Where did you get that dress? It’s awful! And those shoes, and that coat, jeeeeez!
Well, flattery will get you everywhere.
I have very little time, and so the conversation will be entirely about me and I shall love it.
Let’s all do the things YOU wanna do.
There is something about yourself that you don’t know. Something that you will deny even exists until it’s too late to do anything about it. It’s the only reason you get up in the morning, the only reason you suffer the shitty boss, the blood, the sweat and the tears. This is because you want people to know how good, attractive, generous, funny, wild and clever you really are.
Do I make you horny, baby?
You know, man, if we ever make it home, I’m going to do so much fucking cocaine. I’m gonna rape so many fine bitches. I’ll be like, “What time is it? After 5:00? Damn. Time to go rape me some fine bitches.” You know what I’m saying?
Oh dear, Winston’s idea of foreplay was “Effie, brace yourself.”
What’s wrong with a kiss, boy? Hmm? Why not start her off with a nice kiss? You don’t have to go leaping straight for the clitoris like a bull at a gate. Give her a kiss, boy.
I am surprised to find you squeamish. That is not your reputation. Anyway, it needn’t concern you. I have the perfect man for this kind of work.
“Do you know what foreplay is?”
“No.”
“Good, neither does El Guapo.”
This one time, at band camp…
I rant and I rave for the virtue I’m too late to save / I smile, I grin when the gal with a touch of sin walks in…
Speak English to me, Tony. I thought this country spawned the fucking language, and so far nobody seems to speak it.
The rine in Spine sties minely in the pline.
Doesn’t it make you proud to be Scottish?
No! Go home, boy.
It’s SHITE being Scottish! We’re the lowest of the low. The scum of the fucking Earth! The most wretched, miserable, servile, pathetic trash that was ever shat into civilization. Some hate the English. I don’t. They’re just wankers. We, on the other hand, are COLONIZED by wankers. Can’t even find a decent culture to be colonized BY. We’re ruled by effete arseholes. It’s a SHITE state of affairs to be in, Tommy, and ALL the fresh air in the world won’t make any fucking difference!
Maybe it’s because I’m Irish.
Do you… feel lucky?