Po długim okresie nieobecności oraz niebytności wznawiamy wpisy:) Mam nadzieję, że nastroje już w pełni wiosenne, a perspektywa długiego majowego weekendu nastawia was pozytywnie oraz wyzwala energię i chęć na pożarcie kolejnych słówek:) Dzisiaj zaserwujemy wam coś naprawdę kultowego- skecz Monty Pythona, według mnie najśmieszniejszy z wszystkich skeczy stworzonych przez tą sławna grupę brytyjskich komików. Skecz o którym mowa to Four Yorkshiremen, jest to swoista parodia nostalgicznych rozmów bogaczy na temat ich trudnego dzieciństwa, ciężkiej pracy oraz ubogich warunków życia. Ponieważ skecz jest dość trudny do zrozumienia zamieszczam filmik z polskim tłumaczeniem, lecz poniżej przedstawiam wam oryginalny skrypt wraz z tłumaczeniem pewnych wyrazów oraz oryginalną wersję angielską do ponownego odsłuchania. Enjoy it and have fun:)))
Four Yorkshiremen Sketch Script
Michael Palin: Ahh.. Very passable, this, very passable (znośny, całkiem niezły).
Graham Chapman: Nothing like a good glass of Chateau de Chassilier wine, ay Gessiah?
Terry Gilliam: You’re right there Obediah.
Eric Idle: Who’d have thought thirty years ago we’d be sitting here drinking Chateau de Chassilier?
MP: Aye. In them days, we’d a’ been glad to have the price of a cup of tea.
GC: A cup cold tea.
EI: Without milk or sugar.
TG: Or tea!
MP: Out of a cracked (pękniety) cup.
EI: We never used to have a cup. We used to drink out of a rolled up (zrolowany) newspaper.
GC: The best we could manage was to suck (ssać) on a piece of damp cloth (wilgotna szmatka).
TG: But you know, we were happy in those days, though we were poor.
MP: Aye. Because we were poor. My old Dad used to say to me, „Money won’t bring you happiness, son.”
EI: He was right. I was happier then and I had nothing. We used to live in this tiny (maleńki) old house, with great big holes in the roof.
GC: House? You were lucky to have a house! We used to live in one room, twenty-six of us, no furniture. Half the floor was missing; we were all huddled together (przytulać się do siebie) in one corner for fear of falling!
TG: Room! You were lucky to have a room! We used to have to live in a corridor!
MP: Corridor? Ohhhh we used to dream of living in a corridor! Would have been a palace to us. We used to live in a water tank (zbiornik na wodę) on a rubbish tip (wysypisko śmieci). We got woken up every morning by having a load of rotting (gnijący) fish dumped (rzucić, zrzucić) all over us! House!? Hmph.
EI: Well when I say „house” it was only a hole in the ground covered by a couple of fourty ton canvas (płótno), but it was a house to us.
GC: We were evicted (wyeksmitować) from our hole in the ground; we had to go and live in a lake!
TG: Lake? You were lucky to have a lake! There were a hundred and fifty of us living in a small shoebox in the middle of the road.
MP: Cardboard box?
MP: You were lucky. We lived for three months in a rolled up newspaper in a septic tank (szambo). Every morning we used to have to get up at six o’clock, clean the newspaper, eat a crust (skórka) of stale (czerstwy) bread, go to work down mill for fourteen hours a day week in-week out. When we got home, out Dad would thrash (zaganiać) us to sleep with his belt!
GC: Luxury. We used to have to get out of the lake at three o’clock in the morning, clean the lake, eat a handful of hot gravel (żwir), go to work at the mill for twenty four hours for tuppence ( dwa pensy) a month, come home, and Dad would beat us around the head and neck with a broken bottle, if we were lucky!
TG: Paradise. We had it taugh. I used to have to get up out of the shoebox at twelve o’clock at night, and lick (lizać, zlizywać) the road clean with our tongues. We had half a handful (garść) of freezing cold gravel, worked twenty-four hours a day at the mill for fourpence every four years, and when we got home, our Dad would slice ( kroić) us in two with a bread knife.
EI: Right. I had to get up in the morning at half past ten o’clock at night, half an hour before I went to bed, eat a lump (kawałek, kostka, kęs) of poison, work twenty-nine hours a day down mill (młyn) for a lifetime and when we got home, our Dad would kill us, and dance about on our graves (groby).
MP: Now try and tell that to the young people of today… will they believe you’.