Auf Wiedersehen, Pet1983

Oz:
You know the reason I left this country in the first place, divvn't you, eh? I'll tell you. In a word, Margaret bloody Thatcher, that's why. Because I'd had it, I was up to there with what she'd created. Bloody wasteland. Desolate. Nae joy, nae hope, nae nowt. Where kids get to 21 and have never done a day's work in their life. Honest men have to go out thieving to feed their families. Young bairns can buy heroin in the bike sheds at school. Oh, dear. But I thought, "Nah, nah, nah. It's got to be getting better. It cannae be as bad as what it was, can it?" I was willing to give you lot the benefit of the doubt on this one, you know. But no, no, no. What happens? What happens is I've been back on my native soil for fourteen minutes, and I'm subjected to this act of fascist intimidation! 'Cos that's what it is, you know! That's what it is, and I'll be writing to my MP about this!

Customs Officer:
Spread.

[Oz, naked, faces the wall and complies. The customs officer puts on a glove and prepares to reach up the rear end]

Oz:
What do you think you're going to find up there, eh? A new striker for Newcastle United?