You`re No Fun Anymore - Monty Python, Vol. 3

[Your_Lion]

These mitts have earned yours truly a lot of bread. So, if you'll just step through here, I'll slit you up a treat. :zalice:

Well off we go then, with the Chicago Townswomen's Guild re-enactment of the first heart transplant.

Here, you're on television, aren't you? He does the thing with one of those silly women who can't tell Whizzo butter from a dead crab. :bitchslap:

Ah yes, well that's the pets department, second floor.

That's right, yes, you go left at artificial limbs and hearing aids, right at dentures and it's on your left just by glass eyes. :blink:

Well that's all very well, sir, but this is an off-licence.

[blackhawkrush]

These mitts have earned yours truly a lot of bread. So, if you'll just step through here, I'll slit you up a treat. :zalice:

Well off we go then, with the Chicago Townswomen's Guild re-enactment of the first heart transplant.

Here, you're on television, aren't you? He does the thing with one of those silly women who can't tell Whizzo butter from a dead crab. :bitchslap:

Ah yes, well that's the pets department, second floor.

That's right, yes, you go left at artificial limbs and hearing aids, right at dentures and it's on your left just by glass eyes. :blink:

Well that's all very well, sir, but this is an off-licence.

How much? Quick. :rose: :rose: :rose: It's for the wife.

[IbanezJem]

These mitts have earned yours truly a lot of bread. So, if you'll just step through here, I'll slit you up a treat. :zalice:

Well off we go then, with the Chicago Townswomen's Guild re-enactment of the first heart transplant.

Here, you're on television, aren't you? He does the thing with one of those silly women who can't tell Whizzo butter from a dead crab. :bitchslap:

Ah yes, well that's the pets department, second floor.

That's right, yes, you go left at artificial limbs and hearing aids, right at dentures and it's on your left just by glass eyes. :blink:

Well that's all very well, sir, but this is an off-licence.

How much? Quick. :rose: :rose: :rose: It's for the wife.

Er no, that's Mr. Seagrave. Mr. Robinson's the hermit who lodges with Mr. Seagrave.

[blackhawkrush]

These mitts have earned yours truly a lot of bread. So, if you'll just step through here, I'll slit you up a treat. :zalice:

Well off we go then, with the Chicago Townswomen's Guild re-enactment of the first heart transplant.

Here, you're on television, aren't you? He does the thing with one of those silly women who can't tell Whizzo butter from a dead crab. :bitchslap:

Ah yes, well that's the pets department, second floor.

That's right, yes, you go left at artificial limbs and hearing aids, right at dentures and it's on your left just by glass eyes. :blink:

Well that's all very well, sir, but this is an off-licence.

How much? Quick. :rose: :rose: :rose: It's for the wife.

Er no, that's Mr. Seagrave. Mr. Robinson's the hermit who lodges with Mr. Seagrave.

A whacky new comedy series about the gay exploits of two :coy: :coy:

[IbanezJem]

These mitts have earned yours truly a lot of bread. So, if you'll just step through here, I'll slit you up a treat. :zalice:

Well off we go then, with the Chicago Townswomen's Guild re-enactment of the first heart transplant.

Here, you're on television, aren't you? He does the thing with one of those silly women who can't tell Whizzo butter from a dead crab. :bitchslap:

Ah yes, well that's the pets department, second floor.

That's right, yes, you go left at artificial limbs and hearing aids, right at dentures and it's on your left just by glass eyes. :blink:

Well that's all very well, sir, but this is an off-licence.

How much? Quick. :rose: :rose: :rose: It's for the wife.

Er no, that's Mr. Seagrave. Mr. Robinson's the hermit who lodges with Mr. Seagrave.

A whacky new comedy series about the gay exploits of two :coy: :coy:

Good God, I'd forgotten about her :facepalm:

[blackhawkrush]

These mitts have earned yours truly a lot of bread. So, if you'll just step through here, I'll slit you up a treat. :zalice:

Well off we go then, with the Chicago Townswomen's Guild re-enactment of the first heart transplant.

Here, you're on television, aren't you? He does the thing with one of those silly women who can't tell Whizzo butter from a dead crab. :bitchslap:

Ah yes, well that's the pets department, second floor.

That's right, yes, you go left at artificial limbs and hearing aids, right at dentures and it's on your left just by glass eyes. :blink:

Well that's all very well, sir, but this is an off-licence.

How much? Quick. :rose: :rose: :rose: It's for the wife.

Er no, that's Mr. Seagrave. Mr. Robinson's the hermit who lodges with Mr. Seagrave.

A whacky new comedy series about the gay exploits of two :coy: :coy:

Good God, I'd forgotten about her :facepalm:

You haven't seen my wife anywhere, have you? :unsure: Oh, thank God for that.

[Your_Lion]

These mitts have earned yours truly a lot of bread. So, if you'll just step through here, I'll slit you up a treat. :zalice:

Well off we go then, with the Chicago Townswomen's Guild re-enactment of the first heart transplant.

Here, you're on television, aren't you? He does the thing with one of those silly women who can't tell Whizzo butter from a dead crab. :bitchslap:

Ah yes, well that's the pets department, second floor.

That's right, yes, you go left at artificial limbs and hearing aids, right at dentures and it's on your left just by glass eyes. :blink:

Well that's all very well, sir, but this is an off-licence.

How much? Quick. :rose: :rose: :rose: It's for the wife.

Er no, that's Mr. Seagrave. Mr. Robinson's the hermit who lodges with Mr. Seagrave.

A whacky new comedy series about the gay exploits of two :coy: :coy:

Good God, I'd forgotten about her :facepalm:

You haven't seen my wife anywhere, have you? :unsure: Oh, thank God for that.

You'd just shown your wife an entry form for Wimbledon, which you'd filled in... when you turned round and saw her legs disappearing into a blancmange. Is that correct?

[IbanezJem]

These mitts have earned yours truly a lot of bread. So, if you'll just step through here, I'll slit you up a treat. :zalice:

Well off we go then, with the Chicago Townswomen's Guild re-enactment of the first heart transplant.

Here, you're on television, aren't you? He does the thing with one of those silly women who can't tell Whizzo butter from a dead crab. :bitchslap:

Ah yes, well that's the pets department, second floor.

That's right, yes, you go left at artificial limbs and hearing aids, right at dentures and it's on your left just by glass eyes. :blink:

Well that's all very well, sir, but this is an off-licence.

How much? Quick. :rose: :rose: :rose: It's for the wife.

Er no, that's Mr. Seagrave. Mr. Robinson's the hermit who lodges with Mr. Seagrave.

A whacky new comedy series about the gay exploits of two :coy: :coy:

Good God, I'd forgotten about her :facepalm:

You haven't seen my wife anywhere, have you? :unsure: Oh, thank God for that.

You'd just shown your wife an entry form for Wimbledon, which you'd filled in... when you turned round and saw her legs disappearing into a blancmange. Is that correct?

Well, they said it was the best way to get the job.

[blackhawkrush]

These mitts have earned yours truly a lot of bread. So, if you'll just step through here, I'll slit you up a treat. :zalice:

Well off we go then, with the Chicago Townswomen's Guild re-enactment of the first heart transplant.

Here, you're on television, aren't you? He does the thing with one of those silly women who can't tell Whizzo butter from a dead crab. :bitchslap:

Ah yes, well that's the pets department, second floor.

That's right, yes, you go left at artificial limbs and hearing aids, right at dentures and it's on your left just by glass eyes. :blink:

Well that's all very well, sir, but this is an off-licence.

How much? Quick. :rose: :rose: :rose: It's for the wife.

Er no, that's Mr. Seagrave. Mr. Robinson's the hermit who lodges with Mr. Seagrave.

A whacky new comedy series about the gay exploits of two :coy: :coy:

Good God, I'd forgotten about her :facepalm:

You haven't seen my wife anywhere, have you? :unsure: Oh, thank God for that.

You'd just shown your wife an entry form for Wimbledon, which you'd filled in... when you turned round and saw her legs disappearing into a blancmange. Is that correct?

Well, they said it was the best way to get the job.

You're forty years old, now. You should have grown out of all that. :huh:

[IbanezJem]

These mitts have earned yours truly a lot of bread. So, if you'll just step through here, I'll slit you up a treat. :zalice:

Well off we go then, with the Chicago Townswomen's Guild re-enactment of the first heart transplant.

Here, you're on television, aren't you? He does the thing with one of those silly women who can't tell Whizzo butter from a dead crab. :bitchslap:

Ah yes, well that's the pets department, second floor.

That's right, yes, you go left at artificial limbs and hearing aids, right at dentures and it's on your left just by glass eyes. :blink:

Well that's all very well, sir, but this is an off-licence.

How much? Quick. :rose: :rose: :rose: It's for the wife.

Er no, that's Mr. Seagrave. Mr. Robinson's the hermit who lodges with Mr. Seagrave.

A whacky new comedy series about the gay exploits of two :coy: :coy:

Good God, I'd forgotten about her :facepalm:

You haven't seen my wife anywhere, have you? :unsure: Oh, thank God for that.

You'd just shown your wife an entry form for Wimbledon, which you'd filled in... when you turned round and saw her legs disappearing into a blancmange. Is that correct?

Well, they said it was the best way to get the job.

You're forty years old, now. You should have grown out of all that. :huh:

Jimmy, at least one ageing football commentator was gladdened last night by the sight of an English footballer breaking free of the limpid tentacles of packed Mediterranean defence.

[blackhawkrush]

These mitts have earned yours truly a lot of bread. So, if you'll just step through here, I'll slit you up a treat. :zalice:

Well off we go then, with the Chicago Townswomen's Guild re-enactment of the first heart transplant.

Here, you're on television, aren't you? He does the thing with one of those silly women who can't tell Whizzo butter from a dead crab. :bitchslap:

Ah yes, well that's the pets department, second floor.

That's right, yes, you go left at artificial limbs and hearing aids, right at dentures and it's on your left just by glass eyes. :blink:

Well that's all very well, sir, but this is an off-licence.

How much? Quick. :rose: :rose: :rose: It's for the wife.

Er no, that's Mr. Seagrave. Mr. Robinson's the hermit who lodges with Mr. Seagrave.

A whacky new comedy series about the gay exploits of two :coy: :coy:

Good God, I'd forgotten about her :facepalm:

You haven't seen my wife anywhere, have you? :unsure: Oh, thank God for that.

You'd just shown your wife an entry form for Wimbledon, which you'd filled in... when you turned round and saw her legs disappearing into a blancmange. Is that correct?

Well, they said it was the best way to get the job.

You're forty years old, now. You should have grown out of all that. :huh:

Jimmy, at least one ageing football commentator was gladdened last night by the sight of an English footballer breaking free of the limpid tentacles of packed Mediterranean defence.

:bang bang: :blah: I never did like that kind of person.

[IbanezJem]

These mitts have earned yours truly a lot of bread. So, if you'll just step through here, I'll slit you up a treat. :zalice:

Well off we go then, with the Chicago Townswomen's Guild re-enactment of the first heart transplant.

Here, you're on television, aren't you? He does the thing with one of those silly women who can't tell Whizzo butter from a dead crab. :bitchslap:

Ah yes, well that's the pets department, second floor.

That's right, yes, you go left at artificial limbs and hearing aids, right at dentures and it's on your left just by glass eyes. :blink:

Well that's all very well, sir, but this is an off-licence.

How much? Quick. :rose: :rose: :rose: It's for the wife.

Er no, that's Mr. Seagrave. Mr. Robinson's the hermit who lodges with Mr. Seagrave.

A whacky new comedy series about the gay exploits of two :coy: :coy:

Good God, I'd forgotten about her :facepalm:

You haven't seen my wife anywhere, have you? :unsure: Oh, thank God for that.

You'd just shown your wife an entry form for Wimbledon, which you'd filled in... when you turned round and saw her legs disappearing into a blancmange. Is that correct?

Well, they said it was the best way to get the job.

You're forty years old, now. You should have grown out of all that. :huh:

Jimmy, at least one ageing football commentator was gladdened last night by the sight of an English footballer breaking free of the limpid tentacles of packed Mediterranean defence.

:bang bang: :blah: I never did like that kind of person.

I'm sorry squire, I've gobbed on your carpet.

[blackhawkrush]

These mitts have earned yours truly a lot of bread. So, if you'll just step through here, I'll slit you up a treat. :zalice:

Well off we go then, with the Chicago Townswomen's Guild re-enactment of the first heart transplant.

Here, you're on television, aren't you? He does the thing with one of those silly women who can't tell Whizzo butter from a dead crab. :bitchslap:

Ah yes, well that's the pets department, second floor.

That's right, yes, you go left at artificial limbs and hearing aids, right at dentures and it's on your left just by glass eyes. :blink:

Well that's all very well, sir, but this is an off-licence.

How much? Quick. :rose: :rose: :rose: It's for the wife.

Er no, that's Mr. Seagrave. Mr. Robinson's the hermit who lodges with Mr. Seagrave.

A whacky new comedy series about the gay exploits of two :coy: :coy:

Good God, I'd forgotten about her :facepalm:

You haven't seen my wife anywhere, have you? :unsure: Oh, thank God for that.

You'd just shown your wife an entry form for Wimbledon, which you'd filled in... when you turned round and saw her legs disappearing into a blancmange. Is that correct?

Well, they said it was the best way to get the job.

You're forty years old, now. You should have grown out of all that. :huh:

Jimmy, at least one ageing football commentator was gladdened last night by the sight of an English footballer breaking free of the limpid tentacles of packed Mediterranean defence.

:bang bang: :blah: I never did like that kind of person.

I'm sorry squire, I've gobbed on your carpet.

You empty headed animal food trough wiper! :bitchslap:

[Your_Lion]

These mitts have earned yours truly a lot of bread. So, if you'll just step through here, I'll slit you up a treat. :zalice:

Well off we go then, with the Chicago Townswomen's Guild re-enactment of the first heart transplant.

Here, you're on television, aren't you? He does the thing with one of those silly women who can't tell Whizzo butter from a dead crab. :bitchslap:

Ah yes, well that's the pets department, second floor.

That's right, yes, you go left at artificial limbs and hearing aids, right at dentures and it's on your left just by glass eyes. :blink:

Well that's all very well, sir, but this is an off-licence.

How much? Quick. :rose: :rose: :rose: It's for the wife.

Er no, that's Mr. Seagrave. Mr. Robinson's the hermit who lodges with Mr. Seagrave.

A whacky new comedy series about the gay exploits of two :coy: :coy:

Good God, I'd forgotten about her :facepalm:

You haven't seen my wife anywhere, have you? :unsure: Oh, thank God for that.

You'd just shown your wife an entry form for Wimbledon, which you'd filled in... when you turned round and saw her legs disappearing into a blancmange. Is that correct?

Well, they said it was the best way to get the job.

You're forty years old, now. You should have grown out of all that. :huh:

Jimmy, at least one ageing football commentator was gladdened last night by the sight of an English footballer breaking free of the limpid tentacles of packed Mediterranean defence.

:bang bang: :blah: I never did like that kind of person.

I'm sorry squire, I've gobbed on your carpet.

You empty headed animal food trough wiper! :bitchslap:

I would like to take this opportunity of complaining about the way in which this thread is continually portraying psychiatrists who make pat diagnoses of patients' problems without first obtaining their full medical history. :tsk:

[IbanezJem]

These mitts have earned yours truly a lot of bread. So, if you'll just step through here, I'll slit you up a treat. :zalice:

Well off we go then, with the Chicago Townswomen's Guild re-enactment of the first heart transplant.

Here, you're on television, aren't you? He does the thing with one of those silly women who can't tell Whizzo butter from a dead crab. :bitchslap:

Ah yes, well that's the pets department, second floor.

That's right, yes, you go left at artificial limbs and hearing aids, right at dentures and it's on your left just by glass eyes. :blink:

Well that's all very well, sir, but this is an off-licence.

How much? Quick. :rose: :rose: :rose: It's for the wife.

Er no, that's Mr. Seagrave. Mr. Robinson's the hermit who lodges with Mr. Seagrave.

A whacky new comedy series about the gay exploits of two :coy: :coy:

Good God, I'd forgotten about her :facepalm:

You haven't seen my wife anywhere, have you? :unsure: Oh, thank God for that.

You'd just shown your wife an entry form for Wimbledon, which you'd filled in... when you turned round and saw her legs disappearing into a blancmange. Is that correct?

Well, they said it was the best way to get the job.

You're forty years old, now. You should have grown out of all that. :huh:

Jimmy, at least one ageing football commentator was gladdened last night by the sight of an English footballer breaking free of the limpid tentacles of packed Mediterranean defence.

:bang bang: :blah: I never did like that kind of person.

I'm sorry squire, I've gobbed on your carpet.

You empty headed animal food trough wiper! :bitchslap:

I would like to take this opportunity of complaining about the way in which this thread is continually portraying psychiatrists who make pat diagnoses of patients' problems without first obtaining their full medical history. :tsk:

The mind is subject to severe mental stresses. Good evening. Guilt fears abound, good evening. In the subconscious in this state, one of our lads with a fair training in the black arts can scare the fertilizer out of them.

[blackhawkrush]

These mitts have earned yours truly a lot of bread. So, if you'll just step through here, I'll slit you up a treat. :zalice:

Well off we go then, with the Chicago Townswomen's Guild re-enactment of the first heart transplant.

Here, you're on television, aren't you? He does the thing with one of those silly women who can't tell Whizzo butter from a dead crab. :bitchslap:

Ah yes, well that's the pets department, second floor.

That's right, yes, you go left at artificial limbs and hearing aids, right at dentures and it's on your left just by glass eyes. :blink:

Well that's all very well, sir, but this is an off-licence.

How much? Quick. :rose: :rose: :rose: It's for the wife.

Er no, that's Mr. Seagrave. Mr. Robinson's the hermit who lodges with Mr. Seagrave.

A whacky new comedy series about the gay exploits of two :coy: :coy:

Good God, I'd forgotten about her :facepalm:

You haven't seen my wife anywhere, have you? :unsure: Oh, thank God for that.

You'd just shown your wife an entry form for Wimbledon, which you'd filled in... when you turned round and saw her legs disappearing into a blancmange. Is that correct?

Well, they said it was the best way to get the job.

You're forty years old, now. You should have grown out of all that. :huh:

Jimmy, at least one ageing football commentator was gladdened last night by the sight of an English footballer breaking free of the limpid tentacles of packed Mediterranean defence.

:bang bang: :blah: I never did like that kind of person.

I'm sorry squire, I've gobbed on your carpet.

You empty headed animal food trough wiper! :bitchslap:

I would like to take this opportunity of complaining about the way in which this thread is continually portraying psychiatrists who make pat diagnoses of patients' problems without first obtaining their full medical history. :tsk:

The mind is subject to severe mental stresses. Good evening. Guilt fears abound, good evening. In the subconscious in this state, one of our lads with a fair training in the black arts can scare the fertilizer out of them.

You promised you'd tell us about pointed sticks. :huh:

[IbanezJem]

You say anything about that and I'll do you for treason.

[blackhawkrush]

You say anything about that and I'll do you for treason.

Don't pass judgement on other people, or else you might get judged, too. :16ton:

[IbanezJem]

You say anything about that and I'll do you for treason.

Don't pass judgement on other people, or else you might get judged, too. :16ton:

No, no, sir, it's alright, we don't morally censor you, we just want the money.

[Your_Lion]

You say anything about that and I'll do you for treason.

Don't pass judgement on other people, or else you might get judged, too. :16ton:

No, no, sir, it's alright, we don't morally censor you, we just want the money.

blimey, this redistribution of wealth is trickier than I thought. :blink:

[blackhawkrush]

You say anything about that and I'll do you for treason.

Don't pass judgement on other people, or else you might get judged, too. :16ton:

No, no, sir, it's alright, we don't morally censor you, we just want the money.

blimey, this redistribution of wealth is trickier than I thought. :blink:

No, no, it's the store's rag week. :cool:

[IbanezJem]

You say anything about that and I'll do you for treason.

Don't pass judgement on other people, or else you might get judged, too. :16ton:

No, no, sir, it's alright, we don't morally censor you, we just want the money.

blimey, this redistribution of wealth is trickier than I thought. :blink:

No, no, it's the store's rag week. :cool:

Right, well, get in the car. We've won you in a police raffle.

[blackhawkrush]

You say anything about that and I'll do you for treason.

Don't pass judgement on other people, or else you might get judged, too. :16ton:

No, no, sir, it's alright, we don't morally censor you, we just want the money.

blimey, this redistribution of wealth is trickier than I thought. :blink:

No, no, it's the store's rag week. :cool:

Right, well, get in the car. We've won you in a police raffle.

The Jodrells win every bloody year...makes you vomit. :rage:

[IbanezJem]

You say anything about that and I'll do you for treason.

Don't pass judgement on other people, or else you might get judged, too. :16ton:

No, no, sir, it's alright, we don't morally censor you, we just want the money.

blimey, this redistribution of wealth is trickier than I thought. :blink:

No, no, it's the store's rag week. :cool:

Right, well, get in the car. We've won you in a police raffle.

The Jodrells win every bloody year...makes you vomit. :rage:

Sir Alec Douglas Hume has taken Oldham for the Stone Dead Party. A small piece of putty about that big, a cheese mechanic from Dunbar and two frogs - one called Kipper, the other not - have all gone 'Ni ni ni ni ni ni!' in Blackpool Central.

[Your_Lion]

You say anything about that and I'll do you for treason.

Don't pass judgement on other people, or else you might get judged, too. :16ton:

No, no, sir, it's alright, we don't morally censor you, we just want the money.

blimey, this redistribution of wealth is trickier than I thought. :blink:

No, no, it's the store's rag week. :cool:

Right, well, get in the car. We've won you in a police raffle.

The Jodrells win every bloody year...makes you vomit. :rage:

Sir Alec Douglas Hume has taken Oldham for the Stone Dead Party. A small piece of putty about that big, a cheese mechanic from Dunbar and two frogs - one called Kipper, the other not - have all gone 'Ni ni ni ni ni ni!' in Blackpool Central.

Well, I gave him my baby to kiss and he bit it on the head. :scared: