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Sex Is Hardly A Fitting Subject For The Dinner Table.
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Sex is hardly a fitting subject for the dinner table.
Or, indeed..._any_ table.
....Except perhaps a table at a brothel. (Edmund kicks Percy off chair)
-- Lady Whiteadder, Edmund and Percy : Beer
Related:
Noise? Did you hear a noise, Percy? ...No. Good. ..
apart from that colossal drunken roar. (Edmund kicks Percy off chair) -- Edmund and Percy : Bee...
Percy, the devil farts in my face once more. -- Edmund : Bee
Percy tries to attract Edmund's attention to his comedy breasts) Aaarrggg.
..aarrgggg... Sorry, he's sick. Leprosy. Of the brain... -- Percy and Edmund : Bee...
Of course, you know what your great discovery means, don't you Percy?
Perhaps, my lord... That you, Percy, Lord Percy......
I believe that silence is golden. (Edmund opens mouth to speak).
.............(closes it again)...... ......(clears throat)....
I was the man of a thousand faces. So how did you come to choose the ugly mug you've got now, then?
-- Percy and Edmund : Bee...
Gold! Pure gold! ...Are you sure? Yes, my lord. Behold.
.. Percy...it's _green_. -- Percy and Edmund : Money...
The fashion these days is towards the tiny... Well, in that case, Percy, you have the most fashionable brain in Britain.
-- Percy and Edmund : Head...
'Gloaters'...you really are a prat, aren't you Percy. -- Edmund : Head