It’s…
Oh, do hurry Sir Horace, your train leaves in twenty-eight minutes, and if you don’t catch the 10:15 you won’t catch the 3:45 which means… oh!
I’d like to complain about people who hold things up by complaining about people complaining. It’s about time something was done about it.
A sixteen-ton weight falls on him.
The points are frozen, the beast is dead. What is the difference? What indeed is the point? The point is frozen, the beast is late out of Paddington. The point is taken.
Cut to an orchard or a woodland clearing, in which are a group of stuffed animals; a lion, a tiger, a cow, an elk, a leopard, two small ferrets and an owl on an overhanging branch. Sound of birdsong. The elk explodes.
Well I’ve always been interested in Imperial Rome from Julius Caesar right through to Vethpathian.
I haven’t had enough of the permissive society.
In Nova Scotia today, Mr Roy Bent of North Walsham in Norfolk became the first man to cross the Atlantic on a tricycle. His tricycle, specially adapted for the crossing, was ninety feet long, with a protective steel hull, three funnels, seventeen first-class cabins and a radar scanner.
Perkins: So it’ll just grow back then, will it?
Livingstone: Er… I think I’d better come clean with you about
this… it’s… um it’s not a virus, I’m afraid. You see, a
virus is what we doctors call very very small. So small it
could not possibly have made off with a whole leg. What we’re
looking for here is I think, and this is no more than an
educated guess, I’d like to make that clear, is some
multi-cellular life form with stripes, huge razor-sharp teeth,
about eleven foot long and of the genu felis horribilis.
What we doctors, in fact, call a tiger.
Nurse! Would you take Mrs. Pim to see Dr. Cream, please.
But it’s my only line!
‘Fractured tibia, sergeant’? ‘Fractured tibia, sergeant’? Ooh. Proper little mummy’s boy, aren’t we? Well, I’ll tell you something, my fine friend, if you fracture a tibia here you keep quiet about it! Look at him! He’s broken both his arms and he don’t go shouting about it, do he? No! 'Cos he’s a man - he’s a woman, you see, so don’t come that broken tibia talk with me. Get on at the double. One, two, three, pick that crutch up, pick that crutch right up.
Oh, if I could walk that way I…
Well, it’s nothing very special. Uh, try and be nice to people. Avoid eating fat. Read a good book every now and then. Get some walking in, and try and live together in peace and harmony with people of all creeds and nations.
How long are you down here for, Mr Hilter. Just the fortnight?
Erik Njorl, son of Frothgar, leaves his home to seek Hangar the Elder at the home of Thorvald Nlodvisson, the son of Gudleif, half brother of Thorgier, the priest of Ljosa water, who took to wife Thurunn, the mother of Thorkel Braggart, the slayer of Cudround the powerful, who knew Howal, son of Geernon, son of Erik from Valdalesc, son of Arval Gristlebeard, son of Harken, who killed Bjortguaard in Sochnadale in Norway over Cudreed, daughter of Thorkel Long, the son of Kettle-Trout, the half son of Harviyoun Half-troll, father of Ingbare the Brave, who with Isenbert of Gottenberg the daughter of Hangbard the Fierce …
A path! A path!
Say no more!
Don’t call me Maurice in court!
Don’t call me Señor! I’m not a Spanish person. You must call me Mr. Biggles, or Group Captain Biggles, or Mary Biggles if I’m dressed as my wife, but never Señor.