Mr. Tweedy: What is it?Mrs. Tweedy: It's a pie machine, you idiot. Chickens go in, pies come out.Mr. Tweedy: Ooh, what kind of pies?Mrs. Tweedy: Apple.Mr. Tweedy: My favourite.Mrs. Tweedy: Chicken pies, you great lummox. Imagine. In less than a fortnight, every grocers' in the county will be stocked with box upon box of Mrs. Tweedy's Homemade Chicken Pies.Mr. Tweedy: Just Mrs?Mrs. Tweedy: Woman's touch. Makes the public feel more comfortable.Mr. Tweedy: How does it work?Mrs. Tweedy: Get me a chicken and I'll show you. Mr. Tweedy: I know just the one.
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