Monty Python's Flying Circus, Series 1

Pepperpot #1:
I can't tell the difference between Whizzo butter and this dead crab.

Interviewer:
Yes, we find that 9 out of 10 British housewives can't tell the difference between Whizzo Butter and a dead crab.

Various Pepperpots:
It's true… We can't… No.

Pepperpot #2:
Here. Here! You're on television, aren't you?

Interviewer:
[humbly] Yes, yes…

Pepperpot #2:
He does the thing with one of those silly women who can't tell Whizzo Butter from a dead crab.

Various Pepperpots:
Yeah, yeah.

Pepperpot #3:
You try that around here, young man, and we'll slit your face.

Pepperpot #4:
[quietly] Yeah, with a razor.

Interviewer:
Get your own arts programme, you fairy!

Reporter:
This morning, shortly after 11:00, comedy struck this little house on Dibley Road. Sudden...violent...comedy.

Voiceover:
It was a fantastic success. Over 60,000 times as powerful as Britain's great pre-war joke [Cut to stock footage of Neville Chamberlain returning from Munich and holding up the Munich Agreement, the "this is peace in our time"-bit.], and one which Hitler just couldn't match.

[Cut to stock footage of Hitler giving a speech.]

Hitler:
[subtitle] My dog's got no nose!

Soldier:
[subtitle] How does he smell?

Hitler:
[subtitle] Awful!

Narrator:
In 1945, peace broke out. It was the end of the Joke. Joke warfare was banned at a special session of the Geneva Convention, and in 1950 the last remaining copy of the joke was laid to rest here in the Berkshire countryside, never to be told again.

Ken:
I'll tell you what's wrong with you: your head's addled with novels and poems! You come home reeking of Chateau La Tour! And look what you've done to mother! She's worn out from meeting film stars, attending premieres, and giving gala luncheons!

Dad:
THERE'S NAUGHT WRONG WITH GALA LUNCHES, LAD! I've had more gala luncheons than you've had hot dinners! [grabs arm and screams]

Mum:
Oh no!

Ken:
What is it?

Mum:
Oh, it's his writer's cramp!

Ken:
You never told me about this...

Mum:
No, we didn't like to, Kenny.

Dad:
I'm all right! I'm all right, woman. Just get him out of here.

Mum:
Oh Ken! You'd better go ...

Ken:
All right. I'm going.

Dad:
After all we've done for him...

Ken:
One day you'll realize there's more to life than culture... There's dirt, and smoke, and good honest sweat!

Dad:
Get out! Get out! Get OUT! You ... LABOURER!

Announcer:
And the results of Epilogue: God exists by two falls to a submission.

The Announcer:
No. 1: The Larch. The Larch. The Larch.

Arthur Nudge:
Eh? know what I mean? Know what I mean? Nudge, nudge! Know what I mean? Say no more! A nod's as good as a wink to a blind bat, say no more, say no more!

Man:
Look, are you insinuating something?

Arthur Nudge:
Oh, no no no no... yes.

Man:
Well?

Arthur Nudge:
Well, you're a man of the world, squire... you've been there, you've been around.

Man:
What do you mean?

Arthur Nudge:
Well, I mean, you've done it... you've slept... with a lady.

Man:
Yes.

Arthur Nudge:
What's it like?

Superman One:
Oh look... is it a stockbroker?

Superman Two:
Is it a quantity Surveyor?

Superman Three:
Is it a church warden?

All Supermen:
NO! It's Bicycle Repair Man!

Colonel:
Watkins, why did you join the army?

Watkins:
For the water-skiing and the travel, sir. Not for the killing, sir. I asked them to put it on my form, sir: "no killing".

Colonel:
Watkins, are you a pacifist?

Watkins:
No, sir. I'm not a pacifist, sir: I'm a coward.

Colonel:
[disgusted] That's a very silly line. Sit down!

Teacher:
[to a student] So, we want to learn how to defend ourselves against pointed sticks, do we? Feeling all high and mighty, eh? Fresh fruit not good enough, eh? Oh, oh, oh. Well, let me tell you something, my lad! When you're walking home tonight, and some homicidal maniac comes after you with a bunch of loganberries, don't come crying to me!

Encyclopedia Salesman:
Burglar! [rings again] Burglar!

[woman appears at other side of door]

Woman:
Yes?

Encyclopedia Salesman:
Burglar, madam.

Woman:
What do you want?

Encyclopedia Salesman:
I want to come in and steal a few things, madam.

Woman:
Are you an encyclopaedia salesman?

Encyclopedia Salesman:
No madam, I'm a burglar, I burgle people.

Woman:
I think you're an encyclopaedia salesman.

Encyclopedia Salesman:
Oh I'm not, open the door, let me in please.

Woman:
If I let you in you'll sell me encyclopaedias.

Encyclopedia Salesman:
I won't, madam. I just want to come in and ransack the flat. Honestly.

Woman:
Promise? No encyclopaedias?

Encyclopedia Salesman:
None at all.

Woman:
All right. [she opens door] You'd better come in then.

Encyclopedia Salesman:
Mind you, I don't know whether you've really considered the advantages of owning a really fine set of modern encyclopaedias... You know, they can really do you wonders.

Policeman:
I must warn you, sir, that outside I have police dog Josephine, who is not only armed and trained to sniff out certain substances but is also a junkie.

Mr. Figgis:
Beethoven, Mozart, Chopin, Liszt, Brahms, Panties ...I'm sorry ... Schumann, Schubert, Mendelssohn and Bach. Names that will live for ever. But there is one composer whose name is never included with the greats, why is it the world never remembered the name of Johann Gambolputty de von Ausfern-schplenden-schlitter-crasscrenbon-fried-digger-dangle-dongle-dungle-burstein-Von-knacker-thrasher-apple-banger-horowitz-ticolensic-grander-knotty-spelltinkle-grandlich-grumblemeyer-spelterwasser-kurstlich-himbleeisen-bahnwagen-gutenabend-bitte-ein-nürnburger-bratwurstle-gerspurten-mit-zwei-macheluber-hundsfut-gumberaber-shoenendanker-kalbsfleisch-mittler-aucher von Hautkopft of Ulm?

Superintendant Praline:
Now, this item, "Crunchy Frog". Am I to understand there's a real frog in here?

Whizzo Chocolate Company owner:
Yes, a little one.

Superintendant Praline:
What sort of frog?

Whizzo Chocolate Company owner:
A dead frog.

Superintendant Praline:
Is it cooked?

Whizzo Chocolate Company owner:
No.

Superintendant Praline:
What, a raw frog?!

Whizzo Chocolate Company owner:
We use only the finest baby frogs, dew picked and flown from Iraq, cleansed in finest quality spring water, lightly killed, and then sealed in a succulent Swiss quintuple smooth treble cream milk chocolate envelope and lovingly frosted with glucose.

Superintendant Praline:
That's as may be - it's still a frog! Do you even take the bones out?

Whizzo Chocolate Company owner:
If we took the bones out, it wouldn't be crunchy, would it?

Police officer:
A blancmange, eh?

Woman:
That's right. I was just playing a game of doubles with Sandra, Jocasta, Alec and David, when...

Police Officer:
Hold on. That's five. Five people! How'd you play doubles with five people? Sounds a bit funny if you ask me, playing doubles with five people!

Woman:
Well, we often play like that. Jocasta plays on the side, receiving service. It helps to speed the game up and make it a lot faster, and Jocasta isn't left out.

Police Officer:
Look, are you asking me to believe that the five of you was playing doubles, while on the very next court there was a blancmange playing by itself?

Woman:
That's right.

Police Officer:
Well, answer me this, then: Why didn't Jocasta play the blancmange at singles, while you and Sandra and Alec and David played a proper game of doubles with four people?

Woman:
Because Jocasta always plays with us! She's a friend of ours!

Police Officer:
Call that friendship? Messing up a perfectly good game of doubles?

Woman:
It's not messing it up, officer! We like to play with five!

Police Officer:
Look, it's your affair if you want to play with five people, but don't go calling it doubles! At Wimbledon, if Fred Stolle and Tony Roche played Charlie Passarell and Cliff Drysdale and Peaches Bartkowicz, they woudn't go calling it doubles!

Woman:
Well, what about the blancmange?

Police Officer:
That could play Ann Haydon-Jones and her husband, Pip!

[to a man whose wife has been eaten alive by a blancmange]

Detective Inspector:
I think what's happened is terribly, terribly funny... er, tragic!

Mr. Praline:
It's not pining, it's passed on! This parrot is no more! It has ceased to be! It's expired and gone to meet its maker! This is a late parrot! It's a stiff! Bereft of life, it rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed it to the perch, it would be pushing up the daisies! It's metabolic processes are now history! He's off the twig! He's kicked the bucket, he's shuffled off the mortal coil, rung down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. This is an ex-parrot!

[Mr Salzburg has just fired two of his writers for his new film, and is closing in on another one]

Mr Salzburg:
You!

Writer #4:
Ah, well, I... I think it's an excellent idea!

Mr. Salzburg:
Are you a yes man?

Writer #4:
No! I mean, I have a few things against it!

Mr. Salzburg:
So you think it's lousy!

Writer #4:
No, no! I mean, it takes time!

Mr. Salzburg:
ARE YOU BEING INDECISIVE?

Writer #4:
Yo! Nes! Perhaps! [runs out the door]

Arthur Wilson:
[talking to George Head about the trek to Mt. Kilimanjaro, after he explains about the route] Does anyone speak Swahili?

George Head:
Oh, I think most of them do down there.

Arthur Wilson:
Does anyone in our party speak Swahili, sir?

George Head:
Well, the matron's got a smattering.

Arthur Wilson:
Apart from the two matrons.

George Head:
Good God! I forgot about that.

Arthur Wilson:
Apart from them, who else is coming?

George Head:
Well, we've got the Arthur Brown twins, two botanists called Maychen, the William Johnston brothers-

Arthur Wilson:
Two of them?

George Head:
No, four of them; pair of identical twins. And a couple of the Ken Zobana quads; the other four pulled out. And of course, you two.

Woman:
I object to all this sex on the television. I mean, I keep falling off.

Bevis:
[explaining his fear of cutting hair to his customer] When I was a kid I used to hate the sight of hair being cut. My mother said I was a fool. She said the only way to cure it was to become a barber! So I spent five ghastly years at the Hairdressers' Training Centre at Totnes. Can you imagine what it's like; cutting the same hair for five years?! I didn't want to be a barber anyway. I wanted to be... a lumberjack!

Bevis:
I always preferred the outdoor life…hunting…shooting…fishing…getting out there with a gun and slaughtering a few of God's creatures.

Kenny Lust:
Now, every so often here in the Refreshment Room it is my honor, my privilege, to welcome some the truly great international artists. And tonight we have one such artist. Ladies and gentlemen, someone who've I've always personally admired. More deeply, more strongly, more abjectly than anyone before. A man, no, more than a man, a god! A great god whose personality is so totally and utterly wonderful, that my feeble words of welcome sound wretchedly and pathetically inadequate. Someone whose boots I would gladly lick clean, until holes wore through my tounge! A man who is so totally and utterly wonderful, that I would rather be sealed in a pit of my filth than dare tread on the same stage with him. Ladies and gentlemen, the incomparably superior human being, Harry Fink! [crowd applauds]

Stage-hand:
He can't come!

Kenny Lust:
Never mind. He's not all that's cracked up to be.

Kenny Lust:
Ken Buddha. A smile, two bangs, and a religion.

Spanish TV Host:
"Pero las llamas son peligrosas. Si usted ve una llama donde hay gente nadando, usted gritar: ¡Cuidado! ¡Llamas!" ["Llamas are dangerous, so if you see one where people are swimming, you shout: Look out, there are Llamas!"]

Bevis:
[sung] I cut down trees, I eat my lunch, I go to the lavatory. On Wednesdays I'll go shopping, and have buttered scones for tea.

Mounties Choir:
[sung] He cuts down trees, he eats his lunch, he goes to the lavatory. On Wednesdays, he goes shopping, and has buttered scones for tea. He's a lumberjack and he's OK, he sleeps all night and he works all day.

Bevis:
[sung] I cut down trees, I skip and jump, I like to press wildflowers. I put own womens' clothing, and hang around in bars.

Mounties Choir:
[sung] He cuts down trees, he skips and jumps, he likes to press wildflowers. He puts on womens' clothing, and hangs around- [starts to show signs of disgust] -in bars? [perk back up] He's a lumberjack, and he's OK, he sleeps all night and he works all day.

Bevis:
[sung] I cut down trees, I wear high heels, suspenders, and a bra. I wish I'd been a girlie, just like my dear Mama!

Mountie Choir:
[sung] He cuts down trees, he wears- high heels? [choir storms out in revulsion, as Bevis continues singing, to his Best Girlie's dismay]

Bevis's Best Girlie:
Oh, Bevis. And I thought you were so rugged! [runs off crying]

Man:
[letter read aloud] Dear Sir, I wish to complain in the strongest possible terms about the song which had just broadcast about the lumberjack who wears women's clothes. Many of my best friends are lumberjacks and only a few of them are transvestites. Yours faithfully, Brigadier Sir Charles Arthur Strong (Ms.). P.S. I have never kissed the editor of the Radio Times.

Victor:
[to his girlfriend Iris] I think I'm beginning to fall in love with you. It's silly isn't it?

Iris:
No, not at all, sweet Victor.

Victor:
No, I didn't mean that. I meant the fact we've spent time close together for so many months in the soft toy department, yet never truly daring to-

Iris:
[bemused] Oh, Victor.

Victor:
Oh, Iris.

Arthur Name:
[at the door, greeting Victor] Hello! Remember me? In the pub; the tall thin one, with the moustache, about three years ago?

Victor:
Well, uh-

Arthur Name:
Ay, it's dark in here. [turns on the lights] That's better; you told me we must have a drink together sometime, so I decided to take you up on it, as the phone society meeting was cancelled. [turns towards Iris] 'Ello! I'm Arthur, Arthur Name. Name by name, but not by nature. I alsways say that, don't I Vicky boy? Is she your wife?

Victor:
Not really, but-

Arthur Name:
Oh, I get the picture. Don't mind me; I know all about one-night stands.

Victor:
[insulted] I beg your pardon?!

Arthur Name:
Here's a joke I heard down in the pub: what's brown, and sounds like a bell? Dung!

Mr. Equatol:
[introducing himself to Victor] Good evening. My name is Equatol--Brian Equatol, like the round middle of the Earth, only with an L.

Audrey:
[laughs hysterically]

Mr. Equatol:
And this is my wife, Audrey. She smells a bit, but she has a heart of gold.

Victor:
There must be some kind of misunderstanding, because this isn't-

Mr. Equatol:
[of Iris] Who's she? Who's the bird?

Victor:
I-

Mr. Equatol:
You've got a nice pair there, haven't you, love? C'mon, give us a kiss. [fondles Iris by the breasts and kisses her, causing her to spazz out] Shut up, you silly bitch. It's only a bit of fun.

Audrey:
[as Arthur Name is getting drinks for everyone] Three cans of beans for me.

Mr. L'Equator:
I told you to lay off the beans, you whore!

Audrey:
I only want three cans!

Mr. L'Equator:
BUTTON YOUR LIP, YOU RATBAG!! [both burst into hysterical laughter] That was rather witty, wasn't it?

Goatkeeper:
[coughing as he carries in a goat by the leash] I had to bring the goat; he's not well. I only hope he don't go on the carpet.

Goatkeeper:
The goat's done a bundle!

Victor:
Get out! All of you; get out!!

Mr. L'Equator:
I beg your pardon?

Victor:
I'm throwing you all out! I'm not going to have my house filled with filthy perverts. Now, I'm giving you half a minute to leave or I'm calling the police!

Mr. L'Equator:
I don't much like the tone of your voice. [shoots Victor dead]

Mr. Anchovy:
I've been a chartered accountant for 20 years. I want a new job. Something exciting that will let me live!

Counselor:
Well, chartered accoutancy is a rather exciting job, isn't it?

Mr. Anchovy:
Exciting?! No, it's not! It's dull! Dull, dull, my God it's dull! It's so dull and tedious and stuffy and boring and desperately dull!

Counselor:
Well, er, yes Mr. Anchovy, but you see your report here says that you are an extremely dull person. You see, our experts describe you as an appallingly dull fellow, unimaginative, timid, lacking in initiative, spineless, easily dominated, no sense of humour, tedious company and irrepressibly drab and awful. And whereas in most professions these would be considerable drawbacks, in chartered accountancy, they're a positive boon.

Interviewer:
Ron, now let's just get this quite clear - you're intending to jump across the English Channel?

Ron Obvious:
Oh yes, that is correct, yes.

Interviewer:
And, er, just how far is that?

Ron Obvious:
Oh, well it's 26 miles from here to Calais.

Interviewer:
And that's to the beach of Calais?

Ron Obvious:
Well, no, no, provided I get a good lift off and maybe a gust of breeze over the French coast, I shall be jumping into the centre of Calais itself. [Shows brief clip of some Frenchmen in Calais standing under a sign that says "Fin de Cross Channel Jump"]

Interviewer:
Ron are you using any special techniques to jump this great distance?

Ron Obvious:
Oh no, no. I shall be using an ordinary two-footed jump, er, straight up in the air and across the Channel.

Interviewer:
I see. Er, Ron, what is the furthest distance that you've jumped, er, so far?

Ron Obvious:
Er, oh, eleven foot six inches at Motspur Park on July 22nd. Er, but I have done nearly twelve feet unofficially.

Interviewer:
Mr. Vercotti, what is your chief task as Ron's manager?

Luigi Vercotti:
Well my main task is, er, to fix a sponsor for the big jump.

Interviewer:
And who is the sponsor?

Luigi Vercotti:
The Chippenham Brick Company. Ah, they, er, pay all the bills, er, in return for which Ron will be carrying half a hundredweight of their bricks. [Ron is having his passport checked by a customs officer]

Interviewer:
I see. Well, er, it looks as if Ron is ready now. He's got the bricks. He's had his passport checked and he's all set to go. And he's off on the first ever cross-Channel jump. [Ron runs down the beach and jumps. He lands about four feet into the water] Will Ron be trying the cross Channel jump again soon?

Luigi Vercotti:
No. No. I'm taking him off the jumps, Er, because I've got something lined up for Ron next week that I think is very much more up his street.

Interviewer:
And what is that?

Luigi Vercotti:
Uh, Ron is going to eat Chichester Cathedral.

[Cuts to Ron approaching Chichester Cathedral, brushing his teeth]

Interviewer:
Well, there he goes, Ron Obvious of Neepsend, in an attempt which could make him the first man ever to eat an entire Anglican Cathedral. [Ron finishes brushing his teeth, puts on a bib, and flexes his jaws before biting into the corner of a buttress and breaking his jaw]

[The interviewer and Vercotti are walking alongside a railroad track]

Interviewer:
Mr. Vercotti, what do you say to people who accuse you of exploiting Ron for your own purposes?

Luigi Vercotti:
Well, it's totally untrue, David. Ever since I left Sicily I've been trying to do the best for Ron. I know what Ron wants to do, I believe in him and l'm just trying to create the opportunities for Ron to do the kind of things he wants to do.

Interviewer:
And what's he going to do today?

Luigi Vercotti:
He's going to split a railway carriage with his nose.

[A scream is heard off screen]

[The interviewer is seen standing with Vercotti beneath a ramp with a banner that says "Running to Mercury"]

Luigi Vercotti:
The only difficult bit for Ron is getting out of the Earth's atmosphere, but once he's in orbit he'll be able to run straight to Mercury. [Wrapped from head to toe in bandages from his previous exploits, Ron hobbles onto the ramp, and as he goes off the edge of the ramp, the scene freeze-frames in mid-jump and another scream is heard.]

Inspector Tiger:
This house is surrounded. I'm afraid I must not ask anyone to leave the room. No, I must ask nobody... no, I must ask everybody to... I must not ask anyone to leave the room. No one must be asked by me to leave the room. No, no one must ask the room to leave. I... I... ask the room shall by someone be left. Not. Ask nobody the room somebody leave shall I. Shall I leave the room? Everyone must leave the room... as it is... with them in it. Phew. Understand?

Colonel Pickering:
You don't want anybody to leave the room.

Inspector Tiger:
[clicking fingers to indicate Colonel Pickering has hit the nail on the head] Now, alduce me to introlow myslef. I'm sorry. Alself me to myduce introlow myslef. Introme-to-lose mlow alself. Alme to you introself mylowduce. Excuse me a moment. [bangs himself on the side of the head] Allow me to introduce myself. I'm afraid I must ask that no one leave the room. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Inspector Tiger.

Everybody:
Tiger?

Inspector Tiger:
[whirling around] WHERE? WHERE?

Chief Constable There'samanbehindyou:
Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Chief Constable There'samanbehindyou.

Everybody:
There's a man behind you?

Chief Constable There'samanbehindyou:
No, you're not going to fool me with that one.

Mr. Bimmler:
Pleased to meet you, squire. I also am not of Minehead but I in Peterborough Lincolnshire's house was given birth to. But am staying in Peterborough Lincolnshire house all time during vor, due to nasty running sores , and vos unable to go in the streets and play football or go to Nuremburg. ah. Am retired vindow cleaner and pacifist, who's not doing war crimes. Oh... and am glad England vin Vorld Cup. Bobby Charlton. Martin Peters. And eating lots of chips and fish and hole in the toads and Dundee cakes on Piccadilly Line, don't you know old chap, And I vos head of Gestapo for 10 years. [Mr. Hilter elbows him in the ribs] Five years! [Hilter elbows him again, harder] No! No! Nein! Vos not head of Gestapo at ALL! I make joke!

Announcer:
This man, he doesn't know when he's beaten! He doesn't know when he's winning, either. He has no… sort of… sensory apparatus…

Head Waiter:
This is a vegetarian restaurant - we serve no meat of any kind. We're not only proud of that, we're smug about it.

Surgeon:
Mr. Notlob, there's nothing wrong with you that an expensive operation can't prolong.

The Joke:
"Wenn ist das Nunstück git und Slotermeyer? Ja! Beiherhund das Oder die Flipperwaldt gersput!"

[Cut to a man holding up cards saying 'Marriage Counsellor'. The counsellor sits behind a desk. He puts down the card as he hears the knock on the door]

Counsellor:
Next?

[A little man named Arthur Pewtey enters, with his beautiful blond buxom young woman named Dierdre]

Arthur Pewtey:
Are you the marriage guidance counsellor?

Counsellor:
Yes. Good morning

Arthur Pewtey:
Good morning, sir

Counsellor:
[stares at Dierdre, fascinated] And good morning to you madam [pauses, shrugs himself out of it] Name?

Arthur Pewtey:
Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Pewtey, Pewtey.

Counsellor:
[writes without looking down, just stares at Dierdre] And what is the name of your ravishing wife? [holds up his hand] Wait. Don't tell me - it's something to do with moonlight - it goes with her eyes - it's soft and gentle, warm and yeilding, deeply lyrical and yet tender and frightened like a tiny whit rabbit.

Arthur Pewtey:
It's Deirdre.

Counsellor:
Deirdre. What a beautiful name. What a beautiful, beautiful name [leans across and lightly brushes his hand across Dierdre's cheek] And what seems to be the trouble with your marriage Mr. Pewtey?

Arthur Pewtey:
Well, it all started about five years ago when we started going on holiday to Brighton together. Deirdre, that's my wife, has always been a jolly good companion to me and I never particularly anticipated any marital strife - indeed the very idea of consulting a professional marital adviser has always been of the greatest repugnance to me although far be it from me to impugn the nature of your trade or profession.

[The counsellor and Dierdre are not listening, fascinated by each other]

Counsellor:
[realizing Pewtey has stopped] Do go on.

Arthur Pewtey:
Well, as I say, we've always been good friends, sharing the interests, the gardening and so on, the model aeroplanes, the sixpenny bottle for the holiday money, and indeed twice a month settling down in the evenings doing the accounts, something which, er, Deirdre, Deirdre that's my wife, er, particularly looked forward to on account of her feet, [the counsellor has his face fantastically close to Dierdre's, as close that they could get without kissing] I should probably have said at the outset that I'm noted for having something of a sense of humour, although I have kept myself very much to myself over the last two years notwithstanding, as it were, and it's only as comparatively recently that I began to realize - well, er perhaps realize is not the correct word, er, imagine, imagine, that I was not the only thing in her life.

Counsellor:
[who is practically in a clinch with her] You suspected your wife?

Arthur Pewtey:
Well yes - at first, frankly yes [the counsellor points Dierdre to a screen; she goes behind it] Her behaviour did seem at the time to me, who after all was there to see, to be a little odd.

Counsellor:
Odd?

Arthur Pewtey:
Yes well, I mean to a certain extent yes. I'm not by nature a suspicious person - far from it - though in fact I have something of a reputation as an after-dinner speaker, if you take my meaning....

[A piece of Dierdre's clothing comes over the top of the screen]

Counsellor:
Yes, I certainly do

[Dierdre's bra and panties come over the screen]

Arthur Pewtey:
Anyway in the area where I'm known people in fact know me extremely well....

Counsellor:
[taking his jacket off] Oh, yes. Would you hold this?

Arthur Pewtey:
Certainly yes [helps him with it; the counsellor continues to undress] Anyway, as I said, I decided to face up to the facts and stop beating about the bush or I'd never look myself in the bathroom mirror again.

Counsellor:
[down to his shorts] Er, look would you mind running along for ten minutes? Make it half an hour.

Arthur Pewtey:
No, no, right-ho, fine. Yes I'll wait outside shall I?... [the counsellor has already gone behind the screen] Yes, well that's p'raps the best things. Yes. You've certainly put my mind at rest on one or two points, there. [exits through door. He is stopped by a Southerner]

Southerner:
[in his Southern American accent] Now wait there, stranger. A man can run and run for year after year until he realizes that what he's running from...is hisself.

Arthur Pewtey:
[surprised] Gosh.

Southerner:
A man's got to do what a man's got to do, and there ain't no sense in runnin'. Now you gotta turn, and you gotta fight, and you gotta hold your head up high.

Arthur Pewtey:
[with confidence] Yes!

Southerner:
Now you go back in there my son and be a man. Walk tall. [exits]

Arthur Pewtey:
Yes, I will! I will! I've been pushed around long enough! THIS IS IT! This is your moment, Arthur Pewtey. This is it, Arthur Pewtey! At last you're a man! [opens the door very determinedly, and goes to the screen where he hears Dierdre giggling] All right, Dierdre! Come out of there!

Counsellor:
[from behind the screen] Go away!

Arthur Pewtey:
[back to being a coward] Right. Right.

[He is hit on the head with a chicken by a man in a suit of armour]

[CAPTION:
'SO MUCH FOR PATHOS']

Voice Over:
So much for pathos.

Terry Gilliam:
[dressed in a viking costume] This is my only line.

Husband:
Once I as married to a woman who was beautiful and young, and gay and free. Whatever happened to her?

Wife:
You divorced her and married me.