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 Graham Chapman QuotationMovie Title: Yellowbeard (1983) as Yellowbeard: Yellowbeard : She couldn't be your mother. No woman ever slept with me and lived. Betty : When little Dan was two minutes old I tattooed it on his head. Yellowbeard : Does he know about this? Betty : Oh, no no no, that's why I kept him in the cupboard for three years. That may be why he's a bit odd with all these books, and reading, and stuff like that. Dan : Look, if you cut my head off it'll start to putrify! Yellowbeard : Do what? Dan : Putrify, go rotten! Yellowbeard : Yeah, it would ooze a lot, heads do. But I could live with that. Yellowbeard : Betrayin's all part of piratin'. If you don't know that you're not even close to being a pirate, "Prawn of my loins", my foot! Dan : What? Yellowbeard : You're either born a pirate or not! It's in the blood Dan, and it's not in your blood or you'd have betrayed me long ago! Betty : That's Yellowbeard. Yellowbeard : I'm in disguise, you stupid tart! Yellowbeard : Where's the map? Betty : What map? Yellowbeard : If you say you don't know where it is, I'll nail your tits to the table! Dan : Everyone will be following you and if they catch you they'll have the map. Yellowbeard : Bugger them! I'll eat it first. Won't be the first head I've eaten. Betty : Well, it's been awhile since we had a little cuddle. Yellowbeard : I raped ya, if that's what you mean. Betty : Okay. It was half-cuddle, half-rape. Yellowbeard : I'm sure I killed the last one I raped, it can't have been you. Betty : Well, the afterplay was a bit on the rough side, but not fatal dear. Yellowbeard : Oh, been out raping, lad? [sees Troila] Yellowbeard : Nice work lad. Dan : No, I haven't raped her! Yellowbeard : [disappointed] No, you wouldn't have you poncy little git! You're not the prawn of my loins, your mother's a bloody liar! [grins] Yellowbeard : That's what I liked about her! Troila : What's happened to Daddy? Yellowbeard : I killed him! Dan : He's gone to heaven. Troila : Aw, that's nice! He sent all his friends there. Yellowbeard : With your head on my shoulders we could wreck civilization! Yellowbeard : Dying's the easy way out. You won't catch me dying. They'll have to kill me before I die! Yellowbeard : Us Yellowbeards are never more dangerous than when we're dead. Betty : I'm talking about the fruit of your loins. Yellowbeard : Fruit of me loins? I haven't got fruit in me loins! Lice, yes, and proud of 'em, but no fruit! Movie Title: Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975) as King Arthur / Guard #2 / God: God : What are you doing now? King Arthur : Averting our eyes, oh Lord. God : Well, don't. It's just like those miserable psalms, always so depressing. God : Every time I try to talk to someone it's "sorry this" and "forgive me that" and "I'm not worthy"... Black Knight : Have at you. King Arthur : You are indeed brave, sir knight, but the fight is mine. Black Knight : Oh, had enough eh? King Arthur : Look, you stupid bastard. You've got no arms left. Black Knight : Yes I have. King Arthur : Look. Black Knight : Just a flesh wound. King Arthur : Old woman. Dennis : Man. King Arthur : Man, sorry. What knight lives in that castle over there? Dennis : I'm 37. King Arthur : What? Dennis : I'm 37. I'm not old. King Arthur : Well I can't just call you "man". Dennis : Well you could say "Dennis". King Arthur : I didn't know you were called Dennis. Dennis : Well you didn't bother to find out did you? King Arthur : I did say sorry about the "old woman", but from behind you looked... Dennis : What I object to is you automatically treat me like an inferior. King Arthur : Well I am king. Dennis : Oh, king eh? Very nice. And how'd you get that, eh? By exploiting the workers. By hanging on to outdated imperialist dogma which perpetuates the economic and social differences in our society. King Arthur : I am your king. Woman : Well I didn't vote for you. King Arthur : You don't vote for kings. Woman : Well how'd you become king then? [Angelic music plays... ] King Arthur : The Lady of the Lake, her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water, signifying by divine providence that I, Arthur, was to carry Excalibur. THAT is why I am your king. Dennis : [interrupting] Listen, strange women lyin' in ponds distributin' swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony. Sir Bedevere : ...and that, my liege, is how we know the Earth to be banana shaped. King Arthur : This new learning amazes me, Sir Bedevere. Explain again how sheep's bladders may be employed to prevent earthquakes. Lancelot : Look, my liege. [trumpets] King Arthur : Camelot. Sir Galahad : Camelot. Lancelot : Camelot. Patsy : It's only a model. King Arthur : Shh. King Arthur : On second thought, let's not go to Camelot. It is a silly place. Bridgekeeper : Stop. Who would cross the Bridge of Death must answer me these questions three, ere the other side he see. Sir Lancelot : Ask me the questions, bridgekeeper. I am not afraid. Bridgekeeper : What... is your name? Sir Lancelot : My name is Sir Lancelot of Camelot. Bridgekeeper : What... is your quest? Sir Lancelot : To seek the Holy Grail. Bridgekeeper : What... is your favourite colour? Sir Lancelot : Blue. Bridgekeeper : Go on. Off you go. Sir Lancelot : Oh, thank you. Thank you very much. Sir Robin : That's easy. Bridgekeeper : Stop. Who would cross the Bridge of Death must answer me these questions three, ere the other side he see. Sir Robin : Ask me the questions, bridgekeeper. I'm not afraid. Bridgekeeper : What... is your name? Sir Robin : Sir Robin of Camelot. Bridgekeeper : What... is your quest? Sir Robin : To seek the Holy Grail. Bridgekeeper : What... is the capital of Assyria? [pause] Sir Robin : I don't know that. [he is thrown over the edge into the volcano] Sir Robin : Auuuuuuuugh. Bridgekeeper : Stop. What... is your name? Galahad : Sir Galahad of Camelot. Bridgekeeper : What... is your quest? Galahad : I seek the Grail. Bridgekeeper : What... is your favourite colour? Galahad : Blue. No, yel... [he is also thrown over the edge] Galahad : auuuuuuuugh. Bridgekeeper : Hee hee heh. Stop. What... is your name? King Arthur : It is 'Arthur', King of the Britons. Bridgekeeper : What... is your quest? King Arthur : To seek the Holy Grail. Bridgekeeper : What... is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow? King Arthur : What do you mean? An African or European swallow? Bridgekeeper : Huh? I... I don't know that. [he is thrown over] Bridgekeeper : Auuuuuuuugh. Sir Bedevere : How do know so much about swallows? King Arthur : Well, you have to know these things when you're a king, you know. [The Black Knight continues to threaten Arthur despite getting both his arms and one of his legs cut off] Black Knight : Right, I'll do you for that! King Arthur : You'll what? Black Knight : Come here! King Arthur : What are you gonna do, bleed on me? Black Knight : I'm invincible! King Arthur : ...You're a loony. Roger the Shrubber : Are you saying Ni to that old woman? King Arthur : Um, yes. Roger the Shrubber : Oh, what sad times are these when passing ruffians can say Ni at will to old ladies. There is a pestilence upon this land, nothing is sacred. Even those who arrange and design shrubberies are under considerable economic stress in this period in history. King Arthur : Did you say shrubberies? Roger the Shrubber : Yes, shrubberies are my trade. I am a shrubber. My name is Roger the Shrubber. I arrange, design, and sell shrubberies. Tim : Follow. But. Follow only if ye be men of valour, for the entrance to this cave is guarded by a creature so foul, so cruel that no man yet has fought with it and lived. Bones of full fifty men lie strewn about its lair. So, brave knights, if you do doubt your courage or your strength, come no further, for death awaits you all with nasty, big, pointy teeth. King Arthur : What an eccentric performance. [Holding the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch] King Arthur : How does it... um... how does it work? Lancelot : I know not, my liege. King Arthur : Consult the Book of Armaments. Brother Maynard : Armaments, chapter two, verses nine through twenty-one. Cleric : [reading] And Saint Attila raised the hand grenade up on high, saying, "O Lord, bless this thy hand grenade, that with it thou mayst blow thine enemies to tiny bits, in thy mercy." And the Lord did grin. And the people did feast upon the lambs and sloths, and carp and anchovies, and orangutans and breakfast cereals, and fruit-bats and large chu... Brother Maynard : Skip a bit, Brother... Cleric : And the Lord spake, saying, "First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin. Then shalt thou count to three, no more, no less. Three shall be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, neither count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out. Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thy foe, who, being naughty in my sight, shall snuff it. Brother Maynard : Amen. All : Amen. King Arthur : Right. One... two... five. Galahad : Three, sir. King Arthur : Three. King Arthur : Can we come up and have a look? French Soldier : Of course not. You're English types. King Arthur : What are you then? French Soldier : I'm French. Why do you think I have this outrageous accent, you silly king? Sir Galahad : What are you doing in England? French Soldier : Mind your own business. Guard: Who goes there? King Arthur : It is I, Arthur, Son of Uther Pendragon, from the castle of Camelot. King of the Britons, defeater of the Saxons, sovereign of all England. Guard: Pull the other one. Sir Bedevere : There are ways of telling whether she is a witch. Peasant 1 : Are there? Oh well, tell us. Sir Bedevere : Tell me. What do you do with witches? Peasant 1 : Burn them. Sir Bedevere : And what do you burn, apart from witches? Peasant 1 : More witches. Peasant 2 : Wood. Sir Bedevere : Good. Now, why do witches burn? Peasant 3 : ...because they're made of... wood? Sir Bedevere : Good. So how do you tell whether she is made of wood? Peasant 1 : Build a bridge out of her. Sir Bedevere : But can you not also build bridges out of stone? Peasant 1 : Oh yeah. Sir Bedevere : Does wood sink in water? Peasant 1 : No, no, it floats!... It floats! Throw her into the pond! Sir Bedevere : No, no. What else floats in water? Peasant 1 : Bread. Peasant 2 : Apples. Peasant 3 : Very small rocks. Peasant 1 : Cider. Peasant 2 : Gravy. Peasant 3 : Cherries. Peasant 1 : Mud. Peasant 2 : Churches. Peasant 3 : Lead! Lead! King Arthur : A Duck. Sir Bedevere : ...Exactly. So, logically... Peasant 1 : If she weighed the same as a duck... she's made of wood. Sir Bedevere : And therefore... Peasant 2 : ...A witch! Woman : I didn't know we had a king. I thought we were an autonomous collective. Dennis : You're fooling yourself. We're living in a dictatorship, a self-perpetuating autocracy in which the working classes... Woman : Oh there you go, bringing class into it again. Dennis : That's what it's all about. If only people would... King Arthur : [interrupting] Please, please, good people! I am in haste! [After slicing one of the Black Knight's arms off] King Arthur : Now stand aside. Black Knight : 'Tis but a scratch. King Arthur : A scratch? Your arm's off. Black Knight : No it isn't. King Arthur : Then what's that? Black Knight : [after a pause] I've had worse. King Arthur : You liar. Black Knight : Come on ya pansy. King Arthur : NI. Sir Bedevere : NOU. King Arthur : No, NI. Sir Bedevere : NOU. King Arthur : No No, NI... NI. Sir Bedevere : No,No,No,No... NI. Woman : And who are you? King Arthur : I am Arthur, King of the Britons. Woman : Who are the Britons? King Arthur : We all are. We are all Britons. And I am your king. Woman : I didn't know we had a king. I thought we were an autonomous collective. Sir Robin : Would it help to confuse it if we run away more? King Arthur : Oh shut up and go and change your armour. Dingo : [to camera] Do you think this scene should have been cut? We were so worried when the boys were writing it, but now we're glad. It's better than some of the previous scenes, I think. Left Head : At least ours was better visually. Dennis : At least ours was committed. It wasn't just a string of pussy jokes. Old Man : Oh, get on with it. Tim the Enchanter : Yes, get on with it. Army: Yeah, get on with it. Dingo : Oh, I am enjoying this scene. God : GET ON WITH IT. [King Arthur has just cut the Black Knight's last leg off] Black Knight : All right, we'll call it a draw. King Arthur : [Preparing to leave] Come, Patsy. [King Arthur and Patsy ride off] Black Knight : [calling after King Arthur] Oh, I see. Running away, eh? You yellow bastard. Come back here and take what's coming to you. I'll bite your legs off. King of Swamp Castle : Guards, make sure the prince doesn't leave this room until I come and get him. Guard #1 : Not to leave the room... even if you come and get him. Guard #2 : [hiccups] King of Swamp Castle : No, no. *Until* I come and get him. Guard #1 : Until you come and get him, we're not to enter the room. King of Swamp Castle : No, no, no. You *stay* in the room, and make sure *he* doesn't leave. Guard #1 : And you'll come and get him. Guard #2 : [hiccups] King of Swamp Castle : Right. Guard #1 : We don't need to do anything, apart from just stop him entering the room. King of Swamp Castle : No, no. *Leaving* the room. Guard #1 : Leaving the room, yes. King of Swamp Castle : All right? Guard #2 : [hiccups] Guard #1 : Right. Oh, if, if, if, uh, if, if, uh, if, if, if, we... oh, if... oh... King of Swamp Castle : Look, it's quite simple. You just stay here, and make sure he doesn't leave the room. All right? Guard #2 : [hiccups] Guard #1 : Oh, I remember, uh, can he leave the room with us? King of Swamp Castle : No, no, no, no, you just keep him in here, and make sure... Guard #1 : Oh yeah, we'll keep him in here, obviously, but if he had to leave, and we were with him... King of Swamp Castle : No, just keep him in here... Guard #1 : Until you, or anyone else... King of Swamp Castle : No, not anyone else. Just me. Guard #1 : Just you. Guard #2 : [hiccups] King of Swamp Castle : Get back. Guard #1 : Get back. King of Swamp Castle : All right? Guard #1 : Right, we'll stay here until you get back. King of Swamp Castle : And make sure he doesn't leave. Guard #1 : What? King of Swamp Castle : Make sure he doesn't leave. Guard #1 : The prince? King of Swamp Castle : Yes, make sure he doesn't leave. Guard #1 : Oh, yes, of course. [Points at Guard #2] Guard #1 : I thought you meant him. You know, it seemed a bit daft me I were to guard him when he's a guard. King of Swamp Castle : Is that clear? Guard #2 : [hiccups] Guard #1 : Oh, quite clear. No problems. King of Swamp Castle : Right. [King of Swamp Castle turns to leave the room, both guards follow him] King of Swamp Castle : Where are you going? Guard #1 : We're coming with you. King of Swamp Castle : No, no, no. I want you to stay here and make sure *he* doesn't leave. Guard #1 : Oh, I see. Right. King Arthur : Who are you who can summon fire without flint or tinder? Tim : There are some who call me... Tim. Tim the Enchanter : There he is! King Arthur : Where? Tim the Enchanter : There! King Arthur : What? Behind the rabbit? Tim the Enchanter : It IS the rabbit! King Arthur : You silly sod! Tim the Enchanter : What? King Arthur : You got us all worked up! Tim the Enchanter : Well, that's no ordinary rabbit. King Arthur : Ohh. Tim the Enchanter : That's the most foul, cruel, and bad-tempered rodent you ever set eyes on! Sir Robin : You tit! I soiled my armor I was so scared! Tim the Enchanter : Look, that rabbit's got a vicious streak a mile wide! It's a killer! Sir Galahad : Get stuffed! Tim the Enchanter : He'll do you up a treat, mate. Sir Galahad : Oh yeah? Sir Robin : You mangy Scots git! Tim the Enchanter : I'm warning you! Sir Robin : What's he do? Nibble your bum? Tim the Enchanter : He's got huge, sharp-- eh-- he can leap about-- look at the bones! King Arthur : Go on, Bors. Chop his head off! Bors: Right! Silly little bleeder. One rabbit stew comin' right up! Movie Title: Monty Python's Flying Circus (1969) as Colonel Pickering / Mrs. Pim / Raymond Luxury Yacht / Noel / Larry Saltzberg / Vet / Second Bruce / Arthur Figgis / Señor Biggles / 'Thrust' Presenter / Vice Admiral Sir John Cunningham / Reg / Mr. Mann / Sir Abe Sappenheim / Mr Barnard / Superintendent / Mrs. Conclusion / Sir William / Rustic Shepherd / Mr. Pudifoot / Chinaman: Inspector Tiger : Now, alduce me to introlow myself. I'm sorry. Alself me to myduce introlow. Introme tolose mylow alself. Alme to you introself mylowduce. Excuse me a moment. [bangs himself on the head] Inspector Tiger : Allow me to introduce myself. I'm afried I must ask that no-one leave the room. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Inspector Tiger. All: Tiger? Inspector Tiger : [jumps] Where? Where? What? Ah. Me Tiger. You Jane. [growl] Inspector Tiger : Beg your pardon, allow me to introduce myself, I'm afraid I must ask that no-one leave the room. Lady Velloper : Why not? Inspector Tiger : Elementary. Since the body was found in this room, and no-one has left it. Therefore... the murderer must be somebody in this room. Colonel Pickering : What body? Inspector Tiger : Somebody. In this room. Must the murderer be. The murderer of the body is somebody in this room, which nobody must leave... leave the body in the room not to be left by anybody. Nobody leaves anybody or the body with somebody. Everybody who is anybody shall leave the body in the roombody. Take the tablets Tiger. Anybody with a body but not the body is nobody. Nobody leaves the body in the... [takes a tablet] Inspector Tiger : Albody me introbody albodyduce. [a surgeon and two nurses enter with saws and lay Tiger down on the table. The same drawing room, one lobotomy later, Tiger's head is bandaged] Surgeon: Now for Sir Gerald. [exit] Inspector Tiger : That's better. Now I'm Inspector Tiger and I must ask that nobody leave the room. [gives thumbs up to the surgeon] Inspector Tiger : Now someone has committed a murder here, and that murderer is someone in this room. The question is... who? Colonel Pickering : Look, there hasn't been a murder. Inspector Tiger : No murder? All: No. Inspector Tiger : Oh, I don't like it. It's too simple, too clear cut. I'd better wait. [sits] Inspector Tiger : No, too simple, too clear cut. [lights out, a scream, and a shot. Tiger is dead with a poison bottle in his hand, an arrow through his neck, and a bullet in his head] Colonel Pickering : By jove, he was right! Toastmaster : Gentlemen, pray silence for the President of the Royal Society for Putting Things on Top of Other Things. Sir William : Thank you, gentlemen. The year has been a good one for the society. This year, our members have put more things on top of other things than ever before. But I should warn you, this is no time for complacency. No, there are still many things, and I cannot emphasize this too strongly, *not on top of other things.* I myself, on my way here, saw a thing that was not on top of another thing in any way. [cries of 'shame!'] Sir William : Shame indeed. But we must not allow ourselves to become too despondent. For we must never forget that if there was not one thing that was not on top of another thing, our society would be nothing more than a meaningless body of men that had gathered together for no good purpose. But we flourish. This year our Australasian members and the various organisations affiliated to our Australasian branches put no fewer than twenty-two things on top of other things. [applause] Sir William : Well done all of you. But there is one cloud on the horizon. In this last year our Staffordshire branch has not succeeded in putting one thing on top of another. [more cries of 'shame!] Sir William : Therefore I call upon our Staffordshire delegate to explain this weird behaviour. Cutler : [timidly] Er, Cutler, Staffordshire. Um... well... Mr Chairman, it's just that most of the members in Staffordshire feel... the whole thing's a bit... silly. [cries of outrage] Sir William : Silly? SILLY? [pauses and thinks] Sir William : Silly! I suppose it is, a bit. What have we been doing wasting our lives with all this nonsense? Right, meeting adjourned for ever. 'Thrust' Presenter : Good evening. I have with me tonight Anne Elk. Mrs. Anne Elk. Miss Anne Elk : Miss. 'Thrust' Presenter : You say you have a new theory about the brontosaurus Miss Anne Elk : Can I just say here Chris for one moment that I have a new theory about the brontosaurus. 'Thrust' Presenter : Exactly. [long pause] 'Thrust' Presenter : Well, what is it? Miss Anne Elk : [looks around, concerned] Where? 'Thrust' Presenter : No, no, your new theory. Miss Anne Elk : Oh, what is my theory? 'Thrust' Presenter : Yes. Miss Anne Elk : Oh, what is my theory that it is. Well, Chris, you may well ask me what is my theory. 'Thrust' Presenter : I am asking. Miss Anne Elk : Good for you. My word yes. Well, Chris, what it is that it is - this theory of mine. Well, this is what it is - my theory that I have, that is to say, which is mine, is mine. 'Thrust' Presenter : Yes, I know it's yours, what is it? Miss Anne Elk : [looks round again] Where? Oh, what is my theory? This is it. [clears her throat at length] Miss Anne Elk : My theory that belongs to me is as follows. [clears her throat very noisily and violently] Miss Anne Elk : This is how it goes. The next thing I'm going to say is my theory. Ready? 'Thrust' Presenter : [exasperated] Yes. Miss Anne Elk : My theory by A. Elk, brackets, Miss, brackets. This theory goes as follows and begins now. All brontosauruses are thin at one end, much much thicker in the middle, and the thin again at the far end. That is my theory, it is mine, and it belongs to me, and I own it, and what ist is, too. 'Thrust' Presenter : That's it, is it? Miss Anne Elk : Spot on, Chris. 'Thrust' Presenter : Well, uh, this theory of yours appears to have hit the nail on the head. Miss Anne Elk : And it's mine. [Erik Njorl, son of Frothgar, has just been sworn in] Superintendent : You are hereby charged: one, that you did, on or about 1126, conspire to publicise a London Borough in the course of a BBC saga; two, that you were wilfully and persistently a foreigner; three, that you conspired to do things not normally considered illegal; four, that you were caught in possession of an offensive weapon, viz., the big brown table down at the police station... Judge : The big brown table down at the police station? Superintendent : It's the best we could find, m'lud... and five, all together now... All: Assaulting a police officer! Prosecuting Counsel : Call Police Constable Pan-Am. [Pan-Am enters, randomly beating people with his truncheon] Prosecuting Counsel : Into the witness box, Constable, there'll be plenty of time for that later on. Now, you are Police Constable Pan-Am? Police Constable Pan-Am : No! I shall deny that to the last breath in my body! [superintendent gestures to him] Police Constable Pan-Am : Oh, sorry! Yes. Prosecuting Counsel : Police Constable, do you recognize the defendant? Police Constable Pan-Am : No. Never seen him before in my life. [superintendent gestures again] Police Constable Pan-Am : Oh, yes, yes, he's the one. He done it. I'd recognize him anywhere! Sorry, super. Prosecuting Counsel : Constable, will you please tell the court in your own words what happened. Police Constable Pan-Am : Oh yes! [refers to a notebook] Police Constable Pan-Am : I was proceeding in a northerly direction up Alitalia Street when I saw the deceased [indicates Erik] Police Constable Pan-Am : standing at an upstairs window, baring her bosom at the general public. She then took off her - wait a tick. Wrong story. [leafs through notebook] Police Constable Pan-Am : Oh yes. There were three nuns in a railway station and the ticket inspector says to one of them - [superintendent gestures] Police Constable Pan-Am : No... anyway, I clearly saw the deceased... Clerk: Defendant. Police Constable Pan-Am : Defendant! Sorry. Sorry, super. I clearly saw the defendant... doing whatever he's accused of. Red handed! When kicked - cautioned, he said, [as if reading line by line] Police Constable Pan-Am : 'It's a fair. Cop I done it all. Right no doubt about. That.' Then, bound as he was to the chair, he assaulted myself and three other officers while bouncing around the cell. The end. [applause and cheering] Mr. Mann : [in a recording studio] Well, then, what sort of thing were you looking for? Tick : Well, er, really something to make me feel a little less insignificant. Mr. Mann : Oh, I see, sort of "Now look here! You may be Chairman but your bloody pusillanimous behaviour makes me vomit!" That sort of thing? Tick : Oh, no, no, no, not really, no. Mr. Mann : Oh, I see, well perhaps something a bit more sort of Clive Jenkins-ish? [Welsh accent] Mr. Mann : "Mr. Smarmy So-Called Harold Wilson can call himself pragmatic until he's blue in the breasts!" Tick : Oh no, I really want something that will make people be attracted to me like a magnet. Mr. Mann : I see, well, you want our "Life and Soul of the Party" tape then, I think. Tick : What's that? Mr. Mann : Well it's sort of "'Ello squire, haven't seen you for a bit, haven't seen you for a bit either, Beryl. Two pints of wallop please, love. Still driving the Jensen then? Cheer up Jack it may never happen. What's your poison then?'" Tick : Fantastic, yes. Mr. Mann : Right, I'll just see if we've got the tape. Fourth Bruce : Michael Baldwin, this is Bruce. Michael Balwin, this is Bruce. And Michael Baldwin, this is Bruce. First Bruce : Is your name not Bruce, then? Michael Balwin : No, it's Michael. Second Bruce : That's gonna cause a little confusion. Third Bruce : Yeah. Mind of we call you Bruce, just to keep it clear? Interviewer : Good evening. I have with me in the studio tonight one of the country's leading skin specialists, Raymond Luxury Yacht. Raymond Luxury Yacht : That's not my name! Interviewer : [tries literal pronunciation] I'm sorry; Raymond Luxury Yatscht. Raymond Luxury Yacht : No no no, it's spelled, "Raymond Luxury Yacht," but it's pronounced, "Throat Warbler Mangrove." Larry Saltzberg : Now boys, here's my idea. Third Writer : It's great! Larry Saltzberg : You like it, huh? Others: Great, really great! etc. Larry Saltzberg : Do *you* like it? First Writer : Yeah! Uh... yeah. Larry Saltzberg : What do you like best about it? First Writer : Er, well, you haven't told us... what it is yet... Larry Saltzberg : WHAT? First Writer : I like what he likes. Larry Saltzberg : What do you like? Second Writer : I like what he likes. Third Writer : I like what he likes. Fourth Writer : I like what he likes. Fifth Writer : I'm just crazy about what he likes. Larry Saltzberg : What do you like? Sixth Writer : Uh... I... I agree with them. Larry Saltzberg : Good. Now we're getting somewhere. Mr Barnard : What do you want? Man : Well I was told outside that... Mr Barnard : Don't give me that, you snotty faced heap of parrot droppings! Man : What? Mr Barnard : Shut your festering gob, you tit! Your type really makes me puke you vacuous, toffy-nosed, malodorous pervert! Man : What? I came in here for an argument. Mr Barnard : Oh, oh oh I'm sorry, this is 'abuse'. You want Room 12-A just along the corridor. Man : Oh sorry. Thank you very much, sorry, thank you. [Shuts the door] Man : Stupid git. Arthur Figgis : Why is it the world never remembered the name of Johann Gambolputty de von Ausfern -schplenden -schlitter -crasscrenbon -fried -digger -dangle -dungle -burstein -von -knacker -thrasher -apple -banger -horowitz -ticolensic -grander -knotty -spelltinkle -grandlich -grumblemeyer -spelterwasser -kürstlich -himbleeisen -bahnwagen -gutenabend -bitte -eine -nürnburger -bratwustle -gerspurten -mit -zweimache -luber -hundsfut -gumberaber -shönendanker -kalbsfleisch -mittler -raucher von Hautkopft of Ulm? Mrs. Premise : I just spent four hours burying the cat. Mrs. Conclusion : *Four hours* to bury a cat? Mrs. Premise : Yes - it wouldn't keep still. Vet : I'm afraid I'm not personally qualified to confuse cats, but I can recommend an extremely good service. Rustic Shepherd : It's my belief that these sheep are laborin' under the misapprehension that they're birds. Observe their be'avior. Take for a start the sheeps' tendency to 'op about the field on their 'ind legs. Now witness their attempts to fly from tree to tree. Notice that they do not so much fly as... plummet. Reg : Trouble at t'mill. Lady M : Oh no! What sort of trouble? Reg : One on't cross beams gone owt askew on't treddle. Lady M : Pardon? Reg : One on't cross beams gone owt askew on't treddle. Lady M : I don't understand what you're saying. Reg : One of the cross beams has gone out of skew on the treadle. Lady M : Well, what on earth does that mean? Reg : I don't know! - Mr. Wentworth just told me to come in here and say that there was trouble at the mill, that's all - I didn't expect a kind of Spanish Inquisition! [The door flies open and in come three Cardinals in red robes] Cardinal Ximinez : NOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition! Our chief weapon is surprise!... Surprise and fear... fear and surprise... Our two weapons are fear and surprise... and ruthless efficiency! Our three weapons are fear, and surprise, and ruthless efficiency... and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope... Our four... no... Amongst our weapons... Hmf... Amongst our weaponry... are such elements as fear, surpr... I'll come in again. [They leave] Reg : I didn't expect a kind of Spanish Inquisition. [They burst in again] Ximinez : NOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition!... Amongst our weaponry are such diverse elements as: fear, surprise, ruthless efficiency, an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope, and nice red uniforms - Oh damn! Interviewer : Good evening. Well, we have in the studio tonight a man who says things in a very roundabout way. Isn't that so, Mr Pudifoot? Mr. Pudifoot : Yes. Interviewer : Have you always said things in a very roundabout way? Mr. Pudifoot : Yes. Interviewer : Well, I can't help noticing that, for someone who claims to say things in a very roundabout way, your last two answers have had very little of the discursive quality about them. Señor Biggles : Miss Bladder, take a letter. Miss Bladder : Yes, Señor Biggles. Señor Biggles : Don't call me "Señor!" I'm not a Spanish person. You must call me Mr. Biggles or Group Captain Biggles, or Mary Biggles if I'm dressed as my wife, but never "Señor!" BBC Interviewer : The activity you see behind me is part of the preparations for the new Naval Expedition to Lake Pahoe. The man in charge of this expedition is Vice Admiral Sir John Cunningham. Sir, John, hello there. Vice Admiral Sir John Cunningham : Ah, hello. Well, first of all I'd like to apologize for the behaviour of certain of my colleagues you may have seen earlier, but they are from broken homes, circus families and so on and they are in no way representative of the new modern improved British Navy. They are a small vociferous minority... and may I take this opportunity of emphasizing that there is no cannibalism in the British Navy. Absolutely none, and when I say none, I mean there is a certain amount, more than we are prepared to admit, but all new ratings are warned that if they wake up in the morning and find tooth marks at all anywhere on their bodies, they're to tell me immediately so that I can immediately take every measure to hush the whole thing up. And, finally, necrophilia is *right out*. Mr. Pither : You are Rear Admiral Sir Dudley Compton? Chinaman : No. He die. He have heart attack and fell out of window onto exploding bomb, and was killed in shooting accident. Alan : Well last week, we showed you how to become a gynaecologist. And this week on "How to Do It" we're going to show you how to play the flute, how to split an atom, how to construct a box girder bridge, how to irrigate the Sahara Desert and make vast new areas of land cultivatable, but first, here's Jackie to tell you all how to rid the world of all known diseases. Jackie : Hello, Alan. Alan : Hello, Jackie. Jackie : Well, first of all, become a doctor and discover a marvellous cure for something, and then, when the medical profession really starts to take notice of you, you can jolly well tell them what to do and make sure they get everything right so there'll never be any diseases ever again. Alan : Thanks, Jackie, great idea. How to play the flute. [produces a flute] Alan : Well here we are. You blow there and you move your fingers up and down here. Noel : Great, great, Alan. Well, next week we'll be showing you how black and white people can live together in peace and harmony, and Alan will be over in Moscow showing us how to reconcile the Russians and the Chinese. So until next week, cheerio! All: Bye! Milkman : Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man. Good morning, madam, I'm a psychiatrist. Mrs. Pim : You look like a milkman to me. Milkman : [ticks a box on his clipboard] Good, I am in fact dressed as a milkman... you spotted that. Well done. Mrs. Pim : Go away. Milkman : Now then, madam, I'm going to show you three numbers and I want you to tell me if you notice any similarity between them. [holds up a card with the number '3' on it three times] Mrs. Pim : They're all number three. Milkman : No. Try again. Mrs. Pim : They're *all* number three? Milkman : No. They're *all* number three. [writes] Milkman : Right. Now, I'm going to say a word and I want you to say the first thing that comes into yout head. How many pints do you want? Mrs. Pim : Er... three? Milkman : Yoghurt? Mrs. Pim : Er... no. Milkman : Cream? Mrs. Pim : No. Milkman : Eggs? Mrs. Pim : No. Milkman : [writes] Right. Well, you're quite clearly suffering from a repressive libido complex, probably the product of an unhappy childhood, coupledwith acute insecurity in adolescence, which has resulted in an attenuation of the libido complex. Mrs. Pim : You *are* a bloody milkman! Milkman : Don't you shout at me, madam, don't come that tone. Now then, I must ask you to accompany me down to the dairy and do some aptitude tests. Mrs. Pim : I've got better things to do than come down to the dairy! Milkman : Mrs. Ratbag! If you don't mind my saying so, you are badly in need of an expensive course of psychiatric treatment. Now I'm not going to say that a trip down to our dairy will cure you, but it will give hundreds of lower-paid workers a good laugh. Mrs. Pim : All right... but how am I going to get home? Milkman : I'll run you there and back in my psychiatrist's float. Mrs. Pim : ...All right. Ludovic : ['The Great Debate Number 31: TV4 Or Not TV4?'] Hello. Should there be another television channel or not? On tonight's programme, the Minister for Broadcasting, The Right Honourable Mr Ian Throat MP. Mr Ian Throat : Good evening. Ludovic : The chairman of the Amalgamated Money TV, Sir Abe Sappenheim. Sir Abe Sappenheim : Good evening. Ludovic : The Shadow Spokesman for Television, Lord Kinwoodie. Lord Kinwoodie : Hello. Ludovic : And a television critic, Mr Patrick Loone. Mr Patrick Loone : Hello. Ludovic : Gentlemen, should there be a fourth television channel or not? Ian? Mr Ian Throat : Yes. Ludovic : Francis? Lord Kinwoodie : No. Ludovic : Sir Abe? Sir Abe Sappenheim : Yes. Ludovic : Patrick? Mr Patrick Loone : No. Ludovic : Well there you have it, two say will, two say won't. We'll be back again next week, and next week's 'Great Debate' will be about government interference in broadcasting and will be cancelled mysteriously. Movie Title: The Meaning of Life (1983) as General / Obstretrician / Guest #4 / Obstetrician / Wymer / Dr. Livingstone / Host / Harry Blackitt / Exec #1: Hospital Administrator : And what are you doing this morning? Obstetrician : It's a birth. Hospital Administrator : Ah. And what sort of thing is that? Dr. Spenser : Well, that's where we take a new baby out of a lady's tummy. Hospital Administrator : Wonderful what we can do nowdays. Humphrey : So, just listen. Now, did I or did I not... do... vaginal... juices? Pupils: Mmm. Mmm. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Humphrey : Name two ways of getting them flowing, Watson. Watson : R - rubbing the clitoris, sir? Humphrey : What's wrong with a kiss, boy? Hmm? Why not start her off with a nice kiss? You don't have to go leaping straight for the clitoris like a bull at a gate. Give her a kiss, boy. Wymer : Suck the nipple, sir? Humphrey : Good. Good. Well done, Wymer. Pupil: Uh, stroking the thighs, sir. Humphrey : Yes. Yes, I suppose so. Hmm? Pupil: Oh, sir. Biting the neck. Humphrey : Yes. Good. Nibbling the earlobe, uhh, kneading the buttocks, and so on and so forth. So, we have all these possibilities before we stampede towards the clitoris, Watson. Watson : Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Harry Blackitt : Look at them, bloody Catholics, filling the bloody world up with bloody people they can't afford to bloody feed. Mrs. Blackitt : What are we dear? Harry Blackitt : Protestant, and fiercely proud of it. Mrs. Blackitt : Hmm. Well, why do they have so many children? Harry Blackitt : Because... every time they have sexual intercourse, they have to have a baby. Mrs. Blackitt : But it's the same with us, Harry. Harry Blackitt : What do you mean? Mrs. Blackitt : Well, I mean, we've got two children, and we've had sexual intercourse twice. Harry Blackitt : That's not the point. We could have it any time we wanted. Mrs. Blackitt : Really? Harry Blackitt : Oh, yes, and, what's more, because we don't believe in all that Papist claptrap, we can take precautions. Mrs. Blackitt : What, you mean... lock the door? Harry Blackitt : No, no. I mean, because we are members of the Protestant Reformed Church, which successfully challenged the autocratic power of the Papacy in the mid-sixteenth century, we can wear little rubber devices to prevent issue. Mrs. Blackitt : What d'you mean? Harry Blackitt : I could, if I wanted, have sexual intercourse with you... Mrs. Blackitt : Oh, yes, Harry. Harry Blackitt : ...and, by wearing a rubber sheath over my old feller, I could insure... that, when I came off, you would not be impregnated. Mrs. Blackitt : Ooh. Harry Blackitt : That's what being a Protestant's all about. That's why it's the church for me. That's why it's the church for anyone who respects the individual and the individual's right to decide for him or herself. When Martin Luther nailed his protest up to the church door in fifteen-seventeen, he may not have realised the full significance of what he was doing, but four hundred years later, thanks to him, my dear, I can wear whatever I want on my John Thomas... [sniff] Harry Blackitt : ... and, Protestantism doesn't stop at the simple condom. Oh, no. I can wear French Ticklers if I want. Mrs. Blackitt : You what? Harry Blackitt : French Ticklers. Black Mambos. Crocodile Ribs. Sheaths that are designed not only to protect, but also to enhance the stimulation of sexual congress. Mrs. Blackitt : Have you got one? Harry Blackitt : Have I got one? Uh, well, no, but I can go down the road any time I want and walk into Harry's and hold my head up high and say in a loud, steady voice, 'Harry, I want you to sell me a condom. In fact, today, I think I'll have a French Tickler, for I am a Protestant.' Mrs. Blackitt : Well, why don't you? Harry Blackitt : But they - Well, they cannot, 'cause their church never made the great leap out of the Middle Ages and the domination of alien Episcopal supremacy. Humphrey : All right, settle down. Settle down... Now, before I begin the lesson, will those of you who are playing in the match this afternoon move your clothes down onto the lower peg immediately after lunch, before you write your letter home, if you're not getting your hair cut, unless you've got a younger brother who is going out this weekend as the guest of another boy, in which case, collect his note before lunch, put it in your letter after you've had your hair cut, and make sure he moves your clothes down onto the lower peg for you. Now... Wymer : Sir? Humphrey : Yes, Wymer? Wymer : My younger brother's going out with Dibble this weekend, sir, but I'm not having my hair cut today, sir. Pupils: [chuckling] Wymer : So, do I move my clothes down, or... Humphrey : I do wish you'd listen, Wymer. It's perfectly simple. If you're not getting your hair cut, you don't have to move your brother's clothes down to the lower peg. You simply collect his note before lunch, after you've done your scripture prep, when you've written your letter home, before rest, move your own clothes onto the lower peg, greet the visitors, and report to Mr. Viney that you've had your chit signed. [Large corporate boardroom filled with suited executives] Exec #1 : Item six on the agenda: "The Meaning of Life" Now uh, Harry, you've had some thoughts on this. Exec #2 : Yeah, I've had a team working on this over the past few weeks, and what we've come up with can be reduced to two fundamental concepts. One: People aren't wearing enough hats. Two: Matter is energy. In the universe there are many energy fields which we cannot normally perceive. Some energies have a spiritual source which act upon a person's soul. However, this "soul" does not exist ab initio as orthodox Christianity teaches; it has to be brought into existence by a process of guided self-observation. However, this is rarely achieved owing to man's unique ability to be distracted from spiritual matters by everyday trivia. Exec #3 : What was that about hats again? Exec #2 : Oh, Uh... people aren't wearing enough. Exec #1 : Is this true? Exec #4: Certainly. Hat sales have increased but not pari passu, as our research... Exec #3 : [Interrupting] "Not wearing enough"? enough for what purpose? Exec #5 : Can I just ask, with reference to your second point, when you say souls don't develop because people become distracted... [looking out window] Exec #5 : Has anyone noticed that building there before? General : But of course warfare isn't all fun. Right, stop that! It's all very well to laugh at the military, but when one considers the meaning of life, it is a struggle between alternative viewpoints of life itself. And without the ability to defend one's own viewpoint against other, perhaps more aggresive ideologies, then reasonableness and moderation could quite simply disappear. That is why we'll always need an Army, and may God strike me down were it to be otherwise. Sergeant-Major : Don't stand there gawping! Like you've never seen the hand o' God before! Wife of Guest #4 : We have to go - um - I'm having rather heavy period. [awkward pause] Guest #4 : And... we... have a train to catch. Wife : Yes... of course. We have a train to catch. And I don't want to start bleeding over the seats. Grim Reaper : You are all dead. I am Death. Host : Well, that's cast rather a gloom over the evening, hasn't it? New Mother: Is it a boy or a girl? Obstretrician : I think it's a bit early to start imposing roles on it, don't you? Ainsworth : During the night, old Perkins got his leg bitten sort of... off. Dr. Livingstone : Ah, been in the wars, have we? Perkins : Yes. Dr. Livingstone : Ah, any headache? Bowels all right? Hm. Well, let's have a look at this "one leg" of yours, then, eh? Yes, yes, yes, yes. Yes, yes... [Pokes the stump with his pipe] Dr. Livingstone : Yes yes. Yes, well, this is nothing to worry about. Perkins : Oh, good. Dr. Livingstone : Yes, there's a lot of it around, probably a virus. Keep warm, plenty of rest, and if you're playing football or anything, try and favor the other leg. Humphrey : Now, sex. Sex, sex, sex. Where were we? [pupils can't remember] Humphrey : Well, had I got as far as the penis entering the vagina? Pupils: Uh, no, sir. No, sir. Humphrey : Well, had I done foreplay? Pupils: Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Humphrey : Ah. Well, as we all know all about foreplay, no doubt you can tell me what the purpose of foreplay is. Biggs. Biggs : Um, don't know. Sorry, sir. Humphrey : Carter? Carter : Oh. Uh, was it taking your clothes off, sir? Humphrey : Well, a-and after that? Wymer : [Misunderstanding] Oh! Putting them on a lower peg, sir. [Humphrey chucks an object at Wymer for his stupidity] Humphrey : The purpose of foreplay is to cause the vagina to lubricate so that the penis can penetrate more easily. Movie Title: And Now for Something Completely Different (1971) as Sergeant-Major: Sergeant-Major : Now, I would just like to point out that this film is displaying a distinct tendency to become SILLY. Now, nobody likes a good laugh more than I do... except, perhaps my wife... and some of her friends. Oh, yes, and Captain Johnson. Come to think of it, most people like a good laugh more than I do, but that's beside the point! I'm warning this film NOT to get SILLY again! Right! [A vicar is attacked by keep-left signs] Sergeant-Major : Right! Stop that! It's SILLY. Very SILLY indeed! Started off as a nice little idea about old ladies attacking young men, but now it's just got SILLY! His hair's too long for a vicar, too, and you can tell those are not proper keep-left signs! CLEAR OUT, THE LOT OF YOU! [The vicar and the keep-left signs depart] Sergeant: Squad... CAMP it UP! [soldiers all chant in unison while mincing about] Soldiers: Ooh get her! Whoops, I've got your number ducky, you couldn't afford me dear, two three. I'll scratch your eyes out! Don't come the Brigadier bit with us dear, we all know where you've been, you military fairy. Two, three, one, two, three, four, five, six. Whoops! Don't look now girls, the man has just minced in with that jolly colour Sergeant, two three. OOOOH! Sergeant-Major : [walks on] Right now! Stop that! Silly. And a bit suspect, I think. Time for a cartoon. Movie Title: Life of Brian (1979) as Biggus Dickus / Brian: Brian : Excuse me. Are you the Judean People's Front? Reg : Fuck off! We're the People's Front of Judea Brian : Have I got a big nose, Mum? Mandy : Stop thinking about sex! Brian : I wasn't! Mandy : You're always on about it. "Will the girls like this? Will the girls like that? Is it too big? Is it too small?" Brian : I am NOT the Messiah! Arthur : I say you are Lord, and I should know. I've followed a few. Reg : If you want to join the People's Front of Judea, you have to really hate the Romans. Brian : I do! Reg : Oh yeah, how much? Brian : A lot! Reg : Right, you're in. Brian : I'm not a roman mum, I'm a kike, a yid, a heebie, a hook-nose, I'm kosher mum, I'm a Red Sea pedestrian, and proud of it! Brian : I'm not the Messiah! Will you please listen? I am not the Messiah, do you understand? Honestly! Girl: Only the true Messiah denies His divinity. Brian : What? Well, what sort of chance does that give me? All right! I am the Messiah! Followers: He is! He is the Messiah! Brian : Now, fuck off! [silence] Arthur : How shall we fuck off, O Lord? Brian : There's no pleasing some people. Beggar: That's what Jesus said. Brian : Please, please, please listen! I've got one or two things to say. The Crowd: Tell us! Tell us both of them! Brian : Look, you've got it all wrong! You don't NEED to follow ME, You don't NEED to follow ANYBODY! You've got to think for your selves! You're ALL individuals! The Crowd: Yes! We're all individuals! Brian : You're all different! The Crowd: Yes, we ARE all different! Man in crowd: I'm not... The Crowd: Sch! Reg : Hello, Sibling Brian. Brian : Thank God you've come, Reg. Reg : Well, I think I should point out first, Brian, in all fairness, we are not, in fact, the rescue committee. However, I have been asked to read the following prepare statement on behalf of the movement. "We the People's Front of Judea, brackets, officials, end brackets, do hereby convey our sincere fraternal and sisterly greetings to you, Brian, on this, the occasion of your martyrdom." Brian : What? Reg : "Your death will stand as a landmark in the continuing struggle to liberate the parent land from the hands of the Roman imperialist aggressors, excluding those concerned with drainage, medicine, roads, housing, education, viniculture and any other Romans contributing to the welfare of Jews of both sexes and hermaphrodites. Signed, on behalf of the P.F.J., etc." And I'd just like to add, on a personal note, my own admiration, for what you're doing for us, Brian, on what must be, after all, for you a very difficult time. Brian : You have to be different! The Crowd: Yes, we are all different! Small lonely voice: I'm not! [After correcting Brian's Latin graffiti] Centurion : Right... now write that one hundred times. Brian : Yes, yes, hail Caesar! Centurion : Hail Caesar! If it is not done by sunrise, I'll cut your balls off. Pontius Pilate : So, youw fawtha was a Woman. Who was he? Brian : He was a Centurion, in the Jeruselem Garrison. Pontius Pilate : What was his name? Brian : Nottius Maximus, sir. Centurion : [giggle] Pontius Pilate : Centuwion do you have anyone in your gawwison by that name? Centurion : No, sir. Pontius Pilate : Well you seem awfully sure, have you checked? Centurion : I think its a joke, sir. Sort of like... uh... Sillius Sodus, or Biggus Dickus. (guards giggle) Pontius Pilate : What's so funny about "Biggus Dickus?" Centurion : Its a joke name, sir. Pontius Pilate : I have a vewy good fwiend in Wome named "Biggus Dickus." [guard laughs] Pontius Pilate : WIGHT! THATS IT! Centurion : Oh, but sir... Pontius Pilate : No, no, no. I want him fighting weally, wild, wavish animals by the mowning! Centurion : Where is Brian of Nazareth? Brian : You sanctimonious bastards! Centurion : I have an order for his release! Brian : You stupid bastards! Stan : Uh, I'm Brian of Nazareth. Brian : What? Stan : Yeah, I - I - I'm Brian of Nazareth. Centurion : Take him down! Brian : I'm Brian of Nazareth! Victim #1: Eh, I'm Brian! Mr. Big Nose : I'm Brian! Victim #2: Look, I'm Brian! Brian : I'm Brian! Victims: I'm Brian! Gregory : I'm Brian, and so's my wife! Victims: I'm Brian! I'm Brian!... Brian : I'm Brian of Nazareth! Centurion : All right. Take him away and release him. Stan : No, I'm only joking. I'm not really Brian. No, I'm not Brian. I was only - It was a joke. I'm only pulling your leg! It's a joke! I'm not him! I'm just having you on! Put me back! Bloody Romans! Can't take a joke! Brian : What will they do to me? Ben the Prisoner : Oh you'll probably get away with crucifixion. Brian : CRUCIFIXION? Ben the Prisoner : Yeah, first offense. Biggus Dickus : Let me come with you, Pontiuth. I may be of thome athithtanthe if there ith a thudden crithith! [I may be of some assistance if there is a sudden crisis] [Brian is explaining why there's a crowd outside their house] Brian : They must have just popped by! Mandy : Popped by? SWARMED by is more like it! There's a multitude out there! Movie Title: Monty Python Live at the Hollywood Bowl (1982) as Son: Husband : It's the Bishop of Leicester. Wife : How do you know? Husband : Tattooed on the back of his neck. I think I'd better call the police. Wife : Shouldn't you call the church? Son : Call the Church Police. Husabnd: Good idea. Movie Title: The Odd Job (1978) as Arthur Harris: [The Caretaker spots Arthur's first suicide attempt] Caretaker : What are you doing? Arthur Harris : I'm minding my own sodding business, which is more than can be said for you, you snivelling little turd! |
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