“Say no more! Say no more.”
One that I like to bust out at any opportunity:
“That’s just the sort of blinkard, philistine pig-ignorance I’ve come to expect from you non-creative garbage. You sit there on your loathsome spotty behinds, squeezing blackheads and not giving a tinker’s cuss about the struggling artist. You excrement!”
I’m also partial to “I never wanted to be a __________. I wanted to be a lumberjack! Leaping from tree to tree as they float down the mighty rivers of British Columbia, with my best girl by my side…” No matter what crappy, dissatisfying job I’m doing, this plaint always cheers me up.
sigh I’ve told you once.
Edam?
No.
Gouda?
No.
Why’d you say Burma?
I panicked.
The Finland song is my favorite, right up there w/ ‘Henry Kissinger’, who has bigger tits than Cher.
And can I just say that this kind of thread warms the cockels of my heart and makes me think, “These are MY people.”
Let me know when the Kids In The Hall thread is put up.
All Life of Brian, all the time:
Weawlly, Centuwion! I’m surpwised to hear a man like you , wattled by a wabble of wowdy webels.
FRANCIS: Whatever happened to the Popular Front, Reg?
REG: He’s over there.
P.F.J.: Splitter!
If it’s not a personal question: are you a virgin?
Not a personal question? 'ow much more personal can you get? Now fuck off!
[muttering] Hmm. Must be. [general nods of agreement]
What’s this, then? “Romanes Eunt Domus”? “People called Romanes they go the 'ouse”?
… are there any women here today? [general shaking of heads in false beards]
Brian: What will they do to me?
Prisoner: Oh, you’ll probably get away with crucifixion.
Brian: Get away with Crucifixion?!
Prisoner: Yeah. First offense.
I’m a Red Sea Pedestrian, and proud of it!
All right, but apart from the sanitation, the medicine, education,
wine, public order, irrigation, roads, a fresh water system, and public
health, what have the Romans ever done for us?
BRIAN: Brothers! Brothers! We should be struggling together!
FRANCIS: We are!
REG: ‘We, the People’s Front of Judea, brackets, officials, end
brackets, do hereby convey our sincere fraternal and sisterly greetings
to you, Brian, on this, the occasion of your martyrdom.’
BRIAN: What?
REG: ‘Your death will stand as a landmark in the continuing struggle to
liberate the parent land from the hands of the Roman Imperialist
aggressors, excluding those concerned with drainage, medicine, roads,
housing, education, viniculture, and any other Romans contributing to
the welfare of Jews of both sexes and hermaphrodites. Signed on behalf
of the P.F.J., etcetera.’ And I’d just like to add, on a personal note,
my own admiration for what you are doing for us, Brian, at what must be,
after all, for you, a very difficult time.
That’s “blinkered”, you vacuous, toffee-nosed, malodorous pervert. Your type really makes me puke.
PILATE: “Do we have any prisoners at all?”
CENTURION (unrolling scroll): “Oh yes, sir; we have Samson the Sadducee strangler, Silas the Syrian assassin, several seditious scribes from Caesarea…”
BIGGUS DICKUS (grabs scroll impulsively): “Let me thpeak to them, Pontiuth!”
CENTURION: “Oh, no!”
Not exactly a quote, but…there’s this great sketch where John Cleese and Michael Palin are both playing at being stereotypical Frenchmen (berets, striped shirts, white coats), and they’re demonstrating the “Mutton Anglo-Francais”! They show the landing gear, the cockpit and the baggage compartment, all on a cutout of a sheep. And whenever one gets to talk, the other passes him the paste-on moustache.
At the end, they do the “demonstraction” where they jump around together saying “Meeh! Meeh! Meeh!”
This is the dance I do when I get stressed from school…
During the recent heatwave, I’ve been using “hot enough to boil a monkey’s bum in here, your majesty”.
and
Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony.
From the Insurance Sketch:
“But it says something about filling my mouth in with cement.”
“There, there, Vic. I 'ate to see a man cry. So shove off, out the office, there’s a good chap.”
<knock on door>
Ello, we’re 'ere for your liver.
I wave my private parts at your aunties, you cheesy lot of second hand electric donkey-bottom biters.
Oh, I see, running away, eh? You yellow bastards! Come back here and take what’s coming to you! I’LL BITE YOUR LEGS OFF!!!
It’s only a model.