Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Actually, I'm probably going to go. You can't go. This is match point.
But on one condition. Say pub man is a bank robber,
Is he a fucking bank robber?
- you know, sexy Dresden.
It's a toothless regulatory body
(Do a Prince Philip.) What?
Jeremy, are you coming?
'I need something new to throw out the window before April loses interest.
You are not getting shot. Why does it always have to be about you?
Er, no.
mole-wise. Freckle on my kneecap... "That wasn't there yesterday!"
What was she like? She is...
Mark, I need five, like, quite intense minutes right now.
Landslide for Labour, Record seat numbers for Greens, Record vote share for Reform
You've wanted this office since yesterday.
Hanging out with your little buddy? Hm?
What, what NO
In a way, you do work in a bank. What's that supposed to mean?
The ombudsman isn't a person, Jeremy.
Just up here. They've got a fruity.
I'm just a waster, floating through life, jazzing into the flannel.
'sleeping in a Turkish hostel, reading Scripture and getting rectal exams.'
trying to cauterise the wound with one of those creme brulee torches.
Hm!
Drumroll... Duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh...
Answer the fucking question!
Why do they make these bloody things so hard to find?
He said no.
Just fucking calm down, Mark, for fuck's sake!
'Oh, April and your charming neuroses!'
nope grrrrr
a bit like I want to karate-chop my hand through a very high stack of poppadoms.
It's so limited in scope as to be almost worthless.
You are unmanly. And you are basically uninteresting.
'What if my head swells up like a melon and I never sleep again?'
A weird, kind of creepy, dermatological kind of date.
Martin of Opava's Chronicon Pontificum Et Imperatorum,