Well, I suppose if anyone was ever going to be able to get to grips with the meaning of life, it was going to be the “Monty Python” lads but for me their brand of comedy never really worked. This starts with it’s equivalent of a B-reel: a bunch of geriatric insurance processors who react with unexpected violence when one of their number is fired. Next thing their building is a weapon of war wreaking havoc on the glittering world of a-personal commercialism! It’s quite entertaining how these folks intermingle “Spartacus” into the plot as they cannibalise everything from the ceiling fan to the filing cabinet to arm themselves. Thence to the main feature - and that starts with a stinging swing at the monetisation of life, right from the process of birth followed by a sarcastic critique on the attitudes to family planning of Roman Catholics with their sacred sperm! That sticky wicket starts us off through a cycle of education and onto the thing man does best: make war. This is maybe the funniest part as they have to cart around an officer who has a bit of a sore leg! Thereafter it begins to strain a little and descends too much into the realms of the vulgar. Perhaps songs about the penis raised a titter in the 1960s but in 1983 they are less potent, as is the sight of a large gent over-indulging then spewing all over the place. Finally, the man with the scythe turns up to herald the final chapter and convey everyone to a perpetual existence of tinsel and mince pies. It has it’s moments and at times it successfully uses exaggerated scenarios to provide quite a witty observation on just how mundanity governs pretty much all we do from cradle to grave, but it misses more than it hits for me. There’s no doubt it’s innovative and the assessment of the human condition quite apt, but the songs really do border on the puerile and for me it just all ran out of puff.
