Shut your festering gob, you tit! Your type really makes me puke you vacuous, toffy-nosed, malodorous pervert! 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! Hey! Your nose is going to be three foot wide across your face by the time I’m finished with you! The purpose of foreplay is to cause the vagina to lubricate so that the penis can penetrate more easily.
Why do you always smell like vaseline?
Hegel is arguing that the reality is merely an a priori adjunct of non-naturalistic ethics, Kant via the categorical imperative is holding that ontologically it exists only in the imagination, and Marx claims it was offside. There’s no Messiah in here. There’s a mess all right, but no Messiah. Now go away!
I cut down trees, I skip and jump, I like to press wildflowers. I put own womens’ clothing, and hang around in bars. Get on with it! It’s not pining, it’s passed on! This parrot is no more! It has ceased to be! It’s expired and gone to meet its maker! This is a late parrot! It’s a stiff! Bereft of life, it rests in peace! If you hadn’t nailed it to the perch, it would be pushing up the daisies! It’s metabolic processes are now history! He’s off the twig! He’s kicked the bucket, he’s shuffled off the mortal coil, rung down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. This is an ex-parrot!
Oh and Jenkins, apparently your mother died this morning. I mean, because we are members of the Protestant Reformed Church, which successfully challenged the autocratic power of the Papacy in the mid-sixteenth century, we can wear little rubber devices to prevent issue.
We have to go. Uhm… I’m having rather heavy period. Pero las llamas son peligrosas. Si usted ve una llama donde hay gente nadando, usted gritar: ¡Cuidado! ¡Llamas! Not necessarily. I could be arguing in my spare time. Oh, king eh? Very nice. And how’d you get that, eh? By exploiting the workers. By hanging on to outdated imperialist dogma which perpetuates the economic and social differences in our society.
And Dinsdale says ‘I hear you’ve been a naughty boy, Clement’, and he splits me nostrils open, saws me leg off and pulls me liver out. And I tell him ‘My name’s not Clement’, and then he loses his temper and nails my head to the floor.
We use only the finest baby frogs, dew picked and flown from Iraq, cleansed in finest quality spring water, lightly killed, and then sealed in a succulent Swiss quintuple smooth treble cream milk chocolate envelope and lovingly frosted with glucose. I will not have my fwends widiculed by the common soldiewy. Anybody else feel like a little… giggle… when I mention my fwiend… Biggus… Dickus?
It’s a Mr. Death, dear. He’s here about the reaping. I’m Brian, and so’s my wife! This is boring. Let’s go watch a stoning. Is your wife a goer, eh? Know what I mean? Know what I mean? Nudge, nudge! Know what I mean? Say no more! Are you suggesting coconuts migrate? Ah, I see you have the machine that goes ping. This is my favorite. You see we lease it back from the company we sold it to and that way it comes under the monthly current budget and not the capital account.
Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition! We interrupt this program to annoy you and make things generally irritating. What is the capital of Assyria? If we took the bones out, it wouldn’t be crunchy, would it? Stwike him, Centuwion! Stwike him vewy wuffly!
Oh, what wouldn’t I give to be spat at in the face? I sometimes hang awake at night, dreaming of being spat at in the face Oh, waiter! This conversation isn’t very good. You don’t frighten us, English pig dogs. Go and boil your bottoms, you sons of a silly person. I blow my nose at you, so-called “Arthur King,” you and all your silly English K-nig-hts. I’m afraid I have no choice but to sell you all for scientific experiments.
I told you to lay off the beans, you whore! At this time, a friend shall lose his friend’s hammer and the young shall not know where lieth the things possessed by their fathers that their fathers put there only just the night before, about eight o’clock.
I made this…
I object to all this sex on the television. I mean, I keep falling off! Oh, oh, I see! Running away, eh? You yellow bastards! Come back here and take what’s coming to you! I’ll bite your legs off! Come and see the violence inherent in the system. Help! Help! I’m being repressed! 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.
That’s what being a Protestant’s all about. That’s why it’s the church for me. That’s why it’s the church for anyone who respects the individual and the individual’s right to decide for him or herself. When Martin Luther nailed his protest up to the church door in fifteen-seventeen, he may not have realised the full significance of what he was doing, but four hundred years later, thanks to him, my dear, I can wear whatever I want on my John Thomas…
