Favorite Monty Python quotes or scenes?

(trumpets)
(clap clap clap)

ANNOUNCER:
Ladies and gentlemen. The next contest is between... Frank Goliath, the Macedonian baby-crusher, and Boris Mineburg.

BRIAN:
Want some...

VOICE:
Thank you, fellows.

BRIAN:
Larks' tongues. Wrens' livers. Chaffinch brains. Jaguars' earlobes. Wolf nipple chips. Get 'em while they're hot. They're lovely. Dromedary pretzels, only half a denar. Tuscany fried bats.

JUDITH:
I do feel, Reg, that any Anti-Imperialist group like ours must reflect such a divergence of interests within its power-base.

REG:
Agreed. Francis?

FRANCIS:
Yeah. I think Judith's point of view is very valid, Reg, provided the Movement never forgets that it is the inalienable right of every man--

STAN:
Or woman.

FRANCIS:
Or woman... to rid himself--

STAN:
Or herself.

FRANCIS:
Or herself.

REG:
Agreed.

FRANCIS:
Thank you, brother.

STAN:
Or sister.

FRANCIS:
Or sister. Where was I?

REG:
I think you'd finished.

FRANCIS:
Oh. Right.

REG:
Furthermore, it is the birthright of every man--

STAN:
Or woman.

REG:
Why don't you shut up about women, Stan. You're putting us off.

STAN:
Women have a perfect right to play a part in our movement, Reg.

FRANCIS:
Why are you always on about women, Stan?

STAN:
I want to be one.

REG:
What?

STAN:
I want to be a woman. From now on, I want you all to call me 'Loretta'.

REG:
What?!

LORETTA:
It's my right as a man.

JUDITH:
Well, why do you want to be Loretta, Stan?

LORETTA:
I want to have babies.

REG:
You want to have babies?!

LORETTA:
It's every man's right to have babies if he wants them.

REG:
But... you can't have babies.

LORETTA:
Don't you oppress me.

REG:
I'm not oppressing you, Stan. You haven't got a womb! Where's the foetus going to gestate?! You going to keep it in a box?!

LORETTA:
(crying)

JUDITH:
Here! I-- I've got an idea. Suppose you agree that he can't actually have babies, not having a womb, which is nobody's fault, not even the Romans', but that he can have the right to have babies.

FRANCIS:
Good idea, Judith. We shall fight the oppressors for your right to have babies, brother. Sister. Sorry.

REG:
What's the point?

FRANCIS:
What?

REG:
What's the point of fighting for his right to have babies when he can't have babies?!

FRANCIS:
It is symbolic of our struggle against oppression.

REG:
Symbolic of his struggle against reality.

(trumpets)
(clap clap clap)

GUARD:
Get out there.

BORIS:
It's, um--

GUARD:
Get out there.

BORIS:
It's dangerous out there. Ah ah. Ah! Oh.
(clap clap clap)
(clank)
Ooh.

CROWD:
Aaah. Ohh...

SPECTATOR:
What a load of rubbish.

BRIAN:
Larks' tongues. Otters' noses. Ocelot spleens.

REG:
Got any nuts?

BRIAN:
I haven't got any nuts. Sorry. I've got wrens' livers, badgers' spleens--

REG:
No, no, no.

BRIAN:
Otters' noses?

REG:
I don't want any of that Roman rubbish.

JUDITH:
Why don't you sell proper food?

BRIAN:
Proper food?

REG:
Yeah, not those rich imperialist tit-bits.

BRIAN:
Well, don't blame me. I didn't ask to sell this stuff.

REG:
All right. Bag of otters' noses, then.

FRANCIS:
Make it two.

REG:
Two.

FRANCIS:
Thanks, Reg.

BRIAN:
Are you the Judean People's Front?

REG:
Fuck off!

BRIAN:
What?

REG:
Judean People's Front. We're the People's Front of Judea! Judean People's Front. Cawk.

FRANCIS:
Wankers.

BRIAN:
Can I... join your group?

REG:
No. Piss off.

BRIAN:
I didn't want to sell this stuff. It's only a job. I hate the Romans as much as anybody.

PEOPLE'S FRONT OF JUDEA:
Shhhh. Shhhh. Shhh. Shh. Shhhh.

REG:
Schtum.

JUDITH:
Are you sure?

BRIAN:
Oh, dead sure. I hate the Romans already.

REG:
Listen. If you really wanted to join the P.F.J., you'd have to really hate the Romans.

BRIAN:
I do!

REG:
Oh, yeah? How much?

BRIAN:
A lot!

REG:
Right. You're in. Listen. The only people we hate more than the Romans are the fucking Judean People's Front.

P.F.J.:
Yeah...

JUDITH:
Splitters.

P.F.J.:
Splitters...

FRANCIS:
And the Judean Popular People's Front.

P.F.J.:
Yeah. Oh, yeah. Splitters. Splitters...

LORETTA:
And the People's Front of Judea.

P.F.J.:
Yeah. Splitters. Splitters...

REG:
What?

LORETTA:
The People's Front of Judea. Splitters.

REG:
We're the People's Front of Judea!

LORETTA:
Oh. I thought we were the Popular Front.

REG:
People's Front! C-huh.

FRANCIS:
Whatever happened to the Popular Front, Reg?

REG:
He's over there.

P.F.J.:
Splitter!

GOLIATH:
(pant pant pant) Ooh. Ooh. I-- I think I'm about to have a... cardiac arrest. Ooh. Ooh.

SPECTATOR:
Absolutely dreadful. Hmm.

CROWD:
(cheering)

REG:
Yes, brother! Ha ha. What's your name?

BRIAN:
Brian. Brian Cohen.

REG:
We may have a little job for you, Brian

---

Arthur: I am your king!

Woman: Well I didn't vote for you!

Arthur: You don't vote for kings.

Woman: Well how'd you become king then?

(Angelic music plays...)

Arthur: The Lady of the Lake, her arm clad in the purest shimmering silmite
held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water, signifying by divine
providence that I, Arthur, was to carry Excalibur. THAT is why I am your
king!

Dennis interrupting: Listen, strange women lyin' in ponds distributin'
swords is no basis for a system of government! Supreme executive power
derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic
ceremony!
ÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊ -----------------------
Dennis: Oh, but you can't expect to wield supreme executive power just
because some watery tart threw a sword at you!
ÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊ -----------------------
Dennis: Oh but if I went 'round sayin' I was Emperor, just because some
moistened bint lobbed a scimitar at me, they'd put me away!
ÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊ -----------------------
Dennis: Help! Help! I'm being oppressed! Violence inherent in the system!
Violence inherent in the system!

:)

From one of the records. Kind of apropos, these days.

"I don't like Spam!!"

That was hilarious!

"Well, what else floats?"

"A duck!"

......BURN HER! :D

Apparently the set was tuned to a news channel in Cali... :(

The announcer interviewing the mother of the Rutles' manager "Leggy Mountbatten".

Interviewer (Eric Idle): What attracted your son to the Rutles?

Mrs. Mountbatten: Their trousers. Yes, they were very tight. Left nothing to the imagination..."

-eom

My phone plays "Liberty Bell," the song at the beginning of the MP episodes. Pisses of my fellow train passengers; makes me laugh every time I'm called....

If you're attacked by a homicidal maniac with a pair of loganberries don't come crying to me!

(a customer walks in the door.)

Customer: Good Morning.
Owner: Good morning, Sir. Welcome to the National Cheese Emporium!
Customer: Ah, thank you, my good man.
Owner: What can I do for you, Sir?
C: Well, I was, uh, sitting in the public library on Thurmon Street just now,
skimming through "Rogue Herrys" by Hugh Walpole, and I suddenly came over
all peckish.
O: Peckish, sir?
C: Esuriant.
O: Eh?
C: 'Ee, Ah wor 'ungry-loike!
O: Ah, hungry!
C: In a nutshell. And I thought to myself, "a little fermented curd will do
the trick," so, I curtailed my Walpoling activites, sallied forth, and
infiltrated your place of purveyance to negotiate the vending of some cheesy
comestibles!
O: Come again?
C: I want to buy some cheese.
O: Oh, I thought you were complaining about the bazouki player!
C: Oh, heaven forbid: I am one who delights in all manifestations of the
Terpsichorean muse!
O: Sorry?
C: 'Ooo, Ah lahk a nice tuune, 'yer forced too!
O: So he can go on playing, can he?
C: Most certainly! Now then, some cheese please, my good man.
O: (lustily) Certainly, sir. What would you like?
C: Well, eh, how about a little red Leicester.
O: I'm, a-fraid we're fresh out of red Leicester, sir.
C: Oh, never mind, how are you on Tilsit?
O: I'm afraid we never have that at the end of the week, sir, we get it
fresh on Monday.
C: Tish tish. No matter. Well, stout yeoman, four ounces of Caerphilly, if
you please.
O: Ah! It's beeeen on order, sir, for two weeks. Was expecting it this
morning.
C: 'T's Not my lucky day, is it? Aah, Bel Paese?
O: Sorry, sir.
C: Red Windsor?
O: Normally, sir, yes. Today the van broke down.
C: Ah. Stilton?
O: Sorry.
C: Ementhal? Gruyere?
O: No.
C: Any Norweigan Jarlsburg, per chance.
O: No.
C: Lipta?
O: No.
C: Lancashire?
O: No.
C: White Stilton?
O: No.
C: Danish Brew?
O: No.
C: Double Goucester?
O: <pause> No.
C: Cheshire?
O: No.
C: Dorset Bluveny?
O: No.
C: Brie, Roquefort, Pol le Veq, Port Salut, Savoy Aire, Saint Paulin, Carrier
de lest, Bres Bleu, Bruson?
O: No.
C: Camenbert, perhaps?
O: Ah! We have Camenbert, yessir.
C: (suprised) You do! Excellent.
O: Yessir. It's..ah,.....it's a bit runny...
C: Oh, I like it runny.
O: Well,.. It's very runny, actually, sir.
C: No matter. Fetch hither the fromage de la Belle France! Mmmwah!
O: I...think it's a bit runnier than you'll like it, sir.
C: I don't care how fucking runny it is. Hand it over with all speed.
O: Oooooooooohhh........! <pause>
C: What now?
O: The cat's eaten it.
C: <pause> Has he.
O: She, sir.
(pause)
C: Gouda?
O: No.
C: Edam?
O: No.
C: Case Ness?
O: No.
C: Smoked Austrian?
O: No.
C: Japanese Sage Darby?
O: No, sir.
C: You...do *have* some cheese, don't you?
O: (brightly) Of course, sir. It's a cheese shop, sir. We've got--
C: No no... don't tell me. I'm keen to guess.
O: Fair enough.
C: Uuuuuh, Wensleydale.
O: Yes?
C: Ah, well, I'll have some of that!
O: Oh! I thought you were talking to me, sir.
Mister Wensleydale, that's my name.

(pause)

C: Greek Feta?
O: Uh, not as such.
C: Uuh, Gorgonzola?
O: no
C: Parmesan,
O: no
C: Mozarella,
O: no
C: Paper Cramer,
O: no
C: Danish Bimbo,
O: no
C: Czech sheep's milk,
O: no
C: Venezuelan Beaver Cheese?
O: Not *today*, sir, no.
(pause)
C: Aah, how about Cheddar?
O: Well, we don't get much call for it around here, sir.
C: Not much ca--It's the single most popular cheese in the world!
O: Not 'round here, sir.
C: <slight pause> and what IS the most popular cheese 'round hyah?
O: 'Illchester, sir.
C: IS it.
O: Oh, yes, it's staggeringly popular in this manor, squire.
C: Is it.
O: It's our number one best seller, sir!
C: I see. Uuh...'Illchester, eh?
O: Right, sir.
C: All right. Okay.
'Have you got any?' he asked, expecting the answer 'no'.
O: I'll have a look, sir...
nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnno.
C: It's not much of a cheese shop, is it?
O: Finest in the district!
C: (annoyed) Explain the logic underlying that conclusion, please.
O: Well, it's so clean, sir!
C: It's certainly uncontaminated by cheese....
O: (brightly) You haven't asked me about Limburger, sir.
C: Would it be worth it?
O: Could be....
C: Have you --SHUT THAT BLOODY BAZOUKI OFF!
O: Told you sir....
C: (slowly) Have you got any Limburger?
O: No.
C: Figures.
Predictable, really I suppose. It was an act of purest optimism to have
posed the question in the first place. Tell me:
O: Yessir?
C: (deliberately) Have you in fact got any cheese here at all.
O: Yes,sir.
C: Really?
(pause)
O: No. Not really, sir.
C: You haven't.
O: Nosir. Not a scrap. I was deliberately wasting your time,sir.
C: Well I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to shoot you.
O: Right-0, sir.

The customer takes out a gun and shoots the owner.

C: What a *senseless* waste of human life.

:-)

P.

This one skit from the TV show where they're all in gay 90s costumes - striped vests, boater hats, etc. and having a picnic - acting very "high falutin'." One of them is holding a tennis racket, and I can't remember the sequence of events, but everything goes from a swimmingly wonderful day to a series of bloody accidents, each one worse than the previous, all happening rapidly. Just totally absurd.

TlalocW

My alltime favorite moment is in life of brian when cleese has a bi speech how everyone in this room would DIE for palestin etc etc

then in the back you hear a small voice "i dont"

and cleese goes.. oh yes theres one.. but apart from him we all would die for it

..."....I am Death!"

..."Who is it dear?

..."Oh do come in..."

"It's a Mr. Death or something he's come about the reaping...."


.....from Python's The Meaning of Life! :D

Graham Chapman:
Trouble at mill.

Carol Cleveland:
Oh no - what kind of trouble?

Chapman:
One on't cross beams gone owt askew on treddle.

Cleveland:
Pardon?

Chapman:
One on't cross beams gone owt askew on treddle.

Cleveland:
I don't understand what you're saying.

Chapman:
(slightly irritatedly and with
exaggeratedly clear accent)
One of the cross beams has gone out askew on the treddle.

Cleveland:
Well what on earth does that mean?

Chapman:
I don't know - Mr Wentworth just told me to come in here and say that there was trouble at the mill, that's all - I didn't expect a kind of Spanish Inquisition.

(JARRING CHORD)

(The door flies open and Cardinal Ximinez of Spain (Palin) enters, flanked by two junior cardinals. Cardinal Biggles (Jones) has goggles pushed over his forehead. Cardinal Fang (Gilliam) is just Cardinal Fang)

Ximinez:
NOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition!
Our chief weapon is surprise...surprise and fear...fear and surprise....
Our two weapons are fear and surprise... and ruthless efficiency....
Our three weapons are fear, surprise, and ruthless efficiency...
and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope....
Our four... no...
Amongst our weapons... Amongst our weaponry...
are such elements as fear, surprise...
I'll come in again.

(Exit and exeunt)

Chapman:
I didn't expect a kind of Spanish Inquisition.

(JARRING CHORD)

(The cardinals burst in)

Ximinez:
NOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition!
Amongst our weaponry are such diverse elements as: fear, surprise, ruthless efficiency, an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope, and nice red uniforms - Oh damn!
(To Cardinal Biggles)
I can't say it - you'll have to say it.

Biggles:
What?

Ximinez:
You'll have to say the bit about 'Our chief weapons are...'

Biggles:
(rather horrified):
I couldn't do that...

(Ximinez bundles the cardinals outside again)

Chapman: I didn't expect a kind of Spanish Inquisition.

(JARRING CHORD)

(The cardinals enter)

Biggles:
Er... Nobody... um...

Ximinez:
Expects...

Biggles:
Expects... Nobody expects the... um...
the Spanish... um...

Ximinez:
Inquisition.

Biggles:
I know, I know! Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition. In fact, those who do expect -

Ximinez:
Our chief weapons are...

Biggles:
Our chief weapons are... um... er...

Ximinez:
Surprise...

Biggles:
Surprise and...

Ximinez:
Okay, stop. Stop. Stop there - stop there.
Stop. Phew! Ah!... our chief weapons are surprise... blah blah blah. Cardinal, read the charges.

Fang:
You are hereby charged that you did on diverse dates commit heresy against the Holy Church.
'My old man said follow the...'

Biggles:
That's enough.
(To Cleveland)
Now, how do you plead?

Cleveland:
We're innocent.

Ximinez:
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!

Superimposed caption:
DIABOLICAL LAUGHTER

Biggles:
We'll soon change your mind about that!

Superimposed caption:
DIABOLICAL ACTING

Ximinez:
Fear, surprise, and a most ruthless -
(controls himself with a supreme effort)
Ooooh! Now, Cardinal - the rack!

(Biggles produces a plastic-coated dish-drying rack. Ximinez looks at it and clenches his teeth in an effort not to lose control. He hums heavily to cover his anger)

Ximinez:
You... Right! Tie her down.

(Fang and Biggles make a pathetic attempt to tie her on to the drying rack)

Ximinez:
Right! How do you plead?

Cleveland:
Innocent.

Ximinez:
Ha! Right! Cardinal, give the rack.
Oh dear... give the rack a turn.

(Biggles stands their awkwardly and shrugs his shoulders)

Biggles:
I...

Ximinez:
(gritting his teeth)
I know, I know you can't. I didn't want to say anything. I just wanted to try and ignore your crass mistake.

Biggles:
I...

Ximinez:
It makes it all seem so stupid.

Biggles:
Shall I...?

Ximinez:
No, just pretend for God's sake. Ha! Ha! Ha!

(Biggles turns an imaginary handle on the side of the dish-rack)

(Cut to them torturing a dear old lady,
Marjorie Wilde).

Ximinez:
Now, old woman - you are accused of heresy on three counts - heresy by thought, heresy by word, heresy by deed, and heresy by action - four counts. Do you confess?

Wilde:
I don't understand what I'm accused of.

Ximinez:
Ha! Then we shall make you understand! Biggles! Fetch...THE SOFT CUSHIONS!

(JARRING CHORD)

(Biggles holds out two ordinary modern household cushions)

Biggles:
Here they are, lord.

Ximinez:
Now, old lady - you have one last chance.
Confess the heinous sin of heresy, reject the works of the ungodly - two last chances.
And you shall be free - three last chances.
You have three last chances, the nature of which I have divulged in my previous utterance.

Wilde:
I don't know what you're talking about.

Ximinez:
Right! If that's the way you want it - Cardinal! Poke her with the soft cushions!

(Biggles carries out this rather pathetic torture)

Ximinez:
Confess! Confess! Confess!

Biggles:
It doesn't seem to be hurting her, lord.

Ximinez:
Have you got all the stuffing up one end?

Biggles:
Yes, lord.

Ximinez:
(angrily hurling away the cushions)
Hm! She is made of harder stuff! Cardinal Fang! Fetch...THE COMFY CHAIR!

(JARRING CHORD)

(Zoom into Fang's horrified face)

Fang:
(terrified)
The...Comfy Chair?

(Biggles pushes in a really plush comfy chair)

Ximinez:
So you think you are strong because you can survive the soft cushions. Well, we shall see. Biggles! Put her in the Comfy Chair!

(They roughly push her into the Comfy Chair)

Ximinez:
(with a cruel leer)
Now - you will stay in the Comfy Chair until lunch time, with only a cup of coffee at eleven.
(aside, to Biggles)
Is that really all it is?

Biggles:
Yes, lord.

Ximinez:
I see. I suppose we make it worse by shouting a lot, do we? Confess, woman. Confess! Confess! Confess! Confess!

Biggles:
I confess!

Ximinez:
Not you!

"I will not buy this record - it is scratched."
"My hovercraft is full of eels."
"If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me? I am no longer infected."

"Do you have great expectations by Charles dickens?"
"Yes we have that"
"That's great spelled g.r.a.t.e. buy charles dickens with two Ks the well known dutch author?"

TIM: Follow. But! Follow only if ye be men of valor, for the entrance to this cave is guarded by a creature so foul, so cruel that no man yet has fought with it and lived! Bones of full fifty men lie strewn about its lair. So, brave knights, if you do doubt your courage or your strength, come no further, for death awaits you all with nasty, big, pointy teeth.
ARTHUR: Where?
TIM: There!
ARTHUR: What, behind the rabbit?
TIM: It is the rabbit!
ARTHUR: You silly sod!
TIM: What?
ARTHUR: You got us all worked up!
TIM: Well, that's no ordinary rabbit.
ARTHUR: Ohh.
TIM: That's the most foul, cruel, and bad-tempered rodent you ever set eyes on.
ROBIN: You tit! I soiled my armor I was so scared!
TIM: Look, that rabbit's got a vicious streak a mile wide; it's a killer!
GALAHAD: Get stuffed!
TIM: He'll do you up a treat mate!
GALAHAD: Oh, yeah?
ROBIN: You mangy scots git!
TIM: I'm warning you!
ROBIN: What's he do, nibble your bum?
TIM: He's got huge, sharp-- eh-- he can leap about-- look at the bones!
ARTHUR: Go on, Bors. Chop his head off!
BORS: Right! Silly little bleeder. One rabbit stew comin' right up!

< Rabbit flies at Bors’s throat and savages him to death } [br />ROBIN: I done it again!
TIM: I warned you, but did you listen to me? Oh, no, you knew it all, didn't you? Oh, it's just a harmless little bunny, isn't it? Well, it's always the same. I always tell them--
ARTHUR: Oh, shut up!
TIM: Do they listen to me?

and who could forget this one.......

BEN: You lucky, lucky bastard.
BRIAN: What?
BEN: Proper little jailer's pet, aren't we?
BRIAN: What do you mean?
BEN: You must have slipped him a few shekels, eh?
BRIAN: Slipped him a few shekels? You saw him spit in my face!
BEN: Ohh! What wouldn't I give to be spat at in the face! I sometimes hang
awake at night dreaming of being spat at in the face.
BRIAN: Well, it's not exactly friendly, is it? They had me in manacles!
BEN: Manacles! Ooh oooh oh oh. My idea of heaven is to be allowed to be
put in manacles... just for a few hours. They must think the sun shines out o' your arse, sonny.
BRIAN: Oh, lay off me. I've had a hard time!
BEN: You've had a hard time?! I've been here five years! They only hung me
the right way up yesterday! So, don't you come 'rou--
BRIAN: All right. All right.
BEN: They must think you're Lord God Almighty.
BRIAN: What will they do to me?
BEN: Oh, you'll probably get away with crucifixion.
BRIAN: Crucifixion?!
BEN: Yeah, first offence.
BRIAN: Get away with crucifixion?! It's--
BEN: Best thing the Romans ever did for us.
BRIAN: What?!
BEN: Oh, yeah. If we didn't have crucifixion, this country would be in a
right bloody mess.
BRIAN: Guards!
BEN: Nail him up, I say!

spam spam spam luverly spam

Four well-dressed men sitting together at a vacation resort. "Farewell to Thee" being played in the background on Hawaiian guitar.



Michael Palin: Ahh.. Very passable, this, very passable.

Graham Chapman: Nothing like a good glass of Chateau de Chassilier wine, ay Gessiah?

Terry Gilliam: You're right there Obediah.

Eric Idle: Who'd a thought thirty years ago we'd all be sittin'

here drinking Chateau de Chassilier wine?

MP: Aye. In them days, we'd a' been glad to have the price of a cup

o' tea.

GC: A cup ' COLD tea.

EI: Without milk or sugar.

TG: OR tea!

MP: In a filthy, cracked cup.

EI: We never used to have a cup. We used to have to drink out of a

rolled up newspaper.

GC: The best WE could manage was to suck on a piece of damp cloth.

TG: But you know, we were happy in those days, though we were poor.

MP: Aye. BECAUSE we were poor. My old Dad used to say to me, "Money

doesn't buy you happiness."

EI: 'E was right. I was happier then and I had NOTHIN'. We used to

live in this tiiiny old house, with greaaaaat big holes in the roof.

GC: House? You were lucky to have a HOUSE! We used to live in one

room, all hundred and twenty-six of us, no furniture. Half the

floor was missing; we were all huddled together in one corner for

fear of FALLING!

TG: You were lucky to have a ROOM! *We* used to have to live in a

corridor!

MP: Ohhhh we used to DREAM of livin' in a corridor! Woulda' been a

palace to us. We used to live in an old water tank on a rubbish

tip. We got woken up every morning by having a load of rotting

fish dumped all over us! House!? Hmph.

EI: Well when I say "house" it was only a hole in the ground covered

by a piece of tarpolin, but it was a house to US.

GC: We were evicted from *our* hole in the ground; we had to go and

live in a lake!

TG: You were lucky to have a LAKE! There were a hundred and sixty

of us living in a small shoebox in the middle of the road.

MP: Cardboard box?

TG: Aye.

MP: You were lucky. We lived for three months in a brown paper bag in

a septic tank. We used to have to get up at six o'clock in the

morning, clean the bag, eat a crust of stale bread, go to work down

mill for fourteen hours a day week in-week out. When we got home,

out Dad would thrash us to sleep with his belt!

GC: Luxury. We used to have to get out of the lake at three o'clock in

the morning, clean the lake, eat a handful of hot gravel, go to

work at the mill every day for tuppence a month, come home, and Dad

would beat us around the head and neck with a broken bottle, if we

were LUCKY!

TG: Well we had 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 tongues.

We had half a handful of freezing cold gravel, worked twenty-four

hours a day at the mill for fourpence every six years, and when we

got home, our Dad would slice us in two with a bread knife.

EI: Right. I had to get up in the morning at ten o'clock at night,

half an hour before I went to bed, (pause for laughter), eat a lump

of cold poison, work twenty-nine hours a day down mill, and pay mill

owner for permission to come to work, and when we got home,

our Dad would kill us, and dance about on our graves

singing "Hallelujah."

MP: But you try and tell the young people today that... and they won't

believe ya'.

ALL: Nope, nope..

the scene where the roman catches him painting "romans go home" on the palace in latin, and then makes him correct the grammar and write it 100 times "by sun up, if it's not done by sunup, i'll cut your balls off." and then, sunrise comes and it's done, the romans finally realize what happens. i laugh just thinking about it.

He's a very naughty boy!



:evilgrin:

P.