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Monty Python ScriptsDung / Dead IndianThe cast:
The sketch:(Cut to a smart dinner party. There are two couples in evening dress at the table. Candles burning on the polished wood, a fire burning in the grate. Muted music and sophisticated lighting.) Hostess: We had the most marvelous holiday. It was absolutely fantastic. Host: Absolutely wonderful. Hostess: Michael, you tell them about it. Host: No, darling, you tell them. Hostess: You do it so much better. (The doorbell rings.) Host: Excuse me a moment. (The host goes and answers the door of the fiat, which opens straight into the dining room. Standing at the door is a large grubby man carrying a tin bath on his shoulder. There are flies buzzing around him. He walks straight in.) Man: Dung, sir. Host: What? Man: We've got your dung. Host: What dung? Man: Your dung. Three hundredweight of heavy droppings. Where do you want it? ('he looks round for a likely place) Host: I didn't order any dung. Man: Yes you did, sir. You ordered it through the Book of the Month Club. Host: Book of the Month Club? Man: That's fight, sir. You get 'Gone with the Wind', 'Les Miserables' by Victor Hugo, 'The French Lieutenant's Woman' and with every third book you get dung. Host: I didn't know that when I signed the form. Man: Well, no, no. It wasn't on the form - they found it wasn't good for business. Anyway, we've got three hundredweight of dung in the van. Where do you want it? Host: Well, I don't think we do. We've no garden. Man: Well, it'll all fit in here - it's top-class excrement. Host: You can't put it in here, we've having a dinner party! Man: 'Salright. I'll put it on the telly. (He brings it into the dining room. The guests ignore him.) Host: Darling... there's a man here with our Book of the Month Club dung. Hostess: We've no room, dear. Man: Well, how many rooms have you got, then? Host: Well, there's only this room, the bedroom, a spare room. Man: Oh well, I'll tell you what, move everything into the main bedroom, then you can use the spare room as a dung room. (The doorbell goes and there standing at the door which hasn't been closed is a gas board official with a dead Indian over his shoulders.) Host: Yes. Gas Man: Dead Indian. Host: What? Gas Man: Have you recently bought a new cooker, sir? Host: Yes. Gas Man: Ah well, this is your free dead Indian, as advertised... Host: I didn't see that in the adverts... Gas Man: No, it's in the very small print, you see, sir, so as not to affect the sales. Host: We've no room. Man: That's all right - you can put the dead Indian in the spare room on top of the dung. Dead Indian: Me ... heap dizzy. Host: He's not dead! Gas Man: Oh well, that's probably a faulty cooker. (The phone rings. The wife goes to answer it.) Man: Have you, er... you read and enjoyed 'The French Lieutenant's Woman', then? Host: No. Man: No... still, it's worth it for the dung, isn't it? Hostess: Darling, it's the Milk Marketing Board. For every two cartons of single cream we get the M4 motorway. (Cut to host and hostess standing bewildered in the middle of a motorway. Beside them is a steaming pile of dung, and a dead Indian. They look round in amazement. A police car roars up to them and two policemen leap out.) Policeman: Are you Mr. and Mrs. P. Forbes of 7, the Studios, Elstree? Host: Yes. Policeman: Right, well, get in the car. We've won you in a police raffle. (Speeded up, they are bundled into the car. Cut to inspector.) Inspector: Yes! This couple is just one of the prizes in this year's Police Raffle. Other prizes include two years for breaking and entering, a crate of search warrants, a 'What's all this then?' T-shirt and a weekend for two with a skinhead of your own choice. (Caption on screen: 'STOP-PRESS') Voice Over: And that's not all. Three fabulous new prizes have just been added, a four-month supply of interesting . undergarments (picture), a fully motorized pig (picture), and a hand-painted scene of Arabian splendor, complete with silly walk.
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