E’s not pinin’! 'E’s passed on! This parrot is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E’s expired and gone to meet 'is maker!
Bring out… The Comfy Chair!
Landlady: You must be dying for a cup of tea.
Johnson: Well, wouldn’t say no, long as it’s warm and wet
What are you going to do, bleed on me?
Mr. Wiggin: This is a 12-story block combining classical neo-Georgian features with the efficiency of modern techniques. The tenants arrive here and are carried along the corridor on a conveyor belt in extreme comfort, past murals depicting Mediterranean scenes, towards the rotating knives. The last twenty feet of the corridor are heavily soundproofed. The blood pours down these chutes and the mangled flesh slurps into these…
This is Mr. Nesbitt or Harlow New Town. Mr Nesbitt, would you stand UP, please ?
Mr Nesbitt has learnt the value of not being seen. However, he has chosen a very obvious piece of cover.
“A shubbery?”
“It’s a sign!”
Sailor #1: Still no sign of land. How long is it?
Sailor #2: 33 days, sir.
Sailor #4: Have we started again? (slap)
Good evening. Tonight on ‘It’s the Mind’, we examine the phenomenon of déjà vu. That strange feeling we sometimes get that we’ve lived through something before, that what is happening now has already happened. Tonight on ‘It’s the Mind’ we examine the phenomenon of déjà vu, that strange feeling we sometimes get that we’ve … (looks puzzled fir a moment) Anyway, tonight on ‘It’s the Mind’ we examine the phenomenon of déjà vu, that strange…
(Cut to opening title sequence with montage of psychiatric photos and the two captions and music over. Cut back to Mr Boniface at desk, shaken. Caption on screen: ‘IT’S THE MIND’)
Good evening. Tonight on ‘It’s the Mind’ we examine the phenomenon of déjà vu, that strange feeling we someti… mes get … that … we’ve lived through something…
Are you suggesting that coconuts migrate?
I don’t want to talk to you no more, you empty-headed animal, food trough wiper. I fart in your general direction. Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!!
ETA: Damn. Already used. I lose.
You vacuous, toffee-nosed, malodorous pervert!
I’m not a witch! And this *isn’t *my nose. *They *put it on me.
Well, I gave him my baby to kiss, and he bit it in the head!!
By me, no less! Ner, ner! Loserrrrrr! 
Anyhoo, where was we?
Well, we’ll not risk another frontal assault. That rabbit’s dynamite.
Poor Flopsy’s dead, and never even called me Mother.
Brian: I’m not a roman mum, I’m a kike, a yid, a heebie, a hook-nose, I’m kosher mum, I’m a Red Sea pedestrian, and proud of it!
He puts on women’s clothing, and hangs around in bars…
This parrot is deceased!