Re: Любими филмови реплики :)
Публикувано на: 22 Фев 2008, 06:20
The entire British Empire was built on cups of tea, and if you think I'm going to war without one, mate you're mistaken.
Listen to this one: You open a company called the Arse Tickler's Faggots Fan Club. You take out an advert in the back page of some gay mag, advertising the latest in arse-intruding dildos, you sell it with, I dunno, "does what no other dildo can do until now", "the latest and greatest in sexual technology", "guaranteed results or your money back", all that bollocks. Now these dils cost twenty-five quid a pop - as a snip for the amount of pleasure they're gonna give the recipients. But they send their cheques to the other company name, nothing offensive, er, Bobbie's Bits or something, for twenty-five quid. You take that twenty-five quid, you stick it in the bank until it clears. Now this is the smart bit - you send back the cheque for twenty-five pound from the other company name, "Arse Tickler's Faggots Fan Club", saying we're sorry, we couldn't get the supplies from America because they ran out of stock. Now you see how many people cash that cheque - not a single soul, because who wants their bank manager to know they tickle arse when they're not paying cheques?
I'm not sure what's more worrying. The job or your past!
Let me tell you about Hatchet Harry. Once there was this geezer called Smithy Robinson, who worked for Harry. It was rumoured that he was on the take. Harry's invited Smithy round for explanation. Smithy didn't do a very good job. Within a minute, Harry's lost his rag. Reached out for the nearest thing at hand which happened to be a 15-inch black rubber cock. He's then proceeded to batter poor Smithy to death with it. Now, that was seen as a pleasant way to go, hence, Hatchet Harry is the man you pay if you owe.
A minute ago this was the safest job in the world. Now it's turning into a bad day in Bosnia.
When you dance with the devil, you wait for the song to stop.
Eddie: They're armed.
Soap: Armed, armed with what?
Eddie: Err, bad breath, colourful language, feather duster... what do you think they're gonna be armed with? Guns, you tit!
Barry the Baptist: Fucking northern monkeys!
Gary: I hate these fucking southern fairies!
Listen to this one: You open a company called the Arse Tickler's Faggots Fan Club. You take out an advert in the back page of some gay mag, advertising the latest in arse-intruding dildos, you sell it with, I dunno, "does what no other dildo can do until now", "the latest and greatest in sexual technology", "guaranteed results or your money back", all that bollocks. Now these dils cost twenty-five quid a pop - as a snip for the amount of pleasure they're gonna give the recipients. But they send their cheques to the other company name, nothing offensive, er, Bobbie's Bits or something, for twenty-five quid. You take that twenty-five quid, you stick it in the bank until it clears. Now this is the smart bit - you send back the cheque for twenty-five pound from the other company name, "Arse Tickler's Faggots Fan Club", saying we're sorry, we couldn't get the supplies from America because they ran out of stock. Now you see how many people cash that cheque - not a single soul, because who wants their bank manager to know they tickle arse when they're not paying cheques?
I'm not sure what's more worrying. The job or your past!
Let me tell you about Hatchet Harry. Once there was this geezer called Smithy Robinson, who worked for Harry. It was rumoured that he was on the take. Harry's invited Smithy round for explanation. Smithy didn't do a very good job. Within a minute, Harry's lost his rag. Reached out for the nearest thing at hand which happened to be a 15-inch black rubber cock. He's then proceeded to batter poor Smithy to death with it. Now, that was seen as a pleasant way to go, hence, Hatchet Harry is the man you pay if you owe.
A minute ago this was the safest job in the world. Now it's turning into a bad day in Bosnia.
When you dance with the devil, you wait for the song to stop.
Eddie: They're armed.
Soap: Armed, armed with what?
Eddie: Err, bad breath, colourful language, feather duster... what do you think they're gonna be armed with? Guns, you tit!
Barry the Baptist: Fucking northern monkeys!
Gary: I hate these fucking southern fairies!