The following is a made up episode of what if Monty Python was in today’s era of modern technology? A big thanks to: Michael Palin (the one that can do anything), Terry Jones (the woman), John Cleese(the tall guy), Graham Chapman (the dead one), Eric Idle (the cute one) and Terry Gilliam (the cartoonist). Oh yes, and Carol Cleveland, the one real woman on the show.
ONE: Technology Episode
It’s Man: (Michael) A hippie looking man who is driving and texting at the same time. People are getting out of the way, cars are screeching to a halt. He is weaving in and out of his lane. He texts, “It’s . . .”
Announcer: (John) Monty Pythons Flying Circus!
AUTOCORRECT ON STEROIDS SKETCH
Announcer 2: (Graham) In the modern era of 2011 the Pewtey family of Islington is celebrating great news. Their son has been accepted to Oxford.
Mum/Edie: (Terry Jones) (Texting at home on her new cell phone) I have some great news hunchback. Our son has been adopted because he got AIDS at Eton.
Dad/Robert: (Michael) (Texting leaving office to catch a bus) WHAT?? Who are you calling a bloody hunchback and how was our son in contact with AIDS? What? He was adopted? Are you drunk?
Edie: (Texting) Bloody autocorrect. I am so sorry Robert. I meant hun, all A’s and accepted. I think we should have a dinner party. I’ll text Billygoat.
Robert: (Texting) About the Billygoat . . . is that another autocorrect or are you referring to what we used to call him?
Edie: (Texting their son Billy) I thought we should have a diarrhea party to celebrate your adoption.
Son/Billy: (Eric) (Texting on train from Eton to station) Bloody Brilliant Mum! Just what I always wanted a diarrhea party. What’s on the menu? I was adopted? Are you kidding?
Mum: Don’t use those words with me young man. And what do you mean diarrhea party? I never said diarrhea party, I said dinner party. We are having roast potatoes, chicken and broccoli. If you want to knife some of your friends, I’ve already knifed your grand pants. Don’t worry you are not adopted. I meant accepted.
Billy: Bloody hell. Did you just say that you knifed my pants or grand mama and grand papa? Can I knife Steve and Peter? I always thought they were gits.
Mum: William Pewtey, what did you just say about your grand parents? They are naked and they are coming over. And yes you can INVITE Steve and Peter, I’ve always licked them.
Billy: Oh jolly good. I always wanted to see old people naked. So, are you saying I can’t knife them? Mum, did you just say licked? Or did you mean liked?
Mum: Of course I meant liked. Honestly, Billy what do you take me for? And what did you mean by old naked people? Your grandparents are nearby. They are staying at their apartment in Bloomsbury.
Dad: (Texting Edie) Did you get in touch with Billy or as you say, Billygoat?
Mum: Yes and I am masturbating some chicken for diarrhea.
Dad: Edie! Have you lost your marbles? Am I honestly going to have to take you to the mental hospital?
Mum: Fine. If you don’t like the idea of marinating chicken for diarrhea then maybe we can get some take away children?
Dad: TAKE AWAY CHILDREN! Good God woman! I think you have lost your marbles.
Mum: Children? Who ever heard of such a thing as take away children? I meant Chinese food, Robert, obviously.
Dad: (Texting Billy) Is there something wrong with your mother? She seems to have lost her marbles.
Billy: (Laughing hysterically while texting) No, no. She seems fine to me. It’s grand mama and grand papa I am worried about. Apparently they are coming naked to my diarrhea party. We never should have bought Mum a phone.
Dad is reading Billy’s text and shaking his head as he mumbles, “I am not surprised. That’s where she gets her craziness."
Mum: (Texting Billy and Dad) I thought I would ass a hairy nut crumb cake for dessert. What do you think?
Dad: I think you are going to a mental institution when I get home.
Billy: Sounds bloody brilliant Mum. Hairy nut crumb cake is something I really lick.
Mum: Billy, we are British. We do not talk about our sex lives, and I meant hazel nut crumb cake, of course. Now, did you return your unicorn to Eton?
Billy: I didn’t know I had a unicorn, but I did return my diarrhea jacket. I did knife Steve and Peter, but they are still coming. They wouldn’t miss a naked grand mama and grand papa and hairy nut crumb cake for the world. Sounds like a hell of a party Mummy. Can we dress up like mummies?
Door opens to the house. We see Edie throw her phone into the disposal as she screams, “Bloody autocorrect!”
Announcer: (John) And now for something completely different . . .
THE PASSWORD SKETCH
Narrator: (Michael reading a story) Once upon a time in a small Yorkshire village on the moors, lived a little old hag, I mean lady, and her son, a momma’s boy. The son grew up to be very rich, or rich enough to afford two computers. One day, Mrs. Effingpot, attempted to log on to her computer, but alas, she could not endeavor to do it. She called her son Petey, to come be her knight in shining armor.
Petey: (Eric) (entering in shining armor) Yes, m’lady mother, I am here to serve you.
Mrs. Effingpot: (Terry J.) My bloo . . .I mean, my beautiful computer is not functioning today. Can you fix it dear?
Petey: Of course, mama. What seems to be the matter?
Mrs. Effingspit: (every time the name changes it comes up on screen) It’s the password darling.
Petey: Oh Mama! Have you forgotten it?
Mrs Effington: Yes, I bloo . . I mean believe I have.
Petey: Think hard, Mama. It is usually a word that is important to you. Like, Petey, for instance, lets try that. He types and the computer rejects the password. Or Peter . . .
The computer rejects the password again. Or Pete . . . No again.
Mrs. Effingpet: Try BillyBee
Petey: BillyBee? Whatever for ?
Mrs. Effingpop: He was my first lover . . . I mean lemur.
Petey: You had a lemur Mama?
Mrs. Effingpoop: Oh, yes! He was soooo vivacious.
Petey types it in and it does not work.
Petey: What about Papa’s name?
Mrs. Effingstoop: (mumbles under her breath) The bloody bastard. Of course darling, try that.
Petey: What was his name, Mama?
Mrs. Effingnot: His name was Effinglove. (under her breath) But I called him stinky poo.
Petey: No, Mama. I am surprised it wasn’t that. You seemed to love Papa very much.
Mrs. Effingnut: (mumbling) Loved him like a dead frog. Ok, Petey darling. Try KittyKat. She was your father’s ex-lover and I divorced him for it . . . I mean he left me for her . . .I mean he left her for me. Yes, that’s it.
Petey: (blinks three times) Okay Mama. (hesitantly) Have you had any more pets? I know my password is our dog, Petey Junior.
Mrs. Effingnose: I’ll take note of that darling. It might be Stinkycat, I mean Kinkycat. She was my hated, I mean beloved cat while growing up.
Petey: What lovely names, mother. Stinkycat, kinkycat . . .no, doesn’t work. How about my lovely old cat, Peta? Remember the calico that died in my arms?
Mrs. Effingcold: Oh yes, that one. You mean the one I poisoned because it kept playing with the yarn?
Petey: Mama! Have you lost your mind? You told me Peta died of a common cold.
Mrs. Effingtoes: You always were gullible. Now try wifebeater.
Petey: Wifebeater? Mama!
Mrs. Effingspear: It’s a type of beer. I wouldn’t expect you to know anything about it Petey darling.
Narrator: Petey, the golden boy that he was, put up with his mother for a long, long time. In fact, we do not know how long it took Mrs Effingspot to notice the tiny little, weeny teeny question mark when she put her glasses on.
Mrs. Effingcoop: Aha! (light bulb appears over her head) When I put my glasses on I can see. Petey, click on that little question mark darling. What does it say? Oh yes, my lover in Bolton. How could I forget? Charles, Prince of Wales.
Petey: Mama! I did not know you were so acquainted with royalty.
Mrs. Effinghoop: Oh, no no no darling. That’s just my pet name for him. His real name is Charlie Effinglove. Your father.
Petey: Oh? Why haven’t you introduced me to him?
Mrs. Effinghop: (sadly) Because he is a woman now. Run along Petey darling. I need to log on to hotsteamywomen.com.
Petey: (eyes bulging out and gulping) Lovely Mama. I use that site as well. He then has a heart attack and dies.
Mrs. Effingcuff: Oh my poor little baby. I really did wonder if there was an eighth level in hell. That would be for the ignorant. (devious laughter as she turns back to her computer.)
Narrator: So that was the tragic story of Mrs. Effingpassword and her lovely but stupid son, Petey.
Announcer: (John) And now for the cartoon . . . a man getting his head bitten off by a computer.
CARTOON
Narrator: (Terry G.) (With a Southern accent) In the dangerous times of modern technology there lived a man. . .
A cartoon man sits at the computer. The computer goes black. The man is hitting every key he can get his fingers on and he is screaming and yelling and swearing. The computer reaches from the depth of the desk and bites the man’s head off and says,(Graham) “That felt good. I always wanted to taste the man that assaulted my keyboard, my lovely keyboard. The man who was a devil. The man who had no respect for me and my mouse.”
He burps. “My, my revenge is sweet.”
Announcer: And now for something completely different . . .A man with a facebook.
Voice Off: He can’t come. He’s facebooking.
Announcer: Okay. And now for something completely the same . . .A man with customer service difficulties . . .
Mr. Praline (John) is on the speaker phone talking to customer service about his new tablet.
Automatic Machine: (Carol) Hello and welcome to Fix-a Tablet, Inc. Press 1 if your tablet is almost functioning. Press 2 if your tablet is not really functioning. Press 3 if your tablet is not functioning at all. Press 4 if you are too dumb and awful to figure out how to work your tablet yourself.
Mr. Praline: This bloody machine has a rather nasty sense of humor. He presses 4.
Michael: (Michael) cockney accent Hello. How may I be of help?
Mr. Praline: Excuse me. What did you say?
Michael: Can I help you sir?
Mr. Praline: Yes. Yes of course. I cannot for the life of me get this tablet to work.
Michael: Well sir. What seems to be the problem?
Mr. Praline: I don’t know. If I knew what the problem was I would have solved it by now.
Michael: Fine sir. I am sorry but that is not my department. If you don’t know how to work it press 7.
Mr. Praline: Seven? Okay. Good day to you sir. Thank you for not helping me.
Michael: My pleasure. Now remember to press 7.
Mr. Praline Presses 7
Terry: (Terry J.) High pitched feminine voice. Hello. This is Terry speaking.
Mr. Praline: Hello Terry. I would like some help with my tablet. It doesn’t seem to be working at all.
Terry: Have you pressed the power button?
Mr. Praline: I don’t know where the power button is.
Terry: Sorry sir. That is not my department.
Mr. Praline: This is bloody ridiculous. You can’t even tell me where the power button is?
Terry: Yes, well we get paid by the union. Press number 9. Mr. Praline presses number 9.
Graham: (Graham) This is Graham from the too stupid to know how to turn it on department. Thank you for calling today.
Mr. Praline: Too stupid to turn it on department? That shouldn’t even be a department! This company should be nicer to people and not make them feel like idiots. I think I will sue you. I am a lawyer you know.
Graham: Being nice is not my department. To go to the nice department, press zero.
Mr. Praline: Bloody zero? That means there are no nice people at your place.
Graham: There is one. His name is Eric.
Mr. Praline: Let me speak to him, Please! You bastard. He slams his finger on the zero button.
Eric: Hello. May I help you? My name is Eric. I am the nice one around here. You can throw any insult at me and I will not throw one back. I know what it is like. Believe me.
Mr. Praline: Oh thank God. Finally. (dramatically) Finally!
Eric: Do you have a computer?
Mr. Praline: No, I do not have a bleeding computer. In fact I do not even have a bloody mobile phone.
Eric: Well, I am sorry sir, but I cannot actually help you today. If you want to buy a computer from us, please press one one.
Mr. Praline: One one? What department is that? Too bloody stupid and ignorant to know anything? Look here my lad, I’ve studied law at Cambridge. I am a partner in the most important law firm in all of England. Are you telling me that I am stupid and ignorant?
Eric: Oh no sir, oh no no no . . .
Mr. Praline: My son did not tell me I needed a bloody computer and I do not have one in this house. He said I just had to turn it on and give it my cash card number and I could start buying up the world.
Eric: I am sorry sir, that is not my department. For children who buy their parents things that are too technologically advanced for them press 5. If you hang up now you can get a free pen.
Mr. Praline: I don’t want a free bloody pen!
Eric: Sorry you are getting one anyway. Hang up now for your free pen . . .
Announcer 2: (Terry J) This happens 24/7, 365 days a year. Every forth year it happens 366 days. Thank you and . . . And now for something completely different . . . a man with five cellphones.
Voice Off: (Graham) He’s on the phone!
Announcer: (John) And now for something completely different . . .the online dating sketch.
ONLINE DATING SKETCH
Two guys, Paul St. John (John) and John St. Paul (Graham), enter a crowded pub on Liverpool Street in London at about 7:00 on the weekend. They are both holding two profiles from the popular dating website findachick.com.
Paul: (John) whispers loud enough for the audience to hear Good luck mate. Remember, no texting your ex. For some reason girls don’t like that. He salutes John and they sit down at different tables.
Paul’s date enters. She has blonde hair in braids and a long flowing shirt with a long flowing skirt with sandals.
Paul: Mary, let me get your seat for you.
Mary: (Eric) Thank you. I would much rather do it myself and please don’t hesitate to call me Moonbeam.
Paul: gulps Okay Moonbeam. May I get you something to drink?
Moonbeam: You know I am a wine vegan.
Paul: Oh really? How charming. I am a policeman myself.
Moonbeam: Then you should arrest anyone who presses grapes and makes wine.
Paul: Why in the name of Dickens would I do something like that? Should we order a drink?
Moonbeam: dramatically I can’t go anywhere near wine.
Paul: Are you allergic? Then we should go somewhere else.
Moonbeam: No. I can feel the grape’s suffering. I can hear them crying out, No, no please don’t crush me.
Paul: Did you take acid before you came in here? Because if you had I would have to arrest you.
Moonbeam: No, no it is not that. It is just that we wine vegans feel that grapes have been dreadfully mistreated.
Paul: Interesting. Please enlighten me, my lovely Moonbeam. rolls his eyes
Moonbeam: It is a divine vine that it grows on, the bunches like a family that we rip off from those vines. She starts animating with hands The beast, the animal that seeks only to quench its own quench . . .
Paul is reading her profile and muttering under his breath, maybe I should have looked up her criminal record and her mental hospital record . . .
Moonbeam: continues . . . never once thinking of that poor little grape, the poor little fear of flesh and skin red and green and purple and black. They come in all different races, sweet and sour. Do they have a choice? Do they have the freedom to stand up and say, no, I will not be crushed, I will not be somebody else’s alcohol. Freedom! Freedom! Freedom for the grape.
Paul: How about some grape juice? Or some grape flavored soda?
Moonbeam: bursting into tears Don’t mention that! You horrid policeman! She runs out of the pub.
Paul: I hope my next date doesn’t carry on about freedom for grapes. . .
The camera switches to John St. Paul. His date twirls into the room. She is in a shimmery, shiny dress with a bright orange boa around her neck. Her hair is black, very straight and cut into a bob. She dances her way to the table.
Cecile Huntington: (Michael) singing Oh Hello, Johnny, Oh hello Johnny . . .
John: standing to greet her and they walk to the bar together It’s John, not Johnny. Where are you from Cecile?
Cecile: dramatically “To be or not to be, that is the question.”
John: Uh, actually the question was, Where are you from?
Cecile: Oh, I am from Never Never Land.
John: Oh, the Netherlands. Charming place.
Cecile: Oh, yes, I know. Where are you from?
John: I am from the charming town of Dorking.
Cecile: Dorking? “Who could beat a night of cards, chips, dips and dorks?”
John: I am not a dork.
Cecile: A dork is a dork is a dork.
John: Honestly, do you think I am a dork?
Cecile: Oh, yes, sir. A fat ugly dork sir. So fat and ugly you seem about to explode sir.
John: That says everything I need to know. You can leave now madam. Leave, before I call my friend who is a policeman for insulting me in public.
Cecile: I am sorry sir. Did I really insult you by calling you a dork?
John: Yes. And don’t call me sir either. My name is John St. Paul and don’t you forget it Sicily Huntington.
Cecile: My name is Cecile Huntington and don’t you forget it . . .
The Colonel: (Michael) This date does not seem to be working out. Moving on the next date. Get on with it. Get on with it!
Camera turns back to Paul St. John for his second date. A short, muscular, person comes over.
Pat Mack: (Terry J.) deep voice You must be Paul. He shakes Paul’s hand very firmly.
Paul: Quite a grip you’ve got there Pat. What big hands you have.
Pat: The better to shake hands with you my darling.
They walk to the bar talking, but it is unintelligible. The camera gets close to Pat and you notice she has a mustache. They order drinks and Pat gulps down a beer, burps and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
Pat: That was a bloody good beer.
Paul: I noticed, ah, you enjoyed that. My, my, what a big adam’s apple you have there.
Pat: The better to show off that I am a man.
Paul: Prove it.
Pat: Do you want to see my naughty bits?
Paul: No, no, I would have to arrest you if we did it here. Indecent exposure and all that. Why did you pretend to be a woman?
Pat: I tried findabloke.com and I had no luck. Bunch of loonies on that site.
Paul: My place or yours? They walk out together.
John sits there wondering what his fate is going to be. He sees Paul go off with this weird lady that looks like a man and hopes that is not going to be him. In walks a beautiful voluptuous, perfect blonde. John stares and smiles.
Alice: (Carol) You must be John. I read your profile and I’ve been so looking forward to this night.
John: Oh my my my. Let me just say it straight out and if you have you have a problem with it you can leave, but I don’t want you to. I am from Dorking.
Alice: I am from Chipping Sodbury. You may laugh but it is the name of my town.
John: Laugh? No, no, I do not laugh at people’s home towns no matter how weird or silly they may sound.
Alice: Thank God because people laugh at me all the time and I feel so sad when I say I am from Chipping Sodbury.
John: You’re not as bad as me. Dorking sounds even worse.
Alice: Perhaps you are right. My place or yours?
John: Yours. I am pretty sure my flatmate is having a girl over. muttering More like an oaf.
John texts Paul. I won the bet and you didn’t. You have to pay me 20 quid tomorrow.
Paul texts John. No you have to pay me 20 quid because I am gay.
John follows Alice up to her flat. As she is changing into “something more comfortable” he wanders around and opens the closet. A skeleton is hanging there. He runs out, runs down the stairs and says, “There is a skeleton in every family.” In an effort to keep calm he reaches for his phone and texts “AHHHHHHHHH!” We are transported back to the It’s Man. The credits begin on the smart phone screen . . .
We see the It’s Man weaving in and out with the credits on the phone. At the very last minute the car crashes.
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