Films were supposed to be warm and comfy experiences designed to transport you to another world. Photograph: Ronald Grantīefore Monty Python, I’d been raised on children’s franchises by Spielberg, Disney and Pixar. Increasingly absurdist situations … Tim the Enchanter. If you haven’t seen it, someone has probably quoted it at you: the Black Knight who won’t surrender a duel after losing all his limbs (“’Tis but a scratch”) the taunting Frenchman (“Your mother was a hamster”) the Knights Who Say Ni (“Ni”) – and yes, I was one of those people. The Holy Grail is a parody of Arthurian legend in the form of a narrative sketch show, where each episode is twisted into increasingly absurdist situations. Nothing could top that opening image of King Arthur galloping through a damp field on foot, his squire in tow, knocking two halves of a coconut together in lieu of a horse. The film was already 30 years old, but even in 2006 I’d never seen anything as daft as this one. My mum already owned one of their films on VHS, Monty Python and the Holy Grail – which I’d ignored, obviously, because it was from the past. I went home and looked into this man, who turned out to be six men: Michael Palin, John Cleese, Graham Chapman, Eric Idle, Terry Jones and Terry Gilliam. I tried to do my own “ni”, but Chris noticed my pitch was off. At age 12 it was becoming clear my survival would depend on seeing more films. It was funny, though I knew I was missing a reference here.
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