MONTY PYTHON'S PREVIOUS RECORD Unofficial transcript brought to you by The Jaguar! (alias Jeremy Reimer) Note: Other people have began distributing sections of this and other scripts under names like PYTHON.LZH. Be sure to get the original! Only Jaguar (tm) unofficial scripts are guaranteed 97.82834% accuracy! Do not settle for anything less! Another Note: Unlike the previous script (PYTHON1.ZIP - The Worst of Monty Python's Flying Circus) I did not write this from memory. See PYTHON1.DOC for more details. Still Another Note: I also did not write this out all at once like the first one. I took my time. Hey, I have all the free time in the world. I've only got six or seven courses at UBC. And its only Physics and Math. Not something hard, like underwater basket-weaving or Philosophy. And Yet Another Infuriating Note: I am totally, unreservedly, undeniably, indescribably insane. Therefore, I cannot be sued for any existing or imagined copyright infringent. Indeed I have been known to cackle hideously for up to twelve hours upon seeing a copyright notice before watching a video. This can make watching videos with me a pain. The Final Note We Hope Or We Will Have To Bring Out The Heavy Artillery: This one is not quite as good (or bad) as Worst of Python's Flying Circus. Stay tuned (eventually) for Monty Python Live at Drury Lane which has some of these skits in enhanced mode. But there are some gems in here like Eric the Half a Bee (in its entirety!) Oh hell, and the Dinosaur sketch too. <<<>>> . . . (Side One) Michael Palin: <<< NO!! NOT THIS RECORD!! NOT *THIS* RECORD!!! NOT THIS RECORD!!! >>> (scratchy record noises, unheard of in this day and age of CD's) (lovely sickening elevator music with lots of lovely sickening violins) Man (Eric Idle): Are you embarrased easily? I am. But it's nothing to worry about. It's all part of growing up and being British. This course is designed to eliminate embarassment, to enable you to talk freely about rude objects, to look at awkward and embarassing things, and to point at people's privates. The course has been designed by Karl Grber, at the Institute of Going a Bit Red in Helsinki. Here, he himself introduces the course. Karl (Michael Palin): Hello! My name is Karl Grber. Thank-you for inviting me into your home. My method is the result of six years work here at the Institute, in which subjects were exposed to simulated embarassment predicaments, over a prolonged fart. Period of time! (pplllbbt!) Lesson one: Words. Do any of these words (ppbth!) embarass you? Reader (John Cleese): Karl: Now let's go on to something ruder! Reader: Karl: Now lesson Two: Noises. Noises are a major embarassment source. Even words like tits, winkle and vibraphone cannot rival the embarassment potential of sound. Listen to this, if you can! (Licking sounds) Karl: How do you rate your embarassment response? a) High, b) Hello!, c) Good Evening! If (c) you are loosening up, and will soon be ready for this: (Bathroom sounds) Karl: Well! How did you rate? a) Embarassed, b) Hello! or c) Good Evening. Now Lesson Three, in which these rude and dirty sounds are combined with smutty visual situations, into an embarassment simulation situation. (ppth!) You are the waiter at this table: (restaurant noises) Woman (Carol Cleveland): John, I've got something to _show_ you... Karl: Score Five for no embarassment, score Three for slight embarassment, and One for.. Announcer (Graham Chapman): Good Evening. A book at bedtime. Allan Hutchinson reads another extract from a series of bedside books. Allan (John Cleese): Number Thirty-Two. The lady lies with her left leg planted firmly on the ground, and the right hand waiting. The gentleman with the melon switches on the battery and places his left thigh on the swivel table, keeping the neck of the stuffed goose absolutely still.... (More elevator music) (Bird sounds) Announcer (Michael Palin): England. 1747. Moore (John Cleese): Stand and deliver! Man (Graham Chapman): Not on your... <> Lady (Carol Cleveland): Aaaaa! Moore: 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 practice every day... Well, not absolutely every day but most days in the week, I expect I must practice at least four or five times a week, or more really, only some weekends, like last weekend, there really wasn't the time so that brings the average down a bit. I'd say it's at least a solid four days a week, at least, I mean, I bet I could hit that tree over there, ah, the one on the hillet, the little hillet not the big hillet, well, you see the three trees over there, well the one furthest away on the right... (More inspired elevator music with a frenzied pitch, or perhaps that was just your stomach going while the elevator's cable snapped) Host (Eric Idle): Good evening, and welcome to The Money Program. Tonight on The Money Program, 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 cheques, purged pieces of copper coinage thrust deep into trouser pockets, romantic foreign money rolling against the thigh with rough familiarity, beautiful wayward cirliqued bank notes, flirty copper-plating cheek-by-jowl with tumbling octangonal milled edges, rubbing gently against the terse leather of beautifully balanced bank books!!!! Sorry. But I love money. All money. 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! The romance of the ruble! The feel of the franc! The heel of the deutchsmark! The cold, antiseptic sting of the Swiss franc! And the sunburnt splendour of the Australian Dollar! (music) Iiiiiiive got ninety-thousand pounds in my pajamas I've got forty-thousand french francs in my fridge I've got lots of lovely lira now the deutchsmark's getting dearer, And my dollar bills would buy the the Brooklin Bridge. Oh! 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 splash! 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, round, round round, You can keep your Marxist ways, but its only just a phase, For it's money, money, money makes the World go 'round! Moore: What's the one like that with the leaves that are sort of regularly veined, and the veins go right out with the sort of.. Lady: Serated? Moore: Serated edges, that's right.. Other Man (Eric Idle): A Willow! Moore: Yes! Other Man: That's nothing like a willow.. Moore: It doesn't matter anyway! I could hit it seven times out of ten, that's the point.. Other Man: Never a willow... Moore: Shut up! This is a hold-up, not a botany lesson! Now, no false moves please! I want you to hand over all the loupins you've got! Man: Loupins? Moore: Yes, loupins! Other Man: What do you mean, loupins? Moore: Don't try to play for time! Other Man: I'm not.. but the flower loupin? Moore: Yes, that's right.. Man: But we 'aven't got any loupins. Lady: Honestly! Moore: Look my friends, I happen to know that this is the Loupin Express. Man: Damn! Lady: Here you are. Moore: In a bunch! In a bunch! Man: Sorry! Moore: Come on, Concorde! (music) Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore, galloping through the squad Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore, and his horse Concorde He steals from the rich, and gives to the poor! Mr. Moore, Mr. Moore, Mr. Moore. Host (Eric Idle): A lot of people in this country pooh pooh Australian table wines. This is a pity as many fine Australian wines appeal not only to the Australian palate, but also to the connissenti of Great Britain. Blaxdon Bordeaux is a rightly praised as a peppermint flavoured Burgandy. Whilst a good Sydney Syrup can rank with any of the world's best sugary wines. Chateau Blue, too, has won many prizes, not least for its taste, and its lingering after- burn. Old Smokey 1968 has been compared favorably to a Welsh claret, whilst the Australian Wino Society thoroughly recommend a 1970 Cocktu Rod-Lavour which believe me has a kick on it like a mule. Eight bottles of this and you're really finished. At the opening of the Sydney Bridge Club they were fishing them out of the main sewers every half an hour. Of the sparkling wines the most famous is Perth Pink, this is a bottle with a message in, and the message is BEWARE. This is not a wine for drinking, this is a wine for laying down and avoiding. Another good fighting wine is Melbourne Auldon Yellow which is particularly heavy and should be used only for hand to hand combat. Quite the reverse is true of Chateau Chanda which is an Appalachian controller specially grown for those keen on regurgitation. A fine wine which really opens up the sluices at both ends. Real emetic fans will also go for a Hobart Muddy and a prize winning Cuvay Reservay Chateau Bottle Nui San Wogga Wogga which has a bouquet like an aborigine's armpit. (music) Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore, riding through the night Soon every loupin in the land will be in his mighty hand He steals them from the rich, and gives them to the poor, Mr. Moore Loupin-de-lour Extraor.......dinary (sound of door opening) Man (Michael Palin): Ah, I'd like to have an argument please. Receptionist (Carol Cleveland): Certainly sir, have you been here before? Man: No, I haven't, this is my first time. Receptionist: I see, well, do you want to have just one argument, or were you thinking of taking a course? Man: Well, what is the cost? Receptionist: Well, it's one pound for a five minute argument, but only eight pounds for a course of ten. Man: Well, I think it would be best if I perhaps just started off with just the one and then see how it goes. Receptionist: Fine, well I'll see who's free at the moment, ah, Mr. DeBakey's free, but he's a little bit concillatory, ah yes, try Mr. Barnard, room 12. Man: Thank you. (Man walks upstairs and opens door) Man-at-Desk (Graham Chapman): What do you want? Man: Well I was told outside that... Man-at-Desk: Don't give me that you snotty-faced heap of parrot droppings! Man: What? Man-at-Desk: Shut your festering gob you tit, your type really makes me puke, you vacuous, coffee nosed, malodorous pervert!!! Man: Look, I came here for an argument, I not going to just stand here and... Man-at-Desk: Oh, oh, I'm sorry, but this is abuse. Man: Ah, I see, well that explains it. Man-at-Desk: Ah yes, you want room 12A, just along the corridor. Man: Oh, thank you very much, sorry. Man-at-Desk: Not at all. Man: Thank-you. (walks out and closes door) Man-at-Desk: Stupid git! (knocks at door) Professional Arguer (John Cleese): Come in. Man: Ah, is this the right room for an argument? Arguer: I've told you once. Man: No you haven't. Arguer: Yes I have. Man: When? Arguer: Just now. Man: No you didn't. Arguer: I did. Man: Didn't. Arguer: Did. Man: Didn't. Arguer: I'm telling you I did. Man: You did not. Arguer: Oh, I'm sorry, just one moment, um, is this the five minute argument, or the full half hour? Man: Oh, just the, ah, five minutes. Arguer: Thank you. Anyway, I did. Man: You most certainly did not. Arguer: Now look, let's get this thing clear, I quite definitely told you! Man: No you did not. Arguer: Yes, I did! Man: No you didn't. Arguer: Yes I did! Man: No you didn't. Arguer: Yes I did! Man: No you didn't. Arguer: Yes I did! Man: You didn't. Arguer: Did! Man: Oh look, this isn't an argument. Arguer: Yes it is. Man: No is isn't, it's just contradiction. Arguer: No it isn't. Man: It is. Arguer: It is not. Man: Look, you just contradicted me. Arguer: I did not! Man: Oh, you did! Arguer: No, no, no! Man: You did just then! Arguer: Nonsense. Man: Oh, look, this is futile. Arguer: No it isn't. Man: I came here for a good argument! Arguer: No you didn't, no you came here for an argument. Man: Well, an argument isn't just contradiction. Arguer: Can be. Man: No it can't. An argument is a connected series of statements intended to establish a proposition. Arguer: No it isn't. Man: Yes it is. It's not just contradiction. Arguer: Look, if I argue with you, I must take up a contrary position. Man: Yes, but that's not just saying no it isn't! Arguer: Yes it is! Man: No it isn't! Argument is an intellectual process, contradiction is just the automatic gain-saying of any statement the other person makes. Arguer: (pauses) No it isn't. Man: Yes it is. Arguer: Not at all. Man: Now look.. (ring! ring!) Arguer: Good morning! Man: What?! Arguer: That's it, good morning. Man: I was just getting interested. Arguer: Sorry, The five minutes are up. Man: That was never five minutes. Arguer: I'm afraid it was. Man: It wasn't. Arguer: I'm sorry, but I'm not allowed to argue any more. Man: What!?! Arguer: If you want me to go on arguing, you'll have to pay for another five minutes. Man: Yes, but that was never five minutes just now, oh come on. Arguer: Hmmm, hmmmm, hmm, hmmmm. Man: Look, this is ridiculous. Arguer: I'm sorry, but I'm not allowed to argue unless you've paid. Man: Oh, all right. (Pays the one pound) Arguer: Thank you. Man: Well? Arguer: Well what? Man: That wasn't really five minutes just now. Arguer: I told you, I'm not allowed to argue unless you've paid. Man: I just paid! Arguer: No you didn't. Man: I did! Arguer: No you didn't. Man: Look, I don't want to argue about it. Arguer: Well you didn't pay! Man: Aha! If I didn't pay, then why are you arguing? I've got you. Arguer: No you haven't. Man: Yes I have, if you're arguing, I must have paid! Arguer: Not necessarily. I could be arguing in my spare time. Man: Oh, I've had enough of this. Arguer: No you haven't. Man: Oh shut up. (leaves room and walks away) Man: I want to complain. Another Man (Eric Idle): You want to complain, look at these shoes, I've only 'ad 'em three weeks and the 'eels are worn right through. Man: But I want to complain... Another Man: If you complain nothing happens, you might as well not bother. Man: What? Another Man: And me back hurts, and when are we going to 'ave a fine day, and I'm sick and tired of this office... (slams door and leaves again) Man: Hello, I want to... OW!! Trainer (Terry Jones): No, no, no, hold your head like this and then go WAA, try that again. Man: Owao! Trainer: Better, better, but WAA!, WAA!, put your hand there. Man: NO! Trainer: Now... (Thunk!) Man: WAA! Trainer: Ah, good that's it. Man: Stop hitting me! Trainer: What? Man: Stop hitting me. Trainer: Stop hitting you? Man: Yes! Trainer: Then why'd you come in here then? Man: I wanted to complain. Trainer: Oh, no that's next door. It's being hit on the head lessons in here. Man: What a stupid concept! (Still more elevator music) Co-Host (John Cleese): Hello children! Other Hosts: Hello! Hello! Co-Host: Well, last week we showed you how to be a gynecologist, and this week on How To Do It we're going to learn how to play the flute, how to split the atom, how to construct box girder bridges, Another Host: Super! Co-Host: and how to irrigate the Sahara and make vast new areas of land cultivatable. But first, here's Jackie, to tell you how to rid the world of all known diseases. Jackie (Eric Idle): Hello Alan! Co-Host: Hello Jackie! Jackie: Well, first, become a doctor and discover a marvellous new cure for something, and then when the medical world really starts to take notice of you, you can jolly well tell them what to do and make sure they all get everything right, so there will never be diseases again anymore! Co-Host: Thank-you Jackie, that was _great_! Other Host (Graham Chapman): Super! Co-Host: Now, how to play the flute. Well, you blow into one end, and move your fingers up and down the outside. Another Host: Great, Alan! Jackie: Super! Another Host: Well, next week we'll tell you how black and white people can live together in peace and harmony, and Alan will be over in Moscow, showing you how to reconcile the Russians and the Chinese. Till then, good bye! Jackie: Bye! Co-Host: Bye-bye! (music) Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore Is not in this bit. Woman (Terry Jones): 'ello, Mrs. Premise! Woman#2 (Graham Chapman): Oh, 'ello, Mrs. Conclusion! Woman: Busy day? Woman#2: Busy! I just spent four hours burying the cat! Woman: Four hours to bury the cat? Woman#2: Yes.. it wouldn't keep still, wrigglin' about, 'owling.. Woman: It's not dead, then? Woman#2: Oh no, no, but it's not at all a well cat. And seeing as we were going away for a fortnight we thought we'd better bury it just to be on the safe side. Woman: Quite right, quite right, you don't want to come home from Sarento to a dead cat. Woman#2: Yes.. Woman: We've decided to have the budgie put down. Woman#2: Ooo! Is 'e very old, then? Woman: No, we just don't like it. Woman#2: 'ow do they put budgies down? Woman: Well its funny you should ask, I've been reading this great big book on how to put your budgie down, and evidently you can either hit them with the book, or shoot them there just above the beak. Woman#2: Mmm! Mrs. Essence flushed hers down the loo! Woman: OO! That's dangerous! 'cause they breed in the sewers, and eventually you get great smelly flocks of soiled budgies, flying up people's lavatories infringing on their personal freedom... (ding! ding! ding-ding!) Announcer (Michael Palin): Personal freedom infringed, ring Slater Nazi, city 0478 or if closed, the department of Trade and Industry. (ding! ding! ding-ding!) Announcer (Eric Idle): Forced gentleman required to share large-hamstered gentleman. (music) Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore, Dum-dum-dum, the night Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore, Dum-de-dum, dum, plight! He steals, dum dum dum! And dum dum dum dee! Dennis Dum, Dennis Dee, Dum dum dum. (Scene: Busy office, crowd rambling about in background, man whistling) Man (John Cleese): 'ello, I would like to buy a fish license please. Official (Michael Palin): A what? Man: A license for my pet fish, Eric. Official: 'ow did you know my name was Eric? Man: No, no, no, my fishes name is Eric. Eric the Fish. 'ees an 'alibut. Official: What? Man: He is annnn hhhalibut. Official: You've got a pet halibut? Man: Yes.. I chose 'im out of thousands... I didn't like the others, they were all too flat. Official: You must be a loony. Man: I am not a loony! Why should I be tiered with the epithed loony merely because I 'ave a pet 'alibut? I've 'eard tale that Sir Gerald DeBardeaux has a pet prawn called Simon, you wouldn't call him a loony. Furthermore, Dawn Palethorpe, the lady showjumper, had a clam called Stephan, after the late chancellor. Allan Bullock 'as two pikes, both called Chris, and Marcel Proust 'ad an 'allock! So if you're calling the author of A l rei cherche de ton Pr a loony, I shall 'ave to ask you to step outside!! Official: Oh all right, all right all right. A license. Man: Yes. Official: For a fish. Man: Yes. Official: You are a loony. Man: Look, its a bleedin' pet isn't it? I've got a licence for me pet dog Eric, and I've got another license for me pet cat Eric! Official: You don't need a license for your cat! Man: I bleedin' well do and I got one! Can't be caught out there! Official: There is no such thing as a bloody cat license. Man: Yes there is! Official: No there isn't! Man: Is! Official: Isn't! Man: I bleedin' got one! Look! What's that then? Official: This is a dog license with the word 'dog' crossed out and 'cat' written in in crayon. Man: The man didn't 'ave the right form. Official: What man? Man: The man from the cat-detector van. Official: The loony detector van, you mean. Man: Look, it's people like you what cause unrest. Official: What cat-detector van? Man: The cat-detector van from the Ministry of Housinge. Official: Housinge? Man: It was spelt like that on the van. I'm very observant. I'd never seen so many bleedin' aerials! The man said their equipment could pinpoint a purr at four hundred yards, and Eric, being such an 'appy cat, was a piece of cake! Official: How much did you pay for this? Man: Ah, sixty quid, and eight for the fruit bat. Official: What fruit bat? Man: Eric the Fruit Bat. Official: Are all your pets called Eric? Man: There's nothing so odd about that! Camile Attaturk once 'ad an entire menagerie called Abdul! Official: No he didn't. Man: Did! Official: Didn't! Man: Did! Did! Did! Did! Didn't! Did! Official: Oh, all right. Man: Spoken like a gentleman, sir. Now are you going to give me a fish license? Official: I promise you, there is no such thing, you _don't_ _need_ _one_! Man: In that case, give me a bee license. Official: A license for your pet bee? Man: Correct. Official: Called Eric? Eric the Bee? Man: Nope. Official: No? Man: No, Eric the 'alf Bee. He 'ad an accident. Official: You're off your chump. Man: If you intend by that utilization of an obscure colloquialism to imply that my sanity is not up to scratch, or indeed to deny the semi-existence of my little chum Eric the Half-Bee, then I shall have to ask you to listen to this! Take it away, Eric the Orchestra leader! (Eric Idle): (ah one, ah two, ah one,two,three,four!...) Half a bee Philosophically Must ipso facto Half not be. But half the bee Has got to be Vis vie, its entity. Do you see? But can a bee Be said to be Or not to be An entire bee? When half the bee Is not a bee Due to some ancient injury? Singing. A lah dee dee, One two three, Eric the Half A Bee A B C (D) E F G Eric the Half a Bee Is this a wretched demi-bee? Half-asleep upon my knee? Some freak, from a menagerie? No! It's Eric the Half a Bee! Fiddle dee dum, Fiddle dee dee, Eric the Half a Bee! Ho ho ho, tee hee hee Eric the half a Bee! I love this hive employee Bisected accidentally One summer afternoon by me I love him carnally! (He loves him carnally!) Semi-carnally! The End. Cyril Connelly? No, Semi-carnally! OH.... (Cyril Connelly....) (more elevator music, with that special 'kick') Host (Eric Idle): Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to another editon of What Do You <>, a new radio quiz game loosely based on all the old radio quiz games. The rules are very simple, we shall ask a team of two personalities, Lord Elfers, Lord Elfers (Michael Palin): Hello. Host: and the Deaconess of Detroit, Deaconess (Terry Jones): Hello. Host: a series of questions in either <> category, <> category, or special category <>. If they get it right they get a <> and if they get a wrong answer they get a <> from the studio audience. At the end of the contest they will hear this: <> and they must stop immediately. At any point in the proceedings they may given a <> which means they may ask another question, or if they hear this: <> it's the fire alarm. When they want to interrupt a <> question or a <> question but not a <> question they must press their special buttons. Lord Elfers, will you press yours. <> And Deaconess, yours. <> If they get it right they get fifteen points on the scoreboard here, four letters on the radio blackboard for each correct part, and a shot from our mystery gunner. <> In the event of a tie I shall start the clock,<>,so, and there will be a choice of either a <> or a <> for the first of either the <> contenstant or the <> contenstant who can make the golden word 'Birmingham' from his four letters. And he will get a <> which will mean he is this week's winner. Right, those are very simply the rules, we'll be back again next week, till then goodbye from Lord Elfers, Lord Elfers: Goodbye! Host: the Deaconess of Detroit, Deaconess: Goodbye! Host: and from me it's <> (more elevator music) Narrator (Terry Jones): And now here is a magnificant recording made in the Y valley of an ordinary travel agent's office. Note the huge breasted typist in the background. (ring, ring) Smoke (Eric Idle): Good-morning. Secretary (Carol Cleveland):Oh, good-morning. Um, do you want to come upstairs? Smoke: I beg your pardon? Secretary: Do you want to come upstairs? Oh, or have you come to arrange a holiday? Smoke: Uh, to arrange a holiday. Secretary: Uh, sorry. Smoke: What's all this about coming upstairs? Secretary: Nothing, Nothing. Now, where were you thinking of going? Smoke: India. Secretary: Ah, one of our adventure holidays. Smoke: Yes. Secretary: Well, you better see Mr. Bounder about that. Um, Mr. Bounder, this gentleman is interested in the India Overland. Bounder: Morning, I'm Bounder of Adventure. Smoke: Hello, I'm Smoketoomuch. Bounder: Well, you better cut down a little then. Smoke: I'm sorry? Bounder: You'd better cut down a little then. Smoke: Oh, oh, I see, Smoke-too-Much so I'd better cut down a little then. Bounder: Yeahesss. I expect you get people making jokes about your name all the time, eh? Smoke: No, I've never noticed it before. (slight pause) Bounder: So you're interested in one of our adventure holidays are you? Smoke: Yes, I saw your advert in the bolour supplement. Bounder: The what? Smoke: The bolour supplement. Bounder: The colour supplement? Smoke: Yes I'm sorry I can't say the letter B. Bounder: C? Smoke: Yes, that's right. It's all due to a trauma I suffered when I was a sboolboy. I was attacked by a bat. Bounder: A cat? Smoke: No, a bat. Bounder: Oh, well can you say the letter K? Smoke: Oh yes, khaki, kind, kettle, kippling, kipper, Kuwait, kebble bollege Oxford. Bounder: Yes, yes, well why don't you use the letter K instead of the letter C? Smoke: What, spell bolour with a K? Bounder: Yes. Smoke: Kolour. Oh, thank you. I never thought of that, what a silly bunt. Bounder: Anyway, about the holiday... Smoke: Well, yes. I've been on package tours many times and so your advert really bought my eye. Bounder: Ah, good. Smoke: Yes, you're quite right, I'm fed up with being treated like a sheep. I mean what's the point of going abroad if Bounder: Umm. Smoke: you're just another tourist, Bounder: Yes Smoke: carted around in busses surrounded by sweaty mindless hoards from Ketrid and Boventry Bounder: Absoluteley Smoke: and their cloth caps Bounder: Yes Smoke: and their cardigans Bounder: Yes, Hmm. Smoke: with their transistor radios and their Sunday mirrors bomplainin' about the tea, ohh Bounder: Yeah, yeah. Smoke: they don't make it properly here do they, not like at home Bounder: Yeah Smoke: stoppin' at Major Ken Bedeega's selling fish and chips and Wattney's Red Barrel and Calamaris and toovay and Bounder: Yes Smoke: sitting in their cotton sun frocks squirting Timothy White sun cream all over their puffy raw swollen purulient flesh Bounder: Yes Smoke: cause they over did it on the first day. Bounder: Um. Smoke: And being herded into endless hotel mirrormars and bell bellviews and bunted and tars with their modern international luxury roomettes and draft red barrel and swimming pools - Bounder: Yes Smoke: full of Bounder: Yes, but Smoke: fat German businessmen, Bounder: Yeah, yeah Bounder: pretending they're acrobats forming pyramids and frightning Bounder: yeah Smoke: the children and barging in the cues and if your not at your table spot on seven you miss the bowl of Campbell's cream of mushroom soup Bounder: Shut up. Smoke: the first item on the menu of international cuisine Bounder: Shut up, please. Smoke: every Thursday night the hotel is a bloody cabaret in the bar featuring a tiny emaiciated daygo Bounder: Please will you shut up? Smoke: with nine inch hips and some bloated fat tart with her hair brill-creamed down and a big ass presenting flaminco for foreigners Bounder: Shut up! Smoke: and then an idle typist from Birmingham with flabby white legs and diahrrea trying to pick up hairy Bounder: Please! Smoke: bandy legged wet waiters called Manuel Bounder: Shut up! Smoke: and once a week there's an excursion to the local Roman ruins to buy cherryaid and melted ice cream Bounder: I can't bear it! Smoke: and Wattney's Red Barrel and one evening you visit the so called typical restaurant, with local colour and atmosphere Bounder: Shut up! Smoke: and you sit next to a party of people from Rillough who keep singing TOH RAY MA LINOS, TOH RAY MA LINOS, and complaining about the food its so greasy here isn't it and you cornered by some drunken green grocer from Louten with an Instamatic and Dr. Scholl's sandals and Tuesday's Daily Express, and he drones on and on and on about how Mr. Smith should be running this country and how many Bounder: I'll ring the police Smoke: languages Enoc Pal can speak and then he throws up all over the Bounder: I'm going to ring the police Smoke: cubalibras, and sending tinted postcards to places they don't realize they haven't visited to all at number 22, Bounder: Shut up!!! Smoke: weather wonderful Bounder! Please Shut up!!! Smoke: All boobs marked with an X. Food very greasy, but we found a charming Bounder: Take it off!! Take it off!!!!! Smoke: little local place hidden way in the back streets where they serve Wattney's Red Barrel and cheese and onion flavoured crisps Bounder: For God's sakes, take it off! take it off! Smoke: and they're recording its place and maybe it's because I'm a Londoner... (police enter. Murmuring sounds. Eventually the record is taken off) --------------------------end of side one------------------------------------- (Side Two) Announcer (Graham Chapman): And now a massage from the Swedish Prime Minister. (slap! slap! slappapitty slap slap slappity slap slap slappitslap!!) (fades out) (doooooorrrrnnngggg Eerrrww... Ding! Duhhhh... Dah nah nah, [nuh nuh] Duh nah nah [nuh nuh], nuh nuh nuh nuh na nuh nuuuhhhh. [Boom, Boom, Boom]. Deedle-dee ding! doop dang ding dang dah ding! Deedle deep! (whee!) doodle deep doop! [nyeeerrrrp] (brrrring!) doop, doop, damp, duhmp, dump, dump. Doodle-doo dah doop dah, dee! dee! dee! [Whieeeew!] Doodle-doo dah doop dah, Dee! Dee! Dee! [Whieeew!] Deedle...) (fades out) Host (John Cleese): Today on Silly Noises are two teams are: the Bournemouth and District Amateur Gynecologists (applause) who take on our visitors today from Goolge in Yorkshire, the Humber and District Catholic River-Wideners club. And it's Bornemouth's turn to ask the first question. Bournemouth? Bournemouth guy (Michael Palin): Clay pigeon-shooting, please. Host: Nope, sorry, Goolge? Goolge guy (Eric Idle): History? Host: Yes, well done Goolge. And so Goolge a point ahead in Silly Noises this week, what famous eighteenth-century foriegn minister made this noise when you pushed him: <> (rrring!) Goolge: Lord Averdeen? Host: Yes, three points. And now Bournmouth? Bournemouth: Yes? Host: Wrong, the answer was a pedarest, no points there. Now Goolge, the second history question: what treaty was signed to the the sound of this: <> (rring!) Goolge: The Franco-Prussian Alliance of 1821? Host: Yes, indeeed, no mistaking that, now, Bournemouth, are you ready? Bournemouth: Yes. Host: Nope, bad luck, rather a difficult one, no points. And so with Goolge leading seven points to nil, we're going to suddenly stop the game. (This next one is best done with the silliest John-Cleese-female voice you can pull off. Even sillier than Eric the Half a Bee) Interviewer (Graham Chapman): Good evening. Tonight: Dinosaurs. I have here sitting in the studio next to me, an elk. Wellauugh! Oh, I'm sorry _Anne_ Elk. Mrs. Anne Elk. Anne (John Cleese): Miss. Interviewer: Sorry, Miss Anne Elk, who is an expert on... Anne: No, no, no, Anne Elk. Interviewer: What? Anne: Anne Elk, not Anne Expert. Interviewer: Oh, no, no no I was just saying that you, Anne, were an A-N not A-N-N-E expert. On elks. Sorry! On dinosaurs. Anne: Yes, I certainly am Chris, how very true, my word yes. Interviewer: Now, Miss Elk, Anne, you have a new theory concerning the brontosaurus. Anne: Can I just say here, Chris, for one moment, that I have a new theory about the brontosaurus. Interviewer: Exactly. What is it? Anne: Well. Interviewer: No, no no, what is your theory? Anne: Oh, what is my theory? Interviewer: Yes. Anne: Oh, what is my theory, that it is? Yes, well you might well ask, what is my theory. Interviewer: I _am_ asking... Anne: And well you may. Yes my word, you may well ask, what it is, this theory of mine. Well, this theory, that I have, that is to say, which is mine, is mine. Interviewer: I know it's yours, what is it? Anne: Well. Oh! Oh what is my theory? Interviewer: Yes. Anne: Well, my theory, that I have, follows along the lines which I am about to relate. Ehmm! Ehmm! ehg! ehhg! ehhahgh! ehhahg! Interviewer: (muttering) oh god... Anne: Ehhugh, ehhugh, ehhugh, ehhugh. Mmmmgh! eh mhhhhgg! Mmmmm! Mmm! The Theory, by A. Elk, that's A for Anne, it's not by a elk. Interviewer: _Right_.. Anne: Ehhhgh! Ehmm! This theory, which belongs to me, is as follows: Ehgh! Ehgh! This is how it goes: Ehgh! Ehgh! The next thing that I am about to say is my theory. Eugh! Ehm!! (pause) Ready? Interviewer: Oh! (almost in tears) Anne: The theory, by A. Elk, brackets, Miss, brackets. My theory is along the following lines.. Interviewer: Oh, _god_.. Anne: All brontosauruses are thin at one end, much, much thicker in the middle, and then thin again at the far end. That is the theory that I have, and which is mine, and what it is too. Interviewer: That's it, is it? Anne: Right, Chris. Interviewer: Well, Anne, this theory of yours appears to hit the nail on the head! Anne: And it's mine. Interviewer: Thank-you for coming along to the studio. Anne: My pleasure, Chris. Interviewer: Britain's newest wasp farm, opened last week... Anne: It's been a lot of fun. Interviewer: What? Anne: Saying what my theory is. Interviewer: Yes, thank-you Anne: And whose it is. Interviewer: Yes, Opened last week... Anne: I have another theory. Interviewer: Not today, thank-you. Anne: My theory Number Two which is the second theory that I have. Euugh! Ehhg! This theory, Interviewer: Shut up! Anne: that I'm about to say, Interviewer: Look, please shut up! Anne: which, with what I have said, are the two theories that are mine and which belong to me... Interviewer: Look, if you don't shut up I shall shoot you!! Anne: Ehhg! Ehm! My basic theory, which I possess the ownership of, which belongs to me... <<>> (pause) Anne: Ehhg! Eggh! The Theory The Second, By Anne.. <<>> (Sickeningly swooning music.... bleech) Announcer (Terry Jones): Yangtze Kiang, the Great Yellow River, which, from time immemorial, has fascinated and tantalized the hearts and minds of men from all corners of the Earth. Bob Wilson, Arsenal: Bob (Graham Chapman): A wonderous river. Her broad banks a-swelling, home to a race of fish. Announcer: Peter Shulton, Lester: Peter (Eric Idle): Oh Yangtze, Oh Yangtze! Beautiful river! River full of fish! Announcer: Sprake, Leeds United: Sprake (John Cleese): Yangtze Kiang, river of the Eastern dream, teeming with carp, and trout, and perch, and....breem. Announcer: Why is it that so many of Britain's top goalies choose to write about the Yangtze? Brian Cluff: Brian (Eric Idle): Well you must remember, David, ah, that these, ah, goalies, especially Wilson and on occasion gone west of Averton, are romantics, ah, they're dreamers, the Yangtze is a symbol for them, ah, for them it evokes, ah, David, a temporal as well as a spiritual, ah, continuity. Announcer: Bill Shankley: Bill (Michael Palin): Oh, it's a river of many moouds. To a young goalie, like Peter Shulton, the Yangtze is a beautiful river. To a more seasoned goalie, like, Phil Pucks of Wolles, it is a river of regret, of disillusioned ambition. And I think this is goot. [good]. (drumroll and marching band) Bring on the Yangtze, Yangtze Kiang! Flowing for you! Should now we sing Kiang! [or something] Passing through Chungking! Woo-Hai and Hoo-Kau! Three thousand miles! (?!) But it gets there somehow! Hey! Next one's a roaring, and Shanghai is her port! And Yangtze is the river, that we all support! (clap clap clap clap clap) Bring on the Yangtze, Yangtze Kiang! Flowing for you! Should now we sing Kiang! [or something] Passing through Chungking! Woo-Hai and Hoo-Kau! Three thousand miles! (?!) But it gets there somehow! Hey! Next one's a roaring, and Shanghai is her port! And Yangtze is the river, that we all support! (clap clap clap clap clap, Yangtze!! clap clap...) (crowd roaring) Announcer (Graham Chapman): And now a massage from the Swedish Prime Minister. (slap! slap! slappapitty slap slap slappity slap slap slappitslap!!) (fades out) Reader (Eric Idle): Hesitantly, reluctantly, Helen slipped out of her slim tight-waisted waspy and stood naked before me in the moonlight. Somewhere a clock chimed three. An owl hooted in the nearby copse. No wind stirred the casement window as she stood in the pale translucent light on the Persian carpet. A minute passed. Then another. Then another minute. Then, another minute passed. Then another Minute passed. And another. A further minute passed quickly followed by another minute, when suddenly, a different minute passed, followed by another different minute. And another. And yet another further different minute. A minute passed. I glanced at my watch. It was a minute past. This was it. A minute passed. After a moment, another minute passed. I waited a minute, while a minute passed quickly past. And then a minute which seemed to last an hour, but was only a minute, passed. Annoucer (Graham Chapman): That was A Minute Passed, by John Finnlison. You can hear episode nine of A Minute Passed, tomorrow night, at a minute past. And Now! For the First Time Ever On Record! We Proudly Present the Nineteen Seventy-Two Eclipse of the Sun! (triumphant music) Sportscaster (John Cleese): Well here we are at Lords, waiting for the eclipse of the sun. Peter, Peter (another SC (Eric Idle): Yes, the ground's in tip-top condition, and I think we can expect some first-rate eclipsing this morning. Brian, Brian (John Cleese): Well we're certainly looking forward to it very much up here. Jim, Jim (Graham Chapman): And to look at the eclipse of the sun through... Peter: Of the sun through? Jim: Yes, to look at the eclipse of the sun through... Brian: I don't understand. Jim: To look _through_, at the eclipse of the sun.. Brian: What? Jim: I haven't finished! We have this, ooh, surely magnificent... Brian: Absolutely. Jim: ... quite superb.. Brian: Hear, hear! Jim: Quite agree! Peter: What? Jim: ... uh, piece of smoked glass. Brian: Absolutely! Jim: Which must be fully, oh... Brian: Ooh, easily. Peter: Must be! Brian: Absolutely! Jim: No question! Peter: Jolly good! (voice on speaker: Michael Palin: Start again!) Jim: Well, here we are at Lords, with this piece of smoked trout. Peter: Glass. Jim: Oh, please! Brian: No, no, no. Jim: Oh, oh, glass! Waiting, quite superbly, for the eclipse of the sun-like object. Brian: And here, if I'm very much mistaken, comes the eclipse. Jim: Yes, you are very much mistaken, here it comes. Peter? Peter: yes, I can't see anyone stopping it now... Brian: No, it's all over by the shouting.. Jim: The sands of time must surely be drawing to a close for this plucky... OH! (thunder) All: Ohh! Jim: Rain! Peter: Rain! Jim: Mmm Hmm. Well, what a shame, the rain is beginning to come down now here at Lords. Brian: Light's going too.. Peter: Yes, it's really going quite fast! Jim: By Jove, yes it's getting quite murky here now.. Brian: You can hardly see a glass in front of your face. Jim: Well what a shame. That's it from Lords for now I'm afraid but we'll be back as soon as there's any sign of improvement. Announcer (Michael Palin): Well, while we're waiting to take you back to Lords, wel play you a recording of Alistair Cooke, being attacked by a duck. Alistair Cooke (Eric Idle): I can never visit Philadelphia, without being reminded of the story of the Texan. <> <> On visit to <> to <> Pennsylvania's ancient capital, happened to visit <> Alturrows, the famous <> restaurant. Unfamiliar with the custom... <> < beep! beep! beep! > Host (Michael Palin): Hello! and Welcome to the Wonderful World of Sound! <> Host: Yes! The sound of a common household ant magnified three hundred thousand times! And now, the sound of a cockroach sneezing, magnified sixty million times!!! <> <> Host: See how it frightened the ant! Whoa, caught my finger in the drawer there. Even the sound of a tsetse fly picking its nose, magnified only seventy-five thousand times, frightens the ant! <> <> <> Host: And the tiny wood-louse as well!! Auugh! The chair! Ow! Jesus Christ! Neighbor (John Cleese): Shut up! Host: Sorry! Well, now listen to this: <> Host: The sound of an African anteater rubbing Vic on its chest! Wow! Hey-Hey! Isn't that exciting? Neighbor: Shut up! Host: Sorry! But can a black ant get hold of Vic Vapor-Rub? Well, no! But it can ask a FRIEND to get some!! Listen to this: Magnified ninety-two thousand times, the sound of the vicious Afgan Panther Lizard, visiting the chemist!!!! <> <> <> <> <> Host: Isn't nature WONDERFUL!!! Hey, yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah!! And now a herd of zebras, visiting the same chemist, to ask for something for the weekend! <> <> <> <> <> Host: And finally, <> oh! god, finally, some eyedrops, being bought in the chemist just down the street, by a Bengal Tiger! <> <> <> <> <> <> <> Host: They've frightened the ant and the zebras! They trample the wood-louse! Oh Christ, the chair! Oh, God! Neighbor: Shut up! Host: Sorry! Sorry! <> .. Ding, ding,ding-ding! Announcer (Eric Idle): Dead? Ring Arthur Sojurn, the fastest funeral service in North Wales. We can have the deceased out of the house and down the chute within the hour. Free wine glasses with every certified stiff. Ring 0402187 if you're about to snuff it, and our feared 850 will be at your door within ten minutes. Also, Danish and Scandinavian books (see everything!) Announcer (Graham Chapman): And now a massage from the Swedish Prime Minister. (slap! slap! slappapitty slap slap slappity slap slap slappitslap!!) (fades out) (slow music) Reader (John Cleese): Once upon a time, long, long, ago, there lived in a valley far beyond the mountains, the most contented kingdom the world had 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 good happy folk of Happy Valleys sang and danced all day long, and anyone who was for any reason miserable or unhappy, or had any difficult personal problems, was prosecuted under the Happiness Act. (courtroom) Attorney (Terry Jones): Gestball Slipts, I put it to you that on February 5th of this year, you were very depressed with malice and forethought, and that you moaned quietly contrary to the Cheerful Noises Act. Slipts (Michael Palin): I did. Defender (Eric Idle): May I just explain, m'lud, that the reason for my client's behaviour was that his wife had just died that morning? (wild laughter) Judge (laughing) (Graham Chapman): I sentence you to be hanged by the neck, until you cheer up! (uproarious laughter) Reader: And whilst 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, up in the beautiful castle where he lived with his gracious Queen Syllabub, and their lovely daughter Mitsy Gainar, who had fabulous tits, and an enchanting smile, and wooden teeth which she'd bought at a chemist's at Awdsburg, 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 greatest love was her pet dog Herman. She would take Herman for long walks, and pet and fuss over him, and steal him tasty tidbits, 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 knew nothing of gastro-enteritis or plastic hip-joints, or even personal hygeine. One day whilst she was pulling Herman 'round the lawn, she suddenly fell in love with the most beautiful man she had ever seen, naturally assuming him to be a prince. Well, luckily, he was a prince, so she looked him up in the Observer's Book of Princes, learned his name and went to introduce the subject of marriage. And in what seemed like the twinkling of an eye, but was in fact a fortnight, they were on their way to their father's court, to ask for permission to wed. King Otto (Terry Jones): Ya, Dee Buckety! Rum, Fing, Fa-Doo! Nyee! Nyee! Nyee! Yaooo! (applause) King Otto: Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you.. Mitsy (Carol Cleveland): Hello, Daddy! King Otto: Oh, hello, daughter. Mitsy: This is Charming, who wants to marry me. King Otto: Is he a prince? Mitsy: Yes! King Otto: Is he in the book? Mitsy: Yes.. King Otto: Very well, Before I can give my permission to wed I must set you a task, which, if you succeed, will prove you worthy of marrying my daughter. Charming (John Cleese): Yes, sir. I accept. King Otto: Very good. Tomorrow morning, armed only with your sword, you must go up to the highest tower in the castle, and jump out of the window. Reader: And so, early the next morning, the young Prince Charming, dressed in a shining white robe, and clutching his magic sword, plummeted to a painful death. <> <> (laughter) Mitsy: Can we get married now, Daddy? King Otto: No, my dear, he wasn't worthy of you. Mitsy: Oh... Will he have to go into the ground like all the others? King Otto: Hmmm.. that's a good idea for a song! Yes.. Yum, Yum, Dee Buckety, Rum, Fing, Fa-Dauu!! Nyee!! Nyee! Nyee!! Yaaouuuuu!! (all singing) Ya, Dee, Buckety, Rum, Fing, Fa-Doo!! Nyee! Nyee! Nyee! Yaaouuuu!! Reader: One day when Princess Mitsy was out hopefully kissing frogs, she spotted a flash of gold beneath the 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, and bad breath, and a rare foot disease, but, Mitsy thought, a prince is a prince, and she fell in love with him without another thought and rushed into his arms. 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 King Otto to ask permission to wed. King Otto: Ya, Dee Buckety! Rum, Fing, Fa-Doo! Nyee! Nyee! Nyee! Mitsy: Hello, Daddy! King Otto: Yaoouuu!!! Mitsy: Hello, Daddy!! King Otto: Oh, hello Mitsy. Mitsy: This is Walter, who wants to marry me. King Otto: Is he a prince? Mitsy: Yes. King Otto: Is he in the book? Mitsy: _and_ in the forward... King Otto: hmm... Hello, Walter.. Walter (Michael Palin): *Prince* Walter! King Otto: Why, you little... Queen Syllabub (Graham Chapman): Otto!!! King Otto: Oh...sorry... so you want to marry my daughter, do you? Walter: Perhaps Mitsy: Oh, Walter, say you do! Walter: (sniff!) Oh, alright. King Otto: In that case, I must set you a task so you can prove yourself worthy of my daughter's hand. Walter: Why? King Otto: Because she's a fucking princess, that's why!! I am sorry. Before you can marry my daughter, you must go to the highest tower, and.. Queen Syllabub: Otto!!!! King Otto: Ohhhhw... Go down to the town and get me twenty Rothmans. Walter: What, now?! King Otto: No, tomorrow morning!! Reader: And so, early next morning, singlehanded, armed only with 40p, Prince Walter set out for the tobacconist. Yard after yard, he walked. His body breathed in, and breathed out. Until... (suspense rising) (ding aling!) Walter: Twenty Rothman's please. Chemist: Certainly, sir. (kung, ching!) (crowd cheering!) Reader: How all the happy residents of Happy Valley cheered Prince Walter as he walked up the hill in triumph. But just as he was about to reach the castle, he was run over by a London bus. (screeetch!, AAAgh!) Which only goes to show. And the Moral of The Story is: Smoking can ruin your health. The End. ============================================================================== Well, that's it. Don't expect any more Python transcripts until Much, Much, later. The script to the Holy Grail is floating around somewhere. If you want more, go see a Python movie!!! I'm tired of typing out all this stuff. BUT>>>>>>> Here is a message to all you Python fans... and all you other people who just downloaded this for a lark... TWO WORDS: BLACK ADDER!! The sound of hoofbeats cross the glade! Good folk, lock up your son and daughter! Beware his deadly flashing blade! Unless you want to end up shorter! Black Adder! Black Adder! He rides a pitch-black steed! Black Adder! Black Adder! He's very bad indeed! Black, is not the finest mould! Black, is cod-piece made of metal! His horse is blacker than a bull! His heart is blacker than his kettle! Black Adder! Black Adder! With many a cunning plan! Black Adder! Black Adder! You horrid little man! Well, it may sound like Monty Python, but it's actually Rowin Atkinson, famous in Britain as a stand-up comedian with a different angle on things, and also a comedic actor. This stuff is _wild_, I mean really wild, Pythonesque yet (yes!) even ruder! If you have an ounce of soul in your being you will want to rush out and watch Black Adder as it repeats on Channel Nine Saturdays at 11:00 (set the VCR) There are six episodes of Black Adder (probably almost over by the time you get this)... then six episodes of Blackadder II, the sequel which is set in Elizabethan England (the original is set in Middle Ages England... now don't let the historical settings fool you! This is as funny as the Holy Grail and more!) Then six episodes of Blackadder The Third, which is set in the 18th century in England... Guests include Robby Coltrane (who starred with Eric Idle in Nuns on the Run), Stephen Frye, Tony Robinson... Each episode is half and hour (now this was written Feb 4, 1991, so this info may be out of date) But watch it dammit! It takes a while to get used to but oh it is funny. Also, check out Red Dwarf Tuesdays at 11 on YTV (cable 25) It was originally broadcast on PBS, so they cut out the best parts to make way for commercials. But if you enjoyed the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy, you'll love this. And if you didn't, you certainly should have. Lets hear it for the British, they may be strange but they make the best comedy on the planet! Jeremy Reimer, alias ---= The Jaguar! =--- Feb 4, 1991. Somewhere in the universe we call "The Universe".