Monty Python's Contractual Obligation Album {M0nti Pyth0n ik den 0bligati0n K0ntraaktuel} Based upon the record 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 a full transcript of the album released in 1980 by the Monty Python comedy group, their last for the Charisma label. It is exactly what the title claims it is. The opening sleeve is plain white; small scrawled notes ask if Terry Gilliam could design an interesting cover to boost sales, the reply is "Not really worth it." The album contains all-new material with the exception of a few bits from the Pythons' previous lives; the "Bookshop" sketch originally starred Cleese and the late Marty Feldman. This is the Pythons' most musical album with the exception of the "Monty Python Sings!" compilation, most of the album is taken up by songs. The "John Denver" bit was deleted from later pressings of the record after a lawsuit was filed, and "Sit on My Face" also faced legal threats as it is set to an old Gracie Fields tune. However, the full album, Denver and all, is easily findable, particularly the cassette version, and fans without it would do well to look. The track order is based upon that in the original record; when transferred to other media the tracks were often rearranged and in a few cases cut for time. On a historical note, the "Rock Notes" bit on this album gave the rock group Toad the Wet Sprocket their name. This transcript is property of the Pythons and used with the greatest of respect by Monty Python's PythoNET. Enjoy. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- SIT ON MY FACE Music traditional (sorta), words by Eric Idle Sung by the Pythons [brass band music, loud and bombastic] Sit on my face and tell me that you love me I'll sit on your face and tell you I love you too I love to hear you oralise When I'm between your thighs You blow me away! Sit on my face and let my lips embrace you I'll sit on your face and then I'll love you truly Life can be fine if we both sixty-nine If we sit on our faces In all sorts of places And play till we're blown away! ANNOUNCEMENT By Eric Idle This record has been skillfully crafted by British comedians using ancient, well-worn, classical hand-tooled jokes. It has been specially designed to sit at the back of your record collection amongst the old Frank Sinatra albums, to be brought out and spit up when you get divorced. Any complaints about the humorous quality of this record should be addressed to British Airways, Ingraham's Drive, Reddich. HENRY KISSINGER Written and sung by Eric Idle [old-style, jazzy, crackly vocals] Henry Kissinger How I'm missing yer You're the Doctor of my dreams With your crinkly hair and your glassy stare And your machiavellian schemes I know they say that you are very vain And short and fat and pushy but at least you're not insane Henry Kissinger How I'm missing yer And wishing you were here Henry Kissinger How I'm missing yer You're so chubby and so neat With your funny clothes and your squishy nose You're like a German parakeet All right so people say that you don't care But you've got nicer legs than Hitler And bigger tits than Cher Henry Kissinger How I'm missing yer And wishing you were here STRING With John Cleese and Eric Idle [door opening] Adrian Wapcaplet: Aah, come in, come in, Mr... Simpson. Aaah, welcome to Mousebat, Follicle, Goosecreature, Ampersand, Spong, Wapcaplet, Looseliver, Vendetta and Prang! Mr. Simpson: Thank you. Wapcaplet: Do sit down--my name's Wapcaplet, Adrian Wapcaplet... Mr. Simpson: how'd'y'do. Wapcaplet: Now, Mr. Simpson... Simpson, Simpson... French, is it? S: No. W: Ah. Now, I understand you want us to advertise your washing powder. S: String. W: String, washing powder, what's the difference. We can sell anything. S: Good. Well I have this large quantity of string, a hundred and twenty- two thousand *miles* of it to be exact, which I inherited, and I thought if I advertised it -- W: Of course! A national campaign. Useful stuff, string, no trouble there. S: Ah, but there's a snag, you see. Due to bad planning, the hundred and twenty-two thousand miles is in three inch lengths. So it's not very useful. W: Well, that's our selling point! "SIMPSON'S INDIVIDUAL STRINGETTES!" S: What? W: "The NOW String! Ready cut, easy to handle, SIMPSON'S INDIVIDUAL EMPEROR STRINGETTES - just the right length!" S: For what? W: Um... "A Million Household Uses!" S: Such as? W: Uhmm...Tying up very small parcels, attatching notes to pigeons' legs, uh, destroying household pests... S: Destroying household pests?! How? W: Well, if they're bigger than a mouse, you can strangle them with it, and if they're smaller then you flog them to death with it! S: Well surely!... W: "Destroy 99% of known household pests with pre-sliced, rustproof, easy- to-handle, low-calorie SIMPSON'S INDIVIDUAL EMPEROR STRINGETTES, free from artificial coloring, as used in hospitals!" S: Hospitals?? W: Have you ever in a hospital where they didn't have string? S: No, but it's only *string*! W: ONLY STRING? It's everything! It's... it's waterproof! S: No it isn't! W: All right, it's water resistant then! S: It isn't! W: All right, it's water absorbent! It's... Super Absorbent String! "Absorb water today with SIMPSON'S INDIVIDUAL WATER ABSORB-A-TEX STRINGETTES! Away with floods!" S: You just said it was waterproof! W: "Away with the dull drudgery of workaday tidal waves! Use SIMPSON'S INDIVIDUAL FLOOD PREVENTERS!" S: You're mad! W: Shut up, shut up, shut up, sex, sex sex, must get sex into it. Wait, I see a television commercial - There's this nude woman, in a bath, holding a bit of your string. That's great, great, but we need a doctor, got to have a medical opinion. There's a nude woman, in a bath, with a doctor - that's too sexy. Put an archbishop there watching them, that'll take the curse off it. Now, we need children and animals. There's two kids admiring the string, and a dog admiring the archbishop who's blessing the string. Uh... international flavor's missing ... make the archbishop Greek Orthodox. Why not Archbishop Macarios? No, no, he's dead.... Nevermind, we'll get his brother, it'll be cheaper... So, there's Archbishop Macarios' brother and a-a doctor in this bath with this nude woman.... NEVER BE RUDE TO AN ARAB A Plea for Peace and Tolerance (in a World of Fucking Loonies) Written and sung by Terry Jones [pleasant wafting flutes, as to introduce an aria] Never be rude to an Arab An Israeli, or Saudi, or Jew Never be rude to an Irishman No matter what you do Never poke fun at a Nigger A Spic, or a Wop, or a Kraut And never put down - (::EXPLOSION::) I LIKE CHINESE Written and sung by Eric Idle [spoken] The world today seems absolutely crackers. With nuclear bombs to blow us all sky high. There's fools and idiots sitting on the trigger. It's depressing, and it's senseless, and that's why... [song begins] I like Chinese I like Chinese They only come up to your knees Yet they're always friendly and they're ready to please I like Chinese (*pop*) I like Chinese (drink filling in glass) There's 900 million of them in the world today You'd better learn to like them, that's what I say I like Chinese I like Chinese They come from a long way overseas But they're cute, and they're cuddly, and they're ready to please I like Chinese food The waiters never are rude Think of the many things they've done to impress There's Maoism, Taoism, I Ching, and Chess So I like Chinese (chopsticks in background) I like Chinese I like their tiny little trees Their Zen, their ping-pong, their yin and yang-ese I like Chinese thought The wisdom that Confucious taught If Darwin is anything to shout about The Chinese will survive us all without any doubt So I like Chinese I like Chinese They only come up to your knees Yet they're wise, and they're witty, and they're ready to please All together: (In Chinese:) Wo ai Zhongguoren Wo ai Zhongguoren Wo ai Zhongguoren Ni hao ma Ni hao ma Ni hao ma zhaijen! I like Chinese I like Chinese Their food is guaranteed to please A fourteen, a seven, a nine, and lychees (*ding*) I like Chinese I like Chinese I like their tiny little trees Their Zen, their ping-pong, their yin and yang-ese I like Chinese I like Chinese They only come up to your knees... (fade out) BISHOP (AN ADVERTISEMENT) Starring Michael Palin as "The Bishop" [Spacey, atmospheric chords.] Bishop: It is the dawn of time. This earth we know so well is a smoldering, inhospitable wilderness. No plants grow. No creature can survive. The hard, implacable rocks that form our mountain ranges are being crushed and folded by forces which will take millions of years to shape them. These are the forces ... this is the power ... that drives the hand ... that drinks TREADMILL, the MIGHTY LAGER, with the world's first great taste of fish. [Music dies out] Engineer [EI]: Bishop, don't say 'of fish.' B: Hm? E: Don't say 'of fish' at the end, it doesn't mean anything. B: Ah, no, I see, fine, no 'of fish,' right? E: Just go from 'These are the forces.' B: Right. E: I'll give you a green. B: What? E: I'll give you a green light. B: Oh. R-right. Thank you. [Music sets in again] These are the forces ... this is the power ... that drives the band ... [music dies out] ...that drinks... E: Ahem. B: Oh- oh, of course, sorry, sorry! Can't think what came over me. E: We'll start again. B: What? E: We'll start again, Bishop, same place. B: Oh -- right! [music] These are the forces ... this is the power ... that drives the hand ... that drinks TREADMILL, the MIGHTY LAGER, with the world's first great taste of fish. [music dies out] Ooh, damn! Sorry! Sorry! E: All right, just a moment. B: I'm terribly sorry, I remembered the 'hand,' but forgot the... E: Yes, yes, that's all right. John, can we edit out the 'of fish?' John [GC]: Yeah. E: Good. That's fine, thank you Bishop. B: All right, is it? Good. Terribly sorry about the silly slip, I don't know what came over me. [in next room] E: Who is he? J: Bishop of Leicester, I think. E: Well, why couldn't we get Bath-and-Wells? J: He's doing 'Frozen Peas' for Nigel. E: Lucky bastard, he's so good. J: Have you seen the Bishop of Wooster? Marvelous, he did an entire 'Snippety-Dippety Gift Catalogue' promo on one ski! E: Really? J: Ssh! E: Here she comes. [door opening] B: How was it, all right? E: Marvelous. J: E-excellent. B: Dawn of Time's a bit of a mess... E: Sorry? B: Well, all that stuff about the 'Dawn of Time' and th-the rocks ... developing over millions of years, you know, not quite... A-1 theory with our lot, you know. E: It's only a commercial. B: Ooh, yes, yes, 'course, 'course, not criticizing! It's just, um, well, I mean, uh, uh... not quite the creation as... we see it. E: Well... goodbye. B: Good, good, fine, and, um, and, ah, the check will be...? E: With your agent on tuesday, Bishop. B: Marvelous, marvelous, thank you so much. Oh, and, ah, sorry about the 'of fish.' ...Will you be able to remove that, will you? E: Yes, we can remove that. B: Oh, good. Wonderful what you can do nowadays, eh? E: Yes, indeed. [longish pause] B: Mm, well! Toodles... [Door closes] Employee (JC): Ahem... the doctors are here, Senor Barrasby. Senor Barrasby (TJ): Oh. Terrific... MEDICAL LOVE SONG Music by E. Idle and J. Du Prez, words by G. Chapman and E. Idle Sung by Graham Chapman and company Inflammation of the foreskin Reminds me of your smile I've had ballanital chancroids For quite a little while I gave my heart to NSU That lovely night in June I ache for you, my darling, And I hope you'll get well soon... My penile warts, your herpes, My syphilitic sores, Your moenelial infection How I miss you more and more Your dobie's itch, my scrumpox Our lovely gonorrhea At least we both were lying When we said that we were clear Our syphilitic kisses Sealed the secret of our tryst You gave me scrotal pustules With a quick flick of your wrist Your trichovaginitis Sends shivers down my spine I got snail tracks in my anus When your spirochetes met mine Gonococcal urethritis Streptococcal balanitis Meningo myelitis Diplococcal cephalitis Epidydimitis Interstitial keratitis Syphilitic choroiditis And anterior u-ve-i-tis. My clapped-out genitalia Is not so bad for me As the complete and utter failure Every time I try to pee My doctor says my buboes Are the worst he's ever seen My scrotum's painted orange And my balls are turning green My heart is very tender Though my parts are awful raw You might have been infected But you never were a bore I'm dying from your love, my love, I'm your spirochaetal clown I've left my body to science, But I'm afraid they've turned it down Gonococcal urethritis Streptococcal balanitis Meningo myelitis Diplococcal cephalitis Epidydimitis Interstitial keratitis Syphilitic choroiditis And anterior u-ve-i-tis... A FAREWELL TO JOHN DENVER Announcer [GC]: And now, the sound of John Denver being strangled. [The opening chords of "Annie's Song" are heard.] John [EI]: You came on my pillow.... GAAAAAACCCCHHHHHHH..... koff... Announcer: Thank you. FINLAND Written and sung by Michael Palin [pleasant music plays] Finland, Finland, Finland The country where I want to be Pony trekking or camping Or just watching TV Finland, Finland, Finland It's the country for me You're so near to Russia So far from Japan Quite a long way from Cairo Lots of miles from Vietnam Finland, Finland, Finland The country where I want to be Eating breakfast or dinner Or snack lunch in the hall Finland, Finland, Finland Finland has it all You're so sadly neglected And often ignored A poor second to Belgium When going abroad Finland, Finland, Finland The country where I quite want to be Your mountains so lofty Your treetops so tall Finland, Finland, Finland Finland has it all All together, Finophiles!! Finland, Finland, Finland The country where I quite want to be Your mountains so lofty Your treetops so tall Finland, Finland, Finland Finland has it all Finland has it all... If you've enjoyed hearing this song and would like to know more about Finland, why not ring Mr. Griffiths of Hemill-Hampstead? He and his charming wife Edna would be glad to answer any of your questions, and - who knows? - may show you some of their unrivaled collection of scandinavian credit cards. I'm So Worried! Written and sung by Terry Jones [strings play] I'm so worried about what's happening today In the Middle East, you know And I'm so worried about The baggage retrieval System they've got at Heathrow I'm so worried about the fashions today I don't think they're good for your feet And I'm so worried about The shows on TV That sometimes they want to repeat I'm so worried about what's happening today, you know And I'm worried about The baggage retrieval System they've got at Heathrow I'm so worried about My hair falling out And the state of the world today And I'm so worried about Being so full of doubt About everything anyway I'm so worried about modern technology-y I'm so worried about all the things that they dump in the sea-ea I'm so worried about it Worried about it Worried, worried, worried... I'm so worried about Everything that can go wrong I'm so worried about Whether people like this song I'm so worried about The very next verse It isn't the best that I've got And I'm so worried about whether I should go on Or whether I shouldn't just stop ...I'm so worried about Whether I ought to have stopped And I'm worried because It's the sort of thing I ought to know And I'm so worried about The baggage retrieval System they've got at Heathrow ...I'm so worried about Whether I should have stopped then I'm so worried that I'm Driving everyone around the bend I'm worried about The baggage retrieval System they've got at Heathrow SIDE TWO: I BET YOU THEY WON'T PLAY THIS SONG ON THE RADIO Written and sung by Eric Idle [catchy music plays] I bet you they won't play this song on the radio I bet you they won't play this new (*beep*) song It's not that it's (&heeeeh&) or (^honk honk^) controversial Just that the (%bing%)ing words are awfully strong You can't say (#awoooga#) on the radio Or (@skip@) Or (~thunk~) Or (!AARRRGH!) You can't even say I'd like to (+twirl+) you some day Unless you're a doctor with a very large (*boing*) So I bet you they won't play this song on the radio I bet you they daren't (::scratch::)ing well program it I bet you the ($chi-ching$)ing old program directors Will think it's a load of horse (poot) THE MARTYRDOM OF ST. VICTOR Starring Michael Palin as a Vicar [spoken as a Church sermon] And it came to pass that Saint Victor was taken from this place to another place, where he was lain upon pillows of silk and made to rest himself amongst sheets of muslin and velvet. And there stroked was he by maidens of the Orient. For sixteen days and nights stroked they him, yea verily, and caressed him. His hair ruffled they. And their fingers rubbethed they in oil of olives, and ranneth them across all parts of his body for as much as to soothe him. And the soles of his feet licked they. And the upper parts of his thigh did they anoint with the balm of forbidden trees. And with the teeth of their mouths, nibbled they the pointed bits at the top of his ears, yea verily, and did their tongues thereof make themselves acquainted with his most secret places. For fifteen days and nights did Victor withstand these maidens, but on the sixteenth day he cried out, saying "This... is fantastic. Oh, this is terrific." And the Lord did hear the cry of Victor. And verily came He down and slew the maidens, and caused their cottonwool bras to blow away, and their Kleenex to be laid waste utterly. And Victor, in his anguish, cried out that the Lord was a rotten bastard. So the Lord sent an angel to comfort Victor for the weekend. And entered they together the jaccuzzi. Here endeth the lesson. HERE COMES ANOTHER ONE Words and music by Eric Idle Sung by Terry Jones [an awful, tuneless song, without music, sung excruciatingly slowly by an awful, nasal voice] Here comes another one Here it comes again Here comes another one When will it ever end? I know whatever it is I've not seen one before But here comes another one And here comes a bunch of 'em Here comes another one Thank God I'm not having lunch with them -- Um, that's it, is it? Well, obviously it would be better with a full orchestra... -- Y-yes, I suppose it would. [A reprise is then done in disco format. The music blares and pulsates. The nasal voice remains. And then there's the country western version and... Oh well, just forget it.] BOOKSHOP With John Cleese and Terry Jones (sound of small tinkle bell ringing as door opens) Customer: Good morning. Proprietor: Good morning, sir. Can I help you? C: Er, yes. Do you have a copy of "Thirty Days in the Samarkind Desert with the Duchess of Kent" by A. E. J. Eliott, O.B.E.? P: Ah, well, I don't know the book, sir.... C: Er, never mind, never mind. How about "101 Ways to Start a Fight"? P: ...By? C: An Irish gentleman whose name eludes me for the moment. P: Ah, no, well we haven't got it in stock, sir.... C: Oh, well, not to worry, not to worry. Can you help me with "David Coperfield?" P: Ah, yes, Dickens. C: No.... P: (pause) I beg your pardon? C: No, Edmund Wells. P: I... think you'll find Charles Dickens wrote "David Copperfield", sir... C: No, no, Dickens wrote "David Copperfield" with two Ps. This is "David Coperfield" with one P by Edmund Wells. P: "David Coperfield" with one P? C: Yes, I should have said. P: Yes, well in that case we don't have it. C: Funny, you've got a lot of books here.... P: (slightly perturbed) Yes, we do, but we don't have "David Coperfield" with one P by Edmund Wells. C: Pity, it's more thorough than the Dickens. P: More THOROUGH? C: Yes...I wonder if it might be worth a look through all your "David Copperfields"... P: No, sir, all our "David Copperfields" have two P's. C: Are you quite sure? P: Quite. C: Not worth just looking? P: Definitely not. C: Oh... how 'bout "Grate Expectations?" P: Yes, well we have that.... C: That's "G-R-A-T-E Expectations," also by Edmund Wells. P: (pause) Yes, well in that case we don't have it. We don't have anything by Edmund Wells, actually... he's not very popular. C: Not "Knickerless Knickleby"? That's K-N-I-C-K-E-R-L-E-S-S. P: (taciturn) No. C: "Khristmas Karol" with a K? P: (really quite perturbed) No.... C: Er, how about "A Sale of Two Titties"? P: Definitely NOT. C: (leaving) Sorry to trouble you.... P: Not at all.... C: Good morning. P: Good morning. C: (turning around) Oh! P: (deep breath) ... Yes? C: I wonder if you might have a copy of "Rarnaby Budge"? P: No, as I say, we're right out of Edmund Wells! C: No, not Edmund Wells - Charles Dikkens. P: (pause - eagerly) Charles Dickens ?? C: Yes. P: (excitedly) You mean "Barnaby Rudge"! C: No, "Rarnaby Budge" by Charles Dikkens. That's 'Dikkens' with two Ks, the well-known Dutch author. P: (slight pause) No, well we don't have "Rarnaby Budge" by Charles Dikkens with two Ks, the well-known Dutch author, and perhaps to save time I should add that we don't have "Karnaby Fudge" by Darles Chickens, or "Farmer of Sludge" by Marles Pickens, or even "Stickwick Stapers" by Farles Wickens with four M's and a silent Q !! Why don't you try W. H. Smith's? C: I did; they sent me here. P: DID they. C: Oh, I wonder... P: Oh, do go on, please! C: I...I wonder if you might have "The Amazing Adventures of Captain Gladys Stoat-Pamphlet and her Intrepid Spaniel Stig Amongst the Giant Pygmies of Beckles"...Volume Eight. P: (after a pause for recovery) No, we don't have that... funny, we've got a lot of books here... well, I musn't keep you standing here... thank you-- C: Oh, well d-do you have -- P: No, we haven't. No, we haven't. C: B-b-b-but-- P: Sorry, no, it's one o'clock now, we're closing for lunch-- C: Ah, I--I saw it-- P: I'm sorry-- C: I saw it over there! I saw it... P: What? What? WHAT?!? C: I saw it over there: "Olsen's Standard Book of British Birds." P: (pause, trying to stay calm) "Olsen's Standard Book of British Birds?" C: Yes... P: O-L-S-E-N? C: Yes.... P: B-I-R-D-S?? C: Yes..... P: (beat) Yes, well, we do have that, as a matter of fact.... C: The expurgated version.... P: (pause, politely) ...I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. C: The expurgated version. P: (exploding) The EXPURGATED version of "Olsen's Standard Book of British Birds???" C: The one without the gannet. P: The one without the gannet-! They've ALL got the gannet! It's a Standard British Bird, the gannet, it's in ALL the books !! C: (insistent) Well, I don't like them... th-they wet their nests. P: (furious) All right, I'll REMOVE it !! (sounds of paper ripping) Any other birds you don't like ?! C: I don't like the robin ... P: (screaming) The robin! Right! The robin! (sound of paper ripping) There you are, any others you don't like, any others??? C: The nuthatch... P: RIGHT! (flipping through the book) The nuthatch, the nuthatch, the nuthatch, here we are! (ripping) There you are! NO gannets, NO robins, NO nuthatches, THERE's your book! C: (indignant) I can't buy that, it's torn! P: (Incoherent growling) C: Ah, I wonder if you have-- P: GO ON, ask me ANYTHING ! We got lots of books here, you know, it's a bookshop !! C: Er, how 'bout "Biggles Combs his Hair?" P: No, no, we don't have that one, funny! C: "The Gospel According to Charley Drake"? P: No, no, no, try me again! C: Ah...oh, I know! "Ethel the Aardvark goes Quantity Surveying". P: No, no, no, no, no ... What? WHAT ??? C: "Ethel the Aardvark goes Quantity Surveying". P: "Ethel the Aa--" YES!! YES!! WE'VE GOT IT!! (throwing books wildly about) I-I've seen it somewhere !! I know it !! (laughs like a madman) HAHAHAHA! RRMRAMAGAGAA --- WAIT! WAIT !! Is it ?? Is it ?? (triumphant) YES !!! Here we are, "Ethel the Aardvark goes Quantity Surveying!" There's your book ... NOW, BUY IT. C: (quickly) I don't have enough money. P: (desperate) I'll take a deposit! C: I don't have ANY money! P: I'll take a check! C: I don't have a checkbook! P: I've got a blank one! C: I don't have a bank account! P: RIGHT !! I'll buy it FOR you! (cash register sounds) There we are, there's your change, there's some money for a taxi on the way home, there's your book, now, now ... C: Wait, wait, wait! P: What? What?!? WHAT?!? WHAT???!! C: I can't read !! (staggeringly long pause) P: (very quietly) You can't... read. (pause) RIGHT !! Sit down!! Sit down!! Sit!! Sit!! Are you sitting comfortably... right !!! (opens book) "Ethel the Aardvark was hopping down the river valley one lovely morning, trottety-trottety-trottety, when she met a nice little quantity surveyor..." (fade out) DO WHAT JOHN Words and music by Eric Idle Sung by the Pythons [catchy music plays] Do what John? Do what John? Come again, do what? Do what John? Do what John? Do what? Do what? Do what? Do where John? Do where John? Wiv what, wiv whom and when? T'rific, really t'rific Pardon? Come again? Do what John? Do what John? Come again, do what? Do what John? Do what John? Do what? Do what? Do what? Do where John? Do where John? Wiv what, wiv whom and when? T'rific, really t'rific Pardon? Come again? ROCK NOTES Starring Eric Idle RN: Rex Stardust, lead electric triangle with Toad the Wet Sprocket, has had to have an elbow removed following their recent successful worldwide tour of Finland. Flamboyant, ambidextrous Rex apparently fell off the back of a motorcycle. "Fell off the back of a motorcyclist, most likely," quipped ace drummer Jumbo McCluney upon hearing of the accident. Plans are already afoot for a major tour of Iceland. Divorced after only eight minutes, popular television singing star, Charisma, changed her mind on the way out of the registry office, when she realized she had married one of the Donkeys by mistake. The evening before in LA's glittering nightspot, the Abbatoir, she had proposed to drummer Reg Abbot of Blind Drunk, after a whirlwind romance and a knee-trembler. But when the hangover lifted, it was Keith Sly of the Donkeys who was on her arm in the registry office. Keith, who was too ill to notice, remained unsteady during the short ceremony and when asked to exchange vows, began to recite names and addresses of people who also used the stuff. Charisma spotted the error as Keith was being carried into the wedding ambulance and became emotionally upset. However, the mistake was soon cleared up, and she stayed long enough to consummate their divorce. Dead Monkeys are to split up again, according to their manager, Lefty Goldblatt. They've been in the business now ten years, nine as other groups. Originally the Dead Salmon, they became for a while, Trout. Then Fried Trout, then Poached Trout In A White Wine Sauce, and finally, Herring. Splitting up for nearly a month, the re-formed as Red Herring, which became Dead Herring for a while, and then Dead Loss, which reflected the current state of the group. Splitting up again to get their heads together, they reformed a fortnight later as Heads Together, a tight little name which lasted them through a difficult period when their drummer was suspected of suffering from death. It turned out to be only a rumor and they became Dead Together, then Dead Gear, which lead to Dead Donkeys, Lead Donkeys, and the inevitable split up. After nearly ten days, they reformed again as Sole Manier, then Dead Sole, Rock Cod, Turbot, Haddock, White Baith, the Places, Fish, Bream, Mackerel, Salmon, Poached Salmon, Poached Salmon In A White Wine Sauce, Salmon Manier, and Helen Shapiro. This last name, their favorite, had to be dropped following an injunction and they split up again. When they reformed after a recordbreaking two days, they ditched the fishy references and became Dead Monkeys, a name which they stuck with for the rest of their careers. Now, a fortnight later, they've finally split up. (telephone ringing) Uh oh... Hello? CALLER [TJ]: Hello? RN: Yes? C: What do you think of 'Dead Duck?' RN: What do I think of 'Dead Duck?' C: or 'Lobster?' RN: 'Lobster?'... MUDDY KNEES Written and sung by Terry Jones [sung in the soulful manner of a gospel song, perhaps, or a plantation spiritual.] Muddy knees have got me all a-quiver. Muddy knees have got me all aglow. Muddy knees have sent me for a paper To a newsagent's near here I know. [spoken] Muddy knees... have set me all a-quiver. Muddy knees... have got me all aglow. Muddy knees have sent me for a paper To a newsagent's... near here... that I know. [sung weeping] Muddy knees have got me all a-quiver. Muddy knees! Have got me all aglow. Those muddy knees! Have sent me for a paper! To a newsagent's near here that I know. [tempo picks up] Them muddy knees Them muddy knees! Them muddy knees Them muddy knees! Them muddy knees (them muddy knees) Have got me all a-quiver! (them muddy knees) Them muddy knees (them muddy knees) Have got me all aglow! Them muddy knees (them muddy knees) Have sent me for a paper... CROCODILE (Background music: Sportscast intro) Newscaster: And right now it's time for athletics, and over to Brian [EI] Goebbels in Paris. Goebbels: Hello, well, you join us here in Paris just a few minutes before [MP] the start of today's big event: the final of the Men's Being-Eaten-By-A-Crocodile event. I'm standing now by the crocodile pit where - AAAAAAHHHHH! (SFX: Crocodiles eating, crunching, French exclamations and sirens) Reporter: Ah. Well, I'm afraid we've lost Brian Goebbels... While they're [MP] sorting that out, we have a report from Barry Loathsome in Loughtborough on the British preparations for this most important event. Loathsome: Here at Loughtborough are the five young men chosen last week to [EI] be eaten by a crocodile for Britain this summer. Obviously, the most important part of the event is the opening 60 yard sprint towards the crocs, and twenty-two year old Nottingham school teacher Gavin Worolowe is rated by some not only the fastest but also the tastiest British morsel since Barry Gordon got a bronze at Helsinki. In charge of the team is Sergeant Major Harold Duke. Duke: No, no, you not only got to get in that pit first, you gotta [TJ] get EATEN first! When you land in front of your croc, and 'e opens his mouth, I wanna see you right in there! Rub your 'ead up against 'is taste buds. And when those teeth bite into your flesh, use the perches to thrust yourself DOWN his throat... Loathsome: Duke's trained every British team since 1928, and it's his blend of gymnastic knowhow, reptilian expertise and culinary skill that's turned many an un-appetizing novice into a crocodilic banquet. Duke: Well, our chefs have been experimenting for many years to find a sauce most likely to tempt the crocodile. In the past, we've concentrated on a fish-based delutee sauce, but this year, we are reverting to a simple bournaise. Loathsome: The British team are worried because Olympic regulations allow only the competitor's heads to be sauced. Gavin Worolowe... Worolowe: Yes, well, I mean, errm, you know, four years ago, everyone knew [MP] the Italians were coating the insides of their legs with bournaise, the Russians have been marinating themselves - one of the Germans, Biolet, was caught actually putting, uh, remolade down his shorts! And the Finns were using tomato flavoured running shoes. Uh, I think there should either be unrestricted garnishing, or a single, Olympic standard mayonnaise. Loathsome: Gavin, does it ever worry you that you're actually going to be chewed up by a bloody great crocodile? Morolowe: The only thing that worries me, Jim, is being the first one down that gullet. Loathsome: Well, the way things are going here at Loughtborough, it looks as though Britan could easily pick up a place in the first seven hundred. But nothing's predictable in this tough, harsh, highly competitive world where today's champion is tomorrow's crocodile shit. And back to you, in the studio, Norman. DECOMPOSING COMPOSERS Written and sung by Michael Palin [spoken] Well, erm, yeah, darlin', I'll be home about 8:30. No, I'll go on a bike. [sung] Beethoven's gone, but his music lives on And Mozart don't go shopping no more You'll never meet Liszt or Brahms again And Elgar doesn't answer the door Shubert and Chopin used to chuckle and laugh Whilst composing a long symphony But one hundred and fifty years later There's very little of them left to see They're decomposing composers There's nothing much anyone can do You can still hear Beethoven But Beethoven cannot hear you (rather warped section of Beethoven's Fifth) Handel and Hayden and Rachmaninoff Enjoyed a nice drink with their meal But now-a-days no one will serve them And their gravy is left to congeal Verdi and Wagner delighted the crowds With their highly original sound The pianos they played are still working But they're both six feet under ground They're decomposing composers There's less of them every year You can say what you like to Debussy But there's not much of him left to hear Claude Achille Debussy, Died 1918. Cristophe Willibald Gluck, Died 1787. Karl Maria Von Weber, not at all well 1825, died 1826. Giacomo Meyerbeer, still alive 1863, not still alive 1864. Modest Mussorgsky, 1880 going to parties, no fun anymore 1881. Johan Nepomuk Hummel, chatting away nineteen to the dozen with his mates down at the pub every evening 1836... 1837, nothing. BELLS Starring Graham Chapman and Terry Jones (Sound: Church bells, lots of them, ringing.) Man [GC]: I wish those bloody bells would stop. Wife [TJ]: Oh, it's quite nice dear, it's Sunday, it's the church. M: What about us atheists? Why should we 'ave to listen to that sectarian turmoil? W: You're a lapsed atheist, dear. M: The principle's the same. Bleedin' C. of E... The Mohammedans don't come 'round here wavin' bells at us! We don't get Buddhists playing bagpipes in our bathroom! Or Hindus harmonizing in the hall! The Shintos don't come here shattering sheet glass in the shithouse, shouting slogans- W: All right, don't practice your alliteration on me. M: Anyway, when I get my membership card and blazer badge back from the League of Agnostics, I shall urge the executive to lodge a protest against that religious racket! Pass the butter knife! W: WHAT?? M: PASS THE BUTTER KNIFE!! (pause) THANK YOU! IF ONLY WE HAD SOME KIND OF MISSILE! W: 'ANG ON, I'LL CLOSE THE WINDOW. M: WHAT?! W: I SAID, I'LL CLOSE THE WINDOW! (Sound: Window closing, bells get faint, but are still there) M: If only we had some kind of missile, we could take the steam out of those bells. W: Well, you could always use the #14 St. Joseph-the-Somewhat- Divine-on-the-Hill ballistic missile. It's in the attic. M: What ballistic missile would this be, then? (Sound: Bells begin to get increasingly louder) W: I made it for you, it's your birthday present! M: Just what I wanted, 'ow nice of you to remember, my pet. 'ERE! W: WHAT? M: THOSE BELLS ARE GETTING LOUDER! W: WHAT? M: THOSE BELLS ARE GETTING LOUDER!! W: THE BELLS ARE GETTING LOUDER! OOOH, LOOK! M: WHAT? W: THE CHURCH, IT.. IT'S COMING CLOSER! ITS COMING DOWN THE 'ILL! M: WHAT A LIBERTY! W: ITS TURNING INTO OUR LANE! M: STRAIGHT THROUGH THE LIGHTS OF COURSE! W: TYPICAL! WELL, YOU BETTER GO PUT IT OUT OF ITS MISERY! M: WHERE'S THIS MISSILE, THEN? W: IT'S IN THE ATTIC CUPBOARD! PRESS THE BUTTON MARKED 'CHURCH!' M: 'OW DO I AIM IT? W: OH, IT AUTOMATICALLY HOMES IN ON THE NEAREST PLACE OF WORSHIP! M: THAT'S ST. MARKS! W: IT ISN'T NOW, LOOK!! OH, ITS OP'NING THE GATE. M: WHAT? USE THE MEGAPHONE! W: IT'S OP'NING THE GATE!! M: I'LL HOP UP THE ATTIC CUPBOARD! W: HURRY UP, ITS TRAMPLING OVER THE AZALIAS! (Sound: Missile launch, explosion, bells die out) M: Did I hit it? W: Yes, right up the aisle. M: Well I've always said, There's nothing an agnostic can't do if he really doesn't know whether he believes in anything or not. TRAFFIC LIGHTS Written and sung by Terry Jones [odd tuneless song sung by one somewhat bored-sounding man] I like traffic lights I like traffic lights I like traffic lights No matter where they've been I like traffic lights I like traffic lights I like traffic lights I like traffic lights I like traffic lights But only when they're green [he is joined by an odd and even more bored-sounding chorus] Chorus: He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights No matter where they've been He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights But only when they're green Solo: I like traffic lights I like traffic lights I like traffic lights That is what I said I like traffic lights I like traffic lights I like traffic lights But not when they are red Chorus: He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights That is what he said He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights He likes traffic lights But not when they are red Solo: I like traffic lights I like traffic lights I like traffic lights Although my name's not Bamber I like traffic lights I like traffic lights I like traffic lights I... Oh God ... ALL THINGS DULL AND UGLY Traditional, words by Eric Idle [sung by a Churchish young boys' choir] All things dull and ugly All creatures short and squat All things rude and nasty The Lord God made the lot Each little snake that poisons Each little wasp that stings He made their brutish venom He made their horrid wings All things sick and cancerous All evil great and small All things foul and dangerous The Lord God made them all Each nasty little hornet Each beastly little squid Who made the spikey urchin Who made the sharks? He did! All things scabbed and ulcerous All pox both great and small Putrid, foul and gangrenous The Lord God made them all AMEN. A SCOTTISH FAREWELL Sung by John Cleese [bagpipes] Heeeeeeere comes another one.... AAAGGHHH!!! [:: GUNSHOTS ::] --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [http://orangecow.org/pythonet]