It’s Christmas in heaven,
The snow falls from the sky…
But it’s nice and warm and everyone
Looks smart and wears a tie.
The general public’s not going to understand this, are they?
All right, but apart from the sanitation, the medicine, education, wine, public order, irrigation, roads, a fresh water system, and public health, what have the Romans ever done for us?
Oh you’re no fun anymore.
We use only the finest baby frogs, dew-picked and flown from Iraq, cleansed in the finest quality spring water, lightly killed, and sealed in a succulent, Swiss, quintuple-smooth, treble-milk chocolate envelope, and lovingly frosted with glucose.
Minstrels [singing]: Bravely bold Sir Robin rode forth from Camelot. He was not afraid to die, O brave Sir Robin. He was not at all afraid to be killed in nasty ways, brave, brave, brave, brave Sir Robin. He was not in the least bit scared to be mashed into a pulp, or to have his eyes gouged out, and his elbows broken. To have his kneecaps split, and his body burned away, and his limbs all hacked and mangled, brave Sir Robin. His head smashed in and heart cut out, and his liver removed, and his bowels unplugged, and his nostrils raped and his bottom burned off and his penis…
Sir Robin: That’s, uh, that’s enough music for now, lads.
Oh, you dumb cluck! We spent weeks organizing this job. Reg rented a room across the road and filmed the people going in and out every day. Vic spent three weeks looking at watch catalogues…until he knew the price of each one backwards, and now I’m not going to risk the whole raid just for the sake of breaking the law.
And now ladies and gentlemen, I’d like you to welcome the last of our all-England finalists this evening, from Bingley, the Bolton Choral Society and their leader Superintendent McGough. All right Bingley, remember you’ve got fifteen seconds to summarize Proust in his entirety starting from now.
Anything goes in.
Anything goes out!
Fish, bananas, old pajamas,
Mutton! Beef! and Trout!
Stop that! Stop that! Stop it; it’s filthy! You’re not even a proper woman!
…just like my dear Papa!
Get on with it. Get on with it!
Now, before I begin the lesson, will those of you who are playing in the match this afternoon move your clothes down onto the lower peg immediately after lunch, before you write your letter home, if you’re not getting your hair cut, unless you’ve got a younger brother who is going out this weekend as the guest of another boy, in which case, collect his note before lunch, put it in your letter after you’ve had your hair cut, and make sure he moves your clothes down onto the lower peg for you.
It’s…
I’ve soiled my armor
'Tis but a scratch.
I’d like to answer this question, if I may, in two ways. Firstly in my normal voice and then in a kind of silly high-pitched whine.
Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this parrot what I purchased not half an hour ago from this very boutique.
Ni!
^ What an eccentric performance! 