Narrator: With Ithilien behind them, Frodo, Sam, and Gollum continue their journey into the heart of Sauron's domain.
Frodo: Sam? Ummm—there is something I've been meaning to ask you about.
Sam: Really? What, Mr. Frodo?
Frodo: Well... it's about your girlfriend, Rosie Cotton.
Sam: Oh. Alright, what do you want to know?
Frodo: Is, uh... is Rosie a "goer?" Know what-ah-mean, know what-ah-mean, nudge-nudge, know what-ah-mean, say no more?
Sam: I—I beg your pardon, Mr. Frodo, sir?!
Frodo: Your, uh... your girlfriend. Does she "go?"
Sam: (flustered) Well, she sometimes "goes," yes.
Frodo: Aaaaaaaah bet she does, I bet she does, say no more, say no more, know what-ah-mean, nudge-nudge?
Sam: (confused) I'm afraid I don't quite follow you.
Frodo: Follow me. Follow me. That's good, Sam, that's good! A nod's as good as a wink to a blind dwarf!
Sam: I was wondering where that bottle of Ithilien wine Faramir gave us had gone to. Are you, uh... are you drunk or something?
Frodo: Drunk! Very good, very good! Ay? Ay? Ay?
(pause)
Frodo: Oooh! Yeah, wicked, Ay! Wicked, Ay! Oooh hooh! Get her drunk and legless, say no more!
Sam: Well, I—uh....
Frodo: She's been around a bit, has she... been around?
Sam: She has travelled, yes. She's from Bywater.
Frodo: Bywater! Say no more, Bywater, eh? Say no more, say no more, Samwise!
Sam: I wasn't going to!
Frodo: Oh. (leeringly) Still, mmm, ay? Ay?
Sam: Look... are you insinuating something, Mr. Frodo?!

Frodo: Oh, no, no, no... yes.
Sam: Well?
Frodo: Well, you are a hobbit of the world, Sam.
Sam: Yes...
Frodo: I mean, you've been around a bit, you know. Like, you've—uh... you've "done it," right?
Sam: What do you mean?
Frodo: Well, I mean like—you've slept with a lady.
Sam: Yes...
Frodo: Ummm... what's it like?
Narrator: With their attention thus diverted, Frodo and Sam missed the obvious signs that the creature Gollum was leading them into a deadly trap. Smeagol had indeed retreated once more into a dim corner of the creature's mind and Gollum once more held sway.
Gollum: (mumbling) Ssstupid miserable hobbitses... make them pay...
(Gollum rips down yet another arrow sign that reads "obvious trap—this way" and hurls it into some nearby bushes)
Gollum: (mumbling) She will deal with them... yesss... take hobbitses to her... make them sssuffer... and then the Preciousss will be ours again—Gollum-gollum!

Audience Members: (who haven't read the books) She?! Wha—did Gollum just say HER?!? Who the heck is he talking about?!
Tolkien: SHADDUP ALREADY!!! (mumbling) Artistic interpretation... rubbish! I am going to roast someone for this!
Frodo: Yes, no matter how you slice it, I am still so screwed. Though not as screwed as Sam has been apparently. What I mean is—oh, sod it already... I've got a splitting headache.

To be continued in... Monty Python: Return of the King.

James Haines: Well, that's the end of part two in the Monty Python: Lord of the Rings trilogy. Not to shabby I daresay, but the ruddy critics will always point to "Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back" and flame you when you claim "middle child syndrome,"
[loud sigh]
Well, nothing else very special to say before you read the epic third and final chapter. Except, uh—try and be nice to people, avoid eating fat, read a good book every now and then, get some walking in, and try and live together in peace and harmony with people of all creeds and nations, and, finally, here is a completely gratuitous picture of J.R.R. Tolkien and friends roasting Peter Jackson over a spit just to annoy the fans of the books and movies both and to hopefully spark some sort of controversy, which, it seems, is the only way, these days, to get the jaded, parody-sated public's attention and get their floggin' arses to sit down and read something like this. Family entertainment—bollocks! What readers want is filth... elves and dwarves doing things to each other with chainsaws during tupperware parties, murderous cross-dressing wizards singing off key, scantily clad female starship captains beating aliens bloody with rolling pins, crazed bands of lingerie models in life or death combat with mutant cows. Where's the fun in humour these days, I ask?!?
[thud]
James Haines: Oh, well, there we are. Here's the pic. Goodnight.

Narrator: The producers would like to thank all the fish who took part in scene 12. We hope that other fish will follow the example of those who have participated so that, in future, fish all over the world will live together in harmony and understanding, put aside their petty differences, cease pursuing and eating each other, and live for a brighter, better future for all fish and those who love them.

To be continued in... Monty Python: The Return of the King.