Cheer up, Brian. You know what they say.
Some things in life are bad.
They can really make you mad.
Other things just make you swear and curse.
When you're chewing on life's gristle
Don't grumble, give a whistle.
And this'll help things turn out for the best...
And...
(the music slides into the song)
... always look on the bright side of life
(whistle)
Always look on the light side of life...
(whistle)
If life seems jolly rotten
There's something you've forgotten
And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing,
When you're feeling in the dumps
Don't be silly chumps
Just purse your lips and whistle -- that's the thing.
And... always look on the bright side of life...
(whistle)
Come on.
(others start to join in)
Always look on the right side of life...
(whistle)
For life is quite absurd
And death's the final word
You must always face the curtain with a bow
Forget about your sin -- give the audience a grin
Enjoy it -- it's your last chance anyhow.
So always look on the bright side of death
Just before you draw your terminal breath
Life's a piece of shit
When you look at it
Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true,
You'll see it's all a show
Keep 'em laughing as you go
Just remember that the last laugh is on you.
And always look on the bright side of life...
(whistle)
Always look on the right side of life...
(whistle)
(Everyone is now singing away as the camera tracks back to reveal all the crosses in the late evening sunlight. The camera pans up and off towards the sky and the film fades.)
(speak) 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 enou-u-u-gh...
(sing) Just remember that you're standing on a planet that's revolving,
Revolving at nine hundred miles an hour.
It's orbiting at ninety miles a second, so it's reckoned,
A sun that is the source of all our power.
The sun that you and me, and all the stars that we can see,
Are moving at a million miles a day
In the outer spiral arm, at four thousand miles an hour,
Of the galaxy we call the Milky Way.
Our galaxy itself contains a hundred million stars,
It's a hundred thousand light-years side-to-side.
It bulges in the middle, sixty thousand light years thick,
But out by us it's just three thousand light years wide.
We're thirty thousand light years from galactic central point,
We go around every three hundred million years.
And our galaxy is only one of millions of billions
In this amazing and expanding universe!
(Musical bridge, accompanied by odd [to me, anyway] animation of Mother Galaxy giving birth to the universe, right between her...er...)
The universe itself keeps on expanding and expanding,
In all of the directions it can whiz.
As fast it will go, the speed of light you know,
Twelve million miles a minute and that's the fastest speed there is.
So remember if you're feeling very small and insecure,
How amazingly unlikely is your birth,
And pray that there's intelligent life somewhere out in space,
'cause there's bugger all down here on Earth!
(slam of refrigerator door)
One of my favorite examples of British Beaurocracy that Monty Python did was the sketch on "Matching Tie& Handkerchief" where Graham chapman tries to buy the "Ronettes sing Medieval Aguarian History":
Customer:Graham Chapman
Salesgirl:Eric Idle
Salesman:Eric Idle
Rhonda(?):John Cleese(or Terry Gilliam, or Michael Palin, Who knows?)
Sub-Sketch(First World War noises):
Sarge:Terry Jones
Captain:Michael Palin
customer: "The Ronettes sing Medieval Agrarian History" please.
salesgirl: Sorry, we're sold out. It's terrifically popular. We've got "first World War NOises"
customer: Is that the Ronettes?
salesgirl: No, the French and the Germans.
customer: Oh, well, perhaps I could hear a track.
salesgirl: Righto, go in booth four.
customer: Yah, thank you.
(sounds of surprise and alarm as customer opens wrong door)
customer: Sorry.
salesgirl: Fuor(yes "fuor", that is how he says it: foo-or)
(sound of door opening and closing, and a harmonica playing)
captain: Home on leave in two days, eh, sarge?
sarge: yessir
cap: lucky man.
sarge: Oh, soon be your turn, suh.
cap: Yes, yes,I suppose so. Is that your wife, sarge?
sarge: Oh, yessah.
cap: lucky man.
sarge: you married, sah?
cap: yes, yes, rather. Didn't we, uh, we ever show you that picture of my wife, sarge?
sarge: Oh, no, sah.
cap: Where's the damn thing...ah, yes, here we are. Pretty nice, eh?
sarge: Bit ugly though, sah.
cap: Ugly?
sarge: You know, I mean not attractive to men, sah.
cap: Well, I...I suppose that's rather a matter of taste, sarge.
sarge: Oh, no, no. She's ugly, suh.
cap: It's not a very good picture, makes her nose look to big.
sarge: No, the nose is alright, suh, It's the eyes.
cap: What's wrong?
sarge: Well, they're crooked, suh.
cap: They're not crooked.
sarge: Lookout!
(sound of bomb dropping-bomb dropping-bomb dropping-bomb dropping-bomb dropping-bomb dropping, door opening)
customer: Uh, excuse me? The record in four's stuck.
salesman: (turns off music) Problem, sir?
customer: Uh, I was listening to "First World War" noises in four and the
record's stuck.
saleman: Ah, yes, who served you, sir?
customer: Ah, It was a girl?
salesman: OH, yes, Miss Sevrenerova(?), she's off dead, I'm afraid.
customer: Dead?
salesman: Yes, she came over all dead so we've given her the afternoon off. Can I help you?
customer: Yes, I was listening to "World War" noises in four and the record's stuck
salesman: Ah, you want Mr. Paslow, a moment please.
(sound of walking and an old creepy door opening)
salesman: Rhonda?
Rhonda: Yes?(an ogrish voice from deep in the darkness)
salesman: Untie Mr. Paslow.
Rhonda: But.. He's told us nothing!
salesman: There's a customer.
Rhonda: oh(sound of chains clinking, and a body being dragged)
salesman: Right, this is Mr. Paslow, he'll look after you.
customer: Oh, right, thank you. Well, Mr. Paslow, I was listening to "First World War Noises" in four and the record's stuck.
...(Pause for very long time)...
Hello?...
...(again another very long pause)...
Mr. Paslow?
(short Pause)
I think there's something wrong with Mr. Paslow.
salesman: Let's have a look...Ah, yes, his head's been ripped off. I'll get you another.
customer: No, no, it's allright. It's just that the record's stuck in four.
salesman: "World War noises" was it?
customer: yeah
salesman: Try five.
(Sound of record starting, and harmonica playing,...again)
cap: home on leave in two days, eh, sarge?
sarge: yessah
cap: lucky man.
sarge: soon be your turn, suh.
cap: yes, yes, I suppose so. Is that your wife sarge?
sarge: No, suh, that's my dog.
cap: Oh...oh. Ah, good-looking dog, isn't it?
sarge: "She", suh, she's a bitch.
cap: Is she?(with a longing tone)
sarge: yessuh. Oh. lookout suh!
(sound of explosion and someone dying in background)
OH, blimey.
cap: Uh, sarge?
sarge: yessuh?
cap: this, dog of yours, quite a little stunner, isn't she?
sarge: lookout suh!('nuther explosion)
oh, do you think their bringing up the big mortars suh?
cap: yes. Does she, uh, have any friends?
sarge: what, suh?
cap: your-your dog.
sarge: Oh, just the other dogs in the neighborhood, suh.
cap: She doesn't have uh, any, uh steady, uh , boyfriend?
sarge: Oh, no suh. She's a dog.
cap: yes, yes of course.
sarge: oh, blimey It's getting bad, suh.
cap: Yes. Still, she wouldn't object to someone... calling on her, would she sarge?
sarge: Not sure how you mean, suh
cap: I-I mean, I was thinking maybe I could take her for a walk some time.
sarge: Oh, yessuh, coursesuh, anytime.
cap: Oh, thank you sarge.
sarge: Oh, lookout suh!(explosion)
Now, that's my wife, suh.
cap: are you, sure, sarge?
sarge: Yessuh, that's my wife.
cap: ...And that's your dog?
sarge: yessuh.
cap: I see...look sarge, I think I'll be calling on you a lot when all this is over.
sarge: Oh, thank you suh!
cap: oh, not at all. It's just I'm.. rather fond of dogs-r fond of dogs-r fond of dogs-r fond of dogs-r fond of dogs.(door open)
customer: Excuse me. The record's stuck-the record's stuck-the record's stuck-the record's stuck-the record's stuck-the record's stuck(record scratching)
