Monty Python And The Holy Grail Quotes

I don't want to talk to you no more, you empty headed animal food trough wiper. I fart in your general direction. Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries.

We are no longer the knights who say Ni! We are now the knights who say ekki-ekki-ekki-pitang-zoom-boing!

Are you suggesting coconuts migrate?

Tis but a scratch!" "A scratch? Your arm's off!" "No it isn't." "Then what's that?" "Oh come on, pansy!

Sir Beldevere: What makes you think she's a witch? Peasant 3: Well, she turned me into a newt! Sir Beldevere: A newt? Peasant 3: [meekly after a long pause] ... I got better. Crowd: [shouts] Burn her anyway!

When danger reared its ugly head, He bravely turned his tail and fled.

I am known by many names, but you may call me...Tim.

One, two, ... five!" "Three, my lord.

Dennis the Peasant: Listen. Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony. Arthur: Be quiet! Dennis: You can't expect to wield supreme power just 'cause some watery tart threw a sword at you!

I fart in your general direction.

Camelot is a silly place.

She turned me into a newt. ... But I got better...

I mean, if I went 'round saying I was an emperor, just because some moistened bint had lobbed a scimitar at me, they'd put me away!

Edward: "Take that, you beef-witted varlet!" Gracie: "Who are you calling beef-witted?" she laughed at him. "Your mother was a hamster, and your father stank of elderberries!

Help! Help! I'm being repressed!

Listen. Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony.

King Arthur: I am your king. Peasant Woman: Well, I didn't vote for you. King Arthur: You don't vote for kings. Peasant Woman: Well, how'd you become king, then? [Angelic music plays... ] King Arthur: The Lady of the Lake, her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water, signifying by divine providence that I, Arthur, was to carry Excalibur. That is why I am your king. Dennis the Peasant: Listen. Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony. Arthur: Be quiet! Dennis the Peasant: You can't expect to wield supreme power just 'cause some watery tart threw a sword at you!

NI! Oh no! Not ni!

Sir Bedevere: "Tell me, what do you do with witches?" Crowd: "Burn, burn them up!" Sir Bedevere: "And what do you burn apart from witches?" Villager: "More witches!

What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?

Come see the violence inherit in the system!! Help Help I'm being oppressed!!

Keiko was interested in videos of other orcas, but his favorite seemed to be Monty Python and the Holy Grail, the only movie he watched in its entirety. He also showed interest in parts of Blazing Saddles and The Lion King, but reportedly turned his back on Free Willy.

Fincher, Kubrick, Lucas, Spielberg, Del Toro, Tarantino. And, of course, Kevin Smith. I spent three months studying every John Hughes teen movie and memorizing all the key lines of dialogue. Only the meek get pinched. The bold survive. You could say I covered all the bases. I studied Monty Python. And not just Holy Grail, either. Every single one of their films, albums, and books, and every episode of the original BBC

of the car. “Hmm. Definitely Pride and Prejudice, the six-hour one with Colin Firth. Vertigo. And… Monty Python and the Holy Grail. There

It wasn’t a horse. It was a man banging two coconut halves together. Then I knew where I was. Inside the first scene of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Another of Halliday’s favorite films,

I’m a big fan of Disney’s animated movies, or at least of most of them. I don’t know what it is, but the songs get stuck in my head. There is a Disney song for every situation you encounter in life. Some people quote The Godfather. Some quote Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I quote Walt Disney. Those are the true classics.

Come see the violence inherent in the system, HELP I'm being repressed!

We want...a SHRUBBERY! One that's nice. And not too expensive.

She turned me into a newt!

I studied Monty Python. And not just Holy Grail, either. Every single one of their films, albums, and books, and every episode of the original BBC series. (Including those two “lost” episodes they did for German television.)

I survived,” would be my meek reply. Might as well have said “Blue! No, No, Yellow!!” Right before I was launched into the abyss. (You would have to be a fan of Monty Python and the Search for the Holy Grail to catch the reference. If you have by some chance gone this far in your life and have not witnessed one of the greatest comedies created then odds are you’re not going to find a DVD player that works now, sorry.)

Rhiannon’s Law #16: If it looks like a rabbit, and it hops like a rabbit, run the other way and fast. That shit is liable to tear your arm off, Monty Python and the Holy Grail style.

Cities fell apart in violent conflicts over a single letter: was Christ of the same being with the Father, or of like being, homoousios or homoiousios? Was he from two natures (ek duo), or in two (en duo)? Such language is seriously off-putting for most modern readers, including many educated Christians. And it uses so many technical terms that almost seem to the uninitiated like secret codes. Person? Subsistence? Nature? A critic could be forgiven for comparing the straightforward words of Jesus, with all the everyday analogies and images—sheep and harvests, the sparrows and the lilies of the field, the erring brother and the widow’s penny—to the arcane philosophical language used here. Jesus spoke of love; his church spoke in riddles. I may not be the only modern reader who hears the language of Chalcedon—two but not one—and finds his thoughts occasionally straying to the film Monty Python and the Holy Grail. A monk offers instructions for the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch, in a deliberate parody of the Athanasian Creed: First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin, then shalt thou count to three, no more, no less. Three shalt be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, nor either count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out.

When you have found the shrubbery, then you must cut down the mightiest tree in the forest ... with a herring

When I was told to focus, what I actually heard was that I should stop hunting for my focus and pretend I’d found it. Like the riders in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, I would perform all the gestures one does when riding a Focus Beast, without actually having one to ride.

Under The Octagon by Stewart Stafford Under the octagon of glass and steel, A careworn man sits at his desk and sighs, He longs to leave this place of chilly lies, And find a hidden treasure that is real. He knows a code that he can’t reveal, A sepulchre where the Holy Grail lies, He found it with his providence eyes, A numinous and haunting view that heals. He takes a penknife from his drawer and peels, His finger till he sees a key inside, He wraps his wound and leaves without a guide, He runs towards the garden, full of zeal. He finds the rhododendrons and the birch, He digs beneath the wisteria with care, Cracks open the tomb, and discovers there, A golden bird sitting upon its perch. "Back! Thou tomb-raiding thief." It squawks, its voice so stern, "Cleanse thyself, endeavour to learn. Do not touch the Grail without belief!" Caving in, he seals the grave, The aureate avian conveys his thanks, The plumage rejoining arcane ranks, The man seeks out a confessor's nave. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved

She knew why she had Gerry on her mind, why she was spotting his likeness in the faces of strange little boys. They'd been close once, the pair of them, but things had changed when he was seventeen. He'd come to stay with Laurel in London on his way up to Cambridge (a full scholarship, as Laurel told everyone she knew, sometimes those she didn't), and they'd had fun- they always did. A daytime session of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and then dinner from the curry house down the road. Later, riding a delectable tikka masala high, the two of them had climbed out through the bathroom window, dragging pillows and a blanket after them, and shared a joint on Laurel's roof. The night was especially clear- stars, more stars than usual, surely?- and down on the street, the distant easy warmth of other people's revelry. Smoking made Gerry unusually garrulous, which was fine with Laurel because it made her wondrous. He'd been trying to explain the origins of everything, pointing to star clusters and galaxies and making explosion gestures with his delicate, febrile hands, and Laurel had been squinting and making the stars blur and bend, letting his words run together like water. She'd been lost in a current of nebulas and penumbras and supernovas and hadn't realized his monologue was ended until she heard him say, "Lol," in that pointed way people have when they've already said the word more than once.

These days, most people know the Holy Grail from books like The Da Vinci Code and Holy Blood, Holy Grail, or from Monty Python. What we've lost in these pop culture transformations of the Grail is what made it holy in the first place. That original meaning is what this book seeks to unfold.