“I drink, therefore I am.”
Oh what a great slit. Now, gentlemen, I am going to open the slit.
Get out! Get out! Get OUT! You … LABOURER!
I see you have the machine that goes ‘ping’.
Sorry Squire, I’ve gobbed on your carpet.
You don’t need a license for your cat.
Lively brown furry things with short stumpy legs and great long noses. I don’t know what all the fuss is about, I could tame one of those. They look pretty tame to start with.
This is a dog license with the word ‘dog’ crossed out and ‘cat’ written in, in crayon.
I’ve fallen off my chair, Brian.
Right… well I should definitely say you’re suffering from a severe personality disorder, sir, sublimating itself in a lactic obsession which could get worse depending on how much money you’ve got.
It was an inspired guess.
I would put a tax on all people who stand in water … (looks round him)… Oh!
I would tax Raquel Welch… and I have a feeling she would tax me.
Not any more Lady Partridge… the line’s been closed.
Yes! This couple is just one of the prizes in this year’s Police Raffle. Other prizes include two years for breaking and entering, a crate of search warrants, a ‘What’s all this then?’ T-shirt and a weekend for two with a skinhead of your own choice.
It’s…
Norman?
It’s written. That’s why.
But last year, the government spent less on the Ministry of Silly Walks than it did on national defense!
Like that super time I wore that striped robe in the Magistrates Court.