Tom : You take an advert in the back page of some gay mag, advertising the latest in arse-intruding dildos, sell it a bit with, er... I dunno, "does what no other dildo can do until now", latest and greatest in sexual technology. Guaranteed results or money back, all that bollocks. These dills cost twenty-five each; a snip for all the pleasure they are going to give the recipients. They send a cheque to the company name, nothing offensive, er, Bobbie's Bits or something, for twenty-five. You put these in the bank for two weeks and let them clear. Now this is the clever bit. Then you send back the cheques for twenty-five pounds from the real company name, Arse Tickler's Faggot Fan Club, saying sorry, we couldn't get the supply from America, they have sold out. Now you see how many of the people cash those cheques; not a single soul, because who wants his bank manager to know he tickles arses when he is not paying in cheques!

Bacon : So how long do you have to wait for a return?

Tom : Probably no more than four weeks.

Bacon : Well what good is that if we need it in six... no, five days?

Tom : Well it was still a good idea.

Soap: What do you mean, armed? Armed with what?

Eddie: Er, bad breath, colourful language, feather duster … what do you think they're gonna be armed …

Is your hair supposed to look like that?

One of my top 5 favorite movies of all time. I could quote this one all day long.

We grow copious amounts of ganja, yah. And you're carrying a wasted girl and a bag of fertilizer. You don't look like your average horti-f***ing- culturalist! That's what I mean Willie.

What the fuck is that?!

It's me Bren Gun!

Could you have thought of something more practical?

Let's have a butchers.

We've hit the jackpot, lads. We've got God knows how much of this stinking weed. A shitload of cash. And a traffic warden.

What?

Jesus, Ed, we got a traffic warden. I think he's still alive. He's got claret coming out of him somewhere. What did they want with a traffic warden?

I don't know. I don't think we need him. Knock him out and dump him at the lights.

What d'you mean, knock him out? With what?

Use your imagination.

[thud][Traffic warden wails]

Don't touch him up! Knock him out!

I'll knock you out!

You wanna knock him out, you knock him out.

I fucking hate traffic wardens.

[thud, thud, thud.........]

Chillllll, Winston!