Classic Monty Python

[Bedford Fox]

DEAD PARROT

A customer enters a pet shop.

Customer: 'Ello, I wish to register a complaint.

(The owner does not respond.)

C: 'Ello, Miss?

Owner: What do you mean "miss"?

C: I'm sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint!

O: We're closin' for lunch.

C: Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this parrot what I purchased not half an hour ago from this very boutique.

O: Oh yes, the, uh, the Norwegian Blue...What's,uh...What's wrong with it?

C: I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my lad. 'E's dead, that's what's wrong with it!

O: No, no, 'e's uh,...he's resting.

C: Look, matey, I know a dead parrot when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now.

O: No no he's not dead, he's, he's restin'! Remarkable bird, the Norwegian Blue, idn'it, ay? Beautiful plumage!

C: The plumage don't enter into it. It's stone dead.

O: Nononono, no, no! 'E's resting!

C: All right then, if he's restin', I'll wake him up!

(shouting at the cage)

'Ello, Mister Polly Parrot! I've got a lovely fresh cuttle fish for you if you show...(owner hits the cage)

O: There, he moved!

C: No, he didn't, that was you hitting the cage!

O: I never!!

C: Yes, you did!

O: I never, never did anything...

C: (yelling and hitting the cage repeatedly) 'ELLO POLLY!!!!!

Testing! Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your nine o'clock alarm call!

(Takes parrot out of the cage and thumps its head on the counter. Throws it up in the air and watches it plummet to the floor.)

C: Now that's what I call a dead parrot.

O: No, no.....No, 'e's stunned!

C: STUNNED?!?

O: Yeah! You stunned him, just as he was wakin' up! Norwegian Blues stun easily, major.

C: Um...now look...now look, mate, I've definitely 'ad enough of this. That parrot is definitely deceased, and when I purchased it not 'alf an hour ago, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it bein' tired and shagged out following a prolonged squawk.

O: Well, he's...he's, ah...probably pining for the fjords.

C: PININ' for the FJORDS?!?!?!? What kind of talk is that?, look, why did he fall flat on his back the moment I got 'im home?

O: The Norwegian Blue prefers kippin' on it's back! Remarkable bird, id'nit, squire? Lovely plumage!

C: Look, I took the liberty of examining that parrot when I got it home, and I discovered the only reason that it had been sitting on its perch in the first place was that it had been NAILED there.

(pause)

O: Well, o'course it was nailed there! If I hadn't nailed that bird down, it would have nuzzled up to those bars, bent 'em apart with its beak, and VOOM! Feeweeweewee!

C: "VOOM"?!? Mate, this bird wouldn't "voom" if you put four million volts through it! 'E's bleedin' demised!

O: No no! 'E's pining!

C: 'E's not pinin'! 'E's passed on! This parrot is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E's expired and gone to meet 'is maker!

'E's a stiff! Bereft of life, 'e rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed 'im to the perch 'e'd be pushing up the daisies!

'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! 'E's off the twig!

'E's kicked the bucket, 'e's shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisibile!!

THIS IS AN EX-PARROT!!

(pause)

O: Well, I'd better replace it, then.

(he takes a quick peek behind the counter)

O: Sorry squire, I've had a look 'round the back of the shop, and uh, we're right out of parrots.

C: I see. I see, I get the picture.

O: I got a slug.

(pause)

C: (sweet as sugar) Pray, does it talk?

O: Nnnnot really.

C: WELL IT'S HARDLY A BLOODY REPLACEMENT, IS IT?!!???!!?

O: Look, if you go to my brother's pet shop in Bolton, he'll replace the parrot for you.

C: Bolton, eh? Very well.

The customer leaves.

The customer enters the same pet shop. The owner is putting on a false moustache.

C: This is Bolton, is it?

O: (with a fake mustache) No, it's Ipswitch.

C: (looking at the camera) That's inter-city rail for you.

The customer goes to the train station.

He addresses a man standing behind a desk marked "Complaints".

C: I wish to complain, British-Railways Person.

Attendant: I DON'T HAVE TO DO THIS JOB, YOU KNOW!!!

C: I beg your pardon...?

A: I'm a qualified brain surgeon! I only do this job because I like being my own boss!

C: Excuse me, this is irrelevant, isn't it?

A: Yeah, well it's not easy to pad these python files out to 200 lines, you know.

C: Well, I wish to complain. I got on the Bolton train and found myself deposited here in Ipswitch.

A: No, this is Bolton.

C: (to the camera) The pet shop man's brother was lying!!

A: Can't blame British Rail for that.

C: In that case, I shall return to the pet shop!

He does.

C: I understand this IS Bolton.

O: (still with the fake mustache) Yes?

C: You told me it was Ipswitch!

O: ...It was a pun.

C: (pause) A PUN?!?

O: No, no...not a pun...What's that thing that spells the same backwards as forwards?

C: (Long pause) A palindrome...?

O: Yeah, that's it!

C: It's not a palindrome! The palindrome of "Bolton" would be "Notlob"!! It don't work!!

O: Well, what do you want?

C: I'm not prepared to pursue my line of inquiry any longer as I think this is getting too silly!

Sergeant-Major: Quite agree, quite agree, too silly, far too silly...

[Guest]

Or my own personal favourite........

Chapman: Trouble at mill.

Cleveland: Oh no - what kind of trouble?

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

Cleveland: Pardon?

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

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 treadle.

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.

[The Inquisition exits]

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?

Clevelnd: We're innocent.

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

[DIABOLICAL LAUGHTER]

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

[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?

Clevelnd: 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'll make you understand! Biggles! Fetch...THE 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 comfy chair -- a really plush one]

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!

[davieG]

This is my favourite:

The "We Were Poor" Sketch from "Monty Python Live at City Center" and "Monty

Python Live at the Hollywood Bowl"

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..

[Guest]

Dooo you want yer rattle?