Monty Python

Please use this thread to get rid of any Monty Python quotes in your head to prevent them appearing at random in other threads. Thankyou.

You have a problem with Cleese and Co. ? Better to quote them than it is to quote xenophobic idiots like our colleague in one of the other threads doing the rounds, surely ?

I just want to see what everyone comes up with.

Welease Woderwick

Liv

Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition, our chief weapon is fear....and surprise. Our two weapons are Fear, surprise......and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope. Amongst our weaponry are such diverse elements as Fear, Surpise, almost fanantial devotion to the Pope and nice red uniforms....

Oh God, lets come in again....

Liv

Originally posted by Grigory Rasputin, the mad mystic of Petrograd 'E's not pinin'! 'E's passed on! This parrot is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E's expired and gone to meet 'is maker! 'E's a stiff! Bereft of life, 'e rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed 'im to the perch 'e'd be pushing up the daisies! 'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! 'E's off the twig! 'E's kicked the bucket, 'e's shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisibile!! THIS IS AN EX-PARROT!!

oh no...I wuz just wondering who wuz going to drag this particular one up from the swamp......

[can anybody transcribe the "ministry of silly walks" sketch into words for us? That would be a first.....]

Posted for Shug, coz he's a lazy bastard

Eric Idle: Very fussable, isn't it? Very fussable.

All: Right, all right.

Graham Chapman: Good glass of Chƒteau de Chasselas, ain't just that, sire?

Terry Jones: Oh, you're right there, Obadiah.

Graham Chapman: Right.

Eric Idle: Who would have thought, thirty years ago, we'd all be sitting here drinking Chateau de Chaselet, eh?

All: Aye, aye.

Michael Palin: Them days we were glad to have the price of a cup of tea.

Graham Chapman: Right! A cup of cold tea!

Michael Palin: Right!

Eric Idle: Without milk or sugar!

Terry Jones: Or tea!

Michael Palin: In a cracked cup and all.

Eric Idle: Oh, we never used to have a cup! We used to have to drink out of a rolled-up newspaper!

Graham Chapman: The best we could manage was to suck on a piece of damp cloth.

Terry Jones: But you know, we were happy in those days, although we were poor.

Michael Palin: Because we were poor!

Terry Jones: Right!

Michael Palin: My old dad used to say to me: "Money doesn't bring you happiness, son!"

Eric Idle: He was right!

Michael Palin: Right!

Eric Idle: I was happier then and I had nothing! We used to live in this tiny old tumbled-down house with great big holes in

the roof.

Graham Chapman: House! You were lucky to live in a house! We used to live in one room, all twentysix of us, no furniture,

half the floor was missing, we were all huddled together in one corner for fear of falling.

Terry Jones: You were lucky to have a room! We used to have to live in the corridor!

Michael Palin: Oh, we used to dream of living in a corridor! Would have been a palace to us! We used to live in an old

watertank on a rubbish tip. We'd all woke up every morning by having a load of rotten fish dumped all over us! House, huh!

Eric Idle: Well, when I say a house, it was just a hole in the ground, covered by a sheet of tarpaulin, but it was a house to us!

Graham Chapman: We were evicted from our hole in the ground. We had to go and live in a lake!

Terry Jones: You were lucky to have a lake! There were 150 of us living in a shoebox in the middle of the road!

Michael Palin: A cardboard box?

Terry Jones: Aye!

Michael Palin: You were lucky! We lived for three months in a rolled-up newspaper in a septic tank! We used to have to go

up every morning, at six o'clock and clean the newspaper, go to work down the mill, fourteen hours a day, week in, week out,

for six pence a week, and when we got home, our dad would slash us to sleep with his belt!

Graham Chapman: Luxury! We used to have to get up out of the lake at three o'clock in the morning, clean the lake, eat a

handful of hot grubble, work twenty hours a day at mill, for two pence a month, come home, and dad would beat us around

the head and neck with a broken bottle, if we were lucky!

Terry Jones: Well, of course, we had it tough! We used to have to get up out of the shoebox in the middle of the night, and

lick the road clean with our tongues! We had to eat half a handful of freezing cold grubble, work twenty-four hours a day at

mill for four pence every six years, and when we got home, our dad would slice us in two with a breadknife!

Eric Idle: Right! I had to get up in the morning, at ten o'clock at night, half an hour before I went to bed, eat a lump of cold

poison, work twenty-nine hours a day down mill and pay millowner for permission to come to work, and when we got home,

our dad would kill us and dance about on our graves, singing Hallelujah!

Michael Palin: Aah. Are you trying to tell the young people of today that, and they won't believe you!

All: No, no they won't!

Liv

You sad sad sad people!!! Wait til I tell our Marty (a big Python fan) about this - he'll be back posting on this thread in no time!!!!

J word? What J word???!!!

Yer out there on yer own mate.....and for the benefit of the rest of us, it's better left that way.....

FAREWELL TO JOHN DENVER:

And now, the sound of John Denver being strangled....

"You came on my pillow.....blagghhhhh"

Thank you.

Or, after reading a certain other thread...

FRENCH TAUNTER:

I don't want to talk to you no more, you empty headed animal, food trough wiper. I fart in your general direction. Your mother was a hamster and your father smelled of elderberries.

I wave my private parts at your aunties, you brightly colored,mealy templed, cranberry smelling, electric donkey bottom biters.

I am NOT a looney !! Why should I be tarred with the epithet "looney" merely because I have a pet halibut called Eric ?

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;

...or Lobster Thermidor a Crevette 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.

Customer: Hello, I would like to buy a fish license, please. Shopkeeper: A what? C: A license for my pet fish, Eric. S: How did you know my name was Eric? C: No no no, my fish's name is Eric, Eric the fish. He's an halibut. S: What? C: He is...an...halibut. S: You've got a pet halibut? C: Yes. I chose him out of thousands. I didn't like the others, they were all too flat. S: You must be a looney. C: I am not a looney! Why should I be attired with the epithet looney merely because I have a pet halibut? I've heard tell that Sir Gerald Nabardo has a pet prawn called Simon (you wouldn't call him a looney); furthermore, Dawn Pailthorpe, the lady show-jumper, had a clam, called Stafford, after the late Chancellor, Allan Bullock has two pikes, both called Chris, and Marcel Proust had an haddock! So, if you're calling the author of 'A la recherche du temps perdu' a looney, I shall have to ask you to step outside! S: Alright, alright, alright. A license. C: Yes. S: For a fish. C: Yes. S: You are a looney. C: Look, it's a bleeding pet, isn't it? I've got a license for me pet dog Eric, and I've got a license for me pet cat Eric... S: You don't need a license for your cat. C: I bleeding well do and I got one. He can't be called Eric without it-- S: There's no such thing as a bloody cat license. C: Yes there is! S: Isn't! C: Is! S: Isn't! C: I bleeding got one, look! What's that then? S: This is a dog license with the word 'dog' crossed out and 'cat' written in in crayon. C: The man didn't have the right form. S: What man? C: The man from the cat detector van. S: The looney detector van, you mean. C: Look, it's people like you what cause unrest. S: What cat detector van? C: The cat detector van from the Ministry of Housinge. S: Housinge? C: It was spelt like that on the van (I'm very observant!). I never seen so many bleeding aerials. The man said that their equipment could pinpoint a purr at four hundred yards! And Eric, being such a happy cat, was a piece of cake. S: How much did you pay for this? C: Sixty quid, and eight for the fruit-bat. S: What fruit-bat? C: Eric the fruit-bat. S: Are all your pets called Eric? C: There's nothing so odd about that: Kemal Ataturk had an entire menagerie called Abdul! S: No he didn't! C: Did! S: Didn't! C: Did, did, did, did, did and did! S: Oh, all right. C: Spoken like a gentleman, sir. Now, are you going to give me a fish license? S: I promise you that there is no such thing: you don't need one. C: In that case, give me a bee license. S: A license for your pet bee? C: Yes. S: Called Eric? Eric the Bee? C: No. S: No? C: No, Eric the Half-Bee. He had an accident. S: You're off your chump. C: Look, if you intend by that utilization of an obscure colloquiallism 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, I shall have to ask you to listen to this! Take it away, Eric the orchestra leader!.......

A one... two.... A one.. two.. three..four...

[piano intro]

Half a bee, philosophically, must, ipso facto, half not be. But half the bee has got to be, vis a vis 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...

La dee dee, 1 2 3, Eric the half a bee. A B C D E F G, Eric the half a bee.

Is this retched 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 bee.

Ho ho ho, Tee hee hee, Eric the half a bee.

I love this hive employee-ee-ee [with buzzing in background] bisected accidentally one summer afternoon by me I love him carnally.

He loves him carnally... [together] ...semi-carnally

[spoken]

The end

"Cyril Connelly?" No! "Semi-carnally" Oh!

Cyril Connelly [sung softly and slowly]

Immanuel Kant was a real piss-ant who was very rarely stable. Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar who could think you under the table. David Hume could out-consume Schopenhauer and Hegel. And Wittgenstein was a beery swine who was just as sloshed as Schlegel. There's nothing Nietzsche couldn't teach 'ya 'bout the raising of the wrist. Socrates, himself, was permanently pissed. John Stuart Mill, of his own free will, after half a pint of shandy was particularly ill. Plato, they say, could stick it away, 'alf a crate of whiskey every day! Aristotle, Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle, And Hobbes was fond of his Dram. And Rene Descartes was a drunken fart: "I drink, therefore I am." Yes, Socrates himself is particularly missed; A lovely little thinker, but a bugger when he's pissed.

That parrot is definitely deceased, and when I purchased it not 'alf an hour ago, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it bein' tired and shagged out following a prolonged squawk.

Well, he's...he's, ah...probably pining for the fjords.

'E's not pinin'! 'E's passed on! This parrot is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E's expired and gone to meet 'is maker! 'E's a stiff! Bereft of life, 'e rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed 'im to the perch 'e'd be pushing up the daisies! 'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! 'E's off the twig! 'E's kicked the bucket, 'e's shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisibile!! THIS IS AN EX-PARROT!!

What's the point of going abroad if you're just another tourist carted around in buses surrounded by sweaty mindless oafs from Kettering and Coventry in their cloth caps and their cardigans and their transistor radios and their Sunday Mirrors, complaining about the tea - "Oh they don't make it properly here, do they, not like at home" - and stopping at Majorcan bodegas selling fish and chips and Watney's Red Barrel and calamares and two veg and sitting in their cotton frocks squirting Timothy White's suncream all over their puffy raw swollen purulent flesh 'cos they "overdid it on the first day." And being herded into endless Hotel Miramars and Bellvueses and Continentales with their modern international luxury roomettes and draught Red Barrel and swimming pools full of fat German businessmen pretending they're acrobats forming pyramids and frightening the children and barging into queues and if you're not at your table spot on seven you miss the bowl of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup, the first item on the menu of International Cuisine, and every Thursday night the hotel has a bloody cabaret in the bar, featuring a tiny emaciated dago with nine-inch hips and some bloated fat tart with her hair brylcreemed down and a big arse presenting Flamenco for Foreigners. And adenoidal typists from Birmingham with flabby white legs and diarrhoea trying to pick up hairy bandy-legged wop waiters called Manuel and once a week there's an excursion to the local Roman Remains to buy cherryade and melted ice cream and bleeding Watney's Red Barrel and one evening you visit the so called typical restaurant with local colour and atmosphere and you sit next to a party from Rhyl who keep singing "Torremolinos, torremolinos" and complaining about the food - "It's so greasy isn't it?" - and you get cornered by some drunken greengrocer from Luton with an Instamatic camera and Dr. Scholl sandals and last Tuesday's Daily Express and he drones on and on about how Mr. Smith should be running this country and how many languages Enoch Powell can speak and then he throws up over the Cuba Libres. And sending tinted postcards of places they don't realise they haven't even visited to "All at number 22, weather wonderful, our room is marked with an 'X'. Food very greasy but we've found a charming little local place hidden away in the back streets where they serve Watney's Red Barrel and cheese and onion crisps and the accordionist plays 'Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner'." And spending four days on the tarmac at Luton airport on a five-day package tour with nothing to eat but dried BEA-type sandwiches and you can't even get a drink of Watney's Red Barrel because you're still in England and the bloody bar closes every time you're thirsty and there's nowhere to sleep and the kids are crying and vomiting and breaking the plastic ash-trays and they keep telling you it'll only be another hour although your plane is still in Iceland and has to take some Swedes to Yugoslavia before it can load you up at 3 a.m. in the bloody morning and you sit on the tarmac till six because of "unforeseen difficulties", i.e. the permanent strike of Air Traffic Control in Paris - and nobody can go to the lavatory until you take off at 8, and when you get to Malaga airport everybody's swallowing "enterovioform" and queuing for the toilets and queuing for the armed customs officers, and queuing for the bloody bus that isn't there to take you to the hotel that hasn't yet been finished. And when you finally get to the half-built Algerian ruin called the Hotel del Sol by paying half your holiday money to a licensed bandit in a taxi you find there's no water in the pool, there's no water in the taps, there's no water in the bog and there's only a bleeding lizard in the bidet. And half the rooms are double booked and you can't sleep anyway because of the permanent twenty-four-hour drilling of the foundations of the hotel next door - and you're plagues by appalling apprentice chemists from Ealing pretending to be hippies, and middle-class stockbrokers' wives busily buying identical holiday villas in suburban development plots just like Esher, in case the Labour government gets in again, and fat American matrons with sloppy-buttocks and Hawaiian-patterned ski pants looking for any mulatto male who can keep it up long enough when they finally let it all flop out. And the Spanish Tourist Board promises you that the raging cholera epidemic is merely a case of mild Spanish tummy, like the previous outbreak of Spanish tummy in 1660 which killed half London and decimated Europe - and meanwhile the bloody Guardia are busy arresting sixteen-year-olds for kissing in the streets and shooting anyone under nineteen who doesn't like Franco. And then on the last day in the airport lounge everyone's comparing sunburns, drinking Nasty Spumante, buying cartons of duty free "cigarillos" and using up their last pesetas on horrid dolls in Spanish National costume and awful straw donkeys and bullfight posters with your name on "Ordoney, El Cordobes and Brian Pules of Norwich" and 3-D pictures of the Pope and Kennedy and Franco, and everybody's talking about coming again next year and you swear you never will although there you are tumbling bleary-eyed out of a tourist-tight antique Iberian airplane.....

Are you embarrassed 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 embarrassment, to enable you to talk freely about rude objects, to look at awkward and embarrassing things, and to point at peoples privates.

Here's a little number I tossed off recently at the club:

Isn't it awfully nice to have a penis? Isn't it frightfully good to have a dong? It's swell to have a stiffy, it's divine to own a dick From the tiniest little tadger To the world's biggest prick! So three cheers for your willy or john thomas, hooray for your one-eyed trouser snake, Your piece of pork, your wife's best friend your percy or your cock. But don't take it out in public or they will stick you in the dark And you won't come back

Thank you

If I had the script in front of my, I'd have posted the Upper Class Twit of the Year entire...

All I did was type "Monty Python" into Lycos, and it spewed out a load of sites with complete scripts !

OI! SPLEENY! NO-O-O-O!!! RASPUTIN ALREADY BEAT YOU TO THE DEAD PARROT SKETCH -PAY ATTENTION WILL YOU, FISHLIPS!!!

You're not arguing, you're just contradicting!

Originally posted by Old Blue You're not arguing, you're just contradicting!

no im not

Liv

My particular favourite sketch... apart from "The Bishop"

Last Tuesday a reign of terror was ended when the notorious Piranha brothers,

Doug and Dinsdale, after one of the most extraordinary trials in British legal

history, were sentenced to 400 years imprisonment for crimes of violence. We

examined the rise to power of the Piranhas, the methods they used to subjugate

rival gangs and their subsequent tracking down and capture by the brilliant

Superintendent Harry 'Snapper' Organs of Q Division.

Doug and Dinsdale Piranha were born, on probation, in a small house in Kipling

Road, Southwark, the eldest sons in a family of sixteen. Their father Arthur

Piranha, a scrap metal dealer and TV quizmaster, was well known to the police,

and a devout Catholic. In 1928 he had married Kitty Malone, an up-and-coming

East End boxer. Doug was born in February 1929 and Dinsdale two weeks later;

and again a week after that. Someone who remembers them well was their next

door neighbour, Mrs April Simnel.

"Oh yes Kipling Road was a typical East End Street, people were in and out of

each other's houses with each other's property all day. They were a cheery

lot. Cheerful and violent. Doug was keen on boxing, but when he learned to

walk he took up putting the boot in the groin. He was very interested in that.

His mother had a terrible job getting him to come in for tea. Putting his

little boot in he'd be, bless him. All the kids were like that then, they

didn't have their heads stuffed with all this Cartesian dualism."

At the age of fifteen Doug and Dinsdale started attending the Ernest Pythagoras

Primary School in Clerkenwell. When the Piranhas left school they were called

up but were found by an Army Board to be too unstable even for National

Service. Denied the opportunity to use their talents in the service of their

country, they began to operate what they called 'The Operation'... They would

select a victim and then threaten to beat him up if he paid the so-called

protection money. Four months later they started another operation which the

called 'The Other Operation'. In this racket they selected another victim and

threatened not to beat him up if he didn't pay them. One month later they hit

upon 'The Other Other Operation'. In this the victim was threatened that if he

didn't pay them, they would beat him up. This for the Piranha brothers was the

turning point.

Doug and Dinsdale Piranha now formed a gang, which the called 'The Gang' and

used terror to take over night clubs, billiard halls, gaming casinos and race

tracks. When they tried to take over the MCC they were, for the only time in

their lives, slit up a treat. As their empire spread however, Q Division were

keeping tabs on their every move by reading the colour supplements.

One small-time operator who fell foul of Dinsdale Piranha was Vince

Snetterton-Lewis.

"Well one day I was at home threatening the kids when I looks out through the

hole in the wall and sees this tank pull up and out gets one of Dinsdale's

boys, so he comes in nice and friendly and says Dinsdale wants to have a word

with me, so he chains me to the back of the tank and takes me for a scrape

round to Dinsdale's place and Dinsdale's there in the conversation pit with

Doug and Charles Paisley, the baby crusher, and two film producers and a man

they called 'Kierkegaard', who just sat there biting the heads of whippets and

Dinsdale says 'I hear you've been a naughty boy Clement' and he splits me

nostrils open and saws me leg off and pulls me liver out and I tell him my

name's not Clement and then... he loses his temper and nails me head to the

floor."

Another man who had his head nailed to the floor was Stig O' Tracy.

Rogers: I've been told Dinsdale Piranha nailed your head to the floor.

Stig: No. Never. He was a smashing bloke. He used to buy his mother

flowers and that.  He was like a brother to me.

Rogers: But the police have film of Dinsdale actually nailing your head to

the floor.

Stig: (pause) Oh yeah, he did that.

Rogers: Why?

Stig: Well he had to, didn't he? I mean there was nothing else he could do,

be fair.  I had transgressed the unwritten law.

Rogers: What had you done?

Stig: Er... well he didn't tell me that, but he gave me his word that it was

the case, and that's good enough for me with old Dinsy.  I mean, he

didn't \*want\* to nail my head to the floor.  I had to insist.  He

wanted to let me off.  He'd do anything for you, Dinsdale would.

Rogers: And you don't bear him a grudge?

Stig: A grudge! Old Dinsy. He was a real darling.

Rogers: I understand he also nailed your wife's head to a coffee table.

Isn't that true Mrs O' Tracy?

Mrs O' Tracy: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Stig: Well he did do that, yeah. He was a hard man. Vicious but fair.

Vince Snetterton-Lewis agreed with this judgement.

Yes, definitely he was fair. After he nailed me head to the table, I used to

go round every Sunday lunchtime to his flat and apologise, and then we'd shake

hands and he'd nail me head to the floor. He was very reasonable. Once, one

Sunday I told him my parents were coming round to tea and would he mind very

much not nailing my head that week and he agreed and just screwed my pelvis to

a cake stand."

Clearly Dinsdale inspired tremendous fear among his business associates. But

what was he really like?

Gloria Pules knew him intimately.

"I walked out with Dinsdale on many occasions and found him a charming and

erudite companion. He was wont to introduce one to eminent celebrities,

celebrated American singers, members of the aristocracy and other gang leaders,

who he had met through his work for charities. He took a warm interest in

Boys' Clubs, Sailors' Homes, Choristers' Associations and the Grenadier Guards.

"Mind you there was nothing unusual about him. I should say not. Except, that

Dinsdale was convinced that he was being watched by a giant hedgehog whom he

referred to as 'Spiny Norman'. Normally Spiny Norman was wont to be about

twelve feet from snout to tail, but when Dinsdale was depressed Norman could be

anything up to eight hundred yards long. When Norman was about Dinsdale would

go very quiet and start wobbling and his nose would swell up and his teeth

would move about and he'd get very violent and claim that he'd laid Stanley

Baldwin."

Rogers: "Did it worry you that he, for example, stitched people's legs

 together?"

Gloria: "Well it's better than bottling it up isn't it. He was a gentleman,

 Dinsdale, and what's more he knew how to treat a female impersonator."

But what do the criminologists think? We asked The Amazing Kargol and Janet:

"It is easy for us to judge Dinsdale Piranha too harshly. After all he only

did what many of us simply dream of doing... I'm sorry. After all we should

remember that a murderer is only an extroverted suicide. Dinsdale was a

looney, but he was a happy looney. Lucky bugger."

Most of the strange tales concern Dinsdale, but what about Doug? One man who

met him was Luigi Vercotti.

"I had been running a successful escort agency -- high class, no really, high

class girls -- we didn't have any of *that* -- that was right out. So I

decided to open a high class night club for the gentry at Biggleswade with

International cuisine and cooking and top line acts, and not a cheap clip joint

for picking up tarts -- that was right out, I deny that completely --, and one

evening in walks Dinsdale with a couple of big lads, one of whom was carrying a

tactical nuclear missile. They said I had bought one of their fruit machines

and would I pay for it? They wanted three quarters of a million pounds. I

thought about it and decided not to go to the Police as I had noticed that the

lad with the thermonuclear device was the chief constable for the area. So a

week later they called again and told me the cheque had bounced and said... I

had to see... Doug.

Well, I was terrified. Everyone was terrified of Doug. I've seen grown men

pull their own heads off rather than see Doug. Even Dinsdale was frightened of

Doug. He used... sarcasm. He knew all the tricks, dramatic irony, metaphor,

bathos, puns, parody, litotes and... satire. He was vicious."

In this way, by a combination of violence and sarcasm, the Piranha brothers by

February 1966 controlled London and the Southeast of England. It was in

February, though, that Dinsdale made a big mistake.

Latterly Dinsdale had become increasingly worried about Spiny Norman. He had

come to the conclusion that Norman slept in an aeroplane hangar at Luton

Airport. And so on Feb 22nd 1966, Dinsdale blew up Luton.

Even the police began to sit up and take notice. The Piranhas realised they

had gone too far and that the hunt was on. They went into hiding. But it was

too late. Harry 'Snapper' Organs was on the trail.

"I decided on a subtle approach, viz. some form of disguise, as the old helmet

and boots are a bit of a giveaway. Luckily my years with Bristol Rep. stood me

in good stead, as I assumed a bewildering variety of disguises. I tracked them

to Cardiff, posing as the Reverend Smiler Egret. Hearing they'd gone back to

London, I assumed the identity of a pork butcher, Brian Stoats. On my arrival

in London, I discovered they had returned to Cardiff, I followed as Gloucester

from _King Lear_. Acting on a hunch I spent several months in Buenos Aires as

Blind Pew, returning through the Panama Canal as Ratty, in _Toad of Toad Hall_.

Back in Cardiff, I relived my triumph as Sancho Panza in _Man of la Mancha_

which the "Bristol Evening Post" described as 'a glittering performance of rare

perception', although the "Bath Chronicle" was less than enthusiastic. In fact

it gave me a right panning. I quote: 'as for the performance of

Superintendent Harry "Snapper" Organs as Sancho Panza, the audience were

bemused by his high-pitched Welsh accent and intimidated by his abusive

ad-libs.' The "Western Daily News" said: 'Sancho Panza (Mr Organs) spoilt an

otherwise impeccably choreographed rape scene by his unscheduled appearance and

persistent cries of "What's all this then?"'"

Against this kind of opposition for the Piranha Brothers the end

was inevitable.

THE END

A nod's as good as a wink to a blind bat !

From The Brand New Monty Python Papperbok, a school report on God from Ferndean. Relevant subjects,exam marks, and master's comments.

DIVINITY: 14. Poor. Keeps disputing biblical facts. He refuses to read the Bible on the grounds that he was "misquoted".

LATIN: 100. Quite the best scholar I ever had.

GEOGRAPHY: 30. Surprisingly poor. His knowledge appears somewhat outdated. Interesting ideas about rock formation. Keeps going "Kerpow".

WOODWORK: 87. An excellent carpenter. Mary and I are still very fond of him.

Does anybody all the words to the traffic light song? All I remember is "I like Traffic Lights (repeat ad nauseum) but not when they are red. . . That is what I said" I have people I would like to piss off on a long car ride.:)

Originally posted by Iain Curtis Does anybody all the words to the traffic light song? All I remember is "I like Traffic Lights (repeat ad nauseum) but not when they are red. . . That is what I said"I have people I would like to piss off on a long car ride.:)

This song'll really do the trick then, especially if you sing in the monotone voice that they use.

I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights No matter where they've been

I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights But only when they're Green

He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights No matter where they've been

He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights But only when they're Green

I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights That is what I said

I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights But not when they are Red

He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights That is what I said

He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights But not when they are Red

I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights Although my name's not Bamber

I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights I-- Oh, God!

My personal fave:

HE'S NOT THE MESSIAH, HE'S A VERY NAUGHTY BOY!!

Originally posted by Green > Originally posted by Iain Curtis> Does anybody all the words to the traffic light song? All I remember is "I like Traffic Lights (repeat ad nauseum) but not when they are red. . . That is what I said"> I have people I would like to piss off on a long car ride.:)

This song'll really do the trick then, especially if you sing in the monotone voice that they use.

I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights No matter where they've been

I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights But only when they're Green

He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights No matter where they've been

He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights But only when they're Green

I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights That is what I said

I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights But not when they are Red

He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights That is what I said

He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights But not when they are Red

I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights Although my name's not Bamber

I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights I Like traffic lights I-- Oh, God!

Thank you, Green. How did you get the name drop in the song? I'm impressed. But a little dismayed about the song. As you well know as a citizen of the U.S. I have a hard time pulling off that "been" rhymes with "green" thing. Back to working on the English accent. . .

Originally posted by Iain Curtis > Originally posted by Green > > > > Originally posted by Iain Curtis> > Does anybody all the words to the traffic light song? All I remember is "I like Traffic Lights (repeat ad nauseum) but not when they are red. . . That is what I said"> > I have people I would like to piss off on a long car ride.:)>

Thank you, Green. How did you get the name drop in the song? I'm impressed. But a little dismayed about the song. As you well know as a citizen of the U.S. I have a hard time pulling off that "been" rhymes with "green" thing. Back to working on the English accent. . .

How else can you pronounce either of those words ? "Been" to sound like "Bin" ? "Green" to sound like "Grin" ? You lot need some electrocution lessons......and if that fails, maybe some elocution lessons ! Death row, what does a brother know ?

You must then cut down the mighiest tree in the forest with.....a HERRING!

A herring? That's impossible!

Oh please....

It can't be done.

Argh!

What is it?

You have said the word which I cannont say, suffice it to say the word the Kinghts of Ni cannot hear.

What, "is"?

No, not "is"! You woudn't get very far in life without "is"!

Originally posted by Iain Curtis > Originally posted by Green > > > > Originally posted by Iain Curtis> > Does anybody all the words to the traffic light song? All I remember is "I like Traffic Lights (repeat ad nauseum) but not when they are red. . . That is what I said"> > I have people I would like to piss off on a long car ride.:)>

This song'll really do the trick then, especially if you sing in the monotone voice that they use.

Thank you, Green. How did you get the name drop in the song? I'm impressed. But a little dismayed about the song. As you well know as a citizen of the U.S. I have a hard time pulling off that "been" rhymes with "green" thing. Back to working on the English accent. . .

Yer welcome, Iain. How'd I get the namecheck? By acquiring a nickname that covers a wide variety of definitions (money, environment, jealousy, etc.) and being very very lucky.

As far as trying to make some words rhyme, just do as some singers do: drink a lot, slur the syllables together, and make a nice approximation of what it should sound like.

Brian: "You are all individuals!!!!"

Crowd outside his home: "Yes, we are all individuals!!!!"

I have the two-volume collections of scripts (how sad is that?) :D

Let's see, one more quote:

I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay, I sleep all night and I work all day! (He's a lumberjack and he's okay, he sleeps all night and he works all day!)

I cut down trees, I skip and jump, I like to press wild flowers! I put on women's clothing and hang around in bars!

He cuts down trees, he skips and jumps, he lies to press wildflowers! He puts on women's clothing...and hangs around in bars?...He's a lumberjack and he's okay, he sleeps all night and he works all day!

I cut down trees, I wear high heels, suspendies and a bra! I wish I'd been a girlie, just like my dear ma-ma!

He cuts down trees, he wears high heels, suspendies and a bra?.....Bleeding fairy!

Oh Bevis, and I thought you were so rugged!

That the terrible Monster?

Thats just a bunny rabbit?

Go on Bors Get Him!

One Rabbit Stew coming up!

I've got a few personal favorites as...

Lucky I didn't say anything about the dirty knife

They mean to win Wimbledon They mean to eat the blancmange

Number 1 : The larch. The laaaaaaarch.

Oooo you're no fun anymore !

Mais où sont les bagages ? Où sont les voyageurs ?

Then you eat... the BANANA !!!

And on a related note :

I'm learrrning from a book

one thin mint....

or was it one waffer thin mint

Le sheep "bleat, bleat"!

I'm very surprised this thread hasn't been locked for being horrendously off topic!

:topic:

Classics:

• the lumberjack song;
• the 'every sperm is sacred' song.

Spin off: ' avoid the green ones, they're not ripe yet....' (from which one, nah, hah, hah???)

DJ

It's not proper doubles if you've got five people!

Sit on my face and tell me that you love me I'll sit on your face and tell I love you too I love to hear you moralize when I'm between your thighs' You blow me away! Sit on my face and let my lips embrace you I'll sit on your face and love you truely Life can be fine if we're both 69 If we sit on the faces and all sorts of faces Til we're blown away!

Cue Terry Gilliam's "THE RAMPAGE OF THE GIANT KILLER CAT" animation......... :D

Todd

Do you waant..do you waant to come back to my place? Bouncy bouncy!

I am no longer infected

You great poof

My nipples explode with delight!

And my personnal fave from the Dirty Hungarian Phrase book

Drop your panties, Sir William, I cannot wait until lunchtime.

Why is it that no one remebers the name of Johann Gambolputty... de von Ausfern-schplenden-schlitter-crasscrenbon-fried-digger-dingle-dangle- dongle-dungle-burstein-von-knacker-thrasher-apple-banger-horowitz- ticolensic-grander-knotty-spelltinkle-grandlich-grumblemeyer- spelterwasser-kurstlich-himbleeisen-bahnwagen-gutenabend-bitte-ein- nurnburger-bratwustle-gernspurten-mitz-weimache-luber-hundsfut- gumberaber-shonedanker-kalbsfleisch-mittler-aucher von Hautkopft of Ulm?

Some chicken gizzard soup, anyone?

Are there any women here

Is your wife a sport, eh?

Why yes, she's quite fond of cricket

hahahahahahaha

Announcer: Archimedes out to Socrates, Socrates back to Archimedes, Archimedes out to Herakleitos, he beats Hegel, Herakleitos is a little flick, here comes on the far-post Socrates, Socrates is there! It is in! Socrates has scored, the Greeks are going mad! The Greeks are going there, Socrates scores, beautiful cross from Archimedes.The Germans are disputing it! Hegel is arguing that the reality is merely an apriori adjunct of non-analytic ethics, Kant by the categoric imperative is holding that ultimologically possessed only in the imagination and Marx is claiming it was off-side! But Confucius blows the final whistle...it's all over! Germany, having trounced England's famous midfield trio Vincent, Locke and Hobbes in the semifinal, have been beaten by the odd goal! And that's it again! There it is, Socrates, Socrates heads it in, and Leibniz doesn't have a chance! And just look at those delighted Greeks! There they are, chopper Sokrates, Empedokles, and Deraklites! What a game here! And Epikuros is there, and Sokrates, the captain who scored what must probably be the most important goal of his career!

Back again is the incredible rhyme animal, the incredible D.

been is bin and green is green. if you don't like it why don't you come over here and colonize us again?:p

But anyway, Sloppy, where are those radiohead tabs you promised? I haven't slept a wink in a month waiting to find out the proper chords to the chorus of "Knives Out" And send them to that Ian Pillar while you're at it. I think he would enjoy them.

Originally posted by Sloppy Giuseppe > Originally posted by Iain Curtis> > > > Originally posted by Green > > > > > > > Originally posted by Iain Curtis> > > Does anybody all the words to the traffic light song? All I remember is "I like Traffic Lights (repeat ad nauseum) but not when they are red. . . That is what I said"> > > I have people I would like to piss off on a long car ride.:)> > >

Thank you, Green. How did you get the name drop in the song? I'm impressed. But a little dismayed about the song. As you well know as a citizen of the U.S. I have a hard time pulling off that "been" rhymes with "green" thing. Back to working on the English accent. . .

How else can you pronounce either of those words ? "Been" to sound like "Bin" ? "Green" to sound like "Grin" ? You lot need some electrocution lessons......and if that fails, maybe some elocution lessons ! Death row, what does a brother know ?

Never be rude to an Irishman, no matter what you do....