M’lud, and my other lud, the prosecution will Endeavour to show m’lud, that m’lud - ah, not you m’lud, that m’lud, m’lud, while passing sentence at the Central Criminal Court blotted his copy book. Call exhibit Q.
And now…
It’s…
Moping, hmm, must remember that.
Sorry old man, we don’t understand your banter.
Tell me, why did you say ‘good morning’ when you know perfectly well that it’s afternoon?
I want to apologize, humbly, deeply, and sincerely about the fork.
The wound! The wound!
Fishy fishy iyoooiyooo.
Here is the address to complain to: The Royal Frog Trampling Institute, 16 Rayners Lane, London, W.C. Fields. I’ll just repeat that… Tristram and Isolde Phillips, 7.30 Covent Garden Saturday (near Sunday) and afterwards at the lnigo Jones Fish Emporium.
Splunge!
You can call me Linda, if you like.
Stop talking to the camera.
We was too late. The Reverend Grundy bit the ceiling.
How do you do? (Mrs. Dreary Fat Boring Old)
What a terrible joke!
Where’s it gonna gestate?
You will… wash… won’t you?
That’s Inter City Rail for you.
Well I object to all this sex on the television. I mean I keep falling off.