[Blackadder puts the phone down.]
Baldrick: Who was that?
Blackadder: Strangely enough Baldrick, that was his Holiness Pope Gregory IX, inviting me to join him for drinks aboard his steam yacht, the Saucy Sue, currently wintering in Montego Bay, with the England cricket team, and the Balinese Goddes of Plenty.
Baldrick: Really?
Blackadder: No, not really. I've been ordered to HQ - no doubt means that idiot General Melchett is about to offer me an attractive new opportunity to have my brains blown out for Britain.
Stephen Fry: When I was seventeen I had already tried fourteen different jobs, married twice, fathered many many many many children, eaten a perfectly enormous quantity of food over a long time period, been weaned off six types of class A dangerous drug, given up smoking, taken it up again, given it up again, taken it up again, given taking it up and taken giving it up again and again and again and again. By the time I was twenty, alcohol had never passed my lips, yet I was a reckless and predatory alcoholic: my life was in pieces, my marriages were shattered, my children lay in ruins, I was paying alimony along the sinuses, behind the dark interior passages of the skull and through the nose. But at thirty, at thirty came the chance to redeem a bin-liner of broken promises. If I didn't take that chance what would I be? What would I become? Just another friendless acid spot on the back buttock of a weeping society. So I took it, took the chance, picked up the ball and ran, went for it, threw caution to the teeth of the gale, never looked back, just keep running, I did it. Forget the past, there's nothing there, not even memories, just a road you never travelled unwinding backwards to a place you never came from, where fruit grows on trees you never climbed, in an orchard where you lost your virginity to a boy called Timothy who died of Horlicks poisoning before you were born. No answers there...
Hugh Laurie: tephen, Stephen, Stephen, Stephen.
Stephen Fry: Yes?
Hugh Laurie: Go and have a lie down.
Stephen Fry: OK. [walks off.].
Dori: Guns don't kill people.
Sledge Hammer: Yeah, bullets do.
Salesman: I'm going door-to-door to make you this incredible offer.
Pee-wee: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh! salesmen.
Balki Bartokomous: Oh give me a line of credit.