Interview with a Potential Son-In-Law (Monty Python Edition)
Father (booming, waving enormous wooden spoon): Right then, you scrawny varlet! You wish to wed my daughter, the fair... er... Concorde! This is no trifling dalliance with a shrubbery! This is till death do us part — or until the plague, or a rogue rabbit, or a Frenchman with outrageous accent claims otherwise!
Just because I divorced her mother after she ran off with a shrubbery salesman does NOT mean I’ll tolerate you prancing off with a Concorde of your own!
Answer me these questions three—wait, no, seventeen! Or was it five? Three! Three questions! Amongst the seventeen! Ere you may carry her off to your... whatever hovel you call home!
What qualities dost thou see in my daughter that maketh her a suitable wife? And none of that “she’s got nice… land” nonsense!
How dost thou handle conflict? Dost thou parley? Or dost thou simply run away, run away, run AWAYYYYYY?
What are thy personal and career goals? Art thou seeking the Holy Grail? Or merely a shrubbery? A NICE one?
Wouldst thou consent to marriage counseling if thy union encountereth hardship? Like, say, a three-headed giant, or an enchanter who turns thee into a newt?
Suitor: …I’d get better? Father: We shall see!
Where seest thou thyself and my daughter in five to ten years? In a castle? In a swamp? Being chased by a killer rabbit? Be specific!
What are the major differences between thee and my daughter?
Suitor: Well, she’s a woman and I’m— Father: CAPITAL! Next!
What dost thou not like about my daughter? Speak truthfully, or I shall taunt thee a second time!
Hast thou ever been engaged or married before? Or art thou still a silly person who’s never even kissed a girl?
Art thou going to take care of my daughter financially? I want thee to work hard, provide a safe hovel with at least two turnips a week, and never use money as a weapon—unless it’s to buy a better coconut for clip-clopping!
What are thy thoughts on saving money? When wouldst thou consider getting a loan instead of paying cash? Only for holy relics? Or when the Knights Who Say “Ni!” demand a shrubbery?
Art thou going to take care of her mentally? She’s very clever—almost too clever. Challenge her! Read her Latin! Teach her to spot the witch trial fallacies! Help her grow closer to God… or at least to the Grail!
Art thou going to take care of her emotionally? Inside her heart is a round hole called “emotional need.” Inside thy heart is a square peg. Art thou prepared to file down thy corners like a good little carpenter? …Art thou willing to guard against self-centeredness and bitterness? Or wilt thou just say “It’s only a flesh wound” when she’s upset?
Art thou going to take care of her physically? …If a 100-foot killer rabbit threateneth her, wilt thou stand in front? And in the boudoir—none of that kinky French stuff from the battlements! No pornography! No “bring out yer dead” roleplay!
Art thou going to take care of her spiritually? Thy job is to get her to heaven! God must be central! Daily prayers! No skipping Mass for “just one more quest”! And no Knights Who Say “Ekki-ekki-ekki-ekki-PTANG. Zoom-Boing, z'nourrwringmm”!
Why dost thou think thou deservest to marry my daughter?
Suitor: Because I— Father: WRONG! Nobody “deserves” her! …But if thou canst handle the five bits—without being eaten by a grue—then thou hast my blessing!
If not… I shall say “Ni!” to thee!
Now… dost thou have any questions for me?
Suitor (timidly): …What… is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?
Father (suddenly delighted): African or European? (Suitor is flung into the Gorge of Eternal Peril)