Count Duckula1988

Igor:
Milord?

Count Duckula:
[indicating glass filled with red fluid] Would you mind telling me just what is the meaning of *this*?

Igor:
Has it gone *off*, milord?

Count Duckula:
What?

Igor:
*Bad*, milord.

Count Duckula:
[indicating glass filled with red fluid] Igor, I know what off is! This stuff was was never *on* in the first place! You know what this stuff is!

Igor:
[angry] But of course, milord! It is blood!

Count Duckula:
Buh-lood! Exactly! And would you mind telling me just what it is doing in my refrigerator?

Count Duckula:
I thought you might care for a night of the thirteenth, milord.

Count Duckula:
No, Igor, I would not! I'm quite happy with my mead! Thank you!

[chuckles]

Count Duckula:
Now, what were we talking about?

Igor:
[indicating blood] *That*, milord.

Count Duckula:
Oh, yes of course. And-AAAGH! Blood!

Igor:
[cheerfully] Yes , milord! And an excellent vintage, too!

Count Duckula:
That's enough, Igor! Now listen! I do not want to see blood, blech, in my refrigerator ever again! Never, no more, never, no way, no how, *never*!

Count Duckula:
Get it?

Igor:
Yes, milord!

Count Duckula:
Got it?

Igor:
Yes, milord.