Hail Caesar. If it’s not done by sunrise, I’ll cut your balls off.
Of course you don’t getting fucking wafers with it, you cunt. It’s a fucking albatross, innit?
No blackmail!!!
Mr. Pither, perhaps you could put in a good word for so we could join a very smart bingo club in Coronworl.
I’m afraid I must not ask anyone to leave the room. No, I must ask nobody … no, I must ask everybody to… I must not ask anyone to leave the room. No one must be asked by me to leave the room. No, no one must ask the room to leave. I … I … ask the room shall by someone be left. Not. Ask nobody the room somebody leave shall I. Shall I leave the room? Everyone must leave the room… as it is… with them in it. Phew. Understand?
He’s a real creepy little bastard, he is. I hate 'im.
I built this kingdom up from nuthin’. When I started here, all of this was swamp! Other kings said it was daft to build a castle in a swamp, but I built it all the same, just to show 'em! It sank into the swamp. So, I built a second one! That sank into the swamp. So I built a third one. That burned down, fell over, then sank into the swamp. But the fourth one … stayed up. And that’s what you’re gonna get, lad: the strongest castle in these islands.
Well, of course it was *nailed *there; otherwise it would’ve muscled up to those bars and VOOM!
Stop. Who would cross the Bridge of Death must answer me these questions three, ere the other side he see.
It’s funny how one can go through life, as I have, disliking bananas and being indifferent to cheese, and then be able to eat, and enjoy, a banana and cheese sandwich like that.
Are you nervy, irritable, depressed, tired of life? Keep it up.
How could you miss?!
He moved.
Yes, but I’ve had the excess nipples woppled to remove tamping.
You see, your cat is suffering from what we vets haven’t found a word for. His condition is typified by total physical inertia. Absence of interest in his ambiance, what we vets call, “environment.” Failure to respond to the conventional external stimuli, a ball of string, a nice juicy mouse, a bird, to be blunt, your cat is in a rut. It’s the old stockbroker syndrome. The suburban fantasy, angst. Call it what you will.
Look, there hasn’t been a murder.
Moping.
Cabbage crates coming over the briny?
We’re interrupting this sketch but we’ll be bringing you back the moment anything interesting happens. Meanwhile here are some friends of mine.
Apart from better sanitation and medicine and education and irrigation and public health and roads and a freshwater system and baths and public order … what have the Romans ever done for us?
Dear Sir, I object strongly to the letters on your programme. They are clearly not written by the general public and are merely included for a cheap laugh. Yours sincerely etc., William Knickers.