King: No, please! This is supposed to be a happy occasion! Let’s not bicker and argue over who killed who. We are here to witness the union of two young people in the joyful bond of holy wedlock. Unfortunately, one of them, my son Herbert, has just fallen to his death. But I don’t want to think I’ve lost a son, so much as gained a daughter! For, since the tragic death of her father–
Wedding guest #2: [Shout from back of hall] He’s not quite dead!
King: Since the near-fatal wounding of her father–
Wedding guest #2: [Shout from back] He’s getting better!
King: [Discreet nod to soldier] For, since her own father, who, when he seemed about to recover, suddenly felt the icy black hand of death upon him.
[Scuffle at the back]
Wedding guest #2: [Shout from back] Oh, he’s died!
King: I want his only daughter to look upon me as her own dad, in a very real, and legally binding sense.
My theory by A. Elk, brackets, Miss, brackets. This theory goes as follows and begins now. All brontosauruses are thin at one end, much much thicker in the middle, and the thin again at the far end. That is my theory, it is mine, and it belongs to me, and I own it, and what it is, too.
It’s the end of the film. Incidentally, this record’s available in the foyer. Some of us have got to live as well, you know. Who do you think pays for all this rubbish? They’ll never make their money back, you know. I told him. I said to him, “Bernie”, I said, “They’ll never make their money back.”
Well, let me tell you something, my lad! When you’re walking home tonight and some great homicidal maniac comes after you with a bunch of loganberries, don’t come cryin’ to me!
Oh, what sad times are there when passing ruffians can say “Ni!” at will to old ladies! There is a pestilence in this land! Nothing is sacred! Even those who arrange and design shrubberies are under considerable economic stress at this period in history.
Fine. I’m the head waiter. This is a vegetarian restaurant only, we serve no animal flesh of any kind. We’re not only proud of that, we’re smug about it. So if you were to come in here asking me to rip open a small defenseless chicken, so you could chew its skin and eat its intestines, then I’m afraid I’d have to ask you to leave.
What’s wrong with a kiss, boy? Hmm? Why not start her off with a nice kiss? You don’t have to go leaping straight for the clitoris like a bull at a gate. Give her a kiss, boy.