ANOTHER
                         MONTY PYTHON
                              CD
                               
                           BEETHOVEN
                   SYMPHONY No.2 IN D MAJOR
                   THE NATIONAL PHILHARMONIC
                           ORCHESTRA
                               
                       DIETRICH WALTHER
                    Soloist: Justus Pankau
                               
Contradiction                                              6
Penguin on TV                                              7
Neville Shunt                                              7
Spam                                                       8
Stake your Claim                                           8
Sill no sign of land (Lifeboat)                            9
Undertaker                                                 10


(Inside record sleeve.)
                             Your
                       Be A Great Actor
                              Kit
                               
       This is your "Be A Great Actor Kit". It contains:
              __________________________________
(i) An action-packed script. (ii) A diagram of suggested foot-
                         movements to
 suit any home. (iii) A full selection of props and make-up on
                          our cut-out
    sheet. (iv) Full preliminary instructions for dramatic
                          behaviour.
              __________________________________
     Yes! now you too can bring the glitter and glamour of
                     Shaftesbury Avenue to
your lounge. Follow these simple instructions and impress your
                          friends at
  parties and Masonics; or try it with your wife, and see her
                      watch entranced as
 you become Richard Attenborough and Ian McKellen rolled into
                         one - in the
                 privacy of your own bathroom.
              __________________________________
 Look after this kit. It could be your passport to theatrical
                       fame. Remember -
              evn Rod Steiger started somewhere!
                               
                            Play 1:
                        A Taste of Evil
               by a very good bearded playwright
                               
                      Dramatis personae:

              Montague   de  Vere......................A   zany
Marxist Tycoon
            Sergeant Spencer
            Superintendent Donaldson........Police Officers
                 Cyril     Prepuce............................A
gardener and a humanist

George.......................................Anthea's brother

Anthea.......................................George's sister
              Wong-Fu-Sun............................A   German
Sinophile
               Kel    Nagle...................................A
Golfer
                 Colin     Caldwell...........................A
lapsed Hindu
            "Monkeyglands" Johnson.........A.T.V Quizmaster
              Dolores   E.  Mozart....................A   Winch
Operator
            "Tiny Mike" O'McGear
            Abdul Karim
            Mrs. Thatcher
              Arnold   Weinstock    ...................Not   in
this Play
            Miss World 1968
            Don Partridge
            Paul and Barry Spinoza

                             Act I

                           Scene One

  A  Police  Station in Repton,  SERGEANT
  SPENCER  is at his Desk; SUPERINTENDENT
  DONALDSON enters left.

SPENCER: Morning, super.
DONALDSON: Morning, wonderful.
SPENCER: Nasty business up at the Towers,
sir.
DONALDSON: Oh yes, what's happened?
SPENCER: Montague's shot himself.
DONALDSON: Dead?
SPENCER:    'Fraid    so    sir,    blood
everywhere...
DONALDSON: Alright Spencer, get onto  the
  Yard   while   I  get  round   to   the
  Towers...He turns to go.
SPENCER:  Are you going past a  sweetshop
on the way, sir?
DONALDSON:  Yes,  I think so...I'm  going
  the  pretty  way, up through Tinkerbell
  Wood.
SPENCER: Get us some jelly babies sir.
DONALDSON: O.K.
  He exits.

                           Scene Two
  The   Morning   Room  at  the   Towers.
  MONTAGUE  lies  in  a  pool  of   blood
  behind    a    heavy   curtain    which
  completely  conceals his  body.  ANTHEA
  and GEORGE are pacing the room.

ANTHEA: Don't torture yourself George.
GEORGE:   (slamming  the  door   on   his
fingers) I'm sorry, my dear.
ANTHEA:  Ever  since we  arrived  at  the
Towers,  I've  had this terrible  feeling
of...
GEORGE:  (putting his head in  the  piano
  and  dropping  the lid on  it)  ...  Of
  what, my dear.
ANTHEA:  I don't know it's as though...as
though...
  The  door  to  the garden opens.  Cyril
  enters  holding a smoking gun, a  blood
  stained  assegai, a tangled  length  of
  nylon  stocking, a gas oven,  an  empty
  bottle  of  poison, a  book  of  famous
  murders, and an acid bath.
CYRIL:  I've  just  been  re-laying   the
crocquet lawn

               (To be continued)

                            Play 2:
                All Quiet on the Western Front
  Adapted by Jeff Astle and Jean Genet. From an idea by Allan
                            Clarke
                               
                      Dramatis personae:

             Charles  De  Vere Flyffe..................A  young
subaltern
              Belinda   Fforbes-Ttrenchh..............A   young
public-school girl
              Ratzo   Rizzo...................................A
character in Midnight Cowboy
            Dougie Trimble
            Father Olaf O'Hara S.J.
            Mireille Biggs    .........T.V Qiuzmasters
            Harry "Four Eyes" Da Vinci
            Milos Gorman
                'Sapper'     McGough..........................A
young sapper.

                             Act 1
                           Scene One

BELINDA: Oh Charles! Charles! Charles!
YOU: (joyfully) Belinda!
BELINDA: Oh Charles!
YOU:   (happily,  yet  with  a  hint   of
anxiety) Belinda!
BELINDA:  I  never thought  I'd  see  you
again.
YOU:  (cryptically, with the merest trace
of forced insouciance) I'm on leave.
BELINDA:  Oh that's wonderful  news...but
why? Are you-
YOU: (abruptly, almost defiantly, with an
unaccustomed annoyance) yes.
BELINDA: Where?
YOU:     (deliberately    and     without
bitterness) In the toe.
BELINDA: Oh no!
YOU:  (enquiringly, yet with  a  hint  of
  profound  emotion  detectable   through
  the mask of innocence) Belinda?
BELINDA: Yes Charles?
YOU:  (a strange diffidence mingling with
tenderness) I love you.
BELINDA: I love you too.
YOU:  (cautiously, affecting a delicately
studied nonchalance) But -
BELINDA: But What?
YOU: (tersely, yet softly, with a hint of
  weariness  in a voice from  which  time
  has  erased  the hard edges  of  anger)
  It's been shot off.
BELINDA: Shot off?
YOU: (momentarily pausing only to achieve
  a  deliberate flatness as if in  silent
  reproach of her incredulity) Shot off.
BELINDA: Completely?
YOU:  (helplessly, yet proudly,  a  tell-
  tale  suggestion  of  remorse  severing
  the  thin thread of hope that has until
  this moment survived despite itself)
  I'm afraid so.
BELINDA: Oh Charles.
YOU:  (beseechingly, longingly, with only
  a  slight  querulousness in  the  voice
  betraying  a  hint of the  anxiety  and
  self-doubt   which  he  has  inevitably
  suffered) Belinda!
BELINDA: Charles!
YOU:  (wistfully  and  imploringly,  with
  overtones  of melancholy and  quizzical
  introspection  clouding the  once-eager
  freshness  of his passionate  emotions)
  Belinda!
BELINDA: Charles!
YOU: (half-crying, half-laughing, with  a
  violent  passivity,  redolent  of   the
  self-mockery  of  a  primeval  anguish,
  expressing in a word, all the  extremes
  of  human  emotion, all the  levels  of
  attainment  to  which  the   mind   can
  aspire  in  the eternal quest  for  the
  elusive    goal   of   self-perfection)
  Belinda!
CURTAIN:
(a sheet or travelling rug will do).



                COVER NOTES By STANLEY BALDWIN

    Hello. Well, I was extremely pleased
and honoured to be asked to write the
credits for this cd, not only because I
believe that it is vital in this day and
age for members of the older generation to
keep pace with the dynamic and exciting
ideas of youth, but also for the money.
    Well, here goes - the splendid cast
was headed by Richard Tauber and Edith Eva
- I'm sorry....I lost my notes .. ah, yes
- the cd was written and performed by John
Cleese, Graham Chapman (I wonder if he's
any relation to the Chapman I
knew)...er...Eric Idle, Terry Jones,
Michael Palin(I wonder if he's any
relation to the Chapman I knew) with
special star-guest award-winning feature
performance by the lovely Carol Cleveland
and the boisterous Terry Gilliam(who, I
believe, is foreign - tho' of course
absolutely none the worse fot it, there's
no question of any stigma here...oh, no).
Where am I, oh yes...the very fine music was written and
arranged by my old friend, Fred Tomlinson - how are you
Fred?... and of course the songs were sung by the Fred
Tomlinson Singer - and jolly gay they are too... oh dear... the
songs of course. The cover of the cd, including this little
note of mine was designed and well... I'm not quite sure what
the word is... laid out, I suppose... designed and laid out
(that doesn't sound absolutely right... but, still) designed
and laid out by Terry Gilliam with the help of another lady,
Katy Hepburn... oh dear... another lady besides Carol Cleveland
is what I meant... sorry about that... I think I'll finish this
in the morning.

Saturday morning
    The cd was produced by Terry Jones and Michael Palin, but
is none the worse for that - I've heard many cds far worse than
this - so don't worry Terry and Michael... er...now... where
was I... oh yes... some very useful information here - the
record was recorded (sorry about the repetition there) the
record was recorded at the Marquee Studios in the heart of
London's sleazy Soho area - where I believe you can now get -
and the engineer was none other than my old friend, Colin
Caldwell* who served with me in the Sudan - he had his leg shot
off twice, and I'm very surprised to hear he's gone into record
production. He was very ably assisted, not only by Will Roper
(no relation to the Roper of Roper's Glue) but also by 17 stone
8 lb. Tony Taverner, a British national since birth, both of
whom went without the normal bodily functions for 26 days in
order to prepare this platter....is that the hip word now?+
    Well, I think this is almost the end of my little piece.
I'd like to say how much I've enjoyed writing it - hope I
haven't left anyone out. I do go on a bit, I know - but I
sincerely hope that you get as much pleasure from listening to
it as I have from...er...from...er...from also listening to
it.... oh dear... that's not a very good way to end, is it.

* Probably his grandson - ed.
+ No - ed.


                          POST OFFICE
                           TELEGRAM
     Prefix. Time handed in. Office of Origin and Service
                     Instructions. Words.

LOVED YOUR HAMLET AT THE NATIONAL DARLING. WISH
I HAD A QUARTER OF YOUR TALENT. HERES TO ANOTHER
TRIUMPH. SEE YOU FOR A DRINK AFTERWARDS =
SIR JOHN GIELGUD +

For  free  repetitions  of doubtful words telephone  "TELEGRAMS
ENQUIRY"  or call, with this form at office of delivery.  Other
enquiries  should be accompanied by this form, and,if possible,
the envelope.


                          POST OFFICE
                           TELEGRAM
     Prefix. Time handed in. Office of Origin and Service
                     Instructions. Words.

LOVED YOUR THREE SISTERS AT THE COURT DARLING .
YOU HAVE MORE TALENT IN YOUR LITTLE FINGER .
THAN SARA BERNHARDT HAD IN THE WHOLE LEFTHAND
SIDE OF HER BODY . A THOUSAND GOOD WISHES .
SEE YOU AFTERWARDS FOR A DRINK =
DAME EDITH BEVANS +

For  free  repetitions  of doubtful words telephone  "TELEGRAMS
ENQUIRY"  or call, with this form at office of delivery.  Other
enquiries  should be accompanied by this form, and,if possible,
the envelope.


TRONDHEIM HAMMER DANCE
(F. TOMLINSON)
PUBLISHED BY KAY GEE BEE MUSIC

LIBERTY BELL
(SOUSA ARR. A. W. SHERRIF)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.

FANFARE OPENING
(D. LAREN)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.

FORMAL PRESENTATION
(K. PAPWORTH)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.

CONTESANA PADAWANA
(TCHAIKOVSKY)
PUBLISHED BY PUBLIC DOMAIN

CONTESANA PADAWANA
(TCHAIKOVSKY)
PUBLISHED BY PUBLIC DOMAIN

CONTESANA PADAWANA
(TCHAIKOVSKY)
PUBLISHED BY PUBLIC DOMAIN

CONTESANA PADAWANA
(TCHAIKOVSKY)
PUBLISHED BY PUBLIC DOMAIN

MAN OF POWER
(J.TROMBEY)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.

MAN OF POWER
(J.TROMBEY)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.

GOLD LAME
(K. PAPWORTH)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.

SOUTHERN BREEZE
(A. MAWER)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.

SOUTHERN BREEZE
(A. MAWER)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.

SOUTHERN BREEZE
(A. MAWER)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.

SOUTHERN BREEZE
(A. MAWER)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.

SPAM SONG
(MONTY PYTHON)
PUBLISHED BY KAY GEE BEE MUSIC

SPAM SONG
(MONTY PYTHON)
PUBLISHED BY KAY GEE BEE MUSIC

SPAM SONG
(MONTY PYTHON)
PUBLISHED BY KAY GEE BEE MUSIC

SPAM SONG
(MONTY PYTHON)
PUBLISHED BY KAY GEE BEE MUSIC

BAHAMA PARAKEET
(A. MAWER)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.

HOUSE OF FASHION
(STANLEY BLACK)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.

CIRCUS TUMBLE
(K. PAPWORTH)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.

FANFARE A
(MAJOR J HOWE)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.

MYSTERY DRUMS
(P. KNIGHT)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.

MYSTERY PLACE
(P. KNIGHT)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.

MYSTERY PLACE
(P. KNIGHT)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.

MYSTERY DRUMS
(P. KNIGHT)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.

ODE TO EDWARD
(J. TROMBEY)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.

ODE TO EDWARD
(J. TROMBEY)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.

IN STEP WITH JOHANN
(R. WALE)
PUBLISHED BY DE WOLFE MUSIC LTD.

KNEESE UP MOTHER BROWN
(WESTON/LEE)
PUBLISHED BY PETER MAURICE/
EMI-KEITH PROWSE MUSIC

                               
                         EFFECTS SHEET
(End record sleeve.)



Contradiction

Host:  With me now is Norman St. John Polevaulter, who for  the
last   few  years  has  been  contradicting  people.  St.  John
Polevaulter, why do you contradict people?
Norman St. John Polevaulter: I don't!
Host: But you... you told me that you did.
Norman St. John Polevaulter: I most certainly did not!
Host: Oh. I see. I'll start again.
Norman St. John Polevaulter: No you won't!
Host: Ssh! I understand you don't contradict people.
Norman St. John Polevaulter: Yes I do!
Host: And when didn't you start contradicting them?
Norman St. John Polevaulter: I did! In 1952!
Host: 1952.
Norman St. John Polevaulter: 1947!
Host: 23 years ago.
Norman St. John Polevaulter: No!



**** end of file CONTRA PYTHON 9/19/87 ****



Penguin on TV

Transcribed from : Another Monty Python CD.

Parts played by : John Cleese(1), Graham Chapman(2) and Terry
Jones(3)

1: Oh dear, the radio's exploded.
2: Oh. Well, what's on the television then?
1: Looks like a penguin.
2: No, didn't mean what was on the TV set, I meant what
program.
1: Oh! Well, I'll switch it on.
2: It's ddd that penguin being there, ain't it.
1: What's it doing there?
2: Standin'!
1: I can see that!
2: If it laid an egg, it would fall down the back of the
television set.
1: We'll have to watch that. Unless it's a male.
2: Oh, I hadn't thought of that.
1: It looks fairly butch.
2: Perhaps it's from nextdoor.
1: NEXT DOOR!? Penguins don't come from NEXT DOOR, they come
from the
 Antarctis.
2: BURMA!!
1: Why did you say Burma?
2: I panicked.
1: Perhaps it's from the zoo.
2: Which zoo?
1: How should I know which zoo, I'm not Doctor Bloody
Bernovski.
2: How would Doctor Bernovski know which zoo it was from?
1: He knows everything.
2: Hmmm. I wouldn't like that. That would take all the mystery
out of life.
1: Anyway, if it was from the zoo, it'd have "Property of the
zoo" stamped
 on it.
2: No it wouldn't! They don't stamp animals "Property of the
zoo". You can't
 stamp a huge lion.
1: They stamp them when they're small.
2: What happens when they molt?
1: Lions don't molt.
2: No but penguins do. THERE(!), I've run rings around you,
logically.
1: OH, INTERCOURSE THE PENGUIN!
3: Hello. Well, it's just after eight o'clock and time for the
penguin on top
 of your television set to explode.
2: 'ow did he know that was going to happen?
3: It was an inspired guess. And know...



Neville Shunt

Neville  Shunt's latest West End Success, "It all  Happened  on
the  11.20  from Hainault to Redhill via Horsham  and  Reigate,
calling  at  Carshalton Beeches, Malmesbury,  Tooting  Bec  and
Croydon  West,"  is  currently appearing at the  Limp  Theatre,
Piccadilly. What Shunt is doing in this, as in his earlier nine
plays,  is  to express the human condition in terms of  British
Rail.

Some  people have made the mistake of seeing Shunt's work as  a
load  of  rubbish about railway timetables, but  clever  people
like me who talk loudly in restaurants see this as a deliberate
ambiguity,  a  plea for understanding in a mechanised  mansion.
The  points  are  frozen,  the  beast  is  dead.  What  is  the
difference? What indeed is the point? The point is frozen,  the
beast  is  late out of Paddington. The point is  taken.  If  La
Fontaine's  elk would spurn Tom Jones the engine  must  be  our
head,  the dining car our aesophagus, the guards van  our  left
lung,  the  cattle truck our shins, the first class compartment
the  piece  of  skin  at the nape of the  neck  and  the  level
crossing   an  electric  elk  called  Simon.  The  clarity   is
devastating. But where is the ambiguity? Over there in  a  box.
Shunt  is  saying the 8.15 from Gillingham when in  reality  he
means the 8.13 from Gillingham. The train is the same, only the
time  is  altered.  Ecce homo, ergo elk. La Fontaine  knew  its
sister and knew her bloody well. The point is taken, the  beast
is  moulting,  the  fluff gets up your nose.  The  illusion  is
complete;  it  is  reality, the reality  is  illusion  and  the
ambiguity  is  the only truth. But is the truth,  as  Hitchcock
observes,  in the box? No, there isn't room, the ambiguity  has
put  on weight. The point is taken, the elk is dead, the  beast
stops   at  Swindon,  Chabrol  stops  at  nothing,  I'm  having
treatment and La Fontaine can get knotted.



Spam

Man: Morning.
Waitress: Morning.
M: Well, what you got?
W: Well, there's egg and bacon; egg, sausage and bacon; egg and
spam;
 egg, bacon and spam; egg, bacon, sausage and spam; spam,
bacon,
 sausage and spam; spam, egg, spam, spam, bacon and spam; spam,
 sausage, spam, spam, spam, bacon, spam, tomato and spam; spam,
spam,
 spam, egg and spam; (vikings start singing in background)
spam, spam,
 spam, spam, spam, spam, baked beans, spam, spam, spam and
spam.
Vikings: Spam, spam , spam, spam, lovely spam, lovely spam.
W (cont): or lobster thermador ecrovets with a bournaise sause,
served
 in the purple salm manor with chalots and overshies, garnashed
with
 truffle pate, brandy, a fried egg on top and spam.
Wife: Have you got anything without spam?
Waitress: Well, there's spam, egg, sausage and spam. That's not
got
much spam in it.
Wi: I don't want any spam!
M: Why can't she have egg, bacon, spam and sausage?
Wi: That's got spam in it.
M: It hasn't got as much spam in it as spam, egg, sausage and
spam has it?
Wi: (over vikings starting again) Could you do me egg, bacon,
spam and
 sausage without the spam then?
Wa: Ech!
Wi: What do you mean ech! I don't like spam!
V: Lovely spam, wonderful spam....etc
Wa: Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Bloody vikings. You can't have
egg, bacon
 spam and sausage without the spam.
Wi: I don't like spam!
M: Sh dear, don't cause a fuss. I'll have your spam. I love it.
I'm
having spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, baked beans,
spam,
spam, spam and spam. (starts vikings off again)
V: Lovely spam, wonderful spam...etc
Wa: Shut up! Baked beans are off.
M: Well, can I have her spam instead of the baked beans?
Wa: You mean spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam,
spam,
spam, spam, and spam?
V: Lovely spam, wonderful spam...etc...spam, spam, spam! (in
harmony)



1Stake your Claim
             from "Monty Python's Previous Record"

Game  Show Host: Good evening and welcome to Stake Your  Claim.
First  this  evening we have Mr Norman Voles of  Gravesend  who
claims he wrote all Shakespeare's works. Mr Voles, I understand
you claim that you wrote all those plays normally attributed to
Shakespeare?
Mr.  Voles: That is correct. I wrote all his plays and my  wife
and I wrote his sonnets.
Game  Show  Host: Mr Voles, these plays are known to have  been
performed in the early 17th century. How old are you, Mr Voles?
Mr. Voles: 43.
Game  Show  Host:  Well, how is it possible  for  you  to  have
written plays performed over 300 years before you were born?
Mr. Voles: Ah well. This is where my claim falls to the ground.
Game Show Host: Ah!
Mr.  Voles: There's no possible way of answering that argument,
I'm  afraid.  I  was  only  hoping  you  would  not  make  that
particular  point, but I can see you're more than a  match  for
me!
Game Show Host: Mr Voles, thank you very much for coming along.
Mr. Voles: My pleasure.
Game  Show Host: Next we have Mr Bill Wymiss who claims to have
built the Taj Mahal.
Mr. Bill Wymiss: No.
Game Show Host: I'm sorry?
Mr. Bill Wymiss: No. No.
Game Show Host: I thought you cla...
Mr.  Bill  Wymiss: Well, I did but I can see  I  won't  last  a
minute with you.
Game Show Host: Next...
Mr. Bill Wymiss: I was right!
Game  Show  Host: ... we have Mrs Mittelschmerz of  Dundee  who
cla... Mrs Mittelschmerz, what is your claim?
Mrs.  Mittelschmerz (Graham Chapman in drag): That I can burrow
through an elephant.
Game  Show Host: (Pause) Now you've changed your claim, haven't
you. You know we haven't got an elephant.
Mrs. Mittelschmerz: (Insincerely) Oh, haven't you? Oh dear!
Game  Show Host: You're not fooling anybody, Mrs Mittelschmerz.
In  your letter you quite clearly claimed that...er...you could
be  thrown off the top of Beachy Head into the English  Channel
and then be buried.
Mrs. Mittelschmerz: No, you can't read my writing.
Game Show Host: It's typed.
Mrs. Mittelschmerz: It says 'elephant'.
Game  Show  Host:  Mrs Mittelschmerz, this is an  entertainment
show,  and I'm not prepared to simply sit here bickering.  Take
her away, Heinz!
Mrs. Mittelschmerz: Here, no, leave me alone!

(Sound of wind and sea).

Mrs. Mittelschmerz: Oooaaahh! (SPLOSH)



Sill no sign of land (Lifeboat)

(Scene: The interior of a ship. Seagulls are crying.)

(groans and coughs)

1: Still no sign of land. How long is it?
2: That's a rather personal question, sir. (low voices)
1:  You  stupid git. I meant how long is it that we've been  in
the lifeboat? You've destroyed the atmosphere now.
2: I'm sorry.
1: Shut up. Start again.

1: Still no sign of land. How long is it?
2: 33 days, sir.
1: Thirty-three days?
2:  We  can't go on much longer. (low voices) I didn't think  I
destroyed the atmosphere.
1: Shut up.
2: Well, I don't think I did.
1: 'Course you did.
2: (aside, to 3) Did you think I destroyed the atmosphere?
3: Yes I think you did.
1: Shut up. Shut up!

1: Still no sign of land. How long is it?
2: 33 days, sir.
4: Have we started again? [slap]

1: STILL no sign of land. How long is it?
2: 33 days, sir.
1: Thirty-three days?
2:  We can't go on much longer, sir. We haven't eaten since the
fifth day.
5: We're done for, we're done for!
1: Shut up, Maudling.
2: We've just got to keep hoping. Someone may find us.

6: How we feeling, Captain?
C: Not too good. I...I feel so weak.
2: We can't hold out much longer.
C:  Listen...chaps...there's still a  chance.  I'm...done  for,
I've...got  a  gammy  leg and I'm going fast;  I'll  never  get
through. But...some of you might. So...you'd better eat me.
?: Eat you, sir?
C: Yes. Eat me.
?: Iiuuhh! With a gammy leg?
C:  You  didn't eat the leg, Thompson. There's still plenty  of
good meat. Look at that arm.
5: It's not just the leg, sir.
C: What do you mean?
5: Well, sir...it's just that -
C: Why don't you want to eat me?
5: I'd rather eat Johnson, sir!
?: So would I, sir.
C: I see.
?: Then that's decided...everyone's gonna eat me!
?: Uh, well.
5: What, sir?
?: Go ahead, please, but I won't -
?: Oh nonsense, sir, you're starving; tuck in!
1: No, no, it's not that.
?: What's the matter with Johnson, sir?
1: Well, he's not kosher.
5: That depends how we kill him, sir.
1:  Yes,  that's true. But to be perfectly frank I...I like  my
meat a little more lean. I'd rather eat Hodges.
?: Oh well, all right.
5: I still prefer Johnson.
C: I wish you'd all stop bickering and eat me.
1:  Look.  I tell you what. Those who want to can eat  Johnson.
And  you, sir, can have my leg. And we make some stock from the
Captain, and then we'll have Johnson cold for supper.
Crew:  (cacophonous)  Hmm, yes, good idea, excellent  thinking,
very good, I don't suppose we could have Hodges in the morning,
jolly good idea, etc.

**** end of file LIFEBOAT PYTHON 10/23/87 ****



Undertaker

Man: Um, excuse me, is this the Undertakers?
Undertaker: Yep that's right, what can I do for you squire?
M: Um, well, I wonder if you can help me. Uh, my mother has
just died
 and I'm not quite sure what I should do.
U: Oh well, we can help you. We deal with stiffs.
M: Stiffs.
U: Now there's three things we can do with your mum. We can
bury her,
 burn her, or dump her.
M: Dump her?
U: Dump her in the Thames.
M: What?
U: Oh, did you like her?
M: Yes!
U: Oh well we won't dump her then. Well, what do you think.
Burn her
 or bury her.
M: Well, um, which would you recommend?
U: Well, they're both nasty. If we burn her she gets stuffed in
the
 flames; crackle, crackle, crackle; which is a bit of a shock
if she's
 not quite dead, but quick. And then you get a box of ashes
which you
 can pretend are hers.
M: Oh.
U: Or, if you don't want to fry her, you can bury her, and then
she'll
 get eaten up by maggots and weevels; nibble, nibble, nibble;
which
 isn't so hot, if as I said, she's not quite dead.
M: I see, um, well, I'm not very sure she's definately dead.
U: Where is she?
M: She's in this sack.
U: Let's have a look. Umm, she looks quite young.
M: Yes, she was.
U: (calling) Fred.
Fred: Yes?
U: I think we've got an eater.
F: I'll get the oven on.
M: Um, uh, excuse me. Um, are you suggesting we should eat my
mother?
U: Yeah, not raw, we'd cook her. She'd be delicious with a few
french
 fries, a bit of brautaline stuffing, delicious!
M: What? Well, actually I do feel a little bit peckish. No, I
can't.
U: Look, we'll eat your mum and if you feel a bit guility about
it
afterward we can dig a grave and you can throw up in it.
M: Alright.


_______________________________
1   Game Show Host:                John Cleese
    Mr. Voles:                Michael Palin
    Mr. Bill Wymiss:               Graham Chapman

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