Bit: Maltese Men
Episode: 1008- Final Justice
(Tom and Mike join Crow, who is standing
in front of a cardboard mockup of the Maltese flag and
holding a sheet of paper.)
Crow: (looking up from papers) Ah! Thank you for coming!
I'm ready present my report on Malta. (clears throat)
Ahrm-hm. ( Soft organ music plays in the background.) Malta!
A nation and a country. Malta is a small archipelago in the
Mediterranean Sea, near Sicily. The knights of St. John
founded Malta in the middle ages. Industries are
ship-building, manufacturing, and tourism. (he looks up at
Mike for a reaction)
Mike: Hm, thank
you, Crow, that's very informative.
That's all the hard data, now
onto the good stuff.
It's interesting to note that the
country's population of three-hundred-fifty-thousand
contains more women than men!
(Mike & Tom react in surprise.) Especially since the men
are *so* women-y in the first place.
Hang on, Mike. It's no wonder
Malta is one of the most conquered islands in history, what
with the Maltese men who consistantly wet themselves...
...and surrender at the sight of
anyone remotely bigger than them... (Mike is getting
increasingly worried and tries to get Crow to stop, while
Tom seems to be having fun.)
Tom: Now *this*
You bet! This population of
so-called "men" is known throughout the world as a gaggle of
flacid ninnies whose delicate fingers can barely hold up
their stinky Maltese cigarettes!
Crow... what are you saying? (Tom is really getting into the
(not really paying attention to
Mike) Wait, it gets better! Famous for breath so bad it
could melt steel...
...these greasy, goat-loving
momma's boys are known in the European community for having
the tiniest, most shrivelled up --
interrupting) OK Crow! Alright, stop! Please, c'mon!
(stares at him in disbelief)
What? Don't tell me you're gonna DEFEND those witless
tight-shirted clouds of walking B-O!
(soothingly) Ok! Listen, stop it, there's got to be
something wrong with you, I'm gonna take a look at you
Tom: (as Mike
checks Crow) Since when did you have the seerging hatred of
Well, ever since I was a little
boy, Servo. Some forgotten Maltese horror deeply wounded by
tender young psyche.
Tom: You were
*never* a little boy, Crow. You were build *in space*.
(defensivley, snapping) Well
that's pretty traumatic! Maybe I was built by some sweaty
tiny-batched Maltese capitulator -- (Mike pulls a chip out
of Crow's head)
Mike: OK, stop it
now, I think I found the problem. (examines it) There's a
tiny flaw in the coding substructure (shows it to Servo, who
makes approving noises) of the RISC processor.
HA! No doubt put there by a
lisping, cheese-gorged maltese eunuch.
up a new one from under the desk) Alright, I'll just swap
this out (does so) and you should be as right as rain, ok?
Alright, here we go! (Electric frizzling noises, Crow
twitches uncontrollably, then steadies, looking
There. Now, Crow, how do you feel about Maltese men?
Crow (confused): Uh, who? Maltese men?
I don't know, I've never really
Mike: There we
go, back to normal. (To Cambot) Uh, we'll be right back.
Crow (snaps): Oh! MALTESE MEN! Well! Let me tell you about
THOSE puking hairy-necked freaks! I just--
Tom: Grab him!
(Mike holds Crow's beak shut while he begins checking him
Mike: Let me just
Tom: Yeah, you
just gotta find that-- (Crow makes muffled noises of
protestation and Mike gets a better grip on him.)
(Commercial sign--"Maltese" organ music
still playing in background.)