The North Minehead Bye-election from "Monty Python's Flying Circus" and "And
Now for Something Completely Different"
Knock. Door opens.
Landlady (Terry Jones): Hello, Mr and Mrs Johnson?
Mr Johnson (Eric Idle): Yes, that's right. Yes.
Landlady: Oh, come on in. Excuse me not shaking hands, I've just been
putting a bit of lard on the cat's boils. (Door closes)
Johnson: Thank you.
Landlady: Oh, you must be tired. It's a long way from Coventry, isn't it?
Johnson: Well, we usually reckon on five and a half hours and it took us six
hours and 53 minutes, with the 25 minute stop at Frampton Cottrell to
stretch our legs; and we had to wait half an hour to get onto the M5
Johnson: Then there was a three mile queue just before Bridgewater on the A38.
We usually come round on the B3339, you see, just before Bridgewater.
Landlady: Yeah. Really?
Johnson: We decided to risk it 'cause they always say they're going to widen
it there. Yes, well just by the intersection there where the A372
joins up. There's plenty of room to widen it there, there's only
grass verges. They could get another six feet, knock down that
hospital. Then we took the coast road through Williton - we got all
the Taunton traffic on the A358 from Crowcombe and Stogumber.
Landlady: Well you must be dying for a cup of tea.
Johnson: Well, wouldn't say no, long as it's warm and wet.
Landlady: Well come on in the lounge, I'm just going to serve afternoon
Johnson: Very nice.
Landlady: Come on in, Mr and Mrs Johnson and meet Mr and Mrs Phillips.
Mr Phillips (Graham Chapman): Good afternoon.
Johnson: Good afternoon.
Landlady: It's their third time here; we can't keep you away, can we?
And over there is Mr Hilter.
(In the corner are three German generals in full Nazi uniform, poring over a
Hilter (Cleese with heavy German accent): Ach. Ha! Gut time, er, gut afternoon.
Landlady: Oho, planning a little excursion, eh, Mr Hilter?
Hilter: Ja, ja, ve haff a little... (to Palin) was ist Abweise bewegen?
Bimmler (Michael Palin, also with German accent): Hiking.
Hilter: Ah yes, ve make a little *hike* for Bideford.
Johnson: Ah yes. Well, you'll want the A39. Oh, no, you've got the wrong map
there. This is Stalingrad. You want the Ilfracombe and Barnstaple
Hilter: Ah! Stalingrad! Ha ha ha, Heinri...Reginald, you have the wrong map
here you silly old leg-before-vicket English person.
Bimmler: I'm sorry mein Fuhrer, mein (cough) mein Dickie old chum.
Landlady: Oh, lucky Mr Johnson pointed that out. You wouldn't have had much
fun in Stalingrad, would you? Ha ha.
I said, you wouldn't have had much fun in Stalingrad, would you?
Hilter: Not much fun in Stalingrad, no.
Landlady: Oh I'm sorry. I didn't introduce you. This is Ron. Ron Vibbentrop.
Johnson: Oh, not Von Ribbentrop, eh?
Vibbentrop (Graham Chapman, with German Accent): Nein! Nein! Oh. Ha ha.
Different other chap. I in Somerset am being born. Von Ribbentrop is born
Gotterdammerstrasse 46, Dusseldorf Vest 8.....so they say!
Landlady: And this is the quiet one, Heinrich Bimmler.
Bimmler: Pleased to meet you, squire. I also am not of Minehead being born
but I in your Peterborough Lincolnshire was given birth to. But am
staying in Peterborough Lincolnshire house all time during vor, due
to jolly old running sores, and vos unable to go in the streets or to
go visit football matches or go to Nuremburg. Ha ha. Am retired
vindow cleaner and pacifist, without doing war crimes. Oh...and am
glad England vin Vorld Cup. Bobby Charlton. Martin Peters. And
eating I am lots of chips and fish and hole in the toads and Dundee
cakes on Piccadilly Line, don't you know old chap, vot! And I vos
head of Gestapo for ten years.
(Hilter elbows him in the ribs)
Ah! Five years!
(Hilter elbows him again, harder)
Nein! No! Oh. NOT head of Gestapo AT ALL! I was not, I make joke!
Landlady: Oh, Mr Bimmler. You do have us on! (Telephone rings) Oh excuse me.
I'd better get that.
Johnson: How long are you down here for, Mr Hilter, just the fortnight?
Hilter: Vot you ask that for, are you a spy? Get on against the wall,
Britischer Pig, you are going to die!
Bimmler: Take it easy, Dickie old chum!
Vibbentrop: He's a bit on edge, Mr Johnson, he hasn't slept since 1945.
Hilter: Shut your cake-hole, you Nazi!
Vibbentrop: Cool it, Fuhrer cat!
Bimmler: Ha ha, the fun we have!
Johnson: Haven't I seen you on the television?
Hilter, Vibbentrop, Bimmler: (hastily) Nicht. Nein. No.
Johnson: Simon Dee show, or was it Frosty?
Hilter, Vibbentrop, Bimmler: Nein. No.
Landlady: Telephone, Mr Hilter. It's Mr McGoering from the Bell and
Compasses. He says he's found a place where you can hire bombers by
Hilter: If he opens his big mouth again, it's Lapschig time!
Bimmler: Shut up! Ha ha, hire bombers! He's a joker, that Scottish person.
Vibbentrop: Good old Norman!
Landlady (to Johnson): He's on the phone the whole time now.
Johnson: In business, is he?
Bimmler: Soon, baby!
Landlady: Of course it's his big day Thursday. They've been planning it for
Johnson: What's happening Thursday then?
Landlady: Well it's the North Minehead bye-election. Mr Hilter's standing as
the National Bocialist. He's got wonderful plans for Minehead!
Johnson: Like what?
Landlady: Well, for a start he wants to annex Poland.
Johnson: North Minehead's Conservative, isn't it?
Landlady: Well, yes, he gets a lot of people at his rallies.
(Short scene cut: huge crowds outside going "Sieg Heil. Sieg Heil. Sieg Heil.")
Hilter: I am not a racialist, but...and dis is a big but...the National
Bocialist party says that das (stream of German).
Bimmler: Mr Hitler (Hilter slaps him)
...Hilter says historically Taunton is a part of Minehead already!
Hilter: Und der Minehead ist nicht die letze (stream of German)...in die
Crowd: Sieg Heil.
( Cut to interviews on the street: )
Yokel (Jones): Oi don't loike the sound of these 'ere Boncentration Bamps.
Woman (Idle): Well, I gave him my baby to kiss, and he bit it in the head!
Upper class (Cleese): Well, I think he'd do a lot of good to the Stock
Gumby (Palin): I THINK HE'S GOT BEAUTIFUL LEGS!
Conservative (Chapman): (droning) Well... well... as the Conservative
candidate I just drone on and on and on and on without
letting anyone else get a word in edgeways, until I
start to froth at the mouth and fall over backwards.