Look, would you please go away? I’m trying to examine this man! It’s all right, I’m a doctor … actually I’m a gynecologist, but this is my lunch hour.
Lucky we didn’t say anything about the dirty knife.
The human brain is like an enormous fish; it is flat and slimy and has gills through which it can see.
Mrs O: [reading her horoscope] You have green, scaly skin, and a soft yellow underbelly with a series of fin-like ridges running down your spine and tail. Although lizardlike in shape, you can grow anything up to thirty feet in length with huge teeth that can bite off great rocks and trees. You inhabit arid subtropical zones, and you wear spectacles.
Mrs Trepidatious: It’s very good about the spectacles.
Mrs O: It’s amazing!
I will not buy this tobacconist’s, it is scratched.
What I object to is you automatically treat me like an inferior!
Rule 1: no pooftahs!
Is your name not Bruce, then?
Well I don’t know. What we can do for you is take it back to the Depot, get a transfer slip from Crump to Pinnet, and put it on a special delivery.
They could be, they could be taken on holiday. Candid, you know, CANDID photography?
Number 17: The naughty bits of the Cabinet.
Arthur Charles Herbert Runcie MacAdam Jarrett, you have been convicted by twelve good persons and true of the crime of first degree making of gratuitous, sexist jokes in a moving picture.
I don’t want to talk to you no more, you empty-headed animal food trough wiper! I fart in your general direction! Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!
Do you get wafers with it? Of course you don’t get fucking wafers with it, it’s a fucking albatross.
(Drury Lane version)
Up on the table! Arms out, fingers together, knees bent, now, head well forward. Now, flap your arms. Go on, flap, faster… faster… faster… faster, faster, faster, faster - now jump! Rotten. Rotten. You’re no bloody use at all. You’re an utter bloody wash-out. You make me sick, you weed!
I told him we already had one. Teeheeheehee…
What? A swallow carrying a coconut?
The British Airline Pilots Association would like to point out that it takes a chap six years to become a fully qualified airline pilot, and not two.
CAPTION: ‘FOUR YEARS LATER THAN THE LAST CAPTION’
Thank you. I didn’t want to seem a bit of an old fusspot just now you know, but it’s just as easy to get these things right as they are easily found in the BALPA handbook. Oh, one other thing, in the Sherlock Holmes last week Tommy Cooper told a joke about a charter flight, omitting to point out that one must be a member of any organization that charters a plane for at least six months beforehand, before being able to take advantage of it. Did rather spoil the joke for me, I’m afraid. (phone ring) Yes, ah yes - yes. (puts phone down) My wife just reminded me that on a recent ‘High Chapparal’ Kathy Kirby was singing glibly about ‘Fly me to the Stars’ when of course there are no scheduled flights of this kind, or even chartered, available to the general public at the present moment, although of course, when they are BALPA will be in the vanguard. Or the Trident. Little joke for the chaps up at BALPA House. And one other small point. Why is it that these new lurex dancing tights go baggy at the knees after only a couple of evenings’ fun? Bring back the old canvas ones I say. It is incredible, isn’t it, that in these days when man can walk on the moon and work out the most complicated hire purchase agreements, I still get these terrible headaches. Well . … I seem to have wandered a bit, but still, no harm done. Jolly good luck.
You are Mary, Queen of Scots…?
/nitpick/ - I told him we already (got) one. Teeheeheehee…
/nitpick/ - 'Course you don’t get fucking wafers with it, ya cock sucker
It’s something they use in coal mining, father.