Ahh, the memories!
Man#1 (Michael Palin) Aye! Very fussable, eh? Very fussable bit, that? eh?
Man#2 (Graham Chapman): Grand meal, that was, eh?
Others: Yes, wonderful, yes very good..
Man#2: Nothing like a good glass of Chateau le Shlasseler, eh, Guissay?
Man#3 (Terry Jones): Oh, you're right there, Robidaier.
Man#4 (Eric Idle): Who'd 'ave thought, thirty year ago, we'd all be sitting here drinking Chateau de Shlasseler, eh?
Man#1: Aye, in them days we was glad to have the price of a cup of tea!
Man#2: Aye, a cup of cold tea!
Man#4: Without milk or sugar!
Man#3: Or tea!
Man#1: Aye, in a cracked cup and all!
Man#4: Oh, we never had a cup. We used to have to drink out of a rolled-up newspaper!
Man#2: Aye, the best we could manage in those days was to suck on a piece of damp cloth!
Man#3: Aye, but we were happy in those days, though we were poor.
Man#1: Because we were poor! My old dad used to say to me: Money doesn't buy you happiness!
Man#4: Aye, he was right, I was happier then and I had nothing. We used to live in this tiny old house with great big holes in the roof.
Man#2: House! You were lucky to live in a house! We had to all live in one room, all twenty-six of us, no furniture, half the floor was missing, and were all huddled together in a corner for fear of falling!
Man#3: You were lucky to have a room! We used to 'ave to live in a corridor!
Man#1: Oh, we used to DREAM of living in a corridor. It would have been a palace to us. We used to have to live in an old water tank in a rubbish pit. We got woke up every morning by having a load of rotting fish dumped all over us! House! Huh!
Man#4: Well, when I say house, it was only a hole in the ground covered by a sheet of tarpaulin, but it was a house to us!
Man#2: We were evicted from our hole in the ground. We had to go and live in a lake!
Man#3: You were lucky to have a lake! There were a hundred and fifty of us, living in a shoebox in the middle of the road!
Man#1: Cardboard box?
Man#3: Aye!
Man#1: You were lucky. We lived for three months in a paper bag in a septic tank. We used to have to get up at six in the morning, clean the paper bag, eat a crust of stale bread, go to work down at the mill, fourteen hours a day, week in, week out, for sixpence a week, and when we got home, our dad would thrash us to sleep with his belt.
(slight pause)
Man#2: Luxury. We used to have to get out of the lake at six o'clock in the morning, clean the lake, eat a handful of damp gravel, work a twenty-hour day at the mill for tuppence a month, and when we got home, our dad would thrash us to sleep with a broken bottle, if we were lucky!
Man#3: Well, of course, we 'ad it tough! We used to have to get up out of the shoebox at twelve o'clock at night, and lick the road clean with our tongue. We 'ad two bits of cold gravel, and worked a twenty-four hour day at the mill for six or seventy-four years, and when we got home, our dad would slash it to us with a bread knife.
Man#4: Right. I had to get up at ten o'clock at night, half an hourbefore I went to bed, drink a cup of sulphuric acid, work twenty-nine hours a day down at the mill and pay the mill owner for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our mother and father would kill us and dance on our graves singing Halleluja.
Man#1: Aye, and you try telling young people of today that. And they won't believe you.
Man#4: Aye, they won't!
