Badger: There's a bomb onboard this plane, and I'll tell you where it is for a thousand pounds.
Second Pilot: I don't believe you.
Badger: If you don't tell me where the bomb is... If I don't give you the money... Unless you give me the bomb...
Stewardess: The money.
Badger: The bomb, thank you pretty lady -- the bomb will explode, killing everybody.
Second Pilot: Including you.
Badger: [pause] I'll tell you where it is for a pound.
Second Pilot: Here's a pound.
Badger: I don't want Scottish money. They've got the numbers. It can be traced.
Second Pilot: One English pound. Now where's the bomb?
Badger: I can't remember.
Second Pilot: You've forgotten.
Badger: Aye, you'd better have your pound back. Oh... [rubs it] fingerprints.
First Pilot: Now where's the bomb?
Badger: Ah, wait a tic, wait a tic. Er, my first is in Glasgow but not in Spain, my second is in steamer but not in train, my whole is in the luggage compartment on the plane... I'll tell you where the bomb is for a pound.
Second Pilot: It's in the luggage compartment.
Badger: Right. Here's your pound.

Bevis: [explaining his fear of cutting hair to his customer] When I was a kid I used to hate the sight of hair being cut. My mother said I was a fool. She said the only way to cure it was to become a barber! So I spent five ghastly years at the Hairdressers' Training Centre at Totnes. Can you imagine what it's like; cutting the same hair for five years?! I didn't want to be a barber anyway. I wanted to be... a lumberjack!

Bevis: I always preferred the outdoor life��hunting��shooting��fishing��getting out there with a gun and slaughtering a few of God's creatures.

Bevis: [sung] I cut down trees, I eat my lunch, I go to the lavatory. On Wednesdays I'll go shopping, and have buttered scones for tea.
Mounties Choir: [sung] He cuts down trees, he eats his lunch, he goes to the lavatory. On Wednesdays, he goes shopping, and has buttered scones for tea. He's a lumberjack and he's OK, he sleeps all night and he works all day.
Bevis: [sung] I cut down trees, I skip and jump, I like to press wildflowers. I put own womens' clothing, and hang around in bars.
Mounties Choir: [sung] He cuts down trees, he skips and jumps, he likes to press wildflowers. He puts on womens' clothing, and hangs around- [starts to show signs of disgust] -in bars? [perk back up] He's a lumberjack, and he's OK, he sleeps all night and he works all day.
Bevis: [sung] I cut down trees, I wear high heels, suspenders, and a bra. I wish I've been a girlie, just like my dear Mama!
Mountie Choir: [sung] He cuts down trees, he wears- high heels? [choir storms out in revulsion, as Bevis continues singing, to his Best Girlie's dismay]
Bevis's Best Girlie: Oh, Bevis. And I thought you were so rugged! [runs off crying]

Bruce: Rule 1 -- no pooftahs. Rule 2 -- no member of the faculty is to maltreat the abos in any way whatsoever if there's anyone watching. Rule 3 -- no pooftahs. Rule 4 -- I don't want to catch any of you not drinking after lights out. Rule 5 -- no pooftahs. Rule 6 -- there is NO Rule 6. Rule 7 -- no pooftahs!

Chief Constable There'samanbehindyou: Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Chief Constable There'samanbehindyou.
Everybody: There's a man behind you?
Chief Constable There'samanbehindyou: No, you're not going to fool me with that one.

Chinaman: [toasting] Buttocks up!

Colonel: Watkins, why did you join the army?
Watkins: For the water-skiing and the travel, sir. Not for the killing, sir. I asked them to put it on my form, sir: "no killing".
Colonel: Watkins, are you a pacifist?
Watkins: No, sir. I'm not a pacifist, sir: I'm a coward.
Colonel: [disgusted] That's a very silly line. Sit down!

Communist: Oh, my lack of God! It's Trotsky!

Cyril: In the debate, a spokesman accused the goverment of being silly and doing not at all good things. The member accepted this in the spirit of healthy criticism, but denied that he had ever been naughty with a choir boy. Angry shouts of 'What about the watermelon then?' were ordered then by the speaker to be stricken from the record and put into a brown paper bag in the lavvy. Any further interruptions would be cut up and distributed amongst the poor. For the Government, a front-bench spokesman said the Agricultural Tariff would have to be raised, and he fancied a bit. Futhermore, he argued, this would give a large boost to farmers, and a great deal of fun to him, his friends, and Miss Moist of Knightsbridge. From the back benches there were opposition shouts of 'Postcards for sale' and a healthy cry of 'Who likes a sailor then?' from the Minister Without Portfolio. Replying, the Shadow Minister said he could no longer deny the rumors, but he and the Dachshund were very happy. And in any case, he argued, rhubarb was cheap, and what was the harm in a sauna bath?

Doctor: [emerging from under a Scotsman's kilt] Look, would you please go away? I'm trying to examine this man! It's all right, I'm a doctor... actually I'm a gynaecologist, but this is my lunch hour.

Documentary Presenter: The gastropod is a randy little fellow whose tiny brain scarcely strays from the subject of you-know-what. The randiest of the gastropods is the limpet; this hot-blooded little beast, with its tent-like shell, is always on the job. Its extramarital activities are something startling. Frankly, I don't know how the female limpet finds the time to adhere to the rock face! How am I doing?
Gladys: Disgusting!
George: But more interesting!
Documentary Presenter: Another loose-living gastropod is the periwinkle. This shameless little libertine with its characteristic ventral locomotion is not the marrying kind! "Anywhere, anytime" is its motto, off with the shell and they're at it!
Gladys: What about the lemmelebrates?
Documentary Presenter: I'm coming to them. The Great Scallop: This tacky, scrofulous old rapist is second in depravity only to the common clam. This latter is a right whore! A harlot! A cynical, bed-hopping, firm-breasted, Rabelaisian bit of seafood that makes Fanny Hill look like a dead pope! And finally, among the lemmelebrate bivalves, that most depraved of the whole subspecies, the whelk. The whelk is nothing but a homosexual of the worst kind! This gay boy of the gastropods, this queer crustacian, this mincing mollusk, this screaming, prancing, limp-wristed queen of the deep makes me sick!

Encyclopedia Salesman: Burglar! [rings again] Burglar!
[woman appears at other side of door]
Woman: Yes?
Encyclopedia Salesman: Burglar, madam.
Woman: What do you want?
Encyclopedia Salesman: I want to come in and steal a few things, madam.
Woman: Are you an encyclopaedia salesman?
Encyclopedia Salesman: No madam, I'm a burglar, I burgle people.
Woman: I think you're an encyclopaedia salesman.
Encyclopedia Salesman: Oh I'm not, open the door, let me in please.
Woman: If I let you in you'll sell me encyclopaedias.
Encyclopedia Salesman: I won't, madam. I just want to come in and ransack the flat. Honestly.
Woman: Promise? No encyclopaedias?
Encyclopedia Salesman: None at all.
Woman: All right. [she opens door] You'd better come in then.
Encyclopedia Salesman: Mind you, I don't know whether you've really considered the advantages of owning a really fine set of modern encyclopaedias... You know, they can really do you wonders.

Fourth Bruce: Bruce, I call upon you to close our meeting with a prayer.
First Bruce: Oh Lord, we beseech thee etc., etc., etc., Amen.
All Bruces: Amen!
First Bruce: Right. Now let's get some Sheilas.
Exploding Penguin sketch

Fourth City Gent: Well, I've been in the city for 30 years and I've never once regretted being a nasty, greedy, cold-hearted, avaricious money-grubber... er, Conservative!