#dead parrot sketch

[lost-carcosa]

[apethalibut]

it’s probably pining...

[nocturnalchaos]

I have a terrible sense of humor. I apologize for my dark and warped humor. But this made me giggle and I had to share this thought with the fandom world.

It is not incorrect to say that for a while, Jason Todd was the comic book world’s “Ex-Parrot” in the Dead Parrot Sketch by Monty Python and the Flying Circus. He was an “ex-robin”.

[msfbgraves]

The Dead Unalived Parrot Sketch

Seriously "D*ath" "unalived"... why so prosaic when "resting" "stunned" and "pining for the fjords" are right there?

Maybe the title got censored and Gen Z hasn't seen it?

[chernobog13]

At one point I had the dialogue in this sketch completely memorized, but I still laugh uncontrollably every time I see it. Comedy gold!

[roxannepolice]

The Doctor: I held him in my arms. I burnt his body. The Master is dead.

The Ood: He's probably pining for the fjords.

[omnybus]

I'm sorry, your boyfriend is no more. He has ceased to be. He has expired. Your boyfriend has gone to meet his maker. He's a stiff. Bereft of life, he rests in peace. If you hadn't nailed him to the chair he'd be pushing up the daisies. His metabolic processes are now history. He's off the twig. He's shuffled off his mortal coil, run down the curtain, and joined the choir invisible. He is an ex-boyfriend

what happened to tumblr's boyfriend? i never see boyfriend posts anymore. sorry man we made too many jokes about your boyfriend. yeah he was a really popular joke format for a while and then he fell out of fashion. sorry man.

[princemick]

the ministry of silly walks, biggus dickus and 'no one expects the spanish inquisition' is british humor, go and watch those and then come back to me.

[wingsy-keeper-of-songs]

Kaiden: *calls Shepard a traitor on Horizon and threatens to have them arrested for working with Cerberus*

Me: My good man, where and when did you see a choice?? From the operating table they just happened to wake up on? Upon waking from being brought back from death itself?? In case it has been forgotten, Lt. Alenko, this Shepard had ceased to be. This Shepard was no more. They had expired and gone to meet their maker! They were a stiff! Bereft of life, they were resting in peace. If Liara had not given their body to space terrorists, they would be pushing up the daisies! They had shuffled off their mortal coil and joined the choir bloody invisible! They were an EX-SHEPARD.

[diloph]

SOMEBODY, PLEASE, SAVE THE MONSTERS

I’m picking my way through some of the Aliens novels/comics in the post-Prometheus/Covenant era and maaaaan, does the quality of them vary.

Like retcons of movie-era, Dark Horse-era and AVP-adjacent (to say nothing of the things like the noncanon DC crossovers) are one thing, but there’s bits that they just straight up contradict each other within the same timeframe.

For example, in a recent-ish comic, Russ Jorden, Newt’s father, turns up in a cryotube beneath the ruins of Hadley’s Hope. He’s still infected and dies at the end of it... despite the fact that Newt has already seen him die with her own two eyes in the recent-ish novel, River of Pain.

Had this not been the case, you could quite logically say he was infected, frozen, somebody else birthed the Queen and the job’s a good’un. How he survived the fucking nuclear explosion is another gripe, but I digress.

It’s putting me off. Other future prospects don’t look like solid purchases, sadly. I’ve not gotten to them yet, but apparently there’s stuff like a human using the Black Prometheus Goo to turn into a Xenomorph Queen with all their faculties, the goo somehow infecting the Xenomorphs despite the fact that it subtracts from them as bioengineered killing machines hinted to been birthed from the stuff...

Then again, the last one I read featured an extended Boris Johnson/Brexit parody, a space battle and some hate towards the Dead Parrot sketch, so we’re evidently grasping the stupid ball that the Predator dropped, apparently...

It’s making the silliest of the Dark Horse stuff look sensible and that’s a hell of a feat.

[aurorasleepsin]

Love this post.

It starts off with a very reasonable argument for being scruffy after being alone hiking- Good job Op.

Then there is a drawing to illustrate the excellent point. Even better way to literally illustrate your very good argument.

But

There is a raccoon on his head.

And you ask yourself, is that a raccoon skin cap like Davy Crockett and children in 1950s America wore. You hope not, but that is probably the most reasonable explanation.

But you are not alone.

The raccoon is too good not to mention. Too good not to have a backstory. Too good not to have a story.

Until it is a full fledged part of the friggin trilogy of the LoTR movies.

He is the Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, but without the plot to murder the prince.

He is a character of Shakespeare stolen from Ovid to now grace our dashboard as the Raccoon we needed and deserved in LoTR. He is of the people. He is folkore within beloved literature. He is

I saw a post saying that Boromir looked too scruffy in FotR for a Captain of Gondor, and I tried to move on, but I’m hyperfixating. Has anyone ever solo backpacked? I have. By the end, not only did I look like shit, but by day two I was talking to myself. On another occasion I did fourteen days’ backcountry as the lone woman in a group of twelve men, no showers, no deodorant, and brother, by the end of that we were all EXTREMELY feral. You think we looked like heirs to the throne of anywhere? We were thirteen wolverines in ripstop.

My boy Boromir? Spent FOUR MONTHS in the wilderness! Alone! No roads! High floods! His horse died! I’m amazed he showed up to Imladris wearing clothes, let alone with a decent haircut. I’m fully convinced that he left Gondor looking like Richard Sharpe being presented to the Prince Regent in 1813

*electric guitar riff*

And then rocked up to Imladris a hundred ten days later like

[bearly-holding-on]

I always see "haha Miles Edgeworth's idea of delicate is 'her metabolic processes are a matter of interest only to historians'" but never "haha Miles Edgeworth's idea of delicate is making a reference to the Dead Parrot sketch from Monty Python" which I personally think is much funnier.

This loser really thought "perhaps I can offer him a Monty Python reference in this trying time."

[comatosebunny09]

mine | leon k.

genre(s): romance, modern au (?)

warning(s): possessive!leon, jealous!leon, oblivious!reader, short!reader, female!reader, suggestive, language

notes: influenced by a scene i read by an anonymous writer on ao3 (it’s a dead dove fic, but i still happily ate it). hope you enjoy!

music: yours - alina baraz

Firm believer that Leon gets high-key jealous when anyone flirts with you.

But, poor, poor baby—you’re so oblivious. So goddamn cute. Look at you, standing on tippy-toe, straining your fingers for your favorite box of cereal on the top shelf at the supermarket. Leon would smile if not for a shock of black disrupting the intimacy of the scene.

Some sleaze-ball sidles up beside you, a broad hand at the small of your back whilst the other reaches overhead to pluck said box from the shelf for you. That quiet little smile you give as thanks makes Leon squeeze the handle of the buggy until his knuckles pale. And, is he bristling?

The nerve of this guy, flaunting all 32 of his teeth in a sinister beam, towering over you whilst he seduces you with idle chatter.

You’re none the wiser of the man’s motives. Smiling and giggling, animatedly flailing your arms about. Figure he’s a kind stranger, helping another in need. But he keeps touching you—a chaste brush of fingers, stirring the fine hairs of your flesh to life. Inching closer, much to Leon’s chagrin. He can hear the gears in this guy’s head turning as he sketches a triangle between your pretty, full lips and the rise of your chest.

Leon blames himself for leaving you defenseless. Had stepped away earlier to grab some ice cream at your behest. He grinds his teeth, the tendons of his neck flexing. Isn’t really thinking as the wheels of the shopping cart screech, and Leon rushes to your aid, subconsciously grabbing for your arm, tucking you into his side.

“There you are, honey,” Leon rumbles against the question your gaze poses, his voice stippled with venom beneath the honey flow of it, an arm draped across your middle. He squeezes your side—a silent reminder that you are his—and fixes the stranger with a pointed look. And if looks could kill, Leon would’ve murdered this stranger a thousand times over.

“I’ve been looking all over for you. Whaddya say we get checked out, hmm?” Leon adds with a deceptively innocent smile, ocean blues gazing down at you. Doesn’t wait for your answer, instead ushering you between the hard press of his body and the cool steel of the cart, out of the aisle.

“Leon?” you query, realizing he—in fact—is not leading you to self-checkout. Instead, he shepherds you into a dark corner near the restrooms, your buggy abandoned, and your back pressed against the wall in the blind spot of the half-dome safety mirror.

You’ve barely any time to gather your wits before Leon’s mouth fastens to yours. A lip-lock as possessive as it is desperate, teeth gnashing and tongues entangling, and no matter how much you try, you just can’t breathe.

You take little sips of air in between. Instinctively bury your fingers in his hair, free hand roaming the expanse of his back, trying to feel as much rippling muscle as you can. Your leg languidly slides up his calf and thigh to wind about Leon’s hip, and his hand slinks beneath your doughy quad to keep you there. His thumb skates over the sensitive skin of your neck as if coaxing your mouth to open wider.

He parts from the hot suction of your lips after you mewl softly into his. Breaths merge into one whilst he meshes your foreheads together, painting a sluggish line between your eyes and parted lips.

“Mine,” he whispers through the haze. Through the flurry of your thoughts and the sway of your body. Gathers your cheek into his palm when he feels you slipping down the wall, a knee pressed between your thighs to keep you both afloat. Feels the heat radiating through the seam of your pants, and his chest swells with satisfaction. “Mine,” parroted again as if to solidify things.

You nod drunkenly, lost in the slothful stir of his eyes. He takes cruel satisfaction in teasing you like this a little longer. Taunts you with the promise of another kiss, his lips hovering over yours as you try for his bottom lip.

“Say it,” he rasps into the space between your mouths. The intimacy of it all weakens your knees. Makes your head spin, your gaze and mind filled only with Leon Leon Leon. He watches your mouth form around words, stroking your lips apart with the calluses of his thumb.

“Yours. Always.”

“Good, good girl,” Leon drawls, sending a bolt of white lightning straight to your apex. You don’t protest as he drags you from the alcove, a smirk dusting his lips. An unheard promise of things to come wafting in the lively air of the supermarket.

[kinonostalgie]

Sir Michael Palin, a revered figure in British entertainment, is celebrated for his remarkable versatility as an actor, writer, comedian, and travel documentarian. Born on May 5, 1943, in Sheffield, Yorkshire, Palin first gained fame as a member of the groundbreaking comedy group Monty Python. His work with Monty Python, which began in the late 1960s, is iconic, with Palin contributing to some of the most memorable sketches and characters in British comedy history.

Palin's talent for comedy was evident in his various roles in "Monty Python's Flying Circus," where he showcased his ability to deliver both absurd and subtle humour. His performances in sketches like the "Dead Parrot" sketch and the "Ministry of Silly Walks" are legendary. Monty Python's transition from television to film further cemented their status, with Palin playing key roles in classics such as "Monty Python and the Holy Grail," "Life of Brian," and "The Meaning of Life."

Beyond Monty Python, Palin's career flourished in diverse directions. He became an acclaimed travel documentarian, known for his engaging and insightful travel series. Beginning with "Around the World in 80 Days" in 1989, Palin embarked on a series of epic journeys that captivated audiences. His warm, personable style and genuine curiosity about the world and its people made series like "Pole to Pole," "Full Circle," and "Himalaya" hugely popular. These travelogues not only showcased his wit and charm but also his respect and fascination for different cultures.

In addition to his television work, Palin has authored several travel books that complement his series, offering deeper reflections on his adventures. His writing extends to fiction as well, with novels such as "Hemingway's Chair" and "The Truth" showcasing his literary prowess.

Palin's contributions to entertainment and culture have been widely recognised. He was knighted in 2019 for his services to travel, culture, and geography. This honour reflects not only his impact on comedy and television but also his role as an ambassador for cultural understanding and exploration.

Sir Michael Palin's career is a testament to his extraordinary talent and versatility. Whether making audiences laugh with his brilliant comedic performances, enlightening them with his travel documentaries, or engaging them with his writing, Palin's work continues to be cherished by fans around the world. His enduring legacy is one of creativity, curiosity, and a profound appreciation for the richness of human experience.

[kiralamouse]

In fairness to the visitors, the halibut may not have run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible, nor pushing up daisies, but he’s definitely sleeping with the fishes.

i love working at an aquarium i just witnessed a grown man with children enter the freshwater gallery and loudly exclaim “oh shit, piranhas are REAL?!?”

[glynjohnsfurcoat]

i need all tiktok users to take a few moments out of their day to watch the dead parrot sketch. there is a beautiful and wonderful world of euphemisms for death and killing out there