Arthur approaches an isolated castle guarded by soldiers ( #1 & #2 ) .....
S #1: Where'd you get the coconuts?
A : We found them.
S #1: Found them? In Mercia? The coconut's tropical!
A : What do you mean?
S #1: Well, this is a temperate zone.
A : The swallow may fly south with the sun or the house martin or the plover may seek warmer climes in winter, yet these are not strangers to our land?
S #1: Are you suggesting coconuts migrate?
A : Not at all. They could be carried.
S #1: What? A swallow carrying a coconut?
A: It could grip it by the husk!
S #1: It's not a question of where he grips it! It's a simple question of weight ratios! A five ounce bird could not carry a one pound coconut.
A: Well, it doesn't matter. Will you go and tell your master that Arthur from the Court of Camelot is here.
S #1: Listen. In order to maintain air-speed velocity, a swallow needs to beat its wings forty-three times every second, right?
A: Please!
S #1: Am I right?
A: I'm not interested!
S #2: It could be carried by an African swallow!
S #1: Oh, yeah, an African swallow maybe, but not a European swallow. That's my point.
S #2: Oh, yeah, I agree with that.
A: Will you ask your master if he wants to join my court at Camelot?!
S #1: But then of course a-- African swallows are non-migratory.
S #2: Oh, yeah...
S #1: So they couldn't bring a coconut back anyway...
#
Arthur questions 2 communist peasants ( Dennis & Woman )
ARTHUR: Well, I am king!
DENNIS: Oh king, eh, very nice. And how d'you get that, eh? By exploiting the workers! By 'anging on to outdated imperialist dogma which perpetuates the economic and social differences in our society. If there's ever going to be any progress with the--
WOMAN: I didn't know we had a king. I thought we were an autonomous collective.
DENNIS: You're fooling yourself. We're living in a dictatorship. A self-perpetuating autocracy in which the working classes--
DENNIS: I told you. We're an anarcho-syndicalist commune. We take it in turns to act as a sort of executive officer for the week. But all the decision of that officer have to be ratified at a special bi-weekly meeting-- By a simple majority in the case of purely internal affairs,-- But by a two-thirds majority in the case of more major--
WOMAN: Well, how did you become king then?
ARTHUR: The Lady of the Lake,... [angels sing] ...her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water signifying by Divine Providence that I, Arthur, was to carry Excalibur. [singing stops] That is why I am your king!
DENNIS: Listen, strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony.
ARTHUR: Be quiet!
DENNIS: Well, but you can't expect to wield supreme executive power just 'cause some watery tart threw a sword at you!
ARTHUR: Shut up!
DENNIS: I mean, if I went 'round saying I was an emperor just because some moistened bint had lobbed a scimitar at me, they'd put me away!
ARTHUR: Shut up, will you. Shut up!
DENNIS: Ah, now we see the violence inherent in the system.
ARTHUR: Shut up!
DENNIS: Oh! Come and see the violence inherent in the system! Help, help! I'm being repressed!
ARTHUR: Bloody peasant!
DENNIS: Oh, what a give-away. Did you hear that? Did you hear that, eh? That's what I'm on about. Did you see him repressing me? You saw it, didn't you?
Arthur tries to enter a castle guarded by French soldiers
ARTHUR: If you will not show us the Grail, we shall take your castle by force!
FRENCH GUARD: You don't frighten us, English pig-dogs! Go and boil your bottom, sons of a silly person. I blow my nose at you, so-called Arthur King, you and all your silly English k-nnnnniggets. Thpppppt! Thppt!Thppt!
GALAHAD: What a strange person.
ARTHUR: Now look here, my good man--
FRENCH GUARD: I don't wanna talk to you no more, you empty headed animal food trough wiper! I fart in your general direction! You mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!
GALAHAD: Is there someone else up there we could talk to?
FRENCH GUARD: No, now go away or I shall taunt you a second time-a!
FRENCH GUARD #1: I didn't know we were French?
FRENCH GUARD #2: Of course, we else do you think we are talking in this ridiculous accent?
Sir Galahad the Chaste reaches an isolated castle, populated by young women
ZOOT: Oh, I am afraid our life must seem very dull and quiet compared to yours. We are but eight score young blondes and brunettes, all between sixteen and nineteen-and-a-half, cut off in this castle with no one to protect us. Oooh. It is a lonely life: bathing, dressing, undressing, making exciting underwear. We are just not used to handsome knights. Nay. Nay. Come. Come. You may lie here. Oh, but you are wounded!
The Dreaded Knights who say NI!!!!!
HEAD KNIGHT OF NI: Ni!
KNIGHTS OF NI: Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni!
ARTHUR: Who are you?
HEAD KNIGHT: We are the Knights Who Say... 'Ni'!
RANDOM: Ni!
ARTHUR: No! Not the Knights Who Say 'Ni'!
HEAD KNIGHT: The same!
BEDEVERE: Who are they?
HEAD KNIGHT: We are the keepers of the sacred words: Ni, Peng, and Neee-wom!
RANDOM: Neee-wom!
ARTHUR: Those who hear them seldom live to tell the tale!
HEAD KNIGHT: The Knights Who Say 'Ni' demand a sacrifice!
ARTHUR: Knights of Ni, we are but simple travelers who seek the enchanter who lives beyond these woods.
HEAD KNIGHT: Ni!
KNIGHTS OF NI: Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni!...
ARTHUR: Ow! Ow! Ow! Agh!
HEAD KNIGHT: We shall say 'ni' again to you if you do not appease us.
ARTHUR: Well, what is it you want?
HEAD KNIGHT: We want... a shrubbery!
[dramatic chord]
ARTHUR: A what?
KNIGHTS OF NI: Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni!
ARTHUR and PARTY: Ow! Oh!
ARTHUR: Please, please! No more! We will find you a shrubbery.
HEAD KNIGHT: You must return here with a shrubbery or else you will never pass through this wood alive!
ARTHUR: O Knights of Ni, you are just and fair, and we will return with a shrubbery.
HEAD KNIGHT: One that looks nice.
ARTHUR: Of course.
HEAD KNIGHT: And not too expensive.
ARTHUR: Yes.
HEAD KNIGHT: Now... go!
ARTHUR: We are looking for a shrubbery...
CRONE: Aggh! No! Never! We have no shrubberies here.
ARTHUR: If you do not tell us where we can buy a shrubbery, my friend and Iwill say... we will say... 'ni'.
CRONE: Agh! Do your worst!
ARTHUR: Very well! If you will not assist us voluntarily,... ni!
CRONE: No! Never! No shrubberies!
ARTHUR: Ni!
CRONE: [cough]
ROGER THE SHRUBBER: Are you saying 'ni' to that old woman?
ARTHUR: Erm, yes.
ROGER: Oh, what sad times are these when passing ruffians can 'ni' at will to old ladies. There is a pestilence upon this land. Nothing is sacred. Even those who arrange and design shrubberies are under considerable economic stress at this period in history.
ARTHUR: Did you say 'shrubberies'?
ROGER: Yes. Shrubberies are my trade. I am a shrubber. My name is Rogerthe Shrubber. I arrange, design, and sell shrubberies.
HEAD KNIGHT: We are now... no longer the Knights Who Say 'Ni'.
KNIGHTS OF NI: Ni! Shh!
HEAD KNIGHT: Shh! We are now the Knights Who Say 'Ecky-ecky-ecky-ecky-pikang-zoop-boing-goodem-zoo-owli-zhiv'.
RANDOM: Ni!
HEAD KNIGHT: Therefore, we must give you a test.
ARTHUR: What is this test, O Knights of-- Knights Who 'Til Recently Said 'Ni'?
FATHER: Listen, lad. I built this kingdom up from nothing. When I started here, all there was was swamp. Other kings said I was daft to build a castle on a swamp, but I built it all the same, just to show 'em. It sank into the swamp. So, I built a second one. That sank into the swamp. So I built a third one. That burned down, fell over, then sank into the swamp. But the fourth one... stayed up! And that's what you're gonna get, lad: the strongest castle in these islands.
TIM: Follow. But! Follow only if ye be men of valor, 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: 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 armor 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!
[ Rabbit flies at Bors’s throat and savages him to death }
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: 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.
BRIDGEKEEPER: Stop! Who would cross the Bridge of Death must answer me these questions three, ere the other side he see.
LAUNCELOT: Ask me the questions, bridgekeeper. I am not afraid.
BRIDGEKEEPER: What is your name?
LAUNCELOT: My name is Sir Launcelot of Camelot.
BRIDGEKEEPER: What is your quest?
LAUNCELOT: To seek the Holy Grail.
BRIDGEKEEPER: What is your favorite color?
LAUNCELOT: Blue.
BRIDGEKEEPER: Right. Off you go.
LAUNCELOT: Oh, thank you. Thank you very much.
ROBIN: That's easy!
BRIDGEKEEPER: Stop! Who approacheth the Bridge of Death must answer me these questions three, ere the other side he see.
ROBIN: Ask me the questions, bridgekeeper. I'm not afraid.
BRIDGEKEEPER: What is your name?
ROBIN: Sir Robin of Camelot.
BRIDGEKEEPER: What is your quest?
ROBIN: To seek the Holy Grail.
BRIDGEKEEPER: What is the capital of Assyria?
ROBIN: I don't know that! Auuuuuuuugh! [ explodes and dies ]
BRIDGEKEEPER: Stop! What is your name?
GALAHAD: Sir Galahad of Camelot.
BRIDGEKEEPER: What is your quest?
GALAHAD: I seek the Grail.
BRIDGEKEEPER: What is your favorite color?
GALAHAD: Blue. No yel-- auuuuuuuugh! [ explodes and dies ]
BRIDGEKEEPER: Hee hee heh. Stop! What is your name?
ARTHUR: It is Arthur, King of the Britons.
BRIDGEKEEPER: What is your quest?
ARTHUR: To seek the Holy Grail.
BRIDGEKEEPER: What is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?
ARTHUR: What do you mean? An African or European swallow?
BRIDGEKEEPER: Huh? I-- I don't know that! Auuuuuuuugh! [ explodes and dies ]
BEDEVERE: How do know so much about swallows?
ARTHUR: Well, you have to know these things when you're a king, you know.
FRENCH GUARD: How you English say, 'I one more time, mac, unclog my nose in your direction', sons of a window-dresser! So, you think you could out-clever us French folk with your silly knees-bent running about advancing behavior?! I wave my private parts at your aunties, you cheesy lot of second hand electric donkey-bottom biters.
ARTHUR: In the name of the Lord, we demand entrance to this sacred castle!
FRENCH GUARD: No chance, English bed-wetting types. I burst my pimples at you and call your door-opening request a silly thing, you tiny-brained wipers of other people's bottoms!
# THE LIFE OF BRIAN
EL : Spare a talent for an old ex-leper, sir.
B : Did you say -- ex-leper?
EL : That's right, sir. (he salutes) ... sixteen years behind the bell, and proud of it, thank you sir.
B : What happened?
EL : I was cured, sir.
B : Cured?
EL : Yes sir, a bloody miracle, sir. Bless you.
B : Who cured you?
EL : Jesus did. I was hopping along, when suddenly he comes and cures me. One minute I'm a leper with a trade, next moment me livelihood's gone. Not so much as a by your leave. Look. I'm not saying that being a leper was a bowl of cherries. But it was a living. I mean, you try waving muscular suntanned limbs in people's faces demanding compassion. It's a bloody disaster.
M : You could go and get yourself a decent job, couldn't you?
EL : Look, sir, my family has been in begging six generations. I'm not about to become a goat-herd, just because some long-haired conjuror starts mucking about.
###
REG: Right. You're in. Listen. The only people we hate more than the
Romans are the fucking Judean People's Front.
P.F.J.: Yeah...
JUDITH: Splitters.
P.F.J.: Splitters...
FRANCIS: And the Judean Popular People's Front.
P.F.J.: Yeah. Oh, yeah. Splitters. Splitters...
LORETTA: And the People's Front of Judea.
P.F.J.: Yeah. Splitters. Splitters...
REG: What?
LORETTA: The People's Front of Judea. Splitters.
REG: We're the People's Front of Judea!
LORETTA: Oh. I thought we were the Popular Front.
REG: People's Front! C-huh.
FRANCIS: Whatever happened to the Popular Front, Reg?
REG: He's over there.
P.F.J.: Splitter!
#####
Reg is addressing a room of masked commando’s (MC) some are named eg S,X,F etc
R: We get in through the underground heating system here ... up through to the main audience chamber here ... and Pilate's wife's bedroom is here. Having grabbed his wife, we inform Pilate that she is in our custody and forthwith issue our demands. Any questions?
X : What exactly are the demands?
R : We're giving Pilate two days to dismantle the entire apparatus of the Roman Imperialist State and if he doesn't agree immediately we execute her.
R: They've bled us white, the bastards. They've taken everything we had, not just from us, from our fathers and from our fathers' fathers.
S : And from our fathers' fathers' fathers.
R: Yes.
S: And from our fathers' fathers' fathers' fathers.
R: All right, Stan. Don't labour the point. And what have they ever given us IN RETURN? (he pauses smugly)
X: The aqueduct?
R: What?
X: The aqueduct.
R: Oh yeah, yeah they gave us that. Yeah. That's true.
MC: And the sanitation!
S: Oh yes ... sanitation, Reg, you remember what the city used to be like.
R: All right, I'll grant you that the aqueduct and the sanitation are two things that the Romans HAVE done ...
M: And the roads ...
R: (sharply) Well YES OBVIOUSLY the roads ... the roads go without saying. But apart from the aqueduct, the sanitation and the roads ...
MC : Irrigation ...
O: Medicine ... Education ... Health
R: Yes ... all right, fair enough ...
MC : And the wine ...
ALL : Oh yes! True!
F: Yeah. That's something we'd really miss if the Romans left, Reg.
MC: Public baths!
S : AND it's safe to walk in the streets at night now.
F: Yes, they certainly know how to keep order ... (general nodding) ... let's face it, they're the only ones who could in a place like this.
(more general murmurs of agreement)
R: All right ... all right ... but apart from better sanitation and medicine and education and irrigation and public health and roads and a freshwater system and baths and public order ... what HAVE the Romans ever done for US?
X: Brought peace!
#
BEN: You lucky, lucky bastard.
BRIAN: What?
BEN: Proper little jailer's pet, aren't we?
BRIAN: What do you mean?
BEN: You must have slipped him a few shekels, eh?
BRIAN: Slipped him a few shekels? You saw him spit in my face!
BEN: Ohh! What wouldn't I give to be spat at in the face! I sometimes hang
awake at night dreaming of being spat at in the face.
BRIAN: Well, it's not exactly friendly, is it? They had me in manacles!
BEN: Manacles! Ooh oooh oh oh. My idea of heaven is to be allowed to be
put in manacles... just for a few hours. They must think the sun shines out o' your arse, sonny.
BRIAN: Oh, lay off me. I've had a hard time!
BEN: You've had a hard time?! I've been here five years! They only hung me
the right way up yesterday! So, don't you come 'rou--
BRIAN: All right. All right.
BEN: They must think you're Lord God Almighty.
BRIAN: What will they do to me?
BEN: Oh, you'll probably get away with crucifixion.
BRIAN: Crucifixion?!
BEN: Yeah, first offence.
BRIAN: Get away with crucifixion?! It's--
BEN: Best thing the Romans ever did for us.
BRIAN: What?!
BEN: Oh, yeah. If we didn't have crucifixion, this country would be in a
right bloody mess.
BRIAN: Guards!
BEN: Nail him up, I say!
# MONTY PYTHON SKETCHES
FOUR YORKSHIREMAN SKETCH
(Hawaiian music)
Man#1 (Michael Palin) Aye! Very fussable, eh? Very fussable bit, that? eh?
Man#2 (Graham Chapman): Grand meal, that was, eh?
Others: Yes, wonderful, yes very good..
Man#2: Nothing like a good glass of Chateau le Shlasseler, eh, Guissay?
Man#3 (Terry Jones): Oh, you're right there, Robidaier.
Man#4 (Eric Idle): Who'd 'ave thought, thirty year ago, we'd all be sitting here drinking Chateau de Shlasseler, eh?
Man#1: Aye, in them days we was glad to have the price of a cup of tea!
Man#2: Aye, a cup of cold tea!
Man#4: Without milk or sugar!
Man#3: Or tea!
Man#1: Aye, in a cracked cup and all!
Man#4: Oh, we never had a cup. We used to have to drink out of a rolled-up newspaper!
Man#2: Aye, the best we could manage in those days was to suck on a piece of damp cloth!
Man#3: Aye, but we were happy in those days, though we were poor.
Man#1: Because we were poor! My old dad used to say to me: Money doesn't buy you happiness!
Man#4: Aye, he was right, I was happier then and I had nothing. We used to live in this tiny old house with great big holes in the roof.
Man#2: House! You were lucky to live in a house! We had to all live in one room, all twenty-six of us, no furniture, half the floor was missing, and were all huddled together in a corner for fear of falling!
Man#3: You were lucky to have a room! We used to 'ave to live in a corridor!
Man#1: Oh, we used to DREAM of living in a corridor. It would have been a palace to us. We used to have to live in an old water tank in a rubbish pit. We got woke up every morning by having a load of rotting fish dumped all over us! House! Huh!
Man#4: Well, when I say house, it was only a hole in the ground covered by a sheet of tarpaulin, but it was a house to us!
Man#2: We were evicted from our hole in the ground. We had to go and live in a lake!
Man#3: You were lucky to have a lake! There were a hundred and fifty of us, living in a shoebox in the middle of the road!
Man#1: Cardboard box?
Man#3: Aye!
Man#1: You were lucky. We lived for three months in a paper bag in a septic tank. We used to have to get up at six in the morning, clean the paper bag, eat a crust of stale bread, go to work down at the mill, fourteen hours a day, week in, week out, for sixpence a week, and when we got home, our dad would thrash us to sleep with his belt.
(slight pause)
Man#2: Luxury. We used to have to get out of the lake at six o'clock in the morning, clean the lake, eat a handful of damp gravel, work a twenty-hour day at the mill for tuppence a month, and when we got home, our dad would thrash us to sleep with a broken bottle, if we were lucky!
Man#3: Well, of course, we 'ad it tough! We used to have to get up out of the shoebox at twelve o'clock at night, and lick the road clean with our tongue. We 'ad two bits of cold gravel, and worked a twenty-four hour day at the mill for six or seventy-four years, and when we got home, our dad would slash it to us with a bread knife.
Man#4: Right. I had to get up at ten o'clock at night, half an hourbefore I went to bed, drink a cup of sulphuric acid, work twenty-nine hours a day down at the mill and pay the mill owner for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our mother and father would kill us and dance on our graves singing Halleluja.
Man#1: Aye, and you try telling young people of today that. And they won't believe you.
Man#4: Aye, they won't!
# THE DEAD PARROT SKETCH
[Scene: pet shop. Mr. Praline walks into the shop carrying a dead parrot in a cage. He walks to counter where shopkeeper tries to hide below cash register.]
Praline (John): Hello, I wish to register a complaint...Hello? Miss?
Shopkeeper (Michael): What do you mean, miss?
Praline: Oh, I'm sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint.
Shopkeeper: Sorry, we're closing for lunch.
Praline: Never mind that my lad, I wish to complain about this parrot what I purchased not half an hour ago from this very boutique.
Shopkeeper: Oh, yes, the Norwegian Blue. What's wrong with it?
Praline: I'll tell you what's wrong with it. It's dead, that's what's wrong with it.
Shopkeeper: No, no it's resting, look!
Praline: Look my lad, I know a dead parrot when I see one and I'm looking at one right now.
Shopkeeper: No, no sir, it's not dead. It's resting.
Praline: Resting?
Shopkeeper: Yeah, remarkable bird the Norwegian Blue, beautiful pumage, innit?
Praline: The plumage don't enter into it -- it's stone dead.
Shopkeeper: No, no--it's just resting.
Praline: All right then, if it's resting I'll wake it up. (shouts into cage) Hello Polly! I've got a nice cuttlefish for you when you wake up, Polly Parrot!
Shopkeeper: (jogging cage) There it moved.
Praline: No he didn't. That was you pushing the cage.
Shopkeeper: I did not. Praline: Yes, you did. (takes parrot out of cage,shouts) Hello Polly, Polly (bangs it against counter) Polly Parrot,wake up. Polly. (throws it in the air and lets it fall to the floor) Now that's what I call a dead parrot.
Shopkeeper: No, no it's stunned.
Praline: Look my lad, I've just about had enough of this. That parrot is definitely deceased. And when I bought it not half an hour ago, you assured me that its lack of movement was dueto it being tired and shagged out after a long squawk.
Shopkeeper: It's probably pining for the fjords.
Praline: Pining for the fjords, what kind of talk is that? Look, why did it fall flat on its back the moment I got it home?
Shopkeeper: The Norwegian Blue prefers kipping on its back. Beautiful bird, lovely plumage.
Praline: Look, I took the liberty of examimimg that parrot, and I discovered that the only reason that it had been sitting on its perch in the first place was that it had been nailed there.
Shopkeeper: Well of course it was nailed there. Otherwise it would muscle up to those bars and VOOM!.
Praline: Look matey (picks up parrot) this parrot wouldn't voom if I put four thousand volts through it. It's bleeding demised.
Shopkeeper: It's not, it's pining.
Praline: It's not pining, it's passed on. This parrot is no more. It has ceased to be. It's expired and gone to meet its maker. This is a late parrot. It's a stiff. Bereft of life, it rests in peace. If you hadn't nailed it to the perch, it would be pushing up the daisies. It's rung down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. This is an ex-parrot.
Shopkeeper: Well, I'd better replace it then.
Praline: (to camera) If you want to get anything done in this country you've got to complain till you're blue in the mouth.
Shopkeeper: Sorry guv, we're right out of parrots.
Praline: I see. I see. I get the picture. Shopkeeper: I've got a slug. Praline: Does it talk?
Shopkeeper: Not really, no.
Praline: Well it's scarcely a replacement, then is it?
Shopkeeper: Listen, I'll tell you what, (handing over a card) tell you what, if you go to my brother's pet shop in Bolton he'll replace your parrot for you.
Praline: Bolton, eh.
Shopkeeper: Yeah.
Praline: All right.
[He leaves, holding the parrot. CAPTION: `A SIMILAR PET SHOP IN BOLTON, LANCS' Close-up uf sign on door reading: `Similar Pet Shops, Ltd.' Pull back from sign to see same pet shop. Shopkeeper now has moustache. Praline walks into shop. He looks around with interest, noticing the empty parrot cage still on the floor.]
Praline: Er, excuse me. This is Bolton, is it?
Shopkeeper: No, no it's, er, Ipswich.
Praline: (to camera) That's Inter-City Rail for you. (leaves)
# THE SPANISH INQUISITION
Peasant: "I didn't expect a kind of Spanish Inquisition."
Cardinal Ximinez: "Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition! Our chief weapon is surprise...surprise and fear...fear and surprise.... Our two weapons are fear and surprise...and ruthless efficiency.... Our *three* weapons are fear, surprise, and ruthless efficiency...and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope.... Our *four*...no... *Amongst* our weapons.... Amongst our weaponry...are such elements as fear, surprise.... I'll come in again."
####
German: Will you stop talking about the war!
Basil: Me? You started it!
German: We did not start it.
Basil: Yes you did, you invaded Poland!
- Fawlty Towers, "The Germans"
They began to operate what they called "The Operation." They would select a victim and then threaten to beat him up if he paid them the so-called protection money. Four months later, they started another operation which they 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.
- Monty Python
I was up at five, you know, we do have staff problems, I'm so sorry, it's all done by magic.
- Basil Fawlty
I think that all good, right thinking people in this country are sick and tired of being told that all good, right thinking people in this country are fed up with being told that all good, right thinking people in this country are fed up with being sick and tired. I'm certainly not, and I'm sick and tired of being told that I am
- Unknown Sketch
Monty Python's usual schoolboy humour is here let loose on a period of history appropriately familiar to every schoolboy in the West, and a faith which could be shaken by such good-humoured ribaldry would be a very precarious faith indeed.
- The British Board Of Film Censors, In their report on Life of Brian
Reverend Belling (Graham Chapman): You know, there are many people in the country today who, through no fault of their own, are sane. Some of them were born sane. Some of them became sane later in their lives. It is up to people like you and me who are out of our tiny little minds to try and help these people overcome their sanity. You can start in small ways with ping-pong ball eyes and a funny voice and then you can paint half of your body red and the other half green and then you can jump up and down in a bowl of treacle going "squawk, squawk, squawk..." And then you can go "Neurhhh! Neurhhh!" and then you can roll around on the floor going "pting pting pting"...
- Monty Python: "Show Twenty-One"
You see, our experts describe you as an appallingly dull fellow, unimaginative, timid, lacking in initiative, spineless, easily dominated, no sense of humour, tedious company and irrepressibly drab and awful. And whereas in most professions these would be considerable drawbacks, in chartered accountancy they are a positive boon.
- Accountant seeking more exotic job is interviewed by a careers advisor,
From "The Meaning of Life".
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