I never wanted to do this job in the first place!
I... I wanted to be...

A LUMBERJACK!

(piano vamp)

Leaping from tree to tree! As they float down the mighty rivers of
British Columbia! With my best girl by my side!
The Larch!
The Pine!
The Giant Redwood tree!
The Sequoia!
The Little Whopping Rule Tree!
We'd sing! Sing! Sing!


Oh, I'm a lumberjack, and I'm okay,
I sleep all night and I work all day.

CHORUS: He's a lumberjack, and he's okay,
He sleeps all night and he works all day.

I cut down trees, I eat my lunch,
I go to the lava-try.
On Wednesdays I go shoppin'
And have buttered scones for tea.

Mounties: He cuts down trees, he eats his lunch,
He goes to the lava-try.
On Wednesdays 'e goes shoppin'
And has buttered scones for tea.

CHORUS

I cut down trees, I skip and jump,
I like to press wild flowers.
I put on women's clothing,
And hang around in bars.

Mounties: He cuts down trees, he skips and jumps,
He likes to press wild flowers.
He puts on women's clothing
And hangs around.... In bars?????

CHORUS

I chop down trees, I wear high heels,
Suspendies and a bra.
I wish I'd been a girlie
Just like my dear papa.

Mounties: He cuts down trees, he wears high heels
Suspendies?? and a .... a Bra????
(spoken, raggedly) What's this? Wants to be a *girlie*? Oh, My!
And I thought you were so rugged! Poofter!

CHORUS

All: He's a lumberjack, and he's okaaaaayyy..... (BONG)

Sound Cue: The Liberty Bell March, by John Phillip Sousa.
-or-
=====

Dear Sir,
I wish to complain on the stronglyest possible terms about the previous
entry in this file about the lumberjack who wears womens' clothes. Some of
my best friends are lumberjacks, and only a FEW of them are transvestites.

Yours faithfully,
Brigadier Sir Charles Arthur Strong, Mrs.

P.S. I have never kissed the editor of the radio times.

this thread is 5stars !!!

the hell?

TRON said:

You miss a very important part in your upbringing...

http://www.serve.com/bonzai/monty/

Three camels are silhouetted against the bright stars of the
moonless sky, moving slowly along the horizon. A star leads
them towards Bethlehem. The Wise Men enter the gates of the
sleeping town and make their way through the deserted streets.
A dog snarls at them. They approach a stable, out of which
streams a beam of light. They dismount and enter to find a
typical manger scene, with a baby in a rough crib of straw and
patient animals standing around. The mother nods by the side
of the child. Suddenly she wakes from her lightish doze, sees
them, shrieks and falls backwards off her straw. She's up
again in a flash, looking guardedly at them. She is a ratbag.

Mandy: Who are you?
Wise Man 1: We are three wise men.
Wise Man 2: We are astrologers. We have come from the East.
Mandy: Is this some kind of joke?
Wise Man 1: We wish to praise the infant.
Wise Man 2: We must pay homage to him.
Mandy: Homage!! You're all drunk you are. It's disgusting.
Out, out!
Wise Man 3: No, no.
Mandy: Coming bursting in here first thing in the morning
with some tale about Oriental fortune tellers...
get out!
Wise Man 1: No. No we must see him.
Mandy: Go and praise someone else's brat, go on.
Wise Man 2: We were led by a star.
Mandy: Led by a bottle, more like. Get out!
Wise Man 2: We must see him. We have brought presents.
Mandy: Out!
Wise Man 1: Gold, frankincense, myrrh.

(her attitude changes immediately)

Mandy: Well, why didn't you say so? He's over here...Sorry
this place is a bit of a mess. What is myrrh, anyway?
Wise Man 3: It is a valuable balm.
Mandy: A balm, what are you giving him a balm for? It might
bite him.
Wise Man 3: What?
Mandy: It's a dangerous animal. Quick, throw it in the trough.
Wise Man 3: No it isn't.
Mandy: Yes it is.
Wise Man 3: No, no, it is an ointment.
Mandy: An ointment?
Wise Man 3: Look.
Mandy: (sampling the ointment with a grubby finger)
Oh. There is an animal called a balm or did I dream it?
You astrologers, eh? Well, what's he then?
Wise Man 2: H'm?
Mandy: What star sign is he?
Wise Man 2: Capricorn.
Mandy: Capricorn, eh, what are they like?
Wise Man 2: He is the son of God, our Messiah.
Wise Man 1: King of the Jews.
Mandy: And that's Capricorn, is it?
Wise Man 3: No, no, that's just him.
Mandy: Oh, I was going to say, otherwise there'd be a lot of
them.

(The Wise Men are on their knees)

Wise Man 2: By what name are you calling him?

(Dramatic Holy music)

Mandy: Brian.
Three Wise Men:
We worship you, Oh, Brian, who are Lord over
us all. Praise unto you, Brian and to the
Lord our Father. Amen.
Mandy: Do you do a lot of this, then?
Wise Man 1: What?
Mandy: This praising.
Wise Man 1: No, no, no.
Mandy: Oh! Well, if you're dropping by again do pop in. (they
take the hint and rise) And thanks a lot for the gold
and frankincense but...don't worry too much about the
myrrh next time. Thank you...Goodbye. (to Brian)
Well, weren't they nice...out of their bloody minds,
but still...

In the background we see the Wise Men pause outside another door
as a gentle glow suffuses them. They look at each other, confer
and then stride back in and grab the presents from Mandy and turn
to go again, pushing Mandy over.

Mandy: Here, here, that's mine, you just gave me that. Ow!

I feel very American on this thread.

jerseykrs said:

You mean the humour, actual humour, goes waaay over your head?

That's okay. It's in your genes anyways. You can't help it.

Church Bells from Monty Python's "Contractual Obligations" Album

(Sound: Church bells, lots of them, ringing.)

Man: I wish those bloody bells would stop.
Wife: Oh, it's quite nice dear, it's Sunday, it's the church.
M: What about us atheists? Why should we 'ave to listen to that
sectarian turmoil?
W: You're a lapsed atheist, dear.
M: The principle's the same. The Mohmedans don't come 'round here
wavin' bells at us! We don't get Buddhists playing bagpipes in our
bathroom! Or Hindus harmonizing in the hall! The Shintus don't
come here shattering sheet glass in the shithouse, shouting slogans-
W: All right, don't practice your alliteration on me.
M: Anyway, when I membership card and blazer badge back from the
League of Agnostics, I shall urge the executive to lodge a protest
against that religious racket! Pass the butter knife!
W: WHAT??
M: PASS THE BUTTER KNIFE!! (pause) THANK YOU! IF ONLY WE HAD SOME
KIND OF MISSILE!
W: 'OLD ON, I'LL CLOSE THE WINDOW.
M: WHAT?!
W: I SAID, I'LL CLOSE THE WINDOW!

(Sound: Window closing, bells get faint, but are still there)

M: If only we had some kind of missile, we could take the steam out
of those bells.
W: Well, you could always use the number 14-St. Joseph-the-somewhat-
divine-on-the-hill ballistic missile. It's in the attic.
M: What ballistic missile would this be, then?

(Sound: Bells begin to get increasingly louder)

W: I made it for you, it's your birthday present!
M: Just what I wanted, 'ow nice of you to remember, my pet.
'ERE!
W: WHAT?
M: THOSE BELLS ARE GETTING LOUDER!
W: WHAT?
M: THOSE BELLS ARE GETTING LOUDER!!
W: THE BELLS ARE GETTING LOUDER! OOOH, LOOK!
M: WHAT?
W: THE CHURCH, IT.. ITS COMING CLOSER! ITS COMING DOWN THE 'ILL!
M: WHAT A LIBERTY!
W: ITS TURNING INTO OUR LANE! WELL, YOU BETTER GO PUT IT OUT OF
IT'S MISERY.
M: WHERE'S THIS MISSILE, THEN?
W: IT'S IN THE ATTIC. PRESS THE BUTTON MARKED CHURCH!
M: 'OW DO I AIM IT?
W: IT AUTOMATICALLY HOMES IN ON THE NEAREST PLACE OF WORSHIP!
M: BUT THAT'S ST. MARKS!
W: IT ISN'T NOW, LOOK!! OH, ITS OP'NING THE GATE.
M: WHAT? USE THE MEGAPHONE!
W: IT'S OP'NING THE GATE!! 'HURRY UP, ITS TRAMPLING OVER THE AZALIAS!

(Sound: Missle launch, explosion, bells diminish)

M: Did I 'it it?
W: Yes, right up the aisle.
M: Well I've always said, There's nothing an agnostic can't do if
he really doesn't know whether he believes in anything or not.

HamsterHuey said:

Don't talk about my jeans.

jerseykrs said:

NI!

is this thread about anxiety?

cborgman said:

NI!

we haven't had a Python thread in a long time!

Immanuel Kant was a real pissant
Who was very rarely stable,
Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy begger
Who could think you under the table,
David Hume could out-consume,
Wilhelm Freidrich Hegel.
And Wittgenstein was a beery swine
Who was just as schloshed as Schlegel.
There's nothing Nietzche couldn't teach ya
'Bout the raising of the wrist.
Socrates himself was permanently pissed.
John Stuart Mill, of his own free will
On half a pint of shandy was particularly ill.
Plato, they say could stick it away,
Half a crate of whiskey everyday.
Aristotle, Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle,
Hobbes was fond of his dram,
And René DesCartes was a drunken fart
"I drink, therefore I am."
Yes, Socrates himself is particularly missed,
A lovely little thinker but a bugger when he's pissed.

HamsterHuey said:

HELP! HELP! I'M BEING OPPRESSED!

cborgman said:

If putting my ass cheeks to yer face in anticipation for a rimjob is already considered oppression I am sure I can now pack and go...

Isn't it awfully nice to have a penis?
Isn't it frightfully good to have a dong?
It's swell to have a stiffy.
It's divine to own a dick,
From the tiniest little tadger
To the world's biggest prick.



So, three cheers for your Willy or John Thomas.
Hooray for your one-eyed trouser snake,
Your piece of pork, your wife's best friend,
Your Percy, or your cock.
You can wrap it up in ribbons.
You can slip it in your sock,
But don't take it out in public,
Or they will stick you in the dock,
And you won't come back.

All things dull and ug-ly,
All creatures, short and squat,
All things rude and na-sty,
The Lord God made the lot.

Each little snake that poisons,
Each little wasp that stings,
He made their prudish venom,
He made their horrid wings.

All things sick and cancerous,
All evil great and small,
All things foul and dangerous,
The Lord God made them all.

Each nasty little hornet,
Each beastly little squid,
Who made the spiky urchin?
Who made the sharks? He did!

All things scant and ulcerous,
All pox both great and small,
Putrid, foul and gangrenous,
The Lord God made them all.

Amen.

HamsterHuey said:

er...

Your ass smells of elderberries!
[Edited 9/26/05 6:34am]

cborgman said:

If I hadn't needed a dictionary to find out if you were joking or not, it might have been funny...

O Lord, please don't burn us.
Don't grill or toast Your flock.
Don't put us on the barbecue
Or simmer us in stock.
Don't braise or bake or boil us
Or stir-fry us in a wok.
Oh, please don't lightly poach us
Or baste us with hot fat.
Don't fricassee or roast us
Or boil us in a vat,
And please don't stick Thy servants, Lord,
In a Rotissomat.

this thread is great

my fav Monty Python sketch was the "World Hide and Seek Championships"

...Obadiah, his servants. There shall, in that time, be rumours of things going astray, erm, and there shall be a great confusion as to where things really are, and nobody will really know where lieth those little things wi-- with the sort of raffia work base that has an attachment. At this time, a friend shall lose his friend's hammer and the young shall not know where lieth the things possessed by their fathers that their fathers put there only just the night before, about eight o'clock. Yea, it is written in the book of Cyril that, in that time, shall the third one...

Jesus: How blest are the sorrowful, for they shall find consolation.
How blest are those of gentle spirit. They shall have the earth
for their possession. How blest are those who hunger and thirst
to see right prevail. They shall be satisifed. . .

(Camera pulls back to the back of the multitude)

Mandy: Speak up!
Brian: Mum! Sh!
M: Well, I can't hear a thing! Let's go to the stoning.
Big Nose: Sh!
B: You can go to a stoning any time.
M: Oh, come on Brian!
BN: Will you be quiet?
Wife: Don't pick your nose.
BN: I wasn't picking my nose...I was scratching.
W: You were picking it while you were talking to that lady.
BN: I wasn't.
W: Leave it alone...give it a rest...
Mr. Cheeky: Do you mind...I can't hear a word he's saying.
W: Don't you "do you mind" me...I'm talking to my husband.
C: Well go and talk to him somewhere else! I can't hear a bloody thing!
BN: Don't you swear at my wife.
C: I was only asking her to shut up so we can hear what he's saying,
big nose.
W: Don't you call my husband "big nose."
C: Well, he has got a big nose.

(Cultured jew turns around...)

Gregory: Could you be quiet, please? (to Mr. Cheeky) What was that?
C: I don't know...I was too busy talking to big nose.
Man: I think it was "Blessed are the Cheesemakers."
Mrs. Gregory: What's so special about the cheesemakers?
G: It's not meant to be taken literally. Obviously it refers to any
manufacturers of dairy products.
C: (to Big Nose) See--if you hadn't been going on, you'd have heard
that, Big Nose.
BN: Hey, if you say that once more, I'll smash your fucking face in.
C: Better keep listening...might be a bit about "Blessed are the big noses."
B: Oh lay off him.
C: (rounding on Brian) You're not so bad yourself, Conkface. Where
are you two from? Nose City?
BN: Listen! I said one more time...mate and I'll take you to the
fucking cleaners.
W: Language! And don't pick your nose!
BN: I wasn't goint to pick my nose. I was going to thump him.
Another Person: I think it was "Blessed are the Greek."
G: THE Greek?
AP: Apparently he's going to inherit the earth.
G: Did anyone catch his name?
BN: I'll thump him if he calls me Big Nose again.
C: Oh shut up, Big Nose.
BN: Oooh! Right I warned you...I really will slug you so hard...
W: Oh it's the Meek...Blessed are the meek! That's nice, I'm glad
they're getting something 'cos they have a hell of a time.
C: Listen...I'm only telling the truth...you have got a very big nose.
BN: (trying to control himself) Your nose is going to be three foot
wide across your face when I've finished with you.
C: Who hit yours then? Goliath's big brother?
BN: Oooh...oohh...aargh...ah (supreme self control) That's your last
warning...
Mrs. Gregory: Oh do pipe d...

(Big Nose punches Mrs. Gregory, and a general scuffle breaks out)

BN: Silly bitch, getting in the way.
M: Brian! Come on, let's go to the stoning.
B: Alright.

Did anyone post the sperm song yet?

Every sperm is sacred - Monty Python

There are Jews in the world, there are Buddhists,
There are Hindus and Mormons and then,
There are those that follow Mohammed,
But I've never been one of them...

I'm a Roman Catholic, and have been since the day I was born,
And the one thing they say about Catholics,
Is they'll take you as soon as you're warm...

You don't have to be a six-footer,
You don't have to have a great brain,
You don't have to have any clothes on -
You're a Catholic the moment dad came...

because...

Every sperm is sacred, every sperm is great,
If a sperm is wasted, God gets quite irate.

Every sperm is sacred, every sperm is great,
If a sperm is wasted, God gets quite irate.

Let the heathen spill theirs, on the dusty ground,
God shall make them pay for each sperm that can't be found

Every sperm is wanted, every sperm is good,
Every sperm is needed in your neighbourhood.

Hindu, Taoist, Mormon,
Spill theirs just anywhere,
But God loves those who treat their
Semen with more care.

Every sperm is sacred, every sperm is great,
If a sperm is wasted,
God gets quite irate.

Every sperm is sacred,
Every sperm is good,
Every sperm is needed,
In your neighbourhood.

Every sperm is useful, every sperm is fine,
God needs everybody's,
Mine
And mine
And mine

Let the Pagan spill theirs,
O'er mountain, hill and plain,
God shall strike them down for
Each sperm that's spilt in vain.

Every sperm is sacred, every sperm is good,
Every sperm is needed in your neighbourhood.

Every sperm is sacred, every sperm is great,
If a sperm is wasted, God gets quite irate.

i'm against sex on the telly...wot, i keep falling off!

We've got lumps of it 'round the back.