Monty Python Live (Mostly)

Lovely Spam! Lovely Spam!

Lovely Spam!

Lovely Spa-a-a

a-a-a-m

Lovely Spam! Lovely Spam!

Lovely Spam! Spam, spam, spam, spam!

Always look on the bright side of life

Always look on the bright side

Of life

Olé!

Señoras, señores y señoritas, buenas noches.

Buenas Noches.

- ¡Olé! - ¡Olé!

Who would have thought 40 years ago,

we'd all be sitting here doing Monty Python, eh?

Aye, aye.

In them days, we was glad to have the price of a cup of tea.

- Cup of cold tea. - Aye.

Without milk or sugar.

- Or tea. - In a cracked cup and all.

We never used to have a cup.

We used to have to drink it out of a roll of newspaper.

Best we could manage was to suck on a piece of damp cloth.

But you know we were happy in those days, although we were poor.

- Because we were poor. - Right.

My old dad used to say to me, "Money doesn't buy you happiness, son."

He was right.

I was happier in those days and I had nothing.

We used to live in this tiny, old chumble-down house,

with great big holes in the roof.

You were lucky to have a house.

There were 26 of us in one room. No furniture, half the floor were missing.

We were all huddled in one corner for fear of falling.

You were lucky to have a room. We used to live in corridor.

We used to dream of living in a corridor.

Would have been a palace to us.

We used to live in an old water tank on a rubbish tip.

Got woke up every morning by having a load of rotting fish dumped all over us.

House.

Well, when I say "house," it was only a hole in the ground,

covered by a sheet of tarpaulin, but it was a house to us.

We were evicted from our hole in the ground.

We had to go and live in the swamp.

You were lucky to have a swamp.

There were 150 of us living in a shoe box, in the middle of road.

- Cardboard box? - Aye.

You were lucky.

We lived for three months in a rolled up newspaper in a septic tank.

We used to have to get up at 6:00 in the morning, clean the newspaper,

go to work down the mill 14 hours a day, week in week out, for six pence a week.

When we got home,

our dad would thrash us to sleep with his belt.

Luxury.

We used to get up out of the swamp at 3:00 in the morning,

drain the swamp, eat a hard boiled twig,

work 19 hours at mill for a shilling a year, and when we got home,

our dad would flog us to sleep with a cat-o'-nine-tails

if we were lucky.

Paradise.

We had it tough.

We used to have to get up out of shoe box in middle of night,

and lick road clean with our tongues.

We had to eat half a handful of freezing cold gravel,

work 24 hours a day at mill for four pence every six years,

and when we got home,

our dad would slice us in two with bread knife.

Right.

I had to get up in the morning at 10:00 at night,

half an hour before I went to bed.

Eat a lump of cold poison, work 29 hours a day down mill,

and pay mill owner for permission to come to work,

and when we got home,

our dad would kill us and dance about on our graves singing hallelujah.

Aye.

You try and tell the young people of today that,

and they won't believe you.

Wasn't that terrific, ladies and gentlemen? Really great.

Now, the next item on the program is...

I can't stand it, man. Really, I've had it with this idiot.

Every night, making me say the most annoying...

Really terrific act. Now, the next item on the...

Mouth's gone... it's gone away. Gonna find someone a bit cooler, maybe?

I mean, it can't be that hard.

I got experience...

Know how he feels...

Welcome aboard, British-er pig.

Fritz, the tables seem to have turned, old chap.

Greetings capitalist pig,

very sorry, but must inform you that you are now our prisoner.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. You look and smell divine.

Welcome to Monty's musical, the show that leaves you wanting less.

And, a very big hand please, for Terry Gilliam.

Here's a little number I tossed off recently in the Caribbean.

Isn't it awfully nice to have a penis?

Isn't it frightfully good to have a dong

It's swell to have a stiffy It's divine to own a dick

From the tiniest little tadger To the world's biggest prick

So, three cheers for your willy or John Thomas

Hooray for your one-eyed trouser snake

Your piece of pork Your wife's best friend

Your Percy or your cock

You can wrap it up in ribbons you can slip it in your sock

But don't take it out in public or they'll stick you in the dock

And you won't a-come a-back

Thank you very much, indeed. Thank you so much.

Thank you.

I'd like to thank the Navy, and here they are.

Isn't it awfully nice to have a penis?

Isn't it frightfully good to have a dong?

It's swell to have a stiffy

It's divine to own a dick

From the tiniest little tadger To the world's biggest prick

So three cheers for your willy or John Thomas

Hooray for your one-eyed trouser snake

Your piece of pork Your wife's best friend

Your Percy or your cock

You can wrap it up in ribbons You can slip it in your sock

But don't take it out in public Or they'll stick you in the dock

And you won't come back

It's fun to own your own vagina

It's great to have your friendly thatch

Your minge, your twat, your kitty cat

Your nest, your nasty or your snatch

It's great to have a monkey furrow

Your finger pie, your lunch box or your catch

Your camel toe, your bearded clam Your bottom at the front

Your monkey minge, your muffin

Or your old Sir Berkeley Hunt

Your honey pot, your hairy friend

But never call it "cunt"

Or we won't come back

Isn't it awfully nice to own a bottom

Isn't it frightfully good to have an arse

It's swell to own a tushy it's divine to have a scut

From the skinniest little buttocks to the world's largest butt

Three cheers for your posterior or anus

Hooray for your lovely sit-upon

Your fundament, your fanny

Your cheeky little dear

Your rump, your haunch, your hams, your stern, your fanny or your rear

But be careful how you handle it or you'll be caught I fear

And you won't come back

Isn't it awfully nice to have a penis...

It's fun to own your own vagina

It's great to have your friendly thatch

It's swell to have a stiffy It's divine to own a dick

...your kitty cat

Your nest, your nasty or your snatch...

So, three cheers for your willy...

It's great to have a monkey furrow

Your finger pie, your lunch box or your catch...

Your piece of pork, your wife's best friend Your Percy or your cock

Your bottom at the front

Your monkey minge, your muffin But don't take it out in public

Or they'll stick you in the dock

And you won't come back

No, Sir! No, you won't come back

No, sir!

Company, by the right...

dress!

Company, camp it hup!

My goodness me!

I'm in a bad temper today, all right!

Two, three, damn, damn Two, three, I'm vexed and ratty

Two, three, and hopping mad

Stamp, stamp Get her, whoops

I've got your number, ducky

You couldn't afford me, dear

Two, three, I'd scratch your eyes out Two, three, meow

Two, three don't come the Rear Admiral bit with us, dear

We all know where you've been You Royal Naval fairy

Two, three, left, right, left, right who's kissing us tonight

Whoops, don't look now, girls

the captain's just minced in with that dolly little seaman

Two, three, ooh Two, three, hello sailor!

Company, today, you go off to war, and my God, I wish I was coming with you.

When I first went to fight, I had two arms.

Two good arms, but when the time came to give them,

I gave them, I gave them gladly.

I sang and laughed as they sawed them off,

because I believed that there was a future for mankind

if men were prepared to give their limbs.

And not just men, but their women folk, too,

And our children, and our children's children's limbs,

and our children's children's limbs.

And what about our pets?

- Why should the little bastards get off... - Stop that sketch.

- Why should the little bastards get off... - Stop that sketch.

Now, nobody likes a good laugh more than I do.

Except perhaps, my wife, and some of her friends.

Yes, and Captain Johnson.

Come to think of it, most people like a good laugh more than I do.

But that's beside the point.

Now, let's have a good, clean, healthy outdoor sketch.

Get some air into your lungs. Ten, nine, eight, and all that.

There are pages in history's book, which are written on the grand scale.

Events so momentous, that they dwarf man and time alike.

And such was the Battle of Pearl Harbor,

re-enacted for us now by the women of the Batley Townswomen's Guild.

Miss Rita Thurbanks, you organised