понедельник, 2 ноября 2009 г.
I Like To Move It, Move It - Madagascar
Собственно исполняется Сашей Коэном Бароном и при этом он со свойственным ему талантом пародирует индийский акцент и склерозного, но озабоченного моралиста.
Этот клип выбран мной исключительно из того же принципа, как и предыдущий "электроторпедный"- тут есть субтитры.
I hope you'll be satisfied
четверг, 30 июля 2009 г.
В пилотской кабине (из серии- как доставать людей?)
The Airline Pilots Sketch ------------------------- by John Cleese & Graham Chapman Transcribed from the video: "John Cleese on How To Irritate People"
S: Hang on, one of them is going to the washroom.
FO: "Inflate your life-jackets"
воскресенье, 12 июля 2009 г.
Свежие чувства от "Электроторпед"
В обсуждениях на You-Tube некто высказал мысль, что Pain не Pain, а Paint и я с ним полностью согласен. Также я считаю, что автор клипа перестарался с that, заменяя им определённые артикли в припеве.
воскресенье, 10 мая 2009 г.
Папа и Микеланджело
- Ваше высокопреосвященство, к вам- Микеланджелло...
- Михайло...кто?
- (Тоном эскурсовода) Микеланджелло, знаменитый художник Ренессанса, известный такими своими творениями, как статуя Давида и фресками в храме Сикстинской Мадонны.
Michelangelo from Monty Python Live at the Hollywood Bowl. Enjoy.
Gustaf Sjöbloms and Björn Wingmans Script:
Michelangelo
Renaissance Choir:
[Gregorian Chant]
Servant:
A Michelangelo to see you, your Holiness.
Pope:
Who?
Servant:
Michelangelo, the famous renaissance artist whose best known works include the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, and the celebrated statue of David.
Pope:
Ah. Very well...
Servant:
In 1514 he returned to Florence and de...
Pope:
All right, that's enough, that's enough, they've got it now!
Servant:
Oh.
Michelangelo:
Good evening, your Holiness.
Pope:
Evening, Michelangelo. I want to have a word with you about this painting of yours, "The Last Supper."
Michelangelo:
Oh, yeah?
Pope:
I'm not happy about it.
Michelangelo:
Oh, dear. It took me hours.
Pope:
Not happy at all.
Michelangelo:
Is it the jello you don't like?
Pope:
No.
Michelangelo:
Ah, no, I know, they do have a bit of colour, don't they? Oh, I know, you don't like the kangaroo?
Pope:
What kangaroo?
Michelangelo:
No problem, I'll paint him out.
Pope:
I never saw a kangaroo!
Michelangelo:
Uuh...he's right in the back. I'll paint him out! No sweat, I'll make him into a disciple.
Pope:
Aah.
Michelangelo:
All right?
Pope:
That's the problem.
Michelangelo:
What is?
Pope:
The disciples.
Michelangelo:
Are they too Jewish? I made Judas the most Jewish.
Pope:
No, it's just that there are twenty-eight of them.
Michelangelo:
Oh, well, another one will never matter, I'll make the kangaroo into another one.
Pope:
No, that's not the point.
Michelangelo:
All right. Well, I'll lose the kangaroo. Be honest, I wasn't perfectly happy with it.
Pope:
That's not the point. There are twenty-eight disciples!
Michelangelo:
Too many?
Pope:
Well, of course it's too many!
Michelangelo:
Yeah, I know that, but I wanted to give the impression of a real last supper. You know, not just any old last supper. Not like a last meal or a final snack. But you
know, I wanted to give the impression of a real mother of a blow-out, you know?
Pope:
There were only twelve disciples at the last supper.
Michelangelo:
Well, maybe some of the others came along afterw...
Pope:
There were only twelve altogether.
Michelangelo:
Well, maybe some of their friends came by, you know?
Pope:
Look! There were just twelve disciples and our Lord at the last supper. The Bible clearly says so.
Michelangelo:
No friends?
Pope:
No friends.
Michelangelo:
Waiters?
Pope:
No.
Michelangelo:
Cabaret?
Pope:
No!
Michelangelo:
You see, I like them, they help to flesh out the scene, I could lose a few, you know I could...
Pope:
Look! There were only twelve disciples at...
Michelangelo:
I've got it! I've got it! We'll call it "The Last But One Supper"!
Pope:
What?
Michelangelo:
Well there must have been one, if there was a last supper there must have been a one before that, so this, is the "Penultimate Supper"! The Bible doesn't say how
many people were there, does it?
Pope:
No, but...
Michelangelo:
Well there you are, then!
Pope:
Look! The last supper is a significant event in the life of our Lord, the penultimate supper was not! Even if they had a conjurer and a mariachi band. Now, a last
supper I commissioned from you, and a last supper I want! With twelve disciples and one Christ!
Michelangelo:
One?!
Pope:
Yes one! Now will you please tell me what in God's name possessed you to paint this with three Christs in it?
Michelangelo:
It works, mate!
Pope:
Works?
Michelangelo:
Yeah! It looks great! The fat one balances the two skinny ones.
Pope:
There was only one Redeemer!
Michelangelo:
Ah, I know that, we all know that, what about a bit of artistic license?
Pope:
A one Messiah is what I want!
Michelangelo:
I'll tell you what you want, mate! You want a bloody photographer! That's you want. Not a bloody creative artist to crease you up...
Pope:
I'll tell you what I want! I want a last supper with one Christ, twelve disciples, no kangaroos, no trampoline acts, by Thursday lunch, or you don't get paid!
Michelangelo:
Bloody fascist!
Pope
Look! I'm the bloody pope, I am! May not know much about art, but I know what I like!
понедельник, 27 апреля 2009 г.
Блакаддэр...Похищенные...
В застенке.
Принц Людвиг (Надменно): Хорошо, господа. Надеюсь, вы меня извините- у меня ещё дел по самые горла: злобные заговоры сами собой не создаются (выходит зловеще смеясь... стража следует за ним столь же зловеще подхихикивая)
(T is holding his scythe, ready to have a go at Edmund. Prince Ludwig
enters, shouts `Stop!' and whips T down, who screams a bit and remains
cowering.)
L: Forgive me, Herr Blackadder. I have been neglecting my duties as a host.
Please accept my appoloaggies.
E: I accept nothing from a man who imprisons his guests in a commode.
L: I hope this scum (T burbles a bit) has not inconweenienced you.
E: It takes more than a maniac trying to cut off my goolies to inconweenience
*me*.
L: Good. If he had inconweenienced you, I was going to offer you his tongue.
E: Believe me, sir: if he had inconweeniened me, you would not have a tongue
with which to make such an offer.
L: Let me assure you, Herr Blackadder: if I no longer had a tongue with which
to make such an offer, you would no longer have a tongue with which to tell
me that, if I had inconweenienced you, I would no longer have a tongue with
which to offer you his tongue.
E: Yes, well, enough of this banter. Who the hell are you, sausage breath?
L: You do not remember me then, Herr Blackadder?
E: I don't believe I had the pleasure.
L: Oh, on the contrary. We have met many times, although you knew me by
another name. Do you recall a mysterious black marketeer and smuggler
called Otto with whom you used to dine and plot and play the biscuit game
at the Old Pizzle in Dover?
E: My God!
L: Yes! I was the waitress.
E: (shocked) I don't believe it! *You*? Big Sally?
L: (falsetto) `Will you have another piece of pie, My Lord?'
E: ...but I went to bed with you, didn't I?
L: For my country, I am willing to make any sacrifice.
E: Yes, but I'm not! I must have been paralytic!
L: Indeed you were, Mr. Floppy...
E: Yes, alright, alright (obscured by laughter). Now, would you mind--
L: (again falsetto) `Such a disappointment for a girl...'
E: Yes, alright, you've had your little joke.
L: `It really doesn't matter -- we'll try again in a few minutes. Have a look
through these naughty parchments.'
E: Oh, yes, we *are* proud of our comic serving-wench voice, aren't we? Just
because we can say `Zur' instead of `Sir', (??) sense at all social
gatherings the tedious little turd who keeps putting on amusing voices.
L: (angered, shouts) Be quiet!
E: What else have you got in your outstandingly inventive repertoire, I
wonder... Aaah, a brilliant drunk Glaswegian, no doubt. An hilarious
black man: `See you, Jimmy, where am dat watty-melon'. (obscured by
laughter) I can't wait for your side-splitting poof and that funny little
croaky one who isn't anyone in particular, but he's such a scream. And
most of all, I like the one you do all the time, that fatheaded German
chamberpot standing in front of me.
L: You know, you talk too much, Blackadder. I think it's a case of werbal
diarrhoea that you are having. I should, perhaps, tell you that I have
given the Queen only a week to reply to my ransom demand. Unless she
pays up, you die. Howwibly.
E: She will pay up. And then within a week, you die. Howwibly howwibly.
L: You find yourself amusing, Blackadder.
E: I try not to fly in the face of public opinion.
L: You know, I think, I think that a week from now, you'll be less in the
mood for being amusing.
E: At least when I *am* in the mood, I *can* be amusing.
L: Then choose your next witticism carefully, Herr Blackadder; it may be
your last. Guards, fetch his friend.
Gs: (enter with Melchett) Ein, zwei, ein, zwei...
M: (crying, expecting to be thrown into a very deep pit)
Oh no, please! (they throw him down) oooohhh! (he lands on the lower
level, about three feet below, and looks rather surprised)
L: Lord Melchett, we meet again.
M: No, I don't think we've had the pleasure...
L: You do not recognise me, then?
M: No...
L: Let me refresh your memory. You remember when you were in Cornwall; at the
monastery, there was an old shepherd with whom you used to talk.
M: Good Lord! Dimkins?
L: Yes! I was one of his sheep.
M: One of his sheep? Not...?
L: Yes!
M: Flossy?
L: Yes!
M: But didn't we...? (waves his hands in an exchanging fashion)
L: Yes, Lord Melchett! BBBAAAAA!
M: Oh my God!
L: But enough of such pleasant reminiscences, eh? The guard has found an
interesting document in your clothing.
M: Oh, I shouldn't pay much attention to that if I were you.
L: The Queen says that she will pay only one ransom, `But it must be the
last. Absolutely the last. Final. Full stop. Never again. Cross my
heart and hope to be spanked until my bottom goes purple.' She has a
difficult choice in front of her, has she not?
E: Not really. Bad luck, Melchers. Still... Life -- huh! -- overrated,
I reckon.
L: Yes, gentlemen. Well, if you excuse me, I have work to do. Evil plots
don't just make themselves you know. (exits laughing, the guards join
in)
воскресенье, 22 марта 2009 г.
Сижу я в бункере
Оригинал (на немецком)
Франкоязычный вариант
Англоязычный вариант
Удовольствие перевести самому, как можно меньше тыкаясь в словари, я оставляю читателям.
Замечу, что английская и французская версии явно отличаются от друг друга в деталях (французы, например, не повторяют в припеве бутылку вина) и у меня те же подозрения насчёт оригинала.
четверг, 19 февраля 2009 г.
понедельник, 16 февраля 2009 г.
воскресенье, 1 февраля 2009 г.
Тяжьба
- Г-н Жальбер
- Да, ваш-честь?
- В вашем иске вы указываете, что г-н Будуэ, присутствующий здесь, регулярно справляет физиологические потребности своего шихуа на вашем земельном участке...
- Именно так!
- ... И по этой причине вы требуете один миллион долларов в качестве возмещения морального ущерба.
- Да, именно так.
- Г-н Будуэ, у вас есть что сказать в свою защиту?
- Ваша честь, это все чушь! Я никогда не позволял Пуки делать ка-ка на его земле!
- Лжец!
- Это кто- Пуки?
- Мой пёсик, ваш-честь...
- А, хорошо... Г-н Жюльбер, есть ли у вас уличающие Пуки доказательства?
- Конечно, ваш-честь. У меня их целый пакет!
- Что это?
- Пукины какашки..
- ...Возражения, ваш-честь!!! Откуда это видно, что это именно Пукины, а не подделка?
- Да, действительно. Чем вы докажете, что это- не ваши собственные?
- (Смущенно) Разве же это не очевидно, что это- не мои?
- Я не специалист по дерьму, г-н Жюльбер. Есть ли у вас другие улики?
- Не-ет, ваша честь.... А почему?...
- ...Г-н Будуэ, вы бы сами насрали бы ради получения миллиона долларов?
- Ради миллиона долларов? Any time! Я бы и не то придумал бы!...
- ...Вот почему, г-н Жюльбер!
- (Смущенно мнётся) ...Но... это....Ваш-честь, я клянусь, что это- не моё...
- К сожалению, этого недостаточно, чтобы вынести моё суждение в пользу истца. (Ударяя молотком по столу)Следующий!
Ответчик злорадно мурлыкает мелодию спортивных болельщиков