Exterior, a large, tasteful, Georgian rich person’s house with extensive gardens beautifully tended, croquet hoops on the lawn — all in superb taste, nothing vulgar. The sun shines tastefully. The atmosphere is calm. Birds sing. Sound of lawnmowers and cricket in the distance. Laughter from the tennis court. Sound [...]]]>

The sketch:

Exterior, a large, tasteful, Georgian rich person’s house with extensive gardens beautifully tended, croquet hoops on the lawn — all in superb taste, nothing vulgar. The sun shines tastefully. The atmosphere is calm. Birds sing. Sound of lawnmowers and cricket in the distance. Laughter from the tennis court. Sound of gardener sharpening spades in the potting shed. Out of vision, a Red Indian struggles to free himself from the rope bonds that bind him. We hear `Where does a dream begin’ being played on a cracked record.

CAPTION:
1942
Egypt crossed out
Ecuador crossed out
Ethiopia crossed out
England

The caption fades and we cut to an upper-class drawing room. Father, mother and daughter having tea. Four motionless servants stand behind them.

Father (Graham)

I say …

Daughter (Carol)

Yes, daddy?

Father

Croquet hoops look damn pretty this afternoon.

Daughter

Frightfully damn pretty.

Mother (Eric)

They’re coming along awfully well this year.

Father

Yes, better than your Aunt Lavinia’s croquet hoops.

Daughter

Ugh! — dreadful tin things.

Mother

I did tell her to stick to wood.

Father

Yes, you can’t beat wood … Gorn!

Mother

What’s gorn dear?

Father

Nothing, nothing, I just like the word. It gives me confidence. Gorn … gorn. It’s got a sort of woody quality about it. Gorn. Gorn. Much better than `newspaper’ or `litterbin’.

Daughter

Frightful words.

Mother

Perfectly dreadful.

Father

Ugh! Newspaper! … litterbin … dreadful tinny sort of words. Tin, tin, tin.

The daughter bursts into tears.

Mother

Oh, dear, don’t say `tin’ to Rebecca, you know how it upsets her.

Father

(to the daughter) Sorry old horse.

Mother

Sausage!

Father

Sausage … there’s a good woody sort of word, `sausage’ … gorn.

Daughter

Antelope.

Father

Where? On the lawn? (he picks up a rifle)

Daughter

No, no, daddy … just the word.

Father

Don’t want an antelope nibbling the hoops.

Daughter

No, antelope … sort of nice and woody type of thing.

Mother

Don’t think so, Becky old chap.

Father

No, no, `antelope’, `antelope’ — tinny sort of word (the daughter bursts into tears) Oh! Sorry old man …

Mother

Really, Mansfield.

Father

Well, she’s got to come to terms with these things … seemly … prodding … vacuum … leap …

Daughter

(miserably) Hate leap.

Mother

Perfectly dreadful.

Daughter

Sort of PVC-y sort of word, don’t you know.

Mother

Lower-middle.

Father

Bound!

Mother

Now you’re talking.

Father

Bound … Vole … Recidivist.

Mother

Bit tinny. (the daughter howls) Oh! Sorry, Becky old beast. (the daughter runs out crying)

Father

Oh dear, suppose she’ll be gorn for a few days now.

Mother

Caribou!

Father

Splendid word.

Mother

No dear … nibbling the hoops.

Father

(he fires a shot) Caribou gorn.

Mother

(laughs politely)

Father

Intercourse.

Mother

Later, dear.

Father

No, no, the word, `intercourse’ — good and woody … inter … course … pert … pert thighs … botty, botty, botty … (the mother leaves the room) … erogenous … zone … concubine … erogenous zone! Loose woman … erogenous zone … (the mother returns and throws a bucket of water over him) Oh thank you, dear … you know, it’s a funny thing, dear … all the naughty words sound woody.

Mother

Really, dear? … How about tit?

Father

Oh dear, I hadn’t thought about that. Tit. Tit. Oh, that’s very tinny isn’t it? (the daughter returns) Ugh! Tinny, tinny … (the daughter runs out crying) Oh dear … ocelot … wasp … yowling … Oh dear, I’m bored … I’d better go and have a bath, I suppose.

Mother

Oh really, must you dear? You’ve had nine today.

Father

All right, I’ll sack one of the servants … Simkins! … nasty tinny sort of name. Simkins! (he exits)

A pilot from the RAF banter scene enters.

Pilot (Michael)

I say, mater, cabbage crates coming over the briny.

Mother

(frowns and shakes her head) Sorry dear, don’t understand.

Pilot

Er … cowcatchers creeping up on the conning towers …

Mother

No … sorry … old sport.

Pilot

Caribou nibbling at the croquet hoops.

Mother

Yes, Mansfield shot one in the antlers.

Pilot

Oh, jolly good show. Is ‘Becca about?

Mother

No, she’s gorn off.

Pilot

What a super woody sort of phrase. `Gorn orff’.

Mother

Yes, she’s gorn orff because Mansfield said `tin’ to her.

Pilot

Oh, what rotten luck … oh well … whole afternoon to kill … better have a bath I suppose.

Mother

Oh, Gervaise do sing me a song …

Pilot

Oh, OK.

Mother

Something woody.

The pilot launches into a quite enormously loud rendering of `She’s going to marry Yum Yum’. The impact of this on the mother causes her to have a heart attack. She dies and the song ends.

Pilot

For … she’s going to marry Yum Yum … oh crikey. The old song finished her orff.

Father

(entering) What’s urp?

Pilot

I’m afraid Mrs Vermin Jones appears to have passed orn.

Father

Dead, is she?

Pilot

‘Fraid so.

Father

What a blow for her.

Via Nedormitul

via Aristocle

“The phenomenon, some years later, of marketers drowning out discourse by flooding Usenet newsgroups and individuals’ email with junk mail advertising messages was named spamming, due to some early internet [...]]]> Sketchul care se află la originea sensului cu care e folosit astăzi termenul spam (Monty Python – 1970).

“The phenomenon, some years later, of marketers drowning out discourse by flooding Usenet newsgroups and individuals’ email with junk mail advertising messages was named spamming, due to some early internet users that flooded forums with the word “spam” recounting the repetitive and unwanted presence of Spam in the sketch.” (wikipedia)

Spam – a canned precooked meat product made by the Hormel Foods Corporation (wikipedia)

Via @nedormitul

LINK. http://roblogfest.ro/Editia-2009/Cum-votez/

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