Poor Paranoid Palin
Subjects: Monty Python, humor, silly suggestive talk
Summary: After Michael throws a tantrum during the Holy Grail filming,
the other Pythons become intrigued...and decide that they admire him
just as a friend.
Disclaimer: I am not making any money off of this. The Pythons do not
belong to me, they belong
to themselves. This story is copyrighted
March, 2005, and may not be used or altered without the expressed
the author. Thanks to Cheri and Jess P
for inspiring this bit of lunacy! :)
Michael sighed miserably as he sat up against the hard, cold stone wall
inside Doune castle, waiting for the next scene of Holy Grail to be set
up. He had had a very trying morning, as
they were filming the Plague Village scene, a scene which called for
him to be
crawling through mud and shit the whole time. It might not have been
quite so bad if he'd actually be on camera at
least part of the time. When he learned
that he wasn't, that they only filmed his back, he felt as if he was
lose his temper. After the seventh take,
Gilliam complained that the wheel on the Dead Cart was off 3/8 of an
the right, and so they'd have to film again. Michael was usually a very
even-tempered man, at least in front of his friends. This one event was
the straw that broke the
camel's back, however.
He blushed deeply as he replayed the events in his mind. After learning
that he'd have to crawl
through the mud yet again, compounded by the fact that he wasn't even
camera, he leapt up in the air and down into the mud, and began beating
fists with it, while shouting various expletives. The other Pythons
stunned. They had never seen Mike lose
it before, and since he was known for being the Nice
one, they didn't think he was ever capable of losing it. To break up
the awkward silence that
followed, John and Graham applauded. Michael instantly felt sheepish,
muttered various apologies as he was
wont to do, and they got on with the rest of the scene.
Now they were going to film parts of the Castle Anthrax scene. For this
scene, only he, Eric, John, Neil,
and Carol were needed out of the Pythons. However, Graham idled about
the outside of the castle, being filmed and
interviewed by a crew from the BBC. All
the Pythons, other cast and crew were present today, and Mike was sure
other Pythons had informed everyone about his little tantrum. After
washing up and changing into his
Galahad costume, he mostly kept his head down and didn't dare look at
anyone. He could just feel the inquisitive stares
they were giving him, though. No matter
what happened during the rest of filming today, he hoped that they
treat him any differently because of what happened; that they wouldn't
waiting with baited breath for him to lose his temper again. He was
determined not to let it happen.
"All right, everybody together!" Terry Gilliam called. Michael slowly
picked himself up off the
ground and groaned softly. He noticed
his bum was killing him, but it was probably from sitting on the hard
for what seemed like more than an hour. He sauntered over toward the
two Terry's, who were waiting along with
John, Eric, Neil, Carol Cleveland, and the Castle Anthrax girls. He
rolled his eyes as he noticed Gilliam
tapping his foot impatiently.
Mike looked at everyone, his face void of all emotion, as he was still
slightly embarrassed about what had taken place earlier. He then looked
at Gilliam curiously, as
Gilliam's narrowed eyes seemed to be focusing on Michael's hair.
"Geez, Mike, don't tell me we have to soak you again. That gorgeous
hair of yours is nearly
dry..." Gilliam stated oddly.
Michael's brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"
Gilliam shook his head dismissively. "Never mind, I don't know why I
Michael looked at him a bit suspiciously.
Now Gilliam's eyes traveled down to Mike's crotch, which was hidden
by his tunic, but something didn't seem right. His eyes narrowed again.
"Uh, Mike, your codpiece is on backwards."
Michael's eyes widened. He looked
down at his crotch, and then felt the area around his backside. He
"Oh bugger, I wondered why it kept riding up into my crack."
The others looked at him amusedly as he blushed even deeper.
"Excuse me a moment."
He ran back around a corner and adjusted the codpiece so that it was
sitting the right way. Then he made his
way back to the others.
"Sorry about that."
Gilliam shot him a bewildered look. "Boy, Mike, you're weird," he
"I'm weird? You're the one with the bloody killer cars and giant
cats!" Michael said as he looked at him incredulously.
Gilliam snorted softly before a wide grin formed on his face. "Oh,
thanks for the compliment,
Michael blushed bright red and knew he wasn't
succeeding at keeping his temper in check.
"I DIDN'T MEAN IT AS A BLOODY COMPLIMENT!" he shouted as he
picked up a small chunk of earth and lobbed it at Gilliam's head.
Gilliam ducked sideways as the dirt missed him. He looked at Michael,
who was still red in
the face and his expression was a mixture of embarrassment and anger.
Gilliam looked at him thoughtfully before a
sly grin crept over his face.
"You're cute when you're angry, Mike!" he said mischievously.
Michael looked at him oddly, as if he didn't think he heard him quite
Graham must have had supersonic hearing, because while he was outside
castle, his ears suddenly perked up and he came running inside.
"HANDS OFF MY LOVE TOY!!!" he shouted at Gilliam.
Mike turned and looked at Graham with one raised eyebrow. Before he
could say anything, Eric suddenly
leapt off of the bench he'd been sitting on.
"Piss off, I was here first!" he yelled as he grabbed Michael
around the middle.
Michael looked at them incredulously, and then thought that they had to
be joking. Filming was taking its toll
on everyone, and perhaps they thought that a little silliness would
mood. Michael decided to play along. He glanced at Graham, Eric and
"Why wasn't I informed?" he asked in a quiet, shy voice.
The three Pythons exchanged glances before dissolving in laughter.
Pretty soon, everyone was laughing, including
"Let's film this scene, eh?" Jonesy finally said after they all
calmed down. Everyone agreed,
Michael was soaked from head to foot once again, and they got on with
scene, never mentioning this little episode again.
As far as Michael was concerned, the rest of the day went by
uninterrupted, at least for the most part. After the Castle Anthrax
scene was finished, they prepared for the
French Taunting scene, had lunch, were interviewed by the BBC for their
"Film Night" program, and began filming the aforementioned
scene. Everything seemed to go well,
although Michael had gotten a bit suspicious when it seemed like the
were watching him intently. If he was
paranoid, he'd immediately assume that they were waiting for him to
another tantrum. But, no, being paranoid
was silly and beneath him. Still, he was
slightly suspicious after what happened earlier inside the castle.
They had arrived back at the hotel not too long ago, and he was in his
room, changing out of his costume. He
put on some casual clothes and headed back downstairs. He was going to
join the other Pythons for
dinner, even though part of him was wondering why he was doing so. He
was still embarrassed about his tantrum.
As he neared the dining room, he noticed the others sitting at a large
table in the center of the room. They
all had fake smiles plastered on their faces and nodded at him, almost
synchronized fashion. Michael raised a
"Hey, Mike!" Gilliam called out.
Michael nodded. "Terry..."
"We saved a seat for you, Mikey old boy!" Graham said
cheerfully as he patted the seat next to him.
Michael looked at him for a second and then smiled shyly.
"Thanks," he said softly as he took his seat.
A couple of minutes later, a waiter brought them some menus. They
weren't the usual menus, but they were
special ones made up just for the Pythons. Michael scanned the contents
and his brow furrowed in confusion. Each entree seemed to have the word
"mud" in it. He didn't notice
the rest of the group watching him intently.
"Something wrong with this menu?" he asked curiously. He lifted his
gaze back to the others and
when he saw them leaning forward with their piercing stares, he let out
"Oh! Sorry, I just didn't expect to see you chaps on top of me like
this," he said, flustered.
"'On top' of you? Interesting choice of
words there," Eric said slyly.
Michael looked at him strangely and then merely shrugged. He turned
back to the menu and realized that
someone at the hotel had been put up to this, probably to poke fun at
having to crawl through the mud and throw a tantrum.
"What is the meaning of this?" Michael asked the waiter
gruffly. The man shook his head
innocently until Michael pointed out the multiple occurrences of the
"mud." He fetched the menus
from them and left in pursuit of the kitchen staff.
Mike turned his head back toward the others when he thought he heard a
few muffled giggles. They all looked at
him awkwardly, a few clearing their throats.
"Er...so, imagine that...mud
entrees," Jonesy giggled sheepishly.
"Well, I don't think it's very funny," Michael snorted.
"Oh, no, of course you wouldn't, Michael!" John said in a
concerned tone of voice, which really began to worry Mike. He stared at
"No. I'm no longer hungry
anyway. Think I'll head off to bed. I'm exhausted," he said as he
himself up off the chair.
The other Pythons stared at him, eyes widened. They appeared to be just
"Right, I'm off. 'Night,
everyone," he finished.
They just kept staring at Michael, not saying a word. He looked at them
expectantly, raising his
"Oh, yeah, yeah, good night!" they all said, not nearly in
Michael gave them a suspicious look out of the corner of his eye before
leaving the dining area and making his way toward the stairs. Once he
was gone from sight, the others began
"You know, this whole thing is a bit odd," John began. "After
witnessing Mike's temper tantrum,
something I'd never ever seen before, I was left...intrigued. You know
what I mean?"
"Yeah," Gilliam replied. "Mike is supposed to be the nice one. That
tantrum really threw me."
"If anything, it reveals what a complex person he is," Jonesy
suddenly broke in.
There was an eerie silence as the other Pythons gave him surprised
"No, seriously!" Jonesy insisted.
"By jove, he's right!" Graham
declared. "Mikey isn't just a
simple, nice, boring chap. He's much
more complex and intriguing. I find it
"Mmm. You know, I do, too," Eric
admitted. "I...I can't believe I'm
saying this, but, strangely, I find myself...attracted to Mike."
"You're not the only one," John added. "There's just something about
him, and I
can't really put my finger on it. But he
is one hot fidgety mama."
The other Pythons looked at John with wide eyes.
"I thought I was the only one who felt that way," Jonesy said
in a relieved tone. "As I have the privilege
of being Mike's best friend, I suppose I should admit that he's melted
butter since 1964."
Jonesy received looks even more wide-eyed that the last ones.
"I hope I'm clear on your meaning," Eric said warily.
Jonesy grinned and nodded, which caused Eric to sigh in relief.
"He really is something, isn't he" Gilliam said in a dreamy
tone of voice. "That hair of
his...I wasn't bluffing when I said it was gorgeous before. Just when I
didn't think it could look any
better, that hairstylist works her magic and makes that head of hair
beautiful. The way it falls ever so
slightly in waves, that tousled, just-out-of-bed look,
the way it frames his face..."
Gilliam trailed off in a sigh as the other Pythons grinned and nodded.
"Hey, you think he's gone to bed yet?" John suddenly piped
up. With that, they all straightened up,
rose from their seats, darted out of the dining room and made a beeline
"Wait, wait," John spoke up. "Let's go about this the discreet
way." He made his way up to the front
desk and took a copy of the key to Mike's room, explaining to the man
was ill and John wanted to check up on him. The man gave him a wary
look, but presented the keys to him anyway.
"John giggled silently as he peered into Michael's room. He was nowhere
to be found, so he probably
didn't go straight up to his room yet. John gingerly crept over to the
dressing table and kneeled down in back
of it, hidden from sight. The other
Pythons had all congregated in the room shared by Jonesy and Gilliam,
to hear any juicy details from John.
After a few minutes, the door creaked open and Michael made his way
inside. Apparently he had bought
something in the gift shop to take home to his wife and his two sons
filming on location was done. He put his
things down and headed over to the mirror. John giggled silently as he
lifted his head and peered in between the
space between the mirror and the table, hoping that Michael would see
Unfortunately - or, perhaps, fortunately - Michael didn't see him. He
surveyed his face in the mirror, making
all the usual faces. John was tempted to
say "Yoo hoo!",
but thought it might give Mike a fatal heart attack, and that certainly
wouldn't be good. After a few seconds,
Michael walked away from the mirror and over to his bed, where he
getting undressed. John's eyes became as
wide as dinner plates. As Michael
removed his shirt, John began to salivate. When he removed his
trousers, John began to pant...silently of course,
so that he wouldn't be caught. He became
rather disappointed as Michael stopped at the trousers and slipped his
bottoms over the boxers he wore. Michael
disappeared into the bathroom and John heard the water running, so he
he was brushing his teeth.
"Oh, damn, this is all going wrong," he thought to
himself. He thought he'd be able to get
an eyeful of a nude Michael, but his plans were for naught. He then
eyed Michael exiting the bathroom and
heading back over to his bed. He put his
reading glasses on and settled into bed with a novel. "Damn, damn,
damn," John said
silently. He was now trapped in the room
with a clearly uninterested Mike, who was clearly NOT nude, and
reading a book.
"I'm sorry Michael, but I really need to go," he said
regrettably as he finally showed his face and came out from behind the
Michael's eyes widened and he yelped.
"What, didn't expect to find old Cleesey in your boudoir?" John
continued, a crooked grin on his face.
Michael said not a word, but stared at John in amazement. Finally he
began sputtering incredulously.
the hell did you get in here?" he finally intoned in a small voice.
John decided to play innocent and shrugged. "I'd forgotten my key and I
man at the desk for another copy, but he gave me the key to your room
instead," he fibbed.
The look on Michael's face told him that he wasn't quite buying it.
"Well, I suppose I should turn in," John continued, avoiding
the subject. Michael nodded slightly,
still utterly dumbfounded.
John made his way to the door, and turned back to Michael before he
"Those glasses really suit you, Mike," he said, giving Mike a
Michael's brow furrowed in confusion and he shook his head as if to
it. He decided that John must have been
drunk. He tried to push the incident out
of his mind as he went back to reading.
Michael awoke early the next morning, having received an odd wake-up
from Jonesy. He'd knocked on Michael's
door and said "rise and shine,
sweetums!" At first, Michael was
still half-asleep and his brain was barely registering, but it did seem
him a bit. All along he thought they'd
been joking, but he was beginning to think the joke was going too far.
He realized he was probably an easy target
ever since that tantrum he threw, but enough was indeed enough.
He rose from the bed and stretched, his joints protesting slightly. He
was still exhausted, as he hadn't gotten
much sleep the night before. That odd
incident with John was still bothering him a bit, and he was also kept
Graham (who had the room next to Michael) screaming "BETTY MARSDEN
MARSDEN!!" all night long. At
times, he could have sworn that the name Betty Marsden was being
with the name Michael Palin. Was there
something in the water that was causing them all to be even loonier
usual He walked toward the door and his
brow furrowed in confusion upon finding a small card on the floor,
having been slipped underneath the door at some point. He picked it up
and read it.
"Betty Marsden fancies Michael Palin and thinks he's a delicious,
naughty boy who needs a good flogging. Massage therapy to follow. Bring
leather, whips and chains. Yours, etc., Betty Marsden (Mr.)"
Michael smirked and giggled softly, at first thinking it was Graham up
his old tricks. He shrugged and flipped
the card into the waste paper basket. At
once he heard a blood-curdling scream from Graham's room, as if in
him having tossed the card.
"This is really strange," he muttered to himself.
"No, it's not!" a high-pitched, whiny voice from outside the
room answered back.
Michael's eyes narrowed, and he began to think
that he was dreaming. He headed over to
the sink and began splashing cold water on his face, as if to wake
himself up. While it
refreshed him, it was painfully obvious that he was already awake. He
sighed heavily and got dressed.
He cautiously peered out the door and breathed a sigh of relief upon
finding no one around. He carefully made
his way down the stairs and over to the dining room for breakfast,
unaware of the soft pitter patter of feet behind him.
Michael sat himself down at a small table and smiled as the waiter
brought him a menu for breakfast. His
face blanched when he noticed the other Pythons making their way toward
and he immediately hid his face behind the menu. The sounds he heard
next were that of chairs
being carried and set down next to him. He groaned inwardly.
"Hey, there's our boy!" Graham exclaimed. "What a peach,
Michael sighed miserably from behind the menu. He hoped the waiter
would come back shortly
so he could order his breakfast and then get away from them as soon as
"So, did you sleep well, Mike?" Gilliam asked genially - a bit
Michael decided he would ignore them and keep his face hidden behind
menu. It didn't work for long, though,
as John grabbed it and pulled it away from Mike. Each of them uttered
theatrical gasps as they
caught a glimpse of an exhausted Michael - dark circles under his eyes,
bit tousled, and a severe glare on his face.
The awkward silence was broken as the waiter brought Michael's food,
took the other Pythons' orders. For some
strange reason, they all ordered the same thing. Michael didn't think
twice about it and ate
his breakfast in silence as the others watched him closely.
"Can I help you chaps?" he finally asked after he'd swallowed
the last mouthful of his food.
Everyone shook their heads innocently. Another awkward moment followed
before their food arrived. Finally, before they were about to tuck into
their meals, Michael asked the question which had begun to plague him.
"I don't mean to offend any of you, but ... why are you all stalking
The other Pythons were speechless for a few minutes. Michael folded his
arms and looked at them
expectantly, hoping for a reasonable explanation.
"Well, Mike," Eric began. "The truth is.... erm..... well, we find
Michael's jaw dropped to the floor and he was unable to speak for
he said in the most quiet voice.
"Yeah, believe it, Peach. We
all love you," Graham confirmed affectionately.
"'Peach'?" Michael repeated
incredulously as he raised an eyebrow and looked at Graham strangely.
"Are you talking to me, Graham?"
"Oh, please call me Gray, won't you, Sugar Bum?"
"Oh, Sugar Bum," Jonesy sighed happily. "Wish I'd thought of that!"
"Well, erm...hmmm..." a very
embarrassed Michael mumbled, hemming and hawing as only he could do it.
"Oh, I love it when you mumble, angel drawers!" Graham
Michael's face turned an even brighter shade of red and began
"Don't call me that!!" he shouted at Graham, nearly raising his
voice an octave. "What is wrong
with you blokes???"
"What's wrong with us? We're lovesick for you, buttercup!" John
said as he began flirting with Michael.
"Yes! I'm surprised you haven't noticed it before!" Jonesy
broke in. "We've been together for
at least ten years and you never noticed my feelings for you, did you?"
Jonesy said, sounding a bit hurt.
"Your feelings for me!" Michael
said incredulously, his patience ebbing further away. "We wrote
together, that's all! We're
"So?? What's THAT got to do with it?" Jonesy shot back.
Michael's eyes widened and he looked at them in total disbelief.
Finally he threw his arms up and angrily
stalked away from the table. The other
Pythons sat in silence for several minutes.
"I think he's upset," John finally said.
"Well, you know him," Eric answered. "He's just so self-effacing and
unassuming! He needs to be reminded that
he's a stud muffin!"
"YES!!!" Graham declared, standing up. "What are we all sitting here
for? We have to get our man!!"
They all glanced at each other quickly before pushing off from their
table, chanting, "Oh, Mik-eyyyyyyy..." ever
so lovingly in a sing-song voice as they hurried to pursue their
Michael was about to head upstairs when he thought he heard the other
Pythons' voices pursuing him. His eyes
widened and he sprinted up the stairs, the others on his heels. He
hurriedly dug his key out of his pocket,
shoved it in the lock, and threw himself inside the room. Jonesy tried
to stick his head in, but
Michael was quick enough and slammed the door hard. As he dead-bolted
and fastened the chain, he heard a high-pitched Welsh screech
outside. He felt a twinge of guilt upon
thinking that Jonesy might have gotten hurt, but he realized it was his
fault and the guilt left him.
Michael was utterly exhausted after all the madness that had taken
place. He remembered that today was
Sunday, so luckily they wouldn't be filming at all. He threw himself
down on the bed, picked up
the book and started reading again. Every so often there were a few
knocks on the door. Each time he looked through the peephole and
saw one of the other Pythons, he turned away and went back to reading.
They tried many times to try to get him to
open the door, even resorting to wearing disguises so he wouldn't think
them. Michael was smarter than that,
though. At one point, Graham dressed as
a pepperpot and exclaimed in a whiny voice, "Oh,
please, Mike, open up the door! I'm Gray's Mum and I brought you some
scones, I know how you always loved them!"
Michael rolled his eyes and sighed. The knocking went on for what
seemed like hours, and Eric even had the
nerve to perform a soliloquy in front of the door, in hopes that Mike
answer it. Gilliam made odd cartoon-ish
sounds, and Jonesy screeched at the door for a good 20 minutes on end.
Finally, Michael turned on the clock radio by
the bed, turned the volume all the way up, and tried to drown them out
some Led Zeppelin, Slade, Paper Lace, and other sundry rock bands.
After a while, the loud music was beginning
to get to him, so he turned it off and was quite relieved when it
they Pythons had finally given up.
Michael went back to reading, but his peace didn't last long as he
some distant cries coming from outside the hotel. At first he thought
they were from local
"Bloody Celtic supporters," he snorted. After a while, the cries became
clearer. They sounded as if they were
calling his name, although he hoped that it was for another Michael who
nearby. Nevertheless, his curiosity got
the better of him. He pushed the
curtains aside and looked out the window. What he saw made his jaw
His fellow Pythons were actually scaling the walls up to the balcony so
they could literally drop in on him! "Oh, my God," he groaned. Eric
paused in climbing to look straight at Michael, and a huge grin
spread across his face. Michael
instantly pulled the curtains back across the window.
"Oh, God, that's it, I'm going to lose my mind," he
whimpered. He sat on the edge of the
bed, his hands covering his face. He
sighed deeply and turned to the phone.
"Hello, front desk? This is
Michael Palin, room 218. Yes, that's
right, with Monty Python. I'm being harassed
by five madmen. They've been stalking me
since yesterday and they won't leave me alone. They keep knocking on my
door, trying to disturb me, and now they're
actually scaling the walls up to the balcony," he said, his voice
trembling with fear.
"Who are they? Erm...well...they're my
fellow Pythons... well, what do you mean you can't do anything about
it? They're harassing me. I'm actually fearing
for my life. I...."
Michael's eyes widened as the man on the other end of the line began
"Er, why are you laughing? It's all true!
It's happening as we speak! Oh, bloody hell, now they're knocking on my
Michael slammed the receiver down on the cradle. The man at the front
desk wasn't taking him
seriously at all, and wouldn't consider that what he was saying might
be the truth. He suddenly felt really
tired and decided to take a nap. He
remembered he had some earplugs in his suitcase, from the last time he
traveled, so he made use of them and settled down for a nap.
Michael awoke several hours later, feeling
refreshed. He removed the earplugs and
was greeted by a much welcome sound: quiet. There was no knocking,
whether on the door or the window, there were no
Python voices at all, anywhere. It was a
wonderful feeling. He decided he would
go down for a drink, so he fetched his wallet and opened the door.
A look of horror crossed his face as he found John standing in front of
"AND IIIIIIIIIIIIIII.... WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOOOOOOUUUUUUUU...."
John sung in a loud voice, tone deaf as ever.
Michael immediately slammed the door in his face, dead bolted it and
chained it once again.
"Damn, I was so close," he heard John say outside the
Michael put the earplugs back in and went back to reading. After a few
hours he discovered it was lunch
time. He was getting hungry, and he
didn't have anything to eat in his room. If he left, though, no doubt
the others would find him and harass
him. An idea suddenly struck him. He would make himself look really
hopefully they wouldn't bother him anymore. He raced into the bathroom,
grabbed some pomade, and began greasing his
hair back. He then dug his older pair of
reading glasses out of his bag - glasses that had really thick, black
and looked hideous - and put them on. He
found an old, horrible-looking shirt in the bottom of his suitcase and
on over the shirt he was already wearing.
Surprisingly, he was able to enjoy his lunch without the others
him. They weren't even downstairs at
all. Michael shrugged, thinking that
maybe they'd gone to some restaurant, or something. After a quite good
fare, he headed back up to
his room and made his way inside.
All the good thoughts seeped away as he found them all inside his room,
waiting for him. They all stared at him,
surprised at his new look.
"Euuuuggghhh!! Mike, you look like
crap!" Jonesy exclaimed, making a face. "I'm offended. I no longer
find you attractive."
A smile grew on Michael's face, as he hoped that this meant it would be
the end of the whole charade.
Unfortunately, the goal of that hope was unattainable.
"Mmmm, I don't know, he does look quite cute in that homely
get-up," Eric said thoughtfully.
"Yes, he does. A homely peach
is still a peach, nonetheless," Graham pontificated.
Michael shut his eyes and sighed, defeated.
"Come on, Mike, you know you can't hide from us," Gilliam said,
a wicked grin plastered onto his face.
Michael whimpered softly as the other Pythons slowly