Announcer  And now for something completely different.

Milton  We use only the finest baby frogs, dew picked and flown from Iraq, cleansed in finest quality spring water, lightly killed, and then sealed in a succulent Swiss quituple smooth treble cream milk chocolate envelope and lovingly frosted with glucose.
Praline  That’s as maybe, it’s still a frog.

Mr. Praline  It's not pinin'! It's passed on! This parrot is no more! It has ceased to be! It's expired and gone to meet 'is maker! It's a stiff! Bereft of life, Itrests in peace! If you hadn't nailed it to the perch it'd be pushing up the daisies! It's metabolic processes are now history! It's off the twig! It's kicked the bucket, it's shuffled off it's mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisible! THIS IS AN EX-PARROT!

Compère  Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the refreshment room here at Bletchley. My name is Kenny Lust and I'm your compère for tonight. You know, once in a while it is my pleasure, and my privilege, to welcome here at the refreshment room, some of the truly great international artists of our time. And tonight we have one such artist. Ladies and gentlemen, someone whom I've always personally admired, perhaps more deeply, more strongly, more abjectly than ever before. A man, well, more than a man, a god, a great god, whose personality is so totally and utterly wonderful my feeble words of welcome sound wretchedly and pathetically inadequate. Someone whose boots I would gladly lick clean until holes wore through my tongue, a man who is so totally and utterly wonderful, that I would rather be sealed in a pit of my own filth, than dare tread on the same stage with him. Ladies and gentlemen, the incomparably superior human being, Harry Fink.
Voice Offstage  He can't come!
Kenny Lust (winks) Never mind, it's not all it's cracked up to be.

Customer  I've come about your advert—"Small white pussy cat for sale. Excellent condition."
Shopkeeper  Ah. You wish to buy it?
Customer  That's right. Just for the hour.

Reg Mr Wentworth just told me to come in here and say there was trouble at the mill, that's all. I didn't expect a kind of Spanish Inquisition.
Jarring chord. The door flies open and Cardinal Ximinez of Spain enters flanked by two junior Cardinals.
Ximinez Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition. Our chief weapon is surprise... surprise and fear... fear and surprise... our two weapons are fear and surprise... and ruthless efficiency. Our three weapons are fear and surprise and ruthless efficiency and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope.... Our four... no... amongst our weapons.... I'll come in again.

Vicar  It's about this letter you sent me regarding my insurance claim.
Devious  Oh, yeah, yeah—well, you see, it's just that we're not... as yet... totally satisfied with the grounds of your claim.
Vicar  But it says something about filling my mouth in with cement.
Devious  Oh well, that's just insurance jargon.

Announcer  And now a precision display of bad temper.
Soldiers  My goodness me! I am in a bad temper today, two three! Damn damn, two three! I am vexed and ratty, two three! And hopping mad!
Announcer  And now, the men of the Second Armored Division with their famous close order swanning about.
Sergeant  Squad... Camp it up!

Michelangelo  Good evening, Your Holiness.
Pope  Evening, Michelangelo. I want to talk to you about this painting of yours, The Last Supper. I'm not happy about it.
Michelangelo  Oh, dear. It took me hours.
Pope  Not happy at all.
Michelangelo  Is it the jello you don't like?
Pope  No.
Michelangelo  It does add a bit of colour, doesn't it. Oh, I know, you don't like the kangaroo.
Pope  What kangaroo?
Michelangelo  No problem, I'll paint him out.
Pope  I never saw a kangaroo.
Michelangelo  Uh, he's right at the back. No sweat, I'll make him into a disciple. All right?
Pope  That's the problem.
Michelangelo  What is?
Pope  The disciples.
Michelangelo  Are they too Jewish? I made Judas the most Jewish.
Pope  No, it's just that there are 28 of them.

Michael Palin  You were lucky. We lived for three months in a brown paper bag in a septic tank. We used to have to get up at six o'clock in the morning, clean the bag, eat a crust of stale bread, go to work down the mill for fourteen hours a day week in-week out. When we got home, our Dad would thrash us to sleep with his belt!
Graham Chapman  Luxury! We used to have to get out of the lake at three o'clock in the morning, clean the lake, eat a handful of hot gravel, go to work at the mill every day for tuppence a month, come home, and Dad would beat us around the head and neck with a broken bottle, if we were LUCKY!
Terry Gilliam  Well, we had it tough. We used to have to get up out of the shoebox at twelve o'clock at night, and LICK the road clean with our tongues. We had half a handful of freezing cold gravel, worked twenty-four hours a day at the mill for fourpence every six years, and when we got home, our Dad would slice us in two with a bread knife.
Eric Idle  Right. steels himself I had to get up in the morning at ten o'clock at night, half an hour before I went to bed, eat a lump of cold poison, work twenty-nine hours a day down mill, and pay mill owner for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our Dad would kill us, and dance about on our graves singing "Hallelujah."
Michael Palin  But you try and tell the young people today that... and they won't believe ya'.
All  Nope, nope...

Philosopher's Drinking Song  Immanuel Kant was a real piss-ant who was very rarely stable. Heideggar, Heideggar was a boozy beggar who could think you under the table. David Hume could out-consume Schopenhauer and Hegel. Rene Descartes was a drunken fart: "I drink, therefore I am."

Black Knight  Have at you!
King Arthur  You are indeed brave, sir knight, but the fight is mine.
Black Knight  Oh, had enough, eh?
King Arthur  Look, you stupid bastard. You've got no arms left!
Black Knight  Yes I have.
King Arthur  Look!
Black Knight  It's just a flesh wound!

Sir Bedevere  What makes you think she's a witch?
Peasant  Well she turned me into a newt!
Sir Bedevere  A newt?!
*beat*
Peasant  I got better.
Crowd  Burn her anyway!

Sir Bedevere  There are ways of telling whether she is a witch.
Peasant 1  Are there? Oh well, tell us.
Sir Bedevere  Tell me. What do you do with witches?
Peasant 1  Burn them.
Sir Bedevere  And what do you burn, apart from witches?
Peasant 1  More witches.
Peasant 2  Wood.
Sir Bedevere  Good. Now, why do witches burn?
Peasant 3  ...because they're made of... wood?
Sir Bedevere  Good. So how do you tell whether she is made of wood?
Peasant 1  Build a bridge out of her.

King Arthur  I am your king!
Woman  Well I didn't vote for you!
King Arthur  You don't vote for kings.
Woman  Well how'd you become king then?
Angelic music plays...
King Arthur  The Lady of the Lake, her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water, signifying by divine providence that I, Arthur, was to carry Excalibur. That is why I am your king!
Dennis  interrupting Listen, strange women lyin' in ponds distributin' swords is no basis for a system of government! Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony!