The Tale of Sir Lancelot
Big Data the Holy Grail
The Tale of Sir Lancelot from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, begins the way any daring, desperate adventure in this genre should… well perhaps not.
Our first impression of Lancelot the Brave is one of a man prone to drama and exaggeration.
CONCORDE: Message for you, sir.
He falls forward revealing the arrow with the note.
LANCELOT: Concorde — speak to me.
He realizes he might be in danger and so starts to crawl off … when he notices the note. He takes it out and reads it.
LANCELOT (reading): “To whoever finds this note — I have been imprisoned by my father who wishes me to marry against my will. Please please please please come and rescue me. I am in the tall tower of Swamp Castle.”
SIR LANCELOT’s eyes light up with holy inspiration.
LANCELOT: At last! A call! A cry of distress …
He draws his sword, and turns to CONCORDE.
LANCELOT: Concorde! Brave, Concorde … you shall not have died in vain!
CONCORDE: I’m not quite dead, sir …
LANCELOT (a little deflated): Oh, well … er brave Concorde! You shall not have been fatally wounded in vain!
CONCORDE: I think I could pull through, sir.
LANCELOT: Good Concorde … stay here and rest awhile.
He makes to leap off dramatically.
CONCORDE: I think I’ll be all right to come with you, sir.
LANCELOT: I will send help, brave friend, as soon as I have accomplished this most daring, desperate adventure in this genre.
CONCORDE: Really, I feel fine, sir.
LANCELOT: Farewell, Concorde!
CONCORDE: It just seems silly … me lying here.
SIR LANCELOT plunges off into the forest.
In a world, where so many are compelled to call the data ‘BIG’, is it any wonder that many analysts are prone to the same behavior?
Lancelot’s tale continues when he arrives at Swamp Castle. Rather than announce himself, Lancelot jumps straight into a violent assault. He attacks the guards at the gate, crashes through crowds of wedding guests, fights his way up a spiral staircase, and then runs through the guards stationed at the top of the tall tower. It is a trail of utter carnage.
When he finally arrives to save his maiden in distress, he is in for a shock.
FATHER: Who are you?
PRINCE: I’m … your son …
FATHER: Not you.
LANCELOT (half standing self-consciously): I’m … er … Sir Lancelot, sir.
PRINCE: He’s come to rescue me, father.
LANCELOT (embarrassed): Well, let’s not jump to conclusions …
FATHER: Did you kill all those guards?
LANCELOT: Yes … I’m very sorry …
FATHER: They cost fifty pounds each!
LANCELOT: Well, I’m really am most awfully sorry but I … I can explain everything …
PRINCE: Don’t be afraid of him, Sir Lancelot. I’ve got a rope here all ready …
He throws a rope out of the window which is tied to a pillar in the room. He looks rather pleased with himself that he has got it all ready.
FATHER: You killed eight wedding guests in all!
LANCELOT: Er, Well … the thing is … I thought your son was a lady.
FATHER: I can understand that.
PRINCE (half out of the window): Hurry, brave Sir Lancelot!
FATHER (to his SON): Shut up!
FATHER (to LANCELOT): You only killed the bride’s father — that’s all -
LANCELOT: Oh dear, I didn’t really mean to…
FATHER: Didn’t mean to? You put your sword right through his head!
LANCELOT: Gosh — Is he all right?
FATHER: You even kicked the bride in the chest! It’s going to cost me a fortune!
While not nearly so violent, many an analyst has been equally as reckless. The results are often chaotic and costly. And, just like Lancelot, they are left questioning their initial assumptions which put them in this situation to begin with.
Excuses follow…
LANCELOT: It’s just that when I’m in this genre, I tend to get over-excited and start to leap around and wave my sword about … and …
Eventually, our unlucky knights and analysts are forced to extract themselves from the situation. Some seek help. Others stubbornly refuse. Many learn a valuable lesson. And some, like Lancelot, are doomed to repeat it.
LANCELOT: We must escape. Quickly before the song.
CONCORDE: Come with me, sir.
LANCELOT: You’re not right for this genre … I must escape more dramatically.
CONCORDE: Quickly, sir, come this way!
LANCELOT: No! It’s not right for my idiom. I must escape more … more …
CONCORDE: Dramatically, sir?
LANCELOT: Dramatically.
