Monty Python's Flying Circus: The Sketches

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Monty Python's Flying Circus: The Sketches Page 90

by Monty Python


  (picking up a skull) Now do the bit about `Alas poor Yorrick ...'

  Hamlet

  No. I'm sick of it! I want to do something else. I want to make something of my life.

  Psychiatrist

  No. I don't know that bit.

  Hamlet

  I want to get away from all that. Be different.

  Psychiatrist

  Well um ... what do you want to be?

  Hamlet

  A private dick!

  Psychiatrist

  Why do you want to be a private dick?

  Hamlet

  Ooh ... why does anyone want to be a private dick? Fame, money, glamour, excitement, sex!

  Psychiatrist

  Ah! It's the sex, is it?

  Hamlet

  Well, that's one of the things, yes.

  Psychiatrist

  Yes, what's the sex problem?

  Hamlet

  Well, there's no problem.

  Psychiatrist

  Now, come on, come on. You've got the girl on the bed and she's all ready for it.

  Hamlet

  No, no, it's nothing to do with that.

  Psychiatrist

  (getting excited) Now come on, come on, there she is, she's all ready for it. She's a real stunner, she's got great big tits, she's really well stacked and you've got her legs up against the mantelpiece.

  Dr Natal (Eric)

  All right, Mr Butler, I'll take over. (a distinguished-looking man in a suit enters; the psychiatrist leaves) Morning, Mr Hamlet. My name's Natal. Sorry to keep you waiting. Now what seems to be the problem.

  Hamlet

  Well, I was telling the other psychiatrist ...

  Dr Natal

  He's ... he's not a psychiatrist.

  Hamlet

  Oh. He said he was a psychiatrist.

  Dr Natal

  Well ... yes ... um, he's a kind of psychiatrist he's ... he's not a proper psychiatrist. He's not er ... fully qualified ... in, um, quite the sort of way we should want. Anyway the problem I believe is basically sexual is it?

  The psychiatrist puts his head round door.

  Psychiatrist

  I asked him that!

  Dr Natal

  Get out! (the psychiatrist goes; to Hamlet) Now then, you've got the girl on the bed. You've been having a bit of a feel up during the evening. You've got your tongue down her throat. She's got both her legs up on the mantelpiece ...

  Enter a distinguished-looking psychiatrist in a white coat.

  Third Psychiatrist (Michael)

  (quietly and authoritatively, indicating the door) Dr Natal ... out please!

  Dr Natal

  I'm talking to a patient! Oh ... (he goes)

  Third Psychiatrist

  Out please! I'm terribly sorry, sir. We have a lot of problems here with bogus psychiatrists. One of the risks in psychiatry I'm afraid. Unfortunately they do tend to frighten the patient and they can cause real and permanent damage to the treatment. But I assure you that I am a completely bona fide psychiatrist. Here's my diploma in psychiatry from the University of Oxford. This here shows that I'm a member of the British Psychiatric Association, a very important body indeed. Here's a letter from another psychiatrist in which he mentions that I'm a psychiatrist. This is my Psychiatric Club tie, and as you can see the cufflinks match. I've got a copy of `Psychiatry Today' in my bag, which I think is pretty convincing. And a letter here from my mother in which she asks how the psychiatry is going, and I think you'll realize that the one person you can't fool is your mother. So if you'd like to ask me any questions abut psychiatry, I bet I can answer them.

  Hamlet

  No, no, it's all right, really.

  Third Psychiatrist

  OK, you've got this girl on your bed, you've had a few drinks, you've got her stretched out and her feet on the mantelpiece ... (the intercom buzzes) yes, what is it?

  Intercom Voice (?)

  There's a proper psychiatrist to see you, Dr Rufus Berg.

  Third Psychiatrist

  Oh, oh my God! Ok, thank you. (he hurriedly changes into a police constable's uniform) Right, thank you very much for answering the questions, sir. We'll try not to trouble you again, sir. (exits hurriedly)

  A fourth psychiatrist rushes in.

  Fourth Psychiatrist (Terry G.)

  Right you've got the girl down on the bed, you've got her legs up on the mantelpiece.

  Two men in white coats bundle him out. Dr Natal Enters.

  Dr Natal

  Well, well done, Mr Hamlet. You've done extremely well in out disorientation tests.

  Hamlet

  Oh? Oh!

  Dr Natal

  You see, I'm sorry it might have confused you a little, but we do this to try to establish a very good doctor/patient relationship, you see ... we do it to sort of, as it were, to break down the barriers. All right?

  Hamlet

  yes fine.

  Dr Natal

  Good! Well, you've got her legs up on the mantelpiece ...

  The two men come in and chase him out. Cut to a man at a consultant's desk in a smart West End surgery.

  CAPTION: Dr Bruce Genuine, Chairman of the Psychiatric Association

  Dr Bruce (Terry J.)

  On behalf of the Psychiatric Association, I should like to say that we are taking firm action to clamp down on the activities of bogus psychiatrists. In fact in many areas of modern psychiatry computers are now being increasingly used for the first basic diagnosis and this has gone a long way in eliminating the danger of unqualified impostors.

  Cut to Hamlet in an office. A big, impressive-looking computer beside him.

  Computer (?)

  (in tinny computer voice) You've had your tongue down her throat and she's got her legs on the mantelpiece.

  The door opens and a nurse appears.

  Nurse (Carol)

  Out!

  The computer scuttles for the door, revealing that underneath it are six pairs of legs, in pin-striped trousers and expensive shoes. Cut to the same computer in a field. The nurse picks up a bazooka. The computer rises into the air, the nurse fires at it and it explodes.

  Link to next sketch...

  * * *

  Return to the sketches index

  'Nationwide' / Police Helmets

  As featured in the Flying Circus TV Show - Episode 43

  * * *

  The sketch:

  `Nationwide' type music and credits. Michael Charlton in a studio.

  Charlton (Eric)

  Good evening and welcome to `Nationwide'. The programme where we do rather wet things nationally and also give you the chance to see some rather wet items in the Regions. Well, everyone is talking about the Third World War which broke out this morning. But here on `Nationwide' we're going to get away from that a bit and look instead at the latest theory that sitting down regularly in a comfortable chair can rest your legs. It sounds very nice doesn't it, but can it be done? Is it possible or practical for many of us in our jobs and with the sort of busy lives we lead to sit down in a comfortable chair just when we want? We sent our reporter John Dull to find out.

  Cut to Dull sitting in a chair on Westminster Bridge.

  Reporter (Graham)

  Well, here I am on London's busy Westminster Bridge, seeing just how much time sitting down can take. Well, I arrived here by train at about 8.50, it's now 9.05, so I've been here approximately twelve minutes and if it's any encouragement, I must say that my legs do feel rested.

  A policeman walks up to him.

  Policeman (Michael)

  Is this your chair?

  Reporter

  Er ... well, no, it's a prop.

  Policeman

  It's been stolen!

  Reporter

  What?

  Policeman

  This belongs to a Mrs Edgeworth of Pinner -- she's standing over there.

  Cut to worried middle-aged lady, standing on the other side of the road, peering across. She has an identica
l chair in one hand.

  Reporter

  Ah well, it's nothing to do with me. It's just a prop which the BBC ... aaargh!

  The policeman pushes the reporter off and picks up the chair.

  Policeman

  It's got her name on the bottom. (he indicates: Mrs E. Edgeworth)

  Reporter

  Well er ... perhaps you'd better give it back to her.

  Policeman

  You don't believe I'm a policeman, do you?

  Reporter

  Yes I do!

  Policeman

  What am I wearing on my head?

  Reporter

  A helmet

  Policeman

  (correcting him) A policeman's helmet!

  Reporter

  Yes.

  Policeman

  (taking off his helmet and demonstrating) You see that?

  Reporter

  Yes.

  Policeman

  That little number there?

  Reporter

  Yes.

  Policeman

  That is a Metropolitan Area Identification Code. No helmet is authentic without that number.

  Reporter

  I see.

  Policeman

  Kids' helmets, helmets you get in toy shops, helmets you buy at Christmas. None of them is authentic ... Hang on. (he turns and crosses the busy road)

  Reporter

  Oh could I ...

  Policeman

  Hang on!

  He goes across to Mrs Edgeworth, and tries to grab the other chair from her. Mrs Edgeworth resists. He clouts her and pulls the chair away. He brings it back across the road and sits down next to the reporter.

  Policeman

  Mind you I didn't join the police force just to wear the helmets you know. That just happens to be one of the little perks. There are plenty of jobs where I could have worn a helmet, but not such a nice helmet. (Mrs Edgeworth is gesticulating; another policeman comes up and drags her away) This helmet, I think, beats even some of the more elaborate helmets worn by the Tsar's private army, the so-called Axi red warriors. You know about them?

  Reporter

  Well, no I don't.

  Policeman

  Ah! Their helmets used to look like ... you got any paper?

  Reporter

  Well only these scripts.

  The policeman gets up, looks up the street, and selects a businessman with a briefcase, who is hurrying away from him. The policeman runs up to him, grabs his arm, twists it up behind his back and wrenches the briefcase from his hand. He opens it, gets out some paper, then drops briefcase before the amazed owner, and ambles back to his chair, neatly grabbing a pen from a passer-by's inside pocket.

  Policeman

  I'll have that!

  Man (?)

  I say!

  The policeman sits down again and starts to draw, talking the while.

  Policeman

  Now then. Their helmet was not unlike the bobby's helmet in basic shape. It had an emblem here, and three gold -- and in those days it really was gold, that's part of the reason the Tsar was so unpopular -- three gold bands surmounted by a golden eagle on the apex here. Pretty nice helmet, eh?

  Reporter

  Yes.

  Policeman

  I think the domed helmet wins every time over the flattened job, you know, even when they're three cornered ... (suddenly his eyes light on two office secretaries opening their packed lunch on a nearby seat) ... you want something to eat?

  Reporter

  (sensing what's going to happen, hurriedly) Well no, er really ...

  Policeman

  (approaching the girls and getting out his notebook) Hang on. You can't park here you know.

  Women ()

  (bewildered) We're not parked!

  Policeman

  No parked! What's that then?

  Women

  That's our lunch.

  Policeman

  Right. I'm taking that in for forensic examination.

  Women

  Why?

  Policeman

  Because it might have been used as a murder weapon, that's why! (the girls look at each other; the policeman grabs their lunch) Yeah, not bad. Could be worse. (to the reporter) Beer?

  Reporter

  (desperately) No, no, please ... honestly ... please ...

  The policeman walks off. There is a crash of breaking glass. An alarm bell starts to ring. The reporter winces. The policeman walks into shot again, holding two bottles of beer. He sits down, opens th beers with his teeth and hands one to reporter who is very embarrassed.

  Policeman

  Now, the Chaldeans, who used to inhabit the area in between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, their helmets were of the modular restrained kind of type ...

  Link to next sketch... in TV Series

  * * *

  Return to the sketches index

  Father-in-law

  As featured in the Flying Circus TV Show - Episode 43

  * * *

  The sketch:

  To lyrical music the camera pans across the road, and comes across a couple making love on the pavement. Pedestrians step over them.

  Carol (Carol)

  Oh Robert, tell me I'm beautiful.

  Robert (Terry J.)

  Oh you are, you are!

  Carol

  Oh Robert, do you mean that?

  Robert

  Of course I do.

  Carol

  Tou're not just saying that because I asked you?

  Robert

  Of course not.

  Carol

  Oh Robert ... Robert, are you sure it doesn't put you off?

  Robert

  What?

  Carol

  My father wanting to come and live with us.

  Robert

  No, of course I don't mind your father coming to live with us.

  Carol

  He wouldn't just be living with us.

  Robert

  What do you mean?

  Carol

  Well, he finds it very difficult to get to sleep on his own, so I said he could sleep with us.

  Robert

  He wants to put his bed in our room?

  Carol

  No, no, of course not.

  Robert

  Oh good ...

  Carol

  Our bed is plenty big enough for three ...

  Robert

  What?

  Carol

  He'd just get into bed and go to sleep.

  Robert

  No. I'm not having that.

  Carol

  Oh Robert, I thought you loved me?

  Robert

  Well I do, but ...

  Carol

  Well, he wouldn't look.

  Robert

  He's bound to peek.

  Carol

  No, no, he wouldn't honestly.

  Robert

  No! No! No!!

  Cut to the three of them in bed. Robert is in the middle. Father wears striped pyjamas, the others are nude. There is an uncomfortable silence.

  Father (Graham)

  You young couple just carry on. Take no notice of me ... (silence; they smile half-heartedly) I don't want to feel as though I'm getting in the way.

  Carol

  Oh no dad, you're not.

  Robert

  No, no.

  Father

  Good.

  Silence again.

  Carol

  Well, I think I'll get to sleep.

  Father

  Are you sure?

  Carol

  Oh yes, I'm a bit tired after the wedding.

  Father

  Bob, what about you?

  Robert

  Oh yes, all right, yes.

  Father

  Oh well, I seem to be O/C lights.

  Carol

  (to Robert) Good night, darling.

  Robert

  Good night.

  Father

 
Good night!

  He switches the light off. It is pitch dark. There is a long pause, then a strange scraping noise like a pencil being sharpened. The scraping is followed by sawing and is eventually replaced by short sharp knocking sounds. This goes on for some time.

  Carol

  Father. Father, what are you doing?

  Father

  I'm making a boat.

  Carol

  What?

  Father

  It's the Cutty Sark. It's a model I've been making in the dark for some years now.

  Carol

  Well, wouldn't it be better with the light on?

  Father

  No, no, I'm making it in the dark, that;s the point.

  There is a click. The light goes on. He looks disappointed. In his hands is a completely shapeless mass of wood and nails.

 

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