Respond with Monty Python

And the Lord spake, saying, "First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin. Then shalt thou count to three, no more, no less. Three shall be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, neither count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out. Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thy foe, who, being naughty in My sight, shall snuff it.
 
Bravely bold Sir Robin, rode forth from Camelot.
He was not afraid to die, oh brave Sir Robin.
He was not at all afraid to be killed in nasty ways.
Brave, brave, brave Sir Robin.

He was not in the least bit scared to be mashed into a pulp.
Or to have his eyes gouged out and his elbows broken.
To have his knee caps split and his body burned away.
And his limbs all hacked and mangled, brave Sir Robin.
 
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!
 
Oh, but you can't expect to wield supreme executive power just because some watery tart threw a sword at you.
 
"It's not particularly silly, is it? I mean, the right leg isn't silly at all and the left leg merely does a forward aerial half turn every alternate step."
 
🎶 Every sperm is sacred
Every sperm is great
If just one is wasted
God gets quite irate 🎶
 
And Saint Attila raised the hand grenade up on high, saying, "O Lord, bless this Thy hand grenade that, with it, Thou mayest blow Thine enemies to tiny bits in Thy mercy."

And the Lord spake, saying, "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. Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then, lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thy foe, who, being naughty in My sight, shall snuff it."
 
Mouth to mouth for this thread, just because...

I loved this thread! The last time I was here, I didn't even know a certain Litster who did a post within a few of mine, and she is now one of my dearest, most treasured friends...

Mr Barnard: Shut your festering gob, you tit! Your type really makes me puke you vacuous, toffy-nosed, malodorous pervert!

Man: What? I came in here for an argument.

Mr Barnard: Oh, oh oh I'm sorry, this is "abuse'. You want Room 12-A just along the corridor.
 
Can't we do something else for a change?

Like if someone who attacks you with a point-ed stick!

Pointed sticks? Oh, oh, oh! We all want to learn how to defend ourselves from a point-ed stick, do we? Damn it all, high and mighty, eh? Fresh fruit not good enough for you, eh? Oh, oh, oh, oh! Well, I'll tell you something my lad! When you're out walking in the night and some homicidal maniac comes at you with a bunch of (pomegranates?), don't come crying to me!
 
Immanuel Kant was a real pissant who was very rarely stable,
Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar who could think you under the table,
David Hume could out-consume Schopenhauer and Hegel,
And Wittgenstein was a beery swine who was just as schloshed as Schlegel.

There's nothing Nietzsche couldn't teach ya 'bout the raising of the wrist,
Socrates himself was permanently pissed...

John Stuart Mill, of his own free will, with half a pint of shandy was particularly ill,
Plato, they say, could stick it away, half a crate of whiskey every day,
Aristotle, Aristotle was a beggar for the bottle,
Hobbes was fond of his dram,
And Rene Descartes was a drunken fart, "I drink therefore I am."

Yes, Socrates himself is particularly missed,
A lovely little thinker but a bugger when he's pissed.
 
"Oh, it's blessed are the MEEK! Oh, I'm glad they're getting something, they have a hell of a time."
 
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