All language subtitles for Monty Python X01 Parrot Sketch Not Included 20 Years of Monty Python (1989 360p re-tvrip)

Good evening.

In the late 1960s,

a comic force emerged
which was so original,

so zany,
so fabulously different,

that many people felt that
the world of entertainment

had been changed forever.

Intelligent, some would
say even intellectual,

yet massively popular.

Subtle, but also simple.

Dangerous, but warm.

Visual, but still
enormously literate.

Big-hearted, generous,
anarchic,

and above all, funny.

Brilliantly funny.

But enough about me.

What about this
Monty Python crowd?

Well, some people
like 'em, I guess.

The pythons--

Undoubtedly one
of the greatest

writer/performer teams
of the 20th century.

Young, talented,
and virile,

and incredibly,
they were British.

Six fantastically gifted,
unforgettable guys--

John, Paul, George, Ringo...

Bob, and...

One other unforgettable guy.

They were tall,
they were beautiful,

they were crazy.

I'm not going to say that bit.

I can't.

Because it's a lie, that's why.

I'll tell you why
I can't say it.

Because it�s not in my--

I love them.

Over the next hour,

I'm going to be
showing you a selection

of the very best
of Monty Python's work.

Much of it has been
seen before.

In fact, many, many,
many, many times before.

But never in this form.

But first, we have
a little surprise for you.

Some brand-new
Monty Python material

never before seen in this country.

If you've never seen
Monty Python before,

you won't have never seen
anything like this.

Enjoy.

[William Tell overture plays]

Hooray, you've done it!

Well done!

[speaking foreign language]

[moo]

[moo]

[moo]

[moo]

[moo]

[moo]

[speaking foreign language]

Ha ha ha ha!

Ha ha oh ho!

Oh, dear, oh, dear.

Monty Python--
nutty, zany, crazy.

[poot]

Welcome to Munich for
the 27th Silly Olympiad,

an event held traditionally
every 3.7 years,

which this year
has brought competitors

From over four million
different countries.

Here we are at the start
of the first event--

The semi-final
of the 100 yards

for people with no sense
of direction.

I'll present
the competitors--

Lane 1, Kolomowski.
Lane 2, Zatapathique.

Lane 3, Grobovich.
Next to him, Drabbel.

Next to him, Clanades of Spain,

and in the outside lane,
Bormann of Brazil.

[gunshot]

Well, that was fun,
wasn't it?

And now, over to the
other end of the stadium.

We're waiting for the start
of the 1,500 meters

for the deaf.

They're under starter's orders.

[gunshot]

We'll be coming back
the moment there's any action.

Over to the swimming.

You join us at the absurd pool

just in time for the 200 meters
freestyle for non-swimmers.

Watch for the top
Australian champion Ron Barnett

in the second lane.

[blows whistle]

We'll be bringing you back here

the moment they start
fishing the corpses out.

Now over to Hans Kleig for
the marathon for incontinents...

Well, we've got
an enormous entry--

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.

Get set.

[gunshot]

And they're off!
They're off!

Well done.

Back at the 1,500 meters,

and the starter's putting up
a magnificent show.

Get set!

We've had scattered
random fire, fusillade, firing.

We can't get
the buggers moving.

It's enough to make you
chew your own foot off.

We're back with the marathon
for incontinents.

There�s Polinsky in the lead.

Now Aburro has taken over!

There's the runner from France!

Aburro has overtaken him!

There goes Byrd!

There goes Gurney of Austria!

Now it's Olvares of Cuba,
followed by the Norwegian.

There's McNorton,
McNorton, the Scottish lad,

but he can't hold it.

Makiovich of Yugoslavia
has taken the lead.

These must be some
of the weakest bladders

ever to represent
their countries.

Stand and deliver!

Drop that gun!

[gunshot]

Let that be
a warning to you all.

No false moves, please.

I want you to hand over
all the lupines you've got.

Lupines?

Yes, lupines.
Come on, come on.

What do you mean, lupines?

Don't try and play for time.

You mean the flower lupines?

That's right.

We haven�t got any lupines.

Look, my fine friends,
I happen to know

That this is the lupine express.

You're out
of your tiny mind.

Get out of the coach.
Come on, get out!

Just as I thought.

Not clever enough,
my fine friends.

Come on, concord.

# Dennis Moore,
Dennis Moore #

# riding through
the night #

# soon every lupine
in the land #

# will be in
his mighty hand #

# he steals them
from the rich #

# and gives them
to the poor #

# mr. Moore #

# mr. Moore #

# mr. Moore #

[moaning]

Try to eat some, my dear.
It'll give you strength.

Oh, mr. Moore. Mr. Moore,
she's going fast.

Don't worry, I've...
I've brought you something.

Medicine at last?

No.

Food?
Nope.

Some blankets perhaps?
Clothes? Wood for the fire?

Nope.

Lupines.

Oh, christ!

I thought you'd like them.

I'm sick to death of them!

So am I!

She's bloody dying,

and all you bring is lupines!

All we've eaten for the last
four bleeding weeks

is lupine soup, roast lupine,

Steamed lupine,

braised lupine
in lupine sauce,

lupine in a basket
with saut�ed lupines,

lupine meringue pie,
lupine sorbet.

We sit on lupines,
we sleep in lupines,

we feed the cat
on lupines!

We burn lupines,

we even wear
the bloody things!

Looks very smart.

Shut up! We're sick
with their stench!

[meow]

[thud]

Look!

The cat's just choked
itself to death on them!

I don't care if I never
see another lupine again!

Why don't you go out
and steal something useful?

Like what?

Like gold and silver

and clothes
and wood and jewels--

Hang on,
I'll get a piece of paper.

# Dennis Moore,
Dennis Moore #

# dum dum dum
the night #

# Dennis Moore,
Dennis Moore #

# dum de dum dum plight #

# he steals dum dum dum #

# and dum dum dum
dum dee #

# Dennis dum #

# Dennis dee #

# dum dum dum #

In this picture,
there are 40 people.

None of them can be seen.

We hope to show you
how not to be seen.

This is mr. E.R. Bradshaw
of Napier Court,

Black Lion Road, Southeast 5.

He cannot be seen.

Now, I'm going
to ask him to stand up.

Mr. Bradshaw, will you
stand up, please?

[gunshot]

This demonstrates the value
of not being seen.

In this picture, we cannot
see mrs. B.J. Smegma

of 13, The Crescent, Belmont.

Mrs. Smegma, will you
stand up, please?

[gunshot]

This is mr. Nesbitt
of Harlow New Town.

Mr. Nesbitt, will you
stand up, please?

Mr. Nesbitt has learned
the first lesson

of not being seen--

Not to stand up.

However, he has chosen

a very obvious piece of cover.

Mr. E.V. Lambert
of Homeleigh,

The Burrows, Oswestry,

has presented us with a poser.

We do not know
which bush he is behind,

but we can soon find out.

Aah!

Yes, it was
the middle one.

[orchestra plays Blue Danube]

Oh, no, not again.

Oh, come on.

Stand and deliver again!

Your money, your jewellery,
your--hang on.

"Your clothes, your snuff,

"your ornaments,
your glassware,

"your pussycats...

Don't say anything
about the lupines.

Your watches, your lace,
your spittoons..."

# Dennis Moore,
Dennis Moore #

# riding
through the woods #

# Dennis Moore,
Dennis Moore #

# with a bag of things #

# he gives to the poor #

# and he takes
from the rich #

# Dennis Moore #

# Dennis Moore #

Here we are.

# Dennis Moore #

[Also Sprach Zarathustra
plays]

[crowd cheers]

Good evening.

Tonight is indeed
a unique occasion

in the history of television.

We are very privileged
and deeply honoured

to have with us
in the studio Karl Marx,

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 communism,

Che Guevara,
the Cuban guerrilla leader,

and mao tse-tung,

leader of the Chinese
communist party since 1949.

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 there, Karl.

So we'll go to you, Che.

Che Guevara, Coventry City
last won the F.A. Cup

in what year?

No?

I'll throw it open.

Coventry City last won
the F.A. Cup in what year?

I'm not surprised
you didn't get that.

It was, in fact,
a trick question.

Coventry City have never won
the F.A. Cup.

With the scores all equal,

we go on to our second round.

Lenin, it's your starter for 10.

Teddy Johnson and Pearl Carr

won the Eurovision
Song Contest in 1959.

What was the name
of the song?

Teddy Johnson
and Pearl Carr's song

In the 1959 song contest?

Anybody? No?

[buzzer]

Yes, mao tse-tung?

Sing, little birdie?

Yes, it was, indeed.

Well challenged.

Well, now we come to
our special gift section.

The contestant is Karl Marx,

and the prize this week is
a beautiful lounge suite.

Karl has elected
to answer questions

on the workers'
control of factories,

so here we go with
question number one.

Are you nervous?

"The development of
the industrial proletariat

is conditioned by
what other development?"

The development of the
industrial bourgeoisie.

Yes. Yes, it is, indeed.

You're on your way
to your lounge suite, Karl.

Question number two--

"The struggle
of class against class

is a what struggle?"

A political struggle.

Yes, yes.

One final question, Karl,

and the beautiful
lounge suite will be yours.

You going to have a go?

You're a brave man.

Karl Marx,
your final question--

"Who won the cup final
in 1949?"

Uh, the workers control
the means of production.

The struggle of
the urban proletariat.

No. It was
Wolverhampton Wanderers

who beat Leicester 3-1.

[announcer] And here
come the Germans now,

led by their skipper
Nobby Hegel.

They've certainly attracted
the most attention

from the press

with their team problems.

Let's now see their line-up.

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.

[crowd cheers]

And here come the Greeks,

led by their veteran
centre half Heraclitus.

Their team, as you'd expect,

is a much more
defensive line-up.

Plato's in goal,
Socrates a front runner,

And Aristotle as sweeper--

Aristotle very much
the man in form.

One surprise is
the inclusion of Archimedes.

Here comes the referee
K'ung Futzu Confucius

and his two linesmen Saint Augustine
and Saint Thomas Aquinas.

As the two skippers come
together to shake hands,

we're ready for the start
of this exciting final.

The referee mr. Confucius
checks his sound...

[blows whistle]

And they're off.

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--
Epicurus.

Plotinus number 6.

Aristotle.

Empedocles of Acragas
and Democritus with him.

There's Archimedes.

Socrates--there he is--
Socrates.

Socrates there going through.

There's the ball.
There's the ball.

There may be no score,

but there's certainly
no lack of excitement here.

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."

We've just over a minute left.

There's Archimedes.

And I think he's had an idea.

Eureka!

Archimedes, Socrates,
Socrates back to Archimedes.

Archimedes to Heraclitus.
He beats Hegel.

Heraclitus a little flick.

Here he comes
on the far post--

Socrates is there!

Socrates has scored.

The Greeks are going mad.

Socrates scores.

The Germans are disputing it.

Hegel is arguing reality is
Merely an a priori adjunct

of non-absolutist ethics.

Kant is holding that
logic can be possessed

only in the imagination.

But Confucius blasts them
with a final whistle.

It's all over.

Morning, squadron leader.

What-ho, Squiffy?

How was it?

Top hole. Bally jerry
pranged his kite

right in the how's your father.

Hairy blighter, dicky-birded,

feathered back on his sammy,
took a waspy,

flipped over
his betty harper's,

and caught his can
in the bertie.

Uh, afraid I don�t quite
follow you, squadron leader.

Give us it slower.

Banter's not the same
if you say it slower.

Hold on, then. Wingo.

Bend an ear to the squadron
leader's banter, would you?

Can do.
Jolly good.

Fire away.

Bally jerry...
pranged his kite...

right in the
how's your father...

Hairy blighter...
dicky-birded...

feathered back on his sammy...

Took a waspy...

flipped over
on his betty harper's...

and caught his can
in the bertie.

No, I don't understand
that banter at all.

Something up with
my banter, chaps?

[airplane overhead]

Bunch of monkeys
on the ceiling, sir!

Grab your egg and fours

and let's get
the bacon delivered.

Do you understand that?

No, not a word of it.

Sorry, old man.
We don�t understand your banter.

You know, bally ten-penny ones

dropping in the custard.

I still don't get it.

Um...

Cabbage crates
coming over the briny?

No. No. No.

Ferdinand von Zeppelin

was born in Constance in 1838,

the brother of Barry Zeppelin,

the least talented of
the 14 Zeppelin brothers.

Hmm.

What exactly are
the commercial possibilities

of ovine aviation?

Bonsoir. Ici nous avons
les diagrammes modernes

d'un mounton Anglo-Francais.

[continues in French]

Maintenant...

Baa baa baa...

Nous avons dans la tete,

Le cabine. Ici, on se trouve

le petit capitaine Anglais
monsieur Trubshawe.

Vive Brian, wherever you are.

D'accord, d'accord.

Maintenant, je vous
presente mon collegue,

le pouf celebre
Jean-Brian Zatapathique.

Merci.

Maintenant, le mouton,
le landing, les wheels.

Bon.

Les wheels, ici.

C'est formidable,
n'est ce pas est bon?

[continues unintelligibly]

Baa baa baa.

Le derriere du mouton...

Choo choo choo.

Merci beaucoup.

Mais...

O� sont les bagages?

O� sont les bagages?

O� est le voyageur?

Le voyageur.

Merci.

Les voyageurs!

Les bagages!

Ils sont ici!

Et maintenant...
Baa baa.

Baa baa.

Baa baa.

Fantastique.
Un, deux, trois.

Baa baa!
Baa baa!

[music plays]

And now for something
completely different.

Gentlemen, we have
two basic suggestions

for the design of this
architectural block--

The residential block.

I thought it best that
the architects themselves

came in to explain the
advantages of both designs.

[knock on door]

That must be the first
architect now.

Ah, yes, it's mr. Wiggin
of Ironside and Malone.

Good morning, gentlemen.

This is a 12-story block,

combining classical
neo-Georgian features

with all the advantages
of modern design.

The tenants arrive
in the entrance hall,

are carried along the corridor
on a conveyor belt,

and pass murals depicting
Mediterranean scenes,

towards the rotating knives.

The last 20 feet
of the corridor

are heavily soundproofed.

The blood pours down
these chutes,

and the mangled flesh
slurps into these--

Excuse me.

Did you say knives?

Oh, rotating knives. Yes.

Are you proposing
to slaughter our tenants?

Does that not fit in
with your plans?

No, no. We wanted
a simple block of flats.

I see. I hadn't correctly
divined your attitude

towards your tenants.

You see, I mainly design
slaughterhouses.

Yes, a pity.

This is a real beaut.

None of your blood
caked on the walls

and flesh flying
out of the windows,

inconveniencing passers-by.

Well done, but we did want
a block of flats.

Won't you reconsider?

Think of the tourist trade.

It's just that we wanted
a block of flats

and not an abattoir.

Yes, well, of course.
That's the sort

of philistine, pig ignorance
I've come to expect

from you non-creative garbage.

You sit there on your loathsome,
spotty behinds

squeezing blackheads,

not caring a tinker�s cuss
about the struggling artist.

You excrement!

You lousy, hypocritical,
old whining toadies

with your lousy colour TV sets

and your Tony Jacklin golf clubs

and your bleeding
masonic handshakes!

You wouldn't let
me join, would you?

You blackballing bastards!

I wouldn't become
a freemason now

if you went down on your lousy,

stinking, purulent knees

and begged me!

We're sorry
you feel like that,

but we did want a block of flats,

nice though the abattoir is.

Oh, pfft the abattoir.

If you could put in
a word for me,

I'd love to be a freemason.

If I was a mason,

I'd sit at the back
and not get in anyone's way.

Thank you.

I've got a second-hand apron.

Thank you.

I nearly got in at Hendon.

Thank you.

I'm sorry about that, gentlemen.

The second architect is a mr. Leavey
of Wymis and Dibble.

Good morning, gentlemen.

This is a scale model
of the block.

There are 28 stories
with 280 modern apartments.

There are three main lifts
and two service lifts.

Access would be
from Dibbingley Road.

Uh, the structure is built on
a central pillar system

with cantilevered floors in
prestressed steel and concrete.

The dividing walls
on each floor section

are fixed with recessed magnalium
flanged groov--

By avoiding wood
and timber derivatives

and all other inflammables,

we've almost totally
removed the risk of...

Quite frankly, I think
the central pillar system

may need strengthening a bit.

Won't the cost rise?

It might.

Well, I don't know

whether I'd worry about
strengthening that much.

They're not meant
to be luxury flats.

I quite agree, provided the
Tenants are of light build

and relatively sedentary.

I think we're on to a winner.

Oh, thank you!

What other ways are there
of recognizing a mason?

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 rather long.

Now, then, what was it again?

Well, sir, I--
I have a silly walk,

and I'd like to obtain
a government grant

to help me develop it.

May I see your silly walk?

Yes, certainly. Yes.

Uh, that's it, is it?

Yes. That's it. Yes.

Mm-hmm.

It's not particularly
silly, is it?

The right leg
isn't silly at all,

and the left leg merely does

a forward aerial half turn
Every alternate step.

With backing, I could
make it very silly.

The very real problem
is one of money.

I'm afraid the ministry
of silly walks

is no longer getting
the support it needs.

You see, there's defence,
social security,

health, housing,
education, silly walks.

They're all supposed
to get the same,

but last year,
the government spent less

On the ministry
of silly walks

than it did on national defence.

Now we get �348 million a year,

which is supposed to be spent

on all our available products.

Coffee?

Yes, please.

Mrs. Two-Lumps, would you bring
us in two coffees, please?

Yes, mr. Tea Bag.

Out of her mind.

And now the Japanese have a man

who can bend his leg
back over his head

and back again
with every single step,

while the Israelis--
ah, here's the coffee.

Thank you. Lovely.

You're really interested
in silly walks, aren't you?

Oh, rather.

Well, take a look
at this, then.

They're under
starter's orders

for this very valuable
Queen Victoria handicap.

And they're off.

Queen Victoria
got a clean jump off,

followed by Queen Victoria,
Queen Victoria,

and Queen Victoria.

It's Queen Victoria,
Queen Victoria,

and Queen Victoria

making the early running
on the inside.

At the back, Queen Victoria
already behind the leaders.

Queen Victoria moved up
to challenge Queen Victoria

with Queen Victoria
losing ground.

Queen Victoria
still the back marker

as they approach
the halfway mark,

But suddenly
pass Queen Victoria

with Queen Victoria
still well-placed

as they approach
the first fence.

And at the first fence,

it's Queen Victoria
ahead of Queen Victoria

and Queen Victoria
falling away.

Queen Victoria losing ground,

and Queen Victoria
tucked away neatly.

Queen Victoria
still the back marker

as they approach
the halfway mark.

They're making ground...

[knock on door]

Oh, dad.
Look who�s come to see us.

It's our Ken.

[spits]

About bloody time,
if you ask me.

Aren't you pleased
to see me, father?

Of course he�s pleased to see you.

All right, woman.
All right.

I've got a tongue in me head.

I'll do the talkin'.

Bli'. I like your fancy suit.

Is that what they're wearin'
up in Yorkshire now?

It's just an ordinary
suit, father.

It's all I've got
apart from the overalls.

How do you like it
down in the mine?

It's not too bad, mum.

We're using new
tungsten carbide drills

for the preliminary
coal-face operations.

That sounds nice, dear.

Tungsten carbide drills?

What the bloody hell's
tungsten carbide drills?

It's something they use
in coal mining.

"It's something they use
in coal mining."

You're bloody fancy talk
since you left London.

Not that again.

He's had a hard day.

His new play opens at
National Theatre tomorrow.

Oh, that's good.

Good? Good?

What do you know about
getting up at 5 A.M.

to fly to Paris, back at
the old Vic for drinks,

sweating the day through press
interviews, television interviews,

then getting back to wrestle
with the problem

of a homosexual
nymphomaniac drug addict

involved in the ritual murder

Of a well-known
Scottish footballer?

That's a full working day, lad!

Don�t shout at the boy, father.

Hampstead wasn't good enough
for you, was it?

You had to go
poncing off to Barnsley,

you and your coal mining friends.

Coal mining is a
wonderful thing, father,

but it's something
you'll never understand.

Just look at you!

Oh, ken, be careful.

You know what he's like
after a few novels.

Come on, lad. Come on.

Out with it.

What's wrong with me?

Yer tit!

I'll tell you
what's wrong--

Your head's addled
with novels and poems.

You come home reeling of
Chateau La Tour.

Look what you've
done to mother.

She's worn out
meeting film stars,

attending premieres,
giving gala luncheons.

There's naught wrong
with gala luncheons, lad.

I've had more gala luncheons

than you've had hot dinners.

Oh, please!

Aah! Arrgh!

Oh, no!

What is it?

It's his writer's cramp.

You never told me about this.

We didn't like to, Kenny.

I'm all right, woman.

Just get him out of here.

Oh, Ken, you'd better go.

All right.
I'm going.

After all we've done for him.

One day you'll realize

there's more to life
than culture.

There�s dirt and smoke and sweat!

Get out, you labourer!

We'll continue

with a man with a stoat
through his head.

And now...

Oh, coochy, coochy,
coochy.

Wuchy little bitty
jelly bum.

# ah dee do yellow #

# dear little fellow #

Look at them blue eyes.
Twinkle in his eye.

This is a sweetie baby.

Come here.
Let me give him a cuddle.

He's a little dear, isn't he?

You shouldn't let him suck
on the thumby, my dear.

Oh, my god! No!
Don't touch it!

[pop]
What?

Oh, yes, he's such
a clever little boy,

just like his father.

Do you think so,
mrs. Nigger-Baiter?

Oh, yes.

Spitting image.

Good afternoon, mother.

Good afternoon,
mrs. Nigger-Baiter.

Ooh, he�s walking already.

Yes, he's such a clever boy,
aren't you, coochy-coo?

Hello, oochy-coo.
Hello, oochy coochy.

Look at him laughing.

He's a chirpy little fellow,
isn't he?

Isn't he a chirpy
little fellow?

Does he talk?

Does he talk, eh?

Of course I can talk.

I'm minister
for overseas development.

Ooh, he's a clever little boy!

He's a clever little boy.

Do you like your rattle, eh?

Do you like your rattle?

Look at his little eyes
following it.

Look at his iggy piggy
Piggy little eyeballs.

Ooh, he's got
a tubby tum-tum.

Mother, could I have
a quick cup of tea?

I have an important
statement on Rhodesia

to make at the Commons at 6:00.

[explosion]

Mrs. Nigger-baiter's exploded.

Good thing, too.

She was my best friend.

Oh, mother.
Don't be so sentimental.

Things explode every day.

I've been a hunter all my life.

I love animals.
That's why I like to kill 'em.

I wouldn't kill an animal
I didn't like.

G'day, Roy.

Hank and Roy Spim are
tough, fearless backwoodsmen

who have chosen to live
in a violent,

unrelenting world
of nature's creatures

where only the fittest survive.

Today, they are off
to hunt mosquitoes.

[Roy] The mosquito's
a clever little bastard.

You can track him for days

until you really know him.

He knows you're there,

and you know he's there.

It's a game of wits.

You hate him,
then respect him,

then you kill him.

Suddenly Hank spots
the mosquito they're after.

Now, more than ever,

they must rely on skills

they have learned
from a lifetime's hunting.

Hank gauges the wind.

Roy examines
the mosquito's spoor.

Then...

It's a success.
The mosquito now is dead.

But Roy must make sure.

[Roy] There's nothing
more dangerous

than a wounded mosquito.

But the hunt is not over.

With well-practiced skill,
hank skins the mosquito.

The wings of a fully grown
male mosquito

can fetch anything
up to .8 of a penny

on the open market.

The long day is over,

and it's back to base camp
for a night's rest.

[snoring]

[loud banging]

What--what's going on?
What the hell is going--

Now I can't even sleep.

[snoring]

What--what are they doing?

[snoring]

[clang]

Wh--ab--da--bada--

What's going on?

Oh, I can't stand it.

Oh...

[snoring]

[alarm clock rings]
Oh!

That does it.
That does it!

Argh--humph--

What a lovely day!

Oh, I think I'm going to...

I say!
What a simply super day!

Gosh, yes!
Gosh, yes!

It's so...
You know...

Sunny!

Yes, isn't it?

I say, anyone for tennis?

Oh, super!

What fun.

I say, Lionel.
Catch.

Ohh!

Oh, crikey!

Oh, darn!

Aah!

Aah! Aah! Aah!

Oh...Oh...Oh!

Ah, yes, you must be
mr. Williams.

Well, do take a seat.

What seems to be
the trouble?

I've just been
stabbed by your nurse.

I probably better have
a look at you, then.

Could you fill in
this form first?

She just stabbed me!

Yes. She's
an unpredictable sort.

You seem to be bleeding
rather badly.

Hurry up.
Fill in that form.

Couldn't I fill it in
later, doctor?

No. You'd have bled
to death by then.

Can you hold a pen?

I'll try.

Jolly good.

It's a hell of a nuisance,

all this damn paperwork.

Really, it is.

It's a real nightmare,
this paperwork.

It really is
a hell of a nuisance.

Something ought to be
done about it.

Do I have to answer
everything?

No, no. Just fill in
as many as you can.

No need to go into
too much detail.

I don�t know why we bother
with it all, really.

Such a nuisance.

Well, let's see
how you've done, then.

Oh, yes.

Oh, dear, oh dear.
That's not very good, is it?

Look, surely
you knew number four!

No, I didn't.

It's from the Merchant of Venice!

Right.

Now, I know some hospitals

where you get the patients
lying around in bed,

sleeping, resting, recuperating,

convalescing.

Well, that's not the way
we do things here, right?

No, you won't be
loafing about,

wasting the doctor's time.

You--you horrible
little cripple!

What's the matter with you?

Fractured tibia, sergeant.

"Fractured tibia, sergeant."

"Fractured tibia, sergeant."

Oh...Proper little
mummy's boy, are we?

Well, I'll tell you
something, my fine friend.

If you fracture a tibia here,

you keep quiet about it!

Look at him!

He's broke both his arms,

And he don't go shoutin'
about it, do he?

No, 'cause he's a man--

He's a woman, you see--

So don't come with that
broken-tibia talk with me!

Get on at the double.
1, 2, 3.

Pick that crutch up.
Pick that crutch right up!

Oh...

I got a triple fracture
of the right leg,

dislocated collarbone,

and multiple head injuries...

So I do most of the heavy work,

like helping the surgeon.

[interviewer]
What does that involve?

Well, at the moment,

we're building him
a holiday home.

What about the nurses?

Well, I don't know
about them.

They're not allowed to
mix with the patients.

Do all the patients work?

No. The ones that are
really ill do sport.

Yes, one thing
patients here dread

are the runs.

Inspector.

I'm terribly sorry, but I was
sitting on a park bench,

took my coat off for a minute,

then found my wallet stolen
and �15 taken from it.

Well, did you, uh,
see anyone take it?

Anyone hanging around?

No. There was no one there.

Well, there's not very much

we can do about that, sir.

Oh.

Do you want to come back to my place?

Yeah. All right.

[whistling]

There. Finished.

What?

I've finished cutting, cutting,
cutting, cutting your hair.

You haven�t started cutting it.

I--I have. I did it quickly,
your honour--sir!

Look here, old fellow,

I know when a chap's
cut my hair,

so will you please stop
Fooling around and get to it?

Yes, I will, sir.

I'm going to cut
your hair, sir.

Going to start cutting
your hair, sir.

Start cutting...Now.

[snip snip snip
snip snip snip]

Nice day, sir.

Yes. The flowers could do
with a drop of rain.

You see the match
last night, sir?

Uh, good game, I thought.

[shaver sounds]
Hurst played well.

Beg your pardon?

I thought Hurst played well.

He was the only one who did.

Can you put your head down
a little, sir?

I prefer to watch
Palace nowadays.

Oh, sorry.
Was that your ear?

No. Didn�t feel a thing.

Hey, what's going on?

Look, I came here
for a haircut!

Yes, it's a nice spot.

It looks nice, sir.

It's the same
as when I came in.

I confess, I haven't
cut your hair.

I hate cutting hair.

I have this terrible un-un-un--
uncontrollable fear

whenever I see hair.

As I kid, I hated seeing
hair being cut.

My mother said I was a fool.

She said to cure it
I had to become a barber,

so I spent five ghastly years

at the hairdressers'
training centre at Totnes.

Can you imagine what it's like

cutting the same head
for five years?

I didn�t want to be
a barber, anyway.

I wanted to be
a lumberjack...

Leaping from tree to tree

as they float down the mighty
rivers of British Columbia.

The giant redwood,

the larch, the fir,

The mighty Scots pine.

The smell of
fresh-cut timber.

# ahh #
the crash of mighty trees.

With my best girlie
by my side.

# ahh #
we'd sing,

# ahh #
sing, sing.

# la la la #

# I'm a lumberjack,
and I'm O.K. #

# I sleep all night,
I work all day #

# he's a lumberjack,
and he's O.K. #

# he sleeps all night,
and he works all day #

# I cut down trees,
I eat my lunch #

# I go to
the lavatory #

# on Wednesdays
I go shoppin' #

# and have buttered
scones for tea #

# he cuts down trees,
he eats his lunch #

# he goes to the lavatory #

# on Wednesdays
he goes shoppin' #

# has buttered scones
for tea #

# he's a lumberjack,
and he's O.K. #

# 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 likes to press
wild flowers #

# he puts on women's clothing #

# and hangs around in bars #

# he's a lumberjack,
and he's O.K. #

# he sleeps all night,
and he works all day #

# I cut down trees,
I wear high heels #

# suspenders and a bra #

# I wish I'd been a girlie #

# just like my dear mama #

# he cuts down trees,
he wears high heels #

# suspenders... #

# and a bra #

# I wish I'd been a girlie #

# just like my dear mama #

Oh, Bevis!
And I thought

You were so rugged!

Dear sir,

I wish to protest in the
strongest possible terms.

Yours sincerely, brigadier
sir Charles Arthur Strong.

Read that back, will you, Brown?

"Dear sir, I wish to complain

"about the song which you
Have just broadcast

"about the lumberjack
who wears women's clothes.

"Many of my friends
are lumberjacks,

"and only a few
are transvestites.

Yours faithfully, brigadier sir
Charles Arthur Strong. (mrs.)"

Coming to this cinema soon,

the tender, compassionate
story of one man's love

for another man in drag.

Jordan!

Thrill to the excitement

of a night emission
over Germany

when the pilot Jennifer

has to choose between
his secret love for Louis,

the hot-bloodedly
bisexual navigator,

And Andy, the rear gunner,

who, though quite
assertive with girls,

tends to take
the submissive role

in his relationships with men.

With ginger as the half-man,
half-woman parrot

whose unnatural instincts

brought forbidden love
to the aviary.

And Roger as pip,

The half-parrot
half-man, half-woman,

three-quarter-badger,
ex-bigamist, negro preacher,

for whom banjo playing
was very difficult,

and he never mastered it

although he took several courses
and went to banjo college,

uh, and everything.

Don't miss it!

Coming to your cinema soon,

only five minutes
from this restaurant.

Morning.

Morning.

What you got?

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, spam, spam,
egg, and spam,

spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam,
baked beans, spam, spam, spam, and spam,

Or lobster thermidor
aux crevettes

with a mornay sauce
garnished with truffle pate,

brandy, and a fried egg
on top and spam.

Have you got anything
without spam in it?

Well, there's spam, egg,
sausage, and spam.

That's not got much spam.

I don't want any spam.

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

That's got spam.

Not as much as spam, egg,
sausage, and spam.

Look, could I have egg,
bacon, spam, and sausage

without the spam?

Yecchh!

What do you mean, yecchh?

I don't like spam!

# spam, spam, spam, spam #

# spam, spam, spam, spam #

# lovely spam,
wonderful spam... #

Shut up!

Shut up!

Shut up!

Shut up!

You can't have egg, bacon, spam,
and sausage without the spam.

Why not?

It wouldn't be egg, bacon,
spam, and sausage, would it?

I don't like spam!

Don't make a fuss, dear.

I'll have your spam.
I love it.

I'm having spam, spam,
spam, spam, spam, spam,

Baked beans, spam,
spam, and spam.

Baked beans are off.

Can I have spam instead?

You mean, spam, spam,
spam, spam, spam,

Spam, spam, spam, and spam?

Yes!

Yecchh!

# lovely spam,
wonderful spam... #

Shut up!
Shut up!

Fine.

O.K.

And now for something
completely different--

A man with a tape recorder
up his nose.

[the Marseillaise plays]

[tape stops]

[tape rewinds]

[the Marseillaise plays]

[tape stops]

[applause]

Thank you, thank you,
thank you.

Ladies and gentlemen,

I have in this box

23 white mice...

Mice which have been
painstakingly trained

over the past few years

to squeak at a selected pitch.

Uh, this is E-sharp,

and, uh, this one is "G".

Uh, you get the general idea.

Now, these mice are so
arranged upon this rack

that when played
in the correct order,

they will squeak
The Bells Of St. Mary.

Ladies and gentlemen,

I give you on the mouse organ

The Bells Of St. Mary.
Thank you.

[eek eek]

[eek eek eek]

[eek eek eek]

Oh, my god!

Somebody stop him!

Oh, stop him!

Stop him!

[eek eek eek]

Stop him!
Stop him!

Yes. The mouse problem.

This week,
the world around us

Looks at the growing social
Phenomenon of mice and men.

What makes a man
want to be a mouse?

Well, it's not a question
of wanting to be a mouse.

It just sort
of happens to you.

Uh...All of a sudden
you realize

that's what you want to be.

And when did you
first notice these,

shall we say, tendencies?

Well, I was about 17,

and some mates and me
went to a party.

And, uh, we had
quite a lot to drink.

And then some
of the fellows there

started handing cheese around.

Well, just out of curiosity,

I tried a bit, and...

Well, that was that.

And what else
did these fellows do?

Well, uh...

Some of them started

dressing up as mice a bit.

Um, and then when they
got the costumes on,

they...

started...

squeaking.

And was that all?

That was all.

And what was your reaction?

Well, I was shocked,

but, uh...Gradually
I came to feel

that I was more at ease
with other mice.

A typical case, whom we
shall refer to as mr. A,

although his real name
is this...

[humming Greensleeves]

Aah! Aah!

Aah! Aah!

Grrr! Grrr!

Aah! Aah!

Grrr! Grrr!

Aah! Aah!

Oh, oh,
69's late again today.

Grrr! Grrr!

[crunch crunch]

Aah! Aah!

Aah! Aah!

Aah...

[toilet flushing]

These trees behind me now

were planted over 40 years ago

as part of a policy
by the then crown woods,

who became the forestry
commission in 1924.

The forestry commission systematically
replanted this entire area. Shh!

That's 40,000 acres
of virgin forest.

By 1980,

This will have risen to 200,000
Acres of soft woods.

In commercial terms,
a coniferous cornucopia,

an evergreen el dorado,

A tree-lined
treasure trove. No!

A fat, fir-coned future
for the financiers.

But what of the cost...

It's mine!

Go away!
In human terms?

Who are the casualties--

For this was
sir Walter Scott's country.

Many of his finest romances,

such as Guy Mannering
or Redgauntlet--

Give me that back!

No. Scott showed himself
to be not only a fine--

The spruces and firs
of this forest

will be used to create--uhh!

Also a writer of humour and--

Britain's timber resources are
being used up at the rate of--

One man who knew Scott
was Angus Tinker.

[plays Tchaikovsky's piano
concerto no. 1 in b-flat minor]

What do you want?

I was told outside--

Don't give me that, you snotty-faced
heap of parrot droppings!

What?

Shut your festering gob,
you tit!

Your type makes me puke,

You vacuous, toffee-nosed,
malodorous pervert!

I came in here
for an argument.

Oh! Oh, I'm sorry.
This is abuse.

Oh. Oh, I see.

Well, that explains it.

No, you want
12a next door.

I see. Sorry.

Not at all.
That's all right.

Stupid git.

Come in.

Is this the right room
for an argument?

I've told you once.

No, you haven't.

Yes, I have.

When?
Just now.

No, you didn't.

Yes, I did.
Didn't.

I did.
Didn't.

I'm telling you I did.
You did not.

Is this a five-minute argument

Or the full half-hour?

Oh, just a five-minute one.

Fine.

Thank you.

Anyway, I did.

You most certainly did not.

Let's get one thing
quite clear.

I most definitely told you.

You did not.
Yes, I did.

You did not.
Yes, I did.

Didn't.
Yes, I did.

Look, this isn't an argument.

Yes, it is.

No. It's just contradiction.
No, it isn't.

Yes, it is.
It is not.

It is. You just contradicted me.

No, I didn't.

Oh, you did.
No, no, no!

You did just now.
No, nonsense.

This is futile.

No, it isn't.

I'm here for an argument.

No, you're here
for an argument.

Argument is not contradiction.

Can be.

No, it can't.

An argument's a connected
series of statements

to establish
a definite proposition.

No, it isn't.
Yes, it is.

It isn't just contradiction.

If I argue, I must take
a contrary position.

It isn't just saying,
"No, it isn't.".

Yes, it is.

No, it isn't.

Argument's an intellectual process.

Contradiction's just
the automatic gainsaying

of anything the other person says.

No, it isn't.

Yes, it is.
Not at all.

Look, I'll--
[bell rings]

Thank you.
Good morning.

What?

That's it.
Good morning.

But I was just
getting interested.

Sorry. The five minutes is up.

That was never five minutes.

I'm afraid it was.

No, it wasn't.

Sorry. I'm not allowed
to argue anymore.

What?

You'll have to pay for
another five minutes.

But that was never
five minutes just now.

Oh, come on.

This is ridiculous.

I'm very sorry,
but I told you,

I'm not allowed to argue
unless you pay.

Oh, all right.

There you are.

Thank you.

Well?

Well, what?

That was never five minutes.

I'm not allowed to argue
unless you've paid.

I just paid.
No, you didn't.

I did. I did.
No, you didn't.

I did.
You did not.

Let's not argue about that.

Sorry. You didn't pay.

Aha! If I didn't pay,
why are you arguing?

Got you!

No, you haven't.
Yes, I have.

If you're arguing,
I must have paid.

Not necessarily.

I could be arguing
in my spare time.

No.

No!

No, no, no, no!

We're not about to
allow this sort of smut

to be shown on screen.

Trouble at the mill.

Oh, no.
What sort of trouble?

One on't crossbeams
gone owt askew on treddle.

Pardon?

One on't crossbeams
gone owt askew on treddle.

I don't understand
what you're saying.

One of the crossbeams

has gone out of skew
on the treadle.

What on earth
does that mean?

I don't know.

Mr. Wentworth told me to say
there's trouble at the mill.

I didn't expect a kind
of Spanish Inquisition.

[jarring chord]

Nobody expects
the Spanish Inquisition.

Our chief weapon
is surprise,

surprise and fear,
fear and surprise.

Our two weapons
are fear and surprise.

And ruthless efficiency.

Our three weapons are fear and
surprise and ruthless efficiency

and an almost fanatical
devotion to the pope.

Ah...Four--no!

Amongst our weaponry are
such elements as fear--

I'll come in again.

I didn't expect a kind
of Spanish Inquisition.

[jarring chord]

Nobody expects
the Spanish Inquisition.

Amongst our weaponry
are such diverse elements

as fear, surprise,
ruthless efficiency,

an almost fanatical devotion
to the pope.

A nice red uniform--
oh, damn!

Oh.

Oh.

Heh heh heh heh.

Heh heh heh.

Ha!

Now, old woman,

You're accused of heresy
on three counts--

Heresy by thought, heresy by word,
heresy by deed,

and heresy by action-- four counts.

Do you confess?

I don't understand
what I'm accused of.

Ha! Ha ha ha!

Then we shall
make you understand.

Biggles, fetch...

Fetch the cushions.

[jarring chord]

Here they are, lord.

Now, old lady,
you have one last chance.

Confess the heinous sin
of heresy,

reject the works of ungodly--
two last chances--

And you shall be free--
three last chances.

You have three last chances,

the nature of which I have divulged
in my previous utterance.

I don't know what
you're talking about.

Right! If that's
the way you want it.

Cardinal, poke her
with the soft cushions.

Ha! Ha ha!

Confess!

Confess!

Confess!

They don't seem
to be hurting her.

Have you got all the stuffing
up on end?

Yes, lord.

Hmm, she's made of harder stuff.

Cardinal Fang,

fetch the comfy chair.

[jarring chord]

The comfy chair?

Yes.

Heh heh heh heh.

Heh heh heh heh.

Ha! Ha!

Ha! Ha!

So, you think you're strong

because you can survive
the soft cushions.

Well, we shall see.

Biggles, put her
in the comfy chair!

Now,

You will stay in the comfy
Chair until lunchtime,

with only a cup of coffee
at 11:00.

Is that really all it is?

Yes, lord.

I see. I suppose
we make it worse

by shouting a lot, do we?

Confess, woman.

Confess.

Confess!

Confess!

Confess!

I confess.

Not you!

And then...

Oh, Victor.

Oh, Iris.

[doorbell rings]

Who can that be?

Well, you try
and get rid of them.

Yes, I will.

Won't be a moment.

Hello.

Hello?

Remember me?

Uh, no.

In the pub, the tall thin one
with a moustache, remember?

No, I don't.

About three years ago?

No, I don't.

It's dark in here.

You said we must
have a drink sometime.

So I thought
I'd take you up on it.

It is a little awkward
this evening.

Hello, I'm Arthur--
Arthur Name.

Name by name
but not by nature.

I always say that,
don't I, Vicky boy?

Really?

Is that your wife?

No, actually.

Oh, I get the picture.

Don't worry about me,
Vicky boy.

I know all about
one-night stands.

I beg your pardon?

Mind if I change the record?

We put that on.

I heard a good one in the pub.

What's brown and
sounds like a bell?

I beg your pardon?

What's brown and
sounds like a bell?

# dung #

That's a good one.
I like that one.

I won't keep you long.

[Washington Post March plays]

Oh, that's better.

Don't worry about me.

I'll wait here till
you're finished.

[doorbell rings]

Who the hell's that?

It'll be friends of mine.

I invited them along.

We were hoping to have
a quiet evening alone.

They won't mind.
They're very broad-minded.

Hello.

Good evening.

Good evening. My name's Equator--
Brian Equator.

Like around the middle of
the earth, only with an "L."

This is my wife Audrey.

She smells a bit,
but she has a heart of gold.

There must be a misunderstanding.
This is--

Who's the bird?

Well, I--I--

You got a nice pair,
haven't you, love?

Ohh!

Aah!

Aah!

Shut up, you silly bitch.

Now, look here.
I've--

A pink gin, please.

I'll get it.

Leave those drinks alone.

Beans for me, please.

Lay off the beans, you whore!

I only want three cans!

Button your lip, you rat bag!

That was rather witty, wasn't it?

Where's my gin?

[doorbell rings]

Who the hell's that?

I took the liberty
of inviting an old friend.

As his wife's
just passed away,

he's somewhat distraught,
poor chap.

Hope you don't mind.

Come on in.

My god, what a simply
ghastly place.

Not too good, is it?

A pint of cr�me de menthe
for my friend.

Well, how are you, you great poof?

A bit lumpy.

Ah, no wonder.
I was sitting on the cat.

Ohhh!

I've asked along a simply
gorgeous little man

I picked up at the Odeon.

Is he sexy, then?

Oh, hello.

I had to bring the goat.

He's not well.

I only hope he don't
go on the carpet.

Come on there, love.

Drop 'em.

Aah!

Aaaahhh!

Blimey, she don't
go much, do she?

Oh, I wet 'em.

Oh! The goat's
just done a bundle.

[all talk at once]

Get out, all of you.

Go on, get out!

Get out!

I beg your pardon?

I'm not having my house
filled with perverts.

I'm giving just half a minute,

then I'm calling the police.

I don't like
the tone of your voice.

Aah!

Right. Let's have a ding dong.

Monty Python's Flying Circus.

[saxophone plays]

Good evening.
I have with me in the studio

one of the country's
leading skin specialists--

Raymond Luxury Yacht.

That's not my name.

I'm sorry.
Raymond Luxury Yach-t.

No, no. It's spelled
Raymond Luxury Yach-t,

but it's pronounced
Throatwobbler Mangrove.

You're a very silly man,

and I'm not going
to interview you.

Ah!

Anti-semitism.

Not at all.
It's not even a proper nose.

It's polystyrene.

Give it back.

Collect it at reception.
Go away.

I want to be on television.

[grinding gears]

A cassette tape recorder

is to replace the salon
quartets and trios

which have played...

[grinding gears]

...Which will be relayed

over a new public address system,

Replacing one which
relayed both music and...

[knocking]

The financial times index
rose 3.7 points to 476.5.

[drilling]

[drilling]

The BBC has reported

that radio 37 was marking
the first birthday

of the BBC's Southampton...

Hey, ray!

Turn that television off.

You know it's bad for your eyes.

Whoo! Whoo! Whoo! Whoo!

That was fun! That was fun!

So, there you have it.

The best of Monty Python.

Hmm.

Where are they now?

Well, they're here
in this cupboard.

Sad, isn't it?

Good night.

[Michael Palin]
Uh, Steve.

Steve, can you leave
the door open, please,

so they can see us?

It's the whole point.

Reunion.
See us all again.

[John Cleese]
Steve Martin,

come back and open the door.

You bastard.