I don’t like being called ‘Eddie-baby’.
Say no more!
I want to go home!
Quite frankly I’m against people who give vent to their loquacity by extraneous bombastic circumlocution.
It’s all gotten a bit silly.
And now an appeal for sanity from the Reverend Arthur Belling.
Splunge!
I wish I had said that.
Oh, ‘an aeroplane’. Oh, I say, we are grand, aren’t we? (imitation posh accent) ‘Oh, oh, no more buttered scones for me, mater. I’m off to play the grand piano’. ‘Pardon me while I fly my aeroplane.’ Now get on the table!
Captions…
‘AND NOW’
‘NO. 1’
‘THE LARCH’
You’re a loony.
Mrs. Ratbag, if you don’t mind me saying so, you are badly in need of an expensive course of psychiatric treatment. Now I’m not going to say a trip to our dairy will cure you, but it will give hundreds of lower-paid workers a good high.
Mr. Notlob, there’s nothing wrong with you that an expensive operation can’t prolong.
But I am a chartered accountant.
And don’t forget the Hercules Hold-'em-in, the all-purpose concrete truss for the man with the family hernia.
Michael, you tell them about it.
‘Confuse-a-Cat Limited’.’
Timmy Wilhams’ ‘Coffee Time’ was brought to you live from Woppi’s in Holborn.
I think that’s in very bad taste.
I couldn’t possibly eat another bite.