A python named Monty
And now for something completely different, writes Bruce Gravel
A zany British comedy troupe reigned supreme from 1969 to 1983: Monty Python. (No python, named Monty or otherwise, ever appeared in any of their shows).
They had an irreverent weekly TV comedy sketch show (“Monty Python’s Flying Circus”), made several hilarious movies, produced books and records, and even went on tour.
In June, 1973, my fiancée, Frances, and I saw them live on stage at their tour’s Montreal stop. I vividly remember clouds of dust rising as an allegedly live bird was repeatedly slammed on the counter during the classic Dead Parrot sketch, as the angry customer yelled at the pet shop clerk:
“It’s not pining for the fjords! It’s passed on! This parrot is no more! It has ceased to be! It’s expired and gone to meet its maker! This is an ex-parrot!”
Besides owning their books and records (on vinyl!), we have an official Monty Python supine dead parrot in our rec room, tongue lolling out, eyes covered with “X,” in a box proclaiming “genuine live parrot.”
Though the troupe is no more, Monty Python left us with many classic sayings, such as:
“Blessed are the cheesemakers.” A boss addressing his workers: “The mill’s closed. There’s no more work. We’re destitute. I’ve got no option, but to sell you all for scientific experiments.”
“Is it a boy or a girl?” asks the new mother. The obstetrician replies: “I think it’s a bit early to start imposing roles on it, don’t you?”
A BBC radio program: “Good evening. Tonight on ‘Is there?’, we examine the question ‘Is there life after death?’ And here to discuss it are three dead people.”
A professor on another radio program: “My theory about dinosaurs is that they are narrow at one end, much much bigger in the middle, and narrow at the other end.”
“We interrupt this program to annoy you and make things generally more irritating.”
“My brain hurts!”
“There’s nothing wrong with you that an expensive operation can’t prolong.”
“This is a vegetarian restaurant. We serve no meat of any kind. We’re not only proud of that, we’re smug about it.”
“It’s just gone 8 o’clock and time for the penguin on top of your television set to explode.”
“There are a great many people in the country today, who through no fault of their own, are sane."
“Oh! Now I see the violence inherent in the system! Help, help, I’m being repressed!”
“Tonight, instead of discussing the existence or non-existence of God, they have decided to fight for it.”
“It’s just a flesh wound,” The Black Knight, who just had an arm chopped off.
“I’d like to complain about people who constantly hold things up by complaining about people who complain. It’s high time something was done about it!”
“I fart in your general direction.” A restaurateur: “We use only the finest baby frogs, dew-picked and flown from Iraq, cleansed in the finest quality spring water, lightly killed …”
The long-legged John Cleese, complete with bowler hat, brolly and briefcase, gave a superb demonstration for the Ministry of Silly Walks.
And just try to forget the famous Lumberjack Song, with a background chorus of increasingly-confused Mounties, which ends with:
“I’m a lumberjack and I’m OK. I sleep all night and I work all day. I cut down trees, I wear high heels, suspendies and a bra. I wish I’d been a girly, just like my dear papa!”
Finally, dear readers, take heed of this important warning:
“Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!”