Algie’s here, too!
G’day, Bruce!
Shh. I can hear something. 'Ang about, we may still get in this show as a link.
No pooftahs!
Oh! Oh well in that case I’ll be saying goodbye then, sir… Goodbye then, sir.
That’s nothing like a willow.
And Oliver St John-Mollusc. His father was a Cabinet Minister, and his mother won the derby. Said to be this year’s outstanding twit.
Here is the address to complain to …
CAPTION: ‘MR ALBERT SPIM, I,OOO,OO8 LONDON ROAD, OXFORD’
…Monty Python’s Flying Circus!
Look, would you mind going away, I’m trying to examine this man. (he goes back under the kilt; a slight pause; he re-emerges) It’s - er - it’s all right - I am a doctor. Actually, I’m a gynecologist… but this is my lunchhour.
I feel the time has come to complain about people who make rash complaints without first making sure that those complaints are justified.
That’s all right sir, we get all sorts of lines in here. The head waiter will be along to abuse you in a few moments, and now if you’ll excuse me I have to go and commit suicide.
Not guilty. Case not proven. Court adjourned.
It’s the uniform that puts them off, that and my bad breath.
It’s…
You here on holiday or…?
Look, you’re a busy man, and…
The general public’s not going to understand this, are they?
I prefer to drone on and on before foaming at the mouth and falling backward.
I will not buy this record, it is scratched.