NISUS WETTUS:

Next. Crucifixion?

PRISONER #1:

Yes.

NISUS:

Good. Out of the door. Line on the left. One cross each. Next. Crucifixion?

PRISONER #2:

Yes.

NISUS:

Good. Out of the door. Line on the left. One cross each. Next. Crucifixion?

MR. CHEEKY:

Ah, no. Freedom.

JAILER:

Hmm?

NISUS:

What?

MR. CHEEKY:

Eh, freedom for me. They said I hadn't done anything, so I could go free and live on an island somewhere.

NISUS:

Oh. Oh, well, that's jolly good. Well, off you go, then.

MR. CHEEKY:

Naa, I'm only pulling your leg. It's crucifixion, really.

NISUS:

Oh, ho ho.

MR. CHEEKY:

Heh heh heh hehh.

NISUS:

I see. Uh, very good. Very good. Well, out of the door. One--

MR. CHEEKY:

Yeah. I know the way. Out of the door.

NISUS:

Line on--

MR. CHEEKY:

One cross each. Line on the left.

NISUS:

Line on the left.

MR. CHEEKY:

Heh heh.

NISUS:

Yes. Thank you. Crucifixion?

PRISONER #4:

Yes.

NISUS:

Good.

Pilate's addwess

[trumpets]

CROWD:

[cheering]

PILATE:

People of Jewusalem!

CROWD:

[chuckling]

PILATE:

Wome is your fwiend.

CROWD:

[laughing]

PILATE:

To pwove our fwiendship, it is customawy at this time to welease a wongdoer fwom our pwisons.

CROWD:

[laughing]

GUARD #3:

[chuckling]

PILATE:

Whom would you have me welease?

BOB HOSKINS:

Welease Woger!

CROWD:

Yes! Welease Woger! Welease Woger! [laughing]

PILATE:

Vewy well. I shall welease Woger!

CROWD:

[cheering]

CENTURION:

Sir, uh, we don't have a 'Woger', sir.

PILATE:

What?

CENTURION:

Uh, we don't have anyone of that name, sir.

PILATE:

Ah. We have no 'Woger'!

CROWD:

Ohhhhh!

BOB:

Well, what about Wodewick, then?

CROWD:

Yes! Welease Wodewick! Welease Wodewick!

PILATE:

Centuwion, why do they titter so?

CENTURION:

Just some, uh, Jewish joke, sir.

PILATE:

Are they... wagging me?

CENTURION:

Oh, no, sir!

GUARD #3:

[chuckling]

PILATE:

Vewy well. I shall welease... Wodewick!

CROWD:

[laughing]

CENTURION:

Sir, we don't have a 'Roderick' either.

PILATE:

No 'Woger'? No 'Wodewick'?

CENTURION:

Sorry, sir.

PILATE:

Who is this 'Wod'--

GUARD #1:

[chuckle]

PILATE:

Who is the 'Wodewick' to whom you wefer?

BOB:

He's a wobber!

CROWD:

[laughing]

MAN:

And a wapist!

CROWD:

[laughing]

WOMAN:

And a pickpocket!

CROWD:

Yeah! Ahh, no! No! Shh! Shh!...

PILATE:

He sounds a notowious cwiminal.

CENTURION:

We haven't got him, sir. Mm hm.

PILATE:

Do we have anyone in our pwisons at all?

CENTURION:

Oh, yes, sir. We've got, uh, 'Samson', sir.

PILATE:

Samson?

CENTURION:

Samson the Sadducee Strangler, sir. Uh, Silus the Syrian Assassin. Uh, several seditious scribes from Caesarea. Uhhh,

sixty-seven seers from--

BIGGUS:

Let me thpeak to them, Pontiuth!

CENTURION:

Oh, no. Oh.

PILATE:

Ah. Good idea, Biggus.

BIGGUS:

Thitizens! We have Thamthon the Thadduthee Thtrangler, Thilus...

CROWD:

[laughing]

BIGGUS:

...the Athyrian Athathin, theveral theditiouth thcribth from Thaetharea, and...

The jailer and his assistant

NISUS:

Next. Hhh, crucifixion?

ALFONSO:

Yes.

NISUS:

Good. Out of the door. Line on the left. One cross each. Jailer?

BRIAN:

Excuse me. There's been some sort of mistake.

NISUS:

Just a moment, would you? Jailer, how many have come through?

JAILER:

What?

NISUS:

Uh, how many have come through?

JAILER:

What?

JAILER'S ASSISTANT:

Uh, y-- y-- y-- y-- y-- you'll have to s-- speak-- s-- s-- s-- sp-- spe-- speak-- speak-- s-- spe-- s-- s-- p-- p--

peak-- speak up a bit, sir. He's-- he's d-- he's d-- he's d-- he's d--

NISUS:

Ah.

JAILER'S ASSISTANT:

Oh, he's-- he's--

[whap]

He's deaf as-- dea-- deaf as a p-- p-- post, sir.

NISUS:

Uhh, how many have come through?!

JAILER:

Hhhee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee.

NISUS:

Oh, dear.

JAILER:

Hee huh.

JAILER'S ASSISTANT:

I make it ninety-fff--...

NISUS:

Ah.

JAILER'S ASSISTANT:

ninety-fff-- ninety-fffff-- ninety-six, sir.

NISUS:

Oh. It's such a senseless waste of human life, isn't it?

JAILER'S ASSISTANT:

N-- n-- n-- n-- n-- n-- n-- no, sir. N-- not-- not with these b-- bastards, sir. C-- cr-- rrrr-- c-- c-- crrr-- c-- c-- c--

crrrrucifixion's too good for 'em, sir.

NISUS:

I don't think you can say it's too good for them. It's-- it's very nasty.

JAILER'S ASSISTANT:

Well, it's not as n-- n-- n-- n-- n-- n-- n-- n-- no-- no-- no-- not as n-- nasty as something I just thought up, sir.

NISUS:

No.

JAILER:

Hm?

NISUS:

Now, um, crucifixion.

BRIAN:

Is there someone I can speak to?

NISUS:

Well--

JAILER:

I know where to get it, if you want it.

NISUS:

What?

JAILER'S ASSISTANT:

Uh, d-- don't-- don't worry about hi-- him, sir. He's de-- he's de--

[whap]

He's de-- de-- de-- he's deaf and m-- m-- m-- m-- m-- m-- m-- mad, sir.

NISUS:

How did he get the job?

JAILER'S ASSISTANT:

Bloody Pilate's pet, sir.

JAILER:

Heh heh.

MR. CHEEKY:

Get a move on, Big Nose! There's people waiting to be crucified out here. Ha ha ha ha ha ha hah.

BRIAN:

Could I see a lawyer or someone?

NISUS:

Um, do-- do you have a lawyer?

BRIAN:

No, but I'm a Roman.

MR. CHEEKY:

How about a re-trial? We've got plenty o' time.

PARVUS:

Shut up, you!

MR. CHEEKY:

Miserable, bloody Romans. No sense of humour.

[whump]

Oooh.

NISUS:

I'm sorry. Bit of a hurry. Can you go straight out? Line on the left. One cross each. Now...

The crowd laughs at Biggus' thpeech

CROWD:

[laughing]

BIGGUS:

Wath it thomething I thaid?

CROWD:

[laughing]

PILATE:

Silence!

WOMAN:

Huh huh huh huh huh!

PILATE:

This man commands a cwack legion!

CROWD:

[laughing]

PILATE:

He wanks as high as any in Wome!

CROWD:

[laughing]

NISUS:

Mhmm. Crucifixion party. 'Morning. Now, we will be on a show as we go through the town, so let's not let the side

down. Keep in a good, straight line, three lengths between you and the man in front, and a good, steady pace. Crosses

over your left shoulders, and, if you keep your backs hard up against the crossbeam,...

ALFONSO:

Ohhh.

NISUS:

...you'll be there in no time.

ALFONSO:

Ohhh.

NISUS:

Heh.

ALFONSO:

Ooh.

NISUS:

All right, Centurion.

PARVUS:

Crucifixion party! Wait for it.

ALFONSO:

Ooh.

PARVUS:

Crucifixion party, by the left! Forward!

BEN:

You lucky bastards!

You lucky, jammy bastards!

ALFONSO:

Ohh. Ohh. Ohh. Oh. Oh.

SAINTLY PASSER-BY:

Let me shoulder your burden, brother. Uh.

ALFONSO:

Oh, thank you.

SAINTLY PASSER-BY:

Uh. H-- hey!

PARVUS:

Oh, hey! What d'you think you're doing?

SAINTLY PASSER-BY:

Ah, i-- it's not my cross.

PARVUS:

Shut up and get on with it!

MR. CHEEKY:

Ah, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. He had you there, mate. Didn't he? That'll teach you a lesson. Hoo hoo hoo hoo

hoo!