Monty Python

How about that for a page 17? Wake up Dickens! Wake up Graham Greene! Let's show the World that British literature gets on with it!

A man appears on the top of a sand dune some way away. He looks in direction of camera and runs towards it. He disappears on top of a closer dune and continues towards camera, disappearing again into a dip. This time while he is out of sight, the sound of him running is the sound of someone running along a prison corridor, followed by a big door opening and closing. He appears again only two sand dunes away. Still running towards camera he disappears again from sight. This time there is a loud metallic series of sounds followed by a pig squealing. He appears over the nearest dune and runs up to camera.

It's Man (MICHAEL) It's...

Voice Over (JOHN) Monty Python's Flying Circus.

These words are followed by various strange images, possibly connected with the stretching of owls, and proceeding from a bizarre American immigrant's fevered brain. At the end of this expensive therapy:

CAPTION: 'PART 2'

CAPTION: 'SHEEP'

A small set of a gate in the country overlooking a field. A real rustic in smock and floppy hat is leaning on the gate. A city gent on holiday appears behind him. Off-screen baa-ing noises throughout.

City Gent (TERRY J) Good afternoon.

Rustic (GRAHAM) Artenoon.

City Gent Ah, lovely day isn't it?

Rustic Ar, 'tis that.

City Gent Are you here on holiday or...?

Rustic No no, I live here.

City Gent Oh, jolly good too. (surveys field; he looks puzzled) I say, those are sheep, aren't they?

Rustic Ar.

City Gent Yes, yes of course, I thought so... only... er why are they up in the trees?

Rustic A fair question and one that in recent weeks has been much on my mind. It is my considered opinion that they're nesting.

City Gent Nesting?

Rustic Ar.

City Gent Like birds?

Rustic Ar. Exactly! Birds is the key to the whole problem. It is my belief that these sheep are labouring under the misapprehension that they're birds. Observe their behaviour. Take for a start the sheeps' tendency to hop about the field on their back legs. (off-screen baa-ing) Now witness their attempts to fly from tree to tree. Notice they do not so much fly as plummet. (sound of sheep plummeting) Observe for example that ewe in that oak tree. She is clearly trying to teach her lamb to fly. (baaaaaa... thump) Talk about the blind leading the blind.

City Gent But why do they think they're birds?

Rustic Another fair question. One thing is for sure; a sheep is not a creature of the air. It has enormous difficulty in the comparatively simple act of perching. (crash) As you see. As for flight, its body is totally unadapted to the problems of aviation. Trouble is, sheep are very dim. And once they get an idea into their heads there's no shifting it.

City Gent But where did they get the idea from?

Rustic From Harold. He's that sheep over there under the elm. He's that most dangerous of animals - a clever sheep. He's the ring-leader. He has realized that a sheep's life consists of standing around for a few months and then being eaten. And that's a depressing prospect for an ambitious sheep. He's patently hit on the idea of escape.

City Gent But why don't you just get rid of Harold?

Rustic Because of the enormous commercial possibilities should he succeed.

Voice Over (ERIC) And what exactly are the commercial possibilities of ovine aviation?

Two Frenchmen stand in front of a diagram of a sheep adapted for flying. They speak rapidly in French, much of it pseudo.

First Frenchman (JOHN) Bonsoir - ici nous avons les diagrammes modernes d'un mouton anglo-français... maintenant... baa-aa, baa-aa... nous avons, dans la tête, le cabine. Ici, on se trouve le petit capitaine Anglais, Monsieur Trubshawe.

Second Frenchman (MICHAEL) Vive Brian, wherever you are.

First Frenchman D'accord, d'accord. Maintenant, je vous présente mon collègue, le pouf célèbre, Jean-Brian Zatapathique.

Transfers his moustache to Second Frenchman.

Second Frenchman Maintenant, le mouton... le landing... les wheels, bon.

Opens diagram to show wheels on sheep's legs.

First Frenchman Bon, les wheels, ici.

Second Frenchman C'est formidable, n'est ce pas... (unintelligibly indicates motor at rear of sheep)

First Frenchman Les voyageurs... les bagages... ils sont... ici!

Triumphantly opens the rest of the diagram to reveal the whole brilliant arrangement. They run round flapping their arms and baa-ing.

A small set of a gate in the country overlooking a field. A real rustic in smock and floppy hat is leaning on the gate. A city gent on holiday appears behind him. Off-screen baa-ing noises throughout.

City Gent (TERRY J) Good afternoon.

Rustic (GRAHAM) Artenoon.

City Gent Ah, lovely day isn't it?

Rustic Ar, 'tis that.

City Gent Are you here on holiday or...?

Rustic No no, I live here.

City Gent Oh, jolly good too. (surveys field; he looks puzzled) I say, those are sheep, aren't they?

Rustic Ar.

City Gent Yes, yes of course, I thought so... only... er why are they up in the trees?

Rustic A fair question and one that in recent weeks has been much on my mind. It is my considered opinion that they're nesting.

City Gent Nesting?

Rustic Ar.

City Gent Like birds?

Rustic Ar. Exactly! Birds is the key to the whole problem. It is my belief that these sheep are labouring under the misapprehension that they're birds. Observe their behaviour. Take for a start the sheeps' tendency to hop about the field on their back legs. (off-screen baa-ing) Now witness their attempts to fly from tree to tree. Notice they do not so much fly as plummet. (sound of sheep plummeting) Observe for example that ewe in that oak tree. She is clearly trying to teach her lamb to fly. (baaaaaa... thump) Talk about the blind leading the blind.

City Gent But why do they think they're birds?

Rustic Another fair question. One thing is for sure; a sheep is not a creature of the air. It has enormous difficulty in the comparatively simple act of perching. (crash) As you see. As for flight, its body is totally unadapted to the problems of aviation. Trouble is, sheep are very dim. And once they get an idea into their heads there's no shifting it.

City Gent But where did they get the idea from?

Rustic From Harold. He's that sheep over there under the elm. He's that most dangerous of animals - a clever sheep. He's the ring-leader. He has realized that a sheep's life consists of standing around for a few months and then being eaten. And that's a depressing prospect for an ambitious sheep. He's patently hit on the idea of escape.

City Gent But why don't you just get rid of Harold?

Rustic Because of the enormous commercial possibilities should he succeed.

Voice Over (ERIC) And what exactly are the commercial possibilities of ovine aviation?

Two Frenchmen stand in front of a diagram of a sheep adapted for flying. They speak rapidly in French, much of it pseudo.

First Frenchman (JOHN) Bonsoir - ici nous avons les diagrammes modernes d'un mouton anglo-français... maintenant... baa-aa, baa-aa... nous avons, dans la tête, le cabine. Ici, on se trouve le petit capitaine Anglais, Monsieur Trubshawe.

Second Frenchman (MICHAEL) Vive Brian, wherever you are.

First Frenchman D'accord, d'accord. Maintenant, je vous présente mon collègue, le pouf célèbre, Jean-Brian Zatapathique.

Transfers his moustache to Second Frenchman.

Second Frenchman Maintenant, le mouton... le landing... les wheels, bon.

Opens diagram to show wheels on sheep's legs.

First Frenchman Bon, les wheels, ici.

Second Frenchman C'est formidable, n'est ce pas... (unintelligibly indicates motor at rear of sheep)

First Frenchman Les voyageurs... les bagages... ils sont... ici!

Triumphantly opens the rest of the diagram to reveal the whole brilliant arrangement. They run round flapping their arms and baa-ing.

Cut to pepperpots in supermarket with off-screen interviewer.

First Pepperpot (GRAHAM) Oh yes, we get a lot of French people round here.

Second Pepperpot (TERRY J) Ooh Yes.

Third Pepperpot (MICHAEL) All over yes.

Interviewer And how do you get on with these French people?

First Pepperpot Oh very well.

Fourth Pepperpot (JOHN) So do I.

Third Pepperpot Me too.

First Pepperpot Oh yes I like them. I mean, they think well don't they? I mean, be fair - Pascal.

Second Pepperpot Blaise Pascal.

Third Pepperpot Jean-Paul Sartre.

First Pepperpot Yes, Voltaire.

Second Pepperpot Ooh! - René Descartes.

René Descartes is sitting thinking. Bubbles come from his head with 'thinks'. Suddenly he looks happy. In thought bubble appears 'I THINK THEREFORE I AM'. A large hand comes into picture with a pin and pricks the thought bubble. It deflates and disappears. After a second, René disappears too.

Studio: Smart looking and confident announcer sitting at desk.

Announcer (ERIC) And now for something completely different. A man with three buttocks.

Interviewer and Arthur Frampton, in interview studio.

Interviewer (JOHN) Good evening. I have with me, Mr Arthur Frampton, who has... Mr Frampton, I understand that you... er... as it were... have er... well, let me put it another way... I believe, Mr Frampton that whereas most people have... er... two... two... you... you.

Frampton (TERRY J) I'm sorry.

Interviewer Ah! Yes, yes I see... Um. Are you quite comfortable?

Frampton Yes fine, thank you.

Interviewer (takes a quick glance at Frampton's bottom) Er, Mr Frampton... vis-à-vis... your... rump.

Frampton I beg your pardon?

Interviewer Er, your rump.

Frampton What?

Interviewer Your posterior... derrière... sit upon.

Frampton What's that?

Interviewer (whispers) ...Buttocks.

Frampton Oh, me bum!

Interviewer Sh!... Well Mr Frampton I understand Mr Frampton, you have a... 50% bonus in the... in the region of what you said.

Frampton I got three cheeks.

Interviewer Yes, yes. Splendid, splendid. Well... we were wondering Mr Frampton if you... could... see your way clear...

Frampton (seeing a camera moving round behind him) Here? What's that camera doing?

Interviewer Er, nothing, nothing at all, sir. We were wondering if you could see your way clear... to giving us... a quick... a quick... visual... Mr Frampton, will you take your trousers down?

Frampton What? (slapping away a hand from off-screen) 'Ere, get off. I'm not taking me trousers off on television. Who do you think I am?

Interviewer Please take them down.

Frampton No.

Interviewer Just a little bit.

Frampton No.

Interviewer Now er, ahem... (firmly) Now look here Mr Frampton... it's perfectly easy for somebody just to come along here to the BBC, simply claiming... that they have a bit to spare in the botty department... but the point is Mr Frampton... our viewers need proof.

Frampton I've been on Persian Radio... Get off! Arthur Figgis knows I've got three buttocks.

Interviewer How?

Frampton We go cycling together.

Cut to shot of two men riding tandem. The one behind (Graham) looks down, looks up and exclaims 'strewth'.

Announcer's desk: confident announcer again.

Announcer And now for something completely different. A man with three buttocks.

Interview studio again.

Interviewer Good evening, I have with me Mr Arthur Frampton, who... Mr Frampton - I understand that you, as it were - well let me put it another way... I believe Mr Frampton that whereas most people... didn't we do this just now?

Frampton Er... yes.

Interviewer Well why didn't you say so?

Frampton I thought it was the continental version.

Announcer's desk: confident announcer.

Announcer And now for something completely the same - a man with three buttocks. (phone on desk rings - he answers it) Hullo?...Oh, did we. (puts phone down; to camera) And now for something completely different. A man with three noses.

Off-Screen Voice (JOHN) He's not here yet!

Announcer Two noses?

Stock shot of audience of Women's Institute type, applauding. A man flourishing a handkerchief blows his nose. Then he puts his handkerchief inside his shirt and blows again. Stock shot women applauding again.

Compère (MICHAEL) Ladies and gentlemen isn't she just great eh, wasn't she just great. Ha, ha, ha, and she can run as fast as she can sing, ha, ha, ha. And I'm telling you - 'cos I know. No, only kidding. Ha, ha, ha. Seriously now, ladies and gentlemen, we have for you one of the most unique acts in the world today. He's... well I'll say no more, just let you see for yourselves... ladies and gentlemen, my very great privilege to introduce Arthur Ewing, and his musical mice.

Cut to Ewing.

Ewing (TERRY J) Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. Ladies and gentlemen. I have in this box twenty-three white mice. Mice which have been painstakingly trained over the past few years, to squeak at a selected pitch. (he raises a mouse by its tail) This is E sharp... and this one is G. You get the general idea. Now these mice are so arranged upon this rack, that when played in the correct order they will squeak 'The Bells of St Mary's'. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you on the mouse organ 'The Bells of St Mary's'. Thank you.

He produces two mallets. He starts striking the mice while singing quietly 'The Bells of St Mary's'. Each downward stroke of the mallet brings a terrible squashing sound and the expiring squeak. It is quite clear that he is slaughtering the mice. The musical effect is poor. After the first few notes people are shouting 'Stop it, stop him someone, Oh my God'. He cheerfully takes a bow. He is hauled off by the floor manager.

Cut to man holding up cards saying 'Marriage Counsellor'. The counsellor sits behind a desk. He puts down the card and says:

Counsellor (ERIC) Next!

A little man enters, with a beautiful blond buxom wench, in the full bloom of her young womanhood (Carol Cleveland).

Man (MICHAEL) Are you the marriage guidance counsellor?

Counsellor Yes. Good morning.

Man Good morning, sir.

Counsellor (stares at the wife, fascinated) And good morning to you madam. (pause, he shrugs himself out of it, says to man...) Name?

Man Mr and Mrs Arthur Pewtey, Pewtey.

Counsellor (writes without looking down; he is staring at the wife) And what is the name of your ravishing wife? (holds up hand) Wait. Don't tell me - it's something to do with moonlight - it goes with her eyes - it's soft and gentle, warm and yielding, deeply lyrical and yet tender and frightened like a tiny white rabbit.

Man It's Deirdre.

Counsellor Deirdre. What a beautiful name. What a beautiful, beautiful name. (leans across and lightly brushes his hand across the wife's cheek) And what seems to be the trouble with your marriage Mr Pewtey?

Man Well, it all started about five years ago when we started going on holiday to Brighton together. Deirdre, that's my wife, has always been a jolly good companion to me and I never particularly anticipated any marital strife - indeed the very idea of consulting a professional marital adviser has always been of the greatest repugnance to me, although far be it from me to impugn the nature of your trade or profession.

The counsellor and wife are not listening, fascinated by each other.

Counsellor (realizing Pewtey has stopped) Do go on.

Man Well, as I say, we've always been good friends, sharing the interests, the gardening and so on, the model aeroplanes, the sixpenny bottle for the holiday money, and indeed twice a month settling down in the evenings doing the accounts, something which, er, Deirdre, Deirdre that's my wife, er, particularly looked forward to on account of her feet. (the counsellor has his face fantastically close to the wife's, as close as they could get without kissing) I should probably have said at the outset that I'm noted for having something of a sense of humour, although I have kept myself very much to myself over the last two years notwithstanding, as it were, and it's only as comparatively recently as recently that I began to realize - well, er, perhaps realize is not the correct word, er, imagine, imagine, that I was not the only thing in her life.

Counsellor (who is practically in a clinch with her) You suspected your wife?

Man Well yes - at first, frankly, yes. (the counsellor points the wife to a screen; she goes behind it) Her behaviour did seem at the time to me, who after all was there to see, to be a little odd.

Counsellor Odd?

Man Yes well, I mean to a certain extent yes. I'm not by nature a suspicious person - far from it - though in fact I have something of a reputation as an after-dinner speaker, if you take my meaning.

A piece of his wife's clothing comes over the top of the screen.

Counsellor Yes I certainly do.

The wife's bra and panties come over the screen.

Man Anyway in the area where I'm known people in fact know me extremely well...

Counsellor (taking his jacket off) Oh yes. Would you hold this.

Man Certainly. Yes. (helps him off with it; the counsellor continues to undress) Anyway, as I said, I decided to face up to the facts and stop beating about the bush or I'd never look myself in the bathroom mirror again.

Counsellor (down to his shorts) Er, look would you mind running along for ten minutes? Make it half an hour.

Man No, no, right-ho, fine. Yes I'll wait outside shall I?...(the counsellor has already gone behind screen) Yes, well that's p'raps the best thing. Yes. You've certainly put my mind at rest on one or two points, there.

Exits through door. He is stopped by a deep rich southern American voice.

Southerner (JOHN) Now wait there stranger. A man can run and run for year after year until he realizes that what he's running from... is hisself.

Man Gosh.

Southerner A man's got to do what a man's got to do, and there ain't no sense in runnin'. Now you gotta turn, and you gotta fight, and you gotta hold your head up high.

Man Yes!

Southerner Now you go back in there my son and be a man. Walk tall. (he exits)

Man Yes, I will. I will. I've been pushed around long enough. This is it. This is your moment Arthur Pewtey - this is it Arthur Pewtey. At last you're a man! (opens door determinedly) All right, Deirdre, come out of there.

Counsellor Go away.

Man Right. Right.