Arthur: Who are you?

BOFHen: We are the BOFHen who say... LART!

Arthur (horrified): No!  Not the BOFHen who say "LART!"

BOFHen: The same.

Arthur (to Bedevere): Those who hear them seldom live to tell the tale!

BOFHen: The BOFHen demand..... a clue!

Arthur: BOFHen, we are but simple travellers who seek free advice about the
 administration of our home linux machines.

BOFHen: LART! LART! LART! LART! LART!

Bedevere: No!  Noooo!  Aaaugh!  No!

BOFHen: We shall LART you again... if you do not appease us.

Arthur: Well, what is it you want?

BOFHen: We want.....

(pregnant pause)

       A 166 MHz Pentium!!!!

(minor music)

Arthur: A *WHAT*?

BOFHen: LART! LART! LART! LART! LART!

Arthur: No!  No!  Please, please, no more!  We will find you a 166 MHz
 Pentium.

BOFHen: You must return here with a 166 MHz Pentium... or else you will
 never log in... alive.

Arthur: O BOFHen, you are just and fair, and we will return with a 166 MHz
 Pentium.

BOFHen: One that looks nice.

Arthur: Of course!

BOFHen: And not *too* expensive.

Arthur: Yes!

BOFHen (excitedly): THEN... Then, when you have found the 166 MHz Pentium,
 you must place it here, beside this 25 MHz 486, only slightly higher
 so we get the two-level effect with a little private ethernet running
 down the middle.

 Then, when you have found the 166 MHz Pentium, you must process ten
 thousand e-mail messages a minute... wiiiiiithh... A HERRING!

(minor music)

Arthur: We shall do no such thing!

BOFHen: Oh, please!

Arthur: Process e-mail with a herring?  Not even qmail would run on that!

BOFHen: AAugh!  AAAAAH!  Oww!! (writhe in pain)  Don't say that word!

Arthur: What word?

BOFHen: I cannot tell; suffice to say, it is one of the words the denizens
 of alt.sysadmin.recovery cannot hear!

Arthur: How can we *not* say the word if you don't tell us how you expect us
 to run the system fast enough not to queue mail?

(BOFHen are in pain again)

BOFHen: Ahhhh! He said it again!

Arthur: What, "if"?

BOFHen: No, not "if"!  You couldn't write many computer programs without
 saying "if"!

Bedevere: My liege!  It's Sir Robin!

Sir Robin and his minstrels "ride" up.

Minstrels (singing): He's sacking it in, and packing it up,

Robin: My liege!  Finally that qmail ftp is done and I could come down to
 the pub.

BOFHen: Now *he's* said the word!

Arthur: Surely you've not given up on trying to get foo.example.net on-line
 by tomorrow morning?

Minstrels, by way of answering: He's sneaking away, and buggering off,

Robin: Shut up!  No no, no, I've got qmail building right now!

BOFHen: He said the word again!

Robin: ... I was... estimating the load at which we'd begin to queue mail...

BOFHen: AAAAAAAuugh!

Robin: uh, here -- here while sitting on a lawn along the canal.

Arthur: No, there's a routing problem between the wireless network here
 and www.qmail.org.

BOFHen: Aaaaaaugh!  Stop saying the word!!!!

Arthur (getting really amused by the BOFHen): OH, STOP MAKING ME QUEUE MAIL!!

BOFHen: Ow!  He said it again!

among others, http://private.homepages.intershop.de/~wolf/python/grail.ni.html

It's just too bad that I had to lose the part where Roger the Shrubber says
in an accusatory tone, "Are you relaying spam through that old woman?"