by Monty Python
Mrs Trepidatious: Thank you, doctor. (he disappears)
(Cut to a hospital ward. A man in bed, a chair with his clothes on it at fie foot of the bed. A doctor enters and goes right for the jacket and starts to feel in the pockets.)
Third Doctor: Morning, Mr Hemon ... How are we today?
Henson: Not too bad, doctor.
Third Doctor: OK, take it easy ... (he empties his wallet and puts it back) Expecting any postal orders this week?
Henson: No.
Third Doctor: Right-o.
(A nurse comes and gets the loose change. The doctor goes to the next bed where there is a man entirely in traction.)
Third Doctor: Ah, Mr Rodgets, have you got your unemployment benefit please? Right. Well can you write me a cheque then... please?
(The patient writes him a cheque. He goes to the foot of the bed. There is a graph with a money symbol on it. He marks it down further.)
Third Doctor: Thank you very much. Soon have you down to nothing. Ah, Mr Millichope. (he smiles and leaves, passing a man with a saline drip full of coins; chink of money)
* * *
Return to the sketches index
Dennis Moore Rides Again
As featured in the Flying Circus TV Show - Episode 37
* * *
The cast:
VOICE OVER
Michael Palin
GRANTLEY
Michael Palin
BUCKINGHAM
Terry Jones
FIRST LADY
Carol Cleveland
DENNIS MOORE
John Cleese
MALE PEASANT
Michael Palin
FEMALE PEASANT
Terry Jones
* * *
The sketch:
(Fade up on a picture of Queen Victoria)
Voice Over: Just starting on BBC 1 now, 'Victoria Regina' the inspiring tale of the simple crofter's daughter who worked her way up to become Queen of England and Empress of the Greatest Empire television has ever seen. On BBC 2 now Episode 3 of 'George I' the new 116 part serial about the famous English King who hasn't been done yet. On ITV now the (sound of a punch) Ugh!
(Music starts. Picture of Royal crest.)
SUPERIMPOSED CAPTION: 'GEORGE I'
(The word 'Charles' below the crest has been crossed out and 'George I' written above it.)
CAPTION: 'EPISODE 3 ' THE GATHERING STORM'
(This looks very dog-cared and thumb-printed. Cut to studio set of an eighteenth-century ballroom. Some dancing is going on. A fop is talking to two ladies in the usual phony mouthing manner. They laugh meaninglessly.)
Grantley: Ah! 'Tis my lord of Buckingham. Pray welcome, Your Grace.
Buckingham: Thank you, Grantley.
Grantley: Ladies, may I introduce to you the man who prophesied that a German monarch would soon embroil this country in continental affairs.
First Lady: Oh, how so, my lord?
Buckingham: Madam, you will recall that prior to his accession our gracious sovereign George had become involved in the long standing Northern War, through his claims to Bremen and Verdun. These duchies would provide an outlet to the sea of the utmost value to Hanover. The Treaty of Westphalia has assigned them to Sweden.
Grantley: In 1648.
Buckingham: Exactly.
Grantley: Meanwhile Frederick William of Denmark, taking advantage of the absence of Charles XII, seized them; 1712.
Second Lady: Oh yes!
First Lady: It all falls into place. More wine?
Grantley: Oh, thank you.
Buckingham: However, just prior to his accession, George had made an alliance with Frederick William of Prussia, on the grounds of party feeling.
Grantley: While Frederick William had married George's only daughter.
First Lady: I remember the wedding.
Buckingham: But chiefly through concern at the concerted action against Charles XII...
(There is a crash as Moore swings through the window on a rope. Everyone gasps and screams. He lands spectacularly.)
Moore: Stand and deliver.
All: Dennis Moore!
Moore: The same. And now my lords, my ladies ... your lupins, please.
(General bewilderment and consternation.)
Buckingham: Our what?
Moore: Oh, come come, don't play games with me my Lord of Buckingham.
Buckingham: What can you mean?
Moore: (putting pistol to his head) Your life or your lupins, my lord.
(Buckingham and the rest of the gathering now produce lupins which they have secreted about their several persons. They offer them to Moore.)
Moore: In a bunch, in a bunch. (they arrange them in a bunch) Thank you my friends, and now a good evening to you all.
(He grabs the rope, is hauled into air and disappears out of the window. There is a bump, a whinny and the sound of galloping hooves. The guests rush to the window to watch him disappear.)
Grantley: He seeks them here ... he seeks them there ... he seeks those lupins everywhere. The murdering blackguard! He's taken all our lupins.
First Lady: (produring one from her garter) Not quite.
(Gasps of delight.)
Buckingham: Oh you tricked him!
Man: We still have one! (they all cheer)
(Cut to a similar montage as before of Moore galloping through forest, clearings and tiny villages. Song as follows.)
Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore,
Riding through the night.
Soon every lupin in the land
Will be in his mighty hand
He steals them from the rich
And gives them to the poor
Mr Moore, Mr Moore, Mr Moore.
(Towards the end of this he arrives at the same peasant's cottage as before, dismounts and runs to the cottage door. He pauses. From inside the cottage we hear quiet moaning. Cut to inside the cottage. In this rude hut, lit by a single candle, the female peasant lies apparently dying on a bunk. Lupins are everywhere, in the fire, on the bed, a large pile of them forms a pillow. The female peasant is moaning and the male peasant is kneeling beside her offering her a lupin. Moore enters slowly.)
Male Peasant: (dressed largely in a lupin suit) Try and eat some, my dear. It'll give you strength. (Dennis Moore reverently approaches the bed; the male peasant looks round and sees him) Oh Mr Moore, Mr Moore, she's going fast.
Moore: Don't worry, I've... I've brought you something.
Male Peasant: Medicine at last?
Moore: No.
Male Peasant: Food?
Moore: No.
Male Peasant: Some blankets perhaps... clothes... wood for the fire...
Moore: No. Lupins!
Male Peasant: (exploding) Oh Christ!
Moore: (astonished) I thought you liked them.
Male Peasant: I'm sick to bloody death of them.
Female Peasant: So am I.
Male Peasant: She's bloody dying and all you bring us is lupins. All we've eaten mate for the last four bleeding weeks is lupin soup, roast lupin, steamed lupin, braised lupin in lupin sauce, lupin in the basket with sauted lupins, lupin meringue pie, lupin. sorbet... we sit on lupins, we sleep in lupins, we feed the cat on lupins, we burn lupins, we even wear the bloody things!
Moore: Looks very smart.
Male Peasant: Oh shut up! We're sick to death with the stench of them. (sound of a meow and then a bump) Look. The cat's just choked itself to death on them. (we see a dead cat with lupins coming out of its mouth) I don't care if I never see another lupin till the day I die! Why don't you go out and steal something useful!
Moore: Like what?
Male Peasant: Like gold and silver and clothes and wood and jewels and...
Moore: Hang on, I'll get a piece of paper.
(Cut to a montage of shots of Moore riding away from the hut over which we hear the song.)
Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore,
Dumdum alum the night.
Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore,
Dun de dun dum plight.
He steals dumdum dun
And dumdum dum dee
Dennis dun, Dennis dee, dum dun dum.
(Cut back to the ballroom to find the same people discussing British history.)
Buckingham: This, coupled with the presence of Peter and his Prussians at Mecklenburg and Charles and his Swedes in Pomerania, made George and Stanhope eager to come to terms with France.
Grantley: Meanwhile, a breach had now opened with...
(Moore swings in as before.)
Grantley: Oh no, not again.
Buckingham: Come on.
Moore: Stand and deliver again! Your money, your jewellery, your ... hang on. (he takes out a list) Your clothes, your snuff, your ornaments, your glasswear, your pussy cats...
Buckingham: (aside to the first lady) Don't say anything about the lupins...
Moore: Your watches, your lace, your spittoons...
(Cut to a montage pretty much as before but with Moore riding through the glades dragging behind him a really enormous bag marked with 'swag' in very olde English lettering. This bag is about twenty feet long and bumps along the ground behind the home with the appropriate sound effects to make it sound full of valuable jewels, gold, silver, etc. Song as follows.)
Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore,
Riding through the woods.
Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore
With a bag of things.
He gives to the poor and he takes from the rich
Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore.
(As he arrives at the poor peasant's cottage they run out. They all open the bag together to the peasants enormous and immeasurable joy.)
Moore: Here we are.
SUPERIMPOSED CAPTION: 'THE END'
* * *
Return to the sketches index
Off-Licence
(including more Dennis Moore)
As featured in the Flying Circus TV Show - Episode 37
* * *
The cast:
McGOUGH
Eric Idle
MR. BONES
John Cleese
GRANTLEY
Michael Palin
BUCKINGHAM
Terry Jones
FIRST LADY
Carol Cleveland
DENNIS MOORE
John Cleese
MALE PEASANT
Michael Palin
FEMALE PEASANT
Terry Jones
* * *
The sketch:
(Cut to close up of a man's face.)
McGough: Yet fear, not like an aged florin, can so disseminate men's eyes, that fortune, straining at a kissing touch may stop her ceaseless search to sport amidst the rampant thrust of time, and bring the thing undone to pass by that with which the cock may chance an arm.
(Cut to a wider shot to show that he is in an off-licence. Mr Bones is behind the counter.)
Mr Bones: Well that's all very well, sir, but this is an off-licence.
McGough: Oh. Just a bottle of sherry then, please.
Mr Bones: Certainly... Amontillado?
McGough: Yes, I think Amonfillado, finely grown ... well chosen from the casque of Pluto's hills, cell'd deep within the vinous soil of Spain, wrench'd thence from fiery regions of the sun...
Mr Bones: Yes, yes sir. Just one bottle?
McGough: Just one bottle. Just one jot. Just one tittle. That's the lot.
Mr Bones: There we are, sir. That'll be a pound, please.
McGough: A pound a pound and all around abound A pound found, found Lost lost the cost till was't embossed...
Mr Bones: Excuse me, sir.
McGough: Yes, good victualler, nature's trencherman, mine honest tapster...
Mr Bones: I was just wondering. Are you a poet?
McGough: No, no, I'm a solicitor... well versed within the written law of man, can m those who need...
Mr Bones: Oh' shut up.
McGough: I'm sorry. I'm afraid I've caught poetry.
Mr Bones: Oh really? Well, don't worry, sir - I used to suffer from short stories.
McGough: Really? When?
Mr Bones: Oh, once upon a time ... there' lived in Wiltshire a young Chap called Dennis Moore. Now Dennis was a highwayman by profession ... (we ripple through to Dennis Moore riding along with a big bag of swag) ... and for several months he had been stealing from the rich to give to the poor. One day...
(Mix through to a shot of Dennis Moore arriving with another bag of goodies. The peasants who greet him are by now very smartly dressed and the cottage has been refurbished.)
Moore: Here we are again, Mr Jenkins. (Dennis leaves the bag and wheels his horse around) There we are... I'll be back. (he rides off again purposefuly)
(Cut to ballroom, in fact it is the same one featured in 'Dennis Moore Rides Again'. The walls are bare and the people are down to their undergarments. They sit around the table gnawing pieces of bread and dipping them in a watery soup. The central bowl of soup contains a lupin.)
Buckingham: Meanwhile Frederick William bushy engaged in defending against the three great powers the province of Silesia...
Grantley: ... which he had seized in the War of the Austrian succession against his word.
First Lady: Yes, I remember.
Man: ... was now dependent on Pitt's subsidies.
(Moore swings in through the window. They all respond to him with listless moans of disappointment.)
Moore: My lords, my ladies, on your feet, please. (he is ignored and therefore says commandingly) I must ask you to do exactly as I say or I shall be forced to shoot you fight between the eyes. (they stand up hurriedly) Well not right between the eyes, I mean when I say between the eyes, obviously I don't have to be that accurate, I mean, if I hit you in that son of area, like that, obviously, that's all right for me, I mean, I don't have to try and son of hit a point bisecting a line drawn between your pupils or anything like that. I mean, from my point of view, it's perfectly satisfactory...
First Lady: What do you want? Why are you here?
Moore: Why are any of us here? I mean, when you get down to it, it's all so meaningless, isn't it, I mean what do any of us want...
Buckingham: No, no, what do you want now?
Moore: Oh I see, oh just the usual things, a little place of my own, the fight girl...
Grantley: No, no, no! What do you want from us?
Moore: Oh sorry. Urn, your gold, your silver, your jewellery.
Buckingham: You've taken it all.
First Lady: This is all we've got left.
Moore: That's nice. I'll have them. Come on. (he takes all the spoons)
Buckingham: You'd better take the bloody lupin too.
Moore: Thank you very much, I've gone through that stage. (he grabs the rope and swings out again)
(Short montage of Dennis riding accompanied by the song.)
Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore
Etcetera, etcetera...
(He leaps off his home and runs to the door of the hut, throws the door open and enters. The little hut is now stuffed with all possible signs of wealth and all imaginable treasures.)
Male Peasant: What you got for us today then.
Moore: Well I've managed to find you four very nice silver spoons Mr Jenkins.
Male Peasant: (snatching them rudly) Who do you think you are giving us poor this rubbish?
Female Peasant: Bloody silver. Won't have it in the house. (throws it away) And those candlesticks you got us last week were only sixteen carat.
Male Peasant: Yes, why don't you go out and steal something nice like some Venetian silver.
Female Peasant: Or a Velasquez for the outside loo.
Moore: Oh all right. (turns purposefully)
(Usual montage of Dennis Moore riding plus song.)
Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore
giding through the land
Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore
Without a merry band
He steals from the poo
r. and gives to the rich
Stupid bitch.
(Dennis Moore reins to sudden halt and rides over to camera.)
Moore: What did you sing?
Singers: (speaking) We sang... he steals from the poor and gives to the rich.
Moore: Wait a tic ... blimey, this redistribution of wealth is trickier than I thought.
(Women's institute applause.)
* * *
Return to the sketches index
'Prejudice'
As featured in the Flying Circus TV Show - Episode 37
* * *
The cast:
RUSSELL BRADDON
Micheal Palin
VOICE OVER
John Cleese
HIGHWAYMAN
Michael Palin
DENNIS MOORE
John Cleese
FRIEND
Terry Jones
MOTHER
Eric Idle
* * *
The sketch:
(A church-hall type stage, as if for a TV version of 'Down Your Way '. A vast sign across the backcloth reads 'Prejudice'. Russell Braddon enters. He wears a suit and has a clipboard.)
Braddon: Good evening and welcome to another edition of 'Prejudice' - the show that gives you 'a chance to have a go at Wops, Krauts, Nigs, Eyeties, Gippos, Bubbles, Froggies, Chinks, Yidds, Jocks, Polacks, Paddies and Dagoes. (applause; he goes to desk at side of stage)
SUPERIMPOSED CAPTION: 'ALL FACTS VERIFIED BY TIlE RHODESIAN POLICE'
Braddon: Tonight's show comes live from the tiny village of Rabid in Buckinghamshire, and our first question tonight is from a Mrs Elizabeth Scrint who says she is going on a Mediterranean cruise next week and can't find anything wrong with the Syrians. Well, Mrs Scrint, apart from being totally unprincipled left-wing troublemakers, the Syrians are also born skivers, they're dirty, smelly and untrustworthy, and, of course, they're friends of the awful gippos. (applause) There you are, Mrs Scrint, I hope that answers some of your problems - have a nice trip. (more applause) Well now, the result of last week's competition when we asked you to find a derogatory term for the Belgians. Well, the response was enormous and we took quite a long time sorting out the winners. There were some very clever entries. Mrs Hatred of Leicester Said 'let's not call them anything, let's iust ignore them' ... (applause starts vigorous!y, but he holds his hands up for silence) ... and a Mr St John of Hurtfingdou said he couldn't think of anything more derogatory than Belgias. (cheers and appluse; a girl in showgirl costume comes on and holds up placards through next bit) But in the end we settled on three choices: number three ... the Sprouts (placard 'The Srouts'), sent in by Mrs Vicious of Hastings... very nice ; number two..... the Phlegms (placard) ... from Mrs Childmolester of Worthing; but the winner was undoubtedly from Mrs No-Supper-For-You from Norwood in Lancashire ... Miserable Fat Belgian Bastards. (placard; roar of applause) Very good - thank you, Carol. (Carol exits) But as you know on this programme we're not just prejudiced against race or colour, we're also prejudiced against - yes, you've guessed, stinking homosexuals! (applause) So before the streets start emptying in Chelsea tonight, !et's go straight over to our popular prejudiced panel game and invite you once again to - Shoot The Poof! And could our first contestant sign in please.
