Why, a lovely black forest ham, brie and chutney sandwich, was it yours?
Ah, c’mon, don’t you know there’s no such thing as a brie lunch?
Is that a bad thing or a gouda thing?
Was de brie all that was left after the explosion at the cheese factory?
Were they holed up at the Roque Fort?
Or maybe at the Stilton?
Shall we all open our songbooks to #154 now, “What A Friend We Have In Cheeses”?
Afterwards, will you tell us about the Garden of Edam?
Is that before or after the sermon on “Blessed Are the Cheese Makers”?
Did you see, down at the cathedral, they have a Stinking Bishop?
Sweet dreams are made of cheese, who am I to dis a brie?
Would you like a nice it of Wensleydale, Gromit?
You didn’t know that’s my name, sir–Mr. Wensleydale?
Would that be Mr. Burpo Wensleydale?
Do they call you “Hot Pink”?
Would you believe not more than once?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me when I’m 64?
How much help will you need?
Should we call out the National Guard?
Can’t your masseur knead you?