TIL most of the castle scenes in Monty Python and the Holy Grail were actually the same castle filmed from different angles.

A well dressed film executive with a gold tie pin in the shape of an ornate crown wields a baton-like pointer done up to resemble a sword, Excalibur perhaps. He gestures furiously at a series of charts in a Hollywood boardroom as a lanky, unkempt British man dressed from sunglasses to designer boots in black sprawls sideways on a chair at the table.

The producer says patiently, tired of the long argument: "Now, give in, you've only got one castle in your film."

The Brit's response is rapid and defiant. "'Tis but a trick of the light."

"Trick of the light? It's clearly one castle."

"No, it isn't!"

The man with the pointer gestures furiously at a series of side-by-side photographs with identifying markers circled in red ink.

"Well, what's that then?" He says, the patience fading.

"A coincidence, other films have had worse." The Englishman seems unmoved by the mounting evidence.

"You liar!"

"Come on, you baseless critic." His scoff is dismissive.

The executive furiously points out further photographs, disarming his opponent with unwavering logic.

"See, victory is mine!"

Moving to his seat, the man mutters a quick prayer as he moves to dial security and have the layabout removed from the conference room: "We thank thee Lord, that in thy mercy..."

His gratitude is short lived as the Englishman, no longer armed with logic, springs to his feet, kicking around a new idea in a desperate bid.

"Come on, then. What if re-edit it, you pitch it as a comedy?"

"What?" The producer is startled.

"Have at you, dig deep. Search the creative well, who cares if it's only got one castle in it." He says as he moves a hand to hang up the phone the producer had begun dialing.

"Look, you are indeed brave uh, sir, " he glances at his notes, taking in the man's name. "Sir Night. But the pitch meeting's over, begone, the room is mine."

"Oh, don't know a good movie when you see one, eh. Quitter." The Englishman sneers.

"Look, you stupid bastard, your movie is dark and nonsensical, you've got nothing to offer, and the silly mess doesn't have more than one castle in it!"

"Yes it has!"

"Look!" The producer gestures furiously once more at the photographs on the wall.

"Just an optical illusion."

"Look, stop that." The producer says, exasperated.

"Chicken! Chicken! Won't risk studio money on anything but a bland sequel."

"Look, I'll have security drag you out of here." The man dials the phone again, speaking a moment later and then hanging up.

"Right, I'll do you for that!" The Englishman snarls.

"You'll what?"

Come 'ere!" The Brit is hopping from foot to foot like someone with only the vaguest notion of boxing footwork, and he gesticulates wildly, as if pantomiming a fistfight.

"What are you going to do, rub your stink on me?" The producer says with an obvious lack of fear.

"I'm Invincible! Do you have any idea who I am, who I know in this town!"

"You're a loony," the producer mutters.

"Director Night always triumphs!" The Englishman roars forward, hands upraised.

"Have at you, come on then!" The producer exclaims, swinging his arm forward to smack the charging man in the head with his novelty pointer.

Director Night falls to the floor, and from a crumbled heap says with tones of generosity: "All right; we'll call it a draw: 50-50 on profits and full rights to the studio."

"Come, security, take him away." The producer says calmly, walking out of the room as the guards begin to enter.

"Oh, Oh, I see, running away from artistic credibility then. You sellout bastards! Come back here and make a proper movie... I'll bite your legs off!

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