The Nice One Speaks

Hey look - I can do .gifs!

Anyway...from the man himself... 

GREETINGS and thanks from the bottom of my heart and the heart of my bottom to all those of you who have taken trouble to leave messages and kind words on my 65th birthday. I was very touched. However, the time has come for me to toss aside this thin veil of politeness and reveal myself as the miserable bastard I really am. I suffer, as you know, from being referred to in some circles as the nice Python. I am extremely fed up with this handle. There are many Pythons nicer than me. Mother Teresa, for instance. I know she's not a real Python but she was always sending us jokes and it was Mother Teresa who stood bail for Graham Chapman when he was bitten in the back by a mad dwarf in a London night-club. You didn't know that, did you? Of course not, because it isn't true. It's a lie. And lying isn't nice, is it? But that's the sort of person I am. I lie all the time. I also harbour strange and disturbing thoughts such as - if Mother Teresa had been in the Fish Slapping Dance instead of me would John Cleese have knocked her in the canal with a halibut? Of course not. John, being a nicer Python than me, would have found some excuse to avoid whacking Mother Teresa with a halibut.

"Hallo, Mother Teresa. I'm John Cleese. I'm playing the one who is supposed to knock you into the canal with an halibut..."
"Oh yez, you are my favourite. Your silly wanks skit is very good. You should one day write a series about a man who keeps a hotel and hits people who are Spanish."
"Well, that's frightfully kind of you, I may do that, Mother Teresa."
"I think hitting Spanish people is very funny..."
"Yes, well, super. Which actually brings me on to..."
"You are going to hit me today, I think..."
"Well, I've been thinking about it a bit and er... I don't think it's very funny after all. I think it would be better if I gave you an Award For Services To Humanity."
"No, hit me..."
"I'm afraid I have too much admiration for you, Mother...may I call you 'Mother?'"
"Hit me, you stupid sod. What are people going to think if I put on a pith helmet and do a silly little dance and flick you lightly round the ears with a pair of pilchards and then you give me an Award For Services To Humanity? Where's the joke in that, dickhead?"
"It's just that hitting an old lady is not a nice thing to do..."
"Oh, bollocks! If it were Terry Jones dressed as an old lady you'd knock him off the Eiffel Tower!"
"Look, I'm sorry you feel that way, Mother, but..."
"You are a great disappointment to me, Mr. Cleese."
"Well, you're a wonderful person and I'm not worthy.."
"Piss off, you old tart. Get me that Michael Palin. He'd hit me with a halibut."
"I don't think he would, Mother. He's the nice Python."
"Nice? Him?! He's a right little bastard. I sent him a letter once asking to be President of Poppadums for Christ and he told me to go and jump in the Bay of Bengal."

Well, after reading gross and profane slanders like that who could possibly believe that I am the nice Python? In fact I'm thinking of invading Poland next week. And having myself tattooed. Oh, and I'm a Satanist. And I once lent Hillary Clinton money for a house...

NICE PYTHON UPDATE:

John Cleese - exceptionally nice
Eric Idle - voted "Nicest Man In His Part Of The World, 1957"
Terry Gilliam - Absolute sweetie
Graham Chapman - Heavenly
Terry Jones - Terminally nice
Michael Palin - Abominably rude, lying, untrustworthy, decadent, hypocritical, cheese-eating delinquent from hell.

[From here...although I'm sure I've read it elsewhere.]