Our experts describe you as an appallingly dull fellow, unimaginative, timid, lacking in initiative, spineless, easily dominated, no sense of humor, tedious company and irrepressibly drab and awful.
Michael Norman Randall, you have been found guilty of the murder of Arthur Reginald Webster, Charles Patrick Trumpington, Marcel Agnes Bernstein, Lewis Anona Rudd, John Malcolm Kerr, Nigel Sinclair Robinson, Norman Arthur Potter, Felicity Jayne Stone, Jean-Paul Reynard, Rachel Shirley Donaldson, Stephen Jay Greenblatt, Karl-Heinz Mullet, Belinda Anne Ventham, Juan-Carlos Fernandez, Thor Olaf Stensgaard, Lord Kimberley of Pretoria, Lady Kimberley of Pretoria, The Right Honourable Nigel Warmsly Kimberley, Robert Henry Noonan and Felix James Bennett, on or about the morning of the 19th December 1972. Have you anything to say before I pass sentence?
No, no, well, look, you can ask Mr. Maudling but I’m sure he’ll never agree. Not for fifty shillings… no… no. Bye-bye, Gordon. Bye-bye. Oh, dear. Bye-bye! (He throws receiver at telephone but misses).
Yes, it’s Attila the Nun.
Oh, wicked, bad, naughty Zoot! She has been setting a light to our beacon, which, I’ve just remembered, is Grail shaped.
Mr. Chigger. So, you want to learn to fly?
And while that’s going on, here is the news for gibbons.
Splunge!
After three years of study these apprentice idiots receive a diploma of idiocy, a handful of mud and a kick on the head.
Right, well, up on the table, arms out, fingers together, knees bent…
It was a most elusive fish.
Up on the table! Arms out, fingers together, knees bent, now, head well forward. Now, flap your arms. Go on, flap, faster… faster… faster… faster, faster, faster, faster - now jump! Rotten. Rotten. You’re no bloody use at all. You’re an utter bloody wash-out. You make me sick, you weed!
And it followed me wherever… I… would… go!
Look, I came here to learn how to fly an aeroplane.
Look, I came in here for an argument.
Oh, ‘an aeroplane’. Oh, I say, we are grahnd, aren’t we? ‘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!
Oh Bevis, are you going to do anything or are you just going to show me films all evening?
Bloody Romans.
Mr. Nesbitt has learnt the first lesson of not being seen… not to stand up. However, he has chosen a very obvious piece of cover.
Say no more!