Monty Python's Personal Best (2006) s01e03 Episode Script
John Cleese's Personal Best
Once upon a time, long, long ago there lay in a valley far, far away in the mountains the most contented kingdom the world has ever known.
It was called Happy Valley and it was ruled over by a wise old king called Otto.
And all his subjects flourished and were happy and there were no discontents or grumblers because wise King Otto had had them all put to death along with the trade-union leaders, many years before.
And all the good, happy folk of Happy Valley sang and danced all day long and anyone who was for any reason miserable or unhappy or who had any difficult personal problems was prosecuted under the Happiness Act.
Caspar Schlitz, I put it to you that you were on February the 5th of this year very depressed with malice aforethought and did moan quietly, contrary to the Cheerful Noises Act.
I did.
May I just explain, my lud that the reason for my client's behaviour was that his wife had just died that morning.
Members of the jury, have you reached your verdict? Guilty.
I hereby sentence you to be hanged by the neck until you cheer up.
While the good folk of Happy Valley tenaciously frolicked away their wise old king, who was a merry old thing played strange songs on his Hammond organ all day long up in the beautiful castle where he lived with his gracious Queen Syllabub and their lovely daughter Mitzi Gaynor who had fabulous tits and an enchanting smile and a fine wit and wooden teeth she'd bought in a chemist's in Augsburg despite the fire risk.
She treasured these teeth, which were made of the finest pine and she varnished them after every meal.
And next to her teeth, her dearest love was her pet rabbit Herman.
She would take Herman for walks, and pet and fuss over him all day.
And she would visit the royal kitchens and steal him tasty tidbits which he never ate, because, sadly, he was dead and no one had the heart to tell her because she was so sweet and innocent and knew nothing of death or gastroenteritis, or even plastic hip joints.
One day, when she was romping with Herman she suddenly set eyes on the most beautiful young man she had ever seen, and fell deeply in love with him naturally assuming him to be a prince.
Well, fortunately he was a prince, so she found him in the book, which her mother always made her carry and learned his name, and went and introduced herself and the subject of marriage.
And he fell deeply in love with her and, in what seemed like the twinkling of an eye but was, in fact, a fortnight they were in her father's lounge, asking his permission to marry.
- Daddy.
- Yes, daughter.
We have something to ask you.
A request.
Sir, may I have your daughter's hand in marriage? Well, I don't know it, but if you hum it I'll soon pick it up.
No, sir, I really do wish to marry your daughter, sir.
- Are you a prince? - Yes, sir.
- Is he in the book? - Yes, Daddy.
- Do you really love my daughter? - I do.
Well, in that case, I must set you a task to prove you're worthy of her hand in marriage.
I accept.
You must climb to the highest part of the castle first thing tomorrow morning, armed only with your sword and jump out of the window.
Hey, look, there he is.
Can we get married now, Daddy? I'm afraid not, daughter, he wasn't worthy of you.
Oh, Daddy.
Will he have to go into the ground like all the others? Come on, Herman.
And so Mitzi and Herman went down to the river bank to see if they could find another prince.
Everyone was fishing that day, the carpenter and the candlemaker and the blacksmith and the window-dresser and his friend and the hangman and all his apprentices and the secret policeman and the narcotics salesman and his auntie but not a prince for miles.
Until Mitzi's eyes suddenly spotted the slightest flash of gold underneath a weeping willow tree, and there, sure enough, was a prince.
He was rather thin and spotty, with a long nose and bandy legs and nasty, unpolished plywood teeth.
"But," thought Mitzi, "a prince is a prince.
" And she fell in love with him without another thought.
And after a time or a few times anyway he too fell in love with her.
And very soon they were on their way to ask King Otto's permission to wed as this prince didn't read the newspapers any more than any of the others did decadent, dim-witted, parasitic little bastards that they were.
What?! Oh, hello, darling.
This is my mother, the queen, and this is This is my new algebra teacher, Dr.
Erasmus.
Hello there.
Don't stare, darling.
And who is this? Oh, this is Prince Walter.
We were just going to ask Daddy's permission to get married.
Well, I want to talk to him about that.
I'll see you about the binomial theorem in the woodshed at 8:00, Dr.
Erasmus.
- I'll bring the baby oil, queen.
- Yes.
Does Daddy like Dr.
Erasmus? I wouldn't mention him, darling.
He's a bit funny about darker people.
I know nothing of racial prejudice.
Good.
Well, I'll talk to him first.
Stop that and listen to me! Now! Plug my organ in.
That's a joke.
Now, listen to me.
- What, what is it? - Got something important to tell you.
Mitzi's coming in a moment with another prince.
Look, don't start that again! Princes.
Well, there soon won't be any left, thanks to you.
Now just you make sure you make that task nice and easy otherwise I'll smash your organ! - Can I play at the wedding? - Yes! All right, all right.
I could play that one about: The king is ready to see you now.
- Hello, Daddy.
- Come in, child.
This is Prince Walter.
- Is he in the book? - Yes.
Hello, Walter.
Prince Walter.
Oh, so sorry! So you want to marry my daughter, do you? Perhaps.
Oh, say you do, and wing me such joy as I've never tasted before.
Yeah, all right.
All right, first I must set you a task so you prove yourself worthy of my daughter's hand in marriage.
Why? Because she's a fucking princess, that's why! You must go tomorrow morning to the highest part of the castle You must go Go down to the shops and get me 20 Rothmans.
- What, now? - Tomorrow morning.
And so, early next morning all the happy villagers were gathered to watch Prince Walter set off on his quest.
Here are your fags.
- Thank you, Walter.
- Prince Walter.
Loyal subjects, faithful followers this is indeed a proud moment for the queen and myself.
For this is the moment when Princess Mitzi marries Prince Walter.
But first, a little number I've written, entitled: Halt.
Halt.
Halt, I prithee, gentle king.
Belt up! I am Prince Charming from the Kingdom of the Golden Lakes, sir king.
Page four in the book.
And I crave the hand of your beautiful daughter Princess Mitzi.
- You're too late.
- What? - I've got her, Charming, now buzz off.
Wait a minute.
Mitzi is not betrothed yet.
What? He said if I went and got him 20 Rothmans, I could have her.
Got you 20 Rothmans? Well, I had to go down the town.
- For Princess Mitzi? - Yes.
For this priceless treasure? For this most perfect of all God's creatures? I think I'm falling in love again.
For this finest and most delicate flower in this geographical area I will face in mortal combat that most dreaded of all creatures.
A dragon? And I shall slay it, single-handed to prove myself worthy of your enchanting daughter, oh, king.
- I accept.
- What? - I accept.
Tomorrow morning, then.
- Where's he gonna get a dragon? I provide my own.
Hooray! Loyal subjects by virtue of Prince Charming's noble deed I now consent to give him Princess Mitzi's hand in marriage.
But first, the B-side of my latest single.
I'll be revenged on the lot of you.
Nobody in Happy Valley worried about Prince Walter's threats and the joyous day soon arrived for the royal wedding.
Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join together this man, Prince Charming and this woman, Princess Mitzi Gaynor in holy matrimony.
If there be anyone who knoweth just cause or impediment why these two should not be joined together Christ! Yes, 'tis I, the wicked witch.
Be quiet, you fools! Witch, you commit sacrilege by your very presence here.
I command you in the name of the Good Book to leave this holy place forthwith.
- Shut up! - Sorry.
Sorry, witch.
Now, where's the king? Where's the king? Oh, me.
I'm terribly sorry.
I was miles away.
Yes? I forbid this marriage to take place.
- You forbid it? - Who are you? I'm the lord chancellor, you impudent old hag! How dare you speak thus to our? Mitzi marries Prince Walter or I curse the lot of you! Mitzi marries Prince Charming.
I'm warning you.
Carry on with the ceremony.
Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today Very well.
I hereby change every single person in this cathedral into chickens! Except me! Oh, bugger.
Today I'll be interviewing legendary British comedian Mr.
John Cleese about his favourite moments from the Monty Python television series.
This is the first time in decades the reclusive 96-year-old has agreed to be interviewed, at his beautiful Santa Barbara ranch.
Come and sit down, my dear.
- Thank you, thank you.
- Thank you.
So tell me, do you think fondly of your time with the Monty Python group? Well, we had to get them changed because they were clockwork.
No, Monty Python.
Wait, wait a minute.
Leave me alone! That's it.
Well, I'm afraid I hold rather strong views about gay marriage.
- You see, when God created - No, no.
Adam and Eve - Monty Python.
We wanna know about some of your favourite sketches.
My entire life consists of people coming up to me and telling me what their favourite bloody Monty Python sketch is.
- I don't give a stuff what they - No, your favourite sketch.
We wanna know so we can see them again.
Did you like the silly-walk sketch? Rubbish, very poor.
- Okay, what about - There was a sketch young Eric Rutle wrote I liked, about theology.
- Theology.
- Theology.
Good evening, and welcome once again to The Epilogue.
On the program this evening we have Monsignor Edward Gay first visiting pastoral emissary of the Somerset Theological College and author of a number of books about belief the most recent of which is the bestseller, My God.
Good evening.
And opposite him we have Dr.
Tom Jack humanist, broadcaster, lecturer and author.
Tonight Tonight, instead of discussing the existence or nonexistence of God they have decided to fight for it.
The existence, or nonexistence, to be determined by two falls, two submissions, or a knockout.
All right, boys, let's get to it.
Your master of ceremonies for this evening, Mr.
Arthur Waring.
Good evening ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to a three-round contest of The Epilogue.
Introducing, on my right, in the blue corner appearing for Jehovah the ever-popular Monsignor Eddie Gay.
And on my left, in the red corner author of the books The Problems of Kierkegaard and Hello, Sailor and visiting professor of modern theological philosophy at the University of East Anglia from Wigan, Dr.
Tom Jack.
Now Dr Dr.
Jack has got a flying mare there.
A flying mare there.
And what's he doing? This is gonna be a full body slam.
A full body slam there.
Though we are leaving The Epilogue for the moment we'll be bringing you the result of this discussion later in the program.
Doctor! Doctor! Doctor! Doctor! Doctor! Doctor! Doc Hello.
Are you the brain specialist? Hello.
Are you the brain specialist? No, no, I am not the brain specialist.
No, no, I am not Yes! Yes, I am.
My brain hurts.
Well, let's take a look at it, Mr.
Gumby.
No, no, no, my brain in my head.
It will have to come out.
Glasses.
Moustache.
Handkerchief.
I'm going to operate! Operate! Operate! Operate! Get better, brain! Get better, brain! - Get better, brain! - Hello! We forgot the anesthetic! - The anesthetic! - Anesthetic! Anesthetic! I've come to anaesthetize you.
Tell me about your writing partner, Graham Chapman.
Well, he was a shirt-lifter, you know.
Yes, and a booze hound.
Half the time he was dead drunk.
Then he stopped being drunk and started being dead.
Still takes the royalties, though, lazy bum.
Is there a particular sketch? You know, dying is often a cry for attention.
Did you know that? Is there a particular sketch you'd like to remember Graham Chapman by? No, good riddance.
Actually, I liked it when he came in as the colonel, saying: "Stop this sketch.
It's getting too silly.
" The whole premise is silly and it's badly written.
Or, other thing.
Loved it when he said: "Carry on, sergeant.
" Carry on, sergeant major.
Sir! - Good evening, class.
- Good evening.
Where's all the others? - Not here.
- I can see that.
- What's the matter with them? - Don't know.
- Perhaps they've got flu.
- Flu.
Flu? They've been eating too much fresh fruit.
Right.
Now, self-defence.
Tonight I shall be carrying on from where I got to last week when I was showing you how to defend yourself against anyone who attacks you armed with a piece of fresh fruit.
You promised you wouldn't do fruit this week.
- What do you mean? - We've done fruit for nine weeks.
What's wrong with fruit? You think you know it all, eh? Well, can't we do something else? Like someone who attacks you with a pointed stick.
Pointed sticks? We want to learn how to defend ourselves against pointed sticks, do we? Getting all high and mighty, eh? Fresh fruit not good enough for you, eh? Well, I'll tell you something, my lad.
When you're walking home tonight and some homicidal maniac comes after you with a bunch of loganberries, don't come crying to me.
Right, the passion fruit.
When your assailant lunges at you with a passion fruit, thus We've done the passion fruit.
- What? - We've done the passion fruit.
We've done oranges, apples, grapefruits.
- Whole and segments.
- Pomegranates, greengages.
- Grapes, passion fruits.
- Lemons.
- Plums.
- Yeah, and mangoes in syrup.
- How about cherries? - We done them.
- Red and black? - Yes.
All right, then.
Bananas! - We haven't done them, have we? - No.
Right! Bananas! How to defend yourself against a man armed with a banana.
Here, you, take this.
Now, it's quite simple to defend yourself against the banana fiend.
First of all, you force him to drop the banana.
Next, you eat the banana, thus disarming him.
You have now rendered him helpless.
Suppose he's got a bunch.
- Shut up! - Supposing he's got a pointed stick.
Shut up.
Right.
Now, you, Mr.
Apricot.
- Harrison.
- Harrison, Mr.
Harrison.
Come at me with that banana.
Come attack me with it.
As hard as you like.
Come on.
Come No, no, no.
Put something into it for God's sake.
Hold it like that: Scream.
Now, come on.
Come on, attack me.
Come on, come on, come on.
Now Now I eat the banana.
- He's dead.
- You shot him.
He's completely dead.
I have now eaten the banana.
The deceased Mr.
Apricot is now disarmed.
You shot him dead.
He was attacking me with a banana.
- Well, you told him to.
- Look, I'm only doing me job.
I have to show you how to defend against fresh fruit.
- And pointed sticks.
- Shut up.
Supposing someone come at you with a banana and you haven't got a gun? - Run for it.
- You could stand and scream for help.
Yeah, yeah, you try that with a pineapple down your windpipe.
- A pineapple? - Where? Where? Where? Nowhere, I was just saying "pineapple.
" I thought my number was on that one.
- What, on the pineapple? - Where? Where? - No, I was just repeating it.
- Oh.
Oh, I see.
Right.
That's the banana, then.
Next, the raspberry.
Harmless-looking thing, isn't it? - Now you, Mr.
Tinned Peach.
- Thompson.
Mr.
Thompson, come at me with that raspberry.
Come on, be as vicious as you like with it.
- No.
- Why not? - You'll shoot me.
- I won't.
- Well, you shot Mr.
Harrison.
- That was self-defence.
Come on.
I promise I won't shoot you.
- Throw the gun away.
- I haven't got one.
- Oh, yes, you have.
- I haven't.
- You do.
You shot Mr.
Harrison with it.
- Oh, that gun.
- Throw it away.
- All right.
How to defend yourself against a raspberry, without a gun.
- You were going to shoot me! - I wasn't.
I wasn't.
- You were.
- No, I wasn't.
I wasn't.
Come on.
Come on, you worm.
You miserable little man.
Come at me, then.
Come on, do your worst, you worm.
Now to the exploding version of The Blue Danube.
Some people say there was a lot of violence in Monty Python.
Was there perhaps too much? Nurse! Well, life is violent, you see.
I mean, it's all around us.
You simply can't escape it.
See? It's a perfect example of what I'm saying.
Shut up! See, people enjoy violence, you know, it's in our genes.
I mean, whoever said " blessed are the meek" had clearly lost the plot.
No, no, it's It's nature, red in tooth and claw.
Actually, we did a very good sketch about Shut up! I'm being interviewed.
Here, in a colony of sea lions, we see a huge bull sea lion seeing off an intruding bull.
This pattern of aggressive behaviour is typical of these documentaries.
Here we see an ant.
This ant is engaged in a life-or-death struggle with the wolf.
You can see the ant creeping up on the wolf on all sixes.
With great skill he chooses his moment and then quick as a limpet, with one mighty bound buries his fangs in the wolf's neck.
The wolf struggles to no avail.
A battle of this kind can take anything up to 15 years because the timber ant has such a tiny mouth.
Here we see Heinz Sielmann engaged in a life-or-death struggle with Peter Scott.
They are engaged in a bitter punch-up over repeat fees on the overseas sales of their nature documentaries.
Now they have been joined by an enraged Jacques Cousteau.
This is typical of the harsh and bitchy world of television features.
Here we see a pantomime horse.
It's engaged in a life-or-death struggle for a job with a merchant bank.
However, his rival employee, the huge bull pantomime horse is lying in wait for him.
Poor pantomime horse.
Here we see a pantomime goose engaged in a life-or-death struggle with Terence Rattigan.
The enraged goose fires.
Poor Terence.
Another victim of this silly film.
Here we see an enraged pantomime Princess Margaret.
She is lying in wait for her breakfast.
The unsuspecting breakfast glides ever closer to its doom.
The enraged pantomime royal person is poised for the kill.
She raises her harpoon and fires.
Right in the toast.
A brief struggle and all is over.
You have been criticized for your portrayal of women in Monty Python.
- How do you mean? - They're either sex symbols or half-crazed housewives who screech a lot.
Fair point, but, you see, that has been my experience of women in real life.
I mean, they're either rather repulsive, argumentative old bags or colossal bimbos.
Excuse me.
Present company excepted, of course.
But, I mean, take my present wife My fifth, or is this the sixth? Suki! She is the dimmest of the dim.
I love you, darling! Great sense of humour, and, of course, fabulous breasts.
Does Does Suki have a favourite Monty Python sketch? Well, she likes anything with a car chase.
Was Sir Walter Scott loony, or was he the greatest flowering of the early 19th-century Romantic tradition? The most underestimated novelist of the 19th century or merely a disillusioned and embittered man? Excuse me, can I borrow that, please? - Yes.
- Thank you.
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.
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? For who are the casualties? For this was Sir Walter Scott's country.
In many of his finest romances, such as Guy Mannering or Red - Give that back.
- No.
Scott showed himself to be The spruces and flowers of this forest will be used to create a 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.
- Much of Scott's greatest work I'm thinking of Heart of Midlothian and Old Mortality, for example.
- Was concerned with preserving the life and conditions of Forestry research here has shown that a wholly synthetic soft-timber fibre can be created, leaving the harder trees, the oaks the beeches and the larches, and the pines and even some of the deciduous hardwoods.
This new fibre would replace the plywoods, hardboards and chipboards at present dominating the In the Waverley novels, Scott was constantly concerned to protect a way of life, safeguarding nationalist traditions and aspirations within the necessary limitations of the gothic novel - Developments in reinforced timber - Scott lived in Abbotsford in the country - Maplewood appears A subjugated country has - Canadian timber exports - Which was still recovering from the effects of two unsuccessful Jacobite rebellions - And also - Decline in hardwoods Scott was at pains to emphasize the - Oh, good, that'll be the vet, dear.
- I'd better go and let him in.
It's the vet, dear.
Very glad indeed you could come around, sir.
Not at all.
Now, what seems to be the problem? You can tell me.
I'm a vet, you know.
See? Tell him, dear.
- Well - It's our cat.
He doesn't do anything.
He just sits out there on the lawn.
Are you at your wits' end? Definitely, yes.
Well, I think I may be able to help you.
You see Your cat is suffering from what we vets haven't found a word for.
To be blunt, your cat is in a rut.
Stockbroker syndrome, the suburban fin de siècle ennui.
Angst, Weltschmerz, call it what you will.
- Moping.
- In a way, in a way.
Moping, I must remember that.
Now, what's to be done? Tell me, sir, have you confused your cat recently? - Well, we - No.
Well, I think I can definitely say that your cat badly needs to be confused.
Squad.
Eyes front.
Well, men, we've got a difficult cat to confuse today so let's get on with it.
- Jolly good, sir.
Thank you, sergeant.
Confusers! Get into the van and fetch it out.
Wait for it.
Fetch out the funny things.
Move, move, move.
One, two, one, two.
Get those funny things off.
Stage ready for confusing, sir! Right, men, confuse the cat.
I hope to God it works.
Anyway, we shall know any minute now.
Oh, I can't believe it.
It's all in a day's work for Confuse-A-Cat.
So is there one thing you'd like to remembered by? Well, yes, there is one, you know.
When I'm gone, I'd like my friends to say: "You know, old Cleesey had his faults but he did have the most enormous dick.
" I mean the sketch.
Oh, I'm sorry.
Well, the "Cheese Shop," obviously.
It's long.
I mean, the sketch, I mean.
Well, yes, but we can have a little bit, can't we? Please? - Do you have any cheese at all? - No.
What a senseless waste of human life.
Good evening.
I have with me in the studio tonight one of the country's leading skin specialists Raymond Luxury Yacht.
- That's not my name.
I'm sorry.
Raymond Luxury Yacht.
No, no, no, it's spelled Raymond Luxury Yacht but it's pronounced "Throat Wobbler Mangrove.
" You're a silly man.
I'm not going to interview you.
- Anti-Semitism! - Not at all.
It's not even a proper nose.
- It's polystyrene.
- Give me my nose back.
Collect it at reception.
Now go away.
- I want to be on television.
- Well, you can't.
Monty Python's often been called anti-Semitic.
- Is that unfair? - No.
No, Python was and always will be anti-Semitic.
And anti-French, anti-German, anti-dago anti-English-upper-class and bloody working class too anti-American, anti-Danish and anti-Belgians.
My God, have we got it in for them.
Greedy pseudo-French bastards! Phlegmy truffle-mongers! I mean, they make my blood boil! - Did you mention the Belgians? - I didn't mention Go away! Belgian! So if anyone Jewish claims Monty Python is anti-Semitic I'd say they were building their part up.
Anyway, Michael Palin is Jewish for goodness' sake.
- Michael Palin? Oh, I think so, don't you? I know he hasn't come out yet, but he looks Jewish and the name Michael's a bit of a giveaway.
Anyway he's a good friend of mine, as are many other Semitics.
Although I don't think he's a good comedian.
- You don't? - Well, I don't mean he's bad he's just not especially good.
You know? Is that harsh? You know, he was quite good at introductions.
Perhaps we could see Michael doing an introduction.
Now for news of the artistic event when Pablo Picasso is doing a commissioned painting for us whilst riding a bicycle.
Pablo Picasso, the founder of modern art without doubt the greatest abstract painter ever.
For the first time, painting in motion.
But first of all, let's have a look at the route he'll be taking.
Well, Picasso will be starting, David, at Chichester here.
He'll then cycle on the A29 to Fontwell.
He'll then take the A272 which will bring him onto the A3 just north of Hindhead here.
From then on Pablo has a straight run on the A3 until he meets the South Circular at Battersea here.
Well, this is a truly remarkable occasion as it is the first time that a modern artist of such stature has taken the A272.
And it'll be very interesting to see how he copes with the heavy traffic round Wisborough Green.
- Vicky.
- Now, for the latest on Picasso over to Reg Moss on the Guildford bypass.
There's no sign of Picasso at the moment.
But he should be through here at any moment.
However, I do have with me Mr.
Ron Geppo British cycling sprint champion and this year's winner of the Derby-Doncaster Rally.
Well, I think Pablo should be all right provided he doesn't attempt anything on the scale of his earlier paintings, like Guernica or Mademoiselles d'Avignon or his War and Peace mural for the Temple of Peace chapel.
With this strong headwind I don't think even Doug Timpson of Manchester Harriers could paint anything on that kind of scale.
Well, thank you, Ron.
Well, there still seems to be no sign of Picasso so I'll hand you back to the studio.
We've just heard that Picasso is approaching the Tolworth roundabout on the A3.
So come in, Sam Trench at Tolworth.
Something certainly is happening at Tolworth roundabout.
I can now see Picasso, he's cycling very hard towards the roundabout, 50 yards away and I can now see his painting.
It's an abstract.
I can see some blue, some purple, some little black oval shapes.
I think I can see That's not Picasso, that's Kandinsky.
Good Lord, you're right.
It's Kandinsky.
Wassily Kandinsky, and who's this here with him? It's Braque.
Georges Braque, the cubist painting a bird over a cornfield and going very fast down the hill towards Kingston.
And Piet Mondrian just behind.
Piet Mondrian the Neoplasticist then a gap, then the main bunch.
Here they come, Chagall, Max Ernst, Miró, Dufy Ben Nicholson, Jackson Pollock and Bernard Buffet making a break on the outside.
Brancusi's going with him, so is Gericault Fernand Léger, Delaunay, de Kooning.
Kokoschka's dropping back by a little bit.
And so's Paul Klee, dropping back a bit right at the back of this group, our very own Kurt Schwitters.
Schwitters is German! As yet, absolutely no sign of Pablo Picasso.
And so, from Tolworth roundabout, back to the studio.
You could never do a sketch like that these days the audience is too uninformed.
I blame the Americans.
A nation of obese, violent pig-ignorant, Bible-thumping morons contaminating world culture.
That's why I spend my time here, in France.
- France? - Yes, it's beautiful, isn't it? - Look at those olive trees.
- This is Santa Barbara.
No, no, no.
This is my Cap d'Antibes place, yes.
- Tell her where we are, darling.
- On the rocks.
- This is America.
- No, no, it's France.
- I'm afraid - Look, it's France, it's France.
France, France, France! Shut up, shut up! Go away! Paraguayan! Love a good argument! Actually we did a rather good sketch about an argument.
I saw your advertisement for flying lessons.
I'd like to make an appointment.
Mr.
Anemone's on the phone at the moment but I'm sure he won't mind if you go on in.
- Through here.
- Thank you.
I won't be a moment.
Make yourself at home.
No, no, well, look, you can ask Mr.
Maudling but I'm sure he'll never agree.
Not for 50 shillings, no.
No.
Bye-bye, Gordon.
Bye-bye.
Oh, dear.
Bye-bye.
- Missed.
Now, Mr - Chigger.
Mr.
Chigger.
So you want to learn to fly? - Yes.
- Well, up on the table arms out, fingers together, knees bent - No, no, no.
- Up on the table! Arms out, fingers together, knees bent.
Now, head well forward.
Now, flap your arms.
Go on, flap, faster, faster, faster! Now jump! Rotten.
Rotten.
You're no bloody use at all.
You're an utter bloody washout.
You make me sick, you weed.
- Now, look here.
- All right, all right.
I'll give you one more chance.
On the table.
I came here to learn how to fly an aeroplane.
- A what? - To learn how to fly an aeroplane.
Oh, "an aeroplane.
" I say, we are grand, aren't we? "No more buttered scones for me, mater.
I'm off to play the grand piano.
Pardon me while I fly my aeroplane.
" Now get on the table! No one in the history of the world has ever been able to fly like that.
Oh, I suppose mater told you that while you were out riding.
Well, if people can't fly, what am I doing up here? - You're on a wire.
- Oh, a wire.
- I'm on a wire, am I? - Of course you're on a bloody wire.
- I'm not on a wire.
I'm flying.
- You're on a wire.
- I am flying.
- You're on a wire.
I'll show you whether I'm on a wire or not.
- Give me the hoop.
- What? Oh, I don't suppose we know what an hoop is.
I suppose pater thought they were a bit common except on the croquet lawn.
Oh, a hoop.
"Oh, an hoop.
" Thank you, your bleeding highness.
Now.
- Look.
- Right the way along.
All right, all right, all right.
There, now where's the bleeding wire? That hoop's got a hole in.
Oh, Eton and Magdalene.
The hoop has an hole in.
Of course it's got a hole in, it wouldn't be a hoop otherwise.
No, there's a gap in the middle there.
Oh, a gap.
A gap in one's hoop.
Pardon me, but I'm off to play the grand piano.
I can see you're on a wire There it is.
Look, I told you, you bastard, I'm not on a wire.
- You are.
There is.
- There isn't.
- Is.
Is.
- Isn't! Isn't! - Is! Is! - Isn't! Isn't! Anyway, this pointless bickering went on for some time until You shouldn't let him suck on his thumb, my dear.
No! Don't touch it! That last sketch is not very child-friendly.
They're disgusting little creatures.
They're responsible for the unhappiness in the world.
I hate the little twerps.
Especially babies.
Should be strangled at birth.
- Infants? - Nasty little buggers.
Kill them, kill them.
Now! Okay.
You're 96.
Do you think about death a lot? Oh, yes.
Yes, all the time.
Other people's, of course.
Love reading the obituaries.
He's gone, got him! Bastard.
Yes, love anything to do with death.
Hello again, and welcome to the show.
Tonight we continue to look at some famous deaths.
Tonight we start with the wonderful death of Genghis Khan, conqueror of India.
Take it away, Genghis.
9.
1, 9.
3, 9.
7.
That's 28.
1 for Genghis Khan.
Bad luck, Genghis.
Nice to have you on the show.
And now here are the scores.
Number six, Genghis Khan.
And the back marker, King Edward Vll.
Back to you, Wolfgang.
And now time for this week's request death.
For Mr.
And Mrs.
Violet Stebbings of 23 Wolverston Road, Hull.
The death of Mr.
Bruce Foster of Guildford.
Oh, blimey, how time flies.
Sadly, we are reaching the end of yet another program and so it is finale time.
We are proud to be bringing to you one of the evergreen bucket-kickers.
Yes, the wonderful death of the famous English admiral, Nelson.
Kiss me, Hardy! The stuff of history is indeed woven in the woof.
Pearl Harbor.
There are pages in history's book which are written on the grand scale.
Events so momentous, they dwarf man and time alike.
And such is the battle of Pearl Harbor reenacted for us now by the women of Batley Townswomen's Guild.
Miss Fairbanks, you organized this reconstruction of the battle.
Why? Well, we've always been extremely interested in modern drama.
We were, of course, the first townswomen's guild to perform Camp on Blood Island.
And last year, of course, we did our extremely popular reenactment of Nazi war atrocities.
So this year, we thought we'd like to do something in a lighter vein.
So you chose the battle of Pearl Harbor? Yes, that's right, we did.
Well, I can see you're ready to go so I'll just wish you good luck in your latest venture.
Thank you very much, young man.
Ladies and gentlemen, The World of History is proud to present the premiere of the Batley Townswomen's Guild reenactment of the battle of Pearl Harbor.
So do you have any particular regrets? Oh, only one thing.
I would loved to have had a knighthood.
Yes, I would love to have been a knight of the realm.
Excuse me.
Many of my friends are, you know but I'm not, unfortunately.
Unlike Sir Mick Jagger.
- You know why? - The divorces? - No.
- The financial scandals.
No, no.
Just one single bloody sketch.
Good afternoon, and welcome to Hurlingham Park.
You join us just as the competitors are running out onto the field on this lovely winter's afternoon here with the going firm underfoot and very little sign of rain.
It certainly looks as though we're in for a splendid afternoon's sport in this, the 127 th Upper Class Twit of the Year Show.
Now, the competitors will be off any moment so let me just identify them for you.
Vivian Smith-Smythe-Smith has O level in chemo-hygiene.
Simon Zinc-Trumpet-Harris married to a very attractive table lamp.
Nigel Incubator-Jones, his best friend is a tree in his spare time he's a stockbroker.
Gervaise Brook-Hampster is in the Guards and his father uses him as a wastepaper basket.
And finally, Oliver St.
John-Mollusc, Harrow and the Guards thought by many to be this year's outstanding twit.
Now they're moving up to the starting line.
Now they're under starter's orders.
They're off.
No, they're not.
No, they didn't realize they were supposed to start.
Never mind, we'll soon sort that out.
The judge is explaining it now.
I think Nigel and Gervaise have got the idea.
All set to go Oh, and they're off.
And it's a fast start this year.
Oliver St.
John-Mollusc is running a bit wide there and now they're coming into their first test, the straight line.
They've got to walk along this straight line without falling over.
Oliver's over at the back there while Simon's coming through quite fast on the outside.
I think Simon and Nigel, both coming through very fast.
There's Nigel, number three, I'm sorry.
On the outside, there's Gervaise coming through.
And now, the position.
Simon and Vivian at the front coming into the matchbox jump.
Three layers of matchboxes to clear and Simon's over, and Vivian's over beautifully.
The jump of a lifetime, if only his father could understand.
Here's Nigel coming through.
Now Gervaise is over No, he's Nigel is He's only just hit the top.
And now, it's Gervaise.
Gervaise is going to jump it.
Is it? No, he's jumped the wrong way.
Stand up.
There he goes.
Nigel's over beautifully.
Now it's only Oliver.
Oliver and Gervaise Oh, bad luck.
Now it's Kicking the Beggar.
Simon's there and he's putting the boot in.
Not terribly hard, but there's a lot of He's down, so Simon can move on.
Now Vivian's there.
Vivian is there and waiting for a chance.
Here he comes.
A real pile driver, a real pile driver.
And now Simon's at number one Vivian two, Nigel three, Gervaise at four Oliver bringing up the rear.
There's Oliver.
There's Oliver now, he's at the back.
I think he's having a little trouble with his old brain injury.
He's gonna have a go.
No, no, bad luck.
He's up.
He doesn't know when he's beaten.
He doesn't know when he's winning.
He doesn't have any sensory apparatus known to man.
But he's outstanding after a Oh, there's Gervaise, putting the boot in there.
No need to do this, he's got the beggar down.
The steward's giving him advice.
He can move on now to the Hunt Photograph.
Yes I think he's Yes, he's off.
Gervaise is there.
Oliver's at the back having trouble with the matchboxes.
And there's There's Simon now in the sports car.
He's reversing into the old woman, he's caught her beautifully.
He's gonna accelerate to wake up the neighbour.
There's Vivian Vivian's lost his keys No, there's Vivian.
He's got the old woman, slowly but surely, in the midriff, and here he is.
Here he is to wake up the neighbour now.
Simon in the lead, comfortably in the lead but he can't get this neighbour woken up.
He's slamming away there as best he can.
He's getting absolutely no reaction at all.
No There! There, he's woken him up.
And the crowd are really rising to him there.
And there I can see Who is that there? Yes, that's Nigel.
Nigel has woken the neighbour.
My God, this is exciting.
Gervaise, oh, no Out in the front is Simon who's supposed to insult the waiter.
He's forgotten.
And Oliver has run himself over.
What a great twit! And now here comes Vivian.
Vivian to insult the waiter and he is heaping abuse on him.
He's humiliating him there, and he's going to the lead.
An absolutely expert coordination between mind and body.
No, they're hitting it there.
Here we go again, Simon's fallen backwards.
Here's Nigel, and he's tripped.
Nigel has tripped and he's under.
Gervaise is here at the last moment.
Here's Nigel at the head of the field.
He's gotta shoot the rabbit.
These rabbits have been tied to the ground.
They're gonna be frisky.
This is only a one-day event.
They're blazing away there.
They're not getting the results they might.
Gervaise is trying to bash it to death with the butt of his rifle.
And I think Nigel's in there with his bare hands.
Yes, they've had a couple of hits, and the whole field is up again.
And here they are.
They're coming up to the debs.
Gervaise first, Vivian second, Simon third.
And now they've got to take the bras off from the front.
This is difficult.
This is really the most difficult part of the entire competition.
They're having a bit of trouble in there.
They're really trying now and the crowd is getting excited.
I think some of the twits are getting rather excited too.
Anyway, Vivian is there, Vivian is coming through.
Simon's in second place and No, there's Oliver.
He's dead, but he's not necessarily out of it.
There goes Nigel.
No, he's lost something.
No.
And Gervaise running through to this final obstacle.
Now all they have to do here to win the title is to shoot themselves.
Simon has a go.
Bad luck, he misses.
Nigel misses.
Now there's Gervaise, and Gervaise has shot himself! Gervaise is Upper Class Twit! And so the final result.
Upper Class Twit of the Year: Gervaise Brook-Hampster of Kensington and Weybridge.
Runner up: Vivian Smith-Smythe-Smith of Kensington.
And third: Nigel Incubator-Jones of Henley.
It seems kind of sad to end the program on this note.
Do you think they might forgive me? I mean, I'm so sorry I did that sketch.
It would mean so much to me and Suki.
For God's sake, if I could be a knight just a little bit at the end: "Sir John.
Kneel, kneel.
Sir John, I dub you.
" - Are you all right? - Not well.
Not well.
A final word for your Python fans.
Sir.
Sir.
Clear.
John.
A final word, a final word.
Yes.
Sir Monty Python.
Is he dead? Oh, my God.
I can't believe this.
Did we get that? We got an exclusive.
We gotta get this tape back to L.
A.
, let's go.
And now here is the result of The Epilogue: God exists, by two falls to a submission.
It was called Happy Valley and it was ruled over by a wise old king called Otto.
And all his subjects flourished and were happy and there were no discontents or grumblers because wise King Otto had had them all put to death along with the trade-union leaders, many years before.
And all the good, happy folk of Happy Valley sang and danced all day long and anyone who was for any reason miserable or unhappy or who had any difficult personal problems was prosecuted under the Happiness Act.
Caspar Schlitz, I put it to you that you were on February the 5th of this year very depressed with malice aforethought and did moan quietly, contrary to the Cheerful Noises Act.
I did.
May I just explain, my lud that the reason for my client's behaviour was that his wife had just died that morning.
Members of the jury, have you reached your verdict? Guilty.
I hereby sentence you to be hanged by the neck until you cheer up.
While the good folk of Happy Valley tenaciously frolicked away their wise old king, who was a merry old thing played strange songs on his Hammond organ all day long up in the beautiful castle where he lived with his gracious Queen Syllabub and their lovely daughter Mitzi Gaynor who had fabulous tits and an enchanting smile and a fine wit and wooden teeth she'd bought in a chemist's in Augsburg despite the fire risk.
She treasured these teeth, which were made of the finest pine and she varnished them after every meal.
And next to her teeth, her dearest love was her pet rabbit Herman.
She would take Herman for walks, and pet and fuss over him all day.
And she would visit the royal kitchens and steal him tasty tidbits which he never ate, because, sadly, he was dead and no one had the heart to tell her because she was so sweet and innocent and knew nothing of death or gastroenteritis, or even plastic hip joints.
One day, when she was romping with Herman she suddenly set eyes on the most beautiful young man she had ever seen, and fell deeply in love with him naturally assuming him to be a prince.
Well, fortunately he was a prince, so she found him in the book, which her mother always made her carry and learned his name, and went and introduced herself and the subject of marriage.
And he fell deeply in love with her and, in what seemed like the twinkling of an eye but was, in fact, a fortnight they were in her father's lounge, asking his permission to marry.
- Daddy.
- Yes, daughter.
We have something to ask you.
A request.
Sir, may I have your daughter's hand in marriage? Well, I don't know it, but if you hum it I'll soon pick it up.
No, sir, I really do wish to marry your daughter, sir.
- Are you a prince? - Yes, sir.
- Is he in the book? - Yes, Daddy.
- Do you really love my daughter? - I do.
Well, in that case, I must set you a task to prove you're worthy of her hand in marriage.
I accept.
You must climb to the highest part of the castle first thing tomorrow morning, armed only with your sword and jump out of the window.
Hey, look, there he is.
Can we get married now, Daddy? I'm afraid not, daughter, he wasn't worthy of you.
Oh, Daddy.
Will he have to go into the ground like all the others? Come on, Herman.
And so Mitzi and Herman went down to the river bank to see if they could find another prince.
Everyone was fishing that day, the carpenter and the candlemaker and the blacksmith and the window-dresser and his friend and the hangman and all his apprentices and the secret policeman and the narcotics salesman and his auntie but not a prince for miles.
Until Mitzi's eyes suddenly spotted the slightest flash of gold underneath a weeping willow tree, and there, sure enough, was a prince.
He was rather thin and spotty, with a long nose and bandy legs and nasty, unpolished plywood teeth.
"But," thought Mitzi, "a prince is a prince.
" And she fell in love with him without another thought.
And after a time or a few times anyway he too fell in love with her.
And very soon they were on their way to ask King Otto's permission to wed as this prince didn't read the newspapers any more than any of the others did decadent, dim-witted, parasitic little bastards that they were.
What?! Oh, hello, darling.
This is my mother, the queen, and this is This is my new algebra teacher, Dr.
Erasmus.
Hello there.
Don't stare, darling.
And who is this? Oh, this is Prince Walter.
We were just going to ask Daddy's permission to get married.
Well, I want to talk to him about that.
I'll see you about the binomial theorem in the woodshed at 8:00, Dr.
Erasmus.
- I'll bring the baby oil, queen.
- Yes.
Does Daddy like Dr.
Erasmus? I wouldn't mention him, darling.
He's a bit funny about darker people.
I know nothing of racial prejudice.
Good.
Well, I'll talk to him first.
Stop that and listen to me! Now! Plug my organ in.
That's a joke.
Now, listen to me.
- What, what is it? - Got something important to tell you.
Mitzi's coming in a moment with another prince.
Look, don't start that again! Princes.
Well, there soon won't be any left, thanks to you.
Now just you make sure you make that task nice and easy otherwise I'll smash your organ! - Can I play at the wedding? - Yes! All right, all right.
I could play that one about: The king is ready to see you now.
- Hello, Daddy.
- Come in, child.
This is Prince Walter.
- Is he in the book? - Yes.
Hello, Walter.
Prince Walter.
Oh, so sorry! So you want to marry my daughter, do you? Perhaps.
Oh, say you do, and wing me such joy as I've never tasted before.
Yeah, all right.
All right, first I must set you a task so you prove yourself worthy of my daughter's hand in marriage.
Why? Because she's a fucking princess, that's why! You must go tomorrow morning to the highest part of the castle You must go Go down to the shops and get me 20 Rothmans.
- What, now? - Tomorrow morning.
And so, early next morning all the happy villagers were gathered to watch Prince Walter set off on his quest.
Here are your fags.
- Thank you, Walter.
- Prince Walter.
Loyal subjects, faithful followers this is indeed a proud moment for the queen and myself.
For this is the moment when Princess Mitzi marries Prince Walter.
But first, a little number I've written, entitled: Halt.
Halt.
Halt, I prithee, gentle king.
Belt up! I am Prince Charming from the Kingdom of the Golden Lakes, sir king.
Page four in the book.
And I crave the hand of your beautiful daughter Princess Mitzi.
- You're too late.
- What? - I've got her, Charming, now buzz off.
Wait a minute.
Mitzi is not betrothed yet.
What? He said if I went and got him 20 Rothmans, I could have her.
Got you 20 Rothmans? Well, I had to go down the town.
- For Princess Mitzi? - Yes.
For this priceless treasure? For this most perfect of all God's creatures? I think I'm falling in love again.
For this finest and most delicate flower in this geographical area I will face in mortal combat that most dreaded of all creatures.
A dragon? And I shall slay it, single-handed to prove myself worthy of your enchanting daughter, oh, king.
- I accept.
- What? - I accept.
Tomorrow morning, then.
- Where's he gonna get a dragon? I provide my own.
Hooray! Loyal subjects by virtue of Prince Charming's noble deed I now consent to give him Princess Mitzi's hand in marriage.
But first, the B-side of my latest single.
I'll be revenged on the lot of you.
Nobody in Happy Valley worried about Prince Walter's threats and the joyous day soon arrived for the royal wedding.
Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join together this man, Prince Charming and this woman, Princess Mitzi Gaynor in holy matrimony.
If there be anyone who knoweth just cause or impediment why these two should not be joined together Christ! Yes, 'tis I, the wicked witch.
Be quiet, you fools! Witch, you commit sacrilege by your very presence here.
I command you in the name of the Good Book to leave this holy place forthwith.
- Shut up! - Sorry.
Sorry, witch.
Now, where's the king? Where's the king? Oh, me.
I'm terribly sorry.
I was miles away.
Yes? I forbid this marriage to take place.
- You forbid it? - Who are you? I'm the lord chancellor, you impudent old hag! How dare you speak thus to our? Mitzi marries Prince Walter or I curse the lot of you! Mitzi marries Prince Charming.
I'm warning you.
Carry on with the ceremony.
Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today Very well.
I hereby change every single person in this cathedral into chickens! Except me! Oh, bugger.
Today I'll be interviewing legendary British comedian Mr.
John Cleese about his favourite moments from the Monty Python television series.
This is the first time in decades the reclusive 96-year-old has agreed to be interviewed, at his beautiful Santa Barbara ranch.
Come and sit down, my dear.
- Thank you, thank you.
- Thank you.
So tell me, do you think fondly of your time with the Monty Python group? Well, we had to get them changed because they were clockwork.
No, Monty Python.
Wait, wait a minute.
Leave me alone! That's it.
Well, I'm afraid I hold rather strong views about gay marriage.
- You see, when God created - No, no.
Adam and Eve - Monty Python.
We wanna know about some of your favourite sketches.
My entire life consists of people coming up to me and telling me what their favourite bloody Monty Python sketch is.
- I don't give a stuff what they - No, your favourite sketch.
We wanna know so we can see them again.
Did you like the silly-walk sketch? Rubbish, very poor.
- Okay, what about - There was a sketch young Eric Rutle wrote I liked, about theology.
- Theology.
- Theology.
Good evening, and welcome once again to The Epilogue.
On the program this evening we have Monsignor Edward Gay first visiting pastoral emissary of the Somerset Theological College and author of a number of books about belief the most recent of which is the bestseller, My God.
Good evening.
And opposite him we have Dr.
Tom Jack humanist, broadcaster, lecturer and author.
Tonight Tonight, instead of discussing the existence or nonexistence of God they have decided to fight for it.
The existence, or nonexistence, to be determined by two falls, two submissions, or a knockout.
All right, boys, let's get to it.
Your master of ceremonies for this evening, Mr.
Arthur Waring.
Good evening ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to a three-round contest of The Epilogue.
Introducing, on my right, in the blue corner appearing for Jehovah the ever-popular Monsignor Eddie Gay.
And on my left, in the red corner author of the books The Problems of Kierkegaard and Hello, Sailor and visiting professor of modern theological philosophy at the University of East Anglia from Wigan, Dr.
Tom Jack.
Now Dr Dr.
Jack has got a flying mare there.
A flying mare there.
And what's he doing? This is gonna be a full body slam.
A full body slam there.
Though we are leaving The Epilogue for the moment we'll be bringing you the result of this discussion later in the program.
Doctor! Doctor! Doctor! Doctor! Doctor! Doctor! Doc Hello.
Are you the brain specialist? Hello.
Are you the brain specialist? No, no, I am not the brain specialist.
No, no, I am not Yes! Yes, I am.
My brain hurts.
Well, let's take a look at it, Mr.
Gumby.
No, no, no, my brain in my head.
It will have to come out.
Glasses.
Moustache.
Handkerchief.
I'm going to operate! Operate! Operate! Operate! Get better, brain! Get better, brain! - Get better, brain! - Hello! We forgot the anesthetic! - The anesthetic! - Anesthetic! Anesthetic! I've come to anaesthetize you.
Tell me about your writing partner, Graham Chapman.
Well, he was a shirt-lifter, you know.
Yes, and a booze hound.
Half the time he was dead drunk.
Then he stopped being drunk and started being dead.
Still takes the royalties, though, lazy bum.
Is there a particular sketch? You know, dying is often a cry for attention.
Did you know that? Is there a particular sketch you'd like to remember Graham Chapman by? No, good riddance.
Actually, I liked it when he came in as the colonel, saying: "Stop this sketch.
It's getting too silly.
" The whole premise is silly and it's badly written.
Or, other thing.
Loved it when he said: "Carry on, sergeant.
" Carry on, sergeant major.
Sir! - Good evening, class.
- Good evening.
Where's all the others? - Not here.
- I can see that.
- What's the matter with them? - Don't know.
- Perhaps they've got flu.
- Flu.
Flu? They've been eating too much fresh fruit.
Right.
Now, self-defence.
Tonight I shall be carrying on from where I got to last week when I was showing you how to defend yourself against anyone who attacks you armed with a piece of fresh fruit.
You promised you wouldn't do fruit this week.
- What do you mean? - We've done fruit for nine weeks.
What's wrong with fruit? You think you know it all, eh? Well, can't we do something else? Like someone who attacks you with a pointed stick.
Pointed sticks? We want to learn how to defend ourselves against pointed sticks, do we? Getting all high and mighty, eh? Fresh fruit not good enough for you, eh? Well, I'll tell you something, my lad.
When you're walking home tonight and some homicidal maniac comes after you with a bunch of loganberries, don't come crying to me.
Right, the passion fruit.
When your assailant lunges at you with a passion fruit, thus We've done the passion fruit.
- What? - We've done the passion fruit.
We've done oranges, apples, grapefruits.
- Whole and segments.
- Pomegranates, greengages.
- Grapes, passion fruits.
- Lemons.
- Plums.
- Yeah, and mangoes in syrup.
- How about cherries? - We done them.
- Red and black? - Yes.
All right, then.
Bananas! - We haven't done them, have we? - No.
Right! Bananas! How to defend yourself against a man armed with a banana.
Here, you, take this.
Now, it's quite simple to defend yourself against the banana fiend.
First of all, you force him to drop the banana.
Next, you eat the banana, thus disarming him.
You have now rendered him helpless.
Suppose he's got a bunch.
- Shut up! - Supposing he's got a pointed stick.
Shut up.
Right.
Now, you, Mr.
Apricot.
- Harrison.
- Harrison, Mr.
Harrison.
Come at me with that banana.
Come attack me with it.
As hard as you like.
Come on.
Come No, no, no.
Put something into it for God's sake.
Hold it like that: Scream.
Now, come on.
Come on, attack me.
Come on, come on, come on.
Now Now I eat the banana.
- He's dead.
- You shot him.
He's completely dead.
I have now eaten the banana.
The deceased Mr.
Apricot is now disarmed.
You shot him dead.
He was attacking me with a banana.
- Well, you told him to.
- Look, I'm only doing me job.
I have to show you how to defend against fresh fruit.
- And pointed sticks.
- Shut up.
Supposing someone come at you with a banana and you haven't got a gun? - Run for it.
- You could stand and scream for help.
Yeah, yeah, you try that with a pineapple down your windpipe.
- A pineapple? - Where? Where? Where? Nowhere, I was just saying "pineapple.
" I thought my number was on that one.
- What, on the pineapple? - Where? Where? - No, I was just repeating it.
- Oh.
Oh, I see.
Right.
That's the banana, then.
Next, the raspberry.
Harmless-looking thing, isn't it? - Now you, Mr.
Tinned Peach.
- Thompson.
Mr.
Thompson, come at me with that raspberry.
Come on, be as vicious as you like with it.
- No.
- Why not? - You'll shoot me.
- I won't.
- Well, you shot Mr.
Harrison.
- That was self-defence.
Come on.
I promise I won't shoot you.
- Throw the gun away.
- I haven't got one.
- Oh, yes, you have.
- I haven't.
- You do.
You shot Mr.
Harrison with it.
- Oh, that gun.
- Throw it away.
- All right.
How to defend yourself against a raspberry, without a gun.
- You were going to shoot me! - I wasn't.
I wasn't.
- You were.
- No, I wasn't.
I wasn't.
Come on.
Come on, you worm.
You miserable little man.
Come at me, then.
Come on, do your worst, you worm.
Now to the exploding version of The Blue Danube.
Some people say there was a lot of violence in Monty Python.
Was there perhaps too much? Nurse! Well, life is violent, you see.
I mean, it's all around us.
You simply can't escape it.
See? It's a perfect example of what I'm saying.
Shut up! See, people enjoy violence, you know, it's in our genes.
I mean, whoever said " blessed are the meek" had clearly lost the plot.
No, no, it's It's nature, red in tooth and claw.
Actually, we did a very good sketch about Shut up! I'm being interviewed.
Here, in a colony of sea lions, we see a huge bull sea lion seeing off an intruding bull.
This pattern of aggressive behaviour is typical of these documentaries.
Here we see an ant.
This ant is engaged in a life-or-death struggle with the wolf.
You can see the ant creeping up on the wolf on all sixes.
With great skill he chooses his moment and then quick as a limpet, with one mighty bound buries his fangs in the wolf's neck.
The wolf struggles to no avail.
A battle of this kind can take anything up to 15 years because the timber ant has such a tiny mouth.
Here we see Heinz Sielmann engaged in a life-or-death struggle with Peter Scott.
They are engaged in a bitter punch-up over repeat fees on the overseas sales of their nature documentaries.
Now they have been joined by an enraged Jacques Cousteau.
This is typical of the harsh and bitchy world of television features.
Here we see a pantomime horse.
It's engaged in a life-or-death struggle for a job with a merchant bank.
However, his rival employee, the huge bull pantomime horse is lying in wait for him.
Poor pantomime horse.
Here we see a pantomime goose engaged in a life-or-death struggle with Terence Rattigan.
The enraged goose fires.
Poor Terence.
Another victim of this silly film.
Here we see an enraged pantomime Princess Margaret.
She is lying in wait for her breakfast.
The unsuspecting breakfast glides ever closer to its doom.
The enraged pantomime royal person is poised for the kill.
She raises her harpoon and fires.
Right in the toast.
A brief struggle and all is over.
You have been criticized for your portrayal of women in Monty Python.
- How do you mean? - They're either sex symbols or half-crazed housewives who screech a lot.
Fair point, but, you see, that has been my experience of women in real life.
I mean, they're either rather repulsive, argumentative old bags or colossal bimbos.
Excuse me.
Present company excepted, of course.
But, I mean, take my present wife My fifth, or is this the sixth? Suki! She is the dimmest of the dim.
I love you, darling! Great sense of humour, and, of course, fabulous breasts.
Does Does Suki have a favourite Monty Python sketch? Well, she likes anything with a car chase.
Was Sir Walter Scott loony, or was he the greatest flowering of the early 19th-century Romantic tradition? The most underestimated novelist of the 19th century or merely a disillusioned and embittered man? Excuse me, can I borrow that, please? - Yes.
- Thank you.
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.
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? For who are the casualties? For this was Sir Walter Scott's country.
In many of his finest romances, such as Guy Mannering or Red - Give that back.
- No.
Scott showed himself to be The spruces and flowers of this forest will be used to create a 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.
- Much of Scott's greatest work I'm thinking of Heart of Midlothian and Old Mortality, for example.
- Was concerned with preserving the life and conditions of Forestry research here has shown that a wholly synthetic soft-timber fibre can be created, leaving the harder trees, the oaks the beeches and the larches, and the pines and even some of the deciduous hardwoods.
This new fibre would replace the plywoods, hardboards and chipboards at present dominating the In the Waverley novels, Scott was constantly concerned to protect a way of life, safeguarding nationalist traditions and aspirations within the necessary limitations of the gothic novel - Developments in reinforced timber - Scott lived in Abbotsford in the country - Maplewood appears A subjugated country has - Canadian timber exports - Which was still recovering from the effects of two unsuccessful Jacobite rebellions - And also - Decline in hardwoods Scott was at pains to emphasize the - Oh, good, that'll be the vet, dear.
- I'd better go and let him in.
It's the vet, dear.
Very glad indeed you could come around, sir.
Not at all.
Now, what seems to be the problem? You can tell me.
I'm a vet, you know.
See? Tell him, dear.
- Well - It's our cat.
He doesn't do anything.
He just sits out there on the lawn.
Are you at your wits' end? Definitely, yes.
Well, I think I may be able to help you.
You see Your cat is suffering from what we vets haven't found a word for.
To be blunt, your cat is in a rut.
Stockbroker syndrome, the suburban fin de siècle ennui.
Angst, Weltschmerz, call it what you will.
- Moping.
- In a way, in a way.
Moping, I must remember that.
Now, what's to be done? Tell me, sir, have you confused your cat recently? - Well, we - No.
Well, I think I can definitely say that your cat badly needs to be confused.
Squad.
Eyes front.
Well, men, we've got a difficult cat to confuse today so let's get on with it.
- Jolly good, sir.
Thank you, sergeant.
Confusers! Get into the van and fetch it out.
Wait for it.
Fetch out the funny things.
Move, move, move.
One, two, one, two.
Get those funny things off.
Stage ready for confusing, sir! Right, men, confuse the cat.
I hope to God it works.
Anyway, we shall know any minute now.
Oh, I can't believe it.
It's all in a day's work for Confuse-A-Cat.
So is there one thing you'd like to remembered by? Well, yes, there is one, you know.
When I'm gone, I'd like my friends to say: "You know, old Cleesey had his faults but he did have the most enormous dick.
" I mean the sketch.
Oh, I'm sorry.
Well, the "Cheese Shop," obviously.
It's long.
I mean, the sketch, I mean.
Well, yes, but we can have a little bit, can't we? Please? - Do you have any cheese at all? - No.
What a senseless waste of human life.
Good evening.
I have with me in the studio tonight one of the country's leading skin specialists Raymond Luxury Yacht.
- That's not my name.
I'm sorry.
Raymond Luxury Yacht.
No, no, no, it's spelled Raymond Luxury Yacht but it's pronounced "Throat Wobbler Mangrove.
" You're a silly man.
I'm not going to interview you.
- Anti-Semitism! - Not at all.
It's not even a proper nose.
- It's polystyrene.
- Give me my nose back.
Collect it at reception.
Now go away.
- I want to be on television.
- Well, you can't.
Monty Python's often been called anti-Semitic.
- Is that unfair? - No.
No, Python was and always will be anti-Semitic.
And anti-French, anti-German, anti-dago anti-English-upper-class and bloody working class too anti-American, anti-Danish and anti-Belgians.
My God, have we got it in for them.
Greedy pseudo-French bastards! Phlegmy truffle-mongers! I mean, they make my blood boil! - Did you mention the Belgians? - I didn't mention Go away! Belgian! So if anyone Jewish claims Monty Python is anti-Semitic I'd say they were building their part up.
Anyway, Michael Palin is Jewish for goodness' sake.
- Michael Palin? Oh, I think so, don't you? I know he hasn't come out yet, but he looks Jewish and the name Michael's a bit of a giveaway.
Anyway he's a good friend of mine, as are many other Semitics.
Although I don't think he's a good comedian.
- You don't? - Well, I don't mean he's bad he's just not especially good.
You know? Is that harsh? You know, he was quite good at introductions.
Perhaps we could see Michael doing an introduction.
Now for news of the artistic event when Pablo Picasso is doing a commissioned painting for us whilst riding a bicycle.
Pablo Picasso, the founder of modern art without doubt the greatest abstract painter ever.
For the first time, painting in motion.
But first of all, let's have a look at the route he'll be taking.
Well, Picasso will be starting, David, at Chichester here.
He'll then cycle on the A29 to Fontwell.
He'll then take the A272 which will bring him onto the A3 just north of Hindhead here.
From then on Pablo has a straight run on the A3 until he meets the South Circular at Battersea here.
Well, this is a truly remarkable occasion as it is the first time that a modern artist of such stature has taken the A272.
And it'll be very interesting to see how he copes with the heavy traffic round Wisborough Green.
- Vicky.
- Now, for the latest on Picasso over to Reg Moss on the Guildford bypass.
There's no sign of Picasso at the moment.
But he should be through here at any moment.
However, I do have with me Mr.
Ron Geppo British cycling sprint champion and this year's winner of the Derby-Doncaster Rally.
Well, I think Pablo should be all right provided he doesn't attempt anything on the scale of his earlier paintings, like Guernica or Mademoiselles d'Avignon or his War and Peace mural for the Temple of Peace chapel.
With this strong headwind I don't think even Doug Timpson of Manchester Harriers could paint anything on that kind of scale.
Well, thank you, Ron.
Well, there still seems to be no sign of Picasso so I'll hand you back to the studio.
We've just heard that Picasso is approaching the Tolworth roundabout on the A3.
So come in, Sam Trench at Tolworth.
Something certainly is happening at Tolworth roundabout.
I can now see Picasso, he's cycling very hard towards the roundabout, 50 yards away and I can now see his painting.
It's an abstract.
I can see some blue, some purple, some little black oval shapes.
I think I can see That's not Picasso, that's Kandinsky.
Good Lord, you're right.
It's Kandinsky.
Wassily Kandinsky, and who's this here with him? It's Braque.
Georges Braque, the cubist painting a bird over a cornfield and going very fast down the hill towards Kingston.
And Piet Mondrian just behind.
Piet Mondrian the Neoplasticist then a gap, then the main bunch.
Here they come, Chagall, Max Ernst, Miró, Dufy Ben Nicholson, Jackson Pollock and Bernard Buffet making a break on the outside.
Brancusi's going with him, so is Gericault Fernand Léger, Delaunay, de Kooning.
Kokoschka's dropping back by a little bit.
And so's Paul Klee, dropping back a bit right at the back of this group, our very own Kurt Schwitters.
Schwitters is German! As yet, absolutely no sign of Pablo Picasso.
And so, from Tolworth roundabout, back to the studio.
You could never do a sketch like that these days the audience is too uninformed.
I blame the Americans.
A nation of obese, violent pig-ignorant, Bible-thumping morons contaminating world culture.
That's why I spend my time here, in France.
- France? - Yes, it's beautiful, isn't it? - Look at those olive trees.
- This is Santa Barbara.
No, no, no.
This is my Cap d'Antibes place, yes.
- Tell her where we are, darling.
- On the rocks.
- This is America.
- No, no, it's France.
- I'm afraid - Look, it's France, it's France.
France, France, France! Shut up, shut up! Go away! Paraguayan! Love a good argument! Actually we did a rather good sketch about an argument.
I saw your advertisement for flying lessons.
I'd like to make an appointment.
Mr.
Anemone's on the phone at the moment but I'm sure he won't mind if you go on in.
- Through here.
- Thank you.
I won't be a moment.
Make yourself at home.
No, no, well, look, you can ask Mr.
Maudling but I'm sure he'll never agree.
Not for 50 shillings, no.
No.
Bye-bye, Gordon.
Bye-bye.
Oh, dear.
Bye-bye.
- Missed.
Now, Mr - Chigger.
Mr.
Chigger.
So you want to learn to fly? - Yes.
- Well, up on the table arms out, fingers together, knees bent - No, no, no.
- Up on the table! Arms out, fingers together, knees bent.
Now, head well forward.
Now, flap your arms.
Go on, flap, faster, faster, faster! Now jump! Rotten.
Rotten.
You're no bloody use at all.
You're an utter bloody washout.
You make me sick, you weed.
- Now, look here.
- All right, all right.
I'll give you one more chance.
On the table.
I came here to learn how to fly an aeroplane.
- A what? - To learn how to fly an aeroplane.
Oh, "an aeroplane.
" I say, we are grand, aren't we? "No more buttered scones for me, mater.
I'm off to play the grand piano.
Pardon me while I fly my aeroplane.
" Now get on the table! No one in the history of the world has ever been able to fly like that.
Oh, I suppose mater told you that while you were out riding.
Well, if people can't fly, what am I doing up here? - You're on a wire.
- Oh, a wire.
- I'm on a wire, am I? - Of course you're on a bloody wire.
- I'm not on a wire.
I'm flying.
- You're on a wire.
- I am flying.
- You're on a wire.
I'll show you whether I'm on a wire or not.
- Give me the hoop.
- What? Oh, I don't suppose we know what an hoop is.
I suppose pater thought they were a bit common except on the croquet lawn.
Oh, a hoop.
"Oh, an hoop.
" Thank you, your bleeding highness.
Now.
- Look.
- Right the way along.
All right, all right, all right.
There, now where's the bleeding wire? That hoop's got a hole in.
Oh, Eton and Magdalene.
The hoop has an hole in.
Of course it's got a hole in, it wouldn't be a hoop otherwise.
No, there's a gap in the middle there.
Oh, a gap.
A gap in one's hoop.
Pardon me, but I'm off to play the grand piano.
I can see you're on a wire There it is.
Look, I told you, you bastard, I'm not on a wire.
- You are.
There is.
- There isn't.
- Is.
Is.
- Isn't! Isn't! - Is! Is! - Isn't! Isn't! Anyway, this pointless bickering went on for some time until You shouldn't let him suck on his thumb, my dear.
No! Don't touch it! That last sketch is not very child-friendly.
They're disgusting little creatures.
They're responsible for the unhappiness in the world.
I hate the little twerps.
Especially babies.
Should be strangled at birth.
- Infants? - Nasty little buggers.
Kill them, kill them.
Now! Okay.
You're 96.
Do you think about death a lot? Oh, yes.
Yes, all the time.
Other people's, of course.
Love reading the obituaries.
He's gone, got him! Bastard.
Yes, love anything to do with death.
Hello again, and welcome to the show.
Tonight we continue to look at some famous deaths.
Tonight we start with the wonderful death of Genghis Khan, conqueror of India.
Take it away, Genghis.
9.
1, 9.
3, 9.
7.
That's 28.
1 for Genghis Khan.
Bad luck, Genghis.
Nice to have you on the show.
And now here are the scores.
Number six, Genghis Khan.
And the back marker, King Edward Vll.
Back to you, Wolfgang.
And now time for this week's request death.
For Mr.
And Mrs.
Violet Stebbings of 23 Wolverston Road, Hull.
The death of Mr.
Bruce Foster of Guildford.
Oh, blimey, how time flies.
Sadly, we are reaching the end of yet another program and so it is finale time.
We are proud to be bringing to you one of the evergreen bucket-kickers.
Yes, the wonderful death of the famous English admiral, Nelson.
Kiss me, Hardy! The stuff of history is indeed woven in the woof.
Pearl Harbor.
There are pages in history's book which are written on the grand scale.
Events so momentous, they dwarf man and time alike.
And such is the battle of Pearl Harbor reenacted for us now by the women of Batley Townswomen's Guild.
Miss Fairbanks, you organized this reconstruction of the battle.
Why? Well, we've always been extremely interested in modern drama.
We were, of course, the first townswomen's guild to perform Camp on Blood Island.
And last year, of course, we did our extremely popular reenactment of Nazi war atrocities.
So this year, we thought we'd like to do something in a lighter vein.
So you chose the battle of Pearl Harbor? Yes, that's right, we did.
Well, I can see you're ready to go so I'll just wish you good luck in your latest venture.
Thank you very much, young man.
Ladies and gentlemen, The World of History is proud to present the premiere of the Batley Townswomen's Guild reenactment of the battle of Pearl Harbor.
So do you have any particular regrets? Oh, only one thing.
I would loved to have had a knighthood.
Yes, I would love to have been a knight of the realm.
Excuse me.
Many of my friends are, you know but I'm not, unfortunately.
Unlike Sir Mick Jagger.
- You know why? - The divorces? - No.
- The financial scandals.
No, no.
Just one single bloody sketch.
Good afternoon, and welcome to Hurlingham Park.
You join us just as the competitors are running out onto the field on this lovely winter's afternoon here with the going firm underfoot and very little sign of rain.
It certainly looks as though we're in for a splendid afternoon's sport in this, the 127 th Upper Class Twit of the Year Show.
Now, the competitors will be off any moment so let me just identify them for you.
Vivian Smith-Smythe-Smith has O level in chemo-hygiene.
Simon Zinc-Trumpet-Harris married to a very attractive table lamp.
Nigel Incubator-Jones, his best friend is a tree in his spare time he's a stockbroker.
Gervaise Brook-Hampster is in the Guards and his father uses him as a wastepaper basket.
And finally, Oliver St.
John-Mollusc, Harrow and the Guards thought by many to be this year's outstanding twit.
Now they're moving up to the starting line.
Now they're under starter's orders.
They're off.
No, they're not.
No, they didn't realize they were supposed to start.
Never mind, we'll soon sort that out.
The judge is explaining it now.
I think Nigel and Gervaise have got the idea.
All set to go Oh, and they're off.
And it's a fast start this year.
Oliver St.
John-Mollusc is running a bit wide there and now they're coming into their first test, the straight line.
They've got to walk along this straight line without falling over.
Oliver's over at the back there while Simon's coming through quite fast on the outside.
I think Simon and Nigel, both coming through very fast.
There's Nigel, number three, I'm sorry.
On the outside, there's Gervaise coming through.
And now, the position.
Simon and Vivian at the front coming into the matchbox jump.
Three layers of matchboxes to clear and Simon's over, and Vivian's over beautifully.
The jump of a lifetime, if only his father could understand.
Here's Nigel coming through.
Now Gervaise is over No, he's Nigel is He's only just hit the top.
And now, it's Gervaise.
Gervaise is going to jump it.
Is it? No, he's jumped the wrong way.
Stand up.
There he goes.
Nigel's over beautifully.
Now it's only Oliver.
Oliver and Gervaise Oh, bad luck.
Now it's Kicking the Beggar.
Simon's there and he's putting the boot in.
Not terribly hard, but there's a lot of He's down, so Simon can move on.
Now Vivian's there.
Vivian is there and waiting for a chance.
Here he comes.
A real pile driver, a real pile driver.
And now Simon's at number one Vivian two, Nigel three, Gervaise at four Oliver bringing up the rear.
There's Oliver.
There's Oliver now, he's at the back.
I think he's having a little trouble with his old brain injury.
He's gonna have a go.
No, no, bad luck.
He's up.
He doesn't know when he's beaten.
He doesn't know when he's winning.
He doesn't have any sensory apparatus known to man.
But he's outstanding after a Oh, there's Gervaise, putting the boot in there.
No need to do this, he's got the beggar down.
The steward's giving him advice.
He can move on now to the Hunt Photograph.
Yes I think he's Yes, he's off.
Gervaise is there.
Oliver's at the back having trouble with the matchboxes.
And there's There's Simon now in the sports car.
He's reversing into the old woman, he's caught her beautifully.
He's gonna accelerate to wake up the neighbour.
There's Vivian Vivian's lost his keys No, there's Vivian.
He's got the old woman, slowly but surely, in the midriff, and here he is.
Here he is to wake up the neighbour now.
Simon in the lead, comfortably in the lead but he can't get this neighbour woken up.
He's slamming away there as best he can.
He's getting absolutely no reaction at all.
No There! There, he's woken him up.
And the crowd are really rising to him there.
And there I can see Who is that there? Yes, that's Nigel.
Nigel has woken the neighbour.
My God, this is exciting.
Gervaise, oh, no Out in the front is Simon who's supposed to insult the waiter.
He's forgotten.
And Oliver has run himself over.
What a great twit! And now here comes Vivian.
Vivian to insult the waiter and he is heaping abuse on him.
He's humiliating him there, and he's going to the lead.
An absolutely expert coordination between mind and body.
No, they're hitting it there.
Here we go again, Simon's fallen backwards.
Here's Nigel, and he's tripped.
Nigel has tripped and he's under.
Gervaise is here at the last moment.
Here's Nigel at the head of the field.
He's gotta shoot the rabbit.
These rabbits have been tied to the ground.
They're gonna be frisky.
This is only a one-day event.
They're blazing away there.
They're not getting the results they might.
Gervaise is trying to bash it to death with the butt of his rifle.
And I think Nigel's in there with his bare hands.
Yes, they've had a couple of hits, and the whole field is up again.
And here they are.
They're coming up to the debs.
Gervaise first, Vivian second, Simon third.
And now they've got to take the bras off from the front.
This is difficult.
This is really the most difficult part of the entire competition.
They're having a bit of trouble in there.
They're really trying now and the crowd is getting excited.
I think some of the twits are getting rather excited too.
Anyway, Vivian is there, Vivian is coming through.
Simon's in second place and No, there's Oliver.
He's dead, but he's not necessarily out of it.
There goes Nigel.
No, he's lost something.
No.
And Gervaise running through to this final obstacle.
Now all they have to do here to win the title is to shoot themselves.
Simon has a go.
Bad luck, he misses.
Nigel misses.
Now there's Gervaise, and Gervaise has shot himself! Gervaise is Upper Class Twit! And so the final result.
Upper Class Twit of the Year: Gervaise Brook-Hampster of Kensington and Weybridge.
Runner up: Vivian Smith-Smythe-Smith of Kensington.
And third: Nigel Incubator-Jones of Henley.
It seems kind of sad to end the program on this note.
Do you think they might forgive me? I mean, I'm so sorry I did that sketch.
It would mean so much to me and Suki.
For God's sake, if I could be a knight just a little bit at the end: "Sir John.
Kneel, kneel.
Sir John, I dub you.
" - Are you all right? - Not well.
Not well.
A final word for your Python fans.
Sir.
Sir.
Clear.
John.
A final word, a final word.
Yes.
Sir Monty Python.
Is he dead? Oh, my God.
I can't believe this.
Did we get that? We got an exclusive.
We gotta get this tape back to L.
A.
, let's go.
And now here is the result of The Epilogue: God exists, by two falls to a submission.