Title: The Woody Sketch
            From: Monty Python's Flying Circus
  Transcribed By: Jonathan Partington ( JRP1@PHX.CAM.AC.UK )

 
Scene: a 1920s-style drawing room
 
Chapman:   I say!
Cleveland: Yes, Daddy?
Chapman:   Croquet hoops look dam' pretty this afternoon.
Cleveland: Frightfully damn pretty.
Idle (as her mother):  They're coming along *awfully* well this year.
Chapman:   Yes, better than your Aunt Lavinia's croquet hoops.
Cleveland: Ugh! Dreadful tin things.
Idle:	   I did tell her to stick to wood.
Chapman:   Yes, you can't beat wood.  Gorn.
Idle:	   What's gone, dear?
Chapman:   Nothing, nothing -- just like the word, it gives me confidence.
	   Gorn.  Gorn -- it's got a sort of *woody* quality about it.	Gorn.
	   Go-o-orn.  Much better than 'newspaper' or 'litter bin'.
Cleveland: Ugh! Frightful words!
Idle:	   Perfectly dreadful!
Chapman:   'Newspaper' -- 'litter bin' -- 'litter bin' -- dreadful *tinny* sort
	   of word.
(Cleveland screams)
Chapman:   Tin, tin, tin.
Idle:	   Oh, don't say 'tin' to Rebecca, you know how it upsets her.
Chapman:   Sorry, old horse.
Idle:	   'Sausage.'
Chapman:   'Sausage'!  There's a good woody sort of word, 'sausage'.  'Gorn.'
Cleveland: 'Antelope!'
Chapman:   Where? On the lawn?
Cleveland: No, no, Daddy. Just the word.
Chapman:   Don't want antelope nibbling the hoops.
Cleveland: No, no -- 'ant-e-lope'.  Sort of nice and woody type of thing.
Idle:	   Don't think so, Becky old chap.
Chapman:   No, no -- 'antelope' - 'antelope', *tinny* sort of word.
(Cleveland screams)
Chapman:   Oh, sorry old man.
Idle:	   Really, Mansfield.
Chapman:   Well, she's got to come to terms with these things.	'Seemly.'
	   'Prodding.' 'Vac-u-um.' 'Leap.'
Cleveland: Oh -- hate 'leap'.
Idle:	   Perfectly dreadful.
Cleveland: Sort of PVC sort of word, don't you know.
Idle:	   Lower middle.
Chapman:   'Bound!'
Idle:	   Now you're talking!
Chapman:   'Bound.' 'Vole!' 'Recidivist!'
Idle:	   Bit *tinny*...
(Cleveland screams and rushes out sobbing)
Idle:	 Oh, sorry, Becky old beast.
Chapman: Oh dear, I suppose she'll be gorn for a few days now.
Idle:	 Caribou.
Chapman: Splendid word!
Idle:	 No, dear, nibbling the hoops.
(Chapman fires a shotgun)
Chapman  (with satisfaction): Caribou -- gorn... 'Intercourse.'
Idle:	 Later, dear.
Chapman: No, no -- the word, 'intercourse'.  Good and woody.  'Inter-course.'
	 'Pert,' 'pert,' 'thighs,' 'botty,' 'botty,' 'botty' (getting excited),
	 'erogenous zo-o-one'.	Ha ha ha ha -- oh, 'concubine', 'erogenous
	 zo-o-one', 'loose woman', 'erogenous zone'...
 
(Idle calmly empties a bucket of water over Chapman)
 
Chapman: Oh, thank you, dear.  There's a funny thing, dear -- all the naughty
	 words sound woody.
Idle:	 Really, dear -- how about 'tit'?
Chapman: Oh dear, I hadn't thought about that.	'Tit.' 'Tit.' Oh, that's very
	 tinny, isn't it?  'Tit.' 'Tit.' Tinny, tinny.
 
(Cleveland, who has just come in, screams and rushes out again)
 
Chapman: Oh dear.  'Ocelot.' 'Was-p.' 'Yowling.' Oh dear, I'm bored.  Better
	 go and have a bath, I suppose.
Idle:	 Oh really, must you, dear -- you've had nine today.
Chapman: All right -- I'll sack one of the servants.  Simpkins!  Nasty tinny
	 sort of name.	SIMPKINS!
 
(Enter Palin, in RAF uniform)
 
Palin: I say, mater, cabbage crates coming over the briny.
Idle:  Sorry dear, don't understand.
Palin: Er -- cow-catchers creeping up on the conning towers?
Idle:  No, sorry old sport.
Palin: Um -- caribou nibbling at the croquet hoops.
Idle:  Yes, Mansfield shot one in the antlers.