I waggled my wig, just a little bit
It might be.
Excuse me. Could, uh-- could somebody give me a push, please?
Is she a goer, eh?
Silence, foul temptress!
Do please go on. This is the least fascinating conversation I’ve ever had.
It’s Dierdre.
But it’s my only line!
Would you like to order sir?
Allo, dappy English k-niggets and Monsieur Arthur King, who has the brain of a duck, you know.
Here we see an enraged pantomime Princess Margaret, she is lying in wait for her breakfast.
I distinctly heard a Mexican rhythm combo.
And now a film about a man with a tape recorder up his brother’s nose.
Get back in the cupboard you pantomimetic royal person.
The unsuspecting breakfast glides ever closer to its doom. The enraged pantomime royal person is poised for the kill. She raises her harpoon and fires
Right! Silly little bleeder. One rabbit stew comin’ right up!
Do you mind if I sit down for a minute and collect my wits?
FATHER: One day, lad, all this will be yours!
PRINCE HERBERT: What, the curtains?
Who’s for fruit cake?
Seek you the Bridge of Death.