Life Of Brian Page #2

we'd started.

- Go to the back.

Always one, isn't there?

Now, where were we?

Look, I don't think it ought to be

blasphemy, just saying "Jehovah."

- You're only making it

worse for yourself.

Making it worse?

How could it be worse?

- Jehovah! Jehovah! Jehovah!

I'm warning you, if you say

"Jehovah" once more

Right.

Who threw that?

Come on.

Who threw that?

Him, him, him.

- Was it you?

- Yes.

- Right

- Well, you did say "Jehovah."

Stop! Will you stop that?

Stop it! Now, look!

No one is to stone anyone...

until I blow this whistle.

Do you understand? Even and I want

to make this absolutely clear

Even if they do say "Jehovah."

Good shot! Bravo!

- Have I got a big nose, Mum?

- Oh, stop thinking about sex.

- I wasn't!

- You're always on about it,

morning, noon and night.

"Will the girls like this?

Will the girls like that?

Is it too big?

ls it too small?"

Here you are, mate.

- Bless you, sir.

- Alms for the poor.

- Alms for a leper.

- Alms for an exleper.

Bloody donkey owners.

All the same, ain't they?

Never have any change.

Oh, here's a touch.

- Spare a talent for an old exleper?

- Buzz off!

Spare a talent

for an old exleper?

A talent?

That's more than he earns in a month!

- Half a talent, then.

- Now, go away!

- Come on, Big Nose, let's haggle.

- What?

You open at one shekel.

I start at 2,000. We close about 1,800.

- No.

- 1,750?

- Go away!

- 1,740?

- Leave him alone!

- All right, two shekels.

Isn't this fun, eh?

Look, he's not giving you

any money, so piss off!

- All right. Half a shekel

for an old exleper?

- Did you say "exleper"?

Sixteen years behind the bell,

and proud of it, sir.

- Well, what happened?

- I were cured, sir.

- Cured?

- Yes, a bloody miracle, sir.

- Well, who cured you?

- Jesus did, sir.

I was hopping along,

minding my own business.

All of a sudden,

up he comes, cures me!

One minute,

I'm a leper with a trade;

next minute,

my livelihood's gone.

"You're cured, mate."

Bloody dogooder.

Well, why don't you go and tell him

that you want to be a leper again?

I could do that, sir.

Yeah, I could do that, I suppose.

I was gonna ask him if he'd

make me a bit lame in one leg

during the middle of the week.

You know, something beggable but not

leprosy, which is a pain in the ass.

Brian! Come and clean

your room out!

- There you are.

- Thank you, sir. Thank

Half a denary?

Me bloody life story.

There's no pleasing

some people.

That's just

what Jesus said, sir.

- Oh!

- Good afternoon.

Oh, uh, hello, officer.

I'll be with you in a few

moments, all right, dear?

- What's he doing here?

- Don't start that, Brian.

Go and clean your room out.

- Bloody Romans!

- Now look, Brian.

If it wasn't for him,

we wouldn't have all this.

- And don't you forget it.

- We don't owe the Romans anything, Mum.

- Well, that's not entirely true.

- What do you mean?

- Well, you know you were

asking me about your

- My nose?

Yes. Well, there's a reason

it's like it is, Brian.

What is it?

Well, I suppose I should've

told you a long time ago

- What?

- Well, Brian...

your father

isn't Mr. Cohen.

- Well, I never thought he was.

- None of your cheek!

He was a Roman, Brian.

He was a centurion

in the Roman army.

- You mean you were raped?

- Well, at first, yes.

- Who was it?

- Naughtius Maximus, his name was.

Promised me

the known world, he did.

I was to be taken to Rome,

housed by the Forum

slaves, asses' milk,

as much gold as I could eat.

Then he, having his way

with me, he had

- Vroom, like a rat out of an aqueduct!

- The bastard!

Yeah, so next time you go on

about the bloody Romans,

don't forget

you're one of 'em!

I'm not a Roman, Mum!

And I never will be!

I'm a kike, a Yid,

a hebe, a hooknose!

I'm kosher, Mum! I'm a Red Sea

pedestrian, and proud of it!

Sex, sex, sex. That's all

they think about, huh?

Well, how are you,

then, officer?

Ladies and gentlemen,

the next contest...

is between...

Frank Goliath,

the Macedonian babycrusher,

and Boris Mineburg.

Larks' tongues.

Wren's livers.

Chaffinch brains.

Jaguars' earlobes.

Wolf's nipple chips. Get 'em

while they're hot. They're lovely.

Dromedary pretzels, only half a denar.

Tuscany fried bats.

I do feel, Reg, that any

antilmperialist group like ours...

must reflect such a divergence

of interest within its power base.

- Oh, great. Francis?

- Yeah, I think Judith's point

of view is very valid, Reg,

provided the movement

never forgets...

- that it is the inalienable

right of every man

- Or woman.

or woman

to rid himself

- Or herself.

- or herself

- Agreed.

- Thank you, brother.

- Or sister.

- Or sister.

- Where was I?

- I think you finished.

- Oh, right.

Furthermore, it is

the birthright of every man

- Or woman.

- Why don't you shut up about women?

Women have a perfect right

to play a part in our movement.

Why are you always on

about women, Stan?

I want to be one.

- What?

- I want to be a woman.

From now on, I want you all

to call me "Loretta."

- What?

- It's my right as a man.

Well, why do you want

to be Loretta, Stan?

I want to have babies.

You want to have babies?

It's every man's right

to have babies if he wants them.

- But you can't have babies.

- Don't you oppress me.

I'm not oppressing you.

You haven't got a womb.

Where is the fetus

gonna gestate?

You're gonna keep it

in a box?

Here, I've got an idea.

Suppose you agree that

he can't actually have babies,

not having a womb which is

nobody's fault, not even the Romans'

but that he can have

the right to have babies?

Good idea, Judith.

We shall fight the oppressors...

for your right to have

babies, brother

- Sister. Sorry.

- What's the point?

- What?

- What's the point of fighting

for his right to have babies...

when he can't have babies?

It is symbolic of our

struggle against oppression.

Symbolic of his struggle

against reality.

It's dangerous out there.

Larks' tongues. Otters' noses.

Ocelot spleens.

- Got any nuts?

- Haven't got any nuts. Sorry.

- I've got wrens' livers,

badger spleens

- No, no, no.

- Otters' noses?

- I don't want that Roman rubbish!

- Why don't you sell proper food?

- Proper food?

Yeah, and not those rich,

lmperialist tidbits.

Well, don't blame me.

I didn't ask to sell this stuff.

All right.

Bag of otters' noses, then.

- Make it two. Thanks, Reg.

- Two.

- Are you the Judean People's Front?

- F*** off!

- What?

- Judean People's Front!

We're the People's Front of Judea!

- Judean People's Front!

- Wankers.

- Can I join your group?

- No. Piss off.

I didn't want to sell

this stuff. It's only a job.

- I hate the Romans as much as anybody!

- Shhh. Shhh!

- Are you sure?

- Oh, dead sure. I hate the Romans.

Listen, if you wanted

to join the P.F.J.,

you'd have to really

hate the Romans.

- I do.

- Oh, yeah? How much?

A lot.

Right. You're in.

Listen. The only people

we hate more than the Romans...

are the f***in'

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