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Old 10-12-2001, 04:03 PM   #21
skywalker
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And now for something completely different!


Upperclass Twit of the Year

The sketch:

Scene: Sporting Field, in particular a running track. Five competitors run onto the pitch.
Commentator (John Cleese): Good afternoon and welcome to Hurlingham Park. You join us just as the competitors are running out onto the field on this lovely winter's afternoon here, with the going firmunderfoot and very litde sign of rain. Well it certainly looks as though we're in for a splendid afternoon's sport in this the 127th Upperclass Twit of the Year Show. Well the competitors will be off' in a moment so let me just identify for you. (camera zooms in on the competitors) Vivian Smith-Smythe-Smith has an O-level in chemo-hygiene. Simon-Zinc-Trumpet-Harris, married to a very attractive table lamp. Nigel Incubator-Jones, his best friend is a tree, and in his spare time he's a stockbroker. Gervaise Brook-Hampster is in the Guards, and his father uses him as a wastepaper basket· And finally Oliver St John-Mollusc, Harrow and the Guards, thought by many to be this year's outstanding twit. Now they're moving up to the starting line, there's a jolly good crowd here today. Now they're under starter's orders... and they're off (the starter fires the gun, but nobody moves) Ah no, they're not. No they didn't realize they were supposed to start. Never mind, we'll soon sort that out, the judge is explaining it to them now. I think Nigel and Gervaise have got the idea. All set to go. (starter fires gun again and the twits move offer in different directions) Oh, and they're off and it's a fast start this year. Oliver St John-Mollusc running a bit wide there and now they're coming into their first test, the straight line. (All the Twits run erratically along five white lines) They've got to walk along this straight line without failing over and Oliver's over at the back there, er, Simon's coming through quite fast on theoutside, I think Simon and Nigel, both of them coming through very fast. There's Nigel there. No. Three, I'm sorry, and on theoutside there's Gervaise coming through just out of shot and now, the position... (the twits approach a line of matchboxes piled three high) Simon and Vivian at the front coming to the matchbox jump.. three layers of matchboxes to clear... and Simon's over and Vivian's over beautifully, oh and the jump of a lifetime - if only his father could understand. Here's Nigel ... and now Gervaise is over he's, er, Nigel is over, and it's Gervaise, Gervaise is going to jump it, is it, no he's jumped the wrong way, there.he goes, Nigel's over, beautifully. Now it's only Oliver. Oliver ... and Gervaise... oh bad luck. And now it's Kicking the Beggar. (the twits are kicking a beggar with a tray) Simon's there and he's putting the boot in, and not terribly hard, but he's going down and Simon can move on. Now Vivian's there. Vivian is there and waiting for a chance. Here tie comes, oh a piledriver, a real piledriver, and now Simon's on No. l, Vivian a, Nigel 3, Gervaise on 4 and Oliver bringing up the rear. Ah there's Oliver (Oliver is still trying to jump the matchboxes), there's Oliver now, he's at the back. I think he's having a little trouble with his old brain injury, he's going to have a go, no, no, bad luck, he's up, he doesn't know when he's beaten, this boy, lie doesn't know when he's winning either. He doesn't have any sort of sensory apparatus. Oh there's Gervaise (He is still kicking the beggar) and he's putting the boot in there and he's got the beggar down and the steward's giving him a little bit of advice, yes, he can move on now, he can move on to the Hunt Photograph. He's off, Gervaise is there and Oliver's still at the back having trouble with the matchboxes. (the twits approach a table with two attractive girls and a photographer) Now here's the Hunt Ball Photograph and the first here's Simon, he's going to enjoy a joke with Lady Arabella Plunkett. She hopes to go into films, and Vivian's through there and, er, Nigel's there enjoying a joke with Lady Sarah Pencil Farthing Vivian Streamroller Adams Pie Biscuit Aftershave Gore Stringbottom Smith. (shot of twit in a sports car reversing into cut-out of old woman) And there's, there's Simon now in the sports car, he's reversed into the old woman, he's caught her absolutely beautifully. Now he's going to accelerate forward there to wake up the neighbour. There's Vivian I think, no Vivian's lost his keys, no there's Vivian, he's got the old woman, slowly but surely right in the midriff, and here he is. Here he is to wake up the neighbournow. (a man in bed in the middle of the pitch. The twit slams car door repeatedly) Simon right in the lead, comfortably in the lead, but he can't get this neighbour woken up. He's slamming away there as best he can. He's getting absolutely no reaction at all. There, he's woken him up and Simon's through. Here comes Vivian, Vivian to slam the door, and there we are back at the Hunt Ball, I think that's Gervaise there, that's Gervaise going through there, and here, here comes Oliver, brave Oliver. Is he going to make it to the table, no I don't think he is, yes he is, (twit falls over the table) he did it, ohh. And the crowd are rising to him there, and there I can see, who is that there, yes that's Nigel, Nigel has woken the neighbour - my God this is exciting. Nigel's got very excited and he's going through and here comes Gervaise. Gervaise, oh no this is, er, out in the front there is Simon who is supposed to insult the waiter and he's forgotten. (Simon runs past a waiter standing with a tray) And Oliver has run himself over, (Oliver lying in front of car) what a great twit! And now here comes Vivian, Vivian to insult the waiter, and he is heaping abuse on him, and he is humiliating him, there and he's gone into the lead. Simon's not with him, no Vivian's in front of him at the bar. (the twits each have several goes at getting under a bar of wood five feet off the ground) Simon's got to get under this bar and this is extremely difficult as it requires absolutely expert co-ordination between mind and body. No Vivian isn't there. Here we go again and Simon's fallen backwards. Here's Nigel, he's tripped, Nigel has tripped, and he's under and Simon fails again, er, here is Gervaise, and Simon is through by accident. Here's Gervaise to be the last one over, there we are, hero's Nigel right at the head of the field, (the twits approach five rabbits staked out on the Found; they fire at them with shotguns) and now he's going to shoot the rabbit, and these rabbits have been tied to the ground, and they're going to be a bit frisky, and this is only a one-day event. And they're blazing away there. They're not getting quite the results that they might, Gervaise is in there trying to bash it to death with the butt of his rifle, and I think Nigel's in there with his bare hands, but they're not getting the results that they might, but it is a little bit misty today and they must be shooting from a range of at least one foot. But they've had a couple of hits there I think, yes, they've had a couple of hits, and the whole field is up again and here they are. (they approach a line of shopwindow dummies each wearing only a bra) They're coming up to the debs, Gervaise first, Vivian second, Simon third. And now they've got to take the bras off from the front, this is really difficult, this is really the most, the most difficult part of the entire competition, and they're having a bit of trouble in there I think, they're really trying now and the crowd is getting excited, and I think some of the twits are getting rather excited too. (the twits are wreaking havoc on the dummies) Vivian is there, Vivian is coming through, Simon's in second place, and, no there's Oliver, he's not necessarily out of it. There goes Nigel, no he's lost something, and Gervaise running through to this final obstacle. (they approach a table with five revolvers laid out on it) Now all they have to do here to win the title is to shoot themselves. Simon has a shot. Bad luck, he misses. Nigel misses. Now there's Gervaise, and Gervaise has shot himself- Gervaise is Upperclass Twit of the Year. There's Nigel, he's shot Simon by mistake, Simon is back up and there's Nigel, Nigel's shot himself: Nigel is third in this fine and most exciting Upperclass Twit of the Year Show I've ever seen. Nigel's clubbed himself into fourth place. (three coffins on stand with medals) And so the final result:

The Upperclass Twit of the Year - Gervaise Brook-Hampster.
Runner up - Vivian Smith-Smythe-Smith
Third - Nigel Incubator-Jones
Well there'll certainly be some car door slamming in the streets of Kensington tonight.

Mark
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Old 10-12-2001, 04:04 PM   #22
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OOOoooh! I just LOVE that one!
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Old 10-12-2001, 04:51 PM   #23
skywalker
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Careful now, this one is a little nasty, but one of my favorites from the last season of Monty Python! Proceed with caution!




'Most Awful Family in Britain'

The cast:

RADIO VOICE
Eric Idle
MR. GARIBALDI
Terry Jones
MRS. GARIBALDI
Eric Idle
RALPH GARIBALDI
Michael Palin
VALERIE GARIBALDI
Graham Chapman
KEVIN GARIBALDI
Terry Gillam
PRESENTER
MIchael Palin
PROFESSOR
Eric Idle
LADY ORGANS
Terry Jones
FIRST PERSON
Eric Idle
SECOND PERSON
Michael Palin
THIRD PERSON
Graham Chapman
FOURTH PERSON
Terry Jones
MOTHER
Eric Idle
DAD
Terry Jones
SON
Terry Gilliam

The sketch:

(Cut to a kitchen. Mr Garibaldi is eating a packet of 'Ano-Weet'. On the back of the packet in big letters it reads 'Free Inside - The Pope '+ Demonstration Record'. Kevin Garibaldi is stretched out the whole length of the sofa, eating a huge plate of baked beans. His father occasionally flaps the copy of the paper he is reading at him to clear the air. The paper is called 'The Scum' and has a pin-up on the front page with big headline 'What a Searcher! Phew! Can Resist this Miss'; at the bottom of the page in small print 'China Declares War'. The banner across top reads 'In the Scum Today "Tits and Inflation" '. Ralph Garibaldi is sitting at the table eating. At one point he stretches across the table, and his arm sticks in the butter. He tries to clean it off and knocks the sugar over. There is a large photo of lan Smith on the wall; built around it is a plaster shrine, with flowers in front of it. Mrs Garibaldi is ironing. She irons some underclothes, then she irons a transistor radio. Dotted about the room are a flat telephone, a flat standard lamp, and a flat cat. Valerie Garibaldi is wearing a shiny red miniskirt. She has bright yellow 'beehive' hair so stiffly lacquered that it is quite a hazard to various ornaments on the mantelpiece. She is continuously making herself up in the mantelpiece mirror which is shaped like a lavatory. The other member of the family is a very fat old dog. As we see all this, the football commentary is droning throughout on the radio.)
Radio Voice: Pratt... back to Pratt... Pratt again... a long ball out to Pratt... and now Pratt is on the ball, a neat little flick back inside to Pratt, who takes it nicely and sends it through on the far side to Pratt, Pratt with it but passes instead to Pratt, Pratt again, oh and well intercepted by the swarthy little number nine, Concito ' Maracon. This twenty-one-year-old half back, remarkably stocky for 6' 3", square shouldered, balding giant, hair flowing in the wind, bright eyed, pert, young for his age but oh so old in so many ways. For a thirty-nine.year-old you wouldn't expect such speed. Normally considered slow, he's incredibly fast as he wanders aimlessly around, sweeping up and taking the defence to the cleaners. Who would have thought, though many expected it, that this remarkable forty-five-year-old, 9' 4" dwarf of a man, who is still only seventeen in some parts of the world, would ever really be ... Oh and there was a goal there apparently ... and now it's Pratt ... back to Pratt... Pratt again... a long ball to Pratt... (crackle)

(By now mother has succeeded in flattening the radio with the iron. She folds it neatly and puts it on the pile.)

Mr Garibaldi I like this Ano-Weet, it really unclogs me.

(Ralph Garibaldi knocks a bowl onto the floor. It smashes.)

Mrs Garibaldi Oh, do be careful.

Ralph Garibaldi Sorry, mum.

(Kevin opens another can of beans and pours them on to his plate, throwing the tin on the floor. The radio drones on.)

Mr Garibaldi I mean a lot of others say they unclog you, but I never had a single bowel movement with the 'Recto-Puffs'.

Ralph Garibaldi Now if we ... (he knocks the cereal box off the table) Oh, sorry, mum ... Now if we lived in Rhodesia there'd be someone to mop that up for you.

Valerie Garibaldi: (turning from the mirror in mid make-up) Don't be so bleedin' stupid. If you lived in bleedin' Rhodesia, you'd be out at bleedin' fascist rallies every bleedin' day. You're a bleedin' racist, you bleedin' are.

Mr Garibaldi Language!

Valerie Garibaldi Well he gets on my sodding wick.

Mr Garibaldi That's better.

(Mother is now ironing the telephone and the cat. She irons them flat and pins them on the line.)

Mr Garibaldi No, the stuff I liked was that stuff they gave us before the war, what was it - Wilkinson's Number 8 Laxative Cereal. Phew. That one went through you like a bloody Ferrari...

(The doorbell rings.)

Mrs Garibaldi Now, who's that at this time of day... (she goes out)

Mr Garibaldi If it's the man to empty the Elsan, tell him it's in the hall.

Mrs Garibaldi: Right, dear.

Mr Garibaldi And make sure that you hold it the right way up!

Ralph Garibaldi Dad... ?

(A middle-aged man appears from the broom cupboard.)

Strange Man: Yeah?

Ralph Garibaldi: No no, my dad...

Strange Man Oh... (he gets back into the cupboard again)

Ralph Garibaldi Dad? Why is Rhodesia called Rhodesia?... (he knocks the teapot on to the floor, it smashes) Oh sorry, dad.

(Cut to the doorway in the hall. A man in a dark suit, very smart and well-dressed, is doing strange kung-fu antics.)

Mrs Garibaldi No... no, really, thank you very much... no, thank you for calling, not today, thank you. Good morning.

(She shuts the door on him. As she does so Mr Garibaldi shouts out to her.)

Mr Garibaldi Who was that?

Mrs Garibaldi (coming in again) The Liberal Party candidate, darling... oh ... what have you done now?

Ralph Garibaldi Sorry, mum. (he is standing beside the sink which has just split in two) I was just washing up...

Mrs Garibaldi Go and sit down!

Ralph Garibaldi Mum? Do you know why Rhodesia's called Rhodesia?

Mr Garibaldi Do you remember 'Go-Eazi'? They were hopeless... (Kevin opens another can of beans; dad notices in disgust and flaps his paper again) little black pellets... tasted foul and stuck inside you like flooring adhesive.

Valerie Garibaldi (she has finally finished her startling make-up) Right, I'm off.

Mrs Garibaldi When are you coming back tonight?

Valerie Garibaldi 3 a.m.

Mrs Garibaldi I think it's disgusting... you a Member of Parliament.

Mr Garibaldi I heard you in the hall last night, snogging away.

Valerie Garibaldi I wasn't snogging!

Mr Garibaldi Sounded like snogging to me. I could hear his great wet slobbering lips going at yer ... and his hand going up yet...

Mrs Garibaldi Dad!

Strange Man (coming out of the cupboard) Yes.

Mrs Garibaldi No ... not you.

Strange Man Oh! (he goes back in again)

Mrs Garibaldi Just mind your language...

(Ralph knock a leg off the table. It collapses entirely.)

Ralph Garibaldi Oh, sorry, mum.

Kevin Garibaldi (too fat and flatulent to get up) I've run out of beans!

Valerie Garibaldi We was talking, we was not snogging.

Mr Garibaldi Talking about snogging, I'll bet...

(The phone rings. Mrs Garibaldi answers it.)

Valerie Garibaldi: If you must know, we was talking about Council re-housing.

Mrs Garibaldi (on the phone) Would it mean going to live in Hollywood?

Kevin Garibaldi: (desperate but unable to move) I run out of beans!

Mr Garibaldi Where to re-house his right hand, that's what he was interested in!

Mrs Garibaldi And has Faye Dunaway definitely said yes?

Valerie Garibaldi: He is the Chairman of the Housing sub-committee.

(The bell rings.)

Mr Garibaldi Snogging sub-committee, more like...

Mrs Gstribaldi: Ralph, do answer that door will you!

Kevin Garibaldi Beans!!

Mrs Garibaldi Shut up!!

Ralph Garibaldi Yea, mum.

Mr Garibaldi (shouting to Ralph) If it's the man from the Probbo-Rib, tell him it's in the bed.

(Ralph gets up. As he goes he knocks the leg off the old-fashioned gas cooker. It falls to one side bringing down shelves nat to it, plates, crockery and a seaion of the wall revtealing the hallway the other side.)

Ralph Garibaldi Sorry, mum.

Kevin Garibaldi: (roaring) Beans! Beans!

Mrs Garibaldi Shut up!

(A man in a Tarzan outfit, except with a postman's hat and a little mailbag, swings in on a liana shouting a jungle yell.)

Postman: Postman-a-a-n!!

(A gong sounds. They all stop acting. Cut to stock film of ladies applauding. Pull out from this stock film to see that it is on a screen in a presentation studio. A glitttry compare is also applauding sycophantically at his desk, about which is tht glitttry.slogan 'Most Awful Family in Britain, 1974. Sponsored by "Heart attacko Margarine"'.)

Presenter: A very good try there, by the Garibaldi family of Droitwich in Worcestershire. Professor...

(Pull out further to pick up a panel of three distinguished rather academic looking people.)

Professor: Well, I can't make up my mind about this family... I don't think there was the sustained awfulness that we really need. I mean, the father was appalling...

(Two other members of the pand nod vigorous agreement.)

Lady Organs: Appalling... yes ....

Professor: He was dirty, smelly and distasteful ... and I liked him very much ... but...

Presenter: Lady Organs?

Lady Organs: Well ... they were an unpleasant farally certainly, but I don't think we had enough of the really gross awfulhess that we're looking for...

Presenter: Well, harsh words therefor the Garibaldi family of Droitwich in Worcestershire, at present holders of the East Midlands Most Awful Faafily Award - Lower Middle-Class Section but unable today to score more than fifteen on our disgustometer. Well with the scores all in from the iudges, the Garlbaldis are number three ... and a surprise number two ... the Fanshaw-Churnleighs of Berkshire... (he turns to the screen)

(A very elegant breakfast table in beautifully tasteful surroundings. Four upper-class folk - two woman and two men - are talking most incredibly loudly at each other, with quite appalling accents. An appalling din altogether. They talk just about at the same time as each other.)

First Person: What a super meal.

Second Person: Absolutely super. Pat and Max are coming down from Eton to help daddy count money.

Third Person: How absolutely super.

Fourth Person: My man at Poirer's says I could have my whole body lifted for £5,500

First Person: How super... (etc.)

(Cut back to the panel nodding thoughfully.)

Presenter: Well, some of the wonderful behaviour that made the Fanshaw-Chumleighs the second Most Awful Family in Britain 1974. But the winners, by a clear ten point margin, are once again the awful Jodrell family of Durham. Unfortunately, we're not allowed to show you some of the performance that won them an award, but I assure you it was of the very highest standard, was it not, Lady Organs?

Lady Organs: Oh, yes, superb ... Mr Jodrell - you know, the old grandfather, who licks the ...

Presenter: (hurriedly) Yes, yes...

Lady Organs: He's superb. His gobbing is consistent and accurate. His son is a dirty foul little creature, and those frightful scabs which Mrs Jodrell licks off the cat are...

Presenter: (during this speech we cut to the same image on a TV screen) Well, thank you very much, Lady Organs ... and from all of us all, well done to the Jodrells ... and to all of you, not forgetting those of you who may be halfway in between, without whom, of course, and not forgetting who made it all possible, when, and we'll be back, until then and so it's goodnight from me and here's wishing you a safe journey home, thank you for watching this show, don't forget it was all great fun, I've enjoyed it, and I hope you watching at home have enjoyed it too.

(He is switched off, and fades into a dot. Pull back to reveal that the TV which has just been switched off is in a dirty old sitting room in which all the characters are really unpleaant pepperpots. They are dressed more or less identically, except that son has a school cap and a blazer over his pepperpot gear. He has a satchel and National Health glasses. The father has moustache and glasses and a Fair-Isle jersey.)

Mother: The Jodrells win every bloody year... makes you vomit ... dad?

Dad: Yes?

Mother: Get your stinking feet off the bread.

Dad: I'm only wiping the cat's do's off.

Son: Mum?

Mother: Shut yet face, Douglas.

Son: I wanted some corn-plasters.

Mother: Shut up and eat what you got.

(A cat set into the wall, i.e. a glove puppet, screeches as if someone had pulled its tail outside.)

Dad: Some fat bastard at the door! (to the cat) Shut up! (she slaps it; it expires)

Mark

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Old 10-12-2001, 05:00 PM   #24
Ace Flashheart
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Location: Manchester, England
Posts: 215
More MP damnit... I need humour, the alcahol is wearing off.
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Old 10-12-2001, 05:09 PM   #25
skywalker
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Location: VT, USA
Age: 63
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Tim the Enchanter


ARTHUR: Knights! Forward!


[boom boom boom boom boom]


[squeak]


[boom boom boom boom]


What manner of man are you that can summon up fire without flint or tinder?


TIM: I... am an enchanter.


ARTHUR: By what name are you known?


TIM: There are some who call me... 'Tim'?


ARTHUR: Greetings, Tim the Enchanter.


TIM: Greetings, King Arthur!


ARTHUR: You know my name?


TIM: I do.


[zoosh]


You seek the Holy Grail!


ARTHUR: That is our quest. You know much that is hidden, O Tim.


TIM: Quite.


[pweeng boom]


[clap clap clap]


ROBIN: Oh.


ARTHUR: Yes, we're-- we're looking for the Holy Grail. Our quest is to find the Holy Grail.


KNIGHTS: Yeah. Yes. It is. It is. Yeah. Yup. Yup. Hm. Mm.


ARTHUR: And so, we're-- we're-- we're looking for it.


BEDEVERE: Yes, we are.


GALAHAD: Yeah.


ROBIN: We are. We are.


BEDEVERE: We have been for some time.


ROBIN: Ages.


BEDEVERE: Umhm.


ARTHUR: Uh-- uh, so, uh, anything that you could do to, uh-- to help... would be... very... helpful.


GALAHAD: Look, can you tell us where--


[boom]


ARTHUR: Fine. Um, I don't want to waste any more of your time, but, uh, I don't suppose you could, uh, tell us where we might find a, um-- find a, uh-- a, um-- a, uh--


TIM: A what...?


ARTHUR: A g-- a-- a g-- a g-- a-- a g--


TIM: A grail?!


ARTHUR: Yes. I think so.


ROBIN: Y-- y-- yes.


ARTHUR: Yes.


GALAHAD: Yup.


KNIGHTS: That's it...


TIM: Yes!


ROBIN: Oh.


ARTHUR: Oh. Thank you.


ROBIN: Ahh.


GALAHAD: Oh. Fine.


ARTHUR: Thank you.


ROBIN: Splendid.


KNIGHTS: Aah...


[boom pweeng boom boom]


ARTHUR: Look, um, you're a busy man, uh--


TIM: Yes, I can help you find the Holy Grail.


KNIGHTS: Oh, thank you. Oh...


TIM: To the north there lies a cave-- the cave of Caerbannog-- wherein, carved in mystic runes upon the very living rock, the last words of Olfin Bedwere of Rheged...


[boom]


...make plain the last resting place of the most Holy Grail.


ARTHUR: Where could we find this cave, O Tim?


TIM: Follow. But! Follow only if ye be men of valour, for the entrance to this cave is guarded by a creature so foul, so cruel that no man yet has fought with it and lived! Bones of full fifty men lie strewn about its lair. So, brave knights, if you do doubt your courage or your strength, come no further, for death awaits you all with nasty, big, pointy teeth.


ARTHUR: What an eccentric performance.

Continued....


[clop clop clop]


[whinny whinny]


GALAHAD: They're nervous, sire.


ARTHUR: Then we'd best leave them here and carry on on foot. Dis-mount!


TIM: Behold the cave of Caerbannog!


ARTHUR: Right! Keep me covered.


GALAHAD: What with?


ARTHUR: W-- just keep me covered.


TIM: Too late!


[dramatic chord]


ARTHUR: What?


TIM: There he is!


ARTHUR: Where?


TIM: There!


ARTHUR: What, behind the rabbit?


TIM: It is the rabbit.


ARTHUR: You silly sod!


TIM: What?


ARTHUR: You got us all worked up!


TIM: Well, that's no ordinary rabbit!


ARTHUR: Ohh.


TIM: That's the most foul, cruel, and bad-tempered rodent you ever set eyes on!


ROBIN: You tit! I soiled my armour I was so scared!


TIM: Look, that rabbit's got a vicious streak a mile wide! It's a killer!


GALAHAD: Get stuffed!


TIM: He'll do you up a treat, mate.


GALAHAD: Oh, yeah?


ROBIN: You mangy Scots git!


TIM: I'm warning you!


ROBIN: What's he do, nibble your bum?


TIM: He's got huge, sharp-- eh-- he can leap about-- look at the bones!


ARTHUR: Go on, Bors. Chop his head off!


BORS: Right! Silly little bleeder. One rabbit stew comin' right up!


TIM: Look!


[squeak]


BORS: Aaaugh!


[dramatic chord]


[clunk]


ARTHUR: Jesus Christ!


TIM: I warned you!


ROBIN: I done it again!


TIM: I warned you, but did you listen to me? Oh, no, you knew it all, didn't you? Oh, it's just a harmless little bunny, isn't it? Well, it's always the same. I always tell them--


ARTHUR: Oh, shut up!


TIM: Do they listen to me?


ARTHUR: Right!


TIM: Oh, no...


KNIGHTS: Charge!


[squeak squeak squeak]


KNIGHTS: Aaaaugh!, Aaaugh!, etc.


ARTHUR: Run away! Run away!


KNIGHTS: Run away! Run away!...


TIM: Ha ha ha ha! Ha haw haw! Ha! Ha ha!


ARTHUR: Right. How many did we lose?


LAUNCELOT: Gawain.


GALAHAD: Ector.


ARTHUR: And Bors. That's five.


GALAHAD: Three, sir.


ARTHUR: Three. Three. And we'd better not risk another frontal assault. That rabbit's dynamite.


ROBIN: Would it help to confuse it if we run away more?


ARTHUR: Oh, shut up and go and change your armour.


GALAHAD: Let us taunt it! It may become so cross that it will make a mistake.


ARTHUR: Like what?


GALAHAD: Well... ooh.


LAUNCELOT: Have we got bows?


ARTHUR: No.


LAUNCELOT: We have the Holy Hand Grenade.


ARTHUR: Yes, of course! The Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch! 'Tis one of the sacred relics Brother Maynard carries with him! Brother Maynard! Bring up the Holy Hand Grenade!


MONKS: [chanting] Pie Iesu domine, dona eis requiem. Pie Iesu domine, dona eis requiem. Pie Iesu domine, dona eis requiem. Pie Iesu domine, dona eis requiem.


ARTHUR: How does it, um-- how does it work?


LAUNCELOT: I know not, my liege.


ARTHUR: Consult the Book of Armaments!


BROTHER MAYNARD: Armaments, chapter two, verses nine to twenty-one.


SECOND BROTHER: And Saint Attila raised the hand grenade up on high, saying, 'O Lord, bless this Thy hand grenade that, with it, Thou mayest blow Thine enemies to tiny bits in Thy mercy.' And the Lord did grin, and the people did feast upon the lambs and sloths and carp and anchovies and orangutans and breakfast cereals and fruit bats and large chu--


MAYNARD: Skip a bit, Brother.


SECOND BROTHER: And the Lord spake, saying, 'First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin. Then, shalt thou count to three. No more. No less. Three shalt be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, nor either count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out. Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then, lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thy foe, who, being naughty in My sight, shall snuff it.'


MAYNARD: Amen.


KNIGHTS: Amen.


ARTHUR: Right! One!... Two!... Five!


GALAHAD: Three, sir!


ARTHUR: Three!


[angels sing]


[boom]


Mark

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Old 10-12-2001, 05:14 PM   #26
skywalker
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Join Date: March 1, 2001
Location: VT, USA
Age: 63
Posts: 3,097
And now:

Spam

The cast:

MAN
Eric Idle
WIFE
Graham Chapman
WAITRESS
Terry Jones

The sketch:

Scene: A cafe. One table is occupied by a group of Vikings with horned helmets on. A man and his wife enter.
Man: You sit here, dear.

Wife: All right.

Man: (to Waitress) Morning!

Waitress: Morning!

Man: Well, what've you got?

Waitress: Well, there's egg and bacon; egg sausage and bacon; egg and spam; egg bacon and spam; egg bacon sausage and spam; spam bacon sausage and spam; spam egg spam spam bacon and spam; spam sausage spam spam bacon spam tomato and spam;

Vikings: (starting to chant) Spam spam spam spam...

Waitress: ...spam spam spam egg and spam; spam spam spam spam spam spam baked beans spam spam spam...

Vikings: (singing) Spam! Lovely spam! Lovely spam!

Waitress: ...or Lobster Thermidor au Crevettes with a mornay sauce served in a Provencale manner with shallots and aubergines garnished with truffle pate, brandy and with a fried egg on top and spam.

Wife: Have you got anything without spam?

Waitress: Well, there's spam egg sausage and spam, that's not got much spam in it.

Wife: I don't want ANY spam!

Man: Why can't she have egg bacon spam and sausage?

Wife: THAT'S got spam in it!

Man: Hasn't got as much spam in it as spam egg sausage and spam, has it?

Vikings: Spam spam spam spam (crescendo through next few lines)

Wife: Could you do the egg bacon spam and sausage without the spam then?

Waitress: Urgghh!

Wife: What do you mean 'Urgghh'? I don't like spam!

Vikings: Lovely spam! Wonderful spam!

Waitress: Shut up!

Vikings: Lovely spam! Wonderful spam!

Waitress: Shut up! (Vikings stop) Bloody Vikings! You can't have egg bacon spam and sausage without the spam.

Wife: (shrieks) I don't like spam!

Man: Sshh, dear, don't cause a fuss. I'll have your spam. I love it. I'm having spam spam spam spam spam spam spam beaked beans spam spam spam and spam!

Vikings: (singing) Spam spam spam spam. Lovely spam! Wonderful spam!

Waitress: Shut up!! Baked beans are off.

Man: Well could I have her spam instead of the baked beans then?

Waitress: You mean spam spam spam spam spam spam... (but it is too late and the Vikings drown her words)

Vikings: (singing elaborately) Spam, spam, spam, spam. Lovely spam! Wonderful spaaam! Lovely spam! Wonderful spam. Spa-a-a-a-a-a-a-am! Spa-a-a-a-a-a-a-am! Spa-a-a-a-a-a-a-am! Spa-a-a-a-a-a-a-am! Lovely spam! (Lovely spam!) Lovely spam! (Lovely spam!) Lovely spaaam! Spam, spam, spam, spaaaaam!


Mark
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Old 10-12-2001, 05:18 PM   #27
Killing Spree
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Join Date: July 11, 2001
Location: The Ashes
Age: 35
Posts: 1,427
Maybe the machince that goes *BING*?
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Old 10-12-2001, 05:24 PM   #28
skywalker
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Join Date: March 1, 2001
Location: VT, USA
Age: 63
Posts: 3,097
Bing? From the Meaning of Life film?

Mark
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Old 10-12-2001, 05:42 PM   #29
Killing Spree
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Join Date: July 11, 2001
Location: The Ashes
Age: 35
Posts: 1,427
YEAH! And the most expensive machine in the hospital! My Monty Python experience is only wafer thin... I'm sorry.
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Old 10-12-2001, 07:31 PM   #30
skywalker
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The First Man to Jump the Channel / Tunnelling from Godalming to Java


(Cut to the sea. Pan to show Ron Obvious running along beach.)

Voice Over: There is an epic quality about the sea which has throughout history stirred the hearts and minds of Englishmen of all nations. Sir Francis Drake, Captain Webb, Nelson of Trafalgar and Scott of the Antartic - all rose to the challenge of the mighty ocean. And today another Englishman may add his name to the golden roll of history: Mr Ron Obvious of Neaps End. For today, Ron Obvious hopes to be the first man to jump the Channel.

(Ron runs up to group of cheering supporters. An interviewer addresses him.)

Interviewer: (John Cleese) Ron, now let's just get this quite clear - you're intending to jump across the English Channel?

Ron: (Terry Jones) Oh yes, that is correct, yes.

Interviewer: And, er, just how far is that?

Ron: Oh, well it's twenty-six miles from here to Calais.

Interviewer: Er, that's to the beach at Calais?

Ron: Well, no, no, provided I get a good lift off and maybe a gust of breeze over the French coast, I shall be jumping into the centre of Calais itself.

(Brief shot of group of Frenchmen with banner.' 'Fin de Cross-Channel jump'.)

Interviewer: Ron are you using any special techniques to jump this great distance?

Ron: Oh no, no. I shall be using an ordinary two-footed jump, er, straight up in the air and across the Channel.

Interviewer: I see. Er, Ron, what is the furthest distance that you've jumped, er, so far?

Ron: Er, oh, eleven foot six inches at Motspur Park on July 22nd. Er, but I have done nearly twelve feet unofficially.

(Ron breaks off to make training-type movements.)

Interviewer: I see. Er, Ron, Ron, Ron, aren't you worried Ron, aren't you worried jumping twenty-six miles across the sea?

Ron: Oh, well no, no, no, no. It is in fact easier to jump over sea than over dry land.

Interviewer: Well how is that?

Ron: Er, well my manager explained it to me. You see if you're five miles out over the English Channel, with nothing but sea underneath you, er, there is a very great impetus to say in the air.

Interviewer: I see. Well, er, thank you very much Ron and the very best of luck.

Ron: Thank you. Thank you.

Interviewer: (to camera) The man behind Ron's cross-Channel jump is his manager Mr Luigi Vercotti. (turns to speak to Vercotti, who has a Mafia suit and dark glasses) Mr Vercotti, er Mr Vercotti ... Mr Vercotti...

Mr Vercotti: (Michael Palin) What? (mumbles protestations of innocence) I don't know what you're talking about.

Interviewer: Er, no, we're from the BBC, Mr Vercotti.

Mr Vercotti: Who?

Interviewer: The BBC.

Mr Vercotti: Oh, oh. I see. I thought, I thought you were the er . .. I like the police a lot, I've got a lot of time for them.

Interviewer: Mr, er, Mr Vercotti, what is your chief task as Ron's manager?

Mr Vercotti: Well my main task is, er, to fix a sponsor for the big jump.

Interviewer: And who is the sponsor?

Mr Vercotti: The Chippenham Brick Company. Ah, they, er, pay all the bills, er, in return for which Ron will be carrying half a hundredweight of their bricks.

(We see a passport officer checking Ron's passport.)

Interviewer: I see. Well, er, it looks as if Ron is ready now. He's got the bricks. He's had his passport checked and he's all set to go. And he's off on the first ever cross-Channel jump. (Ron runs down the beach and jumps; he lands about four feet into the water) Will Ron be trying the cross-Channel jump again soon?

Mr Vercotti: No. No. I'm taking him off the jumps, Er, because I've got something lined up for Ron next week that I think is very much more up his street.

Interviewer: Er, what's that?

Mr Vercotti: Er, Ron is going to eat Chichester Cathedral.

(Cut to Chichester Cathedral. Ron walks up to it, brushing his teeth.)

Interviewer: Well, there he goes, Ron Obvious of Neaps End, in an attempt which could make him the first man ever to eat an entire Anglican Cathedral. (Ron takes a hefty bite at a buttress, screams and clutches his mouth. Cut to countryside: a map, and a banner saying 'Tunnelling to Java'. Interviewer and Vercotti walk up to map.)

Mr Vercotti: Well, er, I think, David, this is something which Ron and myself are really keen on. Ron is going to tunnel from Godalming here to Java here. (indicates inaccurately on map)

Interviewer: Java.

Mr Vercotti: Yeah, er, I, I personally think this is going to make Ron a household name overnight.

Interviewer: And how far has he got?

Mr Vercotti: Er, well, he's quite far now, Dave, well on the way. Well on the way, yeah.

Interviewer: Well where is he exactly?

Mr Vercotti: Yeah.

Interviewer: Where?

Mr Vercotti: Oh, er, well, er, you know, it's difficult to say exactly. He's er, you know, in the area of er, Ron, how far have you got?

Ron: (emerging from hole) Oh about two foot six Mr Vercotti.

Mr Vercotti: Yeah well keep digging lad, keep digging.

Ron: Mr Vercotti are you sure there isn't a spade?

(Cut to interviewer and Vercotti by railway track)

Interviewer: Er, Mr Verccotti, what do you say to people who accuse you of exploiting Ron for your own purposes?

Mr Vercotti: Well, it's totally untrue, David. Ever since I left Sicily I've been trying to do the best for Ron. I know what Ron wants to do, I believe in him and I'm just trying to create the opportunities for Ron to do the kind of things he wants to do.

Interviewer: And what's he going to do today?

Mr Vercotti: He's going to split a railway carriage with his nose. (screams off)

(Cut to a hillside; Vercotti, interviewer, and in the background a banner: 'Running to Mercury'.)

Mr Vercotti: The only difficult bit for Ron is getting out of the Earth's atmosphere. Er, once he's in orbit he'll be able to run straight to Mercury.

(A heavily bandaged Ron leaps off starting platform: freeze frame. Scream. Cut to a tombstone: 'Ron Obvious 1941-1969 - very talented', Pull back to show Vercotti.)

Mr Vercotti: I am now extremely hopeful that Ron will break the world record for remaining underground. He's a wonderful boy this, he's got this really enormous talent, this really huge talent.

Mark
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