Inigo: I wish to make a complaint!
Rugen: Sorry, I’m going to lunch.
Inigo: Never mind that, my lord. I wish to complain about my father what you fought not half a decade ago in this very land.
Rugen: Oh yes, the, the Montoya father. What’s wrong with him?
Inigo: I’ll tell you what’s wrong with him, my lad. He’s dead, that’s what’s wrong with him!
Rugen: No, no, he’s resting, look!
Inigo: Look my lad, I know a dead father when I see one, and I’m looking at one right now.
Rugen: No no sir. he’s not dead. He’s resting!
Inigo: Resting?
Rugen: Yeah, remarkable bloke, the Montoya father, beautiful heritage, innit?
Inigo: The heritage don’t enter into it - he’s stone dead.
Rugen: No, no - he’s just resting!
Inigo: All right then, if he’s restin’, I’ll wake him up! Hello Daddy! I’ve got a nice cutlass for you when you wake up, Padre Montoya!
Rugen: (pushes bench) There, he moved!
Inigo: No, he didn’t. That was you pushing the bench!
Rugen: I did not.
Inigo: Yes, you did! Padre, Padre Montoya, wake up, Padre. Now that’s what I call a dead father.
Rugen: No, no. He’s stunned.
Inigo: Look my lad, I’ve had just about enough of this. My father is definitely deceased. And when you fought him not half a decade ago, you assured me that his lack of movement was due to him being tired and shagged out after a long duel.
Rugen: He’s probably pining for the swords.
Inigo: Pining for the swords, what kind of talk is that? Look, why did he fall flat on his back the moment I got him home?
Rugen: The Montoya father prefers kipping on his back! Beautiful bloke, lovely heritage!
Inigo: Look, I took the liberty of examining my father, and I discovered the only reason that he had been sitting on his bench in the first place was that he had been nailed there.
Rugen: Well of course he was nailed there. Otherwise he would muscle up to that door and voom.
Inigo: Look matey, this father wouldn’t voom if you put four thousand volts through him! He’s bleedin’ demised!
Rugen: He’s not, he’s pining!
Inigo: He’s not pining, he’s passed on. This father is no more! He has ceased to be. He’s expired and gone to meet his maker. This is a late father. He’s a stiff. Bereft of life, he rests in peace. If you hadn’t nailed him to the bench he would be pushing up the daisies. He’s rung down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. This is an ex-father.
Rugen: Well, I’d better prepare to die, then.