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Quotes of Movie: "Monty Python's Flying Circus" [196
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We interrupt this program to annoy you and make things generally irritating. It's... You are Alexander Yalt? Alexander Yalt: [in a Derek Nimmo voice] Oh I am. Clerk: Skip the impersonations. Alexander Yalt: I am. Clerk: Mr Yalt you are charged that on the second day of January 1970 you wilfully, deliberately and with malice aforethought published an English-Hungarian Phrasebook with intent to cause a breach of the peace. How do you plead? Alexander Yalt: Not guilty. Clerk: You live at 46 Horton Terrace? Alexander Yalt: I do live at 46 Horton Terrace. Clerk: You are the president of a publishing company? Alexander Yalt: I am the president of a publishing company. Clerk: Your company publishes phrasebooks? Alexander Yalt: My company does publish phrasebooks. Clerk: You did say 46 Horton Terrace? Alexander Yalt: Yes Clerk: [bangs gong à la Michael Miles] Aha! Got him! I saw your add in the "Bolour" Supplement. Bounder: The what? Mr Smoke-Too-Much: The Bolour Suppliment. Bounder: The Colour Supplement. Mr Smoke-Too-Much: Yes, I'm sorry, I can't say the letter B. Bounder: C? Mr Smoke-Too-Much: Yes, that's right. It's all due to a trauma I suffered when I was a "sbool" boy. I was attacked by a bat. Bounder: A cat? Mr Smoke-Too-Much: No, a bat. | |
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Now, alduce me to introlow myself. I'm sorry. Alself me to myduce introlow. Introme tolose mylow alself. Alme to you introself mylowduce. Excuse me a moment. [bangs himself on the head] Inspector Tiger: Allow me to introduce myself. I'm afried I must ask that no-one leave the room. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Inspector Tiger. All: Tiger? Inspector Tiger: [jumps] Where? Where? What? Ah. Me Tiger. You Jane. [growl] Inspector Tiger: Beg your pardon, allow me to introduce myself, I'm afraid I must ask that no-one leave the room. Lady Velloper: Why not? Inspector Tiger: Elementary. Since the body was found in this room, and no-one has left it. Therefore... the murderer must be somebody in this room. Colonel Pickering: What body? Inspector Tiger: Somebody. In this room. Must the murderer be. The murderer of the body is somebody in this room, which nobody must leave... leave the body in the room not to be left by anybody. Nobody leaves anybody or the body with somebody. Everybody who is anybody shall leave the body in the roombody. Take the tablets Tiger. Anybody with a body but not the body is nobody. Nobody leaves the body in the... [takes a tablet] Inspector Tiger: Albody me introbody albodyduce. [a surgeon and two nurses enter with saws and lay Tiger down on the table. The same drawing room, one lobotomy later, Tiger's head is bandaged] Surgeon: Now for Sir Gerald. [exit] Inspector Tiger: That's better. Now I'm Inspector Tiger and I must ask that nobody leave the room. [gives thumbs up to the surgeon] Inspector Tiger: Now someone has committed a murder here, and that murderer is someone in this room. The question is... who? Colonel Pickering: Look, there hasn't been a murder. Inspector Tiger: No murder? All: No. Inspector Tiger: Oh, I don't like it. It's too simple, too clear cut. I'd better wait. [sits] Inspector Tiger: No, too simple, too clear cut. [lights out, a scream, and a shot. Tiger is dead with a poison bottle in his hand, an arrow through his neck, and a bullet in his head] Colonel Pickering: By jove, he was right! Look, this isn't an argument. Mr. Vibrating: Yes it is. Man: No it isn't, it's just contradiction. Mr. Vibrating: No it isn't. Man: It is. Mr. Vibrating: It is not. Man: Look, you contradicted me. Mr. Vibrating: I did not. Man: Oh you did. Mr. Vibrating: No, no, no. Man: You did just then. Mr. Vibrating: Nonsense. Man: Oh, this is futile. Mr. Vibrating: No it isn't. Man: I came here for a good argument. Mr. Vibrating: No, you didn't. No, you came here for an argument. Man: An argument isn't just contradiction. Mr. Vibrating: It can be. An argument is a connected series of statements intended to establish a proposition. Mr. Vibrating: No it isn't. Man: Yes it is. It's not just contradiction. Mr. Vibrating: Look, if I argue with you, I must take up a contrary position. Man: But that's not just saying, "No it isn't." Mr. Vibrating: Yes it is. Man: No it isn't. An argument is an intellectual process. Contradiction is just the automatic gainsaying of any statement the other person makes. Mr. Vibrating: No it isn't. Man: Yes it is. Mr. Vibrating: Not at all. Man: Now look... Mr. Vibrating: [bell rings] Good morning. Man: What? Mr. Vibrating: That's it. Good morning. Man: It was just getting interesting. Mr. Vibrating: Sorry, the five minutes is up. Man: That was never five minutes. Good evening. I have with me tonight Anne Elk. Mrs. Anne Elk. Miss Anne Elk: Miss. 'Thrust' Presenter: You say you have a new theory about the brontosaurus Miss Anne Elk: Can I just say here Chris for one moment that I have a new theory about the brontosaurus. 'Thrust' Presenter: Exactly. [long pause] 'Thrust' Presenter: Well, what is it? Miss Anne Elk: [looks around, concerned] Where? 'Thrust' Presenter: No, no, your new theory. Miss Anne Elk: Oh, what is my theory? 'Thrust' Presenter: Yes. Miss Anne Elk: Oh, what is my theory that it is. Well, Chris, you may well ask me what is my theory. 'Thrust' Presenter: I am asking. Miss Anne Elk: Good for you. My word yes. Well, Chris, what it is that it is - this theory of mine. Well, this is what it is - my theory that I have, that is to say, which is mine, is mine. 'Thrust' Presenter: Yes, I know it's yours, what is it? Miss Anne Elk: [looks round again] Where? Oh, what is my theory? This is it. [clears her throat at length] Miss Anne Elk: My theory that belongs to me is as follows. [clears her throat very noisily and violently] Miss Anne Elk: This is how it goes. The next thing I'm going to say is my theory. Ready? 'Thrust' Presenter: [exasperated] Yes. Miss Anne Elk: My theory by A. Elk, brackets, Miss, brackets. This theory goes as follows and begins now. All brontosauruses are thin at one end, much much thicker in the middle, and the thin again at the far end. That is my theory, it is mine, and it belongs to me, and I own it, and what it is, too. 'Thrust' Presenter: That's it, is it? Miss Anne Elk: Spot on, Chris. 'Thrust' Presenter: Well, uh, this theory of yours appears to have hit the nail on the head. Miss Anne Elk: And it's mine. But it's my only line! And now a precision display of bad temper. [soldiers all yell in unison] Soldiers: My goodness me! I am in a bad temper today, two three! Damn damn, two three! I am vexed and ratty, two three! And hopping mad! [soldiers stamp feet on ground angrily] TV Presenter: And now, the men of the Second Armored Division with their famous close order swanning about. Sergeant: Squad... *Camp* it *up*! [soldiers all chant in unison while mincing] Soldiers: Ooh, get her! Whoops, I've got your number ducky, you couldn't afford me dear, two three. I'll scratch your eyes out! Don't come the Brigadier bit with us, dear, we all know where you've been, you military fairy. Two, three, one, two, three, four, five, six. Whoops! Don't look now girls, the man has just minced in with that jolly colour Sergeant, two three. Oooh! And now for something completely different. What's brown and sounds like a bell? Dung! She your wife? Victor: Um, no, actually... Arthur Name: Ooooh, oooh, well don't let me interrupt anything, I know all about one-night stands! Oh, dear, this music isn't much, is it? [throws away calm record and starts playing marsh music] Arthur Name: I heard this hilarious joke at the pub today: What's brown and sounds like a bell? Victor: I beg your pardon? Arthur Name: What's brown and sounds like a bell? [Iris shakes head in confusion] Arthur Name: Dung! Look, get out, all of you. Go on. Get out! Get out! Mr. Equator: I beg your pardon? Victor: I'm turning you all out! I'm not having my house filled with filthy perverts. Now look, I'm giving you just half a minute then I'm going to call the police, so get out! Mr. Equator: I don't much like the tone of your voice. Blood Bank Doctor: No. I'm sorry, but, no. [man whispers again] Blood Bank Doctor: No, you may not give urine instead of blood. What do you want? Man: Well I was told outside that... Mr Barnard: Don't give me that, you snotty faced heap of parrot droppings! Man: What? Mr Barnard: Shut your festering gob, you tit! Your type really makes me puke you vacuous, toffy-nosed, malodorous pervert! Man: What? I came in here for an argument. Mr Barnard: Oh, oh oh I'm sorry, this is "abuse'. You want Room 12-A just along the corridor. Man: Oh sorry. Thank you very much, sorry, thank you. [Shuts the door] Man: Stupid git. Look, if I argue with you, I must take up a contrary position. Man: Yes, but that's not just saying "No it isn't." Mr. Vibrating: Yes it is! Man: No it isn't! And I thought to myself, "A little fermented curd will do the trick," so, I curtailed my Walpoling activities, sallied forth, and infiltrated your place of purveyance to negotiate the vending of some cheesy comestibles. Henry Wenslydale: Come again? Mr Mousebender: I want to buy some cheese. Henry Wenslydale: Oh, I thought you were complaining about the bouzouki player. Mr Mousebender: Certainly not. I am one who delights in all manifestations of the Terpsichorean muse. Henry Wenslydale: Sorry? Mr Mousebender: [in a silly Northern accent] Ooh, I like a nice dance - you're forced to. Now I'm 'arrestin' this entire show on three counts: one, acts of self-conscious behavior contrary to the "Not in front of the children' Act, two, always saying "It's so and so of the Yard' every time the fuzz arrives and, three, and this is the cruncher, offences against the "Getting out of sketches without using a proper punchline' Act, four, namely, simply ending every bleedin' sketch by just having a policeman come in and... wait a minute. Dear Sir, I am glad to hear that your studio audience disapproves of the last skit as strongly as I. As a naval officer I abhor the implication that the Royal Navy is a haven for cannibalism. It is well known that we now have the problem relatively under control, and that it is the RAF who now suffer the largest casualties in this area. And what do you think the Argylls ate in Aden. Arabs? Yours etc. Captain B.J. Smethwick in a white wine sauce with shallots, mushrooms and garlic. Father Pierre, why did you stay on in this colonial Campari-land, where the clink of glasses mingles with the murmur of a million mosquitoes, where waterfalls and whiskey wash away the worries of a world-weary whicker, where gin and tonics jingle in a gyroscopic jubilee of something beginning with J? Viking: Lemon curry? Interviewer: Was there anything unusual about Dinsdale? Lady Friend: I should say not! Dinsdale was a perfectly normal person in every way. Except inasmuch as he was convinced that he was being watched by a giant hedgehog he referred to as Spiny Norman. [Later] Lady Friend: Lately, Dinsdale had become increasingly worried about Spiny Norman. He had come to the conclusion that Norman slept in an aeroplane hangar at Luton Airport. Host: And so, on February the 22nd, 1966, at Luton Airport... [Footage of a mushroom cloud] Host: Even the police began to sit up and take notice. Spiny Norman: Dinsdale? My father needed a waste basket. | |
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