And Now For Something Completely Predictable... Monty Python Quotes
"It's the Arts"
Beethoven, Mozart, Chopin, Liszt, Brahms, Panties... I'm sorry... Schumann, Schubert,
Mendelssohn and Bach. Names that will live forever. But there is one great composer
whose name is never included with the greats. Why is it that the world never remembered
to name of Johann Gambolputty...de von Ausfern-schplenden-schlitter-crasscrenbon-fried
Hautkopf of Ulm?
INTERVIEWER: Good evening. I have with me in the studio tonight one of Britain's leading skin specialists - Raymond Luxury Yacht. RAYMOND: That's not my name. INTERVIEWER: I'm sorry - Raymond Luxury Yach - t. RAYMOND: No, no, no - it's spelt Raymond Luxury Yach - t, but it's pronounced "Throatwobbler Mangrove".
Good evening. Last week we learned how to saw a lady in half. This week we're going to learn how to saw a lady into three bits and dispose of the
A man in an ice cream girl's uniform is standing in a spotlight with an ice cream tray with an albatross on it. MAN (loudly): Albatross! Albatross! Albatross! PERSON (approaching): Two choc-ices, please. MAN: I haven't got choc-ices. I only got albatross. Albatross! PERSON: What flavour is it? MAN: It's a bird, innit? It's a bloody sea bird... it's not any bloody flavour. Albatross! PERSON: Do you get wafers with it? MAN: 'Course you don't get bloody wafers with it! Albatross! PERSON: How much is it? MAN: Ninepence. PERSON I'll have two, please. MAN (loudly): Gannet on a stick!
A Cocktail Party in Dulwich
HOST: Ah, John. Allow me to introduce my next-door neighbour. John Stokes, this is A Snivelling Little Rat-Faced Git. Ah! GIT: Hello, I noticed a slight look of anxiety cross your face for a moment just then, but you needn't worry - I'm used to it. That's the trouble of having a surname like Git. JOHN: Oh... yes, yes. GIT: We did think once of having it changed be deed-poll, you know - to Watson or something like that. But A Snivelling Little Rat-Faced Watson's just as bad eh?
London 1895... The residence of Mr Oscar Wilde
(In WILDE's drawing room. A crowd of suitably dressed folk are engaged in typically brilliant conversation, laughing affectedly and drinking champagne) PRINCE OF WALES: My congratulations, Wilde. You latest play is a great success. The whole of London's talking about you. OSCAR: There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that it not being talked about. (There follows fifteen seconds of restrained and sycophantic laughter) PRINCE: Very very witty... very very witty. WHISTLER: There's only one thing in the world worse than being witty and that is not being witty. (Fifteen seconds more of the same) OSCAR: I wish I had said that. Whistler: You will, Oscar, you will. (More laughter) OSCAR: Your majesty, have you met James McNeill Whistler? PRINCE: Yes, we've played squash together. OSCAR: There is only one thing worse than playing squash together, and that is playing it by yourself. (Silence)
I wish I hadn't said that. WHISTLER: You did, Oscar, you did. (A little laughter) PRINCE: I've got to get back up the palace. OSCAR: Your Majesty is like a big jam doughnut with cream on the top. PRINCE: I beg your pardon? OSCAR: Um... it was one of Whistler's. WHISTLER: I never said that. OSCAR: You did, James, you did. (The PRINCE OF WALES stares expectantly at WHISTLER) WHISTLER: ... Well, Your Highness, what I meant was that, like a doughnut, um, your arrival gives us pleasure... and your departure only makes us hungry for more. (Laughter)
Your Highness, you are also like a stream of bat's piss. PRINCE: What?!? WHISTLER: It was one of Wilde's. One of Wilde's. OSCAR: It sodding was not! It was Shaw! SHAW: I... I merely meant, Your Majesty, that you shine out like a shaft of gold when all around is dark. PRINCE (accepting the compliment): Oh. OSCAR (To WHISTLER): Right. (To PRINCE)Your majesty is like a dose of clap. Before you arrive is pleasure, and after is a pain in the dong. PRINCE (Loudly): WHAT? WHISTLER and OSCAR: One of Shaw's, one of Shaw's. SHAW: You bastards. Um... what I meant, Your Majesty, what I meant... OSCAR: We've got him, Jim. WHISTLER and OSCAR: Come on, Shaw-y. SHAW: I merely meant... OSCAR: Come on, Shaw-y. WHISTLER: Let's have a bit of wit, then, man. SHAW: (Blows raspberry) (The PRINCE shakes SHAW's hand. Laughter all around)
The Butcher Shop
GENT: Good morning. I'd care to purchase a chicken, please. BUTCHER: Don't come here with all that posh talk you nasty, stuck-up twit. GENT: I beg your pardon? BUTCHER: A chicken, sir. Certainly. GENT: Thank you. And how much does that work out to per pound, my good fellow? BUTCHER: Per pound, you slimy trollope, what kind of a ponce are you? GENT: I'm sorry? BUTCHER: 4/6 a pound, sir, nice and ready for roasting. GENT: I see, and I'd care to purchase some stuffing in addition, please. BUTCHER: Use your own, you great poovy po-nagger! GENT: What? BUTCHER: Ah, certainly sir, some stuffing. GENT: Oh, thank you. BUTCHER: 'Oh, thank you' says the great queen like a la-di-dah poofta. GENT: I beg your pardon? BUTCHER: That's all right, sir, call again. GENT: Excuse me. BUTCHER: What is it now, you great pillock? GENT: Well, I can't help noticing that you insult me and then you're polite to me alternately. BUTCHER: I'm terribly sorry to hear that, sir. GENT: That's all right. It doesn't really matter. BUTCHER: Tough titty if it did, you nasty spotted prancer.
The Undertaker's Sketch
UNDERTAKER: Morning. MAN: Good morning. UNDERTAKER: What can I do for you, squire? MAN: Well, I wonder if you can help me. You see, my mother has just died. UNDERTAKER: Ah well, we can help you. We deal with stiffs. MAN: What? UNDERTAKER: Well, there's three things we can do with your mum. We can bury her, burn her, or dump her. MAN: (shocked) Dump her? UNDERTAKER: Dump her in the Thames. MAN: What? UNDERTAKER: Oh, did you like her? MAN: Yes! UNDERTAKER: oh well, we won't dump her then. Well, what do you think? We can bury her or burn her. MAN: Well, which do you recommend? UNDERTAKER: 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 we give you a handful of ashes, which you can pretend were hers. MAN: Oh. UNDERTAKER: Or if we bury her, she gets eaten up by lots of weevils and nasty maggots, which as I said before is a bit of a shock if she's not quite
dead. MAN: I see. Well, she's definitely dead. UNDERTAKER: Where is she? MAN: She's in this sack. UNDERTAKER: Can I have a look? She looks quite young. MAN: Yes, yes, she was. UNDERTAKER (calling): Fred! FRED'S VOICE: Yeah? UNDERTAKER: I think we've got an eater. MAN: What?!? FRED (peeking head round the door): Right, I'll get the oven on.(goes off) MAN: Er, excuse me, um.... are you suggesting eating my mother? UNDERTAKER: Er... yeah, not raw. Cooked. MAN: What? UNDERTAKER: Yes, roasted with a few french fries, broccoli, horseradish sauce... MAN: Well, I do feel a bit peckish. UNDERTAKER: Great! MAN: Can we have some parsnips? UNDERTAKER (calling): Fred... get some parsnips. MAN: I really don't think I should. UNDERTAKER: Look, tell you what.... we'll eat her, if you feel a bit guilty about it after, we can dig a grave and you can throw up in it.
This page looks swell on Mr Equator's Pauntly Peruser
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