Is God really real?
Well hello, it’s the wacky Queen again!
Or is there some doubt?
But of course, there is considerable evidence of open field villages as far back as the 10th century. Professor Moorehead.
There’s E-vi-dence!
There’s E-vi-dence!
There’s Evidence!(evidence!)
Evidence!(evidence!)
Evidence!(evidence!)
There’s Evidence!(evidence!)
Evidence of settlements with one long village street,
Farmsteads, hamlets, little towns - the framework was complete,
By the time…
Of the Norman conquest!
The rural framework was complete!
Rural!
Framework!
Was!
Complete!
Is your name not Bruce, then?
Man!
Snap snap, grin grin, wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more.
Nothing to do with me. I’m not in this show. This is show five - I’m not in until show eight.
Mr. Chigger. So you want to learn to fly…? Right, well, up on the table, arms out, fingers together, knees bent…
But Father, I don’t want any of that!
Wenn ist das Nunstruck git und Slotermeyer? Ja! … Beiherhund das Oder die Flipperwaldt gersput.
Shut up!
Well… I’d just like to say, m’lud, I’ve got a family… a wife and six kids… and I hope very much you don’t have to take away my freedom… because… well, because m’lud freedom is a state much prized within the realm of civilized society. It is a bond wherewith the savage man may charm the outward hatchments of his soul, and soothe the troubled breast into a magnitude of quiet. It is most precious as a blessed balm, the saviour of princes, the harbinger of happiness, yea, the very stuff and pith of all we hold most dear. What frees the prisoner in his lonely cell, chained within the bondage of rude walls, far from the owl of Thebes? What fires and stirs the woodcock in his springe or wakes the drowsy apricot betides? What goddess doth the storm toss’d mariner offer her most tempestuous prayers to? Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!
I command you to shut up!
Good evening, here is the 6 o’clock News read by Michael Queen. It’s been a quite day over most of the country as people went back to work after the warmest July weekend for nearly a year. The only high spot of the weekend was the meeting between officials of the NEDC and the ODCN in Bradford today. In Geneva, officials of the Central Clearing Banks met with Herr Voleschtadt of Poland to discuss non-returnable loans on a twelve-year trust basis for the construction of a new zinc-treating works in the Omsk area of Krakow, near the Bulestan border. The Board of Trade has ratified a Trade Agreement with the Soviet Union for the sale of 600 low gear electric sewing machines. The President of the Board of Trade said he hoped this would mark a new area of expansion in world trade and a new spirit of co-operation between East and West. There has been a substantial drop in Gold Reserves during the last twelve months. This follows a statement by the Treasury to the effect that the balance of imports situation had not changed dramatically over the same period. Still no news of the National Savings book lost by Mr Charles Griffiths of Porthcawl during a field expedition to the Nature Reserves of Swansea last July. Mr Griffiths’ wife said that her husband was refusing to talk to the Press until the Savings Certificate had been found. In Cornwall the death has been announced today of the former Minister without Portfolio, General Sir Hugh Marksby-Smith. Sir Hugh was vice-president of the Rotarian movement. In the match between Glamorgan and Yorkshire, the Yorkshire bowler Nicholson took eight wickets for three runs. Glareorgan were all out for the thirty-six and therefore won the match by an innings and seven runs. Weather for tomorrow will be cloudy with occasional outbreaks of rain. And that is the end of the news.
It’s only a bloody parking offense.
The nub of that is, his characters stand for all of us in their desire to avoid action. Mind you, the man at the off-licence says it’s an everyday story of French country folk.
Oh, I am afraid our life must seem very dull and quiet compared to yours.
Rotten. Rotten. You’re no bloody use at all. You’re an utter bloody wash-out. You make me sick, you weed!
Oh, ‘an aeroplane’. Oh, I say, we are grand, aren’t we?‘Oh, oh, no more buttered scones for me, mater. I’m off to play the grand piano’. ‘Pardon me while I fly my aeroplane.’ Now get on the table!