`
What a strange person.
Second floor … stationery, leather goods, tribal head injuries, cricket bats, film stars, dolphinafiums.
The BBC wishes to deny rumours that it is going into liquidation.
Here is a duck. Use this duck.
Oh I’m awfully sorry, my suit seems to keep catching fire.
Sorry chaps, it was my mother.
Yes, once again American defense proves its effectiveness against international Communism.
Hello, well I was the third voice you heard just now. I’m sorry about that terrible mess.
This is a dead parrot!
You’ll never take me alive, copper.
Bring out your dead!
The rush of the mountain stream, the bleat of the sheep, and the broad, clear Highland skies, reflected in turn and loch, form a breathtaking backdrop against which Ewan McTeagle writes such poems as “Lend us a quid 'til the end of the week.”
So Miss Johnson returned to her typing and dreamed her little dreamy dreams, unaware as she was of the cruel trick fate had in store for her. For Miss Johnson was about to fall victim of the dreaded international Chinese Communist Conspiracy.
And now, I’d like to conclude this arrest with a hymn.
It’s like those miserable psalms, they’re sooo depressing. Now knock it off!
Look. This is the last time. I’m warning you, I’m not Sir Philip Bleeding Sidney. I am Superintendent Harold Gaskell and this is a raid.
Allo allo! What’s going on here?
Yes, it was the middle one.
The BBC would to announce that the next scene is considered not suitable for family viewing.
You don’t mind living in a figment of another man’s imagination?