Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Excuse me, sir, I don't hear everything. And I'm quite trustworthy too.
That boy's absorbed a lot of voltage
Aar!
Radio call for you, cap'n. Some guy named Gramanhamham.
Yeah. Almost sounded like... an explosion.
I am not a stripper, sir.
Sir, respectfully, I can't concur with your decision to surrender this quickly.
Leave Em Oinkin’ from the Boinkin’
Nice car. Even the trunk had cut-pile carpeting.
- Now they think it was a diesel engine. - If it's a diesel contact, then it's not a sub.
All lines clear.
XO, let's get this boat moving, course 0-2-7, and vent this smoke.
- We're going to be uncovered real soon. - Damn.
Good morning, sir! Martin G Pascal, Executive Officer of the Stingray, sir!
Hear something?
six, five,
Nice pants. Lose the cigar.
You son of a bitch.
Excuse me, sir. This is an actual navy submarine?
What are you doing?? Whiskey! Thins out the mix; gives us another 50 RPMs!
Gives us another 50rpms.
- I'm aware of that, sir. I've compensated. - Excellent.
Bingo 500 Members! God I love this job!
Seven, down 6-2.
We have guidance lock.
(raucous laughter)
Shut up, Buckman!
That bump looks bad. You'd better get to sickbay.
Look, I need an athlete and you're the only one I got, so get going.
(crew hums along)
Chop's heavier to port. We need right rudder.
Nobody
- Then I pick up my ride. - Another loser fantasy.
Oh, no. It can't be!
Mr Jackson, you look like you could use some fresh air.
Judging by that ping, she's about 12,000 yards off and closing.
Buckman's eating an Oreo up in the galley.
I LOVE THIS JOB!
(squeaks) Orl...
It's nice of the guys to get me a stripper, but I got a lot of work to do.
Ever bet on a sure thing and the horse gets a cramp, sir?
Oh, shit, it's the main.
Up periscope.
- Board the damn boat. - Oh, man.
Oh, no. Not him. Not now.
Conn-sonar. We have the contact steady at 5,000 yards.
Just been pinged, big-time!!!
I know my orders, XO. Course 0-2-7. When we're clear, surface and run all full.
I'll give you two live torpedoes. I'll set a dummy ship in Norfolk harbour.
Good night.
- Grab a bunk. - Thank you, sir.
Jesus Christ.
This is the approximate area of the last sonar buoy contact, sir.
Kelce hyperextends knee
More than you know, including being chauffeured around in your dream car.
How did you get over that?
Conn-sonar. I've got a noise level bearing 3-4-6 that may be a contact.
I mean aye, sir.
You can't do this, you maniac. This is the modern navy!
(clanking)
It's a little tickle. (laughs)
Christ, he's already ahead of us.
- What?! - You can probably hear them in the water.
i want a ceo with copilot tattooed on his dick
They are now. Admiral Graham instituted a trial programme.
# Yo-ho and blow the man down
Well, at least you got my son to face forward.
Excuse me, sir, but I'm picking up all kinds of stuff.
Woke up the next morning with a hangover and a tattoo.
Sure.
(# Funeral March)
- Put it on the overhead. - Uh, just a minute, sir.
Loser? At least I can say I played in front of 19,000 people.
Can we speak in my cabin?