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 PythonTrek V: The Final Ripoff
By Victor W. Wong
As originally posted to alt.fan.monty-python
The BBC would like to apologize for the following programme:
FADE IN on Enterprise 1701-D in warp. CUT to WORF walking down a corridor,
pausing at the door to her quarters and entering. CUT to
interior of quarters.
WORF
Good afternoon, Mother. Hello, Mrs. Troi.
CUT to view of MRS. TROI and MRS. ROZHENKO making goo-goo faces at WORF.
MRS. TROI
Ooooooh, he's walking already.
MRS. ROZHENKO
Yes, he's such a clever little boy, aren't you? Coochy coochy
coo ...
MRS. TROI
Hello there you little coochy coochy ...
MRS. ROZHENKO
Clever little fellow, oochy coochy ...
They continue to coo at him, chucking his chin and pinching his cheek.
WORF bears this with restrained impatience.
MRS. TROI
Oooooh, now look at him laughing. He's so cute. Eh? Can he
talk? Can he talk? Can he talk now? Eh? Ooooh ...
WORF
Of course I can talk, Mrs. Troi, I am the chief security officer
on board this ship.
MRS. TROI
Ooooh, such a clever little boy--he's a clever little boy, aren't
you (waves a toy batt'leh at him) Do you like your batt'leh?
Doooo you like your batt'leh? Look at his eyes following it, eh?
Ooooh (tickles WORF'S stomach) he's got a tubby tum-tum, such a
cute widdle tummy tum-tum ...
CAMERA swivels away from MRS. TROI as WORF faces MRS. ROZHENKO.
WORF
Ah-heh. Look, Mother, could I have a quick glass of Regulan blood
wine? I have to brief the Captain on the new security drills at
eighteen hundred ...
Sound of explosion. WORF and MRS. ROZHENKO turn to see a charred spot
where MRS. TROI had been standing.
MRS. ROZHENKO
Ooooh, Mrs. Troi's exploded.
WORF
I'll have to inform Deanna.
MRS. ROZHENKO
And she was such a lovely little gossip, too.
WORF
Please don't be too sentimental, Mother. Around here things
explode every day.
MRS. ROZHENKO
Yes, I suppose. I didn't like her, really.
WORF
I'll go tell Deanna.
He exits. CUT to Worf striding to Deanna's quarters. He presses the
doorbell. The door opens to reveal two people, nude, sitting at a pipe
organ with their backs to the camera. MR. HOMM is standing beside the
organ. One of the nude people turns her head; it's TROI.
TROI
Oh, hello, Worf.
She turns back and plays introductory-type music on the pipe organ.
MR. HOMM
(smiling) And now for something completely different.
The other nude person turns his head. It is ADMIRAL McCOY.
ADMIRAL McCOY
It's ...
CUT TO animation and music, Dennis McCarthy arrangement of The Liberty
Bell Overture over scenes of starships getting squashed by giant feet
and 16-ton weights. Somewhere in there is the title:
PYTHONTREK V:
THE FINAL RIPOFF
CUT to U.S.S. Enterprise (circa TOS) zooming through space. CUT to
Enterprise briefing room. KIRK, McCOY, SCOTT, and SPOCK are seated. Spock
rises to speak.
SPOCK
Gentlemen, after examining our computers I must report that we
are in need of an overhaul. For the type of work we need to do
on this assignment, we need a full upgrade of data storage and
processing.
SCOTT
How do you mean, Mr. Spock?
SPOCK
Simply put, Mr. Scott, we will need data. Lots of it. In the
processing units, and in storage. Some of it in nice blocks of
RAM, some of it in lovely piles of data cards, other bits neatly
segmented into sectors ... (starting to get excited) delicate
magnetic coding recorded onto bulging reels of tape, nice shiny
CD-ROM disks, pert little high-density diskettes stuffed into
bulging trouser pockets, romantic exotic cassettes rolling into
the tape drive with the whine of easy familiarity ... (starting
to get over-excited) beautiful wayward circles of magnetically-
coated celluloid, housed with such delicate balance in high-
impact beige plastic casing, jostling against each other in the
intimate spaces of a disk cabinet ... (clears his throat and
composes himself) Forgive me, gentlemen. It's just that I love
data. All sorts of data. I've always wanted data. (starting to
get worked up again) To read. To handle. To experience. The
feel of a factoid. (gets up on the briefing table) The glory and
the glitter of the gigabyte. The romance of the RAM, the scent
of a silicon chip, the delight of a diskette, and the
electrically-charged excitement of an isolinear chip ...
In the background piano music starts to play. SPOCK starts to sing.
SPOCK
I've got ninety thousand megs of information
Stored in forty thousand double sided disks
I've a lot of CPUs
That I can access if I choose
Whether it's Pentium or Macintosh or RISC
A men's chorus (all in red shirts) enters into view.
SPOCK AND SINGERS
There is nothing quite as wonderful as data
There is nothing quite as solid as a truth
Some people want to spurn it
But I'd rather live and learn it
With data they can't call you uncouth
Music changes key. The chorus starts dancing.
SPOCK AND SINGERS
There is nothing quite as wonderful as data
(data, data, data)
There is nothing like a fact that's just been found
Well, everyone's desiring
Information that's inspiring
It's computers that make knowledge go around
(round, round, round)
SPOCK
You can keep your Luddite ways
But it's only just a phase
SPOCK AND SINGERS
'Cause it's data, data, data makes the world go round
The SINGERS do a choreographed dance to the camera.
SINGERS
Data, data, data, data, data, data, data, data, data ...
Cut to close-up of DATA.
DATA
Well, I can't ask for a better introduction than that, now can I?
PAN with DATA as he walks up to the doors of a building. There is a sign
nearby which reads "DAYSTROM INSTITUTE--CANADIAN ANNEX." Commander BRUCE
MADDOX approaches and shakes Data's hand.
MADDOX
Hello, Data.
DATA
Commander Maddox?
MADDOX
We're all on a first-name basis here at the Academy, Data. Call
me Bruce.
DATA
Very well ... Bruce.
MADDOX
Come on in, I'll introduce you to the faculty.
CUT to faculty lounge, where three people are seated doing leisure things
like drinking coffee, reading books and magazines, etc.
MADDOX and DATA walk through the door.
MADDOX
Hello, Bruce.
FIRST BRUCE
Hi Bruce.
SECOND BRUCE
G'day, eh, Bruce?
THIRD BRUCE (female)
How's it goin', eh Bruce?
MADDOX
Fine, Bruce, just fine. (looks around) Where's Bruce?
SECOND BRUCE
He's got a class, Bruce.
MADDOX
Ah. Geez, it's hot in here, Bruce.
FIRST BRUCE
Air conditioner's broke like a bronco, Bruce.
SECOND BRUCE
That's a strange expression, Bruce.
FIRST BRUCE
I overheard the PM use it, eh? "The air conditioner's broke like
a bronco, Mr. President," she said, and the old man smiled
quietly to himself.
THIRD BRUCE
She's got class for a lass from Cape Breton, eh Bruce?
SECOND BRUCE
There might be a song in your last statement, eh Bruce?
MADDOX
(clears throat) Gentlemen ... and Bruce (to THIRD BRUCE) I'd
like to introduce our new sessional lecturer, just fresh off the
U.S.S. Enterprise. He'll be teaching part of the summer session
here at the Daystrom Institute branch here at the University of
Kampuskasing.
ALL THREE BRUCES
G'day, eh?
MADDOX
Data, this is Bruce ... Mr. Data, Bruce ... Data, this is Ms.
Bruce, but you can call her by her first name, Bruce.
FIRST BRUCE
'Ere, is your name not Bruce, then?
DATA
No, it's Data.
THIRD BRUCE
That could cause a bit of confusion.
SECOND BRUCE
How's about we call you Bruce, to keep things clear, eh?
MADDOX
Fine. Data, have a seat (DATA sits down) and we can start the
faculty meeting. Bruce, why don't you break out the two-four,
eh?
THIRD BRUCE
Sure thing, Bruce. (she opens a cooler and starts passing out
beers to people)
MADDOX
Thanks, Bruce. Now, Bruce, please give Mr. Data here the
official welcome.
FIRST BRUCE
(standing) I'd like to welcome ol'Yellow Eyes here to God's
country--and just to let you know, we don't like stuck-up stiffy
beaks here, eh?
ALL OTHER BRUCES
Hear, hear, well said, eh Bruce?
MADDOX
Now, then, Bruce there teaches quantum mechanics, Bruce there
teaches warp theory and Bruce there teaches starship aerodynamics
and is also in charge of the donuts.
FIRST BRUCE
What's the new Bruce going to teach?
MADDOX
New Bruce will be teaching robotics, android construction and
positronics--Flint, Harry Mudd, Roger Korby, Noonian Soong,
Graves, Landau, Bain, Morris, Nimoy and Linda Day George.
SECOND BRUCE
Those are all Mission Impossible actors.
MADDOX
Awwwww, spit.
THIRD BRUCE
Waves of derisive laughter, eh?
They all stand up.
BRUCES
Canada, Canada, Canada, Canada ... we love you, amen.
They sit down again.
MADDOX
Right. Are there any questions?
FIRST BRUCE
New Bruce--are you a Borgie?
MADDOX
(to DATA) Are you a Borgie?
DATA
(startled) No.
MADDOX
No. Right, now gentlemen (to THIRD BRUCE) and Bruce, I'll just
remind you of the faculty rules. Rule 1, NO BORGIES. Rule 2, no
member of the faculty is to maltreat the socialists in the other
building in any way whatsoever--if there's anyone watching. Rule
3, NO BORGIES. Rule 4, now this time, I don't want to catch
anyone NOT drinking. Rule 5, NO BORGIES. Rule 6, there is no
Rule 6. Rule 7--
ALL THE BRUCES (including DATA)
NO BORGIES!
MADDOX
Right, that concludes the reading of the rules--BRUCE!
FIRST BRUCE
(stands up with toy stuffed beaver in hand)
This here's the beaver
It's the emblem of our land
It can shit out in the forest
Or the palm o'yer'own hand
ALL THE BRUCES
Amen!
Everyone stands up and starts to sing:
ALL
Moooont-gom'ry Scott, he's a drunken sot
That they call a miracle worker
And Old Man Flint, he's a boozy skint
Over androids he's a lurker
Harry Mudd loves Nelson's blood
And lusts for robot girlies
And Roger Korby's wired before he
Pulls his short and curlies
You can't break the laws of physics
So you might as well have beer
You must be really pissed
To be a starship engineer
Now little Leah Brahms hasn't got a lot of charms
But after seven brandies she'll just fall into your arms
Marvick, they saw, could really unthaw
Forty martinis down the craw
Zefrem Cochrane, Zefrem Cochrane did a lot of liquor-uppin'
David Marcus chugged from a pail
And Geordi La Forge, he could really gorge
Went to warp on Romulan ale
CUT to MORN and GARAK stumbling down a DS9 corridor towards the Promenade,
drunk. They are singing in the same key as the BRUCES, although perhaps a
little off.
MORN AND GARAK
Now don't you worry if the k'narr glass
Makes you feel a little queer
You need a mighty liver as a Starship engineer
They pass the infirmary door, laughing drunkenly. CUT to Infirmary
interior. CHIEF O'BRIEN is lying on a biobed. DOCTOR BASHIR is seated
beside him with padd in hand.
BASHIR
So, what seems to be the problem, Chief?
O'BRIEN
Ah--depression, I suppose. It's been four months since I last
saw Keiko.
BASHIR
She does write you, doesn't she?
O'BRIEN
Yes, she does. So does Molly. But it's not really the same
thing. I guess I miss her being with me in person.
BASHIR
Er--what exactly do you miss?
O'BRIEN
Things like her cooking--the opportunity to talk with her about--
oh, little things--you know, the intimacy--
BASHIR
Oh, you mean sex!
O'BRIEN
Er--well, not really sex.
BASHIR
Oh, come now. I mean, you've got her in bed--she's all primed
and ready for it--
O'BRIEN
No, no, sex isn't the problem.
BASHIR
Oh, of course it is. Now, you've got her all hot and ready for
it, in your bed with her panties sliding down her legs--they're
now draped around your shoulders while she's giving you a come-
hither look--
QUARK sticks his head through the door.
QUARK
Doctor? Garak said to tell you your dress uniform's ready.
BASHIR
Oh, er, ahem, oh good. Will you excuse me, Chief?
He exits. QUARK enters with a pint of synthale which he hands to O'BRIEN.
QUARK
Here. On the house. I think this may help cheer you up.
O'BRIEN
Er--thanks. (takes a tentative sip)
QUARK
So what seems to be the problem?
O'BRIEN
Problem?
QUARK
Look, Bashir's a doctor, not a ship's counsellor. And here on
the station, when people have troubles, they can always tell
their local bartender.
O'BRIEN
Oh, well--it's nothing that a visit with my wife wouldn't cure.
QQUARK
Oh, woman troubles!
O'BRIEN
No, no, not troubles, more like--
QUARK
Oh, sex troubles!
O'BRIEN
No!
QUARK
Hey, it's nothing to be ashamed of, Chief! I mean, think about
it--you've got her naked on the bed, you've been playing with her
breasts for the past few minutes--her feet are rubbing at your
crouch and you're both about ready for--
ODO sticks his head through the door.
ODO
Quark--your brother says he's got a problem with a customer at
the bar.
QUARK
Oh damn. Look, we'll talk later, all right, Chief?
He leaves. ODO takes his place on the chair.
ODO
Now what was that all about?
O'BRIEN
Oh, I was just about to tell him how much I missed my wife, and
he started talking about sex.
ODO
Oh, so part of it's sexual, then?
O'BRIEN
What? Now wait a minute ...
ODO
Well, it shouldn't be much of a problem, really.
O'BRIEN
It isn't a problem at all!
ODO
After all, the way to do it--you've got her in the bed, you've
been ten minutes feeling her up--she's spent all that playing her
hot tongue down your throat ... and her legs are propped up
round your shoulders--
TROI sticks her head through the door.
TROI
Constable Odo? Quark says he'll need your help at the bar.
ODO
Ah. All right then. We can continue this later, Chief.
He leaves. TROI enters and takes ODO's place.
TROI
Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear.
O'BRIEN
That's all right, Counsellor. Odo's not that much of a good
listener.
TROI
Ah, but then he's not a trained ship's counsellor, and neither is
Quark. Fortunately for you, I am. But you know that of course--
we served together, you know my qualifications very well. (hands
O'BRIEN some papers, describing them) But just to reassure you,
this is my degree in psychology from Starfleet Medical, I'll bet
Odo doesn't have that. This is my membership card in the
Psychology Association. And this here's a letter from my--er,
late mother, in which she refers to my position as ship's
counsellor. I'm sure you'll agree that's pretty conclusive.
O'BRIEN
Yes, I suppose it would be, but--
TROI
Fine. Now about your problem ...
O'BRIEN
Problem?
TROI
Yes. Now then, you've got her reclining on the bed, she's
pinching her nipple with one hand and stroking your willie with
the other--she's moaning something incredibly obscene while
licking your ear--
DR. CRUSHER sticks her head in the door.
CRUSHER
Deanna, Will wants to talk with you.
TROI
Darn. Just when I was getting warmed up.
She exits. DR. CRUSHER takes her place.
O'BRIEN
What on earth is going on?
CRUSHER
How do you mean, Chief?
O'BRIEN
Well, I came here to talk about my feeling depressed, and
everyone else starts talking about sex.
CRUSHER
Oh, that. That's part of the seminar.
O'BRIEN
Seminar?
CRUSHER
Yes, there was a seminar by Starfleet Medical here last week. A
new treatment in which the patient is encouraged to talk about
sex as a means of therapy.
O'BRIEN
And Odo and Quark? They attended?
CRUSHER
Well, they held it in the bar.
O'BRIEN
But why focus on sex?
CRUSHER
Well, it seems to be a universal constant among Federation
species, it's a topic most people can understand and relate to,
and the emotional drives associated with it are the ones which we
need to deal with in therapy.
O'BRIEN
Oh.
CRUSHER
That plus the fact that no one in Starfleet Medical has had any
in weeks--
O'BRIEN
What?
CRUSHER
I mean, we can't help but think about naked flesh, glistening
with sweat, rubbing against each other while--
CUT to UPN flying logo.
PICARD'S VOICE (OOV)
The UPN would like to apologize for the previous sketch. Not
only is it not all that good, but it was based on a premise which
may give younger viewers ideas. Contrary to what has been
previously implied, successful Starfleet officers do NOT spend
every waking moment obsessed with whom they're going to take to
bed that night--
CUT to shot of KIRK (circa TOS) looking sly and waggling eyebrows. CUT
back to UPN flying logo.
PICARD'S VOICE (OOV)
Um ... MOST successful Starfleet officers--er, anyway, for those
viewers who may prefer subject material more suitable for the
family, we now invite you to switch to PBS. No, no, just
kidding. We now present `Story Time,' children's stories read by
Captain Kathryn Janeway.
CUT to JANEWAY, dressed in holonovel gown, with a storybook on her lap.
JANEWAY
Hello, boys and girls. Are you ready for your story? (camera
nods) Then let's begin. (opens book and reads) "Once upon a
time there was a little pixie named Rixie. One day Rixie the
Pixie went to visit Daisy the Bumblebee in her little beehive
cottage. He knocked on the door (mimes knocks) and called out,
`Daisy, are you home?' `I'm home, in the bedroom,' replied Daisy
in the voice of a bumblebee. So Rixie the Pixie entered the
bedroom to find Daisy sitting on her bed, dressed in her sheerest
negligee. Roughly he grabbed her by the shoulders and ripped off
her ... " (reads silently, then begins flipping the pages)
Perhaps, children, we should try another story. (stops at a
page) Ah, here we go. "Captain Jack was a buccaneer of the high
seas. Now Jack was a rough, tough sort of fellow. He loved life
on his galleon--can you say `galleon,' boys and girls?--and he
loved walking down to the harbour where the little boys hung out
all dressed in leather bras--" (reads silently again, then
rapidly flips pages)--Um, let's see if we can find another one.
Oh, this should do it--Bumblesleep the Toymaker. "Once upon a
time there was a jolly fat fellow named Bumblesleep, who owned a
toyshop that was built into a large oak tree in the valley of
Free Fairies. Everyone loved the toyshop, and they loved to look
into his window where Bumblesleep showed all his wares--dildoes,
bullwhips, vibrators--" (reads silently again, then to herself)
they can do THAT with a candelabra?
A combadge chirp startles JANEWAY.
TUVOK'S VOICE
Bridge to Janeway.
JANEWAY
Go ahead.
TUVOK'S VOICE
Captain, the away team reports they are pinned down and under
attack.
CUT to interior of a bombed-out building. KIM, PARIS, TORRES and two other
CREWMEN are seated around various bits of rubble. Sounds of explosions in
the distance. KIM is attempting to play the harmonica, and is doing it
rather badly. After several seconds of this, TORRES walks over to KIM and
taps him on the shoulder. He hands her the harmonica; she snaps it in two
and hands it back.
TORRES
(politely) Sorry.
CHAKOTAY walks in. He looks battle-weary.
CHAKOTAY
Okay, people, listen up! I've located a path to the beam-up
site, but unfortunately we'll need a distraction to ensure that
most of us get there safely.
PARIS
Most of us?
CHAKOTAY
Yes. The basement of this building is crammed full of TNT. I've
managed to locate a detonator.
KIM
Blowing up the building would be a distraction for the people
pinning us down.
CHAKOTAY
Yes, but there's a hitch. I didn't find a timer, and the wire
connecting the detonator to the explosives is very short. Which
means--
TORRES
--that one of us has to stay behind to blow up the building.
CHAKOTAY
Right. Now, I can't ask anyone to volunteer for this. So we'll
have to decide by drawing straws. (He holds out six straws)
Short straw knows what to do.
Everyone draws. CHAKOTAY winds up holding the short straw.
PARIS
Looks like you, sir.
CHAKOTAY
Is it? (looks at straw) Didn't I say longest straw?
FIRST CREWMAN
No, sir, shortest.
CHAKOTAY
Um--we'd better do that again, there's obviously been a mixup.
They draw straws again, with the same results.
CHAKOTAY
Um--best of three.
KIM
Sir, we already drew twice. Two out of three is best of three.
CHAKOTAY
Oh. Well, best of five, then.
They draw straws again, with the same results.
CHAKOTAY
All right. I've drawn the short straw which means--er, that I
get to decide the means to select the one who gets--um, gets left
behind. Now--not to take rank into consideration, but should I
make it back I can make a strong recommendation for a posthumous
decoration. (He looks around; no takers) Ah, um, well, good--
er--(starts counting) My-mother-said-to-pick-the-very-best-one-
and-you-are-it (points to himself) No, wait a minute, I must
have done this wrong. (counts again) My-mother-said-to-pick-the
very-best-one-and-you-are-it (points to himself again) Damn,
that doesn't seem to be working.
KIM
How about scissor, paper, rock, sir?
CHAKOTAY
(snaps his fingers) Right, we'll try that. Ready? One, two,
three-- (Chakotay puts out scissors, everyone else puts out
stone) Um--stone, stone, stone, stone, stone, and--er, scissors
cuts stone, right?
TORRES
No, sir, stone breaks scissors.
CHAKOTAY
Ah--but these are very high-quality scissors.
He "snips". TORRES rolls her eyes.
A KLINGON in full battle regalia walks onto the scene.
KLINGON
All right, hold it, hold it, cut, stop filming.
CHAKOTAY
What?
KLINGON
I'm stopping this scene. It's silly.
PARIS
But--
KLINGON
Go on, clear off the lot of you! (shoos them off; all of them
protest as they leave the set) Bloody silly if you ask me. A
leader trying to avoid death. That's not the Klingon way, I'll
tell you that. (to camera) It's not even particularly funny.
Now no one likes a laugh better than I do--except for my mate--
and my lads on the ship--and of course Captain Klaa--come to
think of it, MOST people like a laugh better than I do, but
that's beside the point. (starts walking, the CAMERA pans with
him) The point is, you want light entertainment, not people
telling jokes about sex. That's the problem with comedy these
days--sex. Not that sex is a problem. I mean, you've got the
woman, you've just ripped off her blouse revealing her firm tits,
she's gasping for breath as you thrust your tongue down her
mouth--
The three BRUCES suddenly pop up and grab the KLINGON as he continues
talking, and bustle him off. Pan to BRUCE MADDOX talking with DR. CRUSHER.
MADDOX
It's quite simple really, doctor. The therapist tends to use
stock phrases to get the patient to respond. Depending on the
response, a special database is used to analyse the response and
the computer slips into one of a variety of positronic
subroutines which are considered appropriate for the treatment.
CRUSHER
Hmmm ... a computerized counsellor, eh?
MADDOX
Yes, programmed with all the latest in therapeutic techniques.
It's a long way from the clumsy stuff that amateurs like
bartenders want to use.
CRUSHER
How's it work?
MADDOX
It's undergoing field trials now.
CUT to DS9 infirmary. O'BRIEN is lying on a biobed. Beside him is a 1960s
era mainframe computer.
COMPUTER VOICE
Right, now, you've got her legs lifted up round your shoulders
and she's ready for you to stick it in--
The door opens and CAPTAIN SISKO walks in.
SISKO
OUT!
CUT to Bajoran botanical garden. The computer is sitting in the middle of
it.
CUT to SISKO pulling out a phaser and firing one shot. The shot hits a
rope. CUT back to garden : a sixteen-ton weight falls on the computer.
Roll music and credits:
PYTHONTREK V : THE FINAL RIP-OFF
was scripted by
VICTOR W. WONG
based on characters and situations created by
GENE RODDENBERRY
RICK BERMAN
MICHAEL PILLER
JERI TAYLOR
and plots and stories by
GRAHAM CHAPMAN
JOHN CLEESE
TERRY GILLIAM
ERIC IDLE
TERRY JONES
MICHAEL PALIN
All characters and likenesses
copyright (c) 1995 Paramount Pictures Inc.
USED WITHOUT PERMISSION FOR PARODY PURPOSES
This is an UNAUTHORIZED and UNOFFICIAL parody of characters and situations
as seen in the STAR TREK collection of television series, based on a story
concept used earlier on the alt.startrek.creative newsgroup on Internet.
Persons wishing to publish or reproduce this work in a not-for-profit
publication (e.g. fanzine) may contact the author for permission through
the Internet at
ah447@freenet.carleton.ca
CUT TO Enterprise-D bridge, Captain PICARD is sitting alone.
PICARD
In case you're wondering, my contract says I must make an appear-
ance in this episode. This is it. (pause) No, really, that was
my only line. (pause) I mean, I hope you're not expecting any-
thing particularly funny, because really the writers haven't come
up with anything this week. (pause) Well, I suppose I could
stretch this out and improvise. Charge overtime. (clears
throat) So, did you hear the one about--
CUT to black.
Copyright © 1995 Victor W. Wong. All rights reserved.
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