A small British colony is invaded by its Communist neighbour. Newly elected female President of the United States, Barbara Adams, tried to s...更多>
Sir Mortimer Chris: You think that nuclear war is unthinkable, because once it starts, no-one can win. Well, you're wrong! Sir Mortimer Chris: Now, to another matter; the record levels of unemployment. Many say that unemployment is the result of government mismanging and underspending. Nothing can be further from the truth. We all know the real cause of unemployment, don't we gentlemen? Unemployment, in this country, is caused by pixies. [after the SAS shoot-out at the wax museum] Specialist Catering Commander: You fucking bunch of dickheads. You mean to say we lost eleven men fighting a group of waxworks? Specialist Catering Commander: Duncan! Post the heads to their widows. And get the addresses right this time. Sir Mortimer Chris: Santa Maya must be liberated by any means necessary. Even diplomacy if it should come to it. President Barbara Adams: How's life? Jack 'Kill the Commies' Preston: Still serving it. Duncan: [collecting the heads of slaughtered SAS people] Hey, Denzel's had his haircut. Specialist Catering Commander: Oh, yeah. Sir Mortimer Chris: You see, we of the Conservative government think that it's appalling to spend billions on nuclear weapons if they're not going to be used. Lacrobat: Whistling condoms. They come in seven tunes, and so can you. Sir Mortimer Chris: You can't show you're resolute without showing you are strong. And you can't show you're strong without blowing people up. [repeated line] Specialist Catering Commander: All right, my lads! Donald: Can we bring the tiger, sir? Specialist Catering Commander: No, we can't bring the fucking tiger! It's more trouble than it's worth! [headbutts him] Specialist Catering Commander: Desmond! Put your fucking tiara on straight! Specialist Catering Commander: Remember, use subtlety and discretion wherever possible! Sir Mortimer Chris: As I was personally indisposed at the hospital, the safety of the princess was in fact in the hands of my two cabinet men, Mr. Lipman and Mr. Kubert. They are both honourable men, and in the past twenty four hours each have handed in a written request to be publically crucified. And regrettably, I had to grant this request.
Secret Service agent
: Let's pray he doesn't do anything rash. President Barbara Adams: He just held a public crucifixion in Wembley Stadium! Secret Service agent: Well, he's certainly moved to the right politically. President Barbara Adams: We still give Sir Mortimer Chris our complete support. When he talks of pixies he is clearly using the term metaphorically for problems in British Industry. White House reporter: How then do you explain the establishment of the anti-goblin program with plans to lure them out with ginger bread traps? [pause] President Barbara Adams: No more questions, gentlemen. Rambogram: [sings] I have for you a message from Mr. Lacrobat / He's got an ultamantium just to show you where it's at / If the troops don't leave Santa Maya in eighty four hours flat / Princess Wendy will be killed./ Princess Wendy will be killed, yeah / Her royal blood it will be spilled, yeah / Her head with lead will be filled, yeah / If the Brits don't haul their ass! Alexei Sayle: Guests are reminded that limbo dancing under the road works is strictly forbidden. Alexei Sayle: This evening's weeny roast and barbecue has been cancelled due to an avalanche. [Chris has unveiled the nuclear defenses] Sir Mortimer Chris: Brilliant. And they only cost a pound. Cabinet Minister: But surely... it's just an umbrella? [cut to minister being crucified] Gen. Mosquera: Citizens of Santa Maya. You are free from the British imperialists, and are once again citizens of Maguadora. [the crowd jeer. The guards cock their guns, and the crowd cheer] Lacrobat: Ah, an excellent choice, sir. The blow-up sheep. Maxton S. Pluck: Blow up what? Lacrobat: It's one of our line of blow ups. Designed especially for the farming community. And if you want to hear it climax... [he pulls a string] Maxton S. Pluck: Dear God! Who the hell are you? Lacrobat: February, sir. Roderick Jesus February. Window cleaner: Jesus Christ! Lacrobat: Naw man. Nitz. Conway Nitz the third. Gen. Mosquera: So you think you can secure for us the services of this man Lacrobat, Mister...? Lacrobat: Nebucanezzar. Harrison Hindenburg Nebuxanezzar. Personal management of the world's leading international terrorists. Lacrobat: Penis is the name. Doctor Thesius Lyndon Penis. I accept all major credit cards. Nigel Lipman: When exactly did you form this theory prime minister? Sir Mortimer Chris:
To be quite honest Nigel; the pieces only started to fit together last week. I was visiting a factory in Stockport. Literally hundreds had lost their jobs, and no wonder, the place was crawling with them.