Peace Monk Dives Under LawnMower

Lee,
Thanks for checking the website. I do have a life. Unlike a certain dead Buddhist monk who can’t drive a lawnmower. By the way, I can pop wheelies on my lawnmower.

Yes, I liked Lee’s post very much! And to continue with the Monty Python references:

Man walks into a shop with a dead Buddhist Monk.

Praline: Hello, I wish to register a complaint . . . Hello? Miss?
Shopkeeper: What do you mean, miss?
Praline: Oh, I’m sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint.
Shopkeeper: Sorry, we’re closing for lunch.
Praline: Never mind that my lad, I wish to complain about this buddhist monk what I purchased not half an hour ago from this very boutique.
Shopkeeper: Oh yes, the Norwegian Saffron. What’s wrong with it?
Praline: I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it. It’s dead, that’s what’s wrong with it.
Shopkeeper: No, no it’s meditating, look!
Praline: Look my lad, I know a dead buddhist monk when I see one and I’m looking at one right now.
Shopkeeper: No, no sir, it’s not dead. It’s meditating.
Praline: Meditating?
Shopkeeper: Yeah, remarkable chap the Norwegian Saffron, beautiful bald pate, isn’t it?
Praline: The bald pate don’t enter into it : it’s stone dead.
Shopkeeper: No, no : it’s just meditating.
Praline: All right then, if it’s meditating, I’ll rouse it up. (shouts into cage) Hello Handa! I’ve got a nice cuttlefish for you when you wake up, Handa buddhist monk!
Shopkeeper: (jogging cage) There it moved.
Praline: No he didn’t. That was you pushing the cage.
Shopkeeper: I did not.
Praline: Yes, you did. (takes buddhist monk out of cage, shouts) Hello Handa, Handa (bangs it against counter) Handa buddhist monk, wake up. Handa. (throws it in the air and lets it fall to the floor) Now that’s what I call a dead buddhist monk.
Shopkeeper: No, no it’s stunned.
Praline: Look my lad, I’ve had just about enough of this. That buddhist monk is definitely deceased. And when I bought it not half an hour ago, you assured me that its lack of movement was due to it being tired and shagged out after a long lawn mowing session.
Shopkeeper: It’s probably pining for the fjords.
Praline: Pining for the fjords, what kind of talk is that? Look, why did it fall flat on its back the moment I got it home?
Shopkeeper: The Norwegian Saffron prefers sleeping on its back. Beautiful chap, lovely bald pate.
Praline: Look, I took the liberty of examining that buddhist monk, and I discovered that the only reason that it had been sitting cross-legged in the first place was that it had been nailed there.
Shopkeeper: Well of course it was nailed there. Otherwise it would muscle up to those bars and voom!
Praline: Look matey (picks up buddhist monk) this buddhist monk wouldn’t voom if I put four thousand volts through it. It’s bleeding demised.
Shopkeeper: It’s not, it’s pining.
Praline: It’s not pining, it’s passed on. This buddhist monk is no more. It has ceased to be. It’s expired and gone to meet its maker. This is a late buddhist monk. It’s a stiff. Bereft of life, it rests in peace. If you hadn’t nailed it to the perch, it would be pushing up the daisies. It’s rung down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. This is an ex-buddhist monk.
Shopkeeper: Well, I’d better replace it then.
Praline: (to camera) If you want to get anything done in this country you’ve got to complain till you’re blue in the mouth.
Shopkeeper: Sorry guv, we’re right out of buddhist monks.
Praline: I see. I see. I get the picture.
Shopkeeper: I’ve got a Pagan child.
Praline: Does it talk?
Shopkeeper: Not really, no.
Praline: Well, it’s scarcely a replacement, then is it?
Shopkeeper: Listen, I’ll tell you what, (handing over a card) tell you what, if you go to my brother’s pet shop in Bolton he’ll replace your buddhist monk for you.
Praline: Bolton eh?
Shopkeeper: Yeah.
Praline: All right, then. He leaves, holding the buddhist monk.

Haw, yeah, it was cut and paste and then a search and replace.