Monty Python's Flying Circus

Monty Python's Flying Circus

And now for something completely different -- and how. The brainy members of the Python troupe present sketches from the absurd to the obscure, and milk humor out of anything they come across. Just mention the "Dead Parrot" sketch, the "Ministry of Funny Walks" or "Spam," and you'll get a chorus of Python fans chiming in with the best lines.

Genre: Comedy
Director(s): Ian MacNaughton
Year:
1969
3,423 Views

Inspector Tiger:
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] 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] 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] 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] 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] 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!

'Thrust' Presenter:
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] 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] My theory that belongs to me is as follows. [clears her throat very noisily and violently] 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.

Mr Boniface:
["It's the Mind: A Weekly Magazine of Things Psychiatric"] Good evening. Tonight on "It's the Mind", we examine the phenomenon of d?j? vu, that strange feeling we sometimes get that we've lived through something before, that what is happening now has already happened tonight on "It's the Mind" we examine the phenomenon of d?j? vu, that strange feeling we sometimes get that we've... [looks puzzled] Anyway, tonight on "It's the Mind", we examine the phenomenon of d?j? vu, that strange - ["It's the Mind" opening titles again, then back to Mr Boniface, shaken] Good evening. Tonight on "It's the Mind", we examine the phenomenon of d?j? vu, that strange feeling we someti... mes get... that... we've lived through something - ["It's the Mind" opening titles again, then back to Mr Boniface, visibly shaken] Good... good evening. Tonight on "It's the Mind", we examine the phenomenon of d-d-d-d-d-d?j? v-v-v-v-v-vu. That extraordinary feeling... quite extraordinary... [trails off; the phone rings and he picks it up] No, fine thanks, fine. [a hand reaches in and sets a glass on the desk; Boniface drinks and the hand exits] Oh thank you. That strange feeling we sometimes get that we've lived through something before. [phone; he picks it up] No, fine thank you, fine. [hand comes in as before; he jumps] Thank you. That strange feeling we... [phone] No, fine thank you, fine. [hand with glass] Thank you. [jumps and yelps] Look, something's happening to me. I-I-um, I think I'd better go and see someone. Good night. [exits and boards the psychiatrist milk float outside]

Milkman:
Oi, haven't I seen you somewhere before?

Mr Boniface:
No, doctor, no. Something very funny's happening to me. ["It's the Mind" opening titles again, then back to Boniface in the studio, nervously biting his nails. He sees the camera, screams with terror, and runs outside to the float]

Milkman:
Oi, haven't I seen you somewhere before?

Mr Boniface:
No, doctor, no. Something very funny's happening to me. [a few minutes later, outside Dr Cream's office, Boniface jumps off and runs inside]

Dr Cream:
Ah, come in. Now what seems to be the matter?

Mr Boniface:
I have this terrible feeling of d?j? vu. [outside, he jumps off the float, looks about, puzzled, and runs inside]

Dr Cream:
Ah, come in. Now, what seems to be the matter?

Mr Boniface:
I have this terrible feeling of d?j? vu. [outside, he jumps off the float, more shaken, and runs in]

Dr Cream:
Ah, come in. Now what seems to be the matter?

Mr Boniface:
I have this terrible feeling of d?j? vu. [outside, he jumps off the float, looks about, scared, and runs inside as the show ends]

Chief Superintendent Lookout:
[Inspector Tiger has been murdered] This house is surrounded. I must ask that no-one leave the room. I'm Chief Superintendent Lookout.

Lady Velloper:
Lookout?

Chief Superintendent Lookout:
[jumps] What, where? Oh, me, Lookout. Lookout of the Yard.

Lady Velloper:
Why, what would we see?

Chief Superintendent Lookout:
I'm sorry?

Lady Velloper:
What would we see if we look out of the yard?

Chief Superintendent Lookout:
...I'm afraid I don't follow that at all. Aha. The body. So the murderer must be somebody in this room. Unless he had very long arms. Say thirty or forty feet. I think we can discount that one. [starts laughing] Lookout of the Yard! Very good. Right, now we'll reconstruct the crime. I'll sit down here. Constable, you turn off the lights. [lights out] Good. Now then, there was a scream, aaahhhhhhhhhh! Then just before the lights went up, there was a shot. [a shot, lights on. Lookout has an arrow through his neck, poison in his lap, and bullet in his head]

Assistant Chief Constable Theresamanbehindyer:
All right... all right, the house is surrounded and nobody leave the room and all the rest of it. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Assistnat Chief Constable Theresamanbehindyer.

All:
Theresamanbehindyer?

Assistant Chief Constable Theresamanbehindyer:
Ah, you're not going to catch me with an old one like that. Right, let's reconstruct the crime. Constable, you be Inspector Tiger.

Policeman:
Right, sir. Nobody leave the room ask shall. Somebody I leave nobody in the room body shall. Take the tablets Tigerbody. [clapping from the others] Alself me to myduce introlow left body in the roomself.

Assistant Chief Constable Theresamanbehindyer:
Good, very good. Just sit down there. Right, now we'll pretend the lights have gone out. Constable, you scream. [constable screams] Somebody shoots you... [shoots constable point-blank] and the door opens...

Chief Constable Fire:
Nobody move. I'm Chief Constable Fire.

All:
Fire?

Chief Constable Fire:
[jumps] Where? Where?

Milkman:
Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man. Good morning, madam, I'm a psychiatrist.

Mrs. Pim:
You look like a milkman to me.

Milkman:
[ticks a box on his clipboard] Good, I am in fact dressed as a milkman... you spotted that. Well done.

Mrs. Pim:
Go away.

Milkman:
Now then, madam, I'm going to show you three numbers and I want you to tell me if you notice any similarity between them. [holds up a card with the number "3' on it three times]

Mrs. Pim:
They're all number three.

Milkman:
No. Try again.

Mrs. Pim:
They're *all* number three?

Milkman:
No. They're *all* number three. [writes] Right. Now, I'm going to say a word and I want you to say the first thing that comes into yout head. How many pints do you want?

Mrs. Pim:
Er... three?

Milkman:
Yoghurt?

Mrs. Pim:
Er... no.

Milkman:
Cream?

Mrs. Pim:
No.

Milkman:
Eggs?

Mrs. Pim:
No.

Milkman:
[writes] Right. Well, you're quite clearly suffering from a repressive libido complex, probably the product of an unhappy childhood, coupledwith acute insecurity in adolescence, which has resulted in an attenuation of the libido complex.

Mrs. Pim:
You *are* a bloody milkman!

Milkman:
Don't you shout at me, madam, don't come that tone. Now then, I must ask you to accompany me down to the dairy and do some aptitude tests.

Mrs. Pim:
I've got better things to do than come down to the dairy!

Milkman:
Mrs. Ratbag! If you don't mind my saying so, you are badly in need of an expensive course of psychiatric treatment. Now I'm not going to say that a trip down to our dairy will cure you, but it will give hundreds of lower-paid workers a good laugh.

Mrs. Pim:
All right... but how am I going to get home?

Milkman:
I'll run you there and back in my psychiatrist's float.

Mrs. Pim:
...All right.

BBC Announcer:
[BBC1 World symbol appears] Here is a preview of some of the programmes you'll be able to see coming shortly on BBC Television. To kick off with there's variety...

[cut to still picture of Peter West and Brian Johnston]

BBC Announcer:
Peter West and Brian Johnston star in "Rain Stopped Play", a whacky new comedy series about the gay exploits of two television cricket commentators

[cut to photo of E. W. Swanton]

BBC Announcer:
with E. W. Swanton as Aggie the kooky Scots maid. For those of you who don't like variety, there's variety, with Brian Close at the Talk of the Town.

[cut to picture of Brian Close in cricket whites on a stage]

BBC Announcer:
And of course there'll be sport. The Classics series

[cut to engraving of London and caption:
"The Classics"]

BBC Announcer:
return to BBC 2 with twenty-six episodes of John Galsworthy's "Snooker My Way"

[cut to composite photo of Nyree Dawn Porter holding a snooker cue]

BBC Announcer:
with Nyree Dawn Porter repeating her triumph as Joe Davis. And of course there'll be sport. Comedy is not forgotten

[cut to Caption:
"Comedy"]

BBC Announcer:
with Jim Laker

[cut to photo of Laker]

BBC Announcer:
in "Thirteen Weeks of Off-spin Bowling". Jim plays the zany bachelor bowler in a new series of "Owzat", with Anneley Brummond-Haye on Mr Softee

[cut to photo of same]

BBC Announcer:
as his wife. And of course there'll be sport. "Panorama" will be returning, introduced

[cut to "Panorama" caption with photo of Tony Jacklin]

BBC Announcer:
as usual by Tony Jacklin, and Lulu [cut to photo of Lulu] will be tackling the Old Man of Hoy

[cut to photo of same]

BBC Announcer:
And for those of you who prefer drama - there's sport. On "Show of the Week" Kenneth Wostenholme sings.

[cut to still of him, superimposed over Flick Colby Dancers, Pans People, ono]

BBC Announcer:
And for those of you who don't like television there's David Coleman.

[cut to picture of him smiling]

BBC Announcer:
And of course there'll be sport. But now for something completely different - sport.

'BDDWH' Presenter:
Hello, good evening and welcome to another edition of "Blood, Devastation, Death, War & Horror". And later we'll be talking to a man who DOES gardening. But our first guest tonight is a man who talks entirely in anagrams.

Hamrag Yatlerot:
Taht si crreoct.

'BDDWH' Presenter:
Do you enjoy this?

Hamrag Yatlerot:
I stom certainly od. Revy chum so.

'BDDWH' Presenter:
And what is your name?

Hamrag Yatlerot:
Hamrag, Hamrag Yatlerot.

'BDDWH' Presenter:
Well Graham, nice to have you on the show. Now where do you come from?

Hamrag Yatlerot:
Bumcreland.

'BDDWH' Presenter:
Cumberland?

Hamrag Yatlerot:
Staht sit sepreicly.

'BDDWH' Presenter:
And I believe you're working on an anagram version of Shakespeare?

Hamrag Yatlerot:
Sey sey, taht si crreoct, er. Ta the mnemot I'm wroking on "The Mating Of The Wersh."

'BDDWH' Presenter:
"The Mating Of The Wersh". By William Shakespeare?

Hamrag Yatlerot:
Nay, by Malliwi Rapesheake.

'BDDWH' Presenter:
And, erm, what else?

Hamrag Yatlerot:
"Two Netlemeg Of Verona", "Twelfth Thing", "The Chamrent Of Venice"...

'BDDWH' Presenter:
Have you done "Hamlet"?

Hamrag Yatlerot:
Be ot or bot ne ot, tath si the nestquie.

'BDDWH' Presenter:
And what is your next project?

Hamrag Yatlerot:
Ring Kichard the Thrid.

'BDDWH' Presenter:
I'm sorry?

Hamrag Yatlerot:
A shroe! A shroe! My dingkome for a shroe!

'BDDWH' Presenter:
Ah, King Richard, yes... but surely that's not an anagram, that's a spoonerism.

Hamrag Yatlerot:
If you're going to split hairs, I'm going to piss off.

[he leaves]

Voice Over:
[and caption] The Free Repetition of Doubtful Words Skit, Spoof, Jape or Vignette, By a Very Underrated Writer.

[a Post Office counter window with "Telegram Enquiries" over the top, seen through an ornate vignette. The clerk is behind the counter and Mr. Peepee enters. They speak very stiltedly]

Mr. Peepee:
I've come for some free repetition of doubtful words on an inland telegram.

Clerk:
Have you got the telegram in question?

Mr. Peepee:
I have the very thing here.

Clerk:
Well, slip it to me my good chap and let me eye the contents.

Mr. Peepee:
At once, Mr Telegram Enquiry Man.

Clerk:
[taking the telegram and opening it] Thank you Mr Customer Man. Aha! "Parling I glove you. Clease clome at bronce, your troving swife, Pat." Which was the word you wanted checking?

Mr. Peepee:
Pat.

Clerk:
Pat?

Mr. Peepee:
My wife's name is not Pat at all.

Clerk:
No?

Mr. Peepee:
It's Bat. With a B.

Clerk:
And therefore I will take a quick look in the book.

[Caption:
One Quick Look in the Book Later]

Clerk:
You're quite right, old cock. There *has* been a mistake.

Mr. Peepee:
I thought as much. What really does it say?

Clerk:
It say "Go away you silly little bleeder. I am having another man. Love, Bat". Quite some error.

Mr. Peepee:
Yes. She wouldn't call herself Pat, it's silly.

Clerk:
Daft, I call it.

Mr. Peepee:
Well it has been a pleasure working with you.

Clerk:
For me also it has been a pleasure. [to camera] And that concludes our little skit.

[the two men slightly hold a final pose, with string quartet music playing. Camera pulls back to reveal a string quartet playing the music]

Voice Over:
[and caption] The Free Repetition of Doubtful Words Thing, by a Justly Underrated Writer. The End.

Toastmaster:
Gentlemen, pray silence for the President of the Royal Society for Putting Things on Top of Other Things.

Sir William:
Thank you, gentlemen. The year has been a good one for the society. This year, our members have put more things on top of other things than ever before. But I should warn you, this is no time for complacency. No, there are still many things, and I cannot emphasize this too strongly, *not on top of other things.* I myself, on my way here, saw a thing that was not on top of another thing in any way.

[cries of "shame!']

Sir William:
Shame indeed. But we must not allow ourselves to become too despondent. For we must never forget that if there was not one thing that was not on top of another thing, our society would be nothing more than a meaningless body of men that had gathered together for no good purpose. But we flourish. This year our Australasian members and the various organisations affiliated to our Australasian branches put no fewer than twenty-two things on top of other things.

[applause]

Sir William:
Well done all of you. But there is one cloud on the horizon. In this last year our Staffordshire branch has not succeeded in putting one thing on top of another.

[more cries of "shame!]

Sir William:
Therefore I call upon our Staffordshire delegate to explain this weird behaviour.

Cutler:
[timidly] Er, Cutler, Staffordshire. Um... well... Mr Chairman, it's just that most of the members in Staffordshire feel... the whole thing's a bit... silly.

[cries of outrage]

Sir William:
Silly? SILLY?

[pauses and thinks]

Sir William:
Silly! I suppose it is, a bit. What have we been doing wasting our lives with all this nonsense? Right, meeting adjourned for ever.

[Erik Njorl, son of Frothgar, has just been sworn in]

Superintendent:
You are hereby charged: one, that you did, on or about 1126, conspire to publicise a London Borough in the course of a BBC saga; two, that you were wilfully and persistently a foreigner; three, that you conspired to do things not normally considered illegal; four, that you were caught in possession of an offensive weapon, viz., the big brown table down at the police station...

Judge:
The big brown table down at the police station?

Superintendent:
The big brown table down at the police station?

All:
Assaulting a police officer!

Prosecuting Counsel:
Call Police Constable Pan-Am.

[Pan-Am enters, randomly beating people with his truncheon]

Prosecuting Counsel:
Into the witness box, Constable, there'll be plenty of time for that later on. Now, you are Police Constable Pan-Am?

Police Constable Pan-Am:
No! I shall deny that to the last breath in my body! [superintendent gestures to him] Oh, sorry! Yes.

Prosecuting Counsel:
Police Constable, do you recognize the defendant?

Police Constable Pan-Am:
No. Never seen him before in my life.

[superintendent gestures again]

Police Constable Pan-Am:
Oh, yes, yes, he's the one. He done it. I'd recognize him anywhere! Sorry, super.

Prosecuting Counsel:
Constable, will you please tell the court in your own words what happened.

Police Constable Pan-Am:
Oh yes!

[refers to a notebook]

Police Constable Pan-Am:
I was proceeding in a northerly direction up Alitalia Street when I saw the deceased

[indicates Erik]

Police Constable Pan-Am:
standing at an upstairs window, baring her bosom at the general public. She then took off her - wait a tick. Wrong story.

Police Constable Pan-Am:
[leafs through notebook] Oh yes. There were three nuns in a railway station and the ticket inspector says to one of them ...

[superintendent gestures]

Police Constable Pan-Am:
No... anyway, I clearly saw the deceased...

Clerk:
Defendant.

Police Constable Pan-Am:
Defendant! Sorry. Sorry, super. I clearly saw the defendant... doing whatever he's accused of. Red handed! When kicked - cautioned, he said, [as if reading line by line] "It's a fair. Cop I done it all. Right no doubt about that." Then, bound as he was to the chair, he assaulted myself and three other officers while bouncing around the cell. The end.

[applause and cheering]

Mr. Smoketoomuch:
Well I saw your advert in the paper and I've been on package tours several times, you see, and I decided that this was for me.

Bounder of Adventure:
Ah, good.

Mr. Smoketoomuch:
Yes, I quite agree with you, I mean what's the point of being treated like a sheep, I mean I'm fed up with going abroad and being treated like a sheep, what's the point of being carted around in buses surrounded by sweaty mindless oafs from Kettering and Boventry in their cloth caps and their cardigans and their transistor radios and their 'Sunday Mirrors', complaining about the tea, 'Oh they don't make it properly here do they not like at home' stopping at Majorcan bodegas, selling fish and chips and Watney's Red Barrel and calamares and two veg and sitting in cotton sun frocks squirting Timothy White's suncream all over their puffy raw swollen purulent flesh 'cause they overdid it on the first day!

Bounder of Adventure:
Yes, absolutely, yes, I quite agree...

Mr. Smoketoomuch:
...and being herded into endless Hotel Miramars and Bellvueses and Bontinentals with their international luxury modern roomettes and their Watney's Red Barrel and their swimming pools full of fat German businessmen pretending to be acrobats and forming pyramids and frightening the children and barging in to the queues and if you're not at your table spot on seven you miss your bowl of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup, the first item on the menu of International Cuisine, and every Thursday night there's a bloody cabaret in the bar featuring some tiny emaciated dago with nine-inch hips and some big fat bloated tart with her hair Brylcreemed down and a big arse presenting Flamenco for Foreigners.

Bounder of Adventure:
Yes, yes, now...

Mr. Smoketoomuch:
...and then surrounded by adenoidal typists from Birmingham with diarrhea and flabby white legs and hairy bandy-legged wop waiters called Manuel, and then, once a week there's an excursion to the local Roman ruins where you can buy cherryade and melted ice cream and bleedin' Watney's Red Barrel, and one night they take you to a local restaurant with local color and coloring and they show you there and you sit next to a party of people from Rhyl who keeps singing 'Torremolinos, Torremolinos' and complaining about the food: 'Oh! It's so greasy isn't it?' and then you get cornered by some drunken greengrocer from Luton with an Instamatic and Dr. Scholl Sandals and last Tuesday's 'Daily Express' and he drones on and on and on about how Mr. Smith should be running this country and how many languages Enoch Powell can speak and then he throws up all over the Cuba Libres.

Bounder of Adventure:
Will you be quiet please?

Mr. Smoketoomuch:
...and sending tinted postcards of places they don't know they haven't even visited: 'To all at Number 22, weather wonderful, our room marked with an "X", wish you were here...

Bounder of Adventure:
Shut up.

Mr. Smoketoomuch:
'... food very greasy but we have managed to find this marvellous little place hidden away in the back streets...

Bounder of Adventure:
Shut up!

Mr. Smoketoomuch:
'... where you can even get Watney's Red Barrel and cheese and onion...

Bounder of Adventure:
SHUT UP!

Mr. Smoketoomuch:
'... crisps and the accordionist plays "Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner"' and spending four days on the tarmac at Luton airport on a five-day package tour with nothing to eat but dried Watney's sandwhiches...

Bounder of Adventure:
SHUT YOUR BLOODY GOB! [Mr. Smoketoomuch continues on and on... ]


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