Teacher: [to a student] So, we want to learn about pointed sticks, do we? Feeling all high and mighty, eh? Fresh fruit not good enough, eh? Oh, oh, oh. Well, let me tell you something, my lad! When you're walking home tonight, and some homicidal maniac comes after you with a bunch of loganberries, don't come crying to me!

Teacher: The great advantage of the tiger in unarmed combat is that he eats not only the raspberry-laden foe but also the raspberries.

Third Whicker: Father Pierre, why did you stay on in this colonial Campari-land where the clink of glasses mingles with the murmur of a million mosquitoes, where waterfalls of whisky wash away the worries of a world-weary Whicker, where gin and tonic jingle in a gyroscopic jubilee of something beginning with J? Father Pierre, why did you stay on here?
Father Pierre: [putting on a pair of Whicker-style glasses] Well, mainly for the interviews.

Vanilla Hoare: Look, you crumb bum, I'm a star. Star, star, star! I don't get a million dollars to act out of a trench. I played Mrs. St John the Baptist in a trench, and I played Mrs. Napoleon Bonaparte in a trench, and I played Mrs. Alexander Fleming in a furrow, so if you want this scene played out of a trench, well you just get yourself a goddamn stuntman! I played Mrs. Galileo in a groove and I played Mrs. Jesus Christ in a geological syncline!

Various characters: Lemon curry?!

Vendor: A strong hive of bees contains approximately 75,000 bees. Each honey bee must make 154 trips to collect one teaspoon of honey. Hello, sir.
Dad: What do you want?
Vendor: Would you like to buy some of our honey, sir?
Mother: What you doing in here?
Vendor: Which would you like, the Californian Orange Blossom, the Mexican, the New Zealand, or the Scottish Heather?
Mother: He can't eat honey. It makes him go plop plops.
Vendor: Come on, please try some.
Dad: All right, I'll have some Icelandic Honey.
Vendor: No, there is no such thing.
Dad: You mean you don't make any honey at all?
Vendor: No, no, we must import it all. Every bally drop. We are a gloomy people. It's so crikey cold and dark up there, and only fish to eat. Fish and imported honey. Oh strewth!
Mother: Well why do you have a week?
Vendor: Listen buster! In Rejkyavik it is dark for eight months of the year, and it's cold enough to freeze your wrists off and there's only golly fish to eat. Administrative errors are bound to occur in enormous quantities. Look at this -- it's all a mistake. It's a real pain in the sphincter! Icelandic Honey Week? My life!
Mother: Well why do you come in here trying to flog the stuff, then?
Vendor: Listen cowboy, I got a job to do. IT'S A STUPID, POINTLESS JOB, BUT AT LEAST IT KEEPS ME AWAY FROM ICELAND, ALL RIGHT? The leg of the worker bee has...
[They slam the door on him.]
Other Quotes This section does not cite its references or sources. You can help Wikiquote by introducing appropriate citations. "IT'S..." A hermit right before the opening titles Major cast

Vicar: I like TITS!!! [Attacks noblewoman]
First Lady: Oh vicar! Vicar!
Vicar: [composing himself] Oh my goodness, I do beg your pardon! How dreadful! The first day in my new parish, I completely... so sorry!
First Lady: Yes. Never mind, never mind. Chivers, send Mary in with a new gown, will you?
Chivers: Certainly, m'lady.
Vicar: I do beg your pardon... I must sit down.
First Lady: As I was saying, how do you find the new vicarage?
Vicar: Oh yes, certainly, yes indeed, I find the grounds delightful, and the servants most attentive. Particularly the little serving maid with GREAT BIG KNOCKERS! [attacks again]
Series 4

Victor: [to his girlfriend Iris] I think I'm beginning to fall in love with you. It's silly isn't it?
Iris: No, not at all, sweet Victor.
Victor: No, I didn't mean that. I meant the fact we've spent time close together for so many months in the soft toy department, yet never truly daring to-
Iris: [bemused] Oh, Victor.
Victor: Oh, Iris.

Victor: Get out! All of you; get out!!
Mr. Equator: I beg your pardon?
Victor: I'm throwing you all out! I'm not going to have my house filled with filthy perverts. Now, I'm giving you half a minute to leave or I'm calling the police!
Mr. Equator: I don't much like the tone of your voice. [shoots Victor dead]

Vince: One day, I was sitting at home, threatening the kids, when this tank drives up. One of Dinsdale's boys gets out all nice and friendly like, and says Dinsdale wants to have a talk with me. So, he chains me to the back of the tank, and takes me for a scrape round to Dinsdale's place. Dinsdale's there in the conversation pit with Doug, Charles Paisley the Baby Crusher, a couple of film producers and a fellow called Kierkegaard who just sits there, biting the heads off whippets. And Dinsdale says 'I hear you've been a naughty boy, Clement', and he splits my nostrils open, saws my leg off and pulls my liver out. And I says, 'My name's not Clement', and then he loses his temper and nails my head to the floor.

Voiceover: It was a fantastic success. Over 60,000 times as powerful as Britain's great pre-war joke [Cut to stock footage of Neville Chamberlain returning from Munich and holding up the Munich Agreement, the "this is peace in our time"-bit.], and one which Hitler just couldn't match.
[Cut to stock footage of Hitler giving a speech.]
Hitler: [subtitle] My dog's got no nose!
Soldier: [subtitle] How does he smell?
Hitler: [subtitle] Awful!

Waitress: You can't have egg, bacon, Spam and sausage without the Spam.
Mrs. Bun: Why not?!
Waitress: Well, it wouldn't be egg, bacon, Spam and sausage, would it?
Mrs. Bun: I DON'T LIKE SPAM!
Mr. Bun: No need to kick up a fuss, dear; I'll have your Spam. I love it! I'm having Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, baked beans, Spam, Spam, Spam and Spam!
Waitress: Baked beans are off.
Mr. Bun: In that case, can I have Spam instead?
Waitress: You mean Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, and Spam?
Mr. Bun: Yes!
Waitress: Bleurgh!

Woman: I object to all this sex on the television. I mean, I keep falling off.

Woman: Well there's rat cake ... rat sorbet... rat pudding... or strawberry tart.
Man: Strawberry tart?!
Woman: Well it's got some rat in it.
Man: How much?
Woman: Three, rather a lot really.
Man: ... well, I'll have a slice without so much rat in it.
The Argument Clinic

[Mr Salzburg has just fired two of his writers for his new film, and is closing in on another one]
Mr Salzburg: You!
Writer #4: Ah, well, I... I think it's an excellent idea!
Mr. Salzburg: Are you a yes man?
Writer #4: No! I mean, I have a few things against it!
Mr. Salzburg: So you think it's lousy!
Writer #4: No, no! I mean, it takes time!
Mr. Salzburg: ARE YOU BEING INDECISIVE?
Writer #4: Yo! Nes! Perhaps! [runs out the door]