Good Moaning.[repeated line]
Good die to you.
There is obviously no piss for the wicked.[climbing out of the rubble of pissoir]
Press the plinger and direct the nizzle at the muddle of the fear.
I am sorry that I am lit, but I had to wick curfully down the stroot because I have five fit of fuse wound round my log, and detonators dingling down my troosers.[announcing he has brought the explosives for the safe]
