Bit: Maltese Men

Episode: 1008- Final Justice

Transcribed by Julia Haas (with a major assist by Jacob "JakeThFake" Churosh)


(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)
Tom: Nice.
Mike: Hm, thank you, Crow, that's very informative.
Crow: That's all the hard data, now onto the good stuff.
Tom: Ooh.
Crow: 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.
Mike: (concerned) Uh, Crow?
Crow: 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...
Tom: Whoa!
Crow: ...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* is interesting!
Crow: 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!
Mike: (concerned) Crow... what are you saying? (Tom is really getting into the speech.)
Crow: (not really paying attention to Mike) Wait, it gets better! Famous for breath so bad it could melt steel...
Tom: Wow!
Crow: ...these greasy, goat-loving momma's boys are known in the European community for having the tiniest, most shrivelled up --
Mike: (yells, interrupting) OK Crow! Alright, stop! Please, c'mon!
Crow: (stares at him in disbelief) What? Don't tell me you're gonna DEFEND those witless tight-shirted clouds of walking B-O!
Mike: (soothingly) Ok! Listen, stop it, there's got to be something wrong with you, I'm gonna take a look at you (examines Crow).
Crow: What?
Tom: (as Mike checks Crow) Since when did you have the seerging hatred of Maltese men?
Crow: 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*.
Crow: (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.
Crow: HA! No doubt put there by a lisping, cheese-gorged maltese eunuch.
Mike: (bringing 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 clueless.)
Mike: (testing) There. Now, Crow, how do you feel about Maltese men?
Crow (confused): Uh, who? Maltese men?
Tom: Ahh.
Crow: I don't know, I've never really met one.
Tom: Whew!
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 again.)
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.)