Monty Python Live at the Hollywood Bowl {M0nti Pyth0n paas deden den der H00liw0d B0len} (Dramatic music plays to begin the animated opening...) 20th CENTURY FROG (ARS GRATIA ARTIS) FROG: Braaaap. PRESENTS STARRING (ALPHABETICALLY) GRAHAM CHAPMAN INTERNATIONALLY SUPER STARRING (ALPHABETICALLY) JOHN CLEESE EXTRA-TERRESTRIALLY CO-SUPER (ALSO ALPHABETICALLY) STARRING TERRY GILLIAM SUPER-INTER- GALACTICALLY (A BIT ALPHABETICALLY) CO MEGA STARRING ERIC IDLE SUPRA COSMICALLY INTER-UNIVERSALLY ULTRA ALPHABETICALLY HYPER-STARRING TERRY JONES WITH **MICHAEL PALIN** AS THE MAN WITH THE BIGGEST CREDIT AND SUPER ALPHABETICALLY CO INTRODUCING EXECUTIVE GUEST SUPERSTARS NEIL INNES & CAROL CLEVELAND AS THE YOUNG WINSTON CHURCHILLS IN (Open up on the (famous) Hollywood sign and pan over to reveal the (somewhat less famous, but still reasonably famous, famous enough to call 'famous' and not have people laugh in your face, anyway) Hollywood Bowl stadium, where a huge throng of loonies has gathered, sporting parrots, plaid lumberjack gear, handkerchief hats, etc. Yes, it could be nothing else but...) MONTY PYTHON LIVE AT THE HOLLYWOOD BOWL [As the lights come up, a Barbershop Quartet [JC, GC, TG, TJ] is revealed, and they begin to sing ...] QUARTET: Sit on my face, and tell me that you love me I'll sit on your face and tell you I love you, too I love to hear you oralise 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 then I'll love you truly. Life can be fine if we both 69 If we sit on our faces in all sorts of places and play Till we're blown away [The Quartet leaves the stage and we see their bare bottoms.] EMCEE (MP): Hello, good evening and welcome to the Ronald Reagan Memorial Bowl, here in the pretty little L.A. suburb of Hollywood, where we're about to go in all for wrestling, brought to you tonight, ladies and gentlemen, by the makers of Scum, the world's first ever combined hair oil, foot ointment, and salad dressing. And the makers of Titan, the novelty nuclear missile! You never know when it'll go off! Surprise your friends, amuse your enemies, start the party with a bang! Introducing, ladies and gentlemen, tonight, all the way from a mud-wrestling tour of the OPEC countries... in the red corner, Colin "Bomber" Harris! ... And, ladies and gentlemen, in the blue corner... all the way from a mud-wrestling tour of the OPEC countries... Colin "Bomber" Harris! (Colin pops up and goes into a prize-fighter's stance, but struggles briefly with himself and has to be restrained by the referee [TJ].) COMMENTATOR (JC): Well, now, ladies and gentlemen, this is the first time that Colin "Bomber" Harris has met himself. A few formalities now, any moment now, we'll be ready for the start of Round One. There goes the bell! Colin moves to the middle of the ring there, he's looking for an opening, going for the handhold... COLIN (GC): Augh! COMMENTATOR: He's got it! Into the headsqueeze... COLIN: Augh! COMMENTATOR: A headsqueeze there... COLIN: Augh! COMMENTATOR: A favorite... COLIN: Augh! COMMENTATOR: ...a favorite move of Colin's at this opening stage... COLIN: Augh! COMMENTATOR: ...flying there... COLIN: Augh! COMMENTATOR: ...and already Colin is... COLIN: Augh! COMMENTATOR: ...working on that weak left knee of his! COLIN: Augh! COMMENTATOR: A half nelson... a half nelson and a Philadelphia Half-Lotus and Colin bit himself on purpose there, and he has been given a public warning by the referee, and Colin did not like that one little bit! (Colin jumps up yelling and protesting, then gets back to work.) Forearm... COLIN: Augh! COMMENTATOR: Double overhead nostril... COLIN: Augh! COMMENTATOR: ...back-kick and into the, ah, Boston crayfish, no, it's a crawfish, or is it a longestine, no, it's a longestine! A lovely move there! He's caught himself by surprise and that is it, the first fall to Colin "Bomber" Harris! Swell! A lovely move there! And Colin must be pretty pleased with himself having caught himself out with that one! And a forearm chop. A strawberry whip, a vanilla whip, a chocolate whip... (Colin flips himself over several times with gusto.) There it is, Colin's most famous hold, the one-neck-over- the-shoulder-Gerry Ford and Colin's in real trouble! He's just made it to the rope... just a little lucky there... COLIN: Augh! COMMENTATOR: ...and there it is, a double Eydie Gorme, should be able to twist out of this... and he does... but he's looking pretty groggy... and I think he's caught himself there with two forearm smashes, and that is it! (Colin now lies very still, and the referee lifts up his arm in victory.) Colin "Bomber" Harris has knocked himself out and so he is the winner and he goes on next week to meet himself in the final! (Much applause from the audience.) Singer (TJ): Never be rude to an Arab An Israeli or Saudi or Jew Never be rude to an Irishman No matter what you do Never poke fun at a nigger A Spic or a Wop or a Kraut And never put down... [Explosion, a giant frog drags the body away.] [A Gregorian chant is heard. The Pope (JC) sits high up on a throne in the middle of the stage.] SERVANT (GC): Michaelangelo to see you, your Holiness. POPE: Who? SERVANT: Michaelangelo, the famous renaissance artist whose best known works include the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel and the celebrated statue of David. POPE: Ah. Very well... SERVANT: In 1514 he returned to Florence and de... POPE: All right, that's enough, that's enough, they've got it now! SERVANT: Oh. (He makes an odd face and bolts.) Michelangelo (EI): Good evening, your Holiness. POPE: Evening, Michaelangelo. I want to have a word with you about this painting of yours, "The Last Supper." MICHAELANGELO: Oh, yeah? POPE: I'm not happy about it. MICHAELANGELO: Oh dear. It took me hours. POPE: Not happy at all. MICHAELANGELO: Is it the jello you don't like? POPE: No. MICHAELANGELO: Ah, no, I know, they do add a bit of colour, don't they? Oh, I know, you don't like the kangaroo. POPE: What kangaroo? MICHAELANGELO: No problem, I'll paint him out. POPE: I never saw a kangaroo! MICHAELANGELO: Uh... he's right in the back. I'll paint him out, no sweat, I'll make him into a disciple. POPE: Ah. MICHAELANGELO: All right? POPE: That's the problem. MICHAELANGELO: What is? POPE: The disciples. MICHAELANGELO: Are they too Jewish? I made Judas the most Jewish. POPE: No, it's just that there are twenty-eight of them. MICHAELANGELO: Oh, well, another one will never matter, I'll make the kangaroo into another one. POPE: No, that's not the point. MICHAELANGELO: All right. Well, I'll lose the kangaroo. T'be honest, I wasn't perfectly happy with it. POPE: That's not the point. There are twenty-eight disciples! MICHAELANGELO: Too many? POPE: Well, of course it's too many! MICHAELANGELO: Yeah, I know that, but I wanted to give the impression of a REAL last supper, you know, not just any old last supper. Not like a last meal or a final snack. But you know, I wanted to give the impression of a real mother of a blow-out, you know? POPE: There were only twelve disciples at the last supper. MICHAELANGELO: Well, maybe some of the others came along afterw... POPE: There were only twelve altogether. MICHAELANGELO: Well, maybe some of their friends came by, you know? POPE: Look! There were just twelve disciples and our Lord at the last supper. The Bible clearly says so. MICHAELANGELO: No friends? POPE: No friends. MICHAELANGELO: Waiters. POPE: No. MICHAELANGELO: Cabaret! POPE: No! MICHAELANGELO: You see, I like them, they help to flesh out the scene, I could lose a few, you know I could... POPE: Look! There were only twelve disciples at... MICHAELANGELO: I've got it! I've got it! We'll call it "The Last But One Supper"! POPE: What? MICHAELANGELO: Well there must have been one, if there was a last one there must have been a one before that! So this is the "Penultimate Supper"! The Bible doesn't say how many people were there, now does it? POPE: No, but... MICHAELANGELO: Well there you are, then! POPE: Look! The last supper is a significant event in the life of our Lord! The penultimate supper was not! ... Even if they had a conjurer and a mariachi band. Now, a last supper I commissioned from you, and a last supper I want. With twelve disciples and one Christ! [pause] MICHAELANGELO: One?! POPE: Yes one! Now will you please tell me what in God's name possessed you to paint this with three Christs in it? MICHAELANGELO: It works, mate! POPE: Works? MICHAELANGELO: Yeah! It looks great! The fat one balances the two skinny ones. POPE: There was only one Redeemer! MICHAELANGELO: Ah, I know that, we all know that, what about a bit of artistic license? POPE: One Messiah is what I want! MICHAELANGELO: I'll tell you what you want, mate, you want a bloody photographer! That's what you want. Not a bloody creative artist. (Now the enraged pope leaps down from his throne and all but attacks Michaelangelo.) POPE: I'll tell you what I want! I want a last supper with one Christ, twelve disciples, no kangaroos, no trampoline acts, by Thursday lunch, or you don't get paid! MICHAELANGELO: Bloody fascist! (Mike runs off, leaving the screaming Pope behind.) POPE: Look! I'm the bloody pope, I am! ... I may not know much about art, but I know what I like! SINGER (in crutches): Never be rude to a pollack... [Explosion, a giant Christmas tree drags the body away] [A filmed bit follows from one of the German shows.] COMMENTATOR #1 (JC): Hello, and welcome to Munich, for the 27th Silly Olympiad, an event held traditionally every 3.7 years, which this year has brought together competitors from over 4 million different countries. And here we are at the start of the first event of the afternoon: the second semifinal of the 100 yards for people with no sense of direction. Aah, I'll just give you the competitors: lane one, Skolomovski of Poland; lane two, Zatapatique of France; lane three, Gropovich of the United States; next to him, Drabble of Trinidad; next to him, Fernandez of Spain; and in the outside lane, Bormann of Brazil. STARTER: Get set! [He fires his pistol. The competitors run off in all directions.] COMMEMTATOR #1: Well, that was fun, wasn't it? And now, over to the other end of the stadium. COMMENTATOR #2 (TJ): And here we're just waiting for the start of the 1500 meters for the deaf. And they're under starter's orders... [The starter fires his pistol. None of the competitors moves.] COMMENTATOR #2: Well, we'll be coming back the moment there's any action. And now over to the swimming. COMMENTATOR #1: And you join us here at the Bundesabsurd pool just in time to see the start of the 200 meters freestyle for non-swimmers. Watch for the tough Australian champion Ron Barnett in the second lane. [The starter blows his whistle. The competitors fall off their starting blocks into the pool and disappear underwater.] COMMENTATOR #1: Well, we'll be bringing you back here the moment they start fishing the corpses out. But now over to Hans Clegg for the start of the marathon for incontinents. COMMENTATOR #2: Well, we've got an enormous entry for this event: 44 competitors from 29 different countries, all of them with the most superbly weak bladders. Not a tight sphincter in sight. Ready to embark, nevertheless, on the world's longest race and they're just aching to go! STARTER: On your marks! Get set! [He fires his pistol.] COMMENTATOR #2: And they're off! They're off! [The competitors begin running but head immediately into a nearby lavatory.] Well... COMMENTATOR #1: Well, back at the 1500 meters and the starter is putting up a magnificent show! [The starter is repeatedly firing his pistol.] We've had volleys, rapid bursts, scattered random fire, fusillades firing, well and still he can't get the buggers moving. [The starter gives up and throws his gun on the ground.] It's enough to make you chew your own foot off! COMMENTATOR #2: And now the high jump! Katerina Ovelenski for the Soviet Union. [Reversed footage of a dummy falling from a high tower] But what a jump! What a jump! That's got to be a record! COMMENTATOR #1: And here we are at the 3000 meter steeplechase for people who think they're chickens! There's Samuelsson of the United States, and over there is Klaus of East Germany! He's been a Rhode Island Red now for the last three olympics. There's the referee trying to get them going, but he's frightened them. There's the leader, Abe Seagull of Canada who went off, got a very good start, then settled down there on the water jump, and has now gone broody. Now we are back with the marathon for incontinents once again. [They are racing along a road, continually running in and out of the bushes.] There's Polinski of Poland in the lead, and-and now Brewer of Australia is taking over! There's Laparche of France. Brewer has overtaken him, but he's going to spend a penny. There goes Brewer to spend a penny. And there goes Koenig of Austria. And so now it's Alvarez of Cuba, followed by the plucky Norwegian, Bors. They're in and out like yo-yos, these boys. And there's MacNaughton - MacNaughton the Scottish lad but he can't hold it. It's Machievic, Machievic of Yugoslavia has taken over; he can't hold it either. Well, well, these must be some of the weakest bladders ever to represent their countries! [sporting music makes the bridge between scenes] BRUCE I (EI): Good evening, Ladies and Bruces! BRUCE II (MP): Hello, Bruce. BRUCE I: G'day, Bruce. BRUCE III (NI): How are ya, Bruce. BRUCE I: How are ya, Bruce? BRUCE II: What's all this lot, Bruce? BRUCE I: Well, it's very nice to be here at the Hollywood Bowl this evening! (cheers from the crowd) We're all philosophy professors from the University of Woolamaloa, Australia! BRUCES: Australia, Australia, Australia! BRUCE I AND II: We love ya! BRUCE III: God help her! BRUCE I: I teach Hegaelian philosophy, Bruce here teaches Aristotolean philosophy, and Bruce here is in charge of the sheep dip. BRUCE II: [Cough] Bloody difficult work, I tell ya! BRUCE I: I'll tell you what, it's thirsty work watching this kind of humor, Bruce. Why don't you just stick out a few of these little free samples from your Esky and leave ---- BRUCE II: What, give these ---- give these Americans our precious cans of ---- [Bruce II throws cans of Fosters from his ice box into the audience.] BRUCE I: See how awful they are, grasping and go-getting. BRUCE II: Okay, one over there. BRUCE I: You can feel morally superior and smug. BRUCE II: Right, there's one coming right over there. Mind out, charlies! A big one, one big one, there we go! BRUCE I: All right! Now, the reason we do this, Ladies and Bruces, is frankly over here we find your American beer is a little like making love in a canoe. BRUCE III: Making love in a canoe? BRUCE I: It's fucking close to water! BRUCE II: Piss! BRUCE I: Well now, we're going to try and raise the tone a little here by singing a nice intellectual song for for those two or three of you in the audience... BRUCE II: Right! BRUCE I: ...who understand these things. So, here we go! BRUCES: Immanuel Kant was a real pissant 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 Nietszche couldn't teach ya 'Bout the raising of the wrist Socrates himself was permanently pissed... (cheers from audience) BRUCE I: Just a... BRUCE II: How do you like that? All right! BRUCE I: Let's hold it a second. I can see some of these Bruces are in a bit of a playful mood tonight. Ain't it that, Bruce? BRUCE II: Yeah, Bruce. BRUCE I: Some of the ones that don't have straws up their nose. Anyway, why don't we do something rather... Why don't we get some of these guys to sing along with us? Okay, and some of the Sheilas too. BRUCE II: Ok, I've got the words somewhere. BRUCE I: Right! Ready! BRUCE II: Right! Ready! ALL: Immanuel Kant was a real pissant Who was very rarely stable [Bruce II is holding a tiny piece of paper with the lyrics on it, much too far away to see. =) ] BRUCE II (weakly): Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy... [Much laughter from the audience] BRUCE I: They're a typical Hollywood audience. All the kids are on drugs, and all the adults are on roller skates. BRUCE II: Very philosophical, Bruce, I like it. BRUCE I: Have we got any... have we got anything bigger to put the words up for these rather shortsighted people? [A scantily clad Sheila (CC) enters. Words appear on a large screen in back.] BRUCE II: This is Bruce from the Biology Department. BRUCE I: All right. Okay, here we go. ALL: Immanuel Kant was a real pissant Who was very rarely stable BRUCE II: Come on! ALL: 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 Nietszche couldn't teach ya 'Bout the raising of the wrist Socrates himself was permanently pissed John Stuart Mill of his own free will On half a pint of shandy was particularly ill Plato they say could stick it away Half a crate of whiskey every day Aristotle, Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle 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 [Cheers] [An ordinary-looking man is seated. The owner of the office enters, doing a very silly walk, and sits behind his desk.] MR. TEABAGS (JC): Good morning. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, but I'm afraid my walk has become rather sillier recently, so it takes me longer to get to the office. Now, uhm, what was it again? APPLICANT (MP): Uh, well sir, I-I-I I have got a silly walk and I'd like to obtain government backing to help me develop it. MR. TEABAGS: I see. Well, um, may I see this silly walk of yours? APPLICANT: Oh, yes, certainly. [The applicant does his walk, which is not very silly.] MR. TEABAGS: Yes, I see, tha-tha-that's it, is it? APPLICANT: Ah, well, yes, that's it. MR. TEABAGS: Yes, yes, yes. It's not particularly silly, is it? APPLICANT: Well, ah-ah... MR. TEABAGS: I mean, the left leg isn't silly at all and the right leg merely does a forward aerial O'Brien half turn every alternate step. APPLICANT: Yes, but I feel with a federal grant I could make it a lot more silly. MR. TEABAGS: [Getting up and walking sillily around his office, returning to his chair] Mr. Stagback, the very real problem is one of finance. You see, there's defense, education, housing, health, social security, silly walks. They're all supposed to get the same. But last year the government spent less on Silly Walks than they did on industrial reorganisation. We're supposed to get 348 million pounds a year to cover our entire Silly Walks programme. Coffee? APPLICANT: Yes, please. MR. TEABAGS: [Into intercom] Hello, uh, Mrs. Twolumps, uhm, could we have two cups of coffee, please. SECRETARY (CC): [From intercom] Yes, Mr. Teabags. MR. TEABAGS: Mad as a hatter. You see, the Israelis already have a man who can take his own left leg off and swallow it with every alternate step, whereas the Japanese, cunning electronically obsessed little... [Mrs. Twolumps enters with a tray, doing a silly backwards walk, ending with a jump which spills the coffee.] MR. TEABAGS: Yes, thank you, Mrs. Twolumps. [She takes the tray away, doing a different silly walk. The applicant stares amorously as she leaves.] MR. TEABAGS: [To applicant] You're...you're really interested in silly walks, aren't you? APPLICANT: Rather! MR. TEABAGS: Right, well, take a look at this! [Silent movie-style footage of various silly walks.] [Both judges speak in camp voices] JUDGE I (EI): Oh, I've had a bitch of a morning in the high court! JUDGE II (MP): Oh, ay! JUDGE I: Oh, I could stamp my little feet, the way those counsellors carry on. JUDGE II: Oh, don't I know it, love. JUDGE I: Oh, dear, objection here, objection there. And that nice policeman giving his evidence so well! JUDGE II: Oh, ay. JUDGE I: Beautiful speaking voice. JUDGE II: And what a body! JUDGE I: Oh, ay. JUDGE II: Oh, yeah. Ooh, ah. JUDGE I: Well, after a bit all I could do was bang me gavel. JUDGE II: You what, love? JUDGE I: I banged me gavel! JUDGE II: Oh, get away! JUDGE I: I did! JUDGE II: Ooh! JUDGE I: I did my "silence in court" bit. JUDGE II: Oh. JUDGE I: If looks could have killed, that prosecuting counsel would have been in for thirty years. JUDGE II: Hum-hum! JUDGE I: How did your summing-up go? [He removes his robe to reveal a sequined bodice, suspenders etc.] JUDGE II: Uh, actually, I did my butch voice, you know, [in a butch voice] "what the jury must understand", [camp again] and they loved it! JUDGE I: Ah. JUDGE II: I could see that little curly-headed foreman of the jury eyeing me! JUDGE I: Really? JUDGE II: Oh, yeah. Cheeky devil! I finished up with, I got really strict: [butch] "The actions of these vicious men are a violent stain upon the community, [he removes his robe to reveal an equally exotic red bodice and suspenders] and the full penalty of the law is scarcely sufficient to deal with their [getting camp again] ghastly crimes!" JUDGE I: Oh, yeah? JUDGE II: And I waggled me wig! Whoaaoha! JUDGE I: You waggled you what? JUDGE II: I waggled me wig! JUDGE I: Really? JUDGE II: That was the only thing I waggled. JUDGE I: Ooh... JUDGE II: Ever so slightly, stunning effect. JUDGE I: Ooh! JUDGE II: Anyway, I gave him three years. He only took ten minutes. JUDGE I: [Walking off stage together] Ooh... well, as I said to Melvin Belly the other day, you know: "You can put it in the hand of your attorneys, but it'll never stand up in court!" JUDGE II: Oh, I know what you mean. [Gilliam animation, leading into opening titles of World Forum.] [A host (EI) sits between four panelists: Mao Tsu-tung (TG), Che Guevara (MP), Lenin (JC) and Karl Marx (TJ).] HOST: Good evening. Tonight on World Forum we are deeply privileged to have with us Karl Marx, the founder of modern socialism and author of the Communist Manifesto; Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov, better known to the world as Lenin, leader of the Russian Revolution, writer, statesman, and father of modern socialism; Che Guevara, the Bolivian guerilla leader; and Mao Tse-tung, chairman of the Chinese Communist Party since 1949. And the first question is for you, Karl Marx. "The Hammers." "The Hammers" is the nickname of what English football team? "The Hammers." No? Well, bad luck, Karl. It is, in fact, West Ham United. Now, Che Guevara. Che... Coventry City last won the English Football Cup in what year? [He has no idea] No? I can throw the question open. Anybody else? Coventry City last won the English Football Cup in what year? [Blank expressions all round.] No, well, I'm not surprised you didn't get that, it is, in fact, a trick question... Coventry City have never won the English Football Cup. So now with the scores all even, it's on to Round 2, and Lenin, your starter for $10. Jerry Lee Lewis has had over 17 major solid gold hits in the U.S. of A. What's the name of the biggest? Jerry Lee Lewis' solid gold biggie? No? [Mao Tse-tung presses his buzzer] HOST: Yes, Mao Tse-tung? MAO: "Great Balls of Fire?" HOST: Yes, it was indeed! Very well challenged. Well, now we come on to our third round. Our contestant tonight is Karl Marx and our special prize is this beautiful lounge suite! Uh, Karl has elected to answer questions on the workers' control of factories, so here we go with question number one. You nervous, Karl? Just a little. Well, never mind, Karl, have a go! The development of the industrial proletariat is conditioned by what other development? KARL MARX: The development of the industrial bourgeoisie. HOST: Good! Yes, it is indeed! Well done, Karl! You're on your way to your lounge suite! Now Karl, number two. The struggle of class against class is a what struggle? KARL MARX: A political struggle. HOST: Good! Yes, it is indeed. Well done, Karl! One final question, and that beautiful, non-materialistic lounge suite will be yours! Ready, Karl? You're a brave man. Your final question: Who won the English Football Cup in 1949? KARL MARX: Uh, the workers control the means of production? The-the struggle of the urban proletariat? HOST: Uh, no, it was Wolverhampton Wanderers who beat Leicester 3-1. KARL MARX: Oh, shit! HOST: Get out of here! (He does.) Well, no one leaves this show empty-handed, so we're going to cut off his hands. (laughter) Well, now it's talent spotting time, ladies and gentlemen, and please see if you can spot any talent in our next competitors. Will you please give a very big hand and a warm welcome to Carl Weetabix and Rita! [While Carl (NI) sings his song, Rita (CC) performs a showy tap-dance routine.] CARL: I'm the urban spaceman, baby, I've got speed, I've got everything I need. I'm the urban spaceman, baby, I could fly, I'm a supersonic guy I don't need pleasure, I don't feel pain, If you were to knock me down, I'd just get up again I'm the urban spaceman, baby, I'm making out, I'm all about [The dancer ends her dance with a flourish, but has to restart when the song carries on.] I wake up every morning with a smile upon my face My natural exuberance spills out all over the place I'm the urban spaceman, I'm intelligent and clean, Know what I mean? [Again the dancer does a finale, only to find the song continuing.] I'm the urban spaceman, as a lover second to none, It's a lot of fun I never let my friends down, I've never made a boob I'm a glossy magazine, an advert on the tube I'm the urban spaceman, baby, here comes the twist I don't exist. [The dancer is still dancing as Carl leaves. He returns to drag her off stage. She slips out of his grasp and returns to continue her dance. Finally a huge Gilliam hammer descends and knocks her out cold. Much applause.] INSPECTOR PRALINE (GC): Mr. Hilton? MR. HILTON (TJ): Ah, yes. PRALINE: You are sole proprietor and owner of the Whizzo Chocolate Company? HILTON: I am. PRALINE: Constable Parrot and I are from the Hygiene Squad. HILTON: Oh, yes. PRALINE: ...and we'd like to have a word with you about your box of chocolates entitled "The Whizzo Quality Assortment." HILTON: Ah, good, yes. PRALINE: If I may begin at the beginning. First, there is the Cherry Fondue. Now this is extremely nasty. But we can't prosecute you for that! HILTON: Agreed. PRALINE: Next we have number four, "Crunchy Frog." HILTON: Ah, yes. PRALINE: Am I right in thinking there's a real frog in here? HILTON: Yes, a little one. PRALINE: Is it cooked? HILTON: No. PRALINE: What? A raw frog? HILTON: We use only the finest baby frogs, dew picked and flown from Iraq, cleansed in the finest quality spring water, lightly killed, and sealed in a succulent Swiss quintuple-smooth full-cream treble milk chocolate envelope, and lovingly frosted with glucose. PRALINE: That's as may be, but it's still a frog! HILTON: What else would it be? PRALINE: Well, don't you even take the bones out? HILTON: If we took the bones out, it wouldn't be crunchy, now would it? PRALINE: Constable Parrot ate one of those! THE CONSTABLE (TG): Uh, would you excuse me for a moment, sir? PRALINE: Yes. HILTON: Well, it says "Crunchy Frog" quite clearly. PRALINE: Well, never mind that. We have to protect the public. People aren't going to think there's a real frog in chocolate! The superintendent thought it was an Almond Whirl! They're bound to think it's some kind of mock frog. HILTON: Mock frog?! We use no artificial preservatives or additives of any kind! PRALINE: Nevertheless, I advise you in the future to replace the words "Crunchy Frog" with the legend "Crunchy Raw Unboned Real Dead Frog" if you want to avoid prosecution. HILTON: What about our sales? PRALINE: I don't give a damn about your sales. We have to protect the public! Now, what was this one? Number five. It was number five, wasn't it? Number five: "Ram's Bladder Cup!" Now what kind of confection is this? HILTON: We use the choicest juicy chunks of fresh Cornish ram's bladder, emptied, steamed, flavored with sesame seeds, whipped into a fondue, and garnished with larks' vomit! PRALINE: Larks' vomit?! HILTON: Correct. PRALINE: It doesn't say anything down here about larks' vomit! HILTON: Ah, yes, it does, on the bottom of the box, after monosodium glutamate. PRALINE: I hardly think this is good enough! It would be more appropriate if the box bore a big red label, "Warning: Larks' Vomit!" HILTON: Our sales would plummet! PRALINE: Well, why don't you move into more conventional areas of confectionery, like praline, or lime cream, a very popular flavor I'm led to understand, or Strawberry Delight? I mean, what's this one? "Cockroach Cluster?" And this, "Anthrax Ripple?" [The constable vomits into his helmet. The inspector looks at him admonishingly. He then grimaces and puts his vomit-filled helmet back on his head.] PRALINE: And what's this one, "Spring Surprise?" HILTON: Aaah, that's our speciality! Covered in darkest, velvety smooth chocolate, when you pop it into your mouth, stainless steel bolts spring out and punch straight through both cheeks! PRALINE: If people pop a nice choc-y in their mouth they don't expect to get their cheeks pierced! In any case, it is an inadequate description of the sweetmeat. I shall have to ask you to accompany me to the station. HILTON: [Aside] It's a fair cop. PRALINE: And don't talk to the audience! (The words on the screen announces an INTERMISSION. A Girl (JC) with a moustache enters, a large bird in tow.) ALBATROSS VENDOR GIRL: Albatross! (cheers from the audience) Albatross! Albatross! (The audience is hooting and trying to buy it. He pauses.) You're not supposed to be smoking that. (laughter) Albatross! ...don't take them! AUDIENCE MEMBER: What flavor is it? What flavor is it? VENDOR: Seagull-sickle! Pelican bonbon! Albatross! MAN WITH HAT (TJ): Could I have... Could I have two ice creams, please? VENDOR: I haven't got any ice creams, I just got this albatross! MAN: Uh... VENDOR: Albatross! MAN: Uh, what flavor is it? VENDOR: Well, it's an albatross, isn't it? It's not any bloody flavor! Albatross! MAN: There's gotta be some flavor, I mean everything's got a flavor... VENDOR: All right, all right! It's bloody albatross flavor! Bleedin' seabird, bleedin' flavor! Albatross! MAN: Do you get wafers with it? VENDOR: Of course you don't get fucking wafers with it, you cunt! It's a fucking albatross! COLONEL (GC): Stop that! Stop that! It's filthy! Hold on! Right now, we need you! The one in the black, we need you for another skit on stage. And you, get off! You're not even a proper woman! VENDOR: Don't you oppress me, mate! COLONEL: What are you trying to do? Avoid registration or something? VENDOR: Bleedin' sexist! COLONEL: Come along, we need you for a skit! (to audience) No one enjoys a good laugh more than I do. Except perhaps for my wife, and some of her friends. Oh, yes, and Captain Johnson. Come to think of it, most people enjoy a good laugh more than I do, but that's beside the point. Right! Let's get on with this skit! Where's the other person for this skit? Right, you want to sit in that chair? And... cue... the... skit! NORM (EI): Evening, squire! MAN WITH HAT: Good evening. NORM: Is your... is your wife a goer? Eh? Know what I mean? Know what I mean? Nudge, nudge! Know what I mean? Say no more! MAN: I-I...I beg your pardon? NORM: Your...your wife. Does she go, eh? Does she go, eh? Eh? MAN: Huh, sometimes she has to go, yes. NORM: I bet she does! I bet she does! Say no more! Say no more! Know what I mean? Nudge, nudge! MAN: I'm afraid I don't quite follow you... NORM: Oh, "follow me, follow me"? That's good, that's very good! A nod's as good as a wink to a blind bat! MAN: Are... are you selling something? NORM: "Selling, selling!" Very good indeed! You're wicked, you are, eh? Wicked, eh? Ho-ho-ho! Whoa! Wicked! Say no more! MAN: Huh? NORM: Whoa! So your wife's interested in... in sport? Eh? MAN: Ah, she likes sport, yes. NORM: I bet she does! I bet she does! MAN: As a matter of fact, she's very fond of cricket. NORM: She likes "games", eh? Likes "games"? Knew she would, she's been around a bit, eh? She's been around? MAN: Well, she has travelled, yes. She's from Glendale. NORM: Say no more! Glendale, squire? Say no more! Say no more! Say no more! Say no more! MAN: Well... NORM: Whoa! Is your... is your Glendale wife interested in...photography? Eh? Eh? Eh? MAN: Photography? NORM: Photographs, eh? ...he asked him knowingly! MAN: Photography? NORM: Snap, snap, grin, grin, wink, wink, nudge, nudge, say no more! MAN: Sort of... holiday snaps, eh? NORM: They could be, they could be taken on holiday, you know! Swimming costumes, candid... you know, "candid" photography? MAN (looking away): No, we don't have a camera. NORM: Ah. Still, whohohoaah! Eh? Whohoaah! Eh? Whohohoaah! Eh? Whohohoaahaha! Hahah! MAN(angrily): Look, are you insinuating something? NORM: Oh, no, no, no... yes! MAN: Well? NORM: Well, I mean, you're a man of the world, squire, you know... you're... you've been around, you know? MAN: What do you mean? NORM (weakly): Well, I mean, like, you've... you know, you... like... you've done it, you know... you've slept...with a lady? MAN: Yes. NORM: What's it like? (More film. The caption reads GERMANY vs. GREECE.) COMMENTATOR (MP): Good afternoon, and welcome to a packed Olympic stadium, München, for the second leg of this exciting final. And here come the Germans now, led by their skipper "Nobby" Hegel. They must surely start favorites this afternoon. They've certainly attracted the most attention from the press with their team problems. And let's now see their line-up : (All the captions are in German.) DEUTSCHLAND 1 LEIBNIZ 2 I. KANT 3 HEGEL 4 SCHOPENHAUER 5 SCHELLING 6 BECKENBAUER 7 JASPERS 8 SCHLEGEL 9 WITTGENSTEIN 10 NIETZSCHE 11 HEIDEGGER COMMENTATOR: The Germans playing 4-2-4, Leibniz in goal, back four Kant, Hegel, Schopenhauer, and Schelling, front runners Schlegel, Wittgenstein, Nietzsche, and Heidegger, and the midfield duo of Beckenbauer and Jaspers. Beckenbauer obviously a bit of a surprise there. And here come the Greeks, led out by their veteran centre half Herakleitos. Let's look at their team : GRIECHENLAND 1 PLATO 2 EPIKTET 3 ARISTOTELES 4 SOPHOKLES 5 EMPEDOKLES VON ACRAGA 6 PLOTIN 7 EPIKUR 8 HERAKLIT 9 DERAKLIT 10 SOKRATES 11 ARKIMEDES COMMENTATOR: As you'd expect, it's a much more defensive line-up. Plato's in goal, Socrates a front runner there, and Aristotle as sweeper. Aristotle, very much the man in form. One surprise is the inclusion of Archimedes. Well, here comes the referee: K'ung fu-tszu - Confucius - and his two linesmen, Saint Augustine and Saint Thomas Aquinas. And as the two skippers come together to shake hands we're ready for the start of this very exciting final.. The referee, Mr. Confucius, checks his sand... and ... [The referee blows his whistle.] ...they're off! [The players stroll about, philosophising, uninterested in the game.] Nietzsche and Hegel there, Karl Jaspers number 7 on the outside, Wittgenstein there with him. There's Beckenbauer, Schelling's in there, Heidegger covering, Schopenhauer. And now it's the Greeks. Epikuros, Plotinus number six, Aristotle, Empedokles of Acraga, and Demokrites with him. There's Archimedes, Socrates, there he is, Socrates, Socrates there going through... There's the ball, there's the ball... er, we'll be bringing you back to this exciting contest the moment... anything... interesting happens. GERMANY 0 GREECE 0 (Island music plays, and the set is a swanky mansion in Yorkshire.) YORKSHIREMAN I (EI): Very passable, this, eh? Very passable. ALL: Ay, oh ay. YORKSHIREMAN II (GC): Nothing like a good glass of Château de Chasselet, eh, Josiah? YORKSHIREMAN III (TJ): Oh, you're right there, Obadiah. YORKSHIREMAN II: Ay. YORKSHIREMAN I: Who would have thought, thirty years ago, we'd all be sitting here drinking Château de Chasselet, eh? All: Ay, ay. YORKSHIREMAN IV (MP) Them days we were glad to have the price of a cup of tea. YORKSHIREMAN II: Ay! A cup of cold tea! YORKSHIREMAN IV: Ay! YORKSHIREMAN I: Without milk, or sugar. YORKSHIREMAN III: Or tea! YORKSHIREMAN IV: In a cracked cup and all. YORKSHIREMAN I: Oh, we never used to have a cup! We used to have to drink out of a rolled-up newspaper! YORKSHIREMAN II: The best we could manage was to suck on a piece of damp cloth. YORKSHIREMAN III: But you know, we were happy in those days, although we were poor. YORKSHIREMAN IV: Because we were poor! YORKSHIREMAN III: Ay! YORKSHIREMAN IV: My old dad used to say to me: "Money doesn't bring you happiness, son!" YORKSHIREMAN I: He was right! YORKSHIREMAN IV: Ay! YORKSHIREMAN I: I was happier then and I had nothing! We used to live in this tiny old tumble-down house with great big holes in the roof. YORKSHIREMAN II: House! You were lucky to live in a house! We used to live in one room, all twenty-six of us, no furniture, half the floor was missing, we were all huddled together in one corner for fear of falling. YORKSHIREMAN III: You were lucky to have a room! We used to have to live in the corridor! YORKSHIREMAN IV: Oh, we used to dream of living in a corridor! Would have been a palace to us! We used to live in an old water tank on a rubbish tip. We got woke up every morning by having a load of rotting fish dumped all over us! House, ha! YORKSHIREMAN I: Well, when I say "house", it was just a hole in the ground, covered by a sheet of tarpaulin, but it was a house to us! YORKSHIREMAN II: We were evicted from our hole in the ground. We had to go and live in a lake! YORKSHIREMAN III: You were lucky to have a lake! There were 150 of us living in a shoebox in the middle of the road! YORKSHIREMAN IV: A cardboard box? YORKSHIREMAN III: Ay! YORKSHIREMAN IV: You were lucky! We lived for three months in a rolled-up newspaper in a septic tank! We used to have to get up every morning at six o'clock and clean the newspaper, go to work down t' 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! YORKSHIREMAN II: Luxury! We used to have to get out of the lake at three o'clock in the morning, clean the lake, eat a handful of hot gravel, work twenty hours a day at mill, for tuppence a month, come home, and dad would beat us around the head and neck with a broken bottle, if we were lucky! YORKSHIREMAN III: 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 gravel, work twenty-four hours a day at mill for fourpence every six years, and when we got home, our dad would slice us in two with a breadknife! YORKSHIREMAN I: 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 mill-owner for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our dad would kill us and dance about on our graves, singing Hallelujiah! YORKSHIREMAN IV: Oh, ay. And you try and tell the young people of today that, and they won't believe you! ALL: No, no they won't! (Back to the International Philosophy film.) COMMENTATOR : Well, there may be no score, but there's certainly no lack of excitement here. As you can see, Nietzsche has just been booked for arguing with the referee. He accused Confucius of having no free will, and Confucius he say, 'Name go in book.' And this is Nietzsche's third booking in four games. [Referee's whistle] And, who's that? It's Karl Marx. Karl Marx is warming up. It looks as though there's going to be a substitution on the German side. Obviously manager Martin Luther has decided on all-out attack, as indeed he must, with only two minutes of the match to go. But the big question is: Who is he going to replace? Who is going to come off? It could be Jaspers, Hegel or Schopenhauer. But it's Wittgenstein! Wittgenstein, who saw his aunty only last week! And here's Marx! [Marx runs energetically onto the pitch] Let's see if he can put some life into this German attack. [He starts philosophising, like all the rest.] Evidently not. What a shame. Well, now, with just over a minute left, a replay on Tuesday looks absolutely vital. There's Archimedes, and I think he's had an idea! ARCHIMEDES: Eureka! [He and the other Greeks start playing actual football.] COMMENTATOR: Archimedes out to Socrates, Socrates back to Archimedes, Archimedes out to Herakleitos, he beats Hegel, Herakleitos, a little flick, here he comes on the far post, Socrates is there! Socrates heads it in! Socrates has scored! The Greeks are going mad! The Greeks are going mad, Socrates scores, what a beautiful cross from Archimedes! The Germans are disputing it. Hegel is arguing that the reality is merely an a priori adjunct of non-naturalistic ethics; Kant, via the categorical imperative, is holding that ontologically it exists only in the imagination; and Marx is claiming it was offside. But Confucius has answered them with the final whistle! It's all over! Germany, having trounced England's famous midfield trio of Bentham, Locke and Hobbes in the semi-final, has been beaten by the odd goal, and let's see it again. There it is, Socrates, Socrates heads in and Leibniz doesn't have a chance. And just look at those delighted Greeks! There they are, "Chopper" Sophocles, Empedokles of Acragus, what a game he had. And Epikuros is there, and Socrates, the captain, who scored what was probably the most important goal of his career. [The customer enters and presses the secretary's nipple as if it were a bell. It buzzes.] MISS CYST (CC): Ooh! Er, good afternoon, sir. May I help you? CUSTOMER (MP): Yes, I'd like to have an argument, please. (Much applause from the audience.) MISS CYST: Certainly, sir. Uhm, have you been here before? MR. PRINT: Ah, no, this is my first time. MISS CYST: I see. Well, do you want to have just one argument, or were you thinking of taking a course? MR. PRINT: Well, uh, what is the cost? MISS CYST: Yes, it's one pound for a five-minute argument, but only eight pounds for a course of ten. MR. PRINT: Well, I think I'll just try the one and see how it goes from there. MISS CYST: Fine. Ah, yes, try Mr. Barnard, Room 12. MR. PRINT: Thank you very much. [The customer enters an office in which a man is sitting behind a desk.] PRESCRIBER (GC): What do you want? MR. PRINT: Well, I was told outside that... PRESCRIBER: Don't give me that, you snotty-faced heap of parrot droppings! MR. PRINT: What?! PRESCRIBER: Shut your festering gob, you tit! Your type make me puke, you vacuous, toffee-nosed, malodorous pervert! MR. PRINT: Listen, I came here for an argument! PRESCRIBER: Oh, oh, I'm sorry, but this is Abuse! MR. PRINT: Oh, oh, I see! PRESCRIBER: (Laughs good-naturedly) MR. PRINT: Terribly sorry. PRESCRIBER: No, you want Room 12A, next door. MR. PRINT: Oh, I see. Thank you very much. PRESCRIBER: Not at all. (He leaves.) PRESCRIBER (under his breath): Stupid git. [The customer enters a second office in which another man is sitting behind a desk.] MR. PRINT: Uh, is this the right room for an argument? ARGUER (JC): I've told you once. MR. PRINT: Uh, no, you haven't. MR. BARNARD: Yes, I have. MR. PRINT: When? MR. BARNARD: Just now. MR. PRINT: No, you didn't. MR. BARNARD: Yes, I did. MR. PRINT: You didn't! MR. BARNARD: I did. MR. PRINT: No, you didn't! MR. BARNARD: I'm telling you I did! MR. PRINT: You most certainly did not! MR. BARNARD: Ah, one moment, is this the five-minute argument or the full half hour? MR. PRINT: Oh, oh, I see. Just the five minutes. MR. BARNARD: Just the five minutes... Right, thank you. Anyway, I did. MR. PRINT: Oh, no, you didn't. MR. BARNARD: Now let's get one thing absolutely clear. I most definitely told you. MR. PRINT: No, you didn't. MR. BARNARD: Yes, I did. MR. PRINT: No, you didn't. MR. BARNARD: Yes, I did. MR. PRINT: No, you didn't. MR. BARNARD: Yes, I did. MR. PRINT: No, you didn't. MR. BARNARD: Yes, I did. MR. PRINT: No, you didn't. MR. BARNARD: Yes, I did. MR. PRINT: No, you didn't. MR. BARNARD: Yes, I did. MR. PRINT: No, you didn't. MR. BARNARD: Yes, I did. MR. PRINT: No, you didn't. MR. BARNARD: Yes, I did. MR. PRINT: No, you didn't. MR. BARNARD: Yes, I did. MR. PRINT: No, you didn't. MR. BARNARD: Yes, I did. MR. PRINT: Oh, look, this isn't an argument! MR. BARNARD: Yes, it is! MR. PRINT: No, it isn't! It's just contradiction! MR. BARNARD: No, it isn't! MR. PRINT: It is! MR. BARNARD: It is not! MR. PRINT: It is! You just contradicted me! MR. BARNARD: I did not! MR. PRINT: You did! MR. BARNARD: No, no, no! MR. PRINT: You did just then! MR. BARNARD: Nonsense! MR. PRINT: Oh, this is futile! (pause) MR. BARNARD: No, it isn't. MR. PRINT: Yes, it is. I came here for a good argument. MR. BARNARD: No, you didn't. You came here for an argument. MR. PRINT: Yes, but argument isn't just contradiction! MR. BARNARD: Well, can be. MR. PRINT: No, an argument is a connected series of statements intended to establish a proposition. MR. BARNARD: No, it isn't! MR. PRINT: Yes, it is! It isn't just contradiction! MR. BARNARD: Look, if I argue with you, I must take up a contrary position. MR. PRINT: Yes, but that isn't just saying "No, it isn't!" MR. BARNARD: Yes, it is! MR. PRINT: No, it isn't! MR. BARNARD: Yes, it is! MR. PRINT: No, it isn't! MR. BARNARD: Yes, it is! MR. PRINT: No, it isn't! MR. BARNARD: Yes, it is! MR. PRINT: No, it isn't! MR. BARNARD: Yes, it is! MR. PRINT: Argument is an intellectual process. Contradiction is just the automatic gain-saying of anything the other person says! MR. BARNARD: It is not! MR. PRINT: It is! MR. BARNARD: Not at all! MR. PRINT: Now look... (The arguer rings a small bell.) MR. BARNARD: Thank you, good morning! MR. PRINT: What? MR. BARNARD: That's it! Good morning. MR. PRINT: I was just getting interested! MR. BARNARD: Uh, I'm sorry, the five minutes is up! CUSTOMER: That was never five minutes, just now! MR. BARNARD: I'm afraid it was. MR. PRINT: Oh, no, it wasn't. (pause) MR. BARNARD: I'm sorry, I'm...I'm not allowed to argue anymore. MR. PRINT: What? MR. BARNARD: If you want me to go on arguing, you'll have to pay for another five minutes. MR. PRINT: But that was never five minutes, just now! MR. BARNARD: [Whistles] MR. PRINT: Oh, come on! Oh, this is ridiculous! MR. BARNARD: If you want me to go on arguing, you'll have to pay for another five minutes. MR. PRINT: Oh, all right. Here you are. [He gives him a banknote.] MR. BARNARD: Thank you. MR. PRINT: Well? MR. BARNARD: Well what? MR. PRINT: That was never five minutes, just now! MR. BARNARD: I told you, if you want me to go on arguing, you'll have to pay for another five minutes. MR. PRINT: Yes, yes, well, I've just paid! MR. BARNARD: No, you didn't! MR. PRINT: I did! MR. BARNARD: You did not! MR. PRINT: I did! MR. BARNARD: You never... MR. PRINT: I did! MR. BARNARD: You never... MR. PRINT: I did! MR. BARNARD: You never... MR. PRINT: I did! MR. BARNARD: You never... MR. PRINT: I did! MR. BARNARD: You never... MR. PRINT: Look, I don't want to argue about this. MR. BARNARD: Well, I'm very sorry, but you didn't pay! MR. PRINT: Aha! But if I didn't pay, why are you arguing? Aaaah! Got you! (pause) MR. BARNARD: No, you haven't. MR. PRINT: Yes, I have. If you're arguing, I must have paid. MR. BARNARD: Not necessarily. I could be arguing in my spare time. MR. PRINT: Oh, I've had enough of this! MR. BARNARD: No, you haven't! MR. PRINT: Yes, I have! MR. BARNARD: No, you haven't! MR. PRINT: Yes, I have! MR. BARNARD: No, you haven't! MR. PRINT: Yes, I have! MR. BARNARD: No, you haven't! MR. PRINT: Yes, I have! MR. BARNARD: No, you haven't! MR. PRINT: Yes, I have! MR. BARNARD: No, you haven't! MR. PRINT: Yes, I have! MR. BARNARD: No, you haven't! MR. PRINT: Yes, I have! MR. BARNARD: No, you haven't! MR. PRINT: Yes, I have! MR. BARNARD: No, you haven't! MR. PRINT: Yes, I have! MR. BARNARD: No, you haven't! NUDE MAN (TG): Whoa! [Singing] I've got two legs from my hips to the ground And when I lift them they walk around And when I lift them they climb the stairs And when I shave them they ain't got hairs I've... [The customer from the previous sketch pulls out a gun and shoots him.] Aaargh! PIANO PLAYER (NI): How sweet to be an idiot As harmless as a cloud Too small to hide the sun Almost poking fun At the warm but insecure untidy crowd How sweet to be an idiot And dip my brain in joy Children laughing at my back With no fear of attack As much retaliation as a toy How sweet to be an idiot How sweet I tiptoe down the street Smile at everyone I meet But suddenly a scream Smashes through my dream Fee-fi-fo-fum I smell blood of an asylum Hey you You're such a pedant You've got as much brain as a dead ant As much imagination as a caravan site But I still love you Still love you, ooooo How sweet to be an idiot How sweet How sweet Hooow sweet MR. SMOKETOOMUCH (EI): Good morning. SECTETARY (CC): Oh, good morning. Uhm, have you come to arrange a holiday or would you like a blow job? SMOKETOOMUCH: I'm sorry? SECRETARY: Uh, oh, you've come to arrange a holiday? SMOKETOOMUCH: Uh... yes. SECRETARY: Oh, sorry, sorry. Now, where were you thinking of going? SMOKETOOMUCH: Uh, to India. SECRETARY: Ah, one of our adventure holidays. SMOKETOOMUCH: Yes, that's right. SECRETARY: Well, you'd better see Mr. Bounder about that. Uh, Mr. Bounder, this gentleman is interested in the "India Overland" - and nothing else. MR. BOUNDER (MP): Ah. Hello, I'm Bounder of Adventure. SMOKETOOMUCH: Oh, hello. My name is Smoketoomuch. BOUNDER: What? SMOKETOOMUCH: My name is Smoketoomuch. Mr. Smoketoomuch. BOUNDER: Well, you'd better cut down a little then. [Laughs] SMOKETOOMUCH: I'm sorry? BOUNDER: You'd better cut down a little then. [Laughs] SMOKETOOMUCH: Oh, I see! Smoke too much so I'd better cut down a little then! BOUNDER: Yes. [Laughs] Oh, I suppose you get people making jokes about your name all the time, eh? SMOKETOOMUCH: No, actually, it never struck me before. Smoke... too... much! [Laughs] BOUNDER: Anyway, erm, you're interested in one of our holidays, are you? SMOKETOOMUCH: Yes, that's right. I saw your advert in the blassified ads. BOUNDER: The what? SMOKETOOMUCH: In The Times Blassified Ads. BOUNDER: Ah, The Times Classified Ads. SMOKETOOMUCH: Yes, that's right. I'm afraid I have a speech impediment. I can't pronounce the letter B. BOUNDER: Uh, C. SMOKETOOMUCH: Yes, that's right, B. It's all due to a trauma I suffered when I was a sboolboy. I was attacked by a Siamese bat. BOUNDER: Uh, ah, a Siamese cat. SMOKETOOMUCH: No, a Siamese bat. They're more dangerous. BOUNDER: Well, listen... can you say the letter K? SMOKETOOMUCH: Oh, yes. Khaki, kettle, Kipling, Khomeini, Kellogg's Born Flakes. BOUNDER: Well, why don't you say the letter K instead of the letter C? SMOKETOOMUCH: Well, you mean, pronounce "blassified" with a K? BOUNDER: Yes, absolutely! SMOKETOOMUCH: Klassified. BOUNDER: Good! SMOKETOOMUCH: Oh, it's very good! I never thought of that before. What a silly bunt. BOUNDER: Now then, ahm, about the holiday... SMOKETOOMUCH: Yes, well, I've been on package tours many times before, so your advert really baught my eye. BOUNDER: Good, good, jolly good, well, let me offer you this... SMOKETOOMUCH: Why-why, what's the point of going abroad, if your just going to be treated like a sheep? BOUNDER: Mmm. SMOKETOOMUCH: Karted around in buses surrounded by sweaty mindless oafs from Kettering and Boventry. BOUNDER: Absolutely. SMOKETOOMUCH: Their bloth baps and their bardigans and their transistor radios, bomplaining about the tea, oh, they don't make it properly, do they? And stopping at endless Majorcan bodegas selling fish and chips and Watney's Red Barrel and calamaries and two veg. And sitting in their kotton sun frocks, squirting Timothy White's sun kream all over their puffy, raw, swollen, purulent flesh, 'kause they overdid it on the first day. BOUNDER: Yes, I know just what you mean. Now, what we offer is... SMOKETOOMUCH: And being herded into endless Hotel Miramars and Bellevueses, Bontinentals with their international luxury modern roomettes... BOUNDER: Oh, yes. SMOKETOOMUCH: ...and swimming pools full of draught Red Barrel and fat German businessmen pretending to be acrobats and forming pyramids and frightening the children and... BOUNDER: Oh, yes. SMOKETOOMUCH: ...barging into the queues. And if you're not at your table... BOUNDER: Oh, yes. SMOKETOOMUCH: ...spot on seven you miss your bowl of Kampbell's Kream of Mushroom Soup, the first item in the menu of International Kuisine. BOUNDER: Absolutely. Now what we have here is... SMOKETOOMUCH: Every Thursday night there's bloody kabaret in the bar featuring some tiny, emaciated dago with nine-inch hips and some fat bloated tart with her hair Brylkremed down and a big arse presenting Flamenko for Foreigners. BOUNDER: Will you be quiet, please? SMOKETOOMUCH: And adenoidal typists from Birmingham with flabby white legs... BOUNDER: Will you be quiet? SMOKETOOMUCH: ...and diarrhea trying to pick up hairy, bandy-legged, wop waiters called Manuel. BOUNDER: Be-be quiet! SMOKETOOMUCH: And once a week there's an exkursion to the local Roman remains, where you kan buy cherryade and melted ice kream... BOUNDER: Will you be quiet? SMOKETOOMUCH: ...and bleedin' Watney's Red Barrel. BOUNDER: Shut up! SMOKETOOMUCH: And one night they take you to a typical restaurant with local... BOUNDER: Shut up! SMOKETOOMUCH: ...atmosphere and kolor and you sit next to a... BOUNDER: Shut up! SMOKETOOMUCH: ...party of people from Rhyl who keep singing "I love the Kosta Brava!" BOUNDER: Shut up! SMOKETOOMUCH: "I love the Kosta Brava!" And you get kornered by some drunken greengrocer from Luton with an Instamatic kamera and last Tuesday's Daily Express... BOUNDER: Please be quiet! This is the last time... SMOKETOOMUCH: ...and he drones on and on and on about how Ian Smith should be running the kountry and how many languages Margaret Powell can speak and then he throws up all over the kuba libres. And spending four days on the tarmac at Luton Airport on a five-day package tour with nothing to eat but dry British Airways-type sandwiches. BOUNDER: Shut up! Please shut up! [A man in a white coat (JC) comes to lead Mr Smoketoomuch away, off stage and through the aisles between the audience.] SMOKETOOMUCH: And you can't even get a glass of Watney's Red Barrel because you're still in England and the bloody bar kloses every time you're thirsty. And the kids are krying and vomiting and breaking the plastic ashtrays. They keep telling you it'll only be another hour, but you know damn well your plane is still in Iceland, and has to come back and take a party of... (to an audience member) Shut up!...take a party of Swedes to Yugoslavia, before it can load you up at 3 a.m. in the morning. And then you sit on the tarmak for four hours because of unforeseen difficulties, i.e. the permanent strike of air traffic kontrol over Paris. When you finally get to Malaga airport, everybody's queueing for the bloody toilet, [he slips away from the man in the white coat by climbing over the audience] and queueing for the bloody armed kustoms officers, and queueing for the bloody bus that isn't there, waiting to take you to the hotel that hasn't yet been built. 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, there's no water in the pool, there's no water in the bog, there's no water in the tap, there's only a bleeding lizard in the bidet, and half the rooms are double-booked, and you can't sleep anyway, 'kause of the permanent twenty-four hour drilling of the foundations of the hotel next door. Meanwhile, the Spanish National Tourist Board promises you the raging cholera epidemic is merely a mild outbreak of Spanish Tummy, rather like the previous outbreak in 1616... even the bloody rats are dying from it! [He disappears, finally.] [A lecturer delivers his address from a lectern. Three demonstrators (MP, TG and TJ) are dressed in overalls.] LECTURER (GC): As early as the late 14th century, or indeed as late as the early 14th century, the earliest forms of jape were divisible in... SMOKETOOMUCH: [He's escaped again] Meanwhile, the bloody Guardia are busy arresting 16-year-olds for kissing in the streets. And finally on the last day in the airport lounge, everybody's buying little awful horrid donkeys with their names on, and bullfight posters with their own names on, like Antonio ----, Mr Brian Pules of Norwich. And then finally when you get to bloody Luton, you're ---- ---- for another four hours, while they find a plane that has to take you back to Manchester. And when you finally get to Manchester, there's only another bloody bus you have to wait sixteen hours for... LECTURER: As early as the late 14th century, or, indeed, as late as the early 14th century, the earliest forms of jape were divisible into the two categories into which I now intend to divide them. The earliest manifestation of the basic simple precipitation jest incurred, as will be seen from the demonstration, a disproportionate amount of internal risibility on the part of the operator. [MP stands with his foot outstretched. TJ walks along and trips over it, falling to the floor.] Secondary precipitation occurs when both protagonists and dupe are located indoors. It is true, however, that this has involved the development of a special piece of machinery. [An assistant (CC) brings on a chair.] But it is still no more than a simple variation of primary precipitation. [TG holds the chair. As TJ goes to sit down, TG pulls it away.] The opening up of the African continent revealed a vast new source of wealth for humorous exploitation. [The assistant brings on a banana. TG peels it and hands the skin to TJ.] We are to see demonstrated how this was adapted to the basic precipitation jape. [TJ drops the skin on the floor. MP walks along, steps over the banana skin, turns round, picks up the banana skin, opens TJ's overalls and squashes the banana skin into his chest.] PALIN: [To TG] Ahem! LECTURER: We now come on to a considera... [To TG] Ahem! [TG forces the entire banana into his mouth and eats it.] We now come on to a consideration of the more sophisticated transitive mode of japing, in which, as we'll observe, the operator or inceptor remains totally unaware of the humorous implications of his action. First... first we are to see the simple sideswipe or "whop." [TG and TJ stand side by side facing forwards. TG holds a plank on his right shoulder. MP stands to one side, by the lectern.] PALIN: Hey, Vance! [TG turns around towards MP, knocking TJ over with the plank.] LECTURER: Next, the "sideswipe and return." [They stand as before.] PALIN: Hey, Vance! [TG turns through 180 degrees, knocking TJ in the head with the plank. TJ gets up. TG turns back, knocking TJ down again.] LECTURER: And now, the "double sideswipe and return." [TG stands between TJ and MP, all facing forwards. TG still has the plank.] PALIN: Hey, Vance! [TG turns through 180 degrees, knocking both TJ and MP to the floor with the two ends of the plank. They get up. TG turns back, knocking them both down again.] LECTURER: Popular as this jest has always been, however, it cannot compare with the ribald connotations associated with the dispatch of an edible missile. [The assistant brings on a tray with two custard pies for each demonstrator. TJ stands in the middle.] First... first the simple straight-forward "offensive deposit." [TJ and MP turn to face each other. MP throws a pie into TJ's face.] Second... second the simple "sideways offensive deposit." [All facing forwards. TG delivers a pie into the side of TJ's head.] Next, the simple "surprise deposit." [TJ and MP turn to face each other. As TJ brings his arm back ready to throw a pie, MP pre-empts him with a pie in the face.] And now, the "foul pie." [TG and TJ turn to face each other. As TJ prepares to throw a pie, TG delivers a pie into his naughty bits.] Uh, could we have new pies, please? [The assistant comes on with a tray of new pies. TG takes two; TJ puts his existing pies on the tray while he cleans himself; MP takes two pies; the assistant leaves before TJ can reclaim his pies. He stands there looking sheepish.] Finally, finally we move on to the interesting but little known variant normally designated the "three-course complex." [TG and MP both face TJ in the centre, who faces TG. TJ ducks as TG throws a pie in MP's face. TJ stands up again and receives a pie in the back of the head from MP. TJ ducks again but his head is sandwiched above and below by pies from TG and MP.] [A man in a white coat (JC) enters, sets a chair beside the lectern and steps up onto it as the lecturer is speaking.] But...but finally we must not forget the enjoyment, the satisfaction, and the edification to be derived from the simple straightforward "sideways completely unexpected deposit." [The man takes a backswing with the pie he is holding, but the lecturer deposits a previously hidden pie of his own into the man's face first.] ["Children's Hour" type film plays.] STORYTELLER (MP): Once upon a time there was a little house in a dark forest. In this house lived a humble woodcutter and his wife and their pretty daughter, Little Red Riding Hood. [The burly Little Red Riding Hood (JC) is making logs for the fire by snapping tree trunks over her knee, accompanied by most unladylike grunts, etc.] And in the middle of this deep, dark forest, there lived a vicious wolf! [A pathetic dachshund with a bit of fur draped over it.] One day Little Red Riding Hood set off to take some things to her old grandmother who lived deep in the forest. [Little Red Riding Hood crashes through the forest, snapping large branches, pushing over trees, etc.] The vicious wolf saw Little Red Riding Hood and thought: "She looks very good to eat!" "Where are you going my, pretty one?" "Oh, kind sir, to my grandmother's." "Ha, ha, ha, ha!" smirked the wicked wolf and dashed off through the forest to grandmother's house. "Knock, knock, knock" went the wicked wolf. [The dog is pulled against the door by its obvious lead.] The door opened wide, but it wasn't grandmother who opened it. It was Buzz Aldrin, America's number 2 spaceman! [Buzz Aldrin, dressed in space suit, steps out of the house and plants an American flag.] For this was not Granny's little house at all, but the headquarters of NASA, the American space research agency. The wicked wolf was shot by security guards. So all was quiet in the forest again. The humble woodcutter and his wife sold the their story to Der Speigel for 40,000 Deutcshmarks. NASA agreed to limit the number of nuclear tests in Granny's little house to two on Thursdays and one on Saturdays, after tea. [The little house is destroyed by a violent explosion. So is the telly.] WIFE (TJ): Liberal rubbish! What do you want with your jugged fish, Klaus? HUSBAND (EI): Pardon, my wide-thighed plum? WIFE: What do you want with your jugged fish, you cloth-eared git? HUSBAND: Halibut! WIFE: The jugged fish is halibut! HUSBAND: All right. Well, what fish do you have that is not jugged? WIFE: Uh, rabbit. HUSBAND: What, rabbit fish? WIFE: Well, it's all covered in fur. HUSBAND: Well, is it dead? WIFE: Well, it was coughing up blood last night. HUSBAND: All right, I'll have the dead, unjugged rabbit fish. VOICE (CC): One dead, unjugged rabbit fish later. HUSBAND: Appalling! WIFE: Oh, you're always complaining. HUSBAND: What's for afters? WIFE: Well, there's, uh, rat pie, rat pudding, rat sorbet or, uh, strawberry tart. HUSBAND: Strawberry tart? WIFE: Well, it's got some rat in it. HUSBAND: How much? WIFE: Six. Rather a lot really. HUSBAND: I'll have a slice without so much rat in it. VOICE: One slice of strawberry tart without so much rat in it later. HUSBAND: Appalling! WIFE: "Moan, moan, moan!" SON (GC): Hello, mum! Hello, dad! HUSBAND: Hello, son! SON: There's a dead bishop on the landing! WIFE: Where... where's he from? SON: What do you mean? WIFE: What's his diocese? SON: Well, he looked a bit Canterburyish to me. HUSBAND: I'll go and have a look. WIFE: I dunno who keeps bringing them here. SON: Well, it's not me. WIFE: I put three out by the trashcans last week and the garbagemen won't touch 'em. HUSBAND: It's the bishop of Leicester! WIFE: How do you know? HUSBAND: Tattooed on the back of his neck! I think I'd better call the police! WIFE: Shouldn't you call the church? SON: Call the Church Police! HUSBAND: That's a good idea! The... Church... Police! [They enter.] DETECTIVE-PARSON (MP): 'Allo, 'allo, 'allo! What's all this then? Amen! WIFE: Are you the Church Police? CHURCH POLICE: Oh, yes! WIFE: There's another dead bishop on the landing, Vicar-Sergeant! DETECTIVE-PARSON: Detective-Parson, madam! What is he? R.C. or C. of E.? WIFE: How should I know? DETECTIVE-PARSON: Tattooed on the back of their neck! Here, is that rat tart? WIFE: Oh, uh, yes. DETECTIVE-PARSON: Disgusting! Right, men! The hunt is on. Let us kneel in prayer. Oh, Lord... CHURCH POLICE: Oh, Lord, we beseech thee, tell us who croaked the Bishop of Leicester. [A clap of thunder. Then a giant Gilliam-style hand appears from the sky, accompanied by angelic chanting, and points to the husband. And don't stand there gawping like you've never seen the hand of God before.] GOD: The one in the braces, he done it. [More angelic chanting as the hand returns from whence it came.] HUSBAND: It's a fair cop, but society is to blame. DETECTIVE-PARSON: Right, we'll arrest them instead! CHURCH POLICEMAN (JC): Come on, you! Are you in society? Are you in society? DETECTIVE-OTHER (NI): [singing] All things sick and gangrenous... DETECTIVE-PARSON: Shut up! [The husband is left behind.] HUSBAND: I never wanted to be in such a shambolic sketch. I always wanted to be... a lumberjack! [He removes his outer clothing to reveal lumberjack gear.] Leaping from tree to tree... as they float down the mighty rivers of British Columbia! The larch... the redwood... the mighty sequoia... [He is joined by his Girl (CC) and a Mountie Choir.] ...with my best girl by my side! The giant deadwood, the spruce... the little Californian rude tree! We'd sing, sing, sing! I'm a lumberjack and I'm OK, I sleep all night and I work all day. CHOIR & GIRL: He's a lumberjack and he's OK, He sleeps all night and he works all day. LUMBERJACK: I cut down trees, I eat my lunch, I go to the lavatory. On Wednesdays I go shopping, and have buttered scones for tea. CHOIR: He cuts down trees, he eats his lunch, He goes to the lavatory. On Wednesdays he goes shopping, And has buttered scones for tea. ALL: He's a lumberjack and he's OK, He sleeps all night and he works all day. LUMBERJACK: 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. CHOIR: He cuts down trees, he skips and jumps, He likes to press wild flowers. He puts on women's clothing, And hangs around in bars? ALL: He's a lumberjack and he's OK, He sleeps all night and he works all day. LUMBERJACK: I cut down trees, I wear high heels, Suspenders and a bra. I wish I'd been a girlie, Just like my dear papa. CHOIR: He cuts down trees, he wears high heels, Suspenders and a bra?? MOUNTIE (JC): What kind of goddamn pervert are you, you lousy commie fairy faggot...?! [They start to leave, but the music continues.] ALL: He's a lumberjack and I'm OK, He sleeps all night and I work all day. He's a lumberjack and I'm okaaayy... [Liberty Bell March plays, and the mounties chase the Lumberjack offstage. They run back and forth as the animated titles play.] The End Concert Film Produced and Directed by TERRY HUGHES Filmed Sequences Directed by IAN MACNAUGHTON Post Production Director and Editor JULIAN DOYLE Executive Producer DENIS O'BRIENCONCERT Concert Film Co-Producer JAMES RICH, JR. HOLLYWOOD BOWL Production Coordinator ANNE HENSHAW Stage Manager MOLLIE KIRKLAND Production Design JOHN MACGRAW and JOHN MILES Sound STAN MILLER Wardrobe DAY MURCH HAZEL PETHIG Props CHARLES KNOBE BILL PEIRCE Make up VE NEILL MAGGIE WESTON Promotion CLOG HOLDING and LARRY WALLON Press PATTI WRIGHT Python's U.S. Coordinator NANCY LEWIS Music Production ANDRE JACQUEMIN Title Music JOHN DUPREZ and RAY COOPER CONCERT FILM Edited By JIMMY B. FRAZIER Lighting Design By WILLIAM KLAGES Video Control JOHN B. FIELD JOHN PALACIO Audio Recordist ED GREEN Script Supervisor SANDRA PEARSON Unit Manager DAVID R. HORNE Production Manager STEVE TERRY Technical Directors JOHN B. FIELD JIMMY B. FRAZIER KEN HOLLAND GARY MATZ Camera Operators DAVE HILMER MIKE KEELER JOHN LEE DAVE LEVISOHN WAYNE ORR Technical Operations Supervisor STEVE DEAVER Videotape Operator BILL CONROY Maintenance BILL FEIGHTNER BERT WEYL Assistant Audio JEFF FECTEAU CHRIS SEIDENGLANZ LARRY STEPHENS RTS Phonelines KENNETH NUNN Camera Assistance DAN ANDRESEN JOHN MAYON Audio Utility RICH BROWN MIKE WILSON Audio Re-Recording JERRY CLEMANS Opticals Designed By C.D. TAYLOR Rear Projection BACKGROUND ENGINEEERS Assistant Videotape Editors MARK BERNEY KEN LASKI Production Associate JOANNE FISH Recorded in Imagevision By COMPACT VIDEO SERVICES, INC. Concert Film Assembly ARDEN RYNEN Post Production Supervisor SANDRA PEARSON With Thanks To MARTY FELDMAN ANGUS JAMES DAVID LIPSCOMB TIM BROOKE-TAYLOR ARISTA RECORD, INC. CHARISMA RECORDS LTD. Staged and Presented by MONTY PYTHON COPYRIGHT 1982 THE MONTY PYTHON BEGGING BOWL PARTNERSHIP ALL RIGHTS RESERVED No. 26740 THIS PICTURE MADE UNDER THE JURISDICTION OF MOTION PICTURE ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA THE CHARACTERS AND INCIDENTS PORTRAYED AND THE NAMES USED HEREIN ARE FICTITIOUS, AND ANY SIMILARITY TO THE NAME, CHARACTER OR HISTORY OF ANY PERSON IS ENTIRELY COINCIDENTAL AND UNINTENTIONAL THIS MOTION PICTURE PHOTOPLAY IS PROTECTED PURSUANT TO THE PROVISIONS OF THE LAWS OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA AND OTHER COUNTRIES. ANY UNAUTHORIZED DUPLICATION AND/OR DISTRIBUTION OF THIS PHOTOPLAY MAY RESULT IN CIVIL LIABILITY AND CRIMINAL PROSECUTION Piss Off