Monty Python's Flying Circus {Di Sirk0s Fleender di M0nti Pyth0n} Episode 9: Full Frontal Nudity Based upon the television program by Graham Chapman, Terry Jones, Terry Gilliam, Michael Palin, Eric Idle & John Cleese As told to Garrett Gilchrist of Monty Python’s PythoNET Visit http://orangecow.org/pythonet Special thanks to 40 SPECIALLY TRAINED ECUADORIAN MOUNTAIN LLAMAS 6 VENEZUELAN RED LLAMAS 142 MEXICAN WHOOPING LLAMAS 14 NORTH CHILEAN GUANACOS (CLOSELY RELATED TO THE LLAMA) REG LLAMA OF BRIXTON 76000 BATTERY LLAMAS FROM "LLAMA-FRESH" FARMS LTD. NEAR PARAGUAY and Bruce Jewell and Stone Dead Productions and Kim 'Howard' Johnson NOTE: This is a full transcript of the ninth episode of the first season of the popular British comedy program, "Monty Python's Flying Circus." It was also recorded as episode 9, although the episodes were often rearranged in an effort to draw viewers. It was an early effort by the troupe, and is best remembered for the Colonel's show-stopping and the well-known Pet Shop (Dead Parrot) sketch. But this, then, is Full Frontal Nudity, courtesy of Monty Python's PythoNET. The script is our own, and created specially to meet the lack of full-episode transcripts on the Web. Hope you like, and enjoy your time at the Circus! -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Cast: 'IT'S' MAN: Michael Palin WOMAN: Michael Palin DIRTY MAN IN RAINCOAT: Terry Jones POLICEMAN: Graham Chapman VOICE OVER: John Cleese COLONEL: Graham Chapman WATKINS: Eric Idle SERGEANT: John Cleese DINO VERCOTTI: Terry Jones LUIGI VERCOTTI: Michael Palin ANIMATED VOICES: Terry Gilliam NUDE MAN: Graham Chapman OTHER NUDE MAN (Barbara): Terry Jones MAN IN BOWLER CAP: Michael Palin ART CRITIC: Michael Palin GIRL: Kathja Wyeth VOICE OVER: Terry Gillam HUSBAND: Terry Jones WIFE: Carol Cleveland MR. LAMBERT: Graham Chapman MR. VERITY: Eric Idle MANAGER: John Cleese ASSISTANT: Michael Palin ZULU WARRIOR: Terry Jones VICAR: John Cleese FIRST HERMIT: Michael Palin SECOND HERMIT: Eric Idle THIRD HERMIT: Graham Chapman FOURTH HERMIT: John Cleese FIFTH HERMIT: Terry Jones MR. PRALINE: John Cleese SHOP OWNER: Michael Palin BRAIN SURGEON: Terry Jones ANNOUNCER: Eric Idle FLASHER: Terry Jones VOICE OVER: Eric Idle FIRST HELL'S GRANNY: Terry Jones SECOND HELL'S GRANNY: Michael Palin THIRD HELL'S GRANNY: Eric Idle FOURTH HELL'S GRANNY: Graham Chapman FIFTH HELL'S GRANNY: John Cleese FIRST YOUNG MAN: Michael Palin SECOND YOUNG MAN: Terry Jones THIRD YOUNG MAN: John Cleese FOURTH YOUNG MAN: Graham Chapman POLICEMAN: Graham Chapman CINEMA MANAGER: Terry Jones INTERNATIONAL REPORTER: Eric Idle WIFE: Rita Davies SUSPICIOUS VICAR: Eric Idle FINAL VOICEOVER: John Cleese (We cut in on the 'It's' Man [a ragged old thing in a shredded suit who for some reason announces the show] looking rather bewildered, and as we pull back we see that he is in a nice lounge chair being served champagne by a blonde in a red-striped bikini. He smiles; it's very rare that the fellows let him do something pleasant. He grunts happily as the blonde strokes him and leads him toward the camera; he sips his drink.) (She hands him a lit bomb.) 'It's' Man: (frightened) It's... (Roll titles. When they're over, show a caption identifying the program as "Episode 12B: FULL FRONTAL NUDITY.") (Cut to Vox Pops.) Woman: Speaking as a public opinion poller, I've had enough of the permissive society. Man in Dirty Raincoat: I haven't had enough of the permissive society. (CAPTION: "In this performance the part of David Hemmings will be played by a piece of wood") Policeman: I would not appear in a frontal nude scene unless it was valid. (Stock film of the army. Tanks rolling, troops moving forward etc. Stirring military music.) Voice Over: In 1943, a group of British Army officers, working deep behind enemy lines, carried out one of the most dangerous and heroic raids in the history of warfare. (Pause.) But that's as maybe. And now ... (CAPTION: "AND NOW ... UNOCCUPIED BRITAIN 1970") (Cut to a military office. Colonel is seated at desk, writing. There is a knock at the office door.) Colonel: Come in. (Private Watkins enters and salutes.) What do you want? Watkins: I'd like to leave the army please, sir. Colonel: Good heavens man, why? Watkins: It's dangerous! Colonel: What? Watkins: There are people with guns out there, sir. Colonel: What? Watkins: Real guns, sir. Not pr... Not toy ones, sir. Proper ones, sir. They've all got 'em. All of 'em, sir. And some of 'em have got tanks. Colonel: Watkins, they are on our side. Watkins: And grenades, sir. And machine guns, sir. So I'd like to leave, sir, before I get killed, please. Colonel: Watkins, you've only been in the army a day! Watkins: I know sir, but people get killed, properly dead, sir, no blarney crossed fingers, sir. A bloke was telling me, if you're in the army and there's a war, you have to go and fight. Colonel: That's true. Watkins: Well, I mean, blimey! I mean, if it was a big war somebody could be hurt! Colonel: (shaking slightly) Watkins, why did you join the army? Watkins: For the water-skiing and for the travel, sir. And not for the killing, sir. I asked them to put it on my form, sir - no killing. Colonel: Watkins, are you a pacifist? Watkins: No sir, I'm not a pacifist, sir. I'm a coward. Colonel: That's a very silly line. Sit down. Watkins: Yes sir. Silly, sir. (sits in corner) Colonel: Awfully bad. (Knock at the door. A rather high-strung sergeant enters, and salutes.) Sergeant: Two civilian gentlemen to see you ... sir! Colonel: Show them in please, sergeant. Sergeant: Mr. Dino Vercotti... and Mr. Luigi Vercotti. (The Vercotti brothers enter. They wear Mafioso suits and dark glasses, and speak throughout in the the too-calm voice of organized criminals trying to strike fear into the heart of a potential associate.) Dino: Good morning, Colonel. Colonel: Good morning gentlemen. Now what can I do for you? Luigi: (looking round office casually) You've, ah ... you've got a nice army base here, Colonel. Colonel: Yes. Luigi: We wouldn't want anything to happen to it. Colonel: What? Dino: No, what my brother means is, it would be a shame if, ah ... (He has been pawing an expensive bit of pottery, and now tosses it to the ground "accidentally.") Luigi: Oh. Dino: Oh sorry, Colonel. Colonel: Well, don't worry about that. But please do sit down. Luigi: No, we prefer to stand, thank you, Colonel. Colonel: All right. All right. But what do you want? Dino: What do we want, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Luigi: Ha ha ha, very good, Colonel. Dino: The Colonel's a joker, Luigi. Luigi: Explain it to the Colonel, Dino. Dino: How many tanks you got, Colonel? Colonel: About five hundred altogether. Luigi: Five hundred, eh? Dino: You ought to be careful, colonel. Colonel: We are careful. Extremely careful. Dino: 'Course, ah, things break, don't they? Colonel: Break? Luigi: Well everything breaks, don't it, Colonel? (He knocks a glass cup off the Colonel's desk) Oh dear. Dino: Ohh... See, my brother's clumsy, Colonel, and when he gets unhappy he breaks things. Like say, he don't feel the army's playing fair by him, ah, he may start breaking things, Colonel. Colonel: We - What is all this about? Luigi: How many men you got here, Colonel? Colonel: Oh, ah ... seven thousand infantry, six hundred artillery, and ah, two divisions of paratroops. Luigi: Paratroops, Dino. Dino: Be a shame if someone was to set fire to them. Colonel: Set fire to them? Luigi: Fires happen, Colonel. Dino: Things burn. Colonel: Look, what is all this about? Dino: Ah... My brother and I have got a little proposition for you, Colonel. Luigi: Could save you a lot of bother. Dino: I mean you're doing all right here, aren't you, Colonel? Luigi: Well, suppose some of your tanks was to get broken and troops started getting lost, ah, fights started breaking out during general inspection, like. Dino: It wouldn't be good for business, would it, Colonel? Colonel: Are you threatening me? Dino: Oh, no, no, no. Luigi: Whatever made you think that, Colonel? Dino: The Colonel doesn't think we're nice people, Luigi. Luigi: We're your buddies, Colonel. Dino: We want to look after you. Colonel: Look after me? (They move in closer. The whole mood changes.) Luigi: We... can guarantee you... that not a single armoured division will get done over... for fifteen bob a week. Colonel: No, no, no. Luigi: Twelve and six! Colonel: No, no, no. Luigi: Eight and six ... five bob! Colonel: No, no, this is silly. Dino: What's silly? (He gets up from his desk and assumes an authoritarian stance) Colonel: No, the whole premise is silly and it's very badly written. I'm the senior officer here, and I haven't had a funny line yet, so I'm stopping it. Dino: You can't do that! Colonel: I've done it. The sketch is over! (At this Watkins, who has been sitting quietly in the corner, jumps up.) Watkins: I want to leave the army please sir, it's dangerous. Colonel: Look, I stopped your sketch five minutes ago. So get out of shot. Right, director! (The cameraman reacts to the Colonel, and focuses on him) Close up! Zoom in on me. (The Camera zooms in; the Colonel's face swells to fill the screen) That's better. Luigi: (off screen) It's only 'cos you couldn't think of a punch line. Colonel: Not true, not true! It's time for the cartoon. Cue telecine, ten, nine, eight... (Cut to telecine countdown. 10, 9...) Dino: (off screen) The general public's not going to understand this, are they? Colonel: (off screen) Shut up, you high-ties! (Cut to cartoon: A dirty old man walks up to a secluded hill, sits on a park bench, and opens up a book marked "FULL FRONTAL NUDITY: VOL. 2." He begins to peruse the book with interest, but as he reads the women cover up their lower areas and turn their backs to him. He is less than pleased, and yells a bit.) Dirty old man: Hey... hey! What the devil's going on here... hey! (Cut to a theater in which the sign reads "FULL FRONTAL NUDITY: AN INTIMATE REVUE!" The dirty old man, still fuming, enters and sits down.) Animated Announcer: Hello, ladies and gents, here it is, the show you've been waiting for, the show you've heard so much about. This is the show that gives you what you want, the way you like it, so move right up front for... FULL FRONTAL NUDITY! (The cinema screen lights up to show the top half of a nude woman, and the camera slowly pans down to reach her naughty bits. But just as it reaches the spot, another dirty old man enters and blocks it.) Animated Dirty old man: Down! Other Animated Dirty Old Man: I'm sorry... (He does, but the shot ends. The next shot shows a woman eating grapes, and just as the camera is about to reach her rude area a snack salesgirl pops up, blocking it again.) Animated Salesgirl: Popcorn, ice cream Squishies? Animated Dirty Old Man: NO! (The next shot shows a girl walking, back turned to the camera, and just as she exposes herself the announcer reaches out with a sign and censors it. Then another walking shot, and as she bares all a train rushes by. It happens. Then a car crash blocks the next girl and... well, you get the basic idea.) Animated Announcer: That's that, ladies and gentlemen. Well, we had a few problems there, a few disappointments, but... Animated Dirty Old Man: (jumping out of seat) Shut up, you pansy! I paid to see full frontal nudity, and I'm gonna get some! (He rips the announcer's pants off. His rear end is underneath, not his front.) Animated Announcer: How's that, sailor? (A giant hammer comes and crushes the dirty old man.) (Cut back to Vox Pops.) Nude Man: Full frontal nudity? Never! What do you think, Barbara? Other Nude Man: Oh, no no, not unless it was valid, of course... (He lays his head lovingly on the other's shoulder and smiles.) Man in Bowler Hat: Full frontal nudity? Yes, I'd do it if it was valid. If the money was valid. And if it were a small part. (We see an red-robed man "examining" a nude painting. He winks at the camera, then realizes it's on. Quickly he tosses the painting down on his desk and collects himself.) (Caption on screen: "AN ART CRITIC") Art Critic: Good evening. I'd like to talk to you tonight about the place of the nude in my bed. I-In the history of my bed ... of art! Of art, I'm sorry. The place of the nude in the history of tart... call-girl... I'm sorry! I'll start again. (pause.) Bum! (covers mouth) Oh, what a giveaway. Th-the place of the nude in art. (a seductively dressed girl enters slinkily) Oh h-hello there, father, er confessor, professor, your honour, your grace ... Girl: (cutely) I'm not your Grace, I'm your Elsie. Art Critic: (horrified) What a terrible joke! Girl: (crying) But it's my only line! (Cut to an idyllic countryside. Birds sing etc. as the camera starts a lyrical pan across the fields.) Voiceover and Caption: "BUT THERE LET US LEAVE THE ART CRITIC TO STRANGLE HIS WIFE AND MOVE ON TO PASTURES NEW..." (After a few seconds of mood setting the camera suddenly comes across the art critic strangling his wife in middle foreground. As the camera passes him he hums nervously and tries to look as though he isn't strangling anybody. The camera doesn't stop panning, and just as it goes off him we see him start strangling again.) (Through the same field are running a bride and groom, and as the groom runs a few miles, carrying the bride all the way, we follow them through the field and through a few city streets. They finally reach the door of a medium-sized shop, and he puts her down.) Husband: (exhausted) We want to buy a bed, please. (They look at each other amorously and kiss.) Mr Lambert: Oh certainly, I'll get someone to attend to you. Mr. Verity! Mr Verity: Can I help you, sir? Husband: Ah yes, we'd to buy like a bed... a double bed... about fifty pounds. Mr Verity: Oh no, I'm afraid not, sir. Our cheapest bed is eight hundred pounds, sir. Husband: (shocked) Eight hundred pounds? Mr Lambert: Oh, ah... Perhaps I should have explained. Mr. Verity does tend to exaggerate, so every figure he gives you will be ten times too high. Otherwise he's perfectly all right, perfectly. Husband: Ah, I see. I see. So your cheapest bed is eighty pounds? Mr Verity: Eight hundred pounds, yes, sir. Husband: And, ah, how wide is it? Mr Verity: The width is... ah, sixty feet wide. Husband: (whispers to wife) Six foot wide. Husband: ...and the length? Mr Verity: The length is ... um ... Lambert? Mr Lambert: (looking up) Mm? Mr Verity: What is the length of the Comfidown Majorette? Mr Lambert: Er, two foot long. Husband: (taken aback) Two foot long? Mr Verity: Ah, yes. You have to remember of course to multiply everything Mr Lambert says by three. It's nothing he can help, you understand. Apart from that he's perfectly all right. Husband: (understandingly) I see, I'm sorry. Mr Verity: But it does mean that when he says a bed is two foot wide, it is in fact sixty feet wide. (It takes them a moment to puzzle this out) Husband: Y-yes, I see. Mr Verity: And that's not counting the mattress. Husband: Oh, how much is that? Mr Verity: Er, Lambert will be able to help you there. Lambert! Mr Lambert: Mm? Mr Verity: Will you show these twenty good people the dog kennels, please? Mr Lambert: Certainly. Husband: Dog kennels? No, no, mattresses! Mr Verity: I'm sorry, you have to say 'dog kennel' to Mr Lambert, because if you say 'mattress' he puts a bag over his head. I should have explained. Apart from that he's really all right. (There is a brief moment where the husband's marital bliss turns almost to mild irritation, but his wife's laughter makes all well, and he laughs also.) Husband: We'd like to see the... "dog kennels," please. Mr Lambert: (surprised) Dog kennels? Husband: Yes, we want to see the dog kennels, hm. Mr Lambert: Ah yes, well that's the pets department, second floor. Husband: No, no, no, we want to see the "DOG KENNELS." Lambert: (irritated) Yes, pets department, second floor. Husband: No no, no, we don't really want to see dog kennels, only your... colleague said we ought to... Mr Lambert: Oh dear. What's he been telling you now? Husband: Well, ah, he said we should say 'dog kennel' to you instead of 'mattress.' (Lambert puts a paper bag over his head) Husband: Hello? Hello? Hello? Mr Verity: (approaching) Did you say 'mattress'? Husband: Well a little, yes... Mr Verity: I did *ask* you not to say 'mattress', didn't I? Husband: I... Mr Verity: Now I've got to stand in the tea chest. (He drags a small wooden chest or box over and hops up into it. He then proceeds to sing the hymn "Jerusalem.") (sings) And did those feet, in ancient times... Manager: (walking up, hearing the singing) Did somebody say mattress to Mr Lambert? (Manager gives nasty look at Husband and points at him. The Manager hops into the chest with him.) Mr Verity: (still singing) ...walk upon England's mountains green... (Manager joins in) ...and was the Holy Lamb of God, on England's pleasant... (Lambert removes bag; Verity and Assistant immediately stop singing; Manager leaves, but not without a warning gesture to the Husband and Wife.) Mr Verity: He should be all right now, but don't... you know... just DON'T! Husband: No, no, no no no! (He catches his breath and walks again over to Lambert.) Yes, we'd like to see the dog kennels please! Lambert: (irritated) Yes, second floor. (The Husband runs over to one of their display beds and grabs the mattress.) Husband: No, no, no. Look! These dog kennels, here. See? (Pause.) Mr Lambert: Mattresses? Husband: (shocked) Y-yes! Mr Lambert: Well if you meant 'mattress,' why didn't you say 'mattress'? I mean, it's very confusing for me if you're going to say 'dog kennels' when you mean 'mattress!' Why not just say 'mattress'? (He laughs.) Husband: But I mean, you put a bag over your head last time I said 'mattress!' (Lambert puts the bag over his head again.) (Verity jumps back into the chest and sings.) Mr Verity: Bring me my bow, of burning gold... Bring me my arrows... (Manager enters, slaps forehead angrily, and joins in) (Manager & Mr Verity sing together) ...of desire... Bring me my spear, O clouds unfold... (singing continues throughout the next few lines of dialogue) Assistant: (running in) Did somebody say 'mattress' to Mr Lambert? (Manager points angrily towards the Husband and Wife) Mr Verity: *Twice*! Assistant: (shouting throughout the store) Hey, everybody! Somebody said 'mattress' to Mr Lambert -- *twice*! (joins in the singing) Employees: ...Bring me my chariot of fire! (The husband and wife have now hopped on the employees' shoulders and are singing too.) All: I shall not cease from mental strife... Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand... (Organ music swells and they carry on singing) Mr Verity: We need more! (The entire Mormon Tabernacle Choir begins to sing in the background. Stock footage is of an enormous congregation.) Everyone: ...TILL WE HAVE FOUND... JERUSALEM... (Back to just the bed salesmen and the happy couple.) All: ...on England's green and pleasant.... (Suddenly Lambert removes the bag and the mood returns to relative calm.) Mr Lambert: Now, can I help you? Wife: (brightly) We want a mattress! (Lambert puts the bucket over his head again. Verity, husband and assistants all groan and glare accusingly at wife) All: (furious) What did you say that for?? Wife: But it's my only line!!! All: You didn't have to SAY it! (She cries loudly, only cut off by a return to the Vox Pops.) Zulu Warrior: Full frontal nudity? Not in this part of Ayshire! Vicar: I... would only perform a scene... in which there was... total frontal nudity. (Cut back to the Colonel.) Colonel: Now, I've noticed a tendency for this program to get rather silly. Now I do my best to keep things moving along, but I'm not having things getting silly. Those last two sketches I did got very silly indeed, and that last one about the bed was even sillier. Now, nobody likes a good laugh more than I do. Except perhaps my wife. And some of her friends. Oh yes, and Captain Johnson ... Come to think of it, most people like a good laugh more than I do, but that's beside the point! Now! Let's have a good clean healthy outdoor sketch. Get some air into your lungs. (turns to director) Ten nine eight and all that. (Cut to a rocky hillside. One hermit walks up to join another on a rock.) Ah, yes, that's better. Now let's hope this doesn't get silly. First Hermit: (in high-pitched gossip voice) Hello, are you a hermit by any chance? Second Hermit: (in same silly voice) Yes, that's right. Are you a hermit? First Hermit: Yes, I certainly am. Second Hermit: Well I never! What are you getting away from? First Hermit: Oh you know, the usual - people, chat, gossip, you know. Second Hermit: Oh I certainly do - it was the same with me. I mean there comes a time when you realize there's no good frittering your life away in idleness and trivial chit-chat. Where's your cave? First Hermit: Oh, up the goat track, first on the left. Second Hermit: Ooh, they're very nice up there aren't they? First Hermit: Yes they are, I've got a beauty. Second Hermit: A bit drafty though, aren't they? First Hermit: No, we've had ours insulated. Second Hermit: Oh yes. First Hermit: Yes, I used birds' nests, moss and oak leaves round the outside. Second Hermit: Oh, sounds marvellous! First Hermit: Oh it's a treat, it really is, 'cos otherwise those stone caves can be so grim. Second Hermit: Yes they really can be, can't they? They really can. First Hermit: Oh yes. (Third hermit passes by. He is holding the hermit equivalent of a shopping bag.) Third Hermit: Morning Frank. Second Hermit: Morning Norman. Talking of moss, er, you know Mr Robinson? First Hermit: With the, ah, green loin cloth? Second Hermit: Er no, that's Mr Seagrave. Mr Robinson's the hermit who lodges with Mr Seagrave. First Hermit: Oh I see, yes. Second Hermit: Yes, well he's put me onto wattles. First Hermit: Really? Second Hermit: Yes. Swears by them. Yes. (Fourth hermit passes) Fourth Hermit: Morning Frank. Second Hermit: Morning Lionel. Well he says that moss tends to fall off the cave walls during cold weather, you know, you might get a really bad spell and half the moss drops off the cave wall, leaving you cold. First Hermit: Oh well, Mr Robinson's cave's never been exactly nirvana has it? Second Hermit: Well, quite, that's what I mean. Anyway, Mr Rogers, he's the, er, hermit... First Hermit: ... on the end. Second Hermit: ... up at the top, yes. Well, he tried wattles and he came out in a rash. First Hemit: Really? Second Hermit: Yes, and there's me with half a wall wattled, I mean what'll I do? First Hermit: Well why don't you try birds' nests like I've done? Or else.... dead bracken! Fifth Hermit: (calling from a distance) Frank! Second Hermit: Yes Han? Fifth Hermit: Can I borrow your goat? Second Hermit: Er, yes that'll be all right. Oh leave me a pint for breakfast will you? ... (to first hermit) You see, you know that is the trouble with living half way up a cliff - you feel so cut off. Y'know it takes me two hours every morning to get out onto the moors, collect my berries, chastise myself, and two hours back in the evening. First Hermit: Still there's one thing about being a hermit, at least you meet people. Second Hermit: Oh yes, I wouldn't go back to public relations. First Hermit: Oh well, bye for now Frank, must toddle. (Suddenly, the Colonel enters, stage right.) Colonel: Right! You two hermits, stop that sketch. I think it's silly! Second Hermit: What? Colonel: lt's silly. Second Hermit: What do you mean? You can't stop it - it's on film! Colonel: That doesn't make any difference to the viewer at home, does it? Come on, get out. Out. Come on out, all of you. Get off, go on, all of you. Go on, move, move. Go on, get out. Come on, shove off, move, move. (He shoos them and the film crew off the hillside, his dictates growing louder and angrier with their mild resistance.) (Cut to animation of an enormous broom with the Colonel's voice sweeping them all off the side of a cliff. A brief cartoon falling sound and they all drop into a meat grinder, which grinds them all to bits and spits out a few golden strands. We pull back to see that they are the hair of Venus in the famous Venus Rising from the Sea painting. She is standing on a clam shell, hair blowing in the wind. Mystery music plays, until a hand reaches up and turns her nipple like a radio dial. Then it turns to jazzy music, and she does a silly dance before falling into the water.) (Cut to a live-action Venus cutout and clam shell dropping to the bottom of a fish tank. Pull back to show a pet shop. A tall customer in a hideous top-buttoned pacamac, bird cage [and bird] in hand, enters. This is Mr. Praline.) Mr. Praline: 'Ello, I wish to register a complaint. (The owner has his back to the register and does not respond.) Mr. Praline: 'Ello, Miss? Owner: (turning around) What do you mean, "miss?" Mr. Praline: I'm sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint! Owner: Sorry, we're closin' for lunch... Mr. Praline: Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this parrot, what I purchased not half an hour ago from this very boutique. Owner: Oh yes, the, uh, the Norwegian Blue. What's wrong with it? Mr. Praline: I'll tell you what's wrong with it. It's dead, that's what's wrong with it. Owner: No, no, it's, uh ... it's resting, look! Mr. Praline: Look, matey, I know a dead parrot when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now. Owner: No no i-it's not dead, it's, it's restin'! Mr. Praline: Restin'? Owner: Yeah. Remarkable bird, the Norwegian Blue. Beautiful plumage! Isn't it? Mr. Praline: The plumage don't enter into it. It's stone dead. Owner: No, no! It's resting! Mr. Praline: All right then, if it's restin', I'll wake it up. (shouting at the cage) 'Ello, Mister Polly Parrot! I've got a nice cuttle fish for you when you wake up, Polly Parrot... (owner hits the cage) Owner: There, he moved! Mr. Praline: No, he didn't, that was you pushing the cage! Owner: I did not! Mr. Praline: Yes, you did! (He pulls the parrot out of the cage and screams into its ear.) 'ELLO POLLY! POLL-EE! (He bangs its head against the store counter, really hard.) POLLY PARROT! WAKE UP! (He does it again, harder.) POLLY! (He tosses it up in the air and watches it plummet to the floor.) Now that's what I call a dead parrot. Owner: No, no... it's stunned! Mr. Praline: Look my lad, I've had just about enough of this. That parrot is definitely deceased, and when I bought it not half an hour ago, you assured me that its lack of movement was due to it being tired and shagged out after a long squawk. Owner: Well, it's... probably pining for the fjords. Mr. Praline: PININ' for the FJORDS? What kind of talk is that? Look, why did it fall flat on his back the moment I got it home? Owner: The Norwegian Blue prefers keepin' on its back! It's a beautiful bird, lovely plumage... Mr. Praline: 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) Owner: Well, of course it was nailed there! Otherwise it would have muscled up to those bars, and VOOM! (Praline puts the cage down and take the parrot into his hands.) Mr. Praline: Look matey, this parrot wouldn't "voom" if I put four thousand volts through it. It's bleedin' demised! Owner: It's not! I-It's pining! Mr. Praline: It's not pinin', it's passed on! This parrot is no more! It has ceased to be! It's expired and gone to meet its maker! This is a late parrot! It's a stiff! Bereft of life, it rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed it to the perch it would be pushing up the daisies! It's run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible! This.... is an EX-PARROT! (pause) Owner: Well, I'd better replace it, then. (He disappears behind the counter.) Mr. Praline: (turning to camera) If you want to get anything done in this country you've got to complain 'til you're blue in the mouth. (The owner returns.) Owner: Sorry guv, we're right out of parrots. Mr. Praline: I see. I see, I get the picture. Owner: I've got a slug. (pause) Mr. Praline: (sweet as sugar) Does it talk? Owner: Not really, no. Mr. Praline: Well, it's scarcely a replacement then, is it?? Owner: Listen, I'll tell you what, tell you what, if you go to my brother's pet shop in Bolton, he'll replace your parrot for you. Mr. Praline: Bolton, eh? Owner: Yeah. Mr. Praline: All right. (He leaves.) (CAPTION: "A SIMILIAR PET SHOP IN BOLTON, LANCASHIRE") (The customer enters a very similar pet shop, with a sign on the front reading "Similar Pet Shops, Ltd." The owner, who looks similar to his brother, is putting on a false moustache in order to better distinguish himself from his brother. Which he isn't. Praline looks about and finds it to be very similar indeed. And when he finds his same bird cage, with the same dead bird inside, that just about clinches it.) Mr. Praline: Uh, excuse me, this is Bolton, is it? Owner: (with a fake mustache) No, it's Ipswitch. Mr. Praline: (looking at the camera) That's inter-city rail for you. (Mr Praline goes to the train station. He addresses a man standing behind a desk marked "Complaints.") Mr. Praline: I wish to make a complaint. Attendant: I don't have to do this, you know! Mr. Praline: I beg your pardon...? Attendant: I'm a qualified brain surgeon! I only do this 'cause I like being my own boss! Mr. Praline: Excuse me, this is irrelevant, isn't it? Attendant: Oh yeah, it's not easy to pad these out to thirty minutes. Mr. Praline: Well, I wish to complain. I got on the Bolton train and found myself deposited here in Ipswitch. Attendant: No, this is Bolton. Mr. Praline: (to the camera) The pet shop owner's brother was lying! Attendant: Well, you can't blame British Rail for that. Mr. Praline: If this is Bolton, I shall return to the pet shop! (Zoom in on the bewildered attendant. Mr. Praline returns to the pet shop.) CAPTION: "A LITTLE WHILE LATER LIMITED" Mr. Praline: I understand that this IS Bolton. Owner: (still with the fake mustache) Yeah? Mr. Praline: But you told me it was Ipswitch! Owner: (a bit meekly) It was a pun. Mr. Praline: A pun?? Owner: No, no ... not a pun ... What's the other thing where it reads the same backwards as forwards? (longish pause) Mr. Praline: A palindrome...? Owner: Yeah, yeah. Mr. Praline: It's not a palindrome! The palindrome of "Bolton" would be "Notlob!" It don't work!! Owner: Well, what do you want? Mr. Praline: No, I'm sorry! I'm not prepared to pursue my line of inquiry any longer as I think this is getting too silly! (Enter the Colonel, stage right.) Colonel: Quite agree, quite agree, silly silly silly. Right! Get on with it! (He is yelling at the director.) GET ON WITH IT! (We see an announcer eating a yogurt.) Announcer: (seeing camera) Oh ... er ... oh ... ah! Oh!... er ... (shufflees paper) I'm sorry ... and now, ahm, frontal nudity. (Cut to tracking or hand-held shot down street, keeping up with extremely shabby man in long overcoat. His back is to camera. He passes two pepperpots and a girl. As he passes each one he opens his coat wide. They react with shocked horror. He does this three times, after the third time he turns to camera and opens his coat wide. He has a big sign hanging round his neck, covering his chest. It says 'boo.') (Cut back to announcer, still eating. The colonel comes in and nudges him.) Announcer: Oh, oh, I'm sorry. I-I thought the film was longer. (shuffling papers) Ah. Ah. Now, Notlob. B-Bolton! (Sketch opens with a pan across Bolton. Voice of reporter.) Voice Over: This is a frightened city. Over these houses, over these streets hangs a pall of fear. Fear of a new kind of violence which is terrorizing the city. (Two dangerous-looking greasers [Graham and an extra] are walking through a forest when siddenly they are attacked by a gang of old ladies who beat them senselessly with their handbags.) Yes, gangs of old ladies attacking defenseless fit young men. (Film. Several grannies walking aggressively along street, pushing passers-by aside. Blaring gang-style music.) First Young Man: (offscreen) Well they come up to you, like, and push you - shove you off the pavement, like. There's usually four or five of them. (Cut to a young, greasy and tough-looking biker in leather.) Second Young Man: Yeah, this used to be a nice neighbourhood before the old ladies started moving in. Nowadays some of us daren't even go down to the shops. (Cut to another leather-clad youth.) Third Young Man: Well, Mr Johnson's son Kevin, he don't go out any more. He comes back from wrestling and locks himself in his room. (Film of grannies harrassing an attractive girl.) (Film of grannies burying someone in autumn leaves.) Voice Over: What are they in it for, these old hoodlums, these layabouts in lace? First Granny: (voice over) Well it's something to do, isn't it? Second Granny: (voice over) It's good fun. Third Granny: (voice over) It's like you know, well, innit, eh? Voice Over: Favourite targets for the old ladies are telephone kiosks. (Film of grannies carrying off a telephone kiosk; then painting slogans on a wall.) Policeman: (coming up to them) Well come on, come on, off with you. Clear out, come on get out of it. (they clear off, he turns to camera) We have a lot of trouble with these oldies. Pension day's the worst - they go MAD. As soon as they get their hands on their money they blow it all on milk, bread, tea, tin of meat for the cat... (Cut to cinema.) Cinema Manager: Yes, well of course they come here for the two o'clock matinee, all the old bags out in there, especially if it's something like 'The Sound of Music.' We get seats ripped up, hearing aids broken, all that sort of thing. (The policeman hustles two grannies out of the cinema. Cut to an international reporter walking along the street narrating.) Reporter: The whole problem of these senile delinquents lies in their complete rejection of the values of contemporary society. They've seen their children grow up and become accountants, stockbrokers and even sociologists, and they begin to wonder if it is all really...(disappears downwards rapidly) AAAAAAAGHHHHHH!! (Shot of two grannies replacing manhole cover.) (Cut to young couple.) Fourth Young Man: Oh well, we sometimes feel we're to blame in some way for what our gran's become. I mean she used to be happy here until she... she started on the crochet. Reporter: (off-screen) Crochet? Fourth Young Man: Yeah. Now she can't do without it. Twenty balls of wool a day, sometimes. If she can't get the wool she gets violent. What can we do about it? (Film of grannies on motorbikes roaring down streets and through a shop. One has 'Hell's Grannies' on her jacket.) Voice Over: But this is not just an old ladies' town. There are other equally dangerous gangs - such as the baby snatchers. (Film of five six-foot-tall babies carrying off a young man from outside a shop. Cut to distraught wife.) Wife: I just left my husband out here while I went in to do some shopping and I came back and he was gone. He was only forty-seven! Voice Over: And on the road too, vicious gangs of keep left signs. (Film: Two vicious keep-left signs with little legs attack a vicar.) Colonel: (coming up and stopping them) Right, right, stop it! This film's got silly. Started off with a nice little idea about grannies attacking young men, but now it's got silly. This man's hair is too long for a vicar too. And these signs are pretty badly made. Right, now for a complete change of mood. (Cut to the dirty man in a raincoat, seen earlier.) Dirty Man in Raincoat: I've heard of unisex but I've never had it. (Cut back to 'It's' Man, who finds himself alone with a smoking bomb. He tries to fan the smoke away, but cannot stop the bomb.) Voiceover: David Hemmings appeared by permission of the National Forestry Commission. (The 'It's' Man runs wildly out into the distance, still clutching the bomb, as the credits roll.) FULL FRONTAL NUDITY was conceived, written and performed by GRAHAM CHAPMAN, JOHN CLEESE, ERIC IDLE, TERRY JONES, MICHAEL PALIN, TERRY GILLIAM also appearing CAROL CLEVELAND, KATHJA WYETH, RITA DAVIES research SARAH HART DYKE make-up supervisor JOAN BARRETT costume supervisor HAZEL PETHIG animations by TERRY GILLIAM film cameramen JIMMY BALFOUR ALAN FEATHERSTONE film editor RAY MILLICHOPE sound JOHN DELANY lighting OTIS EDDY designer GEOFFREY PATTERSON produced by IAN MACNAUGHTON bbc-tv (The bomb explodes.) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- As told to Garrett Gilchrist of Monty Python’s PythoNET Visit http://orangecow.org/pythonet