Original subtitles

Monty Python Live At The Hollywood Bowl English

♪ 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 69 ♪

♪ If we sit on our faces ♪ ♪ In all sorts of places and play ♪

♪ Till we're blown away ♪

Hello, good evening and welcome to the Ronald Reagan Memorial Bowl...

...here in the pretty little L.A. suburb of Hollywood...

...where we're about to witness all in wrestling...

...brought to you tonight, ladies and gentlemen, by the makers of Scum...

...the world's first ever combined hair oil, foot ointment and salad dressing.

And the makers of Titan, the novelty nuclear missile.

You never know when it will go off.

Surprise your friends, amuse your enemies...

...start the party with a bang.

Introducing, ladies and gentlemen, tonight...

...all the way from a mud-wrestling tour of the OPEC countries...

...in the red corner, Colin "Bomber" Harris.

And ladies and gentlemen, in the blue corner...

...all the way from a mud-wrestling tour of the OPEC countries...

...Colin "Bomber" Harris.

Well, now, ladies and gentlemen, this is the first time...

...that Colin "Bomber" Harris has met himself.

A few formalities now. Any moment now, we'll be ready...

...for the start of round one. There goes the bell.

Colin moves to the middle of the ring there.

He's looking for an opening.

Going for the handhold.

He's got it.

Into the head-squeeze. A head-squeeze there.

A favourite move of Colin's at this opening stage. Right now.

And already Colin is working on that weak left knee of his.

The half nelson.

Half nelson and a Philadelphia half lotus.

And Colin bit himself on purpose there.

And he has been given a public warning by the referee.

And Colin did not like that one little bit.

Double overhead nostril.

Back kick and into the Boston crayfish.

No, it's a crawfish. Or is it langoustine?

It's the langoustine. A lovely move. He's caught himself by surprise...

...and that is the first fall to Colin "Bomber" Harris.

Well, a lovely move there. Colin must be pleased with himself...

...for having caught himself out with that one. And a forearm chop.

A strawberry whip. A vanilla whip.

Chocolate whip. There it is, Colin's most famous hold...

...the one-leg, over-shoulder Gerry Ford.

And Colin's in real trouble.

He's just made it to the rope. Just a little lucky there. There it is.

A double Eydie Gorme. Should be able to twist out of this.

And he does but he's looking pretty groggy.

He's caught himself with two forearm smashes and that is it.

Colin "Bomber" Harris has knocked himself out.

And so he is the winner...

...and he goes on next week to meet himself in the final.

♪ 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 poke-- ♪

Michelangelo to see you, Your Holiness.

- Who? - Michelangelo...

...famous Renaissance artist whose works include...

...the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel and the celebrated statue of David.

- Very well. - In 1514, he returned to Florence and--

All right, that's enough, that's enough. They've got it now.

- Good evening, Your Holiness. - Evening, Michelangelo.

I wanna have a world with you about this painting of yours, The Last Supper.

- Oh, yeah? - I'm not happy about it.

- Oh, dear. It took me hours. - Not happy at all.

Is it the Jell-O you don't like?

- No. Whey add a b“ oi amour, don't they'?

Oh, I know. You don't like the kangaroo.

- What kangaroo? - No problem, I'll paint him out.

- I never saw a kangaroo. - He's right at the back.

I'll paint him out, no sweat. I'll make him into a Disciple.

- All right? - That's the problem.

- What is? - The Disciples.

Are they too Jewish?

I made Judas the most Jewish.

No, it's just that there are 28 of them.

Another will never matter. I'll make the kangaroo into another.

- No, that's not the point. - I'll lose the kangaroo.

- I wasn't perfectly happy with it. - That's not the point.

There are 28 Disciples.

- Too many? - Well, of course it's too many.

I know that, I wanted to give the impression of a real Last Supper.

You know, not just any old last supper. Not like a last meal or a final snack.

But, you know, I wanted to give the impression...

...of a real mother of a blow-out, you know?

There were only 12 Disciples at the Last Supper.

Maybe some of the other ones came after--

There were only 12 altogether.

- Maybe some of their friends came by. - Look.

There were just 12 Disciples and our Lord at the Last Supper.

The Bible clearly says so.

- No friends? - No friends.

- Waiters? - No.

- Cabaret? - No.

I like them. They help flesh out the scene. I could lose--

Look, there were only 12 Disciples at--

I've got it. I've got it.

We'll call it The Last But One Supper.

- What? - There must have been one.

If there was a last one, there must have been a one before that.

So this is the Penultimate Supper.

The Bible doesn't say how many people were there?

- No. - There you are, then.

Look, the Last Supper is a significant event in the life of our Lord.

The penultimate supper was not.

Even if they had a conjurer and a mariachi band.

A Last Supper I commissioned from you, and a Last Supper I want.

With 12 disciples and one Christ.

- One? - Yes, one.

Will you please tell me what possessed you...

...to paint this with three Christs in it?

- It works, mate. - Works?

Yeah. It looks great.

The fat one balances the two skinny ones.

There is only one Redeemer.

I know that. We all know that. What about artistic license?

- Well, one Messiah is what I want. - I'll tell you what you want, mate.

You want a bloody photographer, that's what.

- Not a bloody creative artist to flesh-- - I'll tell you.

I want a Last Supper with one Christ, 12 Disciples, no kangaroos...

...no trampoline acts by Thursday lunch...

...or you don't get paid.

- Bloody fascist. - Look, I'm the bloody Pope, I am.

May not know much about art, but I know what I like.

Never be rude to a Polack--

Hello, and welcome to Munich for the 27th Silly Olympiad...

...an event held traditionally every three-point-seven years...

...which has brought competitors from over...

...4 million different countries.

Here we are at the first event of the afternoon.

The second semifinal of the 100 yards for people with no sense of direction.

I'll just give you the competitors' name once.

Skolomovski of Poland, Zatapatique of France...

...Gropovich of the United States...

...Drabble of Trinidad, Fernandez of Spain...

...and in the outside lane, Bormann of Brazil.

Well, that was fun, wasn't it?

And now over to the other end of the stadium.

Here, we're just waiting for the start of the 1500 metres for the deaf.

And they're under starter's orders.

We'll be coming back the moment there's action. Over to the swimming.

You join us here at the Bundesabsurd Pool in time...

...to see the start of the 200-metres freestyle for non-swimmers.

Watch for the tough Australian champion...

...Ron Barnett in the second lane.

We'll bring you back the moment they start fishing the corpses out.

But now over to Hans Clegg for the start of the marathon for incontinence.

Well, we've got an enormous entry for this event.

Forty-four competitors from 29 different countries.

Al! of them with the most superbly weak bladders.

Not a tight sphincter in sight.

Ready to embark nevertheless on the world's longest race...

...and they're just aching to go.

on your mark.

Get set.

And they're off, they're off. Well, no, no, no.

We're back at the 1500 metres.

The starter is giving a magnificent show.

We've had volleys, rapid bursts scattered random fire, fusillades firing.

Well, and still he can't gel the buggers moving.

It's enough to make you chew your own foot off.

And now the high jump. Katerina Ovelenski for the Soviet Union.

But what a jump. What a jump! That's got to be a record.

The 3000-metre steeplechase for people who think they're chickens.

There's Samuelson of the United States...

...and over there is Klaus of East Germany.

A Rhode Island Red the last three Olympics.

Here's the referee. He's frightened them.

There's the leader, Abe Seagull of Canada...

...who went off, got a good start then settled...

...on the water jump, and has now gone broody.

We're back with the marathon for incontinence.

There's Polinski of Poland in the lead'. Brewer of Australia has taken over.

There's Laparche in front. Brewer's gotta spend a penny.

There's goes Brewer. There goes Komig from Austria.

So now it's Alvarez of Cuba followed by the plucky Norwegian, Bors.

They're in and out like yo-yos. There's McNaughton.

The Scottish tad can't hold it.

Machievic. Machievic of Yugoslavia has taken over. He can't hold it.

Well, well, these must be the weakest bladders...

...ever to represent their country.

And now let's have a look back at what's going on down on stage.

Good evening, ladies and Bruces.

- Hello, Bruce. - Good day, Bruce.

- How are you, Bruce? - What's all this lot, Bruce?

It's very nice to be here at the Hollywood Bowl this evening.

We're all philosophy professors from the University of Woolamaloa, Australia.

Australia, Australia, Australia.

- We love you. - God bless her.

I teach Hegelian philosophy, Bruce here teaches Aristotelian philosophy...

...and Bruce here is in charge of the sheep dip.

- Difficult work. - It's thirsty work watching this humour.

Bruce, why don't you stick out a few little free samples from your Esky--?

Give these Americans our precious-J?

See how awful they are? Grasping and trying to get things?

You can feel morally superior and smug.

There's one coming right over there. Mind out.

A big one.

All right. Now, the reason we do this, ladies and Bruces...

...is frankly, over here we find your American beer...

...is a little like making love in a canoe.

- Making love in a canoe? - It's fucking close to water.

Piss.

We're gonna try and raise the tone a little here...

...by singing a nice, intellectual song...

...for those two or three of you in the audience...

...who understand these things.

So here we go.

Immanuel Kant was a real pissant Who was very rarely stable

Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar

Who could think you under the table

David Hume could out-consume Schopenhauer and Hegel

And Wittgenstein was a beery swine Who was just as slashed as Schlegel

There's nothing Nietzsche Couldn't teach you

About the raising of the wrist

Socrates himself Was permanently pissed

- How'd you like that? All right? - Let's hold it a second.

I can see some of these Bruces are in a bit of a playful mood tonight.

Some of the ones that don't have straws up their nose.

Anyway, why don't we do something rather fun?

Why don't we get some of these guys to sing? And some sheilas too.

That's wise, I tell you.

- Show them the words. - Okay. I got the words somewhere.

- Right. - Ready?

Immanuel Kant was a real pissant Who was very rarely stable

Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy--

- They're a typical Hollywood audience. - You're right.

The kids are on drugs. All the adults are on roller skates.

Right on.

Very philosophical, Bruce.

Have we got anything bigger to put the words up...

...for these rather short-sighted people?

This is Bruce from the Biology Department.

- All right. Okay. - Here are the words. Here we go.

Sorry to have kept you waiting. I'm afraid my walk...

...has become rather silly recently. It takes me longer to get to the office.

Now, what was it again?

Well, sir, I have got a silly walk.

And I'd like to obtain government backing to help me develop it.

I see. Well, may I see this silly walk of yours?

Yes, certainly.

Yes, I see. That's it, is it?

- Well, yes, that's it. - Yes, yes, yes.

It's not particularly silly, is it? I mean, the left leg isn't silly at all.

The right leg merely does a forward, O'Brien half-turn every alternate step.

Yes, but I feel with a federal grant, I could make it a lot more silly.

Mr. Stagback, the very real problem is one of finance.

You see, there's Defence, Education, Housing...

...Health, Social Security, Silly Walks.

All to get the same. Last year, the government spent less...

...on Silly Walks than they did on Industrial Reorganisation.

We were supposed to get 348 million pounds a year...

...to cover our entire Silly Walks Programme.

- Coffee? - Yes, please.

Hello, Mrs. Two-Lumps, could we have two cups of coffee, please?

- Yes, Mr. Teabag. - Mad as a hatter.

You see, the Israelis already have a man who can take his left leg off...

...and swallow it with every alternate step, whereas the Japanese...

...cunning, electronically-obsessed little--

Yes. Thank you, Mrs. Two-Lumps.

You're very interested in silly walks, aren't you?

- Rather. - Right. Well, take a look at this.

Oh, I've had a bitch of a morning in the high court.

Oh, I could stamp my little feet, the way those counsellors carry on.

- Oh, don't I know it, love? - Oh, dear.

Objection here, objection there.

That nice policeman giving his evidence so well.

- Beautiful speaking voice. - And what a body.

- Oh, yeah. - Oh, very.

Well, after a bit, all I could do is bang my gavel.

- You what, love? - I banged my gavel.

- Oh, get away. - I did.

I did my "silence in court" bit. If looks could've killed...

...that prosecuting counsel would have been in for 30 years.

- How did your summing up go? - Oh, actually...

...l did it in my butch voice, you know?

♪ "What the jury must understand- ♪ ♪ And they loved it. ♪

I could see that little curly-headed foreman of the jury eyeing me.

- Really? - Oh, yeah, cheeky devil.

I finished up with-- I got really strict.

"The actions of these vicious men are a violent stain...

...upon the community.

And the full penalty of the law is scarcely sufficient...

...to deal with their ghastly crimes."

And I waggled my wig.

- Waggled your what? - I waggled my wig.

- Really? - The only thing I waggled.

Ever so slightly. Stunning effect.

Anyway, I gave him three years. He only took 10 minutes.

Well, as I said to Melvin Belly the other day, you know:

"You can put it in the hand of your attorneys...

...but it'll never stand up in court."

I know what you mean.

Good evening.

Tonight on World Forum we are deeply privileged...

...to have with us Karl Marx, the founder of modern socialism...

...and author of the Communist Manifesto.

Vladimir llich Ulyanov, better known to the world as Lenin...

...leader of the Russian Revolution, writer, statesman...

...and father of modern socialism. Che Guevara...

...the Bolivian guerrilla leader...

...and Mao Tse-Tung, chairman of the Chinese Communist Party...

...since 1949.

And the first question is for you, Karl Marx.

The Hammers.

The Hammers is the nickname of what English football team?

The Hammers.

No? Well, bad luck, Karl. It is in fact Westham United.

Now, Che Guevara. Che.

Coventry City last won the English Football Cup in what year?

I can throw the question open. Anybody?

Coventry City last won the English Football Cup in what year?

No? I'm not surprised you didn't get that. It is in fact a trick question.

Coventry City have never won the English Football Cup.

So now with the scores all even, it's on to round two...

...and Lenin, your starter for $10.

Jerry Lee Lewis has had over 17 major, solid-gold hits in the U.S. of A.

What's the name of the biggest?

Jerry Lee Lewis' solid-gold biggie.

No? Yes, Mao Tse-Tung?

-"Great Balls of Fire"? - Yes, it was indeed.

Very well challenged. We come on to our third round.

Our contestant tonight is Karl Marx...

...and our special prize is this beautiful lounge suite.

Karl has elected to answer questions on workers' control of factories...

...so here we go with question number one.

Nervous, Karl? Just a little. Well, never mind, Karl. Have a go.

The development of the industrial proletariat...

...is conditioned by what other development?

The development of the industrial bourgeoisie.

Good, yes, it is indeed. Well done, Karl.

You're on your way to your lounge suite.

Now, Karl, number two.

The struggle of class against class is a what struggle?

- A political struggle. - Good. Yes, it is indeed.

Well done, Karl. One final question...

...and that beautiful, non-materialistic lounge suite will be yours.

Ready, Karl? You're a brave man. Your final question.

Who won the English Football Cup in 1949?

The workers control the means of production.

The struggle of the urban proletariat.

No, it was Wolverhampton Wanderers, who beat Leicester 3-1.

On, shit.

Get out of here.

Well, no one leaves this show empty-handed.

So we're gonna cut off his hands.

Well, now it's talent-spotting time, ladies and gentlemen.

And please, see if you can spot any talent in our next competitors.

Will you please give a very big hand and a warm welcome...

...to Carl Weetabix and Rita.

I'm the urban spaceman, baby I've got speed

I've got everything I need

I'm the urban spaceman, baby I couldn't fly

I'm a supersonic guy

I don't need pleasure I don't feel pain

If you were to knock me down, I'd just get up again

I'm the urban spaceman, baby I'm making out

I'm all about

I wake up every morning With a smile upon my face

My natural exuberance Spills out all over the place

I'm the urban spaceman Fm intelligent and clean

Know what I mean?

I'm the urban spaceman As a lover second to none

It's a lot of fun

I never let my friends down, I've never made a boob

I'm a glossy magazine, An advert on the tube

I'm the urban spaceman, baby Here comes the twist

I don't exist

- Mr. Hilton? - Yes.

You are sole proprietor and owner of the Whizzo Chocolate Company?

I am.

Constable Parrot and I are from the Hygiene Squad.

We'd like to have a word with you...

...about your box of chocolates entitled the Whizzo Quality Assortment.

- Good, yes. - If I may begin at the beginning.

First, there is the Cherry Fondue.

Now, this is extremely nasty.

- But we can't prosecute you for that. - Agreed.

Next, we have number four. Crunchy Frog.

Yes.

Am I right in thinking there's a real frog in here?

Yes, a little one.

-Is it cooked? - No.

What, a raw frog?

We use only the finest baby frogs, dew-picked and flown from Iraq.

Cleansed in the finest quality spring water.

Lightly killed and sealed in a succulent Swiss...

mquintuple-smooth, full-cream, treble milk chocolate envelope.

And lovingly frosted with glucose.

That's as may be, but it's still a frog.

What else would it be?

Well, don't you even take the bones out?

If we took the bones out, it wouldn't be crunchy, would it?

Constable Parrot ate one of those.

- Would you excuse me a moment, sir? - Yes.

Well, it says Crunchy Frog quite clearly.

Never mind that. We have to protect the public.

People aren't going to think there's a real frog in chocolate.

The superintendent thought it was an almond whirl.

They're bound to think it's some kind of mock frog.

Mock frog?

We use no artificial preservatives or additives of any kind.

Nevertheless, I advise you in future to replace the words "Crunchy Frog"...

...with the legend "Crunchy, raw, un-boned, real, dead frog"...

...if you want to avoid prosecution.

What about our sales?

I don't give a damn. We have to protect the public.

Now, what was this one? Number five. It was number five, wasn't it?

Number five, Ram's Bladder Cup.

Now, what kind of confection is this?

We use choicest juicy chunks of fresh Cornish ram's bladder.

Emptied, steamed, flavoured with sesame seeds.

Whipped into a fondue and garnished with larks' vomit.

- Larks' vomit? - Correct.

It doesn't say anything down here about larks' vomit.

Yes, it does. On the bottom of the box, after monosodium glutamate.

I hardly think this is good enough. It would be more appropriate...

...if the box bore a big red label warning larks' vomit.

Our sales would plummet.

Well, why don't you move into more conventional areas of confectionary?

Like praline or lime cream-- A very popular flavour, I understand.

--Or Strawberry Delight?

I mean, what's this one? Cockroach Cluster.

And this? Anthrax Ripple.

And what's this one? Spring Surprise?

That's our speciality. Covered in darkest, velvety smooth chocolate.

When you pop it in your mouth...

...stainless steel bolts spring out and plunge straight through both cheeks.

If people pop a nice chockie in their mouth...

...they don't expect to get their cheeks pierced.

In any case, it is an inadequate description of the sweetmeat.

I shall have to ask you to accompany me to the station.

- It's a fair cop. - And don't talk to the audience.

Albatross.

Albatross.

-I'd like some. Albatross!

You're not supposed to be smoking that.

Albatross. Don't take them.

- What flavour is it? What flavour is it? - Sea gull sickle.

Well, I'll have a one.

Pelican bonbon.

- Albatross. - Could I have two ice creams, please?

I haven't got any ice creams. I've just got this albatross.

- Albatross. - What flavour is it?

Well, it's an albatross, isn't it? It's not any bloody flavour.

- Albatross. - There's gotta be some flavour.

- Everything's got flavour. - All right.

Bloody albatross flavour.

Bleeding sea bird bleeding flavour. Albatross.

- You got wafers with it? - I don't have fucking wafers, you cunt.

- It's a fucking albatross, isn't it? - Stop that, stop that.

It's filthy.

Come along. Right now, we need you. The one in the black...

...we need you for another skit.

You get off. You're not even a proper woman.

- Don't oppress me, mate. - What are you trying to do?

- Avoid registration or something? - Bleeding sexist.

Just get off. Come along, we need you for a skit.

No one enjoys a good laugh more than I do.

Except perhaps my wife and some of her friends.

And Capt. Johnson. Come to think of it, most enjoy a good laugh...

...more than I do, but that's besides the point.

Where's the other person for this skit?

Right. Do you want to sit in that chair?

And to the skit.

Evening, squire.

Good evening.

Is your wife a goer? Know what I mean? Know what I mean?

Nudge, nudge, know what I mean? Say no more.

- I beg your pardon. - Your wife. Does she go? Does she go?

Well, she sometimes has to go, yes.

I bet she does, I bet she does. Say no more, say no more.

Know what I mean? Nudge, nudge.

- I'm afraid I don't quite follow you. - Oh, follow me, follow me.

That's good. That's very good. A nod's as good as a wink...

...to a blind bat.

- Are you selling something? - Selling, selling. Very good indeed.

You're wicked, you are. Wicked.

Wicked.

Say no more.

But I--

So your wife's interested in sport?

She likes sport, yes.

I bet she does, I bet she does.

As a matter of fact, she's very fond of cricket.

She likes games? Likes games?

Knew she would. She's been around a bit. She been around?

She has travelled, yes. She's from Glendale.

Say no more.

Glendale, squire. Say no more, say no more, say no more, say no more.

Well, I--

ls your...?

Is your Glendale wife interested in photography?

Photography? -"Photographs?"...

...he asked him, knowingly.

Photography? - Snap, snap, grin, grin, wink, wink...

...nudge, nudge, say no more.

- Sort of holiday snaps. - They could be.

They could be taken on holiday. Swimming costumes.

Candid, you know? Candid photography.

No, we don't have a camera.

Still.

Look. Are you insinuating something?

Oh, no, no, no. Yes.

- Well? - Well, I mean, you're--

You're a man of the world, aren't you?

- You've been around, you know? - What do you mean?

Well, I mean, like, you've-- You know, you've, like...

...you've done it, you know? You've slept with a lady.

Yes.

What's it like?

Good afternoon and welcome to a packed Olympic Stadium Munchen...

...for the second leg of this exciting final.

And here come the Germans new, lead' by their skipper, "Hobby" Hegel.

They must start favourites. They've attracted the most attention...

...from the press with their team problems.

And let's now see their lineup.

The Germans playing four-two-four, Leibniz in goal.

Back four: Kant, Hegel, Schopenhauer and Schelling.

Front-runners: Schiegei, Wittgenstein, Nietzsche, Heidegger.

And the midfield duo of Beckenbauer and Jaspers.

Beckenbauer obviously a bit of a surprise there.

And here come the Greeks, led off by their veteran centre half Heraclitus.

Let's look at their team. As you'd expect, ifs a more defensive lineup.

Plato's in goal. Socrates, a front-runner.

And Aristotle as sweeper. Aristotle, very much the man in form.

One surprise is the inclusion of Archimedes.

Here comes the referee...

...K'ung-fu-tzu, Confucius and his two linesmen:

Saint Augustan and Saint Thomas Aquinas.

And as the two skippers come together to shake hands...

...we're ready for the start of this final.

The referee, Mr. Confucius, checks his sound.

And they're off. Nietzsche and Hegel there.

Jaspers, number seven on the outside. Wittgenstein there with him.

There's Beckenbauer.

Schelling's in there, Heidegger covering.

Schopenhauer.

And now it's the Greeks. Epicurus, Plotinus number six.

Aristotle. Empedocles of Acragus, and Democritus with him.

There 's Archimedes. Socrates. There he is, Socrates.

Socrates there, going through.

There's the ball, there's the ball.

We'll be bringing you back to this...

...exciting contest the moment anything interesting happens.

- Very passable, this. Very passable.

Nothing like a good glass of Chateau de Chasselas, Josiah?

Oh, you're right there, Obidiah.

Who would have thought 30 years ago...

...we'd all be sitting here drinking Chateau de Chasselas?

We were glad to have the price of a cup of tea.

A cup of cold tea.

- Without milk or sugar. - Or tea.

- In a cracked cup was all. - Oh, we never used to have a cup.

We used to have to drink out of a rolled up newspaper.

The best we could manage was to suck on a piece of damp cloth.

But, you know, we were happy in those days although we were poor.

Because we were poor. My old dad used to say to me:

-"Money doesn't bring you happiness." - He was right.

I was happier then and I had nothing.

We used to live in this tiny, old, tumbledown house...

...with great big holes in the roof.

House? You were lucky to live in a house.

We used to live in one room, all 26 of us.

No furniture, half the floor was missing.

We were all huddled together in one corner for fear of falling.

You were lucky to have a room. We used to live in the corridor.

Oh, we used to dream of living in a corridor.

Would have been a palace to us.

We used to live in an old water tank on a rubbish tip.

We got woke up every morning by having a load of rotting fish...

...dumped all over us. House?

When I say house, it was just a hole in the ground...

...covered by a sheet of tarpaulin. But it was a house to us.

We were evicted from our hole in the ground.

We had to go and live in a lake.

You were lucky to have a lake.

There were 150 of us living in a shoebox in the middle of the road.

Cardboard box? You were lucky.

We lived for three months in a rolled up newspaper in a septic tank.

We used to have to get up at 6:00 and clean the newspaper...

...go to work down the mill, 14 hours a day, week in, week out...

...for six pence a week. And when we got home...

...our dad would thrash us to sleep with his belt.

Luxury.

We used to have to get out of the lake at 3:00...

...clean the lake, eat hot gravel, work 20 hours a day at the mill...

...for twopence. Dad would beat us around the head and neck...

...with a broken bottle if we were lucky.

Well, of course we had it tough.

We used to have to get up in the middle of the night...

...and lick the road clean with our tongues.

We had to eat half a handful of freezing cold gravel...

...work 24 hours a day for four pence...

...and when we got home...

...our dad would slice us in two with a bread knife.

Right.

I had to get up at 10:00 at night half an hour before I went to bed.

Eat a lump of cold poison, work 29 hours a day down mill...

...and pay mill owner for permission to work...

...and when we got home, our dad would kill us...

...and dance about on our graves, singing "Hallelujah."

And you try and tell the young people of today that...

-...and they won't believe you. - No, they won't.

There may be no score, but there's no lack of excitement here.

As you can see, Nietzsche has just been booked for arguing with the referee.

He accused Confucius of having no free will and Confucius, he say:

"Name go in box."

And this is Nietzsche's third booking in four games.

And who's that? It's Karl Marx. Karl Marx is warming up.

It looks as though there's going to be a substitution on the German side.

Obviously, manager Martin Luther has decided on all-out attackers.

Indeed he must with only two minutes of the match to go.

The question is, who is he going to replace?

Who's gonna come off? Jaspers, Hegel or Schopenhauer.

But it's Wittgenstein who saw his aunty only last week.

Here's Marx. Let's see if he can put some life into this German attack.

Evidently not. What a shame.

Now we've just over a minute left. A replay on Tuesday...

...looks absolutely vital. And there Archimedes.

And I think he's had an idea.

Eureka!

Archimedes out to Socrates. Socrates back to Archimedes.

Archimedes out to Heraclitus. He beats Hegel.

Heraclitus, a little flick, here he comes on the far post.

Socrates is there. Socrates heads it in!

Socrates has scored. The Greeks are going mad.

The Greeks are going mad. What a beautiful cross from Archimedes.

The Germans are disputing it. Hegel is arguing...

...that the reality is merely an a priori adjunct of non-naturalistic ethics.

Kant is holding that, ontologically, it exists only in the imagination.

And Marx is claiming it was offside. But Confucius blows the final whistle.

It's all over. Germany having trounced England's famous midfield trio:

Bentham, Locke and Hobbes in the semifinal...

...have been beaten by the odd goal. And let's see it again.

There it is. Socrates heads it in and Leibniz doesn't have a chance.

And just look at those delighted Greeks.

There they are, "Chopper" Socrates, Empedocles of Acragus.

What a game he had.

And Epicurus is there. And Socrates, the captain...

...who scored what was probably the most important goal of his career.

Good afternoon, sir. May I help you?

Yes, I'd like to have an argument, please.

Certainly, sir. Have you been here before?

- No, this is my first time. - I see.

Well, do you want to have just one argument...

...or were you thinking of taking a course?

- Well, what is the cost? - Yes.

It's one pound for a five-minute argument...

...but only eight pounds for a course of 10.

I'll just try the one and see how it goes.

- Fine. Yes, try Mr. Barnard, Room 12. - Thank you very much.

- What do you want? - Well, I--

Don't give me that.

- Snotty heap of parrot droppings. - What?

Shut your festering gob, you tit. Your type make me puke...

...you vacuous, toffee-nosed, malodorous pervert.

Listen, I came here for an argument. I--

Oh, I'm sorry, but this is Abuse.

- Oh, I see. Terribly sorry. - No, you want Room 12A, next door.

- I see. Thank you very much. - Not at all.

Stupid git.

Is this the right room for an argument?

- I’ve told you once. - No, you haven't.

- Yes, I have. - When?

- Just now. - No, you didn't.

- Yes, I did. - You didn't.

- I did. - No. You must certainly did not.

Is this the five-minute argument or the half-hour?

- I see. Just the five minutes. - Just the five minutes. Right.

Thank you.

- Anyway, I did. - Oh, no, you didn't.

Let's get one thing absolutely clear. I definitely told you.

- No, you didn't. No, you didn't. - Yes, I did. Yes, I did.

- No, you didn't. No, you didn't. - Yes, I did. I did.

- No. No. No, you didn't. - Yes. Yes. Yes, I did.

Look, this isn't an argument.

- Yes, it is. - No, it isn't.

- It's contradiction. - It isn't.

- It is. You just contradicted me. - I did not.

- You did just then. - No, no, no.

- Nonsense. - Oh, this is futile.

- No, it isn't. - Yes, it is.

- I came here for a good argument. - No.

- You came here for an argument. - An argument isn't contradiction.

Well, can be.

No, an argument is a series of statements intended...

-...to establish a proposition. - No, it isn't.

- Yes. It isn't just contradiction. - Look, if I argue with you...

...l must take up a contrary position.

Yes, it isn't just saying, "No, it isn't."

- Yes, it is. Yes, it is. Yes, it is. - No, it isn't. No, it isn't. No, it isn't.

Argument is an intellectual process.

Contradiction is automatic gainsaying of anything the person says.

- It is not. Not at all. - It is.

- Now, look-- - Thank you, good morning.

- What? - That's it. Good morning.

- But I was just getting interested. - I'm sorry. The five minutes is up.

- That was never five minutes. - I'm afraid it was.

Oh, no, it wasn't.

I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to argue anymore.

What?

If you want to go on, you'll have to pay for another five.

That was never five minutes just now.

Oh, come on.

- Ridiculous. - If you want me to go on...

...pay for another five minutes.

Oh, all right.

- Here you are. - Thank you.

Well?

- Well, what? - That was never five minutes.

If you want me to go on, pay for another five minutes.

Yes, yes, well, I've just paid.

No, you didn't.

- I did. I did. I did. - You did not. You did not.

- You never did. You never did. - I did. I did.

- We're not going to argue about this. - I'm very sorry, but you didn't.

Well, if I didn't pay, why are you arguing?

Gotcha.

- No, you haven't. - Yes, I have.

- If you're arguing, I must have paid. - Not necessarily.

I could be arguing in my spare time.

- I’ve had enough. - You haven't.

- Yes, I have. Yes, I have. - No, you haven't. No, you haven't.

I've got two legs from my hips To the ground

And when I lift them They walk around

And when I lift them They climb the stairs

And when I shave them They ain't got hairs

How sweet to be an idiot

As harmless as a cloud

Too small to hide the sun

Almost poking fun

At the warm but insecure Untidy crowd

How sweet to be an idiot

And dip my brain in joy

Children laughing at my back with no fear of attack

As much retaliation as a toy

How sweet to be an idiot

How sweet

I tiptoe down the street Smile at everyone I meet

But suddenly a scream Smashes through my dream

I smell the blood of an asylum

Hey you, you're such a pedant

You got as much brain as a dead ant

As much imagination As a caravan site

But I still love you

Still love you

How sweet to be an idiot

How sweet

How sweet

How sweet

- Good morning. - Good morning.

Have you come to arrange a holiday or would you like a blowjob?

I'm sorry'?

- Oh, you've come to arrange a holiday. - Yes.

Sorry, sorry.

Now, where were you thinking of going?

- To India. Yes. - One of our adventure holidays.

- Yes, that's right. - Well...

...you'd better see Mr. Bounder.

Mr. Bounder, this gentleman's interested in the India overland...

...and nothing else.

- Hello, I'm Bounder of Adventure. - Oh, hello...

...my name's Smoketoomuch.

- What? - My name is Smoketoomuch.

- Mr. Smoketoomuch. - Well...

...you'd better cut down a little, then.

- I'm sorry? - You'd better cut down a little, then.

Oh, I see. I smoke too much, so I'd better cut down a little, then.

Yes. I bet you get people making jokes about your name all the time.

No, actually, it never struck me before. Smoketoomuch.

Anyway, you're interested in one of our holidays?

Yes, that's right. I saw your advert in the "blassified" ads.

- The what? - In The Times' "blassified" ads.

The Times' classified ads?

Yes, that's right. I'm afraid I have a speech impediment.

I can't pronounce the letter B.

- C. - Yes, that's right, B.

It's all due to a trauma I suffered when I was a "sboolboy."

I was attacked by a Siamese bat.

- A Siamese cat. - No, a Siamese bat.

They're more dangerous.

- Listen, can you say the letter K? - Oh, yes.

Khaki, kettle, Kipling, Khomeini, Kellogg's "Born" Flakes.

Well, why don't you say the letter K instead of the letter C?

What, you mean, pronounce "blassified" with a K?

Yes, absolutely.

- Classified. - Good.

Oh, that's very good. I never thought of that before.

What a silly "bunt."

- Now then, about the holiday. We have-- - Yes, well...

...I’ve been on package tours many times.

- Your advert really "baught" my eye. - Jolly good.

What's the point if you're just gonna be treated like a sheep?

Carted around in buses, surrounded by oafs from Kettering and "Boventry."

- Absolutely-- - Their "bloth baps"...

...their "bardigans" and radios, "bomplaining" about tea...

...they don't make it properly, do they?

And stopping at endless bodegas selling fish and chips...

...and Watney's Red Barrel and calamaris and two veg.

Sitting in their sun frocks...

...squirting Timothy White's sun cream over puffy...

...raw, swollen, purulent flesh because they overdid it on the first day.

- I know. - And being herded into wilderness...

...Hotel Miramars, and Bellevueses, and "Bontinentals."

Their international luxury modern roomettes.

Pools full of draught Red Barrel. Fat German businessmen pretending...

...to be acrobats and forming pyramids.

Frightening children and barging into queues.

If you're not at your table spot-on 7...

...you miss your Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup...

...the first in the menu of international cuisine.

- Absolutely. Now-- - Thursday night, there's cabaret...

...featuring some tiny, emaciated dago with 9-inch hips...

...and some fat, bloated tart with her hair Brylcreemed down...

...and a big ass presenting flamenco for foreigners.

- Be quiet. - Adenoidal typists...

...from Birmingham with flabby legs and diarrhoea trying to pick up hairy...

...bandy-legged wop waiters called Manuel.

Once a week there's an excursion to the Roman remains.

You buy cherryade and melted ice cream.

- Quiet. Shut up. - Watley's Red Barrel.

One night they take you to a restaurant with local atmosphere and colour.

You sit next to a party from Rhyl who sing:

I love the Costa Brave I love the Costa Brave

Shut up.

You get cornered by some drunken greengrocer...

...with an lnstamatic camera and last Tuesday's Daily Express.

He goes on about how Ian Smith should be running the country...

...and how many languages Margaret Powell can speak.

She throws up all over the Cuba Libres.

Then spending four days at Luton Airport...

...on a five-day package tour. Nothing to eat...

...but dry, British Airways-type sandwiches.

You can't get Watley's Red Barrel. In England, the bloody bar closes...

...every time you're thirsty.

The kids are crying and vomiting and breaking the plastic ashtrays.

They keep telling you it'll only be an hour.

You know your plane is still in Iceland.

They had to turn back and take-- Shut up.

--Take a party of Swedes to Yugoslavia...

...before they load you up at 3 a.m. in the morning.

You sit on the tarmac because there are unforeseen difficulties...

...i.e. the permanent strike of air-traffic control over Paris.

When you finally get to Malaga airport...

...everybody's queuing for the bloody toilet.

Queuing for the bloody armed customs officers...

...for the bus that isn't there...

...waiting to take you to the hotel that hasn't been built.

When you finally get to the half-built Algerian ruin...

...called the Hotel Del Sol, by paying half your holiday money...

...to a licensed bandit in a taxi, there's no water in the pool...

...no water in the bog, no water in the taps...

...there's only a lizard in the bidet and the rooms are double-booked.

You can't sleep because of the permanent, 24-hour drilling...

...of the foundations of the hotel next door.

Meanwhile, the Spanish National Tourist Board promises you...

...the raging cholera epidemic...

...is merely a mild outbreak of Spanish tummy...

...rather like the previous outbreak in 1660.

Even the bloody rats are dying from it.

As early as the late 14th century...

...or indeed as late as the early 14th century...

...the earliest forms of jape were divisible--

Meanwhile, the Guardia are busy arresting 16-year-olds...

...for kissing in the street.

And finally, the last day in the airport lounge...

...everybody's buying little, awful, horrid donkeys with their names on...

...and bullfight posters with their names on...

...like Antonio and Mr. Brian Pules of Norwich.

And then finally, when you get to bloody Luton...

...the flight's grounded for four hours till they find a plane to take you back.

And when you finally get to Manchester...

...there's only another bloody bus you have to wait 60 years for.

4

As early as the late 14th century...

...or indeed as late as the early 14th century...

...the earliest forms of jape...

...were divisible into the two categories into which I now intend to divide them.

The earliest manifestation of the basic, simple precipitation jest incurred...

...as will be seen from the demonstration...

...a disproportional amount of internal risibility on the part of the operator.

The secondary precipitation occurs...

...when both protagonist and dupe are located indoors.

It is true, however, that this has involved...

...the development of a special piece of machinery.

But it is still no more than a simple variation of primary precipitation.

The opening up of the African continent...

...revealed a vast new source of wealth for humourous exploitation.

We are to see demonstrated...

...how this was adapted to the basic precipitation jape.

We now come on to a considerate--

We now come on to a consideration...

...of the more sophisticated transitive mode of japing.

In which, as we'll observe, the operator or inceptor remains totally unaware...

...of the humorous implications of his action.

First, we are to see the simple side-swipe or whop.

Hey, Vance.

Next, the side-swipe and return.

Hey, Vance.

And now, the double-side-swipe and return.

Hey, Vance.

Popular as this jest has always been, however...

...it cannot compare with the ribald connotations...

...associated with the dispatch of an edible missile.

First, the simple straightforward offensive deposit.

Second, the simple sideways offensive deposit.

Next, the simple surprise deposit.

And now the foul pie.

Could we have new pies, please?

Finally, we move on to the interesting but little-known variant...

...nominally designated the three-course complex.

But finally, we must not forget...

...the enjoyment, the satisfaction and the edification...

...to be derived from the simple, straightforward...

...sideways, completely unexpected deposit.

Once upon a time, there was a little house in a dark forest.

In this house, lived a humble woodcutter and his wife.

And their pretty daughter, Little Red Riding Hood.

And in the middle of this deep, dark forest, there lived a vicious wolf.

One day, Little Red Riding Hood set off to take some things...

...to her old grandmother who lived deep in the forest.

The vicious wolf saw Little Red Riding Hood and thought:

“She looks very good to eat.

Where are you going, my pretty one?"

"Oh, kind sir. To my grandmother's."

Smirked the wicked wolf.

And dashed off through the forest to Grandmother's house.

Knock, knock, knock went the wicked wolf.

The door opened wide.

But it wasn't Grandmother who opened it.

It was Buzz Aldrin, America's number two spaceman.

For this was not Granny's little house at all...

...but the headquarters of NASA, the American space research agency.

The wicked wolf was shot by security guards.

So all was quiet in the forest again.

The humble woodcutter and his wife...

...sold their story to Der Spiegel for 40,000 Deutschmarks.

NASA agreed to limit the number of nuclear tests in Granny's little house...

...to two on Thursdays and one on Saturdays after tea.

Liberal rubbish.

What do you want with your jugged fish, Klaus?

Pardon, my wide-thighed plum?

What do you want with your jugged fish, you cloth-eared git.

Halibut.

A jugged fish is halibut.

All right. Well, what fish do you have that is not jugged?

Rabbit.

What, rabbit fish?

Nice, all covered in fur.

Well, is it dead?

Well, it was coughing up blood last night.

All right. I'll have the dead, unjugged, rabbit fish.

- Appalling. - You're always complaining.

What's for afterwards?

Well, there's rat pie, rat pudding, rat sorbet...

...or strawberry tart.

Strawberry tart?

Well, it's got some rat in it.

- How much? - Six.

Rather lot, really.

I'll have a slice without so much rat in it.

Appalling.

Moan, moan, moan.

- Hello, Mum. Hello, Dad. - Hello, son.

There's a dead bishop on the landing.

- Where is he from? - What do you mean?

What's his diocese?

Well, he looked a bit Canterbury-ish to me.

I'll go and have a look.

I don't know who keeps bringing them here.

Well, it's not me.

I put three out by the trash cans last week.

The garbage men won't touch them.

It's the bishop of Leicester.

- How do you know? - Tattooed on the back of his neck.

I think I'd better call the police.

- Shouldn't you call the church? - Call the church police.

That's a good idea.

The church police.

Hello, hello, hello.

What's all this, then? Amen.

- Are you the church police? - Oh, yes.

There's another dead bishop on the landing, vicar-sergeant.

Detective-parson, madam.

- What is it, R.C. or C. of E.? - How should I know?

Tattooed on the back of their neck.

Here.

Is that rat tart?

Yes.

Disgusting. Right, men.

The hunt is on. Let us kneel in prayer.

Oh, Lord.

Oh, Lord. We beseech thee.

Tell us who croaked the bishop of Leicester.

The one in the braces. He done it.

- It's a fair cop, but society is to blame. - Right. We'll arrest them instead.

Come on, you. Are you in society? Are you in society?

Right. We'd like to conclude this arrest with an hymn.