Poets Poets are both clean and warm And most are far above the norm. Whether here or on the roam, Have a poet in every home
				The Meaning of Life Poem (from "Eric Idle Sings Monty Python") Eric: Thanks. I was just talking to the band backstage which is a thing I do, they're quite nice, and I realized it's actually 30 years to the day since we started to film Monty Python all those years ago... (applause) Thank you. Thank you. And so I think it would be not inappropriate if I said a quick word of thanks to Michael, Terry, Terry, John and Graham... (more applause) ...who can't be with us tonight, but without whom I would not be here. And so, we were a rather arrogant bunch of writers, as you might have gathered and we would not let Universal see a film script before we shot that film. We wanted to avoid their notes at all costs. We figured if we couldn't work out how to make a Monty Python film they couldn't tell us, so we submitted a poem and a budget. (laughter) It was a rather stupid poem and it went like this: There's everything in this movie, Everything that fits. From the Meaning of Life in the universe, To girls with great big tits. We've got movie stars and foreign cars, Explosions and the lot Filmed as only we know how, On the budget that we've got. We spent a fortune on locations And quite a bit on drink And there's ever the odd philosophical joke, Just to make you buggers think. Yet some parts are as serious And as deep as you could wish But largely it's all tits and ass And quite a bit of fish. Other bits are fairly childish And some are frankly rude But at least we've got a lot of nice girls All banging around in the nude. So take your seats, enjoy yourselves And let's just hope it's funny Because it's not only done to make you laugh But to make us lots of money. So sit back and have a good time With your boyfriend or your wife Relax and just enjoy yourself For this is the Meaning of Life Eric: And to their credit, they payed for the film on that. (applause) So who can blame them if they kept the money?
	Port Shoem by The Speverend Rooner I've a Gouse and Harden in the country An ace I call my plown, A treat I can replace to When I beed to knee alone. Catterfly and butterpillar Perch on beefy lough And I listen to the dats and cogs As they mark and they biaow. Yes wature here is nunderful There is no weed for nords, While silling by my window flutter Biny little tirds.