(We hear the distant voice of Jesus Christ floating towards us and cut to see him standing at the summit of a hill. Around him as we track backwards are thousands of people, listening to his words:)
Jesus: How blest are the sorrowful, for they shall find consolation. How blest are those of gentle spirit. They shall have the earth for their posession. How blest are those who hunger and thirst to see right prevail. They shall be satisfied...
(CHRIST's voice gets fainter as we pull back from him revealing the enormous size of the crowd. Standing nearby, isolated but alert, is a large contingent of Roman soldiers drawn up in serried ranks, armed, impassive, on foreign extra-weekend duty, keeping an eye on a large and potentially anti-Roman crowd.)
(We are a long way back from JESUS now, on another hillside towards the back of this huge multitude. His voice is barely audible on the wind. People are straining to hear. The camera comes to rest by Mandy, older now by thirty- three years, but still a ratbag.)
Mandy: Speak up! Brian: Mum! Sh! Mandy: Well I can't hear a thing! Let's go to the stoning. Big-nose: Sh! Brian: You can go to a stoning any time. Mandy: Oh, come on Brian! Big-nose: Will you be quiet? Big-nose's wife: Don't pick your nose. Big-nose: I wasn't picking my nose ... I was scratching. Wife: You were picking it while you were talking to that lady. Big-nose: I wasn't. Wife: Leave it alone...give it a rest... Cheeky Man: Do you mind? I can't hear a word he's saying. Wife: Don't you "do you mind" me...I'm talking to my husband. Cheeky Man: Well go and talk to him somewhere else! I can't hear a bloody thing! Big-nose: Don't you swear at my wife. Cheeky Man: I was only asking her to shut up so we can hear what he's saying, Big-nose. Wife: Don't you call my husband "Big-nose." Cheeky Man: Well he has got a big nose.
(Suddenly another rather well-heeled Jew in a toga turns around. He constantly has trouble with his toga and has to keep pushing it back in place. His voice is very cultured. A small boy is holding a large parasol over his head. He is Gregory and he is out for the day with his wife.)
Gregory: Could you be quiet, please? (to Cheeky Man) What was that? Cheeky Man: I don't know...I was too busy talking to Big-nose. Man Further Forward: I think it was "Blessed are the Cheesemakers." Wife: What's so special about the cheesemakers? Gregory: It's not meant to be taken literally. Obviously it refers to any manufacturers of dairy products. Cheeky Man: See, if you hadn't been going on, you'd have heard that, Big-nose. Big-nose: Hey, if you say that once more, I'll smash your fucking face in. Cheeky Man: Better keep listening...might be a bit about "Blessed are the big noses." Brian: Oh, lay off him! Cheeky Man: (rounding on Brian) You're not so bad yourself, Conchface. Where are you two from? Nose City? Big-nose: Listen! I said one more time...mate and I'll take you to the fucking cleaners. Wife: Language! And don't pick your nose! Big-nose: I wasn't going to pick my nose. I was going to thump him. Other Person: I think it was "Blessed are the Greek." Gregory: *The* Greek? Other Person: Apparently he's going to inherit the earth. Gregory: Did anyone catch his name? Big-nose: I'll thump him if he calls me Big-nose again. Cheeky Man: Oh shut up, Big-nose. Big-nose: Ooh! Right! I warned you...I really will slug you so hard... Wife: Oh it's the *Meek*...blessed are the Meek! That's nice, I'm glad they're getting something, 'cause they have a hell of a time. Cheeky Man: Listen, I'm only telling the truth...you have got a very big nose. Big-nose: (trying desperately to control his anger) *Your* nose is going to be three foot wide across your face when I've finished with you. Cheeky Man: Who hit yours then? Goliath's big brother? Big-nose: Oooh...oohh...aargh...ah (supreme self-control) That's your last warning... Mrs. Gregory: Oh do pipe d...
(Big-nose lets fly an almighty punch, but the Cheeky Man ducks and he hits Mrs. Gregory hard in the face. Horrible crunching of fist on bone. A general scuffle breaks out.)
Big-nose: Silly bitch, getting in the way. Mandy: Brian! Come on, let's go to the stoning. Brian: All right.
« Poslednja izmena: 14. Jun 2008, 09:06:19 od canelane »
Napomena: Moje privatne poruke, icq, msn, yim, google talk i mail ne sluze za pruzanje tehnicke podrske ili odgovaranje na pitanja korisnika. Za sva pitanja postoji adekvatan deo foruma. Pronadjite ga! Takve privatne poruke cu jednostavno ignorisati! Preporuke za clanove:Procitajte najcesce postavljana pitanja!
Brian...the babe they called Brian Grew...grew grew and grew, grew up to be A boy called Brian A boy called Brian
He had arms and legs and hands and feet This boy whose name was Brian And he grew, grew, grew and grew Grew up to be Yes he grew up to be A teenager called Brian A teenager called Brian And his face became spotty Yes his face became spotty And his voice dropped down low And things started to grow On young Brian and show He was certainly no No girl named Brian Not a girl named Brian
And he started to shave And have one off the wrist And want to see girls And go out and get pissed This man called Brian This man called Brian
Napomena: Moje privatne poruke, icq, msn, yim, google talk i mail ne sluze za pruzanje tehnicke podrske ili odgovaranje na pitanja korisnika. Za sva pitanja postoji adekvatan deo foruma. Pronadjite ga! Takve privatne poruke cu jednostavno ignorisati! Preporuke za clanove:Procitajte najcesce postavljana pitanja!
Cheer up, Brian. You know what they say. Some things in life are bad, They can really make you mad. Other things just make you swear and curse. When you're chewing on life's gristle, Don't grumble, give a wistle! And this'll help things turn out for the best... And...
(the music fades into the song)
...always look on the bright side of life! (whistle)
Always look on the bright side of life... If life seems jolly rotten, There's something you've forgotten! And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing,
When you're feeling in the dumps, Don't be silly chumps, Just purse your lips and whistle -- that's the thing! And... always look on the bright side of life...
(whistle) Come on!
(other start to join in) Always look on the bright side of life... (whistle)
For life is quite absurd, And death's the final word. You must always face the curtain with a bow! Forget about your sin -- give the audience a grin, Enjoy it -- it's the last chance anyhow!
So always look on the bright side of death! Just before you draw your terminal breath. Life's a piece of shit, When you look at it.
Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true, You'll see it's all a show, Keep 'em laughing as you go. Just remember that the last laugh is on you!
And always look on the bright side of life... (whistle) Always look on the bright side of life (whistle)
Napomena: Moje privatne poruke, icq, msn, yim, google talk i mail ne sluze za pruzanje tehnicke podrske ili odgovaranje na pitanja korisnika. Za sva pitanja postoji adekvatan deo foruma. Pronadjite ga! Takve privatne poruke cu jednostavno ignorisati! Preporuke za clanove:Procitajte najcesce postavljana pitanja!
(After Brian has escaped the Centurions, he runs off towards the crowded market square. At one end of the market there is a speakers' corner, with many strangely bearded and oddly dressed Prophets attempting to attract an audience. The noisiest or the most controversial are clearly doing best at attracting Passers-by. A strange figure with a rasta hairstyle, covered in mud, and with two severed hands on a pole waves wildly at the audience.)
Blood & Thunder Prophet: ...and shall ride forth on a serpents' back, and the eyes shall be red with the blood of living creatures, and the whore of Babylon shall rise over the hill of excitement and throughout the land there will be a great rubbing of parts....
(Beside him, another Prophet with red hair, none the less fierce, is trying to attract some of the Blood & Thunder Prophet's audience.)
False Prophet: And he shall bear a nine-bladed sword. Nine-bladed. Not two. Or five or seven, but nine, which he shall wield on all wretched sinners and that includes you sir, and the horns shall be on the head ...
(In front of each Prophet is a Roman Guard, clearly bored but there to break up any trouble. Brian races into the market place. A bunch of Romans are searching the square roughly turning over baskets and shaking down Passers-by. Brian appears near a rather dull little Prophet, who is standing underneath the high window that backs out of Matthias' house, the revolutionary HQ.)
Boring Prophet: And there shall in that time be rumours of things going astray, and there will be a great confusion as to where things really are, and nobody will really know where lieth those little things with the sort of raffia work base, that has an attachment that will not be there.
(Across the square the Romans appear, searching. Brian spots Harry, the beard seller, and moves towards his stall, an idea forming in his mind.) (The Boring Prophet drones on and on:) At this time a friend shall lose his friends's hammer and the young shall not know where lieth the things possessed by their fathers that their fathers put there only just the night before.... (Brian runs up to Harry the beard seller's stall and hurriedly grabs an artificial beard.) Brian: How much? Quick! Harry: What? Brian: It's for the wife. Harry: Oh. Twenty shekels. Brian: Right. Harry: What? Brian: (putting down 20 shekels) There you are. Harry: Wait a moment. Brian: What? Harry: We're supposed to haggle. Brian: No, no, I've got to ... Harry: What do you mean, no? Brian: I haven't time, I've got to get ... Harry: Give it back then. Brian: No, no, I paid you. Harry: Burt! (Burt appears. He is very big.) Burt: Yeah? Harry: This bloke won't haggle. Burt: (looking around) Where are the guards? Brian: Oh, all right ... I mean do we have to ... Harry: Now I want twenty for that ... Brian: I gave you twenty. Harry: Now are you telling me that's not worth twenty shekels? Brian: No. Harry: Feel the quality, that's none of yer goat. Brian: Oh ... I'll give you nineteen then. Harry: No, no. Do it properly. Brian: What? Harry: Haggle properly. This isn't worth nineteen. Brian: You just said it was worth twenty. Harry: Burt!! Brian: I'll give you ten. Harry: That's more like it. (outraged) Ten!? Are you trying to insult me? Me? With a poor dying grandmother...Ten!?! Brian: Eleven. Harry: Now you're getting it. Eleven!?! Did I hear you right? Eleven? This cost me twelve. You want to ruin me? Brian: Seventeen. Harry: Seventeen! Brian: Eighteen? Harry: No, no, no. You go to fourteen now. Brian: Fourteen. Harry: Fourteen, are you joking? Brian: That's what you told me to say. (Harry registers total despair.) Tell me what to say. Please. Harry: Offer me fourteen. Brian: I'll give you fourteen. Harry: (to onlookers) He's offering me fourteen for this! Brian: Fifteen. Harry: Seventeen. My last word. I won't take a penny less, or strike me dead. Brian: Sixteen. Harry: Done. (He grasps Brian's hand and shakes it.) Nice to do business with you. Tell you what, I'll throw in this as well. (He gives Brian a gourd.) Brian: I don't want it, but thanks. Harry: Burt! Burt: (reappearing rapidly) Yes? Brian: All right! All right!! Thank you. Harry: Where's the sixteen then? Brian: I already gave you twenty. Harry: Oh yes ... that's four I owe you then. (starts looking for change) Brian: It's all right, it doesn't matter. Harry: Hang on. (Pause as Harry can't find change. Brian sees a pair of prowling Romans.) Brian: It's all right, that's four for the gourd -- that's fine! Harry: Four for the gourd. Four!!!! Look at it, that's worth ten if it's worth a shekel. Brian: You just gave it to me for nothing. Harry: Yes, but it's *worth* ten. Brian: All right, all right. Harry: No, no, no. It's not worth ten. You're supposed to argue. "What? Ten for that, you must be mad!" (Brian pays ten, runs off with the gourd, and fixes the beard on his face.) Ah, well there's one born every minute.
Napomena: Moje privatne poruke, icq, msn, yim, google talk i mail ne sluze za pruzanje tehnicke podrske ili odgovaranje na pitanja korisnika. Za sva pitanja postoji adekvatan deo foruma. Pronadjite ga! Takve privatne poruke cu jednostavno ignorisati! Preporuke za clanove:Procitajte najcesce postavljana pitanja!
(A huge Roman amphitheatre, sparsely attended. REG, FRANCIS, STAN and JUDITH are seated in the stands. They speak conspiratorially.)
Judith: Any Anti-Imperialist group like ours must *reflect* such a divergence of interests within its power-base. Reg: Agreed. (General nodding.) Francis? Francis: I think Judith's point of view is valid here, Reg, provided the Movement never forgets that it is the inalienable right of every man-- Stan: Or woman. Francis: Or woman...to rid himself-- Stan: Or herself. Reg: Or herself. Agreed. Thank you, brother. Stan: Or sister. Francis: Thank you, brother. Or sister. Where was I? Reg: I thought you'd finished. Francis: Oh, did I? Right. Reg: Furthermore, it is the birthright of every man ... Stan: Or woman. Reg: Why don't you shut up about women, Stan, you're putting us off. Stan: Women have a perfect right to play a part in our movement, Reg. Francis: Why are you always on about women, Stan? Stan: (pause) I want to be one.
(pregnant pause)
Reg: What? Stan: I want to be a woman. From now on I want you all to call me Loretta. Reg: What!? Stan: It's my right as a man. Judith: Why do you want to be Loretta, Stan? Stan: I want to have babies. Reg: You want to have babies?!?!?! Stan: It's every man's right to have babies if he wants them. Reg: But you can't have babies. Stan: Don't you oppress me. Reg: I'm not oppressing you, Stan -- you haven't got a womb. Where's the fetus going to gestate? You going to keep it in a box? (Stan starts crying.) Judith: Here! I've got an idea. Suppose you agree that he can't actually have babies, not having a womb, which is nobody's fault, not even the Romans', but that he can have the *right* to have babies. Francis: Good idea, Judith. We shall fight the oppressors for your right to have babies, brother. Sister, sorry. Reg: (pissed) What's the *point*? Francis: What? Reg: What's the point of fighting for his right to have babies, when he can't have babies? Francis: It is symbolic of our struggle against oppression. Reg: It's symbolic of his struggle against reality.
Napomena: Moje privatne poruke, icq, msn, yim, google talk i mail ne sluze za pruzanje tehnicke podrske ili odgovaranje na pitanja korisnika. Za sva pitanja postoji adekvatan deo foruma. Pronadjite ga! Takve privatne poruke cu jednostavno ignorisati! Preporuke za clanove:Procitajte najcesce postavljana pitanja!
(Brian is hauled into Pilate's audience chamber. It is big and impressive, although a certain amount of redecorating is underway. The Centurion salutes.)
Centurion: Hail Caesar. Pilate: Hail Caesar. Centurion: Only one survivor, Sir. Pilate: Thwow him to the floor. Centurion: What, Sir? Pilate: Thwow him to the floor. Centurion: Ah! (He motions to the two Roman guards, who throw Brian to the ground.) Pilate: Now, what is your name, Jew? Brian: Brian. Pilate: Bwian, eh? Brian: (trying to be helpful) No, *Brian*. (The Centurion cuffs him.) Pilate: The little wascal has thpiwit. Centurion: Has what, sir? Pilate: *THPIWIT*. Centurion: Yes, he did, sir. Pilate: No, no, thpiwit...bwavado...a touch of dewwing-do. Centurion: (still not really understanding) Ah. About eleven, sir. Pilate: (to Brian) So you dare to waid uth. Brian: (rising to his feet) To what? Pilate: Stwike him, centuwion, vewwy woughly. Centurion: And throw him to the floor, Sir? Pilate: What? Centurion: THWOW him to the floor again, Sir? Pilate: Oh, yeth. Thwow him to the floor. (The Centurion knocks Brian hard on the side of the head again and the two guards throw him to the floor.) Pilate: Now, Jewith wapscallion. Brian: I'm not Jewish ... I'm a Roman! Pilate: *WOMAN*? Brian: No, *ROMAN*. (But he's not quick enough to avoid another blow from the Centurion.) Pilate: Tho, your father was a *WOMAN*. Who wath he? Brian: (proudly) He was a centurion in the Jerusalem Garrison. Pilate: Oh. What was his name? Brian: Nortius Maximus.
(An involuntary titter arises from the Centurion.)
Pilate: Centuwion, do we have anyone of that name in the gawwison? Centurion: Well...no, sir. Pilate: You sound vewwy sure...have you checked? Centurion: Well...no, sir. I think it's a joke, sir...like...Sillius Soddus, or...Biggus Dickus. Pilate: What's so funny about Bigguth Dickuth? Centurion: Well,...it's a...a joke name, sir. Pilate: I have a vewwy gweat fwend in Wome called Bigguth Dickuth.
(Involuntary laughter from a nearby guard surprises Pilate.)
Pilate: Silence! What is all this insolence? You will find yourself in gladiator school vewwy quickly with wotten behaviour like that.
(The guard tries to stop giggling. Pilate turns away from him. He is angry.) )
Brian: Can I go now sir... (The Centurion strikes him.) Pilate: Wait till Bigguth hears of this!
(The guard immediately breaks up again. Pilate turns on him.)
Pilate: Wight! Centuwion...take him away. Centurion: Oh sir, he only.... Pilate: I want him fighting wabid wild animals within a week. Centurion: Yes, sir. (He starts to drag out the wretched guard. Brian notices that little attention is being paid to him.) Pilate: I will not have my fwendth widiculed by the common tholdiewy. (He walks slowly towards the other guards.) Pilate: Now...anyone else feel like a little giggle when I mention my fwend- (He goes right up to one of the guards.) Biggus ... Dickus. He has a wife you know. (The guards tense up.) Called Incontinentia. (The guards relax.) Incontinentia Buttockth! (The guards fall about laughing. Brian takes advantage of the chaos to slip away.) Thilenth! I've had enough of this wowdy webel behaviour. Thtop it! You call yourselves Pawaetonian guards? Thilence! (But the guards are all hysterical by now. Pilate notices Brian escaping.) You cwowd of cwacking-up cweeps. Theize him! Blow your noses and theize him! Oh, my bum.
Napomena: Moje privatne poruke, icq, msn, yim, google talk i mail ne sluze za pruzanje tehnicke podrske ili odgovaranje na pitanja korisnika. Za sva pitanja postoji adekvatan deo foruma. Pronadjite ga! Takve privatne poruke cu jednostavno ignorisati! Preporuke za clanove:Procitajte najcesce postavljana pitanja!
(The Stoning Place. A Jewish OFFICIAL stands there, with some helpers, confronting the potential stonee, MATTHIAS. A large crowd watches. 90% are women in beards. Around the perimeter are a few Roman troops.)
Official: Matthias, son of Deuteronomy of Gath ... Matthias: (to Official's Helper): Do I say "Yes"? Official's Helper: Yes. Matthias: Yes. Official: You have been found guilty by the elders of the town of uttering the name of our Lord and so as a blasphemer you are to be stoned to death. Matthias: Look, I'd had a lovely supper and all I said to my wife was, "That piece Official: Blasphemy! He's said it again. Women: Yes, he did. Official: Did you hear him? Women: Yes we did. Really. Official: (suspiciously) Are there any women here today?
(The women all shake their heads. The Official faces Matthias again.)
Official: Very well, by virtue of the authority vested in me ...
(One of the women throws a stone and it hits Matthias on the knee.)
Matthias: Ow. Lay off. We haven't started yet. Official: (turning around) Come on, who threw that?
(Silence.) Who threw that stone? Come on. Women: (pointing to the culprit, keeping their voices as low in pitch as they can) She did. *He did.* He. Him. Culprit: (very deep voice) Sorry, I thought we'd started. Official: Go to the back. Culprit: Oh dear. (disappointedly goes to back) Official: There's always one, isn't there? Now, where were we? ... Matthias: Look. I don't think it ought to be blasphemy, just saying "Jehovah!"
(Sensation!!!! The women gasp.)
Women: (high voices) He said it again. (low voices) He said it again. Official: (to Matthias) You're only making it worse for yourself. Matthias: Making it worse? How can it be worse? Jehovah, Jehovah, Jehovah.
(Great Sensation!!!!!!)
Official: I'm warning you. If you say "Jehovah" once more ... (He gasps at his error and claps his hand over his mouth. A stone hits him on the side of the head. He reacts.) Right! Who threw that? Women: (high voices) It was her. It was *him*. (low voices) It was him. Official: Was it you? Culprit: Yes. Official: All right. Culprit: Well, you did say "Jehovah."
(The women all shriek and throw stones at her from very close range. She falls to the ground stunned. Quick cut of Romans reacting. They shake their heads and mutter to each other.)
Official: Stop that. Stop it, will you stop that. Now look, no one is to stone anyone until I blow this whistle. *Even*...and I want to make this absolutely clear...*even* if they *do* say "Jehovah."
(There is a pause. Then all the women throw stones at the Official and he goes down in a heap. Five women carry a huge rock, run up and drop it on the Official. Everyone claps. The guards sadly shake their heads.)
Napomena: Moje privatne poruke, icq, msn, yim, google talk i mail ne sluze za pruzanje tehnicke podrske ili odgovaranje na pitanja korisnika. Za sva pitanja postoji adekvatan deo foruma. Pronadjite ga! Takve privatne poruke cu jednostavno ignorisati! Preporuke za clanove:Procitajte najcesce postavljana pitanja!
(Three camels are silhouetted against the bright stars of the moonless sky, moving slowly along the horizon. A star leads them towards Bethlehem. The WISE MEN enter the gates of the sleeping town and make their way through the deserted streets. A dog snarls at them. They approach a stable, out of which streams a beam of light. They dismount and enter to find a typical manger scene, with a baby in a rough crib of straw and patient animals standing around. The mother nods by the side of the child. Suddenly she wakes from her lightish doze, sees them, shrieks and falls backwards off her straw. She's up again in a flash, looking guardedly at them. She is a ratbag.)
Mandy: Who are you? Wise Man 1: We are three wise men. Wise Man 2: We are astrologers. We have come from the East. Mandy: Is this some kind of joke? WM1: We wish to praise the infant. WM2: We must pay homage to him. Mandy: Homage!! You're all drunk you are. It's disgusting. Out, out. WM3: No, no. Mandy: Coming bursting in here first thing in the morning with some tale about Oriental fortune tellers... get out. WM1: No. No we must see him. Mandy: Go and praise someone else's brat, go on. WM2: We were led by a star. Mandy: Led by a bottle, more like. Get out! WM2: We must see him. We have brought presents. Mandy: Out! WM1: Gold, frankincense, myrrh.
(Mandy changes direction, smooth as silk.)
Mandy: Well, why didn't you say? He's over here ... Sorry this place is a bit of a mess. What is myrrh, anyway? WM3: It is a valuable balm. Mandy: A balm, what are you giving him a balm for? It might bite him. WM3: What? Mandy: It's a dangerous animal. Quick, throw it in the trough. WM3: No it isn't. Mandy: Yes it is. WM3: No, no, it is an ointment. Mandy: An ointment? WM3: Look. Mandy: (sampling the ointment with a grubby finger). Oh. There is an animal called a balm or did I dream it? You astrologers, eh? Well, what's he then? WM2: H'm? Mandy: What star sign is he? WM2: Capricorn. Mandy: Capricorn eh, what are they like? WM2: He is the son of God, our Messiah. WM1: King of the Jews. Mandy: And that's Capricorn, is it? WM3: No, no, that's just him. Mandy: Oh, I was going to say, otherwise there'd be a lot of them.
(The WISE MEN are on their knees.)
WM2: By what name are you calling him?
(Dramatic Holy music... )
Mandy: ... Brian. Three Wise Men: We worship you, Oh, Brian, who are Lord over us all. Praise unto you, Brian and to the Lord our Father. Amen. Mandy: Do you do a lot of this, then? WM1: What? Mandy: This praising. WM1: No, no, no. Mandy: Oh! Well, if you're dropping by again do pop in. (They take the hint and rise.) And thanks a lot for the gold and frankincense but ... don't worry too much about the myrrh next time. Thank you ... Goodbye. (To Brian) Well weren't they nice ... out of their bloody minds, but still...
(In the background we see the WISE MEN pause outside the door as a gentle glow suffuses them. They look at each other, confer and then stride back in and grab the presents off MANDY and turn to go again, pushing MANDY over.
Here, here, that's mine, you just gave me that. Ow!
Napomena: Moje privatne poruke, icq, msn, yim, google talk i mail ne sluze za pruzanje tehnicke podrske ili odgovaranje na pitanja korisnika. Za sva pitanja postoji adekvatan deo foruma. Pronadjite ga! Takve privatne poruke cu jednostavno ignorisati! Preporuke za clanove:Procitajte najcesce postavljana pitanja!
Sir Galahad, making his way through deep forest in the middle of a terrible thunderstorm, comes upon a dark, tall castle. At the top of the tower glows a stunning image of the Holy Grail. A wolf howls.
He struggles to the door of the castle, upon which, while standing in the pouring rain, he bangs with his armored glove.
Galahad: <banging> Open the door! <banging again> Open the door! In the name of King Arthur, open the door!
The door creaks open, and Galahad falls onto the stone floor of the castle. Looking up, he sees the faces of three young women dressed all in white.
Women: Hello! Hello! Hello!
Zoot: Welcome, gentle Sir Knight, to the Castle Anthrax! Galahad: (confused) The Castle Anthrax?? Zoot: Yes... (disappointed) It's not a very good name, is it? (brightening) Oh, But *we* are nice! And we will attend to your every, *every* need! Galahad: You are the keepers of the Holy Grail? Zoot: The what? Galahad: The Grail... it is here.... Zoot: Oh, but you are tired, and you must rest a while! Midget! Creeper! Other women: Yes, Sir Zoot! Zoot: Prepare a *bed* for our guest. Others: Yes, Sir Zoot. Thank you, Sir Zoot! Thank you, Sir Zoot! Thank you- Zoot: Away, Away, vile etessence! (to Galahad) The beds here are warm and soft... And very, *very* big. Galahad: (protesting) Well, look, I..I, uh-- Zoot: What is your name, handsome knight? Galahad: Sir Galahad.... the Chaste. Zoot: Mine is Zoot... just, Zoot. Oh, but come! (starts to lead him upstairs) Galahad: No, *please*! In god's name, show me the Grail!! Zoot: Oh, you have suffered much! You are delerious! Galahad: (urgently) No, look, I have seen it! It is here, it-- Zoot: Sir Galahad! You would not be so un-gallant as to refuse our hospitality! Galahad: (pause) Well, I--I, uh.... (looks at feet, fingers edge of shield) Zoot: (leading him upstairs) Oh... I'm afraid our life must seem very dull and quiet compared to yours. We are but 8 score younge blondes and brunettes... all between sixteen and 19-and-a-half... cut off in this castle with no one to protect us! Oh... it is a lonely life. Bathing... dressing... undressing... knitting exciting underwear.... We are just not used to handsome knights! (she leads him to a bed and sits him down; he tries to get up.) Nay, nay, come, come! You may lie here. (pushes him down on the bed) (seeing blood on his armour) Oh!! But you are wounded! Galahad: No, no.. i-it's nothing! Zoot: Oh, you must see the doctors immediately! (he starts to get up and leave) (pushing him back down) No, no, please! Lie down.
She claps her hands twice; two sixteen-year old girls arrive. Piglet: Well... what seems to be the trouble? Galahad: (incredulous) They're DOCTORS? Zoot: Uh... they have a basic medical training, yes.... Galahad once again tries to get up and leave. Zoot, quite adept at it by this time, pushes him back down on the bed. Oh, come, come... you must try to rest. Doctor Piglet, Doctor Winston; practice your art. (leaves)
The two girls sit on the bed and relieve Galahad of his shield, which he's been holding in front of him during the whole scene.
Winston: *Try* to relax... Galahad: Are you sure that's absolutely necessary? Piglet: We *must* examine you.... (lifts up a flap of his kilt) Galahad: There's nothing wrong with *that*! Winston: Please.... we *are* doctors.
(They begin to proceed with the examination when a metallic "bong" is heard from Galahad's nether region. He grabs his shield and jumps out of bed.)
Galahad: Ach! That cannot be! I am sworn to Chastity! Winston: Back to your bed at once! Galahad: Torment me no longer! I have seen the Grail! Piglet: There's no grail here... Galahad: I have seen it, I have seen it! (he runs through the curtain into another room.) I have-- (suddenly he looks around, and realizes that this room is filled with young women, all in their nightclothes. Some are brushing their hair, some are eating various sorts of suggestive fruits... As he passes through them, each one whispers "Hello!". He runs out of the chamber, into a staircase, where he almost runs into...)
Zoot!! Zoot: No, I am Zoot's identical twin sister, Dingo. Galahad: Oh. Well, excuse me, I-- (starting to go by her down the stairs) Dingo: (standing in his way) Where are you going? Galahad: I seek the Grail! I have seen it, here, in this castle! Dingo: (sudden realization) No... oh, no!! Bad, *bad* Zoot! Galahad: What is it? Dingo: Oh, wicked, bad, *naughty* Zoot! She has been setting a light to our beacon, which, I've just remembered, is grail-shaped. It's not the first time we've had this problem.... Galahad: (incredibly disappointed) It's not the real Grail????! Dingo: Oh, wicked, bad, naughty, *evil* Zoot! (leading him back into the room with all the women in it) She is a *naughty* person.... and she must pay the penalty! And here in Castle Anthrax, we have but one punishment for setting alight the grail-shaped beacon: You must tie her down on a bed, and *spank* her. Others: A spanking, a spanking!!! Dingo: You must spank her well, and after you have spanked her, you may deal with her as you like. And then...... spank me! Others: And spank me! And me! And me! And me! Dingo: Yes, you must give us all a good spanking!! Others: A spanking, a spanking, there's going to be a spanking tonight!!!!! Dingo: ...and after the spanking.... the Oral Sex!! Others: (amid squeals of delight) The oral sex, the oral sex!!! Galahad: Well, I could stay a *bit* longer...
(suddenly, Sir Launcelot and two other nondescript knights come storming into the room, swords drawn.)
Launcelot: Sir Galahad! Galahad: Oh, hello... Launcelot: (taking him by the arm) Quick! Galahad: What? Launcelot: (dragging him out of the room) Quick!! Galahad: Why? Launcelot: You are in great peril!!! Dingo: No he isn't! Launcelot: Silence, FOUL TEMPTRESS!!! Galahad: Hey look, she's got the point... Launcelot: Come on, we must cover your escape! Galahad: (being dragged out) Look, I'm FINE! Launcelot (now dragging him into the entrance hall) COME ON... Dingo: Sir Galahad... Galahad: Look, I can tackle this lot *singlehanded*. Dingo: Yes, let him tackle us singlehanded!! Others: Yes, yes!!! Singlehanded!!!!! Launcelot: No, Sir Galahad. Come!! (continues dragging him out) Galahad: No really, honestly, I can cope. I can handle this lot *easily*. Dingo: Oh, Yes, let him handle us *easily*..... Others: Yes, yes.... Galahad: Please, please. I can defeat them; there's only a hundred and fifty of them! (is dragged out the door) Dingo: Yes, yes, he'll beat us easily... we haven't a chance! Others: No, we haven't a chance! We haven't a chance!!! (the door slams behind the departed knights) Dingo: Oh, *shit*.
Outside, Launcelot and the other two knights are still walking Galahad away from the castle door.
Launcelot: We were in the nick of time; you were in great peril! Galahad: I *don't* think I was. Launcelot: Yes you were, you were in *terrible* peril. Galahad: Look. Let me go back in there and *face* the peril. Launcelot: No, it's too perilous. Galahad: But my duty as a knight is to stop as much peril as I can. Launcelot: No, we've got to find the Holy Grail. Come on. Galahad: Oh, let me have just a *little bit* of Peril? Launcelot: No; it's unhealthy. Galahad: I bet you're gay! Launcelot: (indignant) No I'm not!
(up on scene 24)
Voice over: Sir Launcelot had saved Sir Galahad from almost *certain* temptation. But they were still no nearer the Grail. Meanwhile, King Arthur and Sir Bedevere, not more than a swallow's flight away, had discovered something.
(music up)
Oh, that's an *unladen* swallow's flight, obviously. I mean, they were more than two *laden* swallows' flights away. Four, really, if they had a coconut on a line between them. I mean, if the birds were walking, and dragging--
( crowd says "GET ON WITH IT!!")
Oh, anyway. On to Scene 24, which is a smashing scene with some lovely acting, in which Arthur discovers a vital clue. And in which there aren't any swallows, although I think you can hear a starling-- (he is clubbed from behind)
Napomena: Moje privatne poruke, icq, msn, yim, google talk i mail ne sluze za pruzanje tehnicke podrske ili odgovaranje na pitanja korisnika. Za sva pitanja postoji adekvatan deo foruma. Pronadjite ga! Takve privatne poruke cu jednostavno ignorisati! Preporuke za clanove:Procitajte najcesce postavljana pitanja!
Narrator: As the horrendous black beast lunged forward, escape for Arthur and his knights seemed hopeless. When suddenly, the animator suffered a fatal heart attack! The cartoon peril was no more. The quest for the Holy Grail could continue.
( Arthur and his knights are hacking their way through thick underbrush when suddenly... )
Arthur: There it is! The Bridge of Death! Robin: (in despair) Oh, great. Arthur: Look! There's the old man from Scene 24! Bedevere: What is he doing here? Arthur: He is the keeper of the Bridge of Death. He asks each traveller five questions-- Galahad: Three questions-- Arthur: Three questions. He who answers the five questions-- Galahad: Three questions-- Arthur: (perturbed) --three questions, may cross in safety. Robin: What if you get a question wrong? Arthur: Then you are cast...into the Gorge of Eternal Peril!!! Robin: Oh, I won't go! Galahad: Who's going to answer the questions? Arthur: Sir Robin! Robin: (suprised) Yes? Arthur: (continuing) Brave Sir Robin, you go.
(pause)
Robin: Hey...I've got a great idea! Why doesn't Launcelot go? Launcelot: Yes, let me go, my liege. I will take it singlehanded. (about to draw sword) I shall make a feint to the North-East, and then-- Arthur: No, no, no... hang on, hang on, hang on! *Just* answer the five questions-- Galahad: Three questions-- Arthur: Three questions as best you can, and we shall watch. And pray. Launcelot: (sheathing sword) I understand, my liege. Arthur: Good luck, brave Sir Launcelot! God be with you!
(Launcelot approaches the bridge. Suddenly, the BRIDGEKEEPER speaks. )
Bridgekeeper: (cackling nastily) STOP! Who would cross the Bridge of Death Must answer me These questions three Ere the other side he see. Launcelot: (stoically) Ask me your questions, Bridgekeeper. I am not afraid! Bridgekeeper: (cackling all the while) What...is your name? Lancelot: My name is Sir Lancelot of Camelot. Bridgekeeper: What...is your quest? Lancelot: To seek the Holy Grail. Bridgekeeper: What...is your favorite color? Lancelot: Blue. Bridgekeeper: Right, off you go.
(pause)
Lancelot: (realizing that was it) Oh, thank you. Thank you very much!
(and off he goes. The knights look at each other.)
Robin: That's EASY!!! (A mad rush for the bridge. Robin arrives first. The knights cluster behind. A few sniff and wrinkle their noses, and the group backs off.)
Bridgekeeper: STOP! Who approacheth the Bridge of Death Must answer me These questions three Ere the other side he see. Robin: (excitedly) Ask me the questions, Bridgekeeper, I am not afraid. Bridgekeeper: What...is your name? Robin: Sir Robin of Camelot. Bridgekeeper: What...is you quest? Robin: To seek the Holy Grail! Bridgekeeper: What...is the capital of Assyria?
(pause)
Robin: (indignant) I don't know THAT!! (An unseen force whisks him up and over the side.) AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!
(The knights pause, realizing this may be a bit tougher than all that.)
**** Note: The following bit was cut from the movie. ****
Bedevere: What shall we do, sire? Arthur: Well, I'm not sure, but... Bridgekeeper: (off) What...goes black, white, black, white, black, white? Sir Gawain: (off) Uh...er...ah...Babylon? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
**** Movie resumes. ****
( Galahad approaches the bridge. )
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 favorite color? Galahad: (relieved) Blue! (starts across; oops) No! YELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWW!!!!
(Arthur steps forward... the Bridgekeeper cackles some more.)
Bridgekeeper: STOP! Bridgekeeper: What...is *your* name? Arthur: It is Arthur, King of the Britons! Bridgekeeper: What...is your quest? Arthur: To seek the Holy Grail! Bridgekeeper: What...is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow? Arthur: (brief pause) What do you mean, an African or European swallow? Bridgekeeper: (confused) Huh? What? I...I don't know that... AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUGGHHHHHHH! (he is thrown into the Gorge of Eternal Peril.) Arthur crosses the bridge. Bedevere: (crossing behind Arthur) How do you know so much about swallows? Arthur: Well, you have to know these sorts of things when you're a king, you know...
**** Note: The following bit was *also* cut from the movie. ****
(Arthur and Bedevere approach a gigantic lake. A boat in the shape of a dragon glides slowly towards them. As they prepare to cross, the same old man suddenly appears before them.) Boat-keeper: STOP! He who would cross the Sea of Fate Must answer me these questions twenty-eight! (Arthur and Bedevere look at each other. They look at the old man. They look back at each other. They pick the old man up, throw him in the water, and board the ship.)
Napomena: Moje privatne poruke, icq, msn, yim, google talk i mail ne sluze za pruzanje tehnicke podrske ili odgovaranje na pitanja korisnika. Za sva pitanja postoji adekvatan deo foruma. Pronadjite ga! Takve privatne poruke cu jednostavno ignorisati! Preporuke za clanove:Procitajte najcesce postavljana pitanja!
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