Bloody Vikings.
Bloody Romans.
Personal freedom infringed? Ring Slater Nazis, or, if closed, the Department of Foreign Affairs.
It’s funny, isn’t it? How your best friend can just blow up like that?
Don’t be silly, mother. People explode every day.
Dennis Moore, Dennis Moore, galloping through the sward…
Bloody peasant!
Oh, what a giveaway!
You lucky bastards! You lucky, jammy bastards!
Don’t give me that, you snotty-faced heap of parrot droppings!
I came here to have an argument!
Immanuel Kant was a real piss-ant who was very rarely stable.
And now, a Farm Club special: THE LIFE OF TCHAIKOVSKY!
'Ello, 'ello, 'ello - what’s all this, then?
We use only the finest baby frogs, dew-picked and flown from Iraq, cleansed in the finest quality spring water, lightly killed, and then sealed in a succulent Swiss quintuple smooth treble cream milk chocolate envelope, and lovingly frosted with glucose.
Dennis! There’s some lovely filth down 'ere!
Man!
Old woman!
You could call me “Dennis.”
We’ll have none of your imperialist tidbits.