Best. Python. Skits. Ever.

czeskleba · Sep 1, 2003

Another favorite, and perhaps their most surreal sketch of all was "Fire Brigade/Our Eamonn", in which people keep getting asked their shoe size for no apparent reason. "Do you want the little hamster to live or not? Well, go and play the cello!"

tom1356 · Sep 1, 2003

High class twit of the year...a hands down winner...

"He really let himself down in the hobbies there...Golfs not very popular around here."

ascot · Sep 2, 2003

Jimbo, I'm glad someone got that!

Dugan · Sep 2, 2003

Did Somebody mention
The Spanish Inquisition?

How about
Are You Embarrassed Easily?
Swamp Castle (from Holy Grail)

ducksdeluxe · Sep 2, 2003

Here we have an ant. And here we have a bull seal.

The aforementioned "Scott of the Sahara", anything with the Gumbies (Doctor! Anasthetic!), The Bishop sketch, and my personal fav, the Cheaplaffs.

SVL · Sep 2, 2003

The Gumbies are priceless...:

"I use a beauty lotion called halitosis... it keeps my skin nice and scaly"
(or actually, Ken Shabby was using that; Mr. Gumby was using Semprini, and as soon as he says the word, he is taken away)

And of course: "Doctor, my BRAIN hurrts!"

Lord Hawthorne · Sep 2, 2003

So what's on the telly?

SVL · Sep 2, 2003

Nothing else but a:

Mike Dow · Sep 2, 2003

Originally posted by czeskleba

That's probably the funniest sketch Cleese/Chapman ever wrote, though it's technically not a Python sketch, right?

Click to expand...

True, but the Pythons did it in later shows (including the Hollywood Bowl).
They seemed to really give it their all when it came to this sketch.

Dave D · Sep 2, 2003

There was one when Graham Chapman's character sits down at a table with a couple having dinner, and then proceeds to go nuts....smashing plates and yelling.." DEEEEE DE DE DEEE DEEEEEEE" over and over....so silly, but I was killing myself laughing!

peterC · Sep 2, 2003

Originally posted by Chiron
What's the point of going abroad if you're just another tourist carted around
in buses surrounded by sweaty mindless oafs from Kettering and Coventry in
their cloth caps and their cardigans and their transistor radios and their
Sunday Mirrors, complaining about the tea - "Oh they don't make it properly
here, do they, not like at home" - and stopping at Majorcan bodegas selling
fish and chips and Watney's Red Barrel and calamares and two veg and sitting in
their cotton frocks squirting Timothy White's suncream all over their puffy raw
swollen purulent flesh 'cos they "overdid it on the first day." And being
herded into endless Hotel Miramars and Bellvueses and Continentales with their
modern international luxury roomettes and draught Red Barrel and swimming pools
full of fat German businessmen pretending they're acrobats forming pyramids and
frightening the children and barging into queues and if you're not at your
table spot on seven you miss the bowl of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup, the
first item on the menu of International Cuisine, and every Thursday night the
hotel has a bloody cabaret in the bar, featuring a tiny emaciated dago with
nine-inch hips and some bloated fat tart with her hair brylcreemed down and a
big **** presenting Flamenco for Foreigners. And adenoidal typists from
Birmingham with flabby white legs and diarrhoea trying to pick up hairy
bandy-legged wop waiters called Manuel and once a week there's an excursion to
the local Roman Remains to buy cherryade and melted ice cream and bleeding
Watney's Red Barrel and one evening you visit the so called typical restaurant
with local colour and atmosphere and you sit next to a party from Rhyl who keep
singing "Torremolinos, torremolinos" and complaining about the food - "It's so
greasy isn't it?" - and you get cornered by some drunken greengrocer from
Luton with an Instamatic camera and Dr. Scholl sandals and last Tuesday's Daily
Express and he drones on and on about how Mr. Smith should be running this
country and how many languages Enoch Powell can speak and then he throws up
over the Cuba Libres. And sending tinted postcards of places they don't
realise they haven't even visited to "All at number 22, weather wonderful, our
room is marked with an 'X'. Food very greasy but we've found a charming little
local place hidden away in the back streets where they serve Watney's Red
Barrel and cheese and onion crisps and the accordionist plays 'Maybe it's
because I'm a Londoner'." And spending four days on the tarmac at Luton
airport on a five-day package tour with nothing to eat but dried BEA-type
sandwiches and you can't even get a drink of Watney's Red Barrel because you're
still in England and the bloody bar closes every time you're thirsty and
there's nowhere to sleep and the kids are crying and vomiting and breaking the
plastic ash-trays and they keep telling you it'll only be another hour although
your plane is still in Iceland and has to take some Swedes to Yugoslavia before
it can load you up at 3 a.m. in the bloody morning and you sit on the tarmac
till six because of "unforeseen difficulties", i.e. the permanent strike of
Air Traffic Control in Paris - and nobody can go to the lavatory until you take
off at 8, and when you get to Malaga airport everybody's swallowing
"enterovioform" and queuing for the toilets and queuing for the armed customs
officers, and queuing for the bloody bus that isn't there to take you to the
hotel that hasn't yet been finished. And when you finally get to the
half-built Algerian ruin called the Hotel del Sol by paying half your holiday
money to a licensed bandit in a taxi you find there's no water in the pool,
there's no water in the taps, there's no water in the bog and there's only a
bleeding lizard in the bidet. And half the rooms are double booked and you
can't sleep anyway because of the permanent twenty-four-hour drilling of the
foundations of the hotel next door - and you're plagues by appalling apprentice
chemists from Ealing pretending to be hippies, and middle-class stockbrokers'
wives busily buying identical holiday villas in suburban development plots just
like Esher, in case the Labour government gets in again, and fat American
matrons with sloppy-buttocks and Hawaiian-patterned ski pants looking for any
mulatto male who can keep it up long enough when they finally let it all flop
out. And the Spanish Tourist Board promises you that the raging cholera
epidemic is merely a case of mild Spanish tummy, like the previous outbreak of
Spanish tummy in 1660 which killed half London and decimated Europe - and
meanwhile the bloody Guardia are busy arresting sixteen-year-olds for kissing
in the streets and shooting anyone under nineteen who doesn't like Franco. And
then on the last day in the airport lounge everyone's comparing sunburns,
drinking Nasty Spumante, buying cartons of duty free "cigarillos" and using up
their last pesetas on horrid dolls in Spanish National costume and awful straw
donkeys and bullfight posters with your name on "Ordoney, El Cordobes and Brian
Pules of Norwich" and 3-D pictures of the Pope and Kennedy and Franco, and
everybody's talking about coming again next year and you swear you never will
although there you are tumbling bleary-eyed out of a tourist-tight antique
Iberian airplane.....
Click to expand...

SILLY BUNT!

mcow1 · Sep 2, 2003

So many favorites already mentioned. But, I have to add Cleese as Ken Cleanairsystem the boxer in training. It kills me when he is jogging and comes to where a car is parked and can't figure to go around it. Also the Oscar Wilde sketch. That's my theory that it is.

Ken_McAlinden · Sep 2, 2003

My wife is a high-school Spanish teacher, so we are partial to the Romans go home Latin conjugation lesson from "Life of Brian."

I am also a big fan of the Upper Class Twit of the Year contest and the world's funniest joke bit. I especially love the Germans' attempt at a counter-joke: "Two peanuts vere valking down der strasse ven vun of them vas assaulted -- salted --peanuts -- a ha ha ha."

Regards,

reechie · Sep 2, 2003

The Silly Olymipad
(Filmed for one of the German specials, and used in Live At The Hollywood Bowl.)

And here we are at the start of the first event of the afternoon: the second semifinal of the 100 yards for people with no sense of direction.

(starter fires pistol, competitors run in random directions)

Well, that was fun, wasn't it?!?

And now over to the swimming. And you join us here at the Bundesabsurd pool just in time to see the start of the 200 meters freestyle for non-swimmers.

(whistle blows, competitors fall into the water and sink to the bottom of the pool)

Well, we'll be bringing you back here the moment they start fishing the corpses up.

stereoptic · Sep 2, 2003

yesman wrote: Which record had the awful school band trying to play the 2001 theme? I roll on the floor every time I hear that.
Click to expand...

Actually, I believe that you are referring to The Portsmith Sinfonia produced by Brian Eno.

It also appeared on:

Dead Parrot Society: The Best of British Comedy

Joel Cairo · Sep 2, 2003

But let's not forget "Novel Writing from Dorset"...!!

"Oh-- he's signed his name again... what a disppointment!!"

-Kevin

Mad Matt · Sep 2, 2003

From the Hollywood Bowl version of the Australian Philosopher's Sketch:

"American beer is like making love in a canoe... IT'S F**KING CLOSE TO WATER!!!"

PS: anybody else remember Dave Allen at Large? Another classic British sketch comedy from the same era... ran back-to-back with Python on my local PBS station back in the day.

-Matt

quadjoe · Sep 2, 2003

Argument Clinic--a classic of comedy timing which easily dethrones Abbot & Costello's "Who's on First." First time I heard it I fell on the floor laughing. Hey, I'm even laughing now!!!

Chiron · Sep 2, 2003

SEMPRINI!

Jimbo · Sep 2, 2003

Mr. Neutron (probably the best episode without Cleese).
___________________________________________________
Mr Neutron: I have just won a Kellogg's Corn Flake Competition.

Mrs Scum: Oh Mr N! That's wonderful!

Mr Neutron: I got the ball in exactly the right place· The prize is £5,000 in cash, or as much ice cream as you can eat.

Mrs Scum: £5,000!

Mr Neutron: I was thinking of taking the ice cream.

Mrs Scum: (alarmed) Oh no!

Mr Neutron: It's been so hot recently.

Mrs Scum: You couldn't eat that much ice cream Mr N.

Mr Neutron: Mrs S, I can eat enormous quantities of ice cream without being sick.
__________________________________________________

I've used that last line quite a few times myself!

Sput · Sep 2, 2003

Tennis Ball Hunting

Tony Caldwell · Sep 3, 2003

One of my favorites is...

Wait for it...

"Confuse a Cat"

SVL · Sep 3, 2003

Another one that deserves a mention is Poet Ewan McTeagle:

"I think what McTeagle's pottery... er... poetry is doing is rejecting all the traditional cliches of modern pottery. No longer do we have to be content with Keats's 'Seasons of mists and mellow fruitfulness', Wordsworth's 'I wandered lonely as a cloud' and Milton's 'Can you lend us two bob till Tuesday'..."

reechie · Sep 3, 2003

THE FISH SLAPPING DANCE

Jimbo · Sep 3, 2003

Originally posted by SVL
Another one that deserves a mention is Poet Ewan McTeagle:

Click to expand...

Can I have 50 pounds to mend the shed...?

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Best. Python. Skits. Ever.

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Best. Python. Skits. Ever.

czeskleba Senior Member

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Lord Hawthorne Currently Untitled

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Mike Dow I kind of like the music

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