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And Now For Something Completely Different I ADORE Monthy Pytons!!! :woorship: OMG  how I LOVE those guys!! 
I'm aware of some fans in here so please post your favorite Python Sketch!! 
Here's mine:
Mum: Oh dad... look who's come to see us... it's our Ken. Dad: Aye, and about bloody time if you ask me. Ken: Aren't you pleased to see me, father? Mum: Of course he's pleased to see you, Ken, he... Dad: All right, woman, all right I've got a tongue in my head - I'll do the ' 'talkin'. Aye ... I like yer fancy suit. Is that what they're wearing ' up in Yorkshire now? Ken: It's just an ordinary suit, father... it's all I've got apart from the '' overalls. Mum: How are you liking it down the mine, Ken? Ken: Oh it's not too bad, mum... we're using some new tungsten carbide drills ' for the preliminary coal-face scouring operations. Mum: Oh that sounds nice, dear... Dad: Tungsten carbide drills! What the bloody hell's tungsten carbide drills? Ken: It's something they use in coal-mining, father. Dad: 'It's something they use in coal-mining, father'. You're all bloody fancy fancy talk since you left London. Ken: Oh not that again. Mum: He's had a hard day dear... his new play opens at the National Theatre '' tomorrow. Ken: Oh that's good. Dad: Good! good? What do you know about it? What do you know about getting up ' at five o'clock in t'morning to fly to Paris... back at the Old Vic for ' drinks at twelve, sweating the day through press interviews, television ' interviews and getting back here at ten to wrestle with the problem of a ' homosexual nymphomaniac drug-addict involved in the ritual murder of a ' ' well known Scottish footbailer.. That's a full working day, lad, and ' don't you forget it! Mum: Oh, don't shout at the boy, father. Dad: Aye, 'ampstead wasn't good enough for you, was it? ... you had to go ' poncing off to BarnsIcy, you and yer coal-mining friends. Ken: Coal-mining is a wonderful thing father, but it's something you'll never ' understand. Just look at you! Mum: Oh Ken! Be careful! You know what he's like after a few novels. Dad: Oh come on lad! Come on, out wi' it! What's wrong wi' me?... yet tit! Ken: I'll tell you what's wrong with you. Your head's addled with novels and ' poems, you come home every evening reeling of Chateau La Tour... Mum: Oh don't, don't. Ken: And look what you've done to mom! She's worn out with meeting filmstars, ' attending premieres and giving gala luncheons... Dad: There's nowt wrong wi' gala luncheons, lad! I've had more gala luncheons ' than you've had hot dinners! Aaaaaagh! Mum: Oh no! Ken: What is it? Mum: Oh, it's his writer's cramp! Ken: You never told me about this... Mum: No, we didn't like to, Kenny. Dad: I'm all right! I'm all right, woman. Just get him out of here. Mum: Oh Ken! You'd better go ... Ken: All right. I'm going. Dad: After all we've done for him... Ken: One day you'll realize there's more to life than culture. There's dirt, ' and smoke, and good honest sweat! Dad: Get out! Get out! Get OUT! You ... LABOURER! Allow me to introduce: Ms. Onder and Mrs. Donk! (o)(o)
They now belong to BigBearHermy.  | |
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We're an anarcho-syndicalist commune, we take it in turns to act as a sort of executive officer for the week. But all the decisions of that officer must be approved at a bi-weekly meeting by a simple majority in case of purely internal affairs, but a two-thirds majority...  | |
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