Transcript of Monty Python's “And Now for Something Completely Different” (A hastily-done, probably slightly incorrect transcript

) By Garrett Gilchrist and Cory Parkinson With revisions by Claire Walker Visit Monty Python's PYTHONET:

MONTY PYTHON'S AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT (Caption on screen: 'H.M. GOVERNMENT, PUBLIC SERVICE FILM NO. 42 "HOW NOT TO BE SEEN"') (Cut to a wide-angle shot of hedgerows, fields and trees.) Voice Over (John Cleese): In this picture there are forty-seven people. None of them can be seen. In this film we hope to show you how not to be seen. This is Mr. E.R. Bradshaw of Napier Court, Black Lion Road London SE14. He cannot be seen. Now, I am going to ask him to stand up. Mr. Bradshaw, will you stand up please? (In the distance Mr Bradshaw stands up. There is a loud gunshot as Mr Bradshaw is shot in the stomach. He crumples to the ground.) This demonstrates the value of not being seen. (Cut to another location - more shrubs and trees.) In this picture we cannot see Mrs. B.J. Smegma of 13, The Crescent, Belmont. Mrs. Smegma, will you stand up please? (To the left of the area Mrs Smegma stands up. A gunshot rings out, and Mrs. Smegma leaps into the air and falls to the ground dead. Cut to another area, however this time there is a bush in the middle.) This is Mr Nesbitt of Harlow New Town. Mr Nesbitt would you stand up please? (longish pause) 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. (The bush explodes. Cut to another scene with three bushes.) Voice Over: Mr. E.W. Lambert of Homeleigh, The Burrows, Oswestly, has presented us with a poser. We do not know which bush he is behind. But we can soon find out. (The left-hand bush explodes, then the right-hand bush explodes, and then the middle bush explodes. There is a muffled scream as Mr. Lambert is blown to bits.) Yes, it was the middle one.

(Cut to a panning shot across a river in the woods.) Mr. and Mrs. Watson of Hull chose a very cunning way of not being seen. When we called at their house, we found that they had gone away on two weeks' holiday. However, a neighbor told us where there were. (The camera pans around and stops on a obvious looking tent, which blows up. Cut to a house with a gumby [Michael Palin] standing out front.) And here is the neighbor who told us where they were... (He blows up, leaving boots and dark red smoke behind... Cut to a shack in the desert.) And here is where he lived ... (shack blows up - cut to an old stock footage building, entirely washed-out in red) And this is where he was born... (it blows up fantastically, debris sliding down) (Cut to a small bit of forest. A man in a dinner jacket, a very straight BBC-type announcer complete with desk and microphone, is laughing hysterically in the distance. The camera zooms in on the announcer. Not seeing, he keeps laughing. Then he spots the camera, does a quick double take, and hurriedly collects himself.) Announcer: And now for something completely different. (He explodes. Drum roll...) (MGM-style logo, only with a rather inebriated-looking cartoon rabbit instead of the lion. Logo: "Playboy Productions." The rabbit roars... "presents") (A Kettledrum Production. Music is Sousa's Liberty Bell March. Impressive animated titles reading "Monty Python presents AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT." Animation is silly and ruined only by a completely out-of-place credit to "Executive Producer Victor Lownes," the only actual credit anywhere in the titles. Leave it to Lownes, eh?) (Titles end with a large animated foot crushing the film's title. There is a "poot" and an awkward silence. Longish pause.) (Music swells.... title "The End - A Python Productions Film - made entirely on location in England - by Kettledrum Productions London W. I.") (Total darkness. Sound of footsteps.) Theatre Manager [Terry Jones] : (coughs, clears throat) Uh, good evening, uh ladies and gentlemen, um... we apologize that the feature was not quite as long as we'd anticipated. Uh,therefore there will be a short interval. (He waves to someone behind him and starts smoking.)

Uh, in the meantime, uh, we are pleased to be able to show you a short film starring a man with a tape recorder up his nose. (He leaves, coughing.) (We see Michael in a dinner suit on a small stage, with potted plants, etc. He is wearing a white glove After a stagey pause he ostentatiously inserts a finger up one nostril. We hear the Marseilles. He removes his finger and the music stops. He puts his finger up the other nostril, and we hear rewinding noises.) Theatre Manager: And now, er, and now, a film starring a man with a tape recorder up his brother's nose. (Cut to Michael on the same stage, this time with Graham. Michael puts his finger up Graham's nostril and we hear the Marseilles. He removes his finger and puts it up Graham's other nostril. We hear the sound of a tape rewinding.) Film Announcer (Eric Idle): And now, in stereo! (Michael simultaneously puts a finger up his own nostril and a finger on the other hand, up Graham's nostril. We now hear two recordings of the Marseilles together, but slightly out of sync. They bow.) Theatre Manager: Thank you, that is the end of the interval; will you kindly return to your seats. We will now be proceeding with the program as advertised. (A pause as he walks off.) Male Voice (John Cleese): Darling, you were wonderful! Voice of Manager: Oh, really? (coughs) (Music. Picture of Big Ben. Caption "LONDON 1971.") Voice over (John Cleese): In 1971, the British Empire lay in ruins. Foreigners frequented the streets, many of them Hungarians. Not the streets - the foreign nationals. Anyway, many of these Hungarians went into tobacconists' to buy cigarettes ... (An ordinary tobacconist's shop.) Clerk (Terry Jones): Yes sir, thank you. (rings up purchase) (The customer leaves and a Hungarian tourist enters.) Clerk: Morning sir. (The tourist is reading haltingly from a phrase book.) Hungarian (John Cleese): I will not buy this record, it is scratched. Clerk: I'm sorry? Hungarian: I will not buy this record, it is scratched. Clerk: Uh, no, no. This is a tobacconist's, ha ha.

(pause) (louder) Tobacconist's. Hungarian: Ah! I will not buy this *tobacconist's*, it is scratched. Clerk: No, no. Tobacco ... um ... cig, cigarettes. (holds up a pack) Hungarian: See-gar-ets! Ja! Ja! Ja! Ja! Uh... My hovercraft is full of eels. Clerk: What? Hungarian: My hovercraft ... is full of eels! (pretends to strike a match) Clerk: Ahh, matches! Hungarian: Ja! matches! Do you waaaaant... Clerk: Do you want? Hungarian: Want! Ah! Do you waant... to come back to my place, bouncy bouncy? (pantomimes the "money fingers") Clerk: (shuddering) That'll be six shillings, please. Hungarian: If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me? I am no longer infected. Clerk: May I, may I... (grabs for phrase book) Hungarian: Ja, ja! Clerk: (takes phrase book, flips through it) ... Costs six shillings, costs six shillings, uh... Hungarian: (to self) Six sheelings... Clerk: Ah! Six, Ah, ah... (reads phonetically from book) Uh, Yenda Lavarasai Gredenwei Strevenka! (Hungarian, offended, punches the clerk square on the nose.) (Meanwhile, a policeman on a quiet street, who is milking his horse at the time [!] cups his ear as if hearing a cry of distress. He pushes a man, stealing his bicycle, and finally enters the tobacconist's.) Cop (Graham Chapman): What's all this then? Hungarian: Ah. You have beautiful thighs. Cop: WHAT? Clerk: He hit me! Hungarian: Drop your panties, Sir Arthur; I cannot wait 'til lunchtime. (points at clerk) Cop: RIGHT! (drags Hungarian away by the arm)

Hungarian: (indignantly) My nipples explode with delight! (Scene switches to a courtroom. Characters are all in powdered wigs and judicial robes, except publisher. Judge, [Terry Jones], bangs gavel.) Voice over (John Cleese): The Hungarian gentleman was subsequently released, but it was his information that led to the arrest and trial of the real culprit. Bailiff (Graham Chapman): (under voice over) You are Alexander Yahlt? Publisher (Michael Palin): I am. Bailiff: You are hereby charged that on the 28th day of May you did willfully and with malice of forethought, publish an alleged English- Hungarian phrase book with intent to cause a breach of the peace. How do you plead? Publisher: Not guilty. Prosecuting Counsel (Eric Idle): Mr. Yahlt, on the 28th of May, you published this phrase book. Publisher: I did Counsel: With your lordship's permission I would like to quote an example. The Hungarian phrase meaning "Can you direct me to the railway station?" is here translated by the English phrase, "Please fondle my buttocks." (He glares accusingly at Yahlt.) (Another Hungarian gentleman approaches an upper-class twit on the street.) Other Hungarian (Terry Jones): (reading from book) Pleease foondle my buttocks. Twit (Graham Chapman): Ah yes, it's past the post office, 200 yards down, and then left at the light. (He indicates) (Animation of Hungarian walking up a hill and coming to a light.) Hungarian: Hmmm.... left at lights... ah... (He walks off and the light follows him (!). Hold on same scene as pastoral music plays and hands rise up through crevices in the hills. They grow leaves and become trees. Other hands fly in as geese, and a cowboy rides in on a hand and lassos the next scene, which turns out to be an old man shaving. He carefully applies shaving cream over his face, and finally over his entire head, which he then shaves off, his headless body dropping to the floor.) ("Sunny Motel: Vacancy." An animated, flimsy-looking bunch of buildings. Zoom in on one in particular.) Voice over (Terry Gilliam): Meanwhile, not far away, Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Pewty were were about to enter an unfamiliar office. Marriage Guidance Counselor (Eric Idle): Next!

(An unfamiliar office. A little man (Michael Palin) enters, with a beautiful blond buxom woman (CC), in the prime of youth and dressed rather scantily. Counselor is working on some paperwork and does not acknowledge them. The little man, Arthur, finally takes it upon himself to bang a paperweight loudly against the desk, forcing the counselor to look up.) Arthur: Ah! Are you the, ah, marriage guidance counselor? Counselor: (annoyed) Yes. Good morning. Arthur: Morning. Counselor: (stares at woman, fascinated) And... good morning... to you, madam. (pauses, shrugs himself out of staring and says to Arthur) Ah, name? Arthur: Mr and Mrs Arthur Pewty. Counselor: (writes without looking down, just stares at Arthur's wife) And what is the name of your... ravishing wife? Wait. Don't tell me - it''s something to do with moonlight - it goes with her eyes - it's soft and gentle, warm and yielding... deeply lyrical and yet tender and frightened, like a tiny white rabbit. Arthur: It's Deirdre. (The counselor is getting out of his chair, still staring at Deirdre, who has by now returned the favor. He smiles and tries to look suave.) Counselor: Deirdre. What a beautiful name. What a beautiful, beautiful name. (He sits down almost on her lap, leans across and lightly brushes his hand across her cheek. She smiles. A brief pause as he finally looks back at the husband.) And what seems to be the trouble with your marriage, Mr Pewty? (Saying this he returns to his romantic endeavors.) Arthur: Well, it all started when we first went to Brighton on holiday together. Deirdre, that's my wife, and I have always been very close companions and I never particularly anticipated any marital strife. (The counselor takes Deirdre's hand and lands kisses up the length of her arm. She swoons a bit.) Indeed the very idea of consulting a professional marital adviser has always been of the greatest repugnance to me, although, ha, far be it from me to impugn the nature of your trade or... or... profession. (Mr. Pewty looks a bit deflated realizing that they're not listening to him. Pause.) Counselor: (realizing Arthur has stopped) Do go on. Arthur: Oh, well, as was saying, Deirdre and I have always been very close companions, sharing the interests, the gardening, the six penny bottle for the holiday money, (they are by now on their feet gazing amorously into each others' eyes, and Arthur has hopped up to match their eye level) and indeed twice a month in the evenings settling down to do the accounts together, something which Deirdre, that's my wife... (He says this with emphasis in case the counselor, who is by now practically in a clutch with same, had been unaware. ), particularly look forward to on account of her feet. (The counselor is running his hand up her leg now.) I should probably have said at the outset I'm noted for having a grand sense of humor, although I've kept myself very much to myself over the last couple of years notwithstanding, and it's only as comparatively recently as recently that I've begun to realize - well, perhaps realize is too strong a word - er, er, imagine, that I ... was not the only thing in her life. Counselor: (looks up angrily, just before the kiss) You suspected your wife? Arthur: Well.. uh... (He looks over his shoulder) (While he stutters they resume pawing each other) ...frankly yes... A bit. (The counselor rolls his eyes. Deirdre waves to the counselor and bounces off behind a changing screen. The counselor waves back and Arthur waves too, misguided as ever.) Her behavior did seem to me, her behavior did seem to me, who was after all there to see, to be a little odd. (Some of Deirdre's clothing drops over the top of the screen.) Counselor: (shaking a bit with sexual anticipation) Odd. Arthur: Well, to a certain extent yes. Now, I'm not by nature a suspicious person - far from it - in fact I've got something of a reputation as an after-dinner speaker, if you get my meaning.... (Deirdre's bra come over the screen.) Counselor: Uh, y-yes, I certainly do. Arthur: And indeed in the area where people know me I am in fact very well known... Counselor: (taking his jacket off) F-fine. Would you, uh? Arthur: Yes certainly. (He helps him with his jacket. The counselor continues to undress...) So, I decided it was time to face the facts and stop beating about the bush or I'd never be able look myself in the bathroom mirror again. Counselor: (strips down to his shorts) Er, look - would you mind, um running along for ten m - make it twenty minutes, all right? Arthur: Y-yes, I'll wait outside shall I? ... (The counselor has already gone behind the screen. Arthur seems terribly dejected.) Y-yes. That's, that's the best thing. (Deirdre's panties fly past)... certainly set my mind to rest on one or two scores there.

(Violin music. He shuffles pathetically out the door. He is suddenly stopped by a crack of lightning and the voice of God...) Voice of God (John Cleese): Arthur Pewty! Are you a man... or a mouse? You've been running to long, Arthur Pewty; it's time to stop. Time to turn and fight like a man! Go back in there, Arthur Pewty! Go back in there and pull your finger out! (Triumphant music. For the first time something like courage begins to flash in Arthur Pewty's face.) Arthur: Yes! Yes, you're right! This is it, Arthur Pewty! This is your moment Arthur Pewty! At last... you're a man! (He charges back into the office and bangs on the screen.) Come out of there Deirdre! I know you're in there! Counselor: Go away! Arthur: (meekly) Right-o. (Squeals of delight come from behind the screen as Arthur plods out of the office. Violin music.) (Arthur is crushed by a 16-ton weight. The caption reads "So much for pathos!") (Animation follows an unpleasant-looking old man pushing a baby carriage or pram over the caption. He passes through a row of buildings and comes across an old lady.) Old Lady: Oh, what a lovely little... WAAAGH! (She is suddenly gobbled up by the unseen infant in the pram. Sounds of munching, horrible screaming. The old man hops happily for a bit. They move on. Another row of buildings, and another old lady.) Second Old Lady: Oh, what a lovely little... WAAAGH! (She is suddenly gobbled up by the unseen infant in the pram. Sounds of munching, horrible screaming. The old man hops happily for a bit. Finally a burp and they move on. A clearing, and yet another old lady.) Third Old Lady: Oh, what a lovely little... Whitehousish Voice from Above: Stop it! Stop right there! This is absolutely disgusting and I'm not going to stand for it! (A female hand grabs the pram and turns it around to face the old man.) There... KILL! (The old man runs and the pram gives chase, making chomping sounds all the way and leaving the bewildered old lady behind. A truck then wheels by and hands the old lady a sign reading "Coming Soon! Extensive Civic Beautification Project." The lady is replaced by a nude David with a leaf on his privates. A hand reaches out and tries to take the leaf. David slaps him. The hand reaches out and tries to take the leaf again. David slaps him again. The hand moves out a bit, out a bit more, in a bit and then lunges for the leaf. the hand and David fight for the leaf and the leaf is removed to show a literally blue-nosed censor.)

Whitehousish Voice: Cut! That's it! We're not going to allow this sort of smut on the screen. This depraved and degrading spectacle is going to stop right now, do you hear me? Stop it! I can't believe it. Man (Graham Chapman): (over W.V.) Guh! Just when it was getting good. (scene - a crowded bar. Norm is looking down the bar at a chap in a bowler hat, trying to catch his eye.) Norm (Eric Idle): 'Evening, squire! (the chap goes to a table and Norm follows him.) You married? Chap in Bowler Hat (Terry Jones): (stiffly) Yes. Norm: I'm a bachelor myself ha ha. Is, uh,...Is your wife a goer, eh? Know whatahmean, know whatahmean, nudge nudge, know whatahmean, say no more? Chap: I beg your pardon? Norm: Your wife, does she go, eh? Know whatahmean, know whatahmean does she go, eh? Chap: (flustered) She sometimes "goes". Norm: I bet she does, I bet she does, say no more, say no more, know whatahmean, nudge nudge? Chap: (confused) I'm afraid I don't quite follow you. Norm: Follow me. Follow me. That's good, that's good! A nod's as good as a wink to a blind bat! Chap: Look, are you selling something? Norm: Selling! Selling! Very good, very good! Know-what-I-mean (makes a strange hand movement. Chap repeats it, puzzled) Oooh! Wicked! Ya wicked! Ya wicked Ay! Nudge nudge! A nod's as good as a wink to a blind bat! Chap: But, I, uh.... Norm: Uh, is your wife a sport, ay? Chap: She likes sport, yes! Norm: I bet she does, I bet she does! Chap: Yes, she's very fond of cricket. Norm: 'Oo isn't? Eh? 'Oo isn't? Likes games? Knew she would. Knew she would. 'Oo doesn't eh? She's been around a bit, eh? Been around? Chap: Yes, she traveled. She's, she's from Purly. Norm: Oh! Saynomore! Saynomore, saynomore. Purly, saynomore, know whatahmean, saynomore. Ah! Your wife interested in, ay? "Photographs, ay", he asked him knowingly? Chap: Photography? Norm: Yeh, snap snap, grin grin, wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more?

Chap: Holiday snaps? Norm: Could be, could be taken on holiday, could be. Swimming costumes. Nudge nudge. Candid, CANDID photography? Chap: No, I'm afraid we don't have a camera. Norm: Oh. (leeringly) Still, mooooooh, ay? ay? Mwoohohohohoo! Chap: Look, are you trying to insinuate something? Norm: No, no, no, no, no, no, no...yes. Chap: Well? Norm: Well, I mean ah, you're a man of the world, aren't ya? (He starts winking.) I mean, you know you've ah, you've ah, been around.... You've "been there".... Chap: What do you mean? Norm: Well, I mean like, you've ah, ya know, you've ah you've done it uh....with a lady, you've SLEPT, with a lady.... Chap: Yes.... Norm: What's it like? (scene - a gymnasium. The Sergeant-Major shouts almost constantly.) Nun in Rowboat (Terry Gilliam): Well, I think it's overrated. Sergeant-Major (John Cleese): Shut up, you! Good evening, class! All: (mumbling) Good evening. Sergeant: Where's all the others, then? All: They're not here. Sergeant: I can see that! What's the matter with them? 2nd man (Michael Palin): Dunno. 1st Man (Graham Chapman): Perhaps they've got 'flu. Sergeant: 'Flu!? They should eat more fresh fruit! (rolls neck strangely.) Right! Now, self-defense! Tonight I shall be carrying on from where we got to last week, when I was showing you 'ow to defend yourselves against anyone who attacks you armed with a piece of fresh fruit! (rolls neck again) (Grumbles from all) 2nd Man: You promised we wouldn't do fruit this week.

Sergeant: What do you mean? 3rd Man (Terry Jones): Well, we've done fresh fruit for the last nine weeks. Sergeant: What's wrong with fruit? You think you know it all, eh? 2nd Man: Can't we try something else? 4th Man (Eric Idle): Like someone who attacks you with a pointed stick? Sergeant: Pointed stick? Oh, oh, oh. We wanna learn 'ow to defend ourselves against pointed sticks, do we? Getting all 'igh and mighty, eh? Fresh fruit not good enough for you eh? Oh, oh, oh. Well let me tell you something my lad! When you're walking home tonight and some great 'omicidal maniac comes after you with a bunch of Logan berries, don't come crying to me! Right, and now, the passion fruit! (He does a leaping about-turn.) When your assailant lunges at you with a passion fruit, ah thus... All: We done the passion fruit. Sergeant: What? 1st Man: We've done the passion fruit. 2nd Man: We done oranges, apples, grapefruit... 3rd Man: Whole and segments. 2nd Man: Greengages, pomegranates... 1st Man: Grapes, passion fruit... 2nd Man: Lemons... 3rd Man: Plums... 1st Man: And mangoes in syrup... Sergeant: How 'bout cherries? All: We done them. Sergeant: Red *and* black? All: Yes! Sergeant: All right then. (pause) Bananas. We haven't done bananas, have we? All: (Dejectedly) No. Sergeant: Right! How to defend yourself against a man armed with a banana. Catch! (He throws a banana to 1st man.) Now, it's quite simple to deal with a banana fiend. First of all you force him to drop the banana; then, you eat the banana, thus disarming him. You have now rendered him 'elpless! 2nd Man: Suppose he's got a bunch.

Sergeant: Shut up! 4th Man: Suppose he's got a pointed stick. Sergeant: Shut up! Right now you, Mr Apricot! 1st Man: 'Arrison. Sergeant: Sorry, Mr. 'Arrison! Come at me with that banana! Come on, be as vicious as you like with it. Come on, attack me! Come on! No no no! Put something into it, for god's sa...! Hold the banana like that! (He has him hold the banana like a knife.) That's better! Now scream! 1st man: Aaagh!!! Sergeant: Good! Right, now attack me. Come on man! Attack me! (Shoots him.) 1st Man: Aaagh!!! (dies.) Sergeant: Next, I eat the banana. (Does so.) Colonel (Graham Chapman): Now, I would just like to point out that this film is displaying a distinct tendency to become silly. Now, nobody likes a good laugh more than I do. Except perhaps my wife. And some of her friends. Oh yes, and Captain Johnson ... Come to think of it, most people like a good laugh more than I do, but that's beside the point! I'm warning this film not to get silly again. Right, now director! On the command cut, cut to the next scene. Director... (Panning film of the top of a city) Voice Over (Eric Idle): This is a frightened city. Colonel: Wait for it! (The film quickly pans back and cuts to Colonel.) Colonel: Director...cut! (The camera pans again.) Voice Over: This is a frightened city. Over these streets, over these houses hangs a pall of fear. An ugly kind of violence is ripe, stalking the town. (Two dangerous-looking greasers are walking through a forest when suddenly they are attacked by a gang of old ladies who beat them senselessly with their handbags.) Yes, gangs of old ladies attacking fit, defenseless young men. (Film. Several grannies walking aggressively along street, pushing passers-by aside. Blaring gang-style music.) First Young Man (Michael Palin): (off screen) Well they just come up to you, and push you - like, you know shove you off the pavement. There's usually about four or five of them.

(Cut to a young, greasy and tough-looking biker in leather.) Second Young Man (Terry Jones): Yeah, sometimes there's three or four of them. It's not even safe to go out down to the shops anymore. (Film of grannies harassing an attractive girl.) Voice Over: Grannies are no respecter of race, creed or sex. Their's is a harsh, ruthless world, a tough world, a world in which the surgical stocking is king. (film of grannies playing kick the can) Voice Over: What are they in it for, these senile delinquents, these layabouts in lace? A Granny: (voice over) Oh, the violence. A Granny: (voice over) The prestige, mainly. A Granny: (voice over) The free gifts. A Granny: (voice over) putting the knee in the groin. A Granny: (voice over) We like pulling the heads off sheep A Granny: (voice over) *And* tea cakes. All: (voice over, mumbled agreement) Policeman (Graham Chapman): We have a lot of trouble with these grannies. Pension day's the worst . As soon as they get it they blow the lot on milk, tea, sugar, a tin of meat for the cat... (Cut to an sociologist walking along the street narrating.) Sociologist (Eric Idle): The whole crux of the problem lies in the basic dissatisfaction of these senile delinquents, with the world as they find it. They begin to question the values of their society. They see their sons and daughters growing up to become accountants, uh, solicitors, uh sociologists even, and they begin to wonder is it all worth it? Is it all... (disappears downwards rapidly) AAAAAAAGHHHHHH!! (Shot of two grannies replacing manhole cover. They see the camera and run.) Voice Over: Another prime target for vandalism is telephone boxes. (Film of grannies carrying off a telephone box.) Voice Over: But mostly, they just live for kicks. (Film of grannies on motorbikes roaring down streets. They have 'Hell's Grannies' on their shawls.) Voice Over: But there are other kinds of violence abroad. Other gangs equally vicious, equally determined, such as the baby snatchers. (Film of five six-foot-tall babies carrying off a young man from outside a shop.) Man: Hey, what is it? Hey! Help!

(Cut to distraught wife.) Wife: Well, I left him outside for a few minutes while I got some brillo pads. When I came back he was gone. He was only forty-eight! Voice Over: And also, vicious gangs of keep left signs. (Film: Two vicious keep-left signs with little legs attack a vicar.) Colonel: (coming up and stopping them) Right, stop that! It's silly. Very silly indeed. Started off as a nice little idea about old ladies attacking young men, but now it's just got silly. His hair's too long for a vicar too. And you can tell those are not proper keep left signs. Clear off, the lot of you! (points at screen) You, come with me. (Cut to small room) Colonel: Right! Now let's see something decent and military. Some precision drilling. (Cut to sergeant with eight soldiers.) Sergeant: Squad. Camp it ... up! Soldiers: (mincing in unison) Oooh get her! Whoops! I've got your number ducky. You couldn't afford me, dear. Two three. I'd scratch your eyes out. Don't come the brigadier bit with us, dear, we all know where you've been, you military fairy, two three. One two three four five six, whoops! Don't look now girls the major's just minced in with that dolly color sergeant, two, 'three, ooh-ho! Colonel: Right! Stop that. Silly. And a bit suspect, I think. Time for a cartoon. Female Voice Over: Once upon a time there was an enchanted prince who ruled the land beyond the wobbles. (Shows a prince on all fours bouncing through multicolored rocks) F. VO: One day he discovered a spot on his face. Foolishly he ignored it. And 3 years later he died of cancer. The spot however flourished, and soon set out to seek it's fortune. Man Selling Summat: Blah, blah, blah... (Spot jumps on his face) Teddy Roosevelt: Whahahahahahahahha, whahahahahahaha! (spot jumps on his face and he falls down) Man: Blah, blah, blah... (spot bounces off man selling and goes to the park. Sign - "a nice spot for a picnic, don't you think?" Sees female spot, kisses her and gets married. Show both move into an apartment) Old Lady1: Agnes, did you just see who moved in next door? Agnes: Yes, black as the ace of spades, they were. OL1: Oh well. There goes the neighborhood.

Agnes: Oh yes. (Show all buildings crash to the ground except 1. the bits are swept away past a set of stairs. The camera climes the stairs. A sign on the door says "Sir George Head") (Scene: Large study with maps and photographs on the wall and a large desk at which sits Sir George Head.) Sir George: [John Cleese] Next please. (Arthur walks into the room and up to the desk.) Sir: (looking up) One at a time please. Arthur: [Eric Idle] There is only me, sir. Sir: (putting a hand over one eye) So there is. Take a, um . . . Arthur: Seat? Sir: Seat! Seat! Take a seat. So! (looking over to Arthur's right) You want to join my mountaineering expedition do you? (keeps looking off to right) Arthur: (rather uncertain) Who, me, sir? Sir: Um hum. Arthur: Um, yes, I'd very much like to, sir. Sir: Jolly good, jolly good. (he ticks the sheet and then looks straight at Arthur) How 'bout you? Arthur: There is only me, sir. Sir: (putting hand over eye and looking both at Arthur and to Arthur's right) Well bang goes his application then. (He crumples up form) Now let me fill you in. I'm leading this expedition and we're going to climb both peaks of Mount Kilimanjaro. Arthur: I thought there was only one peak, sir. Sir: (getting up, putting one hand over one eye again and going to large map of Africa on wall and peering at it at point-blank range) Well, that'll save a bit of time. Well done. Now the object of this year's expedition is to see if we can find any trace of last year's expedition. Arthur: Last year's expedition? Sir: Yes, my brother was leading that, they were going to build a bridge between the two peaks, (looks at map with one hand over eye) My idea I'm afraid. Now, I ought to tell you that I have practically everyone that I need for this expedition, but what, uh special qualifications do you have? Arthur: Uh, well, sir... Sir: Yes, you first.

Arthur: There is only me, sir. Sir: (to Arthur's right) I wasn't talking to you. (to Arthur) Carry on. Arthur: Well sir I'm, I'm a fully qualified mountaineer. Sir: Mountaineer? (looks it up in the dictionary) mouse, mound, mountaineer: 'two men skilled at climbing a mountain'. By Jove, that'll be useful. Well you're in. Congratulations, both of you.(shakes both of Arthur's hands) Now, er, what are your names? Arthur: Arthur Wilson. Sir: Arthur... Wilson. Um hum, well er look, I'll call you (to Arthur) Arthur Wilson one, and you (to Arthur's right) Arthur Wilson two, just to avoid confusion. Arthur: Are you actually leading this expedition sir? Sir: Yes, (Looks to his left) we are leading this expedition to Africa. Arthur: And what routes will you both be following? Sir: Good questions. Well we'll be leaving on one or other of the January the 22nds and taking the following routes. (goes over to large map of England) From Manchesters down though Oxfords taking the M1s though Londons to Purlys then the A25s from Purlys to Dovers. Then it's Africaish to Nairobis. Then we take the South road out of Nairobis for about twelve miles and then ask. Arthur: Does anyone speak Swahili, sir? Sir: Oh, yes I think most of them do down there. Arthur: No, does anyone in our party speak Swahili sir? Sir: Well Matron's got a smattering. Arthur: Apart from the two Matrons ... Sir: Good Lord, I'd forgotten about her. Arthur: Well apart from them, who else is coming on our expedition, sir? Sir: Well uh we've got uh the Arthur Brown twins, uh two botanists called Machin, the William Johnston brothers ... Arthur: Two of them? Sir: No four of them, a pair of identical twins ... uh, two of the Harry Baker quads. And uh, you two. Arthur: And none of these are mountaineers? Sir: Well you two are, and we've got a brace of guides called Jimmy Blenkinsop because Kilimanjaro is a pretty tricky climb. Most of it's up until you reach the very very top, and then it tends to slope away rather sharply. But Jimmy's put his heads together and worked out a way up. (opens door) Jimmy? (Jimmy walks in wearing full climbing gear) Ah. Jimmy Blenkinsop - Arthur Wilson, Arthur Wilson - Jimmy

Blenkinsop... Jimmy Blenkinsop two- Arthur Wilson two, Arthur Wilson two - Jimmy Blenkinsop one. Carry on Jimmy. Jimmy: (to Arthur, reassuring him) Don't worry about the ah ... (puts hand over eye) We'll get him up alright. (Sir George covers one eye and stares very closely at his chair before sitting down.) I suppose I'd better describe the route. (Jimmy proceeds to walk round the room clambering over every single piece of available furniture. He doesn't stop talking. Causing a complete wreckage, he clambers over the desk, onto the mantle, the coffee table and knocks over a bookshelf, meanwhile he is saying..) Well we start off quite simply up Kilimanjaro over here...Quite simple, no problem there basically. Ah, and then we go on to the main face itself of Kilimanjaro. It's a bit difficult here because of...there's a difficult bit 'round here...we go from the end of the mantelpiece on to the coffee table, it's a bit of a difficult jump. It's all right, quite good...then we've got the rail up here which is quite a good hand hold, then a terribly easy bit over the floor up onto the chair and then we've got a bit of lay back. We get down, we go quite simply straight... (Jimmy staggers out headlong through the door. There are loud crashing noises)...onto the cellar. Sir: He'll be leading the first assault. Arthur: Well I'm afraid I shan't be coming on your expedition sir, as I've absolutely no confidence in anyone involved in it. (Arthur gets up and walks out though hole in door.) Sir: Oh dear. (pause - look over at other[?!] Arthur) Well what about you? Arthur: (sitting in chair at other angle of desk) Well I'm game, sir. Sir: Jolly good! Jolly good. (looks at the camera) Good Lord! (A lot of girls in bikinis and a man going Waahahahhah, whaaggh, etc. the announcer is shown in a bikini lying on desk) Man:Euiii! Man in Bikini: An Now For Something Completely Different. Man (Michael Palin): Inspector! Inspector! Inspector (John Cleese): Yes sir? Man: I was sitting on a park bench just now and I put my coat down and when I picked it up again I found my wallet had gone and 15 pounds had been stolen. Inspector: Did you see any, anyone? Man: No, no one at all. Inspector: Well there's very little we can do about that sir. Man: (pause) Do you wanna come back to my place? Inspector: (pause) Yeah, all right.

(dirty looking man (Terry Jones) walking the sidewalk "flashes" three women. sees camera and "flashes", showing that he is fully clothed, but has on a sign saying "boo") (Show an animated woman pass out. She wakes up and starts typing on a typewriter. After a while the room fills up with little yellow men...) Announcer (John Cleese): And so Miss Spume retuned to her typing and dreamed her little dreamy dreams, unaware of the cruel trick fate had in store for her. For Miss Spume was about to fall victim of the dreaded international Chinese communist conspiracy. (Show a Chinese man come in.) Yes, these fanatical fiends under the leadership of the so called Mao Tse-tung, had caught Miss Spume off guard for one brief but fatal moment... Spume: Oh, help! (Woman dies.) Announcer: ...and destroyed her. Just as they are ready to go anytime free men anywhere waver in their defense of democracy. (Now show an American ship kill Chinese man. Star spangled banner plays.) Uncle Sam: Yes, once again American defense proves its effectiveness against international communism. Using this diagram of a tooth to represent any small country, we can see how international communism works by eroding away from within. (tooth collapses.) When one country or tooth falls victim to international communism, its neighbor soon follow. (all the teeth fall.) In dentistry, this is known as the domino theory. But with American defense the decay is stopped before it starts. That's why nine out of ten small countries choose American defense. Announcer (Eric Idle): Or Crelm Toothpaste with the miracle ingredient, froigaline. The white car represents Crelm Toothpaste with the miracle ingredient, froigaline. The NOT white car represents another toothpaste. Yes, both cars provide 30% percent protection. At 60% protection both cars are doing well. and now at 90% protection...Wait! the not white car is out, and Crelm Toothpaste goes on to win with 100% protection! Yes, do like all smart motorists, choose Crelm Toothpaste. Announcer 2 (Michael Palin): Or Shrill Petrol with the new additive GLC9424075 (after 6 p.m. 9424047) using this white card to represent engine deposits, and this black card to represent Shrill's new additive GLC9424075 (after 6 p.m. 9424047) we can see how the engine deposits are pushed off the face of the earth by the superior forces available to shrill...ah! (a shot of a garbage can with a spot light on it.) Police Voice: This is the police. We know you're in there, so come out with your hands up. Voice from can (Terry Jones): You'll never take me alive copper! PV: Oh, all right then. Sergeant! (16 tones dropped on can. Spotlight shown to be one from 20th century frog logo with motto "Ars Gratis Artis". Frog croaks.) Caption - Presents! Caption and Voice Over - Conrad Poohs and his dancing teeth. (Show man opening and closing his mouth (animated) and finally the teeth dance. Boos, and the curtain falls.)

Host (Eric Idle): Thank you, thank you Conrad Poohs and his exploding teeth. A smile, two fangs and an exuse me. And next tonight, gentlemen and ladies, here at the peephole club for the very first tiii-iime. Very proud to welcome, Ken Ewing and his musical mice! (While talking, he is fondling his suit and hands) Ewing: [Terry Jones] Thank you, thank you. Ladies and gentlemen. I 'ave in this box twenty-three white mice. Mice which I have painstakingly trained over the past few years, to squeak at a selected pitch. (he raises a mouse by its tail) Uh, this one is E sharp... and this one is G. Uh, G, E sharp, you get the general idea. Now these mice are so arranged upon this rack, that when played in the correct order they will squeak 'Three... Blinded... White Mice.' Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, on the mouse organ 'Three Blinded White Mice.' Thank you. (He produces two mallets. He starts playing the mice while singing quietly a very evil-sounding version of "Three Blind Mice." Each downward stroke of the mallet brings a terrible squashing sound and the expiring squeak. It is quite clear that he is slaughtering the mice. The musical effect is poor. After the first few notes people are shouting 'Stop it, stop him someone, Oh my God'. He is hauled off by two men. He comes back and has a few more 'hits' before being dragged off again. The crowd chases him into another building. We see and announcer (Eric Idle) being powdered for a show.) Man: 10 seconds studio (Crowd chasing after Ken rushes in. Ken gets by but the crowd is restrained. They are yelling "Stop him! Get him!" The crowd is shoved offstage.) Announcer: (slightly frazzled) Hello, and welcome to another addition of it's the arts. And we kick off this evening with a look at the cinema. Host (John Cleese): One of the most prolific film directors of this age, or indeed of any age, is Sir Edward Ross, back in this country for the first time for five years to open a season of his films at the National Film Theatre, and we are indeed fortunate to have him with us in the studio this evening. Ross (Graham Chapman): Good evening. Host: Edward... um, you don't mind if I call you Edward? Ross: No, not at all. Host: No, because it does seem to worry some people - not quite sure why - perhaps they're a little sensitive so I do take the precaution of asking on these occasions. Ross: No no, that's fine. Host: So Edward it is. Splendid. I'm sorry to have brought it up, really. Ross: No, no. Edward it is. Host: Well thank you very much indeed for being so helpful. Only sometimes it's more than my job's worth... Ross: Quite. Host: Makes it rather difficult to establish a rapport - to, to put the other person at his ease...

Ross: Quite. Host: Quite. Silly little point but it does seem to matter. Still, least said the better. Um, Ted, when you first went in the film bu... You don't mind if I call you Ted, I mean as opposed to Edward? Ross: No, no, everyone calls me Ted. Host: Splendid. Well of course it's, it's much shorter, isn't it. Ross: Yes it is. Host: And much less formal. Ross: Yes, Ted, Edward, anything! Host: Splendid. Um, incidentally, do call me Tom. I don't want you bothering with any of this 'Thomas' nonsense! Ha ha ha ha! Um, fine where were we? Ah yes. Eddie Baby, when you first started in the... Ross: I'm, I'm, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't like being called "Eddie Baby". Host: Beg your pardon? Ross: I don't like being called "Eddie Baby". Now get on with the interview. Host: (pause) Did I call you "Eddie Baby"? Ross: Yes, you did. Host: I don't think I did call you "Eddie Baby". Did I call him "Eddie Baby"? (Audience murmurs of 'yes. yes you did.' etc.) Host: I didn't really call you "Eddie Baby", did I, sweetie? Ross: Don't call me "sweetie"! Host: Can I call you "sugar plum"? Ross: No. Host: "Pussycat"? Ross: No! Host: "Angel drawers"? Ross: No you may not! Now get on with it! Host: Can I call you "Frank"? Ross: (perplexed) Why "Frank"? Host: Frank's a nice name. President Nixon's got a hedgehog called Frank. (to self) Frank...

Ross: What IS going on? Host: Frank -- Frankie --Fran -- Frannie -- little Frannie-boo... Ross: Right, that's it. I'm leaving. I've had enough of this. I've never been so insulted...(exits) Host: (loudly) Uh, tell us about your latest film, Sir Edward. Ross: (offstage) What? Host: Uh, tell us about your latest film, Sir Edward, if you'd be so kind. Ross: (He steps back on stage) None of this "Pussycat" nonsense? Host: Promise. (Pats seat next to him.) Please, Sir Edward. Ross: My latest film? Host: Yes, Sir Edward. Ross: Well I first had the idea, funnily enough, when I first joined the industry in 1919. Of course, in those days I was only a tea boy and... Host: Oh shut up! Man in Crowd: There he is! (The crowd chases Ken onset and outside. A sign on the building says "TVR tonight IT'S THE ARTS This Weeks Guest EDWARD ROSS. They pass a milkman. Milkman delivering milk to a suburban house. Passes Ernest Scribbler on the way. As he puts the milk down, whistling all the while, the front door opens and a seductively dressed young lady steps out. He slowly stoops whistling. She beckons him inside. Glancing round he follows her into the house and up the stairs. She leads him to the bedroom door. He reaches for her tit, but she nods towards the bedroom. She opens the door, and ushers him inside, closing the door behind him. Inside, he is bewildered to see several milkmen, some young, some elderly, one dead, who have obviously been there for a very long time.) (Show a hand writing on a very dirty, cigarette-burned, shabby scrap of paper.) Scribbler (Michael Palin): "...The room is full of milkmen, some of whom are... are... very... old." (A bent figure huddles over a table, writing. He is surrounded by bits of paper, one of which seems to be the previous sketch, which he, frustrated, tosses away. The camera is situated facing the man as he writes with immense concentration lining his unshaven face.) Voice Over (John Cleese) : This man is Ernest Scribbler... manufacturer of jokes. In a few moments, he will think of the funniest joke in the world... and, as a result, he will die laughing. (Ernest stops writing, pauses to look at what he has written... a smile slowly spreads across his face, turning very, very slowly to uncontrolled hysterical laughter... he staggers to his feet and reels across room helpless with mounting mirth and eventually collapses and dies on his bed.)

Voice Over: It was obvious the joke was lethal... no one could read it and live ... Scribbler mother, alarmed by the unusual sounds of merriment, entered the room and found what was, apparently, a suicide note. (Ernest's mother (Eric Idle in drag and dubbed) enters. She sees him dead, she gives a little cry of horror and bends over his body, weeping. Brokenly she notices the piece of paper in his hand and picks it up and reads it between her sobs. Immediately she breaks out into hysterical laughter, and falls down dead without more ado. Cut to stock footage of WWII.) Caption- Pathe gazette. The stop press of the screen. For king and country. Voice over: Yes, the war against the Hun continues. And as Britons brave boys battle against the bosh, their leaders are on the lookout for new breakthroughs that could provide the ultimate weapon in the war against the Hun. (shot of army men entering house. shot slowly turns to color.) And here, in this little house in Finchly, they think maybe they've found it. It's a joke so deadly, it could have Fritz's forces falling about. (Cut to a pillbox on the Salisbury Plain. Track in to slit to see mustachioed top brass (EI, JC) peering anxiously out.) Voice Over: Tests on Salisbury Plain confirmed the joke's devastating effectiveness at a range of up to fifty yards. (Cut to shot looking out of slit in pillbox. Camera zooms through slit to distance where a solitary figure is standing on the windswept plain. He is a bespectacled, weedy lance-corporal (Terry Jones) looking cold and miserable. The corporal's face registers complete lack of comprehension as well as stupidity. Pan across to fifty yards away where two helmeted soldiers are at their positions beside a blackboard on an easel covered with a cloth. Man on top of pillbox waves flag, then hides his face. The soldiers reveal the joke to the corporal. He peers at it, repeats it to himself, thinks about its meaning, sniggers, and dies. Two watching generals are very impressed.) General (Eric Idle): Fantastic. Cut to a Colonel talking to camera. Colonel: All through the winter of '43 we had translators working, in joke-proof conditions, to try and manufacture a German version of the joke. They worked on one word each for greater safety. One of them saw two words by mistake and had to spend several weeks in hospital. But apart from that things went ahead pretty fast, and by January, we had the joke in a form which our troops couldn't understand but which the Germans could. (Cut to a trench in the Ardennes™ Members of the joke brigade are crouched holding pieces of paper with the joke on them.) Voice Over: So, on July the 8th, I944, the joke was first told to the enemy in the Ardennes... Commanding NCO: Squad! Tell the ... joke. Joke Brigade: (together) Wenn ist das NunstrÅck git und Slotermeyer? Ja! ... Beiherhund das Oder die Flipperwaldt gersput! (Pan out of the British trench across war-torn landscape and come to rest where presumably the German trench is. There is a pause and then a group of Germans rear up in hysterics.)

Voice Over: In action it was deadly. Joke Brigade: (charging) Wenn ist das NunstrÅck git und Slotermeyer? Ja! ... Beiherhund das Oder die Flipperwaldt gersput. (They chant the joke. Germans are put to fight laughing, some dropping to ground.) Voice Over: The German casualties were appalling. (Cut to a German hospital and a ward full of casualties still laughing hysterically.) Voice Over: It was a fantastic success. Over eighty thousand times as powerful as Britain's great prewar joke which was used at Munich. (Cut to a film of Chamberlain brandishing the 'Peace in our time' bit of paper) ... and one which Hitler couldn't match. (Film of Hitler rally. Hitler speaks; subtitles are superimposed.) SUBTITLE: 'MY DOG'S GOT NO NOSE' A young soldier responds: SUBTITLE: HOW DOES IT SMELL? Hitler speaks: SUBTITLE: AWFUL' (Show animated big face talking.) Head (John Cleese): I would like to apologize for the rather poor taste of the previous item... (A woman comes up a flashes us.) Um, exuse me please.(The face goes after her.) (Show old woman flagging down buses. They don't stop. She trips one). Old Lady: Fleet street please. (Show a group of people (animated) walking.) Man (Terry Jones): All right everybody, stay close, stay together, don't lag behind. Come on, keep together everybody. Remember, watch out for the killer cars! (A man wanders. a car jumps on him.) Caption-the killer cars Voice Over: Yes, the killer cars. For years the city had been plagued by ever increasing pedestrian congestion. In an attempt to eliminate this problem, certain fanatical cars had taken the law into their own hands. (The cars kill several people.) But the days of the killer cars were numbered thanks to the miracle of atomic mutation. (A giant Siamese cat scares away the cars.) Man: Thank you, thank you! You've saved our city! Voice Over: But at what cost? (The cat starts to eat the city. Cut to an an animated man in a chair.)

Man in Chair, animated (Eric Idle): Just then, as it looked for certain that the city was about to be eaten, the earth trembled, and the sun was blotted out from the sky. Female Voice Over (Terry Jones): Cor! Uh, Cripes! MIC: Suddenly, swarms of giant bees filled the air... FVO: Ooh! MIC: ...and three hundred million armored horsemen covered with coats of a thousand different colors... FVO: Uh! MIC: ...appeared at every street corner attacking the monster cat in a scene of such spectacular proportions that it could never in your life be seen in a low budget film like this. (sigh)<you'll notice my mouth isn't moving either> But! Just as the monster cat was starting to weaken, the earth split apart with a deafening roar and... (Show the cat is falling down a pipe. It lands in a meat grinder with other animals. The grinder is turned, producing long strands. These strands become hair of Botticelli's Venus in animated ocean. Her tit is twisted like a knob, changing the beautiful music to dance hall tunes. She starts dancing and falls off her shell into a fish aquarium in a pet shop). A customer enters a pet shop. Mr. Praline (John Cleese): 'Ello, I wish to register a complaint. (The owner does not respond.) Mr. Praline (Michael Palin): 'Ello, Miss? Owner: What do you mean "miss"? Mr. Praline: Oh, I'm sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint. Owner: Oh, sorry. We're closin' for lunch. Mr. Praline: Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this parrot what I purchased not 'alf an hour ago from this very boutique. Owner: Oh yes, uh, the Norwegian Blue...What's wrong with it? Mr. Praline: I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my lad. It's dead, that's what's wrong with it! Owner: No, no, it's, it's resting, look. Mr. Praline: Look my lad, I know a dead parrot when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now. Owner: No that's not dead, it's, uh restin'! Mr. Praline: Restin'?! Owner: Yeh, restin'. Remarkable bird, the Norwegian Blue, idn'it? Beautiful plumage.

Mr. Praline: The plumage don't enter into it. It's stone dead. Owner: No, it's resting. Mr. Praline: All right then, if it's restin', I'll wake it up! (shouting at the cage) 'Ello, Polly! I've got a nice fresh cuttle fish for you if you wake up Mister Polly Parrot! (owner hits the cage) Owner: There, he moved! Mr. Praline: No, he didn't, that was you pushing the cage! Owner: I didn't! Mr. Praline: Yes, you did! Mr. Praline: (takes out of cage.) 'ELLO POLLY!!!!! Wakey, wakey!!!! (hits parrot head on counter three times.) Rise and shine!!! (hits parrot another 3 times) This is your nine o'clock alarm call!!! (Hits another 3 times. Throws it up in the air and watches it plummet to the floor.) Mr. Praline: Now that's what I call a dead parrot. Owner: No, 'e's stunned! Mr. Praline: Stunned?! Owner: Yeah! You stunned him, just as he was wakin' up! Norwegian Blues stun easily. Mr. Praline: Look, my lad, I've 'ad enough of this. That parrot is definitely deceased, and when I bought it not 'alf an hour ago, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it bein' tired and shagged out after a long squawk. Owner: Well, he's pining for the fjords. Mr. Praline:(looks over his shoulder) Pinin' for the Fjords?! What kind of talk is that? Look, why did it fall flat on its back the moment I got it home? Owner: Oh well, the Norwegian Blue prefers keepin' on it's back. Beautiful plumage. Mr. Praline: Look, I took the liberty of examining that parrot, and I discovered that the only reason that it had been sitting on its perch in the first place was that it had been NAILED there. (pause) Owner: Well, o'course it was nailed there! I mean, If I hadn't nailed it there, it would have nuzzled up to those bars and VOOM! Mr. Praline: Look here mate. This parrot wouldn't "voom" if you put four thousand volts through it. It's bleedin' demised. Owner: No. It's, it's pining.

Mr. Praline: it's not pinin'. it's passed on. This parrot is no more. It has ceased to be. It's expired and gone to see it's maker. This is a late parrot. It's a stiff. Bereft of life, it rests in peace. If you hadn't nailed it to the perch it would be pushing up the daisies. It's run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. This... is an ex-parrot. (pause) Owner: Well, I'd better replace it, then. (he takes a quick peek in the back.) Mr. Praline: (to camera) If you want to get anything done in this country you've got to complain 'till you're blue in the mouth. (pause) Owner: Sorry squire, I've had a look. We're right out of parrots. Mr. Praline: I see. I get the picture. Owner: I got a slug. Mr. Praline: Does it talk? Owner: Not really. Mr. Praline: Well it's scarcely a replacement then, is it? (longish pause) Owner: Listen. I didn't want to work in a pet shop; I wanted to be a lumberjack. (pause) Mr. Praline: (Looks behind shoulder) I'm sorry, uh this is irrelevant, isn't it? (A visionary glow suffuses his face.) Owner: Yes, a Lumberjack! (He tears off his barber's jacket to reveal a tartan shirt and lumberjack trousers underneath. He begins to walk slowly out of the shop.) Leaping from tree to tree as they float down the mighty rivers of British Columbia! (He is standing in the midst of a mighty Canadian forest.) The Giant Redwood! (he puts on a fur hat) The Larch! The Fir! The mighty Scots Pine! Mr. Praline: (off screen) What about my bloody parrot? (The singing of a choir begins to rise up in the background...) Owner/ Lumberjack: The smell of fresh-cut timber! The crash of mighty trees!

(As he leaps he takes the hand of a frail adoring blonde, the heroine of many a mountaineering film, or perhaps the rebel maid. She clings to his side and looks adoringly into his eyes. The choir is loud now and there is music as well.) With my best girl by my side, we'd sing, sing, sing... (A fanfare is struck and the Lumberjack launches into song.) I'm a lumberjack, and I'm okay! I sleep all night and I work all day. (A small chorus of Canadian mounties has by now joined in.) Mounties: He's a lumberjack, and he's okay! 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 shoppin' and have buttered scones for tea. Mounties: He cuts down trees, he eats his lunch, he goes to the lavatory. On Wednesdays he goes shoppin' and has buttered scones for tea. All: He's a lumberjack, and he's okay. 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! Mounties: 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?! (They look confused, but keep singing) All: ...He's a lumberjack, and he's okay! He sleeps all night and he works all day! Lumberjack: I cut down trees, I wear high heels, suspendies and a bra! I wish I'd been a girlie, just like my dear papa! Mounties: He cuts down trees, he wears... high heels? Suspenders... and a bra?!

(The music cuts off as the mounties stop singing and begin instead to yell 'Pansie!' and such at the Lumberjack. The Lumberjack continues to sing over them. The Lumberjack assumes a majestic pose but it is of little use. He looks worriedly back and forth.) His Girl: Oh, Bevis! And I thought you were so BUTCH!! (She runs off crying, and the Mounties begin to pelt the Lumberjack with tomatoes, booing. He wipes them off his face as best he can, but they keep coming. Eventually he shuffles dejectedly out of the scene. We pan with him, and eventually see the announcer, who is being roasted by three old ladies on a spit.) Announcer: And now for something completely different. (Scene : A restaurant.) Man (Graham Chapman): Hello darling, sorry I'm so late. Wife (CC): That's all right darling. I'm twenty minutes late myself. Man: Well let's not start worrying about that yet. Wife: It's nice here, isn't it? Man: Oh yes, very good restaurant, five stars you know. Wife: Oh really? Man: Oh yes, terrific reputation Waiter (Terry Jones): Good evening, madam! Good evening, zir! Man: Thank you. Waiter: And may I say what a pleasure it is to see you 'ere again, zir! Man: Oh thank you. Apparently the boeuf en croute is fantastic. Waiter: If I may recommend, zir ... the pheasant a la reine, the sauce is one of the chefs most famous creations. Man: Em... that sounds very good. Wife: Sounds lovely. Man: Anyway darling, have a look at the menu... see what you want, take your time. Oh, er by the way I've got a bit of a dirty fork, could you get me another one please? Thank you. Waiter: I beg your pardon. Man: Uh, I've got a bit of a dirty fork. Could you get me another one please? Waiter: Oh zir! I do apologize. Man: Oh, no need to apologize, doesn't worry me.

Waiter: Oh no, no, no, I do apologize zir. I will fetch the 'ead waiter immediatement. Man: No no please, no need to do that! Waiter: Oh, no no no. I feel sure ze 'ead waiter, 'e will want to apologize to you himself, personally. I cannot think 'ow zis has happened. I will fetch him at once. Wife: Well, you certainly get good service here, don't you. Man: Yes, they really look after you here. Wife: Looks delicious. Head Waiter (Michael Palin): Excuse me sir and madam. (examines the fork) This is filthy! Who the hell washes up? (?) ... find out who washes up, and give them their cards immediately. No no, after the war we can't afford to take any chances. Sack!.. The entire washing-up staff! Man: Look please, I don't want to cause any trouble. Head Waiter: Oh, no please. It's quite right that you bring this sort of things to our attention. Ha ha ha. (?)! Find the manager and tell him what has happened immediately! (The Waiter runs off) Man: Please, I don't want to make any fuss. Head Waiter: Oh no, please, there's no fuss. We simply wish to ensure that nothing interferes with your complete enjoyment of the meal. Man: Oh I'm sure it won't, it was only a dirty fork. Ha ha. Head Waiter: I know. And I'm sorry. Bitterly sorry. But I know that nothing I can say can alter the fact, that in this restaurant you have been given a dirty, filthy, smelly piece of cutlery... Man: It wasn't smelly. Head Waiter: It is smelly, and obscene and disgusting and I hate it, I hate it, I hate it ... Manager (Eric Idle): Enough Gilberto. Head Waiter: ...dirty, nasty, smutty... Manager: Gilberto! Head Waiter: ...fork. (runs off in a passion as the manager comes to the table) Manager: Good evening, sir, good evening, madam. I am the manager. I've only just heard what's happened ... may I sit down? Man: Yes, yes of course. Manager: I want to apologize, humbly, deeply, and sincerely about the fork. Man: No no really, it's only a tiny piece of dirt. I mean, you could hardly see it anyway.

Manager: Ah you're good, kind, fine, people for saying that ...but I can see it. To me it's like a bolder, a vast bowl of pus. Man: Well it's not that bad. Manager: No! It gets me here. (Hits chest) I can't give you any excuses - there are no excuses. I've been meaning to spend more time in the restaurant, but I haven't been too well recently, and.. (emotionally) things have been going very badly back there. Poor old Mrs Dalrymple who prepares the salad can hardly move her poor, swollen fingers, and then of course, there's Gilberto's war wound - but they're good people, and they're fine people, and together we were beginning to get over this bad patch ... there was light at the end of the tunnel . .. when this . .. when this... happened! (collapses on the table and starts to sob) Man: Can I get you some water? Manager: (in tears) It's the end of the road!! (The cook comes in; he is very big and comes a meat cleaver. He growls a bit) Cook (John Cleese): (shouting) You bastards! Man: You mean us? Cook: You vicious, heartless bastards! (The man and wife laugh nervously) Look what you've done to him! He's worked his fingers to the bone to make this place what it is, and you come in here with your petty, vicious, heartless quibbling, and you grind him into the dirt!...This fine, honorable man, whose boots you are not worthy to kiss. Oh, it makes me mad... (slams cleaver into the table and starts to rub his head.) ...mad...mad...mad.. (The head waiter comes in and tries to restrain him. ) Head Waiter: Easy, Mungo, easy ... Cook: Stark stirring mad! Head Waiter: No Mungo!... (clutches his head in agony) Oh! Oh! The wound! Cook: They destroyed him! Manager: It's the end! The end! Aaargh!! (stabs himself with the fork) Cook: He's dead!! They killed him!!! (goes completely mad) Revenge! Revenge! (he grabs the cleaver) Head Waiter: (trying to restrain him) No Mungo!... never kill a customer. (in pain) Oh . .. the wound again! Cook: The wound again! (The French waiter, screaming, leaps over a table and tackles Mungo) (On the Screen a Caption appears - 'AND NOW THE PUNCH-LINE') Man: Lucky I didn't tell them about the dirty knife... Caption: A musical interlude.

(Show statue of man and woman kissing and man blowing through her to make sounds). Caption: Act II: How To Build Certain Interesting Things (Shows junk on a stage. Hammer pounds junk into a jail prisoner's arm with gun on a wheel. The arm becomes the robber's arm. Scene - a lingerie shop. The robber approaches the counter.) Robber (John Cleese): Ahem. (The assistant turns around) Good morning, I'm a bank robber. Er, please don't panic, just hand over all money. Assistant (Eric Idle): (politely) Uh, this is a lingerie shop, sir. (longish pause) Robber: Fine, fine. (slightly nonplused) Um.. adopt adapt and improve... well what have you got? Assistant: (still politely) Er, we've got corsets, stockings, suspender belts, tights, bras, slips, petticoats, knickers, socks and garters, sir. Robber: Fine, fine, fine. (pause) No large quantities of money in safes? Assistant: No, sir. Robber: No... piles of cash in easy to carry bags? Assistant: No, sir. (pause) Robber: Fine. Fine. Well, just a pair of panties then please. (The announcer appears to walk on the water of a moving river to his desk) Announcer: And now for something completely different. (Two people seated opposite each other at a desk. Between them there is a large window. It appears that they are quite high up in a large office building. They are both working busily. After a pause a body drops past the window. First Man talks. Second Man hasn't noticed.) First Man (Eric Idle): Hey, did you see that? Second Man (John Cleese): Hum? First Man: Did you see somebody go past the window? Second Man: What? First Man: Somebody just went past that window. Downwards. (indicates down) Second Man: (flatly) Oh. First Man: Oh.

(Second Man returns to his work. First Man looks for a little. As he starts to work again another body goes hurtling past the window.) First Man: Another one. Second Man: Huh? First Man: Another one just went past, downwards. Second Man: What? First Man: Two people have just fallen past that window. Second Man: Fine, fine. First Man: Look! Two people (another falls) three people have just fallen past that window. Second Man: Must be a board meeting. First Man: Oh yeah. (another falls past) That was Wilkins of finance. Second Man: No, that was Robertson. First Man: (sing-song) Wil-kins. Second Man: It was Robertson. First Man: Wilkins. Second Man: It was Robertson. (Another falls.) First Man: That was Wilkins. Second Man: Oh, yeh. First Man: It'll be Parkinson next. Second Man: Bet you it won't. First Man: How much. Second Man: What? First Man: How much do you bet it won't? Fiver? Second Man: Yeh, all right. First Man: Right. Done. (shakes) Your on. Parkinson next. (They look at the window) Come on Parky. Second Man: Don't be silly Parky. First Man: Come on Parky.

Second Man: Don't be stupid man! First Man: Come on man! Jump! (Cut to a hand writing a letter.) Voice Over: Dear Sir, I would like to complain about that last scene about people failing out of high buildings. I myself have worked all my life in such a building and have never once. (Cut to film of man falling out of window.) (show caterpillar climb over leaves, into house, bed. (Animated) And then show alarm ringing and the caterpillar comes out as a butterfly. Teddy R. lifts up the frame a little and says "Psst! All clear." Under is a snowy setting. Three men are walk into the snow. They rise up levitating one by one as they harmonize "vocational guidance counselor" as each one sings, the sun gets brighter. Office set. Man sitting at desk. Mr. Anchovy walks in.) Counselor (John Cleese): Ah Mr. Ahhh.... Anchovy. Do sit down. Anchovy (Michael Palin): Thank you. Take the weight off the feet, eh? Counselor: Yes. Anchovy: Lovely weather for the time of year, I must say. Counselor: Enough of this gay banter. Now Mr. Anchovy, you asked us to advise you which job in life you were best suited for. Anchovy: That is correct. Counselor: Well I have the results here of all the interviews and the aptitude tests that you took last week, and from them we've built up a pretty clear... impression of the sort of person that you are. And I think I can say, without fear of contradiction, that the ideal job for you is accountancy. Anchovy: But I am a accountant. Counselor: Jolly good. Well back to the office with you then. Anchovy: No! No! You don't understand. I've been an accountant for the last twenty years. But I want a new job. Something exciting that will let me live. Counselor: Well accountancy's quite exciting isn't it? Anchovy: Exciting? No it's not. It's dull, dull, dull, my God it's dull! It's so deadly dull and tedious and stuffy and boring and des-per-ate-ly DULL. I can't stand it any longer! I want to live! Counselor: Well, yes Mr Anchovy, but you see in your report here it says that you are an extremely dull person. Um... our experts describe you as an appallingly dull fellow, unimaginative, timid, spineless, easily dominated, no sense of humor, tedious company and irrepressibly drab and awful. And whereas in most professions these would be considerable drawbacks, in accountancy they are a positive boon. Anchovy: Yes, don't you see, I'm only as awful as this because accountancy does this to people. Can't you help me?

Counselor: Well, do you have any idea of what you want to be? Anchovy: Yes, yes I have. Counselor: What is it? Anchovy: (boldly) A lion tamer! Counselor: Yes. Of course, it's a bit of a jump isn't it? Accountancy to lion taming in one go. You don't think it might be better to work your way towards lion taming, say, via banking, or insurance... Anchovy: No. No. I don't want to wait. No. I want to start immediately. Tomorrow morning at nine I want to be in there, taming. Counselor: Yes, but what qualifications do you have? Anchovy: I've got a hat. Counselor: A hat? Anchovy: 'Yes. A lion taming hat. A hat with 'lion tamer' written on it. And it lights up saying 'lion tamer' in big red neon letters, so you can tame them after dark when they're less stroppy. Counselor: I see. Anchovy: And during the day you can switch it off and save electricity, and you can claim it as reasonable wear and tear under allowable professional expenses under paragraph 335B... Counselor: Yes, yes, yes, I follow, but you see, uh the snag is if I now call the circus and say to them, 'look here, I've got a forty-five-year-old accountant with me who wants to become a lion tamer', their first question is not going to be 'does he have his own hat?' They're more likely to ask what experience you've had with lions. Anchovy: Well I, I've seen them at the zoo. Counselor: Good. Anchovy: Yes, yes. Little brown furry creatures with short stumpy legs and great long noses. I could tame one of those. I don't know what all the fuss is about. They look pretty tame to start with. Ha ha ha ha! Counselor: And these lions, um ... how high are they? Anchovy: (indicating a height of one foot) Oh, about so high. They don't frighten me at all. Counselor: Uh huh. And do these lions eat ants? Anchovy: Yes, that's right. Counselor: Well, um I'm afraid what you've got hold of there Mr. Anchovy is an anteater. Anchovy: A what?

Counselor: An anteater. Not a lion. You see a lion is a huge savage beast, about ten feet long, five feet high, with masses of sharp pointy teeth and nasty long razor-sharp claws, and it look's like this. (There is a film clip of a lion. Mr. Anchovy screams.) Counselor: Now, shall I call the circus? Anchovy: No! No, no. I like your idea of, of making the move, um to lion taming via easy stages, say via insurance, or, or banking. Counselor: Banking? Anchovy: Banking, yes, banking, I see it now. It's a man's life, isn't it? Travel, excitement, decisions affecting people's lives, romance, thrills. Counselor: I'll put you in touch with a bank. Anchovy: Yes. (nervous pause as the counselor dials the rotary phone.) Anchovy: Er... Probably, probably, You know, er I'd like a couple of days to think about it, 'cause it is a big decision... er... Or, or maybe, maybe a week at most, you know. But I do want to make this decision to be the right one. I'd like to do banking, obviously. (continues muttering nervously to himself) Counselor: (turning to camera) It's sad, isn't it? But this is what accountancy does to people. The only way that we can fight this terrible debilitating social disease... Anchovy:I only want to be famous! I only want to see my name in lights! Fairy (Eric Idle): And so you shall! (scene-a game show set. There is a sign saying "Herbert Anchovy Presents BLACKMAIL." Anchovy is siting stunned at the announcer desk wearing a sequined suit.) Man: Cue! (Music up. Anchovy slowly removes his glasses and moustache and snaps into announcer mode.) Anchovy: Hello good evening and welcome, to BLACKMAIL! And to start tonight's program we go north to Preston and Lancashire and Mrs. Betty Teal! Hello Mrs. Teal. Now Mrs. Teal, this is for 15 pounds: and is to stop us revealing the name of your lover in Bolton! So, Mrs. Teal, send us 15 pounds, by return of post please, and your husband Trevor, and your lovely children Diane, Janice, and Juliet, need never know the name of your lover in Bolton. (applause; organ music. Shot of the organist, who is stark naked, save a tie and collar, and has an Afro.) And now: a letter, a series of photographs, and a hotel registration book, which could add up to divorce, premature retirement, and possible criminal proceedings for a company director in Bromsgrove. He's a freemason, and a conservative M.P., so Mr. S of Bromsgrove, that's 3,000 pounds please to stop us revealing your name, the name of the three other people involved, the youth organization to which they belonged, and the shop where you bought the equipment.

(organ music. shot of organist. Picture of two pair male feet.) Well, we'll be showing you more of that photograph later in the program, unless we hear from Charles or Michael. Now it's time for our Stop the Film spot. The rules are very simple. We have taken a film which contains compromising scenes and unpleasant details which could wreck a man's career. But the victim may 'phone me at any time, and stop the film. But don't forget, the money increases as the film goes on, so the longer you leave it, the *more* you have to pay! So, with the clock at 300 pounds, this week's Stop the Film visited Thames Ditton. (music. film of man going to lady's house. The money steadily increases by 300 pounds every couple seconds. Anchovy nods. They go up stairs and undress.) Anchovy: He's a very brave man. (The film shows the women getting out a whip. 'Phone rings. Film stops. Applause) (picking up 'phone) No I'm sure you didn't, sir... No,that's alright, we don't morally censure, we just want the money...and here's the address to send it to. (caption and drum roll) BLACKMAIL BEHIND THE HOT WATER PIPES THIRD WASHROOM ALONG VICTORIA STATION Anchovy: Thank *you* sir. (See colonel put down a phone). Colonel; Uh... there you are. (ahem) Well, that's quite enough of that. And now...(searches for paper) a, a local civic group reenacts a famous scene from history. This week the town's woman's guild of Sheffield in Yorkshire. (Cut to a muddy comer of a field. Miss Rita Fairbanks stands talking straight to camera. Behind her lurk five more pepperpots.) Voice over (Graham Chapman): Miss Rita Fairbanks - you organized this representation of the Battle of Pearl Harbor - why? Rita (Eric Idle): Well we've always been extremely interested in modern works. Uh, we were the first Towns women's Guild to perform 'Camp On Blood Island', and of course last year we did our extremely popular reenactment of 'Nazi War Atrocities'. So this year we thought we'd do something in a much lighter vein... Voice over: Well I can see you're all ready to go. So I'll just wish you good luck in your latest venture The Battle of Pearl Harbor Rita: Thank you very much indeed, young man. (She blows a whistle and the two sides set about each other with handbags etc., speeded up 50% just to give it a bit of edge...)

Caption: And Now A Romantic Interlude (Romantic music. Man and Woman sitting on bed stripping very, very slowly and kissing passionately) Woman: Oh! Oh! Brian. Man: Oh, Elsa. Woman: Oh! Oh! Brian! Man: Oh, Elsa. Woman: Oh! Oh! Brian! Man: Oh, Elsa. Woman: Oh! Be gentle... with me. (Cut to sexually-suggestive film bits with Nixon thrown in as a non-sequitur. After about a minute cut back to bed). Woman: Oh, Brian! Are you going to do anything, or are you just going to show me films all evening? Man: Just one more, dear. Caption - Titane-Mammoth Productions present The upper class twit of the year (Pan out to show man holding sign. Scene: Sporting Field, in particular a running track. Five competitors run onto the pitch. Silly music.) Commentator (John Cleese): Good afternoon and welcome to Bamby(?) Park. You join us just as the competitors are running out onto the field on this lovely winter's afternoon, with the going firm underfoot and very little sign of rain. And it looks as though we're in for a splendid afternoon's sport on this, the I27th Upper class Twit of the Year Show. And there's a big crowd here today to see these prize idiots in action. (camera zooms in on the competitors) Vivian Smith-Smythe-Smith, he's in the Guenevier(?) guards and he can count up to four. Simon-Zinc-Trumpet-Harris, he's an old Italian and married to a very attractive table lamp. Nigel Incubator-Jones, his best friend is a tree, and in his spare time he's a stockbroker. Gervaise Brook-Hampster, he's in the wine trade, and his father uses him as a wastepaper basket™ And finally Oliver St John-Mollusc, another old Italian, his father was a cabinet minister and his mother won the derby and he's thought by many to be this year's outstanding twit. And now, the twits are moving up to the starting line, and and moment now they'll be under starter's orders ... Ah, I'm afraid they're facing the wrong way but the starter will soon sort this out and any moment now we're going to have the big off. This is always a tense moment... And they're off! (the starter fires the gun, but nobody moves) No, no they're not. No they didn't realize that they had to start with the gun. Wait, never mind, I think the starter is explaining it to them now. Yes, several of them are getting the point and beginning again, (starter fires gun again and the twits move offer in different directions) and they're off again this time, yes it's a really fast start. And it's Vivian going straight for the lead, Oliver's running rather wide to the right. Where's he gone? There he is, and to the left, they'll soon pick up the idea, there we are and into the first event which is walking along the straight line. (All the Twits run erratically along five white lines)

The twits have to walk along these lines without failing over. Ah, this is Oliver's worst event. He's having a little trouble in the back, Simon's coming though fast, Nigel's coming though, Vivian. Oh! And Oliver's fallen over! Oliver's over in the back, never mind he'll get up and have another go he's a great fighter this lad he's having, oh dear, never mind. Well, we've come to the second event now which is the match box jump. Two layers of match boxes for the twits to clear, Nigel's over and Simon's over, a wonderful jump and Vivian...Vivian has refused! And now it's kicking the beggar and Nigel to put the boot(?) in there oh beautifully placed and another and a third and the beggar is down and the crowd really love that. And here we are, it's Oliver, he hasn't cleared the jump yet, having a little trouble with the old brain problem oh if only his father could understand. And now it's running over the old lady. It's Simon it the lead and he's got her beautifully right in the midriff accelerating forward now. Oh and back to Oliver. Oh, he's a magnificent this man, he doesn't know when he's beaten, he doesn't know when he's winning either, he has no sort of sensory apparatus known to man. Bad luck Oliver! And now it's waking the neighbors. Simon's there in the front of the field, and he's slamming that door, and he's woken the neighbor. Simon's though clean into first place and the crowd are really excited at this moment. And now it's shooting the rabbits. These rabbits have been carefully staked down to the ground so they can't move around to much as this is only a one day event... There's a bit of mist there which I think is causing the twits a bit of trouble... and Gervaise is using the butt of his rifle and Vivian's going him with a fist and Gervaise is first away and Oliver has run himself over! What a great twit! And now it's taking the bras off the debutantes from the back. This is a particularly difficult event for most of the twits, one of the ones that takes the most time on this extremely exacting course and the crowd is getting excited and I think some of the twits are getting rather excited too. And it's Simon, it's Simon into the lead closely followed by Nigel. And it's the final event now, they have to shoot themselves to become upper class twit of the year. Simon can't get the bra off his finger. It's Nigel there (Bang) Nigel misses (Bang) Simon's missing. Nigel misses again. (lots of Bangs) and Gervaise has shot himself! Gervaise is upper class twit of the year. Vivian is there, he's not having any luck. Simon shoots...Simon has shot Vivian! Simon has shot Vivian into second place. And Simon shoots himself, Simon is third and Nigel, Nigel clubs himself into fourth place. And so, the final result. 1st and upper class twit of the year- Gervaise Brook-Hampster of Kensington, runner up-Vivian Smith-Smythe-Smith of Mayfair, and 3rd-Simon-Zinc-Trumpet-Harris of Kensington. Well, there'll certainly be some car door slamming in the streets of Kensington tonight! (Very silly end credits with the main theme "liberty bell march". Real credits this time.) Caption - The End ___________________________________________________________________________________ MONTY PYTHON'S AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT

The Python team: (Back row): Graham Chapman, Eric Idle, Terry Gilliam. (Front row): Terry Jones, John Cleese, Michael Palin. Monty Python, or The Pythons, is the collective name of the six creators of Monty Python's Flying Circus, a British television comedy sketch show that first aired on the BBC on 5 October 1969. A total of 45 episodes were made over four series (seasons). The Python phenomenon developed from the original television series into something much larger in scope and impact, spawning touring stage shows, five theatrically-released films, numerous albums, several books and a spin-off stage musical, and launching the members on to individual stardom. The television series, broadcast by the BBC from 1969 to 1974, was conceived, written and performed by Graham Chapman, John Cleese, Terry Gilliam, Eric Idle, Terry Jones, and Michael Palin. Loosely structured as a sketch show but with an innovative stream-of-consciousness approach (aided by Terry Gilliam's animations), it pushed the boundaries of what was then considered acceptable, both in terms of style and content. The group's influence on comedy has often been compared to The Beatles' influence on music (The Beatles also happened to be fans of the troupe, and George Harrison went on to produce one of their films). A self-contained comedy team responsible for both writing and performing their work, they changed the way performers entertained audiences. The Pythons' creative control allowed them to experiment with form and content, discarding the established rules of television comedy. Their influence on British comedy of all kinds has been apparent for many years, while in America it has coloured the work of many cult performers from the early editions of Saturday Night Live through to more recent absurdist trends in television comedy. "Pythonesque" has entered the English lexicon as a result. There are differing accounts of the origins of the Python name although the members agree that its only "significance" was that they thought it sounded funny. In the 1998 documentary Live At Aspen the group implied that "Monty" was selected as a gently-mocking tribute to Field Marshal Lord Montgomery, a legendary British general of World War II; requiring a "slippery-sounding" surname, they settled on "Python". On other occasions Idle has claimed that the name "Monty" was that of a popular and rotund fellow who drank in his local pub; people would often walk in and ask the barman, "Has Monty been in yet?", forcing the name to become stuck in his mind. In a 2005 poll to find The Comedian's Comedian, three of the six members were voted among the top 50 greatest comedians ever, by fellow comedians and comedy insiders. Palin was at number 30, Idle was voted 21st and Cleese was at two, just beaten to the top by Peter Cook. ___________________________________________________________________________________