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Meaning Of Life The (Monty Pythons) CD1

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[Dramatic instrumental theme music]
[Ominous instrumental music]
NARRATOR: In the bleak days of 1983...
as England languished in the doldrums of a ruinous monetarist policy...
the good, loyal men of the Permanent Assurance Company...
a once-proud family firm recently fallen on hard times...
strained under the yoke of their oppressive new corporate management.
EXECUTIVE 1: Terrible. Really terrible.
[Ominous instrumental music]
[Ominous music becomes more intense]
SLAVE DRIVER: Row!
[Whip cracks]
[Old men groan miserably]
[Drum roll]
That's it, Evans. You're fired.
You heard me. Out.
OLD MAN: Did you hear that? He's been sacked.
Sacked?
Sacked? Come on, boys. Let's get at 'em.
[Men shouting]
[Adventurous instrumental music]
EXECUTIVES: Come on!
[Suspenseful instrumental music]
[Ominous instrumental music]
[Ominous music intensifies]
[Executive screaming]
[Triumphant instrumental music]
EXECUTIVE 2: Let me out of here!
EXECUTIVE 3: I demand to see my lawyer!
Tooley! Come on.
[Men shouting]
[Executive screaming]
[Men cheering]
Quiet! Silence!
Now, lads, let's move.
You, you and you, break open the weapons.
You, you and you, into the rigging.
- And you, put the kettle on. - Aye, sir.
[Adventurous instrumental music]
[Adventurous music continues]
CLERK: There, there, Charles.
[Men shouting excitedly]
[Sweeping instrumental music]
[Workman screams]
OLD MAN: Sorry!
Come on, Tooley. This way!
[Uplifting instrumental music]
[Uplifting music intensifies]
Weigh the anchor!
Weigh the anchor!
Weigh the anchor.
[Suspenseful instrumental music]
[Chain grinding]
[Triumphant instrumental music]
[Men cheering]
[Climactic instrumental music]
NARRATOR: And so, the Crimson Permanent Assurance...
was launched upon the high seas of international finance.
[Fast-paced suspenseful instrumental music]
Come on, boy. Watch it. Route. Route!
WOMAN: Cup of tea, dear? LOOKOUT: Hey, Captain!
Look! To starboard!
[Dramatic choral music]
NARRATOR: There it lay: The prize they sought.
Hard to starboard!
NARRATOR: A financial district swollen with multinationals, conglomerates...
and fat, bloated merchant banks.
All right, lads, battle stations!
Come on! Move it!
[Adventurous instrumental music]
CAPTAIN: All right, then. That's enough. Take cover!
[Suspenseful instrumental music]
STONE CLEANER: Down, down!
[Ominous instrumental music]
[Suspenseful instrumental music]
[Climactic instrumental music]
[Men gasp in amazement]
Hard to starboard!
Fire!
[Ominous instrumental music]
EXECUTIVE: Eric! My balance sheets!
Ross! Get the readouts!
- Stop him! - Eric!
Thanks! Charge!
[Fast-paced adventurous music]
KANE: No, no! Let me! Let me! OLD MAN: Okay, Kane.
Captured!
Gotcha!
Take this.
DYING EXECUTIVE: Here. File this.
Shit!
[Falling man screams]
[Men cheer triumphantly]
[Triumphant instrumental music]
NARRATOR: And so, heartened by their initial success...
the desperate and reasonably violent men of the Permanent Assurance...
battled on, until...
as the sun set slowly in the west...
the outstanding returns on their bold business venture became apparent.
Once-proud financial giants lay in ruins...
their assets stripped...
their policies in tatters.
CAPTAIN: Full speed ahead, Mr. Cohen!
ALL: [Singing] Up, up, up your premium
Scribble away and balance the books
Scribble away, but balance the books
It's fun to charter an accountant
And sail the wide accountancy
To find, explore the funds offshore
And skirt the shoals of bankruptcy
It can be manly in insurance
We'll up your premium semi-annually
It's all tax-deductible We're fairly incorruptible
Sailing on the wide accountancy
NARRATOR: And so, they sailed off into the ledgers of history...
one by one, the financial capitals of the world...
crumbling under the might of their business acumen.
Or so it would have been...
if certain modern theories concerning the shape of the world...
had not proved to be disastrously wrong.
[Upbeat instrumental music]
[Dramatic instrumental theme music]
[Water bubbling]
FISH 1: 'Morning. FISH 2: 'Morning.
FISH 3: 'Morning. FISH 1: 'Morning.
FISH 4: What's new? FISH 1: Not much.
FISH 5: 'Morning! FISH 6: Good morning! 'Morning!
FISH 1: Frank was just asking what's new. FISH 5: Was he?
FISH 1: Yes.
FISH 3: Hey, look. Howard's being eaten. FISH 2: Is he?
FISH 2: Makes you think, doesn't it?
FISH 4: I mean, what's it all about?
FISH 5: Beats me.
MALE SINGER: [Singing] Why are we here, what's life all about?
Is God really real or is there some doubt?
Well, tonight we're going to sort it all out
Tonight it's the meaning of life
What's the point of all this hoax?
Is it the chicken and the egg time?
Are we just yolks?
Or perhaps we're just one of God's little jokes
Well, ça, c'est le meaning of life
Is life just a game where we make up the rules
While we're searching for something to say
Or are we just simply spiraling coils
Of self-replicating DNA?
In this life what is our fate?
Is there Heaven and Hell?
Do we reincarnate?
Is mankind evolving or is it too late?
Well, tonight here's the meaning of life
For millions this life is a sad vale of tears
Sitting round with rien, nothing to say
While scientists say we're just simply spiraling coils
Of self-replicating DNA
So just why, why are we here?
And just what, what do we fear?
Well, ce soir, for a change it will all be made clear
For this is the meaning of life
C'est le sens de la vie This is the meaning of life
[Doors bang loudly]
One thousand and eight!
Mrs. Moore's contractions are more frequent.
Good. Take her into the fetus-frightening room.
[Uplifting instrumental music]
Jolly good.
It's a bit bare in here today, isn't it?
Yes.
Yes. More apparatus, please, nurse.
The EEG, the BP monitor and the AVV.
NURSE: Certainly.
And get the machine that goes, "Ping!"
And get the most expensive machines in case the administrator comes.
DOCTOR 1: That's it. Bring it right here.
Behind me. Lovely, lovely.
Jolly good. That's better. That's much, much better.
Yes, more like it.
Still something missing, though.
- Patient. - Yes.
Where's the patient?
Patient!
NURSE: Here she is. DOCTOR 1: Bring it over here.
DOCTOR 2: Mind the machine! NURSE: Sorry, Doctor.
Come along!
NURSE: Jump on it.
- Hello. Now don't you worry. - We'll soon have you cured.
Leave it all to us. You'll never know what hit you.
Good-bye.
- Drips up. - Injections.
- Can I put the tube in the baby's head? - If I can do the episiotomy.
Legs up.
DOCTOR 1: Come in. Come on in, all of you.
DOCTOR 1: That's it. Jolly good. DOCTOR 2: Come on.
Spread round there.
- Who are you? - I'm the husband.
I'm sorry, only people involved are allowed in here.
- What do I do? - Yes?
- What do I do? - Nothing, dear. You're not qualified.
Leave it to us.
MOTHER: What's that for?
That's the machine that goes, "Ping!"
[Machine makes "ping" sound]
You see? That means your baby is still alive.
And that's the most expensive machine in the whole hospital.
Yes, it cost over £750,000.
Aren't you lucky!
The administrator is here, Doctor.
Switch everything on.
'Morning, gentlemen.
DOCTORS: 'Morning. PYCROFT: 'Morning.
'Morning, Mr. Pycroft.
PYCROFT: Very impressive.
- And what are you doing this morning? - It's a birth.
And what sort of thing is that?
That's when we take a new baby out of a lady's tummy.
Wonderful what we can do nowadays.
[Machine makes "ping" sound]
I see you have the machine that goes, "Ping!"
This is my favourite.
We lease this back from the company we sold it to.
That way, it comes under the monthly current budget and not the capital account.
Thank you, thank you. We try to do our best. Well, do carry on.
- The vulva's dilating, Doctor. - Yes, there's the head.
Yes, four centimetres, five, six centimetres.
- Lights! - Amplify the ping machine.
- Masks up! - Suction!
DOCTOR 2: Eyes down for a full house!
DOCTOR 1: Here it comes.
And frighten it.
Thank you.
And the rough towels!
Show it to the mother.
DOCTOR 1: That's enough. DOCTOR 2: Sedate her.
- Number the child. - Measure it, blood-type it and isolate it.
NURSE: Okay, show's over.
Is it a boy or a girl?
I think it's a little early to start imposing roles on it, don't you?
A word of advice.
You may find you suffer for some time a totally irrational feeling of depression...
P.N.D., as we doctors call it.
So, it's lots of happy pills for you...
and you can find out about the birth when you get home.
It's available on Betamax, VHS and Super 8.
[Machine makes "ping" noise]
[Melancholy instrumental music]
DAD: Bloody hell.
[Newborn baby cries]
MUM: Get it, would you, Deirdre? DEIRDRE: All right, Mum.
MUM: Now whose teatime is it? ALL: Mine!
Come on. Out you go.
Now, Vincent, Tessa, Valerie, Janine, Martha, Andrew, Thomas...
Walter, Pat, Linda, Michael, Evadne, Alice, Dominique and Sasha...
it's your bedtime.
Now don't argue!
Laura, Alfred, Nigel, Annie, Simon and...
Wait. I've got something to tell the whole family.
Quick. Go and get the others in, Gordon.
The mill's closed. There's no more work.
We're destitute.
[Children sigh despondently]
Come in, my little loves.
I've got no option but to sell you all for scientific experiments.
No, no, that's the way it is, my loves.
Blame the Catholic Church for not letting me wear a little rubber thing.
They've done some wonderful things in their time.
They've preserved the might and majesty, even mystery of the Church of Rome...
and the sanctity of the Sacrament, the indivisible oneness of the Trinity...
but if they'd let me wear a little rubber thing on the end of my cock...
we wouldn't be in the mess we are now.
Couldn't Mummy have worn some sort of pessary?
Not if we're going to remain members of the fastest-growing religion in the world.
He's right.
You see, we believe...
Let me put it like this:
[Singing] There are Jews in the world
There are Buddhists
There are Hindus and Mormons and then
There are those that follow Mohammed
But I've never been one of them
I'm a Roman Catholic
And have been since before I was born
And the one thing they say about Catholics
Is they'll take you as soon as you're warm
You don't have to be a six-footer
You don't have to have a great brain
You don't have to have any clothes on
You're a Catholic the moment Dad came
Because
Every sperm is sacred
Every sperm is great
If a sperm is wasted
God gets quite irate
CHILDREN: [Singing] Every sperm is sacred
Every sperm is great
If a sperm is wasted
God gets quite irate
GIRL: [Singing a solo] Let the heathens spill theirs
On the dusty ground
God shall make them pay
For each sperm that can't be found
CHILDREN: [Singing] Every sperm is wanted
Every sperm is good
Every sperm is needed
In your neighbourhood
MOM: [Singing] Hindu, Taoist, Mormon
Spill theirs just anywhere
But God loves those who treat
Their semen with more care
Every sperm is sacred
Every sperm is great
If a sperm is wasted
God gets quite irate
Every sperm is sacred
Every sperm is good
Every sperm is needed
In your neighbourhood
Every sperm is useful
Every sperm is fine
God needs everybody's
- Mine - And mine
And mine
[Jaunty tap-dance instrumental music]
Let the pagans spill theirs
O'er mountain, hill and plain
God shall strike them down
For each sperm that's spilt in vain
Every sperm is sacred
Every sperm is good
Every sperm is needed
In your neighbourhood
Every sperm is sacred
Every sperm is great
If a sperm is wasted
God gets quite irate
So you see my problem, little ones.
I can't keep you all here any longer.
CHILD: Speak up!
I can't keep you all here any longer!
God has blessed us so much I can't afford to feed you anymore.
Couldn't you have your balls cut off?
It's not as simple as that, Nigel. God knows all.
He'd see through such a cheap trick. What we do to ourselves, we do to him.
You could have had them pulled off in an accident.
[Children talk excitedly]
No. Children, I know you're trying to help, but believe me, my mind's made up.
I've given this long and careful thought...
and it has to be medical experiments for the lot of you.
CHILDREN: [Singing quietly] Every sperm is sacred
Every sperm is great
BLACKITT: Look at them. Bloody Catholics.
Filling the bloody world up with people they can't afford to bloody feed.
What are we, dear?
Protestant, and fiercely proud of it.
Why do they have so many children?
Every time they have sexual intercourse they have to have a baby.
- But it's the same with us, Harry. - What do you mean?
I mean we've got two children, and we've had sexual intercourse twice.
That's not the point. We could have it any time we wanted.
- Really? - And what's more, since we don't believe...
in all that papist claptrap, we can take precautions.
What you mean, lock the door?
No. I mean because we're members of the Protestant Reformed Church...
which successfully challenged the autocratic power of the Papacy...
in the mid-16th century, we can wear little rubber devices to prevent issue.
What do you mean?
I could, if I wanted, have sexual intercourse with you.
Oh, yes, Harry.
And, by wearing a rubber sheath over my old fellow...
I could ensure that when I came off, you would not be impregnated.
That's what being a Protestant's all about. That's why it's the church for me.
That's why it's the church for anyone who respects the individual...
and the individual's right to decide for him or herself.
When Martin Luther nailed his protest up to the church door in 1517...
he may not have realised the full significance of what he was doing...
but 400 years later, thanks to him...
I can wear whatever I want on my John Thomas.
And Protestantism doesn't stop at the simple condom.
- Oh, no! I can wear French Ticklers if I want. - You what?
French Ticklers, black mambos, crocodile ribs.
Sheaths that are designed not only to protect...
but also to enhance the stimulation of sexual congress.
Have you got one?
Have I got one? No, but I can go down the road anytime I want...
and walk into Harry's, and hold my head up high and say, in a loud, steady voice:
"Harry, I want you to sell me a condom.
"In fact, today I think I'll have a French Tickler, for I am a Protestant."
- Why don't you? - But they cannot.
Because their church never made the leap out of the Middle Ages...
and the domination of alien Episcopal supremacy.
NARRATOR: But despite the attempts of Protestants...
to promote the idea of sex for pleasure...
children continue to multiply everywhere.
WILLIAMS: "And spotteth twice they the camels before the third hour.
"And so the Midianites went forth to Ram Gilead...
"in Kadesh Bilgemeth...
"by Shor Ethra Regalion...
"to the house of Gash-Bil-Bethuel-Bazda.
"He who brought the butter dish to Balshazar...
"and the tent peg to the house of Rashomon.
"And there, slew they the goats...
"yea, and placed they the bits in little pots."
Here endeth the lesson.
Let us praise God.
Oh, Lord.
CONGREGATION: Oh, Lord.
You are so big.
CONGREGATION: You are so big.
So absolutely huge.
CONGREGATION: So absolutely huge.
Gosh, we're all really impressed down here, I can tell you.
Gosh, we're all really impressed down here, I can tell you.
Forgive us, Lord, for this, our dreadful toadying.
CONGREGATION: And barefaced flattery.
But you're so strong, and, well, just so super.
CONGREGATION: Fantastic.
CHAPLAIN: Amen, Reverend. CONGREGATION: Amen.
Now two boys have been found...
rubbing linseed oil into the school cormorant.
Some of you may feel that the cormorant does not play...
an important part in the life of the school, but I would remind you...
that it was presented to us by the corporation of the town of Sudbury...
to commemorate Empire Day, when we try to remember...
the names of all those from the Sudbury area...
who so gallantly gave their lives...
to keep China British.
So from now on, the cormorant is strictly out of bounds!
And Jenkins, apparently your mother died this morning.
Chaplain.
[Religious organ music]
ALL: [Singing] O Lord, please don't burn us
Don't grill or toast your flock
Don't put us on the barbecue
Or simmer us in stock
Don't braise or bake or boil us
Or stir-fry us in a wok
Oh, please don't lightly poach us
Or baste us with hot fat
Don't fricassee or roast us
Or boil us in a vat
And please don't stick thy servants, Lord
In a Rotissomat
He's coming!
All right, settle down, settle down.
Before I begin the lesson, will those of you...
playing in the match this afternoon move your clothes down...
onto the lower peg immediately after lunch...
before you write home, if you're not getting a haircut...
unless you have a brother going out this weekend as the guest of another boy...
then collect his note before lunch, put it in your letter after your haircut.
Make sure he moves your clothes onto the lower peg for you.
- Sir? - Yes, Wymer?
My brother's going out with Dibble this weekend...
but I'm not having my hair cut, so do I move...
I do wish you'd listen, Wymer. It's perfectly simple.
If you're not getting your hair cut, you don't have to move your brother's clothes.
You simply collect his note before lunch, after you've done your scripture prep...
when you've written your letter home before rest...
move your clothes onto the lower peg, greet the visitors...
and report to Mr. Viney that you've had your chit signed.
Now, sex.
Sex, sex, sex. Where were we?
Well, had I got as far as the penis entering the vagina?
- No, sir. - No, sir.
Well, had I done foreplay?
Yes, sir.
As we all know all about foreplay, no doubt you can tell me...
what the purpose of foreplay is...
Biggs.
Don't know. Sorry, sir.
Carter?
Was it taking your clothes off, sir?
And after that?
Putting them on a lower peg, sir.
WILLIAMS: The purpose of foreplay is to cause the vagina to lubricate...
so that the penis can penetrate more easily.
Could we open a window, sir?
Yes. Harris, will you?
And, of course, to cause the man's penis to erect and harden.
Now, did I do vaginal juices last week?
Pay attention, Wadsworth! I know it's Friday.
Watching the football?
Boy, move over there. I'm warning you.
I may decide to set an exam this term.
- Oh, sir! - Sir!
So just listen.
Now did I or did I not do vaginal juices?
Yes, sir.
Name two ways of getting them flowing, Watson.
Rubbing the clitoris, sir?
What's wrong with a kiss, boy?
Why not start her off with a nice kiss?
You don't have to leap straight for the clitoris like a bull at a gate.
Give her a kiss, boy.
- Suck the nipple, sir? - Good, good. Well done, Wymer.
DUCKWORTH: Stroking the thighs, sir? WILLIAMS: Yes. I suppose so.
STUDENT: Biting the neck. WILLIAMS: Yes, good.
Nibbling the ear lobe, kneading the buttocks, and so on and so forth.
So we have all these possibilities before we...
stampede towards the clitoris, Watson.
Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.
Now, all these forms of stimulation can now take place.
Of course, tonguing will give you the best idea...
of how the juices are coming along.
Helen?
Now, penetration and coitus, that is to say, intercourse...
up to and including orgasm.
Hello, dear.
Do stand up when my wife enters the room, Carter.
Sorry, sir.
Humphrey, I hope you don't mind. I told the Garfields we'd dine with them tonight.
- Yes, well, I suppose we must. - I said we'd be there by 8:00.
It'll give me a reason to wind up the staff meeting.
I know you don't like them, but I couldn't make another excuse.
It's just that I felt...
Wymer!
This is for your benefit. Would you kindly wake up?
I've no intention of going through this all again.
We'll take the foreplay as read, if you don't mind, dear.
No, of course not.
So, the man starts by entering or mounting his good lady wife...
in the standard way.
The penis is now, as you will observe, more or less fully erect.
There we are. That's better.
Now, Carter.
CARTER: Yes, sir? WILLIAMS: What is it?
- It's an ocarina, sir. - Bring it up here.
The man now starts making thrusting movements with his pelvic area...
moving the penis up and down inside the vagina.
Put it there, boy. Put it there on the table.
While the wife maximizes her clitoral stimulation...
by the shaft of the penis by pushing forward.
Thank you, dear.
Now, as the sexual excitement mounts...
What's funny, Biggs?
Nothing, sir.
Do, please, share your little joke with the rest of us.
Obviously something frightfully funny is going on.
No, honestly, sir.
Well, as it's so funny, I think you'd better be selected to play...
for the boys' team in the rugby match against the masters this afternoon.
Oh, no, sir!
[Ominous organ music]
[Men cheering]
[Ominous organ music continues]
Well played, well played.
[Students groaning]
[Teachers cheer triumphantly]
[Ominous organ music continues]
Blackitt, Sturridge and Walters, you take the buggers on the left flank.
Hordern, Spadger and I will go for the gun post.
Hang on. You'll never make it. Let us come.
BIGGS: Do as you're told.
Right, Skipper. Oh, sir?
If we don't meet again, sir...
I'd just like to say it's been a real privilege fighting alongside you, sir.
Yes, well, this is hardly the time or place for a good-bye speech.
Me and the lads realise that, sir, but, well, we may never meet again, so...
All right, Blackitt. Thanks a lot.
No, just a moment, sir.
Me and the lads, we've had a little whip around.
We've bought you something. We bought you this.
I don't know what to say.
It's a lovely thought. Thank you. Thank you all.
But I think we'd better get to cover...
We've got something else for you as well, sir.
Sorry it's another clock, only there was a bit of a mix-up.
Walters thought he was buyin' a present...
and Spadger and I had already got the other one.
Well, it's beautiful. They're both beautiful.
We'd better get to cover now. I'll thank you properly later on.
Corporal Sturridge got this for you.
He didn't know about the others. It's Swiss.
Now, that is thoughtful, Sturridge. Good man.
There's a card, sir, from all of us. Sorry about the blood, sir.
Thank you all.
Squad! Three cheers for Captain Biggs.
I'll be all right.
There's just one other thing, sir. Spadger, give him the cheque.
This is really going too far.
I don't seem to be able to find it, sir. It'll be in No. 4 trench.
For Christ's sake, forget it, man.
You shouldn't have said that, sir.
You've hurt his feelings now.
Don't mind me, Spadge. Toffs are all the same.
One minute, it's all please and thank you. The next, they'll kick you in the teeth.
- Let's not give him the cake. - I don't want any cake.
Look. Blackitt cooked it especially for you, you bastard.
He saved his rations for six weeks, sir.
- I don't mean to be ungrateful. - I'll be all right...
[Gun shot]
Blackie! Blackie!
Look at him! He worked on that cake like no one else I've ever known.
Some nights it was so cold we could hardly move...
but Blackitt'd be slicing the lemons, mixing the sugar and the almonds.
I mean, you try getting butter to melt at 15 degrees below zero.
There's love in that cake. This man's love and this man's care...
[Gun shot]
- Oh, my Christ! - You bastard.
All right, we will eat the cake.
They're right. It's too good a cake not to eat.
- Get the plates and knives, Walters. - Yes, sir. How many?
Six.
[Walters screams]
Better make it five.
- Tablecloth, sir? - Yes, get the tablecloth.
No, no, I'll get the tablecloth.
You better get the gate-leg table, Hordern.
- And the little lamp, sir? - Yes.
BIGGS: While you're at it, you'd better get a doily.
HORDEN: I'll bring two in case one gets crumpled.
BIGGS: Okay!
[Military ceremonial instrumental music]
But, of course, warfare isn't all fun. Right. Stop that.
It's all very well to laugh at the military, but when one considers...
the meaning of life, it's a struggle between alternative viewpoints of life.
Without the ability to defend one's own viewpoint...
against other more aggressive ideologies...
then reasonableness and moderation could quite simply disappear.
That is why we'll always need an army.
May God strike me down were it to be otherwise.
Don't stand there gawping...
like you've never seen the hand of God before!
Now, today we're going to do marching up and down the square.
That is, unless any of you've got anything better to do.
Well?
Anyone got anything they'd rather be doing...
than marchin' up and down the square?
Yes! Atkinson.
What would you rather be doing, Atkinson?
To be quite honest, Sarge, I'd rather be home with the wife and kids.
Would you now?
ATKINSON: Yes, Sarge.
Right. Off you go.
Now.
Everybody else happy with my little plan...
of marching up and down the square a bit?
COLES: Sarge? SARGE: Yes?
COLES: I've got a book I'd quite like to read. SARGE: Go read your book then. Now!
Everybody else quite content to join in...
with my little scheme of marchin' up and down the square?
WYCLIF: Sarge?
Yes, Wyclif, what is it?
Well, I'm learning the piano.
Learning the piano?
WYCLIF: Yes, Sarge.
And I suppose you want to go practise?
Marchin' up and down the square not good enough for you?
- Well... - Right! Off you go!
Now, what about the rest of you?
Rather be at the pictures, I suppose.
[Men murmur in agreement]
All right! Off you go!
Bloody army. I don't know what it's coming to.
Right. Sergeant Major marching up and down the square.
NARRATOR: Democracy and humanitarianism are trademarks of the British Army.
SARGE: Rubbish!
NARRATOR: And have stamped its triumph in the furthest-flung corners of the Empire.
[Tribesmen battle cry]
NARRATOR: But no matter where or when there was fighting to be done...
it has always been the calm leadership of the officer class...
that has made the British Army what it is.
[Triumphant military instrumental music]
[Weapons clanging and men yelling]
[Tribesmen battle cry]
Excuse me.
- 'Morning, Ainsworth. - 'Morning, Pakenham. Sleep well?
Not bad. Bitten to shreds, though.
Must be that hole in the bloody mosquito net.
Yes, savage little blighters, aren't they?
- Excuse me, sir. - Yes, Chadwick?
I'm afraid Perkins got badly bitten during the night.
So did we.
Yes, but I do think Doctor ought to see him.
- Well, go and fetch him then. - Right you are, sir.
Suppose I'd better go along. Coming, Pakenham?
Yes, I suppose so.
Come on, boy.
AINSWORTH: 'Morning, Perkins. PERKINS: 'Morning, sir.
What's all the trouble, then?
Bitten, sir. During the night.
- Whole leg gone? - Yes.
- How's it feel? - Stings a bit.
Well, it would, wouldn't it?
That's quite a bite you've got there.
- Yes. A real beauty, isn't it? - Any idea how it happened?
None whatsoever. Complete mystery to me.
Woke up just now, one sock too many.
- Must have a hell of a hole in your net. - We've sent for the doctor.
- Hardly worth it, is it? - Yes. Better safe than sorry.
Yes. Good Lord, look at this.
By Jove! That's enormous.
You don't think it'll come back, do you?
- For more, you mean? - Yes.
- We'd better get it stitched. - Right.
Hello, Doc!
'Morning. I came as fast as I could. Is something up?
Yes. During the night, old Perkins got his leg bitten, sort of, off.
Yeah. Been in the wars, have we?
Yes.
Any headache? Bowels all right?
Well, let's have a look at this one leg of yours, then.
Yes. Yes.
- Yes, well, this is nothing to worry about. - Good.
There's a lot of it about. Probably a virus. Keep warm, plenty of rest...
and if you're playing football or anything, try and favour the other leg.
Right.
As right as rain in a couple of days.
- Thanks for the reassurance. - Not at all. That's what I'm here for.
Any other problems I can reassure you about?
No, I'm fine.
Jolly good. Well, must be off.
So it'll just grow back again, then, will it?
I think I'd better come clean with you about this.
It's not a virus, I'm afraid.
You see, a virus is what we doctors call very, very small.
So small it could not possibly have made off with a whole leg.
What we're looking for, this is no more than an educated guess...
I'd like to make that clear, is some multicellular life form...
with stripes, huge, razor-sharp teeth, about 11-foot long...
and of the genus Felis horribilis.
What we doctors, in fact, call a tiger.
A tiger?
A tiger?
[Men scream in fear]
A tiger in Africa?
A tiger in Africa?
- It's probably escaped from a zoo. - Doesn't sound very likely to me.
SERGEANT: Sir! Sir!
The attack's over, sir. The Zulus are retreating.
Jolly good.
Quite a lot of casualties, sir. C-division wiped out. Signal's gone.
- Thirty men killed in F-section. - I see.
I should think about 150 men altogether, sir.
Jolly good.
I haven't got the final figures, but there's a lot of seriously wounded...
Yes, the thing is, Sergeant, I've got a bit of a problem here.
One of the officers has lost a leg.
- Oh, no, sir! - I'm afraid so. Probably a tiger.
In Africa?
The M.O. Says we can stitch it back on if we can find it immediately.
- Right, sir. I'll organise a party. - It's hardly the time for that, Sergeant.
- A search party. - Much better idea.
[Men groaning in agony]
Sorry about the mess.
We'll try to clear it up by the time you get back.
SOLDIER: We showed 'em, right, sir? AINSWORTH: Yes.
We got a search party. Leave that alone.
All this killing, bloodshed, bloody good fun, sir, isn't it?
Very good.
- 'Morning, sir. - Nasty wound you've got there, fella.
Thank you very much, sir.
AINSWORTH: Come on, Private. Making up a search party.
Better than staying home, isn't it?
At home if you kill someone, they arrest you.
Here, they give you a gun and show you what to do.
I mean, I killed 15 of those buggers, sir. At home, they'd hang me.
Here, they'll give me a fucking medal, sir.
[Suspenseful instrumental music]
[Jungle bird calls and monkey screams]
[Ainsworth clears his throat loudly]
SERGEANT: Sorry, sir.
PAKENHAM: Thank you.
[Suspenseful music continues]
[Dramatic instrumental music]
Look!
My God! It's huge!
[Tiger growling]
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