A Liar's Autobiography: The Untrue Story of Monty Python's Graham Chapman

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Is this f***ing thing on? Oh.

Ladies and gentlemen.

He's wacky, he's zany,

he's one entire sixth of the greatest

comedy team the world has ever seen.

Here to reveal all, please welcome

Monty Python's Graham Chapman!

Er, before I begin,

there is a favour I would like to ask

of all of you, please.

And I do mean every single person

in the room.

No opting out. I'd like everyone

to join in with this, please.

I would like to ask you all

for 30 seconds...

...of abuse.

Thank you so much.

Go home! Get off!

Thank you.

Thank you so much.

Thank you.

Thank you so much. Thank you.

15 seconds to go!

Thank you. Thank you so much.

I want my f***ing money back!

Oh, thank you.

Thank you.

Get off that stage!

You suck!

You're a sh*t!

You-you-you-you...

You miscreant!

I like you!

Thank you very much

indeed. That was excellent abuse.

And it will certainly save

a lot of time later on.

New York, 1976.

The City Center theatre.

Monty Python's Flying Circus

is appearing. We are in mid-sketch.

I am playing Oscar Wilde.

My congratulations, Wilde.

Your play is a great success.

The whole of London

is talking about you.

There is only one thing in the world

worse than being talked about

and that is NOT being talked about.

Very witty, Wilde. Very witty.

There is only one thing worse

in the world than being witty

and that is not being witty.

I wish I had said that.

You will, Oscar. You will.

Your Highness, do you know

James McNeill Whistler?

Yes. We play squash together.

There is only one thing worse

than playing squash together

and that is playing it by yourself.

He waits expectantly

for the roars of laughter

and the shrieks of glee.

They do not come.

The silence grows longer.

I wish I hadn't said that.

You did, Oscar. You did.

Forgive me, Wilde,

but I must get back up the palace.

Wilde is desperate.

The Prince of Wales is leaving

with a smile on his face

that had not been put there

by Oscar Wilde. He blurtsz

Your Majesty, you are like a big jam

doughnut with cream on top.

I beg your pardon?

Er...er...

Erm, it was one of Whistler's.

- I didn't say that.

- You did, James. You did.

I...I meant that, er,

like a doughnut, your arrival,

your Majesty, gives us pleasure,

and your departure

only makes us hungry for more.

Your Majesty is like

a stream of bat's piss.

- I beg your pardon?

- It was one of Wilde's.

Uh...uh...uh...

I have just dried.

I cannot remember the next line.

I'm waiting, Wilde. I'm waiting.

The entire theatre waits

and as they wait, so do I

for that damned line to enter my head.

It refuses to come.

Oh, get on with it.

Get on with it.

Dr Chapman?

We'll be landing in Los Angeles shortly.

Hello? Dr Chapman?

Are you all right, Dr Chapman?

Keep your seat belts fastened

and luggage stowed safely.

Turn off your head sets

and electrical equipment

until you see the seat belt sign

turned off.

It's at moments like this

when one thinks,

"Oh, f*** it. Does it really maer?

What are we all here for?

"Are we predestined

to take the paths we follow?"

I was born in Leamington, now officially

known as Royal Leamington Spa,

moderately famous for the manufacture

of gas cookers.

The year was 1942

and the period of gestation

ended on February 7th,

during an air raid in which the Germans

thought they were hitting Coventry.

My parents, Tim and Beryl

- sorry, Tim and Betty -

were outraged when I arrived

because they'd been expecting

a heterosexual black Jew

with several amusing birth deformities

as they needed the problems.

They lived in an enormous Gothic castle

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