Yes, she’s very good.
Centurion: What’s this, then? “Romanes eunt domus”? People called Romanes, they go, the house?
Brian: It says, "Romans go home. "
Centurion: No it doesn’t !
Hello, madam
Ah, hello, you must have come about …
Finishing the sentences, yes
I wonder where that fish has gone.
We was too late. The Reverend Grundy bit the ceiling.
Well, you can’t say Thatcher hasn’t changed some things
August 23rd. Fell off near Budleigh Salterton … and the pump caught in my trouser leg… And that’s why they were damaged … the eggs…you remember … the hard-boiled eggs I was telling you about … they were in a Tupperware container, reputedly self-sealing, which fell open on contact with the tarmacadam surface of the road … the B409 … the Dawlish road… That shouldn’t really happen to a self-sealing container now, should it?
We was too late… The Rev. Neuk saw the light.
It’s the Bishop!
Sir Galahad! You would not be so ungallant as to refuse our hospitality.
Here! Don’t you start doing a documentary on us, young man.
I think it’s runnier than you like it, sir.
I’m not Doctor Bloody Bronowski!
A path! A path!
'Ere, there’s Alfred Lord Tennyson in the bathroom.
I’m sorry. But I love money. All money. I’ve always wanted money. To handle! To touch! The smell of the rain-washed florin! The lure of the lira! The glitter and the glory of the guinea! The romance of the ruble! The feel of the franc! The heel of the Deutschmark! The cold antiseptic sting of the Swiss franc! And the sun burnt splendor of the Australian dollar!
Know what I mean, nudge nudge, wink wink.
Algie’s here, too.
Oh, shove the abatoir, it’s not important.
Accidents happen, Colonel.