The Wrong Trousers

Wallace:
Cracking toast, Gromit!

Wallace:
Ah, well, it's no use prevaricating about the bush...

Wallace:
They're techno-trousers, ex-NASA, fantastic for walkies!

Wallace:
It's the wrong trousers Gromit, and they've gone wrong!

[last lines]

Wallace:
Ah, but I do like a bit of gorgonzola!

Wallace:
[of the trapdoor that slid him out of bed onto the kitchen chair] Well, that went as well as could be expected, didn't it, hmm? Though I might have to make a small adjustment to the drop, a touch painful on reentry.

Wallace:
No more lodgers - more trouble than they're worth!

Wallace:
[as he goes flying around the room] Don't worry, Gromit! Everything's under control!

Wallace:
[upon falling into the techno-trousers] It's the wrong trousers! The wrong trousers! [sees controls on trousers missing] What have you done with the controls, Gromit?

[Wallace has fallen into the techno-trousers and, thanks to Feathers McGraw controlling them, sent Wallace rampaging about town before returning him home to bed, tired]

Wallace:
A good doze, that's what I need. Get me strength back. What a... What a shocking calam... calam... calamity... [falls asleep, snoring]

Wallace:
[to Gromit, who has been scared by the birthday present he has received; what looks like the lower half of a man] I think you'll find this present a valuable addition to our modern lifestyle. [he unwraps the present, revealing it to be a robotic construct: two legs, two feet and a waist] They're techno-trousers, ex-NASA. Fantastic for walkies!

Wallace:
Woah! It's The Wrong Trousers, Gromit, and they've gone wrong! Stop them, Gromit! Stop them! Help me! Gr-Gromit! The Trousers've gone Haywire! Get me out!!! Help!!!!!

[last lines]

Wallace:
Ha, all's well that ends well. That's what I say. Ooh, I do like a bit of gorgonzola!

Wallace:
Hang in there, Gromit. Everything's under control.