"In 1970, the British Empire lay in ruins, and foreign
nationalists frequented the streets - many of them Hungarians
(not the streets - the foreign nationals). Anyway, many of
these Hungarians went into tobacconist's shops to buy
cigarettes...."
A Hungarian tourist (John Cleese) approaches the clerk (Terry Jones). The
tourist is reading haltingly from a phrase book.
Hungarian: I will not buy this record, it is scratched.
Clerk: Sorry?
Hungarian: I will not buy this record, it is scratched.
Clerk: Uh, no, no, no. This is a tobacconist's.
Hungarian: Ah! I will not buy this *tobacconist's*, it is scratched.
Clerk: No, no, no, no. Tobacco...um...cigarettes (holds up a pack).
Hungarian: Ya! See-gar-ets! Ya! Uh...My hovercraft is full of eels.
Clerk: Sorry?
Hungarian: My hovercraft (pantomimes puffing a cigarette)...is full of eels
(pretends to strike a match).
Clerk: Ahh, matches!
Hungarian: Ya! Ya! Ya! Ya! Do you waaaaant...do you waaaaaant...to come
back to my place, bouncy bouncy?
Clerk: Here, I don't think you're using that thing right.
Hungarian: You great poof.
Clerk: That'll be six and six, please.
Hungarian: If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?
I...I am no longer infected.
Clerk: Uh, may I, uh...(takes phrase book, flips through it)...Costs six and
six...ah, here we are. (speaks weird Hungarian-sounding words)
Hungarian punches the clerk.
Meanwhile, a policeman (Graham Chapman) on a quiet street cups his ear as if
hearing a cry of distress. He sprints for many blocks and finally enters the
tobacconist's.
Cop: What's going on here then?
Hungarian: Ah. You have beautiful thighs.
Cop: (looks down at himself) WHAT?!?
Clerk: He hit me!
Hungarian: Drop your panties, Sir William; I cannot wait 'til lunchtime.
(points at clerk)
Cop: RIGHT!!! (drags Hungarian away by the arm)
Hungarian: (indignantly) My nipples explode with delight!
(scene switches to a courtroom. Characters are all in powdered wigs and
judicial robes, except publisher and cop. Characters:
Bailiff: Call Alexander Yalt!
(voices sing out the name several times)
Judge: Oh, shut up!
Bailiff: (to publisher) You are Alexander Yalt?
Publisher: (in a sing-songy voice) Oh, I am.
Bailiff: Skip the impersonations. You are Alexander Yalt?
Publisher: I am.
Bailiff: You are hereby charged that on the 28th day of May, 1970, you did
willfully, unlawfully, and with malice of forethought, publish an
alleged English-Hungarian phrase book with intent to cause a breach
of the peace. How do you plead?
Publisher: Not guilty.
Bailiff: You live at 46 Horton Terrace?
Publisher: I do live at 46 Horton terrace.
Bailiff: You are the director of a publishing company?
Publisher: I am the director of a publishing company.
Bailiff: Your company publishes phrase books?
Publisher: My company does publish phrase books.
Bailiff: You did say 46 Horton Terrace, did you?
Publisher: Yes.
Bailiff: (strikes a gong) Ah! Got him!
(lawyer and cop applaud, laugh)
Judge: Get on with it, get on with it.
Bailiff: That's fine. On the 28th of May, you published this phrase book.
Publisher: I did.
Bailiff: I quote on example. The Hungarian phrase meaning "Can you direct me
to the station?" is translated by the English phrase, "Please fondle
my bum."
Publisher: I wish to plead incompetence.
Cop: (stands) Please may I ask for an adjournment, m'lord?
Judge: An adjournment? Certainly not!
(the cop sits down again, emitting perhaps the longest and loudest release of
bodily gas in the history of the universe.)
Judge: Why on earth didn't you say WHY you wanted an adjournment?
Cop: I didn't know an acceptable legal phrase, m'lord.
(cut to ancient footage of old women applauding)
Judge: (banging + swinging gavel) If there's any more stock film of women
applauding, I'll clear the court.
It's all Greek to me ;-D
Stephen Halliwell GREEK LAUGHTER A study of cultural psychology from Homer to early Christianity In the third century BC, when Roman ambassadors were negotiating with the Greek city of Tarentum, an ill-judged laugh put paid to any hope of peace. Ancient writers disagree about the exact cause of the mirth, but they agree that Greek laughter was the final straw in driving the Romans to war. One account points the finger at the bad Greek of the leading Roman ambassador, Postumius. It was so ungrammatical and strangely accented that the Tarentines could not conceal their amusement. The historian Dio Cassius, by contrast, laid the blame on the Romans’ national dress. “So far from receiving them decently”, he wrote, “the Tarentines laughed at the Roman toga among other things. It was the city garb, which we use in the Forum. And the envoys had put this on, whether to make a suitably dignified impression or out of fear – thinking that it would make the Tarentines respect them. But in fact g...
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