Monty Python's Second Film
                        
                                  A First Draft
                                        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


NOTE: This is, believe it or not, the earliest known draft of what would
eventually become the Holy Grail. Many of the sketches dropped from this
version would resurface in the final season of Python, after the departure
of John Cleese, most notably in the episode "Michael Ellis." There are a
few sketches, such as the coconuts and the French taunters, that remain in
the final film, but those are the exception rather than the rule, making
this a unique piece of Python history. Also available at my page are the
final and movie drafts of the Grail. Enjoy. And be sure to purchase a
shrubbery.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

MIST.

SILENCE. POSSIBLY ATMOSPHERIC MUSIC.

AFTER A FEW MOMENTS WE HEAR HORSE'S HOOVES GETTING CLOSER AND CLOSER. 
OUT OF THE MIST WALKS KING ARTHUR FOLLOWED BY A SERVANT WHO IS BANGING TWO
COCONUTS TOGETHER.

ARTHUR RAISES HIS HAND.

Art:  Whoa there!

SERVANT MAKES NOISES OF HORSE HALTING WITH A FLOURISH.

ARTHUR PEERS THROUGH THE MIST.
CUT TO SHOT FROM OVER HIS SHOULDER: A CASTLE (E.G. BODIUM) RISES OUT OF THE
MIST. ON THE CASTLE BATTLEMENTS A SOLDIER IS DIMLY SEEN.

Soldier:  Halt! Who goes there?

Art:  It is I, Arthur, son of Uther Pendragon, from the Castle of Camelot,
King of all Britons, defeater or the Saxons, Sovereign of all England.

PAUSE.

Sold:  Get away!

Art:  It bloody well is.  And this is my trusty servant, Patsy.
We have ridden from the further corner of this land, in quest
or the Holy Grail, the sacred chalice from which our Lord himself
drank at the last Supper. I must speak to your master,

Sold:  What?  Ridden on a horse?

Art:  Yes.

Sold: You're using coconuts.

Art: What?

Sold:  You're using two empty halves of coconuts and banging them together.

Art:  (SCORNFULLY) So? We have ridden since the snows of
Winter covered this land.  Our horses grew weary, unable to carry us
further.  We were forced to leave them by the Mountains, and continue
with coconuts.

Sold:  Where did you get the coconuts?

Art:  We found them.

Sold: FOUND them?  The coconut is a tropical fruit.
It's not idigenous to these temperate areas.

Art:  The swallow may fly south with the sun, or the house martin or the
plover seek hot lands in winter, yet these are not strangers to our land.

A MOMENT'S PAUSE.

Sold: Are you suggesting coconuts migrate?

Art:  Not at all.  They could be carried.

Sold: What? A SWALLOW carrying a COCONUT?

Art:  Why not?

Sold:  I'll tell you why not..... because a swallow is about 8 inches long
and weighs 5 onces, and you'd be lucky to find a coconut under a pound.

Art:  The swallow grips it by the husk.

Sold:  It's not a question of where he grips it, it's a simple queston of
dynamics ... a 5 1/2 once bird could not hold a one pound coconut.

Art:  Cannot the tiny ant, building his home from the hard earth, carry
sixty times his own weight?

Sold:  (IRRITATED) What kind of ant are you talking about?  There are
5,000 different species.

Art:  You speak with the tongue of snakes.  I will take no more of this.

Sold:  Not at all.  It's just that ants are my special subject.  Ants, all
the hymenoptera, and you often get people who just BANDY the word "ant"
around as if it meant something.  It's like saying: "I am a human ..."  It's
so unspecific.

ANOTHER SOLDIER LOOMS ON THE BATTLEMENTS.

S2: Is he talking about ants again?

CUT TO ARTHUR LOOKING BEWILDERED.

Sold:  It just annoys me, the way people hear some sensational
 story about an ant moving 60 times his own weight and...

S2:  He's probably thinking of termites.

Sold:  There you go!  YOU'RE just as bad!  There's 2,000
species of  termite.

S2:  Alright! Alright! Let me finish.

Sold:  They're a totally different order.  Thery're isoptera.
They're not remotely comparable.

S2: No.  I'm saying tha termites GENERICALLY are able to move...

ARTHUR RAISES HIS EYES HEAVENWARDS, BECKONS TO PATSY AND THEY TURN AND GO
OFF INTO THE MISTS. WE STAY ON THE CASTLE FOR A MOMENT AND HEAR:

Sold: What do you mean "generically"?  There's the "plodding termite".
the "yellow Angolian termite", I mean you just can't say...

THEY LEAVE THE BATTLEMENTS (ARTHUR AND PATSY). AS THEY WALK AWAY INTO THE
BEAUTIFUL MEDIEVAL COUNTYSIDE A ROLLER CAPTION STARTS.

Roller: According to ancient legend, the chalice bused by
        Jesus Christ at the last supper was brought by
        Joseph of Arimathea to England in the middle of
        the first centruy A.D. and deposited at Glastonbury
        Subsequently it mysteriously disappeared.  Many
        believers searched for it before King Arthur and his
        Knights of the Round Table dedicated their lives to its
        recovery.  This then, was the Quest for the Holy Grail...

BRING UP MUSIC, AND TAKE IT DOWN.

POSSIBLY CREDITS OVER ARTHUR PROGRESSING THROUGH WOODED COUNTRYSIDE.

CREDITS END. THEY ARE STILL TRAVELLING THROUGH SUITABLE ARTHURIAN
COUNTRYSIDE WITH TREES.

AFTER A FEW SECONDS AS THEY ENTER A GLADE. ARTHUR LOOKS UP IN ASTONISHMENT
AND HIS FACE IS SUFFUSED WITH A BRIGHT LIGHT. HE SHIELDS HIS EYES AS HOLY
CHOIR MUSIC SWELLS.  WE SEE WHAT HE SEES, THE USUAL GOLDEN LIGHT COMING FROM
NOWHERE IN PARTICULAR (GOD, AS YOU MAY HAVE GUESSED).

Holy Voice: Arthur! Arthur! King of the Britons!

ARTHUR AND PATSY PROSTRATE THEMSELVES FACE DOWN TOWARD THE LIGHT. 
AFTER A MOMENT:

Holy Voice: Oh, don't grovel... do get up!  If there's one thing I can't
stand it's people groveling.  Get up (for Christ's sake.)

THEY RISE.

A: sorry...

HV: And don't apologise.  Every time I try to talk to someone it's sorry
this and forgive me that and I'm not worthy  and ... just  stand there. 
What are you doing now?

A: I'm averting my eyes Lord.

HV: Well, don't.  I really don't know where all this got started.
It's like those miserable psalms.  They're so depressing.  Now knock it off.

A: Yes, Lord.

HV: Now... (CLEARS THROAT AND COUGHS) Ugh! Now... this grail.
Have you got it?

A: No, Lord.

HV: Why not?

A: Well, we're looking for it.

HV: Well, hurry up and find it or I'll smash your face in.

HOLY CHOIR AND LIGHT FADES.

A: A blessing.  A blessing.  A blessing from the Lord.

P: Was that the Lord?

A: Yes, my son.

P: Does he know you?

A: We have not one moment to waste.

HE MOVES OFF.

P: (STARTING COCONUTS) If you see him again will you ask him if he'd sign
this... it's not for me it's for my little sister.

A: (WHEELING ROUND) To Camelot.

THEY 'RIDE' OFF AS THE MUSIC SWELLS AGAIN.  WE SEE THEM 'RIDE'.
GOD HOW THEY 'RIDE'.

THEY APPROACH THE CREST OF A HILL AND THEY PROUDLY HALT THEIR HORSES THERE.
ARTHUR'S FACE RADIATES PRIDE AS WE CUT TO HIS POV SHOT TO SEE CAMELOT BELOW.
THEY RIDE OFF DOWN THE HILL.  AS THEY GET CLOSER THEY HEAR THE FAINT SOUND
OF A BOUNCY RAUCOUS SONG.  THEY 'RIDE' INTO THE COURTYARD.

CUT TO INTERIOR OF MEDIEVAL HALL. A LARGE GROUP OF ARMOURED KNIGHTS ARE
ENGAGED IN A WELL CHOREOGRAPHED SONG-AND-DANCE ROUTINE OF THE VERY UP BEAT
'IF THEY COULD SEE ME NOW'  FAST AND BOUNCY NUMBER.  THE POORER VERSES ARE
MADE CLEARER BY CUTTING TO A GROUP OF KNIGHTS ACTUALLY ENGAGED IN THE
DESCRIBED TASK WHILE THE LINE ITSELF IS SUNG.  THEY SING:

We are the knights of the Round Table
We dance when we're able
We do routines and chorus scenes
With footwork impeccable
We dine well here in Camelot
We eat ham and jam and spam a lot
We're Knights of the Round Table
Our shows are formidable
But many times
We're given rhymes
That are quite unsingable
We're music mad in Camelot
We play the Stereogramalot

A ROUTINE WHERE TWO XYLOPHONISTS PLAY PARTS OF
KNIGHTS' ARMOUR PRODUCING A PLEASING EFFECT.

In war we're tough and able
Quite indefatiguable
Between our quests we sequin vests
And impersonate Clark Gable
It's a busy life in Camelot
(SINGLE MAN) I have to push the pram a lot...

DIRECTOR STRIDES IN FORWARD.

D: Hold it there loves... we're going to have to lose that.

Knight: How about "we go to Birmingham a lot?"

SUDDENLY FROM MAIN DOOR:

A: My friends, this day, this very day we leave on our quest.

D: We open in two weeks, yer majesty.

A: There can be no more time in Camelot for amateur theatricals...

Kts: (MUTTERING) ... Semi pro ...

A: ... until we have sought and found the Holy Grail!

GROANS OF DISAPPOINTMENT.

D: Sorry loves, that's the management speaking. We'll just cut out of tour
straight in the West End.

A: You have four hours to prepare.  We set out after tea.

CUT TO KNIGHTS TRUDGING THROUGH THE FOREST, FOLLOWED BY LOTS OF
COCONUT-TOTING PAGES AND SERFS(IMPRESSIVE SCENE).

Kt: Sire! Look!

SEVERAL OF THEM RUN FORWARD.  THERE IS A CASTLE THERE, ONE MAN ('P') ON THE
BATTLEMENTS.

A: Hallo!

P: 'Allo.  Whoo is eet?

A: I am King Arthur.  Whose castle is this?

P:  This is the castle of my master, Guy de Lombard!

A: Please go and ask your master whether he desires to join us on our
quest for the Holy Grail.

P: I don't think he'll be very keen.  He's already got one you see.

A: What?

Galahad: He says they've already got one!

THEY ARE STUNNED.

A: Are you sure he's got one?

P: Oh yes, it's very nice.

A: Well... can we come up and have a look?

P: Of course not.  You are English pigs.

A:  What are you then?

P: I'm French!  Why do you think I have this outrageous accent, you silly
King?

G: What are you doing in England?

P: Mind your own business.

A: If you will not show us the Grail we shall storm your castle.

MURMURS OF ASSENT.

P: You don't frighten us English pig-dog. Go and bite your bottom, son of a
silly person.  I blow my nose on you, so-called Arthur King, you and all
your silly English k.....niggets!

HE PUTS HIS HAND TO HIS EARS AND BLOWS A RASBERRY.

G: What a strange person.

A: Look here, my good man!

P: I don't want to talk to you no more, you empty headed animal food trough
wiper.  I fart in your general direction.  Your mother was a hamster and
your father smelled of elderberries!

G:  Is there someone else up there we could talk to?

P: No, now go away or I shall taunt you a second time.

A: Now this is your last chance.  I've been more than reasonab ...

WE CUT TO THE BATTLEMENTS. P BECKONS TO TWO COMPANIONS
"Et momment.. la vache" STALL HAND LEADS IT TOWARD A STRANGE
APPARATUS.  THE COW IS PUT IN POSITION AND WINCHING TAKES PLACE.

CUT BACK TO ARTHUR.

A: Now that is my final offer.  If you are not prepared to agree to my
demands I shall be forced to take further .......... Oh Christ!

A COW COMES FLYING OVER THE BATTLEMENTS, MOOING AGGRESSIVELY,
AND SOARS TOWARD THEM.  THEY TURN TO RUN BUT THE COW LANDS
ON TWO KNIGHTS, SQUASHING THEM COMPLETELY.

Launcelot: What a ... What a cruel thing to do.

A: Gawayn, you watch the battlements.  There may be more where that came
 from. (HE DROPS TO ONE KNEE. TO THE CRUSHED BODIES) Gandhravas,
 Langar, you shall not have died in vain!

A QUIET BUT OMINOUS MOO IS HEARD.

ANOTHER SCENE:

ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS RESOLVE TO ATTACK THE CASTLE. REMEMBERING THE WOODEN
HORSE TRICK, ARTHUR ARRANGES FOR A HUGE WOODEN RABBIT TO BE BUILT, NOT A
HORSE, SO THE FROGGIES WON'T RECOGNISE THE TRICK.
        
THE RABBIT IS READY IN PLACE OUTSIDE THE ENTRANCE TO THE
CASTLE, ARTHUR IS GIVING A LAST MINUTE BRIEFING TO THE KNIGHTS,
WHO ARE TO ENTER THE CASTLE INSIDE THE  RABBIT, WHEN THEY TURN
TO DISCOVER THE RABBIT DISAPPEARING UNOCCUPIED THROUGH THE
GATE OF THE CASTLE.  RECRIMINATION FOLLOWS, AND THE RABBIT IS
FIRED AT THEM FROM THE BATTTLEMENTS, LANDING ON SOMEONE'S FOOT.

Wounded Knight: Ow, he's got my foot!

FURIOUS, ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS DETERMINE TO BREACH THE FORTRESS BY
GETTING IN THROUGH THE TRADESMENS' ENTRANCE.  SIR GALAHAD PROTESTS AGAINST
THIS BREACH OF CHIVALRY AND BY INVITATION CARRIES OUT A SOLO FRONTAL ATTACK
ON THE CASTLE, MAKING LITTLE IMPRESSION.  WHILE GALAHAD ATTACKS THEY NIP IN
THROUGH THE TRADESMENS' ENTRANCE AND FEARFUL CARNAGE ENSUES.  EVENTUALLY
THEY REACH THE ROOM WHERE THE SACRED OBJECT (GRAIL) IS CONTAINED, AND WITH
ITS GOLDEN LIGHT SUFFUSING THEIR DELIGHTED FEATURES WE CUT AWAY.

CUT TO A DRAB SUBURBAN KITCHEN.

BREAKFAST TIME.  A MIDDLE-AGED WORKING MAN IN SHIRTSLEEVES AND BRACES
(Mr. Gawain) SITTING AT THE TABLE ABOUT TO EAT HIS CEREAL.  ON ONE SIDE OF
THE TABLE IS A SLIGHTLY YOUNGER MAN READING A NEWSPAPER (Mr. Launcelot).
ON THE TABLE IS A PACKET OF CEREALS CALLED "KRISP-WEET." IT HAS A BANNER
ACROSS THE PACKET:

                "FREE! THE HOLY GRAIL!" (A PICTURE OF THE GRAIL)
                "WITH KRISP-WEET PACKET TOPS!"

MR. GAWAIN TEARS THE TOP OF THE KRISP-WEET PACKET AND PUTS IT ON A LONG
STRING HANGING FROM THE CEILING WITH LOTS OF OTHER PACKET TOPS ... GOING
RIGHT UP TO THE CEILING.

G: (SHOUTING OFF) I like this Krisp-Weet!  It really unclogs me. I mean a
lot of the others "say" they unclog you, but I never had a single bowel
movement with those Recto-Puffs.

L: (OOV) What about "Ano-Weet"? You said you felt a movement coming with
them.

G: I felt the bowel pressure, my dear, but I remained clogged. 8 Economy
Family packs, I ate..  This lot really opens me up.

L: (OOV) Are you ready?

G: Yes, just about, dear.

MR. G SLIPS ON A PAIR OF RUNNING SHOES AND SLIPS THE BRACES OFF HIS
SHOULDER.  HE PICKS UP A SPOON AND WIPES IT CAREFULLY, THEN GLANCES TO MAKE
SURE THE DOOR'S OPEN.

G: Right!

HE EATS A MOUTHFUL OF KRISP-WEET, FLINGS THE SPOON AWAY AND RACES OUT TO
THE DOOR; SOUNDS OF HIM THUNDERING UPSTAIRS.  DOOR SLAMMING ON THE LANDING.

MUFFLED SOUNDS OF RELIEF.

L: (OOV) Alright?

G: (OOV MUFFLED) Yes... They're wonderful...

L: (OOV)  Yes dear.

AT THIS POINT LAUNCELOT FOLDS UP THE PAPER VERY SMALL, STANDS, PUTS ON A 
STRIPED SCARF, AND WALKS OUT.

CUT BACK TO MEDIEVAL TIMES:

ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS, NOW ON HORSES (STOLEN FROM THE FRENCH) ARE NEAR
CAMELOT RIDING HOME.  THEY ARE HAPPY AND TRIUMPHANT.  BASKING IN THE GLORY
OF THEIR ACHIEVEMENT. THEY APPROACH THE WALLS AND WAVING BANNERS OF
GREETING, SUPPORT AND WELCOME, INCLUDING THE FOLLOWING:

                        CAMELOT SALUTES KING ARTHUR!
                        WELCOME TO KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS!
                        HAIL TO THE GRAIL FINDERS!

                        (FAIRLY STRAIGHT ONES AT THIS POINT.)

PEOPLE ON BATTLEMENTS SHOUT 'HAIL KING ARTHUR', 'HAIL SIR LAUNCELOT'; ETC.,
ETC., AND SO ON.

THE KNIGHTS COURTEOUSLY AND GENEROUSLY ACKNOWLEDGE THE APPLAUSE.  THE
PEOPLE ON THE BATTLEMENTS SHOUT ECSTATICALLY: "THE GRAIL, THE GRAIL, SHOW
US THE GRAIL!"

A: Show them the Grail, Sir Galahad.

G: Show them the Grail, Sir Launcelot.

L: I thought you had it.

G: What? I gave it to you!

THEY BICKER, TRYING TO FIND OUT WHO'S GOT IT, UNTIL REALISING THAT THE
CROWD ARE UNAWARE OF THIS, AND WANT THE GRAIL.  THEY TURN AROUND AND RIDE
OFF LIKE HELL.

SIR GALAHAD WANTS TO TELL THE  CAMELOT CROWD THE TRUTH. ARTHUR ADDRESSES
HIM AS "Sir Galahad, with your head still on" AND HE CHANGES HIS MIND.

THEY RIDE OFF STILL BICKERING AS TO WHERE THEY LEFT THE GRAIL.

WE SEE THEM ARRIVING AT THE ORIGINAL FRENCH CASTLE, AND POKING AROUND FOR
THE GRAIL AMONGST THE DEAD CORPSES SCATTERED EVERYWHERE.  AS THEY SEARCH
THEY CONTINUE TO BICKER.  HIGH UP THE DYING FRENCHMAN, IN SOME HIDEOUS
MEDIEVAL TORTURE DEVICE, TAUNTS THE PANTS OFF THEM.  THEY TRY AND IGNORE
HIM. FADE AND MIX TO......

IT IS DUSK.  THE KNIGHTS ARE NOW COMBING THE LAND NEAR THE CASTLE.  AFTER A
SHORT TIME DURING WHICH THEY ARE REMINISCENT OF POLICE SEARCHING, MURDER
HUNT STUFF, THE GLOWING LIGHT WHICH REPRESENTED GOD IN THE FIRST VISION
APPEARS TO THEM.  IT ASKS THEM WHERE THE GRAIL IS, AND THEY PREVARICATE
SOMEWHAT BEFORE  ADMITTING THEY HAVE MISLAID IT. GOD IS NOT PLEASED.  THEY
ASK HIM TO TELL THEM WHERE IT IS, OR AT LEAST GIVE THEM A CLUE.

GOD ASKS THEM WHO THE HELL THEY THINK HE IS, "Mr. Riddles?"

THEY ASK HIM WHO IS WARMEST.  NOW GOD SAYS HE WON'T HELP THEM AT ALL, AND
THEY ACCUSE HIM OF NOT KNOWING WHERE IT IS, AND, LOSING INTEREST IN HIM,
THEY DRIFT OFF TO CONTINUE THE SEARCH.

GOD IS LEFT ON HIS OWN, RAMBLING ON.  HE THEN PAUSES AND REALISES THAT HE
HAS BEEN LEFT, AND DOESN'T MUCH CARE FOR IT.

God: Hello?  Hello?  Hello?

IN PEEK HE THEN NIPS BEHIND A TREE AND SPRINGS OUT SUDDENLY TO FRIGHTEN AN
ELDERLY PEASANT.

G: (LEAPING OUT) Boo!

THE PEASANT LEAPS IN THE AIR WITH FEAR, THEN FALLS TO HIS KNEES.  GOD GIVES
HIM A BAD FOOT OUT OF SPITE. THE PEASANT SAYS "Oh Lord, thank you for this
sacred bad foot which thou hast vouchsafed unto me."

FADE ON THIS AND MIX THROUGH TO THE ANT COUNTER AT A BUSY LONDON STORE.

LAUNCELOT (THE SAME CHARACTER AS SEEN EARLIER) ENTERS GIFTS DEPARTMENT AND
GOES STRAIGHT TOWARDS THE ANT COUNTER.  IT HAS A LARGE SIGN OVER IT SAYING
"ANT COUNTER."  A LARGE HARROD'S LADY IS BY ANOTHER COUNTER WITH A LARGE
CYLINDER.

Lady: Yes, this looks like just the sort of thing.  May I just try it?

Assistant: Certainly madam.

LADY PRESSES BUTTON AND A SHEET OF FLAME SHOOTS ACROSS THE HALL, SETTING
FIRE TO A CUSTOMER. THE LADY IS "sorry, so sorry". SHE IS HAPPY, THOUGH.

L: Yes, that's fine.

A: Is that on account, madam?

LAUNCELOT JUST WALKS BY AT THIS MOMENT, WATCHING WITH INTEREST BUT NOT MUCH
CONCERN. THE BURNING CUSTOMER IS BEING EXTINGUISHED. HE APPROACHES THE ANT
COUNTER.  HE STANDS IN AN APPARENTLY EMPTY COUNTER FOR ONE MOMENT.  VERY
OCCASSIONALLY IN NEXT FEW MOMENTS, CUSTOMERS PASS WITH BANDAGED NOSES.

Launcelot: Good Morning.

A STRANGE MASKED HEAD APPEARS FROM BELOW THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COUNTER AND
GESTICULATES AT HIM MAKING A STRANGE NOISE.

THIS SOON STOPS.

A: Sorry. (HE TAKES MASK OFF, REVEALING A VERY STRAIGHTFORWARD HARROD'S
ASSISTANT) So sorry. I thought you were somebody else.  I beg your pardon.

L: Oh I see. Yes.

A: Sorry.  Can I help you, sir?

L: Yes, as a matter of fact you can.  I'm very interested in the
possibility ... of purchasing one of your ... could I ask you who you
thought I was?

A: What?

L: Who did you think I was .. when you did ... when you thought I was
somebody?

A: Oh! I'm sorry.  No, no, it's not anyone you'd know, sir.

L: Well I ... I might know him.

A: It's possible, obviously, but it's really most unlikely.

L: Yes, but ...

A: I doubt very much that you'd move in his circles, sir.

L: Why, is he very rich?

A: Oh, no, I didn't mean that, sir.

L: Is he a Lord or something?

A: Oh, no, no, no... nothing like that.

L: Well, is there something about me that suggests I am unlikely to ...

A: No, no, no, I just meant that it would be highly improbable that you ...

L: Well, this is very easy to settle, what is his name?

A: What?

L: What is his name?

A: Well ... er ...

L: Yes?

A: ... Michael Ellis.

L: Who?

A: Michael Ellis.

L: I see.

A: Do you know him, sir?

L: Um ... Michael Ellis.

A: You don't?

L: I may have met - I don't immediately recall.....

A: I think you would remember him, sir.

L: Why do you say that?

A: Do you remember a man a good six feet nine inches, late forties, with a
long scar here to here, and no nose?

L: None at all?

A: Not a scrap.

L: ... Ah, wait a moment ... I do remember someone like that - at a
party ...

A: Well, that's not Michael Ellis.

L: What?!

A: He's a little chap about this high with a high pitched voice.

L: I'm not going to buy an ant from you now.

A: Oh, come on.

L: No.  You've not been trained properly.  I demand another assistant.

A: I wasn't that bad!

L: Another assistant, please.

A: Of course, sir.  I do apologize.  It was most remiss of me to lead you
on like that and of course, sir, you can have a more responsible assistant.
I will fetch one immediately.

L: That's much better.

A: Can I serve you then?

L: No, I want another assistant!

A: Very well, sir. (HE RINGS BELL ON COUNTER)

AFTER A PAUSE, VERY SLOWLY, INDEED, TENTATIVELY, AN IDENTICAL MASK TO THE
FIRST PEEPS OVER THE TOP OF THE COUNTER RIGHT NEXT TO THE FIRST ASSISTANT,
MAKING THE SAME NOISE VERY QUIETLY.  FIRST ASSISTANT SEES HIM, STARTS, AND
NUDGES HIM HARD.

A: It's not him!

SECOND ASSISTANT MAKES DISAPPOINTED NOISE AND DISAPPEARS BELOW.

L: (POINTING OVER COUNTER AT DISAPPOINTED ASSISTANT) I don't want him!

A: Oh, give him a chance!

L: No.

2nd Assistant: (APPEARING FROM BELOW COUNTER WITHOUT MASK, LOOKING
IMMACULATE) Yes sir, may I be of assistance?

L: Oh no, don't try that!

2A: I'm sorry, sir ... try what?

L: You know perfectly well.

2A: I'm afraid I don't, sir.

L: You were down there with a mask on making silly noises.

2A: I don't think so, sir.

L: Get the manager!

2A: There appears to be some misunderstanding, sir ...

L: Manager!

A: This is the manager, sir.

L: What?

2A: (SILLY VOICE) YES, I'M THE MANAGER !

L: Manager! (HE KEEPS SHOUTING THIS)

2A: It's a smashing store, this, I can't recommend it too highly, obliging
staff, well-lit, rat free, it's a joy to manage, the freshest haddock in
London, second floor, third floor hardwear, lingerie, cricket bats, fire
escapes, mandolins, ground floor over there Ribena, Ants here, Fudge, and
Flamethrowers there behind them our Dinner Wagon exhibition closes at
six, I manage them all, can I help you?

A: (NUDGING HIM) Quick!

THEY BOTH DISAPPEAR UNDER THE COUNTER.  REAL MANAGER ARRIVES AND PRESENTS
HIMSELF TO LAUNCELOT.

Manager: Sir, can I help you?

L: (NOTICING MANAGER BADGE ON LAPEL) I wish to complain about the
assistants on this counter.

M: I'm sorry to hear about that, sir.  Which ones?

L: Well, they're hiding now.

M: Sir?

L: Just down there.

M: I see, sir... (GOES AROUND COUNTER.  LOOKS AND OBVIOUSLY CAN'T SEE THEM.
LAUNCELOT GOES ROUND TO JOIN IN THE SEARCH.)

M: Well ...

L: They must have crawled through here.

M: Ah, yes.

L: Then they could have made their escape through 'Soft Toys.' (POINTS)

M: Yes, yes, it's beginning to make sense.

L: They were wearing masks and making silly noises and one pretended to be
the manager.  He spoke like this. (MAKES SOUND IMPRESSION)

M: (LOOKING ROUND A BIT) Sir?

L: (REPEATS NOISE)

M: Ah! I think I've got it!

L: They were most insulting.

M: It's Rag Week.

L: Rag Week?

M: You know.  For charity.

L: Oh! Ha ha.  I see.  Which college is this?

M: Sir?

L: Some local college or university?

M: No, no it's the store's Rag Week.

L: The store's...?

M: The senior staff don't join in much - it's for the trainees, really.

L: It's not very good for business, is it?

M: Well it's for charity, sir - people are awfully good about it.

L: Yes, yes, of course. (THE MANAGER SHAKES A TIN AT HIM.) Oh -(LOOKS FOR
MONEY)

M: Now let me get you a senior assistant sir - thank you - Ants, was it?

L: Please.

M: (CALLING) Mr. Hartford!

Hartford: Can I help you, sir?

L: Yes, I'm interested in buying an ant.

H: What sort of price range were you thinking of, sir?

L: Well I haven't really ...

H: Well, they start at about 1/2 p. and you can, of course, go as high as
3 p.  Even 3 1/2 p. for a champion.  Inflation, I'm afraid.

L: I think something about 1 1/2 p.

H: Excellent!  You can get a very servicable animal for that, sir.
Frankly the 1/2 p. ones are a bit on the mangy side ... now! Any particular
length?

L: Oh ... medium??

H: Medium, medium...  Here we are, sir. (TIPS ONE OUT INTO SPECIAL RING)
That one's an Ayrshire.  And that one's a King George - bitch, I think...
Now that one killing the little flitbat is an Afgan.

L: That's nice.

H: Let's see how you get on with him. (PUTS IT ON LAUNCELOT'S HAND) Oh yes,
he's taken to you.

L: What do you feed them on?

H: Blancmange.

L: Blancmange?

H: I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that.  No, you don't feed them at all.

L: Well, what do they live on?

H: They don't.  They die.

L: They die?

H: Well of course, if you don't feed them.

L: I don't understand.

H: You let them die.  And then you have another one. It's much cheaper than
feeding them, and you have a constant variety of little companions.

L: I see, it's simpler than I thought.

H: That's the advantage of an ant.

L: Well I'll take this one- Oh, I've dropped it.

H: Never mind.  There's another one.

L: Fine, Now what else do I need to keep it.

H: Well you need an ant-house. (HE PRODUCES A MINIATURE FAIRGROUND-TYPE
LION'S CAGE)  This model we recommend.

L: Can't it get out?

H: Well, it does need the freedom.

L: Well what's the point of the cage?

H: Well, we all need a headquarters, don't we?  A place to call our own.

L: Okay.

H: And, of course, one or two pieces of cage furniture to keep him amused.
Here we have -(PRODUCES MICROSCOPIC THINGS) an ant-wheel, ant-swing, a
little ladder he can climb up to ring the bell at the top; that's a trick
he can learn.

L: Will he live long enough?

H: Not really, no.

L: Well I'd better have one, just in case.

H: True.

L: That'll be the lot then.

H: (LOOKING AT PAD) Well that's one hundred and eighty pounds and a half p.,
then.

L: On account please.

H: Sir.  And if your little Afghan goes to an early grave, just give us a
ring and we'll stick a few in an envelope. (GIVES HIM BACK CARD)

L: Thank you (LEAVES PULLING CAGE ON LEASH BEHIND HIM)

THE BATTLEMENTS OF CAMELOT.  THE "WELCOME THE HOLY GRAIL" CROWDS ARE
STANDING AND SITTING AROUND LOOKING BORED.  A LONG BANNER, WHICH IS NOW
DROOPING OVER THE BATTLEMENTS, READS

                "THE CAMELOT KNIGHTS, WIDOWS & ORPHANS
                ASSOCIATION WELCOMES THE H. GRAIL"

ANOTHER BANNER ON A STICK READS: "NORTH CAMELOT WELCOMES THE GRAIL-FINDERS
AND SO DOES SOUTH CAMELOT."

PEOPLE ARE YAWNING AND LOOKING GENERALLY BORED, EXCEPT FOR THE TWO SOLDIERS
WE SAW AT THE BEGINNING, WHO ARE HAVING AN ANIMATED DISCUSSION.

Sold: You're talking about the Myrmicine sub-family, and they're made up of
harvesters, fungus growers, slave-makers, theif-ants, guest-ants,
grease-ants, orborials ...

S2: Pavement ants.

S: ... Yes, pavement ants ... and workerless parasite ants.

S2: Yes, but they are the largest of the formicidae family.

BY NOW WE ARE MOVING AWAY (HELICOPTER SHOT) AND RAPIDLY GOING ROUND TO THE
BACK ENTRANCE OF THE CASTLE. WE PICK UP ARTHUR AND HIS 5 KNIGHTS
STEALTHILY CREEPING INTO THE BACK DOOR OF THE CASTLE, WHICH HAS A BRASS
PLAQUE THAT READS "MERLIN." THEY PUSH THE DOOR OPEN AND ENTER.

INSIDE IS A WORKSHOP LOOKING RATHER LIKE THE BACK ROOM OF A GARAGE.  A
WORKBENCH WITH A WIZARD'S HAT AND COAT HANGING UP. THERE IS A KNIGHT IN
ARMOUR WITH A LANCE STICKING RIGHT THROUGH HIS CHEST HANGING IN A HARNESS
FROM THE CEILING.  MERLIN IS TINKERING WITH A WRENCH UNDERNEATH THE KNIGHT
TRYING TO RELEASE THE LANCE.

Merlin: ... I mean all magic armour does this ... when it's new ...

TERRIBLE AGGRAVATED VOICE FROM WITHIN THE ARMOUR:
"It went right through me!"

M: It's meant to give a little with the body ...

TAVWTA: It just went straight through.

MERLIN SUDDENLY SEES ARTHUR AND CO.  HE CEASES AND WIPES HIS HANDS ON AN
OILY RAG.

M: Yes, gents.  What can I do for you?

Arthur: Well, it's the Holy Grail ...

M: Oh yes, the Grail?  What's wrong with it?

A: We appear to have lost it.  We wonder if you could help us out?

M: Well I'll see what I can do ... (HE WANDERS OVER TO A PILE OF SCRAP IRON
AND SPARE PARTS IN A DARK CORNER AND RUMMAGES AROUND FOR A BIT AND
EVENTUALLY COMES OUT WITH A RUSTY OLD GOBLET) Here you are ... what about
this?

BIT OF SILENCE

M: I could spray this down, strengthen the base with a couple of wing-nuts
and there you are.

A: It ... er ... doesn't really ... look ...

M: Oh, I'll clean it up!

GALAHAD, THE CLEAR-EYED IDEALIST, IS WORRIED BY MERLIN'S BUSINESS METHODS.
HE SAYS THAT THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE GRAIL.  THE OTHERS ASK HIM TO WAIT
OUTSIDE.  WE GO OUTSIDE WITH GALAHAD.  HE SINGS A BEAUTIFUL LITTLE
SONG ... ACCOMPANIED BY A GROUP OF KIDS

G is for the Holy Grail
A is for a quest
L is for the ... er
L is for the ...
L is ....

THE KIDS START TO GIGGLE.  GALAHAD TAKES AN ANGRY SWIPE AT ONE OF THEM.
CUT TO C.U. THE CHALICE.  A ROAR FROM THE CROWD.  PULL OUT TO SEE THAT IT
IS BEING HELD ALOFT BY ARTHUR AND GAWAIN AS IN THE TRIUMPHANT MANNER OF AN
F.A. CUP-WINNING TEAM. VARIOUS SHOTS OF CITIZENS OF CAMELOT CHEERING
ENTHUSIASTICALLY.

CUT TO BOXING DRESSING ROOM. INTERIOR. DAY. A DRESSING ROOM AT MADISON
SQUARE GARDEN.  TABLE, CHAIRS, TOWELS, USUAL PARAPHENALIA OF BOXER'S
DRESSING ROOM, NOISE OF CROWD OUTSIDE.  DOOR OPENS AND IN COMES MR.
GABRIELLO; TWO SECONDS AND A BOXER IN SILK DRESSING GOWN; SMOKE, ACTION,
EXCITEMENT COME IN WITH THEM.

Gabriello: That was a great fight, champ, a great fight!

TWO SECONDS OF HIM ON THE TABLE

Gabriello: You nearly had him, champ ... you nearly had him - where's his
head?

1st Second: I got it Mr. Gabriello.

HE HOLDS UP A CARRIER BAG. GABRIELLO GOES OVER TO IT, LOOKS INSIDE AND
SHOUTS INTO IT

G: You were great champ!  D'you hear?

1S: (LOOKING IN BAG) He's got a nasty cut over his eye.

G: Yeah.  I think it was a mistake him wearing spectacles.

GABRIELLO GIVES BAG BACK TO 1ST SECOND.

G: Right. Get that sewn onto his body in time for the press pictures.

1S: Okay, Mr. Gabriello.

G:(TO 2ND SECOND) Wasn't he great, my boy?

2nd Second: He was great, Mr. Gabriello.

G: The way he kept on fighting after the head came off!

2S: He was better with the head off - he was really dodging the guy.

G: I reckon if he'd have got to the end of the first round, he'd have had
the Killer worried.

2S: Sure, Mr. Gabriello.

G: He was really boxing well.  Did you see his left arm?

2S: No.

G: Well, we'll have a look in the hall when everyone's gone.

2S: Do you realise, Mr. Gabriello, some of those guys out there paid
$5,000 for a ringside seat?

G: And where did the head land?  Right at the back.  That's justice.

DOOR OPENS.  BLACK CLEANER COMES IN.

G: What do you want?

CLEANER HOLDS UP CARRIER BAG.

Cleaner: Is this your boy's head?

G: No, we got his head.  He ain't hurt that bad.

2S: (LOOKING IN BAG) That's Gerry Marinello, he fought the Killer last week.

G: Okay, give it to me, I'm seeing his trainer tomorrow. I'll give it to
him.

CLEANER IS USHERED OUT BY 2S.

2S: Press are outside, Mr. Gabriello, are you ready?

G: How's the Champ?

1S: (WORKING AWAY WITH NEEDLE AND THREAD) The head's on okay, but there's
still the left arm missing.

G: Okay ... well, just leave the dressing-gown loose.

G GOES TO DOOR AND OPENS IT.

G: Okay boys, come right in.

PRESS SURGE IN.  THE FIGHTER IS PROPPED UP.

Pressman 1: Mr. Gabriello, did you expect your boy to last the full 28
seconds?

G: This boy has never let me down.  He's the pluckiest goddamn fighter I
ever trained.

P2: Were you worried when his head started to come loose?

G: No, I wasn't worried.  I told him to expect that kind of thing and he
did.  He was expecting his head to be completely severed in 5 seconds.

P1: Can we have a word with your boy?

G: Yeah, sure, but keep the questions simple.

P3: How are you feeling, Champ?

G: (ANGRILY) I said keep the questions simple!

P3: I can't think of anything more simple than that.

P2: Mr. Gabriello, people are saying it's time the Kid was buried.  His
head's come off in the last six fights.

G: There's no question of burying the kid!  He's just reaching th' top!

P2: Well, shouldn't he stay in the hospital?

G: He ain't going to no hospital!  He ain't got time!  We got the return
fight in two weeks!

FLASH OF CAMERAS.  CUT TO BIG PICTURE: A HEAD ENTIRELY STITCHED TOGETHER
WITH ENORMOUS FRANKENSTEIN-LIKE STITCHES IN HIS NECK ECT.  IT IS IN A
NEWSPAPER HEADLINE: "CHAMP TO BE KEPT ALIVE FOR RETURN"

CUT TO EXTERIOR.  TRAINER IN C.U. BOBBING AROUND, ENCOURAGING, EXHORTING.
SOUND OF THUDS.  PULL OUT TO SEE THE CHAMP IS BASHING HIS HEAD REPEATEDLY
AGAINST A WALL.

Trainer: Good, yeah good ... that's my boy!

MID C.U. WITH CAR BEHIND HIM.

T: One more time.

CUT TO SEE CAR HAS CHAMP LASHED TO RADIATOR.  RAMS THE WALL.

CUT TO TRAINER HITTING CHAMP WITH HAMMER OR LARGE MALLET.

CUT TO GABRIELLO WITH CIGAR, BEING INTERVIEWED.  IN THE BACKGROUND A HUGE
PILE-DRIVER IS THUDDING UP AND DOWN.  TRAINER STANDING BY THE PILE DRIVER.
SHOT FROM LOW DOWN SO WE DON'T SEE IT ACTUALLY HITTING THE CHAMP.

G: He can't avoid punishment, so we're teaching him how to take it.  It's
gonna be a great fight.

Interviewer: (TURNING TO CAM) Well, all the seats have been sold well in
advance.  On the Black market, ringside seats are fetching some four to five
thousand pounds and even back rows are fetching a cool 250 pounds since
the Champ's head landed there in his last big fight. There are over 4,000
cinemas relaying to fight over close-circuits, and it's being beamed direct
by satellite to Mars, Jupiter, and Mercury, planets which no one has even
set foot on!  So it shows the enormous interest in this fight.  We'll be
bringing you live coverage on station WBBX tomorrow night.

CUT TO A HOSPITAL WARD.  A LOT OF HEAVILY BANDAGED PATIENTS, PLUS DOCTORS,
ARE CLUSTERED AROUND THE RADIO. SOUND OF BIG FIGHT ON RADIO.

Radio Voice: And there's Frank Sinatra leaving the ring, with George
Dempsey, one of the greatest fighters of all time.  Behind him is George
Raft - another great boxing fan.  Martin Berman, acknowledging the applause,
and with him of course is Gus Himmler, who did an awful lot for the sport in
his country in the great days of the 1940's.

ROAR OF CROWD.

RV: And here comes the Champ!  Despite rumours that he was dead again,
he looks very fit to me.  The missing left arm is there, and more ribs than
I've ever seen him with before.  The head is sitting very confidently on top
of his body, and he really seems in good shape to meet the Killer once
again before the audience, some of whom had paid 920,000 dollars for the
privilege of seeing this boy get beaten up.  And they're in the corners.
The atmosphere is electric!

A PATIENT GIVES A LAST GASP AND DIES.  DOCTORS TURN WITH IRRITATION.

Doctor: Shh!

SOUND FX: BELL.

RV: And there's the bell!  And it's the Killer moving into the attack
straight away with a terrific left and a right and a left and a right jab
that has taken half his shoulder off.  And it's the Killer again with a
right and another left and a bash with the hammer and a knee in the groin
and a terrific smash with a heavy club right into the skull and a right and
a beautiful left from the Killer, and ther's a gaping hole right through the
Champ's body now. (PATIENTS ARE ALL GETTING VERY EXCITED) And now the
Killer's working on the cut eye with a series of beautifully placed punches,
and the head's coming loose; the Champ must try and keep his head on if he's
going to last the round ... The Killer has kicked him in the leg and bitten
half his left buttock off, and the referee's stepped in with a warning,
quite right too!  Quite right too - what a plucky fighter this Champ is.
He's fighting as well as I've seen him.  He must be losing blood at the rate
of a pint a second.  It's everywhere!  Certainly those who paid 1 1/2
million dollars for those ringside seats are really getting their money's
worth!  They're covered in it!  And his head's off!  That weak head which
has troubled him in so many fights is off in the 31st second.  It's rolled
away down to the left ... but what's happening?  The Killer is being talked
to by the referee ... there's the Champ's plucky little body racing around
the ring ... trying to find his opponent ... and the Killer has been
disqualified!

HOPSITAL ERUPTS.  ONE OR TWO DIE.

RV: The Killer has been disqualified!  This great fighter, who has killed
more than 50 people in his boxing career, has at last been defeated by this
courageous headless little southpaw from New York.  And there's a great
roar here, as the referee raises the arm of the new World Heavyweight
Champion ... what a pity the rest of his body isn't here to see it!

CUT TO SHABBY BROOKLYN APARTMENT.  A BRITISH ARCHITECT LIES DEAD IN THE
CORNER.  A PICTURE OF JIM SLATER ON THE WALL.  A TENNESSEE WILLIAMS-TYPE
COUPLE, MOTHER AND SON. SON IS SLUMPED IN CHAIR READING A BOOK TITLED "THE
QUEST FOR THE HOLY GRAIL;" MUM IS STANDING THERE YELLING AT HIM.

Mum: You never were any good!  You never will be any good!  You're just a
goddamn bum!  You sit around reading that crap!

Arthur (the son, he's English): It's not crap, mother.

PHONE RINGS.  ARTHUR GRABS IT.

A: Hullo? What? Oh, hello, Mr. Gabriello ... uh? I see, gee ... (UNCERTAIN)
Yes ... of course, Mr. Gabriello. (PUTS PHONE DOWN)

M: What's that?

A: It's Mr. Gabriello, the boxing promoter.  They want me to donate my head
to the Champ.

M: Say!  That's wonderful!

A: He says they lost the Champ's head at the last fight.  It got cleared
away with the garbage.

M: Arthur, baby, this is the greatest thing that's ever happened to you!

A: (DUBIOUSLY) They're gonna have to saw my head off ...

M: Saw it off ... chop it off!  What's the difference?  This is your big
chance!

A: Yeah, I suppose so, Mom.

M: Just think!  They'll dress you in fine clothes, take you to the best
restaurants in town, where you'll drink champagne, and lie in silk sheets on
a bed of pure down ...

A: I'm only the head, Mom.

M: So what?

A: That's the bit that gets hit.

M: Listen, Arthur ... Artie baby!  The head makes a guy, you know that. It
wasn't Bertrandix Russell's body that wrote the History of Western
Philosophy. Look at Dwight D. over there! (INDICATES A RATHER IDEALISTIC
PHOTO OF EISENHOWER ON THE WALL, WITH TWO CANDLES IN FRONT OF IT, GIVING THE
FAINTEST SUGGESTION OF A SHRINE) We don't have a picture of his legs on the
wall!  And that's what it'll be like with you.  It'll be your head they'll
be photographing in the papers.

A: What'll happen to my body?

M: Forget it, Arthur.

A: I just can't forget it, Mom.

M: It's never been any good.  It just lies around and holds the paper for
you. Maybe we'll get a couple of bucks for it round the corner.

A: But Mom!

M: (COMING OVER AND KNEELING BEFORE HIM, HER EYES MOISTENING) Arthur, Arthur
my boy!  This is for your Mom, on her knees, talking to you, begging you,
son! Do this for me. Do this for your Pa.  (MUSIC EMANATES FROM THE SHRINE.
CHOIRS.) Do this for the guys on the corner, for all the guys around here
who have no hope - who never will have any hope. All the ordinary Joes,
Arthur, all the two-bit kids on the sidewalk, no-good bums who are never
going to get a break.  They need a hero, Arthur, someone to look up to.
Someone to give them hope.

DOORBELL GOES.  GABRIELLO ENTERS WITH A BUCKET AND A LARGE SAW.

M: (RISING) Oh, Mr. Gabriello! Oh, come in.

GABRIELLO GOES UP TO ARTHUR.

G: You Arthur King?

A: Yes, sir.

G: Okay, put it on the chair.

PUSHES HIM TOWARDS CHAIR AND PREPARES TO SAW.

A: Aren't you going to gibe me a pill or anything?

M: Arthur!

GABRIELLO HAS GOT HIM BENT ON THE CHAIR AND HIS FOOT UP ON HIM.

G: This looks the best head we've had in a long time. The last one came off
too easy.  It  was 3 collar sizes too small.

A: You mean it wasn't the Champ's head?

G: No, it was his kid brother's.

M: Arthur, shh!

G: We've had 15 heads altogether.

M: Arthur!  Keep still for the gentleman, he's trying to saw your head off.

A: I always believed in that Champ. I thought he used his own head ...

M: He'll be all right in a moment, Mr. Gabriello - keep sawing.

G: How can I saw when he keeps talking?

A: No, I ain't gonna do it!

M: Keep still!

ARTHUR FIGHTS THEM OFF AND JUMPS OUT OF THE WINDOW.

BEAUTIFUL MEDIEVAL STYLE CAPTION: "MEANWHILE"
PERHAPS WITH AN ANIMATED BORDER.

CUT TO MODERN PSYCHIATRIST'S OFFICE. LAUNCELOT-QUINN IS LYING ON THE COUCH.
PERHAPS THE ANT CAGE WE SAW HIM PULLING OUT OF HARROD'S STANDS BY A HAT
STAND WHERE HIS SCARF ALSO HANGS.

Launcelot-Quinn: I don't know what it is ... I just feel this urge ...
to ... to...

Psychiatrist: An urge, is it?

L: Yes, it's always there, forcing me on, seeking ...

P: What are you seeking?

L: The Grail. The Holy Grail.

P: I ... see ... Why do you want to find the Grail? (SILENCE) Do you know
why you're looking for it?  Does it mean anything to you?

L: It means Light ... Truth ... Purity ...

P: Purity!  Sex?

L: Well, Purity.

P: Ah, it's sex, is it?

L: Well, it's only one of the things.

P: Tell me about the sex problem.

L: Well there's no problem really ...

P: (GETTING EXCITED)  Come on!  Come on!  You've got her on the bed!  You
know- she's a real stunner - big tits!  Really well stacked!  She's panting
for you - she starts slipping her little pink knickers off ...

A DISTINGUISHED-LOOKING MAN IN A SUIT ENTERS.

Natal:  Alright, Mr. Butler.  I'll take over.

BUTLER LOOKS UP ANGRILY. ALMOST SLAVERING AT THE MOUTH, HE SLINKS OUT.

N: (SITTING BESIDE L) Good morning, Mr. Launcelot.  My name's Natal.  Sorry
to have kept you waiting.  What's the problem?

L: Well I was telling the other psychiatrist ...

N: He, er, wasn't a psychiatrist.

L: He said he was a psychiatrist.

N: Well yes, he is, er, a kind of psychiatrist, but not a, er, not a fully
fledged psychiatrist.  He's not qualified in, er, quite the same way as one
would like.  Anyway, the problem, I believe, is basically sexual, is it?

BUTLER PUTS HEAD ROUND DOOR.

B: I asked him that!

N: Get out! (TO L) Now ... you have the girl on the bed, and you've been
having a bit of a feel-up during the evening; you've had your hand up here
(DEMONSTRATES) and she's given you ...

ENTER DISTINGUISED-LOOKING PSYCHIATRIST, DR. RUPPENSBURG.

Ruppensburg: (QUIETLY AND AUTHORITATIVELY INDICATING DOOR) Out, please!

N: I'm talking to a patient.

R: Dr. Natal!  Out please!

NATAL SLIDES OUT.

R: (SITTING) I'm terribly sorry.  We have a great deal of trouble with the
bogus psychiatrists.  It's one of those risks in psychiatry.  Unfortunately
they frighten patients, and they can do real and permanent harm with the
treatment.  But I assure you, I am a perfectly bona fida psychiatrist. (HE
OPENS HIS WALLET AND PRODUCES THIN SLIP OF PAPER AND HANDS IT TO LAUNCELOT)
This is my diploma of Psychiatry from the University of Oxford.  (ANOTHER)
This shows I'm a member of the British Psychiatrists' Association - a very
important body - and this is a letter from another psychiatrist, in which he
mentions I'm a psychiatrist.  This is my Psychiatrist Club tie and my bag,
(PRODUCES IT) which I think is pretty convincing.  Another reference here is
a letter from my mother, asking how the psychiatry's going, and as you know
the one person you can't fool is your mother.  And, if you like, ask me any
questions about psychiatry and I bet I can answer them.

L: No no, that's alright.

R: Okay.  So you've got this bird on the bed.  She's got one of her tits
hanging out of her half cup lace bra, and ...

INTERCOM BUZZER GOES.

R: (IRRITATED) What is it?

Intercom: There's a proper psychiatrist to see you, Dr. Ruppensburg.

R: Oh my God!  Alright!  Thanks!  Thank you!

HE LEAPS TO HIS FEET, HURRIEDLY TAKES OFF HIS JACKET, AND TURNS IT
INSIDE-OUT.  IT HAS A DARK LINING.  HE GOES OVER TO BLUE VASE OF FLOWERS,
THROWS THE FLOWERS OUT AND PUTS THE BOWL ON HIS HEAD, STICKING A METAL
ASHTRAY ON IT, AND, PICKING UP HIS NOTEBOOK, HE SUDDENLY HAS BEEN
TRANSFORMED INTO A POLICEMAN.

ENTER A VERY STRANGE LOOKING MAN - RATHER LIKE GRAHAM'S GLENCOE LOONEY.

R: (ADOPTING A POLICE VOICE) Well, thank you very much for answering my
questions, sir.  We'll try not to trouble you again, sir.

R WALKS OUT WITH EXAGGERATED POLICE WALK.

Nurse: (SITTING HISEMAN DOWN)  This is Professor Hiseman.  He's a proper
psychiatrist and a very brilliant man.

Hiseman: (IN A VERY SINGSONG VOICE) Hullo!

N: He takes a bit of getting used to, but he is brilliant, and he's taking
everything in.  He's a consultant psychiatrist to nearly everybody so you're
in good hands. (ADOPTING LOUD VOICE TO TALK TO PROF.)  I'll collect you
later, Professor Hiseman. We've got the conference at the Royal College at
half past two.


SHE LEAVES.  THE PROFESSOR SITS THERE GRINNING FOOLISHLY.  LAUNCELOT LOOKS
AROUND UNCOMFORTABLY.  PROF. HISEMAN SITS THERE AND OCCASIONALLY LAUGHS IN
AN IMBECILIC WAY.

SUDDENLY A WINDOW CLEANER'S CRADLE COMES NTO SHOT OUTSIDE THE WINDOW.
SOMETHING LOOKS  LITTLE ODD ABOUT THE WINDOW CLEANER. HE IS TOO WELL
DRESSED, AND WEARS IMPRESSIVE HORN-RIMMED SPECTACLES.  HE CLEANS
ABSTRACTEDLY AND SEEMS MORE INTERESTED IN ATTRACTING LAUNCELOT'S ATTENTION.

AT A MOMENT WHEN HE THINKS HISEMAN ISN'T LOOKING, THE WINDOW CLEANER REACHES
IN HIS JACKET AND PRODUCES A CARD WHICH READS: "THAT'S NOT HISEMAN."

BEWILDERED REACTION FROM LAUNCELOT.

HISEMAN IS NOW STARTING TO PLAY WITH THE INKWELL ON HIS DESK.

WINDOW CLEANER PRODUCES ANOTHER SIGN WHICH READS:  "I'M HISEMAN ... IF YOU
GET HIM OUT, I'LL COME IN AND GIVE YOU A FREE CONSULTATION"

LAUNCELOT, THOROUGHLY DISORIENTED, IS ABOUT TO GET UP WHEN THE DOOR OPENS
AND A RATHER SMART-LOOKING ELECTRICIAN ENTERS.

Electrician: Just come to fix the wiring, Professor. (TO LAUNCELOT,]
CONSPIRATORIALLY) Morning, sir!

CUT TO WINDOW CLEANER, LOOKING VERY AGITATED AND BANGING ON CLASS

E: (STARTING TO WORK BESIDE LAUNCELOT) Terrible problem, this new wiring,
it's my worst problem ... What are your problems?  Mainly sexual?

LAUNCELOT LOOKS UP.  WINDOW CLEANER HAS JUST FINISHED WRITING A CARD WHICH
HE HOLDS UP: "DON'T TALK TO THE ELECTRICIAN.  HE'S HOFFBURG.  HE'S A
POST-FREUDIAN, AND NOT PROPERLY QUALIFIED."

E: (STILL JUST PRETENDING TO WORK WITH A PLUG) You can tell me, you know,
I'm not just an electrician.

H: (HAPPILY) Hal... lo.

E: I know all about it ... bums, tits ... problems with feeling her up ...

THE PSYCHIATRIST SCENE DEVELOPS OVER PSYCHIATRIST'S QUALIFICATIONS.  VARIOUS
PSYCHIATRISTS ENTER AND OUT-QUALIFY EACH OTHER.  THE WINDOW
CLEANER/PSYCHIATRIST PRODUCES AN IMPRESSIVE ARRAY OF JUDGES, BISHOPS, ETC.
TO WITNESS THAT HE IS A PSYCHIATRIST; ANOTHER PSYCHIATRIST COUNTERS WITH THE
POPE AND MEMBERS OF THE M.C.C.  FINALLY A MODERN HIGH-POWERED COMPUTER COMES
IN, DOES A GENUINE COMPUTER-VOICED SPEECH ABOUT BEING THE VERY LATEST
PSYCHIATRIC DEVICE, THEN SUDDENLY SETS ON TO SEX; A VOICE FROM OUTSIDE
SHOUTS "OUT!" AND THE COMPUTER GETS UYP AND SCUTTLES, REVEALING THE LEGS OF
SEVERAL PSYCHIATRISTS BENEATH IT.

WE CUT TO A WIDE SHOT OF CAMELOT, AND SEE KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS COMING
OUT AGAIN; THEY ARE FOLLOWED AT A SLIGHT DISTANCE BY A RATHER SHAMEFACED SIR
GALAHAD.  WE PICK UP THEIR CONVERSATION.

Arthur: Don't talk to him.  Just ignore him.

THEY ALL REFER POINTEDLY TO THE FACT THAT THEY ARE NOT TALKING TO SIR
GALAHAD AND IT BECOMES OBVIOUS EVENTUALLY THAT HE HAS TOLD THE PEOPLE OF
CAMELOT THAT THE GRAIL IS NOT REAL.

SOMEWHERE OUTSIDE CAMELOT THEY REIN TO A HALT.  GALAHAD JOINS THEM AND THEY
POINTEDLY IGNORE HIM.

KING ARTHUR TELLS THEM THAT THEY MUST FIND THE REAL GRAIL TO RECOVER THEIR
HONOUR, AND THEN, IN HIGHLY COLOURED POETIC LANGUAGE, DESPATCHES THEM SINGLY
TO ALL POINTS OF THE COMPASS.

A: You, Sir Launcelot, to the North.  And you, Sir Gawain, to the South.

L: Oh, couldn't I go South?

G: Yes, and I have some relatives in the North.

A: Shut up.

THE KING SENDS THEM EACH OFF ON THEIR QUEST AND WISHES THEM GODSPEED. THERE
IS A RATHER IMPRESSIVE DISPLAY OF ROMAN HANDCLASPING, EXCEPT FOR GALAHAD.  A
FANFARE OF TRUMPETS IS SOUNDED, AND OFF THEY SET ON THEIR LONG QUESTS.

A HELICOPTER SHOT, OR AT LEAST A CRANE, FROM ON HIGH AS THEY START HEADING
OUT IN ALL DIRECTIONS.  AFTER THE BRIEFEST OF PAUSES, THERE IS A CRY OF
"FOUND IT!"

THE KNIGHTS TURN, COME BACK, LOOKING VERY DISAPPOINTED.  SIR GALAHAD HAS
FOUND IT.  THEY ROUND TOWARDS HIM DISAPPOINTED AND LOOK AT IT.

L: It's definitely it, isn't it?

G: Yes.

L: Oh, pity.  I was rather ... well, never mind.

THEY RIDE BACK TOWARDS THE CASTLE, SLIGHTLY CHEERED.

CUT TO ARTHUR KING, WHOM WE HAVE LAST SEEN ESCAPING FROM MR. GABRIELLO, IN A
RATHER SMART LOOKING MOCK-TUDOR SUBURBAN AVENUE.  HE HAS A PAPER AND IS
LOOKING AT IT AND CHECKING HOUSE NUMBERS.  HE FINDS A HOUSE AND GOES UP A 
LONG DRIVEWAY TO A LARGE MOCK-TUDOR HOUSE.  LOTS OF SPYHOLES, BURGLAR
ALARMS, BARRED WINDOWS ETC.  HE PRESSES BELL.  A PAUSE.  SOMEONE COMES TO
THE DOOR.  A BOLT SLIDES BACK.  THEN ANOTHER AND ANOTHER AND ANOTHER.
A KEY TURNS IN A LOCK, ANOTHER BOLT, THEN A KEY, TWO MORE BOLTS, THEN THE
DOOR OPENS A CRACK ON A CHAIN.  A RATHER OPULENT-LOOKING UPPER-CLASS TWIT
PEERS OUT.  HE IS RESTRAINING AN ENORMOUS ALSATIAN.

A: (CHECKING PAPER) Mr. Galahad?

Galahad: Pronounced Ga'had, actually.  Are you collecting for something,
because I'd like to see some sort of official card, if you are ...

Wife (voice): Is it Jumble, darling?  There's bags of stuff in the cellar.

A: I'm looking for the Holy Grail.

G: Ah wonderful, you saw the advert, then.  Come in, come in.  If you can
just find your way through some of the bloody money...

THEY GO IN AND WE FIND THEM IN AN OPULENT HALL WITH 6-INCH LAYERS OF
BANK NOTES EVERYWHERE.

G: That's the damn trouble of working in property. You amass such vast sums
of loot that it's difficult to know where to put it.  The cottage in
Chelsea's being done up as a safe for when we're in town and we've bought
a super little plot in Wales where we're going to sink a strongbox ... then
we can get rid of all this bloody stuff.

THE SCENE ENDS WITH ARTHUR BEING GIVEN A HOLY GRAIL BY THE GA'HADS.  THEY
PUT IT IN A CARRIER BAG FOR MOM AND HE TAKES IT AWAY.

WE CUT TO AFRICA.
SUPER CAPTION: "Africa. A.D. 1973."

SUPER 2ND CAPTION: "23rd February."

3RD CAPTION: "4.33 P.M."

WE NOW PICK UP THE EXPLOITS OF "THE INTERNATIONAL ACCOUNTANTS' HOLY GRAIL
EXPEDITION TO DARKEST AFRICA" AND THE HEROIC TALE OF SIR PERCEVAL AND HIS
QUEST. HE IS SWEPT AWAY INTO THE JUNGLE BY A GORILLA, MENACED BY THE LOST
TRIBE OF NYMPHOMANIACS, AND THREATENED BY KILLER ANTS.  HE SUDDENLY COMES
ACROSS TARZAN.  THEY STRIKE AN ACQUAINTANCE AND PERCEVAL (WHO IS AN
ACCOUNTANT) OFFERS TO DO HIS ACCOUNTS.  TARZAN TAKES PERCEVAL HOME TO MEET
JANE, AND ALSO CHEETAH (WHO SPENDS HIS TIME SMOKING STRANGE SUBSTANCES WHICH
HE GROWS FOR PLEASURE AND PROFIT, AND ALSO TO ENSNARE THE LOST TRIBE OF
NYMPHOMANIACS).  OVER SHERRY PERCEVAL SWAPS TALES OF ACCOUNTING AND TARZAN
REWARDS HIM BY GIVING HIM SOMETHING HE'S FOUND IN THE  JUNGLE, SOMETHING
VERY PRECIOUS AND RARE, AN OLD CUP, WHICH HE KEEPS LOCKED AWAY IN A SAFE,
SET INTO A TREE TRUNK, WITH A GIBBON HANGING IN FRONT OF IT.  TARZAN GIVES
HIM A HOLY GRAIL.  PERCEVAL IS AMAZED.

WE ZOOM INTO THE HOLY GRAIL, THEN MIX, THEN ZOOM OUT.  WE ARE BACK IN
MEDIEVAL TIMES; THE GRAIL IS IN THE HANDS OF ARTHUR. IT IS BEING HELD ALOFT
IN TRIUMPH FROM A BALCONY, SURROUNDED BY THE DELIGHTED AND DRINKING KNIGHTS.
WE HEAR ENORMOUS CHEERS.

CUT TO INTERIOR OF ROOM, THEY COME BACK INSIDE, AND, CLOSING THE WINDOWS,
PUT THE GRAIL ON THE TABLE, AND ALL TAKE THEIR PLACES HAPPILY.

A LONG PAUSE, WHILE THEY GRIN AT EACH OTHER.

Arthur: Well, there we are then.

ANOTHER LONG PAUSE.

A: What shall we do this evening?

BECAUSE THEY HAVE NOTHING TO DO NOW THEY DECIDE TO GIVE IT TO SOMEBODY AND
ASK HIM TO HIDE IT AGAIN.  SIR BEVEDERE GETS THIS TASK.  HE TAKES THE GRAIL
OFF TO HIDE IT AND THEY START COUNTING QUIETLY WITH THEIR HANDS OVER THEIR
EYES.

Knights: One.  Two.  Three.  Four.

WE MIX THROUGH TO THE DEPARTMENT STORE AGAIN.  MODERN SIR BEVEDERE WALKS
INTO SHOT.  HE HAS SOMETHING IN A GRAIL-SHAPED CARRIER BAG. HE APPROACHES
A STOCKING COUNTER WHERE ONE ASSISTANT IS SERVING TWO HEAVIES WHO ARE TRYING
ON NYLONS OVER THEIR HEADS. BEVEDERE SPEAKS TO THE NEXT ASSISTANT.

Bevedere: Can you tell me where the Toupee Hall is, please?

Girl: Sorry sir?

B: The Toupee Hall.

G: The what?

B: The Toupee Hall.

G: Oh, the TOUPEE Hall!  Gladys, where are the TOUPEES now? (LOUD)

Gladys: Er, the toupees? Oh, yes. (People start to look)

G: This gentleman wants one.

Gl: A toupee?

B: No, no.  I don't!  It's for a friend.  It's a present.

EVERYONE'S PEERING AT HIM.  PEOPLE ARE BEGINNING TO SAY THINGS LIKE:

People: -I can see it! -Where? -Oh, yes, you can tell!

Gl: I think they're in surgical appliances now ...

G: (DIRECTING) Go right through Artificial Limbs and Hearing Aids, then
right at Dentures and it's just before you get to Glass Eyes. It doesn't
say Toupees, to avoid embarrassing people, but you can smell 'em. (PEOPLE BY
THIS TIME HAVE FORMED A RING ROUND TO SEE WHO IT IS)

B: Thank you.

THERE ARE A LOT OF PEOPLE WATCHING, SIGNING TO EACH OTHER. AS HE WALKS OFF
THEY MOVE WITH HIM AT A DISTANCE, HIDING ROUND COUNTERS, RUNNING PAST HIM
AND THEN WALKING BACK, AND SIGNALLING TO PEOPLE AT THE FAR END OF THE HALL,
POINTING AT HEADS.  BEVEDERE WALKS ON.  WHENEVER HE LOOKS AT ANYONE THEY
LOOK AWAY.  ONE PERSON TRYING TO DO THIS WALKS INTO GLASS DOOR AND IS
ATTENDED TO.  BEVEDERE ARRIVES IN THE HALL, SNIFFS AND LOOKS AROUND.  EMPTY.
"Pssst!" A HAND BECKONS HIM FROM BEHIND SOME CURTAINS.  HE IS UNDECIDED.
THE CURTAINS PART A FEW INCHES TO REVEAL A HAND-HELD NOTICE: "Toupees."

Voice: (FROM SAME SPOT) Electric Kettles over here sir.

HE GOES OVER TO CURTAIN AND IS USHERED THROUGH BY M.I.

M.I.: Don't worry, sir.  You're among friends now.

M.I. HAS APPALLING TOUPEE.  BEVEDERE SEES IT AND TRIES NOT TO LOOK AT IT.

M.I.: (INTRODUCING ASSISTANTS) Mr. Bradford, Mr. Crewly, Mr. Graham.

BRADFORD, CREWLY, AND GRAHAM COME FORWARD.
EACH HAS A TOUPEE WORSE THAN THE OTHERS.

M.I.: These are our fitters, sir.  We've had a lot of experience in this
field and we pride ourselves that we offer the best and most, ah, discreet
service available.  I don't know if you'll believe this sir, but one of
us ... is actually wearing a toupee at this moment ...

B: Well, you all are, aren't you?

THEY ALL RUSH TO MIRRORS. THEY LOOK IN MIRRORS AND PICK AND TRY TO COMB
THEIR TOUPEES.  AFTER A FEW SECONDS THEY REALISE THEY ARE ALL DOING IT AND
LOOK AT EACH OTHER IN SHOCK.

Bradford: (TO GRAHAM) Have you got one?

Graham: Yes, but I didn't know ...

M.I.: I didn't realise you two ... I thought it was him!
(INDICATING MR. CREWLY)

C: Yes, I thought it was me.

G: So did I. (TO BRADFORD) That IS good!

SLIGHT PAUSE WHILE THEY ALL LOOK IN MIRRORS AND AT EACH OTHER.
THEN...

M.I.: Wait a moment. (TURNING TO BEVEDERE) Who told you we all had toupees?

B: ... No one.

C: Oh, yeah?

Br: Well, how did you know then?

B: Well ... it's obvious, isn't it?

G: What do you MEAN, obvious.  How could you tell his?
It's undetectable! (REFERRING TO BRADFORD)

B: Well, it's a different colour, isn't it?

M.I.: Is it?

C: Course it isn't!

B: And it doesn't really fit in with the rest of the hair ... it sort of
sticks up.  (BRADFORD REALLY WINCES)

G: It's better than yours!

B: I haven't got one.

CHORUS OF JEERS.

M: Oh, I see, you haven't GOT one.

C: Why have you come here, then?

B: To get one for a friend.

ANOTHER CHORUS OF DISBELIEVING JEERS.

G: Oh dear.  Not again.

C: That's a bit lame, isn't it?

B: Really it's a ....

Everyone: Present for a friend.

THEY ALL LAUGH GENUINELY.

Br: Yeah, look at it.  Where did you get that, Woolworth's?

M.I.: Dreadful, isn't it?

G: Nylon.

B: It's not.  Look. (HE PULLS AT IT)

Everyone: Oh yeah, anyone can do that! (THEY ALL DO IT)

C: Come on, off with it.

B: Get away!

M.I.: Look, do you want a proper one?

B: No, I ...

Br: There's no need to be ashamed.

G: We've all owned up.

B: I haven't got one.

THEY ALL LOOK AT EACH OTHER FOR A MOMENT REGISTERING "A HARD CASE."

M.I.: Look, don't you see, you've got to come to terms with it.

B: I haven't got a toupee!  I keep telling you.  I've come here to find out
about buying one for my uncle, Sir George Bevedere.

C: Pathetic, isn't it?

B: Here's his number, ring him and ask.

M: I'm sorry, but this is for your own good! (HE GRASPS BEVEDERE'S HAIR)

B: Ow! (STEPS BACK)

M.I.: Come on you three.

BEVEDERE FIGHTS HIS WAY OUT OF THE SITUATION BY MANAGING TO DISLODGE OR
DISPLACE ALL THEIR TOUPEES. HE THEN SHOUTS:

B: Another customer!

THEY IMMEDIATELY ALL RUN OVER TO THE MIRROR AND MAKE ADJUSTMENTS TO THEIR
TOUPEES.  HE RUNS OFF, JUMPING INTO THE LIFT.  PERCEVAL IS IN THERE HOLDING
ANOTHER GRAIL-SHAPED BAG.  THEY DON'T RECOGNISE EACH OTHER.  THE LIFT LADY,
WHO HAS A WALL-EYE, A WOODEN LEG, AND A HOOK, IS RECITING.

Lift Lady: Second floor. Stationery, leather goods, household furniture,
cafeteria, electrical appliances, nasal injuries, and dolphinariums.

THE LIFT STOPS AND BEVEDERE GETS OUT, FOLLOWED BY PERCEVAL. AS THE DOOR OF
THE LIFT CLOSES WE HEAR:

Lift Lady: Third floor. Condoms, dutch caps, inter-uterine devices,
frozen foods, spermicidal creams, pessary counter, kiddie condoms ...

BEVEDERE WALKS ROUND A CORNER PAST A SIGN READING "NASAL INFURIES HALL" AND
PAST AN OPEN DOOR OF A ROOM FULL OF BARBER SHOP CHAIRS, ROW UPON ROW FILLED
WITH NASALLY INJURED CUSTOMERS IN VARIOUS STAGES OF BANDAGING. OVER ALL THIS
WE HEAR A VERY NASALLY-CONGESTED SOUND TRACK.

WE FOLLOW BEVEDERE AND PERCEVAL INTO THE CAFETERIA, WHICH CONSISTS OF A
LARGE ROUND BAR WITH A WAITRESS IN THE MIDDLE. THE ONLY CUSTOMER SITTING
THERE IS LAUNCELOT-QUINN WITH A GRAIL SHAPED PARCEL.  THEY SIT DOWN AND
ORDER A COFFEE. SUDDENLY THEY ARE AWARE OF MR. GA'HAD SITTING ALSO AT THE
COFFEE BAR AND HOLDING A CARRIER BAG.  MR. GAWAIN ENTERS HOLDING A CARRIER
BAG AND TAKES THE FREE SEAT NEXT TO GA'HAD.  THEY EYE EACH OTHER SLIGHTLY. 
FINALLY ARTHUR KING COMES IN CARRYING THE NEAT PARCEL THAT GA'HAD GAVE HIM
AFTER THE PARTY. GA'HAD LOOKS EMBARASSED AND TRIES NOT TO NOTICE HIM.

THERE IS A FEELING THAT THY ARE ALL WAITING FOR SOMETHING.

GOD APPEARS IN A VISION IN THE COFFEE SHOP.

God: Where is the grail?

THEY ALL PRODUCE THEIR GRAILS. GOD IS FURIOUS AT THIS SELECTION OF DUFF
GRAILS, ESPECIALLY AS GA'HAD HAS MADE HIS INTO A TABLE LAMP.

GOD SAYS HE'S GIVEN THEM 2,000 YEARS TO FIND THE GRAIL, AND NOW THEY'VE GOT
'TIL FRIDAY LUNCHTIME OR IT'S THUNDERBOLT TIME.

GOD DEMONSTRATES HIS POWER BY GOOSING THE WAITRESS AND MAKING A CUSTARD PIE
LEAP OFF GA'HAD'S PLATE AND INTO HIS FACE, AS A PUNISHMENT.

THE MANAGER IS SENT FOR.

THEY ASK GOD TO TELL THEM WHERE THE HOLY GRAIL IS.

GOD SAYS HE CAN'T TELL THEM DIRECTLY AS HE MOVES IN SUCH A MYSTERIOUS WAY.
THEY ASK HIM TO GIVE THEM A CLUE.

GOD BURNS THE WORDS "SOMEWHERE IN ITALY" ACROSS THE WALL OF THE COFFEE SHOP
IN TRUE TEN COMMANDMENTS STYLE, AT WHICH POINT THE MANAGER ARRIVES AND ASKS
GOD TO LEAVE.

THEY ALL MOVE OFF AFTER GOD SAYS THAT HE'LL TAKE CARE OF THE BILL (WHICH HE
DOES WITH A THUNDERFLASH THAT CONSUMES THE BILL IN HOLY FIRE).

ITALY.  A VILLAGE.

ALL THE MODERN DAY KNIGHTS AS BRITISH TRIPPERS LOOKING AROUND THE VILLAGE
SQUARE.  THEY REALISE THE GRAIL IS IN THE CHURCH.  IT IS APPARENT THAT THE
CHURCH IS HEAVILY GUARDED.  CARDINALS WITH BADLY HIDDEN RIFLES STAND AT THE
ENTRANCE, AND THERE ARE MACHINE GUNS POSTS AND OTHER HEAVY SECURITY
ARRANGEMENTS.  GOD MANIFESTS HIMSELF AGAIN TO THE KNIGHTS.  THE GRAIL IS NOW
ALMOST WITHIN THEIR GRASP! THEY COMPLAIN THAT THE CHURCH IS FAR MORE HEAVILY
GUARDED THAN THEY THOUGHT, AND THE OBVIOUS THING IS FOR GOD TO GO IN AND GET
IT.  GOD IS NOT KEEN, AND SAYS HE'D RATHER JUST DRIVE THE GETAWAY VAN. THE
KNIGHTS INSIST THAT GOD GO IN.  EVENTUALLY, GOD, RATHER IRRITABLY, HAS TO
ADMIT THAT IT'S A CATHOLIC CHURCH, AND HE'S A PROTESTANT.

BUT HE GIVES THEM A GOOD PLAN.

FADE UP ON THE DAY OF THE CRIME.

INTERIOR OF THE CHURCH.  SHINING CHALICE ON THE ALTAR. THIS IS QUITE
OBVIOUSLY THE GRAIL BY THE WAY IT GLOWS.

CUT TO PROCESSION OF CHOIR BOYS COMING INTO THE CHURCH PRECEDED BY THE
PRIEST SWINGING THE CENSER.  AS THEY FILE IN WE NOTICE THAT AT THE END OF
THE LINE OF CHOIR BOYS ARE BIGGER CHOIR BOYS (THE KNIGHTS) WEARING GAS
MASKS.

AT THE FRONT OF THE PROCESSION, WHERE THE CENSER IS BEING WAVED, ONE DROPS
AND THEN ANOTHER AND ANOTHER.

THE CONGREGATION STARTS TO GO DOWN RAPIDLY AND THE RAID IS ON.

CUT TO OUTSIDE.  A VOLKSWAGEN GETAWAY VAN IS SITTING THERE WITH THE ENGINE
RUNNING AND AN ETHEREAL LIGHT FLOODING THE CAB.  GOD IS CLEARLY NERVOUS.  WE
HEAR HIS VOICE SAYING "Come on, come on!"

WE STAY OUTSIDE AND HEAR THE NOISES FROM WITHIN.  AN ALARM BELL GOES OFF. 
THE KNIGHTS, DRESSED AS CHOIR BOYS, RACE OUT WITH THE CHALICE.  THEY LEAP
INTO THE VAN AND SPEED OFF JERKILY. GOD IS DRIVING TERRIBLY AND WE HEAR THEM
YELL "Watch what you're doing!" ETC.

God: I'm used to automatics!

THE BACK OF THE CHURCH.
WITH PANZER-LIKE EFFICIENCY SEVERAL FERRET ARMOURED CARS WITH A CROSS ON
THEM ROAR OUT FROM CONCEALED HIDING PLACES AROUND THE CHURCH AND MAKE AFTER
THE KNIGHTS.  WELL-DRILLED CARDINALS AND PRIESTS WITH GUNS DOUBLE OUT OF THE
CHURCH AND INTO TROOP CARRIERS.

CUT TO INSIDE OF GETAWAY VAN.
A MIXTURE OF "We've got it!  We've got it!" AND KNIGHTS SAYING TO GOD
"Watch what you're doing! Hurry, they're after us!"

SUDDENLY THE CAR IS STREAKING TOWARDS THE OPEN SEA AT THE HARBOUR ...

Knights: Look Out!

God: It's alright, this is something I can do. I'll soon part this lot.

SHOT OF VAN LEAPING OVER THE EDGE OF THE QUAY AND PLUMMETING STRAIGHT INTO
THE SEA.

SILENCE.

NOTHING HAPPENS.

WATER BUBBLES SLIGHTLY.

SILENCE.

ROLL CREDITS.


---------------------------------------------------------------------------


		     As told to Garrett Gilchrist
                      of Monty Python's PythoNET

                  Visit http://orangecow.org/pythonet