ANOTHER
MONTY PYTHON
CD
BEETHOVEN
SYMPHONY No.2 IN D MAJOR
THE NATIONAL PHILHARMONIC
ORCHESTRA
DIETRICH WALTHER
Soloist: Justus Pankau
Contradiction 6
Penguin on TV 7
Neville Shunt 7
Spam 8
Stake your Claim 8
Sill no sign of land (Lifeboat) 9
Undertaker 10
(Inside record sleeve.)
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behaviour.
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Play 1:
A Taste of Evil
by a very good bearded playwright
Dramatis personae:
Montague de Vere......................A zany
Marxist Tycoon
Sergeant Spencer
Superintendent Donaldson........Police Officers
Cyril Prepuce............................A
gardener and a humanist
George.......................................Anthea's brother
Anthea.......................................George's sister
Wong-Fu-Sun............................A German
Sinophile
Kel Nagle...................................A
Golfer
Colin Caldwell...........................A
lapsed Hindu
"Monkeyglands" Johnson.........A.T.V Quizmaster
Dolores E. Mozart....................A Winch
Operator
"Tiny Mike" O'McGear
Abdul Karim
Mrs. Thatcher
Arnold Weinstock ...................Not in
this Play
Miss World 1968
Don Partridge
Paul and Barry Spinoza
Act I
Scene One
A Police Station in Repton, SERGEANT
SPENCER is at his Desk; SUPERINTENDENT
DONALDSON enters left.
SPENCER: Morning, super.
DONALDSON: Morning, wonderful.
SPENCER: Nasty business up at the Towers,
sir.
DONALDSON: Oh yes, what's happened?
SPENCER: Montague's shot himself.
DONALDSON: Dead?
SPENCER: 'Fraid so sir, blood
everywhere...
DONALDSON: Alright Spencer, get onto the
Yard while I get round to the
Towers...He turns to go.
SPENCER: Are you going past a sweetshop
on the way, sir?
DONALDSON: Yes, I think so...I'm going
the pretty way, up through Tinkerbell
Wood.
SPENCER: Get us some jelly babies sir.
DONALDSON: O.K.
He exits.
Scene Two
The Morning Room at the Towers.
MONTAGUE lies in a pool of blood
behind a heavy curtain which
completely conceals his body. ANTHEA
and GEORGE are pacing the room.
ANTHEA: Don't torture yourself George.
GEORGE: (slamming the door on his
fingers) I'm sorry, my dear.
ANTHEA: Ever since we arrived at the
Towers, I've had this terrible feeling
of...
GEORGE: (putting his head in the piano
and dropping the lid on it) ... Of
what, my dear.
ANTHEA: I don't know it's as though...as
though...
The door to the garden opens. Cyril
enters holding a smoking gun, a blood
stained assegai, a tangled length of
nylon stocking, a gas oven, an empty
bottle of poison, a book of famous
murders, and an acid bath.
CYRIL: I've just been re-laying the
crocquet lawn
(To be continued)
Play 2:
All Quiet on the Western Front
Adapted by Jeff Astle and Jean Genet. From an idea by Allan
Clarke
Dramatis personae:
Charles De Vere Flyffe..................A young
subaltern
Belinda Fforbes-Ttrenchh..............A young
public-school girl
Ratzo Rizzo...................................A
character in Midnight Cowboy
Dougie Trimble
Father Olaf O'Hara S.J.
Mireille Biggs .........T.V Qiuzmasters
Harry "Four Eyes" Da Vinci
Milos Gorman
'Sapper' McGough..........................A
young sapper.
Act 1
Scene One
BELINDA: Oh Charles! Charles! Charles!
YOU: (joyfully) Belinda!
BELINDA: Oh Charles!
YOU: (happily, yet with a hint of
anxiety) Belinda!
BELINDA: I never thought I'd see you
again.
YOU: (cryptically, with the merest trace
of forced insouciance) I'm on leave.
BELINDA: Oh that's wonderful news...but
why? Are you-
YOU: (abruptly, almost defiantly, with an
unaccustomed annoyance) yes.
BELINDA: Where?
YOU: (deliberately and without
bitterness) In the toe.
BELINDA: Oh no!
YOU: (enquiringly, yet with a hint of
profound emotion detectable through
the mask of innocence) Belinda?
BELINDA: Yes Charles?
YOU: (a strange diffidence mingling with
tenderness) I love you.
BELINDA: I love you too.
YOU: (cautiously, affecting a delicately
studied nonchalance) But -
BELINDA: But What?
YOU: (tersely, yet softly, with a hint of
weariness in a voice from which time
has erased the hard edges of anger)
It's been shot off.
BELINDA: Shot off?
YOU: (momentarily pausing only to achieve
a deliberate flatness as if in silent
reproach of her incredulity) Shot off.
BELINDA: Completely?
YOU: (helplessly, yet proudly, a tell-
tale suggestion of remorse severing
the thin thread of hope that has until
this moment survived despite itself)
I'm afraid so.
BELINDA: Oh Charles.
YOU: (beseechingly, longingly, with only
a slight querulousness in the voice
betraying a hint of the anxiety and
self-doubt which he has inevitably
suffered) Belinda!
BELINDA: Charles!
YOU: (wistfully and imploringly, with
overtones of melancholy and quizzical
introspection clouding the once-eager
freshness of his passionate emotions)
Belinda!
BELINDA: Charles!
YOU: (half-crying, half-laughing, with a
violent passivity, redolent of the
self-mockery of a primeval anguish,
expressing in a word, all the extremes
of human emotion, all the levels of
attainment to which the mind can
aspire in the eternal quest for the
elusive goal of self-perfection)
Belinda!
CURTAIN:
(a sheet or travelling rug will do).
COVER NOTES By STANLEY BALDWIN
Hello. Well, I was extremely pleased
and honoured to be asked to write the
credits for this cd, not only because I
believe that it is vital in this day and
age for members of the older generation to
keep pace with the dynamic and exciting
ideas of youth, but also for the money.
Well, here goes - the splendid cast
was headed by Richard Tauber and Edith Eva
- I'm sorry....I lost my notes .. ah, yes
- the cd was written and performed by John
Cleese, Graham Chapman (I wonder if he's
any relation to the Chapman I
knew)...er...Eric Idle, Terry Jones,
Michael Palin(I wonder if he's any
relation to the Chapman I knew) with
special star-guest award-winning feature
performance by the lovely Carol Cleveland
and the boisterous Terry Gilliam(who, I
believe, is foreign - tho' of course
absolutely none the worse fot it, there's
no question of any stigma here...oh, no).
Where am I, oh yes...the very fine music was written and
arranged by my old friend, Fred Tomlinson - how are you
Fred?... and of course the songs were sung by the Fred
Tomlinson Singer - and jolly gay they are too... oh dear... the
songs of course. The cover of the cd, including this little
note of mine was designed and well... I'm not quite sure what
the word is... laid out, I suppose... designed and laid out
(that doesn't sound absolutely right... but, still) designed
and laid out by Terry Gilliam with the help of another lady,
Katy Hepburn... oh dear... another lady besides Carol Cleveland
is what I meant... sorry about that... I think I'll finish this
in the morning.
Saturday morning
The cd was produced by Terry Jones and Michael Palin, but
is none the worse for that - I've heard many cds far worse than
this - so don't worry Terry and Michael... er...now... where
was I... oh yes... some very useful information here - the
record was recorded (sorry about the repetition there) the
record was recorded at the Marquee Studios in the heart of
London's sleazy Soho area - where I believe you can now get -
and the engineer was none other than my old friend, Colin
Caldwell* who served with me in the Sudan - he had his leg shot
off twice, and I'm very surprised to hear he's gone into record
production. He was very ably assisted, not only by Will Roper
(no relation to the Roper of Roper's Glue) but also by 17 stone
8 lb. Tony Taverner, a British national since birth, both of
whom went without the normal bodily functions for 26 days in
order to prepare this platter....is that the hip word now?+
Well, I think this is almost the end of my little piece.
I'd like to say how much I've enjoyed writing it - hope I
haven't left anyone out. I do go on a bit, I know - but I
sincerely hope that you get as much pleasure from listening to
it as I have from...er...from...er...from also listening to
it.... oh dear... that's not a very good way to end, is it.
* Probably his grandson - ed.
+ No - ed.
POST OFFICE
TELEGRAM
Prefix. Time handed in. Office of Origin and Service
Instructions. Words.
LOVED YOUR HAMLET AT THE NATIONAL DARLING. WISH
I HAD A QUARTER OF YOUR TALENT. HERES TO ANOTHER
TRIUMPH. SEE YOU FOR A DRINK AFTERWARDS =
SIR JOHN GIELGUD +
For free repetitions of doubtful words telephone "TELEGRAMS
ENQUIRY" or call, with this form at office of delivery. Other
enquiries should be accompanied by this form, and,if possible,
the envelope.
POST OFFICE
TELEGRAM
Prefix. Time handed in. Office of Origin and Service
Instructions. Words.
LOVED YOUR THREE SISTERS AT THE COURT DARLING .
YOU HAVE MORE TALENT IN YOUR LITTLE FINGER .
THAN SARA BERNHARDT HAD IN THE WHOLE LEFTHAND
SIDE OF HER BODY . A THOUSAND GOOD WISHES .
SEE YOU AFTERWARDS FOR A DRINK =
DAME EDITH BEVANS +
For free repetitions of doubtful words telephone "TELEGRAMS
ENQUIRY" or call, with this form at office of delivery. Other
enquiries should be accompanied by this form, and,if possible,
the envelope.
TRONDHEIM HAMMER DANCE
(F. TOMLINSON)
PUBLISHED BY KAY GEE BEE MUSIC
LIBERTY BELL
(SOUSA ARR. A. W. SHERRIF)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.
FANFARE OPENING
(D. LAREN)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.
FORMAL PRESENTATION
(K. PAPWORTH)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.
CONTESANA PADAWANA
(TCHAIKOVSKY)
PUBLISHED BY PUBLIC DOMAIN
CONTESANA PADAWANA
(TCHAIKOVSKY)
PUBLISHED BY PUBLIC DOMAIN
CONTESANA PADAWANA
(TCHAIKOVSKY)
PUBLISHED BY PUBLIC DOMAIN
CONTESANA PADAWANA
(TCHAIKOVSKY)
PUBLISHED BY PUBLIC DOMAIN
MAN OF POWER
(J.TROMBEY)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.
MAN OF POWER
(J.TROMBEY)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.
GOLD LAME
(K. PAPWORTH)
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SOUTHERN BREEZE
(A. MAWER)
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SOUTHERN BREEZE
(A. MAWER)
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SOUTHERN BREEZE
(A. MAWER)
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SOUTHERN BREEZE
(A. MAWER)
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SPAM SONG
(MONTY PYTHON)
PUBLISHED BY KAY GEE BEE MUSIC
SPAM SONG
(MONTY PYTHON)
PUBLISHED BY KAY GEE BEE MUSIC
SPAM SONG
(MONTY PYTHON)
PUBLISHED BY KAY GEE BEE MUSIC
SPAM SONG
(MONTY PYTHON)
PUBLISHED BY KAY GEE BEE MUSIC
BAHAMA PARAKEET
(A. MAWER)
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HOUSE OF FASHION
(STANLEY BLACK)
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CIRCUS TUMBLE
(K. PAPWORTH)
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FANFARE A
(MAJOR J HOWE)
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MYSTERY DRUMS
(P. KNIGHT)
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MYSTERY PLACE
(P. KNIGHT)
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MYSTERY PLACE
(P. KNIGHT)
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MYSTERY DRUMS
(P. KNIGHT)
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ODE TO EDWARD
(J. TROMBEY)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.
ODE TO EDWARD
(J. TROMBEY)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.
IN STEP WITH JOHANN
(R. WALE)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.
KNEESE UP MOTHER BROWN
(WESTON/LEE)
PUBLISHED BY PETER MAURICE/
EMI-KEITH PROWSE MUSIC
EFFECTS SHEET
(End record sleeve.)
Contradiction
Host: With me now is Norman St. John Polevaulter, who for the
last few years has been contradicting people. St. John
Polevaulter, why do you contradict people?
Norman St. John Polevaulter: I don't!
Host: But you... you told me that you did.
Norman St. John Polevaulter: I most certainly did not!
Host: Oh. I see. I'll start again.
Norman St. John Polevaulter: No you won't!
Host: Ssh! I understand you don't contradict people.
Norman St. John Polevaulter: Yes I do!
Host: And when didn't you start contradicting them?
Norman St. John Polevaulter: I did! In 1952!
Host: 1952.
Norman St. John Polevaulter: 1947!
Host: 23 years ago.
Norman St. John Polevaulter: No!
**** end of file CONTRA PYTHON 9/19/87 ****
Penguin on TV
Transcribed from : Another Monty Python CD.
Parts played by : John Cleese(1), Graham Chapman(2) and Terry
Jones(3)
1: Oh dear, the radio's exploded.
2: Oh. Well, what's on the television then?
1: Looks like a penguin.
2: No, didn't mean what was on the TV set, I meant what
program.
1: Oh! Well, I'll switch it on.
2: It's ddd that penguin being there, ain't it.
1: What's it doing there?
2: Standin'!
1: I can see that!
2: If it laid an egg, it would fall down the back of the
television set.
1: We'll have to watch that. Unless it's a male.
2: Oh, I hadn't thought of that.
1: It looks fairly butch.
2: Perhaps it's from nextdoor.
1: NEXT DOOR!? Penguins don't come from NEXT DOOR, they come
from the
Antarctis.
2: BURMA!!
1: Why did you say Burma?
2: I panicked.
1: Perhaps it's from the zoo.
2: Which zoo?
1: How should I know which zoo, I'm not Doctor Bloody
Bernovski.
2: How would Doctor Bernovski know which zoo it was from?
1: He knows everything.
2: Hmmm. I wouldn't like that. That would take all the mystery
out of life.
1: Anyway, if it was from the zoo, it'd have "Property of the
zoo" stamped
on it.
2: No it wouldn't! They don't stamp animals "Property of the
zoo". You can't
stamp a huge lion.
1: They stamp them when they're small.
2: What happens when they molt?
1: Lions don't molt.
2: No but penguins do. THERE(!), I've run rings around you,
logically.
1: OH, INTERCOURSE THE PENGUIN!
3: Hello. Well, it's just after eight o'clock and time for the
penguin on top
of your television set to explode.
2: 'ow did he know that was going to happen?
3: It was an inspired guess. And know...
Neville Shunt
Neville Shunt's latest West End Success, "It all Happened on
the 11.20 from Hainault to Redhill via Horsham and Reigate,
calling at Carshalton Beeches, Malmesbury, Tooting Bec and
Croydon West," is currently appearing at the Limp Theatre,
Piccadilly. What Shunt is doing in this, as in his earlier nine
plays, is to express the human condition in terms of British
Rail.
Some people have made the mistake of seeing Shunt's work as a
load of rubbish about railway timetables, but clever people
like me who talk loudly in restaurants see this as a deliberate
ambiguity, a plea for understanding in a mechanised mansion.
The points are frozen, the beast is dead. What is the
difference? What indeed is the point? The point is frozen, the
beast is late out of Paddington. The point is taken. If La
Fontaine's elk would spurn Tom Jones the engine must be our
head, the dining car our aesophagus, the guards van our left
lung, the cattle truck our shins, the first class compartment
the piece of skin at the nape of the neck and the level
crossing an electric elk called Simon. The clarity is
devastating. But where is the ambiguity? Over there in a box.
Shunt is saying the 8.15 from Gillingham when in reality he
means the 8.13 from Gillingham. The train is the same, only the
time is altered. Ecce homo, ergo elk. La Fontaine knew its
sister and knew her bloody well. The point is taken, the beast
is moulting, the fluff gets up your nose. The illusion is
complete; it is reality, the reality is illusion and the
ambiguity is the only truth. But is the truth, as Hitchcock
observes, in the box? No, there isn't room, the ambiguity has
put on weight. The point is taken, the elk is dead, the beast
stops at Swindon, Chabrol stops at nothing, I'm having
treatment and La Fontaine can get knotted.
Spam
Man: Morning.
Waitress: Morning.
M: Well, what you got?
W: Well, there's egg and bacon; egg, sausage and bacon; egg and
spam;
egg, bacon and spam; egg, bacon, sausage and spam; spam,
bacon,
sausage and spam; spam, egg, spam, spam, bacon and spam; spam,
sausage, spam, spam, spam, bacon, spam, tomato and spam; spam,
spam,
spam, egg and spam; (vikings start singing in background)
spam, spam,
spam, spam, spam, spam, baked beans, spam, spam, spam and
spam.
Vikings: Spam, spam , spam, spam, lovely spam, lovely spam.
W (cont): or lobster thermador ecrovets with a bournaise sause,
served
in the purple salm manor with chalots and overshies, garnashed
with
truffle pate, brandy, a fried egg on top and spam.
Wife: Have you got anything without spam?
Waitress: Well, there's spam, egg, sausage and spam. That's not
got
much spam in it.
Wi: I don't want any spam!
M: Why can't she have egg, bacon, spam and sausage?
Wi: That's got spam in it.
M: It hasn't got as much spam in it as spam, egg, sausage and
spam has it?
Wi: (over vikings starting again) Could you do me egg, bacon,
spam and
sausage without the spam then?
Wa: Ech!
Wi: What do you mean ech! I don't like spam!
V: Lovely spam, wonderful spam....etc
Wa: Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Bloody vikings. You can't have
egg, bacon
spam and sausage without the spam.
Wi: I don't like spam!
M: Sh dear, don't cause a fuss. I'll have your spam. I love it.
I'm
having spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, baked beans,
spam,
spam, spam and spam. (starts vikings off again)
V: Lovely spam, wonderful spam...etc
Wa: Shut up! Baked beans are off.
M: Well, can I have her spam instead of the baked beans?
Wa: You mean spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam,
spam,
spam, spam, and spam?
V: Lovely spam, wonderful spam...etc...spam, spam, spam! (in
harmony)
1Stake your Claim
from "Monty Python's Previous Record"
Game Show Host: Good evening and welcome to Stake Your Claim.
First this evening we have Mr Norman Voles of Gravesend who
claims he wrote all Shakespeare's works. Mr Voles, I understand
you claim that you wrote all those plays normally attributed to
Shakespeare?
Mr. Voles: That is correct. I wrote all his plays and my wife
and I wrote his sonnets.
Game Show Host: Mr Voles, these plays are known to have been
performed in the early 17th century. How old are you, Mr Voles?
Mr. Voles: 43.
Game Show Host: Well, how is it possible for you to have
written plays performed over 300 years before you were born?
Mr. Voles: Ah well. This is where my claim falls to the ground.
Game Show Host: Ah!
Mr. Voles: There's no possible way of answering that argument,
I'm afraid. I was only hoping you would not make that
particular point, but I can see you're more than a match for
me!
Game Show Host: Mr Voles, thank you very much for coming along.
Mr. Voles: My pleasure.
Game Show Host: Next we have Mr Bill Wymiss who claims to have
built the Taj Mahal.
Mr. Bill Wymiss: No.
Game Show Host: I'm sorry?
Mr. Bill Wymiss: No. No.
Game Show Host: I thought you cla...
Mr. Bill Wymiss: Well, I did but I can see I won't last a
minute with you.
Game Show Host: Next...
Mr. Bill Wymiss: I was right!
Game Show Host: ... we have Mrs Mittelschmerz of Dundee who
cla... Mrs Mittelschmerz, what is your claim?
Mrs. Mittelschmerz (Graham Chapman in drag): That I can burrow
through an elephant.
Game Show Host: (Pause) Now you've changed your claim, haven't
you. You know we haven't got an elephant.
Mrs. Mittelschmerz: (Insincerely) Oh, haven't you? Oh dear!
Game Show Host: You're not fooling anybody, Mrs Mittelschmerz.
In your letter you quite clearly claimed that...er...you could
be thrown off the top of Beachy Head into the English Channel
and then be buried.
Mrs. Mittelschmerz: No, you can't read my writing.
Game Show Host: It's typed.
Mrs. Mittelschmerz: It says 'elephant'.
Game Show Host: Mrs Mittelschmerz, this is an entertainment
show, and I'm not prepared to simply sit here bickering. Take
her away, Heinz!
Mrs. Mittelschmerz: Here, no, leave me alone!
(Sound of wind and sea).
Mrs. Mittelschmerz: Oooaaahh! (SPLOSH)
Sill no sign of land (Lifeboat)
(Scene: The interior of a ship. Seagulls are crying.)
(groans and coughs)
1: Still no sign of land. How long is it?
2: That's a rather personal question, sir. (low voices)
1: You stupid git. I meant how long is it that we've been in
the lifeboat? You've destroyed the atmosphere now.
2: I'm sorry.
1: Shut up. Start again.
1: Still no sign of land. How long is it?
2: 33 days, sir.
1: Thirty-three days?
2: We can't go on much longer. (low voices) I didn't think I
destroyed the atmosphere.
1: Shut up.
2: Well, I don't think I did.
1: 'Course you did.
2: (aside, to 3) Did you think I destroyed the atmosphere?
3: Yes I think you did.
1: Shut up. Shut up!
1: Still no sign of land. How long is it?
2: 33 days, sir.
4: Have we started again? [slap]
1: STILL no sign of land. How long is it?
2: 33 days, sir.
1: Thirty-three days?
2: We can't go on much longer, sir. We haven't eaten since the
fifth day.
5: We're done for, we're done for!
1: Shut up, Maudling.
2: We've just got to keep hoping. Someone may find us.
6: How we feeling, Captain?
C: Not too good. I...I feel so weak.
2: We can't hold out much longer.
C: Listen...chaps...there's still a chance. I'm...done for,
I've...got a gammy leg and I'm going fast; I'll never get
through. But...some of you might. So...you'd better eat me.
?: Eat you, sir?
C: Yes. Eat me.
?: Iiuuhh! With a gammy leg?
C: You didn't eat the leg, Thompson. There's still plenty of
good meat. Look at that arm.
5: It's not just the leg, sir.
C: What do you mean?
5: Well, sir...it's just that -
C: Why don't you want to eat me?
5: I'd rather eat Johnson, sir!
?: So would I, sir.
C: I see.
?: Then that's decided...everyone's gonna eat me!
?: Uh, well.
5: What, sir?
?: Go ahead, please, but I won't -
?: Oh nonsense, sir, you're starving; tuck in!
1: No, no, it's not that.
?: What's the matter with Johnson, sir?
1: Well, he's not kosher.
5: That depends how we kill him, sir.
1: Yes, that's true. But to be perfectly frank I...I like my
meat a little more lean. I'd rather eat Hodges.
?: Oh well, all right.
5: I still prefer Johnson.
C: I wish you'd all stop bickering and eat me.
1: Look. I tell you what. Those who want to can eat Johnson.
And you, sir, can have my leg. And we make some stock from the
Captain, and then we'll have Johnson cold for supper.
Crew: (cacophonous) Hmm, yes, good idea, excellent thinking,
very good, I don't suppose we could have Hodges in the morning,
jolly good idea, etc.
**** end of file LIFEBOAT PYTHON 10/23/87 ****
Undertaker
Man: Um, excuse me, is this the Undertakers?
Undertaker: Yep that's right, what can I do for you squire?
M: Um, well, I wonder if you can help me. Uh, my mother has
just died
and I'm not quite sure what I should do.
U: Oh well, we can help you. We deal with stiffs.
M: Stiffs.
U: Now there's three things we can do with your mum. We can
bury her,
burn her, or dump her.
M: Dump her?
U: Dump her in the Thames.
M: What?
U: Oh, did you like her?
M: Yes!
U: Oh well we won't dump her then. Well, what do you think.
Burn her
or bury her.
M: Well, um, which would you recommend?
U: Well, they're both nasty. If we burn her she gets stuffed in
the
flames; crackle, crackle, crackle; which is a bit of a shock
if she's
not quite dead, but quick. And then you get a box of ashes
which you
can pretend are hers.
M: Oh.
U: Or, if you don't want to fry her, you can bury her, and then
she'll
get eaten up by maggots and weevels; nibble, nibble, nibble;
which
isn't so hot, if as I said, she's not quite dead.
M: I see, um, well, I'm not very sure she's definately dead.
U: Where is she?
M: She's in this sack.
U: Let's have a look. Umm, she looks quite young.
M: Yes, she was.
U: (calling) Fred.
Fred: Yes?
U: I think we've got an eater.
F: I'll get the oven on.
M: Um, uh, excuse me. Um, are you suggesting we should eat my
mother?
U: Yeah, not raw, we'd cook her. She'd be delicious with a few
french
fries, a bit of brautaline stuffing, delicious!
M: What? Well, actually I do feel a little bit peckish. No, I
can't.
U: Look, we'll eat your mum and if you feel a bit guility about
it
afterward we can dig a grave and you can throw up in it.
M: Alright.
_______________________________
1 Game Show Host: John Cleese
Mr. Voles: Michael Palin
Mr. Bill Wymiss: Graham Chapman
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