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Monty Python Thread


Bastille Night
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QUOTE (Bastille Night @ Jul 24 2006, 10:51 PM)
Here! I've got an idea. Suppose you agree that he can't actually have babies, not having a womb, which is nobody's fault, not even the Romans', but that he can have the RIGHT to have babies.

rofl3.gif

 

I love the part of the sucide squad, Right we are to assit to you biran *STAB* ARGHHH that will show them

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QUOTE (Deathbyspartan @ Jul 24 2006, 05:56 AM)
Blesserd are the cheese makers.

aww thats nice they have had a hard time.



I want to have a baby.
You what!
I want to have a baby.
You can't have a baby.
Don't oppress me.
I'm not opressing you, you don't have a bloodey Womb.

The cheesemakers? Whats so bloody special about the cheesemakers?!?!?

 

Well obviously it wasnt meant to be taken lit'rally - he meant the makers of all dairy products....

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QUOTE (third hand grace @ Jul 23 2006, 11:35 AM)
I FART in Monty Pythons general direction.

That's really quite funny THG. rofl3.gif z7shysterical.gif biggrin.gif trink39.gif

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Your mother was a hamster and your father smells of elderberries!
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I fart in your general direction! Your mother was a hamster, and your father smelled of elderberries!
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Sir Robin

 

Bravely bold Sir Robin rode forth from Camelot.

He was not afraid to die,

O brave Sir Robin.

He was not at all afraid to be killed in nasty ways,

Brave, brave, brave, brave Sir Robin!

 

He was not in the least bit scared to be mashed into a pulp,

Or to have his eyes gouged out and his elbows broken,

To have his kneecaps split and his body burned away

And his limbs all hacked and mangled, brave Sir Robin!

 

His head smashed in and his heart cut out

And his liver removed and his bowels unplugged

And his nostrils raped and his bottom burned off

And his penis --

 

Sir Robin: That's... that's... er... enough music for now lads. Looks like there's dirty work afoot.

 

Bravely Robin ran away, (No!)

Bravely ran away, away. (I didn't!)

 

When danger reared its ugly head,

he bravely turned his tail and fled. (No!)

Yes, brave Sir Robin turned about (I didn't)

And gallantly, he chickened out.

 

Bravely taking to his feet, (I never did!)

He beat a very brave retreat, (Oh, lie!)

Bravest of the brave, Sir Robin. (I never!)

 

 

 

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The BBC would like to announce that the next scene is not considered suitable for family viewing. It contains scenes of violence, involving people's heads and arms getting chopped off, their ears nailed to trees, and their toenails pulled out in slow motion.

 

There are also scenes of naked women with floppy breasts, and also at one point you can see a pair of buttocks and there's another bit where I'll swear you can see everything, but my friend says it's just the way he's holding the spear.

 

Because of the unsuitability of the scene, the BBC will be replacing it with a scene from a repeat of 'Gardening Club' for 1958.

 

 

QUOTE (LakesideMaiden @ Jun 2 2006, 09:35 PM)
Three shalt be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shalt be three. Four shalt thou not count, neither count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out.

Heh, heh...

 

www.NotRUSH.com

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The forbidden plateau of Roiurama, the Lost World, thrown up by mighty earth movements thousands of millions of years ago, where strange primeval creatures defying evolution, lurk in the dark, impenetrable forests, cut off forever from the outside world!!!!!!!!!

 

 

<I still can't see it>

 

 

 

 

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I wish to register a complaint!

Hello miss!

 

What do you mean, "Miss"?

 

I'm sorry, I have a cold...

Edited by what went wrong?
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"Oh, you want to learn to defend yourselves from pointed sticks, do you? Fresh fruit not good enough for you, eh?"
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Bed salesman: Did someone say "mattress" to Mr Lambert?
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Brigadier Sir Charles Arthur Strong, Mrs.: Dear Sir, I wish to complain in the strongest possible terms about the song you have just broadcast about the lumberjack who wears women's clothes. Many 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.
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Rustic Shepherd: It's my belief that these sheep are laborin' under the misapprehension that they're birds. Observe their be'avior. Take for a start the sheeps' tendency to 'op about the field on their 'ind legs. Now witness their attempts to fly from tree to tree. Notice that they do not so much fly as... plummet.
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Pet Shop Customer: He's not pining! He's passed on! This parrot is no more! He has ceased to be! He's expired and gone to meet his maker! He's a stiff! Bereft of life, he rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed him to the perch he'd be pushing up the daisies! His metabolic processes are now history! He's off the twig! He's kicked the bucket, he's shuffled off this mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisible! THIS IS AN EX-PARROT!
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Host: Did you write this symphony in the shed?

Arthur "Two Sheds" Jackson: No!

Host: Have you written any of your recent works in this shed of yours?

Arthur "Two Sheds" Jackson: No, no, not at all. It's just an ordinary garden shed.

Host: I see, I see. And you're thinking of buying this second shed to write in!

Arthur "Two Sheds" Jackson: No, no. Look. This shed business... it doesn't really matter. The sheds aren't important. A few friends call me "Two Sheds" and that's all there is to it. I wish you'd ask me about the music. Everybody talks about the sheds. They've got it out of proportion... I'm a composer. I'm going to get rid of the shed. I'm fed up with it!

Host: Then you'll be Arthur "No Sheds" Jackson, eh?

 

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