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And Now for Something Completely Different...Monty Python Thread v.2


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We have got some down at the depot, Aberdeen. It's all right. You wait here, I've got a car. :beathorse:

On the morning of the 24th, early to avoid the traffic, blackhawkrush's historic expedition set out from Surbiton

Please, could you tell me the way to Iddesleigh? Normally, I would have asked a policeman or a minister of the Church, but finding no one available, I though it better to consult a man with some professional qualifications, rather than rely on the possibly confused testimony of a passer-by. :gumby:

Er, you don't think you should make it clear that I'm a psychiatrist?

No, you're not. You're a greengrocer. :yes:

drunken greengrocer from Luton with an Instamatic and Dr Scholl sandals and last Tuesday's 'Daily Express' and I drone on and on and on about how Mr. Smith should be running this country and how many languages Enoch Powell can speak and then I throw up all over the Cuba Libres.

'Tis one of Shakespeare's latest works. How fortunate we are indeed to have such a poet on these shores. :wub:

Yes, a poet is essential for complete home comfort, and all-year round reliability at low cost.

No, we can't touch it without an MI, you see. Or an R40. :Alex: :Neil: :geddy:

All right, all right, all right, sonny. I'll tell you what. We'll do something different. I'll be a bus conductor, and you can be a really funny passenger on a bus.

Take this bus to Cuba. :laughing guy:

An island inhabited entirely by ex-international interviewers in pursuit of the impossible dream.
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We have got some down at the depot, Aberdeen. It's all right. You wait here, I've got a car. :beathorse:

On the morning of the 24th, early to avoid the traffic, blackhawkrush's historic expedition set out from Surbiton

Please, could you tell me the way to Iddesleigh? Normally, I would have asked a policeman or a minister of the Church, but finding no one available, I though it better to consult a man with some professional qualifications, rather than rely on the possibly confused testimony of a passer-by. :gumby:

Er, you don't think you should make it clear that I'm a psychiatrist?

No, you're not. You're a greengrocer. :yes:

drunken greengrocer from Luton with an Instamatic and Dr Scholl sandals and last Tuesday's 'Daily Express' and I drone on and on and on about how Mr. Smith should be running this country and how many languages Enoch Powell can speak and then I throw up all over the Cuba Libres.

'Tis one of Shakespeare's latest works. How fortunate we are indeed to have such a poet on these shores. :wub:

Yes, a poet is essential for complete home comfort, and all-year round reliability at low cost.

No, we can't touch it without an MI, you see. Or an R40. :Alex: :Neil: :geddy:

All right, all right, all right, sonny. I'll tell you what. We'll do something different. I'll be a bus conductor, and you can be a really funny passenger on a bus.

Take this bus to Cuba. :laughing guy:

An island inhabited entirely by ex-international interviewers in pursuit of the impossible dream.

So let's forget about them and follow instead the destiny of this man...Harold Potter, gardener, and tax official, first victim of Creatures from another Planet. :tongue: :tongue: :tongue:
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We have got some down at the depot, Aberdeen. It's all right. You wait here, I've got a car. :beathorse:

On the morning of the 24th, early to avoid the traffic, blackhawkrush's historic expedition set out from Surbiton

Please, could you tell me the way to Iddesleigh? Normally, I would have asked a policeman or a minister of the Church, but finding no one available, I though it better to consult a man with some professional qualifications, rather than rely on the possibly confused testimony of a passer-by. :gumby:

Er, you don't think you should make it clear that I'm a psychiatrist?

No, you're not. You're a greengrocer. :yes:

drunken greengrocer from Luton with an Instamatic and Dr Scholl sandals and last Tuesday's 'Daily Express' and I drone on and on and on about how Mr. Smith should be running this country and how many languages Enoch Powell can speak and then I throw up all over the Cuba Libres.

'Tis one of Shakespeare's latest works. How fortunate we are indeed to have such a poet on these shores. :wub:

Yes, a poet is essential for complete home comfort, and all-year round reliability at low cost.

No, we can't touch it without an MI, you see. Or an R40. :Alex: :Neil: :geddy:

All right, all right, all right, sonny. I'll tell you what. We'll do something different. I'll be a bus conductor, and you can be a really funny passenger on a bus.

Take this bus to Cuba. :laughing guy:

An island inhabited entirely by ex-international interviewers in pursuit of the impossible dream.

So let's forget about them and follow instead the destiny of this man...Harold Potter, gardener, and tax official, first victim of Creatures from another Planet. :tongue: :tongue: :tongue:

a planet that's evolving

And revolving at 900 miles an hour.

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We have got some down at the depot, Aberdeen. It's all right. You wait here, I've got a car. :beathorse:

On the morning of the 24th, early to avoid the traffic, blackhawkrush's historic expedition set out from Surbiton

Please, could you tell me the way to Iddesleigh? Normally, I would have asked a policeman or a minister of the Church, but finding no one available, I though it better to consult a man with some professional qualifications, rather than rely on the possibly confused testimony of a passer-by. :gumby:

Er, you don't think you should make it clear that I'm a psychiatrist?

No, you're not. You're a greengrocer. :yes:

drunken greengrocer from Luton with an Instamatic and Dr Scholl sandals and last Tuesday's 'Daily Express' and I drone on and on and on about how Mr. Smith should be running this country and how many languages Enoch Powell can speak and then I throw up all over the Cuba Libres.

'Tis one of Shakespeare's latest works. How fortunate we are indeed to have such a poet on these shores. :wub:

Yes, a poet is essential for complete home comfort, and all-year round reliability at low cost.

No, we can't touch it without an MI, you see. Or an R40. :Alex: :Neil: :geddy:

All right, all right, all right, sonny. I'll tell you what. We'll do something different. I'll be a bus conductor, and you can be a really funny passenger on a bus.

Take this bus to Cuba. :laughing guy:

An island inhabited entirely by ex-international interviewers in pursuit of the impossible dream.

So let's forget about them and follow instead the destiny of this man...Harold Potter, gardener, and tax official, first victim of Creatures from another Planet. :tongue: :tongue: :tongue:

a planet that's evolving

And revolving at 900 miles an hour.

Here, an ordinary cup of drinking chocolate costs four million pounds. :wtf:
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We have got some down at the depot, Aberdeen. It's all right. You wait here, I've got a car. :beathorse:

On the morning of the 24th, early to avoid the traffic, blackhawkrush's historic expedition set out from Surbiton

Please, could you tell me the way to Iddesleigh? Normally, I would have asked a policeman or a minister of the Church, but finding no one available, I though it better to consult a man with some professional qualifications, rather than rely on the possibly confused testimony of a passer-by. :gumby:

Er, you don't think you should make it clear that I'm a psychiatrist?

No, you're not. You're a greengrocer. :yes:

drunken greengrocer from Luton with an Instamatic and Dr Scholl sandals and last Tuesday's 'Daily Express' and I drone on and on and on about how Mr. Smith should be running this country and how many languages Enoch Powell can speak and then I throw up all over the Cuba Libres.

'Tis one of Shakespeare's latest works. How fortunate we are indeed to have such a poet on these shores. :wub:

Yes, a poet is essential for complete home comfort, and all-year round reliability at low cost.

No, we can't touch it without an MI, you see. Or an R40. :Alex: :Neil: :geddy:

All right, all right, all right, sonny. I'll tell you what. We'll do something different. I'll be a bus conductor, and you can be a really funny passenger on a bus.

Take this bus to Cuba. :laughing guy:

An island inhabited entirely by ex-international interviewers in pursuit of the impossible dream.

So let's forget about them and follow instead the destiny of this man...Harold Potter, gardener, and tax official, first victim of Creatures from another Planet. :tongue: :tongue: :tongue:

a planet that's evolving

And revolving at 900 miles an hour.

Here, an ordinary cup of drinking chocolate costs four million pounds. :wtf:

Now I did ask for tea.
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We have got some down at the depot, Aberdeen. It's all right. You wait here, I've got a car. :beathorse:

On the morning of the 24th, early to avoid the traffic, blackhawkrush's historic expedition set out from Surbiton

Please, could you tell me the way to Iddesleigh? Normally, I would have asked a policeman or a minister of the Church, but finding no one available, I though it better to consult a man with some professional qualifications, rather than rely on the possibly confused testimony of a passer-by. :gumby:

Er, you don't think you should make it clear that I'm a psychiatrist?

No, you're not. You're a greengrocer. :yes:

drunken greengrocer from Luton with an Instamatic and Dr Scholl sandals and last Tuesday's 'Daily Express' and I drone on and on and on about how Mr. Smith should be running this country and how many languages Enoch Powell can speak and then I throw up all over the Cuba Libres.

'Tis one of Shakespeare's latest works. How fortunate we are indeed to have such a poet on these shores. :wub:

Yes, a poet is essential for complete home comfort, and all-year round reliability at low cost.

No, we can't touch it without an MI, you see. Or an R40. :Alex: :Neil: :geddy:

All right, all right, all right, sonny. I'll tell you what. We'll do something different. I'll be a bus conductor, and you can be a really funny passenger on a bus.

Take this bus to Cuba. :laughing guy:

An island inhabited entirely by ex-international interviewers in pursuit of the impossible dream.

So let's forget about them and follow instead the destiny of this man...Harold Potter, gardener, and tax official, first victim of Creatures from another Planet. :tongue: :tongue: :tongue:

a planet that's evolving

And revolving at 900 miles an hour.

Here, an ordinary cup of drinking chocolate costs four million pounds. :wtf:

Now I did ask for tea.

You are English type-a. Silly English knnnniggets! :P
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We have got some down at the depot, Aberdeen. It's all right. You wait here, I've got a car. :beathorse:

On the morning of the 24th, early to avoid the traffic, blackhawkrush's historic expedition set out from Surbiton

Please, could you tell me the way to Iddesleigh? Normally, I would have asked a policeman or a minister of the Church, but finding no one available, I though it better to consult a man with some professional qualifications, rather than rely on the possibly confused testimony of a passer-by. :gumby:

Er, you don't think you should make it clear that I'm a psychiatrist?

No, you're not. You're a greengrocer. :yes:

drunken greengrocer from Luton with an Instamatic and Dr Scholl sandals and last Tuesday's 'Daily Express' and I drone on and on and on about how Mr. Smith should be running this country and how many languages Enoch Powell can speak and then I throw up all over the Cuba Libres.

'Tis one of Shakespeare's latest works. How fortunate we are indeed to have such a poet on these shores. :wub:

Yes, a poet is essential for complete home comfort, and all-year round reliability at low cost.

No, we can't touch it without an MI, you see. Or an R40. :Alex: :Neil: :geddy:

All right, all right, all right, sonny. I'll tell you what. We'll do something different. I'll be a bus conductor, and you can be a really funny passenger on a bus.

Take this bus to Cuba. :laughing guy:

An island inhabited entirely by ex-international interviewers in pursuit of the impossible dream.

So let's forget about them and follow instead the destiny of this man...Harold Potter, gardener, and tax official, first victim of Creatures from another Planet. :tongue: :tongue: :tongue:

a planet that's evolving

And revolving at 900 miles an hour.

Here, an ordinary cup of drinking chocolate costs four million pounds. :wtf:

Now I did ask for tea.

You are English type-a. Silly English knnnniggets! :P

Grazie signor ... grazie di tutta la sua gentilezza.
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We have got some down at the depot, Aberdeen. It's all right. You wait here, I've got a car. :beathorse:

On the morning of the 24th, early to avoid the traffic, blackhawkrush's historic expedition set out from Surbiton

Please, could you tell me the way to Iddesleigh? Normally, I would have asked a policeman or a minister of the Church, but finding no one available, I though it better to consult a man with some professional qualifications, rather than rely on the possibly confused testimony of a passer-by. :gumby:

Er, you don't think you should make it clear that I'm a psychiatrist?

No, you're not. You're a greengrocer. :yes:

drunken greengrocer from Luton with an Instamatic and Dr Scholl sandals and last Tuesday's 'Daily Express' and I drone on and on and on about how Mr. Smith should be running this country and how many languages Enoch Powell can speak and then I throw up all over the Cuba Libres.

'Tis one of Shakespeare's latest works. How fortunate we are indeed to have such a poet on these shores. :wub:

Yes, a poet is essential for complete home comfort, and all-year round reliability at low cost.

No, we can't touch it without an MI, you see. Or an R40. :Alex: :Neil: :geddy:

All right, all right, all right, sonny. I'll tell you what. We'll do something different. I'll be a bus conductor, and you can be a really funny passenger on a bus.

Take this bus to Cuba. :laughing guy:

An island inhabited entirely by ex-international interviewers in pursuit of the impossible dream.

So let's forget about them and follow instead the destiny of this man...Harold Potter, gardener, and tax official, first victim of Creatures from another Planet. :tongue: :tongue: :tongue:

a planet that's evolving

And revolving at 900 miles an hour.

Here, an ordinary cup of drinking chocolate costs four million pounds. :wtf:

Now I did ask for tea.

You are English type-a. Silly English knnnniggets! :P

Grazie signor ... grazie di tutta la sua gentilezza.

Shut your cake hole, you Nazi! :bang bang:
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We have got some down at the depot, Aberdeen. It's all right. You wait here, I've got a car. :beathorse:

On the morning of the 24th, early to avoid the traffic, blackhawkrush's historic expedition set out from Surbiton

Please, could you tell me the way to Iddesleigh? Normally, I would have asked a policeman or a minister of the Church, but finding no one available, I though it better to consult a man with some professional qualifications, rather than rely on the possibly confused testimony of a passer-by. :gumby:

Er, you don't think you should make it clear that I'm a psychiatrist?

No, you're not. You're a greengrocer. :yes:

drunken greengrocer from Luton with an Instamatic and Dr Scholl sandals and last Tuesday's 'Daily Express' and I drone on and on and on about how Mr. Smith should be running this country and how many languages Enoch Powell can speak and then I throw up all over the Cuba Libres.

'Tis one of Shakespeare's latest works. How fortunate we are indeed to have such a poet on these shores. :wub:

Yes, a poet is essential for complete home comfort, and all-year round reliability at low cost.

No, we can't touch it without an MI, you see. Or an R40. :Alex: :Neil: :geddy:

All right, all right, all right, sonny. I'll tell you what. We'll do something different. I'll be a bus conductor, and you can be a really funny passenger on a bus.

Take this bus to Cuba. :laughing guy:

An island inhabited entirely by ex-international interviewers in pursuit of the impossible dream.

So let's forget about them and follow instead the destiny of this man...Harold Potter, gardener, and tax official, first victim of Creatures from another Planet. :tongue: :tongue: :tongue:

a planet that's evolving

And revolving at 900 miles an hour.

Here, an ordinary cup of drinking chocolate costs four million pounds. :wtf:

Now I did ask for tea.

You are English type-a. Silly English knnnniggets! :P

Grazie signor ... grazie di tutta la sua gentilezza.

Shut your cake hole, you Nazi! :bang bang:

What I object to is that you automatically treat me like an inferior!
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You are English type-a. Silly English knnnniggets! :P

Grazie signor ... grazie di tutta la sua gentilezza.

Shut your cake hole, you Nazi! :bang bang:

What I object to is that you automatically treat me like an inferior!

You're no bloody use at all! You're an utter bloody wash-out! You make me sick, you weed!

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You are English type-a. Silly English knnnniggets! :P

Grazie signor ... grazie di tutta la sua gentilezza.

Shut your cake hole, you Nazi! :bang bang:

What I object to is that you automatically treat me like an inferior!

You're no bloody use at all! You're an utter bloody wash-out! You make me sick, you weed!

Yes, well, of course, this is just the sort blinkered philistine pig ignorance I've come to expect from you non-creative garbage. You sit there on your loathsome, spotty behinds squeezing blackheads, not caring a tinker's cuss about the struggling artist. You excrement! You lousy hypocritical whining toadies with your lousy colour TV sets and your Tony Jacklin golf clubs and your bleeding administrator handshakes! You wouldn't let me join, would you, you blackballing bastards. Well I wouldn't become an administrator now if you went down on your lousy, stinking, purulent knees and begged me.
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You are English type-a. Silly English knnnniggets! :P

Grazie signor ... grazie di tutta la sua gentilezza.

Shut your cake hole, you Nazi! :bang bang:

What I object to is that you automatically treat me like an inferior!

You're no bloody use at all! You're an utter bloody wash-out! You make me sick, you weed!

Yes, well, of course, this is just the sort blinkered philistine pig ignorance I've come to expect from you non-creative garbage. You sit there on your loathsome, spotty behinds squeezing blackheads, not caring a tinker's cuss about the struggling artist. You excrement! You lousy hypocritical whining toadies with your lousy colour TV sets and your Tony Jacklin golf clubs and your bleeding administrator handshakes! You wouldn't let me join, would you, you blackballing bastards. Well I wouldn't become an administrator now if you went down on your lousy, stinking, purulent knees and begged me.

Citizen takes administrator hopes seriously. He is up at six o'clock every morning working on special posts designed to keep him silly. :clap:
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You are English type-a. Silly English knnnniggets! :P

Grazie signor ... grazie di tutta la sua gentilezza.

Shut your cake hole, you Nazi! :bang bang:

What I object to is that you automatically treat me like an inferior!

You're no bloody use at all! You're an utter bloody wash-out! You make me sick, you weed!

Yes, well, of course, this is just the sort blinkered philistine pig ignorance I've come to expect from you non-creative garbage. You sit there on your loathsome, spotty behinds squeezing blackheads, not caring a tinker's cuss about the struggling artist. You excrement! You lousy hypocritical whining toadies with your lousy colour TV sets and your Tony Jacklin golf clubs and your bleeding administrator handshakes! You wouldn't let me join, would you, you blackballing bastards. Well I wouldn't become an administrator now if you went down on your lousy, stinking, purulent knees and begged me.

Citizen takes administrator hopes seriously. He is up at six o'clock every morning working on special posts designed to keep him silly. :clap:

Listen...strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for becoming an administrator.

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You are English type-a. Silly English knnnniggets! :P

Grazie signor ... grazie di tutta la sua gentilezza.

Shut your cake hole, you Nazi! :bang bang:

What I object to is that you automatically treat me like an inferior!

You're no bloody use at all! You're an utter bloody wash-out! You make me sick, you weed!

Yes, well, of course, this is just the sort blinkered philistine pig ignorance I've come to expect from you non-creative garbage. You sit there on your loathsome, spotty behinds squeezing blackheads, not caring a tinker's cuss about the struggling artist. You excrement! You lousy hypocritical whining toadies with your lousy colour TV sets and your Tony Jacklin golf clubs and your bleeding administrator handshakes! You wouldn't let me join, would you, you blackballing bastards. Well I wouldn't become an administrator now if you went down on your lousy, stinking, purulent knees and begged me.

Citizen takes administrator hopes seriously. He is up at six o'clock every morning working on special posts designed to keep him silly. :clap:

Listen...strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for becoming an administrator.

I don't know, mush, I'll have a look in the script. Where are we? Page 344? Are you 'man 73?' :ph34r:
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You are English type-a. Silly English knnnniggets! :P

Grazie signor ... grazie di tutta la sua gentilezza.

Shut your cake hole, you Nazi! :bang bang:

What I object to is that you automatically treat me like an inferior!

You're no bloody use at all! You're an utter bloody wash-out! You make me sick, you weed!

Yes, well, of course, this is just the sort blinkered philistine pig ignorance I've come to expect from you non-creative garbage. You sit there on your loathsome, spotty behinds squeezing blackheads, not caring a tinker's cuss about the struggling artist. You excrement! You lousy hypocritical whining toadies with your lousy colour TV sets and your Tony Jacklin golf clubs and your bleeding administrator handshakes! You wouldn't let me join, would you, you blackballing bastards. Well I wouldn't become an administrator now if you went down on your lousy, stinking, purulent knees and begged me.

Citizen takes administrator hopes seriously. He is up at six o'clock every morning working on special posts designed to keep him silly. :clap:

Listen...strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for becoming an administrator.

I don't know, mush, I'll have a look in the script. Where are we? Page 344? Are you 'man 73?' :ph34r:

I am not a man you silly billy.
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You are English type-a. Silly English knnnniggets! :P

Grazie signor ... grazie di tutta la sua gentilezza.

Shut your cake hole, you Nazi! :bang bang:

What I object to is that you automatically treat me like an inferior!

You're no bloody use at all! You're an utter bloody wash-out! You make me sick, you weed!

Yes, well, of course, this is just the sort blinkered philistine pig ignorance I've come to expect from you non-creative garbage. You sit there on your loathsome, spotty behinds squeezing blackheads, not caring a tinker's cuss about the struggling artist. You excrement! You lousy hypocritical whining toadies with your lousy colour TV sets and your Tony Jacklin golf clubs and your bleeding administrator handshakes! You wouldn't let me join, would you, you blackballing bastards. Well I wouldn't become an administrator now if you went down on your lousy, stinking, purulent knees and begged me.

Citizen takes administrator hopes seriously. He is up at six o'clock every morning working on special posts designed to keep him silly. :clap:

Listen...strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for becoming an administrator.

I don't know, mush, I'll have a look in the script. Where are we? Page 344? Are you 'man 73?' :ph34r:

I am not a man you silly billy.

There's the old man from Scene 24!

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You are English type-a. Silly English knnnniggets! :P

Grazie signor ... grazie di tutta la sua gentilezza.

Shut your cake hole, you Nazi! :bang bang:

What I object to is that you automatically treat me like an inferior!

You're no bloody use at all! You're an utter bloody wash-out! You make me sick, you weed!

Yes, well, of course, this is just the sort blinkered philistine pig ignorance I've come to expect from you non-creative garbage. You sit there on your loathsome, spotty behinds squeezing blackheads, not caring a tinker's cuss about the struggling artist. You excrement! You lousy hypocritical whining toadies with your lousy colour TV sets and your Tony Jacklin golf clubs and your bleeding administrator handshakes! You wouldn't let me join, would you, you blackballing bastards. Well I wouldn't become an administrator now if you went down on your lousy, stinking, purulent knees and begged me.

Citizen takes administrator hopes seriously. He is up at six o'clock every morning working on special posts designed to keep him silly. :clap:

Listen...strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for becoming an administrator.

I don't know, mush, I'll have a look in the script. Where are we? Page 344? Are you 'man 73?' :ph34r:

I am not a man you silly billy.

There's the old man from Scene 24!

the scene where Scott gets off the boat on to the ice floe and he sees the lion and he fights it and kills it
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You are English type-a. Silly English knnnniggets! :P

Grazie signor ... grazie di tutta la sua gentilezza.

Shut your cake hole, you Nazi! :bang bang:

What I object to is that you automatically treat me like an inferior!

You're no bloody use at all! You're an utter bloody wash-out! You make me sick, you weed!

Yes, well, of course, this is just the sort blinkered philistine pig ignorance I've come to expect from you non-creative garbage. You sit there on your loathsome, spotty behinds squeezing blackheads, not caring a tinker's cuss about the struggling artist. You excrement! You lousy hypocritical whining toadies with your lousy colour TV sets and your Tony Jacklin golf clubs and your bleeding administrator handshakes! You wouldn't let me join, would you, you blackballing bastards. Well I wouldn't become an administrator now if you went down on your lousy, stinking, purulent knees and begged me.

Citizen takes administrator hopes seriously. He is up at six o'clock every morning working on special posts designed to keep him silly. :clap:

Listen...strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for becoming an administrator.

I don't know, mush, I'll have a look in the script. Where are we? Page 344? Are you 'man 73?' :ph34r:

I am not a man you silly billy.

There's the old man from Scene 24!

the scene where Scott gets off the boat on to the ice floe and he sees the lion and he fights it and kills it

But Roy must make sure... :bang bang:
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You are English type-a. Silly English knnnniggets! :P

Grazie signor ... grazie di tutta la sua gentilezza.

Shut your cake hole, you Nazi! :bang bang:

What I object to is that you automatically treat me like an inferior!

You're no bloody use at all! You're an utter bloody wash-out! You make me sick, you weed!

Yes, well, of course, this is just the sort blinkered philistine pig ignorance I've come to expect from you non-creative garbage. You sit there on your loathsome, spotty behinds squeezing blackheads, not caring a tinker's cuss about the struggling artist. You excrement! You lousy hypocritical whining toadies with your lousy colour TV sets and your Tony Jacklin golf clubs and your bleeding administrator handshakes! You wouldn't let me join, would you, you blackballing bastards. Well I wouldn't become an administrator now if you went down on your lousy, stinking, purulent knees and begged me.

Citizen takes administrator hopes seriously. He is up at six o'clock every morning working on special posts designed to keep him silly. :clap:

Listen...strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for becoming an administrator.

I don't know, mush, I'll have a look in the script. Where are we? Page 344? Are you 'man 73?' :ph34r:

I am not a man you silly billy.

There's the old man from Scene 24!

the scene where Scott gets off the boat on to the ice floe and he sees the lion and he fights it and kills it

But Roy must make sure... :bang bang:

make sure he doesn't leave the room
  • Like 1
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You are English type-a. Silly English knnnniggets! :P

Grazie signor ... grazie di tutta la sua gentilezza.

Shut your cake hole, you Nazi! :bang bang:

What I object to is that you automatically treat me like an inferior!

You're no bloody use at all! You're an utter bloody wash-out! You make me sick, you weed!

Yes, well, of course, this is just the sort blinkered philistine pig ignorance I've come to expect from you non-creative garbage. You sit there on your loathsome, spotty behinds squeezing blackheads, not caring a tinker's cuss about the struggling artist. You excrement! You lousy hypocritical whining toadies with your lousy colour TV sets and your Tony Jacklin golf clubs and your bleeding administrator handshakes! You wouldn't let me join, would you, you blackballing bastards. Well I wouldn't become an administrator now if you went down on your lousy, stinking, purulent knees and begged me.

Citizen takes administrator hopes seriously. He is up at six o'clock every morning working on special posts designed to keep him silly. :clap:

Listen...strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for becoming an administrator.

I don't know, mush, I'll have a look in the script. Where are we? Page 344? Are you 'man 73?' :ph34r:

I am not a man you silly billy.

There's the old man from Scene 24!

the scene where Scott gets off the boat on to the ice floe and he sees the lion and he fights it and kills it

But Roy must make sure... :bang bang:

make sure he doesn't leave the room

This house is surrounded. I'm afraid I must not ask anyone to leave the room. No, I must ask nobody...no, I must ask everybody to...I must not ask anyone to leave the room.

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You are English type-a. Silly English knnnniggets! :P

Grazie signor ... grazie di tutta la sua gentilezza.

Shut your cake hole, you Nazi! :bang bang:

What I object to is that you automatically treat me like an inferior!

You're no bloody use at all! You're an utter bloody wash-out! You make me sick, you weed!

Yes, well, of course, this is just the sort blinkered philistine pig ignorance I've come to expect from you non-creative garbage. You sit there on your loathsome, spotty behinds squeezing blackheads, not caring a tinker's cuss about the struggling artist. You excrement! You lousy hypocritical whining toadies with your lousy colour TV sets and your Tony Jacklin golf clubs and your bleeding administrator handshakes! You wouldn't let me join, would you, you blackballing bastards. Well I wouldn't become an administrator now if you went down on your lousy, stinking, purulent knees and begged me.

Citizen takes administrator hopes seriously. He is up at six o'clock every morning working on special posts designed to keep him silly. :clap:

Listen...strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for becoming an administrator.

I don't know, mush, I'll have a look in the script. Where are we? Page 344? Are you 'man 73?' :ph34r:

I am not a man you silly billy.

There's the old man from Scene 24!

the scene where Scott gets off the boat on to the ice floe and he sees the lion and he fights it and kills it

But Roy must make sure... :bang bang:

make sure he doesn't leave the room

This house is surrounded. I'm afraid I must not ask anyone to leave the room. No, I must ask nobody...no, I must ask everybody to...I must not ask anyone to leave the room.

I may have had the motive, administrator, but I could not have done it, for I have only just arrived from Music of the Spheres
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You are English type-a. Silly English knnnniggets! :P

Grazie signor ... grazie di tutta la sua gentilezza.

Shut your cake hole, you Nazi! :bang bang:

What I object to is that you automatically treat me like an inferior!

You're no bloody use at all! You're an utter bloody wash-out! You make me sick, you weed!

Yes, well, of course, this is just the sort blinkered philistine pig ignorance I've come to expect from you non-creative garbage. You sit there on your loathsome, spotty behinds squeezing blackheads, not caring a tinker's cuss about the struggling artist. You excrement! You lousy hypocritical whining toadies with your lousy colour TV sets and your Tony Jacklin golf clubs and your bleeding administrator handshakes! You wouldn't let me join, would you, you blackballing bastards. Well I wouldn't become an administrator now if you went down on your lousy, stinking, purulent knees and begged me.

Citizen takes administrator hopes seriously. He is up at six o'clock every morning working on special posts designed to keep him silly. :clap:

Listen...strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for becoming an administrator.

I don't know, mush, I'll have a look in the script. Where are we? Page 344? Are you 'man 73?' :ph34r:

I am not a man you silly billy.

There's the old man from Scene 24!

the scene where Scott gets off the boat on to the ice floe and he sees the lion and he fights it and kills it

But Roy must make sure... :bang bang:

make sure he doesn't leave the room

This house is surrounded. I'm afraid I must not ask anyone to leave the room. No, I must ask nobody...no, I must ask everybody to...I must not ask anyone to leave the room.

I may have had the motive, administrator, but I could not have done it, for I have only just arrived from Music of the Spheres

It's only a bloody parking offense.

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You are English type-a. Silly English knnnniggets! :P

Grazie signor ... grazie di tutta la sua gentilezza.

Shut your cake hole, you Nazi! :bang bang:

What I object to is that you automatically treat me like an inferior!

You're no bloody use at all! You're an utter bloody wash-out! You make me sick, you weed!

Yes, well, of course, this is just the sort blinkered philistine pig ignorance I've come to expect from you non-creative garbage. You sit there on your loathsome, spotty behinds squeezing blackheads, not caring a tinker's cuss about the struggling artist. You excrement! You lousy hypocritical whining toadies with your lousy colour TV sets and your Tony Jacklin golf clubs and your bleeding administrator handshakes! You wouldn't let me join, would you, you blackballing bastards. Well I wouldn't become an administrator now if you went down on your lousy, stinking, purulent knees and begged me.

Citizen takes administrator hopes seriously. He is up at six o'clock every morning working on special posts designed to keep him silly. :clap:

Listen...strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for becoming an administrator.

I don't know, mush, I'll have a look in the script. Where are we? Page 344? Are you 'man 73?' :ph34r:

I am not a man you silly billy.

There's the old man from Scene 24!

the scene where Scott gets off the boat on to the ice floe and he sees the lion and he fights it and kills it

But Roy must make sure... :bang bang:

make sure he doesn't leave the room

This house is surrounded. I'm afraid I must not ask anyone to leave the room. No, I must ask nobody...no, I must ask everybody to...I must not ask anyone to leave the room.

I may have had the motive, administrator, but I could not have done it, for I have only just arrived from Music of the Spheres

It's only a bloody parking offense.

I insist I must be made an example of. You've got give life. :unsure: Well, ten years at least.
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You are English type-a. Silly English knnnniggets! :P

Grazie signor ... grazie di tutta la sua gentilezza.

Shut your cake hole, you Nazi! :bang bang:

What I object to is that you automatically treat me like an inferior!

You're no bloody use at all! You're an utter bloody wash-out! You make me sick, you weed!

Yes, well, of course, this is just the sort blinkered philistine pig ignorance I've come to expect from you non-creative garbage. You sit there on your loathsome, spotty behinds squeezing blackheads, not caring a tinker's cuss about the struggling artist. You excrement! You lousy hypocritical whining toadies with your lousy colour TV sets and your Tony Jacklin golf clubs and your bleeding administrator handshakes! You wouldn't let me join, would you, you blackballing bastards. Well I wouldn't become an administrator now if you went down on your lousy, stinking, purulent knees and begged me.

Citizen takes administrator hopes seriously. He is up at six o'clock every morning working on special posts designed to keep him silly. :clap:

Listen...strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for becoming an administrator.

I don't know, mush, I'll have a look in the script. Where are we? Page 344? Are you 'man 73?' :ph34r:

I am not a man you silly billy.

There's the old man from Scene 24!

the scene where Scott gets off the boat on to the ice floe and he sees the lion and he fights it and kills it

But Roy must make sure... :bang bang:

make sure he doesn't leave the room

This house is surrounded. I'm afraid I must not ask anyone to leave the room. No, I must ask nobody...no, I must ask everybody to...I must not ask anyone to leave the room.

I may have had the motive, administrator, but I could not have done it, for I have only just arrived from Music of the Spheres

It's only a bloody parking offense.

I insist I must be made an example of. You've got give life. :unsure: Well, ten years at least.

I'm going to have one final fling before I leave, so I sentence you to be burnt at the stake.
  • Like 1
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You are English type-a. Silly English knnnniggets! :P

Grazie signor ... grazie di tutta la sua gentilezza.

Shut your cake hole, you Nazi! :bang bang:

What I object to is that you automatically treat me like an inferior!

You're no bloody use at all! You're an utter bloody wash-out! You make me sick, you weed!

Yes, well, of course, this is just the sort blinkered philistine pig ignorance I've come to expect from you non-creative garbage. You sit there on your loathsome, spotty behinds squeezing blackheads, not caring a tinker's cuss about the struggling artist. You excrement! You lousy hypocritical whining toadies with your lousy colour TV sets and your Tony Jacklin golf clubs and your bleeding administrator handshakes! You wouldn't let me join, would you, you blackballing bastards. Well I wouldn't become an administrator now if you went down on your lousy, stinking, purulent knees and begged me.

Citizen takes administrator hopes seriously. He is up at six o'clock every morning working on special posts designed to keep him silly. :clap:

Listen...strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for becoming an administrator.

I don't know, mush, I'll have a look in the script. Where are we? Page 344? Are you 'man 73?' :ph34r:

I am not a man you silly billy.

There's the old man from Scene 24!

the scene where Scott gets off the boat on to the ice floe and he sees the lion and he fights it and kills it

But Roy must make sure... :bang bang:

make sure he doesn't leave the room

This house is surrounded. I'm afraid I must not ask anyone to leave the room. No, I must ask nobody...no, I must ask everybody to...I must not ask anyone to leave the room.

I may have had the motive, administrator, but I could not have done it, for I have only just arrived from Music of the Spheres

It's only a bloody parking offense.

I insist I must be made an example of. You've got give life. :unsure: Well, ten years at least.

I'm going to have one final fling before I leave, so I sentence you to be burnt at the stake.

If we burn her, she gets stuffed in the flames, crackle crackle crackle, which is a bit of a shock if she's not quite dead.

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