something completely different
October 4, 2005 8:32 AM Subscribe
Monty Python Scripts from every episode of Monty Python's Flying Circus.
Awesome. I wonder if this will be like the SeinfeldScripts site, where it's not legal, but seems to be tolerated.
posted by veedubya at 8:35 AM on October 4, 2005
posted by veedubya at 8:35 AM on October 4, 2005
They'd have a better case if the front page graphic wasn't obviously a scan from the cover of the UK edition of the book.
I'm a huge proponent of fair use and the timely expiration of copyright, but there's really no justification for this.
posted by George_Spiggott at 8:39 AM on October 4, 2005
I'm a huge proponent of fair use and the timely expiration of copyright, but there's really no justification for this.
posted by George_Spiggott at 8:39 AM on October 4, 2005
No it's not.
posted by weapons-grade pandemonium at 8:43 AM on October 4, 2005
posted by weapons-grade pandemonium at 8:43 AM on October 4, 2005
I own the US versions (I figure) of these books. This can't be legal.
posted by thanotopsis at 8:44 AM on October 4, 2005
posted by thanotopsis at 8:44 AM on October 4, 2005
Gee, I wonder if this thread will fill up with Monty Python lines? Wink-wink, nudge-nudge
posted by spock at 8:44 AM on October 4, 2005
posted by spock at 8:44 AM on October 4, 2005
Spam.
posted by goodnewsfortheinsane at 8:53 AM on October 4, 2005
posted by goodnewsfortheinsane at 8:53 AM on October 4, 2005
Ah, now we see the violence inherent in the system.
posted by kirkaracha at 9:30 AM on October 4, 2005
posted by kirkaracha at 9:30 AM on October 4, 2005
Gamblor wins. That is a great comment for almost every MeFi thread, but especially for this one.
Pointed sticks.
posted by LeLiLo at 9:52 AM on October 4, 2005
Pointed sticks.
posted by LeLiLo at 9:52 AM on October 4, 2005
We established Base Salon here, and climbed quite steadily up to Mario's, here. From here, using crampons and cutting ice steps as we went, we moved steadily up the face to the north ridge, establishing Camp Three, where we could get a hot meal, a manicure, and a shampoo and set. -- Hairdressers' Ascent up Mount Everest, Ep. 31
posted by rolypolyman at 10:04 AM on October 4, 2005
posted by rolypolyman at 10:04 AM on October 4, 2005
Yes, I question the copyright issues but no one expects the Spanish Inquisition!
posted by Griffins_posse at 10:09 AM on October 4, 2005
posted by Griffins_posse at 10:09 AM on October 4, 2005
Does anyone know which episode the Four Yorkshiremen is in?
posted by Turtles all the way down at 10:29 AM on October 4, 2005
posted by Turtles all the way down at 10:29 AM on October 4, 2005
Regarding copyright, from the site "All the material is copyright Python Productions Ltd and remains their property, and I will remove it if they should request so."
At least they make an effort.
posted by Mr T at 10:33 AM on October 4, 2005
At least they make an effort.
posted by Mr T at 10:33 AM on October 4, 2005
Turtles: it's not in an episode. It's not originally Monty Python at all, it's from "At Last The 1948 Show" an earlier series with Cleese and Chapman.
posted by George_Spiggott at 10:36 AM on October 4, 2005
posted by George_Spiggott at 10:36 AM on October 4, 2005
something tells me, though I hope otherwise, that this site will soon be forced to take lessons in how not to be seen.
posted by shmegegge at 10:38 AM on October 4, 2005
posted by shmegegge at 10:38 AM on October 4, 2005
Voice Over: From these glens and scars, the sound of the coot and the moorhen is seldom absent. Nature sits in stern mastery over these rocks and crags. The rush of the mountain stream, the bleat of the sheep, and the broad, clear Highland skies, reflected in turn and loch ... (at this moment we pick up a highland gentleman in kilt and tam o'shanter clutching a knobkerry in one hand and a letter in the other)... form the breathtaking backdrop against which Ewan McTeagle writes such poems as 'Lend us a quid till the end of the week'.
Cut to crofter's cottage. McTeagle sits at the window writing. We zoom in very slowly on him us he writes.
Voice Over: But it was with more simple, homespun verses that McTeagle's unique style first flowered.
McTeagle: (voice over) If you could see your way to lending me sixpence. I could at least buy a newspaper. That's not much to ask anyone.
Voice Over: One woman who remembers McTeagle as a young friend - Lassie O'Shen.
Cut to Lassie O'Shen - a young sweet innocent Scots girl - she is valiantly trying to fend off the sexual advances of the sound man. Two other members of the crew pull him out of shot.
Lassie: Mr MeTeagle wrote me two poems, between the months of January and April 1969...
Interviewer: Could you read us one?
Lassie: Och, I dinna like to... they were kinda personal... but I will. (she has immediately a piece of paper in her hand from which she reads) 'To Ma Own beloved Lassie. A poem on her 17th Birthday. Lend us a couple of bob till Thursday. I'm absolutely skint. But I'm expecting a postal order and I can pay you back as soon as it comes. Love Ewan.'
There is a pause. She looks up.
Sound Man: (voice over) Beautiful
posted by shmegegge at 10:43 AM on October 4, 2005
Cut to crofter's cottage. McTeagle sits at the window writing. We zoom in very slowly on him us he writes.
Voice Over: But it was with more simple, homespun verses that McTeagle's unique style first flowered.
McTeagle: (voice over) If you could see your way to lending me sixpence. I could at least buy a newspaper. That's not much to ask anyone.
Voice Over: One woman who remembers McTeagle as a young friend - Lassie O'Shen.
Cut to Lassie O'Shen - a young sweet innocent Scots girl - she is valiantly trying to fend off the sexual advances of the sound man. Two other members of the crew pull him out of shot.
Lassie: Mr MeTeagle wrote me two poems, between the months of January and April 1969...
Interviewer: Could you read us one?
Lassie: Och, I dinna like to... they were kinda personal... but I will. (she has immediately a piece of paper in her hand from which she reads) 'To Ma Own beloved Lassie. A poem on her 17th Birthday. Lend us a couple of bob till Thursday. I'm absolutely skint. But I'm expecting a postal order and I can pay you back as soon as it comes. Love Ewan.'
There is a pause. She looks up.
Sound Man: (voice over) Beautiful
posted by shmegegge at 10:43 AM on October 4, 2005
Quoth George_Spiggott:
posted by jiawen at 10:45 AM on October 4, 2005
Turtles: it's not in an episode. It's not originally Monty Python at all, it's from "At Last The 1948 Show" an earlier series with Cleese and Chapman....but Python did perform it. I think it's on the Live at the Hollywood Bowl video, as well as being on at least one CD collection that I know of (The Final Rip-Off).
posted by jiawen at 10:45 AM on October 4, 2005
Good lord....I know all of these practically by heart.
That's scary geeky.
On the upside, it should confuse the hell out of the prison shrinks if I'm ever in solitary and giggling.
"Next we have number four, 'Crunchy Frog'. Am I right in thinking there's a real frog in here?"
posted by Smedleyman at 10:56 AM on October 4, 2005
That's scary geeky.
On the upside, it should confuse the hell out of the prison shrinks if I'm ever in solitary and giggling.
"Next we have number four, 'Crunchy Frog'. Am I right in thinking there's a real frog in here?"
posted by Smedleyman at 10:56 AM on October 4, 2005
Oh my. Mrs. Metafilter's exploded!
posted by drinkcoffee at 11:10 AM on October 4, 2005
posted by drinkcoffee at 11:10 AM on October 4, 2005
from the site: Sources of the transcriptions:
Most of the material was reaped from MontyPython.net, and converted to the color coded table format used in this collection. The rest was added by the editors of this collection.
All the material is copyright Python Productions Ltd and remains their property, and I will remove it if they should request so. "
Apparently the person is using the Google defense. "I'll not copy it if you tell me I can't (after I do copy it). Which, somehow, is not the way the law is written.
I'm a fair-use, creative-commons guy myself, but no, this is not right. Funny, but not right.
posted by beelzbubba at 11:14 AM on October 4, 2005
Most of the material was reaped from MontyPython.net, and converted to the color coded table format used in this collection. The rest was added by the editors of this collection.
All the material is copyright Python Productions Ltd and remains their property, and I will remove it if they should request so. "
Apparently the person is using the Google defense. "I'll not copy it if you tell me I can't (after I do copy it). Which, somehow, is not the way the law is written.
I'm a fair-use, creative-commons guy myself, but no, this is not right. Funny, but not right.
posted by beelzbubba at 11:14 AM on October 4, 2005
G_S, jiawen: I've just found it's on the Live at Drury Lane (1974) album.
"Looox-ury" has become a common tag-line between my office mate and me.
The Players:
Michael Palin - First Yorkshireman;
Graham Chapman - Second Yorkshireman;
Terry Jones - Third Yorkshireman;
Eric Idle - Fourth Yorkshireman;
The Scene:
Four well-dressed men are sitting together at a vacation resort.
'Farewell to Thee' is played in the background on Hawaiian guitar.
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
Aye, very passable, that, very passable bit of risotto.
SECOND YORKSHIREMAN:
Nothing like a good glass of Château de Chasselas, eh, Josiah?
THIRD YORKSHIREMAN:
You're right there, Obadiah.
FOURTH YORKSHIREMAN:
Who'd have thought thirty year ago we'd all be sittin' here drinking Château de Chasselas, eh?
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
In them days we was glad to have the price of a cup o' tea.
SECOND YORKSHIREMAN:
A cup o' cold tea.
FOURTH YORKSHIREMAN:
Without milk or sugar.
THIRD YORKSHIREMAN:
Or tea.
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
In a cracked cup, an' all.
FOURTH YORKSHIREMAN:
Oh, we never had a cup. We used to have to drink out of a rolled up newspaper.
SECOND YORKSHIREMAN:
The best we could manage was to suck on a piece of damp cloth.
THIRD YORKSHIREMAN:
But you know, we were happy in those days, though we were poor.
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
Because we were poor. My old Dad used to say to me, "Money doesn't buy you happiness, son".
FOURTH YORKSHIREMAN:
Aye, 'e was right.
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
Aye, 'e was.
FOURTH YORKSHIREMAN:
I was happier then and I had nothin'. We used to live in this tiny old house with great big holes in the roof.
SECOND YORKSHIREMAN:
House! You were lucky to live in a house! We used to live in one room, all twenty-six of us, no furniture, 'alf the floor was missing, and we were all 'uddled together in one corner for fear of falling.
THIRD YORKSHIREMAN:
Eh, you were lucky to have a room! We used to have to live in t' corridor!
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
Oh, we used to dream of livin' in a corridor! Would ha' been a palace to us. We used to live in an old water tank on a rubbish tip. We got woke up every morning by having a load of rotting fish dumped all over us! House? Huh.
FOURTH YORKSHIREMAN:
Well, when I say 'house' it was only a hole in the ground covered by a sheet of tarpaulin, but it was a house to us.
SECOND YORKSHIREMAN:
We were evicted from our 'ole in the ground; we 'ad to go and live in a lake.
THIRD YORKSHIREMAN:
You were lucky to have a lake! There were a hundred and fifty of us living in t' shoebox in t' middle o' road.
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
Cardboard box?
THIRD YORKSHIREMAN:
Aye.
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
You were lucky. We lived for three months in a paper bag in a septic tank. We used to have to get up at six in the morning, clean the paper bag, eat a crust of stale bread, go to work down t' mill, fourteen hours a day, week-in week-out, for sixpence a week, and when we got home our Dad would thrash us to sleep wi' his belt.
SECOND YORKSHIREMAN:
Luxury. We used to have to get out of the lake at six o'clock in the morning, clean the lake, eat a handful of 'ot gravel, work twenty hour day at mill for tuppence a month, come home, and Dad would thrash us to sleep with a broken bottle, if we were lucky!
THIRD YORKSHIREMAN:
Well, of course, we had it tough. We used to 'ave to get up out of shoebox at twelve o'clock at night and lick road clean wit' tongue. We had two bits of cold gravel, worked twenty-four hours a day at mill for sixpence every four years, and when we got home our Dad would slice us in two wit' bread knife.
FOURTH YORKSHIREMAN:
Right. I had to get up in the morning at ten o'clock at night half an hour before I went to bed, drink a cup of sulphuric acid, work twenty-nine hours a day down mill, and pay mill owner for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our Dad and our mother would kill us and dance about on our graves singing Hallelujah.
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
And you try and tell the young people of today that ..... they won't believe you.
ALL:
They won't!
posted by Turtles all the way down at 11:18 AM on October 4, 2005
"Looox-ury" has become a common tag-line between my office mate and me.
The Players:
Michael Palin - First Yorkshireman;
Graham Chapman - Second Yorkshireman;
Terry Jones - Third Yorkshireman;
Eric Idle - Fourth Yorkshireman;
The Scene:
Four well-dressed men are sitting together at a vacation resort.
'Farewell to Thee' is played in the background on Hawaiian guitar.
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
Aye, very passable, that, very passable bit of risotto.
SECOND YORKSHIREMAN:
Nothing like a good glass of Château de Chasselas, eh, Josiah?
THIRD YORKSHIREMAN:
You're right there, Obadiah.
FOURTH YORKSHIREMAN:
Who'd have thought thirty year ago we'd all be sittin' here drinking Château de Chasselas, eh?
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
In them days we was glad to have the price of a cup o' tea.
SECOND YORKSHIREMAN:
A cup o' cold tea.
FOURTH YORKSHIREMAN:
Without milk or sugar.
THIRD YORKSHIREMAN:
Or tea.
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
In a cracked cup, an' all.
FOURTH YORKSHIREMAN:
Oh, we never had a cup. We used to have to drink out of a rolled up newspaper.
SECOND YORKSHIREMAN:
The best we could manage was to suck on a piece of damp cloth.
THIRD YORKSHIREMAN:
But you know, we were happy in those days, though we were poor.
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
Because we were poor. My old Dad used to say to me, "Money doesn't buy you happiness, son".
FOURTH YORKSHIREMAN:
Aye, 'e was right.
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
Aye, 'e was.
FOURTH YORKSHIREMAN:
I was happier then and I had nothin'. We used to live in this tiny old house with great big holes in the roof.
SECOND YORKSHIREMAN:
House! You were lucky to live in a house! We used to live in one room, all twenty-six of us, no furniture, 'alf the floor was missing, and we were all 'uddled together in one corner for fear of falling.
THIRD YORKSHIREMAN:
Eh, you were lucky to have a room! We used to have to live in t' corridor!
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
Oh, we used to dream of livin' in a corridor! Would ha' been a palace to us. We used to live in an old water tank on a rubbish tip. We got woke up every morning by having a load of rotting fish dumped all over us! House? Huh.
FOURTH YORKSHIREMAN:
Well, when I say 'house' it was only a hole in the ground covered by a sheet of tarpaulin, but it was a house to us.
SECOND YORKSHIREMAN:
We were evicted from our 'ole in the ground; we 'ad to go and live in a lake.
THIRD YORKSHIREMAN:
You were lucky to have a lake! There were a hundred and fifty of us living in t' shoebox in t' middle o' road.
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
Cardboard box?
THIRD YORKSHIREMAN:
Aye.
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
You were lucky. We lived for three months in a paper bag in a septic tank. We used to have to get up at six in the morning, clean the paper bag, eat a crust of stale bread, go to work down t' mill, fourteen hours a day, week-in week-out, for sixpence a week, and when we got home our Dad would thrash us to sleep wi' his belt.
SECOND YORKSHIREMAN:
Luxury. We used to have to get out of the lake at six o'clock in the morning, clean the lake, eat a handful of 'ot gravel, work twenty hour day at mill for tuppence a month, come home, and Dad would thrash us to sleep with a broken bottle, if we were lucky!
THIRD YORKSHIREMAN:
Well, of course, we had it tough. We used to 'ave to get up out of shoebox at twelve o'clock at night and lick road clean wit' tongue. We had two bits of cold gravel, worked twenty-four hours a day at mill for sixpence every four years, and when we got home our Dad would slice us in two wit' bread knife.
FOURTH YORKSHIREMAN:
Right. I had to get up in the morning at ten o'clock at night half an hour before I went to bed, drink a cup of sulphuric acid, work twenty-nine hours a day down mill, and pay mill owner for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our Dad and our mother would kill us and dance about on our graves singing Hallelujah.
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
And you try and tell the young people of today that ..... they won't believe you.
ALL:
They won't!
posted by Turtles all the way down at 11:18 AM on October 4, 2005
You know that drunk bore at the party that keeps quoting Monty Python sketches? The one that everyone rolls their eyes at because they've heard them all before?
That's this thread.
posted by eyeballkid at 11:30 AM on October 4, 2005
That's this thread.
posted by eyeballkid at 11:30 AM on October 4, 2005
Aww, eyeballkid, you were just looking for an excuse to post that and my huge, bandwidth wasting comment gave it to you. C'mon, fess up. ;-)
posted by Turtles all the way down at 11:52 AM on October 4, 2005
posted by Turtles all the way down at 11:52 AM on October 4, 2005
Metafilter: One strawberry tart (without so much rat in it) later... "Disgusting". "Oh, you're always complaining!"
posted by spock at 12:00 PM on October 4, 2005
posted by spock at 12:00 PM on October 4, 2005
As she puts the phone down the front door beside her opens and there stands a huge African warrior in war paint and with a spear and shield. At his feet are several smart suitcases.
Eamonn: Mummy!
Mrs Little: Eamonn. (he brings in the cases and closes the front door) Mervyn! Look it's our Eamonn - oh let me look at you, tell me how... how is it in Dublin?
Eamonn: Well, things is pretty bad there at the moment but there does seem some hope of a constitutional settlement.
posted by gompa at 12:15 PM on October 4, 2005
Eamonn: Mummy!
Mrs Little: Eamonn. (he brings in the cases and closes the front door) Mervyn! Look it's our Eamonn - oh let me look at you, tell me how... how is it in Dublin?
Eamonn: Well, things is pretty bad there at the moment but there does seem some hope of a constitutional settlement.
posted by gompa at 12:15 PM on October 4, 2005
You know how every time people start quoting Python there's always some bore who points out that whenever Monty Python is mentioned there are always some bores who start quoting Python?
posted by George_Spiggott at 12:25 PM on October 4, 2005
posted by George_Spiggott at 12:25 PM on October 4, 2005
I'd didn't bother looking it up but one of my favorites was the cannibalism/funeral home bit. I'll never forget Idle bellowing "We've got an eater!"
posted by Ber at 12:27 PM on October 4, 2005
posted by Ber at 12:27 PM on October 4, 2005
You know how every time people start quoting Python there's always some bore who points out that whenever Monty Python is mentioned there are always some bores who start quoting Python?
I think that ordinary, decent people on this thread are sick and tired of being told that ordinary, decent people on this thread...
posted by soyjoy at 1:07 PM on October 4, 2005
I think that ordinary, decent people on this thread are sick and tired of being told that ordinary, decent people on this thread...
posted by soyjoy at 1:07 PM on October 4, 2005
Eyeballkid, you know that crusty old guy at the party who's a bit too drunk and has a little bit of snot hanging from his nose and thinks it's a terrific wheeze to go around quoting funny bits from other people's comedy but gets the punchline wrong at the exact same moment the nose goblin falls into his drink?
That's you, that is. That's your party trick.
posted by Sparx at 1:15 PM on October 4, 2005
That's you, that is. That's your party trick.
posted by Sparx at 1:15 PM on October 4, 2005
(Eyeballkid: I keed, because I love - Eyeballs. I wouldn't be seen without 'em, you know)
posted by Sparx at 1:40 PM on October 4, 2005
posted by Sparx at 1:40 PM on October 4, 2005
Have you ever noticed how MetaFilter threads are thin at one end, much much thicker in the middle, and then thin again at the far end?
posted by weapons-grade pandemonium at 1:52 PM on October 4, 2005
posted by weapons-grade pandemonium at 1:52 PM on October 4, 2005
Seeing as everybody else is doing it....
Mum: How are you liking it down the mine, Ken?
Ken: Oh it's not too bad, mum... we're using some new tungsten carbide drills for the preliminary coal-face scouring operations.
Mum: Oh that sounds nice, dear...
Dad: Tungsten carbide drills! What the bloody hell's tungsten carbide drills?
Ken: It's something they use in coal-mining, father.
Dad: (mimicking) 'It's something they use in coal-mining, father'. You're all bloody fancy talk since you left London.
Ken: Oh not that again.
Mum: He's had a hard day dear... his new play opens at the National Theatre tomorrow.
Ken: Oh that's good.
Dad: Good! good? What do you know about it? What do you know about getting up at five o'clock in t'morning to fly to Paris... back at the Old Vic for drinks at twelve, sweating the day through press interviews, television interviews and getting back here at ten to wrestle with the problem of a homosexual nymphomaniac drug-addict involved in the ritual murder of a well known Scottish footballer. That's a full working day, lad, and don't you forget it!
Mum: Oh, don't shout at the boy, father.
Dad: Aye, 'ampstead wasn't good enough for you, was it? ... you had to go poncing off to Barnsley, you and yer coal-mining friends. (spits)
Ken: Coal-mining is a wonderful thing father, but it's something you'll never understand. Just look at you!
Mum: Oh Ken! Be careful! You know what he's like after a few novels.
Dad: Oh come on lad! Come on, out wi' it! What's wrong wi' me?... yet tit!
Ken: I'll tell you what's wrong with you. Your head's addled with novels and poems, you come home every evening reeling of Chateau La Tour...
Mum: Oh don't, don't.
Ken: And look what you've done to mother! She's worn out with meeting film stars, attending premieres and giving gala luncheons...
Dad: There's nowt wrong wi' gala luncheons, lad! I've had more gala luncheons than you've had hot dinners!
Mum: Oh please!
Dad: Aaaaaaagh! (clutches hands and sinks to knees)
Mum: Oh no!
Ken: What is it?
Mum: Oh, it's his writer's cramp!
posted by jokeefe at 2:41 PM on October 4, 2005
Mum: How are you liking it down the mine, Ken?
Ken: Oh it's not too bad, mum... we're using some new tungsten carbide drills for the preliminary coal-face scouring operations.
Mum: Oh that sounds nice, dear...
Dad: Tungsten carbide drills! What the bloody hell's tungsten carbide drills?
Ken: It's something they use in coal-mining, father.
Dad: (mimicking) 'It's something they use in coal-mining, father'. You're all bloody fancy talk since you left London.
Ken: Oh not that again.
Mum: He's had a hard day dear... his new play opens at the National Theatre tomorrow.
Ken: Oh that's good.
Dad: Good! good? What do you know about it? What do you know about getting up at five o'clock in t'morning to fly to Paris... back at the Old Vic for drinks at twelve, sweating the day through press interviews, television interviews and getting back here at ten to wrestle with the problem of a homosexual nymphomaniac drug-addict involved in the ritual murder of a well known Scottish footballer. That's a full working day, lad, and don't you forget it!
Mum: Oh, don't shout at the boy, father.
Dad: Aye, 'ampstead wasn't good enough for you, was it? ... you had to go poncing off to Barnsley, you and yer coal-mining friends. (spits)
Ken: Coal-mining is a wonderful thing father, but it's something you'll never understand. Just look at you!
Mum: Oh Ken! Be careful! You know what he's like after a few novels.
Dad: Oh come on lad! Come on, out wi' it! What's wrong wi' me?... yet tit!
Ken: I'll tell you what's wrong with you. Your head's addled with novels and poems, you come home every evening reeling of Chateau La Tour...
Mum: Oh don't, don't.
Ken: And look what you've done to mother! She's worn out with meeting film stars, attending premieres and giving gala luncheons...
Dad: There's nowt wrong wi' gala luncheons, lad! I've had more gala luncheons than you've had hot dinners!
Mum: Oh please!
Dad: Aaaaaaagh! (clutches hands and sinks to knees)
Mum: Oh no!
Ken: What is it?
Mum: Oh, it's his writer's cramp!
posted by jokeefe at 2:41 PM on October 4, 2005
Have you ever noticed how MetaFilter threads are thin at one end, much much thicker in the middle, and then thin again at the far end?
I thought that was Ohio.
posted by kirkaracha at 2:48 PM on October 4, 2005
You know that drunk bore at the party that keeps quoting Monty Python sketches? The one that everyone rolls their eyes at because they've heard them all before?
I tried to help. Perhaps it's futile.
posted by milovoo at 3:22 PM on October 4, 2005
I tried to help. Perhaps it's futile.
posted by milovoo at 3:22 PM on October 4, 2005
"I'd like to complain about people who hold things up by complaining about people complaining. It's about time something was done about it."
You want to complain! Look at these shoes. I've only had them three weeks and the heels are worn right through. If you complain nothing happens, you might as well not bother.
posted by Smedleyman at 4:11 PM on October 4, 2005
You want to complain! Look at these shoes. I've only had them three weeks and the heels are worn right through. If you complain nothing happens, you might as well not bother.
posted by Smedleyman at 4:11 PM on October 4, 2005
Dear Sir, I wish to complain in the strongest possible terms about the thread which you have just posted, about the Monty Python’s Flying Circus. Many of my best friends are Python fans and only a few of them are ordinary, decent people.
Yours faithfully,
Brigadier Sir Charles Arthur Strong (Mrs.)
PS I have never kissed ParisParamus
posted by Smedleyman at 4:16 PM on October 4, 2005
This thread reminds me of the Rutles: A legend that will last a lunchtime.
posted by spock at 4:51 PM on October 4, 2005
posted by spock at 4:51 PM on October 4, 2005
And finally, the obligatory link to Maybe I Can Impress Her With My Holy Grail Quotes.
Right, who threw that? Very well, the entire back four rows will come and beat me this evening.
posted by George_Spiggott at 5:06 PM on October 4, 2005
Right, who threw that? Very well, the entire back four rows will come and beat me this evening.
posted by George_Spiggott at 5:06 PM on October 4, 2005
The Shrub!
posted by uncanny hengeman at 5:13 PM on October 4, 2005
posted by uncanny hengeman at 5:13 PM on October 4, 2005
... and time for the penguin on top of your monitor to explode.
posted by inpHilltr8r at 6:17 PM on October 4, 2005
posted by inpHilltr8r at 6:17 PM on October 4, 2005
Is this the right thread for an argument?
I told you once...
posted by ZenMasterThis at 7:05 PM on October 4, 2005
I told you once...
posted by ZenMasterThis at 7:05 PM on October 4, 2005
... and time for the penguin on top of your monitor to explode.
Oh, intercourse the penguin!
posted by facapulco at 7:40 PM on October 4, 2005
Oh, intercourse the penguin!
posted by facapulco at 7:40 PM on October 4, 2005
I went to England back in 'ought '90 partially to BUY these books. ("But you try to tell young people today that, and they won't believe you, no") So I'm not bothered by the dodgy business about the copyright: no, I'm thrilled by the accessibility.
And just last week I got my set of The Complete New Yorker. I tell you, it's a good time to be alive.
posted by AsYouKnow Bob at 8:02 PM on October 4, 2005
And just last week I got my set of The Complete New Yorker. I tell you, it's a good time to be alive.
posted by AsYouKnow Bob at 8:02 PM on October 4, 2005
The best...
Host Ah, John. Allow me to introduce my next-door neighbour. John Stokes, this is A Snivelling Little Rat-Faced Git. Ah!
Mr Git Hello, I noticed a slight look of anxiety cross your face for a moment just then, but you needn't worry - I'm used to it. That's the trouble of having a surname like Git.
John Oh ... yes, yes.
Mr Git We did think once of having it changed by deed-poll, you know - to Watson or something like that. But A Snivelling Little Rat-Faced Watson's just as bad eh?
John Yes, yes, I suppose so.
Mrs Git approaches.
Mr Git Oh, that's my wife. Darling! Come and meet Mr... what was it?
John Stokes - John Stokes.
Mr Git Oh yes. John Stokes, this is my wife, Dreary Fat Boring Old.
John Oh, er, how do you do.
Mrs Git How do you do.
Mrs Stokes appears.
Mrs Stokes Darling, there you are!
John Yes, yes, here I am, yes.
Mr Git Oh, is this your wife?
John Yes, yes, yes, this is the wife. Yes. Um darling, these, these are the Gits.
Mrs Stokes (slightly shocked) What?
John The Gits.
Mr Git Oh, heaven's sakes we are being formal. Does it have to be surnames?
John Oh, no, no. Not at all. No. Um, no, this... this... this is my wife Norah, er, Norah Jane, Norah Jane Stokes. This is Snivelling Little Rat-Faced Git. And this is his wife Dreary Fat Boring Old Git.
Mr Git I was just telling your husband what an awful bore it is having a surname like Git.
Mrs Stokes (understanding at last) OH Oh well, it's not that bad.
Mr Git Oh, you've no idea how the kids get taunted. Why, only last week Dirty Lying Little Two-Faced came running home from school, sobbing his eyes out, and our youngest, Ghastly Spotty Horrible Vicious Little is just at the age when taunts like 'she's a git' really hurt. Yes.
Mrs Git gobs colourfully into her handbag.
John Do ... do you live round here?
Mr Git Yes, we live up the road, number 49 - you can't miss it. We've just had the outside painted with warm pus.
John (with increasing embarrassment) Oh.
Mr Git Yes. It's very nice actually. It goes nicely with the vomit and catarrh we've got smeared all over the front door.
Mrs Stokes I think we ought to be going. We have two children to collect.
Mr Git Oh, well, bring them round for tea tomorrow.
Mrs Stokes Well...
Mr Git It's Ghastly Spotty Cross-Eyed's birthday and she's having a disembowelling party for a few friends. The Nauseas will be there, and Doug and Janice Mucus, and the Rectums from Swanage.
posted by moonbird at 8:26 PM on October 4, 2005
Host Ah, John. Allow me to introduce my next-door neighbour. John Stokes, this is A Snivelling Little Rat-Faced Git. Ah!
Mr Git Hello, I noticed a slight look of anxiety cross your face for a moment just then, but you needn't worry - I'm used to it. That's the trouble of having a surname like Git.
John Oh ... yes, yes.
Mr Git We did think once of having it changed by deed-poll, you know - to Watson or something like that. But A Snivelling Little Rat-Faced Watson's just as bad eh?
John Yes, yes, I suppose so.
Mrs Git approaches.
Mr Git Oh, that's my wife. Darling! Come and meet Mr... what was it?
John Stokes - John Stokes.
Mr Git Oh yes. John Stokes, this is my wife, Dreary Fat Boring Old.
John Oh, er, how do you do.
Mrs Git How do you do.
Mrs Stokes appears.
Mrs Stokes Darling, there you are!
John Yes, yes, here I am, yes.
Mr Git Oh, is this your wife?
John Yes, yes, yes, this is the wife. Yes. Um darling, these, these are the Gits.
Mrs Stokes (slightly shocked) What?
John The Gits.
Mr Git Oh, heaven's sakes we are being formal. Does it have to be surnames?
John Oh, no, no. Not at all. No. Um, no, this... this... this is my wife Norah, er, Norah Jane, Norah Jane Stokes. This is Snivelling Little Rat-Faced Git. And this is his wife Dreary Fat Boring Old Git.
Mr Git I was just telling your husband what an awful bore it is having a surname like Git.
Mrs Stokes (understanding at last) OH Oh well, it's not that bad.
Mr Git Oh, you've no idea how the kids get taunted. Why, only last week Dirty Lying Little Two-Faced came running home from school, sobbing his eyes out, and our youngest, Ghastly Spotty Horrible Vicious Little is just at the age when taunts like 'she's a git' really hurt. Yes.
Mrs Git gobs colourfully into her handbag.
John Do ... do you live round here?
Mr Git Yes, we live up the road, number 49 - you can't miss it. We've just had the outside painted with warm pus.
John (with increasing embarrassment) Oh.
Mr Git Yes. It's very nice actually. It goes nicely with the vomit and catarrh we've got smeared all over the front door.
Mrs Stokes I think we ought to be going. We have two children to collect.
Mr Git Oh, well, bring them round for tea tomorrow.
Mrs Stokes Well...
Mr Git It's Ghastly Spotty Cross-Eyed's birthday and she's having a disembowelling party for a few friends. The Nauseas will be there, and Doug and Janice Mucus, and the Rectums from Swanage.
posted by moonbird at 8:26 PM on October 4, 2005
"We have a lot of trouble with these oldies. Pension day's the worst - they go mad. As soon as they get their hands on their money they blow it all on milk, bread, tea, tin of meat for the cat."
posted by kosher_jenny at 8:33 PM on October 4, 2005
posted by kosher_jenny at 8:33 PM on October 4, 2005
And are you still intending to purchase this second shed?
posted by TheDonF at 11:09 PM on October 4, 2005
posted by TheDonF at 11:09 PM on October 4, 2005
All right, everybody out, now, all of you! I will not have my home filled with filthy dirty perverts, now I'm giving you all about five minutes to leave before I call the police!
posted by dingobully at 2:00 AM on October 5, 2005
posted by dingobully at 2:00 AM on October 5, 2005
I think the people who complain about people endlessly quoting Python are, in all likelihood, miserable fat Belgian bastards.
By the way mosk - it's a bit runny, I'm afraid.
posted by Decani at 7:48 AM on October 5, 2005
By the way mosk - it's a bit runny, I'm afraid.
posted by Decani at 7:48 AM on October 5, 2005
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Man: Burglar! (longish pause while he waits, he rings again) Burglar! (woman appears at other side of door)
Woman: Yes?
Man: Burglar, madam.
Woman: What do you want?
Man: I want to come in and steal a few things, madam.
Woman: Are you an encydopaedia salesman?
Man: No madam, I'm a burglar, I burgle people.
Woman: I think you're an encyclopaedia salesman.
Man: Oh I'm not, open the door, let me in please.
Woman: If I let you in you'll sell me encyclopaedias.
Man: I won't, madam. I just want to come in and ransack the flat. Honestly.
Woman: Promise. No encyclopaedias?
Man: None at all.
Woman: All right. (she opens door) You'd better come in then.
- - Man enters it through door.
Man: Mind you I don't know whether you've really considered the advantages of owning a really fine set of modern encyclopaedias...(he pockets valuable) You know, they can really do you wonders.
posted by caddis at 8:32 AM on October 4, 2005