Shouting

Frankie, Martin - come in for your tea!

Attention! Brierley you ‘orrible little man get your hair cut

Yes! She said Yes!

Wanderers, wanderers, wanderers

Run fast, walk slow, you are an ugly toe

Your mother is the stunted runt of a country grunt and your father is the son of a whore

and a traffic warden

Excuse me, Excuse me! You’ve dropped your wallet…

Nobody move! You’re all under arrest

You sir are a cad, a rotter and an absolute low life and I demand satisfaction

Houston we have a problem, do you copy

HOUSTON WE HAVE A PROBLEM

Wait, wait don’t do it! Think of all the good things in your life

Don’t throw away all you’ve worked for

You career, your wife, your children

Hold on I’ll join you

Go to your bloody mother’s then perhaps she’ll understand what the fuck you’re on about

I said, “That’s it! Finito! Good bye!”