses his temper and nails me head to the
floor."
 
Another man who had his head nailed to the floor was Stig O' Tracy.
 
Rogers: I've been told Dinsdale Piranha nailed your head to the floor.
Stig:     No.  Never.  He was a smashing bloke.  He used to buy his mother
     flowers and that.  He was like a brother to me.
Rogers: But the police have film of Dinsdale actually nailing your head to
     the floor.
Stig:     (pause) Oh yeah, he did that.
Rogers: Why?
Stig:     Well he had to, didn't he?  I mean there was nothing else he could do,
     be fair.  I had transgressed the unwritten law.
Rogers: What had you done?
Stig:     Er...  well he didn't tell me that, but he gave me his word that it was
     the case, and that's good enough for me with old Dinsy.  I mean, he
     didn't *want* to nail my head to the floor.  I had to insist.  He
     wanted to let me off.  He'd do anything for you, Dinsdale would.
Rogers: And you don't bear him a grudge?
Stig:     A grudge!  Old Dinsy.  He was a real darling.
Rogers: I understand he also nailed your wife's head to a coffee table.
     Isn't that true Mrs O' Tracy?
Mrs O' Tracy: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.
Stig:     Well he did do that, yeah.  He was a hard man.    Vicious but fair.
 
 Vince Snetterton-Lewis agreed with this judgement.
 
Yes, definitely he was fair.  After he nailed me head to the table, I used to
go round every Sunday lunchtime to his flat and apologise, and then we'd shake
hands and he'd nail me head to the floor.  He was very reasonable.  Once, one
Sunday I told him my parents were coming round to tea and would he mind very
much not nailing my head that week and he agreed and just screwed my pelvis to
a cake stand."
 
Clearly Dinsdale inspired tremendous fear among his business associates.  But
what was he really like?
 
Gloria Pules knew him intimately.
 
"I walked out with Dinsdale on many occasions and found him a charming and
erudite companion.  He was wont to introduce one to eminent celebrities,
celebrated American singers, members of the aristocracy and other gang leaders,
who he had met through his work for charities.    He took a warm interest in
Boys' Clubs, Sailors' Homes, Choristers' Associations and the Grenadier Guards.
"Mind you there was nothing unusual about him.    I should say not.  Except, that
Dinsdale was convinced that he was being watched by a giant hedgehog whom he
referred to as 'Spiny Norman'.     Normally Spiny Norman was wont to be about
twelve feet from snout to tail, but when Dinsdale was depressed Norman could be
anything up to eight hundred yards long.  When Norman was about Dinsdale would
go very quiet and start wobbling and his nose would swell up and his teeth
would move about and he'd get very violent and claim that he'd laid Stanley
Baldwin."
 
Rogers:  "Did it worry you that he, for example, stitched people's legs
      together?"
 
Gloria:  "Well it's better than bottling it up isn't it.  He was a gentleman,
      Dinsdale, and what's more he knew how to treat a female impersonator."
 
But what do the criminologists think?  We asked The Amazing Kargol and Janet:
 
"It is easy for us to judge Dinsdale Piranha too harshly.  After all he only
did what many of us simply dream of doing...  I'm sorry.  After all we should
remember that a murderer is only an extroverted suicide.  Dinsdale was a
looney, but he was a happy looney.  Lucky bugger."
 
Most of the strange tales concern Dinsdale, but what about Doug?  One man who
met him was Luigi Vercotti.
 
"I had been running a successful escort agency -- high class, no really, high
class girls -- we didn't have any of *that* -- that was right out.  So I
decided to open a high class night club for the gentry at Biggleswade with
International cuisine and cooking and top line acts, and not a cheap clip joint
for picking up tarts -- that was right out, I deny that completely --, and one
evening in walks Dinsdale with a couple of big lads, one of whom was carrying a
tactical nuclear missile.  They said I had bought one of their fruit machines
and would I pay for it?  They wanted three quarters of a million pounds.  I
thought about it and decided not to go to the Police as I had noticed that the
lad with the thermonuclear device was the chief constable for the area.  So a
week later they called again and told me the cheque had bounced and said...  I
had to see...  Doug.
Well, I was terrified.   Everyone was terrified of Doug.  I've seen grown men
pull their own heads off rather than see Doug.    Even Dinsdale was frightened of
Doug.  He used...  sarcasm.  He knew all the tricks, dramatic irony, metaphor,
bathos, puns, parody, litotes and...  satire.  He was vicious."
 
In this way, by a combination of violence and sarcasm, the Piranha brothers by
February 1966 controlled London and the Southeast of England.  It was in
February, though, that Dinsdale made a big mistake.
 
Latterly Dinsdale had become increasingly worried about Spiny Norman.  He had
come to the conclusion that Norman slept in an aeroplane hangar at Luton
Airport.  And so on Feb 22nd 1966, Dinsdale blew up Luton.
 
Even the police began to sit up and take notice.  The Piranhas realised they
had gone too far and that the hunt was on.  They went into hiding.  But it was
too late.  Harry 'Snapper' Organs was on the trail.
 
"I decided on a subtle approach, viz. some form of disguise, as the old helmet
and boots are a bit of a giveaway.  Luckily my years with Bristol Rep. stood me
in good stead, as I assumed a bewildering variety of disguises.  I tracked them
to Cardiff, posing as the Reverend Smiler Egret.  Hearing they'd gone back to
London, I assumed the identity of a pork butcher, Brian Stoats.  On my arrival
in London, I discovered they had returned to Cardiff, I followed as Gloucester
from _King Lear_.  Acting on a hunch I spent several months in Buenos Aires as
Blind Pew, returning through the Panama Canal as Ratty, in _Toad of Toad Hall_.
Back in Cardiff, I relived my triumph as Sancho Panza in _Man of la Mancha_
which the "Bristol Evening Post" described as 'a glittering performance of rare
perception', although the "Bath Chronicle" was less than enthusiastic.     In fact
it gave me a right panning.  I quote:  'as for the performance of
Superintendent Harry "Snapper" Organs as Sancho Panza, the audience were
bemused by his high-pitched Welsh accent and intimidated by his abusive
ad-libs.' The "Western Daily News" said: 'Sancho Panza (Mr Organs) spoilt an
otherwise impeccably choreographed rape scene by his unscheduled appearance and
persistent cries of "What's all this then?"'"
 Against this kind of opposition for the Piranha Brothers the end
was inevitable.
 
 THE END
 

           Title: Flying Sheep
            From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
  Transcribed By: unknown
                                                      
 
(A tourist approaches a shepherd.  The sounds of sheep and the outdoors 
are heard.) 
 
Tourist: Good afternoon. 
Shephrd: Eh, 'tis that. 
Tourist: You here on holiday? 
Shephrd: Nope, I live 'ere. 
Tourist: Oh, good for you.  Uh...those ARE sheep aren't they? 
Shephrd: Yeh. 
Tourist: Hmm, thought they were.  Only, what are they doing up in the 
         trees? 
Shephrd: A fair question and one that in recent weeks 'as been much on 
         my mind.  It's my considered opinion that they're nestin'. 
Tourist: Nesting? 
Shephrd: Aye. 
Tourist: Like birds? 
Shephrd: Exactly.  It's my belief that these sheep are laborin' under 
         the misapprehension that they're birds.  Observe their be'avior. 
         Take for a start the sheeps' tendency to 'op about the field 
         on their 'ind legs.  Now witness their attmpts to fly from 
         tree to tree.  Notice that they do not so much fly as...plummet. 
 
<Baaa baaa... flap flap flap ... whoosh ... thud.> 
 
Tourist: Yes, but why do they think they're birds? 
Shephrd: Another fair question.  One thing is for sure, the sheep is not 
         a creature of the air.  They have enormous difficulty in the 
         comparatively simple act of perchin'. 
<Baaa baaa... flap flap flap ... whoosh ... thud.> 
         Trouble is, sheep are very dim.  Once they get an idea in their 
         'eads, there's no shiftin' it. 
Tourist: But where did they get the idea? 
Shephrd: From Harold.  He's that most dangerous of creatures, a clever 
         sheep.  'e's realized that a sheep's life consists of standin' 
         around for a few months and then bein' eaten.  And that's a 
         depressing prospect for an ambitious sheep. 
Tourist: Well why don't just remove Harold? 
Shephrd: Because of the enormous commercial possibilities if 'e succeeds. 


           Title: String
            From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
  Transcribed By: unknown


Adrian Wapcaplet:  Aah, come in, come in, Mr....Simpson.  Aaah, welcome to
    Mousebat, Follicle, Goosecreature, Ampersand, Spong, Wapcaplet, Looseliver, 
    Vendetta and Prang! 
Mr. Simpson: Thank you. 
Wapcaplet: Do sit down--my name's Wapcaplet, Adrian Wapcaplet... 
Mr. Simpson: how'd'y'do. 
Wapcaplet: Now, Mr. Simpson... Simpson, Simpson... French, is it? 
S: No. 
W: Aah.  Now, I understand you want us to advertise your washing powder. 
S: String. 
W: String, washing powder, what's the difference.  We can sell *anything*. 
S: Good.  Well I have this large quantity of string, a hundred and twenty-two 
   thousand *miles* of it to be exact, which I inherited, and I thought if I 
   advertised it... 
W: Of course!  A national campaign.  Useful stuff, string, no trouble there. 
S: Ah, but there's a snag, you see.  Due to bad planning, the hundred and 
   twenty-two thousand miles is in three inch lengths.  So it's not very 
   useful. 
W: Well, that's our selling point! 
   "SIMPSON'S INDIVIDUAL STRINGETTES!" 
S: What? 
W: "THE NOW STRING!  READY CUT, EASY TO HANDLE, SIMPSON'S INDIVIDUAL
EMPEROR 
    STRINGETTES - JUST THE RIGHT LENGTH!" 
S: For what? 
W: "A MILLION HOUSEHOLD USES!" 
S: Such as? 
W: Uhmm...Tying up very small parcels, attatching notes to pigeons' legs, uh, 
   destroying household pests... 
S: Destroying household pests?!  How? 
W: Well, if they're bigger than a mouse, you can strangle them with it, and if 
   they're smaller than, you flog them to death with it! 
S: Well *surely*!.... 
W: "DESTROY NINETY-NINE PERCENT OF KNOWN HOUSEHOLD PESTS WITH
PRE-SLICED, 
   RUSTPROOF, EASY-TO-HANDLE, LOW CALORIE SIMPSON'S INDIVIDUAL
EMPEROR 
   STRINGETTES, FREE FROM ARTIFICIAL COLORING, AS USED IN HOSPITALS!" 
S: 'Ospitals!?!?!?!!? 
W: Have you ever in a Hospital where they didn't have string? 
S: No, but it's only *string*! 
W: ONLY STRING?!  It's everything!  It's...it's waterproof! 
S: No it isn't! 
W: All right, it's water resistant then! 
S: It isn't! 
W: All right, it's water absorbent!  It's...Super Absorbent String! 
   "ABSORB WATER TODAY WITH SIMPSON'S INDIVIDUAL WATER
ABSORB-A-TEX 
    STRINGETTES!  AWAY WITH FLOODS!" 
S: You just said it was waterproof! 
W: "AWAY WITH THE DULL DRUDGERY OF WORKADAY TIDAL WAVES!  USE
SIMPSON'S 
    INDIVIDUAL FLOOD PREVENTERS!" 
S: You're mad! 
W: Shut up, shut up, shut up!  Sex, sex sex, must get sex into it.  Wait, 
   I see a television commercial- 
 
   There's this nude woman in a bath holding a bit of your string.  That's 
   great, great, but we need a doctor, got to have a medical opinion. 
 
   There's a nude woman in a bath with a doctor--that's too sexy.  Put an 
   archbishop there watching them, that'll take the curse off it.  Now, we 
   need children and animals. 
 
   There's two kids admiring the string, and a dog admiring the archbishop 
   who's blessing the string.  Uhh...international flavor's missing...make the 
   archbishop Greek Orthodox.... 


           Title: A Pet Shop Somewhere Near Melton Mowbray
            From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
  Transcribed By: unknown
       Edited By: Adam Fogg <borg@agate.net>


       Man: Good morning, I'd like to buy a cat.
Shopkeeper: Certainly sir. I've got a lovely terrier. [indicates a box on the
            counter]
       Man: no, I want a cat really.
Shopkeeper: [taking box off counter and then putting it back on counter as if
            it is a different box] Oh yeah, how about that?
       Man: [looking in box] No, that's the terrier.
Shopkeeper: Well, it's as near as dammit.
       Man: Well what do you mean? I want a cat.
Shopkeeper: Listen, tell you what. I'll file its legs down a bit, take its
            snout out, stick a few wires through its cheeks. There you are, a
            lovely pussy cat.
       Man: Its not a proper cat.
Shopkeeper: What do you mean?
       Man: Well it wouldn't miaow.
Shopkeeper: Well it would howl a bit.
       Man: No, no, no, no. Er, have you got a parrot?
Shopkeeper: No, I'm afraid not actually guv, we're fresh out of parrots. I'll
            tell you what though ... I'll lop its back legs off, make good,
            strip the fur, stick a couple of wings on and staple on a beak of
            your own choice. [taking small box and rattling it] No problem.
            Lovely parrot.
       Man: How long would that take?
Shopkeeper: Oh, let me see ... er, stripping the fur off, no legs ... [calling]
            Harry ... can you do a parrot job on this terrier straight away?
     Harry: [off-screen] No, I'm still putting a tuck in the Airedale, and then
            I got the frogs to let out.
Shopkeeper: Friday?
       Man: No I need it for tomorrow. It's a present.
Shopkeeper: Oh dear, it's a long job. You see parrot conversion ... Tell you
            what though, for free, terriers make lovely fish. I mean I could
            do that for you straight away. Legs off, fins on, stick a little
            pipe through the back of its neck so it can breathe, bit of gold
            paint, make good ...
       Man: You'd need a very big tank.
Shopkeeper: It's a great conversation piece.
       Man: Yes, all right, all right ... but, er, only if I can watch.
           Title: The Trial
            From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
  Transcribed By: Jonathan Partington ( JRP1@PHX.CAM.AC.UK )
 
 
Bailiff (Cleese): I'm sorry I'm late, m'lud, I couldn't find a kosher car
            park.  Don't bother to recap, m'lud, I'll pick it up as we go
            along.  Call Mrs Fiona Lewis.
 
(Enter Chapman, in drag)
 
Fiona Lewis (Chapman):   I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing
               but the truth, so anyway, I said to her, I said, they
               can't afford that on what he earns, I mean for a start
               the feathers get up your nose, I ask you, four and
               sixpence a pound, and him with a wooden leg, I don't
               know how she puts up with it after all the trouble
               she's had with her you-know-what, anyway, it *was* a
               white wedding, much to everyone's surprise, of course
               they bought everything on the hire purchase, I think
               they ought to send them back where they came from, I
               mean you've got to be cruel to be kind, so Mrs Harris
               said, so she said she said she said, a dead crab she
               said she said? well her sister's gone to Rhodesia,
               what with her womb and all, and her youngest, fit as a
               filing cabinet, and the goldfish, the goldfish, they've
               got whooping-cough, they keep spitting water at the
               Bratbys, well they *do*, don't they, I mean, you
               *can't*, can you, I mean they're not even married or
               anything, they're not even *divorced*, and he's in the
               KGB if you ask me, he says he's a tree surgoen, but I
               don't like the sound of his liver, all that squeaking
               and banging every night till the small hours, well, his
               mother's been much better since she had her head off,
               don't you talk to me about bladders, I said...


           Title: Interview with Arthur "Two Sheds" Jackson
            From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
  Transcribed By: Jonathan Partington ( JRP1@PHX.CAM.AC.UK )

 
Host (Eric Idle): Last week the Royal Festival Hall saw the first performance
            of a new symphony by one of the world's leading modern
            composers, Arthur 'Two sheds' Jackson.  Mr Jackson.
Jackson (Terry Jones): Hello.
Host:      May I just sidetrack for one moment.  This -- what shall I call it --
      nickname of yours...
Jackson: Ah yes.
Host:      "Two sheds".  How did you come by it?
Jackson: Well, I don't use it myself, but some of my friends call me "Two
      Sheds".
Host:      And do you in fact have two sheds?
Jackson: No, I've only got one.  I've had one for some time, but a few years
      ago I said I was thinking of getting another, and since then some
      people have called me "Two Sheds".
Host:      In spite of the fact that you only have one.
Jackson: Yes.
Host:      And are you still intending to purchase this second shed?
Jackson (impatient): No!
Host:      ...To bring you in line with your epithet?
Jackson: No.
Host:      I see, I see. Well to return to your symphony.
Jackson: Ah yes.
Host:      Did you write this symphony in the shed?
Jackson (surprised): No!
Host:      Have you written any of your recent works in this shed of yours?
Jackson: No, no, not at all. It's just an ordinary garden shed.
Host:      I see, I see. And you're thinking of buying this second shed to write
      in!
Jackson: No, no.  Look.  This shed business -- it doesn't really matter.  The
      sheds aren't important.  A few friends call me Two Sheds and that's
      all there is to it.  I wish you'd ask me about the music.  Everybody
      talks about the sheds.  They've got it out of proportion -- I'm a
      composer.  I'm going to get rid of the shed.  I'm fed up with it!
Host:     Then you'll be Arthur 'No Sheds' Jackson, eh?
Jackson: Look, forget about the sheds. They don't matter.
Host (sternly): Mr. Jackson, I think, with respect, we ought to return to the
          subject of your symphony.
Jackson:What?
Host:     Apprently your symphony was written for tympani and organ....
(Picture of a shed appears on the screen behind them)
Jackson (turning around): What's that!?!?!???
Host (innocently): What's what?
Jackson: Its a shed!!...get it off!! get it off!!
(Interviewer motions to picture, and it is replaced by a picture of Jackson him
self)
Jackson: (Grudgingly) All right...Thats better..
Host:      I understand that you used to be interested in train-spotting.
Jackson: What?
Host:      I understand that, about thirty years ago, you were interested in
      train-spotting.
Jackson: Well what's that got to do with my bloody music?
John Cleese (entering): Are you having any trouble with him?
Host:      Yes, a little.  Good Lord!  You're the man who interviewed Sir Edward
      Ross earlier.
Cleese:  Exactly.  Well we interviewers are more than a match for the likes of
      you, "Two Sheds".
Host:      Yes, make yourself scarce, "Two Sheds".  This studio isn't big enough
      for the three of us!  [They throw him out.]
Jackson: Here, what are you doing?  Stop it! [Crash.]
Cleese:  Get your own Arts programme, you fairy!
Host:      Arthur "Two Sheds" Jackson... Never mind, Timmy.
Cleese:  Oh Mike, you're such a comfort.


           Title: The Woody Sketch
            From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
  Transcribed By: Jonathan Partington ( JRP1@PHX.CAM.AC.UK )
       Edited By: Adam Fogg <borg@agate.net>

 
Scene: a 1920s-style drawing room
 
Chapman:   I say!
Cleveland: Yes, Daddy?
Chapman:   Croquet hoops look dam' pretty this afternoon.
Cleveland: Frightfully damn pretty.
Idle (as her mother):  They're coming along *awfully* well this year.
Chapman:   Yes, better than your Aunt Lavinia's croquet hoops.
Cleveland: Ugh! Dreadful tin things.
Idle:        I did tell her to stick to wood.
Chapman:   Yes, you can't beat wood.  Gorn.
Idle:        What's gone, dear?
Chapman:   Nothing, nothing -- just like the word, it gives me confidence.
        Gorn.  Gorn -- it's got a sort of *woody* quality about it.   Gorn.
        Go-o-orn.  Much better than 'newspaper' or 'litter bin'.
Cleveland: Ugh! Frightful words!
Idle:        Perfectly dreadful!
Chapman:   'Newspaper' -- 'litter bin' -- 'litter bin' -- dreadful *tinny* sort
        of word.
(Cleveland screams)
Chapman:   Tin, tin, tin.
Idle:        Oh, don't say 'tin' to Rebecca, you know how it upsets her.
Chapman:   Sorry, old horse.
Idle:        'Sausage.'
Chapman:   'Sausage'!  There's a good woody sort of word, 'sausage'.  'Gorn.'
Cleveland: 'Antelope!'
Chapman:   Where? On the lawn?
Cleveland: No, no, Daddy. Just the word.
Chapman:   Don't want antelope nibbling the hoops.
Cleveland: No, no -- 'ant-e-lope'.  Sort of nice and woody type of thing.
Idle:        Don't think so, Becky old chap.
Chapman:   No, no -- 'antelope' - 'antelope', *tinny* sort of word.
(Cleveland screams)
Chapman:   Oh, sorry old man.
Idle:        Really, Mansfield.
Chapman:   Well, she's got to come to terms with these things.   'Seemly.'
        'Prodding.' 'Vac-u-um.' 'Leap.'
Cleveland: Oh -- hate 'leap'.
Idle:        Perfectly dreadful.
Cleveland: Sort of PVC sort of word, don't you know.
Idle:        Lower middle.
Chapman:   'Bound!'
Idle:        Now you're talking!
Chapman:   'Bound.' 'Vole!' 'Recidivist!'
Idle:        Bit *tinny*...
(Cleveland screams and rushes out sobbing)
Idle:      Oh, sorry, Becky old beast.
Chapman: Oh dear, I suppose she'll be gorn for a few days now.
Idle:      Caribou.
Chapman: Splendid word!
Idle:      No, dear, nibbling the hoops.
(Chapman fires a shotgun)
Chapman  (with satisfaction): Caribou -- gorn... 'Intercourse.'
Idle:      Later, dear.
Chapman: No, no -- the word, 'intercourse'.  Good and woody.  'Inter-course.'
      'Pert,' 'pert,' 'thighs,' 'botty,' 'botty,' 'botty' (getting excited),
      'erogenous zo-o-one'.   Ha ha ha ha -- oh, 'concubine', 'erogenous
      zo-o-one', 'loose woman', 'erogenous zone'...
 
(Idle calmly empties a bucket of water over Chapman)
 
Chapman: Oh, thank you, dear.  There's a funny thing, dear -- all the naughty
      words sound woody.
Idle:      Really, dear -- how about 'tit'?
Chapman: Oh dear, I hadn't thought about that.    'Tit.' 'Tit.' Oh, that's very
      tinny, isn't it?  'Tit.' 'Tit.' Tinny, tinny.
 
(Cleveland, who has just come in, screams and rushes out again)
 
Chapman: Oh dear.  'Ocelot.' 'Was-p.' 'Yowling.' Oh dear, I'm bored.  Better
      go and have a bath, I suppose.
Idle:      Oh really, must you, dear -- you've had nine today.
Chapman: All right -- I'll sack one of the servants.  Simpkins!  Nasty tinny
      sort of name. SIMPKINS!
 
(Enter Palin, in RAF uniform)
 
Palin: I say, mater, cabbage crates coming over the briny.
Idle:  Sorry dear, don't understand.
Palin: Er -- cow-catchers creeping up on the conning towers?
Idle:  No, sorry old sport.
Palin: Um -- caribou nibbling at the croquet hoops.
Idle:  Yes, Mansfield shot one in the antlers.
