(Opening Scene: A sitting room straight out of H. Lawrence.
Mum, wiping her hands on her apron is ushering in a young man in a
suit. They are a Northern couple.)
Mum: Oh dad... look who's come to see us... it's our Ken.
Dad: (without looking up) Aye, and about bloody
time if you ask me.
Ken: Aren't you pleased to see me, father?
Mum: (squeezing his arm reassuringly) Of course
he's pleased to see you, Ken, he...
Dad: All right, woman, all right I've got a tongue in my
head - I'll do 'talkin'. (looks at Ken distastefully) Aye ...
I like yer fancy suit. Is that what they're wearing up in Yorkshire
Ken: It's just an ordinary suit, father... it's all I've
got apart from the overalls.
(Dad turns away with an expression of scornful disgust.)
Mum: How are you liking it down the mine, Ken?
Ken: Oh it's not too bad, mum... we're using some new
tungsten carbide drills for the preliminary coal-face scouring
Mum: Oh that sounds nice, dear...
Dad: Tungsten carbide drills! What the bloody hell's
tungsten carbide drills?
Ken: It's something they use in coal-mining, father.
Dad: (mimicking) 'It's something they use in
coal-mining, father'. You're all bloody fancy talk since you left
Ken: Oh not that again.
Mum: He's had a hard day dear... his new play opens at the
National Theatre tomorrow.
Ken: Oh that's good.
Dad: Good! good? What do you know about it? What do you
know about getting up at five o'clock in t'morning to fly to
Paris... back at the Old Vic for drinks at twelve, sweating the day
through press interviews, television interviews and getting back
here at ten to wrestle with the problem of a homosexual nymphomaniac
drug-addict involved in the ritual murder of a well known Scottish
footballer· That's a full working day, lad, and don't you forget it!
Mum: Oh, don't shout at the boy, father.
Dad: Aye, 'ampstead wasn't good enough for you, was it?
... you had to go poncing off to Barnsley, you and yer coal-mining
Ken: Coal-mining is a wonderful thing father, but it's
something you'll never understand. Just look at you!
Mum: Oh Ken! Be careful! You know what he's like after a
Dad: Oh come on lad! Come on, out wi' it! What's wrong wi'
me?... yet tit!
Ken: I'll tell you what's wrong with you. Your head's
addled with novels and poems, you come home every evening reeling of
Chateau La Tour...
Mum: Oh don't, don't.
Ken: And look what you've done to mother! She's worn out
with meeting film stars, attending premieres and giving gala
Dad: There's nowt wrong wi' gala luncheons, lad! I've had
more gala luncheons than you've had hot dinners!
Mum: Oh please!
Dad: Aaaaaaagh! (clutches hands and sinks to knees)
Mum: Oh no!
Ken: What is it?
Mum: Oh, it's his writer's cramp!
Ken: You never told me about this...
Mum: No, we didn't like to, Kenny.
Dad: I'm all right! I'm all right, woman. Just get him out
Mum: Oh Ken! You'd better go ...
Ken: All right. I'm going.
Dad: After all we've done for him...
Ken: (at the door) One day you'll realize there's
more to life than culture. There's dirt, and smoke, and good honest
Dad: Get out! Get out! Get OUT! You ... LABORER!
(Ken goes. Shocked silence. Dad goes to table and takes the
cover off the typewriter.)
Dad: Hey, you know, mother, I think there's a play there
.... get t'agent on t'phone.
Mum: Aye I think you're right, Frank, it could express, it
could express a vital theme of our age...
(In the room beneath a man is standing on a chair. banging on
the ceiling with a broom.)
Man: Oh shut up! (bang bang) Shut up! (they stop
talking upstairs) Oh, that's better. (he climbs down and
looks at the camera) And now for something completely different
... a man with three buttocks...
Mum and Dad: (from upstairs) We've done that!
(The man looks up slightly disconcerted.)
Man: Oh all right. All right! A man with nine legs.
Voice Off: He ran away.
Man: Oh... Bloody Hell! Er ... a Scotsman on a horse!
(Cut to film of a Scotsman (John Cleese) riding up on a horse.
He looks around, puzzled.
Cut to stock film of Women's Institute audience applauding. Cut to
the man with two noses (Graham Chapman); he puts a handkerchief to
his elbow and we hear the sound of a nose being blown.
Cut to Women's Institute audience applauding.
Cut to cartoon of a flying sheep.)
Voice Over: Harold! Come back, Harold! Harold! Come back,
Harold! Oh, blast!
(The sheep is shot down by a cannon. Cut to film of an
audience of Indian ladies not applauding.)