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...
Client 1: Excuse me.
Mr. Wiggin: Yes?
Client 1: Did you say 'knives'?
Mr. Wiggin: Rotating knives, yes.
Client 2: Do I take it that you are proposing to slaughter our tenants?
Mr. Wiggin: ...Does that not fit in with your plans?
Client 1: Not really. We asked for a simple block of flats.

Mrs Bun: Have you got anything without Spam?
Waitress: Well, Spam, egg, sausage, and Spam; that's not got much Spam in it.
Mrs Bun: I don't want any Spam!
Mr Bun: Why can't she have egg, bacon, Spam, and sausage?
Mrs Bun: That's got Spam in it!
Mr Bun: Not as much as Spam, egg, sausage, and Spam,
Mrs. Bun: Look, could I have egg, bacon, Spam and sausage, without the Spam?
Waitress: Bleurgh!
Mrs. Bun: What do you mean "Ugh?" I don't like Spam!
Vikings: [singing] Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam... Lovely Spam! Wonderful Spam!

Mrs Conclusion: Hello, Mrs Premise.
Mrs Premise: Hello, Mrs Conclusion.
Mrs Conclusion: Busy day?
Mrs Premise: Busy! I've just spent four hours burying the cat.
Mrs Conclusion: Four hours to bury a cat?
Mrs Premise: Yes, it wouldn't keep still. Wriggling about, howling its head off.
Mrs Conclusion: Oh - it wasn't dead then?
Mrs Premise: Well, no, no, but it's not at all a well cat. So, as we were going away for a fortnight's holiday, I thought I'd better bury it just to be on the safe side.
Mrs Conclusion: Quite right. You don't want to come back from Sorento to a dead cat. It'd be so anticlimactic. Yes, kill it now, that's what I say.
Mrs Premise: Yes.
Mrs Conclusion: We're going to have our budgie put down.
Mrs Premise: Really? Is it very old?
Mrs Conclusion: No. We just don't like it.

Mrs O: [reading her horoscope] You have green, scaly skin, and a soft yellow underbelly with a series of fin-like ridges running down your spine and tail. Although lizardlike in shape, you can grow anything up to thirty feet in length with huge teeth that can bite off great rocks and trees. You inhabit arid subtropical zones, and you wear spectacles.
Mrs Trepidatious: It's very good about the spectacles.
Mrs O: It's amazing!

Mrs. Shazam: Mrs. Nigger-Baiter's exploded!
Mrs. Shazam's son: Good thing, too.
Mrs. Shazam: She was my best friend!
Mrs. Shazam's son: Oh, don't be so sentimental, mother. Things explode everyday.

Narrator: In 1945, peace broke out. It was the end of the Joke. Joke warfare was banned at a special session of the Geneva Convention, and in 1950 the last remaining copy of the joke was laid to rest here in the Berkshire countryside, never to be told again.

Narrator: In 1970 the British Empire lay in ruins, foreign nationals frequented the streets, many of them Hungarians (not the streets--the foreign nationals). Anyway, many of these Hungarians went into tobacconists shops to buy cigarettes...

Narrator: Mount Everest. Forbidding. Aloof. Terrifying. The mountain with the biggest tits in the world.

Narrator: This is the planet Algon, fifth world in the system of Aldebaran, the Red Giant in the constellation of Sagittarius. Here an ordinary cup of drinking chocolate costs four million pounds, an immersion heater for the hot-water tank costs over six billion pounds, and a pair of split-crotch panties would be almost unobtainable.

Padre: Sorry I'm late, head master. I've been wrestling with Plato.
Head Master: What you do in your own time, padre, is written on the wall in the vestry!

Pepperpot #1: I can't tell the difference between Whizzo butter and this dead crab.
Interviewer: Yes, we find that 9 out of 10 British housewives can't tell the difference between Whizzo Butter and a dead crab.
Various Pepperpots: It's true�� We can't�� No.
Pepperpot #2: Here. Here! You're on television, aren't you?
Interviewer: [humbly] Yes, yes��
Pepperpot #2: He does the thing with one of those silly women who can't tell Whizzo Butter [points with handbag at the butter] from a dead crab [points with handbag at the dead crab].
Various Pepperpots: Yeah, yeah.
Pepperpot #3: You try that around here, young man, and we'll slit your face.
Pepperpot #4: [quietly] Yeah, with a razor.
It's the Arts

Peter Woods: We interrupt show jumping to bring you a news flash. The Second World War has now entered a sentimental stage. The morning on the Ardennes Front, the Germans started spooning at dawn, but the British Fifth Army responded by gazing deep in their eyes, and the Germans are reported to have gone 'all coy'.

Police officer: A blancmange, eh?
Woman: That's right. I was just playing a game of doubles with Sandra, Jocasta, Alec and David, when...
Police Officer: Hold on. That's five. Five people! How'd you play doubles with five people? Sounds a bit funny if you ask me, playing doubles with five people!
Woman: Well, we often play like that. Jocasta plays on the side, receiving service. It helps to speed the game up and make it a lot faster, and Jocasta isn't left out.
Police Officer: Look, are you asking me to believe that the five of you was playing doubles, while on the very next court there was a blancmange playing by itself?
Woman: That's right.
Police Officer: Well, answer me this, then: Why didn't Jocasta play the blancmange at singles, while you and Sandra and Alec and David played a proper game of doubles with four people?
Woman: Because Jocasta always plays with us! She's a friend of ours!
Police Officer: Call that friendship? Messing up a perfectly good game of doubles?
Woman: It's not messing it up, officer! We like to play with five!
Police Officer: Look, it's your affair if you want to play with five people, but don't go calling it doubles! At Wimbledon, if Fred Stolle and Tony Roche played Charlie Passarell and Cliff Drysdale and Peaches Bartkowicz, they woudn't go calling it doubles!
Woman: Well, what about the blancmange?
Police Officer: That could play Ann Haydon-Jones and her husband, Pip!

Policeman: I must warn you, sir, that outside I have police dog Josephine, who is not only armed and trained to sniff out certain substances but is also a junkie.

Presenter: Would Albert Einstein ever have hit upon the theory of relativity if he hadn't been clever? All these tremendous leaps forward have been taken in the dark. Would Rutherford ever have split the atom if he hadn't tried? Could Marconi have invented the radio if he hadn't by pure chance spent years working at the problem? Are these amazing breakthroughs ever achieved except by years and years of unremitting study? Of course not. What I said earlier about accidental discoveries must have been wrong.