I came here for an argument!
My brain hurts!
Right! This calls for immediate discussion!
You’re not furnished, you fascist.
First offense? Yeah, crucifixion.
…This is the fridge in which David keeps most of his milk, butter and eggs. What a typically selfless gesture, that he should send this fridge, of all his fridges, to be with us tonight.
(Fun factoid: Long ago, when my parents had the garage converted into a bonus room, the contractor installed Edward G. Robinson’s wall mounted heater.)
“Where’s your heater nowwwww?”
In play:
I want you all to call me Loretta.
A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do, and there ain’t no sense in runnin’. Now you gotta turn, and you gotta fight, and you gotta hold your head up high.
All right, all right, not biscuits, but lets kill him anyway.
I want to see a sketch of Eric’s. Nudge Nudge.
Second floor … stationery, leather goods, tribal head injuries, cricket bats, film stars, dolphinariums.
Go away!
I’m sorry squire, I’ve gobbed on your carpet.
She raises polecats.
First ascent in a hot-air balloon, by the Montgolfier brothers - 1783 … I can see us now… just after Montesquieu and just before Mozart.
Seek you the Bridge of Death.
Shabby, Ken Shabby.
What a rotten ending.
Bravely ran away, bravely ran away, away.
Quite right - you don’t want to come back from Sorrento to a dead cat. It’d be so anticlimactic. Yes, kill it now, that’s what I say. We’re going to have to have our budgie put down.