Assorted Monty Python scripts
FOUR YORKSHIREMAN SKETCH
========================
(Hawaiian music)
Man#1 (Michael Palin) Aye! Very fussable, eh? Very fussable bit, that? eh?
Man#2 (Graham Chapman): Grand meal, that was, eh?
Others: Yes, wonderful, yes very good..
Man#2: Nothing like a good glass of Chateau le Shlasseler, eh, Guissay?
Man#3 (Terry Jones): Oh, you're right there, Robidaier.
Man#4 (Eric Idle): Who'd 'ave thought, thirty year ago, we'd all be
sitting here drinking Chateau de Shlasseler, eh?
Man#1: Aye, in them days we was glad to have the price of a cup of tea!
Man#2: Aye, a cup of cold tea!
Man#4: Without milk or sugar!
Man#3: Or tea!
Man#1: Aye, in a cracked cup and all!
Man#4: Oh, we never had a cup. We used to have to drink out of a
rolled-up newspaper!
Man#2: Aye, the best we could manage in those days was to suck on a piece
of damp cloth!
Man#3: Aye, but we were happy in those days, though we were poor.
Man#1: Because we were poor! My old dad used to say to me: Money
doesn't buy you happiness!
Man#4: Aye, he was right, I was happier then and I had nothing. We
used to live in this tiny old house with great big holes in the
roof.
Man#2: House! You were lucky to live in a house! We had to all live
in one room, all twenty-six of us, no furniture, half the floor
was missing, and were all huddled together in a corner for
fear of falling!
Man#3: You were lucky to have a room! We used to 'ave to live in a corridor!
Man#1: Oh, we used to DREAM of living in a corridor. It would have
been a palace to us. We used to have to live in an old
water tank in a rubbish pit. We got woke up every morning
by having a load of rotting fish dumped all over us!
House! Huh!
Man#4: 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!
Man#2: We were evicted from our hole in the ground. We had to go and
live in a lake!
Man#3: You were lucky to have a lake! There were a hundred and fifty
of us, living in a shoebox in the middle of the road!
Man#1: Cardboard box?
Man#3: Aye!
Man#1: 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 at the 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 with his belt.
(slight pause)
Man#2: 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 damp gravel,
work a twenty-hour day at the mill for tuppence a month, and when
we got home, our dad would thrash us to sleep with a broken
bottle, if we were lucky!
Man#3: Well, of course, we 'ad it tough! We used to have to get up
out of the shoebox at twelve o'clock at night, and lick the road clean
with our tongue. We 'ad two bits of cold gravel, and worked a
twenty-four hour day at the mill for six or seventy-four years, and
when we got home, our dad would slash it to us with a bread knife.
Man#4: Right. I had to get up 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 at the mill and pay the mill owner for
permission to come to work, and when we got home, our
mother and father would kill us and dance on our graves
singing Halleluja.
Man#1: Aye, and you try telling young people of today that. And
they won't believe you.
Man#4: Aye, they won't!
**** The original barber sketch ****
**** From the 1st series of Monty-Pythons Flying Circus ****
cstmer: Morning.
barber: Ah... good morning, sir. Good morning. I'll be with you in a minute
(Customer sits, barber rinses large amounts of blood off his arms. Then,
picking up a towel, a wild look enters his eyes and he just resists
strangling the customer. Regaining his composure, he continues.)
barber: How would you like it, sir?
cstmer: Just short back and sides please.
barber: how do you do that?
cstmer: (uncertainly) Well, it's just an ordinary short back and sides.
barber: It's not a razor cut (madly) RAZOR RAZOR CUT CUT BLOOD SPURT ARTERY
MURDER... (regains his composure) Oh, thank God, thank God. It's just
scissors.
cstmer: Yes (nervous laugh)
barber: You wouldn't rather just have it combed, would you, sir?
cstmer: I beg your pardon?
barber: You wouldn't rather forget all about it?
cstmer: No, no, no, I want it cut.
barber: CUT CUT CUT BLOOD SPURT ARTERY MURDER HITCHCOCK PSYCHO... well... I'll
just get everything ready. In the meantime, perhaps you could just
fill out one of these?
( Hands customer a piece of paper )
cstmer: All right, fine, yes.
(barber opens cupboard, and examines medical chart.)
Excuse me, er?
(barber closes cupboard defensively, and turns around)
barber: What?
cstmer: Er... where it says 'next of kin', will I just put mother'?
barber: Yes, yes, yes.
cstmer: Right. There we are.
(He hands the piece of paper back to the barber)
barber: Thank you.
(Barber lines up behind the customer, but can't bring himself to cut
the hair. He goes back to the cupboard, and takes a swig out of a bottle
of Red Eye. Once again, he lines up, messes with customer's hair a bit, and
stops almost immediately.)
Hahaha... there... I've finished.
cstmer: What?
barber: I've finished cutting CUTTING CUTTING CUTTING your hair. It's all
done.
cstmer: You haven't started cutting it!
barber: I have... I did it very quickly, your honor, sir, sir.
cstmer: (getting annoyed) Look here, old fellow. I know when a chap's cut my
hair, and when he hasn't, so will you please stop fooling around, and
get on with it!
(The barber gets a trolley from the other side of the room, and places it
behind the customer. He takes off the sheet covering it, to reveal an old
tape recorder.)
barber: Yes, yes, I will... I'm going to cut your hair, sir. I'm going to
start cutting your hair, sir, start cutting... now.
(on the word 'now', he press the play button and quickly retreats to cower in
the corner)
Tape: Nice day, sir.
cstmer: (unsuspecting) Yes. Flowers could do with a drop of rain though, eh?
tape: (snipping is heard in the background) Did you see the match last night
sir?
cstmer: Yes. Good game, I thought.
tape: (snipping, and sound of an electric razor) I thought Hurst played
well, sir.
cstmer: I beg your pardon?
tape: (razor stops) I thought Hurst played well.
cstmer: Oh yes, yes,. He was the only one who did, though.
tape: Could you put your head down a little, sir?
cstmer: (bows his head) Sorry, sorry.
tape: I prefer to watch Palace nowadays. (razor starts again). Oh sorry, was
that your ear?
cstmer: (turning slightly) No no. Didn't feel a thing.
(he then notices the barber in the corner, terrified)
Look. What's going on?
tape: Yes, it is a nice spot, isn't it.
cstmer: Look, I came here for a haircut!
barber: it looks very nice,sir.
cstmer: (very angry) it looks exactly the same as when I first came in!
tape: Right. That's the lot, then.
Barber: (proudly) All right. I confess. I haven't cut your hair. I hate
cutting hair. I have this terrible un-un-uncontrollabe fear whenever I
see hair. When I was a kid I used to hate the sight of hair being cut.
My mother said I was a fool. She said the only cure for it was to
become a barber, so I spent five ghastly years at the hairdresser's
training center at Totness. Can you imagine what it's like cutting the
same head for five years?
I didn't want to be a barber, anyway. I wanted to be...
A LUMBERJACK!!!!!!!!!!!
**** The Lumberjack Song ****
**** From "Monty Python's Flying Circus" ****
**** Continued from Petshop, Barber, or a variety of other Python sketches....
I never wanted to do this job in the first place!
I... I wanted to be...
A LUMBERJACK!
(piano vamp)
Leaping from tree to tree! As they float down the mighty rivers of
British Columbia! With my best girl by my side!
The Larch!
The Pine!
The Giant Redwood tree!
The Sequoia!
The Little Whopping Rule Tree!
We'd sing! Sing! Sing!
Oh, I'm a lumberjack, and I'm okay,
I sleep all night and I work all day.
CHORUS: He's a lumberjack, and he's okay,
He sleeps all night and he works all day.
I cut down trees, I eat my lunch,
I go to the lava-try.
On Wednesdays I go shoppin'
And have buttered scones for tea.
Mounties: He cuts down trees, he eats his lunch,
He goes to the lava-try.
On Wednesdays 'e goes shoppin'
And has buttered scones for tea.
CHORUS
I cut down trees, I skip and jump,
I like to press wild flowers.
I put on women's clothing,
And hang around in bars.
Mounties: He cuts down trees, he skips and jumps,
He likes to press wild flowers.
He puts on women's clothing
And hangs around.... In bars???????
CHORUS
I chop down trees, I wear high heels,
Suspendies and a bra.
I wish I'd been a girlie
Just like my dear papa.
Mounties: He cuts down trees, he wears high heels
Suspendies?? and a .... a Bra????
(spoken, raggedly) What's this? Wants to be a *girlie*? Oh, My!
And I thought you were so rugged! Poofter!
CHORUS
All: He's a lumberjack, and he's okaaaaaaayyy..... (BONG)
Sound Cue: The Liberty Bell March, by John Phillip Sousa.
**** THE SILLY ELECTION (from Monty Python Live at Drury Lane) ****
**** Transcribed 7/14/87 by Jonathan Partington ****
(Racy music)
Cleese (talking very fast, as do all the commentators): Hello, good evening
and welcome to Election Night Special. There's tremendous excitement
here at the moment and we should be getting the first results through
any moment now. We're not sure where it will be from, it might be
Leicester or from West Byfleet, the polling's been quite heavy in both
areas. Ah, I'm just getting... I'm just getting... a buzzing noise
in my left ear. Urgh, argh! (removes insect and stamps on it). And
now let's go straight over to Leicester.
Palin: And it's a straight fight here at Leicester and we're expecting the
result any moment now. There with the Returning Officer is Arthur
Smith the sensible candidate and next to him is Jethro Q. Walrustitty
the silly candidate with his agent and his silly wife.
Idle: (clears throat) Here is the result for Leicester. Arthur J. Smith...
Cleese: (Sensible Party)
Idle: ...30,612. (applause)
Jethro Q. Bunn Whackett Buzzard Stubble and Boot Walrustitty...
Cleese: (Silly Party)
Idle: ...33,108. (applause)
Cleese: Well there we have the first result of the election and the Silly
party has held Leicester. Norman.
Palin: Well pretty much as I predicted, except that the Silly party won. Er,
I think this is largely due to the number of votes cast. Gerald.
Chapman:Well there's a big swing here to the Silly Party, but how big a swing
I'm not going to tell you.
Palin: I think one should point out that in this constituency since the last
election a lot of very silly people have moved into new housing
estates with the result that a lot of sensible voters have moved
further down the road the other side of number er, 29.
Cleese: Well I can't add anything to that. Colin?
Idle: Can I just say that this is the first time I've been on television?
Cleese: No I'm sorry, there isn't time, we're just going straight over to
Luton.
Chapman:Well here at Luton it's a three-cornered contest between, from left
to right, Alan Jones (Sensible Party), Tarquin Fintimlinbinwhinbimlim
Bus Stop F'tang F'tang Ole Biscuit-Barrel (Silly Party), and Kevin
Phillips Bong, who is running on the Slightly Silly ticket. And
here's the result.
Woman: Alan Jones...
Cleese: (Sensible)
Woman: ...9,112.
Kevin Phillips Bong...
Cleese: (Slightly Silly)
Woman: Nought.
Tarquin Fintimlinbinwhinbimlim Bus Stop F'tang F'tang Ole
Biscuit-Barrel...
Cleese: (Silly)
Woman: 12,441. (applause)
Cleese: Well there you have it, the first result of the election as the Silly
Party take Luton. Norman.
Palin: Well this is a very significant result. Luton, normally a very
sensible constituency with a high proportion of people who aren't a
bit silly, has gone completely ga-ga.
Cleese: And we've just heard that James Gilbert has with him the winning Silly
candidate at Luton.
Idle: Tarquin, are you pleased with this result?
Tarquin (Palin): Ho yus, me old beauty, I should say so. (Silly noises
including a goat bleating).
Cleese: And do we have the swing at Luton?
Chapman: Er... no.
Cleese: (pause) Right, well I can't add anything to that. Colin?
Idle: Can I just say that this is the second time I've been on television?
Cleese: No, I'm sorry there isn't time, we're just about to get another
result.
Palin: And this one is from Harpenden Southeast. A very interesting
constituency this: in addition to the official Silly candidate there
is an unofficial Very Silly candidate, in the slab of concrete, and he
could well split the silly vote here at Harpenden Southeast.
Jones: Mr Elsie Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...
Cleese: (Silly)
Jones: 26,317 (applause).
Jeanette Walker...
Cleese: (Sensible)
Jones: 26,318...
Cleese: Very close!
Jones: Malcolm Peter Brian Telescope Adrian Blackpool Rock Stoatgobbler John
Raw Vegetable Brrroooo Norman Michael (rings bell) (blows whistle)
Edward (sounds car horn) (does train impersonation) (sounds buzzer)
Thomas Moo... (sings) "We'll keep a welcome in the..." (fires gun)
William (makes silly noise) "Raindrops keep falling on my" (weird
noise) "Don't sleep in the subway" (cuckoo cuckoo) Naaoooo... Smith...
Cleese: (Very Silly)
Jones: ...two.
Cleese: Well there you have it, a Sensible gain at Harpenden with the Silly
vote being split.
Palin: And we've just heard from Luton that Tony Stratton-Smith has with him
there the unsuccessful Slightly Silly candidate, Kevin Phillips Bong.
Idle: Kevin Phillips Bong. You polled no votes at all. Not a sausage.
Bugger all. Are you at all disappointed with this performance?
Bong (Neil Innes): Not at all. As I always say:
Climb every mountain
Ford every stream,
Follow every by-way,
Till you find your dream.
(Sings) A dream that will last
All the love you can give
Every day of your life
For as long as you live.
All together now!
Climb every mountain
Ford every stream...
Cleese: A very brave Kevin Phillips Bong there. Norman.
Palin: And I've just heard from Luton that my aunt is ill. Possibly
gastro-enteritis, possibly just catarrh. Gerald.
Cleese: Right. Er, Colin?
Idle: Can I just say that I'll never appear on television again?
Cleese: No I'm sorry, there isn't time, we have to pick up a few results you
may have missed. A little pink pussy-cat has taken Barrow-in-Furness
-- that's a gain from the Liberals there. Rastus Odinga Odinga has
taken Wolverhampton Southwest, that's Enoch Powell's old constituency
-- an important gain there for Darkie Power. Arthur Negus has held
Bristols -- that's not a result, that's just a piece of gossip. Sir
Alec Douglas Home has taken Oldham for the Stone Dead party. A small
piece of putty about that big, a cheese mechanic from Dunbar and two
frogs -- one called Kipper the other not -- have all gone "Ni ni ni ni
ni ni!" in Blackpool Central. And so it's beginning to look like a
Silly landslide, and with the prospect of five more years' Silly
government facing us we... Oh I don't want to do this any more, I'm
bored!
Palin: He's right you know, it is a bloody waste of time.
Chapman: Absolute waste of time.
Palin: I wanted to be a gynaecologist...
**** The Fish License Sketch ****
**** Transcribed 4/18/87 from Monty Python's Previous Record ****
Man (Cleese): (whistles a bit, then) Hello. I would like to buy a fish
license, please.
Postal clerk (Palin): A what?
Man: A license for my pet fish, Eric.
Clerk: How did you know my name was Eric?
Man: No, no, no! My fish's name is Eric. Eric the fish. He's an halibut.
Clerk: What?
Man: He is an halibut.
Clerk: You've got a pet halibut?
Man: Yes, I chose him out of thousands. I didn't like the others, they
were all too flat.
Clerk: You must be a loony.
Man: I am not a loony. Why should I be tarred with the epithet 'loony'
merely because I have a pet halibut? I've heard tell that Sir Gerald
Nabarro has a pet prawn called Simon - you wouldn't call him a loony!
Furthermore Dawn Pathorpe, the lady showjumper, had a clam called
Stafford, after the late chancellor. Alan Bullock has two pikes, both
called Chris, and Marcel Proust had an 'addock! So if you're calling
the author of 'A la recherche de temps perdu' a loony, I shall have to
ask you to step outside!
Clerk: All right, all right, all right. A license?
Man: Yes!
Clerk: For a fish.
Man: Yes!
Clerk: You *are* a loony.
Man: Look, it's a bleeding pet, isn't it? I've got a license for me pet
dog Eric, I've got a license for me pet cat Eric.
Clerk: You don't need a license for your cat.
Man: I bleedin' well do and I've got one! Can't be caught out there!
Clerk: There is no such thing as a bloody Cat License.
Man: Yes there is.
Clerk: No there isn't.
Man: Is!
Clerk: Isn't!
Man: I've bleedin' got one, look! What's that then?
Clerk: This is a dog license with the word 'dog' crossed out and 'cat'
written in in crayon.
Man: The man didn't have the right form.
Clerk: What man?
Man: The man from the cat detector van.
Clerk: The loony detector van, you mean.
Man: Look, it's people like you what cause unrest.
Clerk: What cat detector van?
Man: The cat detector van from the Ministry of Housing.
Clerk: Housing?
Man: It was spelt like that on the van. I'm very observant. I've never
seen so many bleedin' aerials. The man said their equipment could
pinpoint a purr at four hundred yards, and Eric being such a happy cat
was a piece of cake.
Clerk: How much did you pay for this?
Man: Sixty quid and eight for the fruit-bat.
Clerk: What fruit-bat?
Man: Eric the fruit-bat.
Clerk: Are all your pets called Eric?
Man: There's nothing so odd about that. Kemel Attaturk had an entire
menagerie called Abdul.
Clerk: No he didn't.
Man: Did!
Clerk: Didn't!
Man: Did, did, did, did, did and did!
Clerk: Oh all right.
Man: Spoken like a gentleman, sir. Now, are you going to give me a fish
license?
Clerk: I promise you that there is no such thing. You don't need one.
Man: In that case give me a bee license.
Clerk: A license for your pet bee.
Man: Correct.
Clerk: Called Eric? Eric the bee?
Man: No.
Clerk: No?
Man: No, Eric the half bee. He had an accident.
Clerk: You're off your chump.
Man: Look, if you intend by that utilization of an obscure colloquialism to
imply that my sanity is not up to scratch, or even to deny the
semi-existence of my little chum Eric the half bee, I shall have to
ask you to listen to this. Take it away, Eric the orchestra-leader.
Eric Idle: A one, two, a one two three four!
Man (sings): Half a bee, philosophically,
Must, ipso facto, half not be.
But half the bee has got to be
Vis a vis, its entity. D'you see?
But can a bee be said to be
Or not to be an entire bee
When half the bee is not a bee
Due to some ancient injury?
Singing.
Chorus: La dee dee, one two three,
Eric the half a bee.
A B C D E F G,
Eric the half a bee.
Man: Is this wretched demi-bee,
Half-asleep upon my knee,
Some freak from a menagerie?
No! It's Eric the half a bee!
Chorus: Fiddle de dum, Fiddle de dee,
Eric the half a bee.
Ho ho ho, tee hee hee,
Eric the half a bee.
Man: I love this hive, employ-ee,
Bisected accidentally,
One summer afternoon by me,
I love him carnally.
Chorus: He loves him carnally,
Semi-carnally.
Man: The end.
Clerk: Cyril Connolly?
Man: No, semi-carnally!
Clerk: Oh.
Chorus: Cyril Connolly. (Whistle end of tune.)
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**** The Dennis Moore Sketch ****
**** Transcribed 4/18/87 from Monty Python's Previous Record & TV Series ****
England, 1747
(Sounds of a coach and horses, galloping)
Cleese: Stand and deliver!
Chapman: Not on your life (SHOT) ... aagh!
(Girl screams)
Cl: Let that be a warning to you all. You move at your peril, for I have
two pistols here. I know one of them isn't loaded any more, but the
other one is, so that's one of you dead for sure...or just about for
sure anyway. It certainly wouldn't be worth your while risking it
because I'm a very good shot. I practice every day...well, not
absolutely every day, but most days in the week. I expect I must
practice, oh, at least four or five times a week...or more, really,
but some weekends, like last weekend, there really wasn't the time, so
that brings the average down a bit. I should say it's a solid four
days' practice a week...At least...I mean...I reckon I could hit that
tree over there. Er...the one just behind that hillock. The
little hillock, not the big one on the...you see the three trees over
there? Well, the one furthest away on the right... (fade)
(Fade up again)
Cl: What's the... the one like that with the leaves that are sort of
regularly veined and the veins go right out with a sort of um...
Girl: Serrated?
Cl: Serrated edges.
Id: A willow!
Cl: Yes.
Id: That's nothing like a willow.
Cl: Well it doesn't matter, anyway. I can hit it seven times out of ten,
that's the point.
Id: Never a willow.
Cl: Shut up! It's a hold-up, not a Botany lesson. Now, no false moves
please. I want you to hand over all the lupins you've got.
Jones: Lupins?
Cl: Yes, lupins. Come on, come on.
Id: What do you mean, lupins?
Cl: Don't try to play for time.
Id: I'm not, but... the *flower* lupin?
Cl: Yes, that's right.
Jo: Well we haven't got any lupins.
Girl: Honestly.
Cl: Look, my friends. I happen to know that this is the Lupin Express.
Jo: Damn!
Girl: Oh, here you are.
Cl: In a bunch, in a bunch!
Jo: Sorry.
Cl: Come on, Concorde! (Gallops off)
Chorus (sings):
Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore, galloping through the sward,
Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore, and his horse Concorde.
He steals from the rich, he gives to the poor,
Mr Moore, Mr Moore, Mr Moore.
**** Nudge Nudge, know what I mean, know what I mean! ****
**** Transcribed from the "Monty Python Live at City Center" album ****
Man: 'Evening, squire!
Squire: (stiffly) Good evening.
Man: Is, uh,...Is your wife a goer, eh? Know whatahmean, know whatahmean,
nudge nudge, know whatahmean, say no more?
Squire: I, uh, I beg your pardon?
Man: Your, uh, your wife, does she go, eh, does she go, eh?
Squire: (flustered) Well, she sometimes "goes", yes.
Man: Aaaaaaaah bet she does, I bet she does, say no more, say no more,
knowwhatahmean, nudge nudge?
Squire: (confused) I'm afraid I don't quite follow you.
Man: Follow me. Follow me. That's good, that's good! A nod's as good as
a wink to a blind bat!
Squire: Are you, uh,...are you selling something?
Man: SELLING! Very good, very good! Ay? Ay? Ay?
(pause)
Man: Oooh! Ya wicked Ay! Wicked Ay! Oooh hooh! Say No MORE!
Squire: Well, I, uh....
Man: Is, your uh, is your wife a sport, ay?
Squire: Um, she likes sport, yes!
Man: I bet she does, I bet she does!
Squire: As a matter of fact she's very fond of cricket.
Man: 'Oo isn't? Likes games, eh? Knew she would. Likes games, eh? She's
been around a bit, been around?
Squire: She has traveled, yes. She's from Scarsdale.
(pause)
Man: SAY NO MORE!!
Man: Scarsdale, saynomore, saynomore, saynomore, squire!
Squire: I wasn't going to!
Man: Oh! Well, never mind. Dib dib?
Is your uh, is your wife interested in....photography, ay?
"Photographs, ay", he asked him knowingly?
Squire: Photography?
Man: Snap snap, grin grin, wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more?
Squire: Holiday snaps, eh?
Man: They could be, they could be taken on holiday. Candid, you know,
CANDID photography?
Squire: No, no I'm afraid we don't have a camera.
Man: Oh. (leeringly) Still, mooooooh, ay? Mwoohohohohoo, ay?
Hohohohohoho, ay?
Squire: Look... are you insinuating something?
Man: Oh, no, no, no...yes.
Squire: Well?
Man: Well, you're a man of the world, squire.
Squire: Yes...
Man: I mean, you've been around a bit, you know, like, you've, uh....
You've "done it"....
Squire: What do you mean?
Man: Well, I mean like,....you've SLEPT, with a lady....
Squire: Yes....
Man: What's it like?
**** The Ralph Mellish Story ****
**** From "Monty Python's Flying Circus" and ****
**** "And Now for Something Completely Different" ****
[ominous music]
June the 4th, 1973, was much like any other summer's day in Peterborough,
and Ralph Mellish, a file clerk at an insurance company, was on his way
to work as usual when --- [da dum!] Nothing happened! [dum dum da dum]
Scarcely able to believe his eyes, Ralph Mellish looked down. But one
glance confirmed his suspicions. Behind a bush, on the side of the road,
there was *no* severed arm. No dismembered trunk of a man in his late
fifties. No head in a bag. Nothing. Not a sausage. For Ralph Mellish,
this was *not* to be the start of any trail of events which would not, in
no time at all, involve him in neither a tangled knot of suspicion, nor
any web of lies, which would, had he been not involved, surely have led
him to no other place, than the central criminal court of the Old Bailey.
[muttering voices, Judge's gavel banging.]
But it was not to be [ominous music returns]. Ralph Mellish reached his
office in Dulls-ells Street in Peterborough, at 9:05 a.m., exactly the
same time as he usually got in!
[door opens]
"Morning, Mr. Mellish"
"Morning, Enid"
Enid, a sharp-eyed, clever young girl, who had been with the firm for only 4
weeks, couldn't help noticing the complete absence of tiny but tell-tale blood
stains on Mr. Mellish's clothing. Nor did she notice anything strange in Mr.
Mellish's behavior that whole morning. Nor the next morning. Nor at any time
before or since the entire period she worked for that firm.
"Have the new paper clips arrived, Enid?"
"Yes, they're over there, Mr. Mellish."
[faintly] "Oh..."
But for the lack of any untold circumstances for this secretary to
notice, and the total non-involvement of Mr. Mellish in anything illegal,
the forweight of the law would insure that Ralph Aulds Mellish would
have ended up like all who challenge the fundamental laws of our society.
In an iron coffin with spikes on the inside.
**** The "Not Noel Coward Song" ****
**** From "Monty Python's Meaning of Life" ****
Isn't it awfully nice to have a penis.
Isn't it simply grand to have a dong.
It's swell to have a stiffy, it's divine to own a dick,
]From the tiniest little tadger to the world's biggest prick...
So three cheers for your Willy or John Thomas,
Hooray for your one-eyed trouser snake.
Your piece of pork, your wife's best friend,
Your Percy or your cock,
You can wrap it up in ribbons, you can slip it in your sock,
But don't take it out in public or they'll stick you in the dock,
And you won't a-come a-back.
Eric Idle
Spell Checked and reformatted by Nathan Mates (nathan@cco.caltech.edu)
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