The Meaning of Life (1983)

Eric Idle: Gunther, Fish #3, 'Meaning of Life' Singer, Mr. Moore, Mrs. Blackitt, Watson, Blackitt, Atkinson, Perkins, Victim #3, Front End, Mrs. Hendy, Man in Pink, Noël Coward, Gaston, Angela

Photos 

Quotes 

• Noel Coward : Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Here's a little number I tossed off recently in the Caribbean.

  [singing] 

  Noel Coward : Isn't it awfully nice to have a penis? / Isn't it frightfully good to have a dong? / It's swell to have a stiffy. / It's divine to own a dick, / From the tiniest little tadger / To the world's biggest prick. / So, three cheers for your Willy or John Thomas. / Hooray for your one-eyed trouser snake, / Your piece of pork, your wife's best friend, / Your Percy, or your cock. / You can wrap it up in ribbons. / You can slip it in your sock, / But don't take it out in public, / Or they will stick you in the dock, / And you won't come back.

• Man in Pink : [singing]  Whenever life gets you down Mrs. Brown / and things seem hard or tough / and people are stupid, obnoxious or daft / and you feel that you've had quite enough! / just remember that your standing on a planet thats evolving / revolving at nine-hundred miles an hour / its orbiting at ninety miles a second / so its reckoned / a sun that is the source of all our power / the sun and you and me / and all the stars that we can see / are moving at a million miles a day / in an outer spiral arm at forty-thousand miles an hour / of the galaxy we call the Milky Way / Our galaxy itself / contains a hundred billion stars / its a hundred thousand lightyears side to side / it bulges in the middle / sixteen-thousand lightyears thick / but out by us its just three-thousand lightyears wide / were thirty-thousand lightyears from galatic central point / we go round every two-hundred-million years / and our galaxy is only one of millions of billions in this amazing and expanding universe.

  [musical interlude] 

  Man in Pink : The universe itself keeps on expanding and expanding / in all of the directions it can whiz / as fast as it can go / the speed of light you know / twelve million miles a minute and thats the fastest speed there is / so remember when your feeling very small and insecure / how amazingly unlikely is your birth / and pray that there intelligent life somewhere up in space / cause theres bugger all down here on Earth.

  Mrs. Brown : [sigh]  Makes you feel so, sort of, insignificant, doesn't it?

  Dr. Spenser : Can we have your liver, then?

  Mrs. Brown : Yes, alright, you talked me into it.

• [Large corporate boardroom filled with suited executives] 

  Exec #1 : Item six on the agenda: "The Meaning of Life" Now uh, Harry, you've had some thoughts on this.

  Exec #2 : Yeah, I've had a team working on this over the past few weeks, and what we've come up with can be reduced to two fundamental concepts. One: People aren't wearing enough hats. Two: Matter is energy. In the universe there are many energy fields which we cannot normally perceive. Some energies have a spiritual source which act upon a person's soul. However, this "soul" does not exist ab initio as orthodox Christianity teaches; it has to be brought into existence by a process of guided self-observation. However, this is rarely achieved owing to man's unique ability to be distracted from spiritual matters by everyday trivia.

  Exec #3 : What was that about hats again?

  Exec #2 : Oh, Uh... people aren't wearing enough.

  Exec #1 : Is this true?

  Exec #4 : Certainly. Hat sales have increased but not pari passu, as our research...

  Exec #3 : [Interrupting]  "Not wearing enough"? enough for what purpose?

  Exec #5 : Can I just ask, with reference to your second point, when you say souls don't develop because people become distracted...

  [looking out window] 

  Exec #5 : Has anyone noticed that building there before?

• Humphrey : So, just listen. Now, did I or did I not... do... vaginal... juices?

  Pupils : Mmm. Mmm. Yes, sir. Yes, sir.

  Humphrey : Name two ways of getting them flowing, Watson.

  Watson : R - rubbing the clitoris, sir?

  Humphrey : What's wrong with a kiss, boy? Hmm? Why not start her off with a nice kiss? You don't have to go leaping straight for the clitoris like a bull at a gate. Give her a kiss, boy.

  Wymer : Suck the nipple, sir?

  Humphrey : Good. Good. Well done, Wymer.

  Pupil : Uh, stroking the thighs, sir.

  Humphrey : Yes. Yes, I suppose so. Hmm?

  Pupil : Oh, sir. Biting the neck.

  Humphrey : Yes. Good. Nibbling the earlobe, uhh, kneading the buttocks, and so on and so forth. So, we have all these possibilities before we stampede towards the clitoris, Watson.

  Watson : Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.

  Humphrey : Now, all these forms of stimulation can now take place and, of course, tongueing will give you the best idea of how the juices are coming along.

• Zulu War Soldier : Here is better than home, eh, sir? I mean, at home if you kill someone they arrest you, here they'll give you a gun and show you what to do, sir. I mean, I killed fifteen of those buggers. Now, at home they'd hang me, here they'll give me a fucking medal, sir."

• Grim Reaper : Shut up! Shut up, you American. You always talk, you Americans. You talk and you talk and say 'let me tell you something' and 'I just wanna say this'. Well, you're dead now, so shut up!

  Howard Katzenberg : Dead?

  Grim Reaper : Dead!

  Angela : All of us?

  Grim Reaper : All of you.

  Geoffrey : Now, look here. You barge in here, quite uninvited, break glasses, and then announce, quite casually, that we're all dead. Well, I would remind you that you are a guest in this house.

• Gaston : You see that house? That is where I was born. My mother said to me, "Garcon. The world is a beautiful place, and you must spread joy and contentment everywhere you go". And so I became a waiter... Well, I know it is not a great philosophy but...

  [pauses, looks offended] 

  Gaston : Well, fuck you. I can live my life in my own way if I want to.

  [begins to walk away in disgust] 

  Gaston : Fuck off. Don't come following me.

• Harry Blackitt : Look at them, bloody Catholics, filling the bloody world up with bloody people they can't afford to bloody feed.

  Mrs. Blackitt : What are we dear?

  Harry Blackitt : Protestant, and fiercely proud of it.

  Mrs. Blackitt : Hmm. Well, why do they have so many children?

  Harry Blackitt : Because... every time they have sexual intercourse, they have to have a baby.

  Mrs. Blackitt : But it's the same with us, Harry.

  Harry Blackitt : What do you mean?

  Mrs. Blackitt : Well, I mean, we've got two children, and we've had sexual intercourse twice.

  Harry Blackitt : That's not the point. We could have it any time we wanted.

  Mrs. Blackitt : Really?

  Harry Blackitt : Oh, yes, and, what's more, because we don't believe in all that Papist claptrap, we can take precautions.

  Mrs. Blackitt : What, you mean... lock the door?

  Harry Blackitt : No, no. I mean, because we are members of the Protestant Reformed Church, which successfully challenged the autocratic power of the Papacy in the mid-sixteenth century, we can wear little rubber devices to prevent issue.

  Mrs. Blackitt : What d'you mean?

  Harry Blackitt : I could, if I wanted, have sexual intercourse with you...

  Mrs. Blackitt : Oh, yes, Harry.

  Harry Blackitt : ...and, by wearing a rubber sheath over my old feller, I could insure... that, when I came off, you would not be impregnated.

  Mrs. Blackitt : Ooh.

  Harry Blackitt : 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 fifteen-seventeen, he may not have realised the full significance of what he was doing, but four hundred years later, thanks to him, my dear, I can wear whatever I want on my John Thomas...

  [sniff] 

  Harry Blackitt : ... and, Protestantism doesn't stop at the simple condom. Oh, no. I can wear French Ticklers if I want.

  Mrs. Blackitt : You what?

  Harry Blackitt : French Ticklers. Black Mambos. Crocodile Ribs. Sheaths that are designed not only to protect, but also to enhance the stimulation of sexual congress.

  Mrs. Blackitt : Have you got one?

  Harry Blackitt : Have I got one? Uh, well, no, but I can go down the road any time 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.'

  Mrs. Blackitt : Well, why don't you?

  Harry Blackitt : But they - Well, they cannot, 'cause their church never made the great leap out of the Middle Ages and the domination of alien Episcopal supremacy.

• Ainsworth : During the night, old Perkins got his leg bitten sort of... off.

  Dr. Livingstone : Ah, been in the wars, have we?

  Perkins : Yes.

  Dr. Livingstone : Ah, any headache? Bowels all right? Hm. Well, let's have a look at this "one leg" of yours, then, eh? Yes, yes, yes, yes. Yes, yes...

  [Pokes the stump with his pipe] 

  Dr. Livingstone : Yes yes. Yes, well, this is nothing to worry about.

  Perkins : Oh, good.

  Dr. Livingstone : Yes, there's a lot of it around, probably a virus. Keep warm, plenty of rest, and if you're playing football or anything, try and favor the other leg.

• Mrs. Hendy : Do all philosophers have an 's' in them?

  Mr. Marvin Hendy : Yeah I think most of them do.

  Mrs. Hendy : Oh. Does that mean Selina Jones is a philosopher?

  Mr. Marvin Hendy : Yeah. Right, she could be. She sings about the Meaning of Life.

  Mrs. Hendy : Yeah, that's right, but I don't think she writes her own material.

  Mr. Marvin Hendy : No. Oh, maybe Schopenhauer writes her material.

  Mrs. Hendy : No. Burt Bacharach writes it.

  Mr. Marvin Hendy : There's no 's' in Burt Bacharach...

  Mrs. Hendy : Or in Hal David.

  Mr. Marvin Hendy : Who's Hal David?

  Mrs. Hendy : He writes the lyrics, Burt just writes the tunes... only now he's married to Carole Bayer Sager...

  Mr. Marvin Hendy : Oh, Waiter. This conversation isn't very good.

  Waiter : Oh, I'm sorry, sir. We *do* have one today that's not on the menu. It's a sort of, uh, speciality of the house: Live Organ Transplants.

• Grim Reaper : I am the Grim Reaper.

  Geoffrey : Who?

  Grim Reaper : The Grim Reaper.

  Geoffrey : Yes, I see.

  Grim Reaper : I am death.

  Geoffrey : Yes, well, the thing is, we've got some people from America for dinner tonight, and...

  Angela : Who is it, darling?

  Geoffrey : It's a 'Mr. Death' or something. He's come about the reaping? I don't think we need any at the moment.

• Gaston : My mother told me, "Gaston, there are many people in the world, and in order to get along, you have to try and make everyone happy." That is why I became a waiter, so I can make people happy.

  Gaston : [pause]  Well, fuck you! I can live my life in my own way if I want to! Fuck off! Don't come a following me!

• Dr. Livingstone : What we're looking for here for is, I think - and 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 eleven feet long, and of the genus felis horribilis - what we doctors, in fact, call a 'tiger'.

  Ainsworth , Perkins , Pakenham : A TIGER?

• Debbie Katzenberg : How can we all have died at the same time?

  Grim Reaper : The salmon mousse.

  Geoffrey : Darling, you didn't use canned salmon, did you?

  Angela : I'm most dreadfully embarrassed.

• 'Meaning of Life' Singer : [singing]  In this 'life', what is our fate? Is there Heaven and Hell? Do we reincarnate? Is mankind evolving, or is it too late?

• Fish #3 : Hey, look. Howard's being eaten.

  Fish #2 : Is he? Makes you think, doesn't it?

  Fish #6 : Mmm.

  Fish #3 : I mean, what's it all about?

  Fish #6 : Beats me.

• 'Meaning of Life' 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, For, tonight, it's 'The Meaning of Life'...

• 'Meaning of Life' Singer : [singing]  Is life just a game where we make up the rules, While we're searching for something to say, Or are we just simply spiralling coils, Of self-replicating DNA...

• 'Meaning of Life' Singer : [singing]  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...

• Dr. Spenser : Any idea how it happened?

  [leg taken by a bite] 

  Man in Pink : None whatsoever. Complete mystery to me. Woke up just now, one sock too many.