Im SICK and TIRED of this DRAMA

SCENE I. A desert place.

Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches
First Witch
When shall we three meet again
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?

Second Witch
When the hurlyburly's done,
When the battle's lost and won.

Third Witch
That will be ere the set of sun.

First Witch
Where the place?

Second Witch
Upon the heath.

Third Witch
There to meet with Macbeth.

First Witch
I come, Graymalkin!

Second Witch
Paddock calls.

Third Witch
Anon.

ALL
Fair is foul, and foul is fair:
Hover through the fog and filthy air.

Exeunt

---

Cant we have some light comedy instead?

The Cast (in order of appearance.)
M= Man looking for an argument
R= Receptionist
Q= Abuser
A= Arguer (John Cleese)
C= Complainer (Eric Idle)
H= Head Hitter

M: Ah. I'd like to have an argument, please.
R: Certainly sir. Have you been here before?
M: No, I haven't, this is my first time.
R: I see. Well, do you want to have just one argument, or were you thinking of taking a course?
M: Well, what is the cost?
R: Well, It's one pound for a five minute argument, but only eight pounds for a course of ten.
M: Well, I think it would be best if I perhaps started off with just the one and then see how it goes.
R: Fine. Well, I'll see who's free at the moment.
Pause
R: Mr. DeBakey's free, but he's a little bit conciliatory.
Ahh yes, Try Mr. Barnard; room 12.
M: Thank you.

(Walks down the hall. Opens door.)

Q: WHAT DO YOU WANT?
M: Well, I was told outside that...
Q: Don't give me that, you snotty-faced heap of parrot droppings!
M: What?
Q: Shut your festering gob, you tit! Your type really makes me puke, you vacuous, coffee-nosed, maloderous, pervert!!!
M: Look, I CAME HERE FOR AN ARGUMENT, I'm not going to just stand...!!
Q: OH, oh I'm sorry, but this is abuse.
M: Oh, I see, well, that explains it.
Q: Ah yes, you want room 12A, Just along the corridor.
M: Oh, Thank you very much. Sorry.
Q: Not at all.
M: Thank You.
(Under his breath) Stupid git!!

(Walk down the corridor)

M: (Knock)
A: Come in.
M: Ah, Is this the right room for an argument?
A: I told you once.
M: No you haven't.
A: Yes I have.
M: When?
A: Just now.
M: No you didn't.
A: Yes I did.
M: You didn't
A: I did!
M: You didn't!
A: I'm telling you I did!
M: You did not!!
A: Oh, I'm sorry, just one moment. Is this a five minute argument or the full half hour?
M: Oh, just the five minutes.
A: Ah, thank you. Anyway, I did.
M: You most certainly did not.
A: Look, let's get this thing clear; I quite definitely told you.
M: No you did not.
A: Yes I did.
M: No you didn't.
A: Yes I did.
M: No you didn't.
A: Yes I did.
M: No you didn't.
A: Yes I did.
M: You didn't.
A: Did.
M: Oh look, this isn't an argument.
A: Yes it is.
M: No it isn't. It's just contradiction.
A: No it isn't.
M: It is!
A: It is not.
M: Look, you just contradicted me.
A: I did not.
M: Oh you did!!
A: No, no, no.
M: You did just then.
A: Nonsense!
M: Oh, this is futile!
A: No it isn't.
M: I came here for a good argument.
A: No you didn't; no, you came here for an argument.
M: An argument isn't just contradiction.
A: It can be.
M: No it can't. An argument is a connected series of statements intended to establish a proposition.
A: No it isn't.
M: Yes it is! It's not just contradiction.
A: Look, if I argue with you, I must take up a contrary position.
M: Yes, but that's not just saying 'No it isn't.'
A: Yes it is!
M: No it isn't!
A: Yes it is!
M: Argument is an intellectual process. Contradiction is just the automatic gainsaying of any statement the other person makes.

(short pause)

A: No it isn't.
M: It is.
A: Not at all.
M: Now look.
A: (Rings bell) Good Morning.
M: What?
A: That's it. Good morning.
M: I was just getting interested.
A: Sorry, the five minutes is up.
M: That was never five minutes!
A: I'm afraid it was.
M: It wasn't.

(Pause)

A: I'm sorry, but I'm not allowed to argue anymore.
M: What?!
A: If you want me to go on arguing, you'll have to pay for another five minutes.
M: Yes, but that was never five minutes, just now. Oh come on!
A: (Hums)
M: Look, this is ridiculous.
A: I'm sorry, but I'm not allowed to argue unless you've paid!
M: Oh, all right.

(pays money)

A: Thank you.
short pause
M: Well?
A: Well what?
M: That wasn't really five minutes, just now.
A: I told you, I'm not allowed to argue unless you've paid.
M: I just paid!
A: No you didn't.
M: I DID!
A: No you didn't.
M: Look, I don't want to argue about that.
A: Well, you didn't pay.
M: Aha. If I didn't pay, why are you arguing? I Got you!
A: No you haven't.
M: Yes I have. If you're arguing, I must have paid.
A: Not necessarily. I could be arguing in my spare time.
M: Oh I've had enough of this.
A: No you haven't.
M: Oh Shut up.

(Walks down the stairs. Opens door.)

M: I want to complain.
C: You want to complain! Look at these shoes. I've only had them three weeks and the heels are worn right through.
M: No, I want to complain about...
C: If you complain nothing happens, you might as well not bother.
M: Oh!
C: Oh my back hurts, it's not a very fine day and I'm sick and tired of this office.

(Slams door. walks down corridor, opens next door.)

M: Hello, I want to... Ooooh!
H: No, no, no. Hold your head like this, then go Waaah. Try it again.
M: uuuwwhh!!
H: Better, Better, but Waah, Waah! Put your hand there.
M: No.
H: Now..
M: Waaaaah!!!
H: Good, Good! That's it.
M: Stop hitting me!!
H: What?
M: Stop hitting me!!
H: Stop hitting you?
M: Yes!
H: Why did you come in here then?
M: I wanted to complain.
H: Oh no, that's next door. It's being-hit-on-the-head lessons in here.
M: What a stupid concept.

Oh there can be only one Python sketch that matters -

Mr. Praline: 'Ello, I wish to register a complaint.

(The owner does not respond.)

Mr. Praline: 'Ello, Miss?

Owner: What do you mean "miss"?

Mr. Praline: {pause} I'm sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint!

Owner: We're closin' for lunch.

Mr. Praline: Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this parrot what I purchased not half an hour ago from this very boutique.

Owner: Oh yes, the, uh, the Norwegian Blue...What's,uh...What's wrong with it?

Mr. Praline: I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my lad. 'E's dead, that's what's wrong with it!

Owner: No, no, 'e's uh,...he's resting.

Mr. Praline: Look, matey, I know a dead parrot when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now.

Owner: No no he's not dead, he's, he's restin'! Remarkable bird, the Norwegian Blue, idn'it, ay? Beautiful plumage!

Mr. Praline: The plumage don't enter into it. It's stone dead.

Owner: Nononono, no, no! 'E's resting!

Mr. Praline: All right then, if he's restin', I'll wake him up! (shouting at the cage) 'Ello, Mister Polly Parrot! I've got a lovely fresh cuttle fish for you if you show...

(owner hits the cage)

Owner: There, he moved!

Mr. Praline: No, he didn't, that was you hitting the cage!

Owner: I never!!

Mr. Praline: Yes, you did!

Owner: I never, never did anything...

Mr. Praline: (yelling and hitting the cage repeatedly) 'ELLO POLLY!!!!! Testing! Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your nine o'clock alarm call!

(Takes parrot out of the cage and thumps its head on the counter. Throws it up in the air and watches it plummet to the floor.)

Mr. Praline: Now that's what I call a dead parrot.

Owner: No, no.....No, 'e's stunned!

Mr. Praline: STUNNED?!?

Owner: Yeah! You stunned him, just as he was wakin' up! Norwegian Blues stun easily, major.

Mr. Praline: Um...now look...now look, mate, I've definitely 'ad enough of this. That parrot is definitely deceased, and when I purchased it not 'alf an hour ago, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it bein' tired and shagged out following a prolonged squawk.

Owner: Well, he's...he's, ah...probably pining for the fjords.

Mr. Praline: PININ' for the FJORDS?!?!?!? What kind of talk is that?, look, why did he fall flat on his back the moment I got 'im home?

Owner: The Norwegian Blue prefers keepin' on it's back! Remarkable bird, id'nit, squire? Lovely plumage!

Mr. Praline: Look, I took the liberty of examining that parrot when I got it home, and I discovered the only reason that it had been sitting on its perch in the first place was that it had been NAILED there.

(pause)

Owner: Well, o'course it was nailed there! If I hadn't nailed that bird down, it would have nuzzled up to those bars, bent 'em apart with its beak, and VOOM! Feeweeweewee!

Mr. Praline: "VOOM"?!? Mate, this bird wouldn't "voom" if you put four million volts through it! 'E's bleedin' demised!

Owner: No no! 'E's pining!

Mr. Praline: 'E's not pinin'! 'E's passed on! This parrot is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E's expired and gone to meet 'is maker! 'E's a stiff! Bereft of life, 'e rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed 'im to the perch 'e'd be pushing up the daisies! 'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! 'E's off the twig! 'E's kicked the bucket, 'e's shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisibile!! THIS IS AN EX-PARROT!!

(pause)

Owner: Well, I'd better replace it, then. (he takes a quick peek behind the counter) Sorry squire, I've had a look 'round the back of the shop, and uh, we're right out of parrots.

Mr. Praline: I see. I see, I get the picture.

Owner: {pause} I got a slug.

(pause)

Mr. Praline: (sweet as sugar) Pray, does it talk?

Owner: Nnnnot really.

Mr. Praline: WELL IT'S HARDLY A BLOODY REPLACEMENT, IS IT?!!???!!?

Owner: Look, if you go to my brother's pet shop in Bolton, he'll replace the parrot for you.

Mr. Praline: Bolton, eh? Very well.

(The customer leaves.)

(The customer enters the same pet shop. The owner is putting on a false moustache.)

Mr. Praline: This is Bolton, is it?

Owner: (with a fake mustache) No, it's Ipswitch.

Mr. Praline: (looking at the camera) That's inter-city rail for you.

(Mr Praine goes to the train station. He addresses a man standing behind a desk marked "Complaints".)

Mr. Praline: I wish to complain, British-Railways Person.

Attendant: I DON'T HAVE TO DO THIS JOB, YOU KNOW!!!

Mr. Praline: I beg your pardon...?

Attendant: I'm a qualified brain surgeon! I only do this job because I like being my own boss!

Mr. Praline: Excuse me, this is irrelevant, isn't it?

Attendant: Yeah, well it's not easy to pad these python files out to 150 lines, you know.

Mr. Praline: Well, I wish to complain. I got on the Bolton train and found myself deposited here in Ipswitch.

Attendant: No, this is Bolton.

Mr. Praline: (to the camera) The pet shop man's brother was lying!!

Attendant: Can't blame British Rail for that.

Mr. Praline: In that case, I shall return to the pet shop!

He does.

Mr. Praline: I understand this IS Bolton.

Owner: (still with the fake mustache) Yes?

Mr. Praline: You told me it was Ipswitch!

Owner: ...It was a pun.

Mr. Praline: (pause) A PUN?!?

Owner: No, no...not a pun...What's that thing that spells the same backwards as forwards?

Mr. Praline: (Long pause) A palindrome...?

Owner: Yeah, that's it!

Mr. Praline: It's not a palindrome! The palindrome of "Bolton" would be "Notlob"!! It don't work!!

Owner: Well, what do you want?

Mr. Praline: I'm not prepared to pursue my line of inquiry any longer as I think this is getting too silly!

Sergeant-Major: Quite agree, quite agree, too silly, far too silly... (takes customer by the arm) Come on, you, you've got to go do another sketch now! Come on... (he walks off stage left, followed by the director and cameramen, leaving the owner alone on the set)

Owner: (to the audience) Well! I never wanted to do this in the first place. I wanted to be... A LUMBERJACK! (he takes off his white lab coat to reveal a checkered shirt and suspenders under it) Floating down the mighty rivers of British Columbia! With my best girl by my side! etc. etc. etc.

****************** Alternative Ending: ********************

Mr. Praline: Pray, does it talk?

Owner: Nnnnot really.

Mr. Praline: WELL IT'S HARDLY A BLOODY REPLACEMENT, IS IT?!!???!!?

Owner: N-no, I guess not. (gets ashamed, looks at his feet)

Mr. Praline: Well.

(pause)

Owner: (quietly) D'you.... d'you want to come back to my place?

Mr. Praline: (looks around) Yeah, all right, sure.

[The end of the argument sketch was pulled off another website so the annotation is different]

(Detective Inspector Fox enters.)

Inspector Fox: Right. Hold it there.

Man and Spreaders: What?

Inspector Fox: Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Inspector Fox of the Light Entertainment Police, Comedy Division, Special Flying Squad.

Man and Spreaders: Flying Fox of the Yard.

Inspector Fox: Shut up! (he hits the man with a truncheon)

Man: Ooooh?

Spreaders: No, no, no - Waagh!

Inspector Fox: And you. (he hits Spreaders)

Spreaders: Waagh!

Inspector Fox: He's good! You could learn a thing or two from him.
Right now you two me old beauties, you are nicked.

Man: What for?

Inspector Fox: I'm charging you under Section 21 of the Strange Sketch Act.

Man: The what?

Inspector Fox: You are hereby charged that you did wilfully take part in a strange sketch, that is, a skit, spoof or humorous vignette of an unconventional nature with intent to cause grievous mental confusion to the Great British Public. (to camera) Evening all.

Spreaders: It's a fair cop.

Inspector Fox: And you tosh. (hits the man)

Man: WAAAGH!

Inspector Fox: That's excellent! Right, come on down to the Yard.

(Another inspector arrives.)

Inspector Gazelle: Hold it. Hold it. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Inspector Thompson's Gazelle of the Programme Planning Police, Light Entertainment Division, Special Flying Squad.

Inspector Fox: Flying Thompson's Gazelle of the Yard!

Inspector Gazelle: Shut up! (he hits him)

Inspector Fox: Waaaagh!

Spreaders: He's good.

Inspector Gazelle: Shut up! (hits Spreaders)

Spreaders: WAAGH!

Man: Rotten. (he gets hit) WAAAGH!

Inspector: Good. Now I'm arrestin' this entire show on three counts: one, acts of self-conscious behaviour contrary to the "Not in front of the children" Act, two, always saying "It's so and so of the Yard" every time the fuzz arrives and, three, and this is the cruncher, offenses against the "Getting out of sketches without using a proper punchline" Act, four, namely, simply ending every bleedin' sketch by just having a policeman come in and... wait a minute.

(Another policeman enters.)

Policeman: Hold it.
(puts his hand on Inspector Thompson's Gazelle's shoulder)

Inspector: It's a fair cop.

(A large hairy hand appears through the door and claps him on the shoulder.)

CAPTION: THE END

(Cut to BBC world symbol.)

Announcer's Voice: And now on BBC 1, one more minute of Monty Python's...

<_<

Text on screen: In 1970, the British Empire lay in ruins, and foreign nationalists frequented the streets - many of them Hungarians (not the streets - the foreign nationals). Anyway, many of these Hungarians went into tobacconist's shops to buy cigarettes....

A Hungarian tourist approaches the clerk. The tourist is reading haltingly from a phrase book.

Hungarian: I will not buy this record, it is scratched.

Clerk: Sorry?

Hungarian: I will not buy this record, it is scratched.

Clerk: Uh, no, no, no. This is a tobacconist's.

Hungarian: Ah! I will not buy this *tobacconist's*, it is scratched.

Clerk: No, no, no, no. Tobacco...um...cigarettes (holds up a pack).

Hungarian: Ya! See-gar-ets! Ya! Uh...My hovercraft is full of eels.

Clerk: Sorry?

Hungarian: My hovercraft (pantomimes puffing a cigarette)...is full of eels

(pretends to strike a match).

Clerk: Ahh, matches!

Hungarian: Ya! Ya! Ya! Ya! Do you waaaaant...do you waaaaaant...to come back to my place, bouncy bouncy?

Clerk: Here, I don't think you're using that thing right.

Hungarian: You great poof.

Clerk: That'll be six and six, please.

Hungarian: If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me? I...I am no longer infected.

Clerk: Uh, may I, uh...(takes phrase book, flips through it)...Costs six and six...ah, here we are. (speaks weird Hungarian-sounding words)

Hungarian punches the clerk.

Meanwhile, a policeman on a quiet street cups his ear as if hearing a cry of distress. He sprints for many blocks and finally enters the tobacconist's.

Cop: What's going on here then?

Hungarian: Ah. You have beautiful thighs.

Cop: (looks down at himself) WHAT?!?

Clerk: He hit me!

Hungarian: Drop your panties, Sir William; I cannot wait 'til lunchtime. (points at clerk)

Cop: RIGHT!!! (drags Hungarian away by the arm)

Hungarian: (indignantly) My nipples explode with delight!

(scene switches to a courtroom. Characters are all in powdered wigs and judicial robes, except publisher and cop.

Cast:

Judge: Terry Jones
Bailiff: Eric Idle
Lawyer: John Cleese
Cop: Graham (still)
Publisher: Michael Palin
Bailiff: Call Alexander Yalt!

(voices sing out the name several times)

Judge: Oh, shut up!

Bailiff: (to publisher) You are Alexander Yalt?

Publisher: (in a sing-songy voice) Oh, I am.

Bailiff: Skip the impersonations. You are Alexander Yalt?

Publisher: I am.

Bailiff: You are hereby charged that on the 28th day of May, 1970, you did willfully, unlawfully, and with malice aforethought, publish an alleged English-Hungarian phrase book with intent to cause a breach of the peace. How do you plead?

Publisher: Not guilty.

Bailiff: You live at 46 Horton Terrace?

Publisher: I do live at 46 Horton terrace.

Bailiff: You are the director of a publishing company?

Publisher: I am the director of a publishing company.

Bailiff: Your company publishes phrase books?

Publisher: My company does publish phrase books.

Bailiff: You did say 46 Horton Terrace, did you?

Publisher: Yes.

Bailiff: (strikes a gong) Ah! Got him!

(lawyer and cop applaud, laugh)

Judge: Get on with it, get on with it.

Bailiff: That's fine. On the 28th of May, you published this phrase book.

Publisher: I did.

Bailiff: I quote one example. The Hungarian phrase meaning "Can you direct me to the station?" is translated by the English phrase, "Please fondle my bum."

Publisher: I wish to plead incompetence.

Cop: (stands) Please may I ask for an adjournment, m'lord?

Judge: An adjournment? Certainly not!

(the cop sits down again, emitting perhaps the longest and loudest release of bodily gas in the history of the universe.)

Judge: Why on earth didn't you say WHY you wanted an adjournment?

Cop: I didn't know an acceptable legal phrase, m'lord.

(cut to ancient footage of old women applauding)

Judge: (banging + swinging gavel) If there's any more stock film of women applauding, I'll clear the court.

Scene : Two children sit on their unmade beds with long faces - obviously bored.

Siggy enters wearing a Mary Poppins Outfit... takes a drag from a cigarette and throws an empty beer bottle out the window.

*cough cough*

Great whopping turds that leave skidmarks on undies...
Dropping my guts at communion on Sundies....
Choking the dog with the stench from my ring....
These are a few of my favorite things....

Rubbing one out whilst at lunch with the viccar...
Leaving a stain down the front of my knickers...
Dropping a depth charge that empties the bath...
These are the things that make simple folks laugh...

When my colon's .... feelin swollen... and I don't feel so great....
I get on all fours with a match and I squeeeeeze.....
and then I ignite...... my........ date...

Fie upon thee, I must disagree! Can we have your liver?

Hahaha, the good ol Liver sketch.

We're knights of the round table


We dance whene'er we're able


We do routines and chorus scenes


With footwork impeccable.


We dine well here in Camelot


We eat ham and jam and spam a lot.


We're knights of the Round Table


Our shows are formidable


But many times


We're given rhymes


That are quite unsingable


We're opera mad in Camelot


We sing from the diaphragm a lot.


In war we're tough and able.


Quite indefatigable


Between our quests


We sequin vests


And impersonate Clark Gable


It's a busy life in Camelot.


SINGLE MAN


I have to push the pram a lot.


CUT BACK TO ARTHUR and BEDEVERE and COMPANY as we had left them.


ARTHUR

No, on second thought, let's not go to Camelot.


KNIGHTS
Right!

ARTHUR


It is a silly place.

from General to The Sandbox.



(hmm.. i wonder who'll be the last active ResMod... lol)

probabaly you.. you freakin' ob/co ResMod!


*nudge nudge* (you know i loves ya' )