"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.