Home > Monty Python's Flying Circus

The Money Programme

[♪♪♪]

Good evening, and welcome to The Money Programme.

Tonight on The Money Programme, we're going to look at money.

Lots of it. On film, and in the studio.

Some of it in nice piles, others in lovely, clanky bits of loose change.

Some of it neatly counted into fat little hundreds, delicate fivers stuffed into bulging wallets, nice, crisp, clean checks, pert pieces of copper coinage thrust deep into trouser pockets.

Romantic foreign money rolling against the thigh, with rough familiarity.

Beautiful, wayward, curlicued banknotes.

Filigreed copper plating cheek by jowl, with tumbling hexagonal milled edges, rubbing gently against the terse leather of beautifully balanced bankbooks.

I'm sorry.

But I love money.

All money.

I've always wanted money.

To handle, to touch.

The smell of the rain-washed florin.

The lure of the lira.

The glitter and the glory of the guinea.

The romance of the ruble.

The feel of the franc. The heel of a Deutschmark.

The cold, antiseptic sting of the Swiss franc.

And the sunburnt splendor of the Australian dollar.

♪ I've got 90 thousand pounds In my pajamas ♪

♪ I've got 40 thousand French francs in my fridge ♪

♪ I've got lots And lots of lira ♪

♪ Now the Deutschmark's getting dearer ♪

♪ And my dollar bills Would buy the Brooklyn Bridge ♪

♪ There is nothing Quite as wonderful as money ♪

♪ There is nothing Quite as beautiful as cash ♪

♪ Some people say it's folly But I'd rather have the lolly ♪

♪ With money you can Make a smash ♪

♪ There is nothing Quite as wonderful as money ♪

♪ There is nothing Like a newly minted pound ♪

♪ Everyone must hanker For the butchness of a banker ♪

♪ It's accountancy that Makes the world go 'round ♪

♪ You can keep Your Marxist ways ♪

♪ For it's only just a phase ♪

♪ Money, money, money Makes the world go round ♪

♪ Money, money, money, money Money, money, money, money ♪

♪ Money ♪

-And now. -It's...

[♪♪♪]

ANNOUNCER: Monty Python's Flying Circuses.

[♪♪♪]

I bling a dispatch flom Prymouth.

Flom Prymouth?

Flom Sil Flancis Dlake.

Entel and apploach the thlone.

What news flom Prymouth?

Dlake has sighted the Spanish freet, Youl Majesty.

So Phirip's garreons ale hele.

How many?

A hundled and thilty-six men of wal.

Broody herr.

Is Dlake plepaled?

He has oldeled the whore freet into the Blitish Channer.

So we must to Tirbuly.

Reicestel,

Sil Wartel Lareigh,

Groucester, we sharr lide--

Groucestel! Groucestel! Not Groucester.

Come on, ret's get this arr light.

Reicestel, that was tellibre.

-What? -Tellibre.

-Oh, solly. -When you have a rine, ling your berr.

-Ling my berr? -Ling, ling. Rike this.

And cut the "Broody herr."

-Erizabeth. -Yes?

You should be on a bicycre.

Why?

You rook odd rike that.

I do not look odd like this, it's that lot that looks odd.

It's bleeding weird having half the Tudor nobility ligging around on motorized bicycles!

-It's vely sullearist. -Horsefeathers!

Listen, I'm beginning to have my doubts about you.

-What do you mean? -I'm telling you straight, mate.

I don't think you're Luchino Visconti at all.

[LAUGHS] Of course I am.

Me vely impoltant Itarian firm dilectol.

You are a Nip.

Lubbish! Me genuine wop.

[SINGING IN ITALIAN]

He's bluffing.

-Pfft. -Pfft.

Is that the time? I must fry.

Not so fast, Yakomoto!

[TRUMPETS PLAY FANFARE]

Shut up!

Allow me to introduce myself.

I am Inspector Leopard of Scotland Yard's

Special Fraud Film Director Squad.

ALL: Leopald of the Yald?

The same, only more violent!

Ohh!

Right, "Slit-eyes" Yakomoto.

I'm arresting you for the impersonation of Signor Luchino Visconti, famous Italian director of such movie classics as:

Ossessione, 1942, La Terra Trema, 1948, and Bellissima, 1951--

A satisfyingly ironic slice-of-life drama.

1957 brought to the silver screen his Le Bianche Notti, adapted by Dostoyevsky.

A mannered and romantic melancholy of snow, and mists and moonlit encounters on canal bridges.

Boccaccio '70 followed five years later, and the following year saw

The Leopard!

So impressed was I, with his motion-pic treatment of the Risorgimento that I went along to Somerset House... and changed me own name to Leopard, preferring it to me original handle, Panther.

[GROWLS]

I digress.

1969 saw The Damned, a Gotterdammerung epic of political and industrial shenanigans in good old Nazi Germany.

Starring Helmut Berger as a stinking transvestite what should have his face sawn off, the curvaceous Charlotte Rampling as a bit of tail, and the impeccable Dirk Bogarde as Von Essen.

The association of the latter with Signor Visconti, fructified with Dirk's magnificent portrayal of the elderly poof what expires in Venice.

And so, Yakomoto...

Blimey, he's gone!

Never mind. I'll have you instead.

-What? -I haven't time to go chasing after him.

There's violence to be done.

Oh, yes.

[POLICE CAR SIREN BLARING]

[MUTTERING]

Arrgh!

All right, buster, hands up.

[GULPS]

Aah!

WOMAN [OVER RADIO]: I would like to ask the team

what they would do if they were Hitler.

[APPLAUSE]

MAN: Gerald?

GERALD: Well, I'd, uh, annex the Sudetenland

and sign a non-aggression pact with Russia.

[APPLAUSE]

MAN: Norman?

NORMAN: Well, I'd do the Reichstag bathroom in purples and golds,

and ban abortion-on-demand.

[APPLAUSE]

Liberal rubbish.

Klaus, what do you want with your jugged fish?

Halibut.

The jugged fish is halibut.

Well, what fish have you got that isn't jugged, then?

-Rabbit. -What, rabbit fish?

Yes. It's got fins.

Is it dead?

Well, it was coughing up blood last night.

All right, I'll have the dead, unjugged rabbit fish.

Well, that was really horrible.

Oh, you're always complaining.

What's for afters?

Well, there's rat cake, rat sorbet, rat pudding or strawberry tart.

Strawberry tart?

Well, it's got some rat in it.

-How much? -Three.

Rather a lot, really.

Well, I'll have a slice without so much rat in it.

-Appalling. -Moan, moan, moan.

Hello, Mum. Hello, Dad.

Hello, son.

There's a dead bishop on the landing.

Where did that come from?

What do you mean?

What's its diocese?

Well, it looked a bit Bath and Wells-ish to me.

Oh, I'll go and have a look.

Don't know who keeps bringing them in here.

Well, it's not me.

I've put three out by the bin and the dustmen won't touch them.

-Leicester. -How'd you know?

Tattooed on the back his neck.

I'm gonna call the police.

Shouldn't you call the church?

Call the church police.

All right. The church police!

Yes?

[STAMMERS] There's a dead bishop!

[INDISTINCT SHOUT]

There's another dead bishop on the landing.

Suffragan or diocesan?

How should I know?

It's tattooed on the back of their necks.

Here.

Is that rat tart?

Yes.

Disgusting. Right!

The hunt is on.

O Lord, we beseech thee, tell us who croaked Leicester.

[♪♪♪]

All right, it's a fair cop, but society is to blame.

Agreed.

I'd like the three by the bin to be taken into consideration.

Right. And now, I'd like to conclude this arrest with a hymn.

[ALL SINGING]

[SINGING CONTINUES]

Oh, shut up.

[SINGING STOPS]

Thank you.

[CLACKING]

What?!

Eww! Oh! Mmm.

[MUTTERING]

[CHATTERING]

Ooh!

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

[RUSTLING]

Hoo-hoo. Oh!

Ah. Oh, ooh.

[LAUGHING AND CHATTERING]

Ah!

Oh, whee-hee-hee-hee!

Whoo! Yahoo!

Yay! Whee!

ANNOUNCER: Meanwhile, in the jungle next door...

[SAFARI MUSIC PLAYING]

[SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC]

What a simply super little place.

Yes, they've done wonders with it.

You know, this used to be one of the most swampy, disease-infested areas of the whole jungle and they've turned it into this smashing little restaurant.

Here you are, Onkwame. Thank you.

Hello, Mr. Akwekwe.

Hello there, Mr. Spare-Buttons- Supplied-With-The-Shirt. Nice to see you again.

These are some of my fellow explorers.

Sir Charles Farquarson, Brian Bailey...

-Hello, there. -...Betty Bailey.

And this is Mr. Akwekwe, who started the whole place.

-It really is super. -Oh, terrific idea.

May I recommend the alligator purée--

Ahhhh!

-[GORILLA GROWLING] -[MAN SCREAMING]

[GUNSHOT]

Now then, have you decided?

Uh, yes. Well, there's two avocado vinaigrette here, and what are you gonna have, Brian?

Quiche Lorraine for me, please.

Right. So that's two avocado, one quiche.

[YELLING IN AFRIKAANS]

So, that's two avocado, one quiche.

And a soup of the day.

Right.

[TRIBAL MUSIC BEGINS PLAYING]

And to follow?

Uh, two chicken a la Reine, please.

Uh, with sauce Provençale.

And one scampi desirée.

And a boeuf bourguignon with a green salad.

Right-o. Two chicken, one scampi, one boeuf with the green salad.

There may be a little delay.

That's fine, but we have to be out by three.

Yes, sir. Yes, we'll try.

We'll try.

[TRIBAL DRUMMING QUICKENS]

ANNOUNCER: 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,

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 swear you could see everything,

but my friend says it's just the way he's holding the spear.

[CLEARS THROAT]

Because of the unsuitability of the scene,

the BBC will be replacing it with a scene

from a repeat of Gardening Club for 1958.

[♪♪♪]

[LAUGHING, CHATTERING]

[SQUAWKING]

[YELLING, MOANING]

And now back to the story.

It was a nasty business back at the restaurant.

Yes, I thought most places took Barclaycard nowadays.

Where do you think they're taking us, Brian?

God knows.

Look!

The sacred volcano Andu, which no man has seen before.

No, no, no. Next to that.

MAN: The London Brick Company?

No, no, no, no, no. Next to that.

MAN: 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.

You don't think that's where they're taking us?

Yes, and God knows what we'll find there.

-What page, please? -What?

What page in the script?

Page seven.

"Come on, you dogs, we have far to go.

We must lose no time."

Come on, you dogs, we have far to go.

We must lose no time. Come on, you dogs--

Come on, you dogs! We have time to lose.

This has gone too far.

[♪♪♪]

ANNOUNCER: Meanwhile, back in London, at the British Explorers Club in the Mall...

Any news of Betty Bailey's expedition, Hargreaves?

Uh...uh...

Page-- Page nine.

Oh, thank you.

Uh, "The Lost World of Roiurama."

That's-- That's my line.

Oh. Sorry.

"Where were they going, sir?"

The Lost World of Roiurama.

"Yes, sir. We've got a telegram?"

Oh.

"Reads it."

"Expedition superb. Weather excellent.

Everything wonderful."

I wonder what's gone wrong.

-For God's sake, be careful-- -Wait a minute.

I'm going to go after them.

Oh! For God's sake, be careful, sir.

[♪♪♪]

My God, Betty, we're done for.

We'll never get out of here.

We're completely lost.

Lost!

Even the natives have gone.

Goodbye, Betty.

Goodbye, Farquarson.

Goodbye, Brian.

It's been a great expedition.

Great expedition.

All that'll be left of us is a map, a compass, and a few feet of film, recording our last moments.

Wait a moment!

What is it?

If we're on film, there must be someone filming us.

My God, Betty, you're right!

Look!

-Hello! -Great to see you!

So good to see you.

[ALL CHATTERING]

Wait a minute!

What is it, again?

If this is the crew who were filming us, who's filming us now?

Look!

Cut there, man.

Cut there.

No. No good.

How we going to get that feeling of personal alienation of self from society, with this load of Bulldog Drummond crap?

When I was doing La Notte with that Monica Vitti gal, she didn't give me none of this empire-building shit, man.

[KNOCKING ON DOOR]

Not so fast, Akarumba!

Allow me to introduce myself.

I'm Inspector Baboon, of Scotland Yard's

Special Fraud Film Director Squad,

Jungle Division.

-Baboon of the Yard? -Shut up!

-[GUNSHOT] -[SCREAMS]

Right, Akarumba.

I'm arresting you, for impersonating Signor Michelangelo Antonioni, an Italian film director who co-scripts all his own films, largely jettisoning narrative in favor of vague incident, and relentless character study.

In his first film, Cronaca di un Amore, 1950, the couple are brought together by a shared irrational guilt.

Le Amiche followed in 1955.

And 1959 saw the first of Antonioni's world-famous trilogy, L'Avventura.

An acute study of boredom, restlessness and the futilities and agonies of purposeless living.

In L'Eclisse, three years later, this analysis of the sentiments was taken up once again.

"We do not have to know each other to love," says the heroine.

"And perhaps we do not have to love."

The eclipse of the emotions finally casts its shadow....

[♪♪♪]

Signor Antonioni first makes use of color to underline...

ANNOUNCER: And now on BBC 1,

another six minutes of Monty Python's Flying Circus.

Yes, sir?

I'd like to have an argument, please.

Certainly, sir.

Have you been here before?

No, this is my first time.

I see. Do you want to have the full argument, or were you thinking of taking a course?

Well, uh, what would be the cost?

Yes, it's one pound for a five-minute argument, but only eight pounds for a course of ten.

Hmm... Well, I think it's probably best if I start with the one, and see how it goes from there, okay?

Fine. I'll see who's free at the moment.

Uh... Mr. Du-Bakey's free, but he's a little bit conciliatory.

Yes, try Mr. Barnard. Room 12.

Thank you. Ahem.

What do you want?!

Well, I was told outside--

Don't give me that, you snotty-faced heap of parrot droppings!

What?

Shut your festering gob, you tit!

Your type makes me puke!

You vacuous, toffee-nosed, malodorous pervert!

What?! I came in here for an argument!

Oh, oh, I'm sorry, this is abuse.

Oh.

Oh, I see, that explains it.

No, you want 12A, next door.

I see. Sorry.

Not at all. No, that's all right.

Stupid git.

MAN: Come in.

Is this the right room for an argument?

I've told you once.

-No, you haven't. -Yes, I have.

-When? -Just now.

-No, you didn't. -Yes, I did.

-Didn't. Didn't. -Did.

-I'm telling you, I did. -You did not!

I'm sorry. Is this a five-minute argument, or the full half hour?

Oh-- Oh, just the five-minute one.

Fine.

-Ah. -Thank you.

-Anyway, I did. -You most certainly did not.

Now, let's get one thing quite clear.

I most definitely told you.

-You did not. -Yes, I did.

-You did not. Didn't! -Yes, I did. Yes, I did.

-Didn't. -Yes, I did.

Look, this isn't an argument.

-Yes, it is. -No, it isn't. It's just contradiction.

-No, it isn't. -Yes, it is.

-It is not. -It is.

-You just contradicted me. -No, I didn't.

-Oh, you did. -No, no, no.

-You did, just then. -No, nonsense.

-Oh, look, this is futile. -No, it isn't.

-I came for a good argument. -No, you came here for an argument.

An argument's not the same as contradiction.

-Can be. -No, it can't.

An argument is a collected series of statements to establish a definite proposition.

No, it isn't.

Yes, it is. It isn't just contradiction.

Look, if I argue with you, I must take up a contrary position.

But it isn't just saying, "No, it isn't."

-Yes, it is. -No, it isn't.

Argument's an intellectual process.

Contradiction is just the automatic gainsaying of anything the other person says.

-No, it isn't. -Yes, it is.

-Not at all. -Now, look--

-[BELL DINGS] -Thank you. Good morning.

What?

That's it. Good morning.

But I was just getting interested.

Sorry, the five minutes is up.

That was never five minutes, just now.

-I'm afraid it was. -No, it wasn't.

Sorry, I'm not allowed to argue anymore.

What?

If you want me to go on arguing, you'll have to pay for another five minutes.

But that was never five minutes, just now.

Oh, come on.

This is ridiculous.

I'm very sorry, but I told you,

I'm not allowed to argue unless you've paid.

Oh, all right.

-There you are. -Thank you.

Well?

-Well, what? -That was never five minutes.

-I'm not arguing unless you pay. -I just paid.

-No, you didn't. -I did! I did! I did!

-No, you didn't. -Look, I don't want to argue about that.

I'm sorry, but you didn't pay.

A-ha!

Well, if I didn't pay, why are you arguing? Got you.

-No, you haven't. -Yes, I have.

If you're arguing, I must've paid.

Not necessarily.

I could be arguing in my spare time.

-I've had enough of this. -No, you haven't.

Oh, shut up.

-I want to complain. -You want to complain? Look at these shoes.

Only had them three weeks, the heels are worn right through.

-No, I wanna complain about-- -If you complain, nothing happens.

You might just as well not bother. My back hurts and...

-I want to com-- Ow! -No, no, no.

Hold your head like this, and then go:

Whaa!

-Try it again. -Ohhhh!

Better, better, but "Whaa! Whaa!"

-Hold your hands here. -No!

-Now. Look, that's it. That's it! -Whaaa!

-Good. -Stop hitting me!

-What? -Stop hitting me.

-Stop hitting you? -Yes.

What did you come in here for?

I came here to complain.

Oh, I'm sorry, that's next door.

It's being-hit-on-the-head lessons in here.

What a stupid concept.

Right, hold it, there.

-What? -What?

Allow me to introduce myself.

I'm Inspector Fox of the Light Entertainment Police

Comedy Division, Special Flying Squad.

-Flying Fox of the Yard? -Flying Fox of the Yard?

-Shut up! -Ow!

No, no, no. "Whaaa!"

-And you! -Whaaa!

He's good. You could learn a thing or two from him.

Right, now, you two, me old beauties, you are nicked.

-What for? -I'm charging you under Section 21 of the Strange Sketch Act.

-The what? -You are hereby charged that you did willfully take part in a strange sketch.

That is, a skit, spoof or humorous vignette of an unconventional nature with intent to cause grievous mental confusion to the Great British public.

Evening, all.

It's a fair cop.

-And you tosh. -Whaaa!

That's excellent! Right, come on down the Yard.

Hold it. Hold it. Allow me to introduce myself.

I'm Inspector Thompson's Gazelle of the Program Planning Police,

Light Entertainment Division, Special Flying Squad.

Flying Thompson's Gazelle of the Yard?

-Shut up! -Gahh!

-He's good. -Shut up!

-Whaa! -Rotten.

Ahhh!

Good!

Right, I'm arresting this entire show on three counts:

One, acts of self-conscious behavior, contrary to the Not-In-Front-of-the-Children Act.

Two, always saying, "It's so-and-so of the Yard," every time the fuzz arrives.

And, three... And this is the cruncher.

...offenses against the Getting-Out-of-Sketches

Without-Using-a-Proper-Punchline Act.

Namely, simply ending every bleeding sketch, by just having a policeman come in and--

Wait a minute.

-Hold it. -It's a fair cop.

And now on BBC 1,

one more minute of Monty Python's Flying Circus.