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Right. Shall I move on to the other one? Oh, that’s lovely. That’s first class. That is superb. Ooh, there you go, it’s all happening! Jill I’m afraid I have no sheathes.'
Jill replies 'No what?'
Sheathes, er, prophylactics, you know, rubber johnnies. Actually, being your age and everything there’s probably no need for them. I’m talking about the menopau – whoooo! Jill you know your onions! Do you mind if I talk? It helps me keep the… wolf from the door, so to speak.
Michael: So, are you having the full English breakfast?
Alan: Yes, please. Can I have my sausages burnt to a crisp, please? So that they can only be identified by reference to their dental records.
Michael: OK. Either that or their fingerprints, eh?
Alan: Can you fingerprint a sausage?
Michael: Yeah, well, I suppose technically you could, aye.
Alan: I suppose if I was a burglar and I wanted to avoid detection I could strap sausages to my fingers. Probably survive a couple of break-ins before they started to fall apart.
Michael: Aye. Maybe just have, like, a beefburger for your palm, you know?
Alan: No, I think that's a bit too far-fetched.
Alan Partridge: Oh, great.
Michael: Aye. I'd gan back to school. But first I'd take out the labs and then I'd type into the attack computer 'Mr Cragg, chemistry teacher'. Blow 'im to bits.
Alan Partridge: Yeah, I know the feeling.
Michael: And then I'd go looking for Tom Donaldson. I'd be hovering just down the road from his house, there. And he'd see us, but I'd duck down behind the trees, and he thinks he's safe, right? And he's just about to put the key in his front door, and I come up from behind the hedge, 'Hello, you b@stard.' He panics, right? And he goes in the house, so I get the 30-millimetre cannon and I take out the fish pond, coy carp in there couple of rounds each, right? And then I just tilt the helicopter over to one side and the machine-gun bullets is chewing up the drive, right? He comes out. 'Oh no! Not me Triumph Stag! I've just had it resprayed!' I cut it right in half, right? And then he goes, 'Ahhh!' He runs up on to the garage roof. I say, 'Right. This is for you, Tom.' He goes, 'No, no!' He's begging us, he's begging us man, 'No, please don't!' And then I fly off to Cornwall and I just smash in the sea in a big ball of flames.
Alan Partridge: Sleep well, Michael. Erm, who's Tom Donaldson?
Michael: Oh, he's just a mate.
Estate Agent - Its a rinser
Alan - Yeah...Get rid of it!
Ben: Gum? [Offers some chewing gum to Alan, who takes it]
Alan: Yeah, cheers. So, who's your favourite singer, then?
Ben: Oh, anything, really, you know. Frank Sinatra, Kurt Cobain.
Alan: Who's he?
Ben: Nirvana. Blew his head off with a gun?
Alan: Why?
Ben: He was depressed.
Alan: Why, were they not very good?
Ben: No, they were great.
Alan: Oh. Someone should've told him!
Well are you?
'tssssss'. Hot Pants!
"Roger Moore is a towel thief"
Receptionist (Sally): To sser?
Alan: You're in the right ballpark.
Level with me Piet, have i got this job?
Full beam
Pyrotechnics
Oh right, I should have giesed
Alan - Michael, it's a small 'h'. i don't want anyone to see this from space, it'd be embarrassing.