Hasn’t got as much spam in it as spam egg sausage and spam, has it?
Woman:
Well there’s rat cake … rat sorbet… rat pudding… or strawberry tart.
Man:
Strawberry tart?!
Woman:
Well it’s got some rat in it.
Man:
How much?
Woman:
Three, rather a lot really.
Man:
… well, I’ll have a slice without so much rat in it.
One thing is for sure; a sheep is not a creature of the air.
I had a budgie once you know, amusing little chap, used to stick his head in a bell … what was his name, now … Joey? … Xerxes? …
Mind you, if you did fly it from the toilet it would leave a lot more space up here, wouldn’t it.
Oh, oh, no more buttered scones for me, mate. I’m off to play the grand piano.
Uh oh, here comes that wacky Queen again!
I can keep this plane flying with only the smallest movement and Pancho here doesn’t have to move at all.
I am in fact dressed as a milkman. You spotted that, well done.
It’s not particularly silly, is it? I mean, the right leg isn’t silly at all and the left leg merely does a forward aerial half turn every alternate step.
Next week we’ll be showing you how to pick up an architect, how to pull a prime minister, and how to have fun with a wholesale poulterer. But now the men of the Derbyshire Light Infantry entertain us with a precision display of bad temper.
All passengers please get ready for their barley sugar injections.
And I don’t really need to move either… unless I get an itch or something.
Say no more!
Look… are you insinuating something?
You can be in Luton by lunchtime.
[under breath] Stupid git.
Oi, haven’t I seen you somewhere before?
He’s a lumberjack and he’s okay.
Now, are you telling me that’s not worth twenty shekels?